Hot Canadian Men (But, Not Really)

So, on a whim, I went to the Vancouver BC Gay Pride with my friend Zane.

Not necessarily the best of decisions. But, I did manage to have a great time. For the most part.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Vancouver, it's a beautiful city. The only real problem I have with it is the lack of major arterial roads. Everything is local. Makes traveling a pain. That, and 4 hour waits at the border when you cross back into the US. That kind of sucks.

We managed to get rooms in a decent downtown hotel. We went out, saw the fireworks, the parade, the typical things you see and do during a Pride.

My chief gripe, however, was regarding the distinct lack of high numbers of hot men. Zane had lured me here with lurid tales of how many gorgeous men would be in the city, all looking for cock, and how great a time I would have.

Well, I did manage to find a hot guy, or 3, but none were actually Canadian. Dammit.

Anyway, we went out that night. I wanted to try this place, Odyssey, but Zane wanted to go to some other club/bar. We settled by doing a choice neither of us were actively interested in. Compromises, you have to love them.

The club was the pits. The location sucked, the inside was shitty, and the clientèle...well, lets just say that I would NOT be picking up any hot holes here.

Instead of focusing on sex or trying to find a target, we just decided to drink and have fun. And be totally obnoxious. Americans are good at it; we excel.

When I finally swiped my keycard and made my way back up to my hotel room, painfully alone, I made a beeline for my laptop. I logged on, amused, noting the number of guys also looking for cock at that moment. Quite a few. Damn, why couldn't any of the assholes been out tonight?

Oh well.

Within 2 minutes of being logged on I'd received 18 messages. I hate when people do the little "wink" bullshit. If you don't have the balls to say something to me, online!, why the fuck am I going to waste my time on you? The assholes who don't have pictures, but have the stupidity to dare text me a message simply saying "hey, unlock?" can just rot in hell. Fuckers.

Anyway, after weeding through the extraneous, ugly, fat, old, and no picture messages that I'd gotten, I had 8 likely candidates.

Not too bad, I supposed.

First, I sorted through them by height. I found a nice little Italian boy, claiming to be 5'8", whose pics looked good, nice body, and a beautiful bubble ass. He said he liked it a bit hard, and I was more than willing to drill his head through the god damned drywall.

We messaged back and forth a few times, and when I received a warm fuzzy, sent him the information he needed and told him to get his ass over to my hotel.

As I logged off the computer, I reflected that between this unplanned trip and last weekends effort in Seattle, I was gonna be broke for upcoming week before payday. Oh well, you only live once, right?

My cellphone jolted me back to reality with the notification that I had a text. He said he was downstairs in the lobby. He could have come straight to the room, I wasn't in that swanky of a place, but I wanted to see him first.

I went down, and my eyes were instantly drawn to him. In his pictures I'd have pegged him for a solid 8. Great body, a 10 ass, but face was just above average. In person, it was more complex. While he didn't have that model beauty or classical "hotness" that you would see in an Abercrombie store, the way his whole person added together made him striking. Definitely someone you notice.

Hot. Damn.

Apparently, I wasn't alone in my laser eyes. Half the people in the lobby at that moment were homos and every single one of them was either overtly or shyly checking him out. Or me. We stood there, eyes locked, as I walked towards him, stupid grins plastered on our faces. If thought bubbles had formed above our heads it would have been something like "THANK YOU GOD, I TOTALLY OWE YOU FOR THIS!"

We didn't talk. I put my arm around his shoulder, guided him towards the elevator and up we went.

I could spend hours describing how I fucked him 7 times that night. I could mention how he used his ass muscles in a way I'd never felt before, a rolling massage on my cock that left me damn near breathless. I could describe the tenderness we would give each other one moment, and the hard, near rape, ass pounding he'd get the next.

We clicked. It was amazing.

And, damn him, too soon over. After the 7th time, both of us sated, exhausted, and falling asleep, I finally asked him where he was from, expecting the answer of Vancouver.

When he said originally from Vancouver but currently was living in London, I was floored. A 3 hour drive for amazing sex was doable, but a 10 hour flight was not.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuccccck.

And yes. If I get requests, I will post the little dirty details. Now, I have to walk a pissed off Shade I neglected for the weekend and wash my uniform. It stinks like sweaty ass.

~Mike

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