One Wednesday evening, as I was sitting at the bar in a coastal city that renowned for its humidity, I was enjoying the balmy atmosphere as I sipped on a beer. I was very happy that a colleague had recommended this ‘arty’ area to me.
The guest lodge I was staying in was charming, and all the shops and restaurants in Roper Road, as the area was referred to, had a lovely vibe. Of course, of special interest to me was the gay flag that I had observed hanging from the first floor of one of buildings when I perused the area, after booking into the guest house.
After I relaxed in my room after a day’s work before showering, I next made my way to a Thai restaurant I had seen. Thereafter, at around eight-thirty, I finally found myself seated at the bar where I had observed the gay flag earlier.
The pub was on the first floor above a gift shop. Upon entering, there was a room with two pool tables. Beyond that, one moved through to the bar area, which had a narrow L shaped counter. To the left of this space there was another room with a dance floor. After I sat at the end of the long counter where it branched at a ninety degree angle, with only two bar stools diagonally across from me to my right, to my left there were a dozen or so bar stools.
As I sat there, five guys were bantering at the far end of the counter to my left. One of the men was an outrageous queen in full cry, regaling his companions with his caustic wit. Apart from them, the only other two patrons were a duo I had observed playing pool as I entered. The chatty barman then informed me about the goings-on at the pub. The place was closed on Mondays. Tuesdays to Thursdays the bar was rather quiet, but on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings, the place pumped, according to him.
After fifteen minutes my heart skipped a beat, when a guy entered and sat on the stool to my right. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt, black shorts, and slip-slops. The guy was tall, broad, ruggedly handsome, and very masculine. The reddish brown hair on the sides of his head was cut very short, and on top of his head the hair was far longer and slicked back. His beard and moustache were slightly darker than the other hair on his head, but also had a reddish tinge. For a moment, I thought that he was a straight guy who had inadvertently entered a gay place, but when he ordered his beer he seemed relaxed and so well-known to the barman, that I dispelled that thought.
Upon looking at his rough hands, I surmised that he did some or other manual labour. As I glanced at him I also saw two large damp patches under his arms, and shortly my nostrils bristled as I smelt his very powerful body odour. I have always been a person who thrives on male funk and his aroma almost had me palpitating with lust. After a minute or two I decided to break the silence.
“Fuck, it’s really humid,” I said.
“Yeah, but I love the heat,” he replied. Then, after extending his large right hand he said, “My name’s Rob.”
“Hi, I’m Peter,” I replied, as I shook his calloused clammy hand.
“This seems like a nice place,” I proffered, making conversation.
“Yeah, I come here from time to time,” he answered nonchalantly, and then after a short pause he asked, “So what do you do, Pete?”
Without going into too much boring detail I gave him a brief summation, before responding, “And what do you do?”
“Have you been to the botanical gardens down the road?” he asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Well, I take care of the gardens there,” he answered.
“So, you’re a landscaper,” I replied.
“Nah, that term is too fancy for me. We have professional landscapers. I just do the donkey work,” he informed me.
“Do you live close by?” I asked.
“Yip, the wife and I have an apartment down the road,” he replied.
‘Oh fuck,’ I thought. ‘I knew this was too good to be true.’
Feeling totally deflated, I then gingerly asked, “Does… your wife know that you come here?”
“Sure, my wife and I are bisexual. Right now she’s at home fucking her arse off with a lesbian friend,” he replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
A short pause followed before he continued, “We have an open relationship. The second bedroom in our apartment is the fuck room. That way, when she’s fucking with one of her girlfriends, or I have a fuck-buddy around, the other person is uses the main bed without any inconvenience.”
“Wow… that’s a pretty interesting arrangement,” I answered, gobsmacked.
“Well, it works for us,” he replied, matter-of-factly.
“So, what’s the hotel you are staying in like?” he asked after a brief respite.
“Lovely,” I replied.
“Cool,” he answered, “Then, maybe I can check it out when we get back to your room tonight,” he concluded with an impish grin.
If my heart had been beating fast up to this point, I now felt like I was about to have a heart attack.
“Listen, I was a little lazy when I got back home from work today and should have had a shower. Do you mind if I have a shower when we get to your place?” he asked.
“Actually… I’d prefer if you didn’t… I think you smell great,” I stammered.
With a broad smile he then said, “Oh, so you are a funk-bunny.” As he continued to snigger I just shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, bro, I’m all yours. You can sniff and lick me all you like.” Then, after another chuckle he added, “As long as I get to fuck your hole, it’s all good for me.”
“Would you like another beer?” I asked, blushing.
“Why not,” he answered, before concluding, “Then we can be on our way.”
As we sat there in silence, Rob gave me a horny grin. He then pushed his right hand in his shorts and appeared to fiddle with his dick. After extracting his hand he offered it to my nostrils.
“Let’s get you warmed up, dude. Take a whiff of my foreskin funk.” As I sniffed I almost fell off my stool with excitement.
“Lick,” he then ordered, before adding, “Taste my funk.”
I had to contain my excitement as never before, but as I licked his fingers I felt like grabbing his hand and shoving it down my throat. After retracting his hand he let out a low rumbling laugh.
“If you’re a good boy, I might even let you sniff my sweaty arse,” he concluded with an evil grin.
Thankfully, our beers were consumed quite quickly and soon we were on our way to the hotel.
In the room I offered him a beer from the bar fridge. Rob then surveyed the place, constantly nodding his approval. With his inspection complete, he then walked over to me after placing his beer on a table. Rob first pulled my shirt up over my head, before pulling his own t-shirt off. The hair under his arms was so wet, that it almost seemed pasted to his skin. Rob had a light dusting of hair on his chest that was lighter, and redder, than the hair on his head.