Back in the Game

Chapter 3: Destination, Briefs Bar-2

Partially naked men danced around us inside the queer bar. Pointed n*****s brushed against my arms. A denim-covered c**k poked my ass.

One guy even kissed the length of my neck and whispered, “If the dude you’re with happens to dump you, I’ll take you home with me.”

When had I visited the Briefs Bar last? Honestly, I couldn’t remember. It was some time ago, more than eight months, and long before Aaron and I had a month-long s****l fling together. I think a guy from Stockton County, Oklahoma, picked me up, took me back to his hotel room, and had his cowboy way with me. Who didn’t like to be man-handled by a real cowboy, right? But that’s another story, and I’d rather not stray from the topic of spending an evening with the tight end at my side.

No matter how long ago I had visited the Briefs Bar, I enjoyed the place. The Fun hits were festive, the semi-naked dancing was steamy hot, and the shirtless bartenders were appealing. Even the smell of m*******a pleasured my senses, as well as the hustlers against the wall looking for tricks to blow in the back alley.

Of course, my dancing with Aaron was limited due to my rebuilt ankle. All three doctors who reconstructed that part of my body would have surely agreed the activity was strictly off-limits. The professionals’ scripted advice didn’t deter me from allowing the tight end’s arms to wrap around my body and hold me against his hulking chest, though.

In truth, he did all the dancing. I turned to mush in his arms, wooed by his good manners. I enjoyed his musky aroma, captured like a damsel in distress by his uber-sweet spell. I didn’t push him away when he kissed me in a sultry and mind-numbing way. We stayed there, among the frisky bar men and their flaming cocktails and bitchy bantering.

My mind floated a bit to a time and place when we had been lovers for approximately thirty days. I had felt the same way then as now: glowing, charmed, and mesmerized. Willingly, I had opened my heart to the man back then. I sort of carried out the same achievement while we danced in the present. Huddled against him, I listened to his heartbeat because my left cheek and ear were positioned on his solid chest. Breaking down my emotional wall from his hurt seemed much easier than I anticipated. No longer was I thinking of the heartbreak he had caused me because of his s****l affair with Marcus Mulldone. Instead, I felt a smidgen in love again with the football player. I claimed him mine and imagined our hearts woven together as one.

We had a slew of drinks, a few dances, and some heavy petting on the dance floor and bar area. He eventually leaned into me and pressed his soft lips against the roundness of my earlobe.

“We should go back to my place?” he whispered.

“What exactly do you intend to do with me there?”

“Make you be the bottom you were always so good at.”

“What if I told you I was no longer a bottom?”

He laughed, playing along with my joke. “That day will never come.”

“Something tells me you want to come tonight.”

He laughed again and dragged me out of the bar with every intention of taking advantage of me all through the night.

* * * *

Frankly, I was not the type of man to f**k just anyone. I had morals and a high standard concerning the c***s I sucked and rode. My intimate activities with men—those few sleepovers that occurred in my twenties—were not simply based on feeling horny. I had to get to know the guy first. Then I could allow him in my mouth or bottom. Never was I keen on one-night stands. That is why I decided to let the tight end take me back to his condo where he could use me the way he intended.

The two of us had a history together, and one I had enjoyed. To sleep with Aaron seemed like the right thing to do. To spend the entire night with the man was another story. In due time, I would know if I wanted to have breakfast in the morning with him or not. Time was of the essence, of course, like all healthy relationships.