Date: Mon, 29 May 2000 09:33:26 EDT
From: BladerIowa@aol.com
Subject: My First Bookstore BJ

What you are about to read contains graphic descriptions of sex between an
adult my virgin self (it's been years, Mary).   If you are offended by such
material or are too young to read adult erotica, please leave now.


My First Bookstore BJ

By BladerIowa@aol.com


I've written so many fictional stories, I thought is time for one that was
100% true.  This happened to me when I was just 17.  I was living in Kansas
City at the time.  I used to have a little red Honda Express moped and would
spend hours cruising up and down Main and Troost just for the hell of it.
Later at night the whores would be out working the street.  Every so often
cops would bust their skanky asses.  Further downtown the rent boys would be
working the corners.   Liberty Memorial would be buzzing with gays cruising
gays.  The bookstores would be hopping.

Times have changed a lot.  Johnson County cracked down on the dirty
bookstores.  All of the booths in all of the arcades had to either remove the
doors or replace them with swinging doors at shoulder level.  The Liberty
Memorial area is now patrolled at night and you don't seeing the male and
female prostitutes any more.  All that's left for me to remember is the good
old days.

Back then I was still considering myself straight.  Religion will do that to
you.  When I moved into town, I was living on my own in student housing.
Being a smart little shit, I graduated high school early and started
electronics school about a year early.  Smart as I was, I was still a
teenager.  Being a horny 17 year old, I was eager to let someone - anyone -
suck my cock so I could see what it was like.

I recall looking in the yellow pages for an adult bookstore.  The guy that
lived in the apartment next to me was a cutie.  I'll never remember his first
name, but his last name was something like Luendyke.  I can still see his
cute tanned legs poking out his shorts and his long curly mane of hair.  I
had an instant crush.   I told Luendyke I was going to an adult bookstore to
check the place out.  He wanted to come with and we piled onto my little
moped.  It was a tight squeeze, but I can recall how good it felt to have him
holding on to me.  I had a wood.

When we got to the News Emporium, I chained up the moped and we went in.  It
was really dim in there and the place smelled of smoke and cum.  In the back
you could hear the faint whir of projectors.  The attendant had to have known
we were underage but didn't seem to give a shit.  Years later it dawned on me
he was probably a fag.  Most fags don't turn down young cock if it's close to
18.  If someone wanted to suck a minor off, he didn't care.  Luendyke and I
browsed some mags but didn't buy any.  I walked back toward the arcade and
looked behind the curtain.  Rows of dimly lit booths lined the hallways.
There was a light above each one indicating if it was occupied.   Red bulbs
lit the hallways.  There were people zig-zagging from one booth to another.
It was a strange sight.  I knew someday I would come back here to see one of
the flicks.

Luendyke and I returned home, laughing about what a shithole the place was.
He asked if I'd noticed all the fags checking us out.  I hadn't.  He said
he'd never go back there again cause he hates fags.  That kind of stabbed an
arrow through my heart.

Well, I did go back a few days later.  I remember it was during the early
summer.  I remember the warm sunshine burning my skin and how good it felt
back then.  As I recall the month would have been about June of 1983.  I had
to go back.  It was almost like an inner voice was calling me back to that
mysterious curtain covered hallway.

Again, I chained the moped up and went it. The No Minors Under 21 sign
greeted me.  The same attendant was working.  He was fat and lisped.  Without
batting an eye, he sold me a few dollars worth of quarters.  I made a beeline
for the back and entered the dim hallway.  The same putrid stench was
present, a smell I've come to know well.

A guy was standing in the hallway looking at me.  He was older than me,
somewhere in his mid-twenties.  As I was about to enter the first booth, he
asked me a question I will never forget.

"Would you like a blowjob while you watch?"

I was scared and said no.  After a few seconds, I opened the door and invited
him in.  He had me sit down on the bench.  He deposited a few coins and the
grainy film started.  I wasn't sure what to do at this point.  He was.

He deftly undid my pants and pulled them down.  I was wearing white underwear
and he rubbed my cock through them before he pulled them down.

"You have a big dick," he lisped. The next thing I know, I saw stars.  He
swallowed my cock all the way down his throat.  It felt fantastic!   As he
sucked, he bobbed and twisted and licked.  I loved it!  My young cock came
alive with sensations my hand couldn't even reproduce.

After a few minutes of his sucking, I still couldn't cum.  He pulled off me
and started licking my balls.  I felt his whiskers tickling my thighs as his
tongue probed lower.  When it reached my ass, I stroked on my cock.  As I
increased the speed of my stroking, the guy pulled away from my butt.  His
finger roughly penetrated my virgin rectum and at the same time he deep
throated me.  I shot the biggest load I'd ever shot down his throat.  I
thought I was going to pass out from the sensation.

He asked me if I wanted to return the favor and I apologized and said I was
scared.  I ran out of the bookstore, got on the moped and got the hell out of
there.  I was so terrified about what I'd just done that I raced home, threw
up, and took a shower to get clean again.  I was just sure not that God was
gonna think I was queer and send me to hell.

I went back later that week and the week after and the week after.  It wasn't
long after that when the AIDS epidemic hit and I stopped going to the
bookstores.  Some years later I returned and to this day I still like to go
in and whack off and shoot a load on the wall.  Now days even doing that will
get you arrested or thrown out.  The News Emporium is gone now, the
neighborhood is different, and there are no more grainy fuck films in dingy
booths.  All I have are my memories of the good old days.