The Hotel Bar

"Like I said," I assured again. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm a safe space. No judgment."

You started again. I stopped you.

"I'm not a therapist," I said, moving toward my jeans. "I should go."

You stood and moved between me and the door. Tentatively, you said, "You don't have to, yet, if you don't want to. I'll stop talking."

I decided it was time to press the issue. "If I stay," I said, "I'm going to need to take care of this." I pointed to my dick, which was still hard.

"That's cool," you said. "I'll watch, if that's okay."

"It's okay with me if it's okay with you," I answered.

I pulled my briefs down and stepped out of them. I settled back onto the bed and started playing with myself, first by running my thumb through what was leaking out of me.

You were rapt, watching me, standing beside the bed.

"Get comfortable," I said, patting the bed next to me. You were already starting to get hard again.

I cupped my testicles in my left hand and started stroking my erection with my right. Sucking your dick had really turned me on, so it was not going to take much to get me off.

"Can I try?" you asked, surprising me.

"Sure," I said, pulling my hands back and putting them behind my head.

You leaned on your left elbow, took me in your right hand, and started stroking me.

Your grip was strong, a little too strong.

"Relax a little," I encouraged. You did.

"How is it?" I asked.

"Cool," you said, using a second time an odd word for that moment. "Like mine, but not."

I wanted your mouth on me. I wanted you to taste me.

I thought of pushing your head toward me. But, I didn't want to push you to do something you didn't want to do. I decided to bide my time, hoping you would choose to use your mouth and enjoying the long, tight strokes in the meantime.

You adjusted so that your head was closer. I was certain you were going to do it.

"You can taste me, if you want," I said, keeping the ball totally in your court.

"I don't know," you said softly as you moved slowly toward what we both now knew you were going to do.

You licked the tip. Then again. I moaned and raised my hips. I wanted to let you know I liked it and that I wanted more.

You audibly exhaled. You softly said, "I can't believe I'm going to do this." You opened your mouth and tentatively took the head of my erection in. I was delirious.

Unlike in every story out there, you were not a natural first time cocksucker. No one is. Like everyone taking a dick for the first time, you were tentative and toothy. You were dry and a little disinterested.

"How is it?" I asked, the first time you pulled off to wipe your mouth.

"I don't know," you said. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be, but it's more difficult than I expected. How is it for you? Am I terrible?"

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Sure," you answered.

I spread my legs. "Kneel here," I said, nodding to the area between my legs. "Generate a lot of saliva. You need to soak my dick with it, wet but not sloppy. Hold the shaft with your right hand. Suck only what your hand doesn't cover."

You did as you were told. You were better, but still not good. Still, the sight of your thick lips wrapped around my dick....

After a few minutes, I removed your hand and replaced it with my own. You pulled off. Your mouth gaped as I finished myself off, three or four ropes of cum landing on my stomach and hand.

"That was incredible," you said. "Watching you come like that. I have never seen another person come, not in real life. It was so hot."

I slid my forefinger through the fluid and held it out to you. You scrunched up your face and said "gross." I put my forefinger in my mouth and sucked it off.

"You like it?" you asked.

"I do," I answered. "A lot. I usually eat my own when I jerk off. Don't you?"

"No," you answered. "It seems gross."

"It's not, but there's only one way to know...." I challenged.

Cautiously, you dragged your forefinger through what was on my stomach. You smelled your finger. Then, you stuck the tip of your tongue out and barely made contact with your finger, not enough to taste any of it.

"Oh, just eat it," I demanded, pushing your hand firmly toward your face.

You did. You didn't make a face. I raised my eyebrows. "Not terrible," you said.

I noticed that you were hard. "What do you plan to do with that?" I asked.

"You could suck it again. If you want."

I wanted. Very much. Very much, indeed.

I rolled out of the way. You laid back and replaced me. I moved between your legs, replacing you. I took you all the way in.

"Jesus," you hissed when my nose was once again buried in your dark curls.

I started to suck you like I loved sucking you, which I did. I was ablaze, pleasure radiating inside of me.

As I sucked you, I got a feeling that I hardly ever got anymore. I wanted to get fucked.

I could feel you getting close. If I was going to get fucked, I couldn't cross you over. I had to reel you back. I pulled off of your dick and sat up.

"Why are you stopping?" you asked. "I was close."

"I know," I said. "That's why."

"I want to come," you said.

"I want to make you come," I answered. "Just not like this."

"Then how?" you asked. Your need seemed to have over-ridden your reservations.

"Let me show you," I said, rolling onto my back and signaling that I wanted you over me, your erection again in my mouth.

You followed my signal. You straddled me and slid into my mouth. Once in, you started fucking almost immediately. I had you on the path, as I knew that once a male started thrusting, he'd soon want/need to be inside of something, thrusting for real.

After awhile, I forced you to stop. "It's getting to be too much," I said.

I shimmied up the bed until I was directly under you. I took both of our erections in my hand. "Fuck," I directed.

You did as you were directed. You moved your hips and slid your erection against mine. You started to moan as you thrusted.

"Lube," I interrupted. "Front pocket of my jeans. Get it. Hurry."

I had grabbed it when I stopped by my room to brush my teeth. I was a former Eagle Scout. I knew to be prepared.

You coated you and me. You went back to sliding your erection against mine, my hand holding both of us.

I shimmied up the bed a little more. Our erections were no longer together. You were fucking only my hand.

I used the hand you were fucking to position you. I spread my legs and raised them. I moved your erection directly against my opening. I wanted you inside of me.

"I want you to fuck me," I said, when I had you as hot as I thought I could get you, when I had you so hot I didn't think you could refuse me.

'Yeah?" you asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"I've never," you said.

"You have," I answered.

You didn't refuse my answer. You pushed as I spread.

"I can't get in," you said.

"Get on your knees and feed it in," I instructed.

You did as I said, kneeling between my legs. It took a little bit, but you breached me. The pain was strong. My need was stronger.

"Keep going," I said. "Don't stop even if I tell you to."

You kept going. You buried yourself inside of me, your entire shaft enveloped. I shimmied again, and you released into me. I gasped.

The pain ebbed to discomfort. You were rocking back and forth before I even realized.

I spread my legs wider. I looked at your face, into your eyes. You seemed conflicted.

"Close your eyes. When your eyes are closed, I can be anyone you imagine that I am."

You closed your yes. You moved over me, your hands on either side of me.

I put my hands on your side and then slid them to your back. I pulled you to me.

When you're fucking someone, it's almost impossible not to kiss them, even if you don't want to. As your hips rocked and I pulled you closer, you lowered your face to mine. At the last minute, you turned your head.

I was not going to accept that.

"Clay, stop," I insisted, accidentally using your real name for the first time. You did, probably startled that I knew Ryan was a ruse and that you were Clay. "If you're going to keep fucking me, you're going to do two things for me. First, you're going to take off your shirt, so I can feel your skin against mine. Second, you're going to kiss me."

You didn't hesitate. You leaned down and pressed your lips to mine, gently.

"That's a start, but it's only a start" I said. "Now take off your shirt."

"I'm embarrassed," you said. "I've let myself go. I'm not addicted to triathlons."

"Like I said, this is a safe space. No judgment."

You leaned back on your knees, your erection still buried in me. You pulled your right arm through the arm hole and then the shirt over head and then your left arm. I'd never seen anyone remove a shirt like that.

Your chest was not very defined, but it was thick and covered with curly dark hair that trailed over your stomach and into your bush. Your stomach was a dad's, probably ten or fifteen pounds more than you wanted.

I wanted to reassure you even more. I sat up and leaned into you. "You're hot," I said, kissing then licking then biting your left nipple before moving to the right and doing the same.

You pressed my head into your left nipple. "I love nipple play," you said. "It's like there's a direct line from them to my dick."

I devoured each nipple. You moaned and moaned and then announced that, if I kept it up, you'd come.

I didn't keep it up. Instead, I laid back. "Finish what you started," I said.

You started fucking again, from your knees.

"Come here," I said. You did, your arms holding you over me.

"All the way," I said. You did, lowering your body to mine, covering me completely.

"Now, kiss me," I said. "For real. Like you mean it."

"No," you said. Before I could react, and I was going to react, you added, "You kiss me. For real. Like you mean it."

I grabbed ahold of your face and forced your mouth to mine. We kissed hard, your thick tongue penetrating my mouth with almost as much force as your erection was penetrating me.

The kiss ended. "Now fuck me," I said, "as hard as you can."

You started rocking again, much faster than you had been. You were giving me what I wanted, your dick, hard and fast.

You lowered your mouth to mine again. I pulled my knees toward my shoulders.

"Just like that," I yelped. "Fuck me. As hard and as fast as you can."

You pounded into me, recklessly. "I don't want to hurt you," you said.

"You won't," I answered. You kept pounding. I loved the sound of it all, you grunting, me matching your grunts with moans, your skin slapping against mine, the bed wailing. I loved the sound of fucking.

You slowed your hips. "That was intense," you said.

"Why'd you stop?" I asked, disappointed that you had.

"I needed to regroup," you said. "I'm a bit spent, and it's hard for me to come a second time."

I loved the feel of the sweat between us.

I devoured your tongue. I wanted everything I could get of you inside of me.

"If you're spent," I said into your mouth, "then maybe I should drive."

I rolled over so that you were on your back. I lowered myself onto you. I bounced like a child on a toy. I used your pectorals for leverage. I got vocal.

"Oh my God, give me those strokes.... Oh my God, you feel so good.... Oh my God, I love fucking myself on your dick.... "

I rode you harder than I had ever ridden anyone. I made James Manziel look like a neophyte as he rode Ethan Manor.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck... I'm going again," you gasped.

"Go in me," I insisted.

I shouldn't have. I didn't know you from Adam. For all I knew, you were not married, you did not have children, and you had not been waiting for a woman. For all I knew, you had been in that bar hoping for me the way I had been in that bar hoping for you, an infected stranger who could infect me and who was using your "I'm married" as a guise to turn me on.

"Oh fuck," I said when I felt my own orgasm start to build in my channel. "Oh fuck."

"I'm there," you said into my mouth.

"Me, too," I pleaded. "Hold on. Don't go. Not yet."

You ignored my plea. "I'm going," you said as you drove into me and held, your erection expanding and twitching over and over as you soaked me with your pleasure.

I had not been close enough. I didn't join you.

"That was so good," you said.

"It was," I answered. I was not lying. It had been so, so good.

"Did you?" you asked, nodding toward my erection.

"No," I said, looking down at what you had nodded to.

Without a word, you grabbed it.

"Roll over," you said. "I wanted you to come in my mouth," you added, taking me into your mouth.

"I'm going to come, Clay," I warned. "I'm going to come." You didn't pull off. You took it in your mouth. When I was finished, you let what was in your mouth run out onto my stomach and crotch.

"I couldn't swallow it," you said, when your head was next to mine on the pillows. "I tried, but I just couldn't."

You started to laugh. You had a great laugh, deep and resonant, coming from your chest, not your throat. The more I tried to get you to tell me what was funny, the harder you laughed.

You were not using "I'm married" as a guise. When you finally stopped laughing, you told me you were laughing at the absurdity of it all. "I mean," you said. "I was supposed to be up here right now fucking a woman I met on an app, if it all went down the right way. I'm not. Instead, I'm up here fucking a guy I met in the bar. In a million years, I never thought this would happen. It's like a bad story in a shitty magazine that readers would say 'that would never happen'."

"You really know how to fuck," I said.

"I know," you said. "Everyone thinks I'm a great lay. How do you know my name, by the way?"

I told you about the receipt. You asked me if I knew your last name, and I lied and said "no."

You wouldn't tell me your last name, where you were from, or where you worked. You must have feared that I would crawl out of the woodwork and ruin things for you. I would never have done that.

I told you that, like you, I had given you a fake name. "I'm Jackson, not Jeffrey. I own a business in Columbus, which is where I grew up. My mother is a dislocated Southerner. She named me Jackson, after Jackson, Mississippi. My brother is Austin, after Austin, Texas. My other brother is Montgomery, after Montgomery, Alabama. I don't have a sister, but she'd have been Dallas or Lexington or some other southern city. Anyway, you can call me Jacks. Everyone does."

"Married?" you asked.

"Nope, but I was. First, to a woman I hurt badly. Second, to a man who hurt me badly. I probably deserved it. Turn about is fair play and all."

We talked on and on, although you refused to give up very much about yourself. As we talked, I moved my left hand over your torso, through your chest hair, over your stomach, along your sides. I started for your crotch and then remembered where it had been.

"I'll be right back," I said, heading toward the bathroom. I wet a washcloth with warm water, added a little soap, then returned to you to gently clean you. As I did, you started to plump.

"I'm getting hard again," you said.

"Jesus," I answered. "You kids."

"I'm thirty nine," you said. "I'm hardly a kid."

"At least you were honest about that," I trolled.

I returned to your side. You then did to me what I had done to you, your hand moving over my chest and my stomach and my sides. "I've never touched muscles like this," you said. "It's always been soft and supple for me, never firm and rippled."

"Preference?" I asked.

"I've always been a tits guy, but this," you said, taking my left pectoral into your meaty hand, "this is a tit on a whole other level."

I looked at the clock. It was nearly four a.m. Neither of us had contemplated sleep. We were having too much fun.

"We might set a record," I said, moving over you, my arms and legs straddling you. I lowered my mouth to yours. To my surprise, you moved your hands to the sides of my head, signaling that you did not have to be heated for us to kiss. I kissed you as good as I could kiss you, using all of my best my moves. You kissed me back just as hard, your tongue meeting mine at every turn, your hands moving from my face to my sides and then my ass, forcing our erections together.

I kissed and licked down your body, chasing your "I'm getting hard again." I licked and nipped your underarms and then your nipples. I slid the back of my tongue down your torso, through your chest hair and navel and path to paradise. I licked where you left leg met your pelvis and then where right leg did the same. I licked through your scrotum, splitting your balls. I sucked your left ball and then your right. I licked the underside of your shaft up through your frenulum and then over your head.

You writhed in pleasure, your body twitching and turning as I trekked through it.

I took you into my mouth. "Oh fuck," you said. "Stay with me," I thought.

Slowly, as slowly as I could go, I went down on you, my mouth and throat taking all of you in, burying you in my throat as you continued to twitch and turn. "Oh my God," you said, raising up on your elbows and watching me throat you.

I slowly slid off you. "Trust me," I said as I pushed your legs toward you, exposing your backside. "I don't know," you said. "Just trust me, Clay," I answered. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back.

"With everything else we've done...." you conceded.

I buried my face in your ass. I slathered your hole with my tongue and saliva. You panted and writhed. "Holy shit," you hissed. I smiled at the noun.

I kept at you, eating you out like I had never eaten anyone else out, lapping at you and then forcing my tongue inside of you.

I spread you open. I forced my tongue inside of you. You replaced shit with fuck, crying out "Holy fuck."

I pushed my tongue in and out of you until my tongue was sore. Then, I licked through your taint and scrotum and up the underside of your shaft. As I did, I slopped the the middle finger of my right hand and then moved it to your exit. I wanted to finger fuck you.

You tensed. "Jacks," you intoned, "Don't... Don't do that."

"Alright," I answered, withdrawing my finger and holding true to my word.

"It's not that I don't like it," you said. "I'm just not sure.... I mean...."

I knew what you meant. You were concerned that a torpedo might be in the tube.

I took you back into my throat. I worked you with my lips and tongue. You tasted of soap and sweat.

"That feels really good," you said. "But I don't think I'm going to come again."

"That's okay," I said. "I'll just play for awhile. Like I said, I really like sucking dick."

I did play, kissing and licking and sucking your erection and then your scrotum, working you over and over and over again.

"Come up here," you said, stopping and surprising me.

You kissed me, a soft, closed-mouth kiss that was gentle and sweet. "You can sleep here, if you want," you said.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah," you answered.

I climbed out of the bed and used the bathroom. When I returned, the bed was back in order, and you were under the covers on your left side. I slid under and in behind you, my left arm burrowing under your pillow and my right arm slipping between your right arm and your torso.

After a few minutes, you said, "Jacks, I appreciate the effort, but this isn't going to work. I'm too hot."

I moved away and onto my back. You rolled onto yours. I raised up on my elbow and used my right forefinger to trace your profile, your Adam's apple, through your chest hair and navel, along the length of your shaft and between your legs. Once at your scrotum, I used all of my fingertips to tickle and tug at you.

"I'm glad I changed my mind," you said, turning your head toward me, which prompted me to return the sweet kiss you'd just given me. "But, I'm tired and need to sleep."