This is a work of fiction based on a fact. The conversation did take place, however the kiss did not. I just wanted to create something new for a change and Gyp's answer to a post reminded me of a chat I'd had with a lovely gay man I had back in the 70's. So i did this and posted it in the Bar. i felt that because I wanted it critted, The bar wasn't the place to put it, so I took it out and created more here. Thanks, Bri.
Been There, Done That
I was a Night-Club bouncer in my early twenties. I had women falling for me regularly. This isn't a boast. I think the idea of going out with a bouncer may have been the main attraction, or they got in the Night-club without paying. Either way, it seemed to be girl-heaven for me. But I digress. One night a gorgeous feller came in, and later in the night we got talking. He was a foreign exchange student from . . . one of the colonies, I think? He had a beautiful toned athletic body, with curly tousled blond hair and a great personality. He dressed casually but I could see by the way he comported himself that he'd thought about his dress sense and everything he had on probably felt right for him. He'd had an interesting life, but he wasn't a blow-hard as most of the guys were in those days. He'd engaged my interest by being funny. This always attracted me to girls back then.
Not for me the blonde bombshell with the big boobies or the nice backside. It always had to be about the humour or just a good personality and the ability to talk. Hell, it still did.
I could tell from his mannerisms and his affect that he was probably gay. The longing looks, sipping his drink rather than gulping it down like a drowning man trying to swallow an ocean. Checking out the fellers as they passed. An arched eyebrow delivering an internal verdict. So I asked him? In those days of finding out things about life and different tastes, I was curious about everything. But never judgemental. I felt pretty sure of his answer anyway.
As the night wore on we were chatting every time I passed by on my rounds in the club. On my break I sat with him in one of the dark cubicles, screened off from the rest of the patrons. It amazed me sometimes the goings-on in those cubicles, All the Bouncers had to break couples apart at odd times in the night, and turn a hose on some of them, the inter-action was that hot. I knew we had privacy of a sort for at most ten minutes before another Bouncer would get suspicious. So feeling adventurous, I asked him, and he confirmed my suspicions. I floored him when i then asked if I could kiss him, just in the interests of curiosity? I felt this was my life and I'd do what I damn well pleased. I could see him weighing up the question. The confusion he felt must have been tremendous, it seemed that way as his eyes darted to the entrance of the booth as if expecting to see the rest of the guys standing there ready to pounce on him, or maybe just to see if he could get out quickly, if he needed to. Was I joking maybe, so if he said yes he'd be thrown out of the club? Or worse?
I must admit, it was different, but he kissed brilliantly. He wasn't a "bugler" I'm sure girls know what I mean by this? He was just as nervous as me, but for different reasons. He may have thought I was winding him up? Setting himself up for a kicking! It did happen in those days. The kicking, not the experimental-kissing. So I suspected why he felt nervous. We were sitting opposite each other in the booth, but leaning over, as we slowly closed the gap between us. He looked at me as if it could be a challenge, but still inching ever closer. The tension felt palpable now, but I enjoyed the whole thing so there'd be no way I'd back down now. Finally, our lips met.
At first just a tentative gentle whisper of a touch. Then more firmly.
We kissed like this for about 10 seconds, then I felt the tip of his tongue exploring, probing the outside of my lips. At first I was shocked, I wasn't expecting things to go this far. I thought we'd embarrassedly pull away, laughing and have another drink. Thinking to myself, "in for a penny" and throwing any hesitation out the door, I parted my lips to let his tongue enter my mouth. It slid gently inside, I still had my lips pursed as if about to whistle, but gradually as I gained more confidence I parted them fully. His tongue tasted sweet. A total surprise. It tasted of sweet alcoholic sugar, but with a hint of minty-ness. It did feel funny to me, like kissing your sister or your auntie. Nice, but strange and definately no tongue! I remember feeling amused because he kissed me as if I were his date. He'd laid his palm gently on the side of my cheek, caressing me as we kissed.
His other hand grasped the back of my head pulling me further into his embrace. After about a minute of this, his breathing became very heavy. He'd clearly been turned on. This is the point I realised I wasn't gay, because I didn't! I did close my eyes for the briefest moment, but I never felt the need to lift one leg up like Doris Day when she got kissed by one of the leading men in her movies. To me it simply felt like something I had to do. I did it in my early teens with a girl, who was I to deny Gay people a chance to experience me? But it wasn't to be, I'm afraid. I was strictly a Ladies-Man. I started to kiss girls like this myself later because it felt better that way. So i suppose he did tutor me in his own small way. I never had any complaints when kissing from then on.
Cheers. Bri.
