by Mighty Mouth

April 2, 2016

    My name is Bill Taylor. I am a free-lance photographer and historian. First off I need to explain that I am not one of the typical narrators of stories on gay sites. I am not 30 years old, am not 6' 2", don’t have blue eyes, and am not very much in shape.  In fact I am 60, balding, with a paunch, and 5' 8". If my statistics don’t match your expectations, please read a different story.

    I was given a gig by a popular history magazine to do a story on Pioneersville, a small city of about 25,000 located in the heart of the Midwest. I do not own nor drive a car, but since I live only five hours from there by road, I took at bus to fulfill my assignment. I left my town, Gooseneck Bend, at 10 a.m. and arrived promptly at 3 p.m. I checked into the inn where I had made a reservation in the downtown area, and decided to take a stroll.

    Pioneersville was settled in the early 1800s, and is a perfectly preserved city from all the periods since then. I walked down Main Street, with its stately restored Victorian storefronts. Benches are placed all along the street, and the whole atmosphere is very laid back, as befitting such a city. I was thinking that I need to hire a car and driver, since the city is a bit too large for a tired 60 year old to cover by foot.

    A distinguish-looking older gentleman was sitting on a bench, and I asked him, “I’m looking to rent a car with a driver. Do you know of someone?” He replied that he did not, but a guy sitting on the next bench replied, “Maybe I can help you. I am not working at the moment.” I took a good look at him. He seemed to be about 25, in good physical shape, and quite good-looking. He introduced himself as Patrick. We quickly agreed on a price, which was $75 per day. I didn’t yet know whether it would take one or two days to get my job done. He agreed to pick me up at 8 a.m. the next day at my hotel.

    He arrived on the hour, in an old jalopy, that had certainly seen better days. As I got in, he shook my hand, and said, “I’m a pretty agreeable guy, as long as nobody messes with me.” I thought his comment curious, and asked, “You mean when someone wants to pick a fight with you?” He replied, “No, when some queer tries to mess with me.” His response disturbed me. I am, and always have been, macho, and neither straights nor gays guess that I am gay, so he could not have known either.

    I replied, “Why do you bring this subject up?”

    He answered, “I just like to keep the record straight. I’m a pussy lover and always have been. I have a lot of bitches on the string.”

    I told him, “Let’s drop this subject right now. I didn’t come onto you.”

    The morning went well. I got photos of many of the storefronts, and some of the old elegant mansions. We came to a small park, about two blocks square. He said, “See that park there? Well at night queers hang around there to suck guys’ dicks.”

    Curious, I asked “How do you know that?”

    “Well, one night when I was about 20 years old and could not rouse any of my bitches by phone, I decided to take a walk from my house, just to try to calm my frustration and get rid of my hard on. When I walked into the park, there was a guy about your age sitting on a bench. As I passed him, he said , “How are things? Looking for action? I asked What kind of action?” He answered, “Well like getting your dick sucked.”

    I yelled, “You fucking faggot, no way. I left the park in a hurry. But when I got to the street, I thought, what the hell. I’m so fucking horny, and nobody will know.” So I went back in and told him OK. He took me into an area with bushes, and give me a fantastic blow job. I’ll never forget it. I don’t know why I am telling you all of this. I guess I feel guilty. But it will never happen again.”

    So I replied, “No problem, forget about it.”

    “It was now12:30, and I was beginning to get hungry. I asked Patrick, “Would you like join me for lunch?”

    He was quick to answer, “Hell, why not?”

    So I took him to my hotel for lunch. After a decent meal, with wine, I felt a bit tired. I said to him, “I think I’ll spend a little time in my room, what do you want to do?”    

    “I ain’t got nothin’ to do. Can I watch some TV in your room while you relax?”

    At this point I began to hatch a scheme to see what would happen. After all, I wanted to make it with him, but was afraid that he might beat the hell out of me. But I said, “Sure, that’s OK.”

    Once in my room, I asked him what he wanted to watch. “He replied, “Do they have a porno channel here?”

    I replied, “I donno, know, but let’s try.” Sure enough there was one, and he settled back to watch from the armchair, while I sat on my bed.

    I noticed that he got an immediate hard-on. He told me, “Man, I haven’t had any pussy for three days, I’m fucking horny. Would you mind if I jerk off in front of you, I can’t take it any longer.”

    I was surprised, but replied, “Be my guest.” Watching attentively, I was amazed to see a perfectly formed 8 inch prick pop out of his pants. I couldn’t resist saying, “What a beautiful dick you have.”

    He replied, “Hey man, I can’t believe what you just said. Are you interested?”

    I said, “You bet I am, how about it?”

    He replied “Go for it.”

    It was a great blow job from beginning to end for both of us. When I finished, he said, “Man don’t tell anyone about this. If you do I’ll kill you.”

        I told him, “Hey, I don’t live here, and don’t know anybody who lives here, so relax.’

    Then we left the hotel, and I spent 2 more hours taking photos, until it was 5 p.m. I said, “I’m finished with my project. Can you drive me to the bus station?”

    He replied, “of course.” In a few minutes we were there, and I paid him the agreed amount. He said, “Man, that was awesome. When will you be back in town?”

    I replied, “Probably never.”

    “Well in case you do, here is my card. But only phone me at home, OK?”

    I said no problem and looked at his card. I was shocked to the core. The card stated,

     Patrick Smith

    U.S. Secret Service.

    Work: 888-xxxx

    Home: 999-yyyy

    On the bus, I mused about what a strange guy he was, and what a weird experience. I kept the card, but have no plans to return to Pioneersville.

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Mighty Mouth


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