Bartending the Football Team

I arrived for work next morning at ten, I knew if I saw any of the football team today, it would probably be for the last time. They were leaving tomorrow. Departing potential friends is one of the worst aspects of living in a tourist town. I hated that about my home city.

The bistro restaurant took advantage of golf course views along its wide northern windows. The long room featured bars at each end. With the day’s lunch crowd so light, I set up to open the smaller end for a three-hour short shift.

We only ever worked the compact bar as a solo operation, more than one bartender was rarely needed. I primed the taps, set the glasses and waited for lunch to start serving. Bored, I drifted to thinking about knocking off three new guys, within the one team. I sighed as I realised, I was unlikely to ever top that and found myself hard.

The crowd began to wander as I surmised the doors had been opened. Half an hour into the shift I’d served just a dozen people and was still horny. At that moment Brian appeared in my peripheral vision, initially he just stuck his head around the corner, not sure if the bar was here or in some other part of the room. Spotting me, he waited his turn as a pensioner ordered a diet cola. Flying solo, he was dressed in a skin tight tee shirt emphasising his V shape. He looked super-hot!

“How are you?” he asked, as he pressed his abs to the bar.
“Horny,” I replied, telling the truth. “What do you want pussy boy?” I asked, taking him aback.
“Cock, you offering!” He countered, looking to match my bluster. I decided I’d take the counter as I paused for effect.
“In there, get your gear off,” I directed as I pointed towards the storeroom. He was shocked.
“What!”
“You heard me, get your fucken pussy arse in the room and get naked now!” He froze. “Now!” I repeated as firmly as I could, without being overheard, he was startled to action.
“I don’t know why I came here,” he lamented, “I knew you were going to be a bastard.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I said flatly, “now get your fucken gear off,” I repeated, pointing.

He scampered off to the storeroom as I set about swapping up the bar. On top I arranged all the ingredients I’d likely need, I positioned them all within reach of the beer taps and register. Underneath I dragged out the full-size garbage bin, and pushed the towel rack to the left as much as I could. I waited.

After a few minutes he stuck his head out the door wondering where I was. I pointed to the space below the bar.
“What the fuck!” he recoiled under his breath, “no way man, no fucken way!”

The coast was clear, but I didn’t know for how long. I walked directly to him and grabbed him by the ear.
“Please man don’t make me do this!” he started, “please man, someone will see.” I tugged, which he resisted, but just for a moment. If anyone had been standing across the room, they would have seen the flash of a six-foot naked guy zip past.

I took my charge to his under-counter nook, while he stayed low and protected from sight by the height of the bar. On his haunches, he backed his way into the tight but clear space I had created. When he was fearfully settled, I unzipped my fly.

Over the next 20 minutes I received great head. I served a dozen customers and not once did my upper waist leave leaning against the counter. Toward the end I held his resiting head in place and blew down his throat. He licked me clean.

I zipped up and looked down to his cock, he knew he was expected to cum. About four minutes later, he did. I mopped up his mess, as he caught his breath. When the coast was clear (although he had no way of knowing) I waved him back to the storeroom and set about closing up for the afternoon.

I pulled down the grill five minutes later and took a stance leaning against the storeroom door jam. He had put his jeans on and was just lacing his runners as I appeared. He stood to match my height.
“You are a bastard,” he said, “how come you do this to me?”
I reached in my pocket and took out the permanent marker I used to cross off the counted stock. In three-inch-high letters across his lightly haired chest, I wrote ‘OWNED’.

He just looked at me absolutely lost for words. I let him be for a moment, then smiled as he looked up, angry but with a part grin forming and coming through his mask.

I moved forward, embraced him and kissed as deeply and as passionately as I could. I latched on and tongue explored his mouth. He kissed me back matching my tenderness. We held each other in a bear-like embrace for what seemed like ten minutes. Fuck he was nice.

I pulled back, knowing I was letting him be.
“Go on,” I said, “time for you to fuck off, free to be you at last.”. He paused, as he caught sight of the moisture in my eyes. He matched that too, as he slipped his tee down to cover his temp tattoo.

“You know,” he said, holding his head down, “I just wanted to say thanks for picking me, and for calling me out in the middle of the group, without letting the other guys know.” I stepped forward and gave him another hug, he hugged me back, tightly.
“You don’t have to come out,” I said quietly, breaking the hold, “But you don’t have to hide any more. At least not from yourself.” He nodded thoughtfully, then pulled himself upright.
“I’m going to remember you taking my arse, my throat and for leaving your seed in me.” He added smiling. “Owned is a pretty good description, for what you’ve managed to pull off.”
“Don’t take it too seriously,” I counselled, “I’m just dragging an especially closeted guy into the light.”
“Thanks,” he said, as he made to leave, “and not just for the sex.” He nodded, his mouth now a tight thin line.
Then, just like that, he was gone. What an annoying, beautiful man! Now I did tear up. Fuck it all to hell!

I drove home slowly, sometimes I hate this town!

The team departed for their day long drive early the next morning.

*

What an amazing week, it turned out to be. To this day I haven’t had another experience that has come close. The three former cherries initially texted me back and forth. It progressed to emails and then video calls.

Over the following years, they became increasingly comfortable in their own skins. Without me ever revealing them to each other, they eventually worked out who on the team played for the same side. I don’t think they told the wider club, but maybe they did?

In their minds, especially after they came out to each other, I remained a gay picking legend. Someone with ‘uncanny’ gaydar of astonishing accuracy. I never revealed the truth, it had all been an unlikely, but excellent coincidence.

Over the next few years, I caught up with Josh once or twice, whenever his traveling salesman job brought him through town. He talked a lot about a guy named Stuart, who’d caught his eye, I encouraged him to at least have a go.

Brian made two sex seeking weekend visits. They were hot hook-ups, but devoid of our dominate, submissive role play. That scene had evaporated soon after we began chatting back and forth on line. Despite the normalisation of our fucking relationship, the sex remained sensational. He himself was entering his slut phase, I watched on for a while, silently wishing him all the best. 

Troy moved interstate as soon as he finished his electrical trade apprenticeship. He quickly found himself madly in love with a guy from the dark side, a plumber! Together they sounded perfect, I never fucked him or saw him face to face again.

Even today, I occasionally find myself thinking of the golden week that was. I’m with Craig now, and I’m happy as I’ve ever been. Still, a little slice of me nags, they were ones that ‘got away’.

What part of me wouldn’t give to do it all again, just a dozen more times!

The End

Thanks for reading, I genuinely appreciate you taking an interest, or perhaps leaving a comment.
Luke