Commission ~ Roadhouse Men (Danny Boy)

~July, 1986~

Dan’s old sedan rattled a bit as it drove down the two lane highway. Surely he should have hit Sparksville by now–had he missed the turn off? The road had been winding quite a bit, and he was no longer certain whether he was even heading East. The convention was in Chicago in a few days, but he’d been hoping to hit a few stops along the way to check in on some customers, but it was looking like he might be lucky just to get to the convention on time. When he saw a neon sign up ahead, flashing “Ed’s Roadhouse and Inn”, he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully they could at least show him where he was, and help him get back on the proper highway. He pulled up in front of the building, grabbed his map from the passenger seat, and took it in with him to see if anyone might be able to help him out.

Apparently, men started drinking pretty early, wherever he was now. The bar was already loud with drunken laughter, and he could barely hear the old Dolly Parton single in the jukebox scratch away in the corner. Surprisingly enough, there was an empty spot at the bar; Dan walked up, laid out the map, and waved over the bartender. The older man, chubby, balding, but with a face that flipped between youthful and aging at a whim of the light, say him wave, poured a draft walked over, and set it down in front of Dan, and was off filling another order before Dan could ask him anything. Scowling, Dan waved at him again, but he was deep in conversation with a regular. Dan sipped at the beer, was surprised at how nice it was, and decided that he might as well stay for a drink before continuing on. In fact, it was getting late–maybe the inn had a room for him, and he could worry about getting back on the road tomorrow.

He settled in at the bar. No one engaged him in conversation, but the atmosphere, and the beer, did wonders to lift his mood. In fact, by the end of the first beer, he was positively giddy–the bartender came over, set another down in front of him, but this time stopped to chat.

“I haven’t seen you here before–what’s your name?”

“Oh…it’s Daniel. Hey…uh, I was wondering if you could tell me where I am?”

“You’re at Ed’s Roadhouse.”

“No–No, I mean, on the map–” Dan said, but realized he no longer had the map with him. Where had it gone?

“What map?”

“I had it here, I did…”

“You’re about twenty miles south of Sutherland–that help?”

It didn’t.

“I’m heading for Chicago.”

“Ah–big city man.”

“I’m a salesman actually, there’s a convention.”

“A lot of hot guys in Chicago too–you can have some fun at night too.”

Dan was taken aback–guys? The bartender winked at him and slipped away before he could answer. Put off, Dan looked around the room and had a realization–this wasn’t just a bar…this was a faggot bar. Some of the rugged men had paired off and were making out in dusty corners. He was pretty sure that one guy was getting a blowjob by the jukebox. His stomach knotted–this place was probably infected with AIDS. He’d fucking taken a drink from that faggot! He got up off the barstool and tried to head for the door, but a burly man dressed in biker leathers–most likely a bouncer–pushed him back. “Where you goin’ so fast?” he said, “You weren’t about to leave without payin’, were you? Sit back down–Ed will settle up with you.”

Dan shouted an obscenity, the bouncer shoved him back onto the barstool and stood behind him, keeping him there. Dan found himself nervously sipping at his second beer, against his better judgement, and by the time the glass was half empty, he’d forgotten to be so concerned. Everyone was just having such a good time here! He kind of wished he could have a good time too, but he wasn’t gay.

Ed came back up to him when the second beer was gone, Dan swaying a bit in his seat, his mind in a happy haze. “Hey, big city man, most of these guys aren’t interested in stuff like this, but I just got imported a high grade Absinthe out of Europe. I haven’t sold any yet, but it’s pretty fantastic stuff–how’d you like a glass?”

Dan was all too happy to nod his head, but he wasn’t quite sure what he’d just agreed too. Ed set down a glass, set a spoon across it with a sugar cube on it, and then started slowly pouring drops of an emerald green liquor over the sugar, where it dribbled into the glass below. He was fascinated by the stream, and couldn’t peel his eyes away from it. He’d heard stories of absinthe, debaucherous stories from post-war Berlin. He’d been disgusted at the time, but now this whole idea seemed somehow so exciting and adventurous. The sugar had all dissolved, and Ed took away the spoon. The room was silent; all of their eyes had moved to Dan, but he was oblivious. He had heard that absinthe could cause one to hallucinate, but he hadn’t even drank it yet–how could it look like liquid emerald and still be real? He lifted the glass, trying to leave the surface as undisturbed as possible, with no ripples or waves, and took a sip. Anise, bitter, the sweet sugar, it rolled over his tongue and down his throat like quicksilver. He took another drink, this one larger and longer, and drained it on the third daught.

“Alright boys! Oldest gets the first fuck! Raise your hand if you’re over eighty.”

Way too many hands went up in the room. Dan didn’t hear the call for licenses and proof of age, he was running his tongue around his mouth, trying to figure out what the shape of it was. He felt…smaller, somehow. Lighter, like he could fly. He’d heard tales of fairies appearing in absinthe haze, but it couldn’t be striking him this fast, could it? The back of the bar was mirrored. He stood up, but was too short to see himself clearly; he climbed up on the barstool, balancing on his knees, and refused to believe that the young slender man, more of a boy really, balancing in the glass could possibly be him. Had he…become a fairy? He reached up and felt the clean, green hair cascading down to his shoulders, ran a hand along his graceful, smooth jaw line, unbuttoned his baggy shirt and saw his lean torso and abs. All he seemed to be missing were wings, and yet, on his knees on the barstool, he could almost imagine himself levitating, and then a drunk biker, heavy gutted with a grey beard and furry belly, came up behind him and picked him up effortlessly, chuckling, and pulling him close.

“Hey boy, how about you come on over here–we’re all gonna have some fun.”

Dan looked at the man’s lined face, his speckled beard. He was so handsome–such a daddy. He reached up with his soft, small hands and ran them through the man’s beard; the touch surprised him, and reddened his cheeks while Dan laughed. “Some…somebody likes what he sees,” he said, but was that really his voice? It was so high, with a lilt or even a lisp, and yet he could see something in the man’s eyes, a reflection of himself, almost like he could see how the man saw him. Young, pure, loving. He was all of those things, and the man reluctantly set him down in the midst of the men. Ed was off with a few white bearded men who were all disputing each other’s ages, and the rest were staring at Danny, like he was a void. Like they were trying to fill him with all of their longing, with all of their desire, and Danny took it all in, his own cock hardening at the thought of these men filling him. He could be empty. He could hold their wishes and…and their cocks. Yes, oh could he take their cocks! He singled one out, and slipped up to him, wrapping a slender arm around his shoulders, the man smelling mint and anise on Danny’s breath. “You wanna fuck me daddy?” he asked, and laughed, “I love being fucked by daddies, you know…”

“Now now, hold on Danny Boy,” Ed said behind him, “Don’t you want to have some fun with the oldest first? Jerrod here, he’s eighty-one, but goodness, does it look like he wants to fuck you…”

Danny looked at Jerrod, a short, somewhat withered figure with a bulging gut, and a long, matted white beard, a horseshoe of hair behind. Danny could feel the desire, feel the longing. Oh, he could be filled up so full, and Jerrod wanted him. He wanted him more than anyone in the room, he could feel it, and he wanted to be filled by him. The older man pulled him close, and the warmth of the young skin filled his old muscles with strength, he ran his tongue up Danny’s neck, tasting sea salt and fennel.

“I never thought something like you could exist.”

“Fill me daddy, fill me up, I’m everything you’ve ever wanted.”

The men cheered, Jerrod ripped down the ill fitting jeans that clung to Danny’s now slender waist, revealing the curve of his hip bones, a wisps of green around his cock and balls, but Jerrod had only one interest, reaching around, one old finger slipping into the young slut’s hole. Danny gasped, allowing himself to be pulled closer into Jerrod’s grip, sucking the older man’s tongue into his mouth, grinding up against his hairy body. The room was a blur, everyone tinged green. The energy of the men around him, he could feel the ebb, he could sense the need of these men to fill him, but Jerrod first, Ed told him Jerrod first. Ed was different. Ed was…the energy flowed around everyone else, but it went through Ed. He was a hub, he was controlling it, controlling Danny, as he spun around, dropped his ass a bit and let Jerrod work his cock into his eager, young hole.

The drink, this had to be an hallucination. He couldn’t focus on anything beyond that old cock in his ass, filling him after a few minutes with a load of cum, and then, as soon as Jerrod pulled out, two more men, just as old, were surrounding him, one sliding into his ass, while the other guided his head into his crotch, letting Danny suck his impotent cock back to life, giving him a taste of that youth he’d lost, man after man taking from him, giving him. He was for them, he thought. All of this was for them. All of him–his youth, his body–was for them. The room filled up with green, and he remembered almost nothing else until the morning, when he awoke to a pounding headache on the sawdust floor of the roadhouse. He groaned, his ass hurt, what the fuck had he drank last night?

“You finally up, Danny Boy?”

Ed, it was Ed–the bartender. He pushed himself up, but his arms were so thin and fragile. He wasn’t drunk, and yet that same lightness he’d felt in the room was still there, but it was just the fact that he’d lost so much weight. He’d never been this thin in his life, he was thin, and yet he, for some reason, was behaving like all of this was somehow normal. He was naked, why was he naked? Ed was behind the bar, cleaning glasses. Handsome, fuck. Did Ed fuck him last night? He hadn’t actually looked at him the night before, hadn’t paid much attention to him at all, but that beard speckled with grey, the muscular body coated with a firm layer of fat. Suddenly his cock was hard, and he was stroking it. He was walking up and taking a seat, smirking, his young lips curling, watching Ed watch him move. “I…I think you need to tell me what’s…what’s going on, Daddy…” Danny said, unable to keep the sex from his inflection.

Ed set down the glass he was cleaning, reached out and wrapped his hand in the back of Danny Boy’s green hair, and pulled him over the bar into a deep kiss. Answers could wait; Danny wanted him. He reached out rested his hands on Ed’s shoulders, moaning into his mouth.

“You dumb slut,” Ed said.

“Shut up and fuck my boy hole, I fuckin’ need it.”

“You always fucking need it.”

This should be wrong. He shouldn’t be getting up on the bar, letting Ed spread his ass and start licking his hole, but fuck, that’s what he fucking wanted. Ed climbed up after him, they fucked doggie star on the bar. Danny would watch their reflection for a few minutes until the dysphoria drove him to look away, but his eyes would always creep back to himself. To that hair, to that young toned body, to Ed, balls deep in his ass with unfocused eyes. He was almost there. Danny tightened up and felt the cock pulse inside him, and Ed slid out, gave him a kiss, and told him he should get to work before they fuck the day away.

Danny swept the bar–mostly. In the end, they fucked most of their time away anyway. And when men started arriving, Danny served them drinks, flirted, and if they paid enough–or were old enough for a freebie–he’d slip into the back with them for a bit of personal attention. And that was the way it was for a couple of years, until Ed decided he’d like to expand his collection further.

Sometimes Rudy hated the subway at night. He was a member at a twenty-four hour gym, and with his work schedule it was just easier to work out late at night or in the early morning. On occasion it was wonderful–an empty car maybe, or just a couple other people, being quiet or reading a book. At worst, in was a group of young hooligans or creepy homeless guys, or old faggots leering at him–and tonight that was what he was dealing with. Some old retired guy–saggy body, wrinkled skin–sitting across from him on the subway, just eyeing him up and down as they rode. Rudy did his best to ignore him, but there was one thing he couldn’t seem to ignore–the light on the guy’s phone kept blinking like a strobe light, and he couldn’t…quite seem to look away…it was getting hard…to…


What was he doing here?

“Just give me one more moment, you stud–I’m almost up and ready.”

He looked around at the shabby old apartment he was in, and then looked down, and realized he was naked. “What…what the fuck?” he shouted, and a moment later, the old man from the train came through the doorway, his cock the only thing solid about him.

“Oh, a strong willed one, eh? Don’t worry, we have all night to wear you down,” the old man said, and then his phone was blinking again…he tried to look…away but couldn’t…


Why did his ass hurt? What was happening?

“Say it–say you’re a whore for old man cock!”

“No…” Rudy managed to squeak out, but why was he so weak? The light…just look at the light…so…


Rudy moaned and rolled over in the bed, and found himself looking at one of the hottest geezers he’s seen in his life. The saggy skin, the wrinkles, the lecherous smile–everything was just right. The man was standing up at the side of the bed, his cock hard as a rock, and Rudy licked his lips.

“Hungry, boy?”

“You know it, daddy.”

“Then get over here and suck me off. And make it quick, I have five more old guys coming over who want to fuck you, so that hole of yours had better be ready slut.”

The man reached over and started probing Rudy’s tight hole, and he groaned. God, he was such a whore for old man cock, and he fucking loved it. Riding the subway can be the fucking best.

Growing older sucked. Now forty, Roy was fighting his body every day, from the balding to the body hair, to the paunch that resisted every diet and workout. There was no denying it–he was a bear, and he wasn’t happy about it. Well, he did like the way he looked, the real problem was that none of the guys he wanted were all that into his mature look.
Yeah, Roy loved twinks–he almost hated admitting it out loud, but something about their boyish looks and smooth, slim bodies drove him absolutely wild. Unfortunately, none of them ever gave him the time of day–until now. He still couldn’t believe the shirt had worked. He’d bought it online for the hefty price of 500 dollars, and he thought he’d been scammed when he couldn’t see anything odd about it–it just looked like a yellow shirt to him. But the first time he’d worn it to the club? The twinks had swarmed him. He’d gone home with three different boys, who’d kept him up all damn night.
So maybe growing older wasn’t so bad, so long as one always had the sense to be fashion forward.