James Reveals More than Expected

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Will and I had been going to 47 Central in Lynn nearly every Saturday night for 2-3 years now. I guess you could call us “regulars”. It was a nice neighborhood bar, with a very friendly (and hot) Brazilian bartender, a great DJ for dancing, and cheap drink prices, which more than outweighed the fact that the owner of the bar, George, was a persistent flirt. The typical crowd at the bar was 75% gay men, 25% their straight female friends, and the occasional straight guy.

I was 30 at the time, and still had a ‘baby face’. It was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, I loved getting carded all the time and looking ‘young’ made it easier to date young men. On the flip side, professionally it was annoying because everyone assumed I was in my early 20’s and thus inexperienced. I still had the high metabolism of a teenager, and could eat virtually anything I wanted while still maintaining a fit body on my 5’11” frame.

For a few weeks, the bar had a banner advertising an upcoming “Lube Wrestling” contest. Will asked me if I wanted to do it. Part of me did; part of me didn’t. I have always enjoyed wrestling; in my mind I kind of liken it to “aggressive cuddling”. In fact, I wrestled my freshman year in high school, but ultimately gave it up to focus more on football.

The concept of Lube Wrestling was pretty simple. They cleared the dance floor, then inflated a giant kiddie pool. Into the pool they poured a mixture of warm water and lube, until there was a 2-3 inch coating of liquid across the entire pool. And then you wrestle. Well, before you wrestle, you strip down to your undies.

That night, I knew it was going to be the Lube Wrestling event. I had told Will the week before that I would do it. However, admittedly, I was still on the fence and considering backing out. But that evening, I had made a point to put on a pair of clean underwear – just in case. I actually typically go commando (except for special occasions like weddings and funerals). I knew that having no underwear on would preclude me from the contest. So, I slipped on a pair, before pulling on my khakis. I could still back out if I wanted to, but I could still participate if the spirit moved me.

What I didn’t realize at the time, however, was that Will had already told George that I was planning to enter the contest. And what I further didn’t realize was that George, the bar owner who I must have said “no” to 33 times, had contrived a plan to take my lube wrestling further than I was prepared for. I had hoped that Will would be my opponent. We were longtime friends, and had even dated for two 6-month periods, before finally reaching the mutual decision that we worked really well as best friends, but just didn’t click as lovers. However, when we arrived at 11:30pm, the emcee greeted me shortly after we got past the ID check. He told me that I was already registered for tonight’s event, and that it would be starting at midnight. I asked if I could wrestle Will. “No, we already have 1 other contestant signed up,” I was told.

Will didn’t seem to be all that disappointed. As we had been driving in the car, he was whining about how awful it would be to have lube in your hair and then it dries on your body before you’re able to shower. I think he would have been more into it, if it were just “regular” wrestling, but Will never liked to get dirty.

I asked the emcee to show me who my opponent was. The emcee pointed to a young man. He was tall (about 6’4″). He was wearing a polo shirt and jeans, but I could see enough of the outline of his body to make me worried. This guy looked quite buff. He was not going to be an easy opponent to wrestle.

Shortly before midnight, the DJ asked everyone to get off the dance floor to allow for preparations for tonight’s event. Then there was a flurry of activity as the staff prepared the wrestling area.

The emcee called me onto the dance floor, announced my name to the crowd, and told me to strip. I took off my shirt, then my shoes, and then my shorts. It was awkward standing there in illegal bahis just my underwear, sort of like that moment when you’re alone in the doctor’s office stripped to your undies, waiting for the physician to come in. Only, this time I wasn’t alone. The bar was quite packed; it was more crowded than a typical night for some reason. With the dance floor having been vacated, the surrounding areas had become nearly elbow-to-elbow with bar patrons.

Then the emcee announced the name of my opponent, David, and invited him onto the dance floor. He, too, was asked to strip. He took off his shirt, and I think my emotions were split evenly between ‘fear’ and ‘attraction’. This guy was really cute. He had a smooth, toned body, with a well defined chest, and a 4- pack abdomen that would appear and disappear with each breath that he took. “This is going to be a tough match,” I told myself. I’ve always been a very competitive guy. And even though at 160 pounds I was a little undersized for football, I had earned the nickname “Timex” (based on the Timex wristwatch commercials, whose slogan was “built to take a licking and keep on ticking”). That was my M.O.; what I may have lacked in size, I made up for in heart and perseverance.

The other thing that struck me, as David pulled off his jeans, was that he was wearing Speedos. “Interesting,” I thought. If I had owned Speedos, maybe I would have worn them too. But, I had never quite come to grips with wearing those “banana hammocks”. They were “too gay” to me, and thus I was a “board short” guy. David’s dark blue Speedos were tighter and skimpier than my white Calvin boxer briefs. I was thinking he was quite bold to have purposely worn something that skimpy, knowing he was going to be wearing that in front of everyone.

We wrestled two rounds. It was a very competitive match. Neither one of us was able to pin the other. Initially, I had tried some of my “moves” that my freshman wrestling coach had taught me so many years ago, but it quickly became evident that principles of leverage were not applicable in a kiddie pool filled with lube. The other thing that became evident was that David’s blue Speedos were no longer the most revealing costume. My white Calvins had become so soaked with water and lube that they appeared to be peach, as they clung to my tan skin beneath.

Before the third round, the emcee makes an announcement – a rule change. “Given that neither opponent has been able to score a decisive pin in either of the first two rounds, the winner of tonight’s match will now be decided not by who pins his opponent, but by who first completely removes his opponent’s underwear.”

I gave the emcee a look of disbelief. Nudity is not allowed in bars in my state. But, my opponent lunged at me. And so, the battle was on!

I had no idea that this scheme had all been conceived by George over a week ago. I did not know that David had been hand-picked because of his athleticism. I did not know that David had been told several days ago about the planned “rule change”. And thus, I did not know that his decision to wear Speedos was all very deliberate.

As I noted, David’s Speedos were very tight. They also had a drawstring tied on the inside. While the first two rounds of the wrestling had been fairly even, I suddenly became aware that I was now at a disadvantage. I did hold my own for a bit. But, I basically had to use one hand for offense and one hand for defense. After some failed sparring and attempts to gain favorable positioning by both of us, I had a bit of a mental lapse after realizing that I would have to undo David’s drawstring before I had any chance of pulling his Speedos down. That was a task that temporarily required two hands, and that left me unguarded.

With our chests pressed up against each other and my hands trying to squeeze into his Speedos to grab the drawstring, David reached both arms around me and pushed my undies down off my butt. We continued to struggle for a bit, with me using one hand to hold up the front of my undies, illegal bahis siteleri while he had one hand trying to pull them down. I did manage an offensive flurry. I finally got his drawstring undone and was able to pull his Speedos down in the back. It was like trading a knight for a bishop when you don’t have a queen (and your opponent does). I got his butt exposed, but he got my undies down to my thighs.

In hindsight, I should have conceded at that point. Technically, I hadn’t lost since my undies weren’t “completely off”. So, we continued fighting for a bit. Then he got his knee or foot in between my legs. My undies went to my ankles. Losing my balance, I stepped out of one leg, but the undies were still hooked on my left foot.

We wrestled a bit more, but I had to be 100% defense-minded at that point. Checkmate was inevitable, as I could not attack. Eventually, he gave one final tug, and something broke. My undies went flying. I stood there, hands clasped over my privates.

That was probably the first point at which I became aware of the audience. Until that point, I had been so focused on the match. But now, I saw people formed in a semi-circle around the pool. Some were holding up cameraphones.

I was eager to put on my shirt and pants, but the emcee insisted that we meet at ‘center rink’ to pronounce the winner. I thought to myself, “enough, everyone knows he won.”

We were lined up like boxers – the emcee in the center, me on the right, my opponent on the left. David had pulled his Speedos up. My hands are clasped over my privates. The emcee has one arm/hand on each of our arms. Obviously, he’s going to raise my opponent’s arm. But, I’m keeping two hands firmly over my privates (since I see all these guys with cameras pointed at us).

It seemed like the emcee droned on for a while. “Thank you all for coming … and to pronounce tonight’s winner…” Then he shouts, “You’re all winners!”

His right arm yanks my left arm up over my head, as he also raises the right arm of my opponent.

What I hadn’t noticed, though, as the emcee was droning on, the bartender had worked his way behind me. Just as the emcee was making the announcement, the bartender grabs my right arm and pulls it away from my body.

Now in hindsight, I’m sure some guys must have snapped some pics while we had been wrestling. However, I don’t know how many of those would have come out. Movement may blur the image. My arm, his arm – either might have obstructed the view. But, for a good minute now, the emcee and the bartender had me facing the crowd, completely exposed.

Finally, they release my arms. The damage is done, though. I scramble to get dressed. My undies are nowhere to be found, but fortunately I’m quite accustomed to going commando. The owner of the bar comes up to me and thanks me for being a good sport and tell me, “whatever you want to drink the rest of the night is on the house.”

So, I make my way to the bar, and Nelio, the gorgeous Brazilian bartender, keeps topping off my glass, which made it difficult for me to keep track. You know, often when I go to a bar, I can go the whole night without a stranger approaching me, but that night, after the wrestling, lots of guys were coming up to talk to me. I guess the alcohol had dissolved my typical “resting bitch face”.

One really nice, very built, Latino guy came and sat next to me. We had a really nice conversation. At some point, he said he really was proud, in fact, envious of me, for feeling comfortable to do that. He never could have done it, etc. And I’m looking at him saying, “If I had a body like you, I’d never wear clothes.”

He responds by telling me how shy he is. We kept talking a bit, sitting there at the bar, and then he looks at me, pauses a bit, and says, “I’m really pissed at myself. I never bring my phone into the bar because I’m afraid of its being stolen. I’m really sad I don’t have any pictures of you.”

I just sorta blushed and said, “I’m sure you can just ask someone here. canlı bahis siteleri Lots of people had cameras.”

He said, “No.” He is too shy. No way he could do that.

I guess it was the alcohol, or his sweet talking, or both. I found myself saying, “you know what – there’s complete strangers here that have pics of me; you’re such a nice guy, I guess letting one more guy take photos would be no big deal.”

He looked at me with wide eyes, “Really? You’d let me?”

I said, “Yes.”

As we’re chatting, Nelio kept refilling my glass. I didn’t think anything of it. Shortly thereafter, the DJ comes onto the speaker with “last call for alcohol”. And then adds that he has a “special announcement”. I notice the bartender looking at me with this shit-eating grin that goes from ear to ear. Then the DJ says, “It’s come to our attention that some of you may have missed out on tonight’s earlier entertainment. But, we have good news for you. Tonight’s runner-up contestant, James, has agreed to pose for photographs at closing…and yes…he’ll be wearing the same costume he had on at the end of the night. So, ladies and gents, if you want to collect some more photos, go out to your cars, get your cameras, be back here at 2:00.”

Nelio just looked at me with this huge grin, “You said it was ok.”

Well, I didn’t really have a freakin’ choice at that point. I contemplated dashing out the door and hailing a cab. But, little chance I would get one immediately. And, drunk or not, my word is my honor. I felt I really couldn’t bail out at that point. I rationalized to myself, “people already have pics; the difference between having zero nude pics and one nude pic is huge. But the difference between 11 nude pics and 10 nude pics is really nothing.”

So, some people started filtering outside. Other people lingered inside. A little before 2am, the owner of the bar walked me onto the center of the dance floor. He told me to undress. I only had on a shirt and pants. It didn’t take long to get naked. The owner told me to take off my shoes too. People are snapping pics.

Suddenly, the music stops. All the lights go on. I had forgotten how dark the bar was. I also had forgotten that the lights all come on at 2am, when the bouncers try to usher people out at closing. I’m suddenly feeling way more naked than I had felt at the end of the match. I noticed that Nelio, now relieved of his bar duties, is pointing a camera – a big ass DSLR right at me.

A tight semi-circle had formed around me. “We can’t see,” someone shouts from the back.

George grabs my arm. “Get up on the bar,” he says.

He had me climb onto a stool and then onto the bar. I turned around, facing the crowd. It was so much different now. Earlier, after the wrestling, it had been so loud because of the music. Before, even though I was looking out at the crowd, it was dark. I didn’t really see individual people. But now, it was a lot quieter. I could clearly see people’s faces. I don’t know why, but I just stood there scanning the crowd. It was like I was trying to memorize every face so I could keep track of who had ever seen me naked.

It was so quiet, I could hear conversations. One guy telling his friend, “I love his blond fuzzy legs.”

Another guy said, “I guess there’s no doubt he’s Jewish” (although I am circumcised, I am not Jewish.)

Then a guy off to my side, “This is too fucking hot. Look, you can see both sides at once.”

His friend looked at him puzzled.

The friend points, “The mirror. The mirror behind the bar. You can see his ass.”

I really don’t remember how long it lasted. It probably was only 5 or 10 minutes. People began to filter out. Will walked over and handed me my shirt and pants. I got dressed. He asks, “Are you ok?”

I say, “yes, I’m ok.”

He leans in to give me a hug. His hand brushes my hair, “oh my god, your hair is crunchy.”

I guess that’s what dried lube does to you. Will dropped me off at my apartment. As much as I knew I should shower, I was just so physically exhausted from battling it out with David. I lay on my bed and fell asleep within minutes. Fortunately, I was able to wash the crust off the next morning.

However, other things from last night are not so easily undone.

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