Dungeons and Demons of the Most Personal Kind

When it comes to hooking up, the unexpected is typically unwelcome.  You know, those encounters where with a flip of a switch, a twist of fate, a fly in the ointment; an evening of unbridled passion turns into a do not resuscitate order?  I certainly have had my share of trysts that have taken a wrong turn to nowhere.   However, what at first may appear to be a detour to disaster, can sometimes end up being a life-affirming trip via the scenic route.

That’s what happened last Saturday.  I’d made this date to visit this dom top’s dungeon.  I was very excited, as it promised to be a new experience for me.  His invitation was the result of my recent renewed interest in the kink site, Recon.  I remembered admiring him during my earlier visits to the site.  I’d always wanted to meet him.  His pics on-line were very hot and while his profile was a little light on information, I was pretty sure that he was into some real kinky stuff – the kind that would turn my crank.  His subsequent text messages had been few and quite cryptic.  In this case, not knowing exactly what to expect actually heightened my anticipation.  So much so, that I was afraid I might set my expectations too high, only to be disappointed; a situation where even though the experience would prove to be more than adequate, I would walk away with unfulfilled desires.  I’ve done that to myself in the past and knew enough not to fall into that trap. 

At the agreed upon time, I texted him for his address.  I had spent the previous two hours shaving and buzzing, trimming and buffing, douching and showering; I was pretty sure I was as good as I get.  Having a general idea of where he lived, I was already eastbound in the car when he texted me back.  We were on.  I had on my blue Pistol Pete jock (as requested) and my kick-ass boots.  He would end up being really impressed with the boots.  I arrived earlier than he’d expected, but no worries, he was all prepared.  His house was really nice; one of those old refurbished Victorians in a little nook on the East End of the city.  The interior was equally well appointed; just the right amount of antique furnishings populated each room.  The hardwood floors shone, as did the dark, rich original woodwork.  I was impressed by his sense of economy (not too much crap) and taste.   It all gave me a sense of a disciplined man used to working hard to get what he wanted.

I missed his final text, where he told me to just walk in, so he had to come to the door.  He answered it wearing a yellow jock, a leather vest, a pair of boots, and a leather arm band.  Dude was hot and much more handsome than his pics on line led me to believe.  If you looked up dom top on Wikipedia, I’m pretty sure his picture would be there.   His body was smoking, too – great legs, manly pecs, chewable nips, nice arms.  His full head of hair was neatly trimmed in a perfect phy ed coach buzz cut.  It really brought out the squareness of his jaw; the chin of which was decorated with the most perfect cleft.  His eyes were the color of storm clouds and just as intense.  He seated himself in a turn of the century leather chair, its arms and legs, ornate wooden spindles, and the effect, rather regal.  He ordered me to strip, telling me to leave on my jock and my boots.  I also left my cap on.  Pointing to a chair in the entry hall, he told me I’d find a collar and leash on a chair and that I was to put it on.  The collar was heavy - studded leather, and the leash, a thick gage chrome chain.  I struggled a bit with the collar.  I’d never put one on myself.  Once secured, he commanded me to kneel before him and smell the pouch of his jock.  I was in heaven.  This is exactly what I had come for.

He gave the orders, I listened and complied.  My lips wrapped around his left nipple.  I sucked hard, and then was told to bite.  I took it as far as I thought appropriate, which was right to the edge and he seemed to love it.  My hands never strayed from the wooden arms of the chair.  I had been warned not to touch what I was not asked to touch.  His nips took quite a chewing.  His armpits were moist and warm, fresh, with just a hint of natural musk.  Kissing his biceps, licking them, worshipping them, my nervousness gave way to completing the tasks at hand to the best of my abilities.  I brought my A-game.  More attention was paid to the nicely stuffed pouch of his jock.  I mouthed it, swallowed it and was rewarded with his cock and balls – but only for a few moments.

Taking the chain, he led me down to the basement to his dungeon.  It was smaller than I’d anticipated – a tight squeeze actually – but it had everything that one could want: a generous, overstuffed, black leather settee with a boot rest, a glory hole, a small television playing porn, a sling, and a cushioned kneeling station where ‘X’ marked the spot.  Upon entering, I was told to kneel on the ‘X’.   He put a small harlequin mask on my face, but this would later be discarded, as it kept riding up, obstructing my vision.  My first job was to lick his boots.   I lavished them with saliva, my tongue giving them the perfect spit shine.  My mouth then traveled up his leg, kissing and sucking each inch of flesh, until my nose was buried deep in his jock once more.    After that he would have me alternate, sucking his dick and chewing on his nips.  These activities were punctuated with spitting and kissing.  He proved to be an excellent kisser.  Sometimes he would spit in my mouth (which I would choke on) and sometimes he would simply spit on me.  I found this really erotic. His voice, too, deep and masculine, took me to a place of complete subservience. 

But something got lost on the way to paradise.  Namely his hard-on.  About twenty minutes into play he starts telling me that “it’s” not working for him.  Those are words I hate to hear.  It means that there’s something wrong with me – I’m not attractive enough, my body sucks, I smell bad, I’m not skilled enough, my energy is a turn-off.  So I go into a sort of panic mode and work his dick with my mouth for another twenty minutes, thinking, I have brought the dead back to life with my skills in the past, I can do it again.   But it’s no use.  Finally, he calls it.  Game over.  We head back upstairs.  I feel awful; like a total loser. 

He sits in his regal chair as I take off my boots so I can put back on my jeans.  We begin to talk and it all comes flooding out; it’s not me, it’s him.  He tells me that he’s always been a dom top and he used to be so good at it, but recently, he has, on occasion, not been up to the task.  He’s worried that he’s losing it.  I know his anguish, for there was a time when I was a full-time, hard core top.  At that time the idea of being a bottom never appealed to me.  And then I turned a certain age, and well, one works with what one has to work with, am I right?

He spoke of his life situation and how it was playing with his head, convincing him that he was now ‘old’ (at age 50?  I think not.).  I shared my conversion story with him and told him that becoming a bottom really isn’t what he needed to do to get his groove back.  Sex columnist, gay activist, and hero Dan Savage has given the same advice to many a chronic masturbator no longer able to perform as before; if all you do is choke your chicken with a death grip then your dick becomes desensitized – it gets tired of the same treatment and loses the ability to react to stimuli.  Dan’s suggestion?  Change up your game.  Try a little tenderness.  Try fucking a melon.  Try… something different.  And I thought that same advice applied to my disillusioned dom top.

I suggested a new locale, or a new way of communicating with your sex partner, or trying something completely vanilla.  And then I explained it like this… you know how when you’re on-line or on a phone app, and you’re horny?  How you keep refreshing the page and clicking the profiles, searching and searching.  You keep pushing the buttons; pushing the buttons like a lab rat that pushes a button to receive a pellet of food.  Only one day, there is no food, but the lab rat doesn’t know that, so he keeps pushing the button.  And pushing the button.  And he gets anxious and he gets frustrated and he gets angry.  You begin to resent the button.  You begin to resent the pushing, but you can’t stop pushing.  It feels frenzied, you feel out of control.

You ask yourself: Are you a sex addict?  Maybe, but probably not.

Are you the very definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?  That’s getting closer.

What you need to do is change your game up by exploring new ways to get the pellet. 

The entire time I’m talking with him, I am kneeling between his legs, caressing his nipples, his pecs, his arms, his face, the top of his hair, giving him the occasional kiss – in short, I am creating intimacy.  I tell him that intimacy doesn’t mean you have to marry the dude and that love… well, there are all kinds of love and saying the words ‘I love you’ doesn’t necessarily mean anybody is planning on moving in with you.  It may just be a case of the person loving what you are doing to them at that moment. 

Before I know it, the kissing is taking precedence over the talking.  But no worries because I got my message delivered and understood.  This was a good man who just needed to cut himself some slack and try a little tenderness.  As we’re kissing I tell him that if we do nothing else for the rest of the night but kiss, I would go home happy, because I got to be with him.  And that I was honored to be with him in whatever capacity I could.  He made me stand up and told me that he thought we should give it another go in the dungeon.  Well, he’s the boss, and so we returned, only this time, no collar and leash. 

As we entered I told him how much I wanted to hump that leather settee ever since I laid eyes on it in the photos in his profile.  I also told him that I loved the photo of him licking up cum on its seat.  He took the head of the settee so he was sitting over me and told me to lie face down before him, facing his direction.  He began to stroke his cock, watching me as I humped the settee.  Fuck, it was hot.  I loved the fact that he was watching my ass go up and down.  At some points I was bouncing on that baby for all I was worth.  Humping is a hot word; just the sound of it gets me hard. 

And apparently, I was not the only one my little show was getting hard.  My dom top was definitely into it.  He would spit on me occasionally.  Then he ordered me on his left nipple, and before long we were kissing again.  He spit in my mouth and ordered me into the sling.  Did I mention the mirrors on the ceiling?  Well, I guess that’s because I hadn’t noticed them until I was in the sling.  First off he starts eating my hole and let me tell you, this man knew what the fuck he was doing down there.  Not a shred of hesitation, not a single tentative lick… this fucker really ate my ass.  I couldn’t get over how good I looked in the mirror and I loved the feel of his buzz cut between my legs.   But as impressed as I was with myself, things got even better looking in that mirror when Mr. Dom stood up and shoved his big, fat dick up my ass.  The lighting was perfect.  The angle.  Everything.  I had never watched myself take a dick like this before.  I was kind of mesmerized.   For a bit, he went back and forth, eating and fucking my hole.  I was so excited I remained hard as a rock.  Eventually, on his way up after lavishing my man cunt with his tongue, he came face to face with my dick.  Fortunately, he’s a man who can’t pass up a free meal.  So then he began going between sucking my dick, and eating and fucking my hole – right up to the moment when I could not take it anymore and I deposited a nice load on his waiting and worthy tongue.

He told me to get out of the sling and to lie on the settee, face up with my head facing him.  He resumed his position at the top of the settee looking down on me and began cranking on his dick.  In no time at all he spewed his load.  Cum rained down upon me.  I was smart enough to keep my eyes closed.  It felt so good. 

We kissed a bit more and then went upstairs and talked as I dressed.  I suggested a few other things he might like to try and he suggested that we go to leather night at the Eagle in November.  I asked him if I would have to wear the dog leash and he said he’d be happy to buy me some knee pads. 

We exchanged a few more kisses and the smiles on our faces as we left one another’s company had more to do with bond we’d temporarily created than it had to do with the awesome sex we’d just had. 

As I got into my car, an old Elton John song sprang into my head.

“When I think of those East End lights, muggy nights

Curtains drawn in the little room downstairs…”

I’m not grandiose enough to think that for a moment that I really saved anyone’s life that night. 

But I am pretty sure I’d left someone a little better than I’d found him.

And isn’t that what we are all supposed to do for one another?

Deep in the Jungles of Recon: Life Among The Kinky Nerdy Monkey Boys

It’s nice when life offers up a brand new experience. There is such a plethora of sexual kinks out there and I have been exposed to or become aware of so much, I find it refreshing that, on occasion, even I can stumble onto some undiscovered, fresh terrain.  Last Saturday afternoon was just such an instance.  Part of me felt like Jane Goodall, observing and interacting with an exotic species, while the other part felt incredibly honored and lauded. 

It all began over a year ago.  I happened onto a reference to a site I had never heard of before: Recon; an internet site dedicated to gay kink in the form of bondage, leather, and extreme activities (sounding, fisting, etc.).  Of course, I joined immediately (it’s free) and spent considerable time checking out the profiles of local kinksters while fielding inquiries from those overseas.  On occasion I would strike a chord with one of the locals.  I actually met one person – my movie theatre buddy whom I fooled around with as detailed in a previous post (Ass Play At the Movies: I’m Ready For My Close-Up, 1/20/12), but my fascination with the site proved temporary and, soon,  I stopped visiting altogether. 

Six months went by without me paying any attention to it.

Well, Recon is a pretty savvy site.  They know how to get you to come back.  I got an offer for a 90-day free trial which would allow me complete, unlimited access to the site.  I ignored it for the first 30 days, but, after I had taken some new pics in the locker room at my gym and was updating my other profiles, I decided to also post them on Recon as well.

I tell you, the best way I know to create some renewed interest in an on-line profile?  Post some new pics.  That, along with my unlimited access, allowed me to touch base again with many local kinksters.  One happened to be this 26-year old photographer from a city close to Duluth, MN.  We’d talked quite some time ago, but due to the distance and logistics involved, it never went anywhere.  This time he told me that he would be staying in town at a friend’s place that very weekend and would like to finally meet me.  A time for him to send me the address of where he would be staying was arranged and I waited and planned for the day. Keep in mind that I had yet laid eyes on an actual picture of him; his profile is filled with the photos of others whom he has done sessions with.  In these photos I noticed he had a predilection for duct-taped mouths, mouth gags and hog-tying his willing victims with white nylon rope. I was intrigued.  And, I must confess, a little scared.

That morning, I got up, shaved all my privates, did all my usual maintenance work; I wanted to look as good as I could.  I did not work out, rather, I went shopping.  The timing couldn’t have been better, for just as I’d found and purchased two pairs of black Levis, I got a text from the little kinkster.  He was in town and sent me an address in NE Minneapolis where I was to meet him.  Turned out the place was within the same complex as the movie theatre that I had frequented last winter with my other Recon bud.  I parked, and after waiting in the lobby of this rather high-end building with the security guard at the main desk – who was kind enough to buzz me in – asking repeatedly who I was there to see (I had no idea), I was then told, via text, to exit the lobby and come up the fire escape.  I got outside and was then greeted by two men – one, a good-looking, shorter man about my age with really nice forearms and a tall, cute, blonde, broad-shouldered, young twink-type.  They introduced themselves and guided me upstairs.  Neither of them was the man I was there to see. 

No, he turned out to be on the other side of a rather heavy fire door at the top of the steps.  First impression – he looked like Justin Timberlake (so, for the purposes of this post, I’ll refer to him as Justin) during his scruffy phase.  Turns out he’s cute,   sweet, and a bit nervous and nerdy.  Oddly, I am not nervous at all, which is surprising, considering that I hadn’t expected there to be other people there and was wondering just what I had gotten myself into.  The condo appeared bright and modern, so I’m not creeped-out in the least. I’m escorted into a studio and immediately I get a sense that I know this place… and I do – I’ve seen it in photographs in the profile of another Recon member – a far kinkier member.  His photos are a bit more extreme and sexual than Justin’s.  This worries me for a bit, but I remain cool and professional, as I remain throughout the entire four hours. 

We get to work right away.  He wants me in my street clothes.  He hog ties me with white nylon rope and starts to take pics, as the other two watch.  Eventually he adds a black leather-banded ball gag – a favorite of his.  Initially, he struggles with the camera a bit, but he seems pleased with me.  We work five more scenes; playing in the shower, the bathtub, on a leather couch, and in the studio.  The other two photographers hang around the entire time, observing, commenting, and making suggestions.  After the first scene, I comment that I had assumed I’d be wearing a lot less clothing, and the more experienced photographer chimes in agreement.  I end up wearing much less in the next few sets; black jockeys, white briefs, black Calvin Klein bikinis – but never nude.  Turns out Justin really likes my body, but that nudity is just not his thing.  Duct tape, on the other hand…

Duct tape, when ripped from the mouth, stings.  Big surprise, right? 

The really big surprise?  No sex.  None.  Yes, he touches me on occasion.  He smacks me on the ass, squeezes a nipple, grabs my crotch, but it’s all rather playful – more horseplay than sexual in nature.  And had I bothered to read his profile again completely, I would have remembered this.  On one occasion, he did something to me as I was getting out of the bathtub.  It hurt or surprised me, so I reached back (my hands tied), grabbed his crotch, and squeezed hard.  He squeaked and quickly got the message that whatever it is he had just done was not okay with me.  In the end, the closest we come to sexual contact is when, with me handcuffed,  my hands behind my back and the handcuffs tied to my ankles, he sets me on my knees and puts an ice cube in my underwear, under my balls.  I’m wearing a blindfold and a ball gag at the time, so I found it, in my sensory-deprived state, rather erotic.  He fondled my junk quite a bit during this test (that’s what he called it) and I get aroused (not that it leads to anything).  The biggest reaction I got out of him was that he seemed amazed that the ice cube melted as quickly as it did.  Still, it felt good and I told him as much.

The same could be said about the whole experience.  It felt good.  I got some great compliments.  My ego left definitely well-fed.  Throughout the shoot, Justin showed me the pics after each session and told me he’s happy with what he’s getting.  He kept checking in with me to make sure I’m okay, and, other than a few times when I needed to flip over wearing handcuffs or when the handcuffs cut into my wrists, I was comfortable the whole time.  I leave feeling like Justin got what he wanted and feeling pretty good about myself, as well.  Yes, I’m a little long in the tooth to be doing a photo shoot, but, hey, if the photographer is happy, then I’m happy. 

Justin has promised to send me some of the pics, once they’re edited.  He’s also assured me that they only place they will appear is on the Recon site.  Man, I hope they don’t suck.  I am not exactly photogenic and cringe whenever I see a photo of me that I, myself, have not taken, edited and/or approved.  But you know what?  I have to let that control go in this case; those images belong to him. 

It was an interesting experience – and not what I expected.  I really thought there would be a lot more sex (implied or actual)  – especially with two other dudes around.  But, apparently, for some, bondage is not about sex – it is a kind of art.  In a way, I felt like I had spent the day observing kinky monkey boys/men working out their nerdy obsessions.  There was something rather ‘Big Bang Theory’ about the whole scene, which I think is why I felt so at ease.   I really was able to let my guard down with these total strangers while one of them trussed me up like Bettie Page.  Yes, there was conversation that didn’t have anything to do with the actual photography, but not much.  After the first half hour had passed, I really felt as if I was there to do a job, and nothing more.

I left on a very cordial note.  As I walked back to my car I had no regrets.  Yes, I wished I had gotten my penis photographed, but hey, that’s not his thing.  And as I kept reminding the other two photographers when they would make suggestions – the whole thing was his thing – he was calling the shots, literally.  Would I do it again?  Probably.  I would really like to work with the more extreme dude – he’s into electro-stim, bondage, head masks, and milking scenes (though, I suspect, he is only into young things).   On the other hand, what Justin liked was good, clean fun – so I’m happy to spend more time doing the same, if he’d like. 

I guess the proof will be in the pudding – or, in this case, the actual photos.  I hope they are good enough for him to post and that I haven’t wasted his time.  It would be really cool if they did get posted and somebody actually got off on them.  Eh, we’ll see.

It was great to discover something unexpected.  Bottom line – I found the whole experience to be very refreshing.  Every time I experience something new for the first time, it’s like a sexual reboot; I get a renewed sense of my own power and find that my sexual focus, having been altered, becomes more keen and energetic than before. 

This weekend I plan on paying a visit to a dungeon.  I have some idea of what to expect, as I have had one previous experience in someone’s dungeon, but also know that I need to get the dungeon master my ‘no-fly’ list before submitting to anything.  It should be interesting.  And who knows… maybe my booty will get…

…a leather reboot!

Ass Play at the Movies: I'm Ready for my Close-Up!

I wandered onto this site called Recon about two months ago.  It is a kink site, featuring dudes getting their freak on in any number of nasty, perverted ways: bondage, water sports, feet worship, leather, gut-punching, exhibitionism, sports gear worship, and the like.  All of it tends to be very extreme – especially if you look at the profiles of those from outside the United States (those Germans are real sick fuckers!).  In comparison, the listings for Minnesota seem very tame – but keep in mind that this is not your ordinary hook-up site and on Recon the word ‘vanilla’ is nowhere to be found.

After setting up a profile, I dive in and start moving my way through the profiles of dudes on-line.  Surprisingly, I’ve encountered very, very few of these men on the other hook-up sites I frequent, although I do recall seeing a few of them at the Eagle the once or twice a year that I get there.  The refreshing thing about the profiles and the men on Recon is the fact that all their freak flags are right out there in the open, presented without embarrassment.  The many pictures also reflect this openness, as they are of a more graphic nature than you might encounter on say, Adam4Adam or Manhunt.  In other words, you know exactly what you are in for, warts and all.

In short order, I start hitting the cruise key on those I find share similar interests to my own, keeping in mind that my role is passive and theirs active.  One of the individuals I recognize from the Eagle is on-line and responds positively to my cruise request.  Soon we’re talking specifics, with email addresses and pictures being exchanged. We decide to meet and he proposes something he thinks might appeal to the exhibitionist in me: that we meet at a movie theater where he will play with my ass throughout the film.  I’m game.  I have a pair of rip-away running pants that are held in place by a series of snaps and know these will work perfectly for what he has in mind.  He chooses the movie theatre and the movie, which just happens to be at a time when I can make it.  Game on.

Arriving early, I sit in my car and change into my snap-away pants.  I’m more than just a bit nervous.  Not only does the whole idea of playing in public have my heart racing, but this dude happens to be someone I have always wanted to play with.  I’ve seen him in public in the past and never worked up the courage to go over to him and say ‘hi’.  He’s shorter than me by at least six inches, has thick, black, wavy hair and a rather handsome mug with a nice square jaw.  Just the sight of his lips makes me melt, his winning smile a promise of great things.  He’s the kind of dude that is never interested in me, and even when they do give me the time of day, it is only as a courtesy, ultimately leading to rejection. 

A few minutes before the movie is to start I make my way into the movie theatre.  No one is around.  The place is a ghost town.  That is the beauty of matinees and the magic of this particular movie theatre.  It is situated in an area of town where parking is not free or easy, so other than date nights, the theatre is probably not that busy at all.  I purchase my ticket and a soda.  Thankfully, my attire doesn’t raise any suspicion.  Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of my movie buddy.  He’s standing in the middle of a big archway with a kind of smirk on his face.  Making my way to the movie theatre, he trails me, remaining a good three yards behind me. 

Enveloped by the darkness of the theatre, I choose the back row and sit in the seat next to the outside wall.  The projectionist is situated on the opposite side of the room, so I feel fairly confident that our escapades will go unnoticed by management.

 My new found friend (let’s call him Mr. Dom) slips into the seat next to me.  He’s wearing a ¾ length black leather jacket and has quite a bit of scruff going on his face.  Still, he is very handsome, very cute.  He has a sly look in his eyes and I am pretty sure I’m in for a good time.  Without really looking, he begins to unsnap the side of my pants.  His hand slides under my bottom and his fingers begin to probe.  I have a tiny tube of lube with me and am wearing a cock ring, but other than that, I have no supplies with me.  Leaning forward in my seat, I grease up my hole with the lube and then sit back.  Soon I find myself scrunching deep down in my seat with my legs up over the back of the seat in front of me.   This allows my friend maximum access and he takes full advantage of it. 

There are only two other people in the theatre when the movie begins and they are both seated a good distance away, toward the middle of the theatre.  I am thinking we are going to have full run of the place.  My confidence growing, I slip a hand between the legs of Mr. Dom and discover a nice hard eight inch wonder.  It is nicely thick and feels fucking meaty in my hand.  He smiles and I take a risk, lean over and kiss his cheek, hoping that he responds with more.  He doesn’t.  Instead he scans the theatre for prying eyes.

This entire time his fingers are going to town on my hole and I am loving it.  The movie?  Not so much.  But then we picked this particular movie because of the time and the fact that it had gotten negative reviews, which meant that the theatre would probably be fairly empty.  Not that the quality of the movie has any impact on the good time I am having.  I now know why teenagers like to go to movies on dates – you can fool around a lot in the dark!  I am nuzzling into Mr. Dom’s neck in a vain attempt to convey just how much pleasure I am getting out of having his talented digits up my ass.  By this point he has popped all but two of the buttons on my rip-away pants, so he has full access to everything.  It is at this moment that an older dude suddenly appears at the back of the theatre.  He scans the seats, spies me and Mr. Dom and promptly sits his fat ass in the row opposite us, across the aisle.  Bummer.

This momentarily causes me to panic and I swiftly button up my running pants.  Getting caught is not part of our plans and Mr. Dom helps cover my activity by removing his leather jacket and placing it on top of the seat in front of him, successfully shielding me from the prying eyes of the recent arrival.  Soon, snaps are undone once more and Mr. Dom has a wicked smile on his face once more.

He’s cool with me nuzzling into his neck.  There is even a part of me that wants to climb on his lap.  My right hand takes up permanent residence in the crotch of his pants, working its way up and down that magnificent shaft.  His balls get lots of attention, too.  Needless to say, I am hard for the full two hours, which is no small feat for me.  I think it is due to the fact that there really isn’t any end game in sight – as in, neither of us really has any expectation of getting off.  There had been a brief, on-line discussion regarding my cumming as the credits roll, and that is definitely playing in the back of my mind, so I’m in no hurry to lose my load.

Eventually I work up my courage and go in for a real kiss and am totally surprised when my efforts are welcomed.  Mr. Dom possesses some generous lips and he puts them to good use.  He’s a great kisser.   Yep, that's why teenagers love the movies so much.  More true than not, the kissing is probably much better than the movie! In this case, I am only too happy to turn my attention away from the screen.

During the last quarter of the movie, I decide to change it up a bit.  I begin leaning forward in my seat, using the seat in front of me as leverage.   This allows me to actually fuck back on Mr. Dom’s fingers, of which he has managed to work three up my hole.  This type of extended butt play is new to me.  Usually fingering is merely a five to ten minute part of foreplay and not the main course.  All told, I find it to be an oddly satisfying meal.  As I am carefully lowering and raising my ass, I glance over at the older, fat dude across the aisle.  I am pretty sure he knows exactly what we are doing and has been watching us the whole time.  And you know what?  I don’t care.  In fact, it kind of turns me on.

You see, I missed out on all the dirty movie theatre action of yore, when Ferris Alexander had a porno movie theatre empire in Minneapolis.  I visited the one on Lake Street a couple of times before its doors closed, but I was terribly naive and had no idea what men did to one another in the dark.  That I discovered much later in life, while on tour in Kansas City.  There, I happened to visit a very active porno theatre on a Saturday afternoon.  I had so much fun working my way around that theatre; it was almost as good as going to a bathhouse.  One of the things I discovered on that trip was just how turned on I get when other dudes watch me being a total slut, going down on some random dude in public.  Turns out, despite my recent decision to curtail the number of sexual encounters I partake in, I am still turned on by being watched by others.

The movie ends.  I button up and follow Mr. Dom out of the theatre.  We talk as we walk, commenting on how much fun we just had.  He then guides me to a bathroom off the main part of the shopping complex we’re walking through.  He goes into the handicap stall and I remain near the urinals, taking the pulse of just how busy this restroom is.  The coast seems clear, so I duck inside his stall.  I immediately unearth his dick and go down on it.  As soon as my lips reach the base of his cock, the main door flings open and someone hustles in.  I swiftly climb up on the toilet seat and crouch.  Mr. Dom, who is once more wearing his ¾ length leather coat, stands in front of me, his dick just out of reach of my mouth.  From the outside, no one would ever know that two people occupied that stall. 

The other dude leaves, and, remaining crouched on the toilet seat, I begin playing with Mr. Dom’s dick.  It is as nice looking as it was nice to touch.  He’s hard as a rock and just as I manage to deep throat him again, someone else comes rushing in to use the urinals.  This individual is followed by about ten others.  Suddenly the room is full of dudes.  All play ceases as we both hold our breath, praying that we remain undiscovered.  The place is so full even the stall next to us is in use.  We wait out this flurry of activity.  At the first sign of calm, Mr. Dom exits the stall.  I do the same.  We wash our hands, and yet another small group of 20/30-somethings invade the mens room.  Obviously this place is a lot busier than Mr. Dom assumed.  We abandon all play and I walk him back to his car.  On the way, he tells me that he noticed how turned on I get exposing myself in public.  He thinks that’s hot.  He fondles me in the elevator and we kiss a bit more before he gets into his car.

We make promises to one another to do something similar sometime soon.  He suggests a sledding date, but the idea of my dick out in the frigid cold makes me turtle, so I decline.  I’d rather stick to indoor activities and he understands. 

In the time since, we have tried to find a time for another movie date, but our schedules just haven’t jived.  Having written about this experience, it does make me want to do it again.  So I have a feeling he’ll be getting an email from me today proposing something for next week.

Well, fingers crossed.  Maybe this time something will work out.  If it does?

See you at the movies!

(P.S.- The featured pic is of yours truly.  Yeah, I know, not the greatest, but hey, it does the trick - so to speak!)