Date: Fri, 18 Nov 2005 16:34:43 -0600 (GMT-06:00)
From: UrbanRailer <urban.rail@earthlink.net>
Subject: Urban Rail Log: Mardi Gras

Disclaimer: This story includes depictions of sexual acts between men.  If
you find it offensive you shouldn't have come here looking for it.  Not all
laws are equal - read if you are free to do so and the time avails.
Although this could be based on memory of real events - to you it is purely
a fictional story and not an account of real life.  Coincidences in names
and places are purely that.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be copied or distributed
in any form without the written permission of the author.

-----
Urban Rail Log:  Mardi Gras
By UrbanRailer  
---------

	"Hey Jake! ..." he steps up his pace to catch my elbow and swing my
head in his direction while we walk from the Mardi Gras parade.  "... is
something wrong?"

	"No."  It came out too quickly as I drew a quick breath in and left
an unasked question on my face.

	"Did something happen back there?"  He indicates the throng of
people gathered around the parade/party route disbursing out into the
streets like disease.  "Hey, did you get fucked in the alley?" the perfect
teeth of his grin spread wide considering the possibility.  The look of
surprise and confusion on my brow extracted the reason for his inquiry,
"You're walking funny," leaning back he contemplates my ass through the
worn, tight-fitted jeans, "like it hurts."

	Bob was a bar acquaintance I met when went to my first bar here in
St Louis.  He promptly swept me into his circle of friends that night and
introduced me around.  They were a decent group and I knew him well enough
to be truthful.  It's unseasonably warm for February and I've had a problem
of my balls getting squished between my legs since I was 16.  The summer
heat drops them down an inch or two more.  Enough to be in pain if I have
to walk more than a mile or two.  I get too hot wearing briefs and prefer
boxers.  Boxers don't keep balls from getting squished however.  Today,
normal jean attire, I just let them hang free.  I had done extra walking
today deciding to take the light rail into town and skip the traffic.  The
closest station is still a fair distance from the parade.  The result was
an ache I thought I had learned to live with.  I didn't realize it showed
in the way I walked.

	"Have you tried a cock ring?"  The question was simple and
matter-of-fact after hearing my story.

	"No-o," drawing the out answer as I consider all of the kinky
associations a cock ring implied for me.  The surprise returned to my face.
I look at the guy and realize I still didn't know very well.

	"Guys, we'll meet you at the restaurant," he shouts up ahead to the
others.  I was not walking very fast.  "You and I are going to make a side
trip."

	I was the youngest in the group and thought I was experienced in
sex and relationships.  We turn down Cross Street and step up to a store I
would never dare enter.  The ache in my balls told me just to be relieved
that we had stopped walking.  With the ring of the old fashioned entry bell
mounted on the door he walks in like he owned the place, talking to the
dark haired guy behind the counter as if he had known him forever.  I step
in and stand a few feet from the door looking at every inch of
merchandising space covered in leather and metal.  Things hung high on the
wall and ceiling that I didn't recognize nor conceive of their use.

	No, I don't say much in conversation.  Imagination usually takes up
my thought processing - looking around the small shop, breathing the smell
of leather, and now looking at the full lips of the guy standing opposite
the counter talking to Bob.  The short cropped beard accentuates his
sexuality.  His short hair is a style I considered but was talked out of by
friends.  His eyes are a golden brown intently looking in my direction.  I
realize my mouth is watering.

	"Come on!  We won't bite!"  Bob encourages, his words were candy to
an unsure youth.

	Somehow I thought the mischievous grin on his face would prove
otherwise if circumstances were presented.  It is clear I am uncomfortable
being in the store.  Legs of concrete, I made my way to the end of the
counter scanning the wall as I approach.

	"What size do we need to look at?"  The guy slid off the stool and
steps from behind the counter to a rotating display of rubber gaskets and
thin leather straps.  Returning from the fog of whips and paddles it is the
first time I hear him speak.  His voice rich and deep, vibrating across my
skin deep into my chest.

	"I, uh ..." words caught in my throat.

	"Just show him what you've got and let him find your size."  Bob's
hands abruptly flay the buttons on my 501's spilling out pubic hair and the
base of my thickening cock.  It fights for safety further down my leg,
struggling against the denim for more room.

	Am I in shock?  I just stand there without a word.  I watch the
muscles of the sales guy flex, his hand reaching in to free my hardening
shaft.

	"Hmmm," the vibration feels like it is coming from the floor.  He
looks up at me sideways. "Nice."  His hand encircles my rod and gives it a
few exploratory pulls.  Our eyes lock and he smiles, abruptly stopping mid
stroke rotating his hand to capture my dick as well as my balls.

	"You can thank me later Dirk," Bob coos softly over my shoulder
watching the dick play.

	"Yes," his voice still low and heavy, "I'd say 2 inch."  Releasing
my cock to hang in plain sight of customers he turns the display.
"Leather, rubber, or metal?"

	At some point in time in this exchange my mouth had gone dry or
else I would have stated it was obvious that it is a lot longer than two
inches!  The movement brings cool air across my dick slowly deflating in
review of his jibe.  A definite male scent lingered in the space where he
was and mingles with my own.

	"It's his first so let's try leather."  Bob had already answered
for me unaffected by the comment.

	All was quickly forgotten when the warmth of Dirk's hands return.
He grabs and twists my cock and balls together.  Instantly I am reminded of
how much they hurt.  In a sharp breath he releases me with an audible and
physical snap.  Around the base of my cock and behind my balls is a thin
leather strap about the width of my little finger.  The veins pulse and
harden from the brief encounter despite the strong air conditioning in the
shop.

	They stand looking at it.

	"Looks like a good fit!"  I startle by the comment of another
shopper that appears at my side.  He must have been in the back of the
store or,

	"I like rubber myself," he continues, "it has a bit more give and
doesn't bind."

	I am surprised at how my cock feels like it is trying to break free
of the hold with each beat of my heart, making it waver up and down
slightly.  This time the grin spreads across my face.  It is fucking
erotic!  Strangers watching added an odd excitement I had not felt before.
Dirk unsnaps the device.

	"Here, you try putting it on.  I can't be around all the time to
dress you."

	The warmth of his hands fail to warm the ice cold of my own as he
presses it into my palm.  Must be lack of blood flow I think to myself.
Good thing my hands are cold because I wouldn't have been able to attach
the strap while I was hard.  It is difficult to maneuver into place.  My
frustration builds.  OK, not frustration.  I am swinging completely in the
other direction, suddenly self conscience, and nervous as hell.  So much so
that I end up snapping some skin fastening it on.

	"Geesh!" the rush of air strain against my teeth as I quickly
reverse what I did.  "Ouch," looking at the red welt appearing on the side
of my ball sac.

	As erotic as the feeling had been I was not willing to go through
that snap experience again.

	"I'm afraid of it snapping me again."  Truth?  I am looking for a
way out to find the reality I am comfortable with.  I always associated
cock rings with guys that are into S&M.  I couldn't be one of those.  The
thought that I didn't really know myself either is frightening.  The
discomfort I felt earlier engulfs me ten times over in a wave.  I still
stand in the midst of these guys with my dick out.  Without my will it is
getting hard again.

	"OK, how about this?"  Dirk swaps out the leather draped over my
fingers for thick rubber ring about the thickness of my thumb.  I watch him
place the one I just tried on the counter.  In a flash I realize that other
guys had probably tried these on before me!  The concept of getting some
kind of critter and having to explain it to my lover hit me in the forehead
like a 2X4.  He interprets my expression.  "We do try to sanitize them
before putting them back out."

	What the hell is wrong with me?  Instead of thinking up some excuse
to get me out of the store I'm trying to figure out a way to get the damn
thing on!

	"Stretch it a little and put your balls in first," the shopper
advised, "then follow through with your cock."

	The cold of my hands help as I bend my dick in order to thread it
through the hole.  I move it further down to the base of my dick.  I'm
surprised when the other guy grabs my dick and slowly strokes it once again
to full hardness.  He isn't looking at my face.

	"It could be tighter," he decrees with unknown expertise.

	Dirk takes a step away and allows this new fellow to take over and
select another rubber ring.  He kneels in front of me and looks at the
anticipation in my face.  He pulls my dick from the previous ring with care
and installs a firmer choice.  Once again he tightens me in his fist.  He
licks his lips as he stares into the eye of my dick, now producing a bead
of pre cum.  Funny, I don't normally pre cum.  Funny, what happened to the
panic I felt just a moment ago?

	I feel my face flush as the heat from the motion creeps up my
spine.  Friction.  He spits on his hand and applies more to my cock.  Slow.
Methodical.  My legs begin to weaken.  The constant pressure from the cock
ring multiplies the sensation coming from the grip of his hand.  On his
knees he grabs my balls with his free hand.  I feel someone moving my jeans
further down my thighs.  They were my hands.

	Dirk takes a step closer.  My eyes silently plead for an escape.
How did I come to be here?  What was I doing?  I turn to Bob who simply
grins, his hand massaging the bulge in his crotch.  I feel Dirk's hand on
my ass and seek his eyes again.  I could taste the air full of salt and
sweat.  Was it mine or his?  I inhale deeply feasting on the sensations
looking further into his eyes.  I hear moans coming from somewhere and feel
the pace below pick up.  I focus on the curve of Dirk's lips.  I'm
intoxicated.

	It's different.  The shopper is working me with his mouth now and
somehow avoids choking on the length of my cock.  I thrust deeper into his
throat.  Dirk's other hand finds my nipple and squeezes.  Threshold
overload, I can't take it anymore and bring his mouth to mine.  He
strengthens his grip on my ass and nip as our kiss flares.  Load after load
shoot from deep inside into the man kneeling before me.  Dirk's embrace
supporting me, I start to black out.

...

	"Hey!" the sharp jab of a elbow finds home in my side.  "You OK?
You're walking different!"  Bob lets a laugh escape as we hurry to get to
the restaurant.

	I wear that thing every day now.  It keeps my balls from getting
squished but does make me stick out a bit more in front.  A fair price for
living each day without pain.  As to the other implications of the
purchase, well, lets just say I have more stories to tell.


--Urban.Rail@earthlink.net--