Other Side of Town Ch. 01

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The tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall grew louder as the night grew later.

I did my best to ignore it—to pretend it didn’t mean anything—I even turned the volume on the television so high it hurt my ears…but all I could hear was the relentless tick-tick-tick…

What are you waiting for, John? You know you want to go…take a quick shower and you can be there by eleven…why do you want to sit home alone on a Friday night?

I had made a vow to myself to stay away from the bar this week. Monday night after work, the urge to go there was so strong, I said to myself, ‘John, this is getting out of control, show a little self-restraint and just go home…you’re strong—you can do it!’

But now, the voice in my head I listened to far too often, was saying, “You were a good boy all week long, John, you owe it to yourself to have some fun…you had a productive week at work, you deserve a treat—quit being so uptight—HURRY-UP—or all the good ones will be taken by the time you get there!”

Traffic wasn’t too bad, I was there in under an hour. Yes, there are several bars much closer to home, but I like this place. I have friends here, well, not friends actually, but they smile and say ‘Hi’ when they see me, and the bartenders are nice, too.

I was slightly disappointed when I walked inside and saw it was a slow night. Only a couple pool tables were in use, and as I walked towards the bar I saw maybe half of the stools occupied.

“Hi ya, Billy, my-my, you’re here rather late…” I recognized Timothy’s voice from behind and turned to say hello.

Yes, around here I’m known as ‘Billy’…not sure how it started, but I think it was the first night I came in…I was extremely nervous about being in a gay bar and when someone asked my name, I panicked and said ‘Billy’ and I haven’t corrected anyone here since.

My eyes became wide as saucers at the sight of his very white short-shorts, and cut-off pink tee shirt that displayed his slightly flabby stomach—he looked ridiculous…he was in his mid-thirties and was trying too hard to recreate his teenage years…but he’s a nice guy, and I certainly didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I quickly recovered and said, “Hey, Timothy, how’s it going tonight? Looks a little slow in here…”

“Girlfriend, it’s simply terrible in here tonight—I’d have better luck meeting someone at a church social!” he said with his usual flair for dramatics.

“Nice top you have on, you look good in pink,” I said with a smile.

“It’s not pink—it’s salmon-colored!” he announced loudly with fake outrage. “You know, dear, it wouldn’t hurt you to wear some ‘provocative’ clothes every now and then…you always dress like you’re coming straight from the golf course!”

I laughed and replied, “I like golfers—it only takes a couple strokes to make their putters rise!”

He burst out laughing and said, “You are a dirty little boy, Billy!”

“Yeah, I guess that’s why I keep coming here…” I said with a huge grin. “Good luck, Timothy.”

“You too, sweetie,” he said, then shyly added: “Billy, if we’re both still alone at closing, you can always come over to my place…”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind!” I said to him remembering the last time we spent the night together…he was actually quite good in bed.

Eddie was behind the bar and when I sat on a stool, he was there two-seconds later with my drink.

“Hey, Billy, have you been sick? We haven’t seen you all week!” he said.

“No…no, I’m feeling fine…it was a busy week at work…and tonight, well, I was going to stay home, but, uh, you know…” I said.

He smiled and nodded his head and said, “Yeah, I know…”

I stared at the smooth, firm flesh of his chest and belly. The small black, leather vest did little to conceal his six pack abs, and his sizable biceps. My heart fluttered and I again reminded myself ‘Down boy, he’s not your type!”

The night I went home with he and his boyfriend, Thomas, was still fresh in my mind.

I’d had great expectations of kissing and licking every inch of his taut, manly body, but SURPRISE—I’d totally misread their relationship…Eddy is just as much a ‘bottom’ as me, and he and I spent the night pleasuring Thomas.

Oh well, it was fun anyhow, and Thomas actually had Eddy pleasure me, too…my goodness, his mouth is absolutely sublime…sometimes I forget how good it feels to ‘receive’ rather than ‘give.’

I was mid-way thru the drink when Eddy set another one before me.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar wearing the blue tie,” he said.

My eyes automatically darted to the mirror on the back bar behind the liquor bottles. I located an older, rather nondescript man, but he did have a full head of distinguished, gray hair…he was staring back at me in the mirror.

Rarely do men wear ties here, the place is more casual western than anything, so I asked Eddy if he’d seen the guy in here before.

He replied, “Yeah, earlier this week—I think he’s safe—he eskişehir escort left with Bobby that night.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said, and lifted the drink, looked directly at him in the mirror, smiled and nodded my head. He held up his own drink, and smiled back at me.

I remained on my bar stool. If there’s one thing I learned it was to not appear too anxious or excited. Let them come to you so you have some semblance of control…they’re the hunters—let them pursue you…they’re the ones who need to get their rocks off…and besides, it does their egos good to think they’ve made a conquest.

I continued drinking, and every now and then made furtive, sideways glances in the mirror. He was still staring at me, and a warm glow spread across my body…I don’t care who you are, if someone is attracted to you it makes you feel special.

My second drink was just about empty. I snuck a peek in the mirror, and OH NO—where did he go? The next thing I knew he was standing beside me holding two drinks.

“You look thirsty—mind if I sit next to you?” he asked, offering me one of the drinks.

“Please do…and thank you for the drinks!” I said with a smile.

When he settled onto the stool, I held out my hand and said, “My name is Billy!”

The ferocity of his cobalt blue eyes was somewhat unsettling.

“I’m Ben,” he replied, and squeezed my hand with a manly, but not-too-hard grip.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before—welcome!” I said with an ingratiating smile.

My smile is infectious, and if the man does not smile back at me a red-flag goes off in my head.

He had a beautiful smile. “Why thank you, Billy, you’re a polite young man…I’m sure your parents are very proud of you!”

Not if they knew where I was and what I had in mind for tonight, I thought, but simply replied, “Thank you.”

The thing about older men I have discovered is you have to be careful not to scare them off. They spook easily, and if you get too personal with your questions they’ll shut down and freeze you out.

“That’s a lovely tie,” I said, opening with a safe line.

“Oh, thank you—it’s Italian,” he said.

I smiled and added, “One piece of advice: if you eat in the steakhouse next door, take it off before you go in because the hostess will come up to you and slice it off with scissors!”

His beautiful blue eyes lit-up and he laughed then said, “I wish I had met you before I ate there last week!”

“Oh my goodness, no,” I said joining in the laughter.

“Yes, it is now hanging on their wall of shame,” he said. “However, the steak was excellent!”

“Yeah, I like to go there from time-to-time,” I said. “I like this area of town. Some good restaurants and quite a few bars.”

“Yes, there are…do you have a favorite place to go?” he asked.

“I like this bar,” I said. I raised my glass to him and added: “I seem to meet the most interesting, and, handsome men here!”

Jesus, John, I scolded myself. Subtle much? Just because it’s late doesn’t mean you have to throw yourself at him!

“Do you come here often?” he asked.

“Oh, once, maybe twice a week,” I answered. Sure John, there’s not much difference between once or twice a week, and the three-four times a week you do actually come here.

“How about you? OH—let me guess…” I said. “You’re not from Atlanta—you’re here on business—and you’re staying in one of the nearby motels!”

He smiled and said, “Very good…am I that obvious?”

I laughed and said, “No, I cheated…I saw your room key when you pulled out your wallet to pay for the drinks!”

He had a good laugh from that line.

I decided to change tactics and brought up sports to see if I could steer the conversation away from personal questions. He took the bait and we debated the merits of several football teams and their chances for the upcoming season. He had a decidedly pro-Cowboy’s attitude, so I figured he lives in Dallas.

I caught a glimpse of his watch and saw that it was already 12:30…my thinking went like this: I like him—he’s friendly, definitely educated and smart, funny too…he hasn’t made a move on me so it is my responsibility to get the ball rolling if I want to get into his pants—which I most certainly do!

The very next funny quip he made, I laughed and smiled and placed my hand on top of his for a more than necessary length of time.

His face became serious as he gazed into my eyes.

He coughed then softly asked, “Would you like to go someplace so we can be alone?”

“Yes, I’d love to…” I replied. Younger guys usually come right out and say something crude like ‘You wanna play with my cock?’ or ‘You wanna blow me?’ Yes, I enjoy the tact and discretion of older men.

He excused himself to go to the men’s room, and two-seconds later Timothy was standing beside me with two empty glasses.

“Oh my hell, Billy—I’m shooting pool with the most wonderful man I’ve ever met—I think I’m in love—he’s gorgeous gaziantep escort and he likes me—he could be the one!” he gushed.

I squeezed his arm and said, “Why wouldn’t he like you—you’re a great guy—I hope it works out for you!”

Timothy and I may look like two opposites, but deep down we’re both looking for the same thing…a committed relationship with one steady man who treats us with love and respect.

Eddy brought him two more drinks and he left to return to the pool room.

When Ben returned I heard his fingers playing with his car keys so I gulped down the last of my drink then followed him outside.

I smiled the entire way. It had been too long since I’d been naked with a man. I love the feel of warm flesh on mine. The closeness…the intimacy…it satisfies a certain craving deep within myself…the need to feel a connection with another human being.

I couldn’t see what kind of rental car it was because he’d parked in the darkest area of the lot.

What a gentleman, I thought, when he walked around the car and opened the passenger door for me. I slid into the car, and automatically reached to fasten the seat belt. He opened his door then sat behind the wheel…he didn’t remain there—he slid to the middle and pressed his thigh against mine.

HUH? My heart sank like a brick in water…I cursed myself for thinking he was taking me to his motel…no, dumbshit, it’s just going to be another front-seat bj…the only mystery now is whether I’ll do him, or like some of the closeted men who’ve picked me up, if he wants to do me…Jesus, how could I have misread him so badly?

I unlatched the seatbelt as quietly as I could. I decided to take the lead to determine what his preference was going to be so I began to gently stroke his thighs. He surprised me by putting his arm around me…he leaned in and kissed my forehead and cheek.

“You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever been with…” he said in a half-whisper. “And so personable too…why is it some man hasn’t snatched you up and made you his own?”

Oh my goodness, what a nice and sweet thing to say! I was glad he couldn’t see me blushing in the darkness.

My mood lightened. My hand alternated between stroking his thighs and chest. I kissed his cheek not daring to go for his lips. Many of the closeted older men I’ve been with did NOT want to kiss another guy.

I answered his question saying, “I guess I haven’t met the right man yet.”

The palm of my hand lightly brushed over his crotch. Oh yes, that’s a nice bulge!

I boldly squeezed him thru the thin material of his expensive slacks. He groaned then pleasantly surprised me by kissing me hard on the mouth. I worked my lips on his and we moaned into each others mouths. I let his tongue play with mine and my prick stiffened immediately.

Oh my goodness, what a wonderful kisser!

I was over any disappointment I may have felt—the familiar hunger and lust now consumed me. I squeezed his hard-on and stroked it up-and-down twice then went for his belt.

I became overwhelmed with the electric excitement I experience every time I open a man’s pants…all cocks are different and when I’m with a man for the first time I practically rip his slacks open to feel and smell and taste his erection.

I like full access to a man’s cock and balls and Ben helped me by lifting his hips to allow me to pull his clothing down to his knees.

I buried my face in his crotch and inhaled deeply…OH MY HELL—my prick throbbed in my briefs as his musky, manly aroma wonderfully assaulted my senses…I took hold of the base of his cock and planted my lips on his hot flesh…I found his scrotum and gently rolled his balls in my small hand…I kissed up and down his rigid pole then snaked out my tongue and licked every inch of his long and thin member…I guessed he was a little over seven-inches long and not very thick—just the way I like my men!

I wet my lips then slid them over his cockhead…oh yes, perfect fit—I was able to take almost four-inches in my mouth before his bulbous glans banged the back of my throat and caused me to gag…my gag reflex is so strong I doubt I’ll ever be able to deep-throat a cock.

I settled into a slow, up and down sucking motion…my tongue never leaving his deliciously, salty flesh…my hands in constant motion stroking the base of his cock and massaging his balls…my head swimming in a fog of lust and desire…my nostrils inhaling as much of his manly aroma as possible…a low and non-stop, almost imperceptible moan coming from deep within my throat vibrated his throbbing erection.

His hips began their inevitable upward thrusts…my lips and tongue drew guttural “ooo’s” and “ahhh’s” from him…his hand stroked my hair and once his thrusting became more pronounced, he gently held my head still with both hands and began fucking my mouth.

I recognized the signs and bobbed my head up-and-down faster and harder…my hand became a blur on his cock…my tongue was giresun escort growing weary but I never stop until my man is satisfied.

My own balls began to ache and I wondered if I would cum just by sucking him—most times I don’t, but his cock excited me so much I was hoping I would shoot inside my briefs—99% of the men I’ve been with do not reciprocate so I consider cumming in my pants not as an inconvenience, but rather an added bonus.

A growl escaped his lips…his body momentarily froze then bucked and lurched and wildly jumped and I gulped down the hot liquid as fast as he filled my mouth. I was so consumed with tasting his precious nectar and swallowing every drop, my own need to climax subsided.

That’s okay, John, I told myself, you can take care of that when you get home.

I lay my head in his lap, licking at his softening penis, and basking in the warm afterglow I feel every time I empty a man’s balls.

“Oh Billy,” he finally said after catching his breath. “Wow…that was fantastic!”

I smiled in the darkness. I love it every time I hear an older man use the word ‘Wow’ to describe the orgasm I just gave him.

I helped him adjust his clothing, and then like most men after they shoot their load, I sensed he wanted me to leave.

I said, “I had a good time—thanks for the drinks!”

“Billy, here, take this,” he said and in the dark, gave me what surely had to be money.

“No, no, no…” I protested. “I did that because I wanted to…”

“No—take it—I insist!” he said forcefully.

I’ve been down this road before—it’s better to just take it then to fight over it.

“Okay…thank you,” I said with resignation.

When I opened the car door he said, “Same time next week?”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was the nicest man I’d met since moving to Atlanta, but he had just given me money for using my mouth, and now it sounds as though he wants me to be his weekly whore.

“Uh, sure, Ben…” I said not knowing why.

“I’m looking forward to it already, cutey!” he said.

I stood dumbfounded in the parking lot once he’d sped away. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so dirty and ashamed…what’s the difference between tonight and all those other nights, John? I asked myself.

My first thought was to go straight home, but as I have learned all to well, even the best tasting cum leaves a foul after-taste…I decided to rinse out my mouth with another drink…or two.

As soon as I walked beneath a lamp post, I looked at the bill Ben had given me. My goodness, a hundred-dollars…are you freaking kidding me?

Jesus, John, not only are you an IT Specialist…now you’re a member of the world’s oldest profession, as well!

I shook my head with sadness and walked into the bar. My brain was in its own little world…I was puzzled by the empty pit in my belly—the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to strangle my heart.

I don’t know…maybe I’m growing up…sure, a man’s hard cock in my hands and mouth is still exciting and erotic, but it’s the emotions I’ve had lately after the loving that has me troubled…maybe I’m getting tired of being nothing more than a ‘backseat bimbo’…

Once again, Eddy immediately brought me a drink.

“You’re still the best, Billy,” he said to me with a wink and a smile.

“The best?” I asked. “At what?”

“Twelve-minutes from the time you got up from the bar stool and left until you returned and sat down again—that might be a new record…if there was a bj rodeo, there isn’t a cowboy alive who could go the distance with you!”

His comment embarrassed me but I forced a wide smile and replied, “Yeah, I’m hoping they make it an Olympic event!”

When Eddy left to make someone a drink, I scanned the customers in the back-bar mirror.

Jesus, John, relax, I said to myself. No one is staring at you—no one is pointing and laughing—in fact, no one is looking at you at all…they all know what you do when you go outside and they really don’t care…relax…

Moving to a new city had unleashed my pent-up frustrations…my inhibitions disappeared—well, at night anyway…

During the day I am a hard-working, loyal employee who can talk and joke with everyone. My co-workers like me—some of them too much.

Sarah, for example, was after me for weeks to go out with her. She’s smart and nice-looking in a librarian-type of way, but I am not interested in her the way she is with me.

Tomorrow night will be our third ‘date’ and I’m not looking forward to it. The guys kid me “you know the third date means she expects sex, don’t you?” And I play along and lie and tell them “she better want it—I’m not going home with blue-balls again!”

When I moved to Atlanta, I had every intention of not hiding who I am, but it hasn’t worked out that way just yet. Old habits are difficult to break…when I find myself engaged in conversation with the other guys I ‘go along—to get along.’

There are a couple gay guys at work I envy because they are able to be themselves, and no one seems to care…well, you know, there are some good-natured fag jokes behind their backs, and I hate to admit I laugh along with the other guys, but this is my first real job, and I want to do well, and get along with everyone.

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