Date: Tue, 11 May 2010 20:19:43 -0500
From: Karl Austerlitz <karlausterlitz@gmail.com>
Subject: At The Movies (Part One)

[The following account is almost certainly fiction.]

Many years ago when I was 13 years old I worked at an art house movie
theatre in Houston during the summer.  I was also an avid cyclist, rode my
bike to and from school every day, and while I wasn't muscular, my body was
slender and toned.  On the nights I didn't work, I would cycle to the movie
theatre and watch all kinds of films for free - foreign films, animated art
films, and even unrated films.  This was back in the late 1970s when the
culture in the US was considerably freer than it is now.  It was an era
before the zero tolerance drug warrior mindset that began to take hold in
the 1980s.  Smoking marijuana was officially tolerated at rock concerts,
midnight movies, and the occasional art house cinema.

Like many entertainment establishments, this theatre had its regulars. One
of these regulars was an older gay man I'll call Gene.  I say "older"
because when you're 13, just about anyone out of high school counts as
"older," but truthfully I really don't know how old he was.  In retrospect
I would guess that he was in his late 40s or early 50s.  He wasn't in the
closet, it's just that no one needed to ask him about it, everyone at the
theatre just sorta knew, and no one thought anything of it.  It was, after
all, an art house cinema on the edge of the Montrose in a cosmopolitan
international city.

Gene was always friendly with me, and I remember thinking at the time that
he was sometimes just a bit too friendly. When we had conversations, he
would move in close, sometimes touch my arm to make a point, and always
smile. The first few times I didn't think anything of it, but eventually
one night it dawned on me that Gene's affection for me was of the kind
that, as we used to say, dare not speak its name.  (Now it's the love that
just wont shut up about itself.)  We were both upstairs about an hour
before the theatre was officially open.  I was in a storage room counting
inventory when he walked in.  I paused, and we started talking.

"I'm not keeping you from your work, am I?" he asked.

"Oh, not at all," I said, smiling and continuing to do inventory.

He sat down on the couch about four feet away from me, made himself
comfortable, and began to tell me a story about meeting some famous movie
star 20 years ago. I silently counted how many chocolate bars we had when I
noticed that Gene wasn't wearing any underwear.  Out of the corner of my
eye I caught a glimpse of the bright red tip of his penis head of back at
me from underneath his cut-offs.  For a moment I just stood there and
gawked, unable to look away.  Gene continued his story as if nothing were
amiss, but clearly he knew I had seen his cock, and thinking back on it I
of course know now that that was in fact his intention.  He wanted to gauge
my reaction to the sight of his cock.

I looked back at the shelf with the chocolate bars, and then down at my
clipboard, and back at the shelf, not quite sure what to do.  Should I get
offended? Should I just turn and walk off?  While Gene continued talking,
at the time the only thought going through my mind was how much I just
really wanted to see the rest of his cock.  I pretended to study the
inventory data on my clipboard and pondered the situation while again out
of the corner of my eye Gene adjusted his position on the couch, and in the
process managed to move his leg a bit to allow another inch or so of his
cock to reveal itself.  I have to tell you I just didn't know what to do.
I was still a virgin at this point. On the one hand it was exciting to see
Gene's cock and I wanted to just stand there and gaze at it, but on the
other I had that feeling of "I shouldn't be doing this." I also realized
that I had become aroused by the situation, and felt my own cock stiffen in
my pants.  All of a sudden I realized he was asking me a question

" Isn't that right?"

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked.

"That Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was the greatest film made in the
last ten years," he said.

"Oh yes," I agreed, turning towards him without even thinking about it.

He had turned so that he sat facing me, his left leg extended and his right
off to the side. His cock was clearly visible and rising as he stared
directly at the bulge in my pants.

I acted as if I hadn't seen anything, and turned my attention back to work.
I then picked up some items needed downstairs as Gene finished his story.

"Hey, I got to go downstairs," I said.

He nodded as I walked off.

That night I lay awake, replaying the scene in my mind, and I got aroused.

Clearly he wants me, I thought to myself.  And I started thinking about
what might have happened if I had just stood there and stared at his cock,
and smiled, and licked my lips.  I imagined a scenario and began to
masturbate.  (Up until that point in my life I had only fantasized about
girls, not guys.)  He could have unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock
and started stroking it in front of me.  I would have dropped down to my
knees and begged him to suck it.  I started to imagine what it would have
been like to kiss his beautiful dick, to lick it, to take it into my hot
wet mouth and suck it like crazy.  I imagined his cock in my mouth, and
feeling him reach orgasm in my mouth, shooting his cum down my young
throat. That night I had one of the most powerful orgasms in my life.  In
fact, that night I ended up jacking off four more times during the night
– and again as soon as I awoke the next morning.  Good Lord, I thought,
I've fantasized about sex with Gene, so now how would I ever be able to
face him?  And then it hit me: he'd already been fantasizing about me since
the night he met me three months ago.

A week later I was working the front entrance tearing tickets and selling
popcorn and drinks.  Eventually the crowd petered out, so I told the other
guy working the counter that I would go upstairs, watch a bit of the film,
and get some more supplies for the concessions. I remember one evening the
featured film was Pretty Baby in which a 12-year-old girl who became quite
famous portrayed a child prostitute, and actually performed a nude scene.
In current DVD versions of Pretty Baby, the film has been edited to avoid
showing the little girl pussy, or her ass.  What was permitted onscreen in
public in America in the 1970s is no longer permitted.

I entered the balcony, got a seat on the back row, and started watching the
film.  I saw the scene where Brooke's character poses nude, and then is
locked outside in the hallway.  It's actually a great theatrical scene and
the nudity is necessary to the plot, but at the time I remember my eyes
locking in on her cute cute young body, her tiny boobs just starting to
grow, and her hairless pussy.  This was before the internet brought instant
free hardcore porn into every household in America. So being the healthy
red-blooded American teenager that I was, the scenes of the girl nude
pushed my arousal button.  We were, after all, only one year apart in age.
After that scene I left the balcony, got a drink of water at the water
fountain, and realized I had to visit the men's room.

The bathroom near the balcony had one urinal next to the sink, off to the
side a toilet behind a door.  In other words, the bathroom was small, and
there was barely enough room for one person to turn around.  I locked the
door, stood at the urinal and unzipped my jeans (I wasn't wearing underwear
that night), giving my cock freedom to point directly ahead.  My cock was
still semi-erect from the Brooke Shields nude scene minutes before.
Sometimes you know that you have to piss, but you can't until your erection
subsides.  I was having one of those moments, and the thought occurred to
me that I could wank it right there with no one around, bring myself to a
real quick orgasm, and then empty my bladder. I made a quick decision,
pushed my pants further down below my hips, and started stroking my cock on
the spot as I replayed the scene in my mind of the child whore and her
naked little body.

I admit that I was at this age still a virgin. I closed my eyes and
imagined how wonderfully pleasurable it would be to slide my stiff dick
into her wet little piss slit. With my left hand I squeezed my balls and
with my right hand I furiously gripped and stroked my cock. In the theatre
of my mind, I was mounting that naked little from behind, pushing her young
hips apart, and ramming my cock into her tight hairless cunt. By this point
I was salivating so much that I decided to spit into my hand for
lubrication, heightening the sensation on my cock.  My breathing was heavy
as I pounded my shaft with my right hand, my balls slapping gently against
my skin. I could feel the pressure building in my balls, and the pre-cum
leak from the tip of my penis.

And I thought to myself, "Ahh...almost there...in about twenty seconds I'm
going to shoot my load..."

At that moment I heard the toilet flush and the door to the toilet open.
It startled me because I hadn't realized someone else was in there.  Oh
shit, what am I going to do, my cock was fully erect, there was no way I
could fit that monster back into my tight blue jeans in time.

Next thing I know Gene was standing right next to me at the sink, washing
his hands and smiling down at my nakedness.

"Hello, Karl," he said.

"Hi, Gene!" I said, turning bright red from the embarrassment of having
been caught playing with myself, my right hand still locked around my
engorged glistening cock.

In bathrooms built today, there is a large divider between a sink and a
urinal so that whoever is washing his hands can't just look over at his
neighbor's Johnson.  This old theatre's bathroom, however, was not designed
with privacy in mind.  It was tiny and cramped.  They installed both a
urinal, toilet and sink, but then made it lockable.  It's as if the
designer (or committee of designers) weren't quite sure whether they were
building a bathroom for one or two people.

In this old theatre there was only a tiny divider down low between the sink
and the urinal, apparently to prevent splashing.  As Gene stood at the sink
drying his hands, his eyes gazed upon my turgid penis.

How ironic, I thought.  A few moments ago my penetrating male gaze was
affixed upon the bald little pussy of a 12-year-old girl, and now there I
stand in full view of an older gay man with my erect 13-year-old cock,
glistening wet and red from my stroking it.

Gene made no attempt to hide his obvious pleasure at seeing my aroused
exposed cock.  He turned and looked me straight on.

"Please don't stop on my account," he said.

I paused, look him in the eye, and resumed masturbating right there in
front of him.  The entire situation was embarrassing but also really hot as
I stroked my cock for him.  Just knowing that he enjoyed watching me jerk
off turned me on even more.

He reached out his right hand and touched the tip of my cock, where a drop
pre-cum had formed.  With his left hand he cupped my balls, with his right
hand he dripped my shaft.  This caused my cock to became even harder, and
caused even more pre-cum to flow out.  He milked out my pre-cum onto the
tip of his index finger, and then he placed the tip of his finger at my
mouth.  My lips parted, and he inserted his finger into my mouth.  I sucked
his finger, and tasted my own juice.

I stroked my cock and sucked his finger, wishing that it were his dick.

He withdrew his finger from my mouth and cupped my balls with his hand
while I continued to stroke my cock.  He stood only inches from me and our
eyes locked as he squeezed my balls.

"You like that, don't you," he said.

I nodded.

He continued squeezing my balls as he said "Cum for me."

"Yes," I whispered.  "Oh my God, I'm gonna cum."

That's when he pushed my hand aside and started jacking my cock with one
hand while gently squeezing my balls with his other.  It felt about 100
times better when he did.  Very soon I felt a powerful orgasm rock my body
as cum spurted out of my cock into his hands.  I stood there as continued
to squeeze my balls with one hand while stroking my cock with his other.  I
felt as if I were being milked.

We cleaned up, he wrote down his address on a slip of paper and gave it to
me.

"Come by at four o'clock tomorrow afternoon," he said.  I nodded in
agreement.

Start to finish this encounter took only a couple minutes, but it changed
my life forever.


***END OF PART ONE***