An inhuman sound rippled throughout the room. It sounded like a cartoon witch's laugh; comically loud or something done for a stage production. Nothing a real human should make. Yet, moments later the sound reverberated in the room again. My mind was hazy from the fantastic sex, the deep sleep, so it took a moment to realize what was happening. But as the crackle invaded my sanctuary for the third time in as many minutes, I solved the mystery: a drunk woman in the hotel's outdoor bar was laughing. A quick glance at the tableside clock showed it was a few minutes before 3 a.m.
I shifted, extending my arm to see if the bed was empty, if Don had made promises he didn't intend to keep. Warm, hard flesh greeted my fingertips, and it was no effort to smile. Slowly, my hazel eyes adjusted to the limited light from the street lights outside and the imposing shape of a man was easy to make out inside the soft blankets covering us.
Timidly, I trailed my fingers downward, feeling every ridge and bump of my trucker's torso. When he was on top of me, Don's chest hair felt coarse, rough but now as it moved slightly with his exhales, it's downy and fuzzy. Catching a few between my fingers, I watch as the black fur straightens for two inches before gently folding into itself again. Mesmerized by this simple action, my body moves continuously, repeating a touch far too intimate for a hook-up.
But Don said he wanted more. Or at least, implied as such. I knew I needed to have that conversation, especially when he wasn't fucking me, but my insecurities gripped me harder than I wanted to admit. If I could, I'd choose to never leave this night, to always be beneath Don with no real worries. The room was still dark when Don moved, sliding one of his tree-trunk legs against mine.
"I like you touching me." It was a soft confession but I heard it clearly.
A muscled arm swung up and around, grasping my left shoulder tightly. Even laying down, I had to tilt up to kiss his soft lips. It was chaste, gentle. But my hand wanted more and without thought, I stopped petting him and glided down to the fly of Don's grey boxer briefs. Already bulging, his hard cock was strong in my loose grip. The kiss intensified, my body pulled to be completely parallel against his.
"Baby, baby," the plea hushed across my face and I didn't even try to fight as Daddy pushed me downward. Slipping free of the fabric, Don's fat dick stood like a victorious warrior ready for the spoils of war. Wet and dirty, spit slid from my mouth, covering every inch. He didn't move, just placed a hand on the back of my head, letting me set the pace. Twirling my tongue kept him slippery enough to glide in and out easily.
"Oh yes, baby. So good to me. My perfect boy."
I popped up to swallow a glob of built-up saliva and precum before quickly diving back down. It was an endeavor but I pushed past my limits to get him into my throat before the middle-aged man's cock was too hard, too long to deepthroat. After a few bobs, I couldn't move, my face fully buried in his crotch. Don's strong hands had moved, one behind each of my ears and with little effort, he trapped me on his dick.
"It's time we train that gag reflex out of you," voice deep, I knew the gentle Don was gone. Replaced by a man who knew he was in charge and knew his desires were going to be fulfilled. "Ready slut?"
