The Hotel Hookup

I knocked on the hotel door around 8pm. 312.

The guy was older than my regular partners. My guys were 48 and 50. This guy looked into his 60's.

I'm neither a prude nor ageist. He appeared to be well built and was very handsome. Stark white hair with light brown eyes. He had a mustache that only a few guys can pull off in an attractive manner. Nowadays he'd remind me of Christopher Plummer.

He wore a pajama set like older men did. It almost looked formal, like he was sleeping to be watched and judged. Light blue with white piping.

"How are you tonight? He asked. I replied something positive. "That's good." He seemed genuine.

He motioned me in and sat down on the bed, leaning backwards. "I hope you don't mind if we...just get into things? I have a meeting early in the morning." I nodded in reply.

He stood and undid his pants, lowering them to the ground and stepping away. My eyes went immediately to his crotch.

It was limp. It was big. Despite his impressive hang, his sack dangled lower. "You're good for blowjobs? More?"

"Whatever you like." I replied. He moved towards me and, with a hand on my shoulder, influenced me downwards.

The tufts of hair surrounding his base were scented with hotel soap. His shaft, even limp, had extraordinary detail. A large, protruding vein wound up and around him, ending just below his impressive head, somehow as white as the shaft.

My tongue came out for an introductory lick. He was clean to the taste buds. My mouth, which had been dry and nervous up until now began slobbering like one of Pavlov's dogs.

The wetness in my mouth inspired him. Suddenly he was erect. My saliva became the lubricant for my hand as I surrounded his fat prick. The core of him was as hard as any guy a third of his age.

As I explored him I found his corona didn't drop off, but gradually angled back towards his shaft. It was almost hard to discern where one ended and the other began, except that large vein vanished.

His circumcision scar was invisible to the touch on his upper side, but had a distinct ridge of skin below. It was one of the only places on his rod that wasn't taut, rigid.

He was completely erect now. I knew I had five inches of him in my mouth...that was my limit...and my fist beyond my lips. He was easily 7". Not as thick as I'd first thought other than his base, which widened to an almost intimidating level.

That vein was a direct line to his heart. It twitched with every heartbeat. Every breath he took. It would surge against my tongue as I slowly worked him tip to root. I could feel it with my tongue, the fingers of my right hand as they slid along the constantly flowing spit trail.

He wasn't responsive to any work with my teeth, so I used my lips with my teeth pressing down on them to give him a tightness. I didn't suck his cock, I was giving him head. The only time I inhaled was to bring my cheeks against him.

"Mmm. That's nice. You're a good cocksucker. Talented. If I could come from a blowjob, your mouth would be filled." He groaned and I could feel it through his prick. Moreso in that vein.

His hand came down lightly pushed mine away. "Don't worry, I don't choke you. I just want your mouth alone." He put his hands on either shoulder and began pushing me away and pulling me back.

My mouth slid along his length, and good to his word he didn't push fast enough for me to gag. He'd hit my soft palate gently, the smallest push.

"Yeah. Really good." He said calmly and I felt him surge, his heart pumping himself thicker. I didn't know if he'd done it involuntarily or not.

He pulled himself free of my mouth. The shining coat of my saliva reflecting the light of the room.

Turning, he motioned to the bed, "Why don't you get up there. Lay on your back. I'm going to try to fuck you." It was polite, but there was no question that it was going to happen.

I did as instructed, my butt close to the edge of the bed. He took a position with his groin at my ass, laying his generous prick over the top of mine. His huge, wet sack rest on my taint.

Slowly he rubbed himself against my length, the wetness on his shaft slithering along me. It felt amazing.

He moved away and into the bathroom, returning with a small bottle. He applied done if the fluid to himself and then to me. Once the lubricant was applied he took one of his fat fingers and pushed into my hole.

It sent shivers through me. I always love this, the first moment of entry, where my nerves get briefly uncomfortable with the intrusion, then my subconscious takes over and I feel nothing but pleasure.

The finger went back and forth, pushing against my anxious ring. I could feel his knuckles as they pressed against the muscle, a direct line to the length of my rigid prick.

Shortly, a second finger entered. "You're tight. I'm gonna enjoy this." He grumbled towards me as he pulled the fingers away. I ached for the loss.

The blunt end of him pressed only seconds later. I looked down to where he held himself, guiding his marvelous prick inside me. His light chest hair trailing down to his groin, obscured by my erection.

He pushed forward and the warm, tingling feeling hit almost immediately. He began to spread me, forcing me open, sending that electric sensation across my body. It warmed me everywhere, down to my soul.

Onward he pressed until I felt that gentle angle from his head to shaft. His next move was to withdraw completely, and I felt his slick head dip to my taint.

Again he took hold and inserted himself, this time further by an inch or so. He withdrew completely again only a second later, driving my anus nuts.

Over and over. Further and further. Every time driving me crazy with the sensation. The rumble of his moves. The pulling up slightly as his root got closer and less able to bend into me.

An exhale came from me as I finally felt his matted pubic hair at my burning, ecstatic hole. It was an involuntary groan, the width pressing outward in every direction.

I let go some of the tension I didn't know I was holding when I felt his gnarled bush against me. He responded by pushing my legs upwards and my entire body towards him, somehow pressing deeper, finding more cock to fill me. His wide, wide base now spread me to that painful point again...but only for a count of ten.

Then it was purely pleasure. A relaxed feeling. Just being full, being wrapped around his pole in all directions, inside me as far as possible.

Moments later he began to move his hips. He slid away from me in a smooth, even manner some half his length, then pushed back inside to his full press.

He followed with another one. His sack pulled away from the upper part of my crack with a sloppy, sticky feeling. A second later he returned himself and I felt the fat bag make contact again.

My brain went into a subconscious mode. It was 'need', pure and simple. It was a feeling I call 'cock drunk' in a fugue where all that matters is someone inside me.

His movements were almost exact, precise. It felt so though he were pulling out exactly to the same millimeter every time. The unreal sensitivity in my nerves and my visual memory could almost fool me into thinking I actually felt that huge, pronounced vein as it rode against the side of my greedy ring.

When he pulled out, my vision was hazy. I glanced at him, "Lay down on your stomach, here."

I could barely function as I flipped over. I felt him press my legs together with his and his knob probe my hole. My want rolled my hips upwards to make contact with him.

With a certain familiarity and practiced ease, he pressed inside me in one easy movement. His head smashed into my prostate like a bullet and I yelped in surprise.

"Oh no. No crying out. You're going to take me. You're going to take my cock all night if I want." He whispered in my ear as he lay down on top of me.

His body covered mine, but for where my legs were inside his. My arms were splayed and he held them away in his hands the hair on his chest stuck to my back in a mingling of our sweat.

He only moved his hips. The effect was that I could feel him pull not only with my asshole but between my cheeks. The wet, slippery feeling was just fuel on the fire of the need that was eating through my consciousness.

"You like my cock, don't you?" He grunted into my ear in a low growl.

I exhaled a long "Yes" in barely a whisper.

He grunted as he worked himself in and out, lightly cooling my ass as he'd pull up. "You want my cum, don't you? Your little ass wants to pull my cum out of my balls. Your tight little ass wants me."

"Yes" I hissed again. I drove my hips up into his on his down stroke, desperate to feel that wide base in me, instead of stuck against my cheeks.

Every slam into my prostate made me feel oozing out of my prick, jammed into the duvet. It sent a shockwave that would slam against the feeling from my asshole, melding and rushing into my brain like a truck.

I saw only colors of red and black. I wanted this so goddam bad. I would happily die here, this prick inside me. Nothing outside of the room existed. The other side of the bed didn't exist. My hands couldn't feel. My feet couldn't walk. All that mattered was where his body and mine made contact, centered on his beautiful prick sliding back and forth inside me.

So when he stopped again it was like a tragedy. He pulled away, straddling me and shuffling back. My back was cooling, sweat to the room's recirculated air.

My hips pushed my ass up. It wanted him back, desperately. He lay down next to me and glanced over, "Get on top. Ride me."

Turning, I swung a leg over him, lined up and shoved him inside me in a single movement. I brought myself down to his base, grinding down to get every fraction of an inch of him into me.

For a moment I sat there, relishing the sensation, owning it. "This is how I cum best. Someone sitting on me, grinding. I'm close." His voice rumbled through him, running through to his prick and my ass.

I did as he asked, rolling my hips back and forth, sliding him forward against my prostate almost painfully. My sack slid across the sweat of his belly, tantalizing me. It was bringing me closer.

"You like this. You want my cum inside you. You want it bad, don't you." He said, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me at a faster pace.

My orgasm could come any second. "Yes" I repeated. How long ago had I said it before? How many times had I said it?

His hands pulled me faster and faster, "I'm so close now. I can feel it. Right there. Do you want it?" He asked, his breath coming hard.

"Yes" I said between clenched teeth, spittle flying as I pushed the word away. I didn't want to talk, I wanted to feel his shaft in my hole. I wanted to feel him buried inside me. I wanted to forget how to talk.

"I'm...I'm right there. God, I'm gonna...gonna cum. You want it? You want my load?" He grunted between breaths.

"GODDAMIT! YES!" I screamed out loud as my prick started shooting strings of semen. Over his shoulder, into the swirling hair of his chest.

He grunted one more time and quit moving me. He began a fluttering, fast, crazy swelling against my ring. He rolled his hips up and tried to get more inside me. I pressed down, still drooling cum from my own slit.

His breath and cumshot were chaotic. In my mind he was filling every part of my insides, coating them with the thick fluid. I could see it surround him as the involuntary muscles forced the cum out of him, giving it to me.

Without notice, he pressed upwards on his arms and ass, then slumped back. His ass quit pushing. The tension left him like I'd pulled all of his energy from him and placed it into me along with his seed.

We sat there for a few long moments, breathing. The cool air of the room stabilizing.

Gradually he didn't press as hard against my ring. Gradually my vision came back from where it had been. The blood in my ears calmed.

I was still rock hard as I looked down. A cooling string of jizz out of the slit down to a pool on his belly that had flowed towards his side.

He took a shower first and I followed suit. Washing the lube from my ass. The dried slobber from my face. In my mind's eye, his load churned inside as I absorbed him, bringing his essence into me.

When I left the bathroom, he was in his pajamas, lying in bed, snoring away. I smiled and put my clothes on.

Down in the lobby I grabbed the payphone and called the house, "Hey Cy." I replied after the greeting, "Can you come and pick me up? I'm at X hotel. Thanks." He was on his way.

I sat on a pillar support outside the midnight lobby. Cy would be there in under twenty minutes.

My ass tingled against my pants and the hard concrete. The nervous system memory pulsing through my system.

Cy pulled up in what seemed like no time at all. I got in the passenger side. He couldn't help but laugh at my grin.

"That good, huh?" I nodded, "think you'll still have some room left for me when we get home?" I nodded again.

It was cool and relaxed that evening and I rolled down the window to smell autumn. The moon was full, driving wild creatures into lunatic rituals. Maybe that's what happened to me?

The minute we walked in the door I was on my knees in front of Cy. His six inches in my throat as Rich tongued my asshole. Only a few moments later his six and a half would be thudding into me and I'd be swallowing Cy's load, coating my throat with his delicious taste.

It was November, 1990. Four months ago I'd turned 18. A hair over three months ago, I'd slept with Rich, my college landlord, the first time. A week later, his best friend and lover Cy had come into the picture.

I quit sleeping in my room two and a half months ago and stayed in Rich's, where every night he taught me his sexual talents. I soaked up the knowledge greedily, hungrily. The same way I took his loads.

Tonight had been my first 'strange' night. The first time I would screw someone other than Rich and Cy. I had to learn, to use what I'd learned to satisfy the man. To take my satisfaction from his.

He wasn't 'strange' or 'anonymous', of course. He was Rich's brother, come to town for a seminar.

I'd fuck him one other time while he was there. My little blue book, a diary of my sexual adventures, held him as the third partner I'd ever had.

Granted, our memory lies to us. I'm sure in the last 34 years some of the details have blurred and the senses heightened, but as I'm turning the pages of the first volume of my blue books, now on the sixth, I remember it like it was yesterday.