The Telemachus Story Archive

Letter from America
By Hooder

Letter from America

Hi Dave,

My first ever night in New York was ace. I joined the ship in Miami Ok and we sailed up here to start the cruises. New York, Miami, Puerto Rico, Bermuda and back. Round and round for 6 months. And I’m getting paid for it. I bet you’re as jealous as hell. You see, there are advantages to being a musician. One of them is that when we’re in port there are no passengers on the ship so there’s no work for me, and my time’s my own.

You said I was daft to bring all that leather with me – but it’s a good thing I did. I put the gear on last night. It was bloody cold when I walked off the ship and I was glad of it. I wandered up to a main street and put my hand out for a taxi. A real yellow cab drew up! The driver took one look at me and said, “Greenwich Village?” I wonder how he guessed. The taxi dropped me off on a street where the driver said there were several leather bars within a few yards of each other. I thanked him and went into the first one I came to.

I bought a drink from the bar and carried it further into the room. Dave, the bars here are so different to the ones in England – they feel ‘heavier’ somehow. You’d love it. Everybody was in full gear, and there were some hunky guys standing around. One of the first things I saw was a guy in a purple leather catsuit… There was one guy leaning against a wall – leather jacket, boots, and leather jeans that he must have had made specially because although they weren’t at all too big for him, they were unbelievably loose. The folds and creases of the black leather were like concertinas down his legs. I’d never seen any like that before. The sight of those jeans got me so fucking horny, and I was just aching to make him cum in them. I was about to go and chat to him, but just before I could, another guy joined him and they started kissing and fondling. Bugger. I moved on.

Later I found myself standing next to a very sexy guy who was talking to someone else. He looked like a top – Muir cap, Langlitz leather jacket with a ring in the left epaulette and keys hanging from his left hip. He had tight leather codpiece jeans on with tall boots over them. He was leaning against the bar with one foot – the one nearest me – up, resting on an 18-inch high wooden block (there were a few of these scattered about the place. People used them like little tables to put drinks on or to sit on). The position of his leg made the jeans absolutely skin tight. This guy’s codpiece was an almost perfect triangle, and very well-filled. I stood looking at it for ages. And the more I looked at it the hornier I was getting. Yes, I know I’m a slut, but leather bulges do that to me, as you know perfectly well.

I got myself closer to him and slightly behind him, gingerly reached out, and ran a fingertip as lightly as I could along the bottom of the codpiece – and you know how light my touch can be. Oh fuck, I nearly came in my jeans doing that. You have no idea. I don’t know if the guy had felt it cos he didn’t react at all. I did it again. No reaction. Gaining confidence, I used all of my fingers to tickle it lightly. He must have felt that, but he continued to stand there, facing half away from me, chatting to his mate, seemingly unaware that I was doing anything.

After a while I realised that the codpiece was changing shape. It was getting even fuller, and the outline of a hard cock was becoming more obvious. Now that I could feel more clearly exactly where his cock and his balls were, I could tease them more accurately. I kept my touch extremely light, just stroking my fingertips over the underneath of his cock bulge and tickling his balls through the leather. Occasionally I worked on the insides of his thighs, right at the very tops.

He got even harder – but still made no acknowledgement that anyone was touching him: he continued to chat to his friend and didn’t even glance round once.

I felt my way up the shaft of his cock until I came to the ridge of his cock-head under the thin leather. Then I placed a finger and thumb either side and waited. Every once in a while I gave it a sharp little squeeze. Ha! His whole body jerked every time I did it. And I ran my fingertip over the head...

Doing this had made me incredibly horny, and I decided to make the bastard cum. I worked on his cock, teasing and rubbing the base of the head. I knew he could feel everything I was doing through those thin jeans. I didn’t want to do anything that would be obvious to his friend – he must have known something was going on cos the guy I was working on’s eyes must have been glazed - but so far he hadn’t said anything.

But before I could make him cum he slapped the friend on the shoulder. “Anyway, I have business. See you,” I heard him say. The friend nodded and left. The guy I’d been working on finished his drink in one gulp, turned round and grabbed my jacket. His cock was so hard that I half-expected the codpiece to fly off and hit me in the eye. I thought ‘I am going to get beaten up now.’ His face was an inch from mine. “Come,” he snarled – and he practically dragged me out of the bar.

He almost frogmarched me to his place – it was just down the road. Once inside, he took me into a room that was completely mirrored. He threw me onto the leather-covered bed, tied me up, and over the next hour and a half, he milked me efficiently and repeatedly until my balls were dry. Then he came on my face.

So that was my first night in New York. Can’t fucking wait for next time we’re here.

Hope you’re well and getting lots of boys. Kiss the cats for me.


- Col.