He was six-foot and towered over me. We had to be both around eighteen. Without thinking I stood on my tiptoes, meeting his dark-green eyes. The room was alive with the sounds of intimate men, but I couldn't tear my gaze away.
My hands moved with no thought, tracing the contours of his chest and shoulders, feeling hard biceps. He was severe-looking but undeniably attractive. I never thought I had a thing for nearly-shaved haircuts, but now I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else.
Goosebumps already came, but now it waselectric,especially down there. My cock pushed out against my jeans, turning the uncomfortable into painful. This guy had to be gay, but why just stare?
"I don't think this tall kid's gay," said the man who had offered to be my husband. He might have joked, but the others didn't laugh.
A formerly kneeling man stood and wiped at his mustache and pointed at the taller guy before me. "He's been in here staring at us, like some freak. Must be how he gets his rocks off or…"
He's the police.
"I'm not with the police," he said, guessing their thoughts. My heart melted from his deep commanding voice which unfortunately sounded like a cop's tone.
If I could see auras, I'm sure it would have turned the already dark room black.
The conversations sputtered so fast around us I couldn't keep track of who said what.
"It's another damn raid."
"Got an undercover pig."
"We didn't do nuthin' so leave us the hell alone, fascist!"
"He's a cop for sure."
"What about the little one?"
The bartender wouldn't see from another room. More whispered accusations came with a warning of an upcoming bust. Some suggested running, and others said there'd be no report if they took care of us.
A male from the shadows called out, "Cops can't screw if they're undercover. It's a fact."
Sex needed to start with something, like a kiss, right? For years, I imagined, but it was always in the woods or in secret. In the back of a theater could work, but never with a watching crowd.
My heart pounded in the darkness, but I was grateful for the handsome stranger towering over me. We were both in trouble, and other men were sure we were cops, but there was something protective about him.
The jeers and catcalls grew louder and meaner.
I don't know how two guys are supposed to kiss. I know the guy goes first when there's a girl. Does the taller one start? Then why didn't he?Does short equal unattractive in the gay world?
I stood on my tiptoes, leaned up, and pressed my lips against his. He was statue-still, and I deepened my kiss. His hands ran down my sides, gripping my butt through my jeans.
His muscles pressed against mine, amplifying his scent—like nature and trees after rain, mixed with the raw tang of male sweat.Oh my God, I'm actually kissing another man. So, this is what it's like! Solid!
As if I let an astral body go, I watched a young man my age but with a military haircut grind into me. Now I stood still.Am I making out with one of them? The enemy?
No. He just works out. That's why he's got muscles.
He stopped as I did. "What's your name?" I asked after panting.
"T-Todd, I mean, Dave. Yeah, Dave."
"Where are you from?"
"Here."
"A kiss isn't sex," yelled a gruff man to the side.
"A cock in the mouth is," said another.
