Dear Diary Ch. 06

Dear Diary,

Tonight, I begin with my first time in the adult theater in the local sex shoppe.

I enter the store and speak to a clerk. "Theater A, please!" I've read online most of the action happens there.

The clerk takes my cash. "I'll buzz you in," she says. I go to the door to Theater A and wait, eyeing the CCTV camera.

The buzzer loudly announces my entrance. I could do with something more subtle . . . After the bright lights outside the theater, it's hard at first to make out anything besides the glow of a flatscreen TV.

Once my eyes adapt I can see seats arranged in a ragged array, an alcove in the back I learn later is designed for fucking, and pleather bench attached to it on the side facing the screen.

I see a Latino man in the corner, his age perhaps about fifty.

I sit on the bench, not six feet from him.

We watch each other a while, hands on laps; wary.

I don't remember who goes first, but fingers creep slyly towards a crotch. Whoever's leading, we each watch the other's moves like a hawk.

Next comes discreet rubbing. It's only when we can each see the other openly rubbing cocks through trousers is it safe to undo the fly.

Hands inside trousers. Breathing audible.

In a heartbeat, we both bring our cocks out and watch each other masturbate. It's pleasant to do this a while, just watching.

Now my cock stands up straight as a flagpole I closer to my partner on the bench. I take my hand off my cock and put it on his. At the same time, he leans forward and takes my cock in his hand.

Breathing now shallow and loud.

His hand grasps my cock and runs up and down it. I get even harder. My eyes close and I and concentrate my entire being on how it feels to be masturbated by another man. It has been a while; too long.

I have my orgasm first. Cum erupts from my cock in a spasm that makes my eyes cross. The jet comes to earth in my lap. Cum all over my trousers. Ignoring that, I continue masturbating my partner until he throws his head back and his load spurts towards the ceiling.

I brought some TP with me, knowing what was liable to happen, and now try to clean myself up. I stand, stuff my cock back inside pants and open the door. The same irritating buzz it made before seems to me to shout to the world "look at the stain on his pants!"

It takes an eternity for me to reach the haven of the men's room. I'm in agonies thinking of store clerks watching the video feed and seeing the wet patch on my crotch. It doesn't help that my pants are still undone and I have to hold them up with one hand while I slink down the hall. At least nothing drips! Once safely in the men's room, I do what I can to clean the cum off me and my clothing. There's a lot of it. It's not enough. Somehow, I manage to disguise the spilled seed over my clothing well enough to walk past the uninterested clerks and exit the premises. Once home I toss my polluted garments in the wash. Hot cycle.

After that experience I begin patronizing the theaters a couple of times a month. It's a convenient way to get my rocks off with minimal driving time. The nearest bathhouse is great, but is well out of my way to or from work. Besides, I find I need to spend a couple of hours per session there to satisfy my needs properly. In the adult theater I can have quickies, easily and often.

I usually end up in Theater A. When I try Theater B first I find it empty all but once.

It's not clear to me why almost all action takes place in Theater A. The clientele is overwhelmingly male, and in my experience gay, or at least queer. Best I can guess, most of the guys are closeted or shy, or don't want anyone to think they crave sex with other men. As if what we get up to together doesn't give the lie to that!

Besides, if it's a good day none of us pays any attention to what's on the screen.

The couple of times I try Theater B I'm the only one there. I like the gay porn on the screen better than the straight fare on offer in Theater A—but I miss the company.

When it becomes clear I can't expect anyone to join me, I take off my clothes and masturbate naked as long as I can while standing in the middle of the chairs. I get a mighty orgasm out of the deal each time, but it is not what I seek.

I become more adventurous. I give or receive head many times, and love it. Often enough, my partners and I do each other in turns. Either way, I learn to maintain a plateau with my partner for the longest time before coming.

A sweet memory for me to remember as I fondle myself: Four of us in the room. Once I take my seat and everyone else decides I'm safe, we all take our cocks out and watch each other masturbating. I stand by myself in the fucking alcove a long time, enjoying my hand riding up and down my cock.

I move in front of the alcove and sit next to one of the other guys. While we masturbate, we sneak looks at each other's stiff pricks. I try shifting my hand from my own cock to the guy on my right; he waves he off. Clearly I am the only gay man in the room, taking part in a circle-jerk with a bunch of straight guys. There's a first time for everything.

The first one of us to come is a Black guy to my left. He leaves the theater. Then a Latino guy, who spent too damn much time looking at his phone when I first entered, shoots his load. I stand and move to the center of the theater and jerk off to my own orgasm in front of everyone, while the guy who was seated to my right is the last to come.

Another time, I'm next to a gnarled Latino guy with his shirt pulled up so I can see tats. He has his cock out and looks me in the eye as he masturbates. I reach down and put my hand on his cock. After about a minute he takes my cock in his hand, and masturbates me until I come.

Yet another time, I enter Theater A and retire to the alcove. Three other men are in the room with me. One is an older guy with a beard who sits on a chair against the wall, to my left. Another is about my age with dark hair. On the other side of the theater is a Black guy, younger than the rest from what I can see in the darkened room.

A moment passes. Shielded by the alcove, I have my cock out and stroke it to get hard. I watch the others slowly pull theirs out and resume jerking off.

I fondle myself before moving in front of the alcove to sit on the bench. Dark hair gets up and moves close to me. I watch him running his fingers up and down his shaft while he watches me masturbate.

I grasp his cock and jerk him off for a minute. He pulls a tube out of his pocket and squirts something from it into a hand. It's lube. I let him slather it over his cock and resume stroking him. My lubed palm slides up and down his cock.

I stand up. My hand is still on his cock. I feel him put his hand on mine. We jerk each other off.

I feel his cock stiffen in my hand. He gasps as his cock sprays cum. He wipes it off, stuffs it back in his pants, and leaves the theater.

No sooner has the buzzer ceased than Bearded Guy approaches me. We put our hands on each other's cocks and pump away. I get harder as he strokes me. I put it off as long as I'm able before spraying cum with his hand on my cock.

While I clean up, Bearded Guy moves over to Black guy, who has been fondling his cock while watching us. He milks Bearded Guy's cock. Even though I'm spent, I stroke myself as I watch the show.

Bearded Guy pulls away. He pulls down his shorts and lets them fall to his ankles. I see his balls for the first time. As Black Guy and I watch, he pumps his cock vigorously a long time. He arches his back and shoots cum into the air; I can see it in the light from the flatscreen TV fountaining up and down.

While I fondle myself I watch Black Guy, still seated, but with his shorts down, masturbating furiously. His hand blurs. His cock points straight at the ceiling as he pumps it.

He throws his head back and forces his chair to lean backward, grinding away until I see a stream of cum arc into the air before falling to splash on the floor.

Another day, another sweet memory: I enter theater A just after another man. When my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see he sits on a chair in the corner, next to the fucking alcove.

We lock eyes. I can see his fly is undone; he's shoved his cock back inside at the sound of the buzzer.

I rub the front of my jeans.

Without changing expression he pulls his cock back out of his trousers; I do the same. We watch each other jerk off.

I move close to him and drop my eyes to his crotch.

He takes his hand off my cock. I replace it with mine, as he takes me in his hand. We stroke each other.

I put my face close to his and brush his lips with mine. He brushes back. We press our lips together. I dart my tongue in his mouth and pull it right out. He pushes his tongue between my lips and explores my mouth. Our tongues play a gentle game of tag.

God this guy is a kisser! Too many men aren't, in my experience.

We embrace and kiss deeply.

I drop my trousers to the floor, kneel, and take his cock in my mouth. I worry it with my clever tongue while I pump my own cock.

Diary dearest, as I sit naked before my computer and masturbate to the memory, I can't remember how long I worked over his cock with my tongue before I felt him shoot in my mouth, so I could swallow his cum before spattering the theater floor with my seed during my own orgasm. It seemed to last forever, and I loved every second of it.

I always do.