>>106 Sorry about that, it's just that half of his mouth is burned, which partially paralyzed some of the muscles, so his mouth isn't symmetrical at all, which causes it to look a little lopsided. Not too happy with this one... >>13 Pyro /Medic 7 of Hearts—Your Invitation to Imagination: The best game of all is just the ability to use your imagination to think up hundreds of your own games. These games can be anything from shaving each other to covering your beloved with fresh fruit or gourmet chocolate and M&Ms and then eating it off. You can dress in each other’s clothes and reverse your usual sex roles or go to a bar separately and pick each other up. Great sex is yours for the taking if you’re not lazy. ::::: As a bartender, I see a lot of things. “Mmph, mmphrphm.†Like a man in a gas mask and… suit of some sort… “What is that, some sort of pickup line?†… and a well-dressed German man. “Nrr…†They arrive separately, but leave together. Every Saturday for the past two months, one comes in and sits down. Not too soon after, the other enters. The one in the suit never orders a drink, but the German has a taste for Scotch. He pays cash every time, and doesn’t bother running up a tab. “I’m not interested…†The most I’ve seen him drink is just one. Somewhere between halfway through his tumbler and draining the last drop, the one in the suit will usually approach him. Sometimes it’s the other way around, though. He’ll have given the suited person a few glances, or have turned away from the bar and just out right stared at the other. As if he were scoping them out before taking the courage to go over and proceed. “Srrrr, whrrs yr nrrrm?†If the one being hit on gets annoyed, he will usually go to the back room and hide in the smoky pool tables to get some privacy. The other is always quick to follow, and I lose sight of them after that. “Go away.†The one in the mask says something that I can’t really understand. It’s just a series of muffles. “I said go away.†It looks like the German is going to stomp away early tonight. I glance at my coworkers and give them a thumbs up. I’m going to follow them and see what happens in the back. “Nrr.†The German drains the last of his scotch and stands abruptly. His shoulder hits the person in the suit, and they stumble into the bar. I’m not sure if they’re chuckling or muttering something under their breath. They stay, watching the man walk away, and I wonder if there’s a deliberate sway in the German’s walk, or if I’m just seeing things. It’s probably deliberate. It doesn’t take long before the masked suitor follows. I slip away, quietly following them. My coworkers will cover my shift until I’m back. They know that my curiosity must be sated. I have to know what happens back there to cause them to walk out, arm in arm. There’s nothing back here except for pool tables and a juke box. I look around for them and see the door leading to the bathrooms swing shut. I should go back, but my feet carry me forward and I carefully open the door so that it doesn’t creak. I can already hear shuffling, and the German lets out a short, barking laugh before I head a long, loud zipper. Edging in the remainder of the way, I look in the mirror and see them. The one in the suit is pressed up against one of the stall doors, a wicked bite mark already red on his shoulder. I can tell that it’s a man now from his build, and the German’s hand reaching inside the suit to stroke him. The mask is still on, and I wonder if it’s hard for him to breathe as the German grinds against his exposed ass. The zipper I had head extends down his suit from the base of his neck, where the mask ends, and down to his lower back. The German is working the suit down his shoulders and when he shifts, I see burn marks lancing across the masked man’s back. The suit slips down below the masked man’s buttocks, and the German chuckles in approval, still grinding, even as he reaches for his belt. I can hear the masked man wheezing against the inside of his mask, but his hips shove back against the other man’s crotch. A muffled whimper can be heard through the filter. He’s speaking German now. I don’t understand any of it, but the way he says it is clear enough that I feel a jerk in my own stomach as his belt comes down in a harsh slap against the masked man’s ass. He masked man doesn’t act like it hurt at all, even though the very sound of it made me flinch. The German keeps smacking him, acting as if it’s a pastime while he undoes his pants and inches closer once again. He kneels to kiss the red streaks going horizontally along the masked man’s ass before his fingers begin to touch places that really weren’t meant to be touched. I slip back and press my back to the door. They’re really just going to do it right here? I know that we’ve had people fuck in the bathrooms in the past, but… never two men at the same time. I take a deep breath and let it out softly before holding it all together when I hear the masked man say something. “Oh, ja?†The German snickered a little to himself and I finally let out my breath. Then I heard a soft noise of pain muffled by a mask. Gasping groans and the slick slap of skin against the stall door followed shortly after. It’s the one that’s loose a little, so it makes a creak as the pressure of their bodies lets off of it, and then a bang when the German slams the masked man against it once again. I stand there, legs shaking and ears listening. My eyes are closed and sweat gathers above my top lip. It takes forever for them to finish, or, for the German to. I’m not sure if the masked man did or not, but all goes quiet save for our harsh breathing. I suck in a breath and quickly leave, not caring about the creaking door as I find my way through the pool tables and back to the bar. I wanted to glance in the mirror again, but I’m not brave enough. My coworkers ask me how it went, but I don’t reply. I just start mixing drinks and keep my eyes down. I’m not sure if I should have liked what I saw.