Breaking the Drought

I'm in a dark room in the Marriott, read his email message. He named the room number. Greased up, horned for anonymous dick, and ready to go. Want some? 


I'll be there in 10, I wrote back.


Simple as that.


Or, nearly as simple as that. The Marriott is not very far from me at all, but I'm not familiar enough with the city that I was able to locate its parking garage the first time around the block. Or the second. The third time, I gave up and parked in the deck of the mall across the street. The extra walk added another five minutes to my trip.


His door was cracked. I pushed my way into the room, and saw him kneeling on the floor at the far end. He'd pulled the curtains to, but hadn't made any effort to tuck in the edges to block out the late afternoon sun. The hotel's television was on, as was his laptop. He'd left the bathroom light on, as well. The room was really about as dark as Grand Central Terminal, but that didn't matter.


He knelt in front of the room's armchair with his back to me. I could see his hand frantically working his dick as I shut the door behind me. The man's profile photos hadn't been all that flattering. There'd been nothing wrong with them, but they were of the amateur variety taken at too close a range, with too strong a flash, so that they'd all come out pale and out of focus. None of them really showed off how fit was his physique, how broad his shoulders, how rounded and nipped the muscles of his arms. His white tank top hugged him like a second skin, stretched by his broad pecs and hugging his narrow waist.


Then there was his ass, plainly on display below the hemline. Round. Beefy. Perfect.


I walked past the enormous bed and the television blaring on the pay-per-view movie channel, and stepped in front of him. He looked up at me as I unzipped my camo shorts and let them drop onto the ground. I wore a rubber double cock ring; my balls hung low over its tug. My dick was half-hard, and pointed at his mouth. I let him dive for it once I'd sat down in the armchair.


He sucked like a starved man, eating my dick to the root. I could feel his throat opening to accommodate me. It then closed around me like a tight hole, clinging to my inches with a wet, tight grasp. The man had no gag reflex; he impaled himself into the pole in a way that would have made a lesser cocksucker choke and gasp. I did see tears forming at the corners of his closed eyes, though.


His head was bald, shaved clean. I stroked it gently and let my palms guide him into a steady rhythm. The man's own dick stood straight up at attention, stiff and fat and hard as cement. It stabbed into the empty air as for long, long moments the man continued to slobber and feast over my cock.


"Fuck me," he said at last, standing up. He was an impatient child who'd done his chores and was demanding his reward for a job well done. I nodded, slowly, then stood up to kick off my shorts and my sandals. He reached out with both hands and shoved me roughly, once, twice, in the direction of the bed. The third shove sent me toppling backward onto the mattress. My conqueror climbed atop me in a victory pose.


He didn't plant a flag in me, though. That was my job. He spat on his hand and rubbed the saliva onto my cockhead, then sat down on my pole in a single, swift motion. He'd already lubed himself, and the inside of his ass was like lava in the air conditioned room. I gasped as he sank down to the bottom, and began grinding his hips, trying to take me even more deeply.


"Squeeze it," I commanded. He responded by clenching down in a way that felt like a tight, wet, warm hand. "Oh man, you're good," I whispered.


"Buddy, you don't know," he smirked. Then, to prove it, he started grinding with a determination I'd rarely before seen. We made out, our lips sloppily smacking over the other's, our tongues darting in and out as he continued to pound his meaty butt onto my dick. "You're gonna give it to me," he said. "Then I'm going to get down there and nurse on that big, beautiful monster meat until it's hard and you're gonna give it to me again."


"Okay," I agreed, putting up no argument against that particular scenario.


There have been very few guys in my life who are really good at sitting on my dick and milking a load from me. Most kind of bounce up and down in a pleasant enough way until I push them onto their backs and jackhammer home the load. This man, though, knew how to work his muscled hole to drive a man crazy. While balanced on the balls of his feet, he ground and swiveled and worked his hips up and down in a steady, insistent rhythm that let me know that I was pretty much helpless against his need. I was going to blow inside him, because of his actions and his attentions, his eyes told. And there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it.


He was right. After a very short time my eyes began to close. My breathing grew heavier. My own hips rose and fell with his. And soon I was letting loose the first of my loads deep into his hole, which he held down to the base.


I'd been with the married guy, jacking off for him in the privacy of his van. I'd met the guy with the dog, just the day before. This was the first opportunity I'd had to fuck, though, since my move. My load felt huge. I kept shooting and shooting while my body shuddered and shivered. Almost immediately he rose off me. A thick glob of my semen from his ass fell with a plop onto my stomach. He remained crouched above me, his hand rapidly working the skin of his dick. Moments later, his own load dripped down into me, mingling with my own seed in a puddle near my navel.


He immediately licked and slurped up the twin loads off, then, with them still on my tongue, kissed me deeply. We shared that payload of seed between us, passing it back and forth in our kiss, and then at last he burrowed between my legs and greedily cleaned off the rest of my dick.


"Your dick's not going down," he said with a cocky grin, after a minute of attention.


"Nope," I told him.


"I like that in a guy," he said.


I flipped him onto his stomach and drove it home. He groaned deeply as I slid into his cum-slick hole. His head hung over the mattress' edge; the harder I pounder at him, the more red and swollen with blood grew his head. His hands clutched at air, trying to grab onto something, anything, to help him cope with my maddened, impassioned bullfuck. At last he grabbed onto the bedframe with one, and the floor with the other. His mouth opened in a deep-chested roar. "Yeah, fucker!" he shouted. "Do some fuckin' damage to that hole."


The dirty talk only made me fuck him harder. My knob kept bursting through his second ring and popping through. I could feel the pressure of it against my cock head with every thrust. Every time I punched through, he let out a gargled cry. Bubbles of spit clung to his lips; his brow was knitted into a pained and worried expression, though the bliss in his eyes was obvious. "Yeah," he kept moaning. "Do that. Do it just like that."


My next load arrived more quickly than the first. My pounding was so hard that I'd bounced two of the pillows off the bed. He grabbed onto one and clung onto it for dear life while I shot a second load inside. Once I'd completed the deposit, he shoved me back onto the remaining pillows and once again sucked my dick clean. This time I let him linger down there for long, long minutes, while I breathed deeply and let the air conditioning cool off my sweaty skin. In a daze, I watched the same previews play over and over again on the hotel television, until after fifteen minutes of attention, my new buddy kissed his way up my stomach and tits to my lips. "Shame you can't go for three," he said.


"Who says I can't?" I growled, as I pushed him off.


For the third fuck I settled his knees at the edge of the bed, and fucked him on all fours from behind. The position gave me the maximum opportunity to lengthen my thrust, to adjust the angle as I saw fit, and to vary the tempo as I liked. With his head buried in the mattress, the muscle stud groaned and surrendered himself. He wasn't at all aggressive, now. Not insistent. Hungry, perhaps, but not as wild about it. He was just hole, receptive and wet and warm and slippery, his insides already painted with two loads. While the sunlight faded from the room and the TV continued to blare away, I very slowly, very leisurely fucked at first. Then I picked up the pace, stabbing at him, twisting at impossible angles to make it hurt.


He responded without words, groaning and letting out helpless cries as he lifted his ass higher and higher. I fucked him harder, so that my balls slapped against his. The sound of flesh against flesh drowned out even the hundredth advertisement for a Steve Carell movie I'd already seen; I wasn't paying attention to the television any longer. His arms flailed out, once more grasping at nothing. I fucked and fucked until I was slamming him again, abrading his face against the bedspread as I pushed him harder and deeper against the fabric. By the time I unloaded a third time, his hands had clutched the coverings and clenched them so hard that the creases he left looked as if they'd been permanent pressed in.


While I remained inside him, still shuddering, he reached between his legs and masturbated himself to a climax once more. It only took a few strokes before he blasted his load over the bed in long, wet ropes.


I pulled out, and stood there, panting and sweaty. He stood up, laughed slightly, and ran his hands over his smooth head. His lips worked, and let out what sounded like words, but not in any language I recognized. The syllables were gibberish, I realized. He seemed to realize it too, because he attempted to speak again, with the same results. Then he shook his head, rolled his eyes at himself, and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the shower running. When I entered the bathroom to rinse off my dick with a cloth, he was steaming under a stream of water, hands pressed against the wall, his forehead against them. He looked as if he had nothing left in him.


THANK YOU, he managed to text by the time I was eating dinner across the street. You fucked the language right out of me for a few minutes!!!


Which, when you think about it, is not a bad compliment at all.