Warning: this work of short erotic fiction features explicit descriptions of intimate gay sexual acts and is considered not suitable for anyone under the age of 18 years.
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Ian walked around the corner onto Commercial Street, frantically looking for a number on the run down terraced houses occupying the street. There seemed to be an unnecessary urgency in his searching, as if he was a criminal not wanting anyone to know where he was heading. As he followed the descending numbers 59, 57, and 55 he desperately looked into the distance for some sign of his destination. Many houses were derelict, their windows boarded up and the few which were still habitable being in desperate need of repair. Arriving at number 19 he had the impression that “The Slave” had closed down many years ago, but he could hear muffled music coming from the blacked out windows. He put his hand on the door handle and pushed, but the door was locked. Standing in front of the large black door, he tried to peer through a small window no bigger than a small book. He saw a muscled, moustached guy peering back at him. The door clicked open and the guy inside poked his head around.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen” Ian replied.
“Sure about that? You do know what type of bar this is?”
“It’s a gay bar, isn’t it?”
The door opened fully, revealing another door which the man held open for Ian to pass. Once inside he made his way to the bar situated across a small dance floor, to the left was a DJ doing his best to get the seven customers already there onto the dance floor, but failing miserably. There were two guys in their mid-forties sat next to each other at the bar. They were like vultures. Both had never taken their eyes off the “fresh meat” from the moment he had entered. He ordered a drink and nervously walked across the dance floor, sitting down alone at a table opposite the DJ.
The dim lighting gave the place a real sleazy feel and Ian thought he would finish his drink and leave. It just wasn’t quite what he expected; obviously a down market venue struggling to keep its doors open.
He noticed two younger guys going down the narrow staircase next to the toilets and assumed this was the way to the dark room that the gay switchboard had mentioned. Although Ian was intimidated by his surroundings, something was burning inside him. Something was urging him to go and take a look, if only to satisfy his curiosity. Finishing his beer, he quickly walked across to the staircase. Feeling that everyone was watching him, he descended the steps and opened the door at the bottom which led into a dimly lit narrow passageway. There were three doors leading off on both sides. Ian could hear the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, accompanied by slow moaning noises coming from behind one of the closed doors.There were no signs of the two young guys that had come downstairs only a minute before him. As he strained his eyes to see his surroundings more clearly he was able to make out that one of the doors was open. He cautiously entered the cubicle and closed the door behind him, not really knowing what he was intending to do once inside. A single small red light bulb struggled to light the cabin’s interior, but it provided Ian with enough light to see that at the back of the cabin was a bench where he could sit.
Looking to his left were some bars in the wall where he could see inside the next cabin. On his right there was a hole about three inches in diameter. Someone had written above
“Your cock goes here,” with an arrow pointing down.
Both cubicles were empty but the atmosphere was causing Ian to get horny. He lowered his jeans and underwear and started to stroke his semi-rigid cock, now quickly hardening as his imagination of what could happen excited him more.
Ian heard the door at the far end of the corridor open. There were footsteps walking towards him.