This is a true story by Michael Stewart, written for NYC's Pier BBS in 1989.
Copyright (c) 1989, 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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                  "At The Movies With A Straight Guy"

     I had a day off from work, but by the time I was up and awake, I
hadn't made any plans for it.  I knew I was horny, though, and decided to
go check out that theater on Kings Highway that everyone is always talking
about.
     I procrastinated for a while, doing some shit around the house, and
finally got there around 3 PM.  I thought the place would have been quiet
on a Wednesday afternoon, but I guess a lot of people took the day off from
work or something, because it was pretty crowded.  I knew from checking out
the list on here that the gay movies were shown upstairs, so I headed right
up to the balcony.
     I didn't take long before two thoughts crossed my mind.  One, the
movie was awful; and two, that I had to go to the bathroom.  Hoping that
the second feature would be better, I figured I'd hit the john now.  There
were a couple of the usual trolls you find in any place like that, as well
as a bunch of hot guys.  They were all sitting around watching a straight
porno on the TV set that's near the bathrooms, so I didn't pay too much
attention to them, figuring they were straight.  I did my business in the
can, and then came out and pretended to watch the straight movie for a
while, but I was actually looking at some of the hot guys from the corner
of my eye.
     It didn't take long before I realized the straight movie wasn't too
bad.  I've gone through bi "periods," but on the whole, cunt doesn't do
much for me.  The guys in the straight films, though, were another story. 
In the gay flick I'd been watching, they all looked anemic.  In *this*
movie, they were all pretty macho...big beefy guys, with big thick dicks. 
They looked pretty hot, despite where they were putting them, so I figured
I'd watch for a while.
     Unfortunately, there were no seats left downstairs there in the
"lounge," so I figured I'd go upstairs into the straight theater itself,
have a smoke, and watch the film until I thought it was "safe" to go back
up into the balcony with gay movies.  It was darker in there than I
expected, so I stayed to the back and hugged the wall, watching this huge
dick on the screen going through its paces.
     Finally, my vision cleared, and I noticed to my surprise a banged-up
old couch against the wall, about three feet from where I'd been standing. 
I thought that was pretty neat, so I sat down on it and lit up a smoke.  As
I was sitting there, I found that every time someone came in or went out, I
had a perfect look at them, and a lot of these straight guys were not only
hot to look at, but many of them had bulges going in their pants.  There
were two or three in particular that came in that really drew my attention,
all hot young guys.
     I'd just finished my cigarette when I noticed one of the hotter guys
coming up the aisle to my left.  Not only did he have the tell-tale tubular
bulge of a hard-on, but he was pulling up his zipper!  That got me hot,
thinking about this straight macho man sitting in his seat pulling himself
off.
     He left, I thought for good, and my attention returned to the film.  I
guess he'd only gone to the can, though, because he came back in a few
minutes later, and stood toward the back just about where I'd been when I
first came into the theater.  I realized that although he could see the
movie, he probably couldn't see me - but I could see him.  I
surreptitiously opened my fly and pulled out my dick and started stroking
on it.
     It didn't take me long to realize that his vision was better than
mine:  he saw me, and saw what I was doing.  He didn't seem offended,
though; instead he inched closer to the couch and started rubbing the front
of his pants, where that big tubular bulge had been.  It dawned on me that
he wasn't quite as straight as I'd originally thought - especially when he
sat down on the couch next to me.
     When he sat down, I was able to get a better look at him, and I was
impressed.  He was in his late twenties, and looked just like that guy in
that murder trial, Matthew Solomon:  good build, dark hair, dark eyes, the
whole deal; the only difference was the moustache...this guy had one of
those guinea moustaches that are so popular in Brooklyn, and make the guys
who have them look so hot.
     He was checking me out, too, and I caught his eyes lingering on my
dick, so I thought I'd show it off a little better.  I opened up my pants
and tugged them down slightly so I could haul out my balls, too, and
started doing long, slow, "show-off" strokes.  Despite the fact that he was
obviously interested, I was still a little surprised when he stretched his
long legs out, spread them wide, and opened up his own pants.
     If he was wearing underwear, I couldn't see them.  All I could make
out was a really big dick in his fist.  It wasn't thick, but it was long,
and his hand looked really hot going up and down its length.  I wanted to
try too, and reached over to cop a feel.  He pushed my hand away with his
elbow.
     "Just watch me," he whispered in a real husky, hoarse voice, "I get
off on that."  Fine by me!  I settled back onto the couch to watch both the
shows.  On the big screen, some macho stud was getting his cock sucked, and
on the couch next to me, another macho stud was stroking his rod.
     As the action on the screen intensified, so did the action next to me.
Mr. Stud spread his legs a little wider, and jerked his dick a little
faster.  I think maybe he was trying to match the action on the screen
stroke for stroke; I know he started getting lots more intense as the guy
on the screen started getting closer to cumming.
     He had just started going really, really fast when he turned to me,
took a look at me stroking my dick, and said, "You watching me?"  I said I
was.  He said, "Good, I'm going to cum.  Watch me."  I wonder if he really
thought I wouldn't watch?
     As the action on the screen built toward its climax, I kept half an
eye on the movie, and the rest on Mr. Stud.  He was stroking fast, and so
was I.  I'm not sure if he had this timed or not, but just as the guy in
the film started to cum, so did Mr. Stud.  He spread his legs real wide,
pointed his long rod straight out, and let it fly.  I wasn't quite as
dramatic, but I came too, watching this (at least partially) straight macho
stud blow his load for my benefit.
     After he came, he just stuffed his dick back into his pants, got up,
and left, this time for good.  I had another cigarette, and finished it
just in time to go upstairs and catch the opening of the other - and better
- gay movie.