It was half past one on a Tuesday night and there was almost no one in the bar, which meant we had control of the juke box and were spending almost more money on playing our favourite rock classics than on beer. We’d had already had quite a lot of beer that night, though, as well as the night before.
The night before he had come to my house around midnight because he wanted to talk. He had kept me awake until 7am to explain in the utmost detail why he wanted to put an end to any romantic involvement between us and just be friends. We had met a few months earlier and were very emotionally attached to each other and having a lot of fun, except that he had zero sex drive and we had stopped having sex after the first few nights together. We had kept sleeping together quite often but with clothes on and doing nothing else than cuddling a bit. I had accepted the situation at first but after a while, the whole thing had started driving me crazy. Still, he was always around and it was hard for me to even think of finding another guy to have sex with.
When he left my house after that long night of talking, I said to myself I hoped I would not see him for some time, so that I could finally detach myself somehow. However, it didn’t happen. The next evening he was around, again, and we ended up drinking with friends at a bar and then, when everyone else went home, we, friends of the night, made our way to our favourite bar, the one with the jukebox, the one were memories get blurry and you get to meet people of dubious origin and to engage in shady conversations with them.
The fact that he and I were still hanging out in spite of everything was making me happy and sad at the same time. I thought, shit, everything’s so good with him, but like this I’ll never get to meet anyone else. Then these three much younger people are suddenly playing with the juke box together with us and we are talking to them. Two guys and a girl, they all look hot and sexy somehow. We have some sort of drunk conversation, I must have talked a lot, but I can’t remember much of what we talked about.
I didn’t notice that one of the guys asked my friend if we were a couple. He said no, and we had actually never officially been one, but it was the first time that I was happy that he answered like that.
I was suddenly so drunk that didn’t notice that the guy was hitting on me. And that he was hot, oh so hot. And young. The three of them were young and hot. The other guy and the girl looked like they were a couple or something like that.
My friend said he was feeling too drunk and tired and he would make his way home. I was surprised, because he seemed quite sober compared to our usual standards. He wanted to leave me alone with them, but I didn’t realise that either.
There were very few people in the bar and I kept choosing some music at the juke box. A song came up that I really loved and I ended up dancing with the girl and kissing her while the two guys were watching. I love kissing girls, but I am always too shy to get something more out of it. As soon as the song was over, the girl and her boyfriend vanished and I was left alone with the hot guy. He invited me for a beer, there was no need for me to drink even more, but I did. We sat at the bar and started making out like crazy. I knew nothing about him except that he was sixteen years younger than me and that I wanted him to fuck me hard.
He suggested that we go to another bar nearby. I was happy to leave, because the bartender had complained about my choice of music and reset the juke box. I was so oblivious that I forgot my bag at the first bar and only realised an hour or so later. At the second bar I only remember drinking beer and making out. I remember hands making their way between each other’s legs. I was wearing very short and tight jeans shorts and a t-shirts and he would run his hands along my legs and reach beneath the jeans fabric to touch my panties lightly, tease me for a moment and then stop. I was mad with desire and he was making me beg him to give me something more.
Realising that I didn’t have my bag was a good excuse for us to leave the bar and get going. We went back to the bar where we had met, my bag was still there with all my stuff in it, untouched. How dumb of me, but luckily nothing bad happened.
We decided to go home together and it turns out we are living one block away from each other. He had his bike with him and had come on foot so he suggested I should sit on the back on his bike and he would drive. I did that and started licking his back and touching him everywhere under his shirt while he somehow managed to ride his bike in this very drunk state. This didn’t last that long, because eventually we crashed when the road took a sharp turn. Another miracle happened as neither of us was injured after this crash.
I persuaded him to lock his bike and just walk. This way I could stroke his dick through his pants while we made our way home. My place was a bit nearer than his and he said we should stop there and he would come upstairs with me. But my place was not actually my place yet – I was in the midst of moving there from my old flat and I had no stuff there and no contract for the flat yet, so in a glimpse of rationality I decided not to let a stranger come upstairs.
He reluctantly said yes then, we could go to his place. We were really almost neighbours, but I had never noticed him before. His room was on the ground floor and facing a busy street. He had some sort of curtain for privacy, but quite transparent. It was 5am when we finally got there and I was soaking wet. He wasted no time, threw me on a big pillow on the floor, put a condom on and started fucking me very hard. It was all so rough, I liked the feeling that people could possibly see our silhouettes from the window on the street, I liked the fact that he kept asking me who the fuck I was, I kept telling him my name but he actually didn’t give a fuck. I kept telling him how much older I am and he kept saying he didn’t believe me.
He fucked me from behind and pressed me hard against the pillow. He went to the kitchen to get some water in a big beer glass, fed me some of it and then put the glass on a shelf from where it soon fell to the ground breaking into many pieces as we were shaking the whole room with our fucking. Again a third time I was amazed as we could have cut ourselves badly with the glass, but the pieces fell half a meter away from us and we were fine.
He took a long leather strap from some cupboard and tied my hands on my back and kept fucking me more and more. He came a few times and kept coming and getting rock hard again quickly, grabbing a new condom and fucking me again. Eventually I came really hard against that pillow on the floor, my hands still tied and his body pushing me to the ground from behind.
He came one last time almost immediately and then the pack of condoms was empty. He untied me and disappeared in the flat. While he was away I realised I had no idea what his name was. I discreetly looked for something with his name on it but could not find anything. As his body was not pushing against me anymore, I suddenly realised how fucking cold that room was and that the window had been open all the time. When he came back I asked him if I could have a blanket. He threw a hoodie at me and said nothing. Didn’t say a single nice or not nice word. I reached for my phone and found out it was already 8am. What a different ending to the night compared to 24 hours earlier. I was expecting him to say that we can move to his bed and sleep there and that it will be warmer there, but he said nothing.
Slowly I was coming back to reality and I realised he wasn’t asking me to stay. I found my clothes and stuff and said I’ll make my way home. We didn’t exchange numbers or anything and I walked the short way from his place to mine feeling sore and hungover, but relieved.
A few hours later I made my way to my workplace making a little detour to see if his bike was really there where we left it, and yes, it was there. It was still there when I walked back from work that night. I thought about leaving a note with my name and number under the saddle, but I didn’t. That bike was the proof that that night had happened for real, because I wasn’t sure anymore. Oh and yes my body was sore and bruised, of course, but that didn’t seem to be such hard evidence as his bike. Maybe he didn’t exist in the end. Maybe none of that had happened.
Two days later, his bike was not there anymore, my body had stopped aching and my hangover was gone. In the midst of another discussion I told my friend that that hot guy had tied me and fucked me that night after he had left the bar. He said he’d left on purpose so that I could have some well deserved fun with such a hot and young dude.
A few days later my friend and I were in a shop at daytime and the guy with no name came in. He looked at me and walked past. Kept staring at me from a few metres for what seemed like forever. When my friend disappeared for a minute to get something from a shelf, the guy walked towards me and past me again. This time I could not resist and I told him: “we know each other”. And he just said: “yes, I’ve seen you somewhere”. I said the name of the bar where we had first met, but he just walked away.
I keep bumping into him once or twice a week in our neighbourhood and he always stares at me, says nothing and walk past. I don’t know his name yet and we seem to have no acquaintances or friends in common in our town where everyone knows everyone. I sometimes wonder if he does exist at all, but one thing is sure, he did his job well.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/cudc4q/the_guy_with_no_name_fm