CHAPTER 2
Bradford
I’ve never got over that initial discomfort when I’m entering buildings with Brendan. People immediately stare at him. I’m sure some of them want to tell me to get out, before it registers that he’s a guide dog and they can’t stop me bringing him in. Believe me, you should try flagging down a damn taxi with a service animal in tow.
The bouncer at the Town Hall Hotel tonight, however, is an exception. He beams down at Brendan and I see his hand move out automatically, then snap back to his side. Some folks are aware guide dogs shouldn’t be disturbed when they’re working. I hate confronting people over that when they want to pat him. Everyone seems to adore Brendan and he adores them right back, though he steadfastly remains focused. I know he has a job to do, but in my heart it saddens me that such a loving creature can’t always be showered with the affection he deserves.
Bouncer Man smiles at me as he steps to my right and waves me through to the stairwell just inside. I notice he doesn’t usher me towards the main bar on the ground floor, where the straight people are. He’s just assumed I’m here for the gay fellas upstairs. Geez, I must have ‘poofter’ written all over me. Or maybe it’s just the stocky bear build and full beard. Well… obviously.
I climb the stairs carefully, with one hand on the rail and the other monitoring Brendan’s movements. Back when I had my cane, I’d use it to flick against each step ahead, giving me a physical warning when I came to a landing. These days, though, Brendan is my cue.
Uncomfortable situation number two happens when I reach the top of the stairs, which lead straight out onto the first floor bar area. A sea of heads turn towards this burly short man bringing his dog in with him. Their initial thought is to rapidly clear a path, as if this clumsy blind fool is gonna plough through and stumble over everything. On the surface, it’s a bit amusing, but it’s not the kind of notice I’d like to attract. Once they’ve realised I’m quite capable, they seem to relax and return the smile I’m flashing at them. Heads nod, mouths morph into welcoming grins and a few hellos are sent in my direction. Instantly, I feel better.
Another path is graciously cleared for me as I make my way straight to the bar, but after giving a few thanks, I quietly wait my turn. These other guys were here before me, and blindness does not preclude me from showing manners.
It’s a challenge juggling my bag, my drink and my dog through the tight crowd as I make my way to the outdoor area, but it’s one that I manage without too much hassle. The skinny courtyard is long and cramped, and there are a few tall rectangular bar tables with guys milling around them. I squeeze my way past the men, apologising as they politely scramble to step aside, till I come to the fourth table, which is empty. Settling on the stool closest to the rear courtyard wall, I smile down at Brendan as he lies on the wooden deck beside me. “Good job, buddy,” I croon, stretching across and ruffling his hair. He knows I have Schmackos in my bag. He’s well aware he’s earned a treat and he accepts my offering with studied poise. Beautiful boy.
The wall against my back is warm from the residual January heat. It soothes me as I take a huge swig from my rum and coke. I’ve already had a couple of these at the restaurant and they’ve started to kick in nicely, so this third one is just what I need to speed up the magic. Fishing around in my bag for the Manchesters, I unwrap the plastic and pluck out the first cigarette. I’m not sure how this is going to go. After lighting it, I take a tentative drag. It’s weird. It used to be familiar and calming, but it’s lost its charm. I forge ahead nonetheless, seeking that elusive thrill. Is it there? I guess my head is spinning a little. Maybe another gulp of rum will help.
My glass is barely back on the table when I detect movement in front of me. “ There you are,” says Jarrod. His impatient tone makes me bristle. Apparently I’m the one who’s been messing him around.
“Just got here,” I say evenly. “From dinner. Where were you?”
Jarrod screws up his face in irritation. “She’s your bloody sister, for God’s sake. Neither of them give a damn whether I’m there or not.”
I stub out the remainder of my cigarette, doing my best to try and keep things calm. It isn’t my style to cause a scene, and I’ve learnt not to inflame these situations with Jarrod. “You could have called, you know.”
“Too busy living my life,” Jarrod says sarcastically. “Anyway, I can’t stay. Just lined myself up a hot shag with a sexy cub.” He reaches across to my cigarettes and flips open the box. But he doesn’t just take one and light it, he pulls out a great big handful of them.
“Jesus, Jarrod! You know how expensive they are!”
“ You’re meant to have given up, remember?” he snaps. His lofty reprimand has me teetering on the edge of anger. I expand my lungs slowly, willing the volcano inside me to simmer down, but Jarrod grabs my drink and skols the damn lot.
“What are you doing?!” I’m finally raising my voice. No doubt others nearby are pricking up their ears, but I can’t hide my exasperation any longer.
Jarrod slaps down the tumbler and grimaces. “Ugh. You and your bloody rum. What are you? A fuckin’ teenager?” He turns on his heel and stalks off just as an imposing figure comes into my meagre field of vision.
“That guy bothering you, is he?”
There’s a big man standing in front of me by the end of the table. A hefty bear in a tight t-shirt. Large, strong arms. Rounded belly. Padded and cuddly. I have to move my face up slightly to catch a glimpse of what’s above his broad shoulders. Full, well-tended beard. Bald head. God, I love a hot bald guy. Having him nuzzle my chest while I run my moustache over his chrome dome and kiss the smooth skin there.
I shake myself out of my thoughts, trying to focus, but then I see white teeth through a slight smile. A concerned furrow in his brow. And twinkling dark eyes. Large and appealing and gentle. I’ve been looking at him for an eternity, I’m sure. I must seem completely unhinged. Trying to pull myself together, I do my best to smile back at him. “Thanks. I’m OK. That’s actually the boyfriend.” I couldn’t be more embarrassed by the sad little domestic this bloke must have witnessed from wherever he was.
“Oh, right,” he says, with a polite nod. I can sense him mentally retreating. “I should leave you to it, I s’pose.”
“Nah, he’s on a bender.” I shake my head with a wry grin. “Scored himself a root with some young guy. I won’t see him for a day or so now.”
Big Bald Bear looks upset on my behalf. It takes a moment to twig onto what he’s obviously thinking.
“Oh, no,” I add hastily. “We’ve been open for ages. I’m actually glad for the reprieve. I mean, you saw how it was.” My hands are now gesturing lamely around me at nothing, as if that clears it all up. I cringe inwardly. This conversation is all kinds of wrong. He doesn't need to know any of this stuff. I have no idea how to dig myself out of the awkward hole I’ve created.
I look up at this dark-featured grizzly of a man. I don’t want him to go anywhere. I’m desperate to think of a segue, something to make him stay a little longer. “Sorry you had to witness that.” Jesus, Bradford. The sympathy vote. You really are bloody pathetic. Steeling myself, I give him my most charming smile. I know how to do this well. In any case, it’s not like I have to fake it; he’s so damn appealing.
To my great relief, Big Bear’s face seems to light up immediately, mirroring my expression. “Well, it gave me the perfect excuse to come over and talk to you, didn't it?” He shoots me a cheeky little wink and I just about fall off my chair. “I’m sorry he stole your smokes and your drink. I can’t do anything about those,” he points at the packet of Manchesters, “but I can definitely get you another rum and coke.”
He knows what I was drinking? I cringe again as I realise exactly how much of my altercation this man must have heard. “That’s really nice of you, but please let me shout—” My spluttered reply falls on deaf ears; he’s gone before I can finish my sentence. I feel bad. After all, he’s the one who came to my aid.
I’m a little dazed by all of this, it’s happened so quickly. I’m in such a state, I didn’t even remember to check out his arse as he walked away. That’s gotta be a first for me. I’m just sitting here, fiddling with the cigarette packet, tapping it against the table. Sure, I’m used to guys flirting with me, but on the rare occasions I’m out at a place like this, it happens over the course of an evening. I’ve only just got here and this big smiley bloke has fallen into my lap. Well, I definitely hope he has.
While I’m still lost in my thoughts, he reappears, handing me a tall tumbler. He takes a seat on the opposite side of the table and lifts his beer to me. “Bottoms up,” he says. I’m pretty sure we’re both silently snickering at the innuendo as we take our first gulps. I notice the potency of my drink; it must be a double. Mate, are you trying to get me drunk? You do realise I’m champing at the bit, don't you? No need to butter me up—I’m yours.
Wiping the foam from his moustache, he looks over at my left hand. “Oh, don’t let me stop you,” he says. “I’m not a smoker, but it’s not like it bothers me.”
I glance down and notice I’m still fidgeting with the cigarette packet. All of a sudden, I’m deeply ashamed. “Actually, neither am I. I gave up eighteen months ago, and even then I’d only been doing it for about a year.” As the sentence tumbles out of my mouth, it dawns on me how ridiculous this sounds. Who the hell takes up smoking in their forties? “Well, other than when I was really young, at least. It was hard to resist slipping back into ancient habits when I started living with someone who smokes like a chimney.” I dump the packet in the ashtray and push it aside. “It wasn’t a nice thing to revisit, anyway.”
Right at that moment, there’s a huge flapping sound, amidst the jingling of a collar. This noise triggers a look of surprise on Big Bear’s face. “Oh!” he says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you…” Craning his neck, he peers down at where Brendan is lying next to my stool. “I didn’t notice him there." He glances back up at me. “Can you… uh…?”
“Yeah, I can see you,” I say through my best grin. “I have blurry tunnel vision, but one eye’s a bit better than the other.” I move my head up and down, eyebrows slightly raised, making it clear he knows I’m well aware of the stout, sexy stud in front of me.
“Well, I’m pleased to hear you’ve got that much, at least.” He smiles and gets up, walking around to my side of the bar table and squatting down in front of Brendan. Ever mindful that he’s working, Brendan remains still, but his tail gives him away as it begins to thump against the decking. My hunky guest leans over and reaches out, before pulling back slightly. “Is it OK to pat him?”
There’s no way I’m gonna rain on this man’s parade. “Sure, mate. He’ll love it.” I train my eyes on Big Bear’s left hand and notice the gold band around his fourth finger. My heart sinks instantly. Maybe I’ve misread this friendly interaction. Oh, well. I’m going to enjoy a bit of conversation at least. But I’ll definitely probe further. “Am I disturbing you? Is your husband here?”
Big Bear leans back up from Brendan. Momentary confusion clouds his face, before he glances down at his wedding ring. “Oh, no,” he chuckles. “I’m not married. I have a partner, but it’s the same situation as yours.” His eyes flash as he seems to take in what he’s just said. “I mean, we’re open . I love him, he’s my best mate, but it’s not a…” his eyes flit around as he searches for the right word, “a sexual arrangement anymore. Not for a long, long time.” This predicament is so common it could easily be trotted out as an excuse. But I’ve been there myself. In a lot of ways, I’m there right now. And regardless of whether it’s my hormones or my heart ruling me at the moment, I choose to believe this man.
It’s jarring as I take a mental step back and consider how candid we’re being with each other. At first glance, the details we’re sharing are far too intimate for two people who have only just met. But I’ve learnt there is a very small window of opportunity in situations like this. Swift sexual negotiation is required, and after downing two thirds of my drink my inhibitions have left the building. Suddenly, I’m blurting out the clincher. “Well, handsome bear, maybe it might turn out to be my night, eh?”
He looks up at me with a loaded grin. “Maybe it might turn out to be mine ,” he says. “And I’m flattered that such a gorgeous cub thinks I’m a ‘handsome bear.’” He parks his burly frame on the bar stool next to me and extends his right hand. “But it’s easier if you call me Bruno.” Bruno’s grip is strong and warm as we shake. I instantly imagine these big bear paws of his roaming my body, holding me tight, keeping me safe.
“Phwoaaar! Get in there, Bru! Arf! Arf! Arf!” Howls, woofs and jeers sail our way from a couple of tables down. I squint over to see a bunch of what I assume are Bruno’s friends pumping their fists in the air footy-style as they watch us shaking hands.
Bruno laughs, but doesn’t acknowledge them, staying focused on me. “Well, my yobbo mates call me Bru. You know how it is—they find names with more than one syllable impossible to cope with.”
Throughout all this, Bruno has failed to let go of my hand. Our contact has gone well beyond the expected level of politeness, but I don't want it to stop. Keeping my charming smile in place, I put a renewed vigour into our handshake. “Well, I’m Bradford. You'd be amazed at the difficulty people have with that .” It’s working. Bruno’s grip is still firm and his thumb is now stroking over my knuckles. Maybe I should keep talking. Maybe he’ll be so busy listening he won’t remember to pull away. “It's daggy as hell, but it’s my dad’s name and my grandad’s name. Jesus, I’m waffling. Sorry.”
Bruno laughs, breaking our handshake at last. I might have been upset at this loss, but he gently rubs his palm up and down my upper arm. Gee, it feels nice to be touched like this after so long. “Um, and by the way,” I add, “I’m the one who should be flattered here, because I’m far too old to be called a cub.”
He studies my face for a moment. “Well, you can’t be more than forty.”
“Eight. Turned forty-eight just after Christmas.” I give him a little smirk. “A combination of my mum’s good skin and the dim lighting out here.”
A familiar sound chirps out of the phone Bruno’s placed on the table. He glances down at it, then up to meet my eyes again. I swear I can see a little blush forming on his cheeks. We both know what it is: Growlr. “Sorry,” he says. “I gotta turn that off.”
“Hey, we do what we can to find a bit of companionship. I used to be on that app as well. Years ago, before I became legally blind. It was all too much hassle after that.”
“You mean, because you couldn’t see a phone anymore?”
“Hmmm. Back then I guess that was part of the problem. These days I have a huge phone and iPad with every vision enhancement possible. But really, I just didn't like the idea of showing up to random guys’ houses with a cane or a guide dog.” I glance around the courtyard, noticing it’s getting a little more packed with people. “At least in places like this, a sexy bear like you could see what he’d be getting in advance.” Oh, man, I’m putting it all out there now.
Bruno’s ears prick up at my overture. “So… do you still have your login?”
I need to think about this. It’s been ages, since before I met Jarrod. Oh yeah. “Pretty sure I do.”
“What’s your profile name?” There’s a wolfish smile on Bruno’s face.
“‘bradthethird.’ Spelt out, all lower case.”
Bruno taps at his phone for a while, then gazes back up at me. “You look way better in the flesh,” he says, before shuffling off his stool. “I’m getting us another round.”
“It’s my shout,” I protest.
“Nah, mate. You’re gonna sit here and download the app so you can get my message.” As he turns towards the door leading back round to the bar, I remember my previous lost opportunity. My eyes do not leave the beautiful chunky bear arse smiling at me from inside snug-fitting jeans as he walks away. Thank you, whatever god there is up there.
It takes less than two minutes for me to have Growlr installed on my iPad. It takes another couple of minutes for me to log in and navigate my way around an app that now looks totally different to how I remember. And it takes me three seconds to open Bruno’s message and see he’s unlocked his private photo album. There it is: a series of glorious headless nudes. A super-furry bear belly. Below that, a dense, dark bush. And below that, a large, thick uncut penis. Flaccid or not, it’s formidably fat. And there’s a generous selection of pics in various states of arousal. I’ve always said I’m not a size queen. I’ve been rogered by five and a half inch dicks that made me come so hard I saw stars. It’s true: technique and chemistry always do it for me. But, damn. I’m fascinated by the juggernaut between the legs of the bear in these photos.
“You got it?” Two more glasses arrive at the table, followed by a grinning Mediterranean hulk.
“Oh, man. ” I can’t even hide the way I’m beaming. I also can’t deny the erection in my slutty little running shorts, the one that is now throbbing painfully. “So, now I know three more things about you, Mister CalabreseVers47 .”
“Yeah?”
“One. You’re Italian. But your first name pretty much gave that away.”
“Guilty.”
“And unless you were a January baby, you’re, what—forty-eight this year?”
Bruno’s face flushes. “Um… that profile name is a few years old. I’ll be fifty in April, unfortunately.”
I’m loving this bashful side he’s showing me. I bask in the cuteness of it for a moment as I gear up for the third and final part of my grilling. “And how about the ‘vers’ part, Bruno?”
He chuckles, diverting his eyes and fiddling with his beer glass. “Well, in practice I’m more of a top. But sometimes I go home with guys hoping I’ll have my arse pounded with the same enthusiasm I show to theirs. I don’t even get a look-in, though, because the second we’re naked, their legs are straight up in the air.”
“Ha! It’s always the way—big guys with big dicks attract selfish bottoms.” My God, these huge gulps of rum I’ve been taking have really loosened my lips. “You know, mate, I have less than ten percent vision. I can’t check out men with any sense of subtlety. But my eyes were glued to that beautiful arse of yours the whole time you were walking away from me.”
Bruno’s now turning several shades of scarlet. I’m enjoying this. “Ah, mate, you flatter me. I have a big fat arse,” he says.
“It’s burly and hot and fills out those jeans perfectly.” I’m on a roll now. Leaning forward, I fix him with my filthiest stare. “And I’m shocked to think any bear or chaser in his right mind would not want to lavish it with as much attention as possible.” I sit back, fairly leering at him. “Of course, I’m obsessed with what you have down the front of your jocks. Who wouldn’t want a joyride on top of that monster? But, you know, a pancake is never done till you flip it over.”
I’m sure I can hear a low growl coming from Bruno. He’s smiling at me, but he’s not saying anything. Trying to fill the gap in the conversation, I take another large swig of my drink, and Bruno follows suit. After he’s swallowed, he seems to have found his voice. “You just keep getting better and better, Bradford.”
I’m thrilled to hear this. Maybe I’ve been a little forthright, but he has just shown me his dick. Suddenly I’m reminded of my failure to reciprocate. I pick up my iPad and squint to locate my ancient private album on the Growlr app. “These pics are easily six years old, and the most explicit one is just me in a Speedo. I was never game enough to have naked shots.”
Bruno’s eyes flick straight to his phone when he hears my message alert. Tapping on the screen, he smiles at the photos I’ve just unlocked for him. “You’re one hot, hairy bear,” he growls, before looking over at me, sizing me up against the outdated pics. “Gee, you were built like a brick shithouse back then, but you’re even more solid these days.” Another glance down, another look over to me. “And I love the full beard you have now.” I can tell he’s being diplomatic here. He doesn’t want to sound critical of the close-cropped scruff I sported back then. It’s very sweet of him, but he needn’t worry.
“Thanks. I decided to embrace my inner bear. I was never muscly or athletic enough to be acceptable. So, I grew my beard and became even burlier. All of a sudden, I had an identity.” I slap my hands around my middle. “I’ve got the bear belly now, but my legs and arse are nice and brawny thanks to all the hilly walks Brendan takes me on.”
Brendan sits up tall. He’s well-trained and he’s always ready when he hears his name. I give his neck a ruffle, then look back to Bruno, who has an amused expression on his face. “Yeah, I know,” I say. “Strange name for a dog, but he was already called that when I got him. It’s even funny when you say it next to mine. ‘Brendan and Bradford.’ Sounds like creepy little twin boys who speak in a unison monotone.”
Bruno laughs politely at my silly quip. “Brendan is actually my partner’s name.”
“Oh, wow. Really?” I look back down at my lab, who’s staring up at me, waiting for his instructions. “You hear that, buddy? He’s got a Brendan too.” I don’t need to mention my boyfriend’s name. I’d rather not think about him right now.
A couple of guys pass by the table, their eyes following me. As they smile, I get the kind of teenage thrill I so rarely feel these days. “Hey, handsome,” one of them calls out.
Bruno turns to see the men walking through the nearby glass door, and the guy that hadn’t spoken shoots me a grin and a wink. I can’t be rude, so I settle for a sunny smile and a wave. Something that I hope says, “You made me feel better about myself, but I’m otherwise engaged here.”
Bruno turns back to me with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll bet there are a ton of men here desperate for a piece of you.”
“You can talk. You’d be beating them off with a stick.”
He doesn’t answer that one, just chuckles shyly as he gazes back down at his phone. He knows it’s true. “Jesus,” he croons. “You in that Speedo…”
I slide off my bar stool, getting to my feet and straightening my running shorts. “Well, if you wanna see what’s underneath it, I have to visit the little boy’s room.” I shoot him a smug smile. “I’m sure you must need to go as well.” God, my inner slut has well and truly come out to play now.
My assumption is right. Bruno follows close behind me and Brendan as we make our way through the courtyard. “This arse of yours is fuckin’ gorgeous,” he growls in my ear. “Tell me, is it furry like your chest?”
“Well, I’m wearing a jockstrap under these. Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
Bruno gives a lusty laugh and I feel fingers slide underneath the leg opening of my shorts. They make their way over my hairy buns and straight to the forest in my crack. “Even hotter than I’d hoped for,” he rasps.
A large breath escapes me as the foraging fingers move deep between my cheeks, stroking my hole. “Bruno, you do realise I’m not gonna be able to piss now, don't you?”
Three men exit the gents’ toilets as we approach. It looks busy, so I’m surprised to see it’s empty when we enter. Brendan dutifully sits near the basins.
I take my position at the trough next to Bruno. Reaching across with my right hand, I pull up the left leg of my short-shorts and underwear, letting my dick and balls tumble out in full view of him. Squinting over in Bruno’s direction, I spot the great big penis he’s holding, already pissing merrily away. It’s just like it was in his semi-erect photos—thick and engorged, but not fully hard. I thrust my hips forward a bit to make a quick comparison with my own semi-erect dick. I definitely don’t have his girth, but I have every bit of his length.
I’m still ogling the spectacle between his legs when I hear him speak up. “What a nice surprise, Bradford.”
I can’t stop my lips curling into a smirk as I raise my eyes. He’s definitely staring at my crotch. “Yeah? Short guy must have little dick, you thought?”
Bruno’s laugh is so lusty it’s pure filth. “You caught me out there. That beautiful long cock of yours is a major bonus.” I can see him shuffling his foreskin back and forth a bit, distorting the raging stream he’s directing at the metal trough. Just the sight of it has my dick growing harder. “And here’s a coincidence for you,” he continues. “I have a massive kink for circumcised dicks with Prince Alberts.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I shit you not. I’ll trawl porn for them when I want a good wank. I’m a sucker for a cut cock, and they show off the PA rings beautifully.”
All this dirty talk he’s dishing out has me so wildly turned on that I’m now fully and achingly erect. Given the fact there's also a ring threaded into the end of my dick, it’s becoming impossible to finish what I supposedly came in here to do.
“Hey, Bradford?” Bruno says.
“Yeah?”
“You're getting piss everywhere.”
“Oh, Jesus. Sorry!” Looking down, I realise my cock is now pointing upwards and spraying in multiple directions. I quickly try to reposition my turgid shaft so my stream hits the trough at the correct angle.
“Nah, mate. Don’t apologise. It’s fucking hot . Look what you’ve done to me.” At his invitation, I turn my head and see that he’s now finished and standing there with a proud erection. He drags his gaze up my body till our eyes lock. “And while we’re at it, I love the fact you’re a short-arse.”
I guffaw so hard my piss stream goes AWOL again. “Short-arse? I’m nearly five-seven. It just looks worse because I’m standing next to someone who’s…” I survey the top of Bruno’s head. Similar height to Jarrod. “Six-one?”
“Spot on,” he grins. “Now, let me get another perv on your dick before you finish.”
“I might be a while yet.”
I don’t think I’ve ever done this before. I mean, sure, I’ve checked out countless guys’ penises at urinals. What man doesn’t do that? Straight or gay, they’re lying if they say they haven’t indulged their curiosity. But it’s never been this brazen for me. This sustained .
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. I feel a twinge of disappointment as Bruno finally tucks that magnificent schlong back into his jeans. When we're at the basins washing our hands, I watch his face in the mirror. My heart is thundering with lust. I can hardly wait till we seal the deal. This has to happen.
The contract is signed as we share the single hand dryer. I look into his big dark eyes and something snaps. Neither of us has to work out who’s going to make the first move, because our mouths are suddenly together. His lips are soft and his tongue is broad and confident, sweeping straight inside me and roaming all around in bold strokes. It’s not one of those delicate kisses that gradually picks up momentum. We’re grunting, warm air rushing from our nostrils and filtering through our moustaches as our sense of urgency intensifies.
I’m on fire. This hasn’t happened in so long and I’m floored at how much I’ve missed it. The relief, the pent-up desire, the raging passionate need in me is coursing through every cell of my body. Bruno turns his head slightly, delving into me even deeper with his tongue. I want to kiss like this all the time. I never want it to stop. His hand moves behind my head and holds it close. My arms are wrapped around his great big burly body, pulling it towards me, revelling in the manly bulk of it. He’s so substantial. So masculine. So damn perfect.
His other hand moves from its position on my shoulder, sliding down my front and stroking my nipple. Instantly, a loud and involuntary moan escapes me, the soundwaves travelling straight into Bruno’s throat. He pauses, tickling his thumb over my nipple again, and I moan even louder. I can feel the shape of his face change as it’s pressed against mine. The muscles tighten and his cheeks perk up as he breaks into a huge smile. Barely moving his lips away, he mumbles, “So you like it too, eh?”
“Exactly like that, yes,” I pant.
He gives the tiniest of chuckles. “You mean… like this?” His thumb tickles my nipple again and the groan that escapes my mouth this time is completely unbridled. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna have to pull out my dick and come right here on the floor.” I’m not lying. My left hand has been negligent in its duty of late and I’m feeling particularly trigger-happy.
“Well, that would be a shame, Bradford. I’m hoping for a whole lot more than a wank in the dunnies.”
“You and me both.” I move out a little, sliding my hand around to fondle his right nipple. “You’re telling me that yours work too, yeah?” I’m always fascinated when I meet another man like me. In my experience, most guys feel very little at all.
“You can be a bit more heavy-going with mine.”
“You mean you want pinching and biting?” I wince inwardly. I can’t think of anything more painful.
“No! No at all. Just a firm suck, or a bit of a roll between your fingers.”
I’m glad for these instructions. If this thing between Bruno and me is just a one-off, I want to blow his mind. Moving my other hand around, I find his left nipple and get a small surprise. “This one’s pierced?”
“Yeah. But it hurt so fuckin’ much I never let them near the other one with that bloody needle.”
I laugh quietly as I massage both of his little chest nubs, and Bruno moans exactly the way I did. It’s automatic and it resonates with base, animalistic desire. I’m gonna send this big bear to heaven tonight if it’s the last thing I do.
Bruno grasps the back of my head again, pulling me against his lips for a desperate reprise. Our kiss is fast and intense, ending when the door bursts open suddenly.
“Get a room!” Drunken sniggers come from behind us, but they barely register.
“Take me home with you, Bradford,” Bruno mumbles sotto voce. “Or we could try my place. There’s a good chance Brendan won’t be there.”
At the sound of his name, my trusty canine companion stands to attention, making me laugh out loud. “This ‘Brendan’ thing is gonna be a problem.” I reach down and grab my Brendan’s harness. I have no idea about the domestic dynamic between Bruno and his partner. Right now, all I want is for the two of us to enjoy ourselves without any awkwardness. “My place will be completely free. I can guarantee Jarrod will be out partying for the rest of the weekend.”
Guess he knows my boyfriend’s name now too.