Date: Fri, 22 Oct 2010 10:27:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Likeness <thelilghost06_nthesarge@yahoo.com>
Subject: the little ghost pt 4

The Little Ghost Pt 4
Friday: Mid Afternoon at the Dirty Bookstore


This is a real account of my first visit to what claimed to be the "World's
Largest Adult Bookstore" in the capital city of an oh so conservative
Southern state. It was back when I wore the youthful armor of
invincibility, instead of condoms. All things considered, I was lucky in my
ignorance--don't tempt fate, play safe.

The building was huge--it had once-upon-a-time been a sizable department
store--there were three ways into the bookstore from the alley: down a set
of steps and into the basement, through a street level door, or up a short
flight of steps to what was presumably the upper floor. I'd never been to a
three story dirty bookstore--I was duly impressed!

I decided to go in the upper door and work my way from the top down, as I
did so, I caught motion from the corner of my eye; when I glanced that way,
I saw a whiteboy on his knees behind the dumpster blowing a very dark
skinded brotha; it looked like a good one too--the whiteboy was finger
fucking dude, and dude was looking weak kneed--I came to the top step and
went in.

The entryway was brightly and harshly lit, presumably so their security cam
could get a good image of the patrons as they entered. I proceeded into the
place proper; checkout clerk toward the front--this was ground level in the
front--various and sundry "adult" items: videos, bondage gear, sex toys
etc. I moved further in and saw the doorways to the movie booths, and
continued to look around. I must have looked a little bewildered, because,
a kid detached himself from a chat with the clerk and approached me,

"Is this your first time here?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," I answered matching his tone and volume; I took the opportunity to
check him out. He was young, probably just out of high school, and cute. He
was around 5' 8" and skinny in that twink way; clear tanned skin, brown
eyes, curly mop of light brown hair. He wore a snug T-shirt and light tan
shorts low on his hips; plaid boxer showed above them.

"This is the "respectable" part of the store," he continued, eying me up
and down, "Most of the action is downstairs; the second floor has mostly
movie booths with glory holes, and the basement has a locker room, a
`Turkish bath' and private booths big enough to get comfortable with
someone . . . If you want . . ."

"Could you show me around a little?" I asked, picking up his hint.

"Sure," he piped.

He led the way thru the door to the stairway; it was less and less well
lit--I could see movement further down the stairwell, guys clinching in the
corners and one or more blow jobs in progress--gotta love the Bible belt, I
reflected, the wildest sex shops are all there!

The kid led me into the movie booth area on the second floor--it reeked of
disinfectant, sweat, and stale cum--there was a change kiosk at the
entrance, and I noted there were baskets with lots of lube and condoms: the
kid grabbed some of the lube as he led me back to the booths. The usual
guys were in evidence--glory hole whores, bored "straight" guys, sluts
(like me), and pathetic old faggots trying to hang on to their youth (too
fat or wrinkled or bald for the kids' styles they tried to wear, or too
pervy, you know the type)--as the kid led me into a booth, latched the door
and dropped a couple tokens; the screen lit up to a gay sex scene,

"Whenever you come into a booth on this floor, make sure you drop some
tokens in the machine if you close the door, or the staff will come and
boot you out," he informed me seriously.

"Gotcha," I responded. I noted a 1' X 2' framed opening into the next
booth; there was movement in there too.

At the same time, the kid, moving rapidly, had his pants down, and had
opened mine, and was sucking me for all he was worth; I looked down and
noted that his @ 5" prong was straining upward. As soon as I was hard, he
stood and ripped open a tube of lube and stroked it onto my dick; he turned
his back, I bent my knees and acquired my target--his hole was
pre-lubed--and pushed in one steady thrust.

"Uh," he sighed as I bottomed out, "Fuck me."

I began pumping and he started beating his meat--I noticed eyes and a dark
face watching from glory hole--I realized I was going to be a living dildo
for this kid; he needed his ass plugged to get off. `Oh well,' I thought,
`I'll do my part--there's plenty else around for me to get off.' Sure
enough, the kid busted a nut, and slid off my dick. He pulled up his pants,
said "Thanks", handed me a "Wet Nap" packet, gave me a peck on the lips and
was gone. My manhood was out and hard; before I could close the door, a
black kid slid in and latched it.

"Do you suck dick?" he asked, directly but politely.

"Yes," I said.

"Will you suck mine?" again very politely.

"Sure," I said as I sat on the corner seat and dropped a couple more
tokens. This black boy was long and slim and dark skinded, he dropped his
pants and pushed down his tighty-whiteys revealing seven slim inches of
ebony. I started sucking, and he started pumping--gently, trying not to gag
me--my fingers were still slick, so I gently messaged his tight bung and
then gently started finger fucking him; he ooh'd and aah'd and then said,

"I'm about to cum," then asked politely, "Can I shoot it in your mouth?"

"Mm hmm," I hummed as I nodded.

"Here it comes . . . uh, uh, uh."

His dick spasmed and his body jerked as spurt after spurt of very sweet
semen pumped into my mouth. I swallowed and then carefully milked out the
last of his nut, and cleaned his dick.

"Thank you," he said as soon as he caught his breath.

I stood and he kissed me passionately licking some traces of his cum from
inside my mouth.

"Shut the door as you leave," I instructed.

"Thanks again," he said and did as I asked.

I used the "Wet Nap" to clean off my man root; I paused for a moment to
catch my breath, stood then exited the booth.

As I did so, another black guy, kinda cute, dressed in thug gear, with a
head rag and a gold tooth in front, gave me a "please" look as he cocked
his head to the side and grabbed his crotch; I nodded and followed him into
his booth. He stuck his arm out and shook his head as I started to close
the door--he wanted to make sure somebody saw a whiteboy bobbin' on his
knob--and then pushed down the front of his pants and boxers, and produced
an enormous meat log that would have made Hickory Farms jealous--

"Damn," I said as started to kneel, but he steered me around so I was once
again on the corner seat--I realized that gave any potential spectators a
better view--and stretched to get my mouth around the end of the dick; he
tweaked my nipples through my shirt, so to give him better access, I pulled
the front of it up and flipped it over the back of my neck. I returned to
his dick; it felt like I was trying to jam a tennis ball into my mouth, but
he let me adjust to it; I slid my hand under his sac and messaged his
perineum; I worked the head and then licked and mouthed and nibbled the
shaft from tip to base and took his smallish hairless nut sac into my
mouth; his grunts of pleasure me gave me all the encouragement I needed; I
glanced out the door--I counted 5 spectators, plus two more in the booth
straight across, and at least 1 guy watching through the glory hole--a good
show so far.

As I worked his sac and into his crotch, homey stroked his huge meat-cicle;
he pushed my head back to it, and I anticipated another mouthful, but just
as I tasted the sharply tart first bit of ejaculate, he pulled out of my
mouth, and shot five thick heavy ropes of cum across my face and chest;
with the last jerk of his body, he squeezed and milked the last of his nut
to the end of his dick and shoved it back into my mouth. I cleaned it off,
and with one last shuddering breath, he put it away. Instead of leaving,
however, he used his fingers to push the cum on my face to my mouth, which
I avidly slurped up. With a last swipe at my chin, I Figured he was gone,
but what he did next almost made me cum in my drawers; he pulled me to my
feet, then lowered himself down and lapped the sperm from my belly and
chest and fed it to me with his tongue. Three tongue loads later, he
finally licked the inside of my mouth drew back, gave me a cocky smirk, and
strutted away. A couple of the spectators looked at me hopefully, I shook
my head and mumbled "maybe later" and shut and latched the door.

A hand from the glory hole jingled some tokens; saying thanks, I took them
and dropped a few in the slot. I gazed mindlessly at the screen for a few
minutes, and then felt hands begin to message my lap. I looked down to see
small, slim brown hands rubbing me. Long skinny arms led back to the hole
thru the wall. He tugged at my waist, so I stood; the pair of brown hands
started undoing my jeans, they were presently joined by a pair of white
hands to yank them down below my knees. My dick had barely started to go
flaccid, and now it was right back at full mast as four hands and two
mouths marauded over my nether regions. I was thoroughly enjoying this
lavish attention, when one of the pair stated in a breathy whisper,

"I want you to fuck my boyfriend's ass," and pressed a packet of lube in my
hand.

"Okay," I whispered back, and stepped back a little to lube my tool.

In short order, a small, beautifully rounded, firm brown butt presented
itself, perfectly framed by the finished opening. I gently drug a finger up
the crack and felt the lightly moistened entrance; then, after settling the
tip of my pride and joy at its lip, I took hold of both of his hips, and
thrust steadily in until I bottomed out. I didn't move for a second,
enjoying the intense heat of his innards on my dick; my bottom boy rocked
his ass slightly to urge me to get on with it--after a beat to make sure he
understood who was the dick-er and who was the dick-ee, I began, slowly
building to a pleasant fuck pace. Almost immediately I felt my orgasm start
to build; I realized that I'd had four pretty intense sexual
encounters--Luis's blow job, the almost fuck, the black kid and the just
completed thug encounter--with out busting a nut, so this was NOT going to
be a languid fuck, to say the least. To that point, I slid my hand down and
found his very hard slim 8 inches of joy; I was only able to stroke it a
few times, before my hand was replaced by his boyfriend's mouth. Almost
instantly, I felt the boy's ass tense up, and I knew he was feeding his nut
to his boyfriend. I started to pick up the pace--I didn't want to be blue
balled again--when white hands stopped my thrusts, the brown butt pulled
off my dick, and was replaced in the opening with an equally cute, and
perfectly matched white butt. I inserted myself and quickly resumed the
fuck pace I'd had before, this time when I reached around, I found 5 slim
inches and was only able to stroke it for a minute or so before his
blackboy started blowing him. This time, however, I was much closer to
popping my load, and just as he tensed up and fed his boyfriend, I tensed
up, pulled back and started to nut on his hole, in his crack, and then
pushed myself all the way back in, fucking in and out a few times.

I pulled out, bent down and quickly nipped at the ass cheeks; in seconds
the white ass was replaced by its owners face--he kissed me and then
reached for my still firm dick and tugged it towards him. I stood up and my
already happy dick was made ecstatic when it was engulfed by his very hot
mouth. He licked and suck all the cum and slime and ass-juice off my spear
in seconds, and after a few idle sucks he relinquished it to me. I put it
away and then squatted down to look through the hole; as I watched, the
blackboy was just finishing his feast of my spooge from his whiteboy's ass.

"Fuckin' hot," I said in a breathy growl.

"Oh yeah," the whiteboy panted, "meet us out back in a few, please," both
kissed me deeply, giving me the delightful lingering essence of our spooge
mixture.

"Okay," I responded thoughtfully, and adjourned the booth.

I was spent. I moved, a bit unsteady, out of the booth area, and found the
restroom. Once in there, I became aware of just how much I smelled of
sex. As I was leaving, I saw a menu of services with a schedule of fees;
the services offered were very similar those of a bathhouse, and it was
relatively cheap too. I was thinking of getting a room, but first I needed
to go outside and clear my head; I suddenly felt overwhelmed and
claustrophobic. I headed for the backdoor and out to the alley; the fresh
air hit me like a plank, warm and humid after icy cold A/C--WHAM! I took
the few steps to a patio that acted as a smoking area: I don't smoke, but
it was a convenient place to wait for my cute little couple.

They emerged from the basement level door, chatting with each other, as I
looked at them I was stunned; they were nearly perfect photographic
negatives of each other: they appeared to be the exact same height about 5'
7"; one's skin the rich dark brown of mahogany; the other's was the stark
white of alabaster; each had his hair in identical braids, one jet black,
the other natural platinum blond. Their facial structure was similar
enough, but for the skin contrast they could be mistaken for brothers;
brows, cheek bones, jaw lines, noses and ears all closely similar; their
clothing however, was where this primary/secondary color contrast really
played out. The black kid, called Alec, wore red high-top Chuck Taylor's;
the white kid, called Zack, wore contrasting green ones; Alec wore white
skinny jeans, and Zack wore black. Alec wore a tight yellow "A & F"
t-shirt; Zack wore an equally snug purple t-shirt that had a silhouette of
a horse and buggy and read "I'm Amish, don't fuck with me" in white. Each
carried a small gym bag; Alec's was pink and Zack's was
light-green/chartreuse. As they neared, I saw that their eyes where a
matching hazel; their contacts were exact contrast since Alec's eyes were
brown and Zack's were blue.

Each introduced the other, and I introduced myself. We chatted amiably for
a quarter hour--when I asked about their contrasting appearance, Alec
explained--

"We met when we both modeled for a photographer," he said in an un adorned
west coast baritone, "he did a whole series of photo sets he called
"Contrasts". Initially he had me with a straight whiteboy, who really
couldn't relax into the poses--semi-nude with a gayboi just wasn't for
him--when Zach showed up; we "blended" as the photographer put it. We even
did erotic nudes for him. It was fun, so we just kept doing it."

"You look really hot together," I stated, "and separately for that matter."

They both burbled thanks and complimented my appearance in return. We
chatted idly for a few more minutes, when Zack came to the point,

"We would like it if you would come and party with us later on," his voice
was that lilting Southern drawl of the "upper crust"; I bet his folks just
loved the idea of their son being gay to begin with, and being gay with a
"colored" boy from Cali was just icing-on-the-cake.

I considered the offer; as a rule, I try to avoid three-ways--they're fun,
but it can be tricky to get all three satisfied--that all three of us were
more or less versatile helped, but I asked,

"Can I bring a friend?" and then added, "He's hot and super hung--"

"Is he a soldier too?"

"Yep," I said.

"Black, white; "straight" (air quotes) gay?" the query continued.

"Black, gay, short with a tight body, and cute in a gangsta way; he loves
to top, gives hella good head, and so far can go again and again," I said
anticipating and answering further questions.

"Sure," they answered in unison. They told me where they lived and both
gave me their numbers the old-fashioned way, and I gave them mine; we set a
time for early that evening and said our goodbyes. Only after they'd left
did I happen to think that maybe the Ghost wouldn't wanna. We'd cross that
bridge when we came to it. In the meantime, I needed to clean up a little,
and the basement floor beckoned.

Just before I entered, the Ghost called once again; the missing hadn't
showed, but regardless the rest of the Company would be released at
1800. It was just shy of 1600; I explained where I was and offered the idea
of having some fun with the boys later--he thought it a capital idea--and
had to hang up.

I went in the door; there was a small lobby area with a check-in desk and a
seedy looking chubby white guy, with thinning hair and a sparse, uneven
goatee;

"How can I help you?" he stated in a bored tone.

"I'd like a booth an--"

"There are none available at this time," he said in the same tone.

"Then how `bout a locker and a towel?", I proposed.

"The towel charge is $5, the locker is $4, no locks are provided and we are
not responsible lost or stolen items; please read and follow all rules,
please keep your towel on when not in the steam room, bath, or in a private
both." He wheezed in a dull monotone, and continued, "The City News does
not condone anonymous sexual contact between persons of the . . . "

I stopped listening, grabbed my towel and went thru the entrance to the
locker area. Once in, I located a locker and stripped--because of the
outside door and the entrance the area were in close proximity (read
raid-able) the locker room was a no play zone--I headed for the
showers. Steam and the sound of splashing water greeted me as I entered the
anteroom to the showers; there was a bench attached to a sort of curtain
wall with a row of hooks and a couple of towels already hung up; I hung up
my towel grabbed a wash rag and a hotel sized soap and entered the showers
proper.

It was a long room with shower clusters down the center of the room and
showerheads at intervals along the walls. I quickly got under the water and
washed up, and then let the hot water pound on my shoulders and back; a
couple other patrons strode past me, the first was an older white gentleman
(mid to late 50's maybe 60) of the type I'm very fond of--neatly trimmed
gray hair and close cropped beard, gray chest hair proudly worn on a trim
and well maintained body--he was who he was and was damn proud of it. I
acknowledged him with a nod and vowed I would make contact with him for a
later date; he smiled and continued on, his outline dissolved into the
steam. A couple totally into each other passed, and a pervert looking type
followed them closely--I didn't wanna know--then my heart nearly stopped--a
dream entered the shower and took his place at the shower directly in front
of me.

He was a whiteboy, not long out of high school, tall as me, with broad
shoulders, defined chest and a narrow waist; he was smooth skinned and well
built, but lightly muscled, more like a dancer than a gym rat or a
construction dude. His hair was deep auburn and formed a wreath about his
face--knit cap hair--and big soulful brown eyes; he was tanned but not
enough to hide the spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose and
cheeks. I adjudged, from the scars on his knees and shins, and the ones I
could see on his elbows and forearms, him to be a skater; he had a
mischievous little smile that alternated with a full on grin as he brazenly
looked me over. I kindly turned around and showed him my additional
"assets", then turned back and just as brazenly checked his package; what I
saw made me lick my lips--seven plus soft, succulent inches grew from his
cleanly shaven pubes and hung tantalizingly over a lovely hairless sac--he
turned around and gave me a view of his pronounced, but perfectly fitting
ass. I felt drool pool behind my lower lip.

"Can you wash my back for me?" he asked most naturally.

"Sure," I piped back, after a brief search for my voice.

I stepped across, and with my soapy rag, explored the broad, tanned, well
muscled back of this gorgeous hunk of boy flesh; as I did so, he suggested
that I wash the rest of him--and he would return the favor--what was I
supposed to do? I made especially sure that his dick and balls, his crotch,
and his ass were exceptionally clean--one can't be too careful--judging
from the reaction of his dick, he appreciated my thoroughness!

Then our roles reversed; he may have been young, but the boy knew how to be
sensuous. His hands were large and strong and he knew how to use them to
take possession of what he wanted--just by the way he washed my shoulders
and pecs, I knew I was gonna get FUCKED (all caps in my head too)--he was
as thorough as I had been, so that when he turned me around to rinse me
off, our very hard cocks whacked against each other. I looked down at what
made us boys and saw that his was well over 10" when hard and had the girth
of a beer bottle. When I looked back up, he drew my face to his and kissed
me with passion.

"Let's take this to my room," he murmured, and then added, "I don't mind
putting on a show, but I really want you to myself."

I nodded; before I could say anything further, some really loud moans and
yowls erupted from the steam obscured far end of the shower room; the older
man from before emerged from the steam headed for the exit, ruefully
shaking his head. We followed in short order, and all three of us dried off
together.

"I'm generally easy going," the older gent said in a Tennessee twang, "but
there are other clubs for that sort of thing," he gestured back towards the
shower with a look of disgust, and another series of moans and yowls
sounded. I hadn't been curious before, and now I would actively avoid any
thought of what was going on in there. We dried and wrapped up in silence,
and headed out of the shower area--I'd find the older guy another time--I
was feeling the itch, and my new friend was gonna scratch it.

"What's your name, by-the-way?" I asked, and then added, "I'd like to know
what name moan while you fuck me silly."

"Nick," he said with a grin, "and you are . . . other than sexy
motherfucker I'm gonna fuck silly?"

"John, and I can hardly wait for that scene to happen," I responded.

"Here we are," Nick announced, and unlocked the door and entered.

I followed closely and shut the door; the room was 10' x 10' with a large
flat screen set into the wall with an arrow pointing to the video slot;
there was a massage table, a lounge chair and a futon couch; on a small
side table sat a short stack of towels, and massage and fuck supplies--I
noted the small basket of condoms was layered with dust--I turned back to
face Nick. He yanked my towel off and tossed it away, he then walked around
me in an appraising look,

"I'm too horny now," he said, "But what do you about experimenting with
bondage?"

"I want you to fuck me," I responded, "If you are talking about
torture--hell fuck no--but tying me up or being sling fucked--maybe;
`specially if it's just you to start with I think about it--for now though,
fuck me."

"Okay," he said, as he dropped his towel and grabbed some lube. "We'll skip
the preliminaries and go straight to the main event."

We briefly kissed; he turned me around and bent me over the end of the
massage table; he briefly tongued my entry as he slicked his boy, and then
standing up rubbed the head up and down my crack; acquired his target and
slid in one long thrust. He bottomed out; I felt his ball sac bump mine--I
reached between our legs and stroked it and went a little further back and
fingered his hole--he whispered,

"Damn, you wanna make this fun doncha?"

"Life is short," I groaned, "O Nick that's good stuff."

He began to slowly pump--"I haven't cum in a week, so this might not last
long"--he grunted; then added, "I not gonna cum in you--when I have a big
load I like to see it shoot."

"Then put me on my back when you get close," I responded, "I love seeing a
top nut on me." And then I began to moan a mantra, "O Nick, fuck me baby,"
and "Mm baby, O Nick that's good."

Nick's only verbal response was to grunt, "Uh, uh," at the bottom of every
stroke. Almost automatically, I bent at the waist and pushed my ass back
harder and harder into the onslaught; in response, Nick was pumping harder
and faster,

"We're gonna have to change up positions real quick," he gasped as he
bottomed out and held there, "I'm getting close."

"K, let's do it," I responded from a coherent spot within the deep fuck
haze I was in; he pulled all the way out, I turned around and lay back on
the table, lifted my legs and pulled my knees to my shoulders. Nick
reentered me with a minimum of fuss and resumed pumping my ass like a
sewing machine--I had been stroking my dick lazily when on my feet--now my
right hand resumed said stroking in earnest; my left hand grabbed him at
the back of his head, and my heels spurred him on--suddenly he pulled out
and leaned back a little, gave his cock a five or six blindingly fast
strokes--and literally sprayed cum all over the table around my head,
across my face and all over my body! His dick and body were still in spasm,
as he shoved himself back into me and resumed fucking; only a few strokes
and I was there--my first wad of cock snot hit my own chin--the subsequent
five blasts made a stripe up to it; Nick continued to fuck into my ass as I
lay there gasping, after about a minute, he pulled out again, stepped up to
my head and unloaded a second load of semen into my gasping mouth.

We panted like dogs on an August afternoon in New Orleans. When I recovered
enough to speak, I stated the obvious,

"That was one hell of a fuck," I said in a tired monotone.

"I never came twice like that before," Nick stated, "I've gone this long
before, but that never happened--fuck that was goooood," he drew out the
last word.

He sat down on the futon, and tossed me a towel; I wiped the sperm off of
my face and body.  "I'm gonna need another shower," I concluded.

He looked at me a little glassy eyed and said,

"I hate to say this, amigo," he said in a dull voice, "but I need a nap
before I go on; come back in a little and we'll do this again."

"Okay," I said, mildly disappointed, but oh well; I wrapped my towel around
me, and took the dirty towels and tossed them into the laundry bin in the
hall and headed back to the showers.

The showers were silent when I returned, and there were no towel in
evidence other than the stack of regular sized towels on a small table that
were supplied for drying off.  I went in, and walked all the way to the
back wall of the shower room; off on both sides there were alcoves that
held eight showerheads and a central cluster. I went into the alcove on the
right and started a couple of the showers to make a little steam and to
warm it back up--walking around in only a towel in cold A/C lends literal
meaning to `chillin'--I had goose bumps and hard nipples.

I stood under the hot water for some time letting it pound my shoulders and
back; I must have zoned out, because I was surprised to hear another shower
go on directly across from me, and was pleased to see the hunk of man-flesh
that was settling under the flow. Initially I thought he was Latino, but
his skin had a more coppery tone and was smooth in that hairless way that
Asians and Native Americans have--so, I figured him to be an American
Indian--and judging from the "Sioux" tattoo across his upper abs, and his
longish straight black hair, I was probably right. He was about my age, and
he was big, taller than me and strongly built--like somebody who did hard
physical work, not a gym rat--his face was chiseled, and his eyes were a
pale blue/green. I took this all in and then checked his package--long, fat
and circumcised, with a modest black bush at its base and over a compact,
nearly hairless scrotum.

He was carefully washing his equipment and unabashedly eying me; a slight
smirk crossed his face and he stepped across the space between us. With a
smile, he placed his hands on my shoulders, and guided me to my knees in
front of his glorious 8 r so inches of wood. I licked the head as I hefted
it in my hand; solid and heavy, it was like a leaden rod wrapped in silk
and velvet; I licked up and down the shaft and lapped and sucked his
hairless sac into my mouth, and then licked his perineum. He pulled back
and started fucking my mouth--clamping onto my head like a
basketball--after all too brief a time, he let go and spun around, and bent
to spread his cheeks and shove his hairless hole onto my eagerly waiting
tongue. I lapped at his rear entry for only two or three minutes, when he
pulled away and stood up; he turned around and pulled me to my feet as he
turned me to the tiled wall. Knowing what was coming next, I slid my face
slightly down the wall, spread my legs and thrust spread ass back toward
him. After briefly raking the tip of impaling tool up and down my crack, he
hooked the lip of my entry and slid in with a sigh. I moaned and jiggled in
a little dance to adjust my innards to accommodate his tool. After a brief
pause, he began to fuck me, I moaned softly at the bottom of each plunge. I
was hard, but knew I couldn't come, so i gave myself over to the joy of
being fucked by a big dick. Gradually, he built to a strident pace, and
started to shudder--he gave three hard deep thrusts, and held as deep in me
as he could--I knew he was unloading as I felt him cling to my back. After
his orgasm subsided, he gingerly withdrew his hypersensitive dick from my
chute. He patted me on the shoulder and walked away. I remained against the
tile for a moment and then returned to the shower and sluiced myself out,
washed up once again and headed back to the locker room. I needed another
break.

I lotioned my abused entry, and got dressed. I tossed my towel into the
basket and walked out into the alley. Once there, I sat on one of the
chairs and checked my phone; it was 1755, and I had a missed call--I
listened to the message--it was from Luis, telling me he would call me
later as he'd gotten side tracked. `Thank the gods,' I said to myself,
`teens are so full of . . . energy and other stuff.'

After a few more minutes, the Ghost called--free at last!--he was going
home to change back into civvies, and he'd meet me at the bookstore, and
instructed me to wait in booth 17, he'd be less than half-an-hour. I told
him I was gonna duck across the road and hit a burger joint.

There were a few cuties in the place--they knew where I'd come from--and
lots of eying and ogling all around. I ate and used the restroom and headed
back to the back of the store. I loitered in the alley for a few and then
headed up the stairs.

I'll be posting the next segment soon and I'll try to complete the three
story arcs I have running (A Very Good Day, in beginnings and interracial,
and Danny and Me in Adult/Youth) some time before the vernal equinox (March
20-21). Thanks for reading.

As always, questions, comments and criticism are welcome send them to John
at thelilghost06_nthesarge@yahoo.com Hope I hear from you soon. John