99 bottles of beer on the wall
This past week was most awful, uncreative, and bizarre, so to take my mind off of the shit, (which I’d rather not subject you, the reader, to), and in a way, to see if I still “got it” I went to the Eagle for the very first time on a Friday evening. I’d been there before I think on a Wednesday when I first came here to DC. It was cool but if you been in one leather bar, you ‘ve pretty much seen them all. The crowd was very nice though and the staff were most cool and this past friday was no exception. It’s nice to have a place in DC where there is no attitude and the looks one gets for being a big boy are positive instead of distasteful.I really dig the music they play at a leather bar, I get to reminisce of my own time spent dj’ing at leather clubs, though I’m hardly into the lifestyle full-on... don’t do the cowqueen leather drag, that is. But the sex of the leather lifestyle is of some interest to me.
So as the group of patrons started to get fuller and as the guys were liberally getting acquainted, I was deep into thinking of the current wackyness of my place right now and as I started to really think of the sadness that is pinching at me every now and then, a thick hand petted my belly and I kind of got startled back to reality.
"You are the fuckin’ hottest guy in here", this most snuggly furry dark Italian looking man said to me. Thank god I still got it... well wait how drunk is he? he’s not legally blind is he? why the fuck am I so insecure tonight? tonight? dork.
"Thanks, man... sorry I was zonin’", I said
"I like your sad sexy eyes"
Well then you’re about to be my next fucking husband then aren’t you?
"Thanks, that’s kind, I’ve a lot on my mind right now... and trying to be distracted."
"How do you like to be distracted?"
"Slowly. By men like you." awwwwwwwwwwww
The Italian stranger smiled. He wasn’t drunk.
(As was the hustler who fanned the flame of my insecurities who reeked of sour alcohol, abuse, sweat, and bitterness that tried to pick me up earlier saying how he could work my nipples off and how I was soo damn fine and must be a model and sexier than any man in here and "hey sexy could you buy me a shot" and when I knew what he was from his first wiping of sleep from his eyes and the smell of alley that blanketed him and I lied and said I didn’t have any money, well then I wasn’t so sexy or exotic or interesting to him any more, as is the process of the hustler. From 1992 to today, the bar hustlers haven’t evolved. At least get some new lines guys.)
The Italian stranger seemed to have normal eyes. The Italian stranger was an older maybe 45 furry man a la alec baldwin with short black s&p hair, a snuggly tummy that wasn’t manufactured in a gym but thankfully left to it’s own natural devices of some late night pasta and potatoe chip binges with some diet coke and college football lineman days. Kinda like me though I never played football in school - outside of school yeah and still do.
He drank beer. I cringed a bit. Only ‘cos I hate beer kisses. But he was a god. and this god was talking to me. And wasn’t drunk or legally blind or a hustler.
"You’re really hot", he said
blah blah blah, do they really mean this shit? well you say it to them too, don’t you? okay.
"thanks, you too. You're like one of my fantasy men," I grinned
"yeah? how do you mean?" he asked
blah blah blah "You’re a perfect Italian ‘lil daddy"
The Italian stranger laughed like he was family and hit my arm like I do sometimes to other folks when they make me laugh. He was comfortable and familiar and then I knew we were alike in some ways. In those deviant ways and I wanted to be with him and see where he would take me.
He was different.
blah blah blah what do you do, boyfriend? girlfriend? wife? husband? pets? fish, really? cats thank you no originally from chicago blah blah blah jesus tap dancing christ kiss me already "May I kiss you," I asked him. He terrified me. I was nervous like I was in high school when the quarterback shoved me hard against the parked band bus and kissed me even harder as the tabs from his shoulderpad's chest plate dug into the top of my own chest. He was italian too.
"You don’t need to ask any man if you can kiss them," he said. I stood up on tiptoe and grabbed the back of his head softly and kissed him. A dry kiss 'cos you never know where their mouths have been.
You never know where their mouths have been.
Mustache tingles along my mouth and spine god that would feel good up my ass. His hand went inside the back of my pants underneath the jockstrap and his thickest finger played and slid down inside my ass searching? Woo hoooooo he’s a top
wooohoo wooohoooo woohooo wooohoooo woho (a la daffy duck)
"Tell me you're a bottom," he said
"Okay, you're a bottom wooo hoooo woohoohwoooho....
That fuckin' laughter again that makes me remember what happiness is.
"Labels are for clothes", I said blah blah blah
"I can’t be your boyfriend but I’d like to play with you," he said
I can’t seem to be anyone’s boyfriend so that’s okay, no prob.
"I’d like to play with you too. I can be a great bottom," I said
His eyes opened wide, unconsciously I think and he licked his lips, unconsciously I think and he yanked me by my jock strap whiplash fast to his furry chest and belly.
His cologne was Antaeus. That's what made me know he was different. Not many men know that cologne or would think Chanel made a masculine man's cologne. That cologne brand is over 80 years old. Gramma would say "Gentlemen wear Antaeus". And grampa did. And so do I and this Italian stranger. But I wasn’t wearing it that night.
"Can you take a big dick," he asked
Do you have one to give or are you using the wax-on-bong-off-mr-miyagi-measuring-stick?
"My favourite dildo is 13x9. I like shoving things up my ass blah blah blah say it again, well it’s not exactly bewitching me or anything...
"Well I’m not that big."
sigh...you never are
"I’m only 10"
hellllo friend
"I’m only 33, be gentle, it’s my first time blah blah blah say it again sam
"Your first time?!?"
"Yeah with someone who’s only 10"
That fucking laughter again from both of us.
From both of us.
"Buy me a beer," he asked. Awww fuck why'd you ruin it?! NEXT, gong, you must be working in groups tonight
"I don’t by drinks for horny drunken old men" I said as I got up to leave.
I saw how hurt he could be. I saw his sadness and loss and paternal shortcomings.
"I’m not drunk duh he said annoyed oh shit now you blew it. as usual
"I’m sorry. Really really I am a la any b&w silver screen drama queen please forgive me it’s just earlier...oh never mind I’m sorry".
He smiled and I saw how happy he could be. I saw his accomplishments and pride and his paternal rewards.
He leaned in close to me, his mustache flirting like a good whore against my bottom earlobe. "Buy me a beer ‘cos it’s not going to be just a beer. You’re going to like it. We’re both going to like it," he said.
Sometimes one just knows who to fuck with. Like cats know what other cats to fuck, brother or sister or mother or father or not. Cats fuck whoever among them and like cats some of us just know who we can play with. We know who is part of our tribe.
I bought him a beer and brought it back to the place against the wall where we were standing and flirting and I wanted to be his. In so many ways. Gentlemen wore Antaeus.
"You don’t drink?" he asked
"No. Not a drinker. And I really don’t care for beer. though in Brasil there was this beer called Brama beer and I DID really like that blah blah blah no wonder you’re single you ass.
He rammed me close to him again. "You truly classy guys are all whores inside. I want to let you out". click. meow. The beer bottle was cold against the small of my back and he drank a bunch of it. I was hoping he wasn’t going to burp in my face. ick. Had that happen once.. ooooh foxy mamma... not.
The beer bottle was half full half empty blah blah blah and again, he slammed me against him, such strong arms you have...all the better to give you whiplash my son.
And then the Italian stranger did something I’ve never had done in a public place. With so much pleasure. With so many sexy musclemen watching and so many mouths open.
So many mouths.
He hugged me tightly and it felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. you so big an scrawng with the back of my jeans under my ass, he shoved the beer bottle up my ass ‘cos he knew it would go. He knew I’d like it. click. meow. He almost ripped my left nipple off. click meow. He pressed his 10 inches on me and it felt like the roller of a rolling pin. MEOW. He fucked me a while with the beer bottle. And pinching my left nipple and just looking at me, looking in me scaring me to death 'cos maybe he could really see in me I felt, I sensed that maybe he really could see in me. Maybe he really could see in me.......and I moaned loudly when I came. Loudly "'cos you know you Italians gotta let the whole damn world know your gettin' fucked" and the men around us were focused on us. I still got it! woo hoohwohhooowowoo how do I explain this to the doctor if the bottle breaks in my ass? How do I GET to the doctor if this breaks in my ass. jesus tap-dancing christ. But it felt so damn good.
It reminded me of new years eve and the dom perignon. Another blog my sweet.
He pulled out of me and drank the rest of the beer.
He didn’t know me from Adam. OR Eve.. or Madam... or Steve... hahhah
You never know where their mouths have been.
I’m glad I didn’t tongue him. But it was hot.
I came through my jeans, the jockstrap was all twisted and my dick popped out of it and when I shot it seeped through my jeans. I liked it. But how many men had he done that too? How many bottles of beer were on his wall. But it was hot.
"Can we go back to your place," he asked.
I don't seem to have a place here on earth, my friend
"No, I already came thanks bitch... oh you BITCH hee heee
"You just gonna go?!?" he said
"Yeah I got off, thanks that was hot" bitch
"What the fucks wrong, didn’t you like that, don’t you like me..."
"I loved it , you see how much I came? I could fall in love with you, but men like you scare me"
"What?"
"How many guys have you done that to? I could have AIDS or herpes or fuck I could be some straight guy that never wipes his ass right but always want’s some other down low daddy’s face up it. It was heaven until you drank from that bottle".
"You’re a classy guy and you have soft hands" he said
{Que what Maria?} "This bar ain’t your life, you're not the common Eagle type. Your watch and shoes are Dolce and Gabbana, you sat up front on that bench for almost 2 hours not interested in any of the men that came up to you and you knew that hustler right off. You're sad 'cos you’re not a slut and when I shoved my finger up your ass nothing jumped out at me - what did you douche with? and how long? an hour? That made you dehydrated didn't it? 'cos you've been drinking water like a fish" click. meow.blah blah blah my shoes are prada "I made you buy a beer so you could remember it and you'd know the bottle was clean. I’m negative," he said blah blah blah where’s your paper? and a note from your mom and a note from the nurse blah blah blah I can’t even play with guys safely without worrying can someone let go of that goddamn aids cure already GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!!!!
I felt guilty for not getting him off. "Jack off," I said,"Play with my chest as you jack off behind me". He flung me around and slammed my back against his hard furry belly and massive furry pecs. My own personal King Kong. He tortured my right nipple just as bad as my left. click.meow. He was bigger than 10 inches. dammit where’d he have it last? did he use a rubber? rubberless? hey you don’t be silly put a rubber on your willy woo hooohwwoohoowhhwooohoo... some old leather queen told him to shoot on his chest. The Italian stranger was a popper. (In coming, I classify 3 types of ejaculation, shooters, poppers and dribblers. Shooters of course can make an olympic event out of the distance they can come, poppers are just a one time mamma pop of cum and that’s it and dribblers are just.. well dribblers. yawn.) I’m a shooter, the Italian guy was a popper. It was hot and no one seemed to mind. It was crowded anyway. I desperatley wanted all of him down my throat.
Me and the Italian guy chatted for a while after. He really seemed like a great guy. My ass started to twitch and get hungry again. He really could have doubled for a darker alec baldwin.. furryness and all. he gave me his email address, I’ll never use it 'cos he spilled the beans that he was married with a kid. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Why why why.
At least I was able to get my mind off my personal wacky shit. wooo hooowhwoowhwooohwwowowoowooooo
posted by Saint Vincent @ 12:00 AM
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