Best Gay Erotica 2012

by Richard Labonté

  I figure I’ll go to another bar for a moment and flirt with someone and I need to piss anyway but maybe I should go home, I mean to where I’m staying and then I’m pissing on the corner because I can’t decide. That’s when I realize oh, the porn theater, that’s better than a bar, and soon enough I’m downstairs even though they’re charging ten dollars and there’s probably no one there but then there is someone, with one of those big army-type jackets with a hood, the kind of cologne which is maybe supposed to smell like something natural, here I’m thinking vetiver even if I don’t know what vetiver smells like and I kiss his neck, rub his chest but I can tell that’s not what he wants so then down for his cock, first through his jeans that thickness right away I’m kind of biting yes finally it feels like finally even if I haven’t been looking, yes my lips and this moisture, this open mouth for everything that fits everything.

  Thrusting into my mouth yes this is my mouth and thrusting, hold, thrusting just what I need just this. He says I wish we were out there in the open, I’m not sure why since he wasn’t cruising anyone else then he wants to open the door, sure, poppers no but I could stay here forever except my feet will hurt and then he wants to take a break, maybe he’s about to come or maybe drugs mean he’s not going to come, why are you going to take a break when there’s no one else you want to have sex with it’s empty except for three guys passed out and two brooding bruisers. I know you weren’t hot for the bruisers because you were looking for me—that’s what I’m thinking but I say okay, wait I’ll just go softly for a moment but then he’s fucking my face yes he’s fucking my faith until hand on the back of the head, yes on the back of the head and yes I can tell he’s coming but I can’t taste it maybe because it just goes right down my throat, yes.

  I stand up to kiss him on the neck again, and then out of the booth I ask if he’s getting any exciting messages, since he’s poking at the phone, poke poke, he says he’s checking his Facebook, I say this is a pretty nice space how come more people aren’t here? He thinks maybe it’s because of the arrests, there was a sign upstairs about people getting arrested for prostitution although it’s hard to imagine much prostitution here and I’m sure it must be something else people are afraid of. I’m thinking about tailored peacoats and anorak jackets all slim and stitched all over the place; his is bigger, the tougher look but a gay voice unafraid and when I’m putting my layers back on, pulling up from sucking his cock he likes my sweater. This is the yellow one, women’s cardigan with cable stitching although what is cable stitching? I want to know where else is fun, he says he’s probably going home in a few minutes but I don’t mean that I mean where can I go for more sex and, okay, the place of my former dreams the dreams when I lived in New York not quite dreams because when I lived in New York I felt suffocated hard to dream except in those moments, dreams are always moments anyway and I’m right around the corner, he says there’s no smoke should I trust him?

  Yes, the Cock, yes I’m there paying the same woman with a British accent who took the money ten years ago, at least on certain days, probably they chose a woman so not too many people would get in for free, guys I mean there are only guys here really except for the door person who’s always friendly and polite not the other kind of New York I mean not New York really except this is New York and we know she’s been here for at least ten years but the point is that yes, the Cock, and actually there isn’t any smoke. They’ve changed the decor so it looks like when it was at the original location not this location which was called Fat Cock when it opened and then it was just everyone standing around in attitude but now it’s gutted and dark and so packed it’s hard to get anywhere, especially to the coat check way in the back but you won’t believe what they’re playing, Andee you won’t believe it Andee they’re playing “I Got My Education”! I got my education. I got my education. I got my education.

  And then of course I’m looking for the sex, not like before at the Cock with a back room now there are no back rooms this is the new New York although that was the new New York too but this is newer: more peacoats and cologne. I’m loving the music but ready for sex, swallowing someone’s come was such a great starter now I don’t feel crazed just confident. Two guys on the bench making out, I say why don’t you suck his cock? But people are shy now, sure the place is flirty but everyone’s waiting. The first guy leaning sort of against me isn’t the hottest around but why am I looking for standards I mean he’s hot this big guy with a soft muscularity, shaved head, maybe more Chelsea than East Village but what is East Village now except for fashion. I kiss him on the neck and then we’re making out he’s grabbing my dick, hard, and he wants to go in the bathroom, why the bathroom—there are too many people waiting in line to do bumps.

  Do you see what I mean about the newer New York? He’s from the Dominican Republic, which is old New York to me and I say why don’t you suck my dick right here? Here, he says, like I just said something desirable but impossible, false naïveté of course that’s New York forever. So I take my dick out and he squeezes it, lets out one of those sounds of desire I can never quite name somewhere between a moan and a grunt and a groan and I pull his head over, I’m kissing him as the two guys on the bench try to look like they’re not leaning forward to see but then the guy I’m kissing gets nervous and goes to the bathroom.

  I sit down on the bench with the two guys making out, one of them has his hand on the other one’s neck. I say you could keep your hand on his head just like that while he’s sucking your cock. This is what I like about my mood and I want it to be a turning point, I mean not here tonight where I’m still assessing the air periodically with a deep inhale just to make sure but really no smoke. It doesn’t smell good or anything—everyone’s sweating out drugs and discomfort and disdain but there’s no smoke and so I kind of love it. But my mood, a turning point, I mean I’m going right up to everyone and right away hitting on them, like I’m waiting in line for a urinal and I keep kissing guys on the neck, talking to people about the music yes the music, laughing, at first I think the guy next to me is the guy I was kissing, do I really say I thought you were someone else he says there is no one else, you’re right I say and I’m kissing him while he’s pissing not so much cruising as a kind of friendliness that maybe only happens in two a.m. bars known for sluttiness where I have a history and therefore a sense of place that makes me feel like I can make things happen. Or maybe something has changed and I can just go right up to guys like this, here or anywhere that’s what I’m hoping.

  When I’m done pissing, there’s this guy with black glasses and a collared shirt with some angles maybe a soft leather suburban urban but cute. I start kissing him he’s waiting for the urinal and then when I’m back near the bench there’s this preppy guy with short hair almost buzzed, wearing a white button-down untucked over jeans, who works that kind of look at a slutty bar in the East Village? Apparently at least three guys, because when I try to find him later there are at least three guys who look the same. But first I’m kissing his neck and I notice he’s wearing the other kind of cologne, not vetiver the kind that just smells like you’ll never get it out of your clothes, shower after shower and it’s still in your skin but I kiss his neck twice anyway, once on each side, a little bit of a bite and then back to his lips, that fruity taste in his mouth but there’s this other guy with his shirt off, waxed chest Chelsea wannabe who’s already got button-down looking at something in his boxers. I don’t want to interrupt but waxed chest says are you friends? Then he says it again: are you friends?

  Aren’t we all friends?

  Here’s the other thing about this bar and other bars like it in New York: I’m totally an item, and I don’t have to perform one particular thing in order to stay that way—I can make queeny jokes, laugh about the music, and then get down for someone’s cock I mean that hasn’t happened yet but you know it’s on the horizon I love that horizon and then I’m on my knees for the guy with the white button-down. I can’t tell you exactly how it happens
because first it’s waxed chest who’s over there but not for long and then I’m giving white button-down all sorts of extra rubbing on legs and stomach and chest just to tell him I appreciate him and then the best part is when I stand up for all that crazed kissing with the fruity taste in my mouth, later I realize it’s probably what he was drinking but it doesn’t taste like alcohol it tastes like purity. The way his tongue reaches forward and stays there and I grab his head when he starts to pull back then down for his cock again hands inside pants going up calves until he starts to pull up his pants so I stand and grab his head for more fruit but he has to look for his friend I know that means I won’t see him again but it’s okay because I’m here in this mood that will hold me.

  Although it doesn’t make sense that button-down was the first guy whose dick I sucked, hands grabbing my hair. It’s funny because when I had hair that looked messy I didn’t like people messing it up but now that my hair is in a neater style I’m okay with it. Or maybe I’m just okay with this guy grabbing my hair. And then the next one. And then the next one. And then the next one. I mean there really are that many, it’s like I stand up and into someone’s arms, tasting the difference.

  Then falling down onto the bench for the guy in the striped shirt, shaved head a lot of shaved heads here and his is receding at first his dick remains semihard which means semisoft but then when I sit up and I’m kissing him, really grabbing his head and making out that’s what’s so hot about this place the making out. I mean it’s also hot because there are so many guys I want to make out with and that makes the making out hotter and then when he pushes my head back down for his dick suddenly there’s that thickness at the base and the urgency, the thing that hurts my jaw and usually I just get into the role anyway oh I love that role but this time I’m proud of myself for pulling away and going back to kissing him.

  Then there’s the guy with the black glasses over by the bathroom, is he still waiting in line? Or waiting for me—we’re making out again and I can tell he’s the one who’s into me the most by the way he’s kissing no that’s not true because the preppy guy was more crazed about kissing but this is the guy who isn’t going to run away or wait maybe I don’t realize that until later because first he runs away. After biting my tongue, I say ouch even though it doesn’t hurt it just seems like it might hurt. And then I end up sucking this other guy’s dick, the cute young guy whose neck I first kissed in the bathroom when these two hot guys in tank tops were blocking the door, two of the only black guys in the bar making out with one another and this other guy walked by, a young Latino with wispy coiffed hair and they grabbed him and said isn’t he cute but he seemed shy except now there’s his dick in my mouth and then in someone else’s no wait first someone else’s mouth and then my mouth and then someone else’s, oh the choreography on this bench in the back my home and every now and then a bright light but it’s just someone checking his cell phone.

  Remember what I said once about the places where fashion trumps masculinity, this isn’t quite one of those places but it’s something about the way it’s supposed to be edgy that forces down the traditional boundaries of gay desire or maybe it just lets me in. Like I could go to a bar with more inhibitions maybe even one of the bars next door and no longer would some Chelsea guy or college realness or casual stubble fashion be reaching back for my crotch, instead that more common look of overdone surprise a kind of snottiness there are so many.

  So let’s stay here on the bench in the back with this guy’s cock in my mouth it doesn’t matter whose cock really what matters is that I get to hug him soon or if I don’t get to hug him at least I get to eat his come and then hug someone else. And when I kiss someone’s neck and he’s not interested, that’s just part of the routine soon enough there will be another guy leaning into my arms my neck my lips, but when does the guy who was waiting in line for the coat check at the very beginning, when does he come into the story? Because I asked him if I could check his coat. Since I was getting in front of him the way everyone pushes forward and I could tell he wasn’t pushing. And he said thanks, no one ever does that they just ignore you, and then later, yes later he comes up to me and says there you are and we’re making out and then I think it’s his cock I’m sucking later, after everything shifts to secretive and territorial although maybe eating his come is worth it.

  The borderline is when the music changes from jumpy nineties queeny bitch house to bad top-40 diva rap, that’s when I should leave. Right after I’m talking to another guy while I’m pissing, another kind of kissing, talking about how the music just became crap and he says it’s just good dance music but then he realizes I called it crap and he gets confused. I’m guessing a language barrier; he’s probably European. I like all the surprises in accents, I don’t remember that as much from before. I’ve already told myself I’ll leave before last call because that way I can get my coat before the rush and it’s 3:25 now I should leave but I’m crazed for this expansive flow of falling into arms and legs around cocks and eyes but eventually everything has quieted down except for one group in the corner. I can’t tell if they’re doing drugs or if it’s sex since they’re pushed shoulder to shoulder to create a secret space and when you try to look you can’t quite see until I notice that someone’s on his knees and so then I’m there too, well first kissing this guy with mod hair, square bangs he’s one of the cutest ones but earlier he ignored my kiss on the neck. Sometimes I realize that when they ignore me it makes them more excited later, I’m not sure how to explain that except the way he’s kissing me, yes for more tongue and his cock, wow his cock what makes his cock so hot except wait, I guess it’s him he’s so pretty and cocky too so there’s a reason those words are the same. But also the thickness and the way it’s so surprisingly hard, surprising because he’s so coked out and that’s probably where I get the coke in my mouth, he was the one creating the territory in the beginning and I should’ve stayed away for all those reasons but instead I’m on my knees for his cock, yes his cock is he one of the guys who comes in my mouth I’m not even sure.

  But wait—before this is the guy with the black glasses, he’s back. He says you’re fun so I’ve got him up against the wall until I say do you want me to suck your cock? I say it because there’s something shy about him but I can’t say that I wait for him to answer. That’s just before the one with the square bangs, after the one from the coat check line or at least I think it’s him and this is when everyone is frantic to come which is kind of hot until people are practically pushing you over to get somewhere something now this they need it now pushing to get to one corner when it doesn’t have to be in this corner. Before it felt open to the world but now it’s secretive and desperate and there’s that numbness in my mouth just before or just after I come, not the way I would like to come, frantic too and not even hard because I’ve waited so long past blow jobs that weren’t working when they came from the people I wanted or that were working but not from the people I wanted and anyway I like waiting.

  Then there’s that annoying part where all these people push forward to get their lips around my dick or their hands on a little bit of that gunk and I have to push them all away just so I can feel something like an orgasm. I should have kept waiting, that’s what I’m thinking after I come but I was worried that otherwise later I’d feel more frantic. Why can’t it be all of us holding each other letting it all out with one collective sigh I mean not necessarily all at once but just present for someone else’s needs? This is the part where it doesn’t feel like that it feels sad. Except then I’m making out with the guy with the black glasses again; he wants to go home with me but I don’t want to go home with anyone at 4 a.m. so then I’m in line at the coat check, worried that someone’s coke got in my mouth, worried that I didn’t leave early enough because now I can smell smoke from outside, pot smoke that started just a few minutes ago I could’ve left earlier and everything would be fine I hate thinking this way.

  Outside into the cold yes cold but
it doesn’t even feel cold anymore and some people are waiting around while others are waving in the street for cabs. And there’s the guy with square bangs not mod anymore but preppy. The bangs are actually quite short, not much longer than a crew cut I should have mentioned that earlier, here he is in a tailored peacoat and I kiss him on the neck and you won’t believe this, you really won’t believe it. He says: thanks man.

  Really. That’s what he says. In this ridiculous butch dude voice like we’re in a frat together and I’m startled because before I thought he was one of the queenier people in the bar. The taxi driver is one of those straight guys who wants to talk about how gay guys flirt with him. He goes to FIT, says he’s probably the only straight guy fashion design student, can you imagine that? Gay guys are the best people to go out with, he says. Didn’t I have this cab driver before, I mean ten years ago?

  Okay, so I’m trying to get in bed as soon as possible, after taking my immune tincture, throat spray, more amino acids, eating, worrying about whether I’m wired because of the coke, hating myself for not leaving earlier just a little bit earlier just a half hour earlier, amazed that when I stretch I can actually do this one thing that I haven’t been able to do since my back locked up two weeks ago it seems like a long time but it was only two weeks maybe all the sex helped my back instead of hurting it, wondering if my sinuses will be destroyed, sad that I don’t have someone to make out with that I don’t have phone numbers that no one wants phone numbers at places like that I mean almost no one, sad that it’s over, wondering whether I should go back again before I leave even though the second time is never like, you know what I mean, wishing I didn’t come and then I would still feel that amazing charge or at least that’s what I tell myself, sad already because I was sad before and I’m sad again, sad that I didn’t leave at exactly the right moment and when will I ever get back there, back to so much of what I want I mean it’s been years since something like this so flawed yet so perfect and I’m wondering again if I’m wired because of the coke even though it could only be a tiny tiny bit still I’m so fragile yet strong for those two hours I want that strength I want that piece of my heart that’s missing and so often I feel like I’ve given up.