Date: Wed, 15 Jun 2005 15:45:28 -0700
From: Joseph Farrin <bigblaise@hotmail.com>
Subject: HOTEL COXSPOINT

At least it had a sexy name, I thought, as I sat at Ms. Stockton's desk, in
the State Highway Department Headquarters, waiting for her to get off the
phone.  Twice she had put her hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Sorry --
yak, yak, yak", referring to the person on the other end of the line."

Finally the person she was talking to either became exhausted or died
because she put the handset back in the cradle of the phone, dialed her
secretary on the intercom and instructed her to hold all calls until she
was finished with her current appointment, apologized and continued:

"I've forgotten where I was, Michael.  Oh yes, since I interviewed you two
weeks ago, your application has gone through review and you have the job if
you want it.  You know it is in Coxspoint.  I'll show you later where it's
located on a map.  The only other information that I have on the town is
that it was once a mining town.  The mine has long since closed.  It is now
a small trade center for the surrounding ranch area and its population is
employed, like you will be, by the State Highway Department, the local
school district and one or two retail stores.  Also, because of Coxspoint's
isolation, the State bought some small houses from the mining company when
it folded.  Highway Department employees live in them rent-free, just as
the miners used to do.  Because you're single, as I mentioned before, the
Department would foot the bill for you to stay at the Coxpoint Hotel, if
you'd prefer. I understand they have a restaurant and the food is good.  Of
course you would have to buy your own meals."

"Have you ever been there, Ms. Stockton?  The name sounds as though it
should be a prominent point of coastal land that sticks out into an ocean."

"Once, and there is a huge bluff just to the east of town that comes to a
sharp point at the railroad line, right where the town is located. I
suppose that accounts for the name."

"I'll accept the job Ms. Stockton.  I think a District Supervisor's job is
about as good as I could do for a new graduate."

"I appreciate your quick decision, and your Degree in Management was a big
factor in the decision to hire you, in case you're wondering. We had
fifteen applicants for the job.  The Coxpoint Hotel, by the way, is owned
and operated by an elderly lady named Irma Bradley.  If you want to stay
there, I should call her right now and tell her to keep the room we
reserved for you."

"I think that would be my best choice for right now."

Ms. Stockton opened her desk drawer and spread out a map, looked at it,
finally located Coxpoint then pointed to it with her forefinger.  I saw
that it was in the western part of the state and the smallest dot on the
map between Canada and the Gulf of Mexico. I'd find out exactly how to get
there later.

The only reservation I had was the size of the place.  I was so fucking
sexed up for cock all the time that I'd go down on anyone who'd let me that
was wearing pants.  I wondered if I'd ever have a chance to do that in
Coxspoint.

You could see the whole business area without much effort -- the main street
was two blocks long -- and that was it for the downtown area.  The Coxpoint
Hotel was at the foot of the street and one side of it was just across the
street from the from the railroad tracks.

The minute I saw it, I knew it had been built in the late nineteenth
century because of the long, narrow windows and the dentil detailing under
the eaves.  It was a small, two story, wood framed building painted white
with a porch along the street front, occupied when I walked in by a row of
elderly men sitting in rockers. (Shit, was I getting into an old peoples
home?)  As it turned out it was just some senior citizens who daily,
weather permitting, walked to the porch to gossip.  It was unofficially
named the "Spit and Chew Club".  All conversation stopped and they turned
to watch me as I stepped up on the porch and walked toward the door.  I
felt like saying "Hello Gentlemen" but they'd have all fallen off their
rocking chairs if I had.

The lobby was vacant, I rang the bell on the desk and an elderly woman
appeared, she looked like the grandmother everyone should have.

"You must be Michael Morgan, I'm Irma Bradley.  Let me show you around."
The dining room was downstairs; three meals a day were served.  My room was
number 224 located in the rear of the top floor and on the opposite side of
the building from the railroad tracks.

"The trains will bother you at first, but you'll get used to them,
eventually."

"Why are most of the doors to the rooms open?  Are they in process of being
cleaned?"

"Well, it's all men who stay here.  They all have keys but misplace them
and know they don't dare wake me up if they come in after the Miner's
Tavern closes, so they just leave their doors unlocked, some even leave
them open.  In the summer it's cooler that way anyway.  The television is
in the lobby unless you want to buy your own.  By the way, the toilet is
down the hall, as they say, and you can park your car in the graveled lot
next door.  Last, if you need me, my apartment is downstairs, across the
hall from the dining room."

I unloaded about half of my Chevy pick-up truck with a camper top.  It was
early afternoon when I decided I needed a break, as I hadn't eaten lunch
yet.  It was when walking back to the lobby I noticed the door locks were
the same vintage as the building and all the rooms had connecting doors.
The locks were so old they had keyholes and in the connecting doors you
could look through the keyhole into the room on each side of yours.  I
know, I stepped into one room and had a look before going to find something
to eat.  On the way down to the lobby I also saw only six connecting doors
where tape had been placed over the keyholes.

To complete the description, there were no phones in the rooms, only a pay
phone in the lobby.  You could not use the hotel as a mailing address -- you
had to get a P O Box for that.  On the good side, the place was as neat and
clean as a hospital and even smelled clean -- none of the musty odors
sometimes prevalent in old buildings.

The Miner's Tavern didn't serve food until 5:30, so I ended up buying a
candy bar, potato chips and a diet cola at the grocery store.  It was
actually named "The Little Store".

By 4:30 I had everything carted up to the room and my clothes hung up,
stopped and had a cigarette.  It was a little after 5'oclock when I headed
for the shower.  It was the best room in the house, three rooms actually,
all recently remodeled and all fully tiled.  One room contained a row of
toilet stalls and a row of urinals; one contained a row of washbasins and
in the middle, accessible from either of the other two was a sizeable gang
shower.  I had just hung up my towel and got the water hot when the shower
filled up.  Guess it was the rush hour as guys arrived home from work.  It
was just like being in college again, studs washing their hair, turning
their faces up to the shower heads and taking an extra long time soaping up
their cocks and their balls as if they were the dirtiest part of their
body.  Some erected or semi- erected and, once back in the room with the
washbasins, made a ritual of drying off.

I was not the only one scoping out genitals.  I was well blessed in the
cock department -- 7 hefty inches - and the only difference between flaccid
and erect was when flaccid it arched out from my body and hung down,
whereas erect it was straight out. I caught more than one stud sneaking a
look at it.

One or two spoke and asked if I was the new supervisor at the Highway
Department.  News does travel fast!

CHAPTER -- 2

Dinner turned out to be just like plain, old- fashioned, home cooking.  If
it were that way all the time, I'd have no complaints.  Back in my room I
hooked up my desktop, found a place for a few more belongings and decided
to check out the Miner's Tavern and then turn in.  I was tired.

The Tavern was like something out of the Old West, and for a weekday night
was surprisingly crowded.  I sat down next to a guy, not dressed like a
rancher but wearing blue jeans, a grey wife beater undershirt and
high-topped, well-worn, work shoes. I hoped his big shoes were an
encouraging sign.  When the bartender, who obviously doubled as the
bouncer, asked me what I was drinking I told him a scotch and soda and
asked him to give the guy seated next to me another round which turned out
to be Tequila with a beer chaser.

The guy extended his hand, said thanks and introduced himself as Richard
North, said he was the cook here and had just got off work.

He asked if I was new to town, I told him I was, were I worked and he asked
where I lived.  When I told him, he asked what my room number was and said
his was next to mine, number 222.

I'd always thought Tequila was a throat paralyzing drink, but he could down
it like water and I ended up buying him four more.  I had no intention of
matching him drink for drink, after I saw how fast he could dispose of a
large, shot glass of the stuff. I guess I encouraged him to drink.  He was
around 35, brown hair, receding a little at the temples, brown eyes and
slender' even though he had broad shoulders. He was good looking but one
thing that bothered me was that one of his two front, upper teeth was
missing, but even that ceased after a while and I could stop staring at it.

The real reason I was encouraging him, though, was because after he told me
he was married once he got into intimate things about his married life.
How much of it was true and how much was bullshit I didn't try to sort out.

Richard told me his marriage didn't last.  They weren't sexually
compatible.
  I asked why.

"She couldn't take me.  My dick is just too fucking big."

True or not, I wished he'd get into details but he didn't.  I'd never heard
of a dick too big to fuck a cunt and wondered just how big his was.  I knew
a lot of guys tend to exaggerate about their cock size.  Once I swung the
barstool around to face him, looked at his crotch but couldn't see any
bulge that might offer a clue.  Finally I decided I was wasting my time, no
way was I going to pick up someone on the first visit to a small town bar
as macho as this one place was and I was tired anyway.  So, I said
goodnight and left, even though I hated leaving Richard.  I had a hard-on
in my pants just listening to him talk.

Around 11 PM a train, diesels roaring and horn blowing for the towns one
and only crossing, roused me out of a deep sleep.  It literally shook the
hotel and it must have been a mile long.  I'd never lived so close to a
railroad track and it sounded like the damn thing was coming down the hall
just outside my room.

I was unable to get back to sleep for what seemed forever. On my back,
shifting from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position, I heard
Richard's door open and close and saw light coming under the space beneath
the connecting door.  What the fuck, I wasn't about to fall asleep anyway
so I might as well take a peek through the keyhole.

He took off his clothes except for his undershirt, sat in a chair beside a
floor lamp, lit a cigarette, stared off into space for a while and then
began playing with himself.  In no time, he transformed his big dick into a
sex monster.  Holy shit but he had a big one!  He stubbed out his cigarette
in an ashtray, got out of the chair, walked across the room and out of my
angle of vision.  Where was he?  What the fuck was he doing?  Had he left
the room?

I jumped out of my skin and gasped aloud when his eye suddenly appeared,
staring directly into mine from his side of the keyhole.  I jerked away.
He had deliberately tried to catch me and I was sure he'd succeeded.  Was I
too obvious at the bar?  I hurried to check if I'd locked the hall door.  I
had.  I checked to see if my cell phone was by my desktop.  It was.

The most incredible thing about the whole episode was, despite my being
frightened, my dick was harder than it had ever been and I had neither the
sense nor self-control to stop myself from getting on my knees and looking
through the keyhole again.

Richard was standing, facing 90 degrees from the door and about 18 inches
away.  He was jacking off what must have been at least a 9-inch, erect,
fuck tool with a mushroom shaped cockhead almost 2 inches across.  Maybe he
hadn't exaggerated.  If I'd been his wife he sure as hell wouldn't have
fucked me with that thing.  By the same token, I damn near ejaculated just
looking at it.

For sure he had a big cock - a huge, fat, cock with low hanging balls -- a
huge, fat, hard cock that was getting bigger by the minute -- a huge, fat,
hard cock with low hanging balls that jerked and slapped around as he
masturbated himself -- a huge, beautiful, 9-inch long, fat hard cock that he
was jacking fast and when his big balls began to snuggle up to the bottom
of his dick I fantasized they were loaded with hot, sticky cock juice that
was about to shoot out of his piss slit at any moment.

And, I was right, that's exactly what happened.  He started jerking
frantically; he moaned and he juiced.  His body jerked, he stopped jacking
it, just held it in his hand and his juice shot out, glob after glob after
glob of it. Then he milked it with a thumb and forefinger.  I shot my load
the minute he started milking it.  He turned off the light and I heard him
get into bed.  The show was over.

Now I had more to worry about than maybe he'd guessed I was a cocksucker
the minute I sat down beside him at the bar, that he'd tested me by looking
in the keyhole, that he might come over and beat the shit out of me.  I
worried if he'd tell the highway department and I'd lose my job.  Shit, I'd
fucked up big time.

Two more trains roared through town before I went to sleep.

I had arrived on Wednesday, it was now Thursday and I didn't have to report
for work until Monday. So, I took the pickup, and found that the post
office was across from the Miner's Tavern, procured a P O Box, located the
one and only gas station in town as well as a metal building with a sign
reading "City Hall" and noticed that a foundation was all that was left of
what had once been the railroad depot and that there were a many vacant
lots on main street as there were buildings.

The business district terminated at the north end with a Methodist Church.
The church, the post office, and a new K-8 school and the small branch bank
were the only brick buildings in town.  The School was off the main street
to the west and a trailer park was off to the east.  The old miner's houses
and the trailers in the trailer park were the only residences in town
except for a dozen or so over near the school.  Later I found out the
school was a recent replacement to one that had burned down and when
rebuilt it didn't have a high school.  High school age students were bussed
18 miles to a little larger community.  Too, I located the highway
department, metal buildings across from the trailer park.

The trees in town are easy to describe.  There were exact 10 of them, all
Chinese Elms.

What I didn't see was the location of the mine but found out later that it
was a mile out of town and on the other side of the railroad tracks.

Saturday I gathered up some clothes that needed washing -- I'd packed in a
hurry.  Someone told me that there were coin-operated washers and dryers in
the basement and you could get Quarters from Irma and detergent and bleach
from the "Little Store". I finished my laundry and was back in the room, it
was mid afternoon, and like everyone else I'd gotten into the habit of
leaving my door open.  Richard came in, smiling and friendly.  Whew!  That
took a load off my mind, even though I still hadn't any idea of what his
game was all about.

"Michael, you intend going to the tavern, tonight?"

"I haven't though of it, why?"

"Well, you might not want to.  Saturday's are dead; most of the ranchers
and highway guys go out of town.  I get off around 8 o'clock and thought if
you wanted to pick up some liquor and beer at the Little Store we could
hang out together here in your room or mine.  I'll split the cost with you
if you do."

"Sound OK, what time does the store close."

"Six, I think."

So, I went to the store at 5 PM so as not to miss dinner at the hotel, and
bought Scotch, Club Soda. Tequila, a six-pack of Bud, and two, small, foam
coolers -- one for the beer and one for ice, two small packages of cheese,
some crackers and a bunch of grapes. I was back in the room before I
realized I'd forgotten small glasses, which they probably didn't have
anyway or plastic cups.  Oh well, there were drinking glasses in the room.
We could use them.

After dinner, I squeezed in a nap and then took a shower.

Richard was at the door and called out "Hi" shortly after 8 o'clock.
Knowing he could put it away I'd bought a quart of Tequila and the same of
Scotch.  He remarked that the Tequila was a good brand, better than the
tavern served.

"I forgot glasses, so we'll have to use room glasses."

"That's fine I'll pour a shot and reuse the same glass for the beer
chaser."
  And, he proceeded to pour a drink for himself and for me.

He noticed I had a stack of clean clothes, along with a bottle of detergent
on the bureau that I hadn't put away.

"Did your laundry today, I see?"

"And, as you also see, I didn't get all of it put away."

"That's something I need to do but never get around to it.  Would you mind
doing a load sometime, for me."

I wanted to say. "I'd like to take a load from you." but didn't and instead
said.  "Just bring it over some morning.  After I start work I don't know
what my schedule will be though, so why not bring it over in the morning."

Like at the Tavern, Richard soon turned the conversation to his problems.

"Look out your window.  See that old Ford Escort toward the back of the
parking lot.  Its mine.  It needs some work, but my wife cleaned me out
with the divorce."

"I'm sorry.  Guess you don't have any children being you were sexually
incompatible?"

"No, but I have two little step sons.  I miss them.  She lives in the
trailer park and lets me visit them occasionally."

When Richard was downing the Tequila portion of his fourth drink and I was
just starting my second, he said, "Damn, I was glad when you came in the
Tavern Wednesday."

"Me, too.  Being we room next to each other, better we be friends than
foes."

"The bartender lets me run a tab, but it's so high right now he was going
to cut me off just when you came in, sat down and asked him to pour one for
me, too.  I appreciate that Michael, I really do.  I want you to know that
I'm not a sponger, though.  I'll pay you back."

I wanted to say, "You did when you jacked off in front of the key hole."
Instead I said, "That's not necessary, it was my pleasure."

He, then, stood up and ripped off his undershirt and tossed it on my bed.
"Shit, the windows open but there's no breeze and it's already hot even if
it's just the middle of June."

His upper torso was cock arousing seen up close.  He was wearing an
undershirt when I'd seen it from the keyhole when he was sitting in his
lounge chair.  (I felt a boner starting and knew it was going to be a bad
night for me.)  He had a smooth body.  I was sneaking peeks at the hair in
his armpits as he gestured.  They, too, were brown and as arousing to me
just seeing them as seeing pussy hair would probably have been to Richard.

He announced he had to piss, did I need to go, too.  It was uneventful, he
stood close to the urinal, didn't back up to shake it, made no attempt to
flash it.

As he poured another drink, I told him, "Skip me, I'll pour my own.  You
make them too strong.

"Sorry, I tend to do that.  As you can tell I like mine man size.  I hope
you're going to like it around here."

"Why, is there something I should know about the town?"

"Well, you'll not find many girls going to the Tavern."

"Why not."

"No single men around here."

"Didn't know being married was a roadblock."

"Small town - makes excuses lame or non existent -- men are leery."

"All the guys here at the hotel can't be married."

"Oh, during the summer a lot of them are, temporary here, as part of a
grading or paving crews and go home weekends.  Didn't you wonder that not
many showed up for dinner tonight?"  As a matter of fact, I had.

Well fuck, I was going to get a little inquisitive.  He could hardly
object; he'd touched on so many subjects, himself.

"So, what does everyone do for relief around here?"

"We're talking fucking, right.  Well there are two or three guys here that
put out."

I knew what he meant but I wanted to hear him say it."

"How can a guy put out?"

"You know, they take it up the ass.  Pussy boys."

"And do you like that."

"No, I've heard that's living dangerously and I have enough problems
already."

So the conversation went.  At some point in time, he kicked off his shoes
and socks, I lost track of how many shots of Tequila and beer chasers
Richard had downed, knew I was on my fourth and, not being a heavy drinker,
should probably have stopped on three.  Richard announced he was going down
the hall again.  I didn't trust myself to follow him. When he returned I
went to take a leak and brush my teeth before going to bed.

When I returned, the room to my door was closed, maybe I closed it, and
maybe I didn't remember.  I wouldn't swear to anything at the moment.  The
room was dark but the window blind was open and there was enough light to
see that Richard was in my bed, naked, on his back, spread eagled, his long
legs so far apart that they touched both edges of the double bed and his
big, beautiful, fuck tool with the huge cockhead was sticking straight up
and his low hangers were snuggled to his crotch, draped down between his
legs and touching the sheet.

I was beside myself looking at his cock sticking straight up and his balls,
including their sac, hanging 4-inches, in a straight line, down from his
shaft.  He was displaying over a foot of prime, male sexual equipment.

I hastily threw my clothes on the floor as I crossed the room.  I was about
to enter a very special heaven -- cocksucker's heaven. Then, I wondered it
he was passed out.  No he'd have some clothing on if that were the case.
Assurance came that he was awake and wanted me to suck his cock when he put
his hand on the top of my head and gently pushed it down toward his
erection.

I had sucked cocks in college, enough to know that I was definitely gay and
wanted cocks to play a big part in my life.  Nothing I had ever done
before, though, prepared me for the experience of taking a nine-inch,
erected cock into my mouth, going down on it as far as I could and orally
exciting it to climax.  It was not an easy cock to make ejaculate.  I had
it slippery with my saliva, I sucked it slow and easy, I sucked it fast and
hard, I twisted my heard around in a twisting motion as I sucked, I pulled
off a few times to catch my breath and at one point I tried to jack the
shaft as I sucked the cockhead but he pushed me off.  That was definitely
something he didn't want.

As mentioned above, I'd sucked a few cocks before but I'd never had so much
trouble making them climax.  I had heard of servicing a cock but didn't
know what it meant.  Maybe this was it. Maybe he was purposely trying to
delay it.  Then, when I least expected it, he held my head down on his
shaft; I could feel his urinary tract enlarging, his cock began to throb
and with each throb it shot another volley of his warm cum deep into my
throat.  He removed his hand; I put my head on one of his legs, wrapped my
hand around his cock and watched it soften.  Not one word had passed
between us.

He rolled over facing the edge of the bed and fell asleep. I did, too.  I
have no idea what time it was, but it was still dark when an eastbound
train jolted me out of my sleep.  The eastbound freights were louder. They
had more engines as they were climbing a grade and Cox point bluff somewhat
muffled sound until the westbound trains were closer.

I turned over; Richard was still asleep but had moved facing the middle of
the bed.  I felt his cock; it was flaccid but still huge. I played with it,
especially the big, mushroom cockhead.  It felt so good, so kind of
rubbery, it was such a special part of a cock to me.  I couldn't arouse
him; after all he'd had a lot to drink.  I hoped he didn't piss the bed.
Finally, I satisfied myself with wrapping my left hand around the end of
his shaft and rubbing his cockhead with the bottom of my thumb while I
masturbated myself with my right hand.

In the morning, after breakfast, he asked if I had any Quarters left over
from having done my laundry.  I had put almost $5.OO worth in the top
drawer of the desk, he took them and followed me to the basement to start
his laundry and said there were newspaper dispensing machines in front of
the Little Store and asked if I wanted a Denver or a Cheyenne paper.  I
told him the Denver Post if it wasn't sold out, if it was get the Rocky
Mountain News.  I did whites first and sniffed his boxer shorts as I loaded
them.  I was still on a high from last night.  Richard's was the biggest
cock I'd ever sucked, it was the first time I'd sucked a cock in my own bed
or any other bed and it was the first time I'd slept all night with
someone.

Wednesday and the following Saturday night were a repeat of last night.
There was Scotch left but I had to buy Tequila and beer again.  He never
did pay me his share as he'd mentioned, but finally I'd guessed what he
meant when he said he wasn't a sponger and would make it right with me.  It
was sort of a game and he paid me back with sex. With his cock it was a
fair pay back as far as I was concerned.  I was financing his drinking
habit twice and week and he was giving me his cock to suck twice a week --
fair enough, even though he'd negotiated his laundry in as part of the
deal.

His tales of no sex with his former wife, along with stories of fucking
girls in junior high before his cock got so big, became very detailed
descriptions of foreplay and sex that were so cock arousing that even
Richard sometimes developed a boner that showed through his denim pants. I
realized he was elaborating, maybe even fantasizing.  He was always
beautifully hard by the time we undressed.

He was honest when he'd said he wasn't interest in fucking boys, but,
eventually, he did get into dry fucking me between my legs and I got into
biting his earlobes, sucking his nipples and licking his navel as foreplay.
At first it bothered me but finally I accepted the fact that he had no
desire to touch my genitals.  Maybe he thought getting a blowjob was a
lesser sin than touching a man's sexual organs, even less than kissing a
man.

TO BE CONTINUED