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Lost Ticket

Category: Gay Male
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N.Y.C. 1971.


Chapter One: Stranded in the Big Apple.

Everything had gone so well up to the point when I took out my wallet to get my bus ticket. It was a small grey stub that was going to get me on the bus for my return home to Plattsburgh, New York, and when I didn’t find it right away, I didn’t panic but merely stepped out of the line to allow the more organized travelers to get on the bus.

The minor annoyance I felt initially became a feeling of real concern, and by the time I had practically ripped my wallet apart on a bench, I was in a full-fledged panic. How could I be so careless? Of all of the dumb things I had done in my life, this had to be the topper, I thought to myself while emptying my pockets in a last gasp effort that proved fruitless. It was gone.

After finding out that the one-way bus fare would set me back $14.75, I counted out what I had on me, knowing full well that it was nothing close to that much. $3.56 was what I had left from my big day in New York City, and what had started out to be a great 18th birthday had gone very sour in a flash.

My folks had gotten me a ticket to see my beloved Boston Celtics play the Knicks, and I had a great time sitting 5 rows behind the basket watching the Celtics stomp the hapless Knicks. Wandering around the city before the game was a blast as well, and as I struggled to figure out what to do, I knew my options were limited.

There were a lot of people walking around asking for handouts, but there was no way I could ever do that. Not only was I too scared to do that, but I was so quiet and shy that the thought of going up to strangers to beg for money was out of the question.


Chapter Two: An idea.

My options were limited. I could walk or hitchhike. I figured it was about 300 miles, and it was also the dead of winter, as the snow flurries swirling in the brisk winds outside could attest to.

The other option was my only real choice. Phone home. I guess that there was a way my folks could send some money to me by Western Union or something. The money would be bad enough, but the embarrassment of having screwed up so royally was even worse. My first day as an adult and I end up begging the folks for help, and it would take me forever to live this down.

The bus I was planning to take had already left, but there was another one heading north in an hour, so I had to make a decision fast, or else I would be spending the night in the bus terminal. Judging by the way that the police would jostle anyone they saw sleeping led me to believe that the authorities took a dim view of that activity, so after a lot of hand wringing and fretting I went into a phone booth and phoned home.

No answer. No nothing. I tried another phone, and when nothing happened after I dialed, I called operator assistance. Great, I thought. Now I’ll have to pay extra for that now.

Turns out I didn’t have to pay extra after all. I didn’t have to pay anything. The operator tried the number, and then informed me that service was down in a lot of areas upstate, on account of the storm.

The storm? There was barely a coating of snow on the ground down here, but then again, Plattsburgh is a whole different world from New York City. Who knows what it was doing up there?

Snowing like hell. That was what the ticket agent told me when I asked him about the weather conditions upstate. The buses were running behind schedule and it was getting worse by the hour.

“Plattsburgh?” the guy said. “Heard they’ve got almost a foot on the ground, with more to come, they say.”

I was screwed, and my anger soon turned into anxiety. As I looked around at the near-empty waiting area inside the cavernous terminal, all I saw were strange faces. Drunks, junkies and homeless people staggering around aimlessly. And then there was me, with a rolled up program from the game in my back pocket and $3.56 to my name.

Some big shot adult, I thought to myself as I bit my lip to try and fight the tears that were welling up in my eyes. Happy birthday.

Chapter Three: A friend in need.

“Something wrong, son?”

The voice came from a man who had come up to me while I stood there in a daze. A man, probably my Dad’s age or even older, stood before me with a look of concern in his eyes. At least a half foot taller than I was, he had the look of a businessman, and was one of the few normal looking people in the place at this late hour.

I shook my head briskly, but I guess it must have been obvious that something was certainly wrong with me because he pressed me for an answer.

“I was around the ticket window when I heard you ask about Plattsburgh,” he said. “Are you expecting somebody?”

“No,” I said, my voice trembling. “I live there.”

“Oh, going home?” he said cheerfully. “I’m going to Montreal, so I guess we’ll be on the same bus.”

“No, I… I lost my ticket somehow.”

“No money to get one either?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Tried to call my folks but the phone lines are down.”

“Yeah, I heard the weather is bad up north,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

I started to tell the guy that I had no idea what the hell I was going to do, but my emotions got the best of me, and I started to cry like a baby.

“Son, relax,” the man said, putting his hand on my shoulder to comfort me. “We’ll figure something out. Wait here.”

I had nowhere to go, that was for sure, so I stood there for a few minutes while the man left me. When he returned he put his right hand on my shoulder again, but in his left hand was a bus ticket. One way, to Plattsburgh.

“Here son,” the man said, his soothing voice resonating in my ear.

“I can’t…” I said, although my hand was reaching out for it despite what I said.

“Sure you can.”

“I’ll pay you back,” I assured him, taking the ticket and looking at it like it was gold, which to me at the time, it was.

“Not necessary,” he said. “I would have offered it when I first heard you talking over there, but there are so many people hustling and pulling scams that I was afraid you might be trying to con people out of money or something.”

“I’m not,” I told him.

“I know that now,” he said. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help you out. You’re way too young and innocent to be left down here stranded.”

“It a scary place,” I admitted. “A lot scarier at night too.”

“No place for somebody without money, that’s for sure,” he agreed. “By the way, my name’s Bob. Bob Shepard.”

“Aaron Brady,” I said, shaking the man’s hand, which was so big that it swallowed my sweaty little paw in its grip.

“Pleased to meet you, Aaron,” Bob said warmly.

“I really don’t know how to thank you enough,” I said.

“Maybe someday you’ll be able to help somebody in trouble like you were, and that will be thanks enough for me.”

“I will,” I promised Bob, and I was so happy that I wanted to hug the guy.

“Still almost an hour until our bus gets here,” Bob said. “Why don’t we got down to the coffee shop and get a bit to eat?”

I wasn’t really hungry, but after I thought about it, the thought of sitting on a bus for over six hours made me reconsider, so I walked down to the end of the terminal with my new friend Bob, with the weight of the world off my shoulders.


Chapter Four: Getting to know Bob.

Bob was 54 years old, exactly three times my age, and he was married with two kids both older than I was. He lived and worked in New York City and was traveling up to Montreal on business, and was not happy about it.

“Hate traveling in the winter,” Bob grumbled before adding, “But you have to pay the rent.”

I got a grilled cheese sandwich and fries, and while I had enough money to pay for it, Bob brushed off my attempt to pay, and after we finished eating it was almost time for our bus to start boarding.

“Don’t want to miss this one, because the next one doesn’t leave until 8 in the morning,” Bob told me as the almost inaudible voice on the loudspeaker announced that the 11:15 p.m. bus bound for Albany, Plattsburgh and Montreal, along with a bunch of cities that came out too garbled to understand, was boarding.

“I’ll be right there,” I said to Bob, hurrying over to the men’s room to take a leak before getting on the bus.

Walking into the grubby bathroom, the stench of urine and assorted noxious odors was intense, and I held my breath as I walked to the end of the long room of urinals in the almost deserted men’s room and started to pee.

I was startled when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone come down to where I was, and took a urinal right next to mine. I was relieved when my quick sideways glance showed me that it was only Bob.

“Good idea, Aaron,” Bob said. “No sense trying to go on a bumpy bus.”

I heard the sound of his zipper coming down, and noticed that he stood there with his hands on his hips while he peed. For a second I thought that he was looking over at me, but I kept staring straight ahead at the filthy tiles with the crude messages scrawled all over them.

I was a little taken aback at him standing next to me like that, but he was a married guy and all, so I guessed that I was just being overly nervous about it. Nevertheless, I finished as fast as I could and washed my hands in the grungy sink before getting out of there so I could breathe again.

There was no line waiting to get on the bus, and there were only a few people scattered inside after I climbed aboard. I went to the bus of the bus and grabbed a window seat, wiping the fog off of the glass as I prepared to bid the Port Authority Bus Terminal a less than fond farewell.

“Guess we might as well sit together,” Bob said, having come down the aisle and finding me.

Me being little, it wasn’t like it was crowded in the seat or anything, but there were so many empty seats that I wished Bob had picked one of the others so we could stretch out. After remembering that if it wasn’t for Bob I would be sitting back inside the terminal, bawling like a baby, I settled into the seat and thanked my lucky stars for the company.

So we chatted for awhile, talking about the game I had seen, and since he was a Knick fan there was a lot of good natured bantering that lasted for the first hour. After that, we became quiet, and as the winter howled outside, I eventually dropped off to sleep.


Chapter Five: Not for long.

I woke up with a start, a little disoriented as I lifted my face off of the headrest. The snow was all I could see out the window, as the darkness was almost total, with any signs or lights obliterated by the blizzard we seemed to be driving through.

I quickly realized what had woken me up. Bob’s head was resting on my shoulder, and it sounded like he was asleep, as his breathing was slow and steady. His hand, however, led me to believe that he wasn’t asleep, because it was on my thigh.

My heart pounding, I looked out the window as I tried to think about what I should do. Maybe he WAS sleeping. Perhaps his hand just fell onto my leg. He was probably used to sleeping with his wife, so maybe it was just a reflex action.

I was wide awake now though, and as I stared out the window I wanted the ride to be over, and didn’t have any idea where we were or how far we had to go.


Chapter Six: Kingston.

The bus made its first stop, and as the bus driver announced that we were in Kingston, I did some fast computations. We hadn’t even gone 100 miles yet and it had taken over 2 hours. What was worse was that the snow seemed to be falling with greater intensity the farther north be went, and I could only imagine what it would be like home.

One person got off in Kingston while two got on, and despite my wishing that they would come back and sit near us, they opted for seats toward the front, leaving me stuck in the back with Bob.

When the bus began moving again, Bob made a noise and moved around in his seat, but that only brought his face closer to my neck, and his hand moved even higher up my thigh.

Back in the pitch black darkness of the bus, Bob remained in his sleep mode, but his hand soon began moving again, and soon he was kneading my thigh. I squirmed to get out of the way but his hand simply moved along with me. Fifteen minutes later, his hand was right between my legs, and he was squeezing me through the jeans, with my balls getting the action.

My dick was pointing toward the window during this, but Bob was taking his time. It took him about 20 minutes for his hand to work over to my dick, and despite my fear, his rubbing was making me hard. This was not the first time this had happened to me, because I had been picked up hitchhiking a couple of years ago, but that memory didn’t make me any less terrified.

Suddenly, Bob’s hand moved off of my crotch. My initial feeling of relief didn’t last long, however, as he was only reaching up to grab my wrist, which I had resting across my stomach.

Bob pulled my hand over towards him, bringing it down and placing it on his lap. He had his hand over mine, squeezing it against his genitals, although I couldn’t really feel anything. He held my hand down there with his left while resuming his exploration with his right.


Chapter Seven: Attention please.

The sound of the bus driver’s voice over the intercom was a most welcome relief for me, but what he had to say certainly wasn’t.

“Attention please. We’ll be stopping in Albany in about five minutes. The State Police are closing I-87 around Saratoga, and I’ve been told that I can’t go any further north tonight after we get to Albany.”

The few of us on the bus groaned, but none dreaded this news more than I did. Bob’s hands came off of my hand and out of my lap, and he straightened up in his seat before leaning over and whispering in my ear.

“You liked that, didn’t you Aaron?”

I shook my head no and went back to looking out the window. When the bus arrived in Albany, the small and unhappy herd piled out of the bus and went into the bus terminal, which was just as miserable a place as Port Authority was, only much, much smaller. In the end, it didn’t really matter, because as it turned out, none of us were going to be there that long.

Turns out they were closing the terminal. A snow emergency had been declared, and we were the last bus coming in until who knows when. We were told to make arrangements to stay somewhere, and I really freaked out then.

“There’s a City Mission a few blocks north,” the guy trying to close up the terminal said, and the thought of spending the night with a bunch of derelicts was too scary to imagine.

Bob wasn’t interested in talking to any janitor, and was involved in a heated discussion with the guy I assumed was the manager of the terminal or the bus company. As the rest of us milled around, Bob stood around the desk as the guy made a phone call. After he got off the phone he handed Bob a piece of paper, and Bob seemed satisfied as he picked up his suitcase and headed toward me.

“Come with me,” he said as he walked past me and headed out the door.

I stood frozen, not wanting to follow him but not knowing what else to do.

“Where?” I asked.

“I got us someplace to stay,” he said. “Coming?”

Without much choice, I trudged out the door and into a howling blizzard, following Bob as we staggered down the snow-covered sidewalk toward who knows where.


Chapter Eight: Ramada Inn, Room 412.

Our destination turned out to be a Ramada Inn, which was a couple of blocks from the bus station. The place was a dump, but it had to be better than the City Mission, or so I figured.

As we got into the lobby, Bob had me wait over in the corner as he went up to the front desk and rang the bell. A sleepy eyed guy came out and gave Bob a key before going back to nod off again, and Bob motioned for me to follow him.

“One room?” I asked when I looked at the single chunk of plastic with a key dangling off of it.

“I was lucky to get that from the cheap bastards,” Bob informed me, letting me know that he hadn’t paid for it, and the room was being provided by the bus company.

The thought occurred to me that I could go back and try to bully them into giving me a room too, but I didn’t have the attitude for that kind of thing that Bob seemed to have, and besides, they were probably locked up by now.

“They’re going to call us here when they get the buses rolling again,” Bob told me as we got off the elevator and walked down the dingy hallway. “They said it might be until mid-day tomorrow, or later today I mean.”

We stopped in front of room 412, and when Bob opened it up, he stepped to the side and let me in the room. It was a pretty dreary room, but as I looked around the place, what I noticed first sent a chill down my spine.

There was a TV nailed to a stand, a dresser, a small desk with a chair, and a bed. A bed, as in singular, and while it was a fairly large bed, the fact remained that there was only one.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Bob informed me, and began to undress right in the middle of the room in front of me.

I went over to the window and looked out at the most miserable view imaginable, which consisted of a bunch of ramps that wound around in circles, and only a single car creeping around the maze.

In the window I could see the vague image of Bob naked, standing there looking at me, but I forced my eyes away and looked back outside.

“If you want to join me, you’re more than welcome,” Bob offered in a fatherly tone. “Otherwise, you can take your shower after I get out.”

I wasn’t taking any shower in this place, especially not with this man, and after I heard the water get turned on, I walked out of the room and down the hall. After riding down the elevator I stepped out into the deserted lobby and looked out into the winter wonderland.

“Nowhere to run,” I said to myself, thinking of the song of the same name, and after looking at the empty street I trudged back into the elevator and headed back upstairs.


Chapter Nine: 412 revisited.

I went back down the hall as slowly as I could, dreading going back into the room. As it turned out, I had locked myself out, and had to tap lightly on the door to have Bob let me back in.

“Lock yourself out?” Bob said cheerfully, and when I nodded and walked back in, he closed the door behind me, the loud click of the door sounding like what I imagined a jail cell closing would be like.

“Go take a shower, Aaron,” Bob said, brazenly drying himself in front of me.

I protested a little bit, but Bob insisted so I went in, refusing to look at him parading around naked. I had seen enough to suit me, and even if he wanted to show himself off, that didn’t mean that I had to look.

After undressing, I hopped into the shower and took as long a shower as I could. Just after I had gotten in and turned on the water, I heard the bathroom door open, and I was afraid that he was coming in to join me, but the door closed again a few seconds later with Bob on the other side.

Climbing out of the shower, I grabbed the lone towel remaining, and as I tried to get myself dry with the pathetic little threadbare cotton towel, I noticed that my clothes were gone. My heart was racing as I looked around to see if they had fallen down under the sink or something, but they were gone. That explained Bob’s visit into the bathroom as I was showering.

I put the meager towel in front of me as best I could and opened to door slowly. The room light had dimmed, and Bob was facing me on his side in the bed, the sheets pulled up to his waist.

“Come to bed, Aaron.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“They’re getting washed,” Bob explained calmly.

Covering myself as best I could, I went over and sat on the chair, avoiding eye contact with Bob as I stared at the blank TV screen.

“You can’t sit there all night,” Bob said. “Come to bed. You know you want to.”

I didn’t want to, I wanted to scream. I wanted to go home, but after a few minutes I stood up and walked over to the bed with the soggy towel in front of me, climbing onto the very edge with my back to Bob.


Chapter Ten: It’s wet.

I felt the bed move and sensed that Bob was moving toward me. I jumped when he put his hand onto my hip, where the towel was, and slowly took the edge of it between his thumb and his index finger.

“It’s wet, Aaron,” Bob said softly. “You can’t have that on you like that.”

I was frozen like a statue, almost as if Bob had made me immobile in some way, and when he lifted the towel off of me and let it fall over the edge of the bed, I was naked.

Bob’s hand was on my hip, rubbing my damp skin with gentle circular motions as my body began to shake noticeably.

“It’s okay, Aaron,” Bob said. “I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay. What’s going to happen, you’ll remember for the rest of your life. You want it to happen.”

“No,” I said, and while I wanted my denial to sound assertive, it came out as a whimper.

“Yes you do, babe,” Bob said, and the hand that had been rubbing my hip was now pulling that same hip towards him, using firm pressure that soon found me on my back next to him.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Bob said, and I shook my head, with my eyes screwed tight.

“Yes you are,” Bob said, his hand sliding all over my upper torso, stroking my chest and stomach with his meaty hand. “So smooth and so soft.”

I was having trouble breathing as it was, and when his hand glided down by stomach and past my belly button, I made a choking sound. I could feel Bob’s fingers sifting through the little tuft of hair that grew above my dick, raking it with his nails before moving lower.

“Please,” I said, finally opening my eyes and looking over at Bob, who was staring intently at what his hand was doing.

“Unbelievable,” Bob said in a breathless tone, and I looked down just in time to see his fingers pull my dick up from between my legs and cradle it in his palm for a second before wrapping his fingers around the shaft and starting to tug on it.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it Aaron?” Bob asked. “You like what I’m doing. You liked what I was doing to you on the bus too. I could tell.”

I shook my head no, but Bob wasn’t looking at my face, but was watching my dick, which despite everything I was feeling, was getting longer and thicker with every slow and sensuous stroke he gave it.

“Unbelievable,” Bob repeated, as I fought to stop what was becoming an erection. “I thought I was seeing things down in the terminal bathroom when I saw your cock. Wasn’t expecting seeing anything like this.”

Bob’s hand was now wrapped most of the way around my very erect member, and his fingers danced up and down the shaft, the touch of him rubbing against the tip of the head making me shiver.

“Can’t believe how huge your cock is, Aaron,” Bob said in admiration. “Such a big cock on such a little fellow. It’s beautiful.”

I suppose that the reason it seemed large was more because of the little frame it was attached to than the actual size of it, which was only around seven inches or so, but it had given me considerable embarrassment in the showers at school, where the other guys would make fun of me.

Bob leaned over and kissed my nipple, and after tonguing the hard little nub, his tongue traveled all over my scrawny hairless chest, which was heaving up and down at a startling rate.

He let go of my cock for only a second, reaching up and caressing my chest before lifting my arm up against the headboard and holding my wrist down. Bob leaned over and buried his head under my arm, making my shiver as he licked and sucked the faint spray of hairs that were nestled in the center of my armpit, before bringing his hand back down to my crotch.

“Bet the girls like this big boy, don’t they?” Bob asked, rubbing the pearl of cum that had surfaced because of his non-stop affection toward me, and when I shrugged my shoulders, Bob asked me, “You aren’t a virgin, are you?

I nodded after a moment, and when Bob then asked whether I liked girls, I nodded again.

“Girls have done what I’m doing to you though, right?”

“Yes,” I squeaked, not explaining that it had been one girl, one time, giving me one hand job.

“How about guys?” Bob said, his hand starting to spin slowly as it went up and down my cock.

“Ah, the pregnant pause,” Bob said when I didn’t answer. “Want to tell me about it?”

“Just once,” I said. “A man, he picked me up hitchhiking.”

“What did the man do, Aaron?”

“He made me take my dick out.”

“Made you?” Bob asked.

“Well, he told me too.”

“And you did take it out?” Bob asked, letting go of my cock for a second, and as it slapped onto my belly he reached down and grabbed my balls, rolling my nuts around in his palm for a moment before going back to my dick.


“Then what did he do to you? What I’m doing?” Bob asked excitedly. “What did he do?”

“He…he… he…” I stuttered.

“Did he suck your cock?” Bob asked. “Did he?”

I nodded, the stroking of my cock continuing at a steady pace that was probably designed to keep me on the brink of orgasm, and if it was, it was working.

“And you liked that too, I’ll bet,” Bob correctly surmised. “I’ll bet you did something to him too, didn’t you Aaron?”

“I didn’t want to,” I protested.

“But you did,” Bob said. “Did you suck his cock?”

“No,” I protested. “My hand.”

“You jerked him off, and you liked it, didn’t you? You wish now that you had sucked his cock, don’t you? Don’t you, Aaron?”

I looked at Bob and shook my head, but he looked at me in a way that suggested he didn’t believe me, and I didn’t blame him, because I really didn’t know the honest answer to that.


Chapter Eleven: What Bob wants.

“I thought you said you were married,” I said, holding onto the mattress while trying to stop the room from whirling around on me.

“I am,” Bob said. “Ten minutes after I left the house she was probably letting the guy she’s fucking in the back door. So, yes, I am married, but she’s doing what she wants and so am I. And right now, I want you.”

“Want to drain this big, beautiful cock of yours,” Bob said as he moved over and knelt next to me. “I want to suck you dry.”

I watched as Bob lowered his head to the tip of my fully engorged cock, which was beet red and swollen, and as his wet lips slid down the taut skin of the glans, my body quivered with excitement. I was so hard that I was afraid the skin of the head would tear as Bob’s teeth nibbled lightly on it before his mouth opened wide.

Bob’s mouth flew down the shaft, all the way down to the thick base, before sliding right back up again. His hand was churning my sac roughly while he took me so deep into his mouth that I felt the tip touch his throat.

Up and down his head went, and just when I thought that I couldn’t take anymore of being on the brink of orgasm, I came. My back arched up off the bed as Bob sucked me hard, and when I erupted in his mouth, I heard him gag briefly but he didn’t stop. I bucked wildly on the bed while my dick kept spasming, spurting what felt like an endless amount of cum down his throat, until I had no more to give.

“Such a beautiful cock you have, Aaron,” Bob kept saying as he continued to kiss and lick my dick long after I had gone limp.

“Did you like that?” Bob asked, and when I nodded, he smiled and went back to licking the opening before getting back up on his knees. “Damn, how I love a big cock. Wish mine was as big as yours.”

When he said that, I glanced down below Bob’s waist for the first time, and was shocked at what I saw. Bob’s dick was pointing straight out from his body, but it was really small.

Only about as big as a link of sausage, it was kinda thick but only about 4 inches long at best, and just like mine looked bigger on my slight frame, his pale dick looked lost on his bigger body, even though it looked like he had shaved around the base of his dick in an effort to make it look bigger.

“See how small mine is?” Bob said, leaning forward as if to show it off. “It’s probably why my wife doesn’t want me anymore. Here, feel it.”

Bob took my hand and brought it up to his dick, and when he wrapped my hand around it, the whole thing disappeared in my hand, even though it was so hard that I could feel it throb in my grasp. As I held it, I saw Bob begin to move his hips back and forth, and the tip of his dick peeked out from my grip every time he moved close to me.

“Do you want to suck my dick, Aaron?” Bob asked, his request almost sounding like pleading.

“I don’t know how,” I shrugged.

“That’s okay, just try,” Bob said, rolling over on his side and pulling me on top of him. “Just pretend you’re sucking your thumb.”


Chapter Twelve: Sucking my thumb.

I knelt alongside of Bob much like he did to me, and while I had been able to take his dick in my hand, I was finding it tough to actually go through with putting it in my mouth, making a bunch of false starts before straightening up when I would chicken out at the last minute.

“That’s okay, Aaron,” Bob said, running his hand over my thigh as I kept lurching forward and stopping. “Just lick it at first if you want.”

I nodded, and the next time my face went down, I let my tongue graze against the head. This made Bob gasp, and after I licked it a couple more times, Bob let out a satisfied moan.

“That’s nice,” Bob said, letting his hand wander down between my legs to grab my limp dick in his fist, and then began milking it as I licked his cock.

“Your cock is bigger soft than mine is hard,” Bob said, reaching up with his free hand and keeping my head down, almost moving my mouth onto him.

I let the acorn-shaped head slip between my lips, and after I sucked it for a second, let my mouth go down the shaft. Bob was right, in that it was like sucking my thumb, and once I started treating it like that, it got easier.

Bob guided my head up and down as I tried to learn how to do what Bob had done to me, and after a minute or so I seemed to be getting better at it.

“Your tongue,” Bob gasped. “Press your tongue against the tip, quick!” Bob grunted, and as I tried to do what Bob asked, I felt his cock jerk in my mouth. I felt his cum getting blocked by my tongue as his dick spurted the musty tasting goo against it.

I tried not to gag as I let the seed drool back onto his crotch, and when he finally did stop shooting, I leaned over and quietly spat out the nasty tasting stuff back onto his dick, which now resembled a toadstool as it stood in the middle of the shaved area.

“That was so nice, Aaron,” Bob said, reaching up and pulling me down to him and hugging me. “Thank you.”

“Now get some rest, Aaron,” Bob said as he pulled the sheet up to my neck and crawled out of the bed.

My eyes followed Bob as he went into the bathroom, still not believing what I had just done, but the spunky taste that lingered in my mouth left no doubt that it had happened. Bob’s limp dick wiggled as he walked, and as I thought about having that in my mouth minutes ago, my own cock began to stir.

Bob had been right. Ever since that day when the man had picked me up hitchhiking, I had wished things had gone differently. I did like what the man did to me, and I did enjoy masturbating him, just as Bob suggested, and he was correct that I wished I had done more with him.

Maybe it was because I was so scared at the time, or maybe because the man’s dick had been pretty big, but I had refused to put him in my mouth. Bob had pretty much imposed his will on me, but now that he had, I was glad of it, because I had enjoyed it. The taste of his cum didn’t turn me on, but outside of that it was great.

Plus, Bob seemed to really like my dick. I was always really self-conscious about the size of it, and how goofy it looked on my skinny body, but he had made me feel good about myself. The fact that he had given me the best head imaginable didn’t hurt either.

I heard the toilet flush and the water running in the sink, and closed my eyes and pretended to sleep when Bob came back out. I was hoping that he would get back in bed with me and notice that I had a boner and would want to do some more stuff with me, but instead he threw his clothes on and went out the door.

I closed my eyes for a second, and must have drifted off to sleep, because when I heard the door open, about a half hour had passed. Bob was carrying a bag of stuff.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Bob said. “I went down to that 24 hour newsstand down the street. It must be the only place in the city open, because it was a zoo. People were grabbing batteries and food like crazy, because they’re talking about this being some kind of record breaking storm. If you’re hungry, help yourself.”

I got up and walked over to the dresser and looked at all the stuff Bob had gotten, surprised at myself for not being self-conscious about being naked. A candy bar caught my eye, and as I unwrapped it, I noticed a box that looked like toothpaste and picked it up.

“Know what that is?” Bob asked me, standing by my side, as naked as I was.

“KY Jelly?” I asked, feeling Bob’s hard dick against my back. “No. What’s it for?”

“It’s a lubricant,” Bob said. “I’ll explain about it later.”

Bob moved behind me, his hands on my shoulders, and I looked in the mirror at our reflection. Bob towered over me, and as he looked up and saw me looking at us he smiled.

“Did you like what I did to you before?” Bob asked, his hands sliding down from my shoulders and going down my body.

“Yes,” I said, following his hands down as they reached my cock.

“I can’t tell you how much you turn me on,” Bob told me. “Maybe you can tell in one way.”

That one way was probably his boner, which was prodding into my lower spine as Bob took my cock in his right hand and began playing with it, stretching it out a few times while we looked in the mirror.

“Your cock drives me crazy,” Bob said.

I leaned back into Bob, feeling the warmth of his hairy chest against my skin as my dick surged in his hand. I got hard almost immediately, and Bob’s left hand joined his right one on my shaft.

“Need a third hand for yours,” he said looking at the head of my dick which was still visible as his hands rotated slowly around the shaft. “You like the way this feels?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Can we go back to bed?”

“In a second,” Bob assured me. “I just want to look at you some more like this. You’re body is so beautiful. So boyish in some ways, but so very manly in others. It must be wonderful to be you. To be 18, to look like you and with so much to look forward to.”

I didn’t think I was any less like a dork than I always was, but Bob’s words made me feel so good that I almost believed him. I found myself reaching back and grabbing his dick in my hand, and when I did, I watched his smile widen in the mirror.

“Does that mean that you liked everything, including what you did to me?”

I nodded sheepishly, letting Bob turn me around to face him, and after we were standing in front of each other, the sensation of my erection bumping against Bob had us both looking downward.

“Look at that,” Bob instructed me, but I was already looking at the way our dicks were almost dueling with each other.

Bob chuckled while he held his dick down on top of mine for a minute, seeming to delight in the outrageous difference in the sizes of our organs, as the tip of Bob’s crown only went halfway down my shaft. The head of my cock was nestled under Bob’s dick, between the base of his tool and the top of his balls.

His hand held our cocks together, and when he told me to help him, I found myself reaching down and helping us keep our dicks rubbing against each other. The feeling was really exciting with both of us so hard and hot to the touch, and when I started grinding my hips to make the contact harder and faster, he gently pulled away from me.

“Better get to bed now,” Bob suggested, and with that Bob led me over to the rumpled bedding.


Chapter Thirteen: Back to bed.

Bob had me get onto my back, and after placing a pillow under the small of my back, went back over to the table and got the tube of KY. Squeezing some out of the tube, he lathered it all over his dick while climbing onto the bed between my legs.

“This feels nice,” Bob said as he rubbed his oiled dick while looking at me. “Want some?”

I nodded and watched as he filled his palm with the gel before grabbing my cock. The stuff was cold, which gave me a start, but as Bob’s hands worked the lubricant in, I regained my erection.

“Told you it was nice,” Bob said. “Why don’t you do this yourself?”

I felt strange when I pretty much started jerking off in from of Bob, but as my fist kept pumping slowly up and down my shaft, I lost my inhibition. It didn’t hurt that Bob seemed to be enjoying what I was doing as well.

“Yeah,” Bob gasped, spreading my legs and reaching down to use his greased palm to start kneading my sac, rolling my balls roughly in his hand. “Now let me know how you like this.”

I didn’t know what to expect as I lay there with my legs opened wide, and when Bob put my feet up on his shoulders that didn’t make me any less confused. Suddenly, I felt something cold and gooey rubbing against my asshole and before I could protest, I felt something hard and bony slip into my ass.

“Easy, Aaron, it’s alright,” Bob said in a soothing voice. “It’s just my finger. Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” I answered, and to be honest it didn’t feel too bad.

The more he dipped it in and out, and spun his finger around, the better I liked it. When he saw my smile, he smiled back and moved closer to me.

“Now Aaron, I’m going to take my finger out and put my dick in,” Bob told me.

“Please don’t,” I said.

“It won’t hurt, babe, I swear,” Bob insisted. “My dick is no bigger than my finger, and it’s boneless.”

Bob laughed, but I was still scared when I felt him stick the tip of his dick inside of me.

“See?” Bob said, easing forward and pushing the rest of his dick in me. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?”

I shook my head, and let Bob slide his dick in and out of my ass while he reached down and began pulling on my cock again. Bob’s face got red as he thrust harder and faster, and after only a minute or so, he cried out as I felt his warmth fill my insides.

“Thank you Aaron,” Bob said, as he pulled his dick out of me. “That was so good. You were so tight too. Now you can do me.”


Chapter Fourteen: Doing Bob.

I didn’t really want to do this, but Bob seemed to want me to, and so I went along with him and climbed behind Bob while he got on his hands and knees. It was really tight when I tried to put it in, but he told me to keep pushing. I did, and after I felt myself tear into him, he sounded like he was in tears.

“Don’t stop, Aaron,” Bob insisted, and although I felt guilty, it felt so warm and tight that I found myself thrusting into him as hard as I could.

Every forward thrust made Bob whimper, and it took me a long time to cum too, but I kept at it until I finally came, and I was so tired that I just collapsed on top of Bob when I finished.

“I have a hunch that I liked that more than you did,” Bob said afterward. “I never had one that big before, so I wanted to know if I could take it.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I said.

“It’s okay, Aaron,” Bob said with a smile followed by a grimace when he moved around next to me. “I asked for it.”

We both were startled by the ringing of the phone by the side of the bed, and as Bob spoke I went to the bathroom. When I emerged, Bob was done on the phone.

“Our bus leaves in an hour and a half,” Bob announced, and while I noticed a trace of sadness in his voice, I was surprised to feel a little down myself upon hearing the news that I had been praying for in the beginning.

We needed a shower, and when Bob suggested we take one together, I agreed. We washed each other with a lot of tenderness, and while I wasn’t surprised when Bob’s soaping of my crotch was followed by him dropping to his knees and taking me into his mouth, there was no way anything was going to happen.

“I’m drained,” I said as stroked the top of Bob’s head while his mouth worked over my very flaccid dick, sucking and pulling on the dead, rubbery tube like he was expecting it to rise again.

“I know,” Bob said when he took me out of his mouth briefly. “You don’t mind though, do you?”

I didn’t mind, of course, as Bob’s lips sliding up and down my wet cock felt really nice, so I just leaned back against the shower wall and let him continue.

I parted my thighs when his hand went way up between my legs to scrub my sticky crack, and when his finger worked inside to clean his spunk out of me, I didn’t protest.

After a few minutes, I felt my dick getting aroused again. Not hard, but halfway there, and I was stunned when I felt my nuts tingle and my cock twitch a few times as I squirted a little seed into Bob’s mouth.

Bob’s mouth made a few more long and passionate trips down my now thoroughly deflated dick before getting back to his feet and giving me a hug. I reached down between his legs and found his dick, but he shook his head when I started to pull on him.

“We have to get going,” Bob said. “That was a going away present – for both of us.”

We dried each other off, and there was a melancholy feeling in the room as we did so, By the time we had gotten onto the nearly empty bus, I was thoroughly bummed out, and as the bus pulled away from the terminal, Bob asked me what was wrong.

“I dunno,” I said. “I feel really down. It was like we were on an adventure of some kind, and now that it’s over I feel let down. Like I’m losing a friend.”

I couldn’t believe this was the same person talking who was trying to get away from Bob yesterday, but Bob patted my leg and smiled.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “If someone had told me that I would be stuck in a motel room in Albany, New York and would have enjoyed it so much, I would have said they were crazy.”

Bob lowered his voice and looked around the bus, and even though there were only 3 other people on it and were out of earshot, he whispered into my ear.

“You enjoyed what we did?” Bob said. “What I made you do?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “You didn’t make me, either. I think maybe you… coaxed me into it. I think you were right in the beginning when you said I wanted to do it.”

“Still,” Bob said, and I was stunned when I heard his voice crack, and even more so when I glanced over and saw tears well up in his eyes. “What I did wasn’t right, and I feel ashamed of myself. I haven’t done anything like this before, although I’ve been tempted. It’s just that when I saw you, I just couldn’t…”

Bob’s voice stopped, and I heard him trying to control his emotions. I reached over and put my hand on his leg, even though I wanted to give him a hug to tell him it was alright, but we were silent the rest of the slow and slippery ride north.

I guess I understood what he meant, but I held no hard feelings then, and still don’t to this day. We shook hands when I got off the bus in Plattsburgh, and Bob stuck a business card in my hand when we parted, telling me that I should call him.

“Anytime, any place. If you need a friend or just want to talk,” Bob said, and I nodded and put the card in my pocket for safekeeping before wading out into the snow.

I never called, although I was tempted a couple of times in the months that followed, when I felt confused and lonely. The business card was what reminded me of what happened that night so many years ago, when I found it while going through some old stuff in my garage the other day.

The fact that I could manage to hold onto these two things for almost 40 years yet wasn’t able to hang on to a bus ticket for one day made me shake my head and smile as I put them back in the cigar box they had been in.

It was snowing like crazy outside, which was wthe reason I was stuck inside doing rainy day projects like cleaning up and saw the card, which was with my ticket stub from the game. The card and the snow brought it all back to me, the trip that helped turn a boy into a man.


thank you for reading.

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