The First Time Pt. 02

Pitching up, we were a little early, a few of Will's friends were there, it was already packed, but there was no sign of Mike. As we said our hellos, I looked around to see if I could see him, trying to play it cool. I didn't know what I would do if he was here and my sweaty hands shook gently with fear and anticipation as my eyes darted about wildly.

We did our usual thing. Danced, drank and were social. For my part I probably started a little quick, sinking two for every time they had one, but I couldn't help it. You see, I was in some manic situation. I drank nervously, and quickly, watching as Will talked and flirted with Simon, my eyes scanning the club anxiously for a sight of Mike. Strangely I was kind of jealous, but I desperately tried to let it go.

Don't let it be all weird, I said to myself. But how do you play normal, when everything has suddenly shifted and turned itself upside down? How do you pretend as if nothing has happened?

Simon joined us, and he and Will were very friendly with each other, our circle commented a few jokes towards them but they didn't care. I drank with nervous abandonment - within a few hours, he again deserted me, leaving to go to the dance floor and then disappearing to the toilets with Simon. I guess he thought I wouldn't have seen, but I did. I shook my head, downed my beer, pissed off at the situation and just generally feeling miserable, still confused and alone. I placed my glass down rather sluggishly with a loud clunk, startled at my sudden strength.

Right then Chris, one of our group, approached me. He motioned to the dance floor and leant in, the clubs music so loud, meaning to talk.

"I need a click... You can be my wingman," he shouted in my ear above the blaring music. "Wanna help me?" Once again, he pointed to the dance floor and then excitedly to a tall, well defined guy.

On the outskirts of my vision, I saw Simon, holding Wills hand and leading him upstairs, the two of them giggling. I rolled my eyes, knowing he wasn't coming back and turned to Chris slowly, nodding a reluctant okay, we worked our way to the edge of the dance floor. I looked around, in between stumbles, as my eyes scanned the club, frantically, seeing if I could spot Mike, the music pounding and thumping through my chest. Still there was no sign of him.

I'd come along. I'd bitten the bullet, and, where was he? Nowhere, probably somewhere else, telling people about the straight guy he got to suck his cock and having a right good laugh at my expense.

I suddenly felt very alone, even though Chris was beside me. Everyone was paired up, or dancing together. The truth is, I wanted to be led away like Will - led away and taken care of. Softly being made to do it and enjoying the feeling as I had last week. Everything that I had thought about, Mike making me, asking me, almost commanding me, I wanted. No, I needed, I needed to feel that again. I had to. I could see a few guys at the edge of the dance floor alone, standing there poised and aching for attention. And suddenly I understood. Yes I understand for some it appears vulgar and shameless, but I understood it. Understood it's simplicity and saw it served a purpose, and I realised, in that moment, I was not alone.

Taking his hand, I led us through the mass of writhing bodies, the smoke machine in overdrive as we serpentined across the dance floor. Have you ever danced in a gay club? They always turn the heating up. I always joked, they did that, so people took their tops off. Some guys were topless, some were in vest tops, all sweating, dancing and jostling. Bouncing in the melee, I staggered a little which caused me to stumble back a few steps. Looking around, I saw some guys up close, gently exploring each other, clearly enjoying themselves, the promise of a long night in front of them. A few gave me the once over, but it didn't fill me with the feeling I got from Mike. I saw the hunger, the raw energy in their eyes, but that was all I saw. I didn't see any sign of a gentile nature, what I saw was lust and strength. Predatory.

I suddenly felt weak, the need inside me awakening, the need to be wanted like I was last week. Looking around, trying to find a spot close to the guy Chris had his eye on, my eyes leapt around the room frantically. Inside I was pining for attention, attention from anyone. I wanted to be told what to do. I wanted to be on my knees, feeling that hard cock on my face and lips again. Feeling the fight loosen from me, wanting to open my mouth and feel that hard cock that wanted me, that needed me just as much as I needed him, as the ecstasy slid in to my willing mouth. I shook my head, and grabbing hold of Chris' hand, we moved forward.

We squeezed past a few more couples and groups until finally, we got to a spot where there was room near where Chris' mystery guy was, and we started dancing. It took several minutes for the guy to see Chris and within ten minutes, I was once again on my own as they ran their hands over each other as if they were mentally undressing one another. I stood for a moment, alone, so utterly pissed off with the music blaring, pumping through me like my heart in my chest.

Bringing my head up, from staring at my feet, I looked over and saw the men's toilets, knowing all too well what went on in there sometimes. Slowly, I made my way to the edge of the dance floor, stepping slowly towards it. I could feel the hunters eyes following me, my need making my drunken steps nervous, and filling me with trepidation, the fear and excitement inside me building. I was slowly being drawn to it, my need overriding my mind and my sanity. It was like being at a train crossing, with the barriers down, the lights flashing and the klaxon blaring. I wanted to jump the barrier. Feel that rush. Feel the danger.

You can't understand submission until you have felt it. You might think you understand it, but if you have never been there, never felt it, you will never fully realise what real need can make someone do. You might be a dom who thinks you know what your submissive partner wants, but you don't. You bring your own need to the table. It is the mish mash of needs and wants, and it is that, that defines if a relationship, based on need can work, even if it is just one night. No, you have to experience submission to fathom it. The way your heart thumps, the excitement coursing through your veins, poised dizzyingly with anxiety so delicately counter balancing it. Some may want to be tied up. Some may want to be shown off. Some might want to be undressed, spanked, flogged, punished. Me? I just wanted to give and to be adored. I wanted to be rewarded with kindness and understanding. I wanted to be on my knees. I wanted to worship. I didn't need questions. I didn't need answers. I didn't care, right there, right then, if they finished in my mouth firmly thrusting, choking me and making me swallow it. I needed it. I took another step toward the toilets. The smoke machine, making my throat dry, I swallowed hard, desperately trying to stop myself, but I couldn't. It over rode everything. Everything.

I needed.

I knew what I needed now. I knew what I wanted. I wanted hands on my shoulders, gentle but persuasive, pushing me down. An urgent voice, full of wanting, telling me to do it, to take it out. To ease that cock from his trousers, feel it hardening in my hands as I looked up, my face full of fear and apprehension, needing only a few gentle words to be guided past my anxiety, to make me do it, to feel content. Hands in my hair softly pulling me to my need. Telling me that everything is going to be okay and that this is what I wanted. Feeling it, on my lips, knowing the need inside me and that in my drunken state I would let go, and that my mouth would open, open wide and let him slide it in.

Two guys outside the toilets saw me as I shuffled and stumbled slowly towards the bathroom, my mind in a whirlwind of need and desperation. I immediately felt their intense and promising gaze, their eyes hungry, looking me up and down. They were dressed casually, one in a T-shirt and loose jeans, the other in jeans and an open short sleeve lumberjack shirt, his slightly hairy chest showing. The leather belts they had on, slung down rather alluringly, hinting crudely at their promise. Cautiously I made a small step towards them, their eyes fixated on me as their smiles curled in the corners of their mouths as they looked at me and saw my need. It was almost as if they could read me.

Don't Steve, don't...

I felt weak, every step I took I felt weak. Every step I took it felt almost impossible to not lift my feet, the adrenaline and need inside me beckoning me, compelling me. They were a lot bigger and older than me. Maybe in their late thirties, maybe early forties. Their smiles, with every step I took towards them, slowly got bigger and bigger. One of them, grabbed his crotch and winked at me. They looked menacing, frightening, but I didn't care, I needed to feed the hunger inside me. Stopping a few steps before them, they both stared at me, pausing to once again look me up and down. Strangely, in amongst all the music, and being bumped around, I felt a calmness wash over me, the thump-thump of the music fading, as an odd serenity closed in around me. One of the guys whispered in the others ear, looking at me the entire time, never taking his predatory eyes off of me and tapped his partners' shoulder and slowly retreated into the toilets. The other held there for a moment and so casually gestured his head towards the bathroom, winked, turned around almost freezing me in my tracks and disappeared into the toilets.

I stood there for a few seconds as the fear eased from me and the simplicity of what was on offer registered in my brain. They wanted my mouth, both of them. I wanted their cocks. I tried, I really tried to not take a step, but I was very drunk, I couldn't formulate anything rational. What I was thinking was dangerous, unsafe. I could feel my feet itching to move forward, almost needing to move forward. I should have been calling it a night, going home to my bed and sleeping it off, but I couldn't; the need inside me howled and cried. Were things too far gone? Could I do it?

There was a gentle tap on my shoulder. Turning around, my eyes widened as I whirled round, the room spinning gently and my focus shifting which made me blink hard. Squinting my eyes, trying to concentrate on the person in front of me, focusing, I was startled as Mike stood there, smiling at me. My stomach knotted, cartwheeled and skydived, free-falling from five thousand feet knowing I hadn't packed a chute. I had thought about this all week and now he was here, I didn't know what to say, what to do. Once again, I was frozen in place. He leant in close.

"Hi Steve. How's it been tonight?" he said.

It took me a moment to respond. I was pissed off, mentally fucked up and suddenly he was here. I looked over at the Men's toilets, and then back to him. Everything was bottled up, all my questions, all my fears, my need baying for it, everything wanting to come out. I shook my head, stunned at everything that was going on and took a doubtful step back from Mike. Suddenly I was afraid, afraid he had seen what just transpired. I was scared he could see my need. Scared he could see my mind and body were conflicted, that I was drunk and that I wanted to let go and let my need rule me.

And yet?

Will had abandoned me. I was alone, alone with everything running round and round in my mind. I had lived a week with questions and no answers, wearing me down, little by little, eroding everything before it. I should have been pleased that he had turned up, that he was here now, but instead, instead inside I seethed.

"Well... Will has gone home with Simon... And I've just helped Chris find someone." I pointed over the back of my shoulder, with my thumb non-nonchalantly. My voice bordered on contempt and sounded venomous. That's when I realised, I was quite drunk. I mean I knew I was drunk. But not this drunk.

And I was pissed off.

Shit.

"Looks like I can sort out everyone, except myself," I said slowly, rolling my mouth trying to not sound so drunk.

He took a step back and looked at me. His hands were on my arms, near my shoulders looking at me, tilting his head concentrating and looking into my eyes. I looked away.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, slowly, not looking at him, instead my eyes were drawn to the Men's toilets. Trying not to think of how Will had abandoned me. How much I pined to feel how I did last week. I needed it. So badly. I needed gentle and soft. Playful and hard. I didn't care any more. I needed contentment. I needed to hear the things he said last week. I wanted to let go. Let my hair down. Let him tell me again how sexy I was, how much he wanted my ass, how good it felt in my mouth and how much he wanted me to feel it and embrace what I felt, but I was unable, or unwilling to tell him the truth. The frustration and my need conflicting and cancelling each other out. I stood for a moment, fighting inside my mind, gently swaying between the mob dancing.

"Yep!" I pursed my lips in drunk anger.

His face took on a concerned look. He brought his hand up to my face to make me look at him and then leant in. Dee-lites "Groove Is In The Heart" suddenly went into its "Click.... Click....Click" break. Strangely I thought he would shout, the music usually so loud, that's what we all do, and suddenly I was afraid. Afraid he'd say something that would give everything away in the momentary silence. In front of everyone. My heart, suddenly started thumping like a jack hammer. Sweat, literally, broke on my brow.

Please, please don't... Mercy.

He paused, backing out, stopped by the break, startled, looking around confused and then leant in again when it was over.

"No... No, you're not," he said and backed up to steady me.

For some reason the drunkenness was suddenly more than I thought it was. Unsteady on my feet, people around me, pushing and shoving as they danced, I stumbled slightly, the room spinning as I rolled back and forward on the balls of my feet to the heels. I could feel the cold sweat on my forehead, trickling down my neck and the base of my back. He leant in and steadied me, his arms quickly wrapping round me, hugging me gently, pulling me close to him.

"Come on. Let's get you safe. Let's get you home, baby."

I don't recall much, I remember being led through the crowd, his hands on my shoulders, guiding me away from the mass of writhing semi naked sweaty bodies on the dance floor. I thought suddenly, what if they were to take my clothes off, parade me as Mike watched. I giggled gently at the dirty thoughts running through my mind. I drifted gently in and out of real time. The beats of the music faded as we climbed the stairs gently, onwards and upwards, slowly towards the upstairs bar. The manic discotheque lights faded into a subtle hum once we neared the top bar. Edwin Morgan's "In the Snack-bar" popped into my mind in all of this: And slowly we go up. And slowly we go up. I laughed like an idiot at the absurd things my mind conjured and thought about.

Somehow, he guided me outside and flagged down a cab as I leant against a lamp post. He bundled me in, the Taxi driver mouthing off at the state I was in, which caused to me to laugh even more.

Mike remembered roughly where I lived from last week, and got me to say exactly where, once we were in the area. Thankfully the giggles had faded and had been replaced by a swirling swaying Steve. I think he paid the cab, and gently ushered me up the stairs to my flat. I found myself suddenly almost unable to lift my feet, stumbling here and there. I tried saying things, things that were on my mind; him and Will, what I needed, crying softly as I tried drunkenly to get it all out, babbling incoherent gibberish.

He laid me on the bed, pulled my trainers off and rolled the covers over me and disappeared, returning with a bucket and a pint of water. I drifted in and out of my drunken stupor, looking up and seeing him sitting beside me on the bed as he talked about a stock take at work that just would never end, apologising for being so late and how hard he'd tried to find us. I recall him running his hands through my hair, myself nodding as I listened to him. He was whispering gently.

"Drink is a good place to run when you're scared and can't face things," he said. Once again, I was enjoying his attention. I recall smiling and lying there, just simply enjoying it, enjoying his attention. "It's a good plan. It's good for getting everything out." I tried formulating the words: fuck me, but my mouth rolled and slobbered.

"Shh..." he said trying to quieten me. "It's just that you need friends who will listen to you and let you get it out and give you their honest... drunken... opinion." He chuckled gently.

I tried to laugh, but it came out as a rather sluggish laboured snort, trying to focus on my words, formulate the things I wanted to say to him. I'm ashamed to say I asked him to fuck me, right there, right then, in that moment.

His response was instant.

"No. Not tonight," he said, shaking his head and pulling the covers over me a little more. He placed his fingers at my mouth to silence my protests. "Not like this..."

I almost cried myself to sleep, as he sat beside me, telling him how good he'd felt in my mouth and yet how much it scared me. How much I had thought about him, his fingers inside me, how good it felt last week and the way he had talked to me. I also told him I wanted to feel his tongue there, making me feel the need to feel his cock. He stayed with me for a while, making sure I was okay, until I fell asleep, all the while, his hands running softly through my hair.

-0-

To say I was as right as rain the following day would be the lie of the decade. I was sick as a fucking dog. I mean really sick. You know that bit where you get up and the room spins, and you want to throw up and you can't even eat? Where you say: never again? I was like that for most of the day. I lay in bed, afraid to get up, truly horrified at what had happened last night, thinking about what I might have done.

When I did get up, I saw a note on my work table. It simply read:

"When you're feeling better, phone me -- Mike." Below it, he'd written down his number.

I sat there, staring at it for quite some time, pondering. I was ashamed I had asked him to fuck me, but also, I was a little sad he hadn't. I understood why he didn't, I was in no state to enjoy it, I would have just lain there. But that was also why I had said it; I could pretend to myself that he would have taken advantage of me. In the cold light of day, without the drink and the barriers back in place I was terribly ashamed of my actions and thoughts.

I'd thought of him, rolling me round and onto my front as I had confessed to Mike last night, the things I needed. Easing down my jockeys and exposing my ass. Touching me, kissing me and slowly pushing a finger in me. I would have been too drunk to stop him. Would he have said he was lubing up his cock for me? Being drunk and relaxed, would it have hurt?

I shook my head, staring at the note, desperately trying to stop these terribly depraved thoughts. I couldn't understand why nothing like this had entered my mind before until now. It made no sense. I'd never felt an attraction to men. Never looked at them and thought: Fuck I'd have him. Never.