Memphis—February, 2015
February is all about
business travel for me. I go to the same
cities each year. Memphis was first, and
while I was there for five days, I managed to hook up all of once.
“you lookin?”
I had just
arrived. Of course the first thing I did
was to get online and see who would want to come to my downtown hotel. I clicked on his profile. Ass shot—A+.
Round and hairy with a shot that showed it off to great advantage. Chest shot—very nice. Black fur on a Hispanic skin tone. Face shot—quite handsome. Age given as 38. I guessed a little higher.
“Yes,” I typed
back. “Here for the long weekend.”
“want to cum tongight.” (sic)
“Good. I can play longer and start earlier.”
We set the time early
that evening. I felt confident enough to
give him the hotel and room number.
Then another message.
“u bb?”
“Yes. I don’t use condoms anymore.”
“k”
And that was that.
A knock. He’s on time. He’s racking up the points in my grading
scale. I let him in. He immediately starts to strip. His pictures are accurate. He dumps his clothes on the floor. I toss mine on the bed nearest the
windows. I’ve turned down the other one—ready
for his hot ass. He walks to where I
stand between the beds. I think he wants
to kiss. He drops to his knees and takes
me hungrily into his mouth. His tongue
action makes my travel weary cock stand up.
He can’t deep throat—but I don’t care.
I’m already thinking about rimming.
“Get up on the bed.”
He does, right on the edge of the bed. He can read my mind. I kneel and bury my face into the hairy crack
of his ass. He tastes wonderful. He has his poppers out and is grinding his
butt back onto my prodding tongue. I
spit on my cock and stand up. I swipe
the cock head down his now wet crack. It
prods against his hole.
He falls to his chest and turns to me. “Condom.”
“I don’t have any. I
told you I don’t use them.”
He gets up and goes to where he left his jeans in a pile on
the floor. He pulls out the oldest, most
crumpled foil packet I have ever seen.
But at least it’s a Magnum. I
think about telling him not to bother.
But that ass…it looks so damn good.
He hands it to me and gets back on all fours. I eat him some more. I lube my dick as I eat. I rip open the package as I tongue him, just
like I did thousands of time when I was the King of Safer Sex. I roll it on with practiced precision.
I stand up. He does
that reach-back-to-check-it’s-on thing. I
enter his hot ass.
I feel next to nothing.
I fuck dutifully.
He likes it.
My cock is beginning to rebel.
And then it happens.
The condom rips.
Right along the ring at the base.
I can feel it and see it. For a
fleeting moment I think about continuing to fuck him and losing the sheath inside
of him. It would be so easy to seed him
after all.
But I do the honorable thing. Never mind that he didn’t.
I pull out and tell him it’s ripped.
It’s over.
No offers are exchanged to get each other off another way.
He dresses and leaves. Fast.
I get off watching the nastiest German porn in my
collection.
Argh. You were so explicit about not using condoms anymore, though. I just wished the openness worked both ways. Not quite a dealbreaker for me, but if a guy raises the topic I'd hope he'd be honest about it with no judgements thrown in either direction, right? I mean, I object to the term condom nazi but I also object to the notion that guys that bareback are diseased pariahs or what have you. I guess it's just another dimension that people fudge to seal the deal, like age, disco size, pics, etc...
ReplyDeleteHe was counting on my not throwing him out when it came up in the middle of the sex. I should have stopped the moment he produced it. And I do wear condoms occasionally--with men who are truthful about it from the first contact...
ReplyDelete