Warburg picked me up in his Chevy Avalanche right after work for a weekend of deer hunting at a mutual friend Dolphs doublewide near Binghamton, NY. He was a real mans man: 63 years old, 6 tall, white slicked back hair, mustache, barrel chested and muscled from a lifetime as a union steelworker and a healthy love of guns and the outdoors. He was always up there staying with this person or that, coming around to our place for 4:00 cocktails and perhaps dinner and a bonfire. I guess I became aware of him when I was around 15 and an habitual masturbator. Id think of everyone and anything to get off and when I got around to him, he just kinda stuck in my mind as a default fantasy when I needed to rub a quick one out.
Anyway fast forward 20 years and I never made my feelings known to him. During the summer months hed be around in his tank tops and tight jeans and cowboy boots, showing off some rifle or other gun. Wed all shoot then drink beers and exchange bawdy talk always with the same conclusion, me beating off in the bathroom before bed.
Driving up, Warburg said he was hungry and pulled into a crappy strip bar off the highway. The girls were predictable, but he said that they have the best burgers around so we went in. All the girls seemed to know him as we made our way back to the end of the bar. After a couple of beers and some huge burger platters Warberg offered to buy me a lap dance and I hesitantly accepted. After two songs with the bruised greasy slag, I returned the favor and sent him back with her. When he was done it was on the road again for the last hour of our drive.
Anyway fast forward 20 years and I never made my feelings known to him. During the summer months hed be around in his tank tops and tight jeans and cowboy boots, showing off some rifle or other gun. Wed all shoot then drink beers and exchange bawdy talk always with the same conclusion, me beating off in the bathroom before bed.
Driving up, Warburg said he was hungry and pulled into a crappy strip bar off the highway. The girls were predictable, but he said that they have the best burgers around so we went in. All the girls seemed to know him as we made our way back to the end of the bar. After a couple of beers and some huge burger platters Warberg offered to buy me a lap dance and I hesitantly accepted. After two songs with the bruised greasy slag, I returned the favor and sent him back with her. When he was done it was on the road again for the last hour of our drive.