Dying to Get Off

So I placed a CL ad the other night while in DC. Per usual, I got some interesting prospects and the assorted flakes. Same old, same old.

I was getting ready going to dinner when a guy wanted some quick relief. Fine by me. About 50, slim build, nice cock. He had a dirty mouth, which you know was ok with me.

I thought he was getting close – again fine by me – but he pulled out of my mouth and grabbed his cock like he was attempting to stop his orgasm. I told him I WANTED it and not to lose it on the floor and he kept saying ‘oh g-d. oh g-d’ over and over.

Which one of us has not done that when cumming or about to cum and trying to avoid it? Very few, I would venture to say. He took it a few steps further. He started to have labored breathing (again, indicative of nothing more than a horny man about to pop a nut).

He reached down and pulled up his pants, while continuing his 'oh g-d' rants and breathing difficulties. Even then, I assumed he was shooting into his briefs and for some reason denying me the opportunity to take his load.

But all this signs and symptoms continued in this vein. I started to realized something was not right with him physically. I asked if he needed me to get him help or just did he need my help. He declined both offers.

The man made his way to my door and I followed. There was only so much I could do at this point, as I had no pants on at all. Mr. BikeGuy Jr. dangling now in the wind – albeit Marriott controlled wind, but you know what I’m saying…….

I asked again if he needed me to call 9-1-1 and asked if he was having a heart attack. His response, “oh, I hope not!”. But again, he declined me to get him assistance.

I let the door closed while I found my jeans and when I went back, he was gone.

He either really was ill, or did a great acting job due to his lack of interest in me. To be honest, I’m not sure which was worse. The “acting” seemed real-enough, though if I were to be totally honest, I’d be lying if I said one of the first things (if not the first) to flash through my mind was:

‘fuck – how am I going to explain this to the hotel staff, police and paramedics if I they find dead - and him with his pants down in my hotel room?’. …and if it was going to make me late for dinner.

Yeah – I’m a total prick, I know it. I get it. You don’t have to say anything.

I half expected to see his crumpled body in front of the elevators or in the hotel lobby when I exited 15 minutes later…….but there was nothing. He was probably home or on his way to a better cocksucker’s place or something.