First, I should perhaps give a brief description as to allow you to get to know me. My name is Jack. I am a 22 yr. old college senior, from a reputable college in the Chicago-land area. I guess you would call me an average Joe; meaning I don't see myself as being overly attractive...then again, who is in today's cruel society. I am 5'9" with an average body build, 145lbs. My hair is mid ear, wavy, and dark brown, and I have been told that I was blessed with sensuous blue eyes. My features are confused, a mutt, with a mix of Irish, Cherokee, German, and English. I guess, my biggest play, is that I have the body and looks of your average 18yr high school student. Hell, I can barely even grow facial hair, much less the occasional chest hair that chooses to grace my presence. But enough about me, as the story must continue.
It was a cold night, and my Studio apartment felt more lonely than usual. I needed out. Have you ever had the feeling, that no matter how much you keep yourself busy, you can still feel the walls closing in, trying to envelope your heart and suck the air from your lungs. Well this is how I felt this evening. Late February as snow covered the ground, sirens blaring by my window, and only the noise from the television and the infamous AOL to keep me company; I needed to dance, to party, to talk with a person face to face; and most of all, I needed a drink. It took all of 30 minutes to convince myself to wander to the clubs alone. Of course, it was another hour before I managed to get ready and actually take that step out the door, but I did and I was on my way.
It felt so good, to step into the club and feel alive again. It had been a long time since I had allowed myself to have that feeling; yet that is the past and this is the present. The club had yet to get busy, filled mainly with young college boys and a few older men, but at least it was real. Long Island Ice-Tea, which was the drink I ordered. The bartender must have sensed something, as the first sips almost knocked me over. I was good. I didn't need to talk to anyone. I just wanted to exist in the atmosphere: drink in hand and smoke in the other. Then I saw him...
Across the bar, was one of the most intriguing young men that I had ever come across. Tall, at least 6'0, and stocky; mind you not big, but just enough muscles to exemplify masculinity. He seemed to have a presence about himself that dripped of testosterone, and yet he carried the face of an innocent. Shivers ran through my body, electric pulses searing through every nerve, striking utmost pleasures. I wanted to feel this man, rub my fingers through his hair, trace his body with mine, allow every contour of our bodies to merge and join as one...then it happened...soaring pain screamed through my mind...
Embarrassed, I notice that I had been staring so intently, that my cigarette had burnt out and had blistered my finger. Cursing to myself, I nurse the wound with ice as well as I can and I return to my ponders of the young man, but he is gone... Just my luck... Noticing that the pain in my finger wasn't calming the excitement in other areas, I downed my drink and decided to dance.
I thought, that once I hit the dance floor I would be fine, but I was wrong. The beat enveloped my body; the rhythms caressing my skin like a thousand beads of water. My eyes were shut, the club no longer existed, and this was my world. Yet, my mind wouldn't let me alone... thoughts of him were invading. Every beat, moving my body, muscles tensing, sweat dripping across my chest, blood boiling, heart racing, he was there. Scenery can't be described. It is the place we all go, at the height of our sexuality. My body is hot; breathing is stammered, every muscle tight needing to be stretched... Every movement perfectly timed, embrace. His hands reach to my chest, massaging as they move up to my neck. Fingers gracing my throat and yet still moving up as he traces every line as if pushing the tension out through every blade of hair. I reach out to his shirt, desiring to see what hides beneath. My fingers grasp at the buttons but slip with every attempt. Frustration overcomes, and disappointment flushes through my mind; yet, his eyes catch mine and a smile crosses his face. I have no power; my body is limp to his command. I give freely, allowing his hands to roam wherever they took him. Nibbles at my neck, my heart beating faster, I desired him. His fingernails scraped down my back as he slid closer to my ass. Our chests were gliding together as our sweat mixed, and all I could do was hold on. My 501's were straining, something trying to tear free. Perfect movement, one at a time, he ripped the buttons from my pants; followed by a quick tug at the loops and my pants fell to the floor. There he was, my mystery kneeling before me, such an innocent faced with the essence of my desires thrust in his face. With only one article remaining, it seemed inevitable that I would get to experience what I so desired. Yet...LAST CALL...
The music ended abruptly as the voice screamed over the speakers. The back of the house was closing, my vision destroyed, my muscles aching for release, god I really need a drink.
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written by nxtjdRATE THIS STORY
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