David and I went to Sircuit. We were heading for 80, but stopped off in Smith Street for a drink first.
Beer and vodka, first things first. It was busy. We chatted briefly downstairs getting our drinks down. David was impatient and encouraged me to scull the last half of my schooner.
We went upstairs. Nothing much to start off with, even if there were lots of feet walking. The one cute guy we saw, David headed off after, not to be seen again.
I had sex with a short, nuggety, Italian looking, guy name Rafael, well, it was close to that. He was nice – good kisser, muscular body, thick solid cock, nice to make out with. Sexy arse – deep, hairy crack. We were getting on fine, until he reached over and picked up a condom packet, ripped it open and slid it on.
“Um, no... buddy...”
He smeared, what felt like, a pitchers glove sized amount of lube up my arse.
“I... haven’t...” I tried to say between kissing him. “I don’t...” He was trying to turn me around, as I played with his arse. I slid my mouth around to his ear. “I haven’t been fucked in years.”
“Okay. I know...” After which, I got another industrial sized gob of lube up my arse.
“No, buddy.”
“Come on, just try.”
“No mate.”
“For me?”
For me, I thought. Nice try. Acting like a boyfriend after fifteen minutes of knowing you, I don’t think so.
I laughed. “I was gonna fuck you.” I slid a finger between his cheeks, pushing it in slightly. He resisted Two tops wrestling for booty.
“Cool,” he said... eventually.
I can bottom for a boyfriend. Pretty much, I have to be in love with you, if you’re gonna get you rod up my shoot. Almost.
We kissed slowly and rubbed hardons & balls together. He was hot. We sweatily climbed all over each other. He pumped a fire hose capacity of cum all over himself, in the end. Very impressive.
We got dressed. I told him my name, as we were about to leave the cubicle, natch – I always have to exchange names, it’s just my thing. Tom used to always think it was weird. David, kind, of agreed when I told him. Rafael had a sexy accent.
He came to the toilet with me. He put his arm around my shoulder, as we headed down stairs, which I would normally like, but last night felt it was, kind of, too familiar. Don’t know why? May be it was him. He was waiting for me at the hand basin, but it was a basin for one, so I headed through the labyrinth of toilets to find another. As I turned to head back around to Rafael, two boys were standing, waiting for the basin, blocking the hallway to back around the other side, so I headed out the nearest, other door.
Squelch, squelch, went my arse. Where is he? I thought. Squelch, squelch. More to the point, where is David. Squelch, squelch. I walked down the front to the smoking section. Squelch, squelch. David wasn’t out the front, or anywhere to be seen. Squelch, squelch. Pulling the jocks out of my arse. Squelch, squelch. My god, who’d be a bottom, I thought. Squelch, squelch. This is intolerable. I was right by the door. Squelch, squelch. I’m taking my slime arse home, I thought. Squelch, squelch. This is foul. Squelch, squelch. I headed out the door.
Halfway up Smith Street, walking like a girl – is that what they are doing when they are tugging at their knickers, pulling cotton out of damp areas? – I realised I didn’t say good bye to Rafael. Oops. He was, clearly, waiting for me. And usually, I am that type, to hang around and be chatty afterwards. Oh well.
So, what is the etiquette with trade? Chat afterwards, or not?
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