In the neon-drenched streets of Blowjob City, where desire was the currency and inhibitions melted like ice in a glass, Matt owned The Satin Pour, a bar that had become a legend. At 35, Matt was the mastermind behind cocktails so unforgettable that patrons swore they tasted like sin itself. His secret? A few drops of his cum, stirred into every drink, a ritual he performed with a thrill that bordered on obsession. It wasn’t just about the act—it was the power, the intimacy of knowing his essence was inside every sip, making his cocktails the talk of the city’s restless souls.
The Satin Pour was a sanctuary of velvet curtains, flickering candles, and a bar counter polished to a mirror sheen. The air hummed with low music and the murmur of patrons—lovers, drifters, and thrill-seekers chasing the city’s pulse. Matt moved with confidence behind the bar, shaking martinis, pouring whiskey, and flashing smiles that kept the crowd coming back. But it was the cocktails—mojitos, negronis, cosmopolitans—that held his true passion. Each order was a chance to indulge his secret, to slip into the storeroom, stroke himself to a quick release, and mix his cum into the drink, the act fueling his desire as much as the patrons’ reactions did.
Years ago, Theo and Oliver had worked for Matt as barbacks, hustling bottles and cleaning glasses during the bar’s wildest nights. They’d been a lively duo, their banter and energy lighting up the place, but they’d moved on to other ventures, leaving Matt to run the show alone. Still, their time together had left a mark—Matt often thought of their late-night laughs, the way they’d teased him about his “magic touch” with drinks, never suspecting the truth. Now, The Satin Pour was Matt’s kingdom, and his secret recipe was its crown jewel.
On this particular night, the bar was alive with its usual chaos. The crowd was a mix of regulars and newcomers, their voices blending with the clink of glasses and the beat of a sultry jazz track. Matt was in his element, mixing a mojito for a giggling couple, his hands steady as he slipped into the storeroom for his ritual. The act was quick, the thrill of secrecy pushing him to climax, his cum mixing seamlessly with the mint and rum. He served the drink with a grin, watching the couple sip, oblivious to the forbidden ingredient that made their eyes widen with delight.
As the night wore on, a new face caught Matt’s attention—a man who sat alone at the far end of the bar, nursing a single drink. He was a stranger, his presence quiet but magnetic, his gaze lingering on Matt with an intensity that felt like a challenge. Matt felt a spark, his pulse quickening as he approached. “What can I get you?” he asked, leaning on the counter, his voice casual but curious.
The man smiled, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Something special,” he said, his tone low and suggestive. “I’ve heard your cocktails are… unforgettable.”
Matt’s heart skipped, but he kept his cool. “You heard right. How about a negroni? My own twist.” The man nodded, his smile sharpening. “Surprise me.”
Matt headed to the storeroom, his mind racing. The stranger’s gaze had felt like it saw through him, but that only heightened the thrill. He stroked himself, the image of the man’s lips on the glass pushing him to release. He mixed the cum into the negroni, the red hue hiding his secret, and served it with a steady hand. “Here you go,” he said, watching closely as the man took a slow sip.
“Damn,” the man said, licking his lips. “This is something else. What’s in it?”
Matt grinned, leaning closer. “Trade secret. You like it?”
The man’s eyes locked on his, a slow smile spreading. “Love it. Tastes like… you.” Matt’s breath caught, but he laughed it off, his nerves tingling. “Flatterer,” he said, turning to another customer, but the man’s words lingered, a tease that felt too close to the truth.
As closing time approached, the crowd thinned, but the stranger stayed, his stool a quiet island in the emptying bar. Matt called last orders, wiping down the counter, but the man ordered another cocktail—a martini this time. “Make it dirty,” he said, his voice a low purr. “Real dirty.”
Matt’s cock twitched, the innuendo unmistakable. He mixed the martini, his ritual in the storeroom more intense this time, the stranger’s gaze burned into his mind as he came. He served the drink, watching as the man sipped, his eyes never leaving Matt’s. “You’re good at this,” the man said, swirling the glass. “Got a name?”
“Matt,” he replied, his voice steady despite the heat pooling in his core. “You?”
“Gabriel,” the man said, his smile wicked. “You always this good with your hands, Matt?”
Matt chuckled, leaning on the counter, their faces close. “Only when I’m inspired. You sticking around?”
Gabriel’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping. “Thought I might. You mind?”
Matt shook his head, his pulse racing. “Not at all. Let’s close up.” He locked the doors, dimmed the lights, and poured them both a whiskey, the bar now a private stage. They sat in a booth, the air thick with unspoken tension. Gabriel leaned closer, his hand brushing Matt’s thigh. “Your cocktails,” he said, his voice low, “they’ve got something… personal about them. Care to share?”
Matt’s heart pounded, but he played it cool. “Just a lot of love,” he said, sipping his whiskey. Gabriel’s hand slid higher, his touch bold. “I bet it’s more than that,” he murmured, his lips close to Matt’s ear. “I like a man who puts himself into his work.”
Before Matt could respond, Gabriel’s lips were on his, the kiss slow and deliberate, tasting of whiskey and olives. Matt moaned, his body igniting, his cock hardening in his jeans. Gabriel’s hands roamed, tugging Matt’s shirt off, his fingers tracing Matt’s chest with a hunger that matched his own. “Been watching you all night,” Gabriel whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Knew you were trouble.”
Matt’s breath hitched, his hands fumbling with Gabriel’s shirt, stripping him bare. “You have no idea,” he said, his voice hoarse. Gabriel’s hand slid to Matt’s crotch, squeezing his bulge. “Show me,” he challenged, his eyes blazing.
Matt led Gabriel to the storeroom, the cramped space filled with crates and the faint scent of spilled liquor. The door clicked shut, sealing them in a world of their own. Gabriel pushed Matt against a stack of boxes, kissing him hard, their tongues tangling in a dance of need. “I want you,” Gabriel murmured, his hands unbuttoning Matt’s jeans, freeing his cock. Matt groaned as Gabriel’s fingers wrapped around him, stroking slowly, the touch firm but teasing.
“Fuck, Gabriel,” Matt gasped, his hands gripping Gabriel’s shoulders. Gabriel dropped to his knees, his breath hot against Matt’s cock. “Let’s see what makes your cocktails so special,” he said, his voice a low growl. He took Matt into his mouth, his lips sliding down the shaft, his tongue swirling with deliberate slowness, savoring every inch. Matt’s head tipped back, his moans echoing in the small space, his hands tangling in Gabriel’s hair. “Goddamn, you’re good,” he grunted, his hips rocking gently.
Gabriel sucked harder, his mouth a warm, wet vice, his hands cupping Matt’s balls, rolling them gently. “Taste as good as your drinks,” he murmured, pulling back to lick the tip, teasing the slit. Matt’s body trembled, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming, the thrill of his secret exposed adding a new edge. “Don’t stop,” he begged, his voice raw.
Gabriel stood, kissing Matt again, the taste of himself on Gabriel’s lips driving him wild. “Turn around,” Gabriel ordered, his voice firm. Matt obeyed, bracing his hands against the crates, his jeans around his ankles. Gabriel’s hands spread Matt’s cheeks, his tongue flicking against his hole, slow and exploratory. Matt moaned, his body arching, the sensation electric. “Fuck, Gabriel, that’s it,” he gasped, pushing back against Gabriel’s tongue.
Gabriel worked him over, his tongue plunging deeper, opening Matt up with slow, deliberate licks. “You’re so fucking tight,” he murmured, his fingers joining his tongue, slick with spit, stretching Matt slowly. Matt’s moans grew louder, his cock dripping onto the floor, the anticipation building. Gabriel stood, his own jeans hitting the ground, his cock pressing against Matt’s entrance. “You want this?” he asked, his voice thick with lust.
“Yes,” Matt groaned, his body trembling. “Fuck me.” Gabriel pushed in, slow and steady, the stretch intense but perfect. Matt gasped, his hands gripping the crates, the pain mingling with pleasure as Gabriel filled him, inch by inch. “God, you feel good,” Gabriel grunted, his hands gripping Matt’s hips, his thrusts starting slow, each one hitting deep.
“Harder,” Matt begged, his voice hoarse, his body rocking back to meet Gabriel’s thrusts. Gabriel obliged, his pace quickening, his cock slamming into Matt with raw force, the crates rattling with each thrust. “Take it, Matt,” he growled, his voice rough through clenched teeth. “Take every fucking inch.” Matt’s moans filled the storeroom, his body trembling, his cock throbbing untouched. “You love this, don’t you?” Gabriel taunted, leaning down to bite Matt’s shoulder, his breath hot against his skin.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” Matt cried, his body shaking with pleasure. The intensity built, their bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and liquor. Gabriel’s thrusts grew erratic, his groans louder. “Gonna cum,” he growled, and with a final, deep thrust, he spilled inside Matt, his cum hot and overwhelming. Matt’s orgasm hit, his cum splashing onto the crates as his body convulsed, the pleasure sharp and all-consuming.
They collapsed against the crates, panting, their bodies pressed close in the cramped space. Gabriel kissed Matt’s neck, his voice soft but teasing. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. Matt’s heart raced, a mix of relief and arousal. “You knew?” he asked, his voice shaky.
Gabriel chuckled, pulling back to meet Matt’s eyes. “Guessed. And I fucking love it.” They kissed again, slow and deep, the intimacy grounding them in the aftermath of their frenzy.
The night ended with the bar locked up, but Gabriel became a regular, his visits charged with their shared secret.
