I Went Down

I went down to the adult bookstore on the west side of town this afternoon. I was out on an errand run, to get a window blind fixed and drop off some books at the library. Adult bookstore was not on the errand list. I parked a few blocks away, on a quiet residential street just off the main highway through town; I liked the walk and the anticipation of what was to come. I thought I'd buy some lube and maybe walk through the arcade; but it was just after 2 in the afternoon and I didn't expect much action. The day was cool and the sky was gray.

As I walked the unpaved alley leading to the store I had to step aside as two diesel pickup trucks passed me. One made a left turn into the fenced parking lot at the end of the alley. I knew that this gravel parking lot was for the bookstore. The other continued out to the street, turned left and parked just off Seventh Avenue. I considered a parade of Dodge Ram diesel pickup trucks near the adult bookstore in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon to be a good sign. As I made room for the Dodge Ram guys I could feel my mood, already expectant, but not really needing anything, become even lighter. A couple of guys just finishing their shifts, I thought. As I approached the chain-link fence that marked the parking lot, the man in the first truck walked toward the rear entrance of the store, which was unmarked but ajar. His truck was a crew-cab, white, four-wheel drive with large tires. He was tall and well built and looked like he'd just finished a shift on a construction job of some sort. Concrete, I decided. His jeans were rough and he wore a dark t-shirt with an elaborate WHISKY logo on the back. His pal in the maroon Dodge Ram hadn't entered yet. They must be pals, I figured, because two trucks rolling down the alley one after the other both headed to the adult store at 2 in the afternoon on a Wednesday in November was too much for coincidence.

I got some ones from the guys behind the counter and wandered toward the arcade. Just before entering I got a glimpse of the very tall guy who'd come in from the maroon truck. A big guy, not fat, but probably six foot four and maybe forty-five or fifty years old. He was looking at the gay videos and glanced at me before going into the darkened corridor of the arcade. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that said "Route 66" on the breast pocket. He had a neatly trimmed white goatee and short silver hair. I didn't see him in the corridor of the cave-like arcade, but I started walking up and down the hallways to see who was about.

One room that was occupied had glory holes on two sides and I slipped into the unoccupied cubicle and watched for a few minutes as WHISKY man from the white truck got a blow job from someone on the other side. All I could see was his jeans down around his knees and the back of his t-shirt and his naked ass thrusting at whoever was sucking his dick. He was moaning and just about ready to cum when I started my observation. And a moment later I heard him say something like "Oh fuck!" and I knew he'd blown his wad into the mouth of the lucky guy next door. He turned around and I could see his rather large still erect dick dripping with cum as he reached for a paper towel to clean himself off. He pulled up his pants, tucked in the WHISKY shirt and left cubicle number 14.

I continued my rounds down the darkened hallways, noticing my own reflection in the mirror placed at the end of the furthest hall. There were only three or four men around, one who looked like he might live on the street and whose left pant leg was rolled up to his knee and seemed like he might be high on something. I avoided him, except to touch his penis briefly when he was in room 14 and hoping for a blow job. He had a long circumcised penis and nice brown pubic hair—lots of it, which I like in a man. But I moved on.

I went from the arcade back into the bookstore—a bookstore with no books, really, but what seemed like thousands of videos in faded covers on every wall and in bins in the middle of the room. There was nobody there except the two employees chatting about someone's Prince Albert piercings. I returned to the cavern with its reflecting mirror.

There he was, coming out of the room at the end, mister Route 66. We looked at each other and he said, "I was hoping you'd be in here," and I followed him into the room. This room was larger than most, and had a padded bench on one side and video screens on two walls. Everybody in the videos was fucking—men fucking men and men fucking women and, well, I didn't care about the videos because I had this big tall handsome man who started kissing me and told me that he wanted me to fuck him. Well I wasn't probably going to fuck him there because I really wanted a blow job today and then I wanted to suck his big dick and taste his cum. He didn't seem to mind and in just a minute had my belt off and my zipper down and my underwear around my knees and he was on his knees and sucking my cock. He was a good cocksucker just like he was a good kisser—he was eager for a man—and took my smallish penis all the way into his mouth and was clearly enjoying himself. I shot hot jizz into his throat after only a couple of minutes—I really couldn't wait to cum after cruising around the arcade for the previous half hour. The sight of WHISKY man's erect penis dripping with cum had been very exciting to me.

Mr. Route 66 sat down on the bench and I opened his jeans and pulled up the t-shirt and began kissing him and playing with his nipples. His chest was broad and muscled and covered with short blonde fur and his nipples were very erect. I held his penis in my hand—it had become large and after I pulled back his foreskin the glans was pink and pulsing as I kissed his lips and nipples and touched his balls. Route 66 sat on the bench and I knelt between his spread legs and sucked and licked his big cock until he finally started moaning. I knew my reward—the hot stuff—wasn't far off, so I held the tip of his penis in my mouth and moved my fingers toward his waiting anus. My fingers were well lubricated by this time with my saliva and his pre-cum and his smooth anus felt like silk to me as I rubbed around it and massaged this most sensitive spot on a man's body. As I tickled the underside of the tip of his penis with my tongue and reached into his anus with two of my fingers he pushed his rear end toward me and started moaning and began pulsing waves of creamy sperm into my mouth.

I held his cock in my mouth until it was soft, licked it a final time, and stood up and arranged my clothes. We kissed—Mister Route 66 and I—and I stepped out of the room and out of the cave-like halls of the arcade and through the brightly lit room of the bookstore and back into a Wednesday afternoon in Eugene Oregon. I finished my errands and drove up the hill toward home.

I should have given this guy my phone number. Whatever his life outside of the bookstore, he surely needed a man and would have been a fine friend with benefits. Even now a month later I kick myself for not giving him some way to contact me the next time he needs attention.