Leather Skin Biker

Me and my slave made our return to the Chicago Eagle in June. It had been over a year since our last visit. The nice thing about taking a break from a regular hangout is that it’s almost as if you are the new kids on the block again. There is an opportunity for other pigs at the bar to perceive you as new and exotic. Of course, we remain, as always, a bit exotic. But the new is not always the case. So it was refreshing–for us, for them, for the night.

As luck would have it, it was old home night at the Eagle that sultry June evening. boy mick was at the bar, as was boy kyle. Me and my slave remain friends with boy mick and boy kyle to this day. W/we don’t play anymore, but we’ve retained a good friendship with them both. Not only were two of our old friends there, but Jim, the manager, was on duty, and happy to see us. There were also assorted friends of boy kyle’s whose acquaintance I had made previously. It was good to see those friends of kyle’s again.

One of boy kyle’s “friends” I had not met before made a point of standing opposite me, and sizing me up (and down). He was about 35 years old, maybe 5 feet 9 inches tall, wearing a Mir cap, harness, leather jeans, boots. He wasn’t all that, but seemed to try to make up for his size with his personality. After some time had passed, My slave had to go to the bathroom, sought My permission, and off he went to do his thing. In no time, the aforementioned acquaintance repositions himself in front of me and stands close enough to rub his leathered ass against My leathered crotch. Meantime, he says nothing to me and just keeps talking, as though nothing were happening. My reaction was essentially a non-reaction. If he could have seen my face, then he would have realized I was nearly snickering. But what I was thinking is that he had a mouth for several reasons: eating, sucking, licking, rimming, smoking, and, well, speaking. But he chose not to say anything, instead resorting to this non-verbal communication of his ass pressing into my crotch. As noted above, my response was to not respond. I was somewhat annoyed, but simultaneously amused. The short blow hard seemed to be unwilling to speak, choosing instead to rub. Enough about that.

There was another friend of boy kyle’s there with whom I was having a nice exchange. He is a Hispanic boy who has been through quite a lot. I will call him Harry. He is kind of bitter and jaded, but sexy. He smokes cigarettes, and he wears glasses. His dark shiny black hair, and facial hair appeal to me. I also like the fact that he has a pierced cock, which I felt through his jeans. I also felt his ass through the jeans. It too pleased me, and there is more to say about that. More on this Harry later.

So setting the scene at the Eagle, after so many months of absence, it was a very pleasant “homecoming” of sorts. All those months not seeing Jim, not going into the Clubroom (back bar, dress code enforced), not studying the doms and subs lined up around the bar, the walls, etc. Yeah, it was good to be back. It was definitely time to check out the back bar and the back room, just for old time’s sake. Well, just for old time’s sake and to see if there was anything of any interest going on back there.

After all those months, nothing had really changed. It was still fairly early, so there weren’t too many men milling about or leaning against the wall in the dim light. What I love about the Clubroom at the Eagle is that it is dark enough to mess around, but not pitch black back there. I also like the opportunities that it affords for public displays of “affection,” or abuse or torture. Whatever floats the patron’s boat. As long as I was back there with my slave, I figured I’d peak into the backroom and see what was going on in there, if anything. Turned out, nothing really interesting. Even in the dim light, there was nothing of interest to me in there. And so I just stepped right back out, and retuned to the back wall of the Clubroom, where I could pretty much see every pig who walked in through the doorway. The nice thing about standing against the wall in the Clubroom is that while the pigs’ eyes are adjusting to the darker room, I can scope them out, since my eyes have already adjusted to the dim light.

And there was a pretty steady stream of patrons filing through, basically doing the same kind of reconaissance work I had done—they all wanna know if there’s any action at the back bar or in the backroom. Once established, then they look to see if they can become part of something that interests them, or just watch. Well, at that time there wasn’t so much going on. But it was relatively early yet. Things could pick up back there, or not. Didn’t really matter anyway. Me and my slave we’re enjoying being back at the bar and socializing with our friends, new and old, regardless how busy the backroom was.

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 25th, 2008 at 1:33 pm and is filed under Backrooms, Cum, Fucking, Groups, Leather, Master/slave, Unwrapped.