Small Town Lust Chapter 3 Parking Lot Gloryhole By: L. A. Emerich
If you shouldn't read this, then don't. I can't police everything you decide to do. Know your local laws and act accordingly.
This is Chapter 3 in the story Small Town Lust. We will get back to Mark and Allan, but this is a parallel story in the same town. Hope you enjoy.
I watched the t-shirt of the hunky moving guy make its way up his back as he struggled with one end of my leather sofa. His supple back muscles bunched and undulated like a puppy under a blanket.
"Set her down." His older, overweight partner said, breaking my reverie. They sat the heavy couch down and stood erect, bending back and stretching their overworked bodies. "This okay?"
"Yeah, I can move it around later." I replied, disappointed that the shirt of my hunky mover had fallen back into place. Almost as if he were reading my mind, Hunky turned around and lifted the front of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing about ten acres of abs covered with light brown grass that grew heavier around his belly button. The small copse of hair led to a delicious looking treasure trail that disappeared into his low-slung jeans.
"Fuck! That was one heavy bitch.. You're gonna need help moving that sumbitch." Hunky observed in his deep, gravelly voice. "Mind if we take a smoke break?"
"No, go ahead. I could use one myself." I answered, patting my pant pocket for my pack of cigs. We walked outside to the porch and lit up. Hunky smoked Reds, like a good hunk. I felt a little faggy smoking my light, but I didn't smoke much and didn't really want COPD in my future. Fatty bummed a smoke from Hunky and excused himself to make a call on his cell that he had left in the moving truck.
"Nice place." Hunky observed. "You live alone?" I looked at his face, observing the way that his eyes flashed in amusement. His close-cropped hair glistened with sweat and his rugged face had a sexy leer. Was this hot motherfucker coming on to me? Be careful, I warned myself. He may just be making small talk. Don't want any trouble on your first day in your new place.
"Thanks. I think I'm gonna like it here. It seems like a nice place for a single guy like me." I replied, accepting his compliment and hoping my marital status met his expectation..
"This is a good neighborhood. I grew up in this shithole town, but we could never afford to live around here." Hunky offered, taking a hit off his smoke. "I guess having the college and the base close by keeps it nice. Us townies only visit this side of town to mack on the rich, imported pussy or fight with dumbfuck jarheads."
I chuckled at his prescient observation, wishing that my throat could be his `rich, imported pussy'. Hunky had it right. The steel-belt town that had become my new home certainly lived up to his summation. When I received the offer to become the newest history professor at Springfield University, I had been leery of midwestern winters and midwestern rednecks. But, the money was good. I had scoped out the town when I interviewed. I had received a couple of offers for employment at larger schools, but there was something about Springfield that got to me, both the town and the college. The trees were the first things that I noticed. Folks like me who grow up in dusty places, South Texas for me, always marvel at lush foliage and green grass. The trees were everywhere and the grass glowed in verdant splendor, just like it was showing off for my interview visit. The college was of medium size, about 3000 students, and the various buildings were built in the gothic style. It looked like the campus had been plucked right out of the Danube river valley and been placed on the rolling hills of Springfield. Of course all of that could be found at colleges all over the country, the real reason that I chose Springfield, was that I would be teaching Marines. In a cooperative effort between the Marine Corps and the University, marines from the nearby base pursued their degrees while serving on active duty. Some might argue that teaching a marine history is like teaching a pig to drive a car, but the idea of having a class full of sexy jarheads looking up to me for knowledge had clenched the deal.
"Well, don't feel like you have to be a stranger. You're the only person I know in Springfield. You should come over for a beer sometime." I offered, hoping that Hunky would take the bait.
"Sure. To tell you the truth, I used to know the dude who lived in this place. I mean, I didn't really know him very good. But, we met a couple times." Hunky said, piquing my interest. I had found the eighty-year-old craftsman bungalow online. It had been listed by a gay-friendly real estate service that was located in a larger, nearby city. I had gotten a good deal because the owner had been transferred and needed a quick sale. Another reason that made the price so affordable was that it backed up to the parking lot of a campus bar. I assumed that late night partiers could get a little rambunctious. But, the price had negated any reticence on my part. Besides, I had a garage that shielded the parking lot and any late night noise.
"That's cool, it seems like he took good care of the place." I answered, wondering how well Hunky knew the guy. As the place had been sold through a gay real estate office, I assumed that the former owner had been gay.
"Yeah, he took good care of things." Hunky chuckled, taking the last drag off of his smoke and putting it out on the sole of his work boot. "Where do you want me to put my butt?"
"Throw it in the yard." I stammered, thinking about his hot muscle-butt wrapped around my face. "It's going to need some attention anyway." Hunky flung the butt over the railing and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He spread his feet apart and swayed, putting his head back in an expectant way. Damn, he was so sexy that it made my heart pound in my ears.
"I could give you a hand getting your stuff where you want it. Just give me a call when you need it...help, I mean. You could pay me in beer or whatever." Hunky said measuring his words carefully. I put out my cigarette and told him that I would appreciate the help. Asking for his number, I dug my cell from my pocket and entered the number with shaky hands. This hot man had me edgy as a death row inmate eating his last Twinkie. His buzz cut, brown hair was tussled above two of the sexiest eyebrows imaginable. He filled out his t-shirt like a marble sculpture that had been covered to keep the dust off. He had the affectation of a dude who was very sure of himself and knew the affect that his mere presence caused. I entered the name "Hunky" and saved it. He asked me to call him on his cell so he could save my number. I told him my name was Brandon, he told me his name was Ben but to me he was always Hunky.
I spent the rest of the afternoon directing Hunky and his friend in their effort to get me moved. Hunky seemed to spend extra time scratching his hard stomach under his t-shirt in an exaggerated manner or flipping his crotch with the thumb of his right hand occasionally. The last of my things to come off of the truck were the garden tools and garage things. I told them to leave them in the yard and that I would put them away myself. The truck empty, Fatty started sweeping out the box while Hunky approached me with the paperwork.
"You can sign here." He said, indicating the appropriate spot. "Don't forget to give me a call when you need that help."
"I will." I assured him. "This is for you guys." I said, holding out two fifties. "I really appreciate all your help."
"Fuck yeah, anytime." Hunky enthused, stuffing one of the fifties into his pant pocket. "Hear from you soon?"
"Yeah, I'll give you a call tomorrow. Thanks again." I said as Hunky walked to the cab of the truck. He lit a cigarette waiting for Fatty to close the door of the box. As Fatty got into the truck, Hunky looked my way and gave me a wink. I saw him hand the other fifty to Fatty who shot me a wave and a nod. Then, they drove off down my new tree-lined street.
I was so horny that my feet barely hit the front door before I pulled out my seven inch monster and worked up a good blast thinking about Hunky and what was on the end of that hairy trail. Having satisfied my immediate need, I lit a smoke and went outside for the garage shit. It might have been a good neighborhood and all, but I had flirted with all the temptation that I needed for one day.
I don't know when I accumulated so much junk. I was only two years post-PHD and had lived in a small house while pursuing my doctorate. There were obvious things like rakes and shovels, no snow shovel of course. At Texas A&M, there had been little use for such an item. I drove a Camry that I babied. It was unbelievable all the accoutrements that were required to keep your car in shape. Then, there were the `storage things' that had no real place to be in the house, things like old sports trophies and paperwork. I started lugging the crap off of my front lawn and around back to the garage.
The small backyard had a six-foot privacy fence around it. There were two gates, one leading to the front and one leading to the alley between the bar parking lot and my garage. The quietude of the day gave no hint of loud, late-night partiers from my neighbor. I hadn't really explored the garage; it wasn't high on my list of priorities. It was a nice accessory to the house that was perfect for a young college professor, but it wasn't really big enough to park my car inside. It was built in the style of the house and had been obviously built at the same time. I opened the door and gazed inside. The dry, dusty smell hit me like a Texas cold front. I sat the crap from the front yard down and decided to explore. There wasn't much to find. There was a workbench for carpentry, but that wasn't my bag. It would probably wind up being someplace to stack boxes. At the rear, there were two doors that swung out, but I didn't envision what I would use them for. They were dated and though my car was not full-size, there was no way that it would fit inside. On the left was a sectioned-off area. I went behind the wall and looked into the darkness. I could see shafts of murky light shining through the outside wall that backed up to the area where the trashcans sat. I put the necessity to repair the compromised wall on the level of painting the curb on my list of things to do. It only took me about fifteen minutes to move the garage shit into the garage. Having done enough for one day, I decided to take a nap on the couch in the living room.
I don't know if it was the sexual tension with Hunky, or the stress of moving, but I slept until it was night. I awoke, with my stomach grumbling. I was a little lost in my new place and disoriented. I got up from the couch in the middle of the living room and stumbled to the fridge. There wasn't much there, but I found an apple and some cheese to munch on. I stood in the kitchen, devouring the crunchy apple and nibbling at the cheese when I heard a ruckus outside.
It wasn't the sound of imminent danger, but it was close and it was loud. I put down my grubbage and went to the window. There wasn't anything going on in the street, but I had a suspicion of where the disturbance was coming from. I grabbed a cig, lit it, and went out back. The noise was louder now. It was 2:30, closing time, and I could hear the sounds of many revelers making late-night decisions from behind the garage. I took a toke off of my smoke and watched it waft into the air as I decided whether or not to investigate. I didn't want to make it apparent that I was on the prowl so I decided stealth mode was appropriate. As I walked across my backyard, I could hear the sound of a heated argument. That made me decide to eschew the obvious route to the garbage area just outside the back gate, so I went into the garage. I flipped on the light switch, but no illumination became apparent. Just another thing to fix, I decided. I walked to the back wall that fronted the parking lot of the bar, next door. The fuckers were so grimy that I couldn't see a thing. I tried wiping the dirty window, but I just accomplished moving the dirt around. Frustrated, I decided to peek through the murky window and listen to the situation.
"The light's on." I distinctly heard above the maelstrom of noise. The voice was deep and grated across the nerves of my balls. I could see the lights of cars as their occupants started on their way to the next stage of debauchery. "I need to drop this load." I heard as a sound came from the wall adjacent to the trashcan area. I groped my way over to that side of the garage to see what was going on. Through the murk of the dusty garage, I could see streams of red light coming through the wall. The area was sheltered by a half-wall that shielded it from view of the main area of the garage. I hadn't paid much attention to it until now, but I could see that there was a cushion on the floor that abutted the wall. There was a beam of red light that shown across the area. I could see shadows moving through the beam. "Been awhile since there was suckage." I heard, wondering what was going on, but the word, suckage, made my mouth start to water.
I recalled that on the other side of the wall was located the area for the trashcans. It was a lean-to arrangement that was shielded from the vision of any casual passerby. I could hear murmurs of conversation, but couldn't make out the specifics. From the wall, sprouted two distinct beams of murky, red light. The holes through which the light came were about a foot apart and about waist high. Now, I'm no saint and had spent more than my fair share of time on my knees sucking college dick through a gloryhole. But, the idea that I now possessed my own private gloryhole, put my horny-meter to burning hot. I could feel my face burn as my spit glands went into override. Though I was conflicted at the idea that my garage was known as a place of ill-repute, my sexual sensibilities kicked in with a vengeance. I'm not an idiot, but I'm not a dumbass either. I approached the cushion on the dusty floor and knelt down. Through one of the holes I could see jean-clad legs that swayed uncertainly. From my vantage point, I could see that the red light came from under the holes and were very discreet. The trashcans blocked anyone from seeing what was going on in front of the holes.
"Do you think anyone's there?" I heard from the same deep voice that spoke of `suckage'. I wanted to let him know that I was there, but felt a little cautious. I decided to hit my smoke and blow it through the hole. "Fuck yeah!' I heard an instant before a spongy dickhead smacked my forehead. I backed up to see what my visitor had to offer. I couldn't have been happier if I had hit the lottery.
Magnificent came to mind, a second before inhalable cropped up. It was big, God was it big. Though it was dark, I could see the veins that popped out on that fleshy cock. The head slung back to a wide shaft that went on forever. I imagined all the perky, college checks that would have regretted their aloofness by missing the pleasure of the company of this astounding dick. I started to reach for it but stopped myself. I wanted to do this one with no hands. I stuck out my tongue and licked the head to an appreciable groan that told me I was doing all the right things so far. I didn't need to aim that fat fucker with my hands, the hole did that for me. I stuck that juicy head in my mouth and went to town. The silky skin of his dick felt so good on my lips and the fullness filled every void that had every existed in my life. I started deepthroating that cock with all I had as my nose bumped off of the wall. I could feel the veins that pulsated through his prick like road bumps on a well-traveled road. It was in the top ten percentile of cocks that I had ever deepthroated. I could feel my nose run as a second cock came through the hole next to my throat fucker. It wasn't as thick, but it was a long sword of man meat that curved down, perfect for a good throat fuck.
I moved to the buddy and took all of that hot cock down my throat. My eyes watered as I thanked his buddy for stretching my throat for his intrusion. My inner cocksucker took over as I pleasured my two late-night revelers. Though I wanted to keep the attention of my new buddies, I purposely kept my hands from taking the place of my mouth.
"Suck my dick., dude" I heard from the deep voiced monster that had opened my throat. I came off of the lengthy one and inhaled him to the extent that the wall allowed. He pounded my throat like it was varsity pussy and I reveled in the feeling of having my throat fucked by a big, fucking dick.
"This cocksudker's good. Fuck!! I'm gonna blow!" I heard an instant before my tongue was bathed by a torrent of cum that had the taste of the young. It was soupy, salty, and plentiful. I had swallowed many loads and had a frame of reference to classify it. When fat cock pulled back, I assaulted long cock and went to town. I sucked, feeling dude quivering in anticipation. It only took a couple of minutes for long cock to spew his load down my gullet and sigh with satisfaction. Then, I heard the crumpling of foil and then the sound of someone lighting a smoke.
"Thanks dude, we missed you." Deep voice said. I could hear another cig brought to life as another voice offered, "Good head as usual." I could hear their steps retreating away as I sat back on my haunches and ran my tongue around my mouth, tasting college-boy cum.
I sat back and waited for a couple of minutes, the festivities seemed to have ended while I pleasured my wall-lovers. It was quiet and if the taste of cum couldn't have been found by sucking on my teeth, I may have doubted that anything had occurred. I stood up and worked the kinks out of my jaw. It was a Thursday night; I wondered what Saturday might have to offer.
Hey guys! I don't know what's going to happen on Saturday night or with Hunky, of course I haven't met any marines yet. I'm hard just thinking about it. If you want to know let me know. laeauthornow@sbcglobal.net. It feels very hot now and I can't wait to find out. What do you think I should do? It could probably go anywhere. Let me know where you think it should go.