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It's a long ride to 45 -- Cocksearch 2009 -- May 4

Ten years ago, an attorney at law, based in Chicago, decided to document one year of his itinerant sex life on a blog dedicated to his project, Cocksearch 2009. LustSpiel reposts his findings man by man, date by date. Enjoy the writing, which ranks easily among the best in contemporary erotic literature.

Cold. Rainy. Windy. Nasty. Sunday. Yuk. You all know where my mind wanders to. It didn't take long to find an ad from a guy who says, in short: "I'm a real estate agent showing a place (which is near me), and there's nobody here and I'm bored and horny." Good, sounds like an assignment for me. He allows, in correspondence, that he's married and has to stay discrete about this. Better!

But meanwhile, I'm also going back and forth with a guy who posted an ad saying, in short: "MWM wants to get a group together this afternoon." And just as I'm ready to go see the real estate agent, MWM emails saying 3:00 pm (it was about 1:30 at that point), promising 5 guys, and giving me an address. I guess rainy Sundays can work out OK after all.
I head over to the real estate guy. When I sign in at the front desk in the high-rise building, the doorman (actually, it was a chick - standards are slipping in the doorman business) pointed to a woman sitting on a sofa across the lobby and informs me she's a real estate agent. Was I looking for her? "No, definitely not," I offered quickly. That's the last thing I need: a female real estate agent trying to get her hooks into me. Fortunately, the door-chick did not press the matter further. Elevator to 10.
The apartment door was ajar, inviting me in. The agent greets me warmly, though there's no acknowledgement that I'm there to suck his dick. He actually shows me around a bit before he squeezes his package and looks at me meaningfully. I'm standing at the side of the bed when he does this, and he gestures for me to take a seat. Nicely orchestrated, bud.

He's sorta stylishly dressed

He's maybe 40, 5'9", 175. Not great shape, not bad. Sorta stylishly dressed - definitely more so than I. (For those of you trying to get a picture of your blogger casually dressed, think outdoorsy, active kinda guy.) No ring. He plays with himself through his jeans for a minute, I help out. He unzips. The phone rings. Damn! It's the front desk. The real estate agent viper in the lobby is bringing up some clients. He apologizes, and encourages me to stay. He urges me to take a couple long sucks on his nicely hardening 6 incher before quickly zipping up and fixing his shirt. "Elevators are fast here, new construction building." It's OK, you don't need to sell me. I got a nicer apartment already.
This place is in a shiny new all-glass tower in a great location. One bedroom, very stylishly done up. A little too stylish. Not my taste. This place that's going to look dated fast. But it looks good now. Shows well, as they say in the real estate biz.
The viper and a 50-something couple walk in. She's extolling the virtues of the place, and introduces her clients to the guy whose dick was in my mouth not a minute before. "This is ___, and as I told you, he's the owner." What? "And the listing agent!" This seemed amusing to her, but not to me. "And __, why don't you show [insert names of 50-something couple] all of the fabulous upgrades you've made!" Gee, I thought the place looked pretty spun up. The picture gelled. I'd been had. Someone on the internet had lied. Surprise, surprise. Well, I sorta thought my gaydar had gone off. Damn, better get it adjusted. This dude was gay, and upscale tacky too. I'm out of here.
I interrupted his monologue on the new kitchen cabinets to say: "Well, ___, thanks for the tour. I don't think this place is quite my taste." And I marched out and down the hall to the elevator, leaving ___ with the viper and her clients.
But this was no big loss: I had another encounter not 45 minutes away. No problem, I stopped at my gym (only a couple blocks from the site of the upcoming - could it be a 5-way?) and had a steam. Ideal.
Out of the gym, I plowed on through the driving rain, cold and fog. What a nasty day. I arrived on time, and was able to survey the situation in the lobby, where the host had told us to collect. Damn, there are several guys sitting around, looking like they're trying to appear they don't know each other. And they all look quite acceptable for a nasty Sunday afternoon. This is actually happening. I push into the lobby and walk over to them. The apparent ring-leader, 45, a little heavy, balding, immediately gestures to the group as I approach and he leads us past the doorman with a wave. On the elevator, I'm taking inventory of the guys. OK, next me: SWEET! 30ish, cute. But seriously standoff-ish. He eyes me sideways. A heavy-set guy, crew-cut, maybe 50. Looks fit. A handsome, 40 tops, wavy-haired guy whose looks shouted "Erin, go bragh!" Kinda dreamy eyed. Nice. And our host.
It's quiet, awkward in the elevator. And it's a long ride to 45. Our leader ushers is into a small one bedroom apartment. Mezzuzah by the door. I guess he's going to be cut, huh? It's foggy up here, and scarcely anything of the view can be seen. We all kick out of our shoes in the living room. This place is a couple notches down, more lower-upper mid-priced furniture than the last place. Tidy as all stinkin' get out. Lots of pictures of our host and middle aged woman who, our host informs us, is due back later, so we all need to be out of there by 4:00. OK, the wedding ring is real.
Everyone disrobes mechanically in the bedroom. Our host is hairy, and has a nice chunky fat short dick. The Irish guy has nice dark pubes, and a medium sized cock. The body's OK, nothing special. The heavy crew-cut guy. Ummm, no thanks. Shaved, and he has a long none-too-springy uncut cock. Sorry. The 30ish guy, however, has a HUGE dick - fat and long - and a sweet, shaved athletic mesomorph's body. Delectable. But very stand-offish. Look in his eyes, and there's nothing there to connect to. I'm starting to get the feeling he knows Irish guy. They're hanging together. Everyone's trading hands. Our host gets on his knees and starts giving everyone a shot at his throat. But the mesomorph won't allow it. Irish guy goes for a round of cock-tasting as well. I taste Irish guy briefly. He's very passive, and, like the mesomorph, not really connecting. 5-ways are awkward. And intricate to describe. Yeesh.
Suffice to say, Irish winds up fucking the mesomorph. It's clear to me now they're a couple, and they want to show off mesomorph. And he shows well. He remains as detached as ever while Irish is fucking him. Irish cums. I'd like a shot at mesomorph's ass, but he's not allowing that. I get forward, and he allows me the privilege of getting a couple fingers into his stretched-out ass while he jacks off slowly. He doesn't cum, though. He and Irish disappear into the bathroom. Fuck this. I've been teasing myself along now for a while, and I just lie back on the bed and let go an orgasm. I shoot extremely well - some jiz actually got past my shoulder. (Work those kegels, guys. It's a kind of fitness that pays excellent dividends.) The host and the other guy definitely to appreciate it. They finish, too, as I wipe up. It's about 3:35. Our host's wife is back soon. I wonder whether he's playing to get caught . . . wouldn't that be a fascinating scene?
The four guests ride down together, along with a woman from a higher floor. Nearing the first floor, I, never one to hold back from asking an awkward question, ask Irish and the meosmorph, "So, do you two know each other?" He shakes his head silently. Mesomorph doesn't flinch. I note that the two of them stay behind in front of the building as the other guy and I march off into the rain.


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