Date: Tue, 14 Nov 2000 11:37:39 GMT
From: justin scott <scott_justin51@hotmail.com>
Subject: BELLBOY SPUNKS HIS BRIEFS

THE BELLBOY SPUNKS HIS BRIEFS

A new story by JUSTIN SHORTS: scott_justin51@hotmail.com

I want to thank all those people kind enough to have emailed me with
comments about my work.  It seems there are a few of you out there who
enjoy it, and share my interests.  I have been urged by several of you to
write something new, so if you are one of those, this is especially for
you!

If you've read some of my other stuff, you may already have picked up the
fact that I look out for the chance encounters that seem to come my way in
hotels.  My work takes me all over the place, attending and sometimes
organising short conferences at various hotel locations.  There's something
about the anonymity of these places, the often unexpected luxury of the
unknown bedrooms, the often young staff (waiters, bellboys, porters), the
in-room entertainment (x-rated channels piped in) - all of that makes each
hotel visit to me a bit of an adventure.  Most of the time, of course,
nothing untoward happens at all.  But then, now and again, I strike lucky.

I know that some people complain about those large hotel chains, which all
look the same on the inside.  But I choose them whenever I can.  I welcome
the fact that there are certain constants.  There's one chain that my
company tends to use most of the time, I'm pleased to say, where I have
always been comfortable.  And I particularly like them for the dress code
that they impose universally on their staff.  For example, the waiters
(rarely aged over 25) wear a pair of standard black trousers with maroon
piping, white shirt, with a black and maroon short waistcoat and black
bowtie.  Most of the boys they use look so fucking cute, especially as the
majority are teenagers!  Some look as young as 16, but I'm not sure that
they are.  At weekends they bring in extras, college boys and the
occasional schoolboy.

My most recent trip has to be one of the best to date.  It was one of the
conferences that I was partly responsible for organising.  This meant that
I was under a lot of pressure, but one of the perks was that the hotel had
allocated me a really good room, with lots of extras.  One of the best
features was that there was a video player as well as the piped TV
channels, so when I eventually got back into my room after a day's work I
could relax with a bit of favourite porn (one of the Man's Best videos
usually) and have a nice luxurious wank.

It hadn't taken me long to notice the cute young bellboy who was always
hanging around reception.  His name was Ian, and I guess he was 18 or 19.
He had short dark hair, and wonderfully smooth, pale skin.  His uniform was
not unlike that worn by the waiters - black polyester trousers (they always
reminded me of school trousers), white shirt with a company tie, and a kind
of tight-fitting half-jacket.  He managed to mix politeness with
friendliness and had genuine natural charm, not something that can be
taught.  And, of course, he was a stunner, a really beautiful kid.  I could
not keep my eyes off him whenever I went through the reception area, and I
guess it was not long before he noticed that I always seemed to be looking
in his direction.  I was delighted to see that after the first few times he
began to blush and even look flustered when I appeared., and I knew that HE
knew what I was interested in.

As I was staying in the hotel for about a week, I didn't need to rush
things and get it wrong.  I've just re-read that last sentence, and I
realise that it sounds incredibly arrogant, as if I knew in advance that I
was going to end up getting this boy, but that's not true.  It's just that
I knew he could be easily frightened off, and that I could ruin things all
too easily.  He needed to be wooed.  A bit of gentle flirting and flattery
might do the trick - I certainly hoped so.

My chance came on the third day.  I was responsible for setting-up for one
of the seminar presentations for the afternoon session, and I was just
doing some last-minute checks in the conference room.  I always make a
point of trying out any special equipment - overhead projectors, PowerPoint
facility and so on - and I was angry to find that two of the overhead light
bulbs in the room had failed.  Not a big problem, sure, but unnecessary.
It shouldn't happen.  The hotel should have checked details like that, and
got them right. We were paying them enough for these seminar rooms, after
all.  I immediately headed for Reception to bite someone's head off.  There
was no duty manager around at that moment, but Ian seemed to have been left
in charge.  I immediately tempered what I was going to say, but
nevertheless I made clear that I was not happy and that I wanted the bulbs
replacing immediately (there was only about 10 minutes before the seminar
was due to start).

Ian was a star!  He took control of the situation at once, apologised
profusely, and undertook to get the bulbs himself from the store and make
the change.  And just before he went off to find them he looked hard at me
and smiled and said: `I want to make your stay as comfortable as possible'.
I headed back to the seminar room and waited for him.  He wasn't long, and
brought with him a short stepladder.  It didn't take him a moment to make
the changes, but it was long enough for me to enjoy the sight of him
reaching above his head to remove and replace the spent bulb: as he did so,
the white shirt pulled away slightly from the waistband of his black
trousers, showing an inch or two of bare flesh.  My cock stirred even at
that.  And as he reached upwards to push the new bulb in place my eyes
fixed on the front of his trousers, where the material stretched temptingly
across his teenage mound.  Ah, if only...

There was no time for anything more.  I could hear conference delegates
approaching down the corridor, so I thanked Ian profusely.  `Not at all,
sir.  If there's anything you need at all later on, do contact me.  I'm on
night duty today, so if there's anything at all, call me.'  He turned to
go, but then said, over his shoulder.  `I really mean it - anything.  If
anything needs attention in your room, perhaps - however late.'  Then he
was gone.

Was there any doubt about what that was all about?  Surely not.  At least,
that was what I had convinced myself.  All through the afternoon session I
couldn't stop thinking about what he had said, and how he had said it.
Perhaps it was entirely innocent.  Perhaps I was jumping to the wrong
conclusions.  But how could I be?  I found it impossible to concentrate on
the seminar presentation, and began to fantasise about what might happen
that evening in my room.  My cock began to stiffen and I discreetly had to
adjust myself to let it rise within my black boxers.  God, I needed that
kid badly, that much I knew.  All afternoon I sat through the interminable
presentation, allowing my imagination to create all kinds of fantastic
scenarios for the night ahead.  By the end of the seminar my silk Debenhams
boxers were quite damp, but I knew that I had plenty of precum in reserve
for later!  As soon as I could, I cleared up after the afternoon's session
and made my way back to my room to unwind.

After a shower, I lay on my bed to relax and think yet again about the
exchange with Ian.  I had changed out of my boxers, and lay back on the
soft double bed wearing just a pair of white cotton CK briefs.  They felt
good, and although I had half a mind to get a good wank in before the
evening's encounter with young Ian, it was good just to feel my cock
resting comfortably in the soft cotton pouch.  I rather wanted to hold on
to what was already quite a generous reservoir of spunk until later -
unusually, I had not masturbated for two days - because if things went as I
was hoping I wanted to be able to match what I imagined the bellboy would
be able to deliver.

I must have dozed off, because a noise down the corridor brought me to with
a start.  I glanced at my watch.  Time to change and prepare for the
evening.  I went over to my sports bag (without which I travel nowhere!)
and made my choice.  You'll find out what later!  Enough for now to say
that I decided to wear an open-necked white cotton shirt and pale blue
jeans, a pair of white sports socks and lightweight trainers.  Studied
casual was what I was aiming for.

Time to eat.  I headed down to the hotel restaurant and had something
quick.  There was no sign of Ian, and I began to get anxious.  Maybe he
wasn't on duty after all.  But why would he lead me to think he was?  As I
left the restaurant, I was relieved to see him at the reception desk.  He
smiled broadly, and, yes, there was the regulation blush.  I leant across
the desk and said quietly - `is that promise of room service still on
offer?  Because I badly need to see you in my room in ten minutes time.'

`Oh, I'm about to come off duty, sir.'

`But you said...'

`...and so my time's my own.  I'll be along in ten minutes.  Was just
wondering what to wear...'

`Well, you look fucking cute in your uniform, I have to say' (more
blushing), `but if you're asking me to make a suggestion, then why not
relax and get into something a bit sporty?  That is, if you have anything
like that here.'

`Oh, I think I have just the thing.  Are you a soccer fan?'

`Fuck, yes.  Wouldn't dream of going to game, of course, but can wank
myself silly over a shiny strip!'

`Mmm.  Leave it me.  See you soon!'

This was getting better and better.  I was really quite excited now and
loved the thought of the role play that both of us seemed to be willingly
entering into.

I hurried back to my room and got things ready.  I slid a video into the
machine and started it off, just so there'd be something to distract us if
we needed it.  I had chosen at random, but I was pleased with what I'd
selected - one of the Man's Best series with young guys in a club, mostly
in shorts and teeshirts (at least, that's how it starts off).  I turned the
sound down low.

I hardly had time to do this before there was the lightest of knocks on the
door, and then the handle turned and Ian walked in and shut the door behind
him, turning the lock as he did so.  I caught my breath.  He had slipped
into a shiny white soccer shirt (I think it was the Leeds home strip for
you aficionados) and was wearing dark blue tracksuit bottoms.  God, he was
a dream.  He smiled and walked towards me, and I went to meet him.  In the
middle of the room we closed together, and I rested my hands lightly on the
soft satiny shirt.  His hard young body was firm beneath the glistening
shirt.  And then he moved right into me, and we kissed.  He initiated it.
Long, and tenderly, and with real pleasure we kissed.  His head fell back,
and I kissed his soft throat, smooth and fresh.  The gentlest murmuring
started up in his throat, and I was excited at his vulnerability.  He
seemed to be giving himself so willingly, and wanted to enter fully into
the fantasy situation that we were spinning for ourselves.

I slipped my left hand down to his waist, and lightly under the front of
the white soccer shirt.  I slid upwards, and reached his soft, warm belly,
and lightly caressed him there, loving the warmth and the smoothness of
him, the shiny fabric of his shirt skimming the back of my knuckles.  Then
I travelled on upwards, and my fingers met a gold chain hanging round his
neck and dangling between his nipples.  He felt so good.  Firm, not
muscular but hard and tough.  And there was not a hair on him - he was so
smooth and silky.

I glanced downwards, and there seemed to be a tell-tale fullness in his
blue Adidas tracksuit.  I needed so badly to feel him up, yet somehow
wanted to hold back in order to enjoy it the more when I eventually reached
the teenager's hard centre.  I turned him ever so gently to give him a
better view of the video screen, where by now two boys were sitting side by
side on a couch and slowly feeling themselves up through the outside of
white shorts - soccer shorts I think, a nice coincidence.

My left hand came back downwards from his chest, down to the waistband of
the tracksuit, and very lightly I tugged at the front to give myself ease
of access.  I slipped my hand downwards, inside, not far at all, and
immediately made contact with shiny material - shorts, nylon or satin, and
I could see the top of the waist band peeking out - white, and so very
tempting.  `Oh God, Ian' I murmured.  `That's so sexy, you horny kid.  A
teenage footballer waiting to be wanked off in his kit.  Oh fuck, this is
going to be so hot.  I want you to enjoy every minute of this, kid.  I want
you to be begging for me to make you cum so that you can shoot your hot
creamy teenspunk in your kit.'

`Mmm, oh yes sir, yes, I want you do me in my soccer kit.  Pull my trackies
down, now.  Please.  Get working on my shorts.'

I didn't need a second invitation.  I tugged hard at his blue tracksuit,
and it came down his legs, exposing the brilliant white of his shiny nylon
shorts.  And yes, they were definitely nylon, slippery and sexy and hugging
his crutch temptingly.  I touched them at the front, and met the resistance
of his burgeoning young cockmeat pressing through, and I started to push
and rub him there, delighted by the size and hardness of the young man.
The boy's cock pressed into my hand, sheathed in the warm slippery nylon,
and I gripped him gently through the cloth.  His length filled my hand, and
I gave a few preparatory wanking strokes, and he moaned in his throat.  The
cock felt so good, hot and hard and loose in his shorts.  And remember, he
was still in his white shiny soccer shirt.  Wanking off an 18-year-old in
his kit - do you know of anything better?  Well, do you?  I certainly
don't.

As I gripped the boy's cock through the shorts, he instinctively moved with
me, thrusting in and out to work up a friction so that his hard meat
tingled as the white nylon moved over the stretched skin.  He seemed used
to this, which fascinated me.  I hoped he was practised in holding back, as
I didn't want him to cum for a while longer.  I wanted to give the kid as
much pleasure as I could before the spunk explosion that I was sure would
be quite something.

My own erection needed some attention soon, but I wasn't at all certain
whether I would be able to rely on Ian to help me out.  When eager boys
like him are lost in their own pleasure, it is unusual for them to take an
active interest in what you've got to offer.  Usually they need to cum off
first, but then I find they will usually be only to pleased to wank me or
watch as I stroke myself in front of them.  If they're straight they tend
to be more prepared to be experimental, curiously enough, though
occasionally I have been lucky enough to find a gay teen who likes to try
new things out with someone a bit older.  It was too early to know what
category Ian fell into.

The boy's moaning began to fill the room, and mingled with the murmuring
pleasures from the video.  I could see that Ian was looking over my
shoulder at the screen, which was what I wanted.  He was happy to let me do
whatever I wanted.  More firmly now, I stroked the teenager's hot throbbing
cockmeat under the stunning white nylon shorts, long strokes making out the
hard shape of the youngster, quivering and eager.  I pressed him into me
then, pushing the well-packed soccer shorts against by straining blue
jeans, allowing my own hardness to push through the blue cotton into the
soft nylon.  My cock felt the resistance of the lad's boycock, and I nearly
fainted with the pleasure of it.

I brought my hand between us, and now rubbed him again through the
tight-stretched white nylon.  And for the first time I realised that
something was restraining the boystud's prick beneath the soft material - I
had mistakenly assumed that he was naked under the shorts.  I dropped to my
knees in front of him, and the delicate aroma of the hot young teen met my
nostrils, sweetly musky and tangy with precum.  The warm nylon was against
my nose and mouth, and the tip of my tongue flickered like a snake and made
contact with the sexy whiteness.  Then I pressed closed, and pushed my face
against the soft warm whiteness, and nuzzled the brilliant shiny shorts.
His legs parted wide, and I took the opportunity to slide my left hand up
the leg of the shorts and under.  Up I went, towards the teenager's
throbbing cockmeat, and my fingers met the resistance of, of what...?
Lace?  Satin?  Something incredibly sexy and soft, that much was certain.
The tiniest posing brief, in a sheer material that made my hand shake.
God, I had to see him close-up.  I needed his shorts down by his ankles.
With both hands I began to tug gently, and they began to give and slide
down.  And there, before my eyes, I was presented with the most stunning
sight, of a healthy young teenboy dressed only in a shiny satin seethrough
brief and soccer shirt, and 6 inches of hard hot young cock straining for
my further attention.

I was only too happy to worship at the shrine.  My right hand now took over
the wanking responsibility, and I gripped his juicy tool through the creamy
satin.  It felt incredible, the combination of hard cockmeat and thin white
satin.  And the brief was very damp from his flowing precum.  His foreskin
was pulling back, exposing the fleshy mushroom head of his cock, and drips
of precum continued to wetten the brief.

As he continued to watch the onscreen video, which was hotting up now as
the two youngsters had removed their shorts and were now getting down to
the serious business of some noisy 69 action, I closed my mouth over the
tip of the beautiful cock filling the white seethrough briefs.  The
cockhead slid into my mouth, and I started to headbob him, and he bucked
and gently thrust.  Then the sweet kid slipped his hand down and released
his cock from his briefs, and I clamped my mouth back over the naked hot
boymeat.  I drank his nectar hungrily, the delicate silky precum tasting
fresh and tangy, like the most expensive liqueur.  I sucked Ian's hot
teencock insistently now, moving my mouth up and down the shaft, enjoying
the incredible sensation of the stretched skin over the hot hardness.  I
found that my right hand was resting on his discarded nylon shorts and a
thought involuntarily entered my head.  Without for a moment stopping my
tasty treat, I managed to unzip my jeans, part them, and slip my left hand
inside the gaping fly.  I had decided to wear a pair of powder blue nylon
briefs (regular readers will know my penchant for these) through which my
bursting cock was weeping copious amounts of precum.  In fact, by now they
were sodden with my excitement.  I reached again for his shorts, and lifted
them up, and began to rub them (still warm from his young body) over the
front of my damp nylon briefs.  It felt fucking marvellous.

Ian's young cock was deep in my mouth, and the lad's bucking motions
indicated clearly to me that he was getting near.  I so much wanted to see
the boy's cum explosion close up, and was prepared to give up the pleasure
of having him pump his hot boycum down my hungry throat in favour of
witnessing the pearls of creamy joy as they burst from the bulging head.
Kneeling carefully in front of him, I let him pull his thrusting cock
gently from my mouth, and as he did so I reached down and pulled his satin
seethrough brief back up his thighs towards his engorged cock and tight
firm balls.

`Slip them back on' I whispered, and he let me pull them gently over the
hot hard boymeat.  `I'm going to make you fill your briefs with your
spunk.'  The sight of that beautiful wet tip, now delicately sheathed again
by the satin, showing through the thin transparent material, made me breath
heavily with excitement, for the foreskin moved loosely over the silky
head.  Ian was so close now, and I wanted it to be so good for him.  I knew
that the feel of his sensitive young shaft against the silky satin would be
incredibly exciting for him, and enough to make him want to shoot.  I
reached upwards and touched the teenager's cock through the briefs, but at
once he said quickly `No, no let me, let me do it.  Watch me do it.  Let
me, please.'  And I took my hand away and he reached for himself and very
lightly, so very delicately, feathered his quivering hardness through the
shiny fabric.  Just a few strokes did it, and he bent his back, forming a
tense arch in the middle of the room before me, and with a deep groan he
let his cum go into the satin briefs.  I sighed with joy as I gazed on
pulse after pulse of smooth teencum exploded into the hugging briefs.  They
began to sag with the weight of the smooth teenspunk, but still he pumped
his cum into the shining satin.  I rubbed my own blue nylon pouch against
his soccer shorts, and then quickly I slipped my cockhead free from the
front of the nylon and pressed my hardness against his cum-filled packet.
He smiled at me cheekily now, as I lost myself and passed that point of no
return.  The feel of the cum-wet satin tingling against my boiling cock was
incredible, and I did not need to wank myself as the touch of the boy's
briefs brought me over the edge.

`Oh God, I'm going to cum, I'm going to shoot my spunk over your briefs' I
muttered, and with that I shuddered as my orgasm took control.  The
intensity of the pleasure was overpowering, and the sensation of the creamy
spunk forcing its way up my shaft and spewing over his white satin made me
gasp.  I called out: `Ohh, fuck, Ian, fuck, you hot stud, making me shoot
my cum over your tight white briefs' - or something like that!  It was so
incredibly hot, having a soccer boystud in cum-soaked briefs on the floor
with me, watching me as I delivered my charge of thick white spunk over his
engorged cock package.

After we had both subsided, we stayed for a few minutes like this, pressed
together.  The heady aroma of our spent cum, my spunk mingling with his
boycum and the smell of saturated satin, was sensational.  After a while we
moved, and I got Ian to strip off the cum-soaked briefs.  Much later we
headed off to the large doublebed.  I had put on a pair of white silk
boxers, and Ian wore just his soccer shirt.  And that's how we slept, the
boy turned into me.  In the early hours of the morning I woke and moved
close into the naked buttocks of the sleeping youth, my boxers pressing
lightly into his firm smooth bum.  I slid my hand round the front of him
and pressed him to me, clutching his silky soccer shirt closely.  Later
still, I was aware of him slipping out of bed, and swiftly dressing.  `Got
to get back to my room - I'm on early morning shift' he whispered.  And
with that we was off, leaving just a warm impression and the sweet scent of
him in the bed, and a pair of well-spunked satin briefs for my collection
of trophies.

Now if you wanted I could tell you about what happened the next day, when I
seduced the cutest waiter (he was called Adrian and was doing his school
holiday job), after which Ian then joined us.  Some really delicious slow
strip-down scenes.  Let me know if you're interested...


Fans of shorts and briefs, and the lads who wear them, are invited to send
me something hot at scott_justin51@hotmail.com Lovers of nylon, silk and
satin especially welcomed!!