Opinion
2 min

The gay arcade (Part 2)

Surprises await in the private booths

After entering the gay arcade behind the sex shop, I was determined to find out what was going on in those booths.  Credit: Tup wanders/Flickr

 . . . A blackened silhouette of man stared back at me. When I didn’t react, he kicked the wall a couple of times like an animal rattling his cage. I fumbled with the door handle and got out as quickly as I could.

I went to the other side of the arcade and stood by the entrance. You’re trying another door. You’re not going to give up just like that. I waited a few minutes until another booth opened and I stepped inside. Gay porn played on a mini-screen built into the wall. The image was so saturated that I could barely tell what was going on: there were humans fucking, but that was all I could make out. Beyond that, it was set up like the previous booth: a glory hole on one wall and a larger hole above it. I was being watched.

A large penis poked through the glory hole like a cuckoo popping out of a clock. It was erect, oozing cum and looked like it was about to burst. It reminded me of DH’s cock. The times I slept with DH, I’d often end up in between his legs in the middle of the night, his cock resting on my neck and his precum smeared on my chin. I’d wake up hours later with his cock in my mouth. He’d come in my throat, and I’d go right back to sleep. I could do that again, I thought. I was on PrEP, and while I chose not to have bareback sex, I could swallow any load without worry.

The man pulled his cock out of the glory hole and replaced it with his hand, tapping his fingers impatiently. After a few moments, he removed his hand and placed his open mouth up against the hole. I finally understood: the arcade was like a form of organ donation. If you need a mouth, you’ll surely find someone who needs a cock.  

I left the booth.

I emerged from the Gulch and was blinded by the sun.

I’d come to San Francisco to take my mind off DH, but I just couldn’t forget about him. Running away wasn’t the solution. I had to embrace that he’s living underneath my skin.

I was a blank canvas when I first met him. He painted an image so alluring — a stylized reflection of his world — that it left me in awe of him. He is who I will become.

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