The hallways, passageways and places for sex were, without a doubt, interesting. I’d heard of Manifest, a liberation of local sex clubs. Not quite a bathhouse but not the sleazy bookstores I’d been frequenting of late.
I’d gone to a strip club and hoped for a bit of an ego boost, but found instead horniness and, well, something a little less than an ego boost. I fucking hate it when the dancers pitch their own form of attitude at the clients (or me). I’m spending my hard-earned cash expecting you to tell me how I’m not too old, not too gross and I’m not like the other guys in here. I ended up giving young “Jonathan” a piece of my mind and, well, the basics of what the fuck he was there to do for me.
I left more frustrated than when I went inside. So here I am, $160 poorer and more frustrated. I decided to venture to the standard bookstore for a gloryhole fuck, only to find it closed down with a plumbing problem. That left me to consider Manifest for the first time.
Damn, I’m glad I did.
Cleaner, nicer and more upscale than I expected. The gloryhole booths provided large holes with thin plywood (smooth, no splinters). I sampled several mouths and, at one, someone slipped a condom on me and sat down on my cock. It was early in the evening and, well, I obliged for a bit, still tempted to remove it and breed him. But I didn’t. He popped off quickly anyway. Funny how some guys just need a warm cock in their ass like I need a warm ass on my cock.
The evening wore on and, well, oral seemed to be the choice of the evening. Oral. LOTS of oral. I could get blowjobs everywhere I turned. After a couple of hours, every mouth in the place had sucked me and no further ass fucking could be found.
All except one.
I generally hate tweakers. You can’t get them to hold still to get what you need. They’re just too flighty and, well, they’re tweaked out of reality too far. But I started to get desperate since I wasn’t going to find a mouth good enough to suck a load out of me. So we ended up in a booth together and I started to fuck him.
I started to. He’d taken a hit off my poppers and, well, began to complain they were “too strong.”
All this did was piss me off.
“Shut the fuck up,” I said. “You said you wanted me to fuck you.”
“I know,” he said. “But those poppers.”
I just looked at him without sympathy. “Turn the fuck around and bend over.”
He started to cry. “But those poppers really messed me up.”
“No,” I said. “The crystal meth you were stupid enough to use messed you up. Now turn the fuck around.”
I grabbed him forcefully and put him into position. He began to sob more loudly. I wondered if anyone in the nearby booths could hear him. He didn’t screan for help. At least, not yet. But I had my next problem.
My cock was only half hard.
I’m just not a rapist. The tweaker wasn’t hot and, well, I just fucking hate tweakers. I tried to get hard. He clenched his ass shut and made it tougher on me, so fucking proved doubly difficult. At this moment, I wanted to punch the shit out of the fucker and leave his bleeding ass in the corner. But assault, also, just didn’t work for me. So I pushed him out of my way, pulled up my pants, zipped up and left him sobbing in the corner.
And I took my poppers. They were some of the best poppers I had.
Wandering around a bit more, I hoped to find someone with a silky mouth who I could skull fuck when I ended up in the sling room where a little JO session seemed to be starting. That is, except the young man in the center was completely naked.
Manifest tended not to be a place where you saw naked people. Shirtless, maybe. Completely naked? No. Except for boots, this little five-foot-eight-inch wonder was. He turned and knelt, sucking on an exhibitionist who’d been working his 10-inch schlong all evening (an impressive piece, even I had to say). Then he stood and the magic moment happened. He turned around and opened his ass cheeks, offering his raw hole to Mr. Mammoth Cock, who promptly declined (he was about showing off his cock, not using it on a hole).
The young man in front of me, though, took the opportunity to turn around naked boy and began fucking him without any regard for the bottom’s pleasure. A few brutal thrusts, he then yanked it out, slapped the bottom on the ass and walked away, leaking the ass exposed to me.
I stepped up and caressed this round melon, finding it plump and, when my finger tip found the hole, encountering the appropriate amount of juicy. My very hard cockhead was positioned at the opening and I put my hard on his hips, preparing for the entry. He chose the timing and the pace of entry, backing onto my thick seven. Soon we were fucking like wild men, surrounded by jacking men, watching us.
But truth be told, I didn’t notice them and neither did he. Sometimes in these public displays of sexual depravity, you reach out and grab a cock or kiss someone else. Or he’d suck someone. Neither of us touched anyone but one another in raw passion. As I cupped his slightly hairy pecs and tweaked his nippled, he arched his back and twisted his head so we could kiss.
“You want my load?” I whispered.
“Fuck yea!” he whispered back, now his brown eyes seeming to cut into the darkness to look into mine. “Breed me please!”
“You’re about to get it,” I said.
“Give it to me!” He said. “Fucking coat my ass walls with your cum. Be my first tonight.”
With that, I unleashed a torrent of cum into his hole. I pulled his hips down onto mine and we paused.
“Fuck yea! I can FEEL it!” he said.
After finishing with several more pulses of cum into his ass, I began pumping it into him deeper and deeper. We would kiss occasionally. Finally, he came off, sucked his juices and mine off my cock and we kissed, the mixture still in his mouth.
“That was fucking hot,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” I said.
“I think it’s sling time,” he said, motioning over to the empty sling across the room.
“I think so,” I smiled.
As he headed over, the men who’d been watching us gathered around him for their turn like vultures. I slipped out into the crisp night.
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