Date: Tue, 15 May 2007 03:36:18 -0400
From: skybolt@canoemail.com
Subject: Birthday Beer

This is another true story. I'm a MWM, 52 years old, 160
pounds, 5'10" tall. This story happened such a short time
ago that I still have a big dopey grin on my face and droopy
eyelids that are begging me to shut them for 8 hrs of
peaceful slumber.

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One hour and eight minutes ago I got the courage to go by
myself - for the first time - to a gay bar. This wasn't my
first gay bar, though. Once, I visited gay bars with a gay
guy whom I asked to take me (you can read about it in my
story on Nifty.org, "Two Amazing Nights in Palm Springs").
But this time I decided to go alone. For a married guy like
me, it felt like a huge step in my personal development.

It's Monday. I'm staying the night a hotel in Florida. I did
an internet search for gay bars in this small town. I found
two. One looked hot and the other dull. Imagine my
disappointment when I drove to the hot one and found a
regular restaurant at that address. Apparently, the listing
on the internet was so old that a restaurant had already
replaced the "hot" gay bar. I returned to my room feeling
discouraged and thinking this was not going to be my night.
But the urge for out-of-town cock compelled me to get back
in the car and head for the second bar. At least I could
have a beer, feel brave, and maybe enjoy some music.

The dull gay bar was in a suburban shopping center between a
Subway sandwich shop and a big grocery store. When I drove
up (at 11:20pm), only a few cars were sprinkled around the
mostly deserted parking lot. The front door opened into a
small, empty, dark foyer, lit by the glow of rest room light
- the doors to the two restrooms being propped open to air
out the airless spaces. I followed the blaring music through
a dark opening into a large, dark, mostly empty barroom. A
few men were at the bar and a few more at tables and on
stage singing karaoke. I wanted to look them over but when I
looked at the first few guys I saw they were already looking
at me. Since discretion is a must, I kept my head down and
walked quickly to a seat in a group of empty barstools at
the end of the bar. I told myself to play hard to get
otherwise I might look desperate. Besides, it would be fun
to see if anyone would hit on me first.

There were sixteen men in the barroom, including the
bartender. It took me less than a minute to realize no one
was going to hit on me. All but two of the guys were in
couples. One of the un-coupled guys looked like a maybe but
he turned his barstool away from me and never looked back.
The other un-coupled guy was a scrawny little man in his
30's who looked like he was living a very hard life. He
reminded me of the skinny, sinewy guys you see running
bundles of roofing shingles up and down tall ladders and
gingerly picking his way across steeply pitched roofs.

I nursed one beer for 30 minutes as I listened to a bunch of
drunk (and not particularly attractive) young guys sing
karaoke. The scrawny guy sang, too, although it was apparent
he was alone. I hoped for a Cary Grant type of man to walk
in and take a barstool next to me. Or maybe a fellow
traveling businessman seeking a little companionship and
body
warmth. But then I realized I was easily the oldest person
in the bar. And about that time a man and woman came in (not
particularly attractive) and sat next to me. I decided to
"cut my losses" and call it a night. There was no room for
Cary Grant or a businessman to sit next to me.

As I walked the length of the bar, no eyes looked in my
direction until I got to the scrawny guy. He put out a hand
for a friendly hand slap like two cool friends saying
"later." He said something but I didn't understand him
because of the loud music.

I've wondered about gay bar restrooms. I expect them to be
the reincarnation of Sodom and Gomorrah. So I entered,
mainly out of curiosity. It as small: 3 urinals (one was
child size - strange!), two tiny stalls and one sink. I
hoped to see glory holes, salacious writing on the walls and
erotic drawings. Instead, this one was as sexless as a
latrine in a church. I peed then washed my hands.

As I stood at the sink, the scrawny guy entered. He came
right up to me and mumbled something that I think was this:
"Today's my birthday. I'd buy you a drink if it was your
birthday. But even if it was I couldn't buy you nothing
because I don't have money. I told the guy to give you a
drink - with my compliments - but he didn't listen to me. He
said you bought a drink for yourself." He was obviously
drunk. I didn't feel threatened by him but I thought it best
to leave. He said something about buying a beer but I told
him it was time for me to go.

I turned off the water and reached for a paper towel. He
walked around me and put his hand on my arm. "My birthday's
today. A man needs friends on his birthday. I want a beer
but I got no money. And it's my birthday." Then he put his
arms around me. He hugged me tentatively. When I didn't
repel him, he hugged me tighter. I hugged back. He put his
head on my chest. He hugged me as tight as he could.
Obviously, he was enjoying the bonding.

He repeated - mumbled - "It's my birthday..friends.beer.got
no oney.birthday." I looked into the mirror. I saw myself
embracing a fellow about five and a half feet in height and
weighing no more than 120 pounds. My arms wrapped around him
as if I was hugging a boy. His thin arms were as hard as the
arms on a chair. His head fit well on my chest, my cheek
resting atop his head. He kept talking and hugged me
tighter. Having him in my arms felt very good. He looked up
and I kissed him lightly on his lips. Mostly I got his
moustache and a good whiff of beer and cigarettes.

We separated momentarily but then embraced again. He quit
talking. I shifted my body so I could feel his dick on my
thigh. I didn't feel anything. But I knew he could feel my
dick against his body.

He reached between my legs. Gently, he put his hand over my
thickening cock. I didn't resist. He got bolder. He made a
tug on my zipper. I put my hand in his crotch. I felt his
little dick, but through his jeans it didn't feel like
anything more than a lump of used Kleenex.

As he reached for my zipper, he again mumbled about it being
his birthday. I wasn't listening. He took hold of my arm and
guided me a few steps back to the area of urinals. It wasn't
any more private than standing in front of the sink. But it
was a little darker. We hugged again. I pulled down my
zipper and freed by dick from my briefs. As he reached in,
he simultaneously glided to his knees. My dick went right
from my fly into his mouth. He sucked. It felt exquisite.
After a few seconds I whispered, "Do you want me to cum?"
"Oh yeah," he said.

He was barely underway when one of the patrons walked in.
"Oh my!" the young guy exclaimed. "What have I come upon?"
He quickly entered a stall and closed the door. He was so
tall he could easily see over the stall door if he wanted
to. But apparently he didn't want to because all I saw was
the back of his head. I wanted to say something clever and
funny but decided to keep quiet and see what happened
without me leading the show.

The scrawny guy, probably fearing I would bolt, dropped back
to his knees and devoured my baby-making tool. His hot
little mouth vacuumed my dick. My fingers felt the dirty,
course, thinning blond hair of his head. I didn't need to
direct his blow job. He bobbed and pumped me delicately.
There was sensitivity and beauty in his action. Ballet came
to mind.

The peeing man finished in a flash. To reassure us that he
was cool, he exclaimed under his breadth, "It's nothing I've
never seen before." So I shot back with, "Could this be
something you've never done before?" I thought he might take
that as a dare or an invitation to join in. My dick was in
the little guy's mouth when I said it. He forced a chuckle
and left without washing his hands.

The scrawny guy deftly worked my rock hard dick with a
combination sucking and hand job. He wrapped himself around
it from the super-sensitive tip to the short hair framing
the base of my manhood. I was in heaven. "Oh baby, suck.
Suck. Suck baby.... I'm cumming."  The pressure built.
"Baby, I'm cumming.this is it. You got it." Uncontrollably,
I rose up on my toes as my cum exploded into his sweet
little mouth. I pumped a good think jet, immediately
followed by another and then another. Then smaller tremors
pushed out more man-juice until I was drained. He stayed
with it until I settled back down on my heels.

He rose and tenderly kissed me. I hugged him for a moment. I
would have hugged longer but he pulled back and said
clearly, "Give me something for this." I didn't understand.
I smiled and went for another hug. He spoke more plainly. "I
need beer for my birthday. Can you help? Give me something."
I got his message.

I knew I had a $5 bill in my pocket. Since it was his
birthday (I told myself), I took it out. I pushed the
crumpled bill into his hand. He saw it was a five. "I need
more," he said. "I need more. Give me (pause) ten dollars. I
need ten. Give me ten dollars."

I didn't feel threatened. I didn't feel annoyed. I paused a
moment to evaluate the situation. I felt grateful(!). I knew
I could claim to not have any more money and get away with
it. I said to him, "I can do better than ten." I took the
five back. I knew the only cash in my wallet was a $20 bill.
I gave it to him. For some reason I didn't want it to sound
like I was paying him for sex. "Because it's your birthday,"
I said, using a tone of voice like we were friends, "I want
you to have this."

I stepped back to the sink to wash my hands. He started
talking in a mumbling voice just like when he first entered
the men's room. It crossed my mind that he might be looking
for a place to stay the night. I don't know. I didn't
understand what he was saying, but I'm pretty sure he was
asking for something. Maybe he wanted the $5 bill back, too.
To end things, I said, in a friendly but direct way, "it's
time to get back in there and get a beer for your birthday.
Happy birthday!" He stopped talking, turned and left.

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I'm grateful that Nifty.org is here as a repository for my
true stories. I enjoy sharing them with you. I encourage you
to give financial support to Nifty. And I look forward to
reading about your true adventures.