This is a true story

"EINSTURZEDE NEUWANKIN" (around 1992)

I'm standing in line with my best friend at the time, a famous underground filmmaker, wait to be let in to the "Phoenix Concert Hall" to see the German Industrial band Einsturzende Neubauten. A cute couple of guys stood behind us. One timidly asked my friend if he was ______ ______. My friend (who was/is an infamous underground filmmaker) responded that he was and a conversation started up.

At the time I had shoulder length, fire engine red hair. As always (well 99% of the time), I was wearing black clothes and a long, black trench coat. I liked the coat because it allowed me to "throw a bone" (encased in my jeans of course) and direct it at the object of my lust without other people noticing. On this night I was in lust with one of the guys my friend and I were chatting with...a cute guy about 2 inches taller than me with curly blonde hair and cool, nerdy eyeglasses. ("Nerds" are one of the types I like, along with skinheads, punks, goth boys...anyone "alternative"). I "threw him a bone". He blinked, shocked at my forwardness, but smiled nonetheless.

When we were let in to the concert, we made our way to one of the bars that was being tended by my friend's roommate Dave. We had a couple of drinks and waited for the show to start. I kept giving my object of lust glances at my dick. His mouth practically drooled.

The show started and my friend turned to face the stage, as did I. The other guy we were chatting with excused himself and made his way to the stage, his friend stayed behind. That's when I made my move.

I buttoned up my coat and leaned against the bar. I then unbottoned my 501s, which was easy to do because my coat pockets had large holes in them, and turned to my prey. I told him to stick his hand in my left coat pocket. He did. There was a small gasp that came from him and a low moan that escaped from my lips. His gasp wasn't because I was overly endowed (I am though larger than normal...7.5" to just over 8" when I'm REALLY turned on). He gasped because of my deformity. You see...I was born with Hypospadias. This normally means that the penis looks very deformed...but not in my case. In my case it means that although the shaft of my dick is normal...the head isn't. If you looked at it from above (which hundreds of guys have) it would look like how most people draw hearts...but with the body of the "heart" (dickhead) perfectly rounded. This also means that my Urethra opening is further down ON the shaft (about an inch). Guys love it. It means that they have something extra to play with (the area between the two "bumps" of the heart shaped head) and my slit which emits copious amounts ofprecum making play a lot easier.

This guy REALLY loved it. He worked me while the band played...my friend just standing a few feet in front of me...Dave the bartender not two feet to my left. No one could tell because I tented my coat and because my new friend had his arm to my left under the bar and inside my coat.

As the band's music throbbed in my ears...my dick throbbed in the guy's hand. There was no need for saliva to ease the job...a steady stream of precum flowed into his hand which he used to coat my head and slide up and down the shaft. The fact that I was sweating do to having my coat buttoned up and the heat emanating from those dancing around us, also helped things.

This went on for a good 20 minutes...until I couldn't stand it any more. Not wanting to cum on my coat, I put my hand over his and forced him to just work the head. When I came it was directly into his hand (thanks to where my urethra opening is). I filled his hand, moaning loudly...but no one could hear me over the glorious noise coming from the stage. I turned to Dave the bartender, who must have thought something was wrong whatwith my face being beat red, and asked for a napkin. I gave the napkin to my new friend and he used it to wipe his hand clean. I then offered to take him to one of the washrooms and do him. He said that that wasn't necessary but he did have to go to the washroom to clean himself up. I looked down and noticed a huge wet spot on his jeans.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying the music, drinking and chatting amiably. When the concert was over we all left. I didn't ask for his phone number and he didn't ask for mine. The "Main Event" of the evening was just a bit of fun to be had while listening to some great music. Nothing more...nothing less.

If you like this, I have even more explicit true stories of my early cruising days that I can post.

In the meantime...here's a song...

YouTube - Einsturzende Neubauten - Die Interimsliebenden