It had been a long night. I should probably gone home after spending the evening celebrating my birthday with my best friends, John and Travis, but one thing lead to another, and well, now here I am watching down the sketchiest street in town.
Actually, I've just left a rather non-descript building on that sketchy street. In that building I saw, and participated in acts that I had only dreamt of, or possibly had seen on the Internet.
Back to the celebration. John and Travis and I go back to high school, when we were on the school baseball team. They both live back where we grew up, but I moved away to go to college and never returned to my home town. We haven't seen each other in years, and they decided to fly in for my birthday.
The three of us went out for a great Italian dinner and then moved the celebration to a nearby bar for drinks. My friends are married and I'm newly divorced. Over drinks they start asking me a lot of questions about what's it like dating. Really what they are doing is pumping me for are stories of conquests, the more or younger, the better, or of interesting acts that long-married men can only dream of.
Not wanting to disappoint them, and perhaps as a way of invalidating my fears that years of a sex-less marriage were somehow my fault, I obliged. I told stories of being with two or more women (the exact number was lost in the drug-induced haze of that night), of insatiable, multi-orgasmic women, of taking advantage of my youthful appearance to bed more than a few coeds, and of a date that ended up in a dungeon (about which I refused to provide more detail).
They reveled in my stories. I also told them that while these were extremely exciting and memorable experiences, they were really few and far between. While I'm not bad looking and have a lot of other good attributes, I don't find it easy to get into these situations. I just don't seem to be that good at meeting women, and especially getting relaxed and at ease enough to charm them. It can be many months between theses encounters. Some guys seem to be able to walk into a room - any room - it could probably even be at a funeral - and they instantly attract the most beautiful and sexy women. Those guys are probably getting laid as often as they like.
Why it is, I ask my friends, why this doesn't seem to be the case between guys. I mean, from what I've heard, just about any guy that wants a blowjob or to fuck or be fucked by another guy whenever, and wherever, he likes.
I realize it is my straight male perspective, where it is a sellers' market where women control (in large part) the power dynamics. I mean, basically, it seems to me, nearly any woman can get laid on any given night if she really wanted to. She may have to wait unit the closing time at a bar, but the chances are much better for an average woman than for an average man.
For guys messing around with other guys though, they are both in it for the act, mostly, and have the testosterone to act. With logic, it is amazing that lesbians ever pair up. That's not fair. Maybe women as well as men can act on their instincts more easily with the same sex than with the opposite sex.
Anyway, I think to myself, this is going to be another one of those nights where I go home alone. I've been busy talking to my friends, but I realize that I haven't chatted with a woman the entire evening. Then I realize that there aren't any women in this bar.
Hey guys, I say. You know what? I think we've wandered into a gay bar. They both look around - one way then the other - and I can see the looks on their faces change as they come to the realization too.
There wasn't anything overly overt about the place. There were just a lot of guys, most a bit younger and better put together then me and my friends. Pretty conservatively dressed, not much in the way of public displays of affection. There was just a certain vibe. I glanced over at the two guys at the next table. The sexual energy between them was palpable. This was repeated at table after table.
Nervous laughter goes around our table. There's a first time for everything, I say.
Truer words were never spoken.
We laugh a bit more and then decide that it's time for the evening to wind down. You know, I say, I have to hit the head first. My friends decide that they need to get going, and so we part ways in the bar.
I find my way to the men's room. There is one of those long communal urinals along one wall and row of stalls along another wall. I start to feel a bit self-conscious about being in a men's room in a gay bar. (Really, like they would want anything to do with me anyway!) and decide to find an empty stall.
I walk in, close and lock the door, and then turn around to pee. I relax my muscles and feel that wonderful relief that comes from the release of peeing.
I hear some movement and noises coming from the adjacent stall. When I'm done peeing and put myself back together, I bend down to try and get a look at what's going on there. As I bend lower, I can see that there are two people in there. One is standing, has his back to the door, and the other is kneeling, facing him. The guy (I assume!) on his knees is rocking back and forth, a few inches in each direction, and the other, standing guy is moving less but is moaning softly in tune with the rocking.
