VOODOO CHARIOT (Chapter 1)
All it took was a simple, small deviation from my normal routine that finally forced me to face up to a simmering passion that I had always held deep inside me. A passion that I had never allowed myself to fully express or act upon, yet I always sensed it bubbling away deep within my inner-being. It just needed the right circumstance for it to rise and overwhelm my self-control.
The deviation occurred on a grey, overcast Saturday afternoon. Raindrops falling with increasing intensity chased me into the Hare and Hounds pub as I walked back to my apartment from the store. A cautious move applauded by prudence, I thought, as suddenly the heavens opened, and the rain fell hard and heavy upon the town. It wasn't long before rainwater began to run down the hill alongside the pavement gutters.
"Hi there, what can I get you?", asked the barman.
Shaking the rain from my hair I turned to the bartender and said, "An umbrella would be good. Somewhat unwisely I came out without a coat."
"The only umbrellas I have are those for cocktails, and I doubt they would suffice. It's really lashing it down out there!" He advised.
"Indeed, it is." I agreed. "I'll have, erm, a Bacardi and Coke with ice in a tall glass, please. Uh, plenty of ice, thanks."
"Sure thing." He said and turned and grabbed a highball glass from off the shelf behind him and set about his task in making my drink.
I turned and looked around the pub which was basically one large rectangular room with one long bar. It was tastefully decorated and sectioned off in 3 ways by different floor coverings. The door I had come in led straight into the games room where you could shoot pool or play darts. This area had parkour flooring and a small vacant stage area where local musicians would perform. The next section had a dark navy carpet covering the middle portion of the bar and was a little worn as it was the busiest part of the pub. The third section had a plusher carpet pile with a small number of tables and chairs scattered about the place for diners, each with a small table lamp on them. Against the walls of the dining area was a long-upholstered bench seating arrangement. It was quiet. Apart from myself, there were only 2 other persons in the pub at the other end of the bar. Two Black guys who looked like they had just finished work as each had Hi-Viz yellow vests on and were engaged in conversation. The bartender returned with my drink.
"Here you go. That's £3.25." I took out my wallet and passed him a fiver. "Thanks." He said and took the money and moved over to the cash register and punched in some keys and the drawer of the register opened noisily. He returned with my change and handed it to me. Once again, I thanked him and turned to go and sit in the empty dining area, but the bartender stopped me by apologetically advising me that once they start to serve food in 45 minutes time, I'll need to find another seat away from the diners, as that area was reserved only for patrons eating. I told him I was just having this one drink and I'll be on my way home once the showers ease up.
The bartender nodded and smiled, then turned and walked over to the two Black guys at the other end of the bar, as the taller of the two was waving his empty pint glass. I carried my drink and the plastic shopping bag that contained the few essentials I had bought at the store over to the bench seating by the wall near one of the curtained windows so I could keep an eye on the rain. I passed by the two Black guys and heard one of them refuse another drink.
"Nah thanks, Lenny, gotta get 'ome ta misses. I promised to take 'er shopping."
"Yeah, no worries, Del", Lenny sighed, "Pick you up Monday morning as usual. I'm gonna have another one before I go."
"Enjoy. See you Monday morning" replied Del. Lenny nodded and handed his empty glass over to the bartender. "Same again, thanks." Del walked out the main front entrance and out into the rain.
The bartender took the glass Lenny had been drinking from and moved to one of the hand pumps and began expertly drawing on the pump. I placed my carrier bag of shopping on the seat next to me and took out my mobile phone which showed no messages, so I switched it off and placed it in my jacket pocket. While having a quick glance around the pub, it was then that I realised Lenny was surreptitiously scrutinising me.
He was tall, about six-three, and quite muscular. Large, well-defined biceps with and thick forearms and wrists with large hands attached. A clout off Lenny round the bonnet wouldn't do anyone any good, I thought to myself. He was broad of chest. Twice as broad as me easily, and a waist that looked to match. He was a bull of a man and looked quite formidable, although he had a warm and handsome clean-shaven face. I would guess that he weighed around 250lb, and he carried in his stature a confidence without swagger. He knew he had nothing to prove, and I had to admit to myself, that looking at Lenny brought a frisson of sexual curiosity to my closeted homosexual mind.
In direct contrast, next to Lenny, I would be classed as a somewhat lithe and slender white guy. To be honest, I was, all five-foot ten inch and 145lb of me. I am nearing my fortieth birthday and I'm single, and have been for the last eight years, but I look like I am in my late twenties', early thirties', having managed to retain most of my youthful attributes. I guess you could call me a maturing white twink. My dark brown hair was beginning to show a little grey, and it framed a handsome, almost feminine face. I have bright hazel eyes and a luscious mouth, and a medium masculine nose. In my youth I played a lot of football at school and in the Sunday leagues over the years, plus other sports and some martial arts, but I no longer did any of that now due to having the condition of gynecomastia which means I have stage three breasts of a teenage girl, which I hide from general noticeability by wearing polo shirts a size larger than I would normally wear. Fact is, I like them, and I massage and play with them nightly. They are perfectly shaped and firm, and I feel sexually submissive and somewhat feminine with them. They are a great aid to masturbation, and although I'm not a femboy, I have cross-dressed in the privacy of my own home. I own several shiny leather lingerie sets in which the mirror tells me I am cutely fuckable. I constantly shave all my body hair from the neck down twice a week, and I utterly love the feel of my smooth, freshly shaved skin, which I pamper with Black Musk body lotion and perfume mist.
It took a while to accept it, but I finally acknowledged to myself, that sexually, I was more into men than women even when I was with my last girlfriend. The issue was that I felt there was something about sex with women that I found disappointingly bland, and over the years, after the failure of two engagements to be married, I decided that I would not find social or sexual happiness and fulfilment with the female species.
I came to recognise that when I watched porn movies, it was looking at well-endowed alpha men that aroused me, and to which I would masturbate my seven-inch dick to. Yes, I still find women attractive, but feel more sexually attracted towards the men. When I masturbated, I would imagine myself in the woman's place. There's something about the position of face down ass up that I found very submissively appealing, and I would ejaculate profusely as I watched the man drive deep into the woman's ass, imagining it was me he was ploughing. Oh, how I wanted to be in her position, and yet I have never had sex with a man. I have fucked myself, and still do with a carefully selected black eight-inch dildo, but like porn, it feels isolated and sterile, lacking needed intimacy for full sexual enjoyment. Also, I have never placed myself in circumstances where I could meet another man for the sexual union I craved for. With me, my homosexuality is so deep within the closet that it is in the land of Narnia.
Lenny was now in conversation with the bartender, having received his drink. I looked out the window to see how the rain was doing and saw that it had eased off a little. I decided to have a smoke, and so I picked up my shopping and my drink and walked over to the bar to ask the bartender if the beer garden was open?
