London, Clubs, and sex with the older guy

Next day (check previous post for what you've missed) - and I move my kit up to gay friend C's flat where I'm staying that night. By-pass bad hangover afternoon and trip to the Albert Memorial, and I'm in a shite tourist joint in Covent Garden (why?!) having a quick bite to eat.

That afternoon I've found out gay friend J is down with his boyfriend M from Manchester, so we decide to meet up. Now, J and M are quite indie, and definitely the G-A-Y type. Nothing wrong with that, but really not my scene at all. Gay friend C, who I'm staying with, sits on the fence really with what he likes. But I terrify him - much prefer S of the river, like my older guys, proper conversation, real banter, and not a load of camp 'you have 2 hours to get drunk' rubbish.

Anyway, few hours later, and after a mild domestic which makes friend C appear like my boyfriend, and I'm stuck in the queue for Heaven. Haven't been there since G-A-Y took it over, but the queue was immense; possibly the worst I've seen it. As 2am arrives, it's time to leave - I'm not standing there any longer, and we leave gays J and M with a pile of lesbians who they know and are down from Manchester, too.

Across the river we walk - off to Fire (thank God for that). Now I never do drugs, and I'm not a big muscle boy by any means - but as I've said, I prefer older company, and I find Fire good fun, and I love the music - which is a big thing for me on a night out. Walking, walking, walking (pretty much) all the way to Vauxhall Cross - decent cabbie picked us up for the final stretch when the rest of the bastards turned their lights out.

Few more drinks and we're dancing in Barcode. My friend loves the music, but he looks like a twink lost at a meat market. And I'm loving it - hopefully not looking quite as out of place. Least I can grow a beard. Time for Fire, and he's getting a bit pissed off. He loves Fire's music, but he's a bit tired from work and the night before, and I'm getting horny, and I'm not exactly shy.

So, a guy catches my eye on the dancefloor - I never notice his age, but he had great stubble, and a nice hairy chest and we strike up a chat. Now this is what I hate about student places - no-one talks! What's that about? Friend C by now seems lost, and leaves when I start snogging new guy P. We dance for a good few hours, I meet his mate, and he asks is I'm going to the afterparty. I say I'm tired - could have kept going, if I'd had a sit for a bit actually, but anyway I'm then asked to bed. Off we go...

Get to his place about 6.10am, his mate fucks off, and then we get to it. Talk about slow and collected shagging - loads of snogging and foreplay and slow undressing, which was great. And then he worked me over with his tongue for ages. Totally lost track of time. Anyway, he let go eventually - I didn't as I was bursting for the loo by this point! - but after an hour's kip, he soon sorted me out. And after 3 days off, it felt goooood.

Lunchtime arrives, and I've a tube journey to get my mate's flat keys from his workplace, then have to pack up and make a train out of London (fuck). So we say our goodbyes, and have another snog. He gives me his number, and something comes up about me being 24.

4 years too many, but I'm flattered to be considered older. He's 43. My friend's appauled with me when I tell him - but I find that pretty hot, and we both enjoyed it, so what's the big deal? That afternoon I'm back in a social backwater poking my eyes out...