The Anniversary Bar Crawl

Husband and I recognize three anniversaries across the almost 24 years we've been together - the "Trampiversary" in August, celebrating the sleazy, horny afternoon when we first met up, along with a third guy, at a Denny's before going back to my place to fuck; the "Real Anniversary," dating from 2006, when we gathered family and friends and had a commitment ceremony and waltzed in our tuxedos and boots; and the "Legalversary," when we went to the courthouse in 2017 and got seventeen years of togetherness legally solemnized by a judge. Today is the Real Anniversary. We usually exchange a couple of small gifts, and sometimes we'll go out for dinner, but today is also a Sunday Fun Day, and a friend is having a birthday get-together at a local bar, so we head out in shorts and sandals to spend the day drinking and fondling our way through a multi-venue spree. It ends up being the Best Anniversary Ever. 

First, we go to the Hidden Door. The friend who is having the celebratory all-day drink-fest has been hanging out wearing his IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, BUY ME A DRINK shirt already for most of an hour by the time we arrive, and so Husband and I bounce around, catching up with guys we haven't seen in forever, groping hot strangers, making out with random guys up against the walls of the outdoor yard area that surrounds the tiny bar. The Door is set up oddly - they only take cash, and for that they pour marginally sub-lethal cocktails - my "shot" of neat Jameson is about three ounces, and Husband drinks beer after beer. I vape a little THCa, because I find I'm more engaging in social (and sexual) situations with it, and we enjoy the amazing spring afternoon shenanigans, delighting in being social and friendly. I spend the rest of the afternoon with only water and the vape pen, and Husband drinks a LOT of beer, staying in a light convivial buzz but never getting really drunk. We've both had a lot going on lately, him especially, and it's so good to get to relax. There is something about blowing off steam - it's totally different from sitting at home and just resting and watching TV. I watch him as he almost visibly unwinds, the tension of weeks of study for a huge test melts and drips off him as he socializes and flirts. I check in with him frequently, but also give him space - this is a thing that works for us, and it gives him a chance to decompress without me constantly hanging over him. Several times, I just stand against a wall where I can see him and his friends at a distance, chatting and happy. I smile watching him kiss some sexy man. He loves kissing. 

I see this rugged, handsome Latino guy standing near the back bar; we talk, and then we kiss and rub bodies a little. He's got an amazingly thick pelt of chest hair, which I delight in running my fingers through. His hair is buzzed shorter than mine, and he's got a short-trimmed black beard. He comes from LA, and says that this bar scene seems... mild. Like if this was LA, there would be a backroom with guys fucking. I explain to him a little about the history of vice raids in Dallas - guys getting their reputations ruined by crooked cops and bathroom photographers; bars being shut down for indecency. Plus, Dallas is so uptight because of all the Southern internalized homophobia. It's definitely going on, it's just a lot more quiet. 

I run into Thiago. He's been going to the gym a lot, and he is looking stunning, leaner and stronger than when I saw him before. His beard is thick and dark, and I want to watch my cock disappearing into it. He's here with his husband, and I hang out and talk with them for a little bit. He idly strokes my cock through my shorts, and I tell him I really want another round with him, some more hard fucking, and more of his sweet throat. He says that he can "put some mouth on it," but that's all he can do today - I get it, oral is easier. Fortunately for me, it's also my favorite. I nod meaningfully toward the porta-johns at the back of the bar's outdoor yard. We walk that way. I see a sign on the door of the double-sized handicapped crapper, saying that they will remove anyone caught with more than one person in the outdoor toilets - it makes me a little nervous, but Thiago says nobody pays attention to the rule anyway. Still, that door is locked, and so we walk past to one of the smaller single-seat orange ones, and duck inside. As I'm closing the door, I see Wes, this tall handsome Cambodian guy that Husband and I met at a festival at the Buddhist temple; he and I have had a lot of conversation about sex and submission, and I enjoyed getting to two-step with him a week ago - he gives me the eyeball, making it clear that he's noticed what I'm up to. 

Inside, Thiago kneels down and gets right to work - I keep my shorts on and just pull my cock out, shoving it into his mouth. We wrestle a little with his sunglasses, and he does an amazing job of swallowing my cock. DAMN, it's fun. We don't go at it for a long time - this is more about having a moment of fun connection, than about trying to get off. I choke him with my dick again and again, watching his eyes go crossed as he gags hard. After a couple of minutes fucking his throat, I zip up and put myself back together and step out, leaving Thiago to reassemble himself and regain his composure before he exits a couple of minutes later. I take the video back to show the LA guy, and we talk some more. It may seem mild, but those of us who are in the know, can make it spicy. 

I am wearing an octopus shirt. Husband and I have a thing about these mysterious creatures - and a couple of guys sitting and talking with me ask me about why. I tell them about it, and then I get Husband so we can do the dance - after years of having them show up in artwork wherever we went, there was a guy we hooked up with once who said, "Jeez, it's like I'm being fucked by an octopus - there's hands everywhere!" and it stuck. Octopus is our couple spirit animal. Husband stands in front of me and we wave all our arms - so that everybody can see how we are one beast with eight limbs. It turns out that one of the guys has done an octopus chainmail hood, and we enjoy looking at his project photos and talking about handwork, chainmail, weaving, and kink. Then, Thiago and his husband wander up, and Husband and I spend probably twenty minutes making out and stroking dicks with the two of them. For quite a while, all four of us are pressed into such a tight square that although everyone standing nearby us can tell there's something going in, nobody can see the four naked hard cocks sticking out between our bodies. We take turns, passing cocks from hand to hand, kissing and making out as we do so, swapping spit and wiping it on each other's dicks. It's remarkably hot. Thiago's husband has a beautiful thick penis, and I'm seriously tempted to kneel down and suck it, but I know that would be too much and end the moment. After a while, we break apart and go get drink refills. I decide to try the little Mexican-food grill inside the bar's courtyard, and Husband and I eat some flautas and some tamales. The flautas are good, but the tamales are AMAZING, and hit the spot as we stand and eat them munching in the sunshine. 

I run into a buddy who's worked in a number of bars around Dallas since the mid nineties. He and I have an interesting history: when I was in my two-step dancing prime in my late twenties, this must have been like 1997, this hot thirty-something country boy showed up at the RoundUp looking like a character from a song - strong-looking, all-country and masculine, with a big black cowboy hat, working boots, and tight jeans, and an amazing mustache. I went up and asked him to dance, and he stammered out that he couldn't, thank you for asking though... and after I sat and talked to him for a few minutes and he was still tongue-tied, I wandered off to dance with other guys. Only much later did I learn that he was at that point still married to a woman, had JUST walked into his first gay bar ever, and was so nervous that he hardly talked to anyone. He told me that I had been the only guy to come up and try to get him to dance - and that he'd had the hots for me since. He ended up working at that same cowboy bar, and was my regular bartender for a lot of years, always keeping me in fresh drink, but always behind the bar and a step away. I ran into him later on in his alternate identity as Penis Paparazzi on Twitter, and he's taken a few bar-bathroom photos of my dick. Maybe he sucked it once or twice. I've also enjoyed his oral skills at the bath house. Today, I want to get him to take a picture for me, to show off my dick for his following, and because I'm just in a horny friendly mood. We go to the bar's tiny bathroom, and after some struggle to get good lighting and a flattering angle while avoiding catching anybody else in the pictures, he gets a couple of good shots. I tell him I have wanted to suck his dick for a long time, and I lean over to do just that - he warns me right as I've gotten his dick all the way into my mouth, that he's about to piss. I just get a few squirts before he shuts it off, but I'm intrigued to try more. This is the first time I've done that particular thing from the cocksucker's side, and it's not as intensely flavored as I was scared it might be - a little sweet, a little salty, and gone without a lingering piss taste. Hot. 

Then - it's getting to be time for the Eagle. We had originally had two different invitations for this afternoon, but had to simplify - we never expected the day to run so long. They do a Sunday Trash Disco dance, and we show up and hang out, again seeing lots of guys we know. I stand on the back patio, and have an awesome conversation with a guy who wants to be called R - I ask if I can touch his beautifully furry shoulders and back, and this prompts a pop-up conversation about the sexiness of active consent (Yaay! Hot guys into consent!) and boundaries, as well as plenty of consensual fur-stroking. We make out a little, talking about family and social life and a little bit of everything. 

I spot Wes again, and we get a chance to have a good visit - the kind of visit where I put a stinging handprint on his chest and then kiss him hard and put my hand down his throat. I love this little game - especially in a crowded bar situation, where it can be almost subtle - we're leaned close together, and it mostly looks like I've got his chin in my hand as we're talking - not a lot of people can tell that I'm gently massaging the back of his tongue with two fingers as he sways and struggles with the blockage of his air. It's a hot time. He reaches down and strokes my hard cock, running his hands over me again and again, and then he sits on a barstool and wraps both arms and both legs around my body like he's going to climb me like a tree.

After a while, I end up making out with R again, and then Husband shows up and we all three make out. I have to say, I think we had the most perfect three-way kiss we've ever had with a guy - all three bearded faces pressed together so that each mouth fully touches both the others, tongues moving against lips and mustaches. It's really, really good. We spend a while kind of intermittently making out - we'll wander around, go to the bathroom, see somebody else, and then bump into each other and kiss again. A time or two, I go pick up R and take him to find Husband, just to make sure he's keeping up with his recommended hourly allowance of kissing. When he's like this, I call him the Kissing Bandit - he will go from face to face like a honeybee gathering nectar, kissing his way across a bar. 

And then... after another round, Husband walks up to this tall, muscular, very attractive guy standing all by himself. They talk for a couple of minutes, stroking each other's chests and bellies, and then walk over to where I'm standing just a little away from R. I'm not sure what's happening. The guy says that Husband has told him it's our Anniversary, and he has to come over and wish me a happy anniversary too. The three of us make out, touching bodies and running our hands over his harness that looks like a double bandolier of bullets. After a while, it's obvious that we're all of the same mind, so we head to the restroom. We get the big stall, and the hot guy drops to his knees, shucks off his harness which hits the floor with a metallic crash, and begins to suck the two of us. We take turns fucking into his throat - he tells us that he teaches a class in cocksucking at Steamworks, and I can fully believe it. He's AMAZING. This is something I've wanted to share with Husband, and it's so perfect to be doing it on this particular day. I take off my belt and strap it behind his head, holding the ends one in each hand, so I can manhandle his skull like a piece of cargo. We fuck his throat a LOT. Finally, Husband gets close to his orgasm, and buries it deep as the guy swallows every drop. I'm so hot from watching this that it doesn't take me much longer - a run of the hard gluck-gluck throat fucking strokes with him pinned against the wall - and I hold my cock all the way down his throat as I unload. There's something magical about mixing my seed with Husband's in the throat of this handsome stud as he gasps for breath around my penis, and it feels like he's given us an extraordinary gift of passion to share on our special day. 

I hadn't realized that Husband was recording video at the end, until he told me later - I'm not noisy, because we're in a bar bathroom, but this is me shooting my load quietly down his throat.