For a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, my surf and turf was prettier darn good. The ribeye was tender and just the way I prefer: medium rare and coated with coarsely ground black pepper. The half dozen shrimp were jumbo, deep fried in a light tempura batter. I’m not a big potato guy, but the rosemary seasoned wedges were a pleasant surprise. Toss in a creamy Brussels sprout slaw and this was a meal fit for a king. As you might imagine, I needed another Miller to get me through all this food.

I don’t like driving with a buzz, so I ordered a cup of joe and a slice of pecan pie to stall before I hit the road. I really wanted the pie ala mode; but at forty-five, I’m watching my waistline.

As I sat in the F150 waiting for the cross traffic to clear, I had a decision to make: turn left and head home to an empty house or turn north on Old 25 toward the ABS. North it was. That unsettled feeling in my cargo shorts told me I needed some guy to polish my trailer hitch ball and release my pent-up tension.

This would be my first ABS visit after dark. I’m not sure what I expected, but the parking lot was pretty much full. I actually considered turning around. What if I ran into a neighbor or Pastor Rick? The answer was obvious. If they were visiting an ABS with an arcade, they were there to suck or be sucked, same as me.

I forked over a five and received five tokens in return from a clerk I didn’t recognize. My pretty boy, girly-lipped clerk presumably worked only the day shift. I avoided eye contact with the four or five guys milling around near the dildos and butt plugs and was buzzed back into the arcade.

The small amount of light remaining as the door shut behind me, allowed me to navigate around two guys getting it on immediately to my right. A twenty-something (snood, hoodie, and with his pants around the ankles) was leaning forward with his hands up above on the wall. Pouring the coal to him from the rear was a massive biker dude, MC vest and all. My timing was perfect, I suppose. As I squeezed behind the breeding duo, Mr. Big violently humped forward and moaned: “Bitch, take my cum.”

I cracked a smile and headed around the corner. I was greeted by a wall of heat and that almost overwhelming, earthy aroma we all associate with sweat and day-old spilled jizz. The brain is a weird thing, as the question mine posed was: “Just how much more stink would be added by that leaking load from the biker’s bitch at the arcade door?” Mental note to self: avoid the puddle. To my relief the central booth was unoccupied.

I plunked in two tokens and unzipped. I navigated to the CD/Tranny sites. The first video was beyond perfect. I beautiful young T-girl was slowly removing her bra, garter belt, thong, and sheer hose. Her movements were ultra slow and deliberate; looking up coyly at the camera the entire time. Just prior to rolling down her stockings, she turned her back to the camera. She kicked off her four-inch stripper heels and slowly bent forward to tighten her tiny ass and expose her hairless rosebud. An involuntary gasp arose from my chest, perhaps louder than ideal.

While leaning forward, she shifted her hands from her knees to each cheek, excruciatingly slowly pulling them apart to the point a tiny glistening gap appeared in her guy pussy. Another gasp: would I fuck that? Damn straight, back to the Stone Age.

She arose, slipped back into her CFMs (Come Fuck Me heels) and once again turned toward the camera. This may sound like hyperbole, but she was stunning: pretty face, maybe 5’7” out of her shoes, 5’11” in. She weighed no more than 110 or 115#. She was smooth and had zero ink. Her titties were perky at perhaps 32A with rock-hard jelly bean nipples. I could almost feel the peach fuzz on her belly and almost smell her talc. She had a cute little prick, maybe three inches long when erect, and a small vestigial ball sac. All in all, a ten out of ten.

I must have truly been aroused. When I looked down, I had been jerking my sausage to its full eight inches and there was a two-inch drip of precum seemingly in suspended animation, dangling from its head. This activity presumably caught the attention of the next booth occupant, as there was a shift in the glory hole lighting and two fingers slid in and out.

I was super horny and wasted no time turning and pointing my meat toward the aperture. I could see the bottom half of my servicer’s face: white male with a well/trimmed goatee, lips parted. A grabbed the handles some thoughtful person had installed up above, right, and left. As an aside, these have pros and cons. On the positive side, these allow a person to go full boat with both balls and cock pushed fully through the GH; but negatively, the arching position kills my low back.

Anyway, back to the action! My sucker’s technique wasn’t bad at all. He took his time: first licking up and down the shaft. He lifted my balls and thoroughly licked the adjacent taint, then shifted back to what I interpreted as kissing the entire length of my sex toy. The moment of truth came soon after, as his warm mouth slid around the precum-lubricated head. It felt heavenly, actually too heavenly. I could feel that rumble somewhere deep behind my scrotum and knew I was close to shooting a big load. He must have sensed I was close, as he disappointingly stopped sucking altogether. Before I could complain, there was a hand once again around my kielbasa. Somehow this stroking was different: almost tentative. But, any port in a storm. Right?

The slow, light stroking continued for a minute or two and thankfully a warm mouth began sucking in earnest. Then my servicer added a hand to my balls, pulling them downward to the point of discomfort. I withdrew somewhat back to my booth. Two things occurred: first, my balls (to my relief) were released and second, I could see bright red lipstick on my dick! What the fandango? A quiet female voice said: “Join us.”

I figured I had two choices. I could stay in my booth and give myself a predictable manual extraction or I could venture next door into an unknown environment. I chose the latter.

I heard their door unlock as I exited mine. Thankfully (actually I didn’t really care) no one was in the corridor, since I hadn’t bothered putting my semi-hard pecker back in the barn. Upon opening their door, I was pleasantly surprised. Instead of a troll and his inbred sister, a smiling middle-aged couple greeted me. She was probably my age and he five years older, making them forty-five and fifty respectively. They were tan, healthy looking, and dressed like they’d just finished a round of golf: both wearing Bermuda shorts, collared polo shirts (hers, sleeveless), and deck shoes. She pulled the door shut and locked it.

Rather weirdly, they stuck out their hands and introduced themselves: Roy and Jean. I figured when in Rome; so I goofily shook their hands and told them I was Del, the truth. I’m not that good a liar to begin with and they seemed like genuinely nice folks.

Jean broke the ice by proclaiming: “You have a very nice penis.” Roy vigorously nodded in agreement and stated it was one of the best he’d ever sucked. Jean just stood there with a shit-eating grin as if that was the most normal statement in the world. I did the obvious. I thanked them.

After another pregnant pause, Jean asked if I had enjoyed the “fellatio” they had provided. I was going to answer “yes, except for”, but she must have read my mind. She apologized for what she suggested was “pulling your testicles so vigorously.” I was starting to wonder where we were headed, but Jean provided the answer by sitting down on the stereotypical ABS white plastic chair from Walmart. She gingerly cupped my balls (I guess she learned her lesson) with her left hand and with her right, brought my almost flaccid dick to her red-painted lips. With no further ado, she sucked in the head and most, if not all of my meat. I knew, because I could feel her tongue on my balls and her pretty nose on my pubis. I was a tad worried she would choke; but as my salami hardened and grew toward its full eight inches, she progressively backed off to the point only the mushroom was behind her teeth and lips at my full pecker proudness. Her technique was near perfect. She’d suck and bob her head on the sensitive cock end and simultaneously jack the shaft, both up and down and with a circular motion. I’m not sure I could have done a better job.

You might be wondering about Roy. He seemed content watching Jean gobble my meat, at least for the first few minutes. At one point he moved closer so we were shoulder to shoulder, both facing Jean. He lowered his Bermudas to his ankles and began jerking a pretty respectable cock: cut, maybe six inches long, and not overly thick or gnarly. It looked rock hard, standing nicely at attention at least forty-five degrees above the horizon.

Roy pointed his dick toward Jean’s mouth (and my cock) with his left fist and put his right arm around my shoulders. The scene seemed kinda poignant: two best buds feeding (no BBF joke intended) their dicks to a nice-looking horny lady.

Jean seemed a little slow on the uptake, so I reached down and grabbed my new bud’s member out of his hand, pulled my own saliva-coated dick out of her pretty red lips, and substituted Roy’s. Jean didn’t miss a beat and Roy was in hog heaven. I occupied myself by rubbing my glistening pee slit across Jean’s face and encouraging her to service Roy by pulling her head toward his pelvic thrusts. They both caught on fairly quickly, synchronizing their movements to prevent gagging.

I could tell Roy was pretty close to blowing his load. His rhythm sped up and his butt cheeks began to contract, plus he replaced my single hand with both of his on the back of Jean’s head. With no warning, verbal or otherwise; he tensed, held his breath, then uttered an “I’m cumming,” much louder than even ABS decorum would think appropriate. Momentarily he slumped his chest over the top of Jean’s head like a dead man.

Jean was a trooper. Her jaws must have been tired. Instead of begging off, she swallowed Roy’s jizz and simply wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She resumed her Hoover action. She grabbed my only partially erect dick and indicated she was going to suck it nice and hard, because she had a surprise in mind. I like surprises as much as the next guy, but this stranger had my dick in her mouth and she had already shown a propensity toward roughness. I wasn’t in a great position to ask questions and truth be told, I wanted to add my seed to Roy’s ASAP.

Speaking of Roy: he seemed to have regained his composure to the point he whispered “Sorry about that,” presumably the “that” meaning his “cumexclamation,” as I like to call orgasmic utterances. He moved close by once again, putting his arm around my shoulders. I didn’t pay much attention until he abruptly leaned in and kissed me square on the mouth. Every other day of the week my reaction would have been to punch him; but this kiss just plain seemed right. I took one hand from Jean’s head and placed it on Roy’s. I wanted this kiss, I wanted his mouth, I longed for his tongue.

Roy was a truly passionate kisser, really taking the lead. His full and warm lips circled mine while his wet tongue explored my mouth. He backed away slightly so that our lips lost full contact. I was only momentarily disappointed by what turned out to be a teasing maneuver. With the very tip of his tongue, he flicked my lower lip; then almost imperceptibly ran it lightly across my hungry lips, left to right. As I parted my lips perhaps an eighth of an inch, his exploring tongue filled the gap. Rhythmically he pumped his tongue in and out, as I progressively widened the gap to allow more and more of this cock surrogate to fuck my mouth.

At some point in our man-on-man passion, I had removed my hands from the back of Roy and Jean’s heads, moving them to the front of my tie-dyed Grateful Dead tank. To put it bluntly, I was giving my swelling nipples a real workout. Initially, I had lightly pinched them; but as our oral lovemaking had intensified, I began twisting each teat and pulling them, noticeably tenting the vintage fabric. The oral, nipple, and sausage stimulation had me very, very close to losing control and blasting my load. I became hyper-focused, transferring Roy and Jean’s needs to some distant corner of my brain. I was at the ABS to spill my seed and I was going to do it STAT.

Or so I thought.