Hey everyone. I'm a little higher than a lurker but have never written a story or anything of this length. I haven't met anyone through this site but have come close, but I still keep coming back. This is my first story and I knew I had to share it. Things like this tend to happen to me but I never put pen to paper.
Full disclosure:
This happened to me.
This happened to me.
Good God, I wouldn't believe it unless it happened to me.
I moved from New York City to Seattle the last week of 2017. My company was in a bit of a valley and my move was supposed to be an infusion of energy to the main office here that would help turn things around. It wasn't. In fact, when I got here, within the first week I could sense the trouble my company was in. The energy in the office was low, there was in-fighting, there was no real support for my move or I should say, being Seattle, everyone pretended to be happy I moved and when I wasn't around talked about what an asshole I was. Things were going poorly and have been. And when you have a strong personality and are emotional, you tend to internalize things. When you internalize things with no outlet, you tend to drink.
I've been drinking heavy since I moved. Suffice to say, the neighborhood I moved to was probably a mistake given just how many opportunities there are for my liquid self-medication. I live in a neighborhood called Capitol Hill. For those of you who have never been to Seattle, Capitol Hill is the Greenwich Village of Seattle. For those of you who have never been to NYC, Greenwich Village is the queer/weird/artist area of wherever you live.
I've been inspecting bar after bar across the city and my neighborhood until I recently found a spot that has proven to be pretty accommodating for drink prices, location, people watching and drink prices. It's called Captain Black's. Captain Black's is no different from most bars anywhere except it has a patio. The location is built into an inclined street and so when you get to the patio out back, you can get a GREAT VIEW. Tito's and Soda $6 (or $7 depending who was bartending), you can't beat it! I had found my spot.
Backstory? Check.
Location? Check.
Context? Check.
This was three weeks ago. A Sunday afternoon. Summer has hit the rest of the country, but it takes several more weeks to get here so you get overcast days in the last week of June. With days like that, the patio is not flush with pasty, vitamin D deficient bodies with calf tattoos. You have to wait until July for that. So, if you don't mind a bit of a breeze, no sun and you bring a sweatshirt, you can have the patio to yourself...in the end of June.
I did. The patio, which is maybe 300 square foot with a couple of raised narrow tables (about 8' x 2') along the perimeter with high stools and about 8 metal 4-seater tables in the middle had two couples sitting as far apart as possible while I was sitting alone at a perimeter table. I was on Tito's #3, sitting on the end, enjoying the gray sky. (Seattlites, holla if ya hear me!) Just then a group of 3 men and two women entered, the tallest man asked if I minded if they sit there.
"Not a problem," I replied, gesturing to the rest of the empty table.
"Thanks." He spoke in a squeaky, yet equally effeminate and masculine voice. From his speech and mannerisms, I made the leap he was gay. Which he was.
They all filled the opposite end of the table, which should comfortably fit 6 on each side. They all situated themselves and the tall leader took drink orders from the group before going to the bar to fill them. After he walked away, 2 new women walked over to the table and sensing that I was part of the group introduced themselves to me.
"I'm Kristen," she said with a bit of a drawl, indicating her liver had been lubricated before her arrival.
"Alex," I replied, shaking her extended hand.
Just as we shook hands our tall friend returned, laughing at the situation. Afraid I had been bothered by his friends mistaking me for part of the group, he quickly apologized.
"I'm so sorry!" he said grinning.
Kristen, unaware of her part in the joke, looked at him.
"He's just sitting here, but I guess he can be part of the group if he wants?!"
"Sure!" I replied with an enthusiasm that can only be attributed to Tito.
We went around the table and was introduced to the group.
"This is {blah blah}."
"This is {blah blah}."
"This is {blah blah}."
That went on until I had heard each name and responded with my own. Once finished with the group, the tall waiter introduced himself to me as Kevin. I responded in kind.
What he was initially returning for was lost (to me) in the throes of Pacific Northwest hi-jinx, but he left again only to return a few moments later with drinks cavalcade of beer, cider and a rum & coke drowning in ice.
Round after round went by and I could feel myself shifting closer to the group. I felt more comfortable lofting light hearted barbs at the group as time went on and they felt comfortable returning them.
The entire time, I couldn't help but notice Kevin. He was the closest to me, across from me and seemed to watch me. I'm not being immodest, I just noticed. I think I'm a handsome dude: 38, 5'10", 227 lbs., muscular (with some fluff I'm trying to get rid of and this drinking is NOT helping, I know, I know...). And this crowd was substantially younger than me, especially Kevin. If I were to guess, I'd say he was 27. He was tall, 6'4"ish, lean (as fuck), maybe 185 (or more) but with short sleeves I could see the veins in his arms. He had reddish, blonde hair with a matching none-too-thick beard. He had a chin that jutted out that seemed to accentuate his smile—and he smiled a lot. After round 3 (round 5 for me) everyone was smiling.
He told me what he did because there was some consternation amongst the group about how much he liked or didn't like his job. He showed me his Facebook page, his hobbies and some other stuff. We talked about the Seattle Freeze (it's a dumb thing people who live use an excuse not to have to talk to people) and how he was one of the few people from the area who agreed. He was warm, friend, his friends were great and I'm pretty sure one of the women was eye fucking me, but again, I'm on round 5...who knows! And it was clear it's as time for me to go.
Kevin mentioned his boyfriend was on the way and he wanted us to meet him and have a drink. I vacillated a bit before conceding that I'd have one more drink when his boyfriend arrived. After checking his phone, Kevin confirmed his arrival.
"He'll be here any minute now. He says he's trying to find parking."
He said something else but as I stumbled/skipped/slid to the bathroom, I was well out of earshot by then.
The bathroom is small, a couple of urinals and a stall. I stood at the urinal, staring at a foe ripe for the conquering. {
NOTE: I have a large cock. I get up to 9" and when I am soft, I'm still pretty formidable A-thank you}.
As I pulled my cock out of my pants and stared at the wall in front of me, I heard the door open. Loathe as I am to talk or interact in any bathroom any time anywhere, I didn't turn around. In my periphery i didn't see anyone stand at the stall next to me or open/close the toilet door. Suddenly nervous, I turned my neck slightly to the right and my eye dove even further to the right to casually see who was behind me.
It was Kevin.
"Hey" he said, sidling up to the neighboring stall.
"Hey" I muttered with a nervousness normally reserved for random stranger elevator greetings.
As a private person (almost a prude) I do not stand so far back from the urinal anyone could make out anything distinctive about my cock. I stand almost flush, using the edge of the urinal as a border/shield against any company I might get whilst I pee. Kevin was not that private. He was an exhibitionist, almost absurdly so. He was a good foot back from the urinal. I wasn't looking, again, this is all my peripheral vision. I could also tell he was looking at me.
In that moment, I will tell you chills went down my spine and I'm not sure what they were responding to. Was it the thrill of someone potentially confronting me in a bathroom for a sexual, illicit encounter? Or was it the fear that someone was going to attack me in my most vulnerable state? Given what you know (and I at the time knew) about Kevin, in hindsight it's easy to assume it was the former. But in that moment my friends, it was not so clear.
Kevin, however, was about to make it very clear.
He began to urinate, and I could hear the fluid hit the porcelain with such a pressure, I assumed he just drank a ton and hadn't gone in a while.
