This is a true story by Michael Stewart, written for NYC's Pier BBS in 1987.
Copyright (c) 1987, all rights reserved; permission granted to the "Nifty
Andrew" archive for online "publication" and distribution.

Comments and lewd propositions may be sent to Michael at
brooklyn@yorick.ny.cybernex.net

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                      "An Evening At The Adonis"


The Diary of Michael Stewart:  Wednesday, May 6th, 1987:

     It had been an awful day at work, but a really nice day outside, and I
didn't particularly feel like sitting on the bus for two hours going home.
It's funny that the so-called express bus actually takes longer than the
subway, and costs $3.50 to boot!  Not only that, but I invariably get some
huge woman who hasn't seen her feet in years sitting next to me, whether
there's room or not.  No, I thought, I just don't feel like going home...
but I couldn't decide what to do.
     My dilemma was solved when I opened up that day's edition of the
Village Voice to check out the movie listings.  "Century Mining" was now
playing at the Adonis!  Having jacked off to some of the photo sets from
that flick, I realized where I could find my salvation:  at the movies, and
without Siskel and Ebert!
     Five o'clock finally rolled around, and I took off like a shot.  Even
though I work on Seventh Avenue in the thirties, I figured I'd rather save
my energy for cruising the theater, so I walked over to Eighth Avenue and
took the bus up to fiftieth.  There is was on the marquis, "Century
Mining," and the co-feature, "A Night At Halsted's."  Oh well...the B-flick
was almost as old as I was, but with Pierce Daniels (who I'd actually met a
few weeks earlier), in the other movie, I figured I couldn't lose!
     I went in, paid my $6, and then bumped into at least five seats while
my eyes were getting accustomed to the dark.  That's the fun part - the
anticipation, the mystery, of not knowing what would happen.  I wandered
over to the smoking section, not just because I smoke, but also because the
sign that says "Smoking Section" is lighted, so you can see a little
better, and, having found myself a seat, started watching the movie until
my eyes got used to the darkness.
     Well, at this point, I must digress from this narrative.  Anybody can
give you a film review...what's important here is what I (and just about
everyone else the theater), was up to that evening.  If you've ever been
there, you're familiar with what goes on, but bear with me.  The parade of
men up and down the aisles may not have been the best, but it certainly was
above average.  A couple of young, yuppie types; a few twinkies, more than
the usual number of jocks, and the usual number of trolls.  On a scale of
one to ten, the crowd so far was a seven.
     After watching the procession of horny men go past my seat a few times
I decided on the one(s) I wanted.  My first target:  a guy about
twenty-seven or so, business suit, good-sized basket (anybody who can show
a basket through a three-piece suit is worth knowing, believe me!), six
feet tall or so, dark curly hair.  A moustache.  And a wedding ring.
     I guess I ought to stop again for a minute and tell you that married
men are a favorite hobby of mine.  They seem so sexy...and afterwards, most
are soooo grateful!  With most, it's not that they don't get enough at home
from the wife; it's that they were always attracted to men and thought they
could suppress the feeling by marrying.  Unfortunately (for them, anyway,
not for me), it doesn't work.
     This guy was hot, and as soon as I saw him coming again, I leaned back
in my chair, unzipped my fly and hauled out my cock.  I'm certainly not the
biggest in the dick department, but my eight inches is pretty good-sized,
and I've learned how to work it to my best advantage, to make it look even
bigger.  I started tugging on it, using both hands, and stared up at him as
he passed, licking my lips (yeah, I know, I'm an awful slut!).  He stopped
dead in his tracks, and stared back at me...and then kept moving.  Damn!
     I would imagine that if you ever went to any of these places, you know
the type of games that go on, almost an elaborate ballet of sex.  There are
certain moves, certain actions, that have a universal meaning in these
situations, whether it's a backroom bar or a alley in the Village or a
movie theater.  Men are men.
     As I saw him coming around again, this time from the other direction,
I started my little show again.  This time, he stopped, stared, started
moving again...damn!  Oops, wait a minute...he was doubling back.  He
stopped and stared again...and then moved into the row of seats behind me.
Bingo!
     He picked the chair right behind me to my left, and sat down,
spreading his legs wide.  I kept one hand on my dick, and slowly reached
around, putting my left hand on his right knee.  God, it felt good!  I
looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back.  Geez, gorgeous white
teeth, and now I could see his eyes - a beautiful green.  I moved my hand
up his leg, and as I got closer to his groin, he started thrusting his hips
out, trying to get my hand on his cock as soon as possible.  Finally,
paydirt!  My hand closed around his bulge between his legs, that big,
pinstripe-covered basket, and I squeezed, gently.  It was already hard, and
felt thick...and he had a good pair of balls, too.  I rubbed some more, and
feeling his cock start to grow some more, I reached my hand up for his
zipper.  As I started to pull it down, he put his hand over my mine. 
Electric!  I looked up at his face again and smiled, and sort of motioned
him to come down and sit next to me.  He got a sort of strange look on his
face and got up, looking like he wouldn't do it...but he did.
     Aw, God, he smelled good!  It almost hurt...just thinking that one guy
shouldn't be that good looking.  It also hurt a little bit thinking that no
matter how good it was, he belonged to someone else.  But then he put his
hand on my dick, and it was easy to forget all about that.  I turned to
him, and found my lips against his...and then all over his.  He sure knew
how to use his tongue, and I returned the favor in kind, our mouths dueling
in the darkness, my lip being tickled by his moustache.
     Still with my tongue in his mouth, I reached down his body, feeling
through his shirt...hairy chest, good sized muscles, erect nipples.  I
toyed with his nipples for a few seconds, felt him respond...heard him
respond as he almost groaned.  Then lower, down to his groin.  I rubbed his
cock through his pants again, and then reached for his zipper, still not
looking.  Once again, I felt his hand cover mine, restraining it...only
this time, I could hear/feel him opening his pants and unzipping his fly. 
Victory was mine!
     I reached into his briefs, finally, going past his cock and cupping
his balls.  He stiffened a little bit at that point (maybe nobody played
with his nuts at home), but we still didn't lose mouth contact.  Good sized
nutsack...felt like they would be real low-hangers, and pictured this
married son-of-a-bitch getting out the shower, stark naked, his balls
hanging down and his cock half-stiff.  Umm!  I massaged his nuts for a
time, and then moved my hand up, up his shaft, not stopping 'til I got to
the head of his dick.  It was thicker than mine, not quite as long, though,
and I felt a pang of jealousy for the bitch who could have this any time
she wanted it.  Not now, though, I thought viciously, right now it's all
mine!
     As I rubbed his dick, even though I still couldn't see it (well, a
little, out of the corner of my eye), I could tell he was cut.  He was also
working on my dick, and seemed to be enjoying it, so I felt the way he was
rubbing my cock and started working his the same way.  That's always the
way to handle these guys...see what they do to you, and then do the same to
them.  They usually don't have enough experience to do a routine, so they
usually do what comes naturally.  God, I love a real man!
     Finally, I needed some air and broke away from his kiss, glad of the
chance to see what I'd landed.  Christ!  His cock, sticking out of my hand,
was gorgeous...thick, and cut, and beautifully proportioned, his balls
resting on top of his briefs, his shirt hiked up giving me a tantalizing
view of his hairy gut.  He leaned back, and I felt his hand leave my dick
and caress my face...his fingers run through my hair...his hand rest on the
back of my neck.  I knew what that meant.  He looked clean, no precum, and
I had no open sores in my mouth...so down I went. I started at his navel,
working my tongue through the wispy hairs that drew a line down to cock,
feeling his big dick against my neck...I worked my way down, bypassing his
cock, and licked his balls...a fresh, clean sort of smell, macho but
gentle.  Then I worked my tongue up his shaft, and, still being in a
safe-sex frame of mind, took my hand and wrapped it around the head of his
dick.  He groaned, audibly, but who gave a shit?  I lathered up his shaft
with my spit, then went back down to his balls, and started to let my
fingers do the walking - up and down his wet, slippery meat.  Fast on the
way down, slowly on the way up, making sure I got in a lot of friction on
the head.  He spread his legs a little wider, and took my cock in his hand
again, jerking it faster than he had been before.
     I half wanted this to go on forever, but the other half really wanted
to see this married stud shoot his load.  I started working my hand faster
and faster, and I was getting so hot that I thought I was about to shoot my
jizz as well.  My mouth sought out his again, and we played dueling tongues
again while we jacked each other off.  We must have made quite a sight, the
two of us sitting there, our hands on each others cocks, our faces mashed
together like we were trying to swallow one another.  He spread his legs a
little wider, and I felt his cock surge, getting even thicker...and that
sent me over the edge too.  We broke the kiss in time to watch each others
load shoot from our hands...I felt weak, but watched him shoot five good
blasts of cum onto his hairy belly...he aimed my out between my legs, and I
shot all over the back of the seat in front of me.  Whew!
     He pulled a handkerchief out his one of his pockets, and wiped up the
cum...while I kinda sat there, just idly milking my dick, enjoying the last
of the sensation.  He looked over at me again, smiled, and we kissed one
last time...not as intensely this time, but nice...almost as if he was
saying, "thanks."  It gave me one more chance to rub his now-soft cock.  He
tasted so damned good, I didn't want it to end, but finally he pulled
back...looked at his watch...I guess he had to catch a bus home to the
little missus or something like that.  I watched him put his equipment
away, and I did the same, almost catching my dick in the zipper since I
wasn't paying attention to what I was doing.  He sat back again for a
minute, and smiled again...and then looked down to find himself still
holding the cum-soaked handkerchief.  He looked up at me again, and reached
over, putting the damp rag into my hand.  He smiled and got up, rubbing me
once on the shoulder and running his fingers through my hair once
more...and was gone.
     I scrunched back down in the seat and pulled out a cigarette, lit it,
and turned my attention to the movie that I'd come to see, fondling the
handkerchief.  In the dim light of the theater, I could see the embroidered
initials, "DTS."  I wondered what they stood for.
     But not for long.  There were some new men wandering around, and that
rag came in handy a few times that night!