Sideburns
© 2001 by Mike Kimera

Sideburns; what makes a man grow sideburns? Does he look in the mirror one morning and think; "Hmmm despite the sloping brow and the eye ridges I don't quite look Cro-Magnon enough. What I need is redundant facial hair that will lower my perceived IQ and give my lovers rug burn on their sensitive bits."

Jesus, his name is Damien. That's just too rich. "It must be an omen," I say and he doesn't even crack a smile. Maybe I'm just getting old.

Listen to that I-was-once-working-class-but-now-I-have-a-degree accent. Don't you wish some people came with mute buttons?

At least he's buying the drinks. Look at that arse; if he clenches it any harder he'll rupture something. Mind you it's a nice shape. I hate the ones that just disappear into their hips. When you finally see them naked you always think: "what an arsehole" and that tends to spoil the mood. Of course I think the lard arses are worse. The buttocks are inevitably fish-belly-white with coarse black hair, makes me feel like I've gone boar hunting.

Steady now, he's coming back. Smile. That's it sunshine, preen a bit; show me you like the attention.

My, my, quick with his hands isn't he. Well not just yet I think. Gently move his hand back to his own thigh thank you very much, but keep smiling.

Oh my God, I haven't heard that joke in at least 10 years. Tell me he wasn't leading with his best shot or this is going to be a long night. His job. They always want to talk about their jobs. It's the weekend and they still want to tell you what they're doing to increase the sales of KitKats across the world. Try to look interested.

Now that does make me laugh, not so much because he's and estate agent but because he admits with no sense of shame at all. Estate agent Damien. I bet he wears white socks with black shoes and drives a silver BMW that he bought second hand but is very proud of. I wonder if he knows that, throughout the 80's, BMWs (he'll call them Beamers of course) were known as Black Man's Wheels?

OK time to move him to the dance floor. God I hope he can dance. Oh yeah, he can dance. Look at that. Pornography in motion. He may be worth the effort after all. I just wish he didn't dance with his eyes closed. Bet he comes that way too: closed eyes and body clenched from bum to bonce.

His package looks promising. Nice size, but I bet there's a thong in there making sure everything important gets to the front. Shame no one wears tight jeans any more. Once upon at time I could have told whether or not they were circumcised before the first zipper unzipped.

Right, "tie your courage to the sticking place" and "once more unto the breach" and all that. Time to get personal.

Yes he likes the body to body stuff. I could tell that with my eyes closed given what he's rubbing against me. Good boy, hand up from the bum, along the sides, any minute now... yes sunshine, those are nipple rings. You LIKE that don't you. Your little estate agent mind has just fled the suburbs for the thrill of the big bad city.

My turn. Lean close. One hand on the small of his back. Grind the hips. Suck in that pendulous lower lip of his. I can think of few uses for that this evening. Just when he's looking to use tongue, step back a bit and grasp that package very, very firmly. Mmmm we are a big boy aren't we.

They always follow when I turn and walk away after doing that; like a puppy dog jumping up for its favourite toy.

At the bar he tries for a kiss, hands going everywhere. That stops when I grab him by the sideburns and whisper in his ear, "I like you Damien, so I'm going to take you home. If you are very good I'm going to hold your sideburns just like this while you suck my cock. Then I'm going to give your arse the reaming its always wanted. OK?"

Before he can answer I walk towards the exit. A few seconds of hesitation and then he's beside me trying to talk. I'm not listening. I'm watching both of us in the mirror this nightclub uses to disguise the fact that it's about the size of a double garage. I'm looking good for a man in his forties... and such a romantic too. Still, no time to dawdle, I have a nice piece real estate to take home and develop.

© 2001 Mike Kimera All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from

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