|College Reunions Are Not So Bad,
by Greg Scott
All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you. Also if you decide to have sex, wear condoms. Whether these characters do or not wear them, the ones who will live long enough to have a meaningful sexual life will be those who practice safer sex. Grow up and act like an adult: slip one or two on!
------------------------------"Would you like a drink?' I asked after Andre had closed the main door to the suite.
"No, thanks. I can't drink on duty, even during my break," he replied as I had known he would. "I actually don't drink very often anyway."
"What would you like, then, so that you can relax during your half hour of respite from the working world?"
"As we said," Andre answered. "Get to know each other a little better."
"Okay," I said uncertainly. "Why don't you tell me a little about the real Andre, the one outside of this hotel?"
"I believe actions speak best," he clarified.
He firmly gripped my shoulder with one hand as he placed the other behind my head. He finessed me toward him with obviously practiced skills until our lips met.
His tongue felt thick, a little rough textured and very insistent as it urgently explored my mouth. If a tongue could communicate without speech, then his was telling me that he was filled with intense desire and youthful impatience. This was not a kiss of foreplay; it was a main event on its own.
I responded to the urgency of his probe and immediately set to work upon the task of unbuttoning his maroon vest. Unfortunately I soon discovered that there were layers of buttons and snaps that were as foreign to me as the tangled Brazilian rainforest.
He pushed my hands away and broke the kiss. My mouth felt emptier than it had ever been.
"There's no time for that," he stated. "Besides, it would take me ten minutes to put the thing back on again."
In recent years I had become unnaccustomed to hurried sex where the end is all that matters and the journey is not central to the experience. I flashed back to a high school encounter in which a buddy and I had the house to ourselves for only ten minutes but were determined to get each other off during that time. I remembered that part of the thrill was in the rush of it all.
Andre pushed rather than guided me to the sprawling bed. I was prone in no time. He was skilled with my belt, button and zipper. Before I would have had time to even describe his actions, his long slender fingers were tracing the sides of my cock, which was still protected from view by my bulging briefs.
Looking upward and somewhat sideways I saw the considerable swelling in his uniform trousers. Yet when I reached toward his member, he pushed away my hand.
"Not this time," he stated forcefully.
His action disappointed me. One of my greatest joys of sex is that first sight and feel of a new cock, one that I have never before experienced. He gave me little time for regret as he pulled my pants and underwear down to my ankles with a single movement. I must have raised my hips to assist him, but I wasn't aware of doing so.
I noticed the cool breeze from the room's climate system only long enough to worry about how much my groin must have sweat during the hectic travel day. I hoped that the soap from my morning shower had done its job as well as the commercials promised.
Andre sat on the bed next to me. His smooth hand began a massage of my balls. He approached this effort with what appeared to be great fascination. His eyes focused on his task. While he was gentle, his hands communicated the reality that he was in charge. There was enough pressure to bring me almost but not quite to the point of discomfort. My cock throbbed with each repeated squeeze.
My own gaze alternated between those long fingers and the handsome face. I couldn't decide which was more lovely. On the other hand, his eyes never wavered from my balls, and I wondered what he found so visually fascinating.
I wished the sensations could continue forever, but I was simultaneously anxious for what I hoped would come next. In fact I have no idea how long he continued to arouse me with the intense hand to balls manipulations.
As an optimist, I look on the trite expression, "All good things must come to an end" a little differently from most people. To me when one good thing ends that simply means that another good thing can begin. Of course my beliefs are not always proven to be correct, but they were in this case.
Andre repositioned on the bed. I watched as he began to lower his face toward my body. I consciously closed my eyes so that I could concentrate fully upon the feeling of being taken into his mouth without any visual distractions.
So it was that I was surprised not to find my anxious cock surrounded by a warm mouth. Instead I felt Andre's rough, moist tongue licking that space just under the scrotum.
I emitted an involuntary moan as much because of my surprise as due to the remarkably intense sensations. Again I wondered about any lingering perspiration, although this time I was curious about the bellman's response to the inevitably salty flavor rather than caring about any possible odor. Without realizing it my concerns were now totally focused upon my own pleasure without any thought to what is the usually reciprocal nature of sexual activity.
I briefly opened my eyes to observe the action, but my vantage point did not allow me an unobstructed view. In fact, all I saw was the top of Andre's head with my erect penis in the foreground.
I wasn't aware of it at the time, but in retrospect I am certain that my cum was already working its way through the route toward freedom. I was too consumed by the rhythmic treatment I was getting to realize anything else about my body or the environment it occupied.
I don't know if Andre was reading silent signals from my body or obeying his own timetable. The heavenly licking stopped abruptly.
Then I felt what I had expected earlier. The warm mouth wrapped around my cock at last. Instinctively my eyes popped open again.
I watched as his mouth worked its way down and then back up most of the length of my straight shaft. I combined that image with the almost ticklish impressions made by the ridges of Andre's tongue tracing the under side of my member in order to construct a sense memory of the experience for the inevitable later solitary masturbatory experiences.
I reached toward the shining tight black curls atop his perfectly proportioned head. I traced my fingers across the tips of each cluster of curls. The feeling was a welcome reminder of brief encounters already years in the past. While I had been with other African-American men, I had been with my ex-boyfriend for most of the past five years. His hair was longer and certainly silkier than Andre's. It's not that I necessarily preferred one type over another, but this hair was more fascinating to me now because it had been so long since I had felt anything similar.
I pushed my fingers into the springy glistening hair. My action must have seemed to Andre to be either a request or an inspiration. He pushed himself farther down upon me, and I felt my cock was now accommodated not only by a talented mouth but also the upper reaches of a tight throat.
His throat must have been more flexible than my hard-on. It was as if the throat itself had altered its physiology to compensate for the path my cock insisted upon taking.
Andre repeated this process several times in succession. Had I been thinking more clearly, I might have pictured myself as a waiting cow with overfilled udders being urged on by a kind farmer with a knowing touch. I was so fascinated by the unusual physical sensation, that I didn't even notice the onset of a much more common occurrence.
When my cock again reached its furthest penetration into Andre's gullet, my explosion began. I awakened from my reverie and imagined my gooey gift working its way toward my new friend's stomach.
Conscious of my climax, the hot college student moved a bit farther up my shaft presumably in order to capture my cum on his tongue. He joined me in my accelerated moaning, and he reflected almost the same urgency that I felt deep within me. I felt on fire while he luxuriated in the warmth of the sparks that I shawered upon him.
When the activity finally came to an end, Andre readjusted his position to share my own taste with me in a most passionate kiss. Despite the fact that this had been a one way event, his kiss told me that he felt united in some way with me.
Once he finally broke the kiss, he said, "I've got to get going."
"But what about you?" I asked startled.
"Not this time," he said.
I was disappointed in his response, but I was beginning to become aware that the whole adventure might have gone on longer than I was aware while it was happening. A quick glance to the clock told me that his break time was beyond finished.
"When, then?" I asked.
"I work room service tomorrow," he replied with a grin. "I'll be able to take a break any time between four and five-thirty. Just saying, you know. Like in case you want to order a late afternoon snack or something."
"I usually get very hungry about that time," I winked as I eased my pants back into position without bothering to tuck my shirt.
"I hope I see you tomorrow," Andre grinned as he reached the door.
"Oh, wait. I haven't tipped you yet."
"I'm very happy with the tip I received," his said through an even wider smile.
I took a quick nap before showering to get ready for my rediscovery of the city.
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