"National Anthem" 

**



I've never been a big Toronto fan. Even compared with the blighted

wastes of my own infamous homeland, the city leaves a bad taste in my

mouth. Despite my natural inclination to spend all my free time holed

up in my hotel room alone, however, I was determined to give the place

a chance. I don't recall how I found the bar, probably somebody

mentioned it once upon a time. Anyway, it only took me a few minutes

to find him.



Actually, our meeting was pretty romantic. Like, beer commercial

romantic, though. Our eyes met from across the room and everything.



Jeremy looked like Dave Grohl, with curlier hair. (Don't laugh! I

*know* I'm not the only one with a serious Dave Grohl thing, but

that's another story.) He seemed... aloof, somehow, laughing and bored

at the same time. Boy, do I know how that feels.



The room got out of my way, fast. I felt like a blushing teenager

again, fighting down the urge to turn tail and run.



Instead, I distracted myself by swimming a few laps in Jeremy's wide,

innocent brown eyes. Luckily he was anything but innocent, and I had

soon progressed to feeling up every thread of his black sweater.



As nice as the bar was, we left in a hurry.



**



Life's cash on demand, right? At that point in my life I'm ashamed to

admit I'd never felt right having sex with another man. I wanted it so

bad, and knew I should keep trying. Jeremy looked (and felt, I quickly

discovered) comfortable. From the instant our hands touched, all my

barriers came down and I was finally getting what I'd wanted.



I don't want to give the impression he was passive. To the contrary,

once Jeremy accepted my offer we were both content to let him take the

lead. I followed him up to my own room and shivered as he undressed

me.



On reflection, being undressed is one of the hottest memories I have

of him, yet, that I let him open me up so far is unbelievable. (If

it's not obvious, let's just say I have trust issues.) Comfort beats

fear as surely as rock crushes scissors. Later, I reflected that the

anonymity of our encounter was my excuse to relax and enjoy things.

Why should I care what secrets he uncovered? Who would he tell?



My limbs moved more gracefully under his hands than they ever had on

their own. As he slowly exposed my skin he breathed on it hotly. No

lips, no tongue, just scalding currents of fire. The room was cool (I

hadn't bothered to adjust the thermostat), and I quivered on the edge

of something big, a landscape built of scalding cliffs and wide,

freezing plateaus.



We blew apart long enough for me to retrieve my trusty lube. (Well, of

course I had some with me! What kind of a man do you think I am?) When

I turned around he was wearing only his black silk boxers, which

failed to join us when we floated down into the bed.



I've always thought men look pretty silly and undignified rutting away

at their parters, ever since I actually was a blushing teenager. I

wish I could watch Jeremy, though--I'm sure he would be elegance

personified. Lying under him, I felt involved, included.



Trapped between warm skin and cool sheets, I pressed my cheek down and

opened my ass to him. Instead of standing back and pumping away, he

folded around me with masterful rhythm. Never too much too soon,

perfectly slow and fast and slower and faster.



Time passed and passed again. At first, he reached under me once and

started to jack me off, but I batted his hand away, leaving my shaved

cock half-sleeping. Eventually, as our heartbeats synced up, Jeremy

worked in a professional-quality back rub, working up to my neck and

down to a quiet climax. Maybe that's what I'd been missing, I thought

lazily. I've been trying to combine the two for years....



**



"Tie you down first?" Even as I asked, I was aware how little we'd

spoken. That was us, one of those casual gay hookups the hypocritical

homophobes warn everybody about. While I pondered this, Jeremy

assented and divested himself of his used condom.



I never liked the idea of the Boy Scouts; all that organization and

uniformity turns me off. But there's two things I've taken away from

childhood encounters with them: their "Be Prepared" motto and a knot

tying guide. Long story short, I'd brought a few goodies for my own

amusement if no one else's, certainly enough to accommodate some mild

bondage. Just call me toyslut.



Now I was on familiar territory again. I sat back on my haunches and

took the time to get my first good look at his glorious nakedness. He

was even better this way, sweat drenched and all mine. I gave him a

cat-like stretch, enjoying how his eyes widened, stockpiling my

confidence.



Then I dove in. One minute I was rubbing up and down his chest,

flicking out my tongue tip teasingly until his nipples sat up and

begged, the next trailing slowly downward towards a delicious navel.

He groaned, once from anticipation, then again with disappointment

when I skipped his cock and tasted up from his perineum to the bottom

edge of his scrotum.



Alas, it was over too fast. The last few minutes had left Jeremy wild

eyed, his toes flexing, ankles turning, and generally pretty turned

on. I was just breathing a little faster and *could* have held off,

but decided to give in anyway. While I'm confessing things, I should

add I need to work on my patience.



Rationalizing that there would be other times for my other hungers, I

closed in for the kill, turning my head parallel to his body and

wrapping my lips around his shaft sideways. I moved steadily up and

down his full, red cock, adding teeth and fingers where appropriate.



**



I treasure the next two nights. We met in the same bar, had sex in the

same hotel room, quietly sharing something simple that could never be

anything more.



I've been back since. He hasn't.



***