The Pilgrim theater was in what they used to call the 'Combat Zone' of Boston, the other end of Washington Street from City Hall Plaza, just at the start of Chinatown. I loved that place. Sadly, it's a parking lot now. Once a proud vaudville house, it became a movie theater in the late 50s. In the late 90s, it was a porno theater, a massive one. One where a guy could sit peacefully with his pants down and his cock out.
I was just about to blow a load, so I slowed my stroke a little. It was Friday evening and I was on the latter half of my Friday ritual. Rather than go all the way out to the burbs and then back in for post work-week fun and frolic, I had a beer at the bar near my office, then walked down to where the movies were XXX. I usually killed an hour or so before meeting friends at the regular place across the river for the Friday festival of drunken drunkeness and hooking up. A good wank after work made me more relaxed, sociable and less likely to caveman the first woman I saw at the bar. "Me think you hot!"
Sitting in the theater with my pants down to my knees, my shirt pulled up and my tie flung over my shoulder, I was the picture of a young banker "spanking the monkey" after a hard day of capitalism.
Men walked past the otherwise empty row I was in. Some of them feeling the air in front of them, blind from walking into the dim theater from the still sunny street. Others, eyes adjusted to the dark, occasionally looked my way long enough for me to cover up a little, which is the universal 'get lost' signal.
Sometimes I loved being watched while I jerked off, I enjoyed it when I sat down and got my dick out near some newbie who probably spent hours screwing up the courage to go into a porn theater. He'd watched me with a mix of terror and curiosity out of the corner of his eye, Or he'd just run off leaving me alone with my cock, wich was good, too.
But sometimes guys want to do more than look and I didn't want to attract that kind of company. Watching is one thing, but if a guy came and sat next to me, I'd loose my hardon and have to start over in another seat. And once you get comfortable...It's a pain in the ass to get your pants up, survey another spot and stake it out.
I was sitting in what was commonly thought of as the "straight section" of the theater. Despite this, men cruised up and down the aisles looking for cocks to use.
Cruisers took their chances in the "straight section." Maybe they catch a guy in immediate need of a warm mouth, any warm mouth; maybe you get punched in the face. You say potato, I say get the fuck off of me!
Some guys got hysterical if a gay approached them for sex, yelling, standing up with idignation, shoving, name calling. Regulars, like me, uderstood, but more often than not we would laugh at the poor guy; tell him to shut the fuck up and stop being a baby.
I was getting off on watching a nurse get spit roasted between two soldiers and the feel of my fat, curved cock slapping against my stomach. There was ball squeezing, too.
I was having a fine old time by myself, working my balls through the fingers of my left hand and back, when an older guy walked past me, paused and continued on. He looked like all the career guys at my bank, married, white-haired, weekend golfer-types who would someday love Tiger but vote Bush.
He sat down two rows ahead of me. I scanned him as best I could in the light of the military threesome on the screen and, once I was sure he wasn't one of my many bosses, I got back to my cock.
I always wondered what I would say if a co-worker happened to walk in and see me pleasuring myself. "Oh, hey, Bill! How are you. I'd shake your hand but, y'know, masturbating. How are the kids? Great! See you Monday."
I like a slow build up to an orgasm; I find it soothing, relaxing. I had been there for about a half-hour, working up, backing off, and I was getting close to the big finish.
I got out my little tube of Vasaline, y'know, the kind they used to make for chapped lips. Perfect for wankers on-the-go like me. I added some to my slick cock, pulled my white shirt up a little higher spread my legs and lengthend my stroke. Any minute now.
I saw him out of the corner of my eye, moving down the aisle, a mountain of a man, a gigantic black guy in what looked like a mechanic's shirt, the kind with a name patch.
I'm a big guy myself, linebacker-size, but this guy was like something out of a movie, a football/gladiator movie. He must have been 6'6" and three hundred pounds of muscle. He moved carefully into the row of seats in front of me, blotting out the screen completely for a moment, and sat down with a spring torturing plop.
Okay, so I'm sitting in a porn theater with my pants down, my cock up and a giant mechanic sitting less than a two feet away from me.
I considered moving. He didn't seem gay; he might not have know I was there behind him at all. Guys are often blind until their eyes adjust to the dim, and I had seen many a misunderstanding when men bump into each other in the dark. In any case, I didn't want to have to think about him, but I was set up and and nearing the finish line.
I resolved to stay the course, get it done and ignore any distractions. I tried to focus on the movie, but I was distracted by the mass of shoulders and the bull-like neck just in front of me and to my right.
I was refocusing on the deep throating nurse (ah, the classics), when the mechanic leaned forward. He seemed to be trying to hear what the non-banker guy was saying to him. He was talking softly to the giant.
I thought to myself, boy are you barking up the wrong tree, mister, expecting at minimum the loud, insulted departure of one or both of these guys. Great. Get the fuck out and let a man abuse himself in peace.
Instead, I saw the non-banker's lips moving, a brief flash of a smile, the giant's head nodded once and he leaned back. And before I could get annoyed with his shiney, shaved head blocking the lower right hand corner of the screen again, his tree branch-like left arm came up over the seat, slipped between my legs and I felt the mechanic's hand close around my cock and balls like a snug cockring. It was warm, almost hot, rough and very, very strong.
