Date: Fri, 2 Nov 2012 08:56:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: Vincent Salerno <v_salerno@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dirty Movies, Gay Bars & Bromance; "Bar Lookin' & Sometimes A Little More"

Bar Lookin' and Sometimes a Little More

Droppin' by a bar for the scent and feel of gayness.  Very rarely would I
follow through on any impulse but I liked to stop by a gay bar now and then
to see what was happening.  I read about most of them in the local gay
papers and magazines, and would smile over the appealing and often creative
names.  Since as a married man my available time for such activity was
extremely limited, I usually would just have a quick drink to check out a
new spot.  The reality would often fail to live up to my expectations, but
I kept trying anyhow.  Once in a while I would be treated to a sight that I
could clearly remember twenty years later.  For example, once I stopped by
a rundown little hole in the wall of a bar, called Dirty Edna's in New York
City.  Nothing too exciting going on, which was usual at these places.
Especially at five o'clock in the afternoon when I would visit.  This place
seemed to have a local crowd who knew each other. It became apparent to me
that some of the boys were selling it.  As I got rid of my beer in the
men's room, one of the hustlers who I had seen out at the bar came up to
the urinal next to mine and unzipped.  Well, okay, let's hang out a minute
more to see this.  I casually glance to the side as he removes his dick.
Uh, what is this!!  What the fuck did he take out ?  It occurred to me that
maybe it was one of those joke cocks that are sold in novelty stores, or a
dildo of some type.  I can't give this one a discreet sideward glance, got
to look at it headon.  This is fucking unbelievable.  What did he remove
from his jeans?  It's surely not a cock.  Wait a minute, I think that it
is.  Yep, I look openmouthed at the largest, longest, fattest dick I've
ever seen.  I had read in jerk-off books about beer can sized dicks.  This
cock was the only dick that I've ever seen that could be accurately
described that way.  It was fascinating to see, but a little bizarre at the
same time.  The hustler was not at all shy about my looking.  He leaned
back as he started to piss and lifted the monster in his hand up and down,
making it undulate like a small animal in his hand. He smiled at me as he
showed his wares.  What could you do with a cock that big?  I surely
couldn't get it into my mouth.  I can't imagine anybody wanting it up the
ass (although I guess there would be some takers).  I stepped away from the
urinal, running the water in the sink as I continued to stare.  Let's get a
look at the rest of him.  Tall.  Very tall, with dark, kind of greasy hair,
an ordinary face, with no outstandingly attractive or unattractive
features. Skinny, and dressed in jeans and a t shirt.  The t shirt has been
lifted up and his thin hairy stomach is revealed along with his cock, as he
continues to stand at the urinal showing off his dick for my benefit. I
return to the bar.

I take my seat next to a very good looking young man with straight light
brown hair who looks somewhat like the film actor Joe D'Allessandro.  We
had exchanged a few words earlier, and now after I return from the john, he
becomes friendlier and begins to ask me about myself.  Do I live in the
area, am I visiting from out of town, etc.  When I make some comment about
some of the guys hanging out being professional, he makes it clear that he
is not making idle chit-chat with me.  Nor is he interested in anything
other than my wallet.  "I'm selling it too," he says simply.  "Actually,
renting it for a while," he corrects with a smile.  The guy from the
bathroom with the monstrous cock has walked up to us and is standing next
to the Joe D lookalike.  "Joe" has his back to the hung hustler who begins
to gesture to me that "Joe" has a tiny dick.  He holds his thumb and index
finger about an inch apart and then points at "Joe."  After a few minutes
he injects himself into the conversation that "Joe" and I are having.  They
jostle with each other good-naturedly and quickly monstercock brings the
conversation around to dick size and begins to brag about his endowment.
"Oh, sure, oh sure," says 'Joe'.  I guess you're a regular bull, right ?" .
"He saw what I have, this guy saw what I have, tell him, mister.  Am I hung
like a bull or what? " This whole competition scene was getting too heavy
for me.  It wasn't quite clear whether it was just a friendly game that
hustlers play or whether they were desperately vying for my business.  In
either case I was not interested in contributing to its continuance, so I
said my goodbys and left.

Another day many years later found me at a bar also on the west side of
Manhattan, where young guys for rent, mostly Latino, hung out.  It was
early and not very busy. I passed several minutes.  A few of the working
boys approached me discreetly, and I actually helped one fill out a job
application form for a job as an usher in a local movie house.  Before
leaving I decided to hit the john, and was followed in by a big Latino guy
who joined me at the urinal.  He flipped out a very long snakelike uncut
cock of monumental proportions.  He skinned it back and began to make it
hard with slow, deliberate movements.  I hadn't seen anything as big as
this in years, maybe ever, and quickly put away my dinky pee-pee, unable to
urinate.  As I left the bar, I flashed back at the enormous dick I had seen
at Dirty Edna's those many years earlier.  Now, which one was bigger?  Not
having them next to each other to compare, and also working with the
disadvantage of comparing visual memory images twenty years apart, I
nevertheless decided that the winner and still champion was the Dirty Edna
guy, since the current challenger was probably not as thick.  But I think
that he was a pretty good match in length, and I hope that he enjoys
showing it for pleasure and profit for many years to come.

You may be thinking: Hey, don't you ever do anything but look?  Well, come
on, you know that I do.  Just not often, and usually not in bars.  But an
exception comes to mind.  There used to be a nice bar for gay gentlemen in
an old residential hotel for genteel ladies.  Having read about it, I
visited it late one afternoon and met a guy about my age, or maybe a little
older.  He was drunk and had a cute Irish face.  In fact, lots of the guys
who came here were usually drunk and had cute Irish faces.  On an earlier
visit, I had met one who was a retired New York City cop.  I liked him and
would have liked to get to know him better.  I could tell that he was
interested in me too.  Unfortunately, I ran into a neighbor of mine from
the suburbs, who was a buddy of the cop, and that spooked me.  So I left
that day, and returned today hoping to find the cop.  But no, instead I
found this other guy.  Dressed in a suit, great smile, we were playing
kneesies in no time.  We progressed to discreet brushing of dicks and hand
holding.  In the men's room we got to see the object of our tactile
explorations.  Terrence reached over and took my dick in his hand.  He
pulled back the foreskin, tickled the head with his fingers and then jerked
it a few times.  It quickly became hard and started to ooze.  I reached
over and wrapped my fist around his dick which was three quarters hard.
After a blissful moment or two, which included exploring his small hairy
balls, we zippered up.

We made a date to meet at the same bar in a week's time.  It was
springtime, and romance was blossoming.  The bar was named Menemsha, a town
on Martha's Vineyard, an island off Massachusetts, or is it Rhode Island, I
always forget.  There were suitable seafaring scenes on the walls of the
bar, with lanterns and fishing nets and such thrown about.  Sometimes, some
of the genteel ladies in residence at the hotel would be having a wee
cocktail at one of the tables.  They were blind to the goings on about
them, or chose to be.  Although a nor'easter was brewing in a print on the
wall, the weather outside was more cherry blossom time.  And Terrence and I
were slowly moving toward the day of consummating our relationship.
Finally the date was set.  It was to be at a local bathhouse.  I stood
outside on the designated corner for thirty minutes waiting nervously.  No
Terrence.  I slowly walked away to my train --in a way sad, and in a way,
relieved.  I never returned to Menemsha.  I read sometime later that it had
closed down.