THE LURE - Final Night, April 9th, 2003
I didn't get out of the apartment until well after midnight, walked a few blocks, then hopped in a cab. Getting out about 1/2 a block away, I could see a long line. Shit! So, taking my place in line, another guy walked up behind me, asking if this is the line for The Lure. Yup. So, waiting as the line moved extremely slow, a few cabs come and go, then one stops and out steps a cute bearded man in leather chaps. He just stands in the middle of the road, slowly putting his wallet away, checking out the line. Ah, I get it - he's looking for someone to cut in, and he takes his time, giving the rest of us a good chance to linger over his tightly laced-up chaps, his tight butt-hugging levis, and this ruggedly beautiful face. I immediately hate him. And love him. His one "flaw", in other people's eyes at least, is his height - a couple inches shorter than me, but so wonderfully proportional that he'd do well in movies. Anyway, he finally finds a group of friends, and by their greeting, they weren't planning on being there together. This group is somewhat different-looking than he, mostly tight muscly clothing, more 90's Dr. Seus varieties of facial hair, would fit in at most bars in the generic sort of style. Then the cackling and carrying on, and a loud cellphone call to someone, intended for the whole line to hear, about how the caller is getting fucked and sucked off as he speaks. Har har har. Meanwhile, the man who got in line after me is doing that irritating moving-up-ahead-of-me-on-my-right-side thing - fine man, if that makes you happy, go for it. You'll get in 12 seconds ahead of me.
Finally inside, I forgo the coat check, as it's another horribly long line, so I go quickly thru the crowd in search of a beer. Took awhile, and yes, more irritating people pushing ahead, their alcohol needs clearly more pressing than my own, so I don't fight it. When I finally get a bottle, I relax, and move slowly through the crowd. Not bad, actually. Most of the "beautiful" men are so outnumbered that they are hardly noticeable. One of the nice things about the leather/fetish and "wannabe" crowd is that they are generally older (closer to my age), and a wider variety of looks than most gay bars.
I finally spot some illegal activity, and draw closer to it. Yup, cigarette smoking. So daring! But just beyond that I see the tiny backroom-ish area, lots of men stuffed into a dark corner, and as I make my way in, the usual is happening - lots of guys milling around and pushing in a tiny space, with about 2 or 3 guys at most actually having sex. I leave there, but stay close enough and watch the show on stage. Some sort of mummification duct tape thing, it's actually quite fascinating. Then I notice it's being videotaped, and see that Nick Harmon (remember Ranger Nick?) is one of the videographers. Time for another beer, and I circle the place again. Winding up back near the stage, eye contact is made, and as I walk past him, along side but not in the dark backroom-ish area, he follows.
Some light grabbing, I put my mouth on the back of his neck and draw his body in, he reacting in kind, grabbing my ass, then back to my crotch. He gets the belt open, unsnaps a few, then drops down to his knees, and buries his face in the jock's pouch. Buzzed head, it feels good as I push down on it, then he releases my cock and gets his face in deep. I'm facing the room, watching the room, and a few guys watching me, which of course is a big turn on. Then the guy stands up, I assume it's "my turn" but he pushes my body around, then goes down again. Woah! I didn't expect a face in my ass, at least not so quickly, and so brazenly. I realize my face is being pushed into the DJ's window, so I try to see what he's playing next while I feel a goatee maneuvering it's way around. The DJ cracks a faint smile, but looks fairly involved in his work. Before I know it, the guy turns me around again, and makes some funny faces, then some funny noises, and he's spooged on the floor, no doubt my boots as well. We pull our clothes back on, faint smiles and laughs, then we part.
Time for another beer. I don't really see anyone I know, but do see a few I've had sex with, AOL non-connections, folks from other bars from over the years. The short guy who hates being called Hispanic and has a chaps/jockstrap thing going on, who was fascinated with my web cam when he came over once but ignores me ever since. The handsome guy I would see at the restaurant, wondering if this dark European is queer, and tonight I found out yes, but don't say hello. There's the guy who had this incredible AOL profile, all sorts of filthy things on his "wish list", who ruined it by sending a face pic where he's cuddling a tiny dog-pet in his face. But it's all mildly amusing, and I'm having a cool time. But the beer begins to take it's toll, and I head for the long line for the Men's room. Rarely a bad place to stand and wait anyway, gives you a chance to check guys out (and hopefully, they check you out). As I get closer to my turn, I see that between two of the urinals is a guy crotched down, facing out, shirt pulled over and behind his head, hairy chest, beard. Oh. Hmmmm.
As luck would have it, my turn puts me to the right of the waiting man. He stares at my crotch, and only vaguely looks up for a moment. Another guy arrives on the other side of the guy, and crouching-man looks over, but his body is positioned closer to me. The guy starts to piss into the urinal, then grins, and aims at the guy's chest. Nice. Wet, warm streaming down, the pissing guy finishes up, and the next guy comes to the urinal. This is really turning me on, more than I would have thought, and as I look down at the guy, he has this great face. Bearded, rugged (naw, it's not the guy from the line outside), and a nicely trim body and very hairy chest, which is now glistening. I decide I want to do it. But, pee-shy, it's taking a long while, but no one seems too impatient in line, and the other guy has already started pissing, and like the previous guy, he turns and gives some to crouching-man. A 3rd guy walks up and says something like "you want it, don't you"? and crouching-man merely nods faintly as another stream joins the last drops from the other guy. I can't seem to pee, but my cock is getting hard. And crouching-man keeps darting his head over, waiting for me to do something. Two or 3 more guys take turns, I'm getting harder, but no closer to pissing. Then my cock starts bopping up and down on it's own at this point. Oh crap. I'm not touching it, another guy is pissing on my friend below, and I feel a few drops of cum slowly escape. He sees this, grins slightly, but turns back to the man making him warm and wet, and I button up, then put my hand on the side of his face, giving him a slight, but firm caress.
At this point I switch to water, and yes, I'm contemplating going back if I can "ready myself" But, alas, he's long gone (some smart man must've snatched him up and taken him home). More circling, and I notice that there is a lot of sex going on finally. Many of the guys are no longer trying to find a corner or wall, some are quite flagrant, and I stop briefly at many of the displays for a few minutes each. In the back, this sort of faux-alley, there seems to be a lot of activity, so I walk through slowly. Some guy making out with another looks me over, I pause, and his hand reaches for me. A moment's touch, but he's quite involved, and I'm not usually the forceful kind, so I keep going. I see several cocks exposed that I've wanted to see for years - none in an invitational manner towards me, but nonetheless nice to see. More pacing and circling, the crowd is thinning, and I stop and lean near the front door. Maybe it's time to consider what's next - home? The Slide with Jeff dj'ing? Before I decide, a guy who grabbed me earlier walks up, smiles, and starts to chat me up. Blah blah blah, he reaches for my crotch, then I put my hand into his mechanic's jumpsuit. Nice balls, I think - but he insists I grab his cock, so I pull it out, and get down on my knees. After only 3 or 4 slurps, I hear "LAST CALL!" as 1/2 the lights in the place come on. I keep going, feeling folks walk past and out the door. My new friend laughs aloud and pulls me up. He talks a bit about how much he loves public sex, but maybe we should get a bit away from the door (it's 4 a.m., the place is closing forever, I'd rather do it up here, but as the kids say - "whatever"). So we go back to the faux-alley, I drop and continue. He makes lots of appreciative noises, then pulls me up and asks what I want. I tell him I want to see him cum on me. But he does a Ralph Kramden hemna-hemna-hemna, "well, it's hard for me to cum so fast, and out in the open like this..." OK. I drop, grab my own cock, whack whack whack, spooge-spooge on my own boots, and get up and kiss him. He wants to chat, I'm thinking of the long walk home. The lights are pretty much on, and he asks about seeing me again, just to have sex. I tell him I can't really plan anonymous sex like that, but we'll no doubt bump into each other somewhere. Not happy with my response, he nonetheless relents, I give him a peck on the cheek, take a quick look around at the remaining guys there, and walk out.
The first few blocks walking home are nice. The far West Village can be quite nice at this hour, tiny streets, old little "quaint" homes, so I do my high school thing and light up a joint, taking a few slow tokes as I head east. It's nice; it's quiet; it's 4:30 and I have a warm grin on my face. By the time I get to 7th Avenue and all the (mostly str8, pardon-my-prejudices) drunk people begin to get on my nerves, I grab a cab for the rest of the way. When I get home, I don't turn on the TV, the computer, or music; I just undress down to the cottony jockstrap, prop myself in bed close to the window as the sky grows slightly lighter, and contemplate the night, and where I'm at in life. Nothing heavy, just a few minutes of, "yeah, that was fun", and then a few minutes of "damn, that crouching-man was a huge turn-on....."
hmmmmmm
It's one of those cold rainy days that has me aching for a warm fuzzy boyfriend to force me into staying home in bed, cuddling and snoozing into the afternoon. But alas, I haven't had one of those in years! I'm sure I'll be fine once I'm at work, but at this moment, this 2nd cup of coffee is doing nothing for me. This pic was taken just the other day, during a "date" (I don't know why I put quotes around the word "date" - maybe because it was an AOL-chatroom arranged date, and I didn't feel any sort of "let's do this again" feeling, even though he was nice, and the sex was fun). I had promised the man I'd take some digital pics of him, as the one he emailed me was 5 years old (which he readily admitted BEFORE sending). This digital camera of mine, it's pretty good and I still love it, but you can see how funny it looks in terms of background looking like a fake backdrop. (Actually, because it looked so fakey, I cropped most of the background out, the East River, looking north from the lower east side, 59th St Bridge and all....) But yup, this is my current "look" - crooked glasses and all!
My nipples are still sore. For a man with no nipples, that means a lot. Late last night, heading home on the bike, I knew to take Bleeker St. east, as it would have traffic lights, as opposed to stop signs, at the intersections. Seeing a red light up in the sky meant stop, seeing a red light at eye level or lower meant cab, slow down. My glasses were tucked in my leather jacket pocket, as the lens had popped out, and I wasn't able to screw the pieces back together. I hate not being able to see, it makes driving kinda tough.
