chuggit (chuggit) wrote,


As I've said before, visiting the dark maze of video booths is a gamble. Usually I go in and the experience is only passable. At worst, I leave without having so much as dropped a single token into the cum-stained machines.

I wouldn't really be writing about it here though, if this was one of those trips, would I?

I got two hot daddies for the price of my entrance on this visit, and it was one of the most memorable of my visits to this particular place. The first guy was lurking out by the cashier as I stood there waiting to pay for my right to enter the filthy back room. This is a familiar sight to me, and one that I repeatedly find difficult to understand. There is always a guy who is best friends with the cashier, standing around pretending to chat, when all they're really doing is killing time and watching for the right body to walk through the door and head into the video arcade. Don't the clerks feels annoyed that they're trapped there talking to someone who is only talking to them so they don't get thrown out of the building for loitering?

Despite my annoyance, I realize right away I'll be blowing him as I wait to buy my tokens. This guy is my type. Big, balding, and apparently horny. Old enough to be somebody's granddaddy. I am a pig for this type of man, the kind who looks like he's spent a lot of time being a family guy. It doesn't matter if it's true or not, just that he look the part so the rest of my brain can take over in the few minutes it takes me to blow him.

He follows me immediately into the back room. I love it when they are so anxious for it that they can't even allow for a few minutes of time to make me wonder if they approve. Maybe he figured some cocksucker would be back there getting my load if he didn't step it up, but no's not my load that will be firing. I lure him into the booth easily and I'm reaching under his big belly to fondle his crotch. I unbuckle him fully, and even unbutton his shirt to expose his naked belly and his chest, both of which are covered in thick, white fur. His cock is big enough that it doesn't look small on a big man like him. The only thing that would have been more perfect would have been if he was uncut. I draw it out and make it last, but pretty soon he's filling my mouth with a big load. I am very pleased, but he drops the ball a little bit. I go to jack myself off and I ask him to play with my chest, but he's more worried that I'll shoot cum on him. I immediately deflate and this one's over.

As if on cue, another guy steps into the booth opposite mine, where I can see him. Another daddy. Older, bearded, ballcap, sweatshirt. His cock is already out of his jeans, and he's tugging it with this odd flourish that leaves it bouncing in the air over and over. Could he be so familiar with this that he understands that it will make his cock taste like tokens if he plays with it too much?

Before anybody else can land on him, I greedily go for his cock. I'm on my knees before this guy, the second one in a matter of five minutes, and he's just as good as the last one. This is a rare night. His cock is fatter than the last guy too, just the way I like it. I suck him and he throbs in my mouth, but there are lurkers bothering him. "Too many spectators," he complains, tucking his cock away again. "Let's go to another one." I tell him to lead the way and we go to a more out of the way booth. I notice on the way that he has a slight limp, like an injury. In here, he pulls his pants all the way down and leans back, offering his naked crotch to me. The hair around his cock is thick and dark, and more straight than anything. It makes an odd pattern. My hands are all over him, touching his hairy chest, his legs, my fingers stroking through his pubic hair, cradling his balls. He forces me off his cock and flips it up against his belly, ordering me to lick his balls, and I do what he wants, using slow, wide strokes on his sac. Eventually I rear up for more of his cock and he aims it at my mouth again, sighing deeply as I go back down on it. This time it's the home stretch and I go for it, finishing him off as his body twitches and he shoots into my mouth, down my throat. I'm whimpering as he does it.

Finally I stand up as he rearranges his clothes. "Nothin' wrong with that!" he mutters, in vague approval. I sincerely thank him for what he's given me.

And it's only then that he looks familiar to me. I can't place where I know him, and it doesn't occur to me until the next time I'm at work. One of the maintenance crew in my office building has a familiar, faint limp. I see him all the time, but never in a ballcap, never in a sweatshirt. His beard is the same, too. Is it him? If it is, does he recognize me? Is this an awkward moment, or may I find myself saving him five bucks, draining him eagerly some night in the building instead of in the cruddy, dark maze?
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