A Gift
by Eagle
(for Kelly)
Robert yawned in spite of himself. It's not good to yawn in a gay bar. It gives the impression that a man's detached. Some kinds of detachment are fine. The cool attitude of a master leaning against the wall in the darkness of a leather bar. The elegant detachment of the well-dressed in a Manhattan club. But not a yawn. He stifled the end of the yawn and looked at his beer, measuring the distance to the bottom of the bottle against the pressure in his bladder, found he could, would, finish the last before hoisting down from the stool and wandering into the john.
He lifted the bottle slowly, eyeing, across the bar, a tall young man with a shy smile for his companion. Taking the measure. No doubt: a daddy's boy, fresh from his college classroom, and not too long ago. Their eyes met briefly, but the boy dropped his to his drink, then, looking up for only a fractional moment, coughed and turned back to the man on his right. Robert smiled to himself at the shyness of the contact. Shyness was one of the things that made his crotch tingle.
Almost done with the bottle, Robert tilted it once more, drained the last, and carefully put it on the bar, like a chess player making an important move in an endgame. He dropped his boots to the floor and headed for the john. Laughter rolled out from under the door. High voices. He pulled the door open and found the small room crowded. Two young men were at the sinks, adjusting hair, laughing. Both urinals were occupied. One of the stalls looked empty, but, just as Robert headed for it, a pair of high-tops dropped into view. He glanced at the other, but heard over the top of the panel door, heavy breathing and sounds of movement. The another voice, deeper: a grunt. Rustling. Clearly the pair would be at it for a while.
He waited. Lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall.
As if by signal, both men at the urinals finished, shook off and redeposited their cocks in their pants. Again, almost as if a team, they moved to the now empty wash basins and washed their hands. The high-tops emerged from the stall, glanced at the two at the basins, shook his long hair, combed his fingers through it and left. The team, hands dry, followed before the door swung shut.
Robert moved to the urinal, unbuttoned his jeans and was about to pull his cock out when the noises from the stall increased in intensity. Rustlings became banging, quiet but authentic. Steady moaning for two voices eased itself under the door and demanded his attention. He listened. Somebody was getting quietly but thoroughly fucked. His eyes darted to the space under the door. A pair of feet in deck shoes were all that was visible. That suggested the position inside the stall. Legs up, hands gripping the sides. He watched carefully and noted the subtle shifting of weight of the feet inside the deck shoes. Pushing forward; no doubt. Thrusting hard and high into the tight ass in front of him. Well done, son.
It was over then, in a matter of seconds. Strong intakes of breath, one long moan, and the single word, "God!" Robert coughed to let them know they were not alone. Quick sounds of cloth closed. But no exit. Robert smiled. Afterglow in a stall. It has its points, he supposed.
He turned back to the urinal and found he was not alone anymore. A young man, almost a boy, in fact was standing next to him at the next urinal. Medium height and lean build, but with fine full legs that pushed his jeans to a ripe fullness. What he could see of the ass was promising as well: round full globes, high and proud, so firm you could bounce a quarter on them. But what gave Robert a bit of a start was the fact that the boy was not pissing. He was standing in the right position, and, seen from behind, he might have been; but he wasn't. He was standing close to the urinal with one hand on his crotch and the other shoved into his back pocket. The pocket hand was moving slightly as though massaging his ass. His head was straight ahead, but the eyes, the eyes were definitely looking down at Robert's hand inside his jeans. Nothing new there, Robert laughed to himself. This is the fresh deli counter of a gay bar.
Slowly, the boy's head turned toward Robert, announcing that he wanted to be seen looking at the cock Robert was holding. Robert turned toward the boy. His eyes searched for a scenario in the boy's demeanor. Then the blond head tilted upward. Sharp grey eyes searched his for permission to speak. Robert parted his lips slightly but said nothing. Then the voice, a high pure tenor, let slip the words, softly and with precise aim. They would carry directly to Robert's ear and no further.
"I have to piss, sir."
"So?"
"I have to piss real bad, sir."
"So, piss. Why not?"
Robert smiled at the boy. A small smile, but one that made the contact between them solid and concrete.
"Will you let me piss, sir?"
"I don't know, boy. I'd have to think about it."
"You have to piss too, don't you, sir?"
"That's right, boy."
"I know I can't piss until you do, sir."
The boy knew what he was doing. He knew how to talk. What to say.
"Who's boy are you?"
"I'm not owned, sir."
"You might be soon, boy."
"Yes, sir. I hope so, sir."
The boy dropped his eyes, and a shy smile came to his lips. Bingo. Bullseye.
Robert opened the door of the vacant stall and went in. He stood waiting for a second, wondering if the boy would follow. There wasn't much doubt. The door opened and the boy entered. His bright gold hair caught the light. He dropped quickly to his knees. Robert backed up against the wall, straddling the toilet, the boy kneeling directly in front of him.
The boy's eyes were down but his face turned up caught a stray shaft of light and Robert could see the full mouth, the lips slightly parted. He thought he saw a trace of a tremble on the lower lip, but he couldn't be sure.
"I hope you will piss, sir."
"I will, boy. Trust me." Robert smiled.
"Thank you, sir."
Robert reached forward and grasped a handful of blond hair. His fingers curled tightly in it and he pulled the young face toward his crotch.
"Open it, boy!"
"Oh yes, sir. Please, sir!"
The boy's quick fingers released the buttons and his hand shot inside Robert's jeans. His fingers caressed, then tightly grasped the cock and worked it out into the air. At the same time, his other hand quickly opened his own fly and pulled his dick out, aiming it at the toilet.
Robert's concentration had always been good, and now he used all his powers to keep his semi-erect cock from jumping to full rigidity. He knew the game and liked it. The boy was a fine player, rare. He noticed how the boy avoided stroking the shaft, but instead laid Robert's cock directly on his tongue and closed his lips on it evenly.
A low moan came from the boy as he knelt in front of Robert. His hands moved in an elegant pattern of lust and submission. His right hand touched Robert on the back of the knee and then slid lightly up to the back of his thigh. His other hand left his own dick and lit on Robert's belly. With a slight but noticeable pressure, he pushed gently on the man's belly. The signal, the question, the supplication.
Robert looked at the blond hair, felt the warmth of the hands, heard the plea. He loosened his bladder and the hot piss poured from him and into the boy. The mouth on his cock, pulsed, sucking. The throat at his feet swallowed hard. A high moaning, moving from tone to tone, escaped the boy and floated up to Robert's ears. Robert eased the pressure, allowing the boy to keep up. A rhythm swelled between them. The boy's hand stroked Robert's thigh. The hand he held to Robert's belly was a lover's touch, grasping, stroking, light then hard, following the rhythm of their exchange as it rose and fell again and again. The minute the act took stretched itself out. Time distorted. Only the motion of their rhythm ticked in each of them.
The man's hot piss gushing into his mouth inflamed the boy and freed him. His head expanded, and he was not conscious of the hardness of the tile under his knees, the cramped quarters, or the newness of the man. They were joined. His dick, at the edge of the toilet opened and he pissed into the bowl with such force that the water there splashed and churned. He was nowhere. He was here. He was empty, being filled. He drank and swallowed. He pulled this man to him, stroking and pleading. He was both giver and gift.
As the last drops of piss left Robert, he had a sense of movement, of a waltz. Now there was only his cock in the boy's mouth. His hands, he found, had clenched tight around the boy's head. He held him there, fought to get the rhythm of his own breathing slowed. It wouldn't. The two were frozen in space, but moving somehow. The boy containing the man, the man possessing the boy.
Robert pulled the boy to his feet, finally. The boy's arms went quickly around Robert's back and clung there. His mind whirled. Never had he felt so completely that he belonged to someone. Never in being fucked, or tied, or whipped. Never. This man had found a place in him that he did not know he had, and had touched it.
Robert stood still for a moment, now completely aware of the cramped stall surrounding them. He lifted the boy's chin and looked at him, a question on his face.
"Alright, boy," he said finally, his voice low and smooth as dark syrup.
The shy smile. Teeth white in the dim light. Eyes dropped.
The boy loosed his hold. Robert slid to the door and opened it. Two men, one latin, the other blond, stood there. They had listened. They smiled. Robert paused only briefly, looking at them, then headed for the door. The next step was clear. He didn't look back or to the side. He strode to the outside door and went out into the dark night. He was certain. He quickly lit a cigarette and moved toward his car. The steps he heard behind him told him he was right. He walked to the passenger side of the car without looking and unlocked and opened it. The boy slid into the seat quickly. Robert closed the door and went around to his side. The door clicked open from the inside. Robert paused, first surprised, then satisfied of his instinct and slid into his seat.
He started the engine.
"Are you ready, boy? Do you know where we're going?"
"Yes, sir. I know. We're going home."
(downloaded from Gay Link - American People Link)