Thank Heaven, the lonely shift

 It's not  that I distrust men that haven't hung out their meat for me to see.

It may sound judgemental, but, some guys, I don't care if they even have a dick, let alone size, proportions, girth, not circ'd, etc.

Mind ya, it's mostly curiosity. I mean, if every uncut man trotted around with a forehead tattoo saying, "Intact."

At least I know, further, who will be beginning the ladder of attraction toward a relationship.

Oh, to be alive in a non-cutting culture, like Denmark, or something, must be sublime.

You could, find a man, and, an over 95% chance, he's  gonna be intact. [Since an overwhelming percent of U.S.A.'s population, is of European descendents, ...makes you wonder how they bought into the "medically beneficial" circumcision scam at all!]

I saw a modestly older fella, come into this convenience store, every night, about an hour before beer sales ended, night after night. He'd buy a 24 Oz can, or on weekends a 6-pack, not like he's an alcoholic, grabbing a 30-pack of the cheap stuff, or nuthin'.

Oh, he was a nice guy, but, you know, until a dick IS CONFIRMED, merely another Ken doll. Just a slightly defined showmanship of manhood. Yet, another, dick-less, acquaintance, probably circ'd, probably shows signs of heightened modesty, probably sleeps in underwear or lounge pants.

So, the night he was late, I thought he wasn't going to come in at all. Just in case, I rushed his Tuesday night can of beer to the register and popped it on the laser scan, then, headed back to the mop. I can always, negate the transaction.

Then, while I was mopping the back aisle, he burst in, "am I too late?"

"No, Mr. Thompson ya, got 5 or 6 more minutes, before the beer is locked-out of overnite sales."

"Great, 'cause I gotta piss." He brushed past me, and inside the open door into the rinky-dink, one-hole men's room, and expected him to close the door.

Instead of shutting the pisser door, he added, "Damn, that movie was longer that I thought it would be." He lifted the seat, while his back was still turned, but, amazingly, squared himself toward the toilet before unzipping.

Oh? Possibly a side view?

He, fished his fingers around a bit and finally flopped his python. 

Leaning forward, and using the same hand to prop against the wall over the toilet, said, "ahhh." Beginning a noisy flow.

Since his rear hand was placed on his hip, and the prop arm shielded his view of me, I took a look.

Damn. Mr. Thompson, was sporting an uncut super-rod of wonderful mass. The hooded foreskin had a main vein, right on top. The wrinklage at the tip, meant it would probably still grow another inch, when erect.

"I gotta drink smaller sodas anymore, when I watch movies!"

He continued, "I always hate pissing in public,"...

[no man, that pup deserves to be shown off!]  

I leaned against the door frame, so he KNEW i was looking. 

..."squeezing between those filthy side-screens!" He continued.

I told him, "I work nights, so, I have to catch the matinees. I hate those dang modesty screens too." I replied, leaning on my mop handle.

Nope, he ain't  tying to hide anything.

Time to feel him out, ...not just look.

"My pop had a dick like that, all hooded and no scars.

 Nice, to see some are still around." I tested the waters, with a cool compliment.

He was milking the dribbles, "This thing?" He held it on display.

"Yep, his was right about that size, too."

He tore off some toilet tissue, wiped the toilet rim, and flushed.

I told him more about dad. "He'd just walk into the room nekkid, and call a buddy, standing at the ole wall phone. "

He saw me continuing the eyeballing of it. He probably saw me chewing my lip. He probably could even hear my heartbeats, in my voice.

"He didn't care if Mom or me were right there, able to see." [I delivered this line not peeling my eyes off this guy's sink-side, dick wash.]

I licked my lips, subtly. 

He was at the point of hiding it away once again, forever.

Instead, he said, 'You're probably used to seeing it, with a pair of these, too." He got his hand all in there, and popped out his nuts' sac.

"You suck a little dick, son?"

(Now, back in the days this happened, 'son' was both a phrase of companionship or power-control, depending on how it was used...he definitely found a new friend in me!)

I respectfully replied to my new, if older, buddy. "That's not a little dick, sir." I instinctively knelt down, and right there, at Midnight in the wide open convenience store sucked that gorgeous monster.

[If the door annunciator sounded, he could back in and close the door, and I could pretend I'm scraping up gum, or something, before they could see down this aisle.]

I shoved my nose into his pubes, my chin into his nuts.

I let him face, throat, and skull fuck me for about 10 minutes.

He shot his load of thick jism into my mouth, as I relished the tangy whang of his life-making spume.

He said, "Well, fuck it, a blow job is better than a beer anyway,"

"It's okay Mr. Thompson, I rang up some before midnight, when the register locked out the beer sales."

"Here, then, keep the change, you're a good guy." He shoved a bill into my pocket, for the beer.

It wasn't until, an hour later, after the next customer, came and left, I got a little hungry, and grabbed a candy bar, deciding to break the $10 or $20....

I had to use the safe timer, as we just can't break a $100, after midnight.

If you enjoy my BJ/JO storytelling,  tell your buddies, (if not shoot me an email.)

If you've  had similar experiences, comment below.