Disclaimer:
This story is intended for adults interested in homosexual erotica. If that is not something that you wish to read then go no further.
All characters and situations are fictional though hopefully plausible and grounded in reality.
The work published here is all my own with all rights reserved.
The author is based in the UK so the diction reflects this but my stories involve characters of different ethnicities and many are set in locations outside the UK.
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Hope you enjoy
Barney
Barney's Weekend in Brighton
Summary
Having had a great time in the famous British seaside resort's only leather bar in the summer, red- headed Londoner, Alan heads off to Brighton for a weekend break, despite it being out of season. After discovering on his walk from the station, that his favourite venue has closed in the intervening months, he settles into his tiny hotel room, goes out for a meal and spends his first night cruising the nearby gay pub and disco dressed in his biker gear.
But when the only guy who catches his eye takes flight, he decides to cut his losses and have an early night, in the hope that Saturday might have something better to offer. However, a chance encounter on his walk back to his hotel along the rain-drenched promenade, results in him stumbling across just the sort of man and the sort of sex he was looking for. A happenstance that succeeds in transforming his weekend break into one that he will never forget!
- Cruising
It was mid-November; I was feeling tired, sick of work and desperately in need of a change of scene. Short of cash, instead of venturing abroad in search of the sun, I decided I'd visit Brighton for the weekend despite it being out of season. I booked myself into a gay hotel and on Friday afternoon, just before the rush-hour began, took the train from Victoria.
On the route to my accommodation from the station, I stumbled upon the leather club I'd liked so much when I'd visited the resort during the summer the year before. A large hand-written notice pinned to the door caught my attention. As I got nearer, I was able to decipher its tragic message, "CLOSED due to death of owner".
Not a good omen, I reflected glumly as I completed my journey through the drizzle and darkness to my chosen hotel and checked-in.
The 'hotel' was not much more than a guest house so the room was pretty basic but at least it was warm. It was located on the top floor so the walls sloped inwards making it feel even more pokey. I quickly unpacked, took a shower and, after donning my jeans and leather biker jacket, got myself ready for a night out on the town.
I had a pizza at an Italian restaurant, before settling down in a quiet corner of the gay pub next door. After cruising everyone as they entered the bar for over an hour, I only spotted one guy that looked in the least bit interesting. He was hanging around on his own, seemed available and responsive to some of my admiring glances.
He was tall and dark - a Latin type - not unlike the waiter I had lusted after while eating my meal. He was dressed in a red shirt and a matching red baseball cap, which made him look particularly cute. I guessed he was a little younger than me, maybe still in his twenties. I continued to cruise him from a distance as he wandered around restlessly from the slot machine to the bar and back again seemingly as frustrated as I was by the lack of talent.
Then at ten-thirty he suddenly disappeared. As the tables began to empty around me, I realised that the rest of the pub regulars were checking out to made their way to the town's biggest gay venue, "Club Revenge" which lay at the end of the street. Despite not being a big disco fan, I decided it was time for me to follow in their wake.
Once inside it didn't take long to track my Latin guy down again and position myself within cruising distance. To my surprise, he obligingly came and sat down close by me. Encouraged, I turned to speak to him and ventured a friendly "Hi!" in an attempt to engage him in conversation.
But to my dismay, after glancing across at me, a look of alarm suddenly spread across his face and he got up and walked off! This might have been justified had I just vomited over his shoes, but hey, I'd only said hello!
I cursed him under my breath, two hours of cruising completely wasted! Then I glanced down at my waist and noticed the handcuffs I had attached to the left side of my belt were no longer hidden beneath my jacket. He must have spotted them for the first time when I turned to speak to him.
Shit! I was forgetting that this wasn't London nor was I in a leather bar! I unclipped the cuffs and hid them away in my pocket. Needing to take a piss, I went to check out the toilets - no shortage of stalls but nothing happening there either! So, I sat alone at the bar feeling sorry for myself as guys slowly trickled into the club.
After another hour's fruitless cruising my patience finally ran out. Despite the hefty admission fee I'd paid, I decided it was time to cut my losses and go back to my hotel bedroom alone. A quick wank inspired by the Latin lad, followed by some much-needed sleep, would be preferable to this endless waiting around. Tomorrow was another day, maybe Brighton out of season would have more to offer me on a Saturday night?
I dolefully collected my jacket before stepping out onto the dismal rain-drenched streets. I hesitated for a moment on the pavement outside, pulled up my collar against the weather and opted to take the scenic route back to my hotel via the seafront promenade.
I had walked only fifty yards or so from the entrance to the club, when my path was blocked by a short but hefty figure dressed in a Parka jacket with the hood pulled down over their head.
My first thought was that I was about to be mugged. I quickly glanced back over my shoulder in the direction of the club's doormen. "Damn," I thought, I was just out of range of calling on them for assistance. So instead, I smiled sweetly and stepped down into the road in an attempt to outflank my potential assailant.
"Ere, old on!" cried a man's voice from beneath the hood.
He grabbed me by the arm and when I attempted to step around him, repositioned himself in front of me again. I detected the strong smell of whiskey on his breath.
"You stoppin at an'otel?" he demanded in a very slurred Yorkshire accent.
I ignored him and tried to brush him off by jerking back my arm. But this guy had muscles and his grip was not to be so easily shrugged off, however drunk he might be.
We continued locked together arm in arm for several paces until I finally ran out of momentum and we ground to a halt. I waited, panting, expecting his next move would be to demand I hand over my money.
"Can't a come ome with yer?" he pleaded.
What was the guy on about?
I tried to keep my cool, not wanting to enrage him, but still intent on escaping his grip.
"Please let go of my arm!" I demanded, swinging around and turning to confront him face to face.
Having successfully brought me to a halt, he released his grip and pushed back the hood to reveal his face.
To my surprise, I discovered I was not being confronted by an alcoholic tramp or an aggressive late- night beggar, but by a handsome guy of Pakistani-origin, no older than thirty.
"Where yer stayin? Can't a come back with yer?" he persisted.
It was only then that the penny finally dropped that he was not after my money! He was after my body!
Now on more familiar territory, I relaxed a little. Although he was clearly the worse the wear for drink, he had a very cute looking face and, judging by the strength of his grip, a pretty well-muscled body. What was more, by complete chance, he happened to be exactly the type of guy I go for!
Given the state he was in, I suspected he'd been refused entry to the club. But the drink had given him the courage to hang around outside and proposition guys as they left. It was some sort of backhanded compliment that he had chosen to approach me I thought - though on reflection I might just have been the first guy to come along!
"Excuse me, but I have to be getting home!" I insisted, still cautious about getting involved in what would almost certainly be trouble one way or another. But he must have detected the softening in my tone that his good looks had brought about and continued to stand in my way.
"Yer just cum from Revenge."
"What's it to you?"
"What's matter, don't yer fancy me?"
I smiled; the truth was I fancied him very much but was only too aware of the risks involved in taking a drunk I had picked up in the street back to my hotel. I didn't answer but tried reversing my direction back towards the club, only to have him latch onto my arm and trail after me like an anchor until once again he brought me to a halt.
"Aw cum on, tek me back with yer!"
"But I don't know you from Adam." I replied, exasperated at his persistence.
"I give you much pleasure," he promised me, suddenly departing from his Yorkshire bluntness and adopting a strangely lascivious tone.
He wrapped one arm around my shoulders, and with the other one held me close to his chest and imprinted a whiskey-drenched kiss on my mouth. He overpowered my half-hearted struggles and slipped his tongue inside.
Meeting such feeble resistance, he tugged down the zipper on the front of my jacket and started wrenching the shirt out of the back of my pants.
Alarmed that things were moving far too fast, I fended off his advances and used all my strength to hold him at bay by the wrists.
"Look, I don't know anything about you! I'm not in the habit of having sex with strange men who approach me in the street!" I lied.
But he was not to be dissuaded.
"A promise al tell yer all abart me. Jus let mi cum back wi yer!"
He easily escaped my grip and slid a hand into his trouser pocket.
"Look ere's mi wallit," he added holding it beneath my nose. "Tek it if yer don't trust mi!"
I wavered. I could empathise with his frustration at being brushed aside - it had happened to me often enough, and by some remarkable fluke, he had managed to proposition a guy who would have been propositioning him if he'd been inside the club half an hour earlier.
On the negative side, he was the worse for drink, was potentially violent and when sober might easily prove to be totally fucked up about his sexuality!
But it was too late to do the sensible thing - my cock had already taken control of my brain. I was feeling horny, I really fancied this guy and he seemed really keen on me. I had come to Brighton to have a good time and on offer was a scenario I had often dreamt about but rarely come across - a dominant, handsome faced, South Asian guy desperate to have sex with me!
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth as far as sex was concerned, I was not going to turn away this opportunity out of fears that might not be justified. I would play it cautiously but I would not let this stroke of luck pass me by!
"Okay, okay, I trust you!" I assured him and allowed my face to break into an encouraging smile. "But you must understand why I'm so cautious!"
"Y'ell tek me back with yer fer sex?"
"If you can cool off long enough until we get to know each other better!" I promised.
An endearing smile lit up his face when he realised he'd scored, which melted away all my remaining doubts. I would be more than happy to take this gorgeous Pakistani guy back to my hotel and get to know him better!
"Mi name's Thomas," he told me and I offered him my own in return.
Having satisfied himself that I was now secured for the night, Thomas's thoughts rapidly moved on to satisfying his other appetites. He paused outside a kebab shop window - would I like something to eat?
I told him I'd already eaten, but promised to wait for him while he got himself a kebab, thinking that his eating something would help sober him up and make him less of a handful.
So, I kicked my heels in the drizzle outside the crowded kebab shop while he got himself served.
But as the minutes ticked away and the rain began dribbling down the back of my collar, I was tempted to call it a day and escape while I still had the chance, doubtful that all this hassle was ever going to prove worthwhile!
Thomas kept glancing out at me through the window, no doubt aware of what might be going through my mind. But I hung on, having committed myself thus far, I decided I might as well see it through to a conclusion.
Back out on the pavement, Thomas tucked into his food with relish as I led him slowly down the road and back to the windswept promenade in the direction of my hotel.
In between bites of his kebab, he told me he worked in the kitchens of one of the bigger hotels as a chef but his family home was in Bradford.
Taking me at my word, he bombarded me with questions designed to help us to "get to know each other better". What was my name again? Where did I come from? What job did I do?
I answered him evasively, as regardless of my previous protests, my preference was for sex with strangers and keeping the rest of my life as separate from my sexual adventures as was possible! So, rather than engaging him in conversation, I concentrated on getting us back to the warmth of my hotel room as rapidly as possible.
But as we approached a seafront shelter nearby the famous Pavilion, Thomas finally polished off his snack and paused to deposit its wrappings in a bin. I waited by the shelter until he caught up, only to have him then grab me by the arm and bundle me inside.
Yet again I found my lips being parted and Thomas's, now grease-covered, tongue being inserted into my mouth. My back soon connected with the rear wall of the shelter - but this time there was nowhere for me to run to escape the chef's passion.
The zip of my jacket was torn open and my admirer's cold hands slid beneath my shirt and began to fondle my torso. But he didn't stop there, he wrenched open the buckle of my belt so that he could slide his hands down the back of my jeans and feel up the bare cheeks of my arse. As he sank his tongue deep into my mouth, he eased an exploratory finger into my hole.
Although shivering from the cold, Thomas's lusty enthusiasm excited me immensely. Skewered at both ends like the meat on his kebab, I faced the imminent prospect of being stripped and fucked in this most public of places and was frankly thrilled at the prospect!
To be continued...
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