It has always been a struggle keeping my bisexuality under control (male, primarily hetero, but sucked a few safe clean c**** along the way). I have always been ashamed of the one totally irresponsible time I could not control it. I was a classic t****. Tall, thin, obscenely endowed, constantly feeling as if my insatiable c*** was in control of me. I am not effeminate, but am definitely a bottom by nature if not experience. From the time I was 12 I was always getting approached by the stereotype older creepy cruising men, even though I did not understand what they wanted until I was 16.
I had a rare window of opportunity that I tried so hard to control, but failed. Off work at mid day during the week. I deliberately dressed provocatively, in a white tshirt and a pair of cutoff jeans, cut off so short they qualified as male Daisy Dukes, rode high (to very top of my thighs, and barely under my a** cheeks in back). Classic tighty whitey underwear, my c*** was a grower byt VERY small when not erect), but my balls were always enormous and it did not take much for them to bulge out of the leg holes in those cutoffs. I was experiencing an intense mental and emotional and physical rush. I wanted to be manhandled/groped/used by one of those creeps. I could barely contain the excitement as I drove to a large adult book store/peep show place. I was somewhat aware that I was playing the target/victim but I was essentially the predator…my target was just the classic predator. I walked in to the usual setting, everyone quietly perusing the video section. I saw him instantly. I made sure he saw me as I randomly browsed until I had his attention. He started to follow me “discreetly” while I eventually moved from hetero to bi to gay p*** sections. I was deliberately bending over in front of him, giving him a tempting show. I was loving how he stared, stood closer, he was breathing heavily. I could already feel myself beginning to drip without being hard, how my testicles were crawling. It sounds cliche but in that moment time was in slow motion. I was longing to feel him touch me, but with the other patrons around, I was frustrated that he would not make a move like I wanted him to. He stood so close that he could see the cover case of the young man/old man gat DVD I was deliberately looking at to get his attention. When his breath was on my neck I couldn’t stand it any more, I “accidentally” stepped back into him. I mumbled an apology but was thrilled to have felt his firm bulge against my a** in those obscene shorts I was wearing. I was so shameless,deliberately bending over in front of him to put the movie back on the low shelf. I was frustrated though, because in my head I was wondering what it would take to get him to make any move. I bent over again,grabbing another random movie as a pretense to push my a** back into him, and this time he pushed his hips forward briefly, his c*** clearly hard despite his clothing. I was helpless and lost at that point, and gently ground my a** against him while still bent over. I straightened and asked him over my shoulder if he had seen the movie in my hand, if he thought I would like it, saying any stupid thing to get him to interact with me in any way. He stayed behind me, his breath on my neck, muttering to me, I had no idea what he was saying. It was the only time in my life that I felt helplessly on fire for a man, despite him being exactly what had scared me when I was younger. I wanted to be fondled and groped, I wanted him manhandling me, I wanted to kneel right there and beg for his c*** in my mouth, I wanted to be bent over and fucked and didn’t care anymore. As I coyly and manipulatively leaned back into him, another movie in one hand, I looked around quickly and let my free hand drop between us so I could rub the hard bulge through his pants. He stiffened and gasped but grabbed my wrist and took it from his crotch. Pathetically my heart sank. But then he told me to follow him and just talk to him when he talked to me. I did so, not realizing that he was far smarter than I was, gradually moving us to the hallway to the back of the store where the peep booths were. My insides churned at that point…I was sure he was going to lead me into a booth and things would happen there. I was almost sick to my stomach with the self awareness that I was about to do the exact thing I had always kept myself from doing. But I wanted it even though I was afraid at the same time. Every horrible outcome…disease, brutal r***/injury, a police raid catching me on my knees with a stranger’s c*** in my mouth. But I could not turn back and part of me craved it no matter how desperately. He finally looked around then took my wrist and lead me into that dark hallway, all the way to where it ended at the door to the last booth and the back emergency exit. But he stopped short of the last door, and suddenly was all over me. He forced me to face the wall, yanked up my tshirt, was pinching my n****** and pawing my torso, shoved his knee up between my thighs hard, my feet naturally spread, and I was in fear and in heat. He pulled my hips back and one of his hands shoved into the leg hole of those ridiculous shorts, dug into the leg hole of my underwear, and his grip on my testicles was brutal. I moaned and whimpered and struggled but he was crushing my testicles in his grip, and he bit the back of my neck hard. Now I was genuinely scared and paralyzed. My face was burning, my teasing lust gone. The only thing I could think was “my god i am going to be raped right here” and it was my fault. His arm came up around my throat and he threatened me. Called me a pathetic little f***** tease. Told me if I made a sound or fought he would drag me out and beat me like I deserved in the parking lot. I was exactly what he called me, I had tried to play a game I had no chance of winning. Frightened and ashamed because my lust and stupidity had put me here. I wanted to crawl into my shame and die. His free hand that wasn’t crushing my testicles fumbled behind me, I heard his pants drop, and then he forced my hand to his c***. That was all it took, I could not see it but it felt incredibly thick and hot in my hand. He thrust his c*** in my hand a few times, it didn’t feel enormously long but my god, it was so thick and hot and hard. It took me a moment to process what I was feeling before it dawned on me he was uncircumcised. My lust was back, I found shorter thick c**** breathtaking and was always fascinated with an uncut c***. I tried to reach under him to feel his balls in my hand but he yanked my hand away, and told me to not try to touch him again. He yanked his hand out of the leg hole of my shorts, and I was glad the pain in my testicles was gone but part of me wanted his hand back gripping them. His hands came around my waist, unfastened and unzipped my shorts, and my shorts and underwear were yanked down. It was incredibly awkward and shameful, I was half naked with my shorts and underwear around my ankles, bare assed, and dripping from a limp p**** that had no desire to get hard. I felt his fingertips graze my cheeks, then he grabbed and squeezed them, and it was the last thing he said to me. He said “what a sweet little f***** a**.” I wanted to crawl into a hole and die even though it was true. His hands grabbed my hips and then all I could feel or think about was the heat of his c*** rubbing up and down between the cheeks of my a**. He ground against me roughly, but I was pushing back against him, no desire to get away, bent forward at the waist, my hands bracing on the wall in front of me as I ground the cleft between my a** cheeks back as eagerly as he was h****** his c*** against me. At some point I realized I was taller, because I felt his c*** lower and deeper between my cheeks, and I raised up on tip toes to get it lower and deeper. I wanted him to f*** me. I wanted every man in the place to f*** me. R*** me. For a moment I felt his c*** head pushing against my a** and I just pushed back more, bent over more, and asked him to please f*** me. It was all I could think of and all I wanted. But his hand came around and clamped over my mouth and he started thrusting lower, between my thighs, his c*** head getting the back and bottom of my testicles wet and slick as he pounded against me, not f****** me, just thrusting under my cheeks between my thighs. I was pathetically whimpering “please” with his hand over my mouth. I was surprisingly clear minded for what seemed a long time but probably wasn’t long at all. The disgusting thing I was doing, utterly ashamed, the only sound his breathing and the slap of his hips against my a** cheeks as he rubbed himself off f****** the insides of my thighs. I vaguely remember the sound of a door opening and closing, him shoving hard and deep and going still, voices and footsteps. Probably peep show/booth patrons. Part of me panicked, part of me wanted to scream for help, why won’t they help me, don’t they see me? And even in that moment, realizing it was the dirty secret part of a dirty book store and who would pay attention to that pathetic pair of men in the dark while a f***** gets what he wants and deserves. That was the low point, I moaned under his hand still clamped over my mouth and the tears poured down my cheeks. Not fear, not r***, just at how stupid I had been and how low I had sunk. His hips began to pound again, and it seemed like forever before he sped up, stiffened and moaned, and shoved so deep between my thighs I came off the floor for a moment when I felt the hot stickiness spurting between my inner thighs and against my testicles. Spurt after spurt, he pulled out from between my thighs and shot in the cleft of my a**, and still I tried to push back and force his c*** into me before it stopped squirting. But he still had his hands on my hips tightly, and just thrust back between my thighs for his final spurts and drips. No movement, I heard him breathing heavily, then he was pulling his pants up and zipping up. And still all I could think was please no please don’t leave please f*** me. Don’t let this be over. He stepped back and turned to leave and despite my shame, despite that I was still standing there hands against the wall partially bent over with a stranger’s sperm dripping down my thighs and even a little wet between my a** cheeks, I actually said “Please don’t go.” I imagine I deserved the sneer I got before he pushed on the emergency door and walked out. The emergency lights came on, the alarm sounded, noise and people everywhere, and there I am, the guy right by the back door, shorts and underwear around his ankles and c** dripping down his thighs, blinded. Some man’s voice was yelling, something like “what the f*** are you doing?” I imagine. But I was the exposed from the waist down f***** with c** running down his leg running out the emergency door into the broad daylight after my creepy ultimate fantasy molestor as he was already half in his car and starting his engine. I was the pathetic train wreck of a frustrated helplessly desperate and needy f***** with his shorts held half up in his hands while shouting and begging the stranger whose c** was still wet and sticky on me to please wait as I literally fell awkwardly while trying to run after his fantasy as that fantasy drove off without a look back. I remember running, I remember shouting, I remember sitting in my car at a parking lot miles and moments later sobbing with a stranger’s c** drying on my thighs and wet still in the crack of my a**. I remember pulling myself together enough to drive home and look around to make sure no one saw me before I bolted for the shower and trying to scrub it all away like it never happened. And after that shower, trying to sleep to escape thinking about it, waking up caught in those moments in my head and reaching for the toy and lube and f****** myself senseless with every hot and pathetic moment of it all running thru my head. Now my fantasy had a half remembered face, a perfect but never seen remembered c***, an enormous flood of c** I craved in my body and throat.

I was shocked that I was not recognized or remembered the next time I went to that book store. Looking for him like I did periodically for over a year. Sometimes dressed normally and a few times dressed like the c*** tease that got me in that painful place. And never actually doing anything with anyone there ever again…but not because of shame or guilt or sanity. Because no one was that man.