He's tall, younger, but not too young, and i reach into his shirt. Fuzzy. Very fuzzy. Sure, let's go. Unlocking the bike, he goes back inside, then out before i give up on him. We walk three blocks, i mention he looks even better in the light. Then we do the "where do you live?" bit. i like to think he's a west village snob as he says he's gonna go wait for that bus on 9th st. but i know it's that i don't look so good in the light to him.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
that dark corner again. he grabs my crotch, i stop, then maneuver behind him. we talk at each other briefly, nothing important or interesting, as he unzips, reaches in, grabs and pulls. another hand is on my thighs, then the back of the 'strap. some kissing, enuf to help me begin to get hard, which is good at this hour and after 3 beers. last call is yelled, and my buddy stops, saying something like: "you know what that means" and walks away. then a tall man is standing besides me, says "nice jockstrap". i am about to say thanks , or something like that, and he adds: "wanna leave?" when i tell him i can't even see him (we're still in the dark corner) he moves closer into the dim red light, "can you see me now?"