He told me to take off my clothes as he went to get us some beers, and excused himself to take care of a few quick and immediate matters.
He paid the cabby and we went up to his flat, which wasn’t shabby at all and convinced me he was a well-paid professional. I imagine we scared the crap out of the cab driver. I swear he was growling in a low bass pitch the whole time, like an animal. During the cab ride to his flat, his big palm never left my denim-imprisoned straining cock and I couldn’t help myself from licking and sucking on his deeply chiselled and rough jaw line. He caught up with me outside, told me he was John and that we should go to his place, hailing a cab. I kept his focus and walked right past him, heading for the door. In the cruising game you’ve got to play it tough or most of these guys will just walk away. When I approached him, I locked his gaze.
I saw him rebuff several offers from some very good-looking men. He kept brushing his hand by that crotch and letting it linger there while I watched, mesmerized by it. I cruised around some, usually stopping to watch a hot session or chat with someone I knew, but always keeping an eye on that man and letting him know I was interested. But sometimes there are those men who have that animal magnetism and killer frame that makes me nervous and a little excited. If I want a hole to fuck, I go for a slighter fellow who can’t take his eyes off my basket. If I want to get fucked, I look for a burly masculine man who can’t take his eyes off all the ass that walks by. Now, normally I pick up a man based on what I feel like doing sexually on that occasion. Most men look twice when I walk by, although it’s deadly in a place like this one to look too needy.Īs I ordered myself a beer I spied a man leaning nonchalantly on the far side of the bar, obviously half-interested in watching a guy getting a blow off in the shadows. I quickly surveyed the men as I usually did as soon as I enter a bar to get my bearings, to see what’s available. When I entered the bar, the usual rag-tag group of leather-worshippers - rough trade, masters and slaves - was loitering about the place, many enmeshed in a live-fisting sling scene in a dark corner.
It’s your standard leather bar, the kind where the dress code loosely demands leather or denim, and most of that can be checked at the door if you so choose. It was late on a chilly spring Wednesday night in May when I got to my favourite local haunt, The Chase. However, there was still one taboo I had not broken, although I didn’t even realize it at the time, and in the way one peels away the many layers of an onion to get closer to the rich core, I realized that there were parts of my sexuality that I still had not come to terms with. I was so far removed from being the simple farm boy who had moved to the city scarcely less than two years before as to be considered ‘worldly’ by the standards of most of the men I enjoyed the company of.
By the time I come to my time of my story, I had been fisted twice, tortured, enslaved, peed on, and been the subject of mass orgies and sex parties full of hard drugs, sex toys and fetish games. I began to frequent the leather bars, the darker baths, the parks - those places where men descended into darkness to exercise their deepest, most secret fetish desires. I started going in for the rougher trade men or the men who seemed to have something special to offer. As they do with so many young gay men, my possibilities began to expand. Well, it wasn’t too long (my second year of college) before I began to seek out more than just the vanilla partners I had screwed around with. In no time I was putting my legs in the air for another frat, fucking anonymous pickups from seedy downtown bars, and generally having a great time discovering all those years of pent-up sexual frustration made me one great poke in my post-adolescence. It wasn’t until I moved to the city to go to college that I began to explore what feel I had always known. Other boys were experimenting openly with the farm girls or at least boasting about it. I think I was too busy avoiding my sexuality back then. In all that time, I never once considered having sex with any of the animals or with the hired help, even though I saw the animals having sex, the help having sex, and even once or twice I stumbled onto the help having sex with the animals. I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle and the animals, and even had some help in the lessons of life from the farmhands. I grew up on a dairy farm in the back country of a large metropolitan area.