I Went Into a Bookstore to Sign Copies of 'Boyslut' but F*cked the Bookstore Clerk in the Bathroom Instead
I had some time to kill while my mom was getting back surgery.
Illustration by Jason Leviere (@mister_dashing)
I had four hours to kill while my mother was undergoing back surgery before I needed to return to the hospital, so I did the one thing every queer man does with a few hours to spare: hop on Grindr.
Lucky for me, the hospital was in a particularly gay part of Los Angeles, so all the boys were douched and within walking distance. A few men hit me up, seemed interested, but stopped responding. One man told me he could blow me in the bathroom of his job. He then showed me videos of him sucking a cock with a bulbous mushroom head pushing against his cheek so that he looked like a chipmunk. Photos of his ass in a jockstrap followed. He had blond fuzz on his peach and a hole so pink, you’d have thought he had shoved Barbie’s Dreamhouse up his rear end.
“Can I fuck you in the bathroom, too?” I asked. Lord forbid I take what’s given to me on a platter. I always have to ask for more—but in my defense, I had never seen a hole that pink.
“You can play with it,” he said before sending over an address. All right, not a fuck, but a good ass eating and blowjob—what man can resist? I plugged the address into Google Maps and learned he worked at a famous bookshop that should absolutely carry my book. Boyslut was BORN to be front and center of that store window.
“Hey, do you carry Boyslut: A Memoir and Manifesto?” I asked.
“Yeah, we should.”
“Awesome, I’ll come by and sign some copies as well. How many copies do you have?”
He asked when I could be there, and I told him 15 minutes.
Reader, this man did not give a flying fuck about my book. The man was trying to coat his throat with cum and had no desire to discuss my sales.
Ya know what? I thought to myself. Let me not be annoying and just enjoy a blowjob from a horny gay man in a bookstore. Not everything has to be about the book all the time.
Fifteen minutes later, I walked into the store and was quickly greeted by him.
“How many copies of Boyslut do you have?” I couldn’t help myself.
“We actually sold out,” he said. I was now dubious.
“But you do carry it, right?”
He assured me he did, and the sales have been great, hence them selling out. I was about to rant: If the book is doing so well that it sold out, shouldn’t you order more? Isn’t that the logical thing to do? But I managed to contain myself. Besides, he was wearing these lavender shorts that couldn’t contain his ass. His booty cheek was popping out the bottom, and his button-down shirt was open to the point you could see his nips. They were huge and pointy, which, apparently, I’m into.
“Should we…” Luckily, no one was in the store, so he could easily lead me to the bathroom. He ripped off my track pants before I could empty my pockets. He was hungry for cock. Ravenous. Malnourished and needed vitamin D to survive.
He started to suck HARD. Honestly, that’s not my favorite, at least not initially. To get me erect, I prefer a soft touch. Smooth lips, spit on it. Jerk it. Tease me to the point that my dick is throbbing, and then wrap your DSLs around my base and foam over my shaft like you’re seizing.
But I could tell he needed this. This BJ wasn’t for me. It was for him, and as a greedy dick sucker myself, I let him continue uninterrupted until I pulled down his pants and spread his cheeks to see his hot pink hole. I licked my hand and slipped a finger in. He was somehow tight and loose simultaneously.
Like, I think he was genuinely tight but had such anal control that he could loosen his hole upon command. I pushed his head down to my base with my elbows, and he didn’t gag. Fair enough, in one of the videos he sent over, he was deepthroating a 10-incher while smiling, so there was no way I could get him to choke. No matter, I was thoroughly enjoying myself, smacking his booty, until he turned around and bent over in a tabletop position.
Okay, I guess he did want to fuck, I thought. I dropped to my knees on the cold bathroom floor and looked around for lube, but there was none—ironic since this shop sells lube. I spat on the tip of my middle and ring finger, then stuck it in his hole. He sniffed some poppers, which he pulled out of thin air, and loosened.
Don’t hate me, but I kinda like a dry fuck. It’s when I’m my most sadistic. I like knowing that I’m literally tearing you up—and you’re going to be in pain and REMEMBER this fuck. It’s a massive turn-on. (To be clear, I use lube 99% of the time and heavily prefer it. This is something I only do on occasion with cum pigs who prefer spit. Oh, and if you ever try to stick your dick in my ass without lube, I will rip off your testicles and use them as Baoding balls.)
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