Hookup

[Though presented as Jacko telling it, this incident is fiction so all the names and details are invented.]

In Nashville, I never found a gay bar, but I found that the best way to get lucky is in one of the city's innumerable straight bars. I don't remember the bar's name, but it was nearby the seedy hotel where I was staying on my way to Decadence in New Orleans.

One steamy, hot midweek night when I was cruising, I stepped into the place, a sort of hole in the wall, and surveyed the layout. About a half a dozen bubbas there, two in a huddle, and the others in alien spaces from one another. Of course, they all looked at who had come in, and I, looking at them, headed for the blond. He looked just past legal to be in a bar, but promising, sun-bleached hair beneath a Dolphins' cap, loose white tank, and blue running shorts. I noted they were the kind slit up on the sides so you could see all the way to his jock strap, except he wasn't wearing one.

I had trashed jean cutoffs and a 100% rayon shirt, unbuttoned to the navel, and my work boots. This guy wore flip-flops. I said it was hot, and the bar's air conditioner was grinding its best to cool off the place. I sat next to him and said strait off, 'Hi, I'm Jacko.'

'Jonathan,' he said, shaking my proffered hand, 'Jon for usual. 'You're one of those damn Yankees. I can tell from you voice,' he drawled with a welcoming smile. An obvious Southerner.

'You can tell from three words, Jon?' I laughed.

'Oh, yeah. What the fuck are you doing here?'

'Traveling through. Made the pilgrimage to Graceland. Plush city.'

'Well yahoo for Elvis! Ain't it interesting: a guy dead before we were born, and we know all about him.'

'I was about three-four years old then. I can remember, my mother and her girlfriend neighbor, sat in the kitchen, reminisced about his antics all afternoon and got drunk.'

'You're thirty-something. You don't look it.'

'I keep fit. Exercise when I'm not working construction.'

'Where from?'

'Wisconsin.'

'Oh, yeah? Where in Wisconsin?' He drained his highball.

'Kenosha.'

'Well, shit. My cousin lives in Kenosha, teaches at Parkside.'

'I went a year to Parkside. Who is he?'

'He's a Beauregard. Don't laugh; it's true. Teaches some kind of literature, I think.'

'Sure, Am Lit. I had him for freshman English.'

'Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit.' He slapped my shoulder.

The burly bartender came by, and I ordered. 'Another for my friend here, and I'll have one of the same.' Absolute Citron on the rocks it turned out to be.

'You drowning your sorrows?' I looked him full in the face, noting the nice play of blond hairs on his chest that the tank didn't cover. I pawed my own furry pelt, reaching inside the flaps of my open shirt so that he could see the barbells through my nips.

'Sorrows? You could say that. It's an old story; trouble with my girl friend.'

'My story, too. I had to get away cause I broke up with my woman. She wouldn't put out any more than Saturday nights. Sunday, if ever I was lucky and licked clit. "Too tired," she said.'

'Women! Can't live with 'em or without 'em.'

'Oh, yeah; maybe, the fags have got it right. Sex when they want it.'

'Maybe. Cousin Beauregard is a homo; that's why he left the territory. Great pickings in Milwaukee he told me once.'

'It all depends what you want, I guess. One mouth is as good as another. Once when Janie, my ex, wouldn't give head in turn for me licking her to orgasm, I went for a spin on my Harley, met a guy at a county park, and he sucked me off royally. Otherwise, I'm beating the meat. They don't call me Jacko for nothing.

Jon shifted on his seat, and absently cupped his considerable basket with his left hand. 'That's my story: too much testosterone for my own good.'

'Whoever invented the term "bad sex" was frigid; I like it how I can get it, though I do have my preferences.' I gave him a shoulder nudge.

'I'm just a horny bastard,' he moaned. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry.

'Horny? I'm up for it three times a day; I suppose that makes me a sex maniac.'

'You, too, huh?' Three years out of high school, I thought I'd be settled down and getting it regular, no more of this back seat pleading and stuffing pussy. Damn uncomfortable.'

'You ever had your cock sucked?' I put my hand between my legs.

'Once, but when I was drunk, Cousin Beau took advantage of me. But I wasn't too wasted to remember it. He was good at it, not like those babes who can't really swallow a long one.'

I gave Jon a long deep look and took a slug of my vodka. Then I turned in my seat so that I was facing him. 'I like your looks,' I whispered.

'Are you experienced?' he stammered.

'You might say. In desperation, I've done the nasty on myself.'

'The nasty?' Perhaps, he was a little sloshed and not getting it, or pretending to be.

'Self suck. I've done the finger up the ass, too, stimulate the prostate from inside.

Jon went blank, then grimaced. Maybe, I'd gone too far too soon. But no, he put his free hand on my knee and smiled, sort of a silly alcoholic smile.

To me, it looked like the sun coming up.

'What's this?' Jon asked as he lifted my studded leather cock ring that I kept handy, snapped through a belt loop.

'It's for cinching up to make the cock stay hard and fuck longer. Drives 'em wild.' I didn't say who I rode.

'Kinky!' he said as though remarking on some forbidden pleasure.

'Maybe, we could help one another out. A mouth is a mouth.'

'You'd have to teach me,' he mumbled. He let his hand slip over my thigh to the inside between my legs and looked at me intently. I felt him through his silky nylon shorts, massaging his healthy member. His eyes began to light up.

We finished up our drinks. 'I'm at the Bascom, just down the street. Room 34.'

Jon said, 'You go first. They know me here. I'll come up in about five minutes.'

'I'll leave the door ajar, and the welcome mat will be out. Just come in,' I said.

We parted, and right away I wondered if he'd show. Anyway, I spruced up the place, storing what I had dumped on the bed into the drawers and plugging in the 4 watt night lights I kept with me for just such an occasion. I took off my boots and socks and turned down the air conditioner so they room would stay cool, but not cold.

He knocked. 'It's Jon,' he said. Who else?

He came in, and I could tell he was blushing. He looked about, obviously nervous.

'Do you need another drink, Jon?'

He shook his head and said, 'I'm not sure about this. What do we do?'

'Is it all right if I kiss you? Just in a friendly way.'

'Okay, I guess.'

I embraced him, turned his Dophins cap around backwards and pressed my lips against his. At his inhalation and gasp, I got my tongue in his mouth and began its search for his. He trembled and I comforted him with a rub on the back and buttocks. 'Lets get nekkid," I said.

He was out of his minimal clothes in about a second, and I could appreciate for the first time his full manhood - young, trim, and definitely hung and engaging as it was engorging. I stepped out of my gear and pulled down my black threadbare jock strap so that the rod confined there flopped forward. He was ready for another kiss as our bodies stood against one another, cock grinding against cock. I felt him all along the backside, and he reciprocated. Then I sat on the bed and lifted his masterpiece to my mouth, kissing the length of his fair-skinned penis and sweet smelling balls. I hadn't had anyone this young since I was his age. Twenty-one?

He probably hadn't shot for 24 hours, and he seemed surprisingly eager. The precum sap was already oozing. I fished for my cutoffs and retrieved the cock ring to strap around the base of his shaft and nuts. Then I went at his cock head, coursing the purplish mushroom with my tongue, lifting under the foreskin and washing the glans. He moaned and shook as I had his buttocks cupped, one in each hand. I started on his whole length, swallowing and pulling on his hotdog, 10-11 inches worth.

Jon grabbed me by the ears and held my head in position as he began to mouth fuck me. 'Oh, bro,' he gasped, 'let me do you.'

I pulled away, turned him and bent him over the bed. Rimming him became my next pleasure and his. I'd had ass tang before, but this guy's anus was a spicy rose, that opened to me as I burrowed in. He moaned all the more, swaying beneath me as he humped the bed. This guy was loaded for bear. With the goup I had in the bedside table, I fingered into his chute, little by little stretching the gate to what I trusted would be a glorious gallop for both of us. I coated my own dusky tool and turned him over, raising his legs over my shoulders as I placed my prick at the sphincter to happiness.

Remembering the suck I promised, I gobbled up once more Jon's rock hard doo-dah as I pressed against his hot and squirmy bunghole. I was entering and he stiffened against me, his fists gathering up clumps of the bed spread. As my head bobbed and he banged my moth, I eased my brick of a prick in and out of his opposite end. I thought for a moment that he was going into shock, but he was just gasping and gagging with excitement, too overcome to mouth a word, beyond the 'Unh! Unh! Un!' that came in rhythm with his gyrations. 'Oh, fuck!' he exclaimed finally as I snapped off the cock ring that had confined his spunk and pressed my fucking finger instead in his mouth with the other index finger at the juncture where the scrotum jounced beneath Jon's King Kong dong.

'I'm coming,' he screamed and I nodded my head still stimming him as he flooded my mouth to the tonsils. He bucked and choked for words as I fucked hard and deep and thereby came myself in pulsating globs of Jacko jetsam shot after shot buried deep in his innards. We collapsed together, first me on top of him and then turned side to side as I stroked and kissed him, his eyes, neck, shoulders. With his eyes closed, he touched and caressed me back, finally snuggling against me for some minutes until normal breathing returned.

'You're actually gay,' he said.

'You turned me on,' I answered, as non-committal as I could be.

'Okay.' He said. 'Your damn, fucking good.'

We held one another for a long time. Then after our shower together, I persuaded Jon to get in bed with me and I held him in my arms in front of me as I nipped at his neck and feeling his soft body hair over the chest, abdomen, legs, things, and pubes. He nestled into me until I had him hard again, and jacked him off, a long slow massage that pinched off the head when I felt he was ready to come. At last I whacked him full force and when he had poured his yummy-gummy all over us, I lapped up his cum and he cleaned the same jizz off of me.

Then we fell asleep against one another.

The next morning, in gratitude, he nuzzled me awake, and before he went to work gave as good head as he'd received.

I don't know if I'd turned him, but at least he now knew his options.

Then it was time to hit the road. Would Decadence in NO be any better than this?