I can’t do anything but pace the room and look out the window.
I am waiting for Simpleton3 to knock on the door at 2:15 p.m., like we planned.
I am going to touch another man’s cock.
I am going to taste it.
Neither of us has ever done anything like this before, or so we both said in online chat where we’ve been meeting almost every day for two weeks. In my case, it’s true. Somehow in my 34 years of life, the last ten of them spent married, I had only managed to be sexual with three people in my life. Two were girls I made out with in college – a couple of dates and a couple of uneventful grope sessions.
The third was the love of my life, the woman I married. The woman who taught me everything I know.
Right now, she’s at the elementary school across town, delivering cupcakes to our son’s first grade class. She has a hair appointment after. We’re going to meet for dinner at 6:15.
I, on the other hand, am sitting here stewing in this postage stamp of a hotel room. Courtyard Marriott – three-star luxury! But I’m not staying here for business or pleasure. I’m here on a mission. I’ve come here in order to feel something new, to experience my sexuality in a way I never have before. I’m feeling an excitement I haven’t felt in years.
Climbing on the bed, I unbuckle and pull my jeans and boxers down about five inches, enough for my cock to spring free. It’s a little sore from being petted and rolled and milked for hours.
It’s way too late to back out of this now. It’s definitely weird, meeting up for – oh, who are we kidding here – gay sex with someone I didn’t know until two weeks ago.
I’m cheating on Allie. This is a big deal. This is life-changing stuff if she finds out.
I do love her, but realize as I stare down at my stirring member that that doesn’t matter. This isn’t even about her. This urge has been building for too long and I know I’ve fully lost control of my actions. The truth is that I’m changing and I love every tortured second of it. How many years has it been that my hetero needle has been quivering on the spectrum of desire? Four? Five?
First, it was mmf videos on xhamster and Pornhub. Too many times catching myself wondering, Is either one of them is going to reach over and touch the other’s cock? Why do I want to see that? Do I really wa . . . yes, I do want to touch that. Why am I. . . Oh! Oh, God. Cumming. . . .
Soon after I discovered the frottage videos. Oh, my God. All of their cocks were straining and cumming on each other and I can’t believe it but I will die happy if I could get to feel that just once.
And then it was reading bulletin boards about all the married guys who thought about doing stuff with a guy, and seemingly hundreds more who said that they had gone through with it and had no regrets.
Who knew things could be like this? I felt sickly scared as I felt a new set of desires awaken. It was exhilarating, like going through puberty again. So much masturbation. It was a craving that couldn’t fully be satisfied by regular old sex.
I started turning my wife down at night. I’m so sorry, Allie! The new fantasies were too arousing. So wrong, and I couldn’t stop:
This can’t be for real. I like girls. I don’t want to want this. I don’t want to want . . . Oh . . . fuck, I love your cum.
Night after night, while my wife snored beside me, I was moaning silently into male genitalia. I was imagining rows of slick, silent, bobbing cocks. Then my orgasm would hit, and I’d feel sweet rupture and the familiar, agonizing spasms depositing sticky, warm dollops on my palm.
Lick, lick. All gone.
Hooh boy. I am bad.
And then it was that innocuous-seeming window that popped up on my screen, requesting a chat session. It wasn’t an automated pornbot, thing. It was from a real person. From Simpleton3: “Hey, man. What’s going on?”
I don’t know why I wrote back, but I didn’t see the harm in a noncommittal response: “Not much. What are you doing?”
It didn’t take long to cover the basics: age, marital status, geographical location. He told me he was in forties, and had a long-term girlfriend who – like my wife – was somewhat restrained, sexually. But they had kids together and things were stable so. . . well, you know. Why rock the boat?
So he was just like me. And he was looking for something new.
Actually, I think he was looking for validation. He felt tired of hounding his girl, Sara for a few minutes per week of quality physical attention. She dug sex plenty once they finally got into it, he said, but generally she had little interest. And she wasn’t really that good in bed, despite his efforts to mis-educate her. He used to date a lot in his 20s, and missed the all-night, marathon sex sessions. He missed hearing Jessica beg for it. He missed being told by Evie how beautiful his cock was. In truth she didn’t need to say it. He could tell by her blissful expression each time he put it past her lips. She liked to massage it with her throat, casino siteleri he said.
My liking his stories was the start of it. The “romance” between us, as it were, was quick. Shortly after exchanging pleasantries and basic autobiographical facts, we got into it. Two days later I asked him if I could see his cock, and he posted it at dick.net. I did the same.
We did an audio chat. I told Sim that his penis was beautiful and that I wanted to tongue it. I told him that the birthmark near the under ridge was cute. I started to leak when I told him that.
He told me he wanted to lie behind me and make me cum with one hand stroking my nipples and the other teasing my cock. Fingernails first. Then, if I moaned enough, the whole hand. He was only two states away.
I booked the hotel room. I asked him to drive to my town so we could “try things out.”
There is a gentle rap on the door. My hands flutter down to my sides and I wriggle back into my jeans. I hold the belt buckle so it doesn’t tinkle, giving me away in my daydreaming and pre-session masturbation. I straighten my clothes, swallow, and walk to the door.
I open the door. “Hi, G.” My handle is GattlingGun.
He comes in. We half-smile at each other. I pull out the chair by the desk for myself and he sits on the bed in front of me. Everything is going according to plan. We’re both here, somehow. We exchange some pleasantries as I ask him about his drive (good), about the hotel (nice place), and about how nervous we are.
In the course of conversation, I feel myself stutter a few times. Sim is nervous, too. It was strange to be this close to a bed with a grown man. Throughout all my adolescence, I had felt mild revulsion at the idea of guys’ bodies, even in the abstract. I had taught myself to be afraid of facial hair, underarm hair, and thick, dangling penises. Though the last four years of had reconditioned me to a limited extent, but still it would take a lot of lust in the heat of the moment for me to kiss a guy and mean it.
Well strike that, then. No kissing. That’s what we agreed on anyway.
Worried that Sim was starting to have similar doubts, I decide that there is no time to waste. I make it clear that I’m ready to begin acting out the scenario we drafted for today.
“I’m going to start in the shower. I’m going to leave the door unlocked if you want to come in.”
There is a long pause. His response is a thoughtful nod and a quiet, “Okay, yeah.”
And then it is all happening:
This is the part where I am in the shower. It’s scalding me some, and filling the room with steam. I quickly scrub all over with soap, especially on my chest and under my arms and – you know – of course all over down there. I have no idea what his reaction to my average-shaped Size 34 rear will be. Likely, he’ll avoid contact. Still, it crosses my mind as my eyes go out of focus as I gentle stroke the ridges of my soapy, sensitive, outer sphincter, it’s never bad to be clean and ready.
And then I rinse off and just wait there, thinking I’m going to hear the door, that Sim is going to come in and brush his teeth like we planned. And next, that he is going to draw the curtain back to see me for the very first time. The idea is that it is supposed to be unfair, with him fully clothed and me wet and naked. Then he’s supposed to reach his hand toward me, and I’m to move to the edge of the tub so he can put his fingers on my cock to inspect it.
But he doesn’t come in. It’s been way more than 5 minutes. Maybe 10? Fuck! He didn’t leave, did he?
I panic and get out of the shower. I wrap a towel around myself and step back to the bedroom.
Sim is there, turning down the left bed. “Sorry, but after a minute I got to thinking: I’ve been sitting in my car for hours and could use a shower myself.”
I wait, with my towel on. I look down at my nipples. I check my cock once or twice under the towel, but now I am getting almost too nervous to be aroused.
I hear the shower go on and eventually off. Then some sink noises as he goes ahead and brushes his teeth. My heart is starting to pound faster. I startle – SCREEK – as I register the sound of the faucet shutting off.
And then he is standing in the doorway in a towel.
And then things go very fast because I cannot wait
and I slide off the bed and cross the room to stand before him
and I look at his nipples as he loosens the knot at his waist
and his towel falls.
I drop my towel, too
and I put my left hand on my own right nipple
and with the other I am gently touching the bottom of my balls
and I’m not really thinking clearly about anything now.
Towels off, we stand about six inches apart. He is about three inches taller than me.
We study each other silently as we start getting hard. Or harder, anyway: we were already hanging heavy.
Then biology takes over. The voice in my head is very loud. There canlı casino are no words and yet somehow I know it is saying, I Want. I Want IT. I Want Everything.
Tick, tick, upward. Our two members rise slowly and toward each other.
We can do anything we want to each other.
How many times are we going to cum? How much semen will there be? Where is it going to end up?
Neither of us can take our eyes away from the spectacle, a real live fleshly drawbridge going up right before our eyes. Soon I’m straining near vertical and still ticking. He’s got more of a C curve going, with his head moving both up and to the side. He’s really horny. I feel a deep happiness that the sight of me is turning him on. I am lightheaded.
Sim licks his lips. I can smell the lemony hotel soap on his body. I almost sense the warmth of his hand before he finally – sigh – reaches out to touch my penis. He puts his hand on the top side of it and pushes down gently.
“Feels good.” It is a question and a statement.
He shifts his weight forward so as to initiate the first meaningful contact between us. The only thing I register when our cocks touch for the first time is a slight shock. Cleft on cleft. Visually the sight stuns me. I am breathing fast. This is weird.
I have to tell him how it feels. “Oh. Wow. Your cock. It’s so nice. It’s. . . hot. I mean it’s actually hot on me.”
Our shyness is dissolving rapidly. He pushes harder into me. “So . . do you want to start by. . .”
But I am too fast. I drop to my knees and delicately place my thumb- and fingertips around his cock like and pull it down level.
He closes his eyes. Exhales.
This is the part where I bring my face near a cock. And then I smell it – soapy. And then I see it. The veins, the straining curve, the glorious crowning head. That cockhead shape that has entranced me for so long: his is like a bullet, fat and sleek. I want to feel the edges of the head in my mouth. I want that red corona to catch against and tickle my own when it comes time for us to frot.
Someday, definitely not today, I want his dick inside me so it my warm cavity can coax the hot cum out of it and channel it towards my belly.
Instinctively, I purse my lips and touch them to his frenulum. It feels good to do this. Crouching down here, naked, my own cock aches for release, bobbing stupidly in the air. But all I can think about doing is increasing his pleasure. I put my hand flat into his bush to put some tension on his rod. I touch wrinkly soft skin. Both of my hands immediately forget their task in favor of a new one: tracing light circles on his scrotum.
It goes in my mouth. It’s smooth and hot and tastes like I do when I’m sweaty and horny at home and make my room reek of sex. Except it’s stronger, somehow more real.
I take three inches of him. I press my tongue to the bulgy underside. It’s girthier than I expect. I close my mouth on almost his full length. I’m insanely aroused so there is risk of gagging.
Sim’s starting to make noise. He’s a quiet one, mostly Now his breath is catching even though I haven’t even started sucking in earnest. I won’t, either. I don’t want him to orgasm yet. We both have to stay hot and in this moment.
I pull back to admire his now-moist cock. It’s pitching out rightward closer to my left eye. The head is dark red, and seeing it this close arouses in me another shocking, unexpected feeling of tenderness. I kiss the slit. I kiss a little lower at the cleft.
I reach up behind Sim and set my hands on the warm skin of his ass. I pull him towards me as I move my mouth down his cock to the junction of his thigh. His cock is straining against my left cheek as I now gently work my tongue and lips on his cock root.
I’m nuzzling him as promised. And moaning, myself.
After a minute of this, I pull back entirely so that I’m still beneath him. I can see his cock straining upward and his oh so cute ball sac. On a whim I gobble it. The whole thing fits in my mouth and his subtle, fresh vinegar scent invades my whole being. I stretch his balls with some very gentle suction. Never had I dreamed I would be doing something this lurid.
“Jesus. . . ., ” comes the murmur from above.
Four minutes ago I was a curious married man. That’s all the time it’s taken me to turn into a sex slut. I am loving this. I am off script, moving too fast, but I don’t care. I, a newly christened cock lover and human ball stretcher, am going to eat this man’s seed.
“Hey. . Hey! Don’t. . . . UHHhhh. . . .”
Even with the attention away from his cockhead, the strange sensation of wetness enveloping his sac combined with hands cradling his butt cheeks are enough to trigger his ejaculation reflex. I have one second to decide where I’m going to be when he cums.
I want to see it, so I stay under. I also want him to feel this release intensely, so that means attending to his cockhead. I pull his member down slightly with one hand to my kaçak casino waiting tongue. I press it on the underside of his glans right as he blows his load.
He makes his orgasm noise, a very load groan. The first spurt is mostly clear and sails clear past me. For the second, I hold my hand up as a spatter wall. He paints it with four, five, angry spurts. I am able to catch just a few drops of viscous fluid in my mouth before he has to pull away.
We quickly disengage and he backs away until he bumps up against the bed closer to the bathroom. He sits slowly. I rise and, without ever turning away, find my own seat across the aisle on the bed facing him. I’m still contemplating the semen cupped in my hand, trying to come up with the dirtiest thing possible to do with it.
I could lick it, or rub it on my chest, or . . . what?
I look over at Sim again and notice he is almost fully checked out. Having got his, he is now staring at the ceiling, dealing with whatever post-coital fears and panic he’s got to deal with. I can see there’s not going to be any oral for me.
Even if we have to stop here, I have had my fun. Mostly. Still visibly aroused, I have come to a decision of how to finish myself off.
Still sitting, I speak the first thing that comes to mind, “That was awesome, right?”
“Yeah. Really good.”
“How are you feeling? Are you okay with everything.”
He hesitates. “I. . . yeah, I’m okay. I think need a minute. Actually, I’m not sure how much more I want to. . .”
I interrupt. “I know.”
“I know you must be totally wiped out right now. Freaking out. Hormones are a bitch.”
Silence from the other bed.
I need one more thing. “But I still need at least something, man. I mean. . . we planned this for weeks. We can’t just be done in 20 minutes.”
“Okay, then. Fair’s fair.”
I decide I can’t wait any longer to make a move. I get up and walk around Sim’s bed so I can crawl onto it from the other side. He starts to panic: “Wait! Wait! I still don’t feel like I can. . . you know. . .”
I immediately work to soothe his fears. “Just wait! Relax! I know. I have an idea. Nothing you can’t handle. Don’t move.”
Just then I make it to the far wall behind him. I move to climb onto the bed in a way that puts us in head-to-toe fashion. “I just want to see it up close again when I go.”
“Your cock, dude. I wish it wasn’t so soft now. We could maybe play more.” I wait a few seconds. I’m not actually that surprised that he’s not responding to my prompts.
“No, huh? Okay, let’s try something else.”
I sidle up a bit closer, careful not to make any contact. I make myself comfortable. I take in his hairy legs, fit but thick thighs. Muscular, not like Allie’s at all. I find myself wondering what it they would feel like against mine, spreading me with warm pressure from above.
The next set of words out of my mouth is more for my own arousal than his.
“Your cum is still on my hand. I’m going to jerk off into it so that our cums mix together. I want to be close to your cock again while I do it. Is that okay, if I stay over here doing that?”
“Yeah. That’s definitely okay.”
A half-sigh, half-moan escapes me. I continue to hear myself saying things I used to only write down in my chat messages: “Good. I really need to now. Please, just . . . can you like turn towards me a tiny bit so I can see you better?”
He does so. To the right and above me is his moist, sleeping dick. I have to keep looking at it and burn this image into my brain, since it could be a long time until I see another live one. I look down at my own pale body to get a better view of the next sex act.
I hold my wet hand near my own cock. In anticipation of making contact with the freshly-pressed lube there, it quickly rises back to attention. I tease myself; still no contact. Then, I am slowly and deliberately spreading his mess onto my shaft, being careful not to spend too much time on my most sensitive spot. The fact that it’s a little bit cold at this point makes the whole thing seem even more perverted.
A few minutes pass. No rush. I start masturbating in earnest, but by now everything is drying up. I think nothing of it as, every few strokes, I transfer some saliva down to my crotch. As my hand moves up and down to my lips, I’m slowly tasting more and more of his essence. His maleness.
I suddenly want more and realize I can have it. Sim has given up staring at the ceiling and is now having his own good look at my erection. In between groans I make a request. “Okay. Oh! Do you. . . Okay – Look at my cock. Touch it.”
He reaches out with one hand. He’s shy at first, but soon rests his hand low on my shaft to give me room to make my strokes. The pleasure is very deep.
“Please. My balls. . . ,” I beg.
He obliges, and the soft touches to my most intimate spot sends me over the edge. I spread my knees out and tense my pelvis, hoping to wring the most pleasure out of this orgasm. It is a sweet one. My eyes shut tight and I make hurting noises. Deep burning and then ropes of fluid. I count about twelve seconds of actual cumming, a couple more than average.