A gay story: South Street Nine Hello to all! This is my very first erotica, not only for Literotica, but also for myself. I’ve never done this before, but, well, hopefully I can learn from this experience. It would be greatly appreciated if you comment and vote on this story, as feedback is extremely valuable to an aspiring Lit author like myself!
Special thanks to the ever so lovely vavavaVoom! I’m so glad you tolerated me for a few weeks, editing this flowery mess of verbosity and other things!
Thank you kindly and enjoy,
Cadere
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The steam wafted through the air and condensed on the glass in a light fog. I shifted my fingers on the handle to get a better grip. A sigh breezed past my lips as I lifted the smooth, rounded edge of the mug to my mouth, tasting the tea that flowed to my tongue. I immediately set my cup down on the half table in front of me, its glossy wood glowing with the morning sunlight that sifted through the window. My tea was too hot.
I pulled out my chair and slumped into it, running my fingers through the entangled mess of a mop that was my hair, cringing from the faint burnt taste on the tip of my tongue. It was just another Friday morning here at home. It was always so quiet in the morning. The only sound that broke my idling train of thought was the faint ticking of the clock over the kitchen counter, urging me to glance at it and assess its time. I had checked it a few minutes earlier and it read something like seven o’clock.
I shifted a bit in my chair. The quality cotton robe I was wearing at least softened the firmness of my seat. I lazily typed away at my laptop with one hand, the other reaching for my tea for another sip, the taste of burn not as prominent now. On my screen was a website that listed persons who wished to rent a room. I had subscribed to this site a few days ago, offering a bedroom in my house for rent. It was always so lonely here. My neighborhood is full of people in the early twenties, all living in single-family homes, always inviting friends over for late night backyard parties. I may be the only twenty-three-year-old guy who doesn’t involve himself with his neighbors. I’m not a party guy.
Something on my screen caught my eye just when I was about to log out of the rental service. It was my instant messenger. Jay was online. He had sent me a greeting. I broke out into a grin. He actually decided to contactme. I switched to my only other browser tab to respond to him. Presenting itself before me now was an adult chat site, suggestive advertisements heading and lining the side of the screen and a text box taking up the rest of the window.
Jayboy1453:hey Collin, how r u? up early i see
I had met Jay online one night as I was checking my account on this particular website. I jokingly registered, not thinking much of it, only to view the live webcasts to satisfy my occasional urge. Some time afterward, I decided to push myself into actually contacting another individual. The site randomly connected me with Jay, a twenty-five-year-old man. His profile picture was very handsome. His interests were very different. The words we typed that night make me flush pink to recall.
a_shyguy99:I’m fine, kinda tired.
Jayboy1453:take a break
a_shyguy99:I can’t
Jayboy1453:r u working today? call in sick, babe
Jayboy1453:u work ur ass off at that place
a_shyguy99:Working today, yeah
a_shyguy99:Wish I was really sick, though, I’m a bad liar
a_shyguy99:lol
My job was always so dull. I expressed this to him once more. I worked for the typical pyramid company that I commuted an hour to, and then from nine o’clock to seven was nothing but invoices, tax forms, and sales reports. Sitting in that grey solitude for so long only made me yearn for someone else, and that yearning manifested into something more when I came home and slipped under the covers.
Jayboy1453:mm, yeah, i get it.
Jayboy1453:u still need to unwind
Jayboy1453:its not good for ur health
His concern for me made me content. There was at least someone somewhere who cared about my well-being, even if for a little bit. He always began our conversations this way, with a light touch upon the matter of my health. He would pry an answer out of me after I had given him an unsatisfactory remark, pressing assurances and suggesting sometimes ludicrous solutions. It made me happy. It made me believe that this man had more depth than the text on the screen.
Jayboy1453:want me to help u take ur mind off work?
Jayboy1453:im wearing absolutely nothing.
While I found myself surprised at his straightforwardness so early in the morning, I felt my sense of touch grow acute. I felt the thin, hair-like fibers of cotton brush over my naked body, subtly grazing my skin as I shifted in my seat. My mind became drastically aware of the light, delicate strokes of fabric over my nipples. I felt the fibers push themselves into the tiny crevices and folds of my skin, engulfing my flaccid penis and the underside of my sac in ticklish warmth.
Jayboy1453:ive been thinking about u all nite
Jayboy1453:switch on the webcam, babe
Jayboy1453:i want u to see how hard youve made me
My toes curled at the thought now pressing itself in my head. A rugged, burly man flashing on the screen, his fingers a meaty ring around the base of his thick, throbbing cock, his hand gruffly thrusting up and down his shaft… His head tipped back as he grunts soft groans, flashing an eager and lusty glance at me through the cam… I pressed my heels to the cool kitchen floor and pushed myself up in my seat, my muscles tensing up.
The branch of the evergreen tree that stood outside my window rapped on the glass, disrupting my thoughts. Suddenly, my robe felt a little too snug. I finally raised my fingers to the keyboard and tapped a response.
a_shyguy99:Maybe later? I have a meeting i have to get to.
a_shyguy99:Right now.
My cheeks colored. I was nervous. I’m not used to interacting with another person in a sexual way. I’ve never been with awomanlike that before, let alone aman. I have never had someone so willing to expose themselves to me—and so intimately? I would have never dreamed it possible. Perhaps it’s because I am just not ready. And so, I resign myself to watching the activities of porn stars and amateurs under the veil of anonymity. I scold myself for it, sometimes.
Jayboy1453:its only 7:30
Jayboy1453:cant it wait?
Jayboy1453:i really want u
Before my clashing feelings of want and insecurity could get any stronger, I lied to him once again, telling him that I was already late and that I ought to get going. He didn’t sound so content in his response. Once again, his studly boy-toy wasn’t going to show off for the camera.
Jayboy1453:will i at least see u tonite?
a_shyguy99:Yeah, of course
a_shyguy99:Midnight, right?
Jayboy1453:yeah, thats great.
Jayboy1453:see u then, babe
I shutdown my laptop and left it on the table, staring at it for a while, collecting my thoughts. I exhaled deeply once again, as the boredom of inactivity began to affect my musings. I loosened my robe a little to help my body cool down from the bit of excitement that roused me up earlier. My mug had only a few ounces of tea left, and though lukewarm and now lacking in flavor, I gulped it down and set it back on the table so that I could scoot my chair back, stretch, rise, seize it, and then set it in the sink to wash. The golden glow of dawn had died down in its brilliance into the more plain light of day. I decided that maybe I ought to get to work early today. Or, perhaps, it was just my guilt speaking.
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I wore the hue of the night sky as I walked briskly down the street. I glanced at my watch. It was already nine. The bus was caught in traffic congestion after it retrieved all its passengers to carry back home. The night air was a little too crisp for me, but the sharp gusts of wind that cut across my face kept me awake after a long, uneventful workday. The boulevard was bustling with cars, their headlights a blaring white, yellow, and the occasional blue as they sped in an almost contiguous strand of motion. Youthful pedestrians pooled at bus stops and popular corner cafés. I faded in and out of gloom as I passed under street lamps, my lustrous dress shoes clapping along the pavement.
My house was a mile walk from the bus stop. I was nearing the edge of town as the buildings shifted from strict business establishments to the leisurely entertainment facilities. Trees stood confidently beside storefronts, their canopies thick with leaves that littered everything, their branches strangling telephone poles and hugging the necks of street lamps. I glanced over the names of the buildings I approached, pondering which one would be a good place to order a meal. My eyes then settled on a vivid neon sign flickering in the distance. Standing alone and proud in contrast to the barren, black sky, the sign would periodically blink an array of colors. The building was called South Street Nine. It appeared classy from a distance, so I made up my mind to dine there.
As I reached it, I found that the building was the size of a two-story townhouse and looked exactly the same as the other buildings that neighbored it, its only other uniqueness the arrangement of potted plants around the doors and shuttered windows. There was a man leaning on the wall of its entrance, and as he saw me deviate from my path towards him, he stood up and straightened his blazer. He intercepted me when I was close enough to question. His voice was brusque.
“You wanna get in to South Street?” he asked. I stumbled out a yes, smiling at the stranger, his mirror aviators reflecting my rather silly grin.
“It’s a restaurant, right?” I asked, “You serve food?”
“It’s a gay bar for men.”
His blunt statement caught me by surprise, his shades matching my dumb expression. He continued.
“We serve refreshments, though. You can only get in if you’re gay.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “…Are you?”
Without hesitating, I blurted out a yes. I knew not what I just said, what I was doing, or what I was getting myself into. Shortly after I confirmed my sexuality to him, I assured myself that it would just be a social experience. I had never been to a gay bar before. It might be interesting.
The man gave me a quick nod and ushered me through the door.
Techno music blared, siren lights glared, and the dance floor was packed with men of all sorts. I tried to ignore the rush of motion and sound, pushing through the couples and groups that were chatting and dancing. The mass thinned out as one panned the room, the eastern end hosting noticeably less people than the western. I immediately headed for the bar, which took up almost the entire East wall, the nearest corner of the strip reserved for the stairwell to the second floor. A rowdy cheer roared from the dance mob as I sat myself down on one of the few bar stools vacant. My heart was racing. I felt so uncomfortable amidst all this noise and talk and people. I hunched over the burnished counter, staring at my clasped hands, trying to take everything in. I was rudely shocked from my introversion when a shot glass slammed in front of me.
I whipped my attention up to a handsome man with a friendly smile on his stubbly face. As the bartender, he wore a pinstripe shirt with a dapper sweater vest to fit the theme. His hair slicked up into a ducktail.
“Welcome to South Street Nine, buddy,” he chirped. “What would you like to drink?”
I made an attempt to smile, but the corners of my lips could only form a timid simper.
“I… don’t really know, actually…” I tend to chuckle at the end of my phrases when I’m unsure of myself. I did so then. Fortunately for me, the bartender took it lightly and laughed along with me.
“I could definitely start you off with a shot of our signature liquor,” he urged. “It’s kinda fruity—likeme.” God, how awful! His terrible joke made me snort, and he deemed his job as comic relief accomplished. He then turned his back towards me to retrieve a few bottles of alcohol off the shelves and proceeded to concoct my drink. I let my attention wander with my eyes to the others nearby. Just out of the illumination of the bar’s hanging lights was a couple in the shade. I had to strain a bit to see them, but they appeared to be dressed in dark, sleek leather and metal studs. One was sitting on a stool, pressed up against the wall, loose vest giving way to his brawny chest. His more slender partner was standing and nudging him into the corner, kissing him amorously. They caressed each other’s bodies with long strokes and firm grips, the one on the stool fidgeting more so than his lover. I lowered my gaze a bit to see the reason—tenderly groping the crotch of his pants. I couldn’t help but lick my lips. Absentmindedly, I allowed my hand to drift as I watched him drag his fingers over the rim of the other’s pants, letting them linger there—just to tease. My twitching fingers lightly traced the seam of my fly as he began to wedge his hand between tight leather and writhing muscle, slowly sinking into the depths of his pants…
“Here you go!” bellowed the bartender. I started, my face flushing a bit as I whipped my gaze back to him. The guy smiled. “I’ll make this one on the house, buddy.”
I thanked him and took a sip, pushing my hand off my hardening crotch and clasping my knee, darting my eyes about in an attempt to avoid the bartender and the temptation in the corner. I focused on a group of casually dressed Arabian men on the opposite end of the bar, laughing and holding a conversation that I could barely hear. I caught something of a foreign language during a quick lull in background noise. The wine had something of a fruitful flavor—a punch of spice when it hit the tongue, mellowing out into a round, sweet tone. I examined the yellowish-green liquid in my glass, approving of the taste. The man leaned over the counter on his arm, his face spouting a playful look of anticipation that simply impelled one to respond.
“It’s, uh, really good,” I managed to utter. I felt the hotness of my cheeks gradually blow over. The man bobbed his head in agreement, grinning.
“That’s why it’s our special, you know.” He winked. Abruptly, he changed the subject. “I’ve never seen you around this bar before—and I’ve seen alot of people.” He smiled, raised his brow, and then asked, “Are you new?”
I nodded. “I just came by because I thought you served dinners.”
The bartender told me otherwise and slicked back his hair.
“Just drinks. A restaurant is right next to us, though. It’s closed now. It’s… a quarter past nine?” He strained to remember, and then checked his wristwatch to reassure himself. “I mean 9:21… Well, you know.” He shrugged. “By the way, I’m Jared. Sorry I didn’t mention it before. I kind of misplaced my name tag. Yours?” Jared was a pleasant guy. Strangely, I felt myself grow more relaxed around him. I smiled and told him I was Collin. He smiled too.
We had a short conversation about the club. Jared told me that South Street Nine hosts a special themed weekend once every month. It just so happened that this weekend was such, and tonight’s theme was celebrating fetishes. He told me that because the topic was so broad, it brought in a colorful lot of people. He also gave me a verbal layout of the place, informing me that the second floor hosted the bedrooms and restroom. The bedrooms piqued some interest. The thought of people actually coming here to find sexand have it? It was a foreign concept to a virgin like me.
I finished off my glass and thanked Jared, who welcomed me with a wink and a winning smile. I shifted off the barstool and bid the man adieu, allowing him to resume his slow work on this side of the chaos. I pardoned myself past the few people loitering at the end of bar and around the stairwell. As I neared, the light from the bar faded and I stood in the shadow, stepping up on the landing that hosted the flight. The stairway was rather dark, save for the few classy outdoor lights that illuminated every few steps. I found that as I entered the second floor, it was well lit with warm, sensual lighting. It was fashioned like a lobby. The center area squared off with a couch set, its center piece a round table with magazines and mints. Gorgeous paintings of men hung on the walls. There was the occasional scattered chair, potted plant, and stand lamp. The walls on either side of the room were lined with doors; the left side rooms had solid oak, but the rooms on the right had glass ones. I found that strange. Those couldn’t bebedrooms, could they? I crept my way toward one and stood off to its side in an attempt to hide myself from any occupants, leaned toward it, and peered through the glass.
The room was small and dimly lit, but from my angle, all I could see was the queen-sized bed and two nude older men. One sat at the edge of the bed, his head tipped back, and his posture straight. His bearded lips mouthed a few words as he nodded and dipped down to share a romantic gaze with his entertainer. He ran a powerful hand over his dark, cropped hair, brushing wisps from his brow. The second man was on his knees, his bald head gleaming a bit in the light. He was intent on his work, and watching him made me feel a sensation come over me.
The way he dragged his tongue over the sole of his superior’s foot made me curl my toes in excitement. The lesser took such loving care with his mate, skimming his bottom lip lightly up the sole, causing his man’s toes to flex and flinch. I could only imagine the sensation of the tip of his tongue wriggling between my toes, taking care to reach every inch of it. The subordinate began to suck on the toes, slowly and intensely on each one, lingering the longest on the plump big toe. The bearded man couldn’t help but part his lips for another contented coo, his cock standing full and erect, neglected of touch and attention. My first time seeing a penis off screen. As the lesser sensually lapped up his heel and flicked a tongue at his ankles, I thought I saw his appendage twitch from sheer arousal. A pool of tingling warmth began to flow from my cheeks, trickling down my spine, somehow ending up between my thighs…
I pulled away from the scene, attempting to blink it out of my mind. My face must have been a striking red. Yes, they were bedrooms. I assumed they were for the more open of the sexually active. They must not have minded being watched, but… why do I mind watchingthem…? I decided to peek in another room, hoping that it may culture me into becoming more open.
The next room hosted a scene of arrest. A young, thin-looking boy was wearing a striped pullover jacket, beanie hat, and baggy pants. He stood barefoot on the bed, his front pressed to the wall and his hands behind his back. He must have been freshly handcuffed, as the fairly toned policeman was shifting positions, sliding down on his knees to match the boy’s waist. His navy blue suit was tightly fit, showcasing the few meaty ripples that came with his physique. The wide brim of his police cap cast a shadow over his eyes. The officer shot a glare at the delinquent, barking something that made the boy cry back with a guiltless face. The officer sneered, and a shiver crept down my spine as I witnessed his hand glide over the boy’s round rump. The boy bit his lip as the corrupt man began to fondle his cheeks, my hand absentmindedly imitating his strokes on my thigh. I wanted to be that bad boy. I wanted to be held against my will by a powerful man like that…
The officer viciously wrenched down the boy’s pants, the force of the yank made his now bare bottom jiggle. The boy flushed pink and lowered his head in embarrassment, trying to hide his face. The cop grinned wickedly and—eyes fixed on his prize—mouthed something in a provocative way before giving one cheek a firm squeeze. His ass filled his hand to the brim, so ample was he. I began to fantasize an encounter with an officer as handsome as the one before me, groping my ass just as greedily, massaging it just as hungrily…
I found my hand rubbing the length of my stiff cock under the veil of my pants, and I quickly withdrew into my pocket, glancing around the lobby to see if anyone else had seen me. It was empty, though the bedrooms were clearly not. I worried about my face. It was burning up, and I was afraid that it might deceive me to anyone who speculated what I was doing. In a fret, I promptly headed for the clearly marked restroom on the northern wall.
I pushed through the door to find a spacious room that hosted the basics of a men’s bathroom. The spotless tiles and bright florescent light made everything appear sterile. Upon entering, though, my brisk pace collapsed into an uneasy and hesitant gait. A soft moaning echoed through the room. I tensed a little, not wanting to intrude on anyone’s encounter. I managed to slink my way to the nearest sink, twist on the faucet, and immerse my hands into the cool flowing water. The lusty sighs continued to hang in the air and over the rush of the tap. I tried to focus on the dilemma of my reddening face, watching the clear liquid pool into my cupped hands. The sinks all shared one mirror that rose from the top of the faucets and almost to the ceiling, reflecting all the stalls behind them and a glimpse of the urinals in the farthest corner. The mirror rose slightly from the wall at a tilt, enabling the viewer to see more of their lower half and the edge of the basin. I glanced up to take a view of my face, only to see it ripen scarlet.
Reflected behind me in a stall whose door was swung wide open was a plump man with a boyish face and rosy complexion, pressed against the stall and slowly pumping his hips into it. A lacy black pair of panties laid wrapped around the heels of his sultry stilettos, and with one hand he hoisted up the skirt of his short, frilly maid’s costume, revealing his pink, shapely rump. The wall he was thrusting into led to another stall, its door only slightly ajar, the only thing in sight was a pair of scruffy, dirtied tennis shoes and ashen ankles.
I splashed the water on my face, the sharp chill helping to bring back my paleness, though the combat with color began once again, as—from the corner of my eye—I saw the full-figured maid ogling me. For whatever reason, I made brief eye contact with him through the mirror, and he read my conflicting expression. His eyes were hazed with the heat of his own passionate breaths. He took a finger and pressed it to his lips as he cooed cutely, then slowly passed his tongue over it in an extremely lewd fashion. I abruptly broke away, stiffly walking over to the paper towel dispenser that was so favorably out of his sight. With each step I took, his effeminate whimpers and gasps swelled in sound. I wiped my hands dry and left with the dying tones of seduction in my ears and the thickening sensation of arousal in my pants.
I sat on one of the couches, my hand over my now very prominent bulge, screening it from view of anyone who decided to waltz in and notice. If I had decided to walk home then, I would have put myself through the torture of having my erection grind against the rough fabric of my pants for several long minutes. So far, my impression of South Street Nine was a fuck fest for the horny and strange. I snatched a pillow and placed it over my lap, concealing my hand. I stared at its plainness for a moment, the muffled din of the music and masses downstairs rising from beneath my feet.I was strange.I was horny—most definitely! So then, why was it that I felt like an outcast? I probably watched the same porn as the men I had encountered here, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Why was it that when I finally get to witness the very things that make me lust, I scurry away in a huff? I couldn’t be so shy as to deny myself my first experience, right?Fuck it, I thought.Everyone else here is doing it, so I might as well…
I unbuckled the belt to my trousers and worked to undo the buttons. Successfully loosening them, I pushed my thumb down on my zipper’s slide until it reached the base of my groin. Still covered by my briefs, my rigid cock fell free of the restrictiveness of my pants. It had been afflicted by these deep, burning sensations all throughout the night, and finally it would get its pleasure.
Trousers and underwear low on my hips, I had only but touched it when something gripped me.
“Hey there,” sang a rich voice. I flinched, yanking my hand from under the cushion to clutch my knee, looking up perturbed to a fetching man with broad features and fair hair. He tapped his fingers over my shoulder in short, sporadic rhythms as he smiled coolly.
“What are you doing all alone out here, hmm?”
I bit my lip. His eyes glanced at the pillow. I felt a heat rise to my ears, and I knew my face was giving me away.
“I… was just sitting.” I forced a laugh at the end of my questionable response, almost choking on it. He at least was a good sport and chuckled with me, never breaking eye contact.
His fingertips trickled down my arm.
“You don’t mind if I sit next to you, do you?” It was less of a question and more of a selfish declaration. He slipped around the couch and plopped down next to me before I could stammer out an answer. I attempted to slide my hand discretely under the cushion, but then stopped myself as he leaned closer to me, flopping one hand over the couch and the other on his knee. His loose manner made me more apprehensive than before.
“So, you do business?” he asked, referring to my white-collar attire. I nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly. He lifted his eyebrows in intrigue, his lips still curved in an alluring smile. I felt my neck being tugged ever-so gently. I lowered my gaze to find him fingering my tie, only to watch as they slid down the tie and onto the pillow, pressing down firmly on it and—consequentially—me.
“Working hard, or hardly working…?” he posed, whispering provocatively, his voice sweet as honey. He kneaded the pillow into my lap as he asked, and my mind couldn’t lift its focus from the massage of that satiny fabric over my twitching, aching rod. I gripped my knees even tighter, my bottom lip quivering a bit from this overwhelming feeling.
“Uhn… Working… hard…” I managed to breathe. My suit began to tighten around my body, my tie was strangling me. The thrashing pulse of my heart gradually began to drown out the stifled noise that rose from the floor below, and my panting grew sharper, shallower.
He kissed me. He mistook my answer. He pressed his plush lips against mine, nipping my bottom lip, only to pull away with a greedy smirk. I did not respond. I stared at him vacuously. The heat clouded my mind, my eyes. He kissed me again–more roughly, more eagerly. He forced his tongue through my lips and I gave him way. He lured out mine so that they could dance, our breath their heavy summer night’s air. He invited my tongue between the softness of his lips, and he suckled its tip hungrily, soon devouring it whole. From whence began the courtship once more. His masculine hand cupped the back of my head, forcing me into our kiss, his cold fingers pleasurably stroking my scalp. I did not resist. He knew I wouldn’t.
Amidst the sweetness that was my encounter, I felt something creep up my inner thigh, its frostiness sending the most delicious chill up my skin, straight through my cock and lingering so delightfully on its raw tip. My beefy stock strained against the plush cushion, begging to be touched and stroked, begging to be teased by another. The very thought made my kisses deeper and my hands tremble. The pressing chill of my fellow’s fingertips crept upwards at such an unbearable pace, and I dug my nails into the couch as if to retain my growing savageness. The trail of iciness pressed forward until it finally happened.
Contact. Sweet, sweet contact. His touch was so intense, so sublime, it griped my base, cupped my sac, surged blissfully over my flexing shaft, and overflowed through the head, dripping in thick, warm globs. I gasped sharply in reflex and shuddered violently as his fingers ticklishly stroked alongside my staff and lightly over the tips of my plentiful hair. He enjoyed my response, suckling my neck playfully and rolling his tongue sensually over the ridges of my ear…
“Nathan!” The scream made us start. My flirt thrust his head around to glare at two men hanging around the ledge of the stairs. One of them wore a stuffed donkey’s head over his shoulders, the rest of his attire a simple undershirt and jeans. The other was a very tall man with light features and militia garb.
“What the hell do you want, Franc?” Nathan hissed as he slid off me. “Can’t you fucking see I’mwith someone?!” I pressed my lips thin at the disruption. I wanted to get back tome…
The sergeant brushed off the hostility.
“Jared is waiting for you.” His face was hard with disappointment. There was a faint Germanic accent that crept through his words. The ass beside him held his arms at akimbo, also waiting impatiently for their wayward friend.
“It is almost twenty-two hundred hours, Nathan. Your shift starts in ten minutes. You will be late.”
Nathan groaned, stood up and gave the odd pair a nasty look before turning around to me with a kittenish guise. He leaned forward and pecked my ear.
“You’re very cute,” he whispered cheekily, “You ought to stick around if you really like me.” He straightened up, gave me a yummy parting wink, and sauntered over to his escorts, leaving me, once again, to my lonesome.
I stared down at the cushion in my lap, feeling a shivery dampness on the head of my penis. I had soiled it. I pushed aside the pillow and gripped it in my hand, indecently exposing my private. Its tip was still moist with pre-cum. I slipped it back into my briefs and fastened my pants and belt. It took me a while to realize that I was soiled, too.
~~~~~~~~~~ ~;,*,;~ ~~~~~~~~~~
I slumped in my chair. The overhead light of the kitchen stove was the only source of glow in the forlorn darkness. Back to where I started, I thought. I poured myself a glass of the wine I bought from South Street Nine just before I left. Light trapped in the liquor’s vivid yellowish-green translucence. I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip, brooding. Why did I still feel alone? I had no reason to feel this empty, I concluded. Those men were ordinary men like me—they were of my standards.Theywere happy amongst themselves. Perhaps their joy came from their likeness in interests? I sighed once more, taking another sip. The rich flavors intertwined in my mouth, overpowering the bitter taste of disappointment. I set my glass beside my laptop, the screen flickering hypnotically. I stared glazed at my rental service page when a notification chimed from my instant messenger. I switched to another window. Jay was on.
Jayboy1453:hey babe,
Jayboy1453:had a nice day?
I thought, that throughout all that I had witnessed today, despite the turmoil and the return of the clash between my curiosity and self-consciousness, Idid enjoy myself. But—God, help me—agay bar? The mere notion made me slump back in my seat with incredulity. Whatever possessed me to end up there, I still don’t know. I tried to rationalize my own guileless curiosity, and I ended up in such a sinful place.
Oh, but how delicious was that sin! Never had I imagined that I could approach it, that I could accept it, that I couldattain it. Somehow, I felt it would never happen. Renting out movies and collecting torrent files… I watched a stream of distant fantasies cycle through a screen every night. It was almost as if I was watching a parallel universe. But is that not what a fantasy is? So how could it ever become my reality?
Stumbling upon those people, in retrospect, I saw them living out their dreams. They didn’t deny themselves of their pleasure. Some may call them beasts for wanting to indulge so greedily in such raunchy affairs, but Iwanted that. I wanted that so badly. I only got a second of it. I would have gotten so much more from that time, too, if I hadn’t been so modest! Iknow it! I curse my modesty sometimes, but even out of my timidity, I suppose I would have never experienced this most erotic side of me. At least, not by my lonesome…
Maybe one day, I could experience it with Jay.
Jayboy1453:babe?
Jayboy1453:u there?
a_shyguy99:Yeah, sorry!
a_shyguy99:My day was okay
a_shyguy99:Went to a restaurant today
Jayboy1453:which one?
a_shyguy99:South Street Nine
Jayboy1453:………
Jayboy1453:babe……?
a_shyguy99:Yeah?
Jayboy1453:thats not a restaurant
a_shyguy99:p;’,
[zilla_likes]