Date: Sun, 2 May 1999 18:36:41 EDT
From: SykQuinn@aol.com
Subject: telephone encounters-sucking straight dick

	In the early 1990s I discovered the ads in the Village Voice, and 
other publications for telephone party lines, including many gay and some 
bisexual lines.  I began calling those 550 phone numbers, and found them to 
be an excellent way to meet the kind of guys that I like, men who live very 
straight lifestyles, but who also have urges and desires to have discreet 
sexual encounters with other men.
	My specific preference is younger guys (late teens to early
twenties), who want to receive blow jobs from an older gay man.  I was in
my early forties, living in Brooklyn, and I loved meeting very macho, young
(mostly Italian and Irish) boys who needed a cocksucker to drain their
dicks.  I will tell you about a few of the more memorable experiences that
I had servicing these guys.
	As I started calling the sex phone lines, I discovered that the
best times to meet the kind of "straight" macho boys that I craved was
usually very late at night, or early in the morning on weekends.  I would
awaken at 3 or 4 AM, and get on the line to find guys who had been out
drinking or getting high with their buddies, and had gone home horny,
having not scored any "pussy" that night, and were checking out the line to
find a guy to service their cum filled cocks.  I was ready to provide that
service.

	One of the first young studs that I met this way called himself
Mike.  In the early days of the phone lines, there were just open chat
rooms with up to ten or twelve people trying to talk at the same time.  If
two people wanted to hook up, you could ask the moderator to put you on a
private line together, where you could talk more intimately and give out
your phone number to the other guy.  I kept hear this younger sounding guy,
with a heavy "Brooklyn" accent saying "Anyone in Brooklyn?", over and over
again.  Other guys would call out to him, and I was unable to get his
attention the first few times that I heard him on the party line.  After
several weeks of hearing him at two to three AM on Saturday and Sunday
mornings, I was finally able to get his attention.  I told him that I was
in Brooklyn and I was into sucking dick.  We went private and described
ourselves and our desires to each other, and I gave him my phone number.
	He called me right back.  Mike said that he was twenty years old,
Italian, and straight.  He said that he had always wanted a blow job from a
man.  He told me to meet him in the parking lot of a diner off Cropsey
Avenue in his neighborhood.  I described my car, and he told me that he was
wearing blue jeans, sneakers and a white pull over sweatshirt.  We agreed
to meet in twenty minutes, at 3:00 AM.  I very nervously got out of bed,
brushed my teeth, got dressed and hurried to my car to go meet this hot
sounding Italian boy.  I did not know what to expect, and had fears that I
might not like his looks, or that he might reject me when he saw me.  I
arrived a few minutes early, and waited in my car.  About ten minutes
later, a young guy fitting his description and wearing the described outfit
approached the drivers side of my car.  I was a bit disappointed, as he was
not the totally hot Italian boy that I pictured, but he was a very straight
looking, typical young Italian guy.  I smiled and said hi.
	Mike was about five feet, eight inches tall, and probably weighed
about 160 pounds.  He didn't have a gym body, or a classically handsome
face, but was well built, with a nice shape to his body despite the slight
beginnings of a beer belly.  He was very rugged looking, with brown curly
hair, a nose that appeared to have been broken in his younger days and an
unshaven face.  We looked each other over, and he asked me to come back to
his house.  I agreed.  He walked around to the passenger side of my car,
and I unlocked the door for him.  We were both nervous, and did not say
much during the brief ride.  He gave me directions to his house.  He lived
with his family, but told me that they were away for the weekend and we
would have the house to ourselves.  I parked the car, and we walked up the
front steps to his house.  He opened the door and lead me into the living
room.  I saw a bag of white powder on the table, and he told me that he had
been doing cocaine when he called the line.  He told me that it gave him
the courage to call and to try new things.  He sat down at the coffee table
and did a couple of lines.  He invited me to join him, but I declined.
	After a couple of minutes, he looked up at me, spread his legs
slightly and started rubbing the crotch of his jeans.  He asked me if I
wanted to suck his dick.  I said yes.  He stretched back on the couch and
beckoned me over with his finger.  I approached him and kneeled down on the
carpet in front of him.  I unfastened his jeans, while he sat back with his
hands behind his head.  I started with his thick black belt, unhooked the
snap on his jeans, lowered his zipper and he raised his body, so I could
peel his pants off.  His white jockey shorts came partially off and I
finished removing them so his cock and balls were fully exposed.  His cock
was soft and nestled in a thick hairy crotch.  He had large balls and I
immediately went down on his cock and he let out a sigh.  His dick started
to harden in my mouth, and I reached out with my hand to fondle his hairy
balls.
	He got into it, as I slurped up and down on his now hardening six
inch cock for about ten minutes.  It wasn't the largest or hardest cock
that I had ever sucked, but I was thrilled to be on my knees, with my lips
wrapped around this "straight" boy's cock, right in his families living
room.  He then told me to stop, while he did a couple more lines of coke.
As I started to resume my blow job, he told me to stop and that it was now
my turn.  I did not expect or even want him to go down on me, but he
insisted.  He pointed to a love seat in his living room, and I sat down.
He crawled over to me and told me to take my dick out.  I undid my pants
and he started sucking me.  He was not very good at it, and he stopped
after a few minutes.  I went back to sucking him.  I kept sucking for
another fifteen minutes, when he pulled off my mouth and said that it was
enough.  He was not able to cum.  I assume it was the coke.  He pulled up
his jeans, thanked me and escorted me to the door.  It was not the most
satisfying blow job that I ever gave, but it was a hot experience, getting
to "do" a straight Italian boy right in his Mom's living room.  It provided
for a lot of jerk-off material for the future.

	My next experience was not with a Brooklyn boy, but turned out to
be much hotter. Brad was a twenty-three year old, East Village "punk" that
I met in a similar way, on the party line, at a similar time, (early on a
Sunday morning).  I drove across the Manhattan Bridge, and went up to his
small apartment building on the lower east side of Manhattan.  I rang his
apartment and he buzzed me in.  Again, I was very nervous, not knowing what
to expect, as I walked up to his third floor apartment.  I knocked, and the
door soon opened.  I was excited to see a very hot looking young man,
wearing sweatpants and no shirt.  He had tattoos and two or three body
piercing's, One stud pierced on his lip, another ring on one nipple, and
also one in his navel.  His hair was long on one side, and dyed partially
green.  But his body was excellent.  Smooth solid upper chest and arms, a
classically handsome face, (despite his attempts to alter it with
hardware), and tattoos on his muscular biceps and on his lower belly, going
into his white sweat pants.  Overall a very sexy picture.
	I also noticed a very healthy bulge in his sweatpants, showing a
nice thick cock pointing down.  I looked at him and licked my lips.  He
grinned at me and told me how horny he was.  He had been out at the clubs
with friends, but wound up going home alone.  He went on to say that he was
Bisexual, and he loved to have his cock sucked by either women or men.  I
was more than happy to oblige him.  I got down on my knees in front of him,
as he pulled my head right into the front of his sweatpants.  I could smell
the funky odor of his young crotch, and his dick began to harden with my
face held down on his thickening, pulsating young cock.  After a few
minutes, he pulled back from my face, and lowered his sweats, and then
stepped out of them, leaving himself completely naked, standing in front of
me.  He said one word.  "Suck."
	I obliged his command, and I gave this boy head like I've never
given before.  Brad's cock was a thick cut seven inches.  He pulled my head
down on him and forced his prick down my throat.  After he started fucking
my throat I began to gag on his big dick.  He let up and I used my left
hand to masturbate him, using the wet saliva dripping out of my mouth to
slick the shaft, while I took his hard "punk cock" as deep into my throat
as possible, without gagging.  Brad really got into the blow job, and
started muttering under his breath, things like, "cocksucker" and "suck it,
you bitch."  I really went crazy on that cock, and was really turned on by
his cool attitude, when he muttered.  "Suck me, you faggot."  It was a very
low command, as if it was not said directly to me; but that kind of talk
really turns me on.  I reached my hands up to feel his body.  I caressed
his smooth chest, and I got into his body with great passion.  I felt his
hard young corrugated stomach and gently tugged on his navel and nipple
rings.  That got Brad's motor running even faster.  He pulled me deeper on
his cock, and cried out, "SUCK MY DICK, FAGGOT, EAT ME!  I'M GONNA CUM IN
YOUR MOUTH!  EAT ME YOU BITCH, SWALLOW MY SPERM!"  His body started to
shake and he was moaning.  I began gagging, but he kept thrusting and I
could feel his cum shoot into my mouth and down my throat.  It was
wonderful.
	I remained on my knees, tasting all of his thick juicy young cum
running down my lips, and I licked up as much as I could.  He finally
reached for his sweatpants, pulled them back on and sat in a chair.  He
smiled at me and said, "That was great."  I told him that the pleasure was
all mine.  I asked to use his bathroom to clean up my face a bit.  When I
left the john, he was ready for me to leave, and showed me to the door.  I
asked him to save my phone number and call me again.  He said that he
would, but unfortunately I never heard from him again.  But I kept calling
the party line and found more cock available to me.

	One hot summer afternoon, I turned up the air conditioner, lit up a
fine old joint, grasped my dick through my shorts and called the
"Brooklyn-Queens One-on-one Line."  Individual guys would connect with one
another in a one on one chat.  It was a fun activity to talk, fantasize,
jerk off, and who knows?  Maybe even meet someone.  I am turned on by the
heavy Brooklyn accent that a typical young New York guy has.  I was
connected with a guy who sounded like a young construction worker.  His
name was Keith, and it turned out that he worked for the phone company.
	Keith revealed to me, that he was currently on a job, and had
tapped his headset into the line of someone in the neighborhood, so he
could talk on the line, while someone else would have to pay for the call.
Keith was about five miles from my apartment in Park Slope.  He said that
he was twenty-four, had an average build, and was into having older guys
suck his cock.  He told me that he loved blow jobs.  I never asked if he
was straight, because it seemed so obvious to me that he was.  He told me
what street that he was on, and he wanted me to meet him and suck him off
in the back of his telephone company van.  In my stoned state, my dick got
rock hard in my shorts, and I could not resist going to meet with this hot
straight telephone repairman.
	I drove to the location, in Bensonhurst, a very typical Brooklyn
Italian neighborhood.  The streets were pretty much deserted on that very
hot August afternoon.  I turned the corner, where I had agreed to meet
Keith.  No, Keith.  No telephone van.  I waited in my car.  After a half
hour, I gave up.  Unfortunately, no shows are a part of meeting people off
the lines.
	However, this story does not end there.  I put the episode out of
my head, and was back on the same line a couple of weeks later, also on a
hot Saturday afternoon.  Again, I was connected to the same dude.  I wasn't
sure at first, but I recognized his voice, and then he again said that he
worked for the phone company.  I don't think that he knew that I was the
same guy.  I told him that he had previously agreed to hook up with me, and
never showed.  He apologized, and said that he had an emergency that could
not wait.  But Keith said that he was free this afternoon.  I knew that I
was taking a chance, but I figured that I had nothing better to do that
afternoon, so I once again went after some "straight" cock.  He gave me a
different location, and this time the truck was right there.
	I wasn't nervous before I saw the phone truck, because I honestly
didn't expect him to be there.  My heart started to beat very quickly, as I
locked my car, and walked over to the truck.  I looked around, and from
behind the truck, Keith stepped out to meet me.  He was a short, sexy Irish
guy, wearing his telephone company uniform.  He had a cocky grin that
showed a macho attitude.  He glared at me and told me to follow him.  No
hand shakes, no introductions.  Just "Follow me."  I had thought that I was
going to suck him off in the van, but he walked in the opposite direction
across the street.  I followed, checking out his sexy ass in his black work
pants.  Again the streets were very quiet, as most people were at the beach
or just anywhere to be out of the heat.  Keith stopped at an alleyway
between two apartment buildings.  He adjusted his work pants, and turned
around to wait for me to catch up.
	Again, he smirked his arrogant grin at me, and said, "I have the
key for the basement in this building.  It's where the phone boxes are.
Wait till I walk in and then you come in after". I thought about turning
around and running back to my car, but I had a hard on and I knew that
there was no way I was going to back out now.  I followed down the alleyway
and saw the entrance to the basement.  The padlock was undone and I opened
the door and my eyes had to adjust to the darkness on that hot sunny
afternoon.  I then saw him standing next to me.  He locked the door from an
inside latch.  The only light was coming from the bared windows up above
exposing the sun from street level.  Keith took my hand and lead me to a
milk crate in the middle of the floor.  He told me to sit.
	I don't know if he had other cock suckers on that crate before, or
if he put it there especially for me.  He stood over me and asked if I
liked young guys.  I said yes.  He told me that was good because he liked
to be sucked off by older guys.  I looked up at him as he removed his work
belt and then lowered his work pants to reveal a hard on in his piss
stained white jockey shorts.  The jockey shorts came next and I was looking
at a rock hard, pre cum leaking, six inch boner.  Keith stepped forward and
I swallowed his hard cock.  He fucked my face, and I was able to take it
with a minimum of difficulty.  I liked his attitude and his dick.  After
five minutes he shot off in my mouth with no warning.  It was a bitter
tasting load, but I swallowed every drop.  When I tried to pull my mouth
off, he told me to keep sucking.  He did not get completely soft and soon
was rock hard again.
	My mouth was getting tired, and he let me lick his balls for a
while.  I think that he could sense that I wasn't into another long blow
job, and he eventually softened up some and then pulled out of my mouth.
He zipped up and we were on our way.  He called me that fall and I met him
one more time.  Same kind of scene.  But there is one more guy that I want
to tell you about.

	My hottest meeting from the phone lines was a guy who was not that
attractive.  He was an average looking Brooklyn guy, in his late twenties,
with a bit of a beer belly, and a slightly receding hairline.  But he had
attitude.  He came on the party line at about four o'clock PM one Saturday
afternoon, saying that he was looking for a guy in Brooklyn to suck his
cock.  I volunteered.  Vinny told me to meet him on Coney Island Avenue and
Avenue H. He described his car, and told me to be there in fifteen minutes.
He did not ask much about me.  I asked him where we would do it, and he
told me he had a place.  I saw a rather rough looking Italian guy sitting
in a beat up twenty year old Chevy.  I walked over to ask if he was Vinny.
Before I could identify myself, he ordered me to get in his car.  I guess
he figured out who, or at least what I was.
	I got in on the passenger side and sat down in the filthy old car.
The handle was broken and there appeared to be dirty, fast food bags and
containers strewn all over the old car.  He drove for two blocks, and told
me to take my cock out.  I didn't think that my cock was going to be
involved, but I followed his orders and exposed myself.  He said good and
told me to put it away.  I did.  Then he opened his pants and told me to go
down on him.  I protested that I couldn't give him a blow job in broad
daylight on the busy Brooklyn streets, but he told me to just keep my head
down and to suck!  I sucked his dick right in the car while he was driving.
I started to get into it and was bobbing my head up and down.  I didn't
realize that he was stopped at a red light, and he slammed my head with his
two hands onto his prick.  He told me to keep my fuckin' head down and
called me a stupid faggot.
	I cannot tell you how long the sucking went on, as I was totally
disoriented with my head buried in his crotch as he drove up Avenue J, with
many cars all around us.  Vinny was getting off on having a faggot blow him
right in a public place.  But his old Chevrolet was very big, and if I kept
my head down, no one would see me.  He told me that he lived with a woman
and was going to fuck her later that night.  I was totally turned on by his
dominating, straight attitude, and told him during one break that I wish
that I could get him naked and lick his ass.  He told me that I would do
whatever the fuck that he wanted me to do.  And he was right.
	The blow job went on for what seemed like a long time, when I
realized that the car had come to a stop.  Vinny had parked on a side
street and asked me if I wanted to finish him off.  I said yes, and he
asked me how badly I wanted his cum.  I told him very much.  He asked me
how much money I had with me.  I had learned to carry little cash with me
when going to meet strangers for sex.  All I had was twenty dollars and my
drivers license.  I told him, and he said it would cost me the twenty if I
wanted his cum.  I agreed, and he told me to put the twenty on the
back-seat where he could see it.  I obliged.  I then continued to suck him
on the quiet residential side street in Brooklyn.  He was getting close and
told me to take my mouth off.  He started to jerk himself off with my mouth
licking his shaft He kept asking if I wanted his cum.  I said that I did.
His body stiffened and I tried to suck his cock back in my mouth, but he
kept jerking off until he shot his load in his hand.
	My face was right alongside his cock and cum filled hand, when he 
grabbed my head with his clean hand and rubbed his cum all over my face with 
his other hand, He wiped all his cum in my hair and face, and cleaned the 
rest off on my shirt.  He started laughing.  I did not know what to think.  
He buttoned up and started driving his car again.  He asked me if I had any 
tissues to clean my face with.  I said no and asked him if he had any in the 
car.  He started laughing again and said "No.  That would be too convenient 
for you."  The car came to a stop and he told me to get out of the car.  I 
protested that my car was parked five blocks away. 
	"Too bad faggot," he said.  "I have to pick up my girlfriend now.
Get out" I could tell that I had better leave.  I opened the door and was
not completely out of the car, when he stepped on the gas and I half fell
out onto the street.  I could hear him laughing and say, "You got what you
deserve, you faggot."
	Luckily, there was no one who saw me fall out of his car, and I did
have a couple of tissues in my pocket to partially wipe off my face.  But I
did have to walk through the streets of Brooklyn with Vinnie's cum on my
face, back to my car.  I cannot tell you how many times I have jerked off
to that day, and in my fantasies, I got to get Vinnie naked, and I got to
lick his ass.

Please let me know if you liked this story and if want you to hear more.
SykQuinn@aol.com.