Chapter One-
Jimmy ground his crotch against my hip as he inched his face up to mine.
A bit of my cum still lingering at the corner of his mouth. I traced the outline of his brow with my finger, gazed into his eyes and paused for a moment to simply look at him. He was beautiful. Soft, smooth, flawless skin. Light brown eyes with gold highlights. Thick, deep brown, hair that was straight and adorably moppish. He was dreamily staring right back into my eyes. He sucked my cock so well, he could get me to peel paint off the ceiling. With a devilish grin on his face he reached down into my pants and firmly gripped my cock.
"You're still rockhard!" Jimmy said, as if it was the first time we were together. "You are amazing!" He rolled off to my side, looked down, and squeezed and jiggled my cock as if it was the stick shift on a corvette. He playfully made engine noises as he palmed the head of my gearshift.
"Vroom, Vroom." He repeated.
"Vrooom, vroomm." I joined in, as I leaned back in ecstasy. My precum faucet opening wide.
He could always play me like a violin. I spread my thighs to give the maestro ample room to perform.
He spoke like an announcer. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Dave Smythe is pulling up to the starting line for the second heat of the Quarterfinals here at Pocono Speedway." He went right to one of my favorite moves. While continuing to palm my leaking cockhead, He started testicle juggling. He cupped my balls, and twiddled his fingers, firmly tapping each nut individually up into the air. The left one, then right one, then left, then right.
"Vrooom! Vroom!" I moaned. I closed my eyes, and threw my arms over my head. I humped his hand a little and squirmed my hips. I already knew this was gonna be a good one! I could feel them each get hit, fly up, get caught in my sac, and then fall down just to get hit back up again. With each strike they became more and more delightfully tender. My nipples came alive, and my cock swelled to where I could feel that its skin was stretched to the max. I squirmed with each stroke of his palm.
Soon my balls began to really ache. I started to wince with each tap. I could actually feel the precum flowing out from deep within my groin.
Jimmy announced with a smile in his voice, "Dave's got one hell of a pit crew! All of his fluids are topped off this evening." He unmercifully continued to work my balls. I was in heaven.
I opened my eyes and looked down at what he was doing. Ropes of Precum hung from his right palm stretching down the side of my shaft. He was using his index and middle finger to toss my right testicle and his pinky and ring finger to toss my left. I could see my stomach and leg muscles contract with the pain each time he tapped one of my nuts into the air. I was so hot and ready to blow.
Then he caught me looking. He stopped palming me and got hold of both of my swollen and sore nuts in one hand and pulled down. Tight! He squeezed and rubbed them together. I uttered a long and moaning "vrrooooMMM!" "Listen to the roar of his double barrelled carburetor." He replied, both my nuts held taut.
"Keep your eyes on him, ladies and gentlemen, Dave Smythe, number 69, in the pole position. That big bore V-8 he carries under his hood shoots with awesome power." He said as he switched his grip and firmly grabbed my shaft.
He held tight and slowly slid the taut skin up and over my glistening cockhead. Then he twisted his hand and slid tightly back down. That was enough! I twitched and he knew to hold me loosely pointed to the sky.
I felt the pressure release deep behind my balls and the speeding bullet of cum race towards my dick.
"I love to watch you shoot!" I heard Jimmy say.
I shoot big and hard.
I took a deep breath as every muscle in my body tensed and all I could feel were the waves of cum speeding through my balls and cock.
I watched the first spurt fly up towards me and land on my neck. Then I closed my eyes to enjoy the pulsing in my dick.
Jimmy watched the big spurts shoot straight up and land back on my cock and cover his hand.
The rest of my load pulsed out over my cockhead and down the side of my dick. Covered with sweat, I shuddered, then slowly relaxed and breathed. I opened my eyes.
Jimmy had his eyes closed and was furiously jerking off using my cum as lube. One hand was up his shirt playing with his chest and nipples. He kept up the furious pace on his cock as he shot his load. Splashing it allover my lap. His cum had that musky, manly smell. I stayed hard again.
Jimmy took my cum covered cock into his mouth and slurped me clean.
"Remind me to bring a glass next time. I want try to drain you. Milk you dry. Collect all your loads, and toss them back all at once."
He was wiping my pants with a paper towel when he said he had to get home. He was muttering the usual unanswerable questions. "Where do you store it all? You must have an enormous prostate! How do you do that? After all that, You've still got this steel pipe sticking out of your crotch....Blah, blah, blah....." I stopped listening.
We just get together for sex. He's got a live-in-lover. A 62 year old Sugar Daddy he hooked when he was about 22 years old. They've been together ever since. Has to be about 15 years now.
I tipped Jimmy's head up so he was looking at me. Ran my finger slowly from his brow to the tip of his nose, and scooped up a bit of my cum from the corner of his mouth and fed it to him.
He sneaked up and kissed that stray blob of cum off my neck.
I straightened up in the seat of the car and decided, "I'm going to go to Sullivan's. Get a drink and see how Tony's doing since his mom's been sick." "Do you need a ride home?" I asked as I worked my cock into my jeans and buttoned them up.
Jimmy was tucking in his shirt and said "Perfect. My car's been parked at 10th and Pine for 3 days now. I haven't had a chance to get back into the City to pick it up. Would you drop me off on your way to Sullivan's?"
We listened to the radio on the way over. Didn't say much. Actually, we didn't say anything.
Jimmy broke the silence by pointing out his car over on the right. There was no where to park so I dropped Jimmy off, waited, and took his parking spot as he drove away.
Sullivan's is my hangout. Its a gay bar/steakhouse. Its not the trendiest, nor the largest bar in the City. But it has the right combination of corner bar and night club atmospheres.
Tony is one of the bartenders. He's been there for years and has the prime Thursday night to Monday night shift.
I pushed open the door to Sullivan's and gazed, once again, at the usual crowd of regulars on a Monday night. I cringed as I was assaulted by the sound of some guy pretending he could hit the same notes as Mariah Carey. Karaoke Night again. What is the lure between Karaoke and gay men? I don't get it.
Phil, who was both Maitre' de and "Self-Appointed Chief of the Local Fashion Police", looked me over and applauded. The only faux pas I had made today, was that the buckles on my boots didn't match the one on my belt. The fine for this minor infraction, was to send him one photograph of me... wearing only my boots.
I told him "the fantasy is better than the reality", and sat down at the big bar where Tony was working. I always sit at the big bar.
"Hi ya gorgeous! How was your weekend?" Tony said as he handed me a beer, and leaned over for a kiss. "Ya know, next to me, you are the prettiest thing to walk through those doors."
I asked how his mom was.
He said, "It was a false alarm. She's still kicking. But when you hit 80 or so... Nothing is a false alarm." And he went back to mix some drinks.
I spun around on the bar stool and looked around the room. Looked at my reflection in the mirror on the other side of the bar. I don't think I'd draw a crowd, but I am packaged well.
I'm 6'2", 210 lbs. Broad shouldered and trimly muscular. Not losing my hair at all... Its thick and sandy brown starting to salt and pepper, cut in a short ivy-league. Bright pale blue eyes. Not too bad for an old man.
Around the big bar the usual catty cliques were here: the snooty theatre crowd, the "little-bit-too-drunk" group, the "We're straight, but trendy" group, the regulars, and the kids from the arts college. I'm kinda glad I was in the long haired pot smoking generation.
The piercings and tattoos of today's college kids just don't make sense to me.
The small bar on the other side of the room is the couples/dining service bar. Its a little quieter, further back from the karaoke/dance floor. Ted was bartending tonight. If you look "joe average" up in the dictionary, you'll find a picture of Ted.
From over here, I recognized a couple of working boys out with their tricks. And a group of "out-of-towners" who came in to the city to see one of the shows. And some friends of Ted's, and the off-duty waiters.
And then there was Mark. He's just as much a regular as the rest of us, only he sits at the other bar. He's usually here alone. While he is here, he is social enough. Usually chats with everyone else over there. No one over here knows him that well.
Physically, I think he is gorgeous. He's a little shorter than me...
about 6 ft tall. But while I'm lean and broad, he's big and stocky. His shoulders and chest fill out a shirt. Tiny hips and butt.
He's got maybe 5 years on me... At most, he's 40 years old. Short dark hair that he bleaches the tips of to camoflauge the grey. Dark green eyes and a salt and pepper trim goatee. Most notable of all, he moves fluidly, like a dancer. As if every gesture and expression was carefully choreographed before executed. He seems so naturally confident and put-together.
He had on a white turtleneck sweatshirt that made him look like a boxer from one of those 1940's black and white movies. Very frayed and faded jeans that were tight around his butt and thighs but looser around his waist. And he had on the same boots I had on. The only difference was that his were polished. Black and shiny. And of course, his belt buckle matched the ones on his boots.
I got hard watching him. Who wouldn't? Feeling awkward, and on display, I spun back around on the barstool. I wanted to get my stretched crotch into the shadows, before a trollish customer noticed and copped a feel. Tony was there with a fresh bottle of beer.
"The stud is lonely tonight. Huh?" he asked as he looked around the bar.
"Slim pickings at this farm stand tonight! I'll say! Nothing but a bushel of dried wrinkly cucumbers and a peck of unripe peaches. Certainly nothing I'd want to take a bite out of. But you're not as choosy as I am. See anything you like?"
I told him no. He called me a liar.
"What do you think of "Dewars and water" over there?" he asked.
"Who? Mark? the big guy in the white shirt?" I replied.
"Yes. I thought I saw you checking him out. What...do...you...think!" He hit me on the forehead. "Ted said he asked about you last Thursday night, But you weren't here."
Tony took my money to the cash register while he continued. "I have to keep my girls busy at this whorehouse or the John's don't come back and I'm left with measly tips!"
He brought my change back and said "No. Seriously Dave, he asked Ted about you and Ted doesn't know you that well. So I expect big, burly "Dewars and water" to come over and ask me about you. What do you want me to tell him? Should I tell him to leave you alone? Are you be interested? or What?"
"I don't know." I said. "He sits at the other bar. I don't like it over there." I looked in the mirror at Mark across the room. "He is kinda cute though."
"For crying out loud! You sissy!" Tony said. "He isn't kinda cute. He's a fricking wet dream!"
He shook his fists in the air. "The two of you together! Chrissakes I'd pay good money to watch the two of you together. I'd pay good money just to smell the two of you together!"
Tony pretended to be disgusted with me and went down to serve some college kids.
He gave me the perfect reason to continue keeping an arms length away from Mark. Whether I thought he was hot, or not. Whether he was asking about me, or not.
I rationalized, "I'm not going to go out with a guy, simply because other people think we'd look sexy together." And I proceeded to watch the re-run of Cher's Farewell Tour on the TV for the 10th time. I really do like her red wig outfit the best. Mute button on. A very bad karaoke version of Cyndi Lauper in the background.
I distracted myself by trying to decide who's got better legs at their age? Cher or Tina Turner? It took about 20 minutes for Tony to work his way up the bar, and back to me.
He handed me my 3rd beer and said "Listen, Here's the scoop. You always come in here alone.
He always comes in here alone. You always leave here alone. He always leaves here alone.
See! You have plenty in common. You need a boyfriend. Not just sex. We could have that anytime. Chrissakes! Everybody in this hellhole wants to get you out of your pants. You need companionship. You are lonely. Its written allover your face." He took my money, made change, and came right back.
He held my change in his hands while he continued "Ted says he's a friendly guy. Never gets loud or obnoxious. Tips well. If he asks me about you, I'm gonna say that you're a nice guy.
Cause you are! And I'm just gonna leave it at that."
I felt like I did back in high school, when my sister was trying to fix me up with one of her friends on the cheerleading team.
"I don't know Tony," I replied, "Relationships and Me...just don't go together. I hate the drama and the whining. And the sex goes stale... I need exciting sex. I like my job, and I'm good at it. So I want to be able to work when I want to. And I have friends allover the place. I like the freedom to take-off on a weekend and go to New York, or D.C. And it seems I'm always the leader. Its always me who has to come up with the ideas.
Its always me who has to make the plans. Or else, we just end up watching TV or going to the same bars all the time.
I hate it."
"Because that's the type of guy you always settle for!" Tony challenged me. "You're the one picking those losers! This guy is different. Listen, Ted said he has a very strong personality. Maybe a little "Dewars and water" is what you need!"
Tony leaned over and put my change down in front of me and winked, "You know, Ted even said he has dreamed of having big, brawny "Dewars and water" tie him up. Believe that! Uggh! Just the thought of that queen jerking off and fantasizing about a leather scene gives me the heebeegeebees."
Tony faked an exaggerated shudder as he moved on over to serve the theatre crowd.
Now the thought of a leather scene with "Dewars and water" didn't give me the heebeegeebees. My cock strained against my jeans as I tried to visualize Mark in a harness and tight leather shorts. As usual, my precum faucet opened wide.
I focused on the mirror in front of me to scope Mark out in the reflection.
He was standing alone, his legs firmly planted, feet about shoulder width apart, with his back to the bar. Those jeans were so worn, I could see the bulge of his cock on the inside of his left thigh. He had one elbow on the bar and the other holding his drink in front of him, hand just above his belt. He was looking right back at me in the reflection! My cock throbbed. And I was a bit embarassed. I imagined that he knew Tony and I were talking about him. And that he knew I was thinking of him in leather. His gaze didn't waver. Mine travelled from those green eyes, to that chest and arms, to his bulging crotch, and away.
I looked down at my beer and took a drink. I felt intimidated. I felt like he could read my mind. I felt incredibly desired. And incredibly embarrassed.
I looked at my watch. It was almost 10:30pm. Time to go. Three Beers in an hour and a half is fine for a Monday. I avoided looking in the mirror at Mark and counted out Tony's tip.
Chugged the end of my beer and stood up to go to the bathroom before leaving.
I forgot that I was still rock hard! At least I was facing the bar so that Mark couldn't see.
I reached down into my pants and adjusted myself so I could walk. My crotch was a slippery precum mess. I picked up a cocktail napkin to nonchalantly wipe my hand and headed towards the men's room.
There was nobody inside. "Good" I thought to myself. I hate peeing with a hard-on in public.
All the leechs leer and peer. Couldn't use the stall, the toilet was clogged. I walked over to the row of urinals and pulled my stiff cock out to pee. Man, I was horny! It took some concentration to get my cock to release the piss.
After I finished peeing, I lingered and stroked a bit in front of the urinal. Just enjoying the feeling of my stiff cock in my hands. Why not? I thought, as long as nobody else was in here.
I gave myself a couple of good strokes, pretending Mark was cruising me at some highway rest stop. A slight buzz brings out the worst in me.
I was feeling exhibitionist, so I pulled my balls out through the fly of my undershorts. It took some effort to work my loose nuts and stiff cock into my jeans. I walked over to the sink to wash my hands and look in the mirror to admire my crotch. The fly of my shorts was lifting and holding my cock up and out. I had a bulge that a working boy would envy, complete with the expanding wet spot.
As I finished drying my hands, Mark pushed the door open and walked halfway in. My stomach flipped! He eyed me, slowly, up and down. His gaze stopped at my crotch. And then he let the door close behind him. Then he looked up, smiled, and said "You leaving so early? What's wrong? From the looks of things, You are obviously enjoying the Karaoke." His eyes were sparkling.
He raised his eyes and looked right at me. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and sauntered over to the urinal, his back to me. His head was tilted as if he was waiting to hear my response. He has an incredible ass. Once he reached the urinals, he swung his hands around to the front.
I said "No, I really don't like Karaoke." and he interruppted me with the sound of his zipper slowly going down. My heart was racing. I wondered what was going to happen next. I wondered whether he knew my name. I wondered what his cock looked like.
He was standing in front of a urinal, legs slightly more than shoulder width apart, and I noticed that his hands were still. He stopped when his zipper was fully open. He made no effort to pull out his cock to pee. He was looking straight ahead at the wall. I was mesmerized.
Then he asked "Well, then what's got you so excited? If its not the Karaoke, then what is it?"
"Do you enjoy peeing?"
I was completely embarrassed by his question, remembering the rest stop cruising fantasy and all, and said, "No I don't get aroused by peeing." And as soon as I started speaking, he unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. I struggled to stay calm and continued, "I'm just really horny tonight... and its a Monday ...and with work tomorrow I just need to get home and get some sleep."
He was still again when he scolded me, "You're dodging the question, Dave. You still haven't told me what caused you to produce an erection of that magnitude. It was a simple enough question." He paused, and then asked, "Some men have a difficult time urinating when they have an erection. I don't. Do you?"
My mind raced! I wondered if his cock was hard. I felt relieved that he didn't press the erection question. Did he really say my name? Was he about to pull out the most incredible cock I have ever seen? Again he waited until I was talking to move. I stammered "No, I don't. I mean..." He finally looked down, and I could tell he was fumbling his cock out of his pants.
I continued, repeating myself calmly, "I mean, I don't have a problem peeing when I have an erection. umm either. Like you." (I felt like such a dork!) He said, "Its good that we have something in common. Oh I'm sorry, we haven't been formally introduced Dave, Hi, I'm Mark." He didn't turn. Or look up. Instead he started peeing. The splashing of his stream of piss sounded like it was coming from a horse.
He did know my name! I was dying to see his cock. Just a peek. Was he hard? What's it look like? I wanted to jerk off tonight fantasizing about him and his cock. I needed to know! But bathroom etiquette...
I was not a peer and leer leech. I was finished peeing. I even finshed washing my hands. It was time for me to politely go.
But I DID want to peer and leer. I laughed off the stress by saying, "Glad to formally meet you, Mark. But, I guess, I'll wait for a different time to shake hands. I have to head home.
Have a good night." And I left.
I kinda rushed out. I was completely embarassed and wanted to be at least mostly out the door before Mark came out of the bathroom. I waved goodbye to Tony. I think He saw me.
Phil, the Maitre de, was at the door handing out passes to the Saturday night dance party. He was staring at my bulging crotch and making comments I didn't listen to.
Something about "Lordy! My word!" and my returning at 2 am when he got out of work.
The passes save the $10 cover charge. I never go out on Saturday's anymore. Everything's way too crowded. He handed me one, and I took it. And I went out the front door into the street.
Where I could feel like a complete dork without an audience.
I woke up the next morning in a better mood. The alarm startled me out of a dream where Mark was leading me down a long hotel or apartment building hallway by my hard and dripping cock. It wasn't exactly that way. It was more like he didn't even know I was following him, and I was struggling to keep up with him because my cock didn't want to leave his hand.
It began with me, naked in the elevator, and the door opening at one of the floors.
"Ding!" went the elevator and the doors slid slowly open. Mark was standing there waiting to get in. He was wearing the same clothes as last night. White turtleneck, worn and faded jeans and glistening black belt and boots. He walked in, oblivious to my nakedness, and turned and stood in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back. As the door closed, he twiddled his fingers, the way Jimmy does when juggling my balls.
I watched my cock come to attention like it was under the control of a snake charmer. It had no power to resist. My cock lengthened and swelled, and turned and guided itself into his semi-closed fist. In my dream, his fist was the perfect place.... fleshy and well lubed, warm and soft, firm and tight. I was instantly at the brink of cumming.
Mark didn't even move! Not an inch. I didn't move. It was as if my cock had a mind of its own. I felt like my cock was using him for its own pleasure without his knowledge. It was going to stay in his palm, snuggle in and enjoy, no matter what.
My knees were weak from the excitement, but my cock wouldn't budge. It seemed perfectly content to stay in his hand, drooling pulse after pulse of pre-cum.
"Ding!" went the elevator again, and the doors slid open and Mark walked out. My cock refused to leave his fist! I was on the verge of cumming, tip-toeing and writhing down the hall behind him. Mark was oblivious, strolling with his hands clasped behind his back. My cock pulsing pre-cum allover the carpet. The alarm woke me up before I knew where we were going....
I laid in bed and stroked awhile. I couldn't get the sound of his zipper out of my head.
Slow. Deliberate. Releasing that unseen manly cock. And then him undoing his belt. And the sound of his piss splashing against the urinal. Powerful. Pressurized.
Streaming from that awesome cock of his.
Just the vision of Mark standing at the urinal. Standing with spit-shined boots, his legs wide apart. Fantastic ass in those jeans. Unzipping ever so slowly. Then fumbling to pull out his cock. And the sound of his piss streaming and splashing against the urinal.
Then I cut the fantasy to the elevator. And I watched my cock lengthen, swell and snake into his hand. Feeling so good in his hand. I had no control over what my cock wanted. I couldn't stop it. It wanted him. I was powerless. Completely under his sexual control.
I replayed this over and over in my head stroking furiously until I worked myself into a frenzy and decided this was too good to not use the shower massage.
I walked quickly across my bedroom, steel-pipe boner swinging, knowing how good the shower massage was gonna feel this morning. I turned on the exhaust fan and the water full blast.
I unhooked the showerhead and adjusted the temperature, checking it with my hand before stepping in. I left the shower curtain open so I could watch myself in the full length mirror.
I ran the flow of water against my thigh, tapping the hot water faucet to make the temperature just right. I watched in the mirror as I moved the flow of water over my cock. I could see it swell and come to full attention. Sticking straight up to my navel.
I wet my hair, and the rest of my body and slowly stroked my cockhead with the stream of water.
Not touching it with my free hand, just teasingly spraying with the shower. I adjusted the settings on the showerhead to the concentrated spray setting and aimed it between my asscheeks.
I pressed the showerhead against my ass and felt the water sneak past my sphincter. My asshole loosened up and I filled my chute with the warm water. Then I aimed the showerhead at my cock and watched myself play with my nipples in the mirror as I expelled the water.
I douched this way a few times, turning the water hotter and hotter each time. Then I positioned the showerhead between my thighs with the spray pointed upwards against my balls. I let go of my hands from the showerhead and leaned on the steel bar and looked at myself in the mirror.
I could see my nuts bouncing around in the stream of water. My cock standing tall above them.
I tapped the hot water again. Taking a moment to get used to the heat and then upping the ante.
Again and again. The steaming water felt so burningly good rushing around my bouncing balls.
With my eyes glued to the mirror the entire time, I reached for the conditioner and squeezed a handful into my palm. I dabbed some onto my nipples and worked my chest a little. By that time my cock was aching for release. I grabbed hold of my shaft. A few good firm strokes with the conditioner lube were all I needed.
I watched in the mirror as the cum shot out of my cock. It looked like a fountain inside the upward spray of water from the showerhead. Glob after glob of thick white cum spewed out above the mist and steam.
"Hand-held shower massagers......God's gift to single gay men!"
I was still delightfully tender as I went about the business of washing and shaving and getting dressed for work. I laughed at myself as I got dressed. I was puzzled that I could get so turned-on by so little. After all, the only thing that really happened was that Mark stood at a urinal and pee'd.
The work week was pretty uneventful. No disasters. The worst thing was the predictibly useless and wasteful weekly manager's meeting on Wednesday. After work I mostly watched TV and did the household chores. I made Chicken Cordon-Bleu for myself on Tuesday. Wednesday and Friday I went to the gym after work. And I bought new towels on Thursday. The usual exciting life of the single gay man.
But all the while... I wondered how Mark knew my name. And I laughed again and again at how turned- on I was, just by the sound of his zipper. I wondered where he was going with his quip about us "having something in common" by being able to pee with a hard-on. I wondered whether he was hairy. I wanted to know what his back and arms and chest, and butt... felt like.
If he wanted me to think about him, He sure did the right thing. I couldn't get him out of my mind. Yet, I knew so little. And I was sure that I acted completely like a fool and that he had no interest in me after the bathroom boon-doggle.
I decided I would dodge him if he came up to me the next time we were both at the bar. I was just way too embarrassed. I was sure he wouldn't approach me anyway. I decided I was not going to go on Monday, because he is always there on Monday. I remembered the no-cover charge pass that Phil had given me and decided to go brave the crowds on Saturday. I was sure that Mark was not the dance party type. He wouldn't be there. I felt proud to be decisive and in-control.
I raked the leaves and cleaned out the gardens on Saturday afternoon. I had the unattainable goal of cleaning out the garage on the chore list but, I fell asleep watching the 6:00 o'clock news.
I woke up to loud music playing during a fight scene in some Jean-Claude Van Damme movie. I groggily thought "If he was only a few inches taller..." Then I was completely awake and remembered I wanted to go to the dance party at Sullivan's. I thought that maybe I would hook up with somebody new. I tried to decide whether I wanted to suck a big cock, have a pretty twinkie boy suck mine, or get fucked. I looked at the clock and realized I wouldn't get there until 11 pm and by that time the "pickin's might be slim" as Tony would say.
I really wanted to go out. I tossed my yellow pinstripe shirt, a pair of black Levis 501's, and my red jacket on the bed and jumped in the shower. I look good in that yellow shirt, judging by the number of guys who hit on me when I'm wearing it.
I opened the door to Sullivan's and remembered why I don't go out on Saturday anymore. Standing room only, they put away the barstools. I stood on tip toe to see if Tony was working and he saw me and nodded. This was his no-nonsense night. All work. No kidding around. He's got to schmooze every customer and stay on the run in order to make rent. He needed to time things just right so that it didn't look like he was ignoring other customers to get me my drink. Tips are Tips. He leaned over for a kiss when he handed me my beer, smiled at me and went right back to work.
I had to hold my beer up over my head to worm my way away from the bar. I was overwhelmed by the incessant drum beat and the smell of testosterone soaked sweat. The bodies on the dance floor twisted and gyrated in unison. I was surrounded by smooth young twinks wearing skin tight t-shirts and baggy jeans, shirtless gym-bodies in sweatpants, pierced goths with pale white skin and spiked hair, working boys in jewel-toned iridescent shirts, and passable (and non-passable) transvestites. I didn't recognize anybody.
I caught a glimpse of a big tall guy with a shaved head and dark goatee, and decided to move over towards him to see if he was as hot as I imagined. He was. But he was there with his equally hot boyfriend. I finished my first beer and checked out the line at Tony's bar. They were standing three deep. I moved over to the small bar to see if I could get another beer faster from Ted.
On the way, I exchanged glances with a very young dark haired guy. He was standing in a small circle of friends. And looked bored. He had sultry eyes and wore a day old stubble. I had my twink picked out! I nodded over towards the bar and using only gestures, asked him if he wanted another drink. He blushed and shook his head no, but kept looking at me.
One option covered. Now to find a decent-looking guy attached to big juicy cock, and a muscle guy who can fuck. Then I'll decide what I'm doing tonight.
The crowd was only two deep at Ted's bar. He's not as good-looking, or as entertaining as Tony. But he's faster. I moved in behind a twenty-something, spiky haired, blonde, wearing a turtleneck sweater. He turned and looked up at me and smiled very femininely. Queens are a definite turn-off for me. He turned back and toyed with the swizzle stick in his empty glass.
Then he arched his back and began grinding his ass against my crotch.
I wasn't going to stop him from grinding. But I wasn't going to talk with him either. Ted made the sweep, got him his "slow comfortable screw" and he coyly looked over his shoulder at me and pranced away towards the dance floor.
I was finally against the bar. It seemed like hours. That queen got a rise out of me. I was hard, primed and wasn't going home alone tonight. I waited for Ted while checking out this brawny interracial guy in a bright white tank top with a leather armband on his left arm. He knew he was advertising....And I let him know I was shopping. My pre-cum faucet opened wide.
He stayed at the bar after he got his drink. He would wait, but I had to make the first move.
I was Ted's next customer, when the guy behind me reached around my waist and pressed himself up against me. I could feel his long rock-hard cock along the entire length of my hip. He smelled of scotch and put his rocks glass down on the bar next to my hand.
"Get me a Dewars and water, Boy." he said as he swiftly moved his hand from his glass into my shirt and pinched my nipple. His fingers still cold from his drink. I turned. It was Mark.