Author: Paul Plesko
Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: A "tangent" to "Dies Irae" in the "Requiem Series
Pairings: Brian/OMC
Category: Angst, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Date: June 7, 2003
Summary: Brian returns to the bar in Altoona, "Rumors," where his life is changed forever.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Unsafe Sex
“In times past there were rituals of passage that conducted a boy into manhood, where other men passed along the wisdom and responsibilities that needed to be shared. But today we have no rituals. We are not conducted into manhood; we simply find ourselves there.” Kent Nerburn, U.S. theologian and author, in “Letters to My Son” (1994).
“Unlike femininity, relaxed masculinity is at bottom empty, a limp nullity. While the female body is full of internal potentiality, the male is internally barren.... Manhood at the most basic level can be validated and expressed only in action.” George Gilder (b. 1939), U.S. editor, speechwriter, author; in “Sexual Suicide”
The place had become an obsession during the intervening week; I hadn’t been able to focus on my schoolwork or my job. The sights, sounds, and other sensations kept flooding-back into my consciousness with an intensity I had only experienced in dreams. These were wakeful dreams that filled my body with electricity and my cock with a pounding pulse. But I had to wait six whole days before I could make the long drive back to Altoona to satisfy the craving.
The same bartender was behind the bar. He looked up, nodded, and gave a slight wink of recognition. I had shown my fear last week, but he knew I’d be back. He had told me that Friday night was the best…and here I was, just as he had predicted. The murmur subsided a bit as I entered. Conversations paused to permit the patrons to examine the new-comer. Eyes watched me wend my way through the clusters of guys chatting with beer bottles in their hands. I walked slowly to a stool at the end of the bar, closest to the door, where I had sat before. “What’ll ya have?” he said, knowing I was here for more than a beer and some conversation.
“Iron City…draft.” I looked away…slowly…so as not to look too eager. Half of the guys in the bar had been here last weekend. And three-quarters were looking at me. They obviously didn’t get many new customers here…not ones who came back, anyway. Coming back was like an admission you belonged here…that you had seen what the place had to offer…and what it demanded…and that you had weighed the two and decided to return.
[I learned later that several guys had wagered on whether I’d come back within the next month. The winners’ round of drinks was bought that night…the night of my return.]
The TV monitor behind me suddenly lit-up with a porn-video called “Spring Break,” ...ironic, because Penn State was only a few weeks from the annual migration of students to warmer climes for a week of booze and sex. I couldn’t afford to go anywhere, and I was dreading the 8 days of a home visit back in Pittsburgh. But the boys in the video were celebrating Spring Break in a way I’d never imagined…a tennis match turned into a suck-fest on the kitchen floor…and then a fuck-scene by an older guy with the largest cock I’d ever seen (I learned later he was Chad Douglas) thrusting into a willing boy with beautiful blonde hair and a lithe body. Needless-to-say, I watched the screen through the whole scene, looking away only long enough to order a refill. The noise of the bar got louder as the intensity increased. Guys called out encouragement, as if the fucker could hear them. And when the boy started moaning loudly, the place broke into pandemonium… clapping, whistling, and more cat-calls. Other guys came from the backroom to find out what the ruckus was about, and they joined the noisy bunch.
“This one always gets ‘em riled-up,” the bartender said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the video soundtrack and the guys’ shouts. “The backroom will be busy tonight.” He smiled, knowingly.
I got up to head to the theater. If I stayed at the bar, I’d drink too much beer and I wouldn’t be able to drive home. I paused as the bartender gripped my forearm. “Use this,” he said, putting a small bottle wrapped in plastic into my fist.
“What is it?” I said, examining the bottle.
“It poppers…,” he said. “It’s good stuff.” He pulled me closer to speak into my ear as if he didn’t want the others to hear. “Use it,” he said. “If you have to.”
“How?” I asked as I twisted the bottle in my fingers and examined the label. “What do you do with it?”
“Just remove the lid, take a sniff, and hold it,” he said. “It makes it easier.”
I started to ask “Makes WHAT easier?” but he was called to the other end of the bar to refill a glass, so I put the bottle in my pocket and headed for the theater.
Before I left the bar area, I felt a hand on my shoulder from behind. I turned. It was one of the guys who had been watching me from a table across the room. He was in his late twenties, with his blue plaid flannel shirt unbuttoned to the navel and jeans smudged with stains of grease. “Yeah?” I said.
“Have you been downstairs?” he asked; his face broke into a slight smile as I paused before answering.
“No. I didn’t know there WAS a downstairs,” I said…not knowing exactly what I should suspect the downstairs would be used for.
“Go through here,” he said, motioning toward the backroom. “Then take a left and go all the way down the hall to the door at the end. It’s usually open. Take a look around down there…and, if you see anything you like, I’ll meet you down there in about five minutes. I’ve gotta collect my winnings.”
A part of Rumors I hadn’t seen last week? Granted, there was no guided-tour…no signs to tell you where things were. You just wandered around until you had explored the whole place. I nodded my agreement and turned toward the backroom.
The backroom at Rumors was reached by walking through the arcade and the video booths, both of which were packed with guys lining the aisles and leaning against the walls. The pool table always seemed to be in-use. Hands stroked my hip as I walked by. A few fingers tried to snag a belt-loop. But I just nodded and smiled and kept going.
The backroom was finally reached by traversing a short maze which kept light from the arcade out of the dimmer, red-lit Orgy-room with it’s smaller and darker side-rooms. Here the floor was littered with clothing, bare mattresses, and bodies in all possible positions and combinations. I would come back here later, I decided. Hands clutched me as I passed, more insistently than before…more urgently…more suggestively. And voices from the darkness urged me to join them. For a moment my curiosity was overcome by my need. I hadn’t touched another guy all week. But the lure of the unknown finally tore me away. There was a unison sigh as I left the room.
The hallway was as dark as the previous room. Closed doors on each side and the sounds from within hinted that private sex occurred here…even more intense than in the Orgy-room. I reached the door at the far end; it stood ajar…steps descended into darkness. I felt my way along the walls. The thick, wooden stairs creaked beneath my feet. The walls changed from uneven plaster to rough brick. As my eyes became more adjusted to the dim light, I could see that the stairs ended with another door-frame and a brick wall straight ahead. A narrow passageway extended to the left and right…black-painted plywood and two-by-fours for walls, a heavy, beamed ceiling above. I turned to the left, randomly, and felt my way along the walls…plywood on my left and brick on my right.
The odor was distinctive…mold and dampness…ancient dust…the hint of urine…a trace of testosterone…and the smell of sex.
I could barely make out the shadow of someone leaning against the wall a few feet ahead of me.
“Are you the welcoming committee?” I asked, trying to hide my agitation with humor.
He didn’t speak…but reached out, gripped me behind the neck and pulled me close to his body in a tight embrace. I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead, he forced my right arm behind my back in a modified hammerlock as he bent closer to lick the side of my neck. I squirmed a moment, unaccustomed to being handled so roughly.
He laughed quietly as I struggled, then he released me. “You taste like vanilla,” he growled. “Are you sure you want to be down here?”
“Someone upstairs told me…”
“In here,” he said, motioning with his thumb toward another door. “They’re gonna like you.”
There was another short hallway, this time filled with guys…leaning against the walls, mingling in groups or pairs…no conversation, just touching. Beyond the clusters of bodies, the hallway opened to the side in a room that was better-lit than the passageway…a golden glow imparted by a single, dim bulb over the door that cast dark shadows against the far wall. The room was small, no more than 16-by-16-feet…brick walls and an uneven cement floor with an accumulation of dried cum thicker than I had ever seen before. I ducked to step into the room through the low door, then moved quickly to the wall to press my back against the cold brick…a posture of passive watching.
Two guys were on their knees, side-by-side, sucking all comers. A guy would step-up, unbutton his fly, and haul it out…then he was swallowed to the hilt by an eager mouth. Other guys walked slowly around the perimeter of the room inspecting the guys, like myself, who were watching. A few had their cocks out as an invitation. Occasionally one would be chosen and would be sucked-off there against the wall. The sounds of heavy breathing and male pleasure filled the room with a low hum. My cock got so hard, I could barely keep my hands off it…and very quickly a guy with a dark, crew-cut knelt in front of me and started working the buttons of my fly. I was so hard, he had a hard time getting it out…so I helped him. He paused to look up at me before he opened his lips and began to suck me in…as if he were trying to memorize the moment. I will never forget the look in his eyes…a combination of worship and sadness, like kneeling before the crucifix. The guys on either side of me turned and began pulling my jeans down my legs. Hobbled with my jeans around my ankles, I couldn’t move…and so I stood there and let him suck me while the two slipped their hands under my tee-shirt and played with my nipples. “Give it up,” one whispered. “He needs it.”
“He’s got some poppers in his pocket. I felt ‘em,” said the other. I felt a jostling of the jeans around my ankles as someone retrieved the small bottle. It took a few moments to crack the seal and unwrap the bottle. My head was pressed back against the brick by a forearm across my throat. Another hand covered my mouth. The mouth on my cock was more insistent.
“Take a nice long hit,” said a voice in my ear. “Inhale slowly…and hold it. You’ll love it.” I had no idea what to expect. The cool rim grazed my upper lip as the bottle came to rest under one nostril; the other was pressed closed by a finger. I paused…but I couldn’t hold my breath forever.
I inhaled slowly and deeply…as instructed. There was a sweet, chemical aroma…and a mild burning sensation farther up in my nose. “Hold it…hold it…good…now exhale slowly.”
The sensation started with a ringing in my ears…then a roar. Sounds were distorted. The light had a halo. Motion slowed-down. And then I felt it…the pressure in my groin…as if I were going to cum. But it increased exponentially, making me feel as if I were going to explode. I could feel every muscle weaken…the room began to spin…my knees began to buckle…and I came in one huge gusher…wave-after-wave of internal contractions as I was supported on both sides to keep me from falling. I remember the sounds of someone speaking loudly, even though the sound was muffled and incomprehensible.
“What the fuck?!! He’s mine. I sent him down here. And you fuckin’ get the first load. Pisses me OFF!”
There was a scuffle and I clutched the wall behind me for support. My cock was still spurting, I remember, and no one was even touching it. As I felt sensation returning to my face, an arm slipped under my pit and behind my back, pulling me close and supporting me. I tried to take a step, but my pants around my ankles made me stagger.
“Get those off of him,” the guy said. It was the same guy who had told me about the basement. He supported me upright as other hands pulled off my shoes and socks…and lifted each leg to slip the pant-legs off my ankles. “Nice one,” he said, stroking my cock and balls with his free hand. He shoved the other guys aside as he helped me steady myself. The effects of that stuff I inhaled was wearing-off quickly. I still felt light-headed, but I could see his face clearly now. Curly black hair falling onto his forehead…black brows and long lashes…strong cheekbones and a classic nose…square, thick-set jaw with at least a day’s beard-growth. “You’re faster than I thought, boy,” he said with a smile. “I figured your hesitancy would fend off the cock-hounds…but I was wrong.” He backed me against the wall again and slipped his hand under my shirt. I tensed my pecs and abs in-reflex to being touched. I was proud of how my body looked…and felt. “I like my boys smooth…and hard,” he murmured in my ear. “Do you know how to use that ass?” he continued. I wasn’t sure how he meant it. I had used a few guys’ asses before…Lee, John, and a few others…but his hand creeping down my hip, then plunging between my ass and the wall indicated he meant something else. I was still a little too disoriented to answer…and I just nodded “yes.”
With his chest against mine to hold me against the cool brick, his hands returned to my abs, this time sliding up under my shirt and pushing it up my torso. He gripped my lats and pulled me away from the wall long enough to strip it up my back and raised arms, and then I felt the rough bricks against my back. His mouth was on my Adam’s apple; his head forced my head back sharply against the rough wall. I lowered my hands to his shoulders to steady myself. He gripped my wrists, pulled me away from the wall, and spun me around. Now my face, chest and groin were against the brick which cut into my skin. I tried to press backward, but he was all over my back. I felt his hands opening his fly against my ass…then the warmth and hardness of his cock pressing against my ass-cheek. He was planning to fuck me. I tried to press back against the wall, but his weight held me there.
“Don’t fight it,” he growled in my ear. “Just take it like a man. Enjoy it. I’m the best there is.”
“I’m not…” I began.
“Take this,” he said. I could feel him reaching into the open front of his shirt, then lifting something over his head. He pressed a shiny cylinder into my left hand. “It’s amyl,” he whispered. “Not that butyl-crap I can smell on your breath. You’ll learn to love it…and it’ll make me slip into you like a knife into butter. Just stick it up your nose and breathe…when you need it….you’ll know when.” I put the lanyard around my neck as he had worn it.
I had been fucked a few times, but not often. Lee had done it in his clumsy way; he preferred to “bottom” for me. And John had fucked me once…a desperate attempt to fulfill the fantasy that went with him to the grave. I had experimented a little with myself, curious how it felt when I fucked other guys. But nothing had prepared me for what was to come.
Still pressing against me from behind, he slipped his hands in front of my hips and pulled me backwards away from the wall. I stepped back to keep my balance as he pulled me away from the wall with his right arm around my chest now. “Spread your feet,” he ordered, “and lean forward…arms straight against the wall.” I did it…as his left hand slipped down to squeeze my already-hard cock and balls. His right hand moved to my ass…following its contours, tracing the crevice. His fingers moved deeper and deeper, cool against the hotness of my crack.
I wanted it then…to be fucked by a man. Not by a clumsy boy…not by a hesitant lover…but by a man who was satisfying his craving for release. Sex with no string attached…no expectations…no hang-ups. Just the simple role as a “receptacle”…to give him that one moment of incredible pleasure…and to experience that feeling, myself, that guys I had fucked claimed was an intense feeling of satisfaction. Suddenly I wanted to please him… something I had not been able to do for men before. For John. For Lee. For my father.
Now the fingers were replaced by something larger…the head of his cock. I felt it lodge in the well of my anus, gripped by the tightness of my ass-cheeks. It felt impossible that something so big could fit inside me. He felt me inhale to speak. “It’ll be over in a few seconds,” he whispered.
“He’s ready,” I heard another voice say.
“Fuck him hard. Make him bleed.”
Fuck that tight jock-ass,” said another. I turned my head to the side. A half-circle had formed around us with many of the men stroking their cocks as they watched my initiation.
“Now,” he said, gripping my hips as if he were aiming. I gripped the bullet-shaped pendant in my fist and brought it to my nose. The aroma was different…and the effect was more immediate. The shimmer of bright lights danced across my closed eyes. I felt my anus relaxing as he pressed into me…one thrust…two…three…overcoming the tightness. His arms slipped up under my arm-pits and his hands latched onto my shoulders from the front as he jack-knifed into me with hard pelvic thrusts. Still holding the cylinder in one hand, I supported myself against the wall with the other, but his force was too great. My arm buckled and I crashed forward into the wall. He followed, still buried in my ass, and the impact drove him into me full-depth. I wanted to cry-out…but didn’t, either from surprise or pleasure. His chest against my back forced me onto the rough brick again; my cock scraped the rough edge. The pain/pleasure in my ass made me moan audibly as I clawed the brick for support. His in-and-out thrusts flattened my ass against his pelvis; his pubic hair brushed the margins of my crack.
The amyl made it feel as if the top of my head were going to blow-off. My muscles relaxed as I sagged into his supporting arms. I was his to use.
“Fuck me….fuck me…fuck me…” Was I saying that?
“Gonna …make it …feel good,” he grunted in my ear.
The brick cut into my cheek as my mouth sagged open. I didn’t want it to end. Now I knew how good it felt. No fumbling…no hesitancy…just a man taking what he wanted from another man. At that moment, I swore I would fuck guys this way for the rest of my life… with the power of primitive lust…with the assuredness of a pro… with the physicality of an athlete …with the domination of a victor.
He paused on the out-stroke. I felt every muscle in his body tense against me…thigh-to-thigh…chest-to-back…forearm-to-chest. And he thrust forward one last time as he roared in my ear. I saw stars as my head bounced against the wall. His cock sank deeper than ever before. And I felt it…the hot cum-load pumping deep into my interior…bubbling back along his shaft, increasing the slipperiness…forcing its ooze beyond the sharp curve in my gut. He had fucked me without a condom! I struggled, but it was too late. I was skewered on his throbbing shaft and there was nothing I could do about it. I trembled uncontrollably in his arms as the room erupted in shouts. I felt cum splattering my calves…and even a few drops on my shoulder.
“You did fine, boy,” he said as he pulled out of me. I felt as if my anus were still gaping open…and a small amount of cum dripped down my inner thigh. He stepped away from me as his arms guided me to my knees. I knelt, trying to regain my strength. More cum hit my back and shoulders now as the slow-shooters finally made it to their climax. When I finally turned, he was gone.
What followed is still a blur in my memory. I was pulled to my feet and fucked a few more times until I sank to my knees again for lack of support. And even then it didn’t stop. Still on my knees, I was turned around and dragged to the center of the room to suck cocks. I don’t know how many…but from the later accumulation of cum on my face and chest, I’d say it was quite a few. My knees were raw from the cement. My jaw was sore from being forced open. The room slowly cleared as guys shot their loads and went back upstairs for more drinks or elsewhere for more sex.
There on my knees on that cold, cum-stained floor, with cum still dripping out of my anus, I felt surprisingly empowered. After an experience like that, some guys might have felt used or abused or angry...but I had a sudden feeling of belonging...of having found what I had been looking for...of being part of something instead of being the odd one on the outside looking in. These guys were here for the same reasons I was. They made no apologies for their sexual preference. They were bold, intense, focused on pleasure... shove-it-in-your-face kind of guys. I had found a place where I could act on the impulses I felt without worrying whether the other guy was gay or not. We were all there for the same reason. No apologies; no regrets.
I was sore. My ass hurt like Hell. But it was a good kind of hurt...the soreness of running a marathon or winning a battle...and when the pain was gone, the memories would remain forever.
I got to my feet slowly and began looking for my clothes. My shoes were in the corner, but nothing else. I felt the floor in the dark shadows to see if I’d missed anything...but nothing.
There were a few stragglers in the hall who patted me on the back...and the ass...as I passed them. I looked into the other large room in the basement to see if my clothes had been dropped there. It contained some wooden racks and frames (which I learned later were for bondage) and a large collection of whips and dildos...but no clothing.
I was forced to climb the stairs naked...with my shoes in my hand. As I made my way back to the bar, I was congratulated and welcomed by total strangers. I got a few hugs...and lots of pats on the ass. It was like the team dressing room after a victory. I tried to brush the dirt off my knees, but without much luck.
As I entered the bar there was applause and cat-calls. It was close to 2am; I had been downstairs over 3 hours. It was an odd feeling being the only naked guy in a large crowd of guys who were fully clothed. I stepped behind the bar, not so much to hide my nakedness but to speak to the bartender over the noise.
“Have you seen my clothes?” I asked as I watched his eyes look down my body and up again.
“I’m afraid they’re long-gone. You won’t get ‘em back…sorta a trophy. But I have to say…I thought you were a good lookin’ boy when you came in, but you’re lookin’ even BETTER now.” He broke into a big smile. “What a bush,” he said. “You could use a Weed-whacker.” He handed me a damp towel from the bar sink. “Here,” he said. “You need this….and you’ve got some in your hair, too.”
“But I can’t go back to my dorm like this. Even if I can drive home this way, I still need to get into my dorm…past the security guard. How can I explain THIS?”
“They left your keys and wallet here at the bar...with me. And I can get you something to wear,” he said. “I live upstairs. This is my place. I own Rumors. And you’re about the same height. My jeans’ll fit you.”
“I’ll bring them back,…I promise,” I said as he headed for a door at the other end of the bar.
He paused and turned. “How about tomorrow night?” he said with a grin. “Saturday’s almost as good as Friday.”
I smiled at the prospect and gave a nod. “Watch the bar,” he said. “Make sure these jerks don’t help themselves to refills while I’m gone. I leave the room and suddenly everyone has a full glass.” He opened the door and took the stairs two-at-a-time.
“Piss with a shot of testosterone,” said one patron slamming his thick-bottomed glass on the bar.
“Warm, or on-the-rocks?” I said. Everyone laughed.
“You’re the cutest naked bartender we’ve ever had,” said another. “You’re the ONLY naked bartender we’ve ever had, too.” They laughed again.
He returned quickly with some levis and a tee-shirt…a black, sleeveless muscle-shirt, actually. The patrons booed as I slipped into the jeans and pulled on the shirt. “I really appreciate this. My name is Brian,” I said.
“I’m Troy,” he replied as he reached out to shake my hand firmly and energetically. He was muscular, about 6-feet-one, with short-cropped blonde hair and a thin moustache. His light blue eyes were distinctive; his smile was perfect. He reminded me of a Marine. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I’m at Penn State,” I said.
“You ARE a long way from home,” he countered. “If you want to wait about bringing back those clothes…”
“No, I said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Can’t get enough, can ya?” He laughed. “I can remember how horny I was when I was in college. I had blisters on my palm. Well, I’m sure they’ll treat you a little different tomorrow night. Tonight was just a test. Sorta like an initiation. If you come back tomorrow, they’ll respect you for it.”
“I’m willing to learn,” I said. It sounded a little dorky in retrospect.
He smiled and reached up to muss my hair. “See ya tomorrow.”
……………………..
I drove back to Altoona the following night…earlier this time, because I wanted to be there as the regular guys arrived. I’d show them I wasn’t afraid of them…and that I was there for the same reason they were.
Troy gave me another one of those killer-smiles. “Well, aren’t we eager?”
I grinned and raised an eyebrow. He’d figured me out already.
“How about giving me a hand? Can you go out-back and bring in another case of Budweiser?”
I handed him the paper bag with his jeans and shirt. “Good,” he said. “I hoped you wouldn’t go to the trouble of washing them.”
I carried in a case of beer…and made a few more trips to help him out then sat on my usual stool. “Let me show you something,” he said, waving a video cassette in front of me. “Ever heard of Jeff Stryker?”
I said “No.”
“Wait ‘til you see this,” he said shoving it into the tape player. “It’s my favorite scene in all of male porn. ‘Bigger Than Life.’ Stryker fucks the shit out of Jeff Quinn, a real cutie, in the alley. Right up his ‘alley’ as a matter of fact.”
I laughed…until the video started. Long dark hair, gorgeous eyes, a body that looked like a Greek statue, but dressed in jeans and a muscle shirt…Stryker was the toughest, most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen. “He has the dirtiest mouth in all of male-porn,” said Troy.
It was amazing how fast these guys could get their clothes off…especially wearing the tight jeans over large boots. Jeff Stryker had Quinn on his knees sucking the second-biggest cock I’d ever seen. “They make latex dildos that are exact reproduction of that cock,” Troy said wistfully. “I’ve got one…upstairs.”
“I want to feel it down your throat. I want to feel it down your throat.” Stryker was talking to Quinn all the time he was working his cock into him. Quinn couldn’t say much except to gag occasionally.
“Drop those jeans.” “Against the wall.” “Spread those legs.” You want this big, hard cock in your ass, don’t you?" “Let me hear it.” “I’m gonna shove this hard cock into that tight boy-ass.” And he did it…holding his cock like a dildo…driving it in with no mercy. You could see the pain on Quinn’s face, but he was loving it. “Yes, oh, yes,” he murmured.
We watched the entire scene as the bar quieted down; this was everyone’s favorite, apparently. When the scene was over, I felt the tightness in my groin that indicated that I was already oozing some pre-cum. I couldn’t watch stuff like that without getting very involved.
Troy laughed. “You look like you’ve seen the Second Coming,” he said. “Close your mouth. Pull your tongue back in. Haven’t you seen stuff like this before?”
I had a friend who had some porn,” I said. “But not like THAT.” John’s collection had been mostly younger boys…French films…with classical music. Languid close-ups of bodies rubbing against each other…beautifully-lit shots of curving body contours…lots of kissing. Stryker didn’t kiss Quinn even once.
Our conversation turned in new directions, but I couldn’t get the images of Stryker’s punishing physicality out of my mind.
Troy was, in fact, a former navy-man…29…who took all his military pay and bought this old warehouse and fixed it up with the help of a few buddies. His passion was motorcycles. He’d ridden across the entire US on a whim…alone. He was mostly a loner…no partner…never had a long-term partner…and he was saving his money to open a string of gay bars in central Pennsylvania.
“State College could sure use a place like this,” I suggested. “But maybe a little more high-tone to attract faculty as well as students.
He laughed. “I went to one of those places in Boston once,” he said. “Filled with businessmen in ties, drinking fancy drinks and talking about mergers and balance sheets. But all they really wanted to do was fuck…but they couldn’t just come out and say it. I’ll take these guys any day,” he said sweeping his arm across the bar’s seating area. “They call a fuck a fuck.”
The conversation returned to Rumors. “Tell me the difference between the back room and the downstairs,” I queried. “They’re sorta the same…but they’re different.”
“The backroom is for ‘quickies’…guys who come in for a few beers and want a blow-job…or a cum-chaser. Something anonymous. It’s mostly in-and-out. Guys wander in from the theater or the arcade…they spend a little while, get their rocks off, and then leave. Or sometimes they’re looking for someone to take into the cubicles for a quick, private fuck. There are a few guys who stay in the backroom all night, but they’re mostly watchers and listeners.”
I nodded, remembering how guys kept strolling in and out.
“Downstairs is a different story. We call it ‘The Pit,’” he said, lowering his voice. It’s more of a destination. Guys go down there to play all night. They want it hard…and often. For them, it’s a way-of-life. They get-off on the group experience…the sights and sounds of other guys fucking and getting fucked. For them, sex is a team-sport. Did you see the bondage room?” he asked, tilting his head and licking his lips unconsciously.
“I stuck my head in,” I replied. “Nothing was happening.”
“There’s a bunch that comes in together. They’re the ones who equipped that room and built the St. Andrew’s Cross. They’re into that shit, and I turn a blind-eye. We’d probably get shut-down if the Sheriff knew what was goin’ on. It’s all consensual…most of it, anyway…but occasionally they take a virgin like you down there with enough drugs in him to consent to anything. Watch out for them. They won’t hurt you, but they’ll scare the shit out of you.”
I didn’t mention that I had not been a ‘virgin’ before the prior night’s experience. “I’m going back down to the other room tonight. I’ll show them they didn’t intimidate me last night…and I’ve got a few plans up my sleeve.”
“That’s a good plan,” he said. “You sound like you can hold your own with the guys in the Pit. Just be careful. I can remember what it was like when I was your age.”
“Thanks,” I said giving the back of his hand a pat as I got up to leave.
He twisted his hand quickly and gripped my wrist. “Big hands,” he said. “I love guys with big hands.”
“You know what they say,” I said, looking down at the bulge in my jeans.
“You got no inadequacies in that department. I got a good look last night. Even soft, you’re a handful. And, if you weren’t on the other side of this bar, I’d have a handful of that right now.” We both laughed.
“Isn’t it hard to stay behind the bar all the time and not get into the action that’s going on in the next room?” I said. “It’d drive me crazy.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” he said. “Go…go have a good time. Give ‘em Hell…and let me know what happens. I’ll just stay here and imagine it. Oh,… and don’t lose your pants this time.”
“Can I leave my shirt?” I said. “I don’t want to lose it…and I plan to keep my pants on.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ve got a spot right here behind the bar.” I stripped off the shirt, a black lycra crew-neck tee with a Japanese Yin-and-Yang symbol in stark white…a gift from John. He took it and brought it to his nose. “I love how you smell,” he said. “Very male.”
“Go figure,” I snarled as I adjusted my black, leather belt and headed into the arcade.
“Go get ‘em, Jeff,” he called after me.
I tensed my pecs and abs as I walked through the door. The arcade was filled with guys shoving quarters into video machines or waiting in line for private booths. Most of them were older and unattractive…but a few were interesting. I could feel my cock swelling in my pant-leg as the sounds of taped sex from a dozen machines blended into a low-roar of moans, heavy-breathing, and ejaculation shouts…all accompanied by a cacophony of bad background music. Eyes turned as I passed. A soft, low whistle made me smile.
The backroom was crowded, and it was still relatively early. But I didn’t stay long enough for my eyes to become adapted to the low light; I felt my way along the wall and encountered several bodies lined up to catch a trick.
The private rooms were all available. Doors stood open to show simple metal bed-frames with bare mattresses. One room had a sling. I slipped my fingers into my tight jeans to check the condom supply before traversing the stairs down into “The Pit.”
In the dim light of the hallway I recognized the guy who had fucked me the night before. He was getting a blow-job from a guy kneeling in the passageway. He recognized me as I approached.
“You have something of mine,” I said. “My pants.”
“And you have something of mine,” he countered. “…a cum-load dripping out of your asshole.”
“Give me my pants and I’ll gladly give you a cum-load to replace the one you lost,” I said staring at him eye-to-eye.
“A cocky bastard. I like that. Is that the way your Mommy taught you to say ‘hello’? I was about to say ‘Welcome back.’ Here, give my buddy a suck,” he said to the guy on his knees.
The guy clutched at my jeans and had the fly open in seconds. His mouth was already on me before I could look down. He stroked the other guy’s red, saliva-slick shaft with his hand while he sucked me expertly.
“Whaddaya say we call a truce…forget the pants…and share a few hot boy-asses in the Pit. I like your style.” He raised his hand to stroke the curve of my pec. “I’d love to watch you fuck someone…with those abs of yours. Fuckin’ poetry-in-motion.”
The cock-sucker moved back to his cock, causing him to gasp…and the guy’s hand worked my balls out of my fly with nimble fingers. After a few sucks, his mouth returned to suck my balls held tightly in his fist so that the skin stretched tight and red over the hard knots.
I stepped back, pulling them out of his lips with a pop. “Let’s go,” I said. “I’ll match you fuck-for-fuck.”
“Let’s see what kind of a judge of boy-ass you are. I’ll let you go first. Beginner’s luck.” He smiled in a friendly way. “Some of my favorites are already inside…and a few dogs, too.” I passed him and walked into The Pit. The walls were lined with guys…a few of them already naked…a few getting sucked-off. One guy looked particularly nice…about my age, but only five-feet-six…a swimmer’s build, naked except for faded jeans. I stopped in front of him and turned. With one finger I traced a line from his jugular notch to his sternum between rounded pec-mounds. He smiled as if he enjoyed being chosen so quickly. I gripped his nipple ring and twisted. He smiled, at-first, then winced...then his eyes flashed with arousal. “What can I do for ya?” he said seductively.
“Damn. You’re good,” said the fucker from last night. “This one has an ass that can suck like a milking machine…and if you hit his prostate just right, he’ll clamp down on you so tight, you’ll think he’s gonna bite your dick off. I’ll fuck this one over here…and we can trade-off, if you want to.” He motioned to a mocha-chocolate black guy, already naked and rubbing his ass. “Fine…very fine.”
“Against the wall,” I said to my trick in my most threatening voice. I unsnapped the tiny strap that disappeared into his ass-crack. “Drop those jeans.” He obliged quickly. Under the jeans he was wearing a leather thong with a zipper in the front. “Spread those legs,” I said.
“I can’t,…Sir.” It was the first time anyone had ever called me “Sir”…and I paused. “I need to take them off.”
“Do it,” I ordered. He leaned against the wall with one hand while pulling the jeans off his shins with the other. As soon as he finished, he resumed the position…and spread his legs wide. Meanwhile, I opened the buttons of my fly, pulled the flaps open wide, and applied a condom. Then I unsnapped the thin, black leather strap that disappeared into his ass-crack. He quickly unfastened the buckle at the hip and the leather fell to the floor.
“And spread that ass,” I said. He leaned against the wall and reached back with both hands gripping his ass-cheeks and spreading it as wide as it would go. I leaned forward to speak into his ear. “Do you want this big cock in your tight boy-ass?” I said, remembering Jeff Stryker.
“Yessir,” he begged. “Give it to me.”
I fucked him then,…harder than I had ever fucked anyone before. I gripped his wrists and spread his arms high above his head against the brick wall and rammed my cock into him with sharp piston-action. My cock made a sucking-sound as it pulled out of him...like pulling boots out of deep mud.
The other guy was fucking his choice next to me, matching me stroke-for-stroke. I was determined to last longer than he and to make my boy scream with pleasure. We’d see who was “the best there is.”
“Tighten that ass,” I growled against his cheek. “You know you love it.”
“I love your cock in me,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck me!”
I felt hands reach between us to feel my abs as they drove my shaft deep into him. And someone slithered on his back between my spread legs; he positioned his body against the wall and began to suck the boy I was fucking. His hands gripped the backs of my knees and urged me to pound him harder.
He came suddenly without warning...a convulsion that impacted my chest and chin with such force, I almost lost my rhythm. His ass muscles tightened around my shaft in incredible spasms as his load shot down the sucker’s throat. I was determined not to cum yet. His tightness made it feel so good; as if I were overcoming his unwillingness to continue...and the thought of fucking him against his will was a further turn-on. He was gasping now with every penetration...a rapid staccato of pleasure-grunts through clenched teeth...each gasp accompanied by a clenching on my shaft.
I heard the guy next to me begin to cum...a sound that was still so vividly in my memory from last night. His primitive sounds only raised my level of intensity. I planted my feet and dug-in; I bent my knees to get more leverage into him; I lifted him onto his toes with each thrust; my mouth found the back of his neck and I tasted his fear.
The guy next to me had his boy in a Full-Nelson wrestling hold now, with the boy’s back arched against his chest as he thrust straight up into his stretched ass. The boy’s hand worked his own cock, curving upward, long and hard...ready to spurt. I snapped my boy into the same position and turned toward the other pair; he did the same...and we pressed the two boys chest-to-chest to finish them off. He came first, then his boy...and I finished last in a huge thrust that lifted my boy off his toes as the other boy’s cum bathed his lower abs. I froze in place as my spasms continued...almost unable to stand without the support of hands all over my body. As we released the two boys, they clung together in a sensual embrace as they kissed.
As we stepped away, the other guy put his sweaty arm over my shoulder. “You’re a hot fuck,” he said with a smile. “I underestimated you. While I was fucking that worthless piece-of-shit I was thinking about fucking you last night. It made me fuck him even harder when I watched you fucking Chris there. You really had him going.”
I gave him a firm-jawed nod. “Same here,” I added. “Seeing and hearing you fuck that kid made me fuck my guy even harder. You were right. He has a great ass.”
“Whaddaya say we team-up tonight and fuck the whole stable? I haven’t done that for 3 years.”
I looked down at my semi-hard cock still hanging from my open fly, wondering if I could manage another hard-on so soon. He read my mind.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he reached into his pocket. “I have just what you need.” He retrieved a thin, black piece of plastic about ten inches long and a quarter inch wide. “We use these to bundle electrical wires during house-construction...but they make fine cock-rings. Here, I’ll show you.” He knelt and began wrapping my cock and balls with the thin strip, then fed one end through a zipper-like closure in the other end and “zipped” it tight. “That sucker will stay on all night,” he said as he looked up, pleased that my shaft was already starting to harden. “And let’s get rid of these.” He started pulling my pants down my thighs.
“Is this another way to steal my jeans?” I said. I grasped for the fabric to pull them up.
He laughed heartily. “Hell no,” he said, stripping them down to my knees. I’ve got a special spot where I leave mine...and no fucker would dare take ‘em. And we can leave yours there too. I promise. You’ll only lose your pants once around this place.” I kicked off my shoes and let him strip them further down my calves. He stood, handed them to me while he shucked his own off, then grabbed mine and rolled them together into a bundle. “Over here,” he said. “In the ceiling beams...that’s my spot.” He turned toward me again with a sudden serious look. “We’ll make a fine fucker out of you,” he said. “You’ve got the fire inside. I can tell. Let’s go next-door...there’s so much to show you.” His big hand gripped the back of my neck and guided me into the hallway between the two larger rooms. “I’m Jake, by-the-way...although everyone around here calls me ‘Hammer.’ But you can call me Jake.”
“I’m Brian,” I said. “Brian Kinney.”
“You’ll be ‘Boy’ until I’m through with you,” he said ruffling the back of my hair. “Now, let’s fuck our brains out.” He shoved me in front of him as we passed down the hall. Guys stepped out of our way as we passed.
.................................
It was 3 am when I retrieved my pants and dragged my sagging ass back upstairs to the bar.
“You won’t believe...” I said to Troy who was washing glasses.
“Oh, yes I would. Hammer told me what happened as he left. Fucking with the big-boys, huh? You made quite an impression, I think.” He lined the glasses up, pretending to focus on his work, but his raised eyes were on me.
“I feel like I’ve been through a war,” I said perching my ass on a bar-stool.
“Well, that kinda war can turn you into a mercenary soldier,” he said with a grin. “It’s addictive. I tell you...I know. Try living on a battleship for 4 months...and then getting a weekend in San Diego.”
“I’ve gotta get outa here,” I said settling my chest and face against the bar as if I were planning to sleep there. “These late nights are killing me. A boy needs his sleep.” I smiled when I realized I’d called myself a “boy.”
“Why dontchya stay here?” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve got a big bed...upstairs. And you’re welcome to sleep-over...anytime.” He paused because I didn’t move. He touched my shoulder lightly. “We could fool-around...or not. You’re call.”
“I’m pretty wasted tonight,” I said, raising my head with bleary eyes. “I’d probably fall asleep at-the-wheel. I’d probably even fall asleep in the middle of...”
“Of a sentence,” he said. I realized I almost had done just that. “You can take a shower, if you want,” he continued. “Or not. I love how you smell after sex. I probably won’t sleep all night, just breathing your aroma.” I smiled sleepily. “Let me help you,” he said, stepping around the bar with my shirt in his hand. I slipped off the barstool and he put an arm around my waist, guiding me to the stairs. “Helping the victorious warrior off the battlefield,” he said. “Ready to fight another day.” I draped the black shirt around my neck like a scarf...like a horseshoe of roses after the Kentucky Derby. John would have never believed this in his wildest dreams. At the stairs, I pulled myself up using the handrail. “In here,” he said, directing me into the bedroom. I sat on the bed, still in a daze, then threw myself backwards onto the un-made bed, hands thrown back over my head.
“You got some nail clippers?” I asked. I can’t get this damned plastic thing off my cock. It keeps giving me hard-ons ever fifteen minutes.”
“I need to go back downstairs for another hour,” he said, ignoring my question. “Then I’ll clear-out the stragglers and shut the place down. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His hand brushed my chest gently as if he wanted to stay. His thumb brushed my pit-hair.
I rolled into fetal position and clutched the pillow as if it were a boy ready to be fucked.
“Hold that thought,” he whispered as he left.
