You would normally think that something under the heading of "Gay Encounters" would be a really hot blow job under a bathroom stall or the experience I had in the story called "The 80's Were Different" but this one is a series of anonymous encounters with the same hot wistful young man.
In the summer between my two years of Grad School I was working as a stage manager at Santa Clara University, I was in my mid-twenties and I was horny 24/7. I think I had checked out every cruising spot within driving distance. This was after all the community where my Gay life had begun as an undergraduate, and the more I got the more I wanted. Whether high spirited or addicted this is hardly the place for those kinds of judgments.
Anyway, after my first year at Irvine where I was cruising the T-rooms of UCI, Central Coast College, South Coast Plaza, Heisler Park in Laguna or the totally erotic beach in South Laguna and any place in between when I got to Santa Clara I was ready for whatever I might find. And right at the very beginning of my summer stay while doing some errands I decided to check out the mall toilet in Stevens Creek Shopping Center. Earlier I had evaded a police cruiser at a nearby deserted bathroom by a playing field. Any action in the mall john was almost impossible because it was filled with a lunch time mixed crowd. Still when it was my turn at the urinal, the hot middle-aged young daddy type with the "Come'on I wanna lay you" T-shirt was glancing over at my stiffening cock and seemed to be enjoying the view. My first thought was let's get out of here so we can talk. I knew nothing beyond furtive glances and smiles could happen in here, though in quieter times I would have sunk to my knees and begun chowing on his meat, and had in undergraduate days.
When we got out into the open area of the mall he asked me what I wanted and kept asking me to speak louder. I whispered, "Let's go to my place." I could not figure out why he was shouting and asking me to do likewise. The next thing I knew he was communicating with someone on a hidden microphone. In terror, I immediately took off running out into the busy street thinking I could escape from the man I suddenly realized was an undercover vice-cop. Safely on the other side of the busy thoroughfare my hopes were dashed when I became instantly aware of a squad car containing two uniformed beat cops approaching me with lights and sirens. Placed in handcuffs and guided into the secure section of the marked Crown Victoria, all remnants of my hard on had shriveled to nothing. I spent my first sad moments behind bars in a padded cell and was arraigned in the next couple of hours. Released I struggled to get back to the mall clear on the other side of town and slunk to my car for the discouraging ride to my apartment. In spite of all my many hours in cruisy restrooms parks and beaches I had encountered the authorities only once, and that was in a train station bathroom in Munich where I was jackin' with a couple of hot boys. That had only resulted in a severe reprimand and a "be on your way". Santa Clara County took such matters a little more seriously despite the fact that this had been clearly a case on entrapment.
Depressed beyond belief, I decided to see if I could console myself by visiting one of the South Bay's popular Gay Bars, Desperado's in Cupertino. I got there during the mid point of a midweek dance and pick up time. I had a few drinks and danced with a couple of guys really not interested in any of them until a younger hottie came on to me and seemed to be just what I was looking for, really cute face, perky bubble butt and just the right energy to match my post arrest depression. After dancing a couple of slow and fast dances and checking out each other's hardening cocks with hands and crotches we decided it was time to go somewhere else. My place was closer so we drove in separate cars, rushed in to my summer dorm room. It was actually at a placer called "The Alameda", an old converted Travel Lodge which during the school year served as a safe place to house Santa Clara's hot jocks, so I suspected the room had seen plenty of anonymous or near anonymous sex, probably some of it Gay. Once in the room we immediately were frantically kissing groping disrobing and unleashing our cocks.
One thing that made me very happy is that I immediately perceived he was a most willing bottom. He dove onto my dick as I quickly began massaging his welcoming asshole. There were lots of hits of poppers by both of us and then it was time to slide in and it was a most willing ass that received my rock hard cock. Boy did it feel good, I didn't want it to end, I kept edging but avoiding the explosion until finally I knew I had worn him out at least for now. I shot my load deep in his ass and he came all over my stomach. We were both exhausted and as I had a single bed and we were starting to feel the chill evening air we decided to call it a night making plans for another rendezvous. It had been wonderful and I really wanted to see him again. We talked a couple of times during the summer but we never seemed to be able to get together. The show I was working on ended. My Public Defender was able to get me an indecent exposure fine. I left Santa Clara again heading back to grad school thinking I would never see my Desperado Hottie again.
Fast Forward just about a year. MFA in hand, I had landed a job as a Production Assistant at San Francisco Opera. The weekend before I was to show up for work was Gay Freedom Weekend. My friend Gary who was already working in the City bought me tickets to two of the big Gay Events of Gay Freedom Weekend. The first pre-Parade event was at the Kabuki Theatre (now an AMC) in Japan Town. That was a disaster, I could not hook up with anyone. I went back to Gary's place very dejected.
Sunday, Parade Day dawned; we headed to a friend's house for cocktails and breakfast and then on to the Muni Metro for the ride down to the financial district. Wow! It was my first Gay Freedom Day ride on a packed subway car, and with the crowd of horny Gay men in very little clothing due to the hot summer day hard cocks, tan flesh and roving hands. I almost did not want to get off the train when it arrived at Montgomery Street, but my group was heading out so I adjusted my cock to a more appropriate look (?) and headed out into the sunshine.
Parade Day had its usual assortment of pecs cocks and scrumptious exposed buttocks as well as obnoxious drunks and dykes on bikes. Eventually the last rainbow flag float and band had passed and it was time to move on to what for me would be the main event, the second of the big parties to which Gary had bought me a ticket. A pre-cursor of the famous Gay Circuit parties, the event at the Galleria was the Big Kahuna. I had never been to one but Gary told me it was the place where the last scene in the Village People's Can't Stop the Music had been filmed. Despite the disappointment of the Kabuki Theatre party the night before, I went in with a very hopeful spirit and a sense of butterflies flittering in my stomach. The men were HOT, the music was the best disco you could imagine, it felt like a combination of Christmas and the 4th of July, my dick was tingling with anticipation. I was pretty sure there would be no real action at the venue but I was definitely ready to meet someone who would at least meet my expectations.
I danced with a number of guys, went up and down the many levels of the Galleria's upper stories, cruised the corners but was coming up with the same blanks I had experienced the night before at the Kabuki Party UNTIL, while standing in the bar line I was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around I saw the beaming smile of recognition. My buddy from last summer in Santa Clara at Desperado's, he like me was dressed in the preppy uniform of the early 80's, alligator shirt with tight fitting 501's carefully displaying and emphasizing all our assets. Suddenly my prospects had brightened. No matter how many men are at the ball, it only takes one to make it a success, to fill one's dance card. My buddy did that for me, and although I still can't remember his name, he did once again for me what he had done last summer. We danced, kissed and groped until we knew the next step would involve the removal of our clothes and even in wild 1980s San Francisco this was still not acceptable behavior at a Galleria Party.
Since I had come with Gary, I first had to find him to tell him I had found a ride home. That done we departed for my Twin Peaks apartment. We were both so glad to reconnect that whatever time had passed, it still seemed like nothing. Perhaps the sensuality of the day, the Parade and the Party and the opportunity of having sex with someone each knew was compatible was the perfect cap to the weekend. No sooner were we in my bedroom that we were undressing, kissing petting stroking and lubing and after a day of total sexual desire to finally sink my dick into his hungry shapely ass was exactly what my cock needed and wanted. God it was hot, the perfect end to a perfect Gay Freedom Weekend. When our loads had been spent we parted promising that this time would definitely stay in touch and get together soon. He lived on the peninsula, I in San Francisco, it should not be difficult. And we did see each other a couple of times, but the distance ultimately became greater than the passion and once again he disappeared.
Now in spite of living on Twin Peaks near the Castro and having the very active Y's and bathhouses, parks and T-Rooms that Gay Disneyland offered, I would sometimes find my self at a point where I needed a change of scenery, of men. Solution? I would take a sex vacation. After just six months in my Twin Peaks share apartment, my roommates had decided that they wanted a straight woman in my room who I assumed would take care of them so I was suddenly homeless. As they watched the Reagan Inauguration, I moved into a couch surfing situation. As I was between work assignments it proved the perfect time for one of my sex vacations. I found the nearest freeway on-ramp in Civic Center put out my thumb and began my journey to Laguna Beach. I had a friend I could crash with, and after a couple of quick blow job rides, I mean it was the 80s, I was dropped at Tim's beautiful hilltop house above the Laguna surf.
Tim was a gracious enough host to deliver me to one of South Laguna's hottest discos, The Boom Boom Room. It was great to be back in this town. I had had so much fun in this town, at the bar and at cruisy West Street Beach, it brought back so many wonderful memories. I wasn't in the bar very long dancing and drinking and cruising for someone to spend some quality time with when once again a tap on the shoulder brought me out of my fantasy, and who should be standing there looking so hot and smiling his winning smile but my old buddy from Desperado's and the Galleria Party. This time I thought "Third Time's the Charm." This must be the guy for me. We danced and enjoyed each other once again as though no time had passed. After a short while we both wanted to be alone and naked and make up for lost time. Since I had hitch hiked it was obvious we would be going in his car. Unlike the last two times this time the car was a vintage Bentley. Wow! Had this guy's ship come in? Had my ship come in? We got in the car and immediately the cocaine came out. In Santa Clara and San Francisco it had been poppers, cheap and available anywhere. This was the expensive stuff.
Then we got to his place and it was much grander than his simple peninsula place had been, and there on the wall of his bedroom was a wonderful photo of him in alligator shirt and basket displaying 501s in front of the vintage Bentley parked in the middle of golden grain, blue sky with him sucking in a grain of wheat. This photo was so hot and as beautiful as was he. And yet once again there was absolutely no evidence of a desire or a need to work. I was beginning to become somewhat suspicious, still with the cocaine and his mesmerizing seductive appearance and his smoking hot body, I had fallen once again. My appetite for him was instantly rekindled. We started right where we had left off and it was hot. I could not get enough of his beautiful ass nor he of my cock, at least at first. But I wanted to more and more and he started to indicate that I was being a little too demanding. Nevertheless he seemed to enjoy my company and I his, and everything we did in addition to the sex was grand and fun and I loved the Bentley. It had not taken me long to enjoy this rarified lifestyle. We picked up my stuff at Tim's on the hill, I was now staying with my Desperado Bentley driving buddy whose name I still cannot recall..
Our idyll however was occasionally interrupted by some rather serious cryptic phone calls in that pre-cell phone world. There were lurking doubts in the back of my mind but who was I to disturb this fantasy life. We had a great time together and got on well. We were like little children, ignoring all responsibilities except our, or at least my demanding dick, but gradually as the week went on I began to piece together the series of coincidences of the last three years. This guy with no job and a lifestyle far beyond my wildest dreams was a kept boy with outrageous tastes but held by diamond studded handcuffs. After our week playing in Laguna he said he was heading back to the Bay Area and would be glad to drive me home. In unbelievable denial I actually thought something might work out for us, but on the drive up I-5 he explained that he was actually in a long term relationship. I had simply for the third time been an interesting but disposable diversion from his lover/keeper. The Bentley and his lovely ass were bought and paid for by someone much older and much much much better off than I. Anyway it had been a lot of fun on all three occasions; if he had been serious each of these three encounters with the hottie with the Bentley might have turned into something if I had been something more than a slut cock whore myself.
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