This story is short, because it was a real event that happened 30 years ago in the space of about 30 minutes.

I was 21, shy, naive and more than a bit curious about life and sex. I was also getting absolutely no interest from the ladies. So I thought in the words of Lou Reed, "Why not take a walk on the wild side?" There was a bar close to my college that had a seedier reputation than it deserved because it was THE gay bar in the area and anybody who was gay, bi or curious went there. It was New Year's Eve and I headed downtown. I was not so naive as to realize that my twinkish charm would appeal to some of the gay men in the area. I put on what I thought was appropriate attire for a gay nightclub; a shiny magenta shirt with wide collar that might have been found at a thrift store in their 1970's collection, a pair of dark slacks whose texture matched the shirt and a pair of dress shoes that I thought would make me look good on the dance floor.

I need not have worried about the dance floor. The club was jammed full of gay men on the prowl, so many that every square inch was jammed full. The place had the stench of cologne, alcohol, and smoke. Those were the days when you could still smoke in a bar, but how anybody got a lit cigarette in their mouth was beyond me. You could only slip past the door and work yourself past horny men three inches at a time. The dark nightclub was operating at a deafening roar. People laughed and talked at full volume to be heard over all the other noise. Disco music poured out of the loudspeakers like watches over a Dali painting. As fast as one person would shout in my ear, "How are you doing?", they would be pushed away by the jostling drunken crowd. It was a long rail-type bar and various booths across from it, but almost nobody was sitting at the tables. Some of the young men seemed exciting and handsome, but bars were not my scene and I did not know how to start a conversation with a stranger in a room where you could hardly talk. I just shuffled past the men until I reached the far end. I was not even certain if there was staff besides the bartender, so I made it all the way to the back without a beer in my hand.

When I reached the opposite end close to an unused pool table, a middle-aged man placed his hand on my groin and said in my ear, "I have not seen you here before." He was twice my age, but good looking with sparse brown hair and a short well-trimmed beard showing the slightest bit of grey. His body was solid, well-defined with a big burly chest probably hairy under the shiny button-down shirt. He had the look of a man who worked out with thick solid biceps that intimidated a skinny college kid like me. I would not want to pick a fight with him, but neither one of us were there to fight. I think he may have had blue eyes, but you could not really tell in the nearly unlit room.

I shouted back over the hubbub and music, "First time here."

He smiled knowingly of experience as he unabashedly stroked my cock through my slacks. I probably was not the first virgin that he had welcomed to the club, but he was my first daddy-bear type. "Well, welcome! I hope you are going to become a regular." He did not stop his unapologetic harassment of my sex. I could not have physically pushed him away either. Not only was he bigger and stronger than me, but all around us were other partiers trapping us in a square foot of space for two people. Just as well that I was willing, even eager, to let him seduce me if that was where he was going.

I said, "I think I will." Something like this never happened to me at a straight club. Generally, I went to a straight bar right down the street where the college students hung out and I would spend the evening watching the girls throw themselves at other boys and go home frustrated and horny. Here I was barely 15 minutes into this bar and someone was not only hitting on me, but touching me in an obscene way. I was more than secretly hoping that something exactly like this would happen, so whatever homophobic fears I had about being in this place rushed from my brain as the blood rushed into my cock. I don't want to brag, but for a skinny boy, I had a fairly large piece of meat in my slacks. It is almost 8 inches and thick, and he must have liked what he felt.

Then he surprised me! He unzipped my slacks right in the middle of the crowd! Other people were so close to us that their bodies were pressed up against me. I was afraid that a sudden twist of another customer's body might reveal what he was doing and I would get arrested as he slid his hand in and fished my cock out through the hole. He must have just come in from the winter cold, since his hands were cool, but they felt good against my hot flesh. I protested, trying to reach down past men that were squeezing me too tight to defend myself, "I don't think you are supposed to do that here."

He replied with a smile and a wink, "Only if you are caught."

My stupid cock did not protest either as he stroked up and down my shaft. It said that it wanted attention from someone besides my own rosy palm and this man finally gave it what it wanted. His hand was lightly sliding up and down the shaft in a gentle twisting motion. I could not get my own hands down between the men on my left and right. He forthrightly took advantage of a baby-faced college student, confident that the student would not mind. Truth be told, I did not really mind. I came here hoping to get it on with somebody; I only thought maybe it would involve being invited back to their apartment. I could protest more, but that would only get me into trouble and then I would have to admit to people that I went to a gay club to party on New Year's. My quick mental calculations said give in and enjoy the ride, so I let my arms be trapped by the men all around me as he stepped a touch closer and kept stroking.

He was looking right into my eyes as he molested me in the most intimate way in the most public of places. He seemed to demand and expect me to push him away, I did not think that he wanted a kiss, although we were close enough that we could. His eyes said, "I am going to use you, you are going to like it, and you are not going to stop me." The set of his jaw told me that his eyes were not lying. He asked, "So did you come here for a drink or to rub your flesh up against a man?"

I mumbled, "I dunno."

He said dismissively, "That's what I thought." He turned his body slightly away from me, but kept rubbing my cock as if he was giving it complete attention. Somebody greeted him, but I did not catch the man's name and my new found master replied, "Happy New Year." without missing a beat on my shaft.

We did not say anything more as he kept stroking my fleshy bulb. It caused warm tingles to run from my the tip of my shaft through my groin and into my stomach where it mixed with the pit of my fear in an enticing way. I am sure that nobody else realized what was happening. There were other couples openly making out in the crowd, so two men even in a May/December coupling being so close to each other was not unusual. Even those who rubbed their bodies against mine in the wild party atmosphere remained oblivious to what this man was doing to me. He just kept stroking my throbbing shaft, staring at me, challenging me to say, "No".

I did not want to say, "No". It felt good not only to be masturbated, but to be the object of someone else's desire. I imagined the number of women who had shot me down when I asked them out on a date. I bet none of them were doing anything as wild as I was doing that night nor any of them would have dared to do anything so provocative as to masturbate me in public. They may have made the wrong choice to go out with some more manly man on this crazy night, but I made the right choice to get crazy with this macho guy tonight.

Furthermore, I felt submissive and controlled in a way that I had never felt before. I was ready to let him have his way with me. If he asked me to kneel in the bar and suck him off, I probably would have kneeled down right there, dug his meat out and slid my lips over his own thick mushroom head and seen how far I could have taken it down my throat. I probably would have been ineffectual in my attempt at getting him off in public, but I desired to be under the man's control and I would have given it the good old college try. It was the first time that I connected submissiveness to a sexual experience, but from that moment it became my desire to find someone who used me in the same utter mastery of my body.

My cock was throbbing against his hand and leaking a thin line of clear precum off its tip. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up letting him have access to my slender youthful body and he kept sliding up and down my cock with practiced steady strokes. Soon I was pressing my ass forward, humping his fingers as much as I was capable of doing in the cramped atmosphere of this den of iniquity. I breathed heavily and leaned into him, placing my hand around his muscular chest and moaned , "Oh, yes. That's it." while he sped up and gave my young dick the pleasure that it sought. My cock was starting to buck in his hand and I grabbed even tighter onto his chest as I begged, "Please, don't stop. That's it! Oh, yeah!" until I suddenly shot white cum into his hand. I probably spewed my ejaculate on him as well, but he did not seem to mind.

He lifted the cum to his mouth and took a lick saying, "Not bad." Then smeared the rest with a twist on to my face and said, "Catch you next time." He squeezed out through the crowd and I never even got his name.