The Swallow

I don't know why I choose the Swallow as my local. Maybe it's the name or the friendly but quiet atmosphere. Gone are the days when locals could sit at the bar and swap stories. Social distancing put a stop to that. Now it was table service only. But still, it wasn't overcrowded and most definitely not any yobbos or rowdy drinkers. Piped music in the background generally played a lot of 60's and 70's ballads.

There is always enough light for me to indulge in my favourite pastime of people watching, which I do most nights. I try to make it for eight each evening. It allows me to avoid those drinkers that visit on the way home from work. I sussed them out straight away. They were trying to avoid going home to a nagging wife and screaming kids. Another advantage of arriving by eight is that I can avoid the crowd meeting before going somewhere else that evening.

The tables are generally filled up by nine, leaving me nowhere to sit, and the noise level rises. By ten-thirty, it starts to empty again. That is my favourite time. I'm usually starting on my third glass of red wine by then.

I sit at my usual table and signal across the bar to Jenny that I am settled for the evening. You know you have been drinking in one place too long when the bar staff don't even have to ask you what you are drinking. "How are you tonight, Bobbie?" Jenny said as she put a bottle of Merlot and empty glass on my table.

"The usual. Horny has hell from writing erotica all day."

She laughs. "What have you been writing about today?"

I laugh too because she knows exactly what I'm going to say. "A special story about a man in his sixties getting off with a barmaid in her twenties."

"Well, that won't be me after tonight. It's my birthday tomorrow. I will be thirty." She says the same thing every evening. I think it is her way of telling me she isn't interested. She is petite and attractive, with fair hair, not quite blonde. And not a stack of makeup. Small breasts and a pert bottom. Just the way I like it.

It is harmless banter, but I know that I will have my cock in my hand thinking about Jenny while I fire one off before bed a few hours later. And that thought makes my cock twitch in anticipation. My sexual energy is as taut as a crossbow string ready for firing its bolt. That level of sexual energy is an occupational hazard for an erotic storyteller.

"Just shout if you want anything!" And she giggles as she turns away and wiggles her arse all the way to the bar. Sometimes, I think she is taking the piss, but it is worth it just to see that arse wiggle. I pour my first glass of Merlot, take a sip and close my eyes, imagining that I am sipping it from one of Jenny's nipples.

I am sure she knows what I think because she looks over from the bar and winks at me, and I wink back at her and blow her a kiss. I look at my inbox and see that I have another request for a story. It is from a guy that thinks he is straight. He wants to hear about me massaging his wife while he is there. That will be an easy one to write. I will adapt a story I wrote before called 'So You Think You are Straight.'

Writing that one convinced me that I was lying to myself if I said I was straight. It was more about convenience. Yes, I think Jenny is hot, but it is easier to get off with a man than with a woman at the end of the day. Two men searching for sexual satisfaction, each have the same goal. There is no cat and mouse story, no need to seduce with a meal or expensive gifts. Straight forward. Do you want an orgasm? So do I. Let's do it.

My crossbow string is stretched so tight that I will settle for anything other than my right hand bringing me off. It is the way I feel most days after ten hours of writing erotica.

Here we go; the tables are filling up. You approach me and ask if anyone is sitting at the table with me. I signal that you are welcome to sit at the table. I put my phone away because I don't want you to feel that I am trying to make you feel awkward.

"Is anyone else joining you?" I ask, trying to make polite conversation.

"Er, no. I was supposed to be meeting my wife here, but she has just called to say she had to dash off to her ill mother in Cheltenham."

"I hope she is OK. The mother, I mean."

"How do you order drinks here?"

I wave at Jenny and signal towards you. "Jenny will come and take your order."

"That Jenny looks a lot like my wife. Just a little younger."

"I better not tell you what I think about Jenny then." And I laugh.

Jenny takes your order and returns to the bar to collect your lager. As she comes back with your drink, she has a big grin on her face. I know she is going to restart the banter again. "When are you going to write a new story for me?"

"What, where a sixty-something writer gets off with a barmaid in her thirties?"

"Oh, I was going to say that line."

"You keep wiggling your behind at me, and I will write the story tomorrow. This gentleman, er." And I signal towards you.

"Um, Mike."

"This gentleman, Mike, says that you look like his wife. I say lucky Mike."

"I say lucky Mike's wife." And she gives you the biggest grin.

As she turns around, she wiggles her arse again. "If I might be so bold as to ask, but does her arse remind you of your wife?"

You laugh. I can see you aren't offended. It is clear that you have picked up on the banter. "Actually, yes, it does, and I will miss it. She was gone for three weeks the last time she went to Cheltenham."

"You probably need to get yourself a wrist support." I hold up my glass of wine, "Cheers. I hope I haven't offended you by being so blunt. But Jenny's flirting all the time gets me like that. And it isn't helped by my occupation.

"No, I'm not offended. I like the familiarity. It makes me feel like I belong here. I usually hate the awkwardness of going into a strange pub."

"Of course, you belong. Everyone belongs in the Swallow unless they're a teenage tearaway or a twenty-something lout."

"So tell me, what is your occupation?"

"I'm a writer. Predominately, erotic fiction. It makes me horny, and Jenny knows that, and that is why she flirts so outrageously."

"What type of erotica do you write?"

"Anything and everything. I use swinging sites to ply my trade and get inspiration. I offer to personalise stories and feed the readers' imagination. To take them to realms they never thought possible."

"A bit of a stupid question to ask an author, but are you any good? Is there much money in it?"

"Money only comes when you publish. When I have enough stories written, I aim to put them in an anthology. Then I will publish it, and the money will come in. And as for the quality, readers come back time after time for another story. So, I think I must be reasonable at it."

"Do you have one I could read?"

"I have them all on the PC at home. But I have access to a couple on my phone. It depends on your flavour of erotica, whether I can let you read one now."

"I am straight."

"I guessed that. All guys are straight until they get desperate." And I laughed. "What about your wife? How do you feel about guys ogling her? For example, you said Jenny looked like your wife, and I have made it clear that I would give Jenny a good seeing to."

You squirm slightly in your seat. "I am usually quite possessive, but how you just described that affected me."

"OK, here is one you will either love or hate." I flick through my phone and pull up the source document. "This one is called So You Think You are Straight. It developed for a guy that longed to see another man having sex with his wife."

I pass you my phone, and you start to read the story. Meanwhile, I signal to Jenny to bring you another lager and to bring another bottle of Merlot across for me. She approaches while you are engrossed in the story. She nods towards you and winks at me. I nod my head back at her. "Keep the lagers coming for Mike." You are obviously engrossed in the story.

You finally surface. "Bloody hell. That's hot!" And you empty your first glass and start straight away on the second lager."

"I need to pee. Excuse me." And you hand me back my phone.

I put a beer mat on top of each of our glasses. "I will join you; this wine is going through me."

The urinal in the Swallow is one of those metal full wall ones. The ones without the modesty barrier between the guys stood at it. I flop out my semi-erect cock with its precum soaked end. And glance across to see your cock is in a similar state. I nod down towards it. "I can tell you enjoyed the story. Which bit did you like best?"

"The bit where me and my wife were spit-roasting you."

"You liked the bit where I was sucking your cock? And I thought you were straight." And I roar with laughter before shaking my cock and rubbing the foreskin backwards and forwards a few times. Like the start of a slow wank. I look up at you, and your eyes are glued to what my hand is doing to my cock. You mirror my actions on your own member. You blush slightly when you realise that I am looking directly at your face.

"Come on. We've got drinks to finish." I put my cock back in my pants and walk back to the bar. Not in the least bothered that Jenny can see the bulge in my trousers. The exhibitionist in me loved the thought that she was looking at my groin area. I notice she is also looking at yours. Even though you are behind me, I can tell by her grin that you are still hard.

"So, now we have had a pee together and seen each other's cocks. Have you ever had any gay or bi experiences?"

"No, not really. But when I look at porn, I enjoy seeing the cum shots of the blokes. But that is hardly classed as experience."

"But it is the basis for fantasy. How do you feel about a guy sucking your cock?"

"I reckon I might enjoy it. But don't know how I would feel."

"Do you do much driving?"

"Yes, I am a Senior Manager. I travel a lot."

I pick up my phone and scroll through the few stories I have on there. "Read this. And imagine you are in the viewpoint of the writer." I passed you my phone, and there is a story entitled Richards First Bisexual Experience.

You take the phone, and I see you again starting to adjust yourself. I imagine your cock is starting to get hard again, and you are trying to get more comfortable. I signal to jenny to bring another lager for you.

"Stop reading for a minute and finish your drink. Jenny is fetching another one. Imagine that Jenny puts your drink down, drops to her knees, and moves under the table. Imagine she is sucking your cock."

You neck your drink before continuing to read.

"Whereabouts are you in the story?"

"I am busting for a pee and about to walk into the woods."

"Perfect timing. I need to pee again. Are you coming with me?"

"Umm." You pause. You are wavering, but you opt for the answer I expected. "OK."

We both find it harder to get our cocks out at the urinal this time. I get mine out, and it stands proudly to attention. You are still trying to sort out the logistics of getting a hard cock out of boxers and trousers. Suddenly it is out.

I step a little closer and take hold of your cock. I slowly move your foreskin back and forth. "How's that?"

You don't answer. You just groan. I drop to my knees and take your cock into my mouth for the shortest moment. Just enough for me to swirl my tongue around your tip. I finish with a strong suck that clears all of your precum from the end of your cock.

I stand back up. "Now you can say that you have had a bisexual experience." I put my cock back into my pants. And turn and walk out of the toilet. I am already sitting at the table when you return a few minutes later. As you go to sit, I can see you are still hard.

Once you have sat down, I reach across under the table and run my hand over your groin. "You are still nice and hard. I thought you might have had a wank to relieve yourself."

You laugh nervously. "Don't be embarrassed. It is no different than playing a game of cards together. Except it isn't cards, it is cocks."

"What is your wife's name?"

"Sharon."

"What does Sharon do when you get into that state?"

"If I'm lucky, she would suck it for me."

"And in the toilets just now. How did I rate compared to Sharon?"

"I can't say because she will do it for longer, and you only did it for a few seconds."

"Would you have liked me to do it for a bit longer?"

"Yes. I was gagging to cum at that point."

"And let me guess. You didn't relieve yourself because you hope that I will finish the job for you."

"Would you do that?"

"Of course. As I said, it is like a game of cards. It wouldn't be fair for me to stop playing in the middle of a game. I just won't do it yet. I want you to read some more of my stories first. Talking of which, you haven't finished Richards first Bisexual Experience. But down that lager, and I will get you another one."

"I will be drunk at this rate."

"No, you won't. You will just be free of your inhibitions. One more, and I can show you more stories."

Jenny has a big grin on her face as she brings your lager over and sees that my hand is still resting on your groin. She knows exactly what I am up to. She has seen it so many times before. In the story, you must be up to the point where the stranger in the woods has Richard's cock in his hand. I give your cock a slight squeeze, and it responds with a pulse. I look at Jenny, and she is staring at my hand on your groin and the outline of your dick twitching in my hand. She licks her lips, and I give her a slight nod. She knows where this is going. Before Jenny goes, I ask you, "Has the stranger started sucking Richard's cock yet?"

Your response "mmmm."

Jenny's response is to walk away giggling. I just watch her wiggling her arse back towards the bar. I give your cock one last squeeze and remove my hand.

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Oh my god. Yes, I did. It mirrored what I thought when we were at the urinal."

I just smiled, knowing that I had got into your head and fed your imagination.

"Would you describe yourself as straight, gay or bisexual?"

"When I first came in here, I was one hundred per cent straight. But you have shown me that I am probably bisexual."

"Where would you say that you are on a scale of one to ten? One is one hundred per cent straight, and ten is one hundred per cent gay."

"Probably at the lower end of the scale. One or two."

I smile at you. "We will see! If you are up for it, we can go back to my place, and I have more stories for you to read. Do you fancy that? Then maybe we can finish the game of cards I spoke about."

You were quick to understand what I was suggesting.

"Yes, I would enjoy finishing our game."

You neck your lager, and I empty my wine glass. There was still almost a whole bottle of wine left. "We can take this back to mine, and you can help me finish it off. I will go and pay the bill. It will be a chance to get your hard-on comfortable before standing up. The drinks are on me."

I give Jenny my debit card, and she asks, "What is the score tonight?"

"Definitely more than a two. He has proved that already. But he has another six stories to read yet. I reckon he will bottom out at a six." Stressing the word bottom.

She laughs. "You are so naughty. Sometimes, you worry me that you will try to get into my head."

I laugh back. "Oh, I am already inside there. I just haven't locked myself in yet."

***

I log into my computer and navigate to the folder called scale. I scroll past a file named 'One -- So you think you are straight'. Also, I skip the file called 'Two - Michaels first Bisexual Experience'. I open the file called 'Three - The Cuckold'. I pour both of us a glass of wine. "Read this one. And see if you enjoy it."

I start to busy myself tidying up my shit hole to let you get on with the story. It is about a guy who uses his mouth to clean up his wife's fanny after another bloke has cum inside her. You are squirming on the computer chair. I imagine that you are getting hard from reading the story. I am getting hard with anticipation. I am eager to see how far along the scale you get.

You finish reading the story. "Oh my god. That is such a turn on."

"Do you like the idea of tasting cum?"

"I had never thought about it before. But after that story, I will add it to my bucket list."

"Before the next story. How do you feel about us being naked together?"

"Well, given what happened in the pub. Like you said. It is just a game of cards."

I laugh. "And I have just raised you."

I spend no time getting naked. My erect cock is pointing directly at you, and I have a string of precum dangling from the tip. "Ever tasted precum?"

"No, never."

"Try it!" And I take a step towards you. You don't need asking a second time as you drop to your knees and lick my cock clean. I think to myself: Oh, you are much more than a one or two on the scale.

You stand again and point your erection towards me. It would seem that you are expecting the favour to be returned. I just smile. "Later. You have another story to read."

I close 'Three' and open the 'Four -- The Stepson' file' You sit yourself, and your precum soaked cock back at the computer. And start reading.

I no longer busy myself with other things. The story you are reading is the first one where two men, a stepfather and his adult stepson, stumble across each other on a swinging website. It climaxes with the pair swallowing each other's cum after sixty-nine oral sex. It is the first story that contains preplanned male to male activity. No ladies are allowed or invited.

I have my eyes fixed firmly on your cock. A long string of precum connects you to the computer chair like a fluid umbilical cord. I move close to you, and my cock brushes your shoulder. My own precum now smeared on your flesh. You turn your head towards me and lick the tip of my cock, before returning to the story. I leave my cock touching your shoulder.

You finish the story with a long groan. "I want to sixty-nine with you." And this is a landmark statement. It is the first time that you have requested something. "Maybe later. But stand up for a minute."

You follow my command. I drop to my knees and take your cock fully into my mouth. As soon as the tip is cleaned, I get up and sit on the edge of the computer chair. I can feel the cooled precum you deposited on the seat against my arse. I close file number four and open 'Five -- The Giver.'

I give your cock a squeeze as we exchange places. "Have you ever had anal sex with your Sharon?"

"No. I don't think she would go for that. I've never even asked her, and it has never appealed to me."

"Really? Read the story." And I gesture at the computer screen.

Your erection has subsided slightly. I guess it is the talk of anal sex. Maybe you are just a four, but I feel that deep down, you could be a six. Time will tell.

This story is about a guy, Dave, that is out on a stag night with his mates. The groom, Steve, wants one last sexual experience before being anchored to a wife. Steve wants to experience what it might be like to have a man have anal sex with him. Steve wants Dave to be the one to take his anal cherry. It describes Dave's sensations as he inserts his rock-hard cock up Steve's arse.

You aren't even halfway through the story, and I can see your erection is harder than ever. I now know that you would be at least a five. You are happy to be a top. You continue to squirm in the computer chair. I can see the pressure your swollen veins are putting on your cock. I imagine it is starting to ache about now. I reach down and grab it, swirling my thumb around your glans.

"You like this story, uh?" Your only response is to groan. "I bet your cock is aching. How would you like to fuck my arse?"

"Oh. Yes, please."

"Which bit do you like best?"

"The bit where I thrust in deep. I can feel your arse cheeks against my groin as I shoot my red hot cum into your arse."