"Yeah, give me another beer, please." I sniveled to the bearded bartender.
He smiled as he handed me my beer and my change. My eyes traveled down from his handsome face to the taco meat that sat in the deep trench that was his chest, thick gut and ample-looking basket, and I couldn't help not to imagine how good he'd look with his tight jeans down his ankles.
In spite of this, my mood wasn't good. Sunrise was approaching a bit too soon for me, on the last day of my desert vacation. I had done absolutely nothing but sit and stare all night, as slab after thick hairy of beef that filed passed me.
I was intoxicated by it all. The smell of beer and cigar smoke that hung in the air combined with the invigorating aromas of sweat and testosterone pouring from the sea of men that seemed to encircle me.
It should've been enough to have me revved and ready to go, get in on the action. But I did nothing but sit at the bar, slugging down one beer after another, staring across the dark bar, sternly scanning the faceless crowd for God knows what.
I sipped the beer slowly this time, checking my watch and the door every so often, giving the impression to onlookers that I was waiting for somebody special. A hunk above all hunks that would lumber through the door, into the dank bar air, and sweep me off my feet. Maybe I was. Maybe I just didn't know it.
Alas, there was no such man without effort. Not for me, none whatsoever. Still, I somehow managed pretty effectively to ward off any man that may have tried to engage me in some small talk or some raunchy light flirtation. I just wasn't in the mood for it. Maybe I was being too damn picky.
Why the hell did I come out tonight?
Yes, it was one of those nights, I answered at the start of each new beer. I didn't feel like staying in. I wasn't dead. I was ravenous for some sweaty, steamy man-on-man action. But I was hardly in the mood for the cut-through, rudimentary bar games and bar-jockeying often required to woe Mr. Right Now for a few minutes of frisky fun.
What was scary was that this wasn't just any one of those nights. Somehow, tonight was the worst. Even I felt the desperation seethe through my flesh being that this was the last night of here. I had made a promise to myself at the start of this thing that I was going to have the time of my life—whatever that meant. Now, on my last night, time was steadily slipping away from me, and I was helpless to stop it.
The sun would rise soon. The globe would continue to spin. And I sat there, pondering the continuing truths of the Universe. I could faintly see the outlines large groups of men in the darker area of the bar. I could hear the occasional slaps and slurps, juxtaposed against the building crescendos of deep sighs, muffled grunts and the occasional "Fuck, yeah!"
I took another swig of my beer, glancing back at my watching. In an hour or so, morning's light would start to creep in, under the front of the bar. No windows, Thank Goodness.
My piss-off desperation was quickly being replaced with a self-inflicted anger. Here I'd sat all night, nursing beers and feeling anti-social, and every body around me was wallowing knee-deep in what sounded like cum-soaked hog heaven.
I scanned the room again. Every man who had made my dick jump throughout the night had somehow mysteriously disappeared from sight.
My vacation will not end like this, I thought with a spark of resolve and energy.
With a hearty gulp of beer, I put my feet down from the bar stood and said aloud, "I'm going out there, and get me some action, dammit!"
Just then, a cut but visible drunk chub stammered into me.
As he tried to find something to stabilize his ascent from the floor, he grabbed my inner thigh, pulled himself up smiling. He stood there before me with his fly open, his flannel shirt unbuttoned.
"Hiya," he slurred at me. His thick hairy chest and engorged nipples stared me down, as I tried not to encourage the staring match.
Before I could open my mouth, he stumbled along to the next bar stool and ordered another beer.
Should I buy another beer? Talk to him? Lure the bastard back to my car with another beer? What should I do?
"Nah, too easy, and he is not really my type," I reasoned aloud. "Then again morning's coming, and my opportunities are dwindling. Beggars can't be choosers."
With my options dwindling with every second, I watched three big guys emerge from a dark corner. They swarmed my hairy drunken bastard as if he were the Queen and they were the randy worker bees eager to pollinate.
One started kissing him hard and he kissed back, while the other two assumed responsibility for each of his meaty nipples. With his mouth and chest hungrily spoken for, I considered for a second dropping to my knees and feasting on the growing bulge in his crotch. But I'm classier than that. Aren't I?
"Vultures," I muttered, and turned away.
The lights went out. Had it not been for the nights prior, I would have thought it was all over. It was nothing more than the bar's not-so-subtle way of announcing "last call" to the perennially thirsty crowd. This time thought, the lights didn't come on—at least not to the extent that they had been on before the flicker. Instead, the entire place morphed into a sort of darkened bluish cave.
As my eyes adjusted to the blue-black light in the distance, I felt the heat of the space grow more intense. A sea of shadows and silhouettes returned to the dance floor from somewhere, off in the darkness. Several guys seemed to look my way, but I was unsure if they were looking directly at me, as their faces seemed vague and blurred.
"With my fucking luck, they're all probably eyeing the blue-lit bar glowing behind me, contemplating their last spirit for the night," I muttered again.
A short, thick fireplug of a man squeezed his power-lifter frame between me and another occupied bar stool.
Holy Shit. Woof!
I could make out through my peripheral vision that he was staring straight at me, from the side. Then, I felt what I thought was his breath rolling off my neck. I wanted to turn and make sure it wasn't my imagination, but this really hadn't been my night. I didn't want to be disappointed again.
But there it was again. That had to be his breath on my neck. I was almost sure that I could sense him staring at me. Damn, I wanted to look so badly.
My heart started thumping, and the warm buzz from the beers I had drunk all night had made my head seem to throb with each heartbeat.
Zzzipp! I heard.
Was that his fly? Was he hauling out his tool while he was stranding right next to me? He could have said "hi" first or at least buy me a beer. I mean, I'm no prude, but I am courteous enough to give my name before showing off my tool.
Maybe he was planning to sorta plop into my hand, or across my knee. Or, perhaps, he was waiting on me to look over and look down and marvel at its beauty.
As it were. Neither.
All I heard—aside from the music and the crowd—was the dull rain-like pattering of something steadily hitting the underside of the bar next to me.
No. There is no fucking way!
A downward glance confirmed all of my suspicions.
The bastard had just taken a piss at the bar.
I looked over at him and let out my discriminating groan as if he cared.
"Sorry, pal. Didn't mean for you to see that," he said, deciding to turn bright read and looking up at me through his bushy eyebrows. He squeezed and then let of the tip of his dripping dong.
I was speechless. After the fucking (or lack thereof) night I'd had, this guy decided to take a piss, right there on the bar and the floor where I was standing.
I looked at him, then down at the puddle, and back up to his face.
"Had to take the lizard out for a walk," he said, yanking what now appeared to be a very solid, stout but thickly-veined uncut dong.
"On the floor?! The bathroom's over there!"
"I know, I know, pal," he said, apologetically. His tanned handsome face was becoming clearer by the second, and his freshly-shaven head glistened in the dim-blue light of the dark bar. "But the bathroom's blocked with dangling participles and cocksuckers, and I really had to take a leak."
I bit my tongue, and decided to just let it go. Sunrise was coming soon to even bother
"I'm Chuck," he said, extending his big beefy mitt, smiling.
Damn, what a hunk! He looked to be about five-nine, two hundred and twenty pounds of thick, hairy, beefy heaven. He was wearing a skin-tight "Peterbilt" T-shirt, loose-fitting Levis, and dirty black work boots.
"I'm Hank," I said, shaking his hand.
"Hank and Chuck—sounds like a corny porno from the 70s, doesn't it?"
"I guess so," I said stiff, wondering if I was wasting my time with this one.
"Sorry about that, by the way," Chuck said, glancing down at the large pool of piss that had formed on the floor beneath the bar. "Though, you should consider yourself very lucky."
"Lucky? How so?"
"Well, I could've pissed on your leg and marked you as my territory," he chuckled confidently.
What an ego? I thought, smiling at him, but didn't offer anything in the way to feed into his cockiness.
"No response, eh? Wanna shake it off for me then?" Chuck rambled at me crudely. He acted like he was joking, but surely he wasn't.
I could tell he wanted this to go somewhere.
"Shake it off? You should consider yourself lucky that I don't tell you to fuck off, instead." I said, throwing back a bit of the cockiness he'd just offered me.
Sunrise was coming and beggars can't be choosers.
I was going to get me some action somehow, some way, before sunrise. Even though he was rougher around the edges than I usually go for, this hairy little fireplug looked to be just what the doctor ordered. Beside, as far as pickup lines go, Chuck's was certainly an original.
Looking into his eyes and smiling, I silently reached down to the sleeping monster hanging out of Chuck's fly, and gently shook it dry.
"I've been watching you all night, and I wasn't sure you were wild enough for me," Chuck said devilishly.
"We'll see," I said with a hard wink. I was finally starting to feel naughty. I wrapped my hand around his slowly thickening rod, pulling him closer to me, massaging it gently with every tender stroke.
"Goddamn, that feels awesome, Hank," Chuck moaned.
I barely heard him. Awestruck at how soft and heavy he felt in my hand. The thick foreskin glided gently over the glistening tip, as I continued to squeeze and rub it slowly. I wasn't sure if the wetness inside that juicy looking foreskin was leftover piss, or if a stream of precum had already started to form, but the dim blue light of the bar made the bulbous tip shine beautifully.
Chuck's head tilt back lightly, and his eyes closed, and I finally realized that it was either now or never, if I planned on getting off before sunrise.
Opportunity had not only knocked, it was standing in front of me with its growing dick in my hand sits tongue hanging partially out of its scruffy whiskered mouth.
The time had come for me to seize what remained of the day.
"Yeah? Does this feel better?" I smirked, tugging the skin of the thick tool.
I looked around the bar, scanning the vultures. When the coast appeared to be clear, I knelt down, leaned forward, and slid my tongue across the tip. I then pulled the foreskin all the way forward, over the head of his dick and my extended tongue.
"Damn, that's better than poppers," I said, looking up at him.
I parted my lips, and in one lunge, swallowed his entire length into my mouth. With my nose buried in his thick nest of dark pubic hair, I again breathed deeply, feeling his dick continued to grow inside my mouth while I breathed in the thick musk of his pubic bush.
Holding my head into his crotch with his hands, Chuck slid over onto the barstool that I'd been sitting on all night. I repositioned myself under the bar and between his legs, and began worshipping what had by now become a truly mammoth, nearly-erect slab of dick. I was so turned on by the prospect of milking his meat that I momentarily lost track of the back that I was down on my knees, underneath and against a bar covered with beer, piss, and Heaven only knew what else. I feverishly worked my tongue in and out and around the folds of his thick meaty foreskin.
More than ever, I was drunk off of the adrenaline rush and the potent musk of masculinity that oozed up my nose holding his dick in the warmth of my throat, milking it softly. My hands roamed across his broad, hairy torso, working their way up to the two massive globes that were his chest.
My fingers roamed through his thick forest of dark chest hair, finally settling on his eraser-sized nipples. I tugged and twisted them gently.
"Oh, Jeezus...fuck!" Chuck quivered, closing his eyes and gasping in pleasure, hold my head steady, and thrusting his pelvic bone forward.
Within a few minutes, the large helmet-shaped head became the only thing I could slurp on without gagging. The other real prize here was Chuck's low-hanging balls. I loved the way Chuck seemed to melt in ecstasy every time I gave them a firm tug, sending jolts of electricity up and down his tingling spine.
I was so caught up in worshipping Chuck's crotch and torso that I failed to realize that my own dick was screaming for release, having grown down the leg of my Levis, and leaking a heavy drip of sticky precum.
"You got a condom?" Chuck looked down at me and asked, catching his choppy breath.
"Sure do," I grinned, pulling his husky frame tight against mine, bouncing his big tool up and down. "But I don't think I can handle something like this."
"Who asked you to?" he said, smiling down at me. "Just 'cause I've got a big dick doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good ride."
I glanced down at my watch. Daybreak was on its way. My vacation would soon be over. Now was the time to make it truly unforgettable, in every sense of the word.
The bar had turned into an all-out orgy by now. Clusters of gyrating men were everywhere, fucking, sucking, rimming and kissing. This made me a little more comfortable, given when I was about to do, in plain sight.
I stood up in front of Chuck. I grabbed his head, locked my mouth onto his, kissing him hard and passionately. Our beer-covered tongues wrestled inside his mouth and our passion grew. Then, he opened his eyes and grunted into my mouth, "Fuck me, Hank."
Chuck turned around and bent over the bar, and I pulled his pants down around his ankles. His ass was spectacularly hairy and pale just the way I like 'em. I couldn't, in good conscious, ram my dick up in there without tasting it first, so I lunge my face forward, straight in between his cheeks and started munching and licking his asshole.
He moaned loudly, holding onto the bar for support, straining against his jeans around his ankles to spread his legs farther, allowed me even better access to the beautiful buffet I was enjoying.
After an exhilarating fifteen minutes of delicious ass munching, I was ready to plow my way into the beautiful hole. I reached down and pulled a condom out of my pocket. Hauling my stiff tool out of my jeans, I rolled the condom down over it, and squeeze a lube pack across it.
Standing right behind him, I started to tease Chuck's ass, spreading my cheeks with my hands, and rubbing and bouncing my engorged dong against his puckered hole.
"You want this ass? Then, take it," Chuck grunted over his shoulder at me, encouraging and, it seemed, almost daring me to plunge in without notice or warm-up.
I grabbed his waist and held Chuck steady, positioned the head of my pulsating prick against his hole, and started to push. One inch at a time, I sunk my length into him. He took it like a trooper, and actually started bracing the bar to push his ass back against me harder and faster.
I lunge my final three inches inside him, and held my body tightly against his for a few seconds letting him adjust to my size inside of his guts.
"Oh, Fuuuuck," Chuck's body vibrated with his low, guttural, and his hands clenched the bar.
I could have stayed right there for another ten minutes, without moving. His asshole was clenching repeatedly around my dick, and I wasn't even moving. I had business to take care of. Dawn was coming. Time was now, more than at any other point all night, of the essence. There was no room for pleasantries now. Just enough time a fantastic, lust-filled fuck.
Chuck dug his elbows into the bar, quietly mumbling at the searing going on in and around his tight ass, while I withdrew almost entirely and quickly plunged it back in with such force that it made him yelp for joy.
"You motherless fuck!" Chuck snarled over his shoulder at me.
Chuck's growls were turning me on like nothing had ever before. My fucking was not smooth, at first.
I plowed into him repeatedly, with the full intent of eliciting some kind of primeval animal noise from Chuck. He didn't disappoint me, either. Everything from a light whimper to a wolf-like howl came out of him with almost every thrust.
He was enjoying being dominated, and I was having the time of my life, bucking back and forth, in and out of this beautiful, wet hairy ass. Chuck was giving his hole to me, completely, and I was uncharacteristically enjoying fucking this hairy stud in front of what was turning into a rapidly growing number of voyeuristic eyes.
The beaded bartender who'd been watching us and rubbing his crotch ambled over, dropped his pants, jumped the bar and fed his thick prick into Chuck's open mouth. He smiled at me, as if assuming permission—after the fact—to share my stud.
That sight sent me into overdrive, and I picked up my rhythm, fucking Chuck faster, slamming him hard against the bar, over and over again. The slickness of sweat covered our bodies, and we morphed into one large hairy sweating creature, writing in perfect sync with one another.
After only a few minutes, the burly bartender started to growl, thrusting his hips forward, and closed his eyes. With a shudder that made his hairy gut and heavy pecs jiggle somewhat, he bit his lips, and emptied his nutt into Chuck's mouth.
With his mouth full of spunk, Chuck began to whimper, sounding as though he himself was about to explode. I reached down and felt his thick stream of precum leaning from his bobbing prick. Feeling close myself, realizing that dawn was almost upon us, I decided to let him cum first, so I grabbed his dick, and gave it three or four strong pumps.
Chuck's body tensed, and I suddenly felt his asshole clench even tighter around my dog. He let out a "Fuuuuck yeahhhhh..." followed by an animal howl, and shot several thick streams of cum across the bar.
As his quivering ass continued its post-orgasmic massage on my dick, I pumped harder and faster than ever, knowing that his hole was bound to need a break after such a strenuous workout.
"You ready for this?" I grunted gripping his waist, pulling his ass repeatedly against me.
"Fuck yeah. Give it to me, man," Chuck growled.
I pulled my dick out of his ass, yanked off the condom, and with four long strokes along the entire length with my hand, I felt the explosion start in my stomach, work its way down to my nuts, and like a rocket, blast from the tip of my dick across his ass and back.
I leaned into him, as my body convulsed and with the last shudders of my explosive orgasm, I collapsed on his back, our sweat and cum mixture lubricating our bodies against one another.
Growing, thunderous applause, accompanied by a chorus of whooping calls filled the bar.
"Thanks! Damn, that was fun," I snickered into Chuck's ear. "It looks like they enjoyed it almost as much as we did."
"Well...they might have enjoyed watching. But I'll guaranteed you that nobody in this room, except you, maybe him, could have enjoyed that nearly as much as I did," he said smiling.
Chuck handed me a towel from behind the bar, and I wiped down his back. I wiped myself down, too. Pulled up my pants and grabbed my jacket.
"Hey, where are you going? You wanna stick around for an eye-opener or some coffee? It's morning!" Chuck said yawning.
"Thanks, but sorry, can't do it." I said, grabbing my jacket.
The morning sun had just peeked through the door of the bar, and my vacation was officially over.