Date: Tue, 26 May 2020 20:16:24 +0000 (UTC) From: Danny Smith Subject: Full Service at Dad's Motel part 1 Full Service At Dad's Motel By Danny Smith This is fiction. We finally rounded the last curve on Pass Road and laid eyes on it. Here we were, my Dad and me, in Biloxi, Mississippi getting our first glimpse of the motel that Dad had inherited. The funerals had been a few months ago, and the pain was starting to settle in -- never really goes away, does it? Let me back up. The motel -- it didn't even have an interesting name, just "The Biloxi Roadside Motel," -- had been owned by my Uncle Rusty for many years. It was never a super lucrative place, but he seemed happy with it. Rusty was my Mom's brother, and my favorite uncle. There was something about him that I found...mysterious. But in a cool way. Like he had a secret no one knew about. Maybe Mom knew, I don't know, but anyway I felt close to him. My family lived in Grenada, Mississippi, at the other end of the state from Rusty, and we'd never actually seen the motel. But about six months ago Rusty and Mom were driving to go see a play at the local theatre (Mom and Rusty liked plays, Dad and I didn't) when they were involved in bad car crash. Hit and run. The other driver was drunk and clearly at fault, but it didn't really matter that much, they both were gone either way. Rusty didn't have a family. Mom was his only relative, so it wasn't surprising that when he died everything he owned went to Mom and, since she was dead, it went to Dad. Quite a shock. Dad didn't know anything about running a motel but said he needed a fresh start. He was ready to get out of Grenada and all the memories it held. The same was true for me, but for different reasons. I was a strapping young 16-year old boy, full of piss and vinegar as they say. I was athletic and on the junior-varsity football team. Good looking, too, if you listened to what all the girls said. I had plenty of dates but they were all for show. I didn't like girls, I liked boys. It's just that simple. Of course growing up in a small town, coming out wasn't an option. It would have meant the end of everything, maybe even the end of my life, so I stayed deep in the closet and kept my feelings under tight control. Or so I thought. I had a problem. I stared. I wasn't aware that I was doing it, of course, or I would have stopped, but every day in the locker room I'd find myself staring at the other guys as we all undressed. Sometimes I'd get busted -- comments like "Hey, like what you see?" or "Gettin' an eyeful again?" were pretty common. I'd always just laugh them off, and since I was pretty muscular myself no one took it much further than that. The worst was one day in showers when I started to bone up. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop my erection. I turned and faced the wall, turning the shower up as cold as I could, but it didn't seem to help. I stayed there faking it until most of the other guys had left, then tried to hustle my way out to where my locker was while keeping my back turned. I didn't quite make it. God, that was humiliating. I wasn't sure how I was going to live it down. I had a rough few weeks at school when we got the bad news about Mom and Uncle Rusty. So to say the least, when Dad brought up the idea of actually pulling up stakes, moving to Biloxi, and either running the motel or selling it, I was 100% in agreement. I couldn't wait to get out of town and try to make a fresh start in a new high school. So here we were. The place was small, just 12 rooms. Rusty had run it himself with the help of a caretaker/handyman. Dad thought maybe we could do it ourselves to save a little money at first. The best thing about it? It had a swimming pool! Actually, that was the second-best thing about it. The best was the men's restroom just off the pool. Two stalls and two urinals, that's it. I was checking it out for Dad, making sure the toilets all flushed and everything, when I first saw it. There was a hole in the partition between the bathroom stalls, just about waist high. I'd never seen anything like that before and didn't actually know what it was for, much less that it was a common thing. But even though I was naïve at the time I got a strange thrill just looking at it. Staring. The motel had been sort of drifting after Rusty's death but it didn't take long for us to get it back in shape. We aired out the rooms, gave them all a fresh coat of paint, bought some new towels and linens, and tried to class up the place a little bit. It would never be a huge moneymaker but hopefully it would give us a comfortable living while we sorted our lives out. And it might be...interesting. Most of the clientele was transient: salesmen, truck drivers, and occasionally a airman from the local Air Force Base. New airmen were transferred in all the time, but sometimes there was not any immediate space either in the barracks, if they were enlisted, or the "bachelor officers quarters," if they had rank. The Air Force would put them up for a few days at our motel until space opened up for them -- usually just a day or two. I helped Dad out with everything I could, but my favorite chore was cleaning the pool. I tried to do it when there was the maximum number of guys there, swimming, get some sun, or just enjoying a beer. The more beers the better, I thought, because it meant more trips to the men's room. Some guys just took a quick stroll back to their own rooms to relieve themselves, but others, especially the younger guys, seemed to prefer the facility beside the pool. And you know what? By coincidence every time some good looking stud walked into the toilet it seemed like I sure enough had to go too. Just a coincidence of course. But it gave me a chance to do what I'd always done in the locker room back in Grenada; sneak a peek. I'd wait a minute or two so as not to be too obvious, then innocently walk in and take up the urinal right beside whatever dude was using it. I perfected my skills of pretending to look straight down while secretly checking out the other guy's junk. I loved it, especially when some hung guy sort of "showed off" by making a big production out of flicking off those last few drops. I wanted so bad to reach over and help him out but couldn't seem to work up the courage. Until the day that all changed. I was cleaning the pool as slowly as I could, wearing nothing but my trunks, so I could occasionally dive in myself. I looked up from my work and saw this studly guy leaving his room and walking slowly toward the pool. God he was a dream come true. He had reddish-brown hair cut in a military style. I took him to be a flyboy. What a hunk! He had a beautiful physique, firm, fit, and muscular, with looks like an Adonis. No hair on his chest, but what a chest! His pecs were built up and solid. His abs were firm without being the "gym rat" type. He was just, I don't know, fit is the word I guess. Lots of hair on his legs, but again it was light, sort of reddish blond, so it didn't show up from a distance. Unless you stared at it. No one else around the pool seemed to notice him. But I did. I couldn't seem to take my eyes off him. Occasionally he would notice me staring at him as he sunbathed. He raised his arms putting his hands behind his head. I loved is armpit hair. It was light brown, like the rest of him, but his chin cried out for a shave. His whiskers looked like they would be fiery red if he let them go. Suddenly he opened his eyes and look straight at me. Busted! Just like back at school. But instead of getting upset with me, he just gave me a little smile. Once he tugged at his swimming trunks like he needed to adjust himself, but took a little longer than most guys would. I couldn't help myself. I stared. And stared. What had been a pretty nice sized bulge seemed to get bigger. My own dick was stiffening up fast. Then he stood up and looked around for something. He walked over to me and asked if I knew where the restroom was. My mouth was too dry to speak so I just pointed at it. He mumbled "thanks" and started off slowly toward it. I stared. I didn't care at that point who saw me or thought I was a fag or a pervert or anything else. I just needed to feast my eyes on his handsome body. When he got to the opening for the restrooms he stopped, just for a second, turned back to me and looked me straight in the eyes. Then ever so slightly, he tilted his head toward the door, sort of inviting me to follow him! I waited until he walked all the way in, trying not to be too obvious, then casually walked over myself and through the door. I didn't know what to expect. My stomach was in knots, my whole body was tingling and I started to sweat. Would there be danger in what I was doing? I didn't care. I decided to look at this as high adventure. I wanted to see what would happen. As it turned out there was a salesman type using one of the urinals. I was disappointed that I wouldn't be able to sneak a peek as I had so many times before. But what I got was so much better. The mystery stud went into one of the stalls, but didn't close the door. Instead, he used the door to shield himself from the guy at the urinal, and once again gave me the "sign" with his head that he wanted me to go into the other one. I was confused at first but when I was inside an locked the door it suddenly dawned on me. Like a revelation from God, it struck me -- the HOLE!! That's what it's for! It's to let me look at him and check out his junk without being seen. I dropped my trunks and peeled off my jockstrap, pushing everything down to my ankles. I sat down on the seat and leaned forward slightly to look through the opening. And there he was...looking back at me! Smiling. He then slowly stood up, completely naked. He was turned directly toward me and playing with himself. Every now and then he'd stop playing with it so I could get a good look. He seemed to know what I wanted. This was it -- my first chance to actually see a real man's cock, up close, to stare at it as long as I wanted. Maybe even...more? It was beautiful. At least six inches soft, with a large circumcised head and a thick full bush of brown hair. Gradually it got harder and harder until it was sticking straight out from his body. A drop of precum glistened at the tip. Slowly, inch by inch, he got closer and closer to the partition. Closer. Bigger. Closer. Until at last the head was touching the hole. He took the last step toward me and placed the head of his cock on the hole. It was there right in front of me, waiting to be touched. Waiting to be...? I really didn't know what. I only knew that I was lost in the moment and wanted it to never end. I knew he wouldn't mind if I touched it -- hell, maybe he wanted me to jack him off! I reached out an felt it, surprised at how warm it was. The skin felt smooth and soft. I touched the droplet of precum with my finger and without hesitation tasted it. He stuck it further and further through the hole until at last he was pressed up against the stall partition. His body was in his stall, but his dick and my body were in mine. He seemed to be saying that I could do with his manhood whatever I wanted. This was my dream come true, my chance to touch and feel a grown man's penis. I grabbed it and began to jack him off, slowly at first then more quickly. When I felt him withdraw his cock back into his own stall, I was devastated and pressed my face against the hole. I saw him squat down, his face inches from mine. "Stick it in your mouth," he whispered. "What?" I questioned numbly. "Go ahead. Just open your mouth and taste it. It's all right. You can do it. I'll do the same for you later." "You want me to suck it?" "Yeah, you'll like it. Just open your mouth and let it slide in." He stood back up and stuck his cock through the hole again, all the way, hard as a brick. I was hesitant. Part of me was scared, but another part of me wanted to do exactly what he said. I was worried that we might get caught, worried that I wouldn't like it, or that he wouldn't like it. But I was more worried that I might never get this chance again! With my heart pounding, I kissed it two or three times up and down the shaft. Then I stuck out my tongue and licked it, working my way up toward the beautiful head. By now it was almost dripping with precum. I was working on instinct and on adrenaline. My throat was dry, my breath ragged, and my heart was pounding out of my chest as I did what he wanted -- and what I wanted. What I had always wanted. I opened my mouth and engulfed his now-throbbing cockhead. Somehow I knew he was close and would be quick. He was a virile, young stud and obviously horny as hell. I kept doing what came naturally to me and sucked as hard as I could, taking care not to use my teeth on the sensitive skin. I was simultaneously in a dream state and at the same time firmly aware of the here and now around me. The smell of the urinals -- a combination of piss and disinfectant -- and of the faint chlorine scent from the pool that hung over both of us. I had my full concentration on the cock in my mouth, but at the same time was aware that he had put his hands on the top edge of the stall partition to balance himself as he thrust his beautiful rod into my mouth. I knew I would have to make a decision because in a matter of seconds he would be shooting. Did I want to take it in my mouth? Did I dare? Could I hold it? Should I swallow? All those questions were answered in less than a heartbeat: Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. I was doing what I had wanted to do all my life. I was committed and blanked out everything around me except the sensation of feeling his cockhead fill my mouth. Then it happened, just as I always fantasized it would: I heard a stifled moan of pleasure coming from his stall, felt the pulsation of his contractions, and got my first taste of sperm. The first couple of wads just created a "wet" sensation in my mouth. But then his orgasm really kicked in. I felt forceful shots of jizz shoot from the tip of his cock -- hard -- into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. There was no need to question my resolve to swallow or not to swallow. The force of his spasms was shooting the spunk deep into me. I almost shot my own wad just giving him head. My first blowjob and I was loving it. The spermy smell hit my nostrils, and it was heavenly. I wondered how long his cock would continue to twitch, how long his balls would continue to drain into my eager mouth. What a sensation! What a taste! I didn't want it to end, but knew that it would have to. I held my head still and my mouth steady until the last few drops of his seed dribbled out. I felt my eyes actually filling with tears at the thought of what I had finally done. Reluctantly, I felt his softening cock slowly withdraw from my mouth and pull back into his own stall. I had been a part of his world for a few minutes and now I was alone again. But he surprised me. Our session wasn't quite over yet. Once again he squatted down and I saw his handsome face ready to whisper to me again. His message? "Okay, stick yours through." I couldn't believe my ears! This Adonis, this god-like stud was actually going to do to me what I did to him. In a flash I was standing up and stuck my young cock through the hole and into his waiting mouth. The feeling was something like I'd never experienced. Of course, I had masturbated at least two, usually three times, a day for as many years as I was able to shoot. But never...never in my young life had I felt a sensation like his mouth on my cock. He used his tongue in ways I hadn't imagined. The feelings were building up fast and I knew I wouldn't last much longer. I decided to follow his example and hold on to the top of the stall. I relaxed my body, hanging by my arms, and gave myself over to pure pleasure. As the intense feeling built up, my balls tightened up, and my cock shot into his mouth. I couldn't help giving myself over to passion and moaned in pleasure. A little too loud, I'm afraid. Just about the time I was finishing my climax I heard: "What the FUCK is going on here!?" It was my Dad. My mind raced. I tried to tell myself it wasn't happening. I wasn't here. Dad wasn't here. He hadn't heard anything. All useless thoughts, of course. There was no hope. No way out. He started to pound on the stall door, still shouting: "Get the fuck out of there! I want to know what's going on!" I quickly pulled my trunks back on and slowly turned toward the door. For the second time, there were again tears in my eyes. This time they were not tears of joy, they were tears of shame and fear. I opened the door.... To be continued.