"Good evening, sir, what can I get you?"
"Vodka and tonic."
"One vodka and tonic coming right up, sir."
My customer was an attractive man with salt and pepper hair and yet he didn't look physically old enough to have almost totally grey hair. Handsome, he was tanned with a tight muscled frame, probably just under six feet. He was too rugged and masculine to be dressed in a tailored dark grey Armani suit. He looked wonderful but still out of place in the fancy duds. Military, not currently in the service, but he'd served before. Probably a twenty year man, like my father. I knew the type. Then he picked up his drink with his left hand. A West Point class ring, 1985, solid gold with the West Point seal instead of a gemstone. A gold wedding ring worn on the outside so the Academy crest is closest to the heart. Goddamn. He probably knew my father. Rich, too. A Vaucheron Constantin watch and Armani?. Shit. FUCKING rich. CEO, lawyer, doctor, born rich? I'd have to watch my P's & Q's.
"Not much of a crowd in the bar tonight, son."
"No, sir, it begins to wind down this time of night."
It was eleven P.M. in the bar in a fuck ass expensive hotel on the beach in Clearwater, Florida. I'd been working there for a month. I never dreamed I'd end up being a bartender but the tips are goddamn good and I need the money.
"What's your name, if you don't mind my asking?"
Mr. West Point looked at me with genuine interest.
He laughed. "Rowdy? Is that a nickname or the real deal?"
"Oh, it's a nickname, sir. Name's actually Clint but my Mom started calling me Rowdy from the start."
"Let me guess. Your Mom loves Clint Eastwood and she loved the old Rawhide television series."
I grinned. "I'll bet you're a detective, aren't you?"
He laughed again. "No, Rowdy, I wanted to be a detective when I was a boy but I grew up to become an attorney. It pays a hell of a lot more, the hours are better, and unless you really fuck up, no one shoots at you."
I was polishing glasses and cleaning the bar counter as he spoke.
"That's nice. You must enjoy it."
"Oh, it has its moments. I'd say your mother was pretty intuitive naming you Clint. And calling you Rowdy is right on the money. You could be Clint Eastwood's twin."
I stared at him. I'd heard this before. He took my stare as aggressive and became apologetic for the wrong reason.
"Sorry, Rowdy, I didn't mean you look like the man now. He's what, in his eighties? But I did watch the series when I was a kid and you do look like he did in the late fifties and early sixties. Hell, you're not his kid, are you? How old are you anyway?"
I smiled. "I'm not his kid and no offense taken. And I actually take after my father. He used to say Mom married him because he looked like her favorite movie star and SHE always said when he turned out to really be more like Dirty Harry than Rowdy Yates she divorced him."
"I'll bet that happens to movie stars all the time. People fall in love with the character they play. Then you get to know them better and find out they're really just pot smoking alcoholic neurotics. It happens in real life. Divorces happen every day because partners either don't live up to expectations or won't change to satisfy the other partner."
"Yeah, well, that changing part's not all it's cracked up to be. You change yourself so much you don't recognize yourself when you shave your face in the morning. Then your wife has no respect for you because you let her walk all over you. She divorces you anyway and moves on to the next man, her new makeover project."
"You sound bitter, Rowdy," he said softly. "It sounds like your own personal experience."
"Sorry, sir, didn't mean to bore you. You here for the conference?"
He touched my arm and I fought not to jerk away.
"You're not boring me, Rowdy. And my name's Richard, Richard Mayo. I understand exactly what you're saying, better than you think. I've been divorced four times myself. I swear I'm never going to marry again. And apparently you've had a nasty breakup or two yourself."
He was sincere but I felt there was something else at work here.
"Do you have children, Rowdy?"
"No, sir, Mr. Mayo. I can't say I'm sorry about that either. So which conference are you here for?"
"The bank management group." He sighed deeply. "Bank and management, now there's an oxymoron for you. Like sharp and dull. Trouble is, most of these people are dull. I haven't seen a sharp knife in this bunch yet. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here.
Mayo finished his drink and sat it on the counter.
"Pour me another one, Rowdy. Maybe if I drink enough I won't mind it so much."
I poured him three more over the next half hour and served a few other stragglers. Mayo called me to his end of the bar again.
"Pour me another, Rowdy."
"I don't mean to offend you, sir, but you've had enough tonight. Why don't you go up to your room and sleep this one off? I'm sure you've got a busy day tomorrow."
I saw a quick flash of anger before he reined it in. Suddenly everyone had gone and he was the only bar patron again.
He smiled. "What time does the bar close, Rowdy?"
"Shit. Long goddamn night for you. They mean to get every penny they can from the drunk tourists in this town, don't they?"
That was funny and I laughed sharply. He didn't know how right he was.
"I get off at midnight. Someone else is gonna finish the night shift."
His eyes bored into mine, refused to look away, and I wouldn't let him stare me down. He might have been a fucking general or something but I was a military brat. I outranked him.
"How old are you, Rowdy?"
"Would you please pour me just one more and then I promise I'll call it a night."
I gave him a cold stare and poured him another. I turned to finish up my chores. Margie was a fucking bitch if she had to do anything other than pour a few drinks in the few hours of the AM shift. The shit she'd stir up with her complaints was not worth the price of pissing her off just for grins. And the stupid cunt's job was to clean the bar, a janitor of sorts who was also required to serve drinks to the few idiots who showed up in the wee hours of the morning.
"What would it take to get you to come up to my room tonight, Rowdy?"
His voice was low and I was stunned. I turned to him and saw the naked pain in his eyes. It took a lot of courage, vodka courage, for him to get to the point.
"Please," he whispered. "I want you tonight. I'm dying here."
I made a quick decision. I'd never had sex with a man before. I'd fucked a few women before who'd come on to me in the bar but I was careful. Management had strict rules about sex with the guests of the hotel. They'd fire you instantly and poison the well for you in the hotel industry. Shit, in this economy you'd be lucky to get another job. Sex with hotel guests can lead to legal charges of prostitution, can ruin a hotel's reputation permanently. If hotel management had its way, they'd make us wear chastity belts while we were on the premises.
"What's your room number, sir?"
I swallowed hard. What was I doing? He was probably a goddamn plant sent in to test me. I suddenly expected to be fired.
Mayo looked so relieved that I'd asked for his room number I knew he was on the level.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Go to your room, sir. I'll be along in about half an hour."
He grinned. "I'll be waiting for you, Rowdy. You won't regret it."
He turned and left the bar. I was regretting it already but I was too far in. I could choose not to show up but then the bank assholes were going to be here the whole goddamn week. I couldn't face him again if I didn't keep my word.
He was my first man. When I started working at the bar I was trained by Steve, a sexy gay man in his late forties, who worked the day shift. He wasn't effeminate. You couldn't tell he was gay unless you were around him for several hours and he relaxed. Then he'd make some way off-color jokes or maybe it was something about the way he held his head, his walk, the way he'd look at you if he decided he liked you; all changes that didn't appear unless he totally relaxed in your company, when he turned Steve Serious to the off position. Any man with halfway decent gaydar would pick up on his homosexuality after that. It hadn't taken me more than twenty minutes before I caught him staring at my ass and I knew. He'd just grinned but he never made a pass at me. I wasn't sure why not. It's crazy. Most straight men get offended when homosexuals make a pass at them but then they really get pissed off when a gay guy totally ignores them. You think you've lost your sex appeal completely if you can't attract a queer.
Somehow I think Steve knew that and he played with me. He teased me a lot about being a cowboy, even brought me a cowboy hat as a gift on my birthday a week after I'd been hired. But he never made the slightest move on me. Instead he talked about the money I could make with my ass, my looks. He told me about the desperate women in the bar, women who would give anything to be fucked by a good looking young man, their chance to feel young and desirable again. Of course, he said, some had never been desirable but people like to have sex and money's money. He confessed he'd made a lot of money using his ass while working in the bar.
He told me the most money comes from the men. The men who are on vacation in a hotel at one the most famous beaches in the world, seeing all the sexy men and women cavort in the surf in miniscule bathing suits. Men who are straight but in our sexual environment want to experiment with one of the studs they see wearing next to nothing. Steve told me he was paid five thousand dollars one night to fuck a U.S. Senator, a man who had been on the national political stage for over thirty years, had even been considered for the vice-presidency once; a man in a celebrated marriage who just wanted Steve to fuck him in the ass all night long. Steve laughed and said he'd taken a dildo with him to the man's room. After all, he couldn't fuck him all night long but Steve said the dildo did the job and he'd performed the task himself twice that night. The grateful politician had given Steve a handful of hundred dollar bills and thanked him profusely for making love to him. The handful of bills had totaled five thousand dollars. The senator had stayed at the hotel several times over the years, each time asking Steve to his room, and forming a loving and friendly relationship that no one knew about. I'd wondered which Senator it was. We have many politicians who stay with us, lots of celebrities, but gays have tight lips. They like to gossip like most men but I'd never known one to out another man, to kiss and tell. They'd rip a female to shreds over her lack of taste, criticize, and gossip like housewives on a reality show but never squeal on a straight man.
I knocked on the door and Richard Mayo answered at once, barefoot, wet hair, and wearing a robe.
"Come in, Rowdy," he said nervously.
I walked in more nervous than he, suddenly afraid of what might happen. My memory flashed to a movie I'd seen years ago where a handsome man murders male prostitutes. The murders were fucking brutal. Mayo stepped back into the room and stood by the balcony door.
"Take your clothes off," he ordered.
I'd never undressed in front of a man in this situation and I was embarrassed. I slipped my shoes off and toed my socks off, laughing to myself. Your feet are naked, Rowdy, I thought, now comes the hard part. I pulled my shirt over my head and I saw him watching me, naked lust in his eyes. I stretched and yawned, nervous as hell, and deliberately flexing my muscles. Might as well give him a show. I unbuckled my belt and the jeans button before unzipping them, looking at his face as he watched my hands. I couldn't do it. I couldn't drop my pants in front of another man like this with him watching me. I turned my back on him and dropped my jeans and boxers to the floor in one move. I heard him whistle softly. I turned around and looked at the floor. I didn't have an erection, wasn't sure if I would even be able to get it up.
"Goddamn, Rowdy, you're fucking gorgeous, you know that? Fucking gorgeous. How big's your dick, eight, nine inches?"
I didn't reply and I blushed, my face burning hot. I knew my body was in good shape. I worked out every day, ran on the beach, played beach volleyball, swam. I was a bartender who never drank a drop. Alcohol makes me puke every time. The doctors tell me my body has a metabolic intolerance for alcohol and rejects it immediately as a foreign invader. Things the body immediately rejects either get evicted by vomiting or diarrhea. I'm six feet, four inches tall, slender and muscled, with almost no body hair, just the dark brown curls under my arms and above my penis. Faint rings of hair around my nipples, a thin dark trail of hair from my belly button to my pubic bush, and a dust of hair on my lower legs, otherwise a tan hard body with a white ass that's never seen the sun.
I looked at his face. Mayo's face was flushed and I could see his erection poking like a stick into his robe. I felt almost faint and I turned around again, humiliated that I'd come to his room. For the first time in a long time I was totally panicked and afraid I might cry. Shit. I hadn't cried in years. But I'd never stripped off naked in front of another man so he could ogle me before he fucked me either. Suddenly I felt him behind me, his erection poking into my ass, his arms surrounding me, his lips kissing the back of my neck.
"Don't be so shy, Rowdy, you act like you've never had sex before. A good looking boy like you, I'll bet you've been fucking like a bunny since you hit puberty."
His teeth nipped at my ear and kissed my neck.
"What happened here?" he asked softly. "It looks like a rope scar."
I froze. I'd forgotten about the scar around my neck. In a panic, I simply told him the truth.
"I hung myself, tried to commit suicide a few years ago. Obviously it didn't work," I managed to croak out from the bottom of my gut.
He kissed my neck gently.
"I'm sorry. You're too beautiful for that, Rowdy. And I don't just mean what I can see of your body. You've got a good soul. You're a good man. Trust me. I've had to make this judgment call thousands of times in my life. Why do you think I risked everything I have to ask you up here tonight? You're a man of honor, Rowdy. It's a rare thing in this world today."
Just as I was digesting what he'd said to me he pushed me face down on the bed. His hands pulled my buttocks apart and I felt his hot breath on my ass just before his tongue licked my asshole. I jerked and he held me down, strong and in control. I closed my eyes and buried my face in the pillow. He kissed and licked my ass for the next half hour or so and I felt the rasp of his beard scrape the soft skin of my buttocks. He was only a few hours away from his morning shave and it showed. Now I knew what my ex-wife had complained about when I'd put my face in her pussy before shaving in the morning.
I felt something cold as he poured some sort of lubricant on my asshole. His fingers rubbed it in and a finger penetrated me. Then he rolled me over and sat straddling my chest, his erect cock in my face. I saw his fully naked body for the first time. He had less body hair than me, none on his chest or legs, only a few strands under his arms, and a small patch of black curls above his dick. His erect dick was maybe six inches, maybe less but it was thick like a goddamn arm. There was a huge purple vein running down one side and a pronounced circumcision scar, and the head of it looked like a peach, dark pink with the piss slit long and dripping his semen. He handed me a condom.
"Put it on with your teeth," he ordered, his eyes dancing with amusement.
I put the condom in my mouth and almost giggled. I wasn't sure I could do this and I had a vision of a police report stating I'd died from a condom lodged in my throat. I carefully held it between my teeth and lips before putting my mouth on his cock. I had a sudden thought that with my luck the condom was in my mouth backward and I'd have to take it out and start over again. I really did giggle then and Mayo smiled and ran his fingers through my hair gently.
"This is fun, huh?" he laughed softly. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, Rowdy."
I carefully rolled the condom over his cock as he pushed it into my mouth, the tip finally pushing against the back of my throat as my nose pressed into his pubic hair. He sat still for a minute and then leaned over me, fucking my mouth like a pussy. After a couple of minutes of being face fucked, he twisted off me and rolled me on my stomach again. He pushed my thighs apart and then held my buttocks open wide before I felt his cock touch my asshole. The moment of truth. I buried my face in the pillow again as I felt the thickness of his cock press against the hole. He made a few preliminary pushes and stroked my ass with his fingers.
"Push out like you do when you shit, Rowdy. Strain against my cock like you do when you're constipated. It'll be easier that way."
I did as he asked and he pushed again. I felt and heard his cock as it entered my ass. I gasped, almost screamed.
"Whoa, cowboy, don't buck me off yet. We'll take it slow. I know my cock's thicker than most."
He pushed in small increments with me gasping at each move, now biting the pillow, keeping my eyes closed throughout the ordeal. Eventually I felt his pubic hair against my ass, his balls hanging on mine, and I knew he was all the way in. Mayo leaned over my back and I felt him kiss my shoulders. He began to push his cock slowly, small retractions and re-entries, never fully pulling out. I relaxed. He was fucking me like I fucked women. Suddenly the sphincter muscle was totally relaxed and his entry was smooth, slippery from all the lubricant. Mayo lowered his body onto mine, his full weight on my back. He kissed and licked my neck, my earlobes, and he pulled my hair gently with his teeth.
He began to rock on me and suddenly he was fucking me for all he was worth, his cock pulling all the way out before slamming back in to the hilt. What had been painful was now pleasurable and I started moaning with each thrust. I felt like I'd never felt before and wondered if this was how women felt when men fucked them. Mayo kept at it, fucking me like an animal, grunting, cursing, biting my back. He grabbed my hair with his hand and pulled my head back, turning my face toward him. He kissed me gently, a surprise considering the force with which he was fucking my ass.
I let him slide his tongue in my mouth and had a sudden thought from high school locker room jeers. It's okay to let a queer suck your dick occasionally, you can even let him kiss your lips and body if it gets him off while he sucks you. But if you let him put his tongue in your mouth that means you're enjoying it way too much. Then I laughed inside, amused at my thought. The jeers had been about the rules of letting a queer give you head, all in place so a guy could get his rocks off pleasurably when no girl would oblige. Letting a guy fuck you in the ass was beyond the pale. I'd definitely gone over the dark side.
Mayo's fucking became frantic as his orgasm neared and my nervousness was gone, no more pain, only pleasure and I enjoyed what he was doing, loved it as I'd never loved anything before. I'd barely had an erection through this and suddenly I had a raging hard on pressing into the bed. Mayo's cock was slamming into me as he'd pull it all the way out before smashing it into me again. I could hear the suction sounds of the thick lubricant in my asshole and on his condom. I felt his balls slam into mine with each hit and then it was too much. I pushed against him and began to convulse, becoming the bucking bronco he'd teased me about.