(The Michael Tapes 02)

by Marc Tremaine

    WARNING:  This story is a product of imagination; it is not a depiction of real life.  It involves sexual acts between two or more males of the human species.  If you are offended by that idea or its explicit description, regardless of whether it's the act that offends you, or the age or relationship of the participants, don't read this story.  If writing about any type of sex between males is illegal in your nation, or in your particular municipality, county, state, province, or other political subdivision, don't read this story.  If your age makes it illegal to read this story, don't read this story.

    Copyright (c) 1998 by Marc Tremaine.  All rights reserved.  You have the right to download this story to keep on your computer, and to print a hard copy if you preserve the title, warning and copyright notice.  You do not have the right to otherwise reproduce or repost this story.  You do not have the right to rewrite this story.  You do not have the right to use this story to make any amount of money for yourself or anyone else.  If you do not understand these rights as I have listed them for you, my address is above:  ask before acting.


    Okay, if you listened to the first tape, or maybe saw the know, the one where I look like more of an asshole than usual with the "testing, testing" crap, then you already know what I look like.  So skip the paragraph after the next one, it'll bore the shit out of you.  (Yeah, assholes, I am smart enough to figure out where he's gonna put paragraph breaks when he transcribes this.)  As for the rest of you, who are coming into these adventures late, time for a reality check.

    My name is Michael.  Not Mike.  Okay, okay, so I said he could use "Mike" in the title, so sue me.  The faggot who's transcribing this thinks the title is funny, he was mumbling something about Broadway around my dick just before he started gulping down my cum.  Hey, you don't think I'm gonna let him get away with that unless I get something in return, do you?  And he does suck nice.

    Anyway,  Michael is my name and that's the way I like it.  Stats.  45.  5'11".  150 pounds.  Feels like about ten of those pounds are around my waist.  Brown eyes.  Reddish-brown hair that's goin' grey awfully goddamn fast.  Goin' bald even faster, so I keep my hair cut short.  None of this drape a few strands of hair over my head and pretend crap.  Real average build.  No lifting weights `n stuff.  Hair around my tits and a line of hair down to my navel and then into my crotch.  Real average looks.  Even when I was younger I never could understand why anyone would trick with me...especially some of the occasional really hot ones, like the 6'3" blond in L.A. and his Latino buddy.  Well, I guess that's another tape.  Oh.  The other thing.  Seven inches...just barely.  Cut.  Sticks out straight when I'm hard.  Average width.  Decent-sized balls that hang fairly low, but nothing spectacular.

    This happened a couple of months ago.  There's a theatre not too far a drive from my place.  Ten, fifteen minutes depending on traffic.  In a really rotten neighborhood.  Mine is better, but not one of the city's nicer addresses, and definitely not the part of town where all the money lives in the ten, twelve, fifteen, twenty room big old homes.  How rotten is the neighborhood where the theatre is located?  Best explanation is that they have this big sign posted in a couple of places inside that says if you want an escort to your car they'll be happy to provide one.  Get the picture?

    Probably used to be a nice movie house.  Once upon a time.  Once upon a long fucking time ago, that is.  Then somebody converted it into a porn theatre.  Right in a damned residential area, although it's been quite a while since there was a lot of nice folks living around there.  Downstairs there's a place to buy or rent fuck videos, straight, gay, bi, every persuasion and position.  And a small arcade with eight viewing rooms.  The main floor of the theatre they use for showing straight fuck films...or maybe it's videos projected on a really big screen.  Big for fuck flicks in a theatre, not like one of these 90 feet by 30 feet screens with the stadium seats.  They put a floor in the front of the balcony, which was only like six rows anyway, and made a second theatre upstairs for gay fuck films.

    If you go into the downstairs theatre you come in on the left side, walking down a steep slope with rows of chairs, maybe six or seven to a row.  Then you hit the theatre.  Center section, two side sections.  A big T-shaped stage with the cross-piece under the screen.  For a while they had Saturday night male strippers but gave it up eventually.  They must have pulled some of the rows out and rearranged things, because each aisle has to be at least four to five feet wide.  Which means if you're sitting in a seat half naked with your pants down and your knees spread wide, jackin' off, you aren't going to be anywhere near touching the backs of the chairs in front of you.  Right behind the center section is an even wider aisle, maybe seven-eight feet wide, with a solid wall that runs up to the projection booth.  Very dimly lit, even when the film is playing.

    You have a choice about how you want to display your wares.  You can sit in a seat and play with yourself, through your pants, or just pull your cock and balls out, or strip, or whatever.  Or you can stand against that back wall behind the center section.  Or sit around the corner in the rows going up to the door.  Some guys are there just to watch the film and jack off.  But not many.

    Certainly not me when I'm in my I-need-a-prick-now! mode.  This particular Sunday afternoon I bought a combination ticket that gave me access to both the theatres, which of course you had to be buzzed into.  My asshole was twitching, and I was looking for a guy I'd met a couple of weeks earlier there on a Sunday afternoon.

    Yeah, I like places like this.  And no, I don't go there regularly.  Too cheap.  No matter how good the sex is, part of me is always calculating, well, that was a fuck or suck or whatever that cost me nine bucks (combo) or five bucks (one theatre).  I go through a phase, I guess, where it hooks me like a magnet and keeps pulling me there, and then I decide to back off for a while.  Besides cheap, I'm also impatient.  I'm not going to sit around in an empty theatre, waiting forever, or cruising a bunch of guys who aren't interested in me.  If there isn't any action fairly quickly I just write off the loss, wishing the hell my tax attorney friend in California could figure out a way to really write off the price of the tickets.

    This particular Sunday I went to the downstairs theatre first.  When I got there the only one in the theatre was a guy sitting in the back row in the right section.  He had his pants down all the way, his legs spread just a little and after my eyes adjusted to the dimness I could see he was playing with himself kind of easily.  Not goin' for the kill, but not just gropin' either.  Naturally I went over and sat down next to him.

    I'm guessing maybe my age, square face, kinda lined, greying blond hair short on the sides, real wavy on top.  He was wearing maybe twenty extra pounds around his waist, most of it in front.  Hairy stomach, hairy legs.  His dick was in that almost-but-not-quite hard stage.  Being the hell of a nice guy that I am I decided to give him a helping hand.  Or two.  One to reach over and play with his balls, one to beat his meat.  Being the gentleman he apparently was, he reached under my arms and started squeezing my crotch.  Which got me real hard real quick.

    Only he wasn't getting much harder.  I scooted down on my seat and bent over, sucking his cock into my mouth.  No idea how long it was but it wasn't one of your dicks of death.  Just a nice mouthful.  He started to get a bit harder, but it clearly wasn't working. Okay.  I can take a hint.  Only when I pulled off and sat up, he apologized softly to me...why we were whispering in an empty theatre I have no fucking idea...and told me he'd just cum a little while ago and over estimated how fast he could start again.  Shit, I should be so lucky.  One cum and I'm done...well, not so done I won't make sure my partner gets off and gets off as good as I can make him blast if he didn't do it before me...but definitely done for the rest of the afternoon or evening or whatever.

    I just smiled and said, "Maybe some other time," and got up.  I stood against the back wall for a few minutes.  Two more men came in.  One of them sat against the far wall in the left section.  The other one sat in the back row of the center section a few seats in from the aisle.  I casually wandered over there, not fooling anyone, of course, and not trying too goddamn hard anyway.  The guy in the center section was just sitting there, not even holding his crotch.  Asshole.  The man in the left section was just finishing taking off his pants.  He sat down quickly before I got a good look at him, although I could definitely tell he was naked from the waist down...well, almost naked, but I wasn't sure why I was thinking almost.  Although I found out a little while later.

    I was just about ready to try the gay theatre upstairs, but decided to wait a couple of minutes more, so I stood against the back wall, about in the middle, pulled my cock out of my jeans and jacked myself back to a hardon.  Straight films don't interest me all that much, especially if it's tits or pussy that's being worked on.  But the sight of a good-sized cock shoving in and out of a hole is a turnon.  Any hole.  Doesn't matter if it's her ass or her cunt, you can pretend it's you who's pile-driving that big prick, or you who's gettin' it shoved up you.

    That's when he showed up.  "He" is a young black guy.  Well, young to me means anyone under forty, but in the dim light he looked maybe in his mid-twenties.  He has a round face, hair trimmed almost to bare skin but not quite, big eyes, plump lips that looked like they had been designed to be wrapped around cock...I wish...but who am I to argue if I don't get everything I want...thick neck, stocky build, maybe 5' 10", and skin a beautiful deep brown that kinda glowed in that light.  He was dressed in a neat Polo shirt...regular Ralph Lauren logo `n all...and khaki pants.  He also had them unzipped and his hand inside right after he turned the corner and stood at the far end of the back wall.  I looked at him and nodded, and after a pause while his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he nodded back.

    Nope, I don't need any engraved invitation.

    I walked over, letting my dripping cock lead the way.  His big hand felt nice and hot when he wrapped it around my meat and fingered my balls.  I naturally returned the favor, digging for the not-so-buried treasure and bringing it to the surface.  Just like I remembered it.  A solid nine inches.  He said it was that long when somebody asked him the first time we of the audience watching our little show upstairs...and I have no reason to doubt him.  No reason at all.  And a lot of reasons to believe him.  About nine, to be exact.  I'm not about to shove a ruler up my asshole along with his cock just to check his measurements.  His word was good enough for me.

    A couple of quick strokes and he was gloriously hard.  Of course, to be absolutely certain I had to lean over and suck him.  I'm not all that good at cocksucking anyway, but I still managed to get most of his dick inside me, getting it good and wet.  I stood up again, enjoying the feel of his thumb swirling the precum around on my dick head, while I enjoyed the slick stickiness of his meat.

    "Upstairs?" I whispered.  We both knew what we wanted, so there was no need for games and preliminaries.

    He just shook his head and whispered back, "No.  Bend over the chairs."

    Shit.  Upstairs in the gay theatre was smaller and darker and a bit more private and more of a sense of an intimate orgy room.  Here was about sixty percent of a movie theatre, with huge ceilings, and lots of empty space.  And everything real visible.  Real public.  Even though you could hear the door around the corner and up the aisle open and have some warning.  Shit, again.  My mind was racing and all this was going on a hell of a lot faster than it takes to tell it here.  To fuck or not to fuck, that is the question.

    No question at all.  I crossed the aisle to the back row of the seats, unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down below my butt.  He was right behind me, playing with my butt cheeks.  It's a fucking ego-boosting turnon to have a hot stud fingering your hole, and feeling his oozing cock sliding on your butt, and hear him murmuring what a hot ass you have.  I spit on my fingers and reached behind to loosen up my hole, and then repeated it a couple of times.

    The combination of his own spit on his cock plus smearing around the thick precum that not only tasted good but was almost like having a private jar of lube was just right for him to start pushing against my ass.  I could tell he wanted in, but he's a ramming it to the hilt just because he feels like doing it.  I pulled the bottle of poppers out of my shirt pocket and took a really big hit, and then relaxed into his dick.  He slid about halfway in and then stopped.  I pulled my hips forward so he just barely had his piss-slit inside me, and then shoved back again slow and easy.  Another hit of poppers and his cock was all the way home, right where it belonged, up in my gut.

    I'd been concentrating on getting the wonderful meat up my butt so I hadn't been paying much attention to anything else.  When I felt him all the way and wriggled my ass cheeks against his crotch, I noticed we had an audience.  What you might call an interactive audience if this was a video game.  The guy who had just been sitting in the back row was scooted around in his seat, looking at us, groping his own cock and balls.

    The man from the left side had decided to join us, too.  He was sitting in the back row, too, on the second seat in from the aisle, right next to the seat I was bracing myself on.  Yep, he was naked from the waist down...or pretty much so.  He was also wearing sheer black hose and black heels, and I don't know what the hose was hooked up to around his waist...something equally black and sheer.  What the fuck do I know about what women wear?  He was probably in his late fifties, maybe older, and he was sitting there with his legs spread wide, fisting this long narrow cock with the real wide head, and watching the black guy and me.

    The blond who'd had trouble getting hard had decided to join us.  He was standing on my right side, his pants around his knees, running one hand over his belly and then squeezing his tits, the other hand stroking his prick.  Jesus.  Cocks to the right of me, cocks to the left of me...and not a cock to suck.  That was just about to change when we all heard the door open.  In the time it took the newcomer to stop and let his eyes get a little adjusted to the darkness and then walk down around the corner to the center section of seats, the two in the back row were facing forward, "watching" the fuck film, hands covering their crotches.  The other three of us had our pants up, and hands cupped over our dicks, and were standing against the back wall.

    Everyone's gaydar went ping! when we saw him, so we all relaxed.  The blond guy even said hi, like he knew him...or maybe had had him there before.  The black guy nudged my ass and I moved back into position.  This time it only took a single hit off the poppers for him to get his meat up inside me in one long smooth glorious fuck stroke.  The guy with the hose was beating off again, and the blond started to do it, too, but the new guy dropped to his knees and began sucking like a pro.

    Christ, but it felt good to have this long wide black cock sliding in and out of my hole.  I was jacking myself off, but I wanted something more.  The man who'd been playing so coy provided it.  A short, wide cock.  Seventh Heaven.  Well, no, maybe seventh heaven would be making it with the preacher and Matt.  But this was a close second.  I shared the poppers and worked my ass muscles on and off the cock filling me up.  He got off on the clamp and relax mode and started plowing my butt a little faster.

    "Oh, God, I'm gonna cum," I heard moaned from my right.  We all looked over to where the blond guy was face fucking the recent addition to our group, who had unzipped and pulled out his own cock and was jacking off.  The black guy pulled the blond close, settling down to a slow fuck of my ass, while one hand played with the blond's ass and the other worked on his tits.  The kneeling guy was back on his haunches, holding his face close to the six-inch prick that was getting stroked faster and faster.  We were all urging him on, telling him to shoot his cum, when the blond whimpered "Tits, please," and the black stud with his cock up my ass started twisting the blond's nipples hard and that pushed him over the edge.  His cum sprayed out all over the face of the kneeling man.  He kept on moving his hand until his prick was almost soft, and just a last drop oozed out; the guy caught it on his tongue.

    The blond sagged a bit, and flicked some of his cum off his hand to one side, and then real hurriedly started pulling up his pants, tucking his shirt in, zipping up, and departed like he'd seen a cop coming in the door.  Oh well, you don't always get thanked for a good blowjob or good sex, even when it's in your own bed.

    The new guy was probably mid thirties, heavy...well, fat to be honest...but goddamn was he a good cocksucker.  I found that out when he moved in under-neath me and swallowed me down.  Fantastic sensation.  Long, dark-chocolate colored prick spreading my butt wide and plugging me faster and faster.  Me face fucking a cocksucker on the floor and doing my damnedest to pull the cum out of the fat cock in my mouth.  Poppers made the rounds again, and I waited until last.  I like a really good hit and I didn't want to waste it while the bottle went around and I had to make sure it got back to me intact.  That damned stuff is expensive.

    I tried to include the slender man in the nylons, maybe alternate sucking cocks while I was getting fucked and sucked, but he just smiled and moved in close.  With his left hand he played with the balls of the guy fucking my face, and with his right he kept on beating his meat, rubbing his cock head against my cheeks.  I wanted to last longer, but it wasn't going to happen.

    The black guy was really fucking me hard, pulling his thick meat all the way out of my hole and then shoving it back in before my hole could shut.  Every thrust up my butt shoved my cock down the sucker's throat.  I pulled off the guy I was sucking, warned them I was getting close, and passed the poppers around again, this time taking a hit first and last so I was fucking tripping when the black hunk jackhammered my asshole and then shoved that cock up my manhole so far the jets of hot cum he was shooting up me collided with the slightly bitter cum I was gulping down.  Within a second I was pumping a load down the throat of my personal cocksucker, and I could feel his load splattering on my legs, while my face got sprayed with the last load of cum, from the guy with nylons and heels and a pair of balls that must have been saving up for the last decade, because he was like the fucking bunny, he just kept cumming and cumming and cumming until the warm manjuice was dripping down my cheek and onto the floor.

    We all just stood or sat there, kind of quivering, me with my legs definitely shaking from the fucking I'd just gotten and from trying to stay upright and balanced while holding onto the chair.  I cleaned up my ass and cock with some tissue...I was never a boy scout (well, not that kind)...but I believed in being prepared.  By the time I got myself tucked back inside my jeans, the others were pretty much dressed, and we were in that awkward, post-public-fucking-what-do-I-do-now stage.

    I decided they deserved something.  So I blew...their minds.  Kissing the guy who just fucked your ass bent over the back row of chairs in a porn theatre, and saying "thanks" apparently isn't customary.  I can't understand why.  I repeated the kiss with each one of the other guys...and we're not talking some delicate faggoty air-kiss.  They fucking well knew they'd been kissed.  Then I squeezed the black stud's crotch and left.  They might not want me again, faggots being that way, but by God they'd remember that afternoon.