September 9th, 1981
Odd day– nearly out of sorts, low energy. Wondering if I may be coming down with a cold. Busy at work. I try to concentrate on doing what has to be done efficiently and relaxing. I keep saying to myself “Relax, enjoy”. It makes work a lot more manageable. Lower Manhattan has an electrical blackout this afternoon. The entire city below 14th Street without electricity. I walked home because the subways were not running. I stopped at Penn Station to cruise the men’s room. The streets jammed with people trying to get home at rush hour without subways. I pushed myself into the throbbing mob stampeding into Penn Station wondering why I was doing this. Cruising a tea-room, really. But once I was standing at the urinal next to a straight looking number playing wit his huge swollen hard-on I knew what brought me there. Men’s room sex is furtive and nasty and turns me on like crazy. It activates and satisfies those feelings of sexuality that were formed in early adolescence– or deformed, perhaps. I stayed at the men’s room by the Long Island Railroad for awhile, then went upstairs to the larger men’s room. I had just stepped up to the urinal, when a stunning dark Latin beauty, muscled, beautiful body, gorgeous face– stepped up next to met and pulled out a beautiful dark uncircumcised cock. I immediately had a hard-on. Suddenly we were both blatantly masturbating and watching each other. We both had orgasms within a minute, at the same time. My knees nearly buckled as I exploded cum into the urinal and felt orgasm shake my body. I looked over and saw him shooting a huge load. I zipped up my pants and he turned and smiled– a broad beautiful grin– showing white teeth. I smiled back. I put my sunglasses on as I went up the stairs. I looked to see if he was following. He wasn’t. At the top of the stairs I stopped and lit a cigarette. I wondered if I should wait for him. God, he was handsome. I thought about giving him my phone number. Then I turned quickly and left– no, don’t try to capture this excitement. It only exists for that one swollen moment. That’s it’s excitement and beauty. I left the station and walked home feeling marvelous.
It is not David I think of tonight as I lie in the dark and conjure up my sexual fantasies. It is a dark Latin beauty. And he will be with me probably for years. Romantic love precludes that rich sexuality that only exists in my imagination. For one exploding moment my hot Latino stud entered my imagination and merged in the fabric of my fantasy– to be called back and replayed over and over again. It will be that thick uncut cock squirting cum that I see when I close my eyes and fuck David.