After having sex w/a few men at this point and shoplifting male magazines (which told me about things like gloryholes, restrooms, parks, etc) I decided to try a gay bar. I'm not sure how I came to this conclusion - but I did.
I was a resourceful kid. Remember - these were the days before the internet. I found in the white-pages a 'gay hotline'. It was a resource for troubled souls who needed guidance. That wasn't me. A guy on the line (Greg, I remember) told me about a number of bars. He gave me names - and these were listed in the white pages as well. These places were called things like 9 of Hearts, Keys, Illusions! UGH. Even at 17 I knew they were lame. But then one struck a chord: Sumpter Trucking Co. That was the one.
Dowtown was a good 30 min drive - so I had to figure out where it was and how to arrange being away from my parents. Again, using my wiles - I hatched a plan: I worked at a restaurant that turned into a bar after dinner. I bussed tables and barbacked (no - not barebacked........well, that's not true either) until 2:30a when the bar closed - and then it was usually until 4a before all was cleaned up. My parents never expected me home before 3:30a at the earliest.
One night, at work, I conveniently got ill around 11p. Instead of going home - I headed downtown. As smart as I thought I was, I had at least two things to learn:
- Don't go to a gay bar on a Monday night
- Don't go to a levi/leather bar dressed in a yellow Polo shirt, chinos and Topsiders (the uniform I had to wear to work - it was a very preppy town)
There were 5 guys in the bar - including the bartender and myself. Besides the bartender, I was also the youngest guy there by - ohhhh - 4 decades. Sitting at the end of the bar, I believe I was approached by each and everyone of those guys. SHOCK!
I only knew the bar I worked at closing at 2:30p. But by 12:30, the bartender started to shut stuff down. He hustled the guys out - but not me. He said I could stay until he broke down the bar. I don't know if he knew I was underage or not. Maybe I was just closer to his age. I'm guessing he was early 30s. Decent enough looking. Dark hair/beard. Leather vest. 501s.
He came and sat next to me - and chatted. Eventually his hands were on my thigh. His tongue in my mouth. I reciprocated.
At some point, tipsy turned into drunk. He showed me around the bar. There was no backroom as I had imagined. There was - but it wasn't what you'd think. Just an out of the way room for a pool table. Before I knew it was sitting on the edge of that table making out w/the bartender. Before I knew it he had my pants off and I was still on the edge of said table.
If you really stretch your imagination - you'll figure out that I eventually was on my back on that pool table and not taking the cue. His cue - yes. Tsk Tsk Tsk on him for taking advantage of a drunken minor!!!!
What I remember was enjoyable. Afterward (or during?) we exchanged names. To be honest - I kind of heard it. Kind of didn't. Kind of didn't care. He started being really sweet afteward. Yes- honest to g-d, it was a turn off. Excuse me - you just closed early to fuck a 17 yo on a pool table!!!!
After closing up - he walked me to my car. Asking to see me again! I said maybe. He asked if I remembered his name - and I was still drunk mind you - and said what I thought it was - 'Mary'. After acting like a huge queen (or Mary) he said 'BARRY'. ooops on my part.
I did go back the next Monday. Another fuck. Then next week I left for college.