A Bipedal Tour of the Emerald City
A True Experience By Billy Jay Dee
The cuter one checked me out.
I sat in front of the Sea Wolf's fake fireplace. This made my third stop on a walking tour of Seattle. The Cuff's website provided the map. I felt more at ease here than during happy hour at the mortuary-like, Thumpers. Dudes played darts, pool, and pinball. The burly bartender keeps the lights up and the walls covered with rough cut lumber clean. And that sandy haired stud was still checking me out.
Jack and his buddy came in fifteen minutes after me. They sat two barstools away. They shared a similar stocky frame -- both almost as tall as me at 6'1", but with sandy and blond hair. Jack looked the cuter of the two, with those damn light blue eyes and a sensuous smirk common to good-looking men. Not that I'd kick Jack's best friend out of bed! His chin sported several days' growth of a blonde beard. He smiled a lot. And made me laugh out loud.
They talked and joked up a storm in a fast paced witty banter. So why did Jack check me out every time I looked around? (Okay, actually every time I looked over there to check him out.) But, my beer mug stood empty and plenty of bars on the list needed me to visit. As I left, Jack said, "I noticed the concho belt. You got the boots to go with it?" I lifted a booted foot to show them. An engrossing fast-paced conversation about their vacation through the Southwest followed. Ends up we had a lot in common. A three-way could sound good to me. Jack's best friend told me about their transfer to San Diego and about buying a new house. That's when it came out that they were former lovers and best friends.
Behind me, I heard Jack say, "It's about time he got here", followed by the smacking of two lips in greeting. Jack's best friend and I rose. Jim introduced his date. The date was unbelievably beautiful. His body appeared dark and muscled all over. Broad brown shoulders narrowed to a small waist and flat belly. His butt looked to be round and firm. His pleated tan slacks left his crotch to the imagination, but his shear t-shirt clung to an amazing chest as tightly as I wanted to. His little nipples stood at sharp-pointed attention with excitement. He shook our hands and said our names with the desperate effort to make a good impression on his date's friends. Jim called him "Beefcake" to his face. So, maybe Jack hit up on me so that his best friend would have a date, too. That wasn't a bad thing either.
We decided to walk to an art deco bar, called C.C. Attle. The conversation returned to their routine of: wit, finishing one another's sentences, and private jokes. It sounded like me and my best friend (and former lover), so I joined right in. Jack's date sort of got lost in the dust.
When we got there, we were all hither and yon for a while. The two buddies and I said "Hello" to the bear-bartender that used to work at Spags. We wandered around deciding where to sit. Jack and his date hit the bathroom. Jack's best friend made a comment that he hoped this worked out for Jack. He'd been through four lovers since moving here.
"Which one were you?" I asked
"Number 2," he answered as Jack's date joined us.
The look on his face! And my wife feels threatened by my best friend! Jack's best friend assumed that the date knew and I didn't see him approach.
Ugh! Jack's date recovered before Jack returned.
"Where are you going on this walking tour?" Jack asked
"Probably Neighbors next."
"How about the Eagle?"
"I was there last night."
"Isn't that place wild?" he interjected, "I was there last week. Bottoms lined up on the balcony to suck off some stud with a foot-long dick."
"Well, you know that partition behind the back patio. Last night a bunch of boys crowded in behind it. I said to the Marlboro man next to me, what's going on back there? Only one way to fine out, he says. So, I go check. They've got a Latino pretty well naked, one's sucking his cock, some are playing with his nipples, one's fingering his ass. That's when I noticed that the crowd watching had their dicks out and were stroking one another off."
Jack's best friend leaned over my shoulder to listen. Jack and his date stared in rapt interest.
"Did you?" Jack asked encouragingly.
"Well...yeah! It was wild. A dozen men back there taking turns sucking one another off. At one point, three of us knelt with our backs to the wall slurping on a friend's cock. When I stood up for my turn, the cocksucker on my right kept sucking his partner and the stud two over started butt fucking his. The second time I went back, the crowd gathered around two good-looking gents. One bent over, pants down, shirt and coat pulled up, with his fine white ass pushed into the other gent's face. He gnawed on that thing and pushed his wide pink tongue way up there. The bent over man encouraged the crowd to slap his butt. Blue collar types with long hard dicks asked if they could have a piece of that?' I got into it and ended up in a little daisy chain with the two gents that started it all. The third time…" Everyone's eyes grew wide with disbelief and glazed with horniness."…the group spilled onto the patio. Three leathermen bent me over to suck their buddy's helmet head while they played with my ass. Later, I took someone I met there and the whole crowd peed on someone lying on the floor. I thought, Not for me', when my new friend starts sucking on the other guy's wet pants!"
Everyone hoped we'd see that tonight. I held the floor while retelling my previous evening. When the topic moved on, the conversation returned to normal with the date's desperate smiles, Jack's and his buddy's tighter banter, and me barging into the conversation and joining the fun as they grew louder. But the beer took its toll and they got more sarcastic and their laughter harder.
I pulled Jack's best friend aside. "You and Jack remind me of me and my best friend. One time we took an acquaintance fishing . I wasn't paying any attention to our new friend. We worked the boat and discussed where to fish, who would work the anchor line and just normal stuff. I finally asked our acquaintance what he thought. He said, `You two have diarrhea of the mouth.' We laughed. He was right. We just kept going on and on and never let him get a word in edgewise."
"So, you're saying Jack and I have diarrhea of the mouth?" he asked with a grin.
"I'm not trying to insult you," I apologized. "I'm just trying to tell you that you're not giving Jim's date a chance."
He smiled and nodded noncommittally and went back to eating peanuts.
"And with that I'm leaving."
"Where you going?"
"Neighbors."
"Maybe we'll see you at the Cuff later?"
I shook hands with the date, awaiting Jack's return, and walked out the door.
As a matter of fact I did meet them there later. I'd been at the Cuff a while by then. I made the circuit off the back patio, up the stairs, around the main bar, and right into Jack. "Imagine meeting you here!" I called.
"Yeah!" he said with a grin.
"How's it going?"
"Great," he replied, but he wasn't doing great. The light blue eyes in his rugged face looked puffy with emotion and not too far from wet or red. He stood with his solid chest thrown out and left hand pulled back in a fist. His right hand could barely lift his beer without trembling.
"What happened?"
"My date split."
I suggested lamely that maybe he was in the bathroom.
"For twenty minutes?" he scolded.
"Where's your best friend?"
"My friend with diarrhea of the mouth is trying to get laid," he said without anger. His chin pointed across the room, where his best friend stumbled drunkenly with the flow of traffic eyeing possible candidates.
"I didn't mean to piss you off. Just to warn you."
He spewed his frustration a little longer about the missing date. I tried to keep my mouth shut and just be sympathetic.
"Fuck it. Let's go check out the dance floor."
I followed. As we came down the steps onto the dance floor, I got to thinking of the last time I came here. Someone amazing had met me on the edge of the dance floor. He stood 6'5", 270 #, built like a football player. His small dark eyes had twinkled. His small lips showed pink beneath an angular nose. His dick was so big it took both his broad hands to pack it up my ass. When no room remained in my body cavity he had amazed and delighted me by pushing off the bed with his toes to get deeper into me.
The next morning he dropped me off at Virginia Mason. As soon as I got out of the truck I regretted not saying something. His last relationship ended due to the scars that made his handsome face puffy. Had I hurt him by not being more affectionate after seeing him in the broad daylight? For me it had been love (err, lust) at first sight. We left within 5 minutes of meeting. We couldn't stop smiling at one another. We answered to the same first name, worked for the same agency, and shared a love of tequila.
"Tequila?" Jack asked
My eyes bugged out as my mouth dropped open.
"It doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you. It's just a shot," he responded loudly with a grin.
Thoroughly confused, my eyes tried to bat back to normal shape. My mouth mumbled, "Tequila, yeah."
We downed the shot at the bar out back and returned to our stand up table by the dance floor. Jack started talking about his date again.
"You know, Jack, I listened to the bad thing that happen to you to night. It's your turn to list to my bad thing: .
When I left C.C. Attle's for Neighbors, my cowboy boots followed Madison to Broadway. There's an International House of Pancakes at the intersection. My stomach started grumbling. When I looked in, a big black man about my age sitting at a table looks at me. My boots keep walking. When my eyes look again he's still looking. There's no way I can walk into an IHOP and pick up a Nubian dream. On the other hand…
I go in, telling the hostess, "I'm sitting with someone."
"Can I join you?" I say to him
He nods. We order. He's big, quiet, and serious looking. I toss out every double entendre and outrageous thing, until he smiles. It's one of those enormous laughing smiles, which he covers with his hand a la Whoopi Goldberg in "The Color Purple." Sweet talk flows all through dinner and into the parking lot after, with him saying yes or no. That's always a bad sign when I have to work so hard at it. We check out his new car. "Lean your seat back and undo your pants!" I tell him. After veiling the delight on his face with his big soft black hand, he…complies. My right hand reached for his cock. My aching jaw dropped open. It was enormous! My hand barely reached around it. How would we get it in my ass later? My tongue barely got a lick or two before a car drove up. He freaked. We drove to my hotel and I sneaked him in the back door. I finished undressing as he announced, "I can't stay."
Jack called him a bastard and chattered supportively. I failed to mention the black security guard worked as an AIDS volunteer, that he feared being recognized at my hotel because it was attached to Virginia Mason where he worked. .
Jack and I moved up the stairs to the less noisy "Leather Room". Jack went to the bathroom and left me in charge of the beers. "You'll be here when I get back, won't you?" he grinned.
The crowd cruised by -- muscle gods in tight shorts with wide well-defined chests; daddies with five o'clock shadows, tight blue jeans, and dress shirts open half way down their chests to show off the hair; tall straight looking college boys with bedroom eyes; and more. I talked with the leathermen occasionally in their black leather pants, harness on their bare chests, leather police caps, smoking well-chewed cigars and their cool appraising stares. Jack's date appeared, wide eyed and out of breathe. The upper portion of his light blue shirt was dark from the rain.
"Where are they?"
"Who?"
"You know."
"Jack's in the bathroom. He'll be right back," I said indicating the bathroom behind us and around the corner. His date dashed that way. The parade of studs continuing to pass included a puffy skinned giant. My friend from six months before! My heart pounded. I didn't want to appear too desperate. I waited. Jack returned with his date in hand and big grin on his face. True love conquers all, I thought. "True love calls," I said instead.
My boots clucked down the stairs. I found him pretty much where he'd stood six months before. He kissed me softly in greeting. His large gentle hands touched me, but his massive muscular arms didn't reach for a hug.
"Before we say anything else, I need to tell you something. When you dropped me off, you said how much you enjoyed our night together."
"I did." "So, did I. But I should've said, `How about we do it again?' This is crazy, me saying this and being married, but you can't imagine how much I think of you. You made me feel like no man ever has."
"Thank you," he interrupted.
My shoulders fell in relief to see his eyes did not water with hurt revisited, and disappointment to see they did not glaze with passion aroused.
"Whew! That's over!" I sighed and took a place beside him against the wall, "What's happening?" "I'm moving back home. My boy friend is still back there."
My eyebrows arched in question. He told me about his dream of transferring back. But there'd been no boyfriend six months ago.
"It's my old boy friend. I know it didn't work last time. These gay things never work. But I've got to give it a try."
I didn't want to see the hurt in his dark little eyes. I wanted to remember them full of passion in the night. I suggested I should go. He said, "no" and asked about the wife and kids. We talked.
"Got to check in with my friends," I said before it got more awkward.
Jack and company were nowhere to be seen. I wandered around a bit more in the maze of man meat, eventually running into my gentle giant again. He introduced me to his friends.
Last stop -- the Eagle. I circled the bar on the first floor and stopped at the bathroom to pee. They don't close the door there, so everyone can see. I went out back. No one was crowding behind the partition. Upstairs it wasn't hot enough for the bears to be shirtless. But the crowd stood thick against the railing upstairs and my crotch rubbed against lots of butts to get through. At the bottom of the stairs Jack stood flirting with the bouncer.
"What are you doing here?" I asked with a smile.
"I'm going home with the bouncer. My date and I fought during dinner."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"He didn't care!"
"Yeah, he did. I heard the kiss when he greeted you. The way he massaged your shoulders. He tried really hard."
"I figured he wasn't even going to show up tonight. That's why I hit on you. In case he didn't show. So, if he cared, what the Hell happened?"
"You're really good looking…" I began.
"I'm a bottom. I'm not going to fuck you."
"It's not flattery, it's fact. Shall we walk around and take a survey?"
Jack blushed rather than admit it.
"The point is you're good looking like my wife and people are willing to put up with a lot from good looking people, but you ignored him."
"You're too used to dealing with women. Guys aren't supposed to care."
I'd already told him he'd been wrong too many times tonight.
"This is such a bottom town," he shouted. "This is a one night stand to you and then you go back to your wife and kids. But this is my life!"
I couldn't respond.
"Let's see if anything's going on out back."
Nothing was. After making the circuit we ran into a stocky red headed acquaintance. He admitted to recognizing me, but not remembering where'd we met. I remembered. He'd changed his mind in my room long ago like the security guard did tonight. I didn't mention it. The three of us joked and gossiped for a while. After he'd wondered off, someone else I recognized cruised by.
I nudged Jack. "That's the one." I said nodding towards a farm boy type in a yellow hat. "The one everyone peed on last night."
"Oh, yellow." he whispered back. "That means water sports."
"I'll have to remember to never wear yellow in a gay bar!"
"Closing time!" Jack's bouncer called.
Jack wanted to give me his e-mail. A gay acquaintance once told me, "We exchange phone numbers and it doesn't mean anything." Jack walked me to the door. He went back to flirting with the bouncer, whom I handed my drink and slipped out the door. Lots of us left then, heading down Pike Street.
Someone behind me said, "Watch the whole crowd cut across the street to the Z Club."
The Z Club is a bathhouse. I hadn't been in one in 20 years. I thought "What the Hell?" I left my clothes in a locker and wrapped the towel around my waist. All types of men walked the carpeted halls and stairs peeking in the private rooms. A couple of bottoms lay in hammocks waiting for the right top to come along. Three large well- greased dildos laid next to one beckoning bubble butt. Other men lay wantonly on their bellies or sat up stroking their cocks, shaking their head to those that peeked in. In the "Porno Room", big buck naked boys watched a video trying to get hard, rarely helping one another.
Even at this desperate hour of the morning in the "Blowjob Room", few dropped to their knees or started making out. I'd seen more passion and action behind the partition at the Eagle the night before. Plus, as Jack said, Seattle is a bottom town. Particularly at 2 a.m. when all the tops became too drunk, too tired or too self-conscious to perform in public. But after a lot of groping in the dark, a short, thick, hard, hooked, black cock, appeared in the darkness that I could get stiff.
"Want to fuck?" I asked
"Yeah, but not here," Regan answered.
He took me to his room and turned up the lights. His similarity to the security guard earlier in the night struck me, including the beaming face. But, Regan was a little shorter and a lot prouder of his smile He suggested I get on my hands and knees on the bed. I braced my face in the pillow and waited while he got a big glob of lube on his right index finger. He slipped it in slow and smooth. Then started working his hand back and forth.
"Go for a second finger," I moaned
"No! We don't need that."
He slowly slipped his curved cock in where his finger had been. Then began a long slow fuck lasting 20 minutes before he came. It felt so good while we fucked that my back arched in delight. That made it even better for him.
Still on knees and elbows my back arched again, this time my head lifting with an "Ah!"
My blue eyes stared into a mirror at the head of the bed. Over my shoulder my white cheeks spread apart every time his firms black belly plowed into them. His muscular thighs spread out on either side of my hips. His sleek, well-muscled chest leaned over me as his gripping arms pulled and pushed us apart. We both smiled.
A few hours later, my butt sat on the front steps of my hotel waiting for a taxi. My security guard strolled by on patrol.
"How you doing?" he asked.
His face revealed neither concern nor apology. He wore the same non-committal expression from the night before
"Fine," I said and told him about Club Z. He didn't know the place. I described it. His bulging belly hid any indication of the enormous cock in his uniform trousers. A co-worker joined him. They continued their patrol. My taxi came. Like Jack said I would, I returned to my loving wife of many years, great kids, dream home and big black Labrador.