For the life of me, I cannot remember where we came across each other (no, not CAME), but we've been conversing for a few months. We tried to hook-up when I would come to town, but our schedules never quite meshed, as they often don't with potential fucks.
He is a good looking, top of a man, who is a legitimate professional business man, and as it turns out, does some side work when he's not in an office. Yeah - he rents himself out.
I don't know why, but I find that incredibly hot.
We also made it clear that I would not be paying a dime. At this stage in my life, I still don't have to pay for sex. Who knows down the road.
"Lyle" showed up to my hotel room and immediately went in for the kiss. Not a peck, but a grab behind my head, full on man kiss. And he was good at it. I was happy to continue doing it with him and I did.
In his 50s and salt and pepper hair and goatee, the man was hot. I unsnapped and zipped his pants and got to my knees. The cock wasn't the longest, but it had a nice girth and heft to it. It slid down my throat with no problem. Not that I was expecting one.
Eventually I got up, as I had to go prep myself for what we had discussed. Was it wrong to leave a 'man of the night' in the main room, alone where my laptop, iPhone and wallet were? Probably. Most were out of site et al, but I still had to take a few minutes to clean out. Yes - I'm not all roses and freshness all of the time. Sorry to spoil the illusion.
When I came out, things had changed a bit. There he was, now in boots, leather vest and cap. He also had a double cockring on. It was a good look for him - and probably for most guys I'd want to be with.
Lyle played with my nipples just so and was kissing me, just so. But by this time it was late and time to get down to business. Not cash-exchange business, but fuckee fuckee business.
We tried me sitting on his dick, but it wasn't really working for either of us. Usually I like it, but the dynamics of it just didn't go. Soon, I was on my back with him entering me. It was during this fuck how much I found out I don't really need poppers.
Something about getting older, poppers make me lose my hard-on. Not my libido, but my physical erection. I'm kind of ok with that, since I wasn't planning on getting off, but as a manifestation of my horniness, the guy nailing me kind of likes to see that I'm enjoying it. And I like to show that I am too. All the words don't make it so for some guys.
Getting fucked is all about the breathing. Exhaling is the key. Especially when a thick dick is opening you up and stretching you open - like Lyle was doing. Sometimes I get so excited I fucking forget to breath. Doing poppers don't help with the breathing portion - or knowing when to. So deciding not to do them wasn't a bad thing.
Lyle wanted to be harder than he was. Not harder fucker - because he did just fine. I don't think he knew when to push things and when not to. At one point, he gripped my throat and where he could have bee rough here, he never followed through. I guess he could have gone farther - fuck - I didn't know him. Maybe there are a trail of bodies across the mid-atlantic region, for all I know.
But he put up a good 30 minute fuck - doing and saying most of the right things. Granted, it is his (side) business, even if I wasn't a paying customer. He knew what he was doing - and how.
Soon enough, the hotel neighbors knew too. Again, they couldn't have known it was two guys. I was vocal, but not THAT vocal.
Either way - he delivered a 5 day load up my ass, which felt great. He wanted me to get off, but not only was I not in the mood to, I was hoping to keep my libido up by finding someone else that night to come over and slide into his load. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
I just went to bed with his load and kept it all night - in a nice safe place.