This week’s Microfantasy Monday theme is ‘Contest‘. Thanks as always to Miss Ang, the Sweltering Celt, for giving us the prompt and continuing our Microfantasy Monday fun.
I got out of my truck and wiped damp palms against my jeans. I was nervous and my bravado was beginning to wear off. I walked toward the entrance of the club only to duck into the alcove of a store just before reaching my goal. “Breathe” I thought to myself, “Get it under control.”
I thought about my friend, Jay, and how much shit he’d be giving me at this moment and felt myself grow hot with embarrassment. “Ok, that’s not the right inspiration.” I needed to get into that bar, win the point, win the contest. I knew how many points Jay had, and I knew the challenges left on his list were not ones he was going to attempt. In fact, he seemed happy with the apparent tie, so happy that he was at home right now, on the last night of our sexual scavenger hunt contest.
But not me, I wanted to win this thing, win bragging rights as more of a sexual deviant than my friend. So I straightened myself up and checked my reflection in the darkened display glass. Tight jeans, check. Leather vest over tight t-shirt, check. Borrowed binder under t-shirt so I would blend better with the natives. I glanced down, reached in and adjusted my cock so the outline was a bit more obvious, then squinted at my mustache and stubble, darkened a little for the occasion. Then I swung around so I could see my back pocket, right side. The baby blue hankerchief was tucked and smoothed, with just the corner showing, folded down over the pocket with precision.
I could win the point with just a proposition from one of the men inside the bar next door. However, if I could go through with it, “do the deed”, I’d have pervert bragging rights over Jay for years to come. Taking a deep breath, I set my shoulders and turned on my heel. The bright lights of Lumber Jack’s beckoned, and men of all ages, sizes and fetishes gathered within and along the sidewalk leading to it.
I took a deep breath and did my best swish through the gauntlet of cruising eyes and into the club, intent on the bar and a shot or two of liquid courage from a tequila jug.
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