“I shouldn’t be here.” I tell myself. Standing outside the bar, garish neon lights blinking slowly in my face, I shiver and almost leave. It’s loud inside – people laughing and a blare of music trying to drown everyone out. I’m standing about 15 feet away by a dead lamp post. Watching. A somewhat steady stream of people in and out, various states of dress. Various types. Nice, casual, punk, grimy – all kinds.
I just turned 21. I’m going. Fuck my parents. Fuck the Church and fuck everyone else. All I’ve known my entire life is what I shouldn’t do. How I should act. How I should be starting to think about settling down with some pretty girl and thinking about a family. Too goddamned young if you ask me. I’m on winter break from school, staying with my parents and couldn’t stand another night listening to them natter on about responsibilities and what’s expected of me.
My breath steams in the air while a little dusting of snow falls around me, futilely trying to dampen the sound pounding from the building. When the stream of people dies down, I force myself to move. Now or never, I tell myself. The bouncer (a big burly guy with an almost porcine face) stops me to ask for my ID. My hands shake when I pass it over but I tell myself it’s the cold. He looks at the ID and then me. ID then me. Then to my shaking hands. Back to me. “You okay, kid?” He asks. His voice sounds surprisingly gentle.
“Y… yeah. J… Just cold is all.” I don’t think he buys it but he gives me back my ID and waves me in with a quick hand stamp. What can he do to stop me? It’s a real ID.
It’s warm inside. And bright. And loud. The sound rolls over me like a wave and I blink, looking around to get my bearings. The bar. There. Mostly everyone is sitting around small round tables on the floor but I want the bar. A few people look up and then back to the drinks and conversation – some eyes linger for a bit. I make my way to the bar, finding a large empty spot, and then sit down. I don’t even remember what I ordered. I just picked something from the menu because none of it makes sense. I have a general idea of what tequila and vodka and other drinks are but I’ve never had alcohol. My face is flush and the barrage of sound is disorienting. I spend my time staring at the surface of the bar and almost squeak when the waiter puts the glass in front of me.
The drink burns. My first time with alcohol and I almost sputter and spit it everywhere. My sinus is on fire and I almost hack up a lung. People LIKE this stuff? Why in the world…?
“You all right there?” Now I do squeak. I didn’t hear the guy walk up but there he is. Casual white button down shirt open slightly. Tie in his open suit coat pocket. Handsome, older – 40? and a 5 o’clock shadow. I try to talk, can’t and then nod my head. “Good. Mind if I sit? Getting crowded.” I nod again and he sits with a sigh, as if letting off all the pressures of the day.
We talk a bit. Well, he talks at me and I sometimes nod but eventually I’m answering. Now I’m feeling good. Happier. Smiling. My drink is half gone and I’m laughing and joking with the guy next to me. He’s watching and he’s got these little crinkles in the corners of his eye. Little wrinkles here and there, happy ones that say he’s had a decent life.
I don’t even notice when he puts his hand on my thigh.
No, instead, I’m laughing about some story he’s told… some… it’s hard to remember. Some story about his secretary getting drunk at a Christmas party and flashing everyone. An older lady. Dancing on tables. His hand is massaging my thigh and it feels good. I cover it with my own and feel how rough his are. Large against my smaller hands. I’m on … I don’t know how many drinks I’ve had now. They don’t even burn any more and I’m not paying for them so I don’t really care.
Now he’s whispering in my ear and it tickles. The bathroom. He wants to go to the bathroom. Oh. Oh. With me. Oh. I… But… His hand is on my crotch and I’m hard – was hard before he touched me. Was hard when he sat down to talk to me.
I’d wondered. For the longest time. I’d wondered. I tried dating girls. I kissed a few. I just… it just doesn’t work. After a certain age, I watched men more. And then, more subtly when I heard my parents talking late at night – after they saw me checking out a man. Fighting. Arguing. Wondering if I were gay.
I am. I want him. This man that smells faintly of cologne.
“Yes.” I tell him. He’s a little over 6 feet tall to my 5 and a half. He takes my hand and pulls me along and I watch him walk. So confident. So sure of himself and not self-conscious worrying about anyone else around him. He drops my hand 5 feet from the bathroom and goes in. I breathe deeply a few times and then push the door open – just to see him going into a stall. The bathroom is empty. Thank God. Thank God.
The stalls are large and, if I weren’t drunk, I might wonder if that’s on purpose but I’m not and I doubt they are anyway. He’s got a small bottle in his hand and he’s watching me.
“Are you sure?” He’s asking. I nod, undoing my belt and zipper. “Just… just… will it hurt?”
I hear the cap pop on the bottle. “A little. I have good lube but, yeah, it’ll hurt a little. And then it’ll feel good. The alcohol will help. Just breathe through your nose and it’ll eventually pass. Hold the wall.”
“O… okay.” And, I do. I close my eyes, clamp my teeth down and start breathing heavily through my nose. My pants are down around my feet and my dick is throbbing in the cool air, small but proud. I feel one of his hands on my ass and I squirm. I’ve… I’ve never had someone touch me there. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. I can feel the head of his dick against me. It’s slick and warm, probing my ass.
I almost scream when he pushes the first time but he backs off. And then again. It hurts. Oh Jesus, it hurts and I’m trying to relax my ass but I’m scared and nervous and excited and I wan OH FUCKING CHRIST! I scream, muffled through my teeth. It’s… somehow he’s in and, fuck! It hurts. I can feel him against me, his whole body. He takes my shoulder in his hand and whispers in my ear to keep breathing. I can feel my tears but I nod back. I almost scream against when he pushes in slightly but he pulls out more and then he’s spreading lube on my ass and the base of his dick. It doesn’t hurt quite as bad when he pushes in again. Still really painful but not quite as bad.
And then he pushes in again – slightly. And again. And again. He’s right. Eventually it hurts less. Eventually, I start to want more. Now I’m pushing back against him, feeling how deep he is in me. Hearing him grunt. Not hearing the bathroom door open and close as people come and go. There are nerves and things going on that I can’t even comprehend beyond how amazing it feels. Well, beyond the pain still remaining.
I’m … I’m … I can’t … I can’t hold it… I moan when I cum, sperm hitting the bathroom stall and dropping my hips as my legs buckle. I shake a little but he’s still in me. Starting to push harder. I’m trying to push back but my legs are weak. I want to feel him more but I can barely even hold myself up – until I feel his arm around me, holding me. He’s strong and I relax against him, hearing the noise as he’s pounding me. His rough beard against my cheek, breath hot and strong with alcohol. Large hands on my stomach and shoulder. Feeling each jolt as his dick pounds into me. Feeling my own dick struggle to get hard with each electric pulse. Hearing his breathing go ragged and harsh.
“Fu…fu…I’m going to cum… I’m…” and then he does. It’s, I’m not going to lie, it’s not a pleasant feeling. Not exactly. Part of it? Yes. It’s just that the feeling of warm liquid in my ass makes me feel funny. But, oh, I’m trying to get hard again. It just… it just feels… The head of his dick is swelling in my ass and I’m hard again. I can feel him reach around to grab my dick, pumping it as the head of his dick expands in me. He’s jerking my dick around and I’m squirming against him. I can’t cum again for a while but it feels so good to have his rough callused hands around my dick.
I can feel his cum leaking out of me. Out of my ass as he’s pushing into me slightly, pushing the cum out. I should feel ashamed but I’m not. Maybe it’s the alcohol or something else but I feel like laughing and I want more.
Because, what the hell.
It’s my birthday.