Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Doubletree Visitor

FYI - this story is pre-Covid-19. 

I was picking up my morning tea and heading into the office. In a building, when full, that holds 1500 folks, I'm probably always one of the first 50 folks to arrive. I've always been an early bird.

But before I leave with my beverage, my phone buzzes from A4A.  Less than 2 miles away, in a hotel, a married black man wants to get off - and looking for NOW.  No one keeps my hours, so no one knows or cares what time I arrive, as long as I don't miss a meeting.

"Now" to me is clearly different than others. To this guy, it meant, getting up, getting some coffee and showering.  UGH!  I told him to send me his room number and I'd be arriving in 15 minutes. I get the wanting to shower, but it's sex, it's not needed. If anything you're gonna need one after we are done, no? 

But as I pulled into the lot, he provided his room number. OMW, I texted. 

The original text was for a blowjob.  That seems morning like. But I'm a prepared faggot, so I hit the hotel lobby restroom and used a Fleets I keep in my my car......you know, just in case. This might be one of those cases. 

I knocked. He peered through the peephole and opened the door, just wrapped in a towel. 

He wasn't as fit as his profile said, but nothing bad. He was 6', maybe 190, but the excess was in the belly. 

In a moment he dropped the towel and hung nicely.  It would get to a full eight inches, some with the anticipation of my mouth and some from the actual lips around cock action.  I did go to my knees right there.  I took him down my throat, which is something he appreciated and responded to - both verbally and with a hardening dick. 

He wouldn't really fuck my face, so I kind of mouth fucked his cock, doing some aggressive bobbing on my own. But that would only last a while. He tapped me on the head and told me to stand up. So I did. 

He moved me a few feet over near the bed, turned me around to face it and bent me over.  It wasn't "just" a blowjob after all and my prep in the lobby would not go to waste.  With my spit, and some of his, he lined up and just pushed slightly, but insistently, until my ass opened up for him. And it did. 

It had been a while since I took a cock up my ass, but it blossomed nicely, easily taking his full eight inches. He wasn't harsh about the insertion, but consistent. After the initial insert, he gave me a few seconds - literally - before starting the journey that would end up with his balls at my cheek.

And then he went for a ride. I went along for it. 

While I could see his wedding ring on the hand that was gripped onto my left shoulder, I knew he'd be a good fuck. I always find married guys adept to fucking butt. He was no exception. 

And he was a good fuck. 

He pumped my ass for a bit in that position and then got me on the bed. 

He propped himself up on one elbow and before I got into position, I went back down on him. Maybe I'm imagining it, but I think he loved I went ass-to-mouth. He said something about me being nasty - and of course I am. It's like 7:15 in the morning and I'm in some stranger's room taking his cock on my mouth and ass...........and then back again. 

Soon, I was on my side as well with him behind me. His cock was teasing the outside of my hole.  "You like that?  You want that?"  I answered in the affirmative.  He pushed it in fully. I felt every inch of it. My ass was on fire............in a good way.  He held it there for a few.  "Tell me you want this black cock". 

So I told him. I told him I wanted him to fuck me hard.  So he did. 

He railed my ass for about another 10 minutes. No big build up to his orgasm. No shouts, no extremely heavy breathing, no proclamations.  He just started grunting and I could feel the shaft pulsing. I knew what he was doing. 

When he slipped out, I went back down him, much to his pleasure. 

As I was getting ready to start my day a second tie, now with sperm up my butt, he said, he was glad I allowed him to cum up my ass.  

I told him, well, you didn't say you were going to cum.  He smirked and said, "no, I didn't". 

And then I left. 

Saturday, June 13, 2020

He Was Italian......or Some Kind of Spanish

FYI - this story is pre-Covid-19. 

I had two very hot sessions with him years ago (here and here). Now it turns, he’s back in town for a meeting.

I know for a fact he’s Italian but he is billing himself online as Spanish. Before he was a determined man. As you can go back and read, was into the head I gave and the fuck he did. All good. Not everyone’s tea, but it is and was mine.

He was back. Same hotel. And wanting to get with me. Ditto – and right back at ya, dude. Or Sir.

I arrived at his agreed upon time. He opened the door but was right down to business. I placed my keys and walled on his desk and then took my clothes off per his instructions. He was mostly undressed, but the most important part was exposed. It was his fucking fat Italian cock.

I’m making assumptions here, but either he got way more aggressive in his general behavior (and that’s saying something), or he figured he had been with me before and I would know what to expect and that he could push those limits like he had done last time. I’m all for having boundaries stretched, as you’ve seen over the course of this blog.

We started out well. He kicked back on the bed and I went about licking his nuts gently. Gliding my tongue across his sac, wanting to make him shiver the way I do when and if someone does it just right. I can’t say I got that response, but maybe he processed it internally. Or maybe it’s not a trigger point the way it is for me.

I worked my way up his shaft – methodically – and he seemed to appreciate that. He muttered in Italian not quite under his breath. I could feel the change in his respirations as well. He was controlled, but he was working at keeping it that way. Until he wasn’t.

There is nothing quite like being called “cocksucker” or “faggot” by a guy with a foreign accent. It is just slightly dirtier than your primary language. You know they have to work at the translation, process it, just to make sure they call you what they want. I was hard, but that hardness dug into his sheets and mattress. I knew I wasn’t to touch it, not that he mentioned it, but I know this guy – or ones like him – and I know my place in these instances.

He was ok with me taking a little video. Until he wasn’t.

”Put that camera away!”, as she slapped it out of my hands. I did. I went back to work.

He became gruffer. The hand at the back of my head became tighter. The length of time he held me down was longer. The amount I gagged increased. This all did nothing but turn him on more. The control. The degradation.

It became clearer to me, as we went on, this was no role play. This was no acting out a fantasy. This was more than likely the real him. It starting getting more intense, and potentially more dangerous. Not enough for me to call a time out, as there were no safe words. Truth be told, I didn’t want to feel like I wuss’d out either. And thought, I can ride this out…………..how bad can it be.

In reality, I’m not sure it truly got more intense, but I think my sensors were on high alert and I couldn’t enjoy some of what was going on. I know folks who read this have commented to me – mostly off-line – about how they don’t care for rough sex. I just happen to – to a degree. Everything is ‘to a degree’. Usually, most guys (read: tops) just play the part and aren’t really THE part. But if you’re gonna play with these guys, I felt I had to deal with the real ones when they represented.

Soon my head was hanging over the bed, he standing before me, feeding me his thick cock. Deep. Hard. Unrelenting. Me: spit over his dick, running out my mouth, gagging. “You fucking filthy whore!” he literally screamed. You’d think this is something he’d do in tandem with his orgasm, but it was not. He just went on a filthy degrading tirade while he plugged my mouth and throat.

There was no pulling off of his pole. I was between his thighs (and thrust) and the bed. I was at his mercy – literally, and he was showing little of it. That said, I rode it out. Well…………he did. The degrading expletives just flowed from his mouth with his accent, making them sound just slightly dirtier.

Then came the flood. His cock erupted. Into my mouth. Not that I wasn’t planning on swallowing, but the position, the angle, the ferocity made it challenging. He probably showed signs of impending orgasm, but I was not paying attention to that as much as I was trying to be able to breathe…..not properly, just at all.

I took the load. Granted, some oozed out the side of my mouth and into my beard, mixing with my spit. He didn’t let up on the pressure of his cock in my mouth until he was satisfied there was no semen left inside his balls. He pulled out with no ceremony and no remorse. I kind of stayed there for 30 seconds – felt like 30 minutes – just a little dazed and recovering from the experience. He was already stripping to take a shower to get to an event.

I got myself together and left. Only when I hit the valet did I realize my wallet and keys were in his room. I called up to his room first, no answer, but chance are he was still in the shower. I went back up and knocked. He was not pleased to see me, even asking if I left them there on purpose. I assured him I did not and grabbed and left.

I’m guessing on his next trip he will not be hitting me up. But I’ve been wrong before.

Wednesday, June 03, 2020

Back in Black

FYI - this story is pre-Covid-19. 

We’ve been trying to get hook up with this black dude for almost two years. Seriously.

Our schedules don’t mesh, and he has a short memory retention on that. I work. I’m assuming he does, but not necessarily my hours and when he does – it’s far across town. And he can’t host. So there are limitations to say the least.

But recently, he hit me up early, as I was on my way out the door to work – which is early. Like 6:20a. Clearly, I couldn’t, but told him I might be free at lunch and could host. He was off, so it was on. Finally.

Dude is very much into race play. I’ve said it before, I can participate, but initially I cringe – at least internally. But we made it clear, if / when it happened, things would be the ‘n’ word, not people. His cock, his balls, his seed. The man? No.

He was good with that and after we were done with sex, that we didn’t need to revisit the word in regular chat. Though he said he was free to call me a ‘white faggot’ anytime he wanted. I clearly agreed to that.

He wanted to make sure we weren’t going to rush, as he told me once I see his cock, I’m gonna want to take my time. And he wasn’t wrong.

The guy was on time, even ahead of. I gave him my street, but not the address. I didn’t need a stranger at my house when he knew I wasn’t there. I’m an idiot, but not a total one. As requested, I was naked with the door unlocked when he arrived.

His profile said 28, 5’9” 185. Doubtful he was that heavy. The rest seemed accurate. I can attest to a little over 8”, though he claimed to never measured. Though he said could do that with my throat. And I did.

With him standing there, I went to my knees. I felt his semi through his denim. I leaned in and gnawed on it too. He didn’t stop me. I think he liked the attention I was giving it, even before seeing it. I unzipped him, but he took care of the belt and button. With nothing underneath, his now more than semi hung there like an open invitation. So I RSVP’d. With my mouth.

I licked the head, the underside of his shaft, then the sides and top. I made the dark flesh stand out with a great sheen that made that cock really look great. That also made it fill out completely. And that additional spit made it nice and easy when I wrapped my lips around it and sunk my mouth to the base. The slickness made travels that much more of a slippery journey. Instinctively, a hand went to the back of my head.

I wasn’t going anywhere, and we both knew it. Still: instinct.

Feeders do it all the time. It’s a control mechanism even when there isn’t really anything to control. He knew I was a cocksucker. He knew that what we were both there for. I totally get that guys on line are flakes and he had no way of knowing if I wasn’t just a bunch of talk. I wasn’t. I’m not.

I couldn’t be a ‘bunch of talk’………..because my mouth was full. Of black cock. I have manners, I don’t talk with my mouth full.

We traded off me sucking his cock and him fucking my face. It worked out well. But like so many, he wanted to sit for his head. I guess I get that, but there is a nonverbal dominance thing with kneeling in front of a standing man. Still, I was between his spread lets on that sofa (well………futon). I bobbed on that cock, making him feel good. Sating my appetite too. I won’t pretend this was all for him, though in his eyes, I made sure he felt that. That’s part of my job too – to make it all about ‘him’. But in reality, I have a need too.

In reality, the race play barely happened, and I think we were both happy about that. I mean, it did come into play here and there, but the ‘n’ word wasn’t really used. In a break from sucking, both of us sitting admiring his own cock, he leaned over and told me – and made me tell him – his cock was superior……because it was black. He made me tell him I was inferior because I was white. That got him fucking stiffer than he’d been, which is saying something.

I don't lie - it turned me on too.

He was so aroused by that, he pushed me back down on his dick. He pumped my head, hand firmly behind it. With him sitting down, my head in his lap, he just used my mouth, the way a superior cock would. I took it. And as he shot, I swallowed. And he told me to take his “black babies”. So I did.

I mean, we all knew I was going to, but…………ya know, it makes for a good story. He shot a fuck of a lot of cum for someone who said he got off the day before. Not that I’m complaining. And while eventually I’d swallow, I held as much as I could in my mouth. As I’ve done with so many others, I took his hand and guided him to wrap it around my throat. As I started to swallow, he could feel it and he got the idea of why I did it. Almost involuntarily, his grip tightened ever so slightly. But the look on his face, the one of new knowledge, the one of a certain power or superiority as I let his seed slide down to my stomach was not lost on him, or me.

He loved it. I did too.

Sorry it took that long to get together and I’m assuming it won’t be long before he’s back.