I’m standing here next to this artificial pond, holding my bike with one hand, and an umbrella with the other. It’s raining. It’s barely 11 PM and there’s still a suggestion of light in the doomy clouds above us since this is June in Amsterdam, the sun setting past 10 PM, dusk stretching past midnight. The pond belongs to the Easter Park
, the nearest cruising ground. I must be horny, really, there’s no other excuse for this, cycling through the pouring rain in search of casual sex. It’s fairly cold, by the way, I'm almost shivering.
My glands had started to burn an hour ago when I finally got hold of this forgotten flick, Boys on the Beach
, on the internet. It had been shown years ago at the annual LGTB film festival in a funny Art Deco cinema around the corner in the late session. They would show coming-out flicks in the afternoon, HIV-stuff in the evening, and porn at midnight. The audience would be packed into chairs from the ‘30s, creaky timber frames, velvet upholstering, a retro event in crimson made to watch noir Maigret
There would be a few suggestive exchanges in the waiting crowd, eyes meeting, as we would have been backed up in the lobby by an interminable Derek Jarman
film. So eyes had been meeting already, especially with this guy, half-balding but gym-enhanced, a slap-my-face expression on his visage as if he were stepping out off an Active Duty
porn clip; a moonlighting soldier with insuppressible grins and flawless genitals.
So this guy had somehow sidled around me twice already in the lobby and then ended up on the seat next to mine.
The lights had dimmed, and Sylvester Stallione, the elusive porn star, had appeared on the silver screen above us. He was first in a threesome on a film set, a porn star playing a porn star, until the industry had decided to call it a day and send him home and to Fire Island.
There he had taken to the dance floor of a gay bar in the middle of a pelvis-gyrating crowd before meeting new friends on the beach, the beach from the title of the movie, where some hot guys had already gotten into some hot action, performing anal and oral intercourse expertly. But their hottest new friend, a blond guy, his short hair standing out nicely against the dark sky, was still waiting in the wings, or dunes, watching the proceedings a bit stand-offishly, feeling himself up a bit. Noticing Sylvester’s arrival, however, the blond guy rolled his eyes and dropped his pants, his dick springing to attention as if somebody had shouted “now;” bluish cock lips kissed the moonlight in an exquisite feat of cinematographical engineering. Sly, taking the cue, grabbed the blond guy’s excited member with both hands in a caressing gesture, and pursed his lips.
While this was happening on the screen I felt a touch on my knees, briefly but suggestively, Active Duty, the slap-my-face face knew what he was doing, apparently. Consenting adults unite.
I’m hesitant, of course, this isn't a contact cinema but an art house, but I hadn’t jerked all day and felt horny. My leg swings out in his direction. Active Duty pats my knee again, as if to say “ROGER,” or “COPY,” his hand now on the inside of my leg, stroking my thighs. He likes my thighs apparently, he’s actually caressing them for a while as if they are the real thing, until his hand travels up past my crotch and reaches for the magic Levis button which needs to be undone. I turn my head to him but he’s unerringly facing the screen where Sly has now impaled himself orally on the blond’s dick.
Sly's giving head, deep-throating the brother for all he’s worth; there are some professional secrets to this, you’re not a porn star for nothing. So Sly has impaled himself on the blond cock, which, when briefly re-emerging from the porn star’s mouth, is still gleaming in the moonlight. There’s a hint of pre-cum already, the cock-head kisses the moonlight while the camera kisses the cock-head. Sly’s head goes down again, the whole nine yards or inches, one more time, down until reaching the base of the shaft. Sly’s nose is buried in blond pubes; this is a vintage flick, boys still wearing pubes, not really shaving. There's a hint of sensuality, strong enough for my dick to react.
My neighbor is still staring at the screen while fumbling with my button. I retract the abdomen, there’s a mild pop, the button giving in. Tension moves from the released waistband to the tape of the zipper, my neighbor grabs the zipper’s slider, the slider resists, kept in place by the tension. It's pathetic, I need to shed all pretensions and help him, we’re long since past the point of return. So I unzip the zipper myself, Roger
, or Copy
, or whatever his name, grabs my package side-ways, which is always a bit awkward. I raise my butt and push the Calvin Klein elastic down to make it easier for him. He leans over the antique armrest with his long, too
long arm, pions his arm, his hand around my dick, his left extremity ready for a hand job.
And now a second hand arrives on my thigh, from the left, the other neighbor apparently; how’s this going to work, I understand twin cock sucking but this is different. Don't you worry, he’s taking my forearm and moves my hand to his own crotch which is already unzipped and features an aroused penis. He’s folding my hand around his dick, there’s not much I can do, it would be awkward to refuse, and unfair, in a sense. So I reposition myself and replicate Roger’s poise, my cock in Roger's hands, my hand around my neigbor's cock.
Sly, the porn star on the screen, has stripped in the meantime and arranged himself on the sand in an unusual position, he’s normally the top, legs apart, his hirsute ass open for business. The camera zooms in, then out, then pans onto the blond’s cock; let’s give the blond guy a name, let’s call him Charlie.
Charlie’s cock hovers above us. It takes up the entire screen, 9 inches, or 20 feet, whichever way you look at it. The red skin of the shaft is set against the deep purple of the cockhead, precum oozes through the cocklips, it’s a feast. The camera zooms out again, Charlie grabs his dick, shakes it up, down, and sideways, and rubs the oozing head over Sly’s lips. Sly is loving it, the swishy cock glides over his lips to the left, to the right, to the left again. Sly reclines on the sand, finally and is ready for penetration.
In the meantime, Roger from Active Duty has started to stoke my dick, surprisingly gently for a guy with a slap-my-face face, squeezing, almost playfully, my foreskin against the knob; it would be great if his arm weren’t so long, my thorax hurts. I’m suddenly realizing my failure to replicate. I reach out with my right arm to restore some symmetry, but discover, or feel, that somebody else is already fondling Roger’s cock. A chain of lust is building across our row of seats apparently.
In the meantime, Sly on the screen has raised his legs, pushing them out skyward. Charlie is ready for this. He grabs his own dinger again, shoving it into the promising depth of Sly’s poop shoot, nine inches, the cock, the first inch first. The cock head is recalcitrant, it doesn't want to leave the embrace of Sly’s butt cheeks. There's some guiding and fumbling cock-wise, the first inch is in now, the second is in. The third inch goes in, you can feel it in your loins, Sly's affecting a moan, a second moan, (“yeah, yeah”). Charlie works on the fourth inch (“uurgh,”), fifth inch (“oooh”), sixth inch (“uurgh”). Sly is not commenting on the seventh inch in particular but contorts his face; it could be real, Charlie’s girth is suggestive. Sly’s mouth's is wide open, twisted into a square, lips retracted, white teeth showing, eyes squinted shut.
Charlie pushes, Sly resists, Charlie retracts and readies himself for a second assault, shaking his dick for emphasis.
While this is going on above us Roger is jerking my dick, I’m jerking my neighbor, my neighbor is jerking his neighbor. A domino effect spreads down the row and across the aisle, jerks, motions, movements, collective rhythm in the making, joint energy shaking the antique chairs, the chairs talking back, squaking, more neighbors joining. Charlie, in the meantime, has resumed the exploration of Sly’s center of lust, pushing in once more. Sly reacts (“yeah, yeah”). Seven inches are in, two more to go, the best two inches; tell me, when do you get to feel nine inches up your ass? Sly’s face is frozen in sublime disgust, (“uurgh”), the eight inch is in (“uuurghh”), the ninth (“ooohh”). Charlie retracts four or five inches, another thrust. And another one. Charlie is doing what he can, thrusting, retracting, thrusting, retracting, accelerating, while Sly is really doing his part on the receiving end, moaning, gurgling, yelling. Charlie fucks, fucks, fucks the porn star into ecstasy, it could be real.
On our side of the screen the entire audience is getting into the act, jerking, yelling, “ja, ja,” Dutch for “yeah, yeah,” “aahh, aahh,” Dutch for “uurgh, uurgh,” and so on, enjoying themselves tremendously. We are getting ready for the big one, a joint orgasm of biblical proportions.
And, yes, Charlie unpops, his enormous member swings across the beach and over Sly’s body, a last jerk as his cum explodes into Sly’s face. The cum spurts, squints, gushes out like the Niagara fall, almost, thick ropes of goo fly, drip, splash in all directions, and while Sly is already licking his lips we are starting to cum.
Somebody in the front row is first, a loud scream, unmistakably, somebody behind me then, the same scream ("COPY"), it’s understood, this is it, this is the scream of tonight. Everybody does it, screams it, dominos fall again. I'm cumming, Roger is cumming, my neighbor is cumming. The sounds and sights of ultimate lust pack the room, cum spouting everywhere. We’ve created a fountain of orgasmic delights, folks, jizz dripping, soaking, running off cocks, and seats, and faces, people sharing cum-soaked kisses ...
... Until one guy, the last one to cum, gets up onto the stage and shoots his goo with a winning gesture onto the screen, right where Sly’s projection is reclining, recovering from the best fuck of its life.
Where was I? Well, where am
I? I’m standing in the rain, holding my bike with one hand, the umbrella with the other, a horny loner in the middle of a summer rain storm.
Stay tuned. To be continued soon.
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/gay-male/active-duty.aspx">Active Duty</a>