Early Release (mm)

It was a bright and sunny, late Summer’s day and I was back over in Sunderland for my annual fortnight away when I found myself sitting in the beer garden of one of my favourite local pubs by the beach enjoying a nice cuppa hot chocolate that the lovely barmaid had just presented me with at the tiny, square wood table out the back of the pub.


It was early afternoon and with Kyle being at work and not home for another three hours or so I had ventured out for a little walk and after having enjoyed a bit of fresh air on the ol’ fighter pilot’s bench by the old, white-painted iron lighthouse overlooking the calm North Sea, with my home country just on the other side of the waters, I realised the pubs would be open for business by now. So naturally, and with time on my hands, I had gone the short distance for a beverage or two.


Opting for a warm drink instead of my usual chilled pint of Stella, when the barmaid came to my outside table with the hot chocolate and handed it to me with a smile, I gave her a satisfied smile back. The look of the whipped cream on top of the hot chocolate instantly made the bright day even brighter. And spooning a good dollop of the cream first to taste it and finding it very much to my liking I stirred the rest of the whipped cream into the hot drink and left it on the table in front of me for a few moments before tasting it proper. Even with the cooling cream it would still burn my tongue if I gave it a go already.


Instead I reached out for my rucksack and found my pipey gear and pouch of my favourite, sweetly scented tobacco. I prefer a sweet baccy, it tastes good and lingers better in the air after, I find. And from the impression people around me, when I light up, give away, I am not alone in having that opinion.


Having stuffed the pipe and got a decent burn going I gave it a few good puffs and leaned back in my chair. I was the only one outside in the beer garden, but I did notice a couple of tables inside had a few people sitting at them enjoying a bit of pub lunch. The place wasn’t busy as such but at this time of the day it is what I prefer when popping into a local watering hole like this one. It also meant that when I needed to go to the Gents room that I wouldn’t be too worried leaving my rucksack behind me. The Gents was only a few metres away from the beer garden anyway and I would always take my phone and my wallet, of course, am not stupid.


Having finished the hot chocolate not long after and before lighting the pipe again I went for a wee. Figured I might as well do so now before opening the local newspaper and eventually need to go midway through reading it.


On my way back to the table out the back I went back to the bar and bought a pint of Stella after all. When in Rome and all that.




Once back outside and having taken my seat at the small table again I reached out for pipey and got a fresh, decent burn going again. Then I reached out for the morning paper I had bought on my way to the beach earlier on and with not a care in the world, I was on my holiday after all, I skimmed the first few pages. The local Sunderland Echo used to be a bit more readable I thought to myself as I turned the pages. I still like to buy myself a copy each day when am back over, but truth be told I mostly do so these days for the sports pages at the back of the daily copies. That day was no different and the pages leading up to the sports pages were done with pretty quick.


Just as I had begun reading the main news story relating to my beloved SAFC I got a text message from Kyle asking if I fancied meeting up in his lunch break. He usually heads to his mam and dad’s for a bit of lunch on workdays but they were away today and he fancied a bit of company. Letting him know I was down the pub by the beach and that it would be lovely spending lunch with him he swiftly texted me back saying he was on his way.


And not long after, he walked out into the beer garden to me.


Greeting me with his wonderful smile as always, he was about to take a seat opposite me at the table but stopped himself just as he pulled the chair out:

-         Think I’ll have a Full English.


He grinned and continued:

-         What are you having, mate ?


Having just had a somewhat filling cuppa hot chocolate and with a pint of Stella in front of me to be enjoyed as well, I smiled back that I was alright for now. And he went back inside the pub and came back out shortly after with a grin on his face:

-         I skipped breakfast this morning and I could eat a horse now.


We both laughed as we both knew how I feel about horses. That they should all be turned into steaks anyway. I didn’t even have to say it.




After a nice little catch-up on what our mornings had been like the lovely barmaid came out into the beer garden carrying what looked like a pretty decent serving of late breakfast and placed the large plate in front of him. Shortly after and just as he was about to tuck into it all she returned carrying a small wooden table set piece with various condiments for him, too.


Thanking her and with the glorious scent of freshly cooked, smoked back bacon and crispy fried sausages and slices of tasty black pudding in the air he began to tuck in. And looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself as well. The way to a man’s heart goes through his tummy they say and there could well be something about that looking at the satisfied smile on his face in front of me.

-         Fancy a bit of pool tonight ?


He said midway through his fry-up while paused for a few slurps of his orange pop.

-         Always… And it’s my turn to win.


I grinned and looked on impressed as he continued his lunch. He sure had been hungry, and it was good to see him finish it all. I like a lad with an appetite.


Shortly after and with his lunch break being all but over he got up from his chair again:

-         I’ll be home just after four. We can head to the pool place early if you like ?

-         Yeh, let’s do that, we can get a couple of hours in at the table and have a few snacks as well.

-         Sounds bloody marvellous, mate.


He grinned and reached out for his phone on the table next to his now empty plate:

-         See you in a couple of hours.


And then he was off. The barmaid came back out shortly after and took his plate and glass away. As well as somehow managed to carry the wooden table set piece of condiments at the same time. And I was by myself in the beer garden again.




The first pint of Stella turned into a second and as I got back out into the beer garden carrying the fresh one, I noticed a lad walking behind me. As I took my seat at the table again, he came into the beer garden as well and seemed to look around the place for something. He was probably in his early twenties and a good-looking lad. Good-looking in a slightly rough kind of way with an almost shaved head, stubble and tattoos on both arms and sticking out from the top of his t-shirt, too. He had the kind of bad boy look about him that was only empowered by the way he walked. His walk reminded me of the walk a certain lead singer of a very popular 1990s Manchester band had. Causal walk but somewhat specific, too.

-         Alright.


He said across the beer garden when he noticed I was looking at him. I didn’t mean to and I wasn’t staring as such, but I just hadn’t seen someone like him before and his entire presence intrigued me.

-         Alright.


I replied and gave him a smile without trying to smile too much avoiding making him falsely think I was taking the mickey.


Then with no other words he came over to the table I was sitting at, pulled Kyle’s chair out and sat down and looked straight at me:

-         Can I bum a fag ?


He said and smiled.


Now to anyone outside the North East of England that would probably have come across as a bit rude, but I knew the score, of course:

-         I smoke the pipe, mate, sorry.


I said, held up my dear pipe and smiled. He looked at my pipe and grinned:

-         Ahh. Cool.


Then he just sat there in front of me at the table and said nothing for a while. I didn’t quite know what to do or what to say for that matter, this was a situation new to me bit words escaped me just then.


After a few moments just sitting there he began to move a bit uneasy in his chair. And every now and then he touched his loose, grey sweatpants in a slightly pulling-up motion in front of himself sort of way. Was I imagining things or was he sporting a chub-on ?

-         Buy us a pint ?


He suddenly said. Not in a threatening way or anything, more like a direct question or a sort.


I never have any issues buying anyone a drink but I didn’t feel like leaving the table and my rucksack alone with him; I know how pathetically prejudiced it sounds and I wasn’t proud of how I was thinking, but there was just something about him that I wasn’t too sure about. And better safe than sorry and that.


I smiled and found my wallet, took a tenner out and handed it to him across the table between us:

-         You’ll need to get it yourself.

-         Cool.


The lad said and straight away got up from his chair and left the beer garden. I picked up my pipe again and got a decent burn going thinking to myself I would never see him again. And it made me smile. At myself and the slightly odd situation that had just unfolded before my eyes.


But I couldn’t have been more wrong as moments later he came back out into the beer garden and joined me at the table again:

-         Change.


He said, reached his hand out and placed a tiny bunch of leftover coins on my side of the table. Then he sat himself down again and took a good slurp of his pint. I reached out for my own pint and took a good sip of mine as well.

-         Cheers.


He grinned as he placed his glass in front of him on the table. Then he sat there without saying another word for what seemed like several minutes. While every now and then kept adjusting his grey sweatpants at the front. I looked a couple of times and I was more and more convinced he was sporting a solid chub-on.




Having picked up his glass two more times not long after, he finished his pint at the second go. Then after another moment of silence he looked me straight into my eyes and said:

-         Wanna suck my dick ?


I had gotten used to him by then and though his question and the directness with which it was asked still surprised me somewhat I laughed it off:

-         Nah, am good, mate...Thanks though.

-         Cool.


Then another moment of silence broke out. He looked around the beer garden a few times then moved his chair back a bit. And before I really noticed what was happening, he sat in front of me on the other side of the small table with his cock out. It was a very nice-looking cock I must admit, and I was tempted for a brief moment to indulge his request but stayed put in my seat.


Then with no words spoken he began to stroke himself off.


Now, I am no stranger to having a sly pull in strange places, but this was new, even for me. Sitting outside in a beer garden having a wank in broad daylight. It made me smile from ear to ear and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he continued to stroke his hard cock in front of me.


It didn’t last very long though and within just a couple of minutes he shot his load between his legs and down onto the wood flooring underneath the table between us. He barely made a sound as he came in what seemed like three big squirts.


Then he shook his hard cock a couple of times and a few more bits of cum hit the floor and moments later he pulled his cock back into his loose, grey sweatpants. I couldn’t wait to tell Kyle later on. He wouldn’t believe what he just missed out on am sure.


The lad suddenly pushed his chair a bit further back and got up from the table:

-         Laters.


He said and walked back into the pub leaving me by myself outside in the beer garden again.


I waited a few minutes making sure he wasn’t coming back. And then I reached out for my phone and moving it underneath the table I took a picture of his cum on the wood flooring. I would probably need proof when I told Kyle, I thought to myself and grinned.


Not long after I finished my pint as well and decided to call it a day.


Packing the local newspaper and pipey gear into my rucksack and putting it onto my back I got up from my chair and moved the chair back into place under the table. Then I grabbed the two empty pint glasses and, on my way out of the pub I stopped by the bar where I put the glasses down. The lovely barmaid was still there and thanked me for bringing the glasses back in.


On my way out of the pub I turned around and went back to the bar:

-         Did you see the lad who was just in ?... White t-shirt, grey sweatpants and trainers ? Short-shaved hair ?


I asked her when she walked up to me from the other end of the bar.

-         Oh, you mean Josh ?

-         Maybe…


I said and smiled. Then continued:

-         Is he a regular here ?


The barmaid grinned and began to wipe the top of the bar with a moist cloth:

-         Not always… He hasn’t been in for a while. He’s just back out from prison today and only stopped in for a quick drink on his way home.

-         Ahh…


I smiled back. Returning my smile, she continued:

-         Why do you ask ?

-         Just curious…


I said, smiled again and thanked her for a lovely couple of hours at the pub. Then I walked outside and leaving the pub I felt our andy move a bit inside my Summer shorts.




Whoever once said that rejection is the best aphrodisiac might have been onto something.