I made a New Year resolution to take in more live performances. Last night I finally made it to magnificently restored Fox Theater in Oakland, a spectacular venue. I saw the Black Keys, very great, hard, dirty, bluesy guitar and drums only. The drummer kicked pounding ass.

I met a library co-worker there, my work-brother; we have the hate, love, tease relationship. Because there is no full time work in San Francisco, he was joined by all his friends from his other job, some of which I had met before, and some new faces. From across the group I see a look from one of the men. An overtly sexual gaze, not just a glance, but an eye catcher, so strong that I had to turn away in embarrassment. I asked my work-brother; what the fuck is up with his strange friend, “is he super high…or what?” My work-brother proceeds to tell me, his friend, is just one of those Berkeley modern hippie types and the most sexual being he knows. Yes, my eyebrow rose in intrigue, the seed was planted. Each time I glanced back he would flash that gaze of sweet odd want.

A few songs into the show I move back to be directly in front of him, but next to my work-brother, who then introduces us. A passionate strong hand shake and a kiss on the hand. His fingers are long, his hands are large, he is tall and lanky . The heavy drum and guitar stream into the air. I am into it. He leans into my ear and states “they are so fucking juicy.” We gravitate, random sexuality. I back my ass into him to test receptiveness. The song plays. My hand find his cock with ease, it is already slightly hard. Hard like it has been that way all night, a nice state, heavier than heavy, nearing stiff, but not that kind of uncomfortable stiff, I would say an enjoyable state of near stiffness. As if this is how he walks around all the time. It is probably why he gave me that strange gaze in the first place, he sensed I was the one, the free one, full of random sexual energy. His cock like dowsing wand for other sexual beings.

The song. My hand now realizing, understanding, learning, feeling his shape. Rhythmically I match my hands movement to that of the music, bringing him from almost stiff to rock solid. The feeling is so incredible. I perform slow and dirty, just like the song. Never have we met before and his cock was filling my palms. I felt every indentation, ridge, curve, twitch and throb through his jeans, as I stroked and jerked his cock for the length of the song. He felt so good in my grasp, propelling his groin into me. Scooping from below his whole package, feeling his balls, pulled up and tight. He move into my palm, I respond, again, wrapping around his cock, in the dark, in a crowd of people. I know he was dripping beautiful tasty pre-cum.

The song ended, and we stayed connected to each other the remainder of the show. At the end, he thanked me, professing (in his mod-hippie Berkeley way) the amazement of my wonderful hands, the dirty music, the unabashed sexual energy. He asked me with a tone of innocence and gratefulness–“could you be any more generous?” I looked him directly in the eyes with my vixen smile and said “of course I can.”

It was a little bit of that magical “random” I love so well.