Back in the winter of 2008, one of my better friends was a guy named Teddy.
Note that Teddy wasn't a fuckbuddy or anything. It's true that we'd met on a hookup site. It's true that we chatted a little bit and decided to meet up. It's true that we got naked and started getting things going.
It's also true that we didn't hit it off. Sometimes you have guys you sync up with. Sometimes you can just get off on anything, and sometimes it just doesn't coalesce.
So Teddy and I were good friends. We had a few shared interests, similar movies and music, motorcycle racing, hookup sites. We liked to critique them, and would meet over coffee at one of the many shops scattered throughout the East side of Milwaukee just for the opportunity. We'd periodically go to movies together, take in a concert. Occasionally we even hooked up with a common guy and we'd rate him on our own scales.
We also had a few non-shared interests. Like I mentioned in the past, I'm originally from South Dakota. They have no pro sports teams. I never spent much time or concern in my youth on pro sports, so when my friends would go to or watch games I'd join in for the companionship but not the sport.
Teddy though, he was Packers through-and-through. Born and raised in Manitowoc, he loved the team like nothing you can imagine. He had jerseys, helmets, a cultured 1 foot by 1 foot section of the original Lambeau field grass, so much memorabilia that he had a whole room in his townhouse dedicated to it.
Now Teddy was a great guy, loved him to death. His birthday was coming up on a particular Sunday and he asked me and a few other friends to meet him at a particular bar for his birthday and watch the game. I'd been to the place before, a little dive in the 'gay' part of town that was owned and operated by a boyfriend or ex-boyfriend of a distant ex of Teddy's that would promise to put the game on and give him a huge table and chairs to match.
Of course I said I'd go and that I'd be delighted. I asked him when to show up, "Just whenever Chode (his take on my name, Joe). Just be there before the game starts."
The Sunday arrived with me getting out of work at 7 AM followed by six hours of sleep, then 'getting myself ready' for Teddy's birthday party. My wife, Mel, asked me what my plans were. "Going to Teddy's party."
"Don't hurt yourself." She chuckled.
I laughed back, "Probably not going to be a problem."
She tilted her head, "Just don't let him top. You'd get smushed." Teddy was also a very big guy. Just over 6' and close to 300lbs. Big. Boy.
I got to the bar as a bit of snow started rolling into town. My jeep was parked directly in front of the place with plenty of parking around. I assumed I was just very early.
That assumption was on the right track. The bar was empty except for just a few. First, the slender, young, bearded bartender sitting at a stool on the far end watching a pregame show.
Second was a guy on the larger side with a black leather jacket and jeans. He had the mustache/goatee combo, a short crewcut and a bottle of something micro-brew. He looked to be in his late 40's.
Third was an older fellow, mid 50's to early 60's. He was at the end of the bar with a Collins glass and something dark inside. He looked completely uninterested in anything happening in the bar, with the game, in the world.
I took a seat about three down from the guy in the leather jacket. The bartender kept his eyes on the TV and got up, walked around the end of the bar, made his way along the polished surface until he was by me, "What sounds good, hon?"
"High Life is fine." I said. He reached below the bar, pulled one out, twisted the top and put it in front of me.
For the next 45 minutes it was mechanical. We watched the pregame show and highlights from other games. The guy a few seats down from me would order one of his specialty beers. A few minutes later I'd get a high life. The three-quarters of an hour mark was when my bladder decided I was due.
I pulled my jacket off and laid it across the stool, "I don't think you need to worry about anyone taking your chair." I hadn't even noticed the bartender glancing my direction.
"Don't need to bring it either." I answered.
I made my way towards the bathrooms in the rear of the place. The place was kind of a dive, but the bathrooms were always immaculately kept. Well, there was a crudely cut hole between two of the three stalls...you know why...but otherwise it was very clean.
There were three urinals against the left wall as you walked into the place and I lined up on the first. I always got a kick out of the place due to the lack of privacy dividers.
Just as soon as I was going with the flow the door opened. The guy who'd been sitting just down from me walked in and approached the next urinal to me, disobeying the cardinal rule of men's bathrooms. Of course, gay bar rules might be different.
Now that he was standing I saw he was just a slight bit shorter than me. Probably a hair heavier. He still had his jacket on over a tight grey t-shirt. It showed he wasn't in bad shape, but not in great shape either.
Did I notice when he pulled himself out? Of course I did. No privacy screens AND it's a gay bar, duh.
He had a full-on erection. By my eye it was over 6.5", maybe 7", depending on how his pants were laying.
"Nice cock." He said in a voice that didn't fit his exterior. A bit too smooth, refined for how he was dressed and his bearing. I just replied thanks and returned the compliment. "You like it?" He turned towards me. He hadn't pissed, I noticed.
I took a better look. He was on the thicker side. Not significantly thick or significantly long, just a nice combination of length and width. The head was a dark pink, the shaft a dusky tan. The skin was a little on the looser side, none of that tension tightening a lot of guys had. Still beautiful to look at though.
"It's gorgeous, man." I said after perusing for several seconds, "Beautiful".
He took hold of his base and pointed it directly at me, "But you want to know how it tastes, how it feels, right?" He pointed it directly at me.
I grinned, "Might be a fun time. You'll have to give me your number." I still wasn't making a motion to put my own equipment away.
"How about I just give you this dick now? Why wait? Why fuck around? There's nobody in this bar." He pulled out a little bottle of lube, "I could just bend you over the sink and do it. Come on."
On the one hand I was a little put off by his forward attitude. On the other hand he had a great cock. On the other other hand I was seriously horny.
He reached out and grabbed my now-hard 5.5", "I promise it won't take long, man. You got a great ass, a great attitude." He rubbed a bit of my leftover piss over my head and shaft. "Yeah, it'll be fun. It'll be quick."
I reached down and took him in hand. He was almost trembling from how hard he was. The flesh of him was warm to the touch and didn't twitch when I touched him, "See, you know you'd love it."
My hand was up on my belt. I pulled it loose and followed with my button. My fly was already down. "Yeah, yeah." He produced another small vial from his pocket, poppers. Personally I've never been much into them but I'm not one to criticize someone's kink.
I pulled my pants and underwear down to just above my knees, "C'mon man! Pull 'em off. Make it good."
I reached down and pulled my left leg out of the pants, then my right. I threw them over my shoulder. I took my underwear and tossed them in the trash.
"Put your hands on the sink, spread your legs." I did as he asked, "Yeah, that ass. That ASS! You ready to get fucked?" I nodded, said he'd still have to ease it in though, "I'll be slow, but it'll be tough man, you got me so hard." He positioned himself behind me, kicking my feet a little wider, cop style.
A little drizzle of his lube on my hand and and easy press of my finger into my butt. I'd been ready earlier. I felt him press against me, a little too low at first. I reached back and aimed him higher, "Yeah, get me right." When he was aimed correctly I backed down on him just a hair and felt him break through the ring of my anus, "Oh yeah. You're hot. Boiling in there."
He began pressing inside me insistently. He was clearly on a mission.
In only a moment or two of me bearing down and him pushing in, I felt the rough denim of his jeans against my ass. "Oh yeah, That's some good ass. Gonna milk me, I'm gonna breed this ass like it was mine."
It took him no time at all to start a regular pattern of slowly entering and pulling out of me, never fully out. In fact, not even to the point where his head might hit my sphincter on the withdrawal.
His jacket hit my back, sticking to where I was now sweating a bit. He leaned forward and whispered into my back, "I'm gonna fuckin' seed you. You ready?" I answered I was ready, "Yeah, you're ready, aren't you?" He was getting a bit repetitive. It was fun, but just yapping to yap is another thing. I'd rather a silent but aggressive guy than some crazy dude asking me if I was ready and ready and ready.
"Oh...Oh....Oh fuck...I'm cumming!" He groaned, almost out of nowhere. He grabbed my hips, pushed in hard and I felt him pulse numerous times as he continued to groan "I'm cumming." over and over. Repetitive.
Don't get me wrong, it was enjoyable. I like the anon/hookup shit. It's fun. I just eye roll when guys get chatty. It's about fucking, we don't need to be verbal. If you are, make it interesting. Not Voltaire or Edmund Burke, just don't repeat the same shit.
When he'd finished with his orgasm, I expected him to pull out. He rolled his hips as he kept himself inside. I was about ready to ask him what was up when he changed our relationship, "Were you paying attention?"
"To what?" I asked.
He grunted behind me, "Didn't you notice that when I came in here, I didn't piss? I mean, I drank like four beers."
I turned my head to look at him, "OK? What's your point?" I asked, kind of wondering, kind of already aware of what he was talking about.
