All:
I woke up with what I'm hoping is a 24 hour bug and I feel like I've been run over by a truck. I started feeling bad on the flight in last night and it just kept getting worse through the night. I'll still be online, but will be working from the hotel today. Text me if you need me, otherwise I hope I'll see you in the office tomorrow.
Have a great day,
Alan
Okay, so I wasn't really sick with the flu. I had absolutely no intention to be online waiting for the onslaught of tedious IMs from coworkers asking about an email, or that file, or was I in such-and-such's meeting last week because they can't find their notes from it.
No, I didn't plan to do any of that, because The Itch started knocking on my brain for attention the night before and I fully intended to use the day to scratch The Itch. On that day, The Itch happened to be sucking anonymous (mostly) married cock. Some days it was getting fucked. Others it was finding somebody to suck me off. The Itch changed from day to day and today using Craigslist to round up various horny married men from the numerous office buildings around my hotel for quick, NSA head was what it wanted. Who was I to ignore its request?
The Chicago suburb where I traveled twice a month for work was awash with sexually frustrated men who weren't getting anything from their wife because the kids and life took all of the time and attention. I knew because that's the way my home life had become as well. In my forty three years, I had grown to accept the fact I liked sex with men in a completely different way than sex with a woman. In the fifteen years I had been married and fathered two kids, I had grown to accept sex in the marriage was an occasional bonus, and not nearly enough to satisfy my daily need to get off. Men get that with each other. There isn't a need for romance. The need is to get off by using somebody or get off by being used. Simple and easy.
Although the skin on my face wasn't as tight as it used to be, I realized as I aged that I had a look that definitely appealed to some. I was a little over six foot, bounced above and below the 200 pound mark, kept some semblance of a muscular frame, still kept a decent head of hair, beard, and based on feedback from a buddy, "put off a horny Soccer Dad kind of vibe." This made picking up other guys at the hotel bar sometimes a challenge, because I came across as a funny guy sharing a drink with them, not the guy who wanted to drain their balls.
In the glory days when Craigslist allowed guys to find exactly what they were looking for, I could drop an advertisement for specific windows of time (lunch, after work, etc.) and usually count on a dozen emails with one or two that didn't sound like an illiterate freak. Of course, there was always the risk that one or both of them would flake out and drive past my exit and instead run home to the safety of the suburbs. It was sometimes work, but most of the time it was worth it.
Today, I placed an ad that promised all-day, NSA blow-and-go service. I specifically asked for married guys who didn't want any reciperation. All I wanted was to be waiting on my knees in the room, have them come in, fuck my mouth, shoot their load wherever they wanted and split. No need for chitchat or anything else. Simple. Quick. Primal.
By 9AM, I had a few emails, with one from a guy I had blown several times before. He looked like the stereotypical ex-Marine/cop who got past 50, grew a little gut, kept the buzz cut, and still puts off that vibe of being able to kick your ass in ways you never even thought of. He was a "on your knees while I stand and use you" kind of guy, which was perfect for me. I replied back and agreed to the time he suggested of 10AM. His office was just a few buildings down in the office park and I knew it wouldn't take him long to get there. As promised, he emailed when he made it to the hotel so I could prop the door open and wait in my knees wearing just a pair of workout shorts. Those moments of anticipation were some of the most erotic for me. Knowing a guy would be there in a matter of minutes, sometimes not knowing anything more than what was in a brief email chat.
After a short while of waiting for him to make it through the lobby and up the elevator, I saw the shadow of his body under the crack of the door. My cock jumped to attention in my shorts. The nervousness and anticipation had quickly transformed to an old fashioned boner.
He came in, let the door shut behind him and gave himself a moment to adjust to the dimness of the room.
