Date: Wed, 4 Sep 2013 23:29:56 -0400
From: Rocco Talespinner <roccotalespinner@gmail.com>
Subject: Best Sex I Ever Had

Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't; but this time it did. Like
never before, and I do mean never. When traveling on business I have a
routine. I go to the bar in the place where I'm staying -- the type of
hotel that caters almost entirely to traveling business people of both
sexes -- to see what can develop: I think you know what I mean. The best
time is after dinner, when everything is more flexible and open-ended. I
position myself at a table away from the bar and main crowd, but in full
view, then choose my prey. If I'm lucky, I catch his eye with my steady
gaze. That's right, HIS. Let's get to the point, I wouldn't be telling you
this if we both didn't assume that I automatically screen out the women. I
have one of those at home and one is definitely enough. Anyway, to get on
with my story, I can nurse a drink for hours, if necessary, in order to bag
my quarry and remain sober enough to enjoy him.

This time I spotted him shortly after I got settled. Drink in hand, he sat
at the bar close enough to a group to socialize but still be able to scan
the scene. The more I studied him the less I saw anybody else. Square-jawed
and ruggedly good-looking, his beard shadow shouted virility. Even seated I
could tell that he was really tall, broad-shouldered, and athletically
trim. Early 40s I estimated: perfect. Unlike the suits, he had changed into
causal dress -- well-fitting jeans (yes, I could confirm that as he
swiveled the barstool, well-fitting indeed!) and a sport shirt open enough
to reveal a hairy chest. After no more than a minute of studying his
virtues I was in lust. The problem: he appeared straight arrow, but with
luck he'd be open to a bi adventure. The question: how to reel him in?

I sent him telepathic messages, "Turn fucking around and look at me, you
lummox!" Eventually he did. I stared and held his gaze. I lifted my drink
to him and smiled. He responded only with a sardonic curl of his lip. Then,
after a full minute (it seemed like centuries) of hesitation he got up from
his stool and ambled over to my table.

"Hey, pal. Join me," I said, rather too cheerily. "Have a seat."

"What's on your mind?" he growled, impassively, as he pulled out a chair.

"Whatever, a sociable exchange. Have another drink on me."

"Just to get this straight, am I right you're hittin' on me?"

I stared at him a moment, collecting my courage, before replying, "Yep."

"What I figured. So you're a faggot angling for a hookup?"

"Well, now that you mention it."

"So what you want is to come to my room -- or I go to yours, whatever --
and do man to man stuff?"

"How clever of you!"

"You think you can handle a guy like me?"

"Fuckin'-A. Or die tryin'," I said, too brashly. "You willing to let me
try?"

"If you hook up with me it'll be anything I want, with me totally in
charge."

"Sounds good. But just so I know what I'm in for, how much tool are you
packin'?"

He chuckled with a sneer, "More than you're probably used to: 9 x 6. Uncut,
too. You think you can handle that?"

"Try me -- you won't be disappointed. Promise."

"I see you've got a wedding ring, so I take it you're just stepping out
doing this. That mean you got no bad germs?"

"Right. And I'm assuming the same for you."

"You bet." He paused, looking me in the eye, "OK, you're on, sweet-pea. My
place or yours?"

"Whatever. But since you offer . . ."

"No better time than the present. Meet me in 517."

I watched him cross the lobby and disappear into the elevator. Then, a
couple of minutes later I followed his path, exited on five, and crept down
the hall. I knocked lightly and he opened the door at once. The room was
just like mine on a different floor. He dimmed the light.

"No point in wasting time. Get your fuckin' clothes off," he demanded, as
he unbuttoned his shirt and discarded it on a chair. The hairy chest was
firmly muscled, too. Then he dropped his jeans. Nothing under: my favorite
turn-on. His cock, swinging above large balls, was definitely a "show."
Totally naked he was astounding, no two ways about it, a man with a capital
M. My reaction must have been plainly visible for he laughed and said, "You
really are pussy, aren't you?"

Embarrassed but turned on, I quickly stripped and fell to my knees, ready
to obey his commands. He stood over me, his cock hanging over my face. Then
he clasped my head and pressed my face onto his crotch. Despite good
hygiene there was a deliciously peppery musk, which I eagerly inhaled. He
spread his legs enough to engage my face, his cock on my forehead, his
balls on my nose, his asshole hovering over my lips. I cupped his buns and
moaned appreciatively. He rocked his crotch back and forth over my face and
I flicked my tongue over all its parts.

He backed off and guided his cock head all over my face, then back and
forth over my lips. My tongue engaged the tube of his foreskin and darted
inside, running round and round over his smooth helmet. Before he could get
fully hard I engulfed his full shaft, down to the hilt. It filled my mouth
and then the still-soft cock head eased into my throat. The moment when
that happens never fails to thrill me, but this time it was really special,
servicing such a hot, hot man. The tip of my nose was buried deep in his
thick bush and his ball sac was sagging on my chin.

His hands firmly clasped my face and he pulled his pelvis back so that only
his cock head remained in my mouth. I quickly gave it all the tongue action
I could manage before he thrust forward and forced his now-hard penis into
my throat. This time I had to use all the self-control at my command in
order to prevent serious gagging. He did not linger, though, and his
thrusts became lightning quick in sustained succession. I tightened my lip
suction as hard as I could to give him maximum friction. He grunted and
groaned in appreciation, so I knew I was succeeding.

"Man, you are one cock-hungry faggot," he gasped. "Suck my dick like
there's no tomorrow." After a pause, during which he continued to ravish my
mouth pussy, he barked, "Get the fuck up on that bed and hang your head off
the side."

Guessing what would come next I leaped up to get in place as soon as
possible. Then I opened my mouth and he mounted my face, ramming his cock
over and over into my throat. His ball sac was rubbing back and forth over
my forehead and nose as he fucked my face. He was working up a manly sweat
I could tell, because a rivulet of moisture from his back was dripping
along his ass crack and down onto my forehead. As if I needed to be told,
that development informed me that I was being totally possessed by a man
who knew what he wanted and did not hesitate to go after it. As he thrust
deep inside me I was gagging big-time and spitting up ropes of saliva, but
he didn't let up. Over and over he kept barking "Take it all, you cunt-face
faggot."

I was looking forward to a gushing discharge as my reward when he suddenly
pulled out. Keen disappointment turned to joy when I realized that this
meeting was going to be about a lot more than a torrid blowjob. "Get the
fuck up on the bed. You're gonna get plowed good and proper." Already
enjoying what had been happening, I was thrilled to my toes to learn that
it was about to get way better. I tingled all over with anticipation.

No sooner had I flung myself on my back, legs spread, than he was already
close on top of me, flicking his tongue on my lips and plunging it deep
into my mouth. Cock on cock, he started humping me. I ran my hands up and
down his back, moaning in pleasure, while wrapping my legs around his. He
growled with male lust. "Raise your legs, bitch. Raise 'em fucking high,"
he commanded. I obeyed at once and he pressed the flat of his thumb on my
asshole. At once a sensation of intense desire ran through me like a lethal
current. "You wanna get fucked don't you, you sissy faggot?"

A hot man heaping verbal abuse makes me totally submissive. "Yessss!" I
exclaimed. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." My legs on his shoulders, I was
totally exposed for what came next. SLAPPPP! His hand stunned my ass. It
really hurt, but not as much as it did after four more blows.

"What did you say, you cunt-face queer?"

"Oh, sorry, Sir. I didn't mean disrespect, Sir. It won't happen again,
Sir."

"That's better, slut, but I'm gonna make sure." With that his hand slammed
my ass five more times, if anything even harder. I could imagine that my
left cheek was glowing in the dark. That obviously turned him on because
his rock hard cock was pulsating back and forth along my ass crack. He spat
into his right hand and began to work the juice into my pucker. He was
gentle, though, as he slowly, slowly inserted a finger, so expertly I began
to wonder if he might be a urologist. He moved it in and out and then I
felt a second finger entering. It hurt some but then I began to enjoy it.

Next, he spat once more, and lubed his cock, I knew then that the moment of
truth had come. His cock head pressed against my pucker and then thrust
forward, just enough to pierce my ring. I pushed down, as when taking a
shit, and it passed inside more easily, but still it hurt quite a lot and I
let out a muffled cry. He chortled and said, " Taking on a real man is hard
for you, ain't it? Well I'll be more gentle -- at first." So he pulled out
and entered again. It was less bad this time but still not good. So he
started all over again and I guess I was more relaxed because it began to
slide right in. The thrill of having him on me and in me was so great that
it didn't matter that he was stretching my ass chute and filling it with
pressure.

Proceeding inch by inch he finally had it all in to the hilt and ground his
crotch against my ass. Then he rose up and lifted my legs off his
shoulders. I wrapped them around his butt and lifted my pelvis to give him
free access. He started out with long slow strokes, pulling almost out and
then thrusting back in to the hilt, pressing hard each time against my ass.
He was lying close on top of me, nuzzling my neck, deep kissing me, his
hard hairy chest on me, the heat between us generating sweat.

Then he pulled halfway out and with short strokes began a rapid rhythm.
Gradually he bucked faster and faster, until it was almost like having a
jackhammer in me. The pleasant sensations I had already been experiencing
became intense in a way I had never felt before. It was as if an electric
current was making my ass chute incandescent, brilliant with pleasure. I
writhed and moaned in ecstasy, swiveling my hips to express my total
submission. Then, suddenly, he slammed in his cock to the hilt. Growling
with male lust, he began to fuck me hot and heavy. His huge cock -- steel
hard -- seemed to fill my whole body. His balls slapped my ass. His sweat
made us slide on each other. My own cock, benefiting from the friction of
his thrusts, was on the verge of exploding.

One of the great things about this gig was how long he was taking to make
it happen. But there are limits how long any man can hold out and I could
tell that this one was getting close because he was fucking me like a wild
animal -- strong, energetic, and fierce, grunting and groaning all the
time. Then he began to tremble and I knew he was on the edge. I was moaning
and swiveling my ass to excite him more. He let out a cry that could be
heard in the hall if not next door as well, as he slammed into me and I
could feel a slick effusion that changed the friction equation. He gasped
for breath over and over as he continued to thrust. Then, glory be, my own
orgasm sent the biggest load I've ever shot, between us. He kept pumping
until his cock began to soften, so I knew I had drained him dry.

He just slumped on me with his full weight, his stubbly chin on my neck. It
was pure heaven supporting his sweaty body, my arms wrapped tightly around
his back, my hands playing over its slick surface. The release of our semen
left me in sublime peace, completely satisfied. I would have been content
to lie like that, our bodies still joined, for hours. But he stirred and
rose, obviously in urgent need. As he left the bed I was lying all
stretched out, smiling to myself, when all of a sudden an inspiration hit
me. I sprang from the bed and ran to the bathroom just as he was about to
relieve himself.

"Wait!" I exclaimed in a loud stage whisper. "I want that."

"What?" he demanded.

But I had already climbed into the tub and was kneeling down. "I want you
to piss on me, on my face."

"You sick fuck, " he blurted.

"Please; I really want it." I whimpered.

"You are the sickest fucking faggot I ever laid."

"Please," I moaned.

I suspect under most circumstances he would have just turned back to the
toilet and pissed there, but something in our gig released his normal
restraint and he came over and stood at the edge of the tub. He held his
cock in his hand, aimed over my face. He couldn't hold out any longer
anyway, so he didn't hesitate any more. The golden stream hit my forehead,
nose, mouth, then all around, as he circulated the stream in various
directions. The warm shower had a slightly acrid odor, to be expected, and
it continued for quite a long time. Obviously he had had several drinks
before I arrived in the bar. I was in bliss.

He finished, turned back toward the bedroom and left, saying nothing. I
turned on the shower and rinsed myself, then grabbed one of the bath towels
to dry off. I walked back into the bedroom, quickly dressed, hoping there'd
be something more, maybe the grace note of a nightcap or at least a
friendly exchange. But he just glared and I knew the gig was over.

"Just get the fuck out, you faggoty slut."

"Thanks, stud, it was great," I muttered as I exited and shut the door.
Little did he know how much I like being treated like back alley trash.

[If you want to know what this magnificent stud looked like, go to SD
988846]