Boy in the Bar

Boy in the Bar.

My name is Benji and my Dad owned a bar a bit like the one in ‘Cheers’ – quiet and discreet. Tucked away below street level in a quiet part of town. We had a select and regular patronage that made it very profitable.

It got busy around 6pm when the guys left their offices and stopped by for a few relaxing drinks before going home to their loving wives and families for dinner. Some stayed much longer than was good for them, moving onto some of the exotic, highly alcaholic, and fucking expensive cocktails, for which the bar had become famous.

By 6.30pm. it was quite usual to have 100 people there, who also spent plenty on fancy crepes and tapas.

Not all had loving wives, as I found out pretty soon. Some were single, for a very good reason!

When things were quiet in the early afternoon, especially during school holiday times, Dad would often take a nap upstairs before the ‘rush’ began, leaving me in charge of the bar, as I knew how to operate everything, even though he wasn’t supposed to, according to the Licence dept. But he didn’t care, as he was an alchy and fell into a deep sleep around 3pm every day.

Mom worked in a retail store and didn’t get home until around 5.30pm, in time to help with the busy period.

The kitchen staff always stayed in the kitchen.

I was 12 years old, athletic, with a firm but mature young body and tight arse. I was ‘well blessed’ in the cock department. I used to wear a singlet and tight sports shorts most of the time, with no underwear. It was more comfortable like that.

What I didn’t realise is that kit was also a turn-on to certain patrons.

Anyway, one afternoon during school holidays, I was all alone when Bernie and Bob, two regulars, entered the bar.

“Hi Benji” they said, eyes gleaming, ‘where’s Fred [Dad]’.