Yesterday I pulled out the journal I kept when I was just out of college and I came across an entry documenting my lust for men wearing suits and loafers.
Thursday, April 9, 1987
Today, after work, I stopped at Bloomingdale’s. Yes, you know the place – the fifth floor men’s room. As I entered, an older gentleman passed me.
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| He reminds me of my Bloomingdale's businessman. |
He wore a grey pinstripe suit and dark brown tasseled slip-ons. As he passed, I looked at him with interest.
I hadn’t been at the urinal too long when he came back in. We were the only two at the urinals and I saw his flaccid cock. It hung out of his wool trousers but it began to come to life in his hand and out popped one of the biggest, fattest cocks I have ever laid eyes on. The sight of it made me weak as the foreskin moved back and forth over the plump, purplish head. I let out an audible moan.
To make a long story short, I followed him out of the men’s room and finally approached him on the street. “I would love to have safe sex with you,” I told him. He took me to his townhouse on the Upper East Side and told me his name was Jim.
When we got inside he sat on the arm of his sofa and I sat in an arm chair opposite him. I looked down at his loafers which were snug-fitting and molded to the shape of his feet.
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| His brown loafers were similar to these in both style and fit. |
His legs were spread and he unzipped his trousers and freed his cock. It was already glistening with pre-cum – I mean it really oozed it, and as he stroked it, moving the foreskin up and down, thick gobs of it were bubbling out of his piss slit. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have that thing up in me – it was the thickest, hardest prick I’ve ever handled - but I knew it was not possible.
We engaged in various forms of masturbation – his big dick between my legs, vice versa, a little tit play. Pseudo oral sex – he poked his cock into my throat (on the outside, not in my mouth). He licked my balls and shaft. I licked his balls. I couldn’t lick the shaft as it had been covered with so much precum. The most dangerous thing that happened was his finger being poked around my asshole. It didn’t go in but it had precum on it so I don’t know if that means anything.
When I left, my legs were weak and I wondered why I had done it and why I’m so preoccupied. I really wish I had a boyfriend, then I wouldn’t think of such things.
Needless to say, I eventually came to the realization that having a boyfriend would do nothing to keep me from thinking of such things. I just can't help myself...
