Retro

Moustache close up.

I walked in the bar and my heart dropped to my stomach.  All it took was one glance in his direction.

Ball hat pulled low. Sacrilige.  Hiding those crystal blue eyes.

Handle bar mustache.  He’s drawn like a Tom of Finland dream.

I just want to grab hold and steer him to the door.

His shirt comes off.  Mine does too, pulled off by a dude in a harness who soon fastens one to me.  But my eyes are on him and that 70’s retro monstrosity crawling over his lip.

I want to kiss him.

My friends tell him so and when I order my next drink he is leaning over the bar pouring himself into my mouth.

It’s dirty.  I know.

It’s not like me.  I know this too.

But everything about him makes my body turn itself inside out.  I want to swallow him.  He’s surprisingly gentle as his furry lip presses against my own.

It feels amazing.  I want to do this all night.  And maybe we will.  I’m already counting the minutes to take him home.  

It’s not like me.  I know.

It’s dirty. I know this too but tonight we’re going retro.

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