Ashley knew when he couldn't wait any longer. He'd put away six beers softening up his date to the point where he risked leaving the table without fear his dinner companion would be gone when he got back. He had been a perfect gentleman and he was sure his date wouldn't bail on him if he just ducked out to take a piss. He made his excuses and left the booth with a wink over his shoulder and quickly making his way to the back of the bar.
Bad luck. There were three guys lined up outside the men's room. An even longer line-up of females at the ladies' prevented any possibility of bypassing the line and sneaking in there to do his business. Urgency had swollen his bladder until it hurt. Looking around as desperate people do, Ash saw a potential solution to his conundrum.
The rest rooms were at the opening of a service corridor that led to the back of the building and a door marked "Exit". Ash pressed past the people lined up to use the facilities and made his way down the hall toward the back door. Just as he went to push the door open, it yawned wide and he almost ran headlong into a powerful-looking black male as he entered from outside.
"Sorry," Ash squeaked, taking in the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to the man's body. He'd been smoking outside. He was probably one of the staff, Ash thought.
"In a hurry there, fella?"
Ash apologized again and pressed on past the man, his need curtailing his manners.
Once outside, the cool air of the late summer night hit his face and he shuddered, realizing he was sweating in his predicament. He looked around. The back of the bar shared an alley with several other businesses, but the only operating light in the passage came from a caged fixture above the bar's back door. Outside of the light's halo, the alley was shrouded in darkness up to the sidewalk of the busy street. There was a garbage dumpster off to one side of the door, and beside that, containers for storing used cooking oil. A row of recycling bins lined the back wall of the building. The asphalt was littered with small items of refuse, from bottle caps and cigarette butts to the odd spent condom.
Ash was content that he was alone behind the bar and stepped into the shadow between the dumpster and the other containers, facing the wall. Darkness hid him up to the shoulders at least. He unbuckled his belt as fast as he could, unzipped and yanked his boxers down, freeing his dick. He closed his eyes and let out a groan as he spun gold against the wall.
And it was because he closed his eyes and groaned, he realized later, that he neither heard, nor saw, the service door opening again. He did register the click of the door closing, though he didn't immediately recognize the sound as such.
His eyes snapped open and his head flipped to the side, following the direction of the noise, but he saw nothing. His heart had skipped a beat. He suffered a shy bladder and could not easily piss with an audience, but such was his continuing need to urinate, his flow remained uninterrupted by his startled reaction. In fact, he was just finishing up as he heard another sound and this time it was behind him. His bladder and his cock contracted and he reached for his crotch, intending to put himself in order, just as a pair of hands settled on his shoulders.
Ash froze. The hands did not move away. In the cool air of the evening, he could feel the warmth of those hands through his t-shirt. That was not all. There was heat on his neck too, the hot breath of someone very close. There was a slight sniff and Ash wondered if the stranger had indeed just smelled him.
He could imagine his scent and it made him self-conscious even though he had scrubbed himself down thoroughly for his date tonight. He had used a fragrant body wash, and if the person behind him had a discerning sense of smell, he might recognize it as a popular brand. His shampoo was also familiar to the shopping public as a common dandruff-fighter. His deodorant was supposed to be redolent of ocean freshness.
Ash thawed slightly, realizing he might be in danger, but his dignity wouldn't let him turn to face a challenger with his dick hanging out. He again started to mobilize toward the goal of putting away his privates when the hands on his shoulders tensed slightly. The alteration to the pressure was only slight, but Ash took it as a command to remain still. He complied in uncertainty, having never faced a situation like this.
Who was behind him? Was it a fellow patron of the bar? That didn't make sense, as anyone out here for a piss or a quick smoke would just go about their business. Wouldn't they? The manager or supervisor of the bar? Out here to ask him to take his business and his bodily fluids somewhere else? A cop? To arrest him for indecency?
The hands slid slow as snails from the top of his shoulders down to the shoulder blades, where they settled for a moment before moving over to Ash's arms, fingers traipsing over his biceps, bare skin in contact with bare skin now. The fingertips were rough, not soft like Ash's own, and Ash concluded that the fingers belonged to a man who worked with his hands. A cook? A dishwasher?
The fingers continued to slide down his arm, over the sensitive skin of the inside of his elbow joints and down to his forearms until, finally, the man's hands met Ash's. With ease, those hands pulled Ash's hands away from his dick. He held Ash's hands in his warm hands for a few seconds, and when Ash was about to turn his face over his shoulder and demand that the stranger let him go, the man intertwined his fingers in Ash's and raised both hands up until they were almost at the level of his head. Then he pushed Ash's hands against the wall and slipped his hands over top of them. Ashley nearly lost his balance, falling forward to be supported by his hands.
Ash was now leaning against the wall, with his hands up against the wall. When he had leaned forward, the other man had leaned forward as well. Now the whole-body heat of the man warmed Ash's back and the pressure of his presence was strangely comforting. In an instant, Ash realized this man meant him no harm. Whatever his object was, he was pursuing it almost gently, and Ash found himself responding to the strange overtures. He looked up at his hands with the stranger's hands covering them. They were wrapped in brown skin. That was obvious even in the light, dim and wan at this distance, cast by the fixture over the service door.
The man wore a watch on his left wrist. It was 11:49 pm.
The breath on his neck changed position, misting against the right side of Ash's neck. A fragrance of mint prevailed, wrestling with the scent of cigarette smoke. Soft lips brushed the skin behind Ash's right ear and he let his head fall back and his eyes roll up in his skull. A few feet away, he felt his member charging with blood. The kisses went beneath his ear and up under his jaw. Ash felt the man inhale the scent of his shaving soap before the stranger's lips covered his own. At first, it wasn't a kiss. The man simply rubbed his lips gently around Ash's lips, even up to his nose. Then he unleashed his tongue on Ash, licking and then sucking at the immobilized man's lips.
As his lips were ravished by the man's erotic onslaught, Ash felt a gentle jab against his backside, the black man's needy erection. It might have scared Ash, but he was rapidly succumbing to this strange seduction. It didn't even occur to him to resist. His own heat-seeker was alive with want now and almost as he thought of it, the man's right hand let Ash's go, tracing a caress down Ash's right arm, faster than before, but still with control and restraint. When the hand reached Ash's shoulder, it curled under his arm to caress Ash's chest, gauging the muscles there before finding an erect nipple pressing against the fabric of the t-shirt. Ash moaned in his arousal.
His eyes flicked at the man's watch. The man's left hand was still over his.
11:51.
This delightful assault had only been going on for three or three-and-a-half minutes? The experience seemed to stretch itself into an infinity of sensual pleasure, but even if it could not be infinite, Ash knew it wasn't over yet. The man's tongue wrestled with his, easily overpowering him. They sucked at each others lips, even nipped gently at one another. The errant hand left his nipple wanting more as it dipped lower down his torso, and, as Ash hoped, it stretched out and touched his cock. Or his cock stretched out to meet it.
Ash was afraid he would come right away. He'd been softening up his date all night for the high, hard one and he was already ripe with anticipation before he ever stepped out the back door of the bar. But this unlooked-for stimulation was driving him mad with need and desire. The man caressed the blunt head of Ash's cock with the palm of his hand, maddening the sensitive bulb, before he curled his fingers around the shaft itself. His rough hand gave a gentle pull from the base to the tip and Ash invoked God. The man gave another pull, and another and already Ash felt close.
The motion stopped and the hand was slowly withdrawn. Then, the man leaned back--Ash saw the time was 11:52 as the man's left hand was withdrawn over his shoulder--and left Ash's bare hand flat against the cinder blocks of the wall. The poke against his backside was gone, the heat was off his back. Ash felt deserted. He would have turned around then, modesty be damned, to see what was going on, but he heard the sounds that gave him his answer: the clink of a belt buckle, the zip of a fly; a moment later, a tear slashed across a wrapper. The sound was so distinctive, Ash could almost see the glint of the foil as the rubber was removed.
