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title: 'The Builder and his In-Home Peepshow'
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! **Warning Bisexual**

### The Builder and his In-Home Peepshow

Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2000 16:14:57 CDT
From: Mr. gloryhole JUNKIE <cum2gloryhole@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Builder and His In-Home Peepshow

The Builder and his In-Home Peepshow
Copyright 2000
By Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE
I'd love to hear from you!
Let me know if you like the story, what you liked and what it made you
do!
e-mail your comments to:
cum2gloryhole@hotmail.com
________________________________________________________________
_______

Preface: This story is neither an FBI file transcript nor simple
fiction. If I were to place it upon the meter of a TRUTH SCALE, as on a
"Sally Jessy Raphael" episode, it would certainly be fluttering closer to
the vicinity of "TRUTH".

We encounter men such as the hero in our tale on a daily basis. They are
all around us.  Perhaps they are YOU. They build our homes, our schools and
our office buildings. They're our kid's football and soccer coachs; men our
daughters marry; that new neighbor down the block with the three kids and
jumbo GMC "Jimmy" blocking the view of elderly Mrs. Sander's rose garden;
the guys you love to watch at their work site when you're stuck in traffic.
They're the men who seem to live in jeans and heavy workboots yet "clean
up" real good.  And their stay-at-home wives tend to be,
disproportionately, blonde.

But, most importantly, they are the studly,straight men who make a daily
pit-stop of the XXX Arcades to blow a load of jizz into some hungry
cocksucker. They're men of AMERICA, patriots, steak'n'potato (and a big bag
of chips)kinda guys, fans of Faith Hill videos.  They're the guys who were
annoyed that "Home Improvement" went off the air, although they were rarely
home to watch it. They're Wal-Mart shoppers, mavens of Home Depots
everywhere and seem to have a beeper permanently nail-gunned to their
hips. They like big tits and really believe it when the strippers at
Gentlemen's Clubs tell them they're working toward their Master Degrees!

They are well-built men who wear tee shirts and jeans like no others
can. And there's never a doubt as to what's lurking inside that
denim. Their swagger is real.

Or it could be said that this is the story of one man brimming, busting and
over-flowing with testosterone...and a shitload of secrets.
________________________________________________________________________
______________________

As with all my stories, I recommend that before reading it, you first grab
your favorite beverage, make sure the door is LOCKED (don't want mom or
your wife...or your boss knowing what's up), yank down your underpants or
unzip your trousers (hey,pull them all the way down in fact), give yourself
a big ol'feel and let your dick have some room to breathe!  And, remember,
in reading this, you'll essentially be J/Oing with hundreds (thousands) of
other like-minded men with the same lusts and, maybe, the same secrets!
________________________________________________________________________
______________________


The Builder and His In-Home Peepshow


I worked construction all my life.  From the time I was 18, I took the
trade of my father.  He was a dry-waller, and, like most guys of my
generation, I learned to be a dry-waller, too.  It wasn't that I loved the
smell of plaster dust or the strain of the monotonous work.  But it was all
that I learned as a kid.  College wasn't an option or wasn't made an
option.  And, honestly, I didn't much care.  I wasn't a great student in
high school anyway.  I preferred to party and tinker on my best buddy's
Trans Am.  So, being an Irish, full- fledged blue-collar kid, instead of
being bitter about not going off to college like others my age, I was at
least happy to have had some work skill when I hit legal age.  And the pay
was good.

I worked for my grandfather those first couple of years and made alright
money.  But I was good at my trade, really good, and word quickly got
around.  So when the biggest construction company in the city offered me a
great salary and once-in- a-lifetime benefits, well, I found out that water
can be richer than blood.

So, for the next decade, I worked in the city's largest office buildings as
our company had almost every big contract with Fortune 500 companies and
the City of Chicago. I made a shitload of money but, because of my special
skills, was kept busier than most.  Although I enjoyed the occasional
weekend fishing with my fellow construction buddies, my sole recreation
between work and overtime, seemed to be porn and strip clubs.

It's not simply that being raised in an Irish catholic household makes one
a porn-addict but it was the easiest thing to do with my buddies after a
long day on the job. Too tired to see a real movie and too damn lazy to get
a real hobby, I suppose. My routine after work was to grab some beers
(usually with a couple of buddies) and watch big- titty girls at one of the
strip clubs to get a few visuals for that night's jack off session before
bed.  I actually dated a stripper at one of the bars for about three months
but we broke up when she decided she wanted to "clean up her act".  She
stopped giving blowjobs at frat parties and actually got a job at
Hooters. And that was the end of my attraction for her.

So I realized pretty early on that I liked cheap women. Sluts, really.  Not
the women who tease and strut around, but real whores.  The girls in the
strip joints, table dancers, porn queens and even the occasional
streetwalker.  After work, on those evenings when my buddies went home to
their wives and families, I'd skip the titty bars and head straight to the
strippers at one of the XXX arcades.

There was one place not too far from where I lived that had three girls at
a time stripping, fully naked, pushing their pussies into your face through
the glass.  I'd go into a booth, drop some tokens and watch them parade
themselves like the whores they were for tips.  Through the window, you
could just barely see the other men in the adjoining booths as they'd slip
their dollar bills through the slit in the partition of glass.  It was then
that the sluts would make a big show of collecting the petty cash.  They'd
bend down, showing the other men their dripping pussies as they picked up
the 100-penny notes. They'd jiggle their bloated tits into the tipper's
face.  That's when you knew other patrons were blowing their wads.  You'd
hear a few of them and sometimes see some cum hit the glass in the booths
across from yours.

I was never quite that brazen. Guess I was scared one of the guys from work
might see me cum. I'd regularly paw my mound but never jacked off in that
place.  Only the real perverts did that. Each booth was coated with dry
jizz on the walls from those guys, but I never wanted to be caught openly
jacking for the sluts.  They'd want more money, bigger tips, if they saw
they were making you that crazy.  I guess I was cheap, monetarily.  But no
one's as cheap as is a whore.

But I wasn't beyond needing to release a load once the sluts had made my
cock hard.  The first few times, I have to admit I'd leave and jack off in
my 4x4 on the way home.  But that seemed to get too messy.  And with the
traffic going 90 mph​【145 km/h】 on the Eisenhower, well, jacking off became downright
dangerous.

On one of the visits to my favorite stripper palaces, after deciding none
of the girls that night were worth tipping, I took some leftover tokens and
went into the video arcade on the other side of the store.  I'd been in the
arcade only once before with some buddies.  I knew about the cocksuckers
and all that, didn't have much problem with queers, really.  My buddies and
I just wandered through, sort of chuckling to ourselves as we looked at all
the holes.  We knew the cocksuckers lining the hallway had thought they'd
died and gone to heaven as we entered. But we had no plans to feed the
queers.  We were just scoping out the place.  Although I'd heard other guys
would use them on occasion and one guy on one of the jobs readily admitted
to getting sucked off there every night when his wife was in her last few
weeks of pregnancy, I didn't feel a need for their so-called services.

But things were different for me know as I was fast approaching thirty.
Jacking off and watching the pussy was okay but after a few years of that,
it gets old.  Watching porn at home was fun but after a while, you sort of
want, need, another hand on Mr. Bratwurst.

It was a Thursday night; I'd worked later than usual and then hit one of
the bars for a beer.  Just one beer.  Then I headed to the strip joint.
Watched some little Asian girl named Jenny try to shake her tiny tits for
cash but it wasn't doing anything for me.  So I left the strip section and
headed over to the arcade. I was horny and figured I could jack off in a
booth as I watched some lesbo-gals lick each other's clits.

The second I entered the dark arcade, it became apparent that I was the
main attraction.  There were four men openly staring at me and glancing at
my crotch.  I'm a big guy, 6'3"​【1,9 m】, 190 pounds​【86 kg】 of I guess you'd say, classic
construction muscle.  I get my share of stares all the time, but this was
the first time I felt like a piece of meat among other men.  Despite my
feelings, I felt my cock throb inside my jeans. It wasn't because any of
the obvious queers in the place were a turn-on but, rather, I'd had a long
day at work, watched that Asian girl finger her pussy a little, and, well,
I'm only human.

I took a booth and quickly latched the door.  I chose one in the middle of
the long aisle lined with peep booths since I'd read once in some porn
magazine that the cocksuckers made the holes usually in the ones on the
end.  I was looking for 5 minutes of a sleazy lesbo video and quick j/o -
not some fag looking at me through a hole.

I plopped in a couple of tokens, sat down and groped myself as I clicked
through the 50 channels.  Gay shit was on and I had to slap the button
through 15 channels of guys sucking and fucking each other.  Although I had
never had a gay guy suck me or anything like that, I didn't hate queers.
It just wasn't my thing. And would have gotten any guy in my neighborhood
beat up if it were.

Yet, I suppose I'd always had a "live and let live" mentality concerning
them. They really didn't bother me.  And since I went to so many porno
theaters, I'd seen a lot of that shit going on among guys and guess I got a
little used to it.  Even in the straight places. Not that I ever let a
queer suck on my dick, but if some guy wanted to blow his buddies, I guess
it was alright, as long as it wasn't one of my buddies looking for cock.

I finally found a hot video playing on the monitor, a gangbang video, which
often proved to be my favorites for some reason.  Those fucking starlets
just let every cock fuck her and shoot in her mouth.  What nasty, fucking
whores.  Too bad all-too- few actually exist in the world outside slick
porn videos.  I watched a few seconds of it as three guys jacked off in her
face while one was in her pussy and another up her ass.  My cock was
straining the denim and I had to pop my jeans open.

The moment I did so, I saw a finger enter my booth.  Damn, there was a
goddamn hole those queers make. I hadn't even noticed it.  But this one was
professionally drilled.  Four inch diameter. Obviously the handiwork of
management. What the fuck?  They were encouraging guys to blow other guys?
Made no sense.  But it suddenly became clear as to why guys at work joked
about getting some "relief" at Adultworld and so many men lined the hallway
of the place.  The videos were shit, so there had to be some other
attraction.

I stared at the monitor but peripherally could see the finger, than
another, beckon me to the hole. The whore in the video was now taking loads
in her mouth and face.  And those guys gave it to her good.  There must
have been a dozen guys banging her.  It sent me over the edge and, still
staring at the screen, I opened my jeans.  As I did, my hard cock, still
covered in my white BVDs, bulged forth.  I squeezed it and continued to
stare at the video.  Fuck, let the queer look - might make his day.

Suddenly, I heard a whisper, "Let me suck it".

I stared at the screen ignoring the stranger in the adjoining booth.  If I
hadn't been so horny, I'd have zipped up and left.  But as I was drooling
precum and it oozed through the fabric of my underwear, I knew I wasn't
going anywhere until I'd beaten off a big load.

"Let me suck you," the voice again whispered. "Stand up and I'll suck it
for you."

I clicked channels again and landed on a video of a girl sucking off some
guy in the woods.  Her lipstick-red mouth plunged with his fat cock.  Man,
that's what I needed at just that moment. Some slutty little tramp with her
tits out sucking on my big old dick.  Shit, my dick was even bigger than
this guy's in the video.  I could be in one of these porn flicks. Shit, I'd
choke her with what I have hanging.  My mind wandered to that hooker who'd
sucked off two of my buddies and I after hours at one of the bars.  50
bucks and she did us all.  She spit out our loads but she'd been a pretty
good quickie for us.

Again, I looked at the hole, this time, a tongue, a broad, fleshy wet
tongue, stretched itself into my booth.  Man, this guy was desperate for
some cock. I aint even seen chicks do that!  I watched it wag around and
then he licked his plump lips.  His mouth was only 18 inches​【46 cm】 from me.  Any
guy would have been deep in it if it were a chick but it was a queer's
mouth at the hole.

`Fuck', I thought.  `Why are all the hungriest cocksuckers always guys?'
One reads about that shit all the time.  Guys sucking dick after dick.
Guys sucking guys in bathrooms and at the Y.  Guys being gangbanged all
night in those fag bathhouses.  Where were some fucking girls doing that?
All the girls I knew either wanted payment or marriage.

Fuck them.  Women could be such pricks at times.  Here's a guy, granted, a
stranger and a total cocksucker queer, just begging to give me head.  And
look at his lips, they're as thick and shapely as any woman's.  And, a
tongue's a tongue - sort of genderless.

I looked behind me to make sure I'd locked the door.  I turned up the
volume a bit and stood up. That got the cocksucker really going.  He
whispered, "YEAH!"

I also noticed that in standing, my full 9 inches​【23 cm】 was obscenely stretching
my BVDs.  I bet the guy hadn't counted on my having such a big one.  But if
he wanted it, he'd have to deal with it.  Although I'd had some good
blowjobs from women, I had as of yet to encounter one who could get it
deeply and completely into her throat.  Even the stripper at one of my
buddy's bachelor parties couldn't deep-throat it.  And that was after she'd
sucked off the groom and five other partygoers in the private room at a
banquet hall in Miami.

"WHOA!" I heard the cocksucker mutter through the hole. "Show me your big
fucking cock.pull down your pants."

Watching the monitor, and without acknowledging the hungry queer, I slowly
milked my dick through my shorts.  Again he begged, pleaded, "Please, come
on, let me suck that huge motherfucker for you."

I very slowly began to tug down my underwear letting my cock come into his
view inch by inch.  "OH YEAH", he happily muttered.

I had a 5:30 a.m. call for work the following day, and resigned myself as
to where my cock would soon be going. So I hastened my pace. I yanked my
BVDs and jeans to my knees fully exposing my nine-inch, fully erect cock to
some faceless on- looker who was back to wagging his tongue at me through
the hole.  He was so salacious that I could even see his dangling,
vibrating uvula.

As he again begged like a whore, I interrupted him by suddenly turning
toward his hole and plunging my dick deeply into his wide-open mouth.  I
looked at the video but as I realized I was in a hot, wet sucking hole,
feeling not unlike a warm tub of butter, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the
incredible sensation rapping itself around my cock.

I think I even shook my head as this total stranger sucked and licked the
length of my thick shaft.  His saliva dripping down to my beefy balls.
This guy knew his business.  I had great doubts that I was the first
straight cock to enjoy this mouth.  He was just too damn good.  My mind
wondered just how many dicks had used his throat that day.  The way he was
sucking and plunging his throat onto my cock, his mouth hole must have been
in pretty heavy use all afternoon.

For several minutes he gave my cock and nuts a tongue bath and gored his
throat onto the full length of my thick cock.  No one had ever been able to
do that before.  My knees buckled as I realized that the head of my cock
was past this guy's uvula and deeply inserted into his throat.  It amazed
me how much it was like fucking a pussy - only different and sort of
better.  I mean, here I was riding a guy's face like a cunt.  And he made
it feel like a cunt.  I wasn't quite expecting that.

When he began to use those throat muscles to milk me for my load, well, I
lost it.  I didn't even care much if he wasn't a cum drinker, I just
relaxed and let my balls spit out as much cum as I had to make.  It was the
most intense sperm-spilling orgasm I'd had since my first at age 11.

FUCK! That guy knew his stuff!  I stayed in his throat pumping out every
drop of semen I had and then let the cocksucker nurse on it some more
looking for another drop or two.  Damn, women never did that.

Then the moment passed and I was done with the cocksucker.  I pulled back
from the hole but as I did, his greedy hand shot into my booth and grabbed
my balls once more.

"Gimme more of your cum", he pleaded.

For the first time, I looked down at him, only his eye really, and,
grinning, shook my head.  I took my fat cock and let him watch as I stuffed
it back into my pants and zipped up.  His hand patted my crotch and I let
him have a few moments of groping my basket.  Sort of a "goodbye", I guess.

I left the arcade and headed to my car.  As I drove back to my apartment,
it dawned on me that I'd actually fucked some guy's mouth and been ramming
his throat like any slut cunt on the street. But unlike the sluts and
prostitutes, this guy, a total stranger, had swallowed all my sperm like it
was his dinner or something.  And as much as I try to get every slut who
blows me to swallow, I thought,'How could he fucking eat that stuff?'  He
was like a wild man on my cock.

I also realized it was fucking great head.  Shit, it was just a mouth, some
sucking hole looking for nothing but to make my cock happy and eat my
jizz. But it was some queer's mouth.  Why did I have to enjoy it so much?
Damn, why couldn't he have been a crappy sucker?  I felt like this queer
had hooked me in. Not that I much minded. I felt my cock again throbbing in
my jeans as I drove.  If I hadn't had such a long day, I just might have
turned the truck around and let him have a second round of cum from my
balls.

I sure knew that it was much more satisfying and convenient than jacking
off every night.  And just two bucks in tokens was a hell of a lot cheaper
than even the skankiest of street hookers.  I even wondered why I'd tipped
that one lap dancer twenty bucks last year when she wouldn't even let me
touch her.  Shit, for that twenty bucks, I could have gotten ten or more
blowjobs from the cocksuckers at the arcade.  And with them, you don't have
to pull out when you shoot. Fuck, you don't even have to look at them.

As I pulled into my parking space, I knew where my nightly loads would be
going from now on.  I'd heard of too many guys like me getting head to feel
I was turning queer.  It was just a service. As long as no one knew and I
didn't have to talk to the cocksuckers, what the hell difference did it
make?  Besides, I owed it to my dick.

(CALENDAR PAGES BLOW OFF IN THE WIND)

And so it went for the next several years.  I'd go to work, go fishing once
a month, take in a baseball or hockey game every so often and hit the
arcades for head at least five times a week. Sometimes on Sundays, I go at
noon, fuck some cocksucker's mouth and then need it again later that night.

It wasn't something I talked about or anything.  I never quite understood
those married guys at work who'd actually mention they go to the arcade for
head.  I knew it wasn't something to shout from the rooftops, but I also
knew I sure wasn't alone in blowing a cumwad into those queers.  I'd get
off a job some days by five o'clock and hit the arcade at what I guess
could be considered its "rush hour".  There were a few cocksuckers on duty
but they'd all be at a hole sucking dicks.  When I'd get there, most of the
guys seemed to be looking for the same thing as I -- some quick relief from
our full balls.  And they were mostly normal guys like me.  We never talked
to each other or anything, but we knew what we were all there for.

Some nights would prove to be really busy, amazingly crowded with a variety
of men, many older corporate suits carrying their briefcases, guys in
delivery uniforms, some younger college kids carrying backpacks, and a lot
of guys like me, maybe in construction or some other trade field.  There
were only so many booths available and on those busy nights, we'd have to
wait patiently for a booth to open up, taking our turns feeding the
resident queers.

It was common to have to wait almost twenty minutes before getting your
turn for a blowjob.  In the meantime, I'd see one then another then another
and another guy go into a booth and leave.  That'd be the booth I'd select.
Whoever was sucking them all off must be damn good - either through talent
or sheer experience.  Even if another booth became available, I'd wait
until the busiest cocksucker was free. More often than not, it was that
queer's throat that was the most accommodating.  And after several others
had shot their cum in it, it was certainly the most well-lubricated.

I suppose my fascination with whores had slowly, slightly, been
transferring from women to queers.  Actually, their gender concerned me
less than whether or not they were total cumsluts. What the fuck did I
care?  I was just plowing a wet hole.  Wasn't like I was on my knees or
anything.

In those years, when I hit 30, my parents introduced me to Diane.  She was
the daughter of one of my mother's high school friends and grew up in the
area. I'd met her once before at a wedding when I was perhaps ten years
old.  Diane was a very pretty blonde, five foot four, one hundred and
twelve pounds.  She was a looker but didn't have big tits or that certain
"oomph".  She had been teaching Social Studies at a parochial school and I
high suspected she'd never been gangbanged.  But I feared she'd never even
sucked a dick.

She was a nice girl, really was.  And she fell for me like Jill after Jack.
I suppose my initial attraction to her had been her shameless attraction to
me. I like my ego stroked, what can I say?  And she could make me laugh.
We started dating and were married within a year.

A big wedding called for a big bachelor party.  So several of my buddies
chipped in and we all flew to Vegas.  My dad hated Las Vegas and all it
stood for, so he declined the invite, which, as it turned out, was for the
best.  I had worried about what to do with him once the party moved back to
the huge suite we'd rented for the highlight of the festivities.

My best buddy, Ryan, planned a blast.  He hired a hooker and after a night
at one of the city's Gentleman's Clubs, we moved the party to a suite at
Caesar's Palace where eighteen buddies and me gangbanged her all evening.
There was lots of whooping and hollering as she unzipped my pants.  Most of
my buddy's had never known I was so fucking hung.  My buddy, Joe and his
brother-in-law, Danny, even ran out at one point and returned with seven
other guys they'd invited in off the Strip!  Just total strangers!  It was
nuts.  But we slipped the slut another five hundred and she spread her legs
even wider for them.  I was so fucking hung over upon our return the
following day, I'd forgotten I'd won 1600 bucks at Craps the first night we
got into Vegas.  As I found the cash inside my jacket, I thought, `Good
fucking thing I forgot or we'd have invited another 20 strangers in to bang
her too!"

The wedding was at Old St. Mary's. As I stood at the altar, looking at my
buddies, and my best friend, Ryan, we all got shit eating grins on our
faces.  I held my hands crossed at my crotch to hide the rod I was getting
thinking about the bachelor party earlier that week.  As Diane walked down
the aisle, I was picturing that whore in Vegas dripping in collected
cumloads.  And for the first time, it occurred to me that I'd fucked my big
dick into a pussy full of eighteen of my best buddies' jizzloads and
several more loads from strangers literally off the street.  I was damn
glad Diane and I had taken our blood tests the afternoon before heading to
Vegas.

Life was great those first three months.  Diane wasn't a virgin as I'd
thought.  She'd had a boyfriend back in high school who fucked her on three
occasions.  So she had much to learn.  But she was actually a pretty decent
fuck.  Maybe it was because she'd only had that one scrawny high school kid
up her pussy.  She was as tight as a ten year old.

But over the course of our honeymoon in Cancun, my big dick had opened her
cunt to the point where it was more like a slutty thirteen year old's. I
fucked her brains out.  Even fucked her in one of the hotel pools.  I
wasn't sure if she was such a hot fuck or my cock was simply missing its
daily professional-quality sucking.

On the third day of our honeymoon, Diane wanted to get her hair done.  We
had tickets to a show at the hotel that night and she wanted to look her
best.  Her sisters had pre-paid for the day spa treatment at the hotel - a
full afternoon of pampering.  So that left me in a lurch as to what to do
all day.

I wandered the shopping arcade of the hotel and then walked around the pool
area and out to the beach.  But I was still back before her treatment was
done.  Looking at all the young college girls on the beach had made me
fucking horny as shit.  As I strolled the beach, I fought the urge to want
to pick up one of the young ladies for a quickie back in the room.  I mean,
it was my honeymoon after all.

But I was quickly springing a woody as I walked through the lobby.  Thank
god I had worn a big tee-shirt over my swim trunks.  I spotted a men's room
off the lobby and ducked in there quick.  Man, I was throbbing like a
teenager.  I figured I'd go to a stall and beat off a load.

But as I entered one of the six stalls, I immediately noticed a huge,
foot-wide diameter gloryhole inside. I figured someone had removed a toilet
paper dispenser from the wall.  Looking down, I spied a smooth pair of
muscular legs sporting Tevas.  I quickly locked the stall and stood there.
Nobody sits in a toilet with a huge gloryhole like that without being a
cocksucker.  I groped myself and he immediately leaned back and showed off
a decent hard cock.  I untied my swim trunks and pulled them down to mid
thigh.  My thick nine-incher jutted straight out then bobbed up and down.
It needed some immediate attention.  The stranger in the next stall reached
through the hole and began to masturbate me.  Man, it felt good.  Even with
all the fucking I'd been enjoying with Diane, there's just something about
a man's touch.  Maybe it's because their hands are like my own and better
proportioned to milk my big dick.

Or maybe it was because it was a stranger's touch.  Just so fucking nasty.
In any event, this man knew what he was doing.  I figured he'd jacked off a
lot of guys to get that good.  So he could jack me too.  One more dick this
guy can say he milked into a toilet bowl.

I closed my eyes and figured I'd better enjoy the handjob.  Besides, it
wasn't quite like fucking someone on my honeymoon -- just some queer
offering to lend a hand.  I was approaching a climax when his other hand
reached in and grasped my fat nuts.  That's when I saw he sported a wedding
ring like me.  It's might be one thing to get a handjob from a stranger on
your honeymoon, but this guy was milking guys behind his wife's back!

But suddenly, he withdrew and left me hanging, so to speak.  Then he poked
his head completely though the hole.  He looked to be a pretty good-looking
older guy with dark gray hair.  Without saying a word, he pursed his lips
like a guppy and started making smooching sounds.  I knew what that meant
and turned my cock in his direction so it hit his face.  He began kissing
and licking it like a thick lollipop. I stared at this guy in fascination
as he licked the sides of my shaft and then darted his tongue into my piss
slit.  He seemed to want something.  Then I saw as he dug the very tip of
his tongue in there and pulled back with a long string of my clear precum
connecting him to me.  He then lapped it up and licked his lips.

Abruptly, he pulled back.  I looked down at him as if to say, "What's
wrong?"  I mean, I wasn't planning to spend an hour in the men's room.
"How big is that dick?" he asked in a hushed tone.  I merely
shrugged. "Big", he whispered.  His hand returned to stroking me like a man
churning for butter.  "My son's big like you", he muttered.

I wondered if I'd heard right. "What?" I muttered.

"My son.you ought to see the cock on that one." He said, more to himself
than to me.

"You seen your son's cock?" I asked.  "I mean, hard?"

"A few times," the man said, as he furiously masturbated with his free
hand.

"Ever suck it?" I ventured to ask.

"Nah," the older man said. "He wouldn't go for that."

There was a long pause as he jacked both our cocks in the well-appointed
men's room.  The precum coating our dicks making for a lurid sexual noise
which broke the silence.

The man suddenly reached an intense orgasm and I could see his cum hit his
belly and coat his hand. For a man apparently in his late fifties, he
really shot up a lot of semen. I pulled back and started beating off so I
could get the hell out of there and back to my room.  It was fun, but I
wanted to drop a load and get out of there.

As I jacked, the man's face was back in my stall.  His eyes were closed and
mouth wide open.  Obviously, he wanted to eat my semen.  And I was happy to
oblige.  I milked my slick shaft and turned toward the stranger's parted
lips.  I stared at this married dad who was going to get a big mouthload of
my sperm.  What a fucking pervert some hung guy out there has for a dad, I
thought.  A hot, sucking, nasty pervert.  At that, my knees bent and I
blasted the hungry man with power wads of my ejaculate.  I was so fucking
turned on watching it coat his lips, tongue and fill the back of his
throat.  I'd never quite watched anyone so closely as they ingested my cum.
And this was the closest contact I'd had with a queer cocksucker.

I felt drained of my jizz and stepped back.  My cock deflated to 6 flaccid
inches.  I actually had to catch my breath, it was that intense.  I stared
at the older man as he savored every squirt of my semen in his mouth.  His
eyes still closed, he licked his lips and wiped up a big glob of my jizz
that had landed on his chin.

I pulled up my shorts and stuffed the old meat sausage back in.  He slowly
opened his eyes and smiled at me as I got ready to exit the stall.

"Thanks", he muttered.  I nodded at him through the hole and left.  I was
relieved that no one was in the area as I exited the men's room and went
straight up to my room.  I went into the bathroom, rinsed my face and again
groped myself thinking about feeding some queer stranger on my honeymoon of
all things.  I took a quick piss and as the toilet flushed, I heard Diane
enter the room.

"Dale?" she called out.

"In here, hon.", I replied.

"Oh good, you're back," she continued.  "I had the most fabulous time at
the spa."

"'Be right out, hon," I said.  I looked down and noticed another big glob
of semen clung to the nylon of my swim trunks. `Shit", I thought,'Mine or
his?'  I quickly slid off the trunks and rinsed them in the tub.  Now I
looked silly in just my tee- shirt, so I pulled it off.  I opened the
bathroom door and greeted Diane naked.  In an instant, I was fully hard
again.  She smiled and gasped.  "Oh, geez," she said.  "And I just had a
30-minute massage!"

I grabbed her and squeezed tight, pressing my hard on against her.  She
laughed and half- struggled to get away.  "My hair, Dale!", she
laughed. "What do you think?"  I stepped back a bit and saw she'd had her
hair cut in a style like t.v.'s newest sensation, Heather Locklear of
"Dynasty". She looked good and I told her so.  I pushed her toward the bed
and she knew I planned to put my thick cock up in her.

"Watch out, hon," she said, "They just hairsprayed it for miles!"  She
giggled as I kissed her neck and slid a hand up her skirt.  Roughly I
slipped it into her pants and started finger-fucking her.  She lost it and
almost dropped down to the bed.  "Fuck me," she whispered.

But I had a different idea.  I kissed her and then grabbed her by the jaw.
"Open up, sweetie," I said with a devilish grin on my face.  She threw me a
kiss and closed her eyes.  Using the same dick that not ten minutes earlier
was deep inside some cocksucking queer in the shithouse, I crawled over her
and placed the head of it against her lips.  I wanted to see her mouth on
it, sucking and tasting it like that strangers had done.  I stared at her
mouth as it mildly sucked the first couple of inches into it.

Diane was not a natural born cocksucker.  She was down right shitty at it.
But the notion that she was in the same position as some queer just minutes
early had me throbbing at her mouth hole.  I held her over-sprayed hair and
jacked off, just as I'd done with the middle-aged man.  I was seized with
lust and beat off yet another big wad of sperm into my new bride's
lipsticked mouth.  It was a major, newfound turn on for me to feed her my
sperm after having fed a cocksucker.  She'd be tasting her husband's jizz
at the same time as some strange man on the other side of the hotel was
still savoring its aftertaste.

But Diane, as I said, was not a natural born cocksucker, and, I quickly
learned, was repulsed by the taste of cum.  She started coughing and
gagging as my thick semen flooded her mouth.  It caused me to pull back and
the following volleys of my jizz to spray her newly coifed head.  She
reached up and felt my copious load drench her locks.  Between the coughing
and spitting, she started, shouting, "My HAIR!  You got cum in my HAIR!"

I pulled off the bed and stood over her.  I mean, what does a husband do
when his wife's coughing up his semen?  Offer her a glass of water?  Slap
her on the back?  I tried the latter and she pushed my hand away.  Her
gagging got more severe and she ran to the bathroom.  She turned on the
faucet and rinsed her mouth out with water (so it was the FORMER!).

I remained in the bedroom, torn between a strange strain of embarrassment
and laughter.  What a weird-shit moment.  In the background, I could hear
Diane spitting and rinsing.  Spitting and rinsing.  "My HAIR!" she again
cried out.

I stepped to the open bathroom door and watched as she pulled thick lumps
of my semen out of her hair. "Dale, I just got this done." she said. "Kathy
and Meagan paid 300 bucks for this.now look."

"Sorry, Di." I said.  But I wasn't the least bit fucking sorry.  What I was
really thinking was, `What's some wife doing yelling at her husband for
shooting cum all over her'?

"I don't know if I can make it to the show.", she added, wiping more and
more cum off.

"Oh, come on," I replied.  "It's just some fucking cum, Di.  It'll come out
-- so to speak."

She stared into the mirror and said, "You think I'm leaving this room with
dried cum in my hair?  I have to shower, rewash my hair.damn it, and then
TRY and make it look like Eduardo had made it look. Shit, Dale."

I entered the room and grasped her from behind.  I kissed her neck and
said. "See, honey, you're just so fucking beautiful, you just make me
fucking horny like a dog.I messed you up.I'm sorry."

She leaned back into my embrace and kissed me.  "Oh, go watch t.v. while I
take a fast a shower."

I nibbled her neck and groped her breasts. She pulled off, giggling.  "Now,
go on.or we won't make that show for sure."

I withdrew to the bedroom and heard her lock the bathroom door.

Got out of that one like a pro!

That evening, we took in the hotel show, some Argentinian act that was
pretty good.  Afterward, we had dinner in the resort's 5-Star restaurant.
We took a corner table among just a few others designed for lovers.  As I
ordered drinks, I looked past the waiter to see the bathroom cocksucker
enter the restaurant.  He stood at the maitre'd's stand with a woman.  I
felt the blood drain from my face.  He may have been the one who swallowed
all my jizz but still.

As Diane ordered a cadillac margarita, I noticed that the couple was being
escorted to the table right next to our own. FUCK!  What was this? God's
punishment?  I spontaneously asked Diane if she wouldn't rather go back to
the room and order room service?  The waiter interjected, "Nice to be so in
love."

But Diane smiled and lazily said, "Oh, I love it here, it's so beautiful
and after dinner, I want to walk along the beach."

I stared at her.

The cocksucker and his date sat beside us, not five feet separating our
tables.  The restaurant required a jacket and the cocksucker wore a very
fine suit and tie.  His date wore a lovely silk dress that my mother would
have liked.

The man looked at us for a moment as he held his date's seat for her but
then proceeded to give his waiter their drink order.  I was almost too
uptight to speak.

Then our waiter returned with our drinks.  As he placed them down, he said
to Diane, "And this special margarita for the pretty bride is compliments
of me, Manuel Garcia."  He smiled as Diane blushed and thanked him.

The moment he stepped away from our table, the woman with my cocksucker,
leaned over grinning. "OH!  Honeymooners!" she bellowed with glee.

I simply nodded.  Diane looked at me, realizing my response was
uncharacteristically rude. "Um, yes." Diane said with a smile. "Just a few
days ago."

"Where are you from?" the woman asked.

"Chicago", Diane added.  "How `bout you?"

"Alexandria, Virginia", the woman replied. "My husband's a lobbyist."

At that, the queer dad nodded and said to Diane, "For the AMA."

"Oh, how neat," Diane said. "One of my bridesmaid's husband's fathers
worked at the Treasury Department in the sixties for a couple of years."

Even I had to look up at Diane for that one.  She was begging for some help
in the conversation. I figured I was stuck, so I'd best play the doting
groom or else hear about it for the rest of our weeklong honeymoon.

"What finds you here?", I asked, looking at the man's wife.  I presumed I
knew what the husband had come for.

"Oh", she beamed. "It's Jack and my, I'm Amanda, by the way, it's our 35th
wedding anniversary!"

"Oh! How nice," Diane said. "35 years.  I think that's wonderful.  How nice
to be married 35 years. I'm Diane and this here is Dale.  We're three days
into that 35 years!"  She turned to me and had a starry-eyed look about
her.

"Well, it takes a lot of work", the woman said. "Don't be fooled.  It's not
all hearts and flowers."

Yeah, I thought, takes your hubby sucking some dicks to muddle through 35
years.

"What do you do in Chicago, Dale?" Jack suddenly asked me.  I looked at
him, into the eyes of a strange man who'd swallowed my cum earlier that
day.

"I work construction there, Jack." I said flatly.

I know I caught a glimmer of glee reflecting in his eyes. "Oh, my,
construction.good solid work.I didn't think you got that build crunching
numbers all day", he said.

"Our son, Jeremy, worked construction through college." Amanda added.
"Made enough money to help get him through law school."

"Money's okay." I said. "So how old is he?"  I inquired, trying perhaps,
not-so- subconsciously to embarrass the cocksucker who knew that I knew at
least two of his dirty little secrets.

"Jeremy is 33 and lives in Spokane with his wife and our three
grandbabies." Amanda said.  Jack simply took a big, long swig of his
drink. "He works for Clarity Software and his salary out there is so much
higher than when he worked in Roanoke.", his wife continued.

Diane hated to talk about money and quickly changed the topic.  "Isn't this
a beautiful resort?", she cooed.

"Oh, my yes." said Amanda. "And the size of that elaborate pool!  Jack and
I were watching all those dare-devil teenagers going down that enormous
waterslide this afternoon.!"

Yeah, I bet Jack was watching those teen boys splashing around, I said to
myself.

"And you must get a manicure while you're here, Diane," Amanda said.  "It's
a fabulous salon."

Diane held up her left hand and proudly showed off her new manicure along
with her platinum wedding band.

"OH! Lemme look!", Amanda said.  And Diane extended her arm toward them.
"Beautiful. Look at that Jack."

"Yes, certainly very lovely." Jack smiled.

"And Dale's matches!" Diane offered.  "Can you believe his ring took almost
an extra month to come in because it had to be resized twice?  Show then
yours, hon."

I hestitantly held up my hand and the three of them looked at it. Jack
seemed to stare at it.

"What size finger do you have?", Jack asked.

"Not sure, Jack", I muttered.

"Well", Amanda piped in, "He's certainly a big, strong one, Diane!"  The
two women tittered in bemused embarrassment.  I know I turned beet red for
a moment.

"All the men in Dale's family are built like professional ballplayers.  In
fact, my father said, when he heard we were going to marry, that he was
thrilled the family gene pool would have Dale's added to it."

"Well, you're bound to have beautiful children, with his physique and your
pretty smile, Diane", Jack added.

He looked at me and I again realized this man had eaten my liquid DNA
earlier in the day. My gene pool was probably still sloshing around his
belly along with that vodka and water he'd ordered.

Our waiter returned to take our order and for the rest of the dinner, we
kept to ourselves, enjoying our evening separately.  But as dessert came,
Amanda interrupted our order and told the waiter to put our desserts on
their bill.

"Oh, no." Diane said.  "You don't have to do that!"

I agreed, "Please, you really don't have to."

"But we want to!" Amanda firmly stated with a grin.  "You're
honeymooners.let us do this.it'd give Jack and I so much pleasure."

I thought to myself, `I'd accepted a handjob as well as blown a jizzload
into this woman's husband's mouth earlier, so why not accept a slice of
cake from him, too'?

"Well. Thank you." I said. "That's very nice."

Jack looked right at me and toasting with his cognac, said, "Anytime,
Jack. You have a lovely bride."

Diane blushed and said. "No wonder you're married 35 years. Amanda. If all
men were as wonderful as your Jack."

Amanda sipped her coffee and said, "Your Dale here looks like he's got what
it takes, but, remember, it's a lot of hard work."

Jack and I looked at one another.  For just a moment, his eyes dropped to
my crotch.  Then he took another taste of cognac.

Our checks arrived and I quickly signed off using the room number.  Diane
and I rose and bid Jack and Amanda a good evening.  Diane again thanked
them for the dessert.

"How long will you be staying?", Amanda asked us as I pulled out a twenty
and left it as a tip.

"Four more days," Diane replied. "Then back to work.and reality."

"Well, we're here another two days," Amanda offered. "Maybe we'll run into
one another again."

"Maybe.", I said.  I noticed that Jack had briefly glanced at my crotch,
which due to our close proximity was only a few inches from his face.

"Well, I'm sure you two will be very busy," Amanda said. "Have a wonderful
time!"

"Goodnight", Diane and I both said almost in unison.

We left Jack and Amanda to finish their desserts.

It was about 10 o'clock when we returned to the lobby and started walking
toward the concourse of shops which let to the enormous, illuminated pool
where swimming was allowed until 1 a.m..

"Want to take a dip?" I asked, holding Diane close to me as we slowly
strolled down the wide hallway of boutique shops.  Diane shook her head.
"No, can we take a walk along the beach instead?"

"Sure.", I said.

"It's pretty windy out there.", said another hotel guest as she breezed
passed us.

"Is it?", Diane asked, disappointment in her voice.

"Oh, it's beautiful", said the tourist.  "But there's a wind that's a
little cool.  I came in to grab a sweater."

"Thanks," I said.  The woman then headed to the elevator bank.

"Want me to get you a sweater?", I turned to Diane and asked.

"Hmmm.", she said.  "No.  Maybe I'll go back to the room and get it."

"I can get it, hon", I reasserted.

"I know", she said hugging me. "I think I have to go to the little girl's
room anyway.  I'll be down in just a few minutes."

"You sure?", I asked.

"Besides. I can give my mother a quick call.", she added.  "While we were
talking to Amanda and Jack, I remembered that today's her birthday and I
totally forgot to call her."


"Call her tomorrow.", I stated.  "It's too late to call her now."

"Dale, I've called my mother on every birthday since I moved out of the
house.  I've never not talked to her on her birthday!"Diane emphatically
stated.  "I'll just be ten minutes and besides I have to use the bathroom!"

"I'll go up with you.", I offered.

"No, I'll just be ten minutes.  I want to walk with you and maybe go into
the piano bar later. I'll meet you right back in the lobby!", she said.
She then leaned up and kissed me.  "Ten minutes. Then we're walking along
the beach."

As she walked toward the elevators, I shouted to her, "Don't forget the
sweater."

I stood in the hallway looking in one of the shop windows.  Freaking 3000
bucks for a sweater. Thank god Diane had packed one!

Just then I spotted Jack and Amanda enter the lobby. Fuck. What timing.  I
watched them as Amanda went to the front desk and inquired about something.
Neither saw me as I stood down one of the concourses radiating from the
lobby.  Then she kissed Jack as they headed in my direction.  They were
apparently going into the one hotel gift shop, or newsstand really, which
remained open at that hour.

I was relieved that neither seemed to notice me.  They disappeared into the
small shop to only moments later re-emerge. It was Amanda who spotted
me. "Goodnight, bridegroom!", she softly, but playfully, said waving a
small bag as she returned to the elevators.

I nodded and said a firm, "Goodnight."

I returned to looking in other shop windows.  As my eyes spied a $500 hat
with a glittery cockatoo appliqued to it's brim, I heard a voice.

"So, how are you?"

I turned and it startled me to see Jack standing beside me.

"Um, fine,", I replied suddenly very nervous again. Where's Amanda?"

"She's not feeling well," Jack answered. "Has a bit of acid
indigestion.eats too fast and too much, I suppose."

"Oh, sorry `bout that." I said, staring at the ridiculous hat as though it
were the most fascinating thing on the planet.

"Where's your bride, Dale?", Jack asked softly.

"Making a phone call.", I said.  Although I was very uncomfortable talking
to this man who'd eaten my seed earlier in the day, I felt a massive
erection begin to take place inside my trousers.  And fuck boxers, I
thought, can't fucking hide one of my boners.

"Oh, down here?", Jack asked.

"No, she ran back up the room.I'm meeting her in the lobby.", I said.

"Hum.", Jack muttered.

He suddenly moved away from me and walked down the concourse a few feet.  I
saw where he was headed.  The men's room where I'd first met him.  Fuck.
Don't do this you queer, I thought to myself.  This queer is going to act
up.

Jack pushed open the door and disappeared into the men's room.  I was torn.
What did this fag want with me?  And why was my dick making this huge bulge
in my trousers?  I glanced at my watch and then back at the lobby.  Where
the fuck was Diane?  Damn my new mother-in-law.  She probably had her
yakking on and on about our whole fucking trip.  I wondered if Diane would
tell her about my cum in her hair incident?

I decided I needed to take a leak anyway and entered the men's room.  It
was quiet and I didn't see Jack.  He must have been in his cocksucker stall
again.  What a fucking cumpig, I thought.

I stepped up to a urinal and unzipped.  A gusher of piss hit the porcelain
as my bladder let out a loud `thank you'.  I stared at one of the glazed
tiles thinking there was this cocksucking married man sitting in one of the
stalls behind me, probably peeping through the crack to watch me standing
here as I pissed.

Once my bladder emptied, I continued to stand there facing the wall, my
cock hanging out of my fly.  There was something oddly sexually stirring
about the mixed scent of piss, Lysol and talcum-pine, which permeated the
air.  My cock filled with blood and actually hit the cold porcelain as it
grew.  Maybe one more quickie to send Jack on his way.

Without zipping up, I approached the stalls.  I was going to enter the same
one I'd been in earlier but suddenly Jack opened his stall and let the door
open fully.  He was standing and his trousers were down at his
well-polished shoes.  He'd hung up his suit jacket but still sported his
crisp white shirt and expensive looking tie.  He was again furiously
masturbating.

"Oh, big fucking bridegroom." He said staring at my cock.  "What a fuckin'
lucky damn bride you got."

I stepped near to him and in an instant he wrapped his hand around my cock.

"So fucking big and thick, I can hardly get my hand around that beauty of
yours, stud."  He just continued to stare at my erection like a man
possessed.

"I have to meet Diane in the lobby." I started to say.

Without a word, he squatted and started to nibble and suck the wide head of
my cock.  He kissed it and again seemed intent on working out some precum.
I simply stood there with my arms akimbo watching this married vacationer
go to town drilling for cum.

Both his hands felt my nuts and began to stroke them. "What a big fuckin'
scrotum on you, Dale.and they make a lot of spunk."  He kissed each plump
testicle and then rubbed his face in my nutsac. "Gunna make lots of babies
with all that sperm, Dale."  He licked his lips and suckled the head again.

I couldn't believe this shit.  I was sort of getting off on this queer
worshipping my scrotum and all, but I was a bit pressed for time.

I pulled back as if to zip up.

"NO!", Jack pleaded as he knelt on the floor.  "We'll make it fast.  FUCK
ME."

"WHAT?", I asked in an incredulous tone.

"Fuck me.fuck my ass like it's a woman, Dale.", Jack begged.  He stood up
and turned around showing me his small, smooth butt. "I'm a great fuck,
Dale.I go to the men's rooms on college campuses and let the boys there
fuck my ass like its pussy.  Please, Dale, I want you to fuck me."

"I.uh.never fucked another guy before.", I stuttered.  "I'm on my fucking
honeymoon, man!"

"She'll never know, Dale." Jack persuaded. "She'll never know.  I'll be
your quick little bitch, Dale.your little cumhole for that huge cock of
yours..please??!"

My cock was throbbing and only inches from this man's ass.  It looked good.
And maybe because I was over wrought with needing to cum, it looked really
good.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Oh man, Dale, to have you fuck me.breed me on you fucking honeymoon.oh
man, come on, Diane'll be waiting."

I gingerly took the man by his compact hips and moved in.  The head of my
cock hit his smooth butt.  Jack reached back and spread his cheeks
apart. "Fuck me like a whore, Dale, fuck me like you fuck your pretty
little bride."

He had me going.  I looked at that tight little rosebud of his and figured
if this guy wanted to get fucked, my cock could stand some unloading.  I
gripped his ass and plunged my cock into him. Stuck it right up him like a
bull gores a runner in Pamplona.  Jack was queer shish kebob.

He lunged forward with the force I asserted and steadied himself by holding
onto the toilet. "OH! YES!  Breed me with that big young cock, Dale. Make
grandbabies inside me..", Jack urged.

There he went again with that son shit again.  This guy had quite the hang
up about his son's big dick. But as sick as it seemed, I could not deny
that my cock throbbed harder and thicker every time I thought about this
lobbyist stealing peeks at his own kid's dick.

I was on the verge of losing a load up Jack's ass when someone emerged from
one of the stalls further down.  I almost puked and pulled out of Jack's
cunthole fast as a dickens.  But the other man simply motioned to continue
and he pulled out his own cock.

I looked closely at the tall, stocky, well-dressed man.  He wore a tag on
his lapel, which read, "Hello! I'm Stanley Myerkopf With Costlo Electronics
1986 National Convention, Cancun, Mexico"

Well, at least I wasn't stupid enough to wear my name on my jacket as I
cruised the toilets for a blowjob, I thought to myself.

Stanley stood right next to me and masturbated as I put my cock back up
into Jack.  I grabbed his hips and returned to fucking him like a hooker.
Stanley reached over and took a good feel of my heavy nuts as they slapped
Jack's little ass.  Then his hand wrapped itself around the base of my
cock.

"Is he good?", Stanley whispered. The distinct scent of bourbon was on his
breath.

I nodded as I proceeded to get my rocks off up Jack's anus which felt like
a velvet pussy.

"Can I do him when you're done?", Stanley asked me.

I merely shrugged.  "You'll have to ask him." I said motioning to Jack.

I couldn't believe I had this other guy watching me fuck a queer in the
toilet stall. But his occasional gropes of my nuts felt great as I fucked
Jack.


Then I felt myself cumming.  I tried to pull out but Jack, sensing I was
cumming, grabbed my hips. "STAY INSIDE, Dale.breed me with your stock.I
want to feel what your wife feels when you squirt that milky fluid inside
her!"

So Jack wanted my cum. Like a street beggar, he pleaded for my load.  He
proved to be a hot little piece of ass as he'd said.  I imagine those
college boys grinned when they saw him on their campus. I gushed my cum
into him, I felt my dick throb with each squirt of my seed.  And I just
kept it inside him.  Breed him?  I'd show him how a real breeder does it.

Then I pulled out and stepped back.  The second I did, Jack had pulled
Stanley behind him. "Fuck me while his seed is still in there." Jack
ordered.

A slightly drunk Stanley positioned himself behind Jack and fucked him with
his fat piece of meat.  I couldn't get over what a fucking whore Jack was.
I tore off some toilet paper, wiped up my dick and zipped up again.  Just
as I was ready to exit, I heard Stanley as he ejaculated inside Jack's
manpussy.  Two loads in 10 minutes.  Not bad, Jack, I thought to myself.
For an older queer, he put some young chicks to shame.

I exited to find Diane sitting on one of the couches right outside the
restrooms.  She looked annoyed but relieved. "Where have you been?", she
asked. "I've been sitting here for ten minutes!"

"Sorry, hon.I had to take a leak.ran into that Jack again..", I didn't
quite know what to say.

"You had to be in there for over ten minutes.", she quietly said.  "I've
been sitting here".

"Jack's not feeling well," I lied. "In fact Amanda was taken ill after
dinner."

"Really?", Diane said, looking concerned. "I wonder if it was the salad or
something?  Did you order a salad?"

"No", I replied. "I'm fine, it's just that Jack wasn't feeling well so I
was helping him a little.  Ran and got him some Mylanta that's all.  He's
still in there in fact."

"Oh, I wonder if he'll be all right?" Diane asked. "Maybe we should make
sure he gets to his room okay."

"Honey, he's not dying", I said. I then whispered,"He's just a middle aged
man having the runs is all."

"Well." Diane started to say when the men's room door opened and Stanley
exited.  "Helooooo", he said as he passed and winked at me. "and
goooodnighty nite."

Diane laughed a bit as we watched Stanley reach the elevator bank and slap
the button to go up.  I looked at the conventioneer as he almost
imperceptibly weaved as he waited.  Man, I thought, he and I just deposited
our loads into the same cumhole.  It was both weird and a turn on at the
same time. We watched as he got on the elevator and disappeared from my
life.

A second later, the men's room door opened again and out came Jack, looking
all happy and HEALTHY.

"Well!  Diane!", he beamed. "Look at you all young and pretty.  Is this
strapping groom of yours going to take you dancing I hope?"

"Oh, I don't know." Diane smiled.  "How are you feeling?"

"Just wonderful.", the queer answered. "But Amanda wasn't feeling too well,
a little heart burn as is her lot."

"But you're okay.you sure?", Diane asked, not out of suspicion but from a
sense of real concern.

"I told Diane I was in there with you because you were feeling a little
under the weather, Jack.brought you the Mylanta and all." I stated hoping
all my cum hadn't gone to this cocksucker's brain.

"Oh.oh.feeling much better, Diane, thanks to your husband here." Jack
quickly added.  "What he gave me coated my innards and my bowels have never
felt better!"

Diane laughed out loud. "Well, glad to hear that, Jack. You talk like my
own dad!  He's always exclaiming the virtues of his Honey Nut Cheerios."

Jack and I both looked at her with that comment.

"Well," Jack said as he grasped my shoulder and handed me his business
card.  "If you're ever in Washington, be sure to look us up. Well, I'm off
to bed.  Goodnight kids and enjoy your honeymoon."

"Goodnight", Diane said.

"Yeah, and thanks," I added.

Jack went to the elevators and returned to his room.


As Diane and I walked out to the pool area, she turned to me and said, "I
hope Jack'll be okay."

"Why's that?" I asked, knowing that at that very moment, Jack was the most
contented man in this entire hotel.

"Well, I know he said he felt better after having the runs", she said, "But
did you see the way he walked back to the elevator?  He looked like he'd
just ridden a horse or something."

At that moment, I feared I'd married the most na<ve human on the planet.
But was grateful to the cum gods for that fact!

Marriage to Diane proved to be better than I'd have thought.  She managed
our finances, was a damn good cook and her family had several connections
at City Hall.  During the first year of marriage, I learned a lot about
licenses, zoning, permits and getting things done in regards to Building.
Diane often mentioned that I ought to become a contractor.

Then we had a baby.  It was a great period in our lives.  Our families were
thrilled, I was making better money as I'd become a supervisor and Diane
was busy being the perfect mother. And I was enjoying the family gig.

Of course, I had never quite given up my taste for whores and still stopped
in at the arcade for head.  But until the last 6 weeks of Diane's
pregnancy, I'd been able to cut my visits to three per week.  Okay, not so
great, but I was a guy whose cock needed a lot of attending to.  And Diane
was a big as a Goodyear blimp during her last trimester.  I couldn't even
sit on the bed when she was in it since the shift in pressure made her
nauseous.

In those last weeks, I was hitting the arcade gloryholes every day.  Maybe
the added stress of being an expectant father also contributed to my need
for additional relief inside the throats of the queers there. But it was
better than beating off in the bathroom at home.

On December 6th, Thommy was born -- all 7 pounds​【3,2 kg】, 5 ounces​【142 g】 of him. It was
the Christmas season and spirits were exceptionally high.  Diane was to
spend two days in the hospital before coming home.  I stayed with her and
the baby that first morning.  But then left at noon to stop at K-Mart in
order to stock up on more packages of Pampers.  As my mother-in-law stated
over and over again, "You can never have too many diapers during those
first few weeks!"

With the trunk and backseat of Diane's Toyota Corolla crammed with the new
car seat and econo-sized diaper packages, I decided to stop at Burger King
before heading home.  As I sat in the drive-thru line, I saw a sign across
the road which read, "Forest Preserve Entrance, next right".

TO BE CONTINUED!


(Dale's curiosity continues to plague him...what's IN that forest preserve?
Does he plan to bring his Whopper there? Are other people already eating
Whoppers there?  Is Dale unwittingly bringing the picnic "basket"?  STAY
TUNED for PART II)!
