Background
In May 1994, I was traveling for business to Boston, a city I knew well from my college days. I stayed at the Marriott at Copley Place and had, because of a scheduling change, part of a day to kill before going on to Cleveland.
While I usually dated women back then, I had a couple gay experiences earlier in life. As I thought about how to spend the down time in Boston, the idea of using it for some sexual exploration appealed to me.
This story is inspired, as they sometimes say at the movies, by real events. Some of it actually happened, other parts are embellished or what I wish had happened. The location and circumstances are unchanged.
I was fresh out of the shower, a hotel robe loosely pulled around me, as I sat down on the edge of the bed. I could hardly believe my morning thus far. I had gone online and entered a Boston M4M chat room and began a conversation with a guy, Henry, who was virtually across the street. I had ended up in his office, first dropping to my knees to suck his large, black, cut cock, then against the wall as he fucked me from behind. I asked him to stay inside me after he had cum, and it only took a few strokes for me to reach my own climax.
On the way back to my room, I encountered a guy in the elevator who bluntly propositioned me and assured me that he had "a big dick." This caught me by surprise and I wondered if my forehead had "I'm a horny bottom" stamped on it. But, still aroused from the office fuck, I got off the elevator with him and walked to his room. There I discovered he had a partner, who was the one who was really hung. As they were both primarily tops, they wanted to take me spit roast style, with the large cocked partner filling my ass and the other using my mouth. While I didn't exactly cum, it still was an intense and extremely erotic experience.
Now, back in the room, cleansed of the sweat and remnants of multiple sexual encounters, I was assessing how I felt. Although a little sore, my ass - or was it now my cunt? - still tingled with the memory of being fucked by two well-hung cocksmen. God, it had felt good, in a slutty sort of way, to be filled and used like that. I definitely was best suited to being a bottom. And now my body felt empty and not entirely satisfied. I chided myself for wanting more.
The thing is, I
did
want more. I wanted to cum again, with a big hard cock inside me. I looked around for the bedside clock - there were still a few hours before I needed to check out and head for the airport. I considered my options. I could see if the guys a few floors below wanted a second round, but I had the impression they had plans for their day. Oddly, too, while the fucking they gave me had been exciting, I sensed that I wanted - my libido needed - something more intimate and sensual.
That led me back to thinking about Henry and his incredible cock. Yes, I know many erotic stories and porn videos showcase a long, thick black cock, but this one was real. Honestly, it was beautiful, and I am sure that was the first time I ever thought a man's genitals were attractive. From the cut head with wonderfully flared glans, to a thick base and a set of heavy balls, it begged to be worshipped with a wet mouth and caressing hands. And then there was the way it felt inside me; it made me want to have a pussy to please him.
Henry had expressed regret that I was leaving town, and his hug as we parted was more than perfunctory. I wondered what he would be like in the more comfortable circumstances of a private hotel room, with a big bed, and the first lustful session behind us. Would there be foreplay? Would he try to kiss me, and if so, how would I react? Would he go beyond fucking, and make love to me?
Huh?
What was I thinking? What was happening here? By this point in my life I'd bedded several dozen women; how was it I suddenly was wondering how a man was going to treat me during sex? Had the morning experiences really feminized me that much? As I sat there, turning my feelings over in my head, the answers were unclear, but my desire to be filled by - and to give pleasure to - a man's hard cock was undeniable. And while I could, I was going to do something about it.
Henry's number was still written on the pad by the telephone. I picked up the handset and dialed the number, not so much with trepidation, but with concern about how much I wanted this. What if he didn't?
The call was quickly answered at his end, and Henry's distinctive voice - a black bass tinged with a Boston accent - answered. I'm sure my first words sounded stilted: "Hello Henry. It is James. From this morning."
His response was immediate and reassuring: "Oh, James, I am so glad you called. I was wondering how you were. Are you ok? Our time together was short, but I felt like we connected. In fact, I was sitting here thinking about you. Please tell me you are going to stay longer in Boston - I'd like to see you again."