This morning, or afternoon rather, after I made breakfast and left the dishes around, I remembered a peculiar thing about last night at the club.
Well it all started on Friday, when I met Paul and Tawnee, but that's not for here. Then Saturday evening, at the restaurant, we were growing tired of ordering pints because they would come with too much head. The waitress suggested a pitcher, we agreed.
Except, what she brought wasn't a pitcher, but more like some kind of mini keg. It required two (small) people to bring it to our seat, and it was also fashioned with a tap and keg stand. I felt like Homer when he orders the Australian beer then says "Oh, it's pretty big..."
So Anyhoos, we gets to drinkin that keg, cause Tawnee won't have any, satisfied and all with her strawberry margueritas and fuzzy navels. Normally, Paul can suck it back like coca cola, but i could see his end-game was coming and the unexpected grandeur of the mini-keg was psychologically unsettling him. Being a professional boozer, I picked up the slack.
I had a weak moment at the club later. I had never been there before, however on three separate occasions, there were random strangers addressing me by name and dishing out high fives, brother punches, and even a couple rear admirals. Anyways, I was unnerved by this; this effect of strangers knowing my name. Back home when it happens, there is some dull recollection that perhaps I bought those guys a beer once, or maybe I shagged them, or maybe they go to Tim's Church... but at least there is some explanation. But why here? Why are they so happy to see me? Are they my students? I decided I should think about it over a beer.
A few beers later and I found myself french kissing Tawnee in the centre of the dancefloor. They made a big circle around us to watch; that's OK. I'm an exhibitionist, and Tawnee was getting pretty wet. I knew this because my hands were down her pants and everyone was watching and I didn't care. The DJ was spinning some house-esque something or other; there were two pretty girls and two handsome youths up on the stage trying to big up the crowd. But my hands were down Tawnee's pants and my tongue was in her mouth, except for when I was biting her lip or neck.
That was fine and dandy for a while but she couldnt keep up and then went to check on Paul. Apparently Paul left.
But then there was a slight, cute guy in a grees Adidas effort. He might have been about 21 or 22, it's so difficult to tell. He had that air of a person who is trying to get your attention without looking like trying. Maybe he was just worried why I was staring at him. I was staring at him because he had perfect skin, beautiful eyes, and an easily manageable figure. So anyways, the absurdity of the situation hit me and I just gave in, and put my hand on his shoulder.
He was a couple feet from me, 90 degrees talking to some chick friend of his. So after I touch him he turns to me, unsurprised, as if expecting me to grab him all along. He says something which I clearly don't understand, and I says to him "Hey buddy you look real cute in that green adidas effort." Maybe he understood it, probably he didn't, I didn't care either way. He understood something. So then he's all smiling at me, which doesn't mean shit cause it happens all the time. He starts going off about something, and again, strangely, knew my name. By this time, I have grown bored of pretending to understand or give a fuck what people are saying. I just really wanted to kiss his neck. It was so smooth and clean looking under the collar of that green adidas effort. So I just gave in. My right hand was still on his shoulder, and I took my left and put it on the crown of his head. Then I eased him forward, used my nose to move his collar aside, and landed a big long wet one at the top of his collarbone.
It was so hot. His chick friend was stunned. He may have been stunned too, but I couldn't tell. THen he smiled and went on talking about something. Then I was bored and left for the washroom.
I ordered another beer and fuzzy navel, then asked Tawnee to hold them while I pissed.
After I piss, I wash my hands with cheap soap and then go to the jet drier. As I'm wringing the water away, another cute-as-morning kid walks up to me. He doesn't even attempt to say anything, but pulls his black windbreaker down a bit and points at his neck, all the while sporting this button-beautiful coquetish smile. I'm thinking, "Is this for real?", but I don't think it very long before I grab him and suck hard on his neck, leaving a nice fresh hickey. He is smiling and beaming to no end, and proudly checks the branding in the mirror. He gives me a double thumbs up, a deep thank you, and a mid bow, then opens the door and motions me out.
Tawnee hands me back my beer and I can see the hickeyed boy showing off the spot to all his friends. I light a smoke and a thicker-than-usual confusion creeps through my drunken haze. Eight or nine of them, one by one, his friends take turns checking out the hickey I made to a resounding chorus of segois. Then the green adidas boy comes and examines the hickey, and I see a bit of back and forthing amidst occasional glances in my direction. I have given up attempting to understand what is happening.
Of the eight or nine in that group there were five guys, who then all promptly came up to me at the bar, pulled down their collars, and pointed at their necks.
It blew my mind, it was too much, I grabbed Tawnee and went back to the dancefloor to make out with her and my beer, like a normal gay boy does.
-jM
A&D
Well it all started on Friday, when I met Paul and Tawnee, but that's not for here. Then Saturday evening, at the restaurant, we were growing tired of ordering pints because they would come with too much head. The waitress suggested a pitcher, we agreed.
Except, what she brought wasn't a pitcher, but more like some kind of mini keg. It required two (small) people to bring it to our seat, and it was also fashioned with a tap and keg stand. I felt like Homer when he orders the Australian beer then says "Oh, it's pretty big..."
So Anyhoos, we gets to drinkin that keg, cause Tawnee won't have any, satisfied and all with her strawberry margueritas and fuzzy navels. Normally, Paul can suck it back like coca cola, but i could see his end-game was coming and the unexpected grandeur of the mini-keg was psychologically unsettling him. Being a professional boozer, I picked up the slack.
I had a weak moment at the club later. I had never been there before, however on three separate occasions, there were random strangers addressing me by name and dishing out high fives, brother punches, and even a couple rear admirals. Anyways, I was unnerved by this; this effect of strangers knowing my name. Back home when it happens, there is some dull recollection that perhaps I bought those guys a beer once, or maybe I shagged them, or maybe they go to Tim's Church... but at least there is some explanation. But why here? Why are they so happy to see me? Are they my students? I decided I should think about it over a beer.
A few beers later and I found myself french kissing Tawnee in the centre of the dancefloor. They made a big circle around us to watch; that's OK. I'm an exhibitionist, and Tawnee was getting pretty wet. I knew this because my hands were down her pants and everyone was watching and I didn't care. The DJ was spinning some house-esque something or other; there were two pretty girls and two handsome youths up on the stage trying to big up the crowd. But my hands were down Tawnee's pants and my tongue was in her mouth, except for when I was biting her lip or neck.
That was fine and dandy for a while but she couldnt keep up and then went to check on Paul. Apparently Paul left.
But then there was a slight, cute guy in a grees Adidas effort. He might have been about 21 or 22, it's so difficult to tell. He had that air of a person who is trying to get your attention without looking like trying. Maybe he was just worried why I was staring at him. I was staring at him because he had perfect skin, beautiful eyes, and an easily manageable figure. So anyways, the absurdity of the situation hit me and I just gave in, and put my hand on his shoulder.
He was a couple feet from me, 90 degrees talking to some chick friend of his. So after I touch him he turns to me, unsurprised, as if expecting me to grab him all along. He says something which I clearly don't understand, and I says to him "Hey buddy you look real cute in that green adidas effort." Maybe he understood it, probably he didn't, I didn't care either way. He understood something. So then he's all smiling at me, which doesn't mean shit cause it happens all the time. He starts going off about something, and again, strangely, knew my name. By this time, I have grown bored of pretending to understand or give a fuck what people are saying. I just really wanted to kiss his neck. It was so smooth and clean looking under the collar of that green adidas effort. So I just gave in. My right hand was still on his shoulder, and I took my left and put it on the crown of his head. Then I eased him forward, used my nose to move his collar aside, and landed a big long wet one at the top of his collarbone.
It was so hot. His chick friend was stunned. He may have been stunned too, but I couldn't tell. THen he smiled and went on talking about something. Then I was bored and left for the washroom.
I ordered another beer and fuzzy navel, then asked Tawnee to hold them while I pissed.
After I piss, I wash my hands with cheap soap and then go to the jet drier. As I'm wringing the water away, another cute-as-morning kid walks up to me. He doesn't even attempt to say anything, but pulls his black windbreaker down a bit and points at his neck, all the while sporting this button-beautiful coquetish smile. I'm thinking, "Is this for real?", but I don't think it very long before I grab him and suck hard on his neck, leaving a nice fresh hickey. He is smiling and beaming to no end, and proudly checks the branding in the mirror. He gives me a double thumbs up, a deep thank you, and a mid bow, then opens the door and motions me out.
Tawnee hands me back my beer and I can see the hickeyed boy showing off the spot to all his friends. I light a smoke and a thicker-than-usual confusion creeps through my drunken haze. Eight or nine of them, one by one, his friends take turns checking out the hickey I made to a resounding chorus of segois. Then the green adidas boy comes and examines the hickey, and I see a bit of back and forthing amidst occasional glances in my direction. I have given up attempting to understand what is happening.
Of the eight or nine in that group there were five guys, who then all promptly came up to me at the bar, pulled down their collars, and pointed at their necks.
It blew my mind, it was too much, I grabbed Tawnee and went back to the dancefloor to make out with her and my beer, like a normal gay boy does.
-jM
A&D
