The First Time
We get to know each other online, at least to the extent to which online friends can. You and I are self-described straight men looking for an adventure and we've shared a few pictures, so all indications are that both of us are who we say we are. We're both about the same age, mid 40's, single.
After our online discussions we decide to meet in a hotel because neither of us wants to risk revealing anything about our true identity, and the mere thought of meeting someone under these circumstances is unsettling to both of us. We are new to this and your nervousness makes me less nervous. If you were more experienced I think I'd be terrified and the converse, I would imagine, holds equally true. Knowing that we're both about to share our first male experience colors the situation with a sense of camaraderie, a taboo kinship.
At the hotel lobby we make our awkward introductions. We nervously discuss how both of us will get to the room and I suggest that I'll go up first, unlock the room, and then you'll go another way and knock at the door. It's comical to think that anyone would care, that anyone would watch or think twice about two men in such a corporate hotel going to the same room. It happens all the time on business, but we're not here for business and we are involuntary radiating that we very much don't belong here today. We are here for sex, two straight men that met online and decided to get together for a foray into the forbidden. I look around the lobby at the girl behind the counter, the valet, and the restaurant staff. I swear they know what I am up to! I am nervous to the brink of sickness. I've gone this far. Only a few more steps to the elevator and then to the room. I can still back out, but I choose to continue with this crazy, mixed-up interlude.
It is obvious that neither of us is in any way physically attracted to the other and this only adds to the growing anxiety. As we talk, both of us clearly are deciding, moment by moment, if this is worth doing, if the risks outweigh the benefits. Ironically, the candor in our online messages comes flashing before my eyes as we quietly and discreetly discuss meeting at the room. I don't mention "getting a mouthful of hard cock" in our brief introduction and you say nothing of "sliding your hard tool into my mouth until it hits the back of my throat" in our first conversation. Yes, how brazen we were in our anonymity and how timid we are right now, looking up, looking down, looking over our shoulders. Brazen, indeed.
Suddenly I realise that, at the very least, someone out there knows my face and the pretense under which I was invited to a hotel. There are communications that, in no uncertain terms, spell out my desire to share oral delights with another man, and if it were traced back to me, I'd be absolutely defenseless to deny it. In my messages I describe how I'd love to get naked and get a nice warm cock in my mouth when mine is in yours. Our conversations are filled with your desires also, that a 69 with another man is a long time fantasy of yours and that after your divorce a few years ago this desire has only become more and more intense. I understand completely and although I have a strong desire to try it, I've never done it. I've never even seen or touched another man in a sexual way, and you haven't either, and this makes both of us very excited and open to sharing our secret desires, which we did quite freely while we clicked away on keyboard and camera. Our discussion concluded that we are fairly certain that some mutual masturbation and 69 is as far as either of us is willing to go, but secretly I know if the circumstances were right I'd be willing to go much further. Depending on how comfortable it felt, if the timing were just right, yes, I could see myself going much, much further, deeper into this forbidden fantasy.
My heart is racing as I take the elevator. It's one thing to write messages to someone and quite another to rent a hotel room for male on male sex. My hands were positively shaking as I handed the clerk my credit card. "My credit card!", I panic secretly. Why am I so afraid? I fear I'm being surveilled and that I'm becoming fodder for some cheesy reality show:
"Welcome to Caught on Video! I'm your host, Brian Blume. Tonight we follow two men who claim they are straight, but our hidden cameras tell a different story, don't they Samantha."
"Brian, these two men look like your average businessmen heading to their hotel room to finish working on some spreadsheets. But what we found instead was both of them spreading their legs and filling their mouths on the sheets!"
"Whoa Samantha! You get any of this on video?"
"You bet Brian! These two get an A+ in Amateur Cocksucking 101. Once they got going there was no stopping them and the cameras don't lie. They were loving every minute of it and so was I, Brian! Nothing gets me hotter than watching two studs licking lollipops! Makes me wanna make myself a Sammy samwich! Why didn't they invite me?!
"Well, Samantha, you better take a look at the door." {a childishly mock-handwritten sign hangs on the door 'No girlz allowd'. Samantha frowns and looks at the camera as a "wock wock wock" trombone plays.}
{canned audience laughter}
I can hardly believe it's happening. As I get off the elevator I deliberately walk right past the room. "I can't do this", I tell myself. "No way can I do this." But a few seconds later I hear a beep and a click and I look down to see my feet crossing the threshold of the door. The very corporate hotel room, naturally, is nothing special and looks exactly like ones I've visited hundreds of times on business. I fear that the very anonymity of it will burn an indelible image into my mind, that every time I travel in the future I'll think of long brown blinds in front of the floor to ceiling window by the door. Every time I see a room laid out like this I'll remember being here, right here, and remember what I'm thinking: get out now.
But I don't.
I put the security key on the desk and walk into the bathroom. "What if I have come on my face?" I ask myself. "What if I actually suck this guy's cock and he comes on my face? I'll have to clean myself up in here." I arrange a few washcloths and open up a fresh bar of soap to prepare for...whatever it is I am preparing for. I am again amazed at my actions, and as I look in the mirror I see someone I don't know.
There is a knock at the door. Is it housekeeping? Is it engineering? No, it's a special knock, three times, one time, two times, a combination reminiscent of adolescent tree house security. As I open the door I don't even look at you and I'm pretty sure you don't look at me, but enter in silence.
After a few seconds, I blurt out, "Let's get naked before I decide not to do this".
We both very slowly and neatly, by force of hotel habit, begin to take off our clothes as if we're winding down a day of out-of-town meetings. It is beyond bizarre. I stack my clothes on one side of the TV console, just like I always do, and apparently you typically put yours on the desk. A minute later we're both in our boxers, stopping just short of full disclosure.
You make the first real move of the night slipping out of your boxers and I turn and do the same. Neither of us is paying particular attention to the other until the underwear meet up with their friends on the console and desk. I am breathing so hard my mouth is slightly open. As I look at your naked body I consider this a milestone and simultaneously consider leaving at this moment. I think to myself, "I got to see another guy totally naked. That's something, isn't it? So...good night!"
We both glance down and stare at the reason we are here. It is obvious that the situation is exciting to both of us. Precome is leaking out of my cock and yours is throbbing.
