Bar Star

"Learning the Ropes at 29"

8====>

I slid the empty glass across the smooth surface of the bar top. "Another double gin, lemon, and seven please, David." I spun on the stool and cockily leaned back against the bar rail; paying more attention to who was coming thru the front door of the Strawberry Hut, than I was hearing the bartender half ask 'Tall glass again, too?' When I saw that it was just one of the other regulars I had no interest in, I whipped back around and shook my head yes at the barkeep. I flipped another $5 at him and waved off any change for the $3 drink.

"You keep tipping me like that during happy hour and I am going to ask you out, Mr. Blennerhassett." The comment came with a cute grin on the cherubic face of the 22 year old blond boy.

"And if you don't learn that my first name isn't 'Mister' then the tips are going to stop, David. Call me Kurt. Please! I already feel old enough as it is with a birthday coming up again in a few weeks." I had thought that turning 30 wasn't going to bother me, but the closer I got to the date, the more it played on my mind.

"Aw Mister...I mean Kurt...it's not like you are getting old or anything." The wide smile was pasted on his face again. "You are going to be...what...26 or 27 this year?"

Gawd, does he know how to work a customer I thought to myself. I also knew that I was beaming with a smile of my own since I was often pegged for being a few years younger than I actually was. Since beginning my coming out process earlier in the year, I had discovered quickly just how much the appearance of youth was valued in the gay community. It was even more so in the tightly knit, almost closed off one of the mid-Ohio Valley...at least at the one bar we had to call home anyway.

"More peanuts too, Kurt? Or something a little more satisfying for those full lips, maybe?" The question from David came with a gentle nudge of the new bowl against my forearm and wink. My overactive imagination couldn't decide if he was flirting for tips or half serious. Part of that confusion came from what I else I had learned very quickly after being brave enough a month ago to walk thru the doors of the only gay bar for 75 miles...that even 29 year old new meat, *IS* new meat in a gay bar. I wasn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but I also hadn't taken being hit on as much as I was, well. The older guys in their 40s and 50s were all over me immediately; and even some of the younger, barely 20-somethings showed more than a passing interest after my third or fourth time in the Hut. That was a real ego stroke, even though I found most of them very vain, self-absorbed, and unable to hold a conversation about much of anything beyond Lady Gaga and the newest Wii game they wanted. That and if I would buy them a drink or had pot to party with. I wanted more. I needed more! But gawd were they cute!

"You keep making cracks like THAT one David, and I may just be the one asking YOU out dude!" I punctuated the tease with my own wide grin.

Before he wandered off to get the new customer's order, he grinned back and said "Don't ask too serious if you aren't, because I would most likely say yes."

I watched in amazement as he just sauntered over to fill a beer glass for Fred, one of the 50ish aged regulars we had assigned to stool #4 since that's where he was most likely to be found at any hour the bar was open. He was kind of the Hut's version of Norm Peterson of 'Cheers' fame. As far as David, I really think he was serious and I was tempted to find out!

*****

"Hey rich boy!" The playful greeting was accompanied with an equally playful slap to the back by Marc...thankfully without my mouth being on the rim of the tall drink glass. "Getting to be a real regular here aren't you man? Warned you it would happen!"

Marc Bradford was the slightly older guy I had met on one of my first forays to the Hut a month ago. He was an attorney; about 5' 9" tall and 190 stocky pounds; and maybe in his late 30s, but didn't really look it thanks a great deal to his still full head of thick dark brown hair. We had become pretty decent drinking buds and I enjoyed his company simply because he didn't suffer from terminal twink-itis; nor bar-fly pain in the ass-osis either. He and I could talk about most anything from politics to religion to sports...and yes, even sex...although neither of us had gone down that path with each other. Why he was single was a mystery to me since he seemed to be such a catch and a really sweet guy on top of it. Only thing I could peg it on was that nasty "all about the age and looks" superficialness the gay community seemed to worship.

That first time to the bar, I had felt so brave parking only a half block away and then rushing thru the front door with a group of other guys on a semi busy Saturday night. Even though I lived across the Ohio River in Belpre, Ohio; I wasn't all that comfortable hitting the only gay bar in the area...especially since everyone and their brother KNEW what it was. This was West Virginia and the uber-conservative Ohio Valley to boot, after all. And I was a Blennerhassett too...not exactly an unknown name around the parts. When you have an entire island in the middle of the river named for an ancestor and a rebuilt 1800s family mansion on it that is a historical site, then you tend to have some of that infamy rub off on you just by sharing the same name. Hell, I even LIVED on Blennerhassett Avenue! Even though the family money was long gone more than 150 years ago, the name lived on as if it meant something special. Course the real fame was gone with it too, since the ancestors were pretty much traitors and the original 'get rich at any cost' type of people. But the family name never ceased to get me attention around either town.

"So what is Parkersburg's answer to Clarence Darrow and Johnny Cochran been up to...sue anyone for a billion today, you damn ambulance chaser?"

Marc simply laughed and nodded at David when he asked if he wanted his usual. I continued to sip at my own cocktail and listened while Marc almost broke attorney-client privilege by talking about a personal injury settlement meeting that had gone bad in his office. "Yeah, and then their attorney tells me and my client to 'Fuck off. See you in court!' Now how is THAT for furthering our image in the world of being seen as little less than shysters?"

"Well at least the profession has you, man...so maybe there is hope yet of ONE of you getting into heaven!" I laughed at the end, but Marc knew I totally respected the way he seemed to operate above the norm as a lawyer.

"But it's still a very tight knit little group, Kurt." Marc paused to sip at his Crown Royal straight up before continuing. "You know I was asked to get on the pathway to the presidency of the bar don't you?"

"President of the Hut...or the legal eagles one?" I snickered and ducked Marc's half swing at my head at the same time.

"The Wood County Bar Association, asshole! Just one small problem to deal with...."

"Don't you dare say it!"

"Yep!"

"No!"

"Yes! That 100 year old crone that thinks her pussy never stank because she was one of the first women attorneys in town was the head of the nominating committee and she looks straight at me wagging her finger and says: 'You know Mister Bradford; we just have to have your commitment that this...this...well this sex thing that is holding us back will be fixed. You simply will HAVE to stop it!"

I couldn't help but laugh as Marc dragged out the misery of the story and how this crazy old witch honestly thought he was "going through a phase" or something at his age!

"Oh yeah. She is as bat shit crazy as they come, but the rest of the committee is right there with her when it comes to me being gay. I am supposed to crawl back in the closet so THEY feel better about making me president of the bar in 3 years." Marc finished up the last of his double shot of Crown and then finished up the story with: "I basically told them I would stop sucking dick when they grew real balls! I don't need the ego stroke anyway and that's about all the position is."

I had come to know Marc well enough that his mind was already made up and he wasn't looking to be talked into it. I simply nodded my head in an understanding way and offered to buy the next round. We sat for another 15 or 20 minutes just bullshitting about stuff in general and just as I was ready to ask Marc about setting up an appointment for some legal advice on a business move I was considering for my biggest rental property on this side of the river, he excused himself from the bar stool and headed for the bathroom. I cringed when I saw Fred jump down from his stool and follow him. Aw fuck no!

Even David leaned over and stage whispered to me: "Hope Marc is in the mood for a blow job cause Fred is certainly in the mood to give one."

*****

Marc was standing at the only urinal with his fleshy but flaccid shaft in his left hand when the bathroom door opened again and Fred walked in. He took a position against the wall where the stall panel met the exterior wall and he could easily see Marc's equipment. He did nothing to hide his interest and when Marc did nothing to discourage him, Fred moved up closer. Marc shook off the final drips of gold from his mushroom slit and half turned to let Fred see him begin to bone.

"Long day at the office, eh attorney boy?" The overt friendliness was accompanied by a rough hand groping Marc's tool that was still dangling from the open fly of his grey Brooks Brother's slacks. The attention being given it was producing the desired results as it grew to its full 7-½ thick inches.

"MMM! Gawd Fred; why am I so easy with you?" Marc's question was accompanied by a gentle hip thrust into the older man's large paw. "Long day is right. And even longer since little Marc had some good attention paid to him."

Fred squeezed the rod in his palm and milked some fresh pre from the slit. "Then maybe we both can get what we want." Another few slow and purposeful strokes had Marc's knees quivering and Fred licking his lips. He stepped towards the door and flipped the lock in place and went down to his knees before the preppy-dressed attorney had a chance to second think this.

Marc's hands went to the thinning silver hair on Fred's head; holding his ears best he could without appearing to be overly anxious. He hadn't had anything resembling sex other than by his own hand in almost a month and a good blow job was just too much to pass up...even if it was from Fred. He felt his belt being loosened and his slacks being undone. When they slipped to the floor he thought: 'Yeah they may end up a little dirty, but are due to go to the cleaners next week anyway.' His lime green 2xist boxers followed the slacks down his thighs quickly and he stood there naked from the waist down, and in full dress shirt and silk tie as if prepared for a closing argument in court from the waist up. He didn't care. He just wanted Fred to take his cock!

And take it Fred did! After sniffing his low hanging ball sac and flicking his tongue over the dripping ooze of pre coming from the pee hole, Fred swallowed the bulbous head. He ran his cat rough tongue all over the throbbing helmet and then traced the underside of the ridge too, with the very tip. His large hands were gripping Marc's bare butt cheeks and pulling him deeper into his mouth as he let his hungry mouth work its way down the satiny shaft. Marc's own hands were locked behind Fred's neck and half massaging and half forcing him forward to take more of him deeper. Fred was more than willing both ways and increased his tempo. Lips and tongue were working like a finely tuned German automobile and Marc was firing on all cylinders also.

"You are going to make me cum, Fred!" It was a simple courtesy statement, since he already knew that was exactly what Fred wanted. When the old man was working bathroom tricks this early, he was into edging himself up and eating as much man jam as he could before jerking himself off with another trick much later in the evening. 'To each his own, I guess,' was Marc's way of looking at it.

Fred did a double lock down on Marc; first with his grasp on his ass cheeks; and then also on his cock with his lips. He was determined to have his first head job of the night be one where the customer left very satisfied. He kept taking long and full swallows of the pink flesh filling his throat and more than once had his gag reflex tested when his tonsils got banged.

"I'm serious man...really, really close!"

Marc's hips were helping the pending eruption along with a gentle and methodic thrust. His balls were begging.

Fred's mouth was relentless. His tongue was out and teasing Marc's nut sac every time he buried his nose in the thick brown pubes. He wanted the juice from them!

"FRED! DAMMIT!" Marc was moaning loud enough for anyone waiting outside to hear and didn't care. "So gonna flood your fucking throat dude!" His hips ratcheted up their piston action and Fred did the same with his down thrusts with his mouth.

"Gonna!"

"GONNA!"

"Gonnnnnaa cummmmmmmmmm!!!!!"

The moans and slurping noises blended together in an orgasmic symphony as Marc exploded like he hadn't in months. Fred was obviously pleased as he refused to release the lip lock until Marc began to soften on his cum drenched tongue.

They shared a little polite afterglow talk as Marc dressed and Fred gave him a beer and sperm wet kiss on his right cheek before exiting the bathroom. Marc followed a half minute later and rejoined Kurt at the bar.

*****

"I know that look. No, you did not!" Kurt actually had a half disgusted expression on his face.

Marc simply smiled and replied "Did what? The same thing YOU would have, if it was David that followed you into the bathroom wanting the same thing?"

"But Fred! Come on Marc! You are better than that!"

"Yeah and that's why all the cute twinks want to go home with you and I get the Freds for bathroom quickies. I must be doing 'better' all wrong or something!" He paused to down the Diet Coke chaser he had for the Crown Royal and then added: "You will see what it's like when that pretty boy face starts to show some age baby."

"Oh don't start Marc. Let's just go over to the hotel and get dinner and we can talk about each others indiscretions over a nice thick steak...OK?"

"Sure buddy. Fine with me. Need to talk to you about that so-called surprise party of yours I am in charge of too."

Before they left, Marc was checking his cell for texts and emails; Fred was following his next target to the bathroom; and David had slipped his phone number to Kurt and a 'Call me,' instruction with it.

Things were about as 'normal' as they ever get in good old Parkersburg.