I had origianlly planned to just hit The Phoenix, no sex club (so why had I strapped on that cock-ball divider?), but the bike took me west toward 2nd avenue anyway. Once there, not many folks, as I had expected, and saw a few regulars (who thought the same of me, no doubt). Soon enough, a man who was previewing his merchandise to all who walked past caught my attention. I grabbed the booth across from him, and just watched for a while. You are getting sleepy, SLEEEEEPY...as he stroked it, and waved it, and leered in my direction. What the hell, and before I knew it he's saying things like "you like that 8-1/2 incher, doncha? Fits your mouth real good, doesn't it, boy?" Yeah yeah, whatever. I reached up for the nipples, played with them like I was trying to find the right Radio station, while I continued below. After a while he says "IF I can cum, you want it down your throat, right, boy?" Disregarding, momentarily, the IF part of the statement, I thought my body language alone displayed a preference for it going somewhere completely different (some old wives' tale about cum making your chest hair thicker). Not knowing if this was just "hot talk" I didn't want to jump up and lecture him; I just indicated non-verbally, more clearly, my preference. While not disengaging right away, he clearly was disappointed, and a few moments later, we were buttoning up without the ususal end-of-session curtesies, neither of us satisfied. But, for some reason, it didn't irk me like it usually would, maybe I was just in another place in my head, and life's usual stupidities didn't seem to matter.
Some more strolling around, and I noticed a friendly face, one I had "been with" here twice before. But, like is often the case in this place, not knowing who or what was on the other's mind, we didn't really aknowledge each other just yet. A few minutes later, however, he was sitting in the lounge area, and I approaced, his smile widening, as he said a big hello. "Where were you? I hoped you'd be here, but I came already!" awwwww, how sweet. He clearly had had a few drinks, but not in a messy way, rather in a cute, vulnerable way. I sat down next to him, and we cuddled, and talked a bit, and I petted his cute head, and he said something about my dick being nice, and i complemented his furry ass. He was waiting for his pal, they seem to come here once a week together, and always leave together, apparently a car to New Jersey. I learned he also goes to The Hole on Thursdays, but..... yup, he's married. To a guy, his husband, as he kept calling him during the conversation. But, it felt real nice to just relax, not have to perform, just touch each other, a few light kisses to the back of his head, his ears, as he stroked my leg, my face. His friend came out, we talked for another minute, then they left, saying maybe Thursday. I sighed, took one last walk around the dark corridors, and left. Hopped on my bike, and found myself in a pretty decent mood for someone who set out to have sex, paid ten bucks here, 5 bucks at the bar, without actually getting much. As I pedaled, I could feel the beer chip in my pocket, and figured even though it's 3 am, what the hell.
The Phoenix was real dead, of course. The 2 bartenders were embraced, or dancing, I couldn't really tell. I tried to look amused, rather than thirsty, as I patiently waited for them to realize I might give them a dollar in exchange for some Bud. I drank most of it, looked at the Banana Republic-looking dude play pool, a couple of real young guys, and knew it was time for some bike riding, topped off with some Ben and Jerry's.