Tuesday, July 17, 2007

The Morning After Pill

Do you ever have the kind of morning where you don’t wake up all at once? Instead, awareness comes back slowly, bit by bit, each part of your body gradually regaining sensation, furiously protesting against the rising tide of consciousness.

I hate those mornings.

I do, however, enjoy the reasons for them. For instance, getting only an hour and a half of exhausted sleep because you spent 8 or 9 hours naked in bed with a hot construction worker.

I fucking LOVE those mornings!

As I mentioned in my add-on post last night, the best fuck I had last year, and maybe in the last 5, called me out of the blue while I was driving to Seattle. After a quick conversation, it was quickly, and inevitably, decided that a hookup was necessary. I mean, you can't pass up an opportunity to fuck a hot stud you know is great in bed.

Chris is the type of guy you want to take home and introduce to your parents. He gets along with everyone, exudes a quiet yet unmistakable masculinity, and possesses a warm sense of humor. Combined with a fucking gorgeous body and stunning good looks, Chris is, simply put, damn near perfect.

Except, of course, for the catch. With guys like Chris there is always a catch. The first thing that struck me about Chris was his normality. He wore his personality and sense of self so comfortably it all but screamed “Mans man” from every pore of his body. Unfortunately, this man’s man loved the outdoors to such a degree he chose to live and work in the back country sticks of Wyoming. He absolutely refused, the rat bastard, to move anywhere else. So, while I drool and dream over Chris, I know these sporadic and short visits are all we will ever have.

Works for me!

As I pushed open the slightly ajar door to his room at the Sheraton in downtown Seattle, the first thing I noticed was the dim lighting. Usually, hotel rooms are very bright or very dark. This, in contrast, almost seemed to be mood lighting.

As I turned around from closing the door and entered the room more fully, I saw why. As my eyes adjusted to the flickering light of 10-20 assorted candles, my attention was inexorably drawn to the figure laying on his back on the king-sized bed. Nearly naked from head to toe, he'd left a small part of his body hidden by a tattered pair of Carhartt cutoffs that just barely escaped classification as Daisy Dukes.


Head propped up on 3 pillows with his arms behind his head, he lay there, staring at me, a small grin on his face, plainly enjoying the reaction the situation was having on my body. Mostly my anatomy. With a smiling snarl, I crossed the room and was on him before he could utter a word. Tonight, words weren’t needed.

I covered his mouth with mine, kissing him, tasting him, feeling as much of him as I could, while my hands roamed innocently up his arms and behind his head. As the zip-ties closed snuggly around his wrists, keeping his arms held back behind his head, realization of what I was up to finally dawned on him. I gave him the smug, arrogant smile that seemed to drive him wild and with a nibble to his nipple that caused a sharp intake of breath, I slowly made my way down his body.

Naturally a fairly smooth guy, Chris had an even sprinkling of chest hair that was kept trimmed close to the body. A dark blond happy-trail led from his belly button and disappeared into the top of his cutoffs. I followed the trail with my tongue, ripping the shorts open and dodged, barely, the rocketing button. Teasingly, I planted butterfly kisses around his groin, taking care to always avoid his shaft. I could hear his breathing getting shallower with each breath, his cock noticeably pulsing in time to his heart beat. I smirked at the goofy look on his face, a cross between pure pleasure and pending denial, and lapped at the spreading puddle of clear fluid forming beneath his cock head.

As he moaned beneath me, I "accidentally" brushed my stubble against the head, enjoying another quick intake of breath. I took the head of his cock into my mouth and slowly, almost languidly, began to polish just the knob of his cock.

Almost as soon as I started, I stopped. Again, I eased my way south, kissing my way lower, and buried my head between his thighs. Now, I enjoy rimming a good ass, but I'm pretty strict on the requirements: steam cleaning with a bidet and 100% cleanliness are musts. Also, there can be absolutely no signs of warts, hemorrhoids or any other random bits of dangling skin. It's just creepy.

Chris, bless him, knew this and had been prepared. His hole still had that faint, pleasant, herb-like smell of the mixture he used to scrub clean. I knew as I buried my face between his ass cheeks, repositioning his body with his legs on my shoulders for easier access, that it would be good. So, so good. Between the size of my own cock, and the knowledge that he'd taken more than a few dicks, I was always surprised at the tightness of his hole. I'd taken the cherries of guys I knew were virgins beyond a shadow of a doubt who hadn't been as tight as Chris.

I loved it.

Forcing my way past his ring, I kept my tongue up his hole while I used my lips and mouth to munch, stubble rub, and chew his ass. Judging by the fact that I now had to hold his hips down hard enough to bruise, he was enjoying it. Just a bit.

Getting him wet and ready like this was always dangerous. Chris and I are both condom nazis and never risk a rubberless fuck. The only time we'd ever fucked bare, after a night of so much drinking we were shocked to even wake up in our bed, neither of us could recall. Definitely a no-no.

The temptation of that tight, tight, sloppy-wet hole in front of me was difficult to overcome. I stopped munching his ass, and again started to kiss and rub my way back up his belly. Chris, damn him, lost in the moment, shifted his hips as I made my way north, expertly intercepting my rock hard shaft.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Even moving as slow as I had been, the bastard had still managed to get the head and first inch or so impaled inside his hole. He smiled up at me, cocky grin and a "you wanna?" look on his face, an eyebrow raised in question. In what was literally the hardest thing I ever did in my life, I popped out, and shoved him away. I reached for the rubber he'd left on the side of the bed before my arrival, ripped it apart so savagely I also ruined the rubber and had to grab a second, and within 2 seconds rammed every bit of my nine inches up his hole. Mercilessly.

I don't know how long we fucked that first time, and I don't care. He had me so wound up, so completely focused on abusing his hole, that all I could do was keep him on his stomach, arms bound and behind, with one hand on the back of his head forcing his face into the pillow.

Fuck. Yes.

I had him on the bed, I rode him on couch, I fucked him against the wall, on the floor, everywhere. There was not a square inch of that room, minus the shower, that we did not fuck on or against that first time.

While I can't really place how long we went at it, but definitely over 2 hours, I will always remember the orgasm that followed. The use of latex combined with spit as lube eventually led to a ton of friction. I had to stop and edge about 9 times, not wanting to cum, but eventually it was unavoidable. As I felt the pressure build, I pulled out of his hole and ripped off the rubber.

I gave my meat 3 or 4 quick strokes. Fuck, yeah. Sitting up on my knees, still between his thighs and staring down at him, Chris knew what was about to happen. Tossing my head back, eyes closed, hands finding my nipples, I felt the first spurt of cum exit my cock and fly. As I lost myself in the orgasm, I vaguely felt a warm, moist, pressure engulf my cock.

Ahh, fuck yes.

I thrust into that warmth, enjoying every minute of spewing my load down Chris's throat. Let the fucker taste my load. The damn cock whore needed it. Vaguely I could hear him approaching orgasm, but didn't really care. I felt too damn good to really pay attention. 7, 8, 9... finally, after almost 14 good sized squirts, my orgasm subsided, my head lolling to the side. I sighed in satisfaction, amazed at the size and strength of my orgasm, and opened my eyes.

Looking down at Chris, I was shocked to realize what had actually happened.

What I thought had been his mouth (he is by far the best cocksucker I have ever had), had, in fact, been his ass. After I'd closed my eyes and focused on cumming, he had somehow managed to move quickly enough to reposition and get his hole doggie style and onto my cock. He remembered, apparently, that I don't touch my cock when I cum. Instead, I typically prefer to get right to the verge of orgasm and then release my cock, freeing my hands to rub my nipples.

With eyes closed, hands on my nipples, and the mind-blowing orgasm preoccupying me, the little shit had sunk half of my tool into his hole and taken every drop of my 14 squirts.


He turned his head around to look at me, saw the look on my face, and knew I was less than pleased. A slight understatement, as I now wanted to beat the holy fuck out of him. He smiled, didn't say a word, pulled off of my cock and leaned forward to the night stand. It was then that I noticed a white envelope. Still smiling, he handed it to me, using both of his still zip-tied together hands.

I opened it, and inside were his last test result, taken the week before. It included both the rapid and mRNA HIV tests, as well as results for the full gamut of the STD spectrum. As I read through the paper he explained he'd known about this trip for several months and had gotten tested for everything. Moreover, he swore that he had not been with another person in over 4 months due to work and the general lack of guys in Wyoming. He was, he avowed, completely clean.

While the paper didn't completely mask my anger over what he'd done, it did help to drown out the immediate, quivering paranoia you get after doing something stupid. Like, I don't know, bareback sex.

He said he'd understand if I wanted to go, but that he really wanted nothing more than to spend time with me and enjoy every bit of it to the fullest. He'd taken the time to make this more than just a quick fuck. Looking around at the room, noticing the candles, the snacks and drinks, and the other thoughtful touches he'd done to prepare, I finally felt something uncoil and relaxed.

A bit.

Seeing me relax, he came to me smiling and kissed me.

I never did actually make it to dinner with Zane. Meh. What you going to do?

When I finally woke up, with that agonizingly slow recall to reality, I realized a number of things.

First, I realized that I had spent the night in Seattle, which I hadn't planned to do. Crap.

Secondly, I remembered fucking Chris, bareback due to his trickery, the night before. Double crap.

Next, the thought of the things we'd spent the rest of the night doing trickled in. Words simply can't describe people. Oy.

Finally, I remembered that I hadn't brought a uniform with me, and there was this little thing called formation I had to get to. At some point. If it wasn't too much trouble. Holy. Fuck.

Lastly, and worst of all, I noticed the man curled up in my arms, looking utterly peaceful and completely content. God. Dammit.

Falling for, or even getting overly interested in, someone who refused to move out of the backwoods and lived 8 hours away was not on my list of priorities. In fact, it could be described as being on my "TO BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS!" list.

So, I did what any sane man would do in that situation.

I slowly got out of the bed, taking care not to wake him up, and searched for my pair of 2xist Varsity briefs. Yes, I'm a homo, I like trendy underwear. Deal with it. I grabbed the rest of my clothes and snuck into the bathroom, where I quickly dressed as quietly as I could manage.

I left the bathroom, headed for the front door and put my hand on the knob. I tried to open it, but almost of its own volition, my body turned, looking at the still form on the bed, breath going in and out with the peaceful rhythm of sleep.

Fuck it.

I opened the door, closing it gently behind me, and didn't look back.

After a stop by a 24 hour drive through for coffee, I slammed down 2 No-Doze for extra caffeine, and chuckled at the irony. Ah, No-Doze, the gay man's morning after pill. God bless caffeine.

Fuck, I can NOT be late again.


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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dude that story is sick hot, I've had hot marathon sessions like this too... go all night sleeping inbetween fucks... verry hot

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