Saturday, April 9, 2011

Bus Stop Exhibitionist

As Jimmy and I were stuffing our steamies into our faces at La Belle Province (Jimmy wanted us to do a review of it for QueerMontreal.info), we were privileged to some exquisite erotic entertainment. At the bus stop outside our booth stood a very hot guy putting on a very subtle sex show for us. Nothing extreme, but sexual nonetheless.


Yesterday was one of those early days in April in the Village, when the air is cool but the sun is very warming. The star of our show was in his twenties, medium height, with tight-fitting jeans containing a delicious ass. His hair was brown and cropped short around the sides, while the top was lighter and styled a bit longer. His face was a cross between twink and gangster, with a nose that was longish in a very erotic way. His beard was between a stubble and a real beard; I guessed he carefully sculpted it to be like that. His throat and part of his jaw were shaved clean.


He was a sculpture in himself, with the best part being his chest, which is the part he was -- ever so subtly -- exhibiting.


When I first noticed him, his tight, ivory cardigan exposed the top of a taut, tanned chest. Then he turned his V-shaped back to us, and I could tell he was undoing some of the buttons. When he turned back to face the sun, his hairless chest was exposed from belt upward, revealing a large piece of artwork tattooed on his upper right breast and shoulder. His muscles were also carefully sculpted, his skin tight. He leaned back against the bus stop sign, arching his back slightly, looking up at the sun with eyes closed. He wore no sunglasses. Passersby, mostly gay men, turned to look and drink him in. 
He turned every few moments to show off to more and newer admirers. Each time he posed in my direction, he would glance furtively and steamily at me to make sure I was still watching, drinking him in. I did not want to disappoint. Once as he turned he pulled his fly back up. Damn, I thought to myself, not hearing my partner's chatter, I missed that! All the time he had his cell phone out, sometimes texting, usually just looking at it, as though it were a prop, and at the end, talking on it. From time to time, he would innocently hike up the side of his sweater to show some skin, or pull down on his belt. He redid the buttons on his cardigan, refreshing the scene.


I wondered if he were a prostitute at first, but he had shopping bags resting at his feet. Maybe he was looking to get picked up, I thought. But I was certain of one thing: he was high on the endorphin that flows when you're exciting men. It's a great trip, a fine trip. I understood him very well. I knew what he wanted, what he needed, was to incite desire in men. I know that high. Turning men on. 


Finally, he gathered up his bags. The bus came, and he climbed on board. He sat on my side of the bus, probably so his fans -- including me, his #1 fan for the time -- could see him chatting on his phone as the bus pulled away.

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