One of my fetishes is for bartenders. I always have one. My current bartender crush is in Sacramento… more on him later. My bartender fetish started when I moved to San Diego with my lover (that’s what we used to call each other back in the day). I was newly out of the Army and newly out as a gay man. Every day was some new revelation or another in terms of who, what, and where the gay community was. We had been to Wolfs several times as a couple. My partner was an experienced leatherman and I was learning a lot from him about the leather culture. As I explored more, I came to find that I was quite the horn dog and was game for all kinds of debauchery that my partner had either already played out or wasn’t interested in anymore.

After about a year exploring in San Diego, my partner had a business trip he needed to go on and I decided that would be a good time to go to my first bar night on my own.

I was a bit pathetic looking back at it. I overdressed for a casual Friday night and my social anxiety had me standing in a corner most of the night until Mark, the bartender, called me over to sit at the bar. He could clearly see that I had been staring at him all night. His bright smile, his casual ease with the patrons, and the whole situation made him even more attractive than his naturally brawny good looks. Mustache, goatee, and unkept but short hair animated his every move as he poured, squeezed, twisted, and shook the concoctions up for thirsty leathermen.

I was amazed at his ability to work the crowd. Teasing us all in a very salacious way. Stirring the drinks with his fat middle finger and a couple of times with his meaty cock, with a wink and a big toothy grin. The crowd ate it up.

One by one and two by two, the crowd thinned out and the bar got less crowded. I was very buzzed by now, and with fewer people, I was able to open up to Mark more as he had fewer customers to serve. He told me that he was going to lock up. As I started to get up and grab my jacket, he told me to stay where I was and wait for him. I watched as he herded the last patrons out of the bar and locked the door.

This was all very new to me, but I had a feeling that I was in for a ride. He came back to the bar and asked me if I wanted another beer as I waited for him to close up and count the money, etc. I told him that I would. He told me that he only serves boys in the bar after closing if they were naked. I thought he was kidding at first, then realized that he wasn’t kidding as he held the beer back and gave me a stern look.

I started to take off my clothes and lay them on the pool table. My cock was hard and at attention as I slipped off the last of my clothes. He told me to put on only my boots. I bent over, spreading my ass toward him as I laced my boots back up (I wasn’t completely unsure of where this was going after all).

I sat naked at the bar drinking my beer as he chatted with me and finished up his duties. It was a new and very exciting feeling to be so naked and vulnerable in the presence of this leather bartender God.

When he was done, he came around to the other side of the bar and sat down next to me on a stool. He took a pair of handcuffs off his jacket and placed them on my hands behind my back. I felt the beer go to my lips and he poured it down as I tried to keep up gulping. Next, he pulled out a hanky and tied it around my head as a blindfold. I felt a collar go around my neck and heard the sound of the chain it was attached to as he pulled me down from the stool onto my knees and then I felt my face against his boots as he told me to lick them clean.

He pulled me back up and I could smell that his cock was out now and hard as a rock against my face. I started sucking but he would tease me with his meat. Slapping me in the face with it and holding it just out of reach of my mouth. With control of my head, he could use the collar and leash to pull my throat onto his dick and then back out again. He stabbed at my throat with his now wet cock, his hairy nuts slapping at my chin.

I felt the pull of the leash as he led me around the bar, stopping for a few minutes at the pool table to bend me over it and spread my hole for a few good smacks. I could feel my hole heating up. I’m sure it was red and swollen.

He continued to have me crawl around where he led me. I realized that he was leading me into the toilet. Not a freshly cleaned toilet mind you… this toilet had just been the location of all variety of debauchery. The floor was covered in old recycled beer piss, cum, and a few condoms that stuck to my knees as I crawled.

He placed me sitting on the single toilet next to the piss troff. The next thing I felt was Mark’s warm piss hitting my chest and flowing down my belly between my legs into the toilet and onto the floor. He sighed loudly and told me how badly he had had to take a piss as the full force of his firehouse was turned onto me. He laughed and lightly slapped my face as he called me a good piss faggot.

After the last few squirts from his fully loaded piss cannon, he lifted me to my feet and turned me around. I was pushed to my knees with my head in the toilet as he spits on my hole and forced his cock all the way, in one fluid stroke. I gasped and he held it deep in my hole as my muscles became accustomed to his girth. the chain was held tight as he thrust over and over again into my anus. He called it my boy pussy. He was in control and I was in heaven so he could call it whatever he liked. I felt his body tense and the warm spunk shoot deep inside me, then dripping down my leg. He pulled out and laughed a big belly laugh as he sat me back on the toilet bowl and snapped a few polaroids of me for his collection. He took off my blindfold and even the low light of the toilet was momentarily blinding. I felt his large mustache cover my mouth as his tongue kissed me hard and deep. “That was good, boy”, he said as he lifted me to my feet and guided me back out to the bar area. I was pulsating from the experience that he had just given me.

He handed me a clean bar towel and I cleaned up the best I could and got dressed.

“I’m going to fuck you again, boy… you just are never going to know when or where”, he told me as he unlocked the door and I made my way home.

He would indeed fuck me again. He found me walking down the street in a little pair of shorts and a tee shirt. He stopped the car and told me if I was going to walk down the street like a little whore that he was going to treat me like one. He quickly handcuffed me and threw me in the back of his car and drove me away.

We’ll call that part II of this story.