"What the fuck is he doing?" I thought to myself as he walked towards me.
"Fuck, I can't believe I just flashed that look at him, is he going to talk to me? I'm with my fucking colleagues. Fuck!" my thoughts continued racing.
"Calm down, it seemed like he shot a 'look' back at me, but maybe it wasn't? Maybe he didn't give me a look. Maybe he was just walking this way. And anyway, he's not going to come up to a random guy during a break at a financial conference and start flirting, right? And if he did, I just, I don't know, he will just say hello or something, right? If he does more, I can play dumb if he even remotely flirts with me. Actually, I wouldn't even need to do that. Just act like he's crazy! And I'm probably imaging the fact that he's walking towards me anyway! But he won't take his eyes off me, and he did make an aggressive fuck me face. But...." my thoughts raced on.
The man, a beautiful, stylish man, continued to walk towards me, not breaking eye contact for a second. As those thoughts ran through my head, my eyes darted between him, the floor and my circle of four colleagues standing in a circle. Of course one other thought raced through my mind as he approached. I wanted him to bend me over the table right there and shove his dick up my ass, or vice versa.
But not here! Not now! I keep my cock-lust separate from the other facets of my life. Fuck, I date women to keep up appearances for fuck sake! I even (kinda) fuck them by picturing cocks penetrating me so I remain hard enough to stay inside them. I meet my guys online! I'm not ready for anyone to know. I'm not even sure I'm gay! Well, it's sorta clear to me that I'm at least half-gay, okay maybe more than half. My gay sex is passionate and leaves all parties satisfied. With women? Shit, it's getting more and more difficult to stomach sticking my dick in those things of theirs, let alone my tongue. And then there's the fact that eight of my last nine partners penetrated me with a penis.
When he got within a few steps, my anxiety peaked. I thought about turning and walking to the bathroom. Just before I did, he looked down at a piece of paper in his hand. He turned off right before he reached me and placed it discretely next to a pile of presentations outside the conference room door and disappeared inside.
I hadn't noticed him in the large conference room. The break between sessions was the first time I saw him. As I said he was beautiful. A little on the short side, maybe 5'6" or so and appeared white-ish, but definitely Hispanic. His bleached blonde hair had black roots and contrasted with his dark olive skin tone. His face had soft feminine features, especially his full puffy lips and striking blue eyes. His eyes are what caught my attention from across the room. I would later realize those were colored contacts that he changed regularly. He was dressed in a European-style form-fitting suit that accentuated his V-shaped torso and slim waist. He wore a deep maroon shirt with no tie under the gray pinstriped jacket.
It was almost time for the next session to start. A riveting ninety-minutes on obscure tax rules effecting investment accounts. I went back to the room before my circle of friends broke so I could discretely pick up the paper that I figured was his cell number. I picked it up, slipped it in my pocket and then entered the large room where I'd spent the last day and half bored out of my mind. I walked slowly up the middle aisle in between the long folding tables, checking both sides of the room.
The conference was held in a spacious multi-purpose ballroom with high ceilings in a chain hotel in downtown Manhattan. I'd flown in from Atlanta a few nights back and there was one and a half more days of torture before my colleagues and I flew back home. The nights were though, and we had plans that night. Dinner at a great restaurant with some of my favorite co-workers, get drunk, then duck out a bit before the rest of them so I could troll the internet for some more NYC cock. NYC was the best. I'd done the same thing the past two nights and walked a total of seven blocks to get a late-night drilling by two different hot guys.
I continued to scan the room for my new friend as I approached my row. I got to my seat and had yet to see him, so I peered over the last ten or so rows. There he was, starring me down. I was determined to text him, but I couldn't do so sitting next to my friends. I thought for a minute about what to do. There was no way I was going to sit next to him. I grabbed my stuff and went to one of the chairs set up along the side of the room for overflow and late-comers. I texted two of my friends that I wasn't feeling well and planned to sit in the back of the room.
I moved back to the aisle and made my way towards a chair in the back corner. As I walked to the back of the room, I awkwardly shifted my eyes between the floor and the man who continued to stare me down. Like most closet-cases, I wanted to sit next to him and express my desire to rip off his clothes and put his cock in my mouth. Instead,, I walked awkwardly past him with my head down because we were in public.
I did muster the courage to steal a few glances as I approached his aisle. As I got closer to him, he shot me a closed lip, half-mouth smile accompanied by an unmistakable eyebrow raise. It was so flirty my dick tingled! But with so many people around, I quickly shifted my eyes downward and sought the comfort of the seat in the corner.
As I walked back I began to wonder how he identified me as potentially interested? Like I said, I think I shot him a look outside the room, but it was really subtle, especially with colleagues and friends around. And as I thought more about it, I think he was looking at me when I first saw him. I wondered if I was possibly just that hot that he threw me a look to see if I would bite? I also began to wonder if I light up a gaydar?
I am pretty hot. I'm quite tall, well over six feet with thick blonde hair and blue eyes. I'm definitely in the top 5% of good-looking people in most situations, especially a tax professionals conference! I played basketball in high school, didn't make my college team but I did make the university golf team.
I got to my seat and pulled the piece of paper out of my pocket as everyone shuffled in. The man, now in front of me, was turned around with his arm draped across the back of the chair. He stared at me through the scores of people returning to their seats. I continued to awkwardly shoot fleeting glances and then look away. I opened the paper, so excited to read it! I was hoping it was a phone number which would allow us to communicate in the privacy of phone land.
As I opened it, a more aggressive fantasy occurred to me. I prayed it was an address and a note that said something like 'let's sneak out, hop in separate cabs and go back to my hotel and fuck!' You know, every closet-case's dream! There was no such message, but it was a cell number.
I was so anxious for the room to settle down and the presentation to start so I could text him. I thought about how things have changed in just a few short months. A few months ago my stomach would be in knots when I had a guy's number, even a random stranger from the internet, which is where all but one of my man-hookups came from to date. The guilt and confusion of sexual encounters with men was subsiding exponentially with every new cock I sucked or fucked. I thought back to my first internet hookup two years ago when I was a senior in college. I was a ball of nerves the first time I snuck out of my golf team's hotel to swallow the cock of a 35-year dude in Jacksonville.
Now though, it was totally different. Don't get me wrong, I was, and still am totally closeted, but gay encounters were becoming more comfortable. I mean that day I was in close proximity to my co-workers. Even a few months before I would have deemed the situation too risky. My risk tolerance was expanding! Probably due to my increasingly insatiable cock-cravings. I guess that's why I met his initial glance with a slight 'fuck-me' look.
I was as excited to text this guy as I used to be when I got a hot girl's number in high school. Back in the days when I could convince myself I wanted pussy and suppressed my preference. I was confident that he respected anonymity as well. Although he was clearly very openly gay, he exhibited the upmost discretion in passing me his number. I figured I had a good shot to meet him later that night at his hotel without my friends finding out.
The MC introduced the next panel and they started to drivel. I looked up and my-soon-to-be friend looked back at me and flashed an impatient look. I smiled at him for the first time and opened up my texts. I typed in his number and sent, "What's up?"
