Lust Fish

Note: This was written after a vote to determine my best/worst/most ludicrous search term of 2014. By some distance, ‘lust fish’ was the winner…

I wasn’t sure I’d make it through to midnight. Not when the pub was hot and heaving with people, and certainly not when I’d lost sight of Finn for what felt like the 100th time. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I hadn’t come down especially to see him, braving distinctly un-festive trains and a trip across London to squeeze myself into a corner and watch him lead his rugby mates through another chorus of the club song.

I clutched my pint glass to my chest as a young couple jostled past, underage and under-dressed, but giddy with the promise of a new year to come. I envied their carefree happiness, and wondered again why I’d bothered to make the trip.

The jukebox flipped tracks and suddenly I saw him. Finn, staggering up onto a table in all his ruddy-cheeked, beer-soaked glory, howling along with Sinatra as the pub rocked at the seams. Yeah, his way indeed: always his way. As his eyes swept the room and found mine, a smile spread across his face and he gave his crotch a quick tug. Later, his hand seemed to say. You’ll get me later.

I nodded in acknowledgement, but the lust I’d have felt just a few months earlier at the thought of bending over for him back in the hotel room – or in the lane behind the pub if we got really desperate – failed to materialise. Finn had always drunk like a fish, but increasingly he fucked like one too: flopping around limply, his breath stale and wet on my face as he jerked my cock with one hand and tried to coax life into his own with the other. Even semi-erect he was still bigger than most guys, and when I took him in my mouth like that I could usually keep him hard long enough to fill my throat with cum, but the days when he’d flip me over and pump my arse till everything inside me felt molten and bruised were long gone – and receding further into the distance with every bottle of whiskey that piled up outside his back door.

I left my empty glass on the bar and pushed my way through to the Gents. Maybe if I bought him a couple of those ‘herbal’ pills from the vending machine later? I caught myself before I could take that thought any further; I was horny and desperate, but not enough to risk his ridicule, his pity. Not yet, anyway.

The stalls were all empty, and I picked the one furthest from the door. I knew I’d be less disappointed later if I could just take the edge off things first. I thought about the first time he’d fucked me in a pub toilet, his fingers in my hair, yanking my head back as he forced his swollen dick deeper and deeper into my arse. He had made me walk back to our table afterwards on shaky legs, his cum sticky and hot inside me, and I was so turned-on that I barely made it there without coating the inside of my jeans with my own jizz. The smirk on Simon the barman’s face as I took my seat said it all.

I tugged at my cock, feeling it swell in my hand as I remembered how good he had felt that night. I let my eyes roam over the graffiti on the cubicle door. The pub was a proper dive, masquerading unconvincingly as the sort of respectable establishment to which you might take your grandmother for Sunday lunch. I knew that the toilets had seen all sorts over the years, from drug deals and coke binges through to the hard, dirty sex that I needed to ring in the New Year.

“Jake, are you in there?”

My hand fell away from my cock and I leaned cautiously against the door.

“Si, is that you? What’s happened? Is Finn ok?”

All the bar staff were wearily familiar with how nights out with Finn could end, and I steeled myself for the news that a taxi was already on its way.

“Oh he’s having a whale of a time, don’t worry. He’s already given us My Way and Hound Dog, so the set is in full swing. Don’t see him running out of steam any time soon.”

“Hound Dog,” I muttered. “I should be so lucky. More like wet fish.”

Si laughed softly, and I jumped as I realised just how close he was to my cubicle.

“Yeah, and no-one wants that – not tonight.”

“Not any night! Believe me…”

“Oh, I do. Less wet fish, more…I dunno, swordfish?”

“Big swordfish! A real whopper. One you would struggle to swallow.”

“Heh, I like your version of dirty talk. I’m not sure lust and fish go together myself though.”

I felt my cock twitch as I listened to Si’s low, deep voice just inches from my ear. I cleared my throat, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Are you flirti-…”

“I know what you’re doing in there, Jake. I know you’ve got your hand round your dick right now.”

He pushed against the door and I stepped back, letting it swing open. His hair fell in tight black ringlets around his face, and his eyes were as dark as his skin as he looked down between my legs and smiled.

“You know how loose Finn’s tongue gets by the end of one of his sessions, don’t you? He talks about you sometimes…about your mouth…”

Si’s hand moved to his belt. I held my breath as he slowly unbuckled it, and popped the buttons on his fly, one at a time. His arms were broad and powerful, the arms of a man who spent his days hauling around beer barrels and pulling pints. My thighs tensed in anticipation and I braced myself against the wall. Si reached inside his boxers and I saw his fingers curl around his cock as he pulled it out: thick and powerful, just like his arms; just like him.

We each took a step forward, so eager in our movements that we almost collided. His mouth covered mine and I felt his tongue between my lips, urgent and strong. Our cocks rubbed and slid along each other, and I could feel the heat pulsing from his. He was already achingly hard and I looked down to see it jutting up against mine, a full head longer and curved towards his stomach.

I dropped to my knees. The toilet door opened to let in another beered-up reveller, and I heard the music rise in volume as I slid my lips down his shaft. Midnight was fast approaching, but I knew I wouldn’t be kissing Finn when the bells rang in the New Year. He was welcome to his bottomless pints and his rugby boys; his My Way and his Hound Dog. I had my Lust Fish, and I knew I’d be entering 2015 in style.