Happy Hour
So my friend Freddy and I were seated at the bar inside 'Swinging Dick's Saloon' and this gorgeous hunk-of-a-man approaches us and blurts out, "Which of you queen's wants to blow me?"
I am taken aback by his brash crudeness but Freddy instantly becomes all giggles, raises a limp-wrist and squeals, "I do -- I do -- I do...."
Good God, what a flaming faggot! The queer-boy doesn't have an ounce of pride or self-respect in his entire body!
When I watch Freddy follow the hunk towards the back door, I feel the usual pangs of regret for not having spoken up first.
The one thing I should know by now about the dating game is 'if you snooze -- you lose!' There are a lot more fairies like me out there than available stud-muffins so you gotta be ready to pounce at a moment's notice.
About two-seconds after Freddy left the bar, my friend Billy taps me on the back and says, "There's nothing going on here -- you want to go across the street? There's still 45-minutes left of happy hour at the 'Slap N Tickle!'"
I say "Let's go!" and quickly drain my chardonnay and follow Billy out the front door.
***
The 'Slap N' Tickle' is a meat-market for hetero's. Every bar stool and booth is occupied with horny businessmen and the women trying their best to hook-up with them.
Billy points and excitedly utters "Over there -- over there" and I look and see a guy and a gal getting off their stools.
Billy and I worm our way thru the crowd of high-powered businessmen and sharply dressed women of all shapes and sizes until we claim the empty bar stools for ourselves. Eddie the Bartender is as prompt and courteous as ever.
"What can I get you boys today?" he asks with that beautiful smile of his on his ruggedly handsome face.
"Two chardonnays," says Teddy.
When he returns with our wine he winks at us, leans in and lowers his voice.
"See the old guy sitting across the bar wearing the thousand dollar suit? He wants to buy your drinks!"
We both steal surreptitious glances at the handsome older man and he catches us looking and gives us a wide grin and raises his glass in greeting. I blush with embarrassment but Billy squeals "Goody!" and waves at the man mouthing the words "Thank you -- thank you!"
It's not uncommon for supposedly straight men to guzzle down a few drinks here to work up the courage to go to the gay bar across the street. Older closet queens play the silliest games.
Suddenly, two bar stools open up next to the man and he motions to Billy to join him.
Billy wastes no time. He says, "C'mon Johnny" and leaves me sitting by myself.
I hate it when he does that -- he always expects me to follow his lead, and more times than not I blindly go along with him. At least this time I won't have to go out on the dance floor with Billy to attract attention to ourselves. His dancing embarrasses me.
Introductions are made and Billy sits next to the older man and engages him in small talk. I am the odd-man-out and sit quietly sipping my wine while eavesdropping on their conversation.
The man buys us two more glasses of wine and Billy suddenly moves his bar stool closer to him and I can no longer hear what is being said.
I become aware that while he is whispering in Billy's ear he is staring at me. His gaze becomes so intense I blush and have to look away. I don't know what my friend is saying to him, but suddenly he has a twisted grin contorting his face and he winks at me.
The man suddenly reaches into his wallet and pulls out a hundred dollar bill, folds it in half, and slides it on the bar towards Billy. I am shocked when Billy covers the bill with his hand and pulls it towards himself.
What the hell is Billy doing - we're not hustlers or pros! Why is he taking money from the man?
Two more glasses of wine are placed before us and the stranger abruptly stands to leave and smiles at me and says, "See you soon, cutie!"
The man reaches into his suit coat pocket and I watch him hand Billy a key card with the the hotel logo on it.
When the man leaves, I turn to Billy and ask him, "What the hell is going on?"
Billy leans in and whispers, "He wants to watch us!"
"Watch us doing what?" I fire back at him.
He grins at me and says, "You know...."
I turn purple with rage and almost shout, "Why would you do that without asking me?"
"Oh c'mon sweetie, the man wants us to party with him in his room -- it's not like we've never had a threesome before!"
Oh God, I think, why do I always let Billy get me into these things?
"Hey Eddie," Billy calls out to the bartender, "...give Johnny a shot of Fireball, please!"
***
Twenty-minutes and three shots of Fireball later I find myself staggering alongside Billy down a hotel corridor. The liquor has mellowed my reluctance and my little dick begins twitching inside my briefs at the prospect of being naked with Billy and the handsome stranger.
Sure, okay, I become something of a slut when I'm high. I haven't been 'out' very long and sometimes it feels like I'm trying to make up for lost time.
Billy suddenly stops and knocks on the door to room 128. We are both mildly surprised when the man answers the door wearing a bath robe. I resent it when men take me for granted and assume I'll put out for them...even if it is true.
"Come inside, boys," said the older man after nervously looking both directions up and down the hallway to make sure no one sees us entering his room.
I spot a wedding ring on the man's finger as I pass by and think, 'Another one of those kinds of guys'...you know the type: a loyal and devoted husband probably with kids at home, but in his case, most likely grandchildren, on a business trip wanting to do something he'd never have the nerve to do back home.
When he closes the door he makes sure it is not only locked, but attaches the chain as well as the dead bolt. These older guys get so paranoid about being caught with queers they don't know how to act. They'll do anything to deny their dirty little secret right up to the time I kneel between their legs and take their hard dicks in my warm mouth.
Billy likes to get these hook-ups over with as soon as possible and takes me in his arms and kisses me full on the lips.
The man becomes slightly agitated and says, "Wait a minute -- wait a minute!" and gives us each a gummie then says, "Here, eat this -- it'll help you relax!"
I exchange an amused glance with Billy. Recreational pot is legal in our state and we both know we won't feel any effects from the gummies for close to two hours, but apparently the old man doesn't understand the way edibles work. We do what he tells us then resume kissing and embracing.
All of the man's comments and instructions are directed at Billy. He assumes I am the 'sub' and Billy is the 'top' and it upsets me...again. Why do so many men automatically think I am Billy's bitch? Do I have the word 'Sissy' stamped on my forehead? It's very emasculating!
Billy pulls off my tee shirt, opens my slacks and pushes them to the floor leaving me standing before the stranger in nothing but my red nylon, string, bikini briefs.
The man's eyes bulge wide as he slowly looks me up and down. I'll be the first to admit Billy has done a remarkable job getting me into shape. I am proud of my firm and flat tummy, and I simply love how soft and smooth my hairless flesh has become.
Billy goes so far as to raise one of my arms so the man can see that my underarms are hair-free, too.
When the man is finished ogling my body, he looks me directly in the eyes but says to Billy, "If his boobs were any bigger he could pass for a girl!"
My face turns bright red. I HATE it when men say that to me. I'm a guy, dammit -- I don't WANT to be a girl!
Billy blurts out, "Yeah, he really could -- especially when his nipples get hard, hahaha...."
The man suddenly added: "...and having him wear panties is a nice touch, too!"
I always bristle at the suggestion I wear women's panties. I'm queer -- not a crossdresser!
"These are MEN'S nylon briefs -- I buy them online from a MEN'S catalog, right Billy?" I ask confident he'll back me up.
Billy likes to embarrass me so he says to the man, "I haven't been entirely truthful with Johnny...I buy ALL his undies in the women's lingerie department...I've had him in panties for months!"
The man laughs and Billy joins in while I admire myself in the floor length mirror. The panties are so tight my bulging 'package' looks h-u-g-e...what's one more harmless illusion in a world of self-deception?
Paying the Rent
He was VERY old and VERY mean and a VERY spiteful man. He was so strict and set in his ways he kept me on a very tight leash.
"D-D-Daddy," I stammered, "...please loosen the leash -- I'm choking!"
He brought the leather spanker down hard on my smooth, unblemished buttocks.
W-H-O-O-S-H—SMACK...W-H-O-O-S-H—SMACK...W-H-O-O-S-H—SMACK!!!
I cried like a schoolgirl -- tears flowed down my anguished face -- my asscheeks burned like a five-alarm fire.
"SPREAD 'EM WIDER, BOY!" he shouted, "I WANNA SEE THOSE HAMSTER BALLS DANGLING BETWEEN YOUR GIRLY LEGS!"
I opened my thighs as far apart as possible. I knew better than to disobey him when he was in one of his 'moods' especially when I'm naked and defenseless and on all-fours while he's standing over me wielding that damn leather spanking strap.
