GENRE: Contemporary • Erotic Romance • Fiction • Gay
LENGTH: 11,611 words
It's the early 1970's, and adult movie houses are the go-to places for men looking for something ... different. "Pubes" loves beer and anonymous trysts, though going all the way isn't his thing.
Then he meets Todd, a.k.a. "Kinky," who isn't like anyone he's ever known. The man has a few kinks Pubes hasn't encountered before now.
When Pubes' drinking takes a turn for the worse, he finds himself lost and alone. Will Kinky even want him back?
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.
Those were the years when handlebars were very popular with men. I tried to grow one, but rather than looking like a pensive John Lennon, my screwy, misaligned face always took on a mimic of Joseph Stalin, murderer of countless Russians.
“I love a beer after a day's work,” he continued. “Are you coming from work?”
By then he had moved nearer to me, our two pant sides gently rubbing and pressed against the other. I nodded.
“Work is work.” I shrugged, already thinking I should get another drink.
I looked at him. He scratched his arm, but since it was pressed against mine, he actually touched my own. I did not move away. I knew what was going on.
I yawned. “All I want to do is get in bed, relax, cuddle up with someone, and spend the night, you know?”
A dreamy expression crossed his face.
“Hmm, I’d love to get into bed with someone, too.” He gave his crotch a squeeze.
I instantly felt my own hard penis rising in my pants. It had been growing hard and stiff ever since he had sat down. The movement closer only intensified my arousal. I stretched my legs, certain that he saw the stiffness prodding at my pants.
“You live somewhere near here?” I asked.
He brightened. “Around the block, on 22nd ...”
We looked at each other. Only a moment remained before we were in each other’s arms.
“You have some beer up there?”
“Why yes,” he smiled and gripped my knee, rubbing and squeezing my leg up and down. “I have some bottles in the fridge just for you.”
I smiled back.
“Love to have a beer,” I said, then added, “with you.” I blushed.
We stood up.
“Sweet,” he whispered, still clutching my arm. “So very sweet.”