Randy was a KLM Airline Pilot

I had gone over to Amsterdam for a “dirty weekend” but I hadn’t made out at the clubs that evening, so around midnight, I decided to finish up at a sleazy side-street cinema.

They were showing some old Falcon movies I think, because there was a soundtrack consisting of a lot of heavy breathing accompanied by a great deal of “Suck that dick!” and “Fuck me, oh yeah, fuck me!” but I was more interested in what was going on in the shadows of the audience.

It was just a small place and there were only a few rows of seats salvaged from some old cinema that had clearly seen better days. The floor, although carpeted, felt sticky under my trainers and I remained standing at the back, where I would be free to move around if necessary, which is what a number of others were doing.

In one of the rows in front of me, in the light cast by the film being shown, I could make out people moving from seat to seat – and there seemed to be one guy sitting well back, with his cock out of his trousers and guys on each side of him taking turns to suck and wank him. I was quite shocked. It was all a bit much for me really, a naïve young guy of 22, not long “out” and still discovering things I had never imagined just a year or so before!

In the area along the wall at the back where I was standing, there were a number of figures and I watched the ritual unfold; a guy would shift places to stand next to his chosen quarry, both facing ahead and seemingly watching the film. In the darkness the “hunter” would move closer to his prey until he touched his chosen quarry; sometimes, the quarry would move away to find another position in the line along the wall, or to take up the role of “hunter” next to someone else. Sometimes, a hunter’s hand could be seen to pass in front of his chosen quarry, fingers feverishly investigating, exploring, squeezing. Occasionally, a hunter and his chosen quarry would whisper to each other in the darkness and then leave through a mysterious curtain on the other side, where there seemed to be an even darker area from which people would emerge from time to time.

Two or three times, I tried to summon up the courage to approach someone, only to be “pipped at the post” by someone else. At one point, a middle-aged guy sidled up to me and began “the routine”. He turned towards me and grasped my crotch – and squeezed quite hard. No-one had ever done that to me before; certainly not in public! He whispered in my ear in accented English,

“I have a place to go not far from here”.

He was short and tubby and his breath smelled of beer and cigarette-smoke. I said, simply,

“No – thank you” and slowly moved away, hoping not to hurt his feelings too much.

There was one guy I spotted who looked quite nice. He had turned down at least two overtures, one of them from my tubby middle-aged smoker, but at this moment he still seemed to be “available”. He was quite tall, easily 6 foot and with what looked like a moustache or heavy stubble. In the dark, he looked youngish and well-built. He was wearing a leather bomber-jacket and jeans and at this moment there was a space beside him. My heart pounding, I moved across and stood next to him.

Once beside him, I realised I couldn’t see him without being obvious. Then I thought, “He already knows you are interested, so why be shy now?”, so I turned to look at him. Reflected in the light from the movie-screen, his profile was even nicer than I expected; his nose was slightly rounded and his face was kind and well-groomed. Even with what I could now see was dark stubble, his hair was neat and his sideburns were sharply trimmed. He smelled quite nice too; he was wearing after-shave. So was I. He was quite a bit taller than me and I suddenly started to have second-thoughts, “He’s rejected at least two other guys; why would you be any different?” My heart was in my stomach now and I felt a bit queasy.

I put my arm behind him and gently placed a hand on the cheek of his bum. He didn’t move. I felt his buttocks through his jeans. He had a nice full bum and his jeans fitted snugly around it. My hand explored into his cleavage. My heart was going like the clappers and felt like it was about to jump out of my throat!

I decided to go for broke. I turned sideways-on to him and put my other hand on his crotch – and got quite a shock; he had the most enormous erection right across his thigh, pointing in my direction! It felt really thick and long and it didn’t leave any room in the front of his jeans; he was a big guy; in every respect, it seemed – a lot bigger than me, just a 10 stone weakling!

At this point, he responded by gently but firmly putting his arm around me and pulling me to him, so that he could look me in the face. In the darkness, he smiled and brought his other hand up to the back of my head, first stroking my hair. Then he just pulled me tightly against him in a hug, as he brought his face down to mine. Our mouths touched – gently at first. He was seeing if I would respond. His stubble tickled slightly but his lips were moist and tasted of mint. I was so taken-aback by his positive response; I never expected him to be so passionate. Our mouths locked and our tongues entwined in a deep, long kiss of such warmth that I melted into his arms.

My one arm I wrapped around his middle as I felt the heat of his body through his shirt. Here there were no folds of fat or flabby flesh, just the promise of a hard, muscled body underneath. The hard bulge of his erection pressed into my abdomen and my engorged crotch pressed against his thigh as he held me tightly against him. He smelled gorgeous and I now buried my face against his chest. I just wanted him to enfold me in his lovely strong arms and carry me away to ecstasy. I was so aroused by this time that my own pre-cum was already soaking my underpants with all this excitement.

“Have you got anywhere to go?” I whispered into his ear a few moments later.

There was a pause and then,

“Sorry – no,” he answered, with a note of obvious disappointment in his voice, “Haven’t you?”

The thing is, I was on this week-end break with a friend – just a mate, you know, but we were sharing a small hotel room and I couldn’t very well bring a stranger back there. On the other hand, I couldn’t go into all the details right now and he might get the wrong idea even if I tried. In fact, I hadn’t properly thought this thing through before I started! So, I just said,

“No, sorry.”

I thought that might be the end of it but he didn’t immediately break away. Instead, he took me by the hand and led me off towards the curtain I had seen earlier. I was being led away like a naughty school-boy, as if to be punished by the Head Boy. Memories of school-days started flooding back and all sorts of horrendous images started going through my mind of what might be about to become of me. But even my imagination didn’t prepare me for what I was about to experience.

In the stygian gloom beyond the curtain, I could just make out a number of shadowy figures in various groups. Patches of brightness betrayed themselves as bare flesh, as these figures were entwined in sexual gratification. It was hot and there was a great deal of heavy breathing. And there was an aroma I had never smelled before. I later discovered this was amyl-nitrate or “poppers” but fortunately, my big guy didn’t seem to want or need any of that.

Suddenly, I realised we were against a black painted brick wall and he was still leading me along it until, out of no-where, a door opened and from the gap shone a deep red light, suddenly illuminating the figures in the room, frozen in mid-action, like a grotesque tableau. Two figures emerged from beyond the red light and my guy quickly dragged me towards the opening and we disappeared inside, as he closed the door behind us. We were inside something not unlike a cupboard and it smelled rank in there, of sweat, body odour and the unmistakable smell of stale cum. But at least we were alone and there was a dim red light from a single bulb above us so that we could just see each other. We turned to one another and went back to our embrace and our deep, long, passionate kiss.

I was like putty in his hands; and his hands were suddenly all over my body, pulling off my thin jacket, sliding up and down my back and over my bum and then around my front, to my bulging crotch, now about fit to burst with excitement. By this time, I had produced so much pre-cum, I was convinced that his squeezing of my crotch would cause my jeans to soak up the dampness and he might think I had cum already! Mind you, I was close to it!

I went for his belt and started unbuckling his jeans. He was wearing 501’s and I fumbled at the buttons. He just pushed me away and took hold of his own jeans and almost seemed to tear them apart, revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. In the red gloom, from a thick bush of dark pubic hair fell forwards from his jeans the most enormous cock I had ever seen! It must have been at least 10 inches long and so thick my fingers wouldn’t reach all round it! He was circumcised too.
“My God!” I uttered, before I could stop myself, and he paused beside me.

“Is it too big for you?” he then asked.

“Of course not,” I rashly replied, somewhat naively as it turned out; I should have realised what he was going to do next!

With the deftness of an expert, he had my jeans and damp underpants around my ankles in seconds and, grasping my erect and dribbling tool, he said,

“Wow! I like that! I love a dribbler!”

And before I knew what was happening, he had squeezed a load of my pre-cum into his hand, turned me around with his other arm and was smearing my own pre-cum into my ass-crack. His fingers pushed into my hole and I gasped as he quickly squeezed more from my front and pressed now three fingers into me, hard. He then lifted my arms in front of me and placed them on the wall, as he bent at the knees behind me and I felt the tell-tale head of his organ pressing into my crack towards my reluctant and naïve anus.

“Just relax – breathe deeply through your mouth” he whispered softly, “I promise I’ll take it slowly”.

As he pressed into my hole with his tool, it felt like someone was trying to push a golf-ball up there! I tried my best to follow his advice as he entered me, a little at a time, but God did it hurt! I thought he was tearing my hole apart! He withdrew, and I let out a gasp of relief. He smeared more of my pre-cum around my ass.

“It’ll be easier now,” he said, as he pushed into me again, this time harder and further.

Easier! Who was he kidding? It felt like a baseball bat was being repeatedly rammed into me. With his hands on either side of my naked waist, he held me firmly as he began thrusting in earnest; slowly but firmly, in then out, in then out, in then out. I had only had this kind of sex once or twice before and never like this; never had I had anything so thick and huge inside me. I thought I would burst apart. But now I was feeling something else inside me that I had not felt before; there was an ache deep inside my backside behind the base of my cock; it felt like something had swollen hard against the constant ramming back and forth against it. I thought he had injured me or something; I didn’t realise it then but this was my prostate and his huge organ was massaging it in a way I had never experienced. It felt both painful and fantastic at the same time! My penis was rigid in front of me, still dripping pre-cum on the floor. My balls were now so tight; they had nearly disappeared inside me! I desperately wanted to cum; I was delirious! God I wanted to cum but I couldn’t because my prostate ached so much and I was supporting myself against the wall with both arms outstretched, so I couldn’t do anything to help myself cum. Oh God, how I wanted, how I needed to cum.

But it was as if he read my mind. While I was now whimpering under his constant ramming into me, he reached around in front of me with one hand and grasped my organ, just as he groaned,

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” His rhythm instantly changed and he rapidly rammed in and out two or three times, fully pulling out of me and ramming into me again, deep into my insides, while he teased my organ with his one hand. Then, he let out a deep-throated “Ugh” as he pushed right up inside me and held himself there, motionless. I felt his organ convulse as it suddenly throbbed and shot its first gush of warm cum into my body. Even through my aching ass, I felt that first gush rise through his tool, travelling upwards until I felt the warmth of his fluid filling my insides.

I couldn’t help myself; my prostate surrendered and I came uncontrollably; shooting out into the red gloom, through his hand and onto the floor. With each massive throbbing of his tool inside my rear, my own organ pulsed a great shot of life-juice down its shaft and onto the floor. I was in heaven and hell at the same time! It was as if his cum was pumping directly into me, through my aching backside and back down my own tool onto the floor with each great long, orgasmic spurt!
Eventually, the throbbing of his massive tool and my simultaneous orgasms subsided and my innards ached so much that I desperately needed him to pull out. He read my mind again. He slowly withdrew his still huge organ and my backside gave an audible sigh of relief. I was sure I had been ruptured inside and I now knew and understood the expression “ring of fire”! We only had handkerchiefs to clean up with but, as we did so, he spoke again,
“You OK?” he asked, with genuine concern in his voice.

I just smiled weakly at him and said,

“I guess so.”

Fully spent, we both left the cinema together and pausing outside in the cool fresh air of 1am, I asked him his name.

“Randy,” he said.

“I hope that’s really your name and not your condition,” I jested, and with a nervous laugh, I gave him my name. He continued,
“Oh yeah, it’s really my name alright but if you’re still interested, I’ll be back here in 10 days.”

It turns out that he was an airline pilot on long-haul to and from the States. His father was American but his mother was Dutch. He was 34 and although born in Rotterdam, he now lived in Boston with a partner he wouldn’t say much about. He was a lovely guy but, ironically, he had a hang-up about the size of his organ. He didn’t get full sex with his partner and most of the people he tried to pick up, when they saw his equipment, just panicked and ran! Me, well I was so naïve that time in the dark, I didn’t know what hit me (literally) but I discovered that I rather enjoyed it, in a masochistic sort of way!

I sort of “dated him” a few times after that but always in a hotel room and always in Amsterdam, giving a new meaning to the expression “lay-over”! I learned a lot from Randy. We had some good laughs and some fantastic sex but boy did my backside ache every time I went home! But eventually, his postcard messages dried-up and I guess he wanted to “ring the changes”. Me? Well, my ring had certainly been changed by Randy and I have no regrets about my first experience of a gay cinema.

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