Curio Shoppe

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Call me Scott. This all happened back in the early eighties, before internet chat rooms made it easier to ‘hook up’ anonymously. Nearly thirty, I had been celebrating my two month-old divorce by doing something my ex detested, traveling from town to town in different states, visiting flea markets and antique stores. I had picked up some old radios, metal toys and album covers, now that I was again free to collect such things. One spring Saturday afternoon, I reached a shop in an old brick building in a little town in South Carolina.

A small cowbell clunked as the exiting postman hurried past me, nodding silently as I held the heavy wooden door open for him. This apparently masked my entry into the shop, as I could overhear a heated, dirty phone conversation resuming, one that was definitely intended to be private.

“I’ve held my nut for two weeks for you and…”

The unseen guy’s voice, coming from the office behind the counter, was furious and seemed to have a New England accent, a contrast to all the southern drawls I had been hearing on this trip.

“Every time we talked I told you about that, and you said it wouldn’t be a problem!… Yeah well those Polaroids were only a couple years old…No, you’re a fucking liar!”

He wasn’t speaking very nicely. I should have made some noise so he would know I was in the building, but it didn’t occur to me as I continued to eavesdrop. Evidently they met via a personals ad for sex and the caller on the other end of the phone showed up but abruptly left. I was about to step softly back to the door and make the cowbell ring again to make it seem like I had just walked in. I froze in my tracks when he began insulting the caller’s dick size and threatening to ‘cut it off” if he ever saw him again. This failed rendezvous was with a another guy!

My mind raced. It had nothing to do with my divorce, but I always knew I was bi. Meeting a willing, discreet guy was another proposition. I had always hoped for an opportunity such as this. Now that it was upon me, I could feel myself making excuses to leave the building and stay in my safety zone.

Suddenly a huge man appeared from the back room. He looked Greek or Italian, with 1970s’ length, dark, salt and pepper hair, thick glasses and a full beard. His blue tennis shirt clung tightly to his obese frame. About five and a half feet tall, he had to have weighed way over three hundred pounds. Body hair flowed out the side of his collar. I noticed several dark moles on his neck before he began yelling at me.

“How long have you been here? We’re closed! Get out of my store you sneaky bastard!”

Not surprised at his mood, but insulted by his command to leave, I shrugged, turned and walked out. I could see why the other guy left. This antique dealer had no people skills. All thoughts of giving my first blowjob had vanished. My wimpy side was relived that I wouldn’t have to admit my secret cravings, and they would have to wait. Again.

The Curio Shoppe, as it was called, was on a narrow lot between other buildings, and its parking was on a weed-bordered gravel patch behind the store. I had almost reached my Datsun pickup when a voice called out and the screen door to the back of the building slammed.

“Sir? Sir?” The big guy was rushing as best he could toward me, his hand extended to shake mine. “Hey, I need to apologize. I’m sorry. I was just having a crappy day. Ya know ya can’t depend on some people. I’m Pete.”

He said his multi-syllable last name but my mind didn’t retain it as his huge, fat fingers surrounded my hand. He went on to complain about the downfall of society in general and eventually offered me a twenty percent discount on whatever I bought. He even managed to smile a little as he stood perspiring in his moistening shirt and olive green Bermuda shorts. His hairy calves were thick and he wore a large, wide pair of discount sneakers and battered socks. I introduced myself and we talked for a moment about my trip, and he seemed relieved that I was from out of state, that his secret was seemingly safe in this small town.

I consented to follow him back into the rear of the building, and entered a storage room, lit only by the open doors at either end. Boxes and stacks of books were everywhere, and overflowing, bare wood shelves lined the walls. In the midst of the chaos there was a sofa and coffee table across from an old TV and fridge. Apparently that was the ’employee lounge’. As I took all this in my mind and pulse raced. Should I ask him the question? Would he even like me enough to at least let me suck his dick? I was younger than him but I was no muscle hunk either, just average. Nearly trembling, I decided to take the dive, so to speak.

“Sorry I heard your phone call…uh..”

“Forget about it!” he said, irritated that I mentioned it.

I began to stutter nervously. “I could…um…you know..”

“What?” He turned around and glared at me. He smelled of cigarettes.

“Oh, you want his number?” Pete grunted sarcastically.

“No! I mean…I could do what he was going to…Fill in for…that guy…if beşevler escort you…” I said, unable to look him in the eye and losing volume in my voice. My pulse was racing.

“That guy,” he said, mocking me, “was a slimy little faggot who said he wanted my cock, at least until he met me. I doubt that’s what you mean.”

“Um, yeah, that is what I mean,” I said more assertively, the reference to his dick and the mental image it created bolstering my courage. There was a long pause. He looked me up and down.

“Humph, I didn’t figure ya for a meat smoker.” He turned and began walking away.

“It’s my first time, but..” I admitted, relieved he got my message and flattered that he at least hadn’t refused yet.

“Forget it! You’ll run out of here just like he did. I repulse people.”

“Nah! I’m sure he had some other reason for…”

“Here!” Pete spun around to face me again and lifted his blue tennis shirt up, revealing his body up to his armpits. “See ya later!”

Pete’s large, wide belly and chest were thick with gray and black hair, but the flaw he was referring to was obvious. Hundreds of moles and skin tags were plastered all over his pale torso. They were various shades of brown, some the size of a tomato seed, others as large as aspirin tablets. They were more prolific where his hair was more dense, almost in an hourglass pattern from his navel to his shoulders.

“Bye!” he shouted as he snapped the shirt down.

In the past I had encountered a few moles of course when visiting various areas of women’s bodies, and had tended to avoid them. Any such protrusions I found on my own body I considered unattractive and had removed by a doctor. But I thought I could possibly work around Pete’s large crop, since sex with a another man, at least for me, was all about his cock, not his body.

“So?” I shrugged, hiding my reservations, but looking directly at him.

“You don’t find me disgusting?”

“No, I…”


“No really. If you don’t like me, then that’s a different…”

“Okay, we’ll see!” Pete shuffled to the front of his store and locked the door, and flipped around a hanging sign, closing his shop. My dick began to stiffen with excitement. This was actually happening!

He returned to the storage room, flipped a couple light switches and adjusted a thermostat on his way to shut the back door. Several large, hanging florescent shop lights flickered on, illuminating the dirty storage room brightly like a department store. Air conditioning kicked on. He ambled right up to where I was standing.

“If you actually like this,” he said, pulling off his shirt, “kiss a few of them.” His arm and torso flesh quivered as he broke free of the moist shirt.

I could do this, kiss a few, then blow him, sure. I leaned in to his wide chest, picking a pencil eraser-sized, dark brown, bubbly mole on his pectoral to demonstrate with. His scent, a mixture of smoke and cheap cologne, drifted into my nose. I surrounded the protrusion with my lips, giving it a quick peck.

“No. Make out with it. Suck it like a nipple!”

I retuned to the same spot, and licked the stiff bump for several seconds, then drew it into my mouth, slightly tugging.

“Another!” he said pointing at a large one near his navel. I bent down and repeated my previous motions. Inexplicably, my dick was growing in my pants.

“Damn, you must really want some cock!” Pete said condescendingly, almost laughing.

“Yes I do.” I said weakly. I heard a belt buckle jingle.

“Take your clothes off. Scotty the new fag needs it bad!” He said, mocking me but sliding his shorts and well worn briefs down to his ankles and stepping out of them. I couldn’t see his dick for his overhanging, hairy, mole-peppered stomach, a disappointment.

My own shorts, briefs, and shirt were off and tossed onto a box in moments. We both stood facing each other, both of us wearing only socks and sneakers. My pulse was racing, I was trembling with excitement, and obvious to Pete, my seven inch, circumcised dick was stiff, throbbing, and pointed straight at him. He knew he had me at a great disadvantage, and made his degrading demand known.

“If you want it, you have to kiss every mole on my body!” Pete said seriously. He turned around and leaned forward. “Start with the back of my balls and work your way up and around! He put a foot up onto the sofa to give me access to his swaying, furry, low-hanging sack. “Change your mind yet?”

“No,” I replied as I took in the sight in front of me. He had the hairiest ass and back I had ever seen. The moles, strangely, were mostly absent from his arms, legs and cheeks, but formed wide two columns up either side of his back. I dropped to the floor and sat on the frayed maroon shag carpet, and scooted beneath him. I straddled the leg he was standing on, my roving stiff dick rubbed up against his dirty sock-covered ankle. All I could smell was sweat and an earthy hint of butt hole. That whiff reminded me that I would be soon be rimming him, whether he beylikdüzü escort demanded it or not, and my cock throbbed even harder. I took both hands and pushed aside the thick nest of pubes between his legs. I noticed his hand was holding his dick, again keeping it out of view. His nuts were huge, the size of Roma tomatoes. However, they looked like they had been dipped in cocoa rice kids’ cereal, dense with moles. Still, they felt terrific and heavy in my kneading hands.

“Kiss them!” Pete yelled from above.

I cradled them in my palm, then stuck out my tongue and began my first time licking and sucking on a man’s nuts. I made a slobbering, noisy mess. Spit drained down my chin and off the lowermost moles. It occurred to me at this moment that his cock might be coated with moles like his balls. At this point I didn’t care. I was loving every second of this.

“That’s a good little faggot!” He said after a few minutes and told me to move up.

I changed from a sitting to a squatting position, and spread his heavy, doughy ass cheeks apart. Peppered with about a dozen moles, his crack was laden heavily with dense, moist hair. My cock throbbed. His brown rim was greater than the diameter of a quarter. Wrinkled and complex, it was surrounded by a large sunburst of reddish pleats. The entire area glistened with sweat. I tried not to think of what had passed through that ring of flesh as I stiffened my tongue and plunged it in and withdrew several times, just like I had fantasized about for years. Pete complimented me on my ‘fag mouth’ and squirmed his hips around, moaning quietly. It tasted salty and sharp, and I spent several minutes giving it attention before licking up the divide.

The large man stood up straight as I began to kiss and nuzzle the various sized moles and tags ensconced in his prolific back hair. I switched from side to side in a zigzag pattern, pressing the flab on his moist back flat so he could feel me wiggle around the brown protrusions. I finally reached his upper shoulder blade, and put my hands back at my side.

Pete reached back and alternately grabbed my wrists, insisting I feel all over his body, caressing his sweaty, hairy skin and its protrusions. The escalating scent of his body odor made my stiff cock ache, and it rubbed up against his hip as I reached a wide shoulder. It was strange and exciting that my stiff dick was touching the bare skin of another male.

He guided me to his stiffened nipple, bigger than that of many women I had encountered. A more familiar sensation, except for the long hairs protruding from it, I sucked and nibbled, while pinching and tugging the other.

“Okay that’s enough,” he said to my surprise. Pete then stacked one of the sofa cushions atop another, then sat on them and reclined on the creaking couch along its length. His hips were higher than his shoulders.

This caused his huge stomach to shift downhill toward his chest, revealing a glistening, reddish brown, beautifully thick circumcised cock, like a fat, wide dill pickle. It was about six inches, hard and pulsing, and I felt my own dick clench at the sight of it. As I got closer I saw what may have scared the other guy off, if he even got this far. There were several large clusters of dark moles surrounding the base of his shaft, of course buried in gray and black pubes. One was as big as a gummy bear, and it was right where someone’s nose would hit after taking all of that gorgeous meat into their mouth. Several pill-sized moles were partway up the shaft at least an inch from the base. A few pink skin tags, one the size of a pea, were latched on to the circumcised mushroom head. Still, my desire to suck it was maddening.

“Okay Scotty. Put that fag mouth to work.” Pete said, legs spreading to ease my access to him.

Trembling with excitement, I put one knee on the edge of the couch, bent down and extended my tongue and tasted a dick for the first time. I licked crazily all over the shaft, then opened wide to take it past my lips. I lowered my head until my nose bumped the large cluster of moles, then inhaled and held it to create the best vacuum possible as I raised my head. I snorted as I reached the top and began to flex my jaw slightly to massage the slick skin sliding over his muscle. I did a few more slow passes up and down, enjoying the gulping noise I was making, then started to speed up, twisting my neck occasionally, really ramping up the slurping and grunting. Having that stiff, fat cock in my mouth felt incredibly satisfying and was better than I ever imagined.

After another minute or so, Pete grunted, his hips jolted and suddenly my lips and chin were covered in jisim. More of the yellowish white spunk shot into the air and splashed onto his stomach. His chest heaved and he pushed my forehead back.

“You like that, faggot?”

“Yeah!” I answered, hiding my disappointment that it was over so quickly. Hopefully he would let me keep going. I had been fantasizing for years about feeling a soft cock grow in my mouth.

“Lick it bilecik escort up!” he commanded. “Taste good? Swallow it!”

“Yes!” I responded as my tongue dug around the base of his pubes. I slurped for several minutes, digging in between his moles and ingesting his salty, gooey sperm, along with several pubic hairs.

Finally, I had cleaned up the river of delicious cum off his hairy wide stomach. My dick ached and simply squeezing it between my thighs almost made me come. “Can I suck you again?” I asked right away before he could move off the couch. I also wanted to ask if he had planned to fuck the other guy, in hope that he wanted to plow my ass with that thick rod, but didn’t want to push things.

“How long are you in town for?” Came his answer, better than I expected.

Moments later, after a brief discussion of our schedules, I was nestled between his legs again, nosily sucking his inflating meat, my lips tight, creating as much of a vacuum as I could. Pete groaned and squirmed a little, hopefully because I was doing a good job. He was fully hard soon and I was doing my best imitation of a sewing machine, quickly bobbing up and down, thinking how lucky I was to get to blow this guy. I tried to take the whole length in each time, gagging occasionally, and I was working up a sweat with my spastic motions. With one hand I fondled his bumpy, furry nuts, wet from excess my slobber draining off them. The other hand occasionally held and stroked his thick, glistening shaft, but mostly wandered around his pelvic region, caressing and fingering the many protrusions. After several minutes, during a break in my cadence to catch my breath, and he raised a leg and his smelly sneaker passed over my head. His cock moved out of my reach, and my mouth felt a pang of hunger for the abruptly absent meat that had been filling it.

“Trade places!” he said.

I had never really fantasized about a guy sucking my dick, but was willing to let him do want he wanted, as I was grateful for chance to finally have a cock in my mouth. I laid down on the couch, but was pleasantly surprised as he grabbed my calves and spread my legs wide.

“Let’s see that virgin fag ass!”

It looked like the trade only meant positions. I was ecstatic at the prospect of being fucked. My stiff dick gyrated around as I scooted toward him until my cheeks were overhanging the arm. Pete opened a drawer and retrieved a white tube. Moments later I felt a fat, slick finger inserted in my hole, causing me to hum loudly with pleasure. It continued to probe me longer than needed to spread the lube, and I got the feeling he was checking to see if any shit was in the way. Inspection completed, he wiped his finger on a tissue.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes!” I tried to relax my hole.

“It’s gonna hurt!”

“I’ll be okay.” I responded, nervously. I had violated myself in the past with veggies, but could control the pace and duration.

“Try to relax,” he said, steering his glistening red mushroom head toward me and out of sight behind my inverted sack and hard dick, the end tingling and dripping with pre cum.

“Fuck me!” I managed to say before I felt my hole roughly splayed open by his girth. It hurt as much as expected as I grunted and contorted my face in pain, which I’m sure Pete enjoyed. His overhanging stomach shoved my balls up against my shaft as he leaned forward slightly, his cock buried to the root. He began to breathe heavily and pump his hips, and I occasionally looked at him or the ceiling as he pounded away.

The pain lessened and soon that fat dick felt great plunging into my hole. My balls had spread to either side of my aching cock, which was reclined and pointed toward my chin. His large hairy belly shook, crammed into the space between my thighs. Once I saw how his many moles below his navel were rubbing against the underside of my shaft, I suddenly felt all the muscles spasm in my lower body. From my widened, fully occupied asshole to the end of my rock hard meat, sandwiched between our stomachs, they locked into place. I was about to shoot my load!

It was kind of like waking up at the end of a wet dream. There was no control as I watched several drops dribble out. Then came the intense burning tingle as I grunted and several bursts of jisim flung themselves all over my stomach and chest up to my neck. The scent was instantly thick in the air as my splattered upper body convulsed with pleasure.

Pete looked surprised, and proud, I think, that he had such an effect on me. Encouraged, he pounded me harder, making the sofa creak loudly, its wood joints rhythmically complaining about the burden placed on them. After a couple minutes the pace increased and suddenly I felt another pang of hunger, this time in my empty ass as he staggered along the couch, his hand jerking his cock downward.

I think the large sweaty man was trying for my face, but didn’t make it as he grunted loudly, joyfully jacking his load onto my chest. His giant balls had produced another massive batch of warm, fragrant, gooey jisim, which joined and overtook what I had already sprayed myself with. He wiped off the remaining few drops by impaling his pee hole on my nipple, rock hard from the activity and the cool air in the room. Pete, in a surprisingly playful move, then grabbed my wrist and ran my hand through the thick white fluid, and then made me smear it on my face.

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