Note: Check out is 10AM.
Note: Check under the bed for rolled socks and stuff
Note: Buy Epsom salt for tomorrow
I clicked the cap back on my sharpie and patted the trio of sticky notes against the headboard of the hotel bed, beginning a second row of bright yellow reminders. Yeah, it's not exactly the best system for keeping notes in the era of smart phones and Alexa, but for whatever reason writing my errant thoughts down and pasting them somewhere was one of the few ways to silence the noise in my brain.
Okay maybe not silence. That was fucking impossible. But quiet the ones at the top of my mental queue.
I was still angry. Sean always made fun of my sticky notes, called them useless. Well, maybe if he had read my little reminder on the front door that I was coming home early on Monday I wouldn’t have walked in on him pounding a shrieky little twink on the couch? The couch we bought together, but which I graciously let him keep in exchange for getting me off the lease. We were so fucking done.
No. That doesn’t matter. It was Saturday night, I had moved out of my apartment and had spent the week couch surfing. Tomorrow I get to move back in with my parents until I find a new place. (What thirty year old doesn’t aspire to getting dumped all the way back to his parent’s basement?) Tonight, I had a hotel room, and I was going to damn-well make sure it got put to good use.
I took a deep breath. Under the anger I was all nerves. After the final blow-out fight I’d stormed out with ‘control-freak’ and ‘won’t take risks in bed’ still ringing in my ears. Well, fuck him. I’m about to do something that was the definition of risk.
I’m going to get murdered, aren’t I?
After a stiff drink, I downloaded every gay hookup app I could think of. For my profile picture I stripped and donned a blue jockstrap and with some twisting managed to take a headless mirror selfie showing a decent curve of my bare ass without flashing full hole. (Thanks hotel lights!) I always thought my ass looked cute in it, so it became my planned outfit for the evening. The bio portion was easy enough:
30 M 5’6” 142lbs
BTM Neg PreP
The text had been a lot harder. After trying a few different variations of ‘my door is open and so am I,’ I decided to cut straight to the chase.
Marriott on 37th
Room 1354
Door is open.
Just use me.
I took a deep breath. Pillows were positioned. Water was chilling in the mini-fridge. Lube and a box of condoms, with a note saying ‘optional! ;-)’ stuck to it, were on the bedside by a pad of unused post-its. I was ready to go.
I
It had been forty minutes, and my phone had been vibrating almost non-stop. I won’t lie, it felt pretty good being the new (if not the freshest) meat on the grid, but most of the messages were bots or general ‘heys’. I was not looking for chit chat. I answered a few “is this real?” messages before I finally started getting some interest. I gave some thumbs up, but after that, I let it be.
The soft knock on the cracked hotel door bolted me upright. It was actually happening.
“S’open,” I said, my voice suddenly thick. I climbed up onto all fours, ass towards the door. God, I hope it I’m not winking my ass at the cleaning staff.
His soft footsteps were loud in the silence. He turned past the bathroom, and made a soft grunt.
Should I look back? What if that scares him off? Should I say something? What should I say? What if he’s a murderer and he’s—
A cool dry palm cupped the curve of my ass and my skin erupted in goosebumps. His hand moved in a slow circle before sliding up under the waistband of my jockstrap and landing on the small of my back. His hand withdrew, and there was the scuff of denim sliding down legs. The jingle of keys.
Soft shallow breaths. Was he as nervous as I was?
He stepped to the bedside table to grab for the lube, and I peeked,
He was… kind of what I expected. Forties or fifties, a little heavy set, his cock (average thank God, I was not ready to take on the bigger guys) was already hard, sticking straight out from unkempt pubes. Just your average guy. I could have passed twenty of him on the street and not noticed.
I blinked, as it hit me. How many average guys did I pass in a day who’d dump a load in my ass with the slightest invitation? My cock, suspended in its blue pouch, twitched to life. Fuck.
The guy put another hand on my ass, and pushed me open. A moment passed, before a slick finger circled the tender skin of my hole. I gasped at the rush of sensation. How long had it been since anybody had fingered me besides… me?
He must have taken my noise for further encouragement, because after another circle he slid his finger into me. I gave way easily, I’d done a little prepping and lubing, but the shock made me briefly clamp down before relaxing.
His finger swirled and fucked me for a minute, sending tickling bolts of pleasure through me. A second finger joined in, and a small moan escaped before I could stop it. I clamped my mouth shut. I could get loud, but I was not about to get a noise complaint.
He pushed in deeper and with his other hand he pressed my hips down. I lowered my chest in turn, putting the proper arch into my back. A rush of pressure on my hole and then he was in.
He took a few hesitant thrusts, before I fully gave way, and he pushed down to the hilt. He lingered there, taking slow breaths. The warmth inside me was unmistakable, he’d gone in raw. I was getting fucked raw by a complete stranger. For a moment I was completely unmoored, my sense of self drifting out of my body like a rising spirit.
But his next thrust brought me back. That stretch, the tiniest twinge of pain. Again. Again. Warm pleasure joined the quickly fading sting as he picked up speed going into a steady rhythm. I closed my eyes to take it all in.
His hands found my hips and pressed me lower into the bed, my legs frogging out. He leaned in and the press of his weight on me held me fast. The curve of his bare belly pressing on my lower back was a tingling reminder of how long it had been since I felt skin on skin. He grunted, and changed positions. There it was.
“Oh fuck. Yes.” I whispered, as he picked up speed and pounded me right in the prostate.
That was enough encouragement and he leaned in further, and picked up speed. The crush of nearly his full weight pinned me to the sheets. It was glorious. Shit, was I into bears now? For a brief grisly moment, all I could think of was the Salem Witch trials and Giles Corey crying out for more weight until it killed him. Yes, please.
I moaned into pressed lips. I was not going to be a whiny bottom.
Now gasping and slick with sweat, the guy’s pace slowed. He rolled off me, and I was assaulted by cold and the sudden lack of him inside of me. Before I could complain, he took his previous position standing beside the bed, and yanked my ass up by the waistband of my jock.
Still holding the elastic like a set of reins, he pressed his cock to my hole and rammed it home. Stars exploded in my eyes. He pulled out and did it again. My legs began to shake.
He started into a slamming rhythm groaning with every thrust. It wasn’t long before the rhythm grew uneven, and with one last thrust, the warm jet of cum inside me, filling me. A final gasp and he collapsed on me, still inside. I ground my crotch into the covers. Holy fuck.
After a second he caught his breath, and receded. I was surprised to find that I was gasping as well. I let myself flop down onto the bed, starfishing toward cold sheets.
Blinking away the fuck-drunk sensation, I heard him pull up his pants, and go over to the side table. What was he doing? Did he want water? I was about to point to the mini fridge (which also had a helpful note), when a strange pop.
A wet line was scratched down the small of my back, before he popped the sharpie cap back on.
He mumbled something, but I was too stunned to listen. I barely noticed him leaving.
Did he? I stood up and went to the hotel mirror. Sure enough, a single tally had been drawn on my lower back like I was in some over-the-top gangbang porn. I’ll admit, I’ve seen a few (dozen) of them. The first sex I’d had in at least three months, and I was already marked out as a cumdump.
I shivered, returning to the bed and adjusting the sheets. The image of dozens of men coming in here, using me for their pleasure, and marking me made my stomach jump. My cock abruptly strained against the pouch of my jock. Fuck.
Note: Check under the bed for rolled socks and stuff
Note: Buy Epsom salt for tomorrow
I clicked the cap back on my sharpie and patted the trio of sticky notes against the headboard of the hotel bed, beginning a second row of bright yellow reminders. Yeah, it's not exactly the best system for keeping notes in the era of smart phones and Alexa, but for whatever reason writing my errant thoughts down and pasting them somewhere was one of the few ways to silence the noise in my brain.
Okay maybe not silence. That was fucking impossible. But quiet the ones at the top of my mental queue.
I was still angry. Sean always made fun of my sticky notes, called them useless. Well, maybe if he had read my little reminder on the front door that I was coming home early on Monday I wouldn’t have walked in on him pounding a shrieky little twink on the couch? The couch we bought together, but which I graciously let him keep in exchange for getting me off the lease. We were so fucking done.
No. That doesn’t matter. It was Saturday night, I had moved out of my apartment and had spent the week couch surfing. Tomorrow I get to move back in with my parents until I find a new place. (What thirty year old doesn’t aspire to getting dumped all the way back to his parent’s basement?) Tonight, I had a hotel room, and I was going to damn-well make sure it got put to good use.
I took a deep breath. Under the anger I was all nerves. After the final blow-out fight I’d stormed out with ‘control-freak’ and ‘won’t take risks in bed’ still ringing in my ears. Well, fuck him. I’m about to do something that was the definition of risk.
I’m going to get murdered, aren’t I?
After a stiff drink, I downloaded every gay hookup app I could think of. For my profile picture I stripped and donned a blue jockstrap and with some twisting managed to take a headless mirror selfie showing a decent curve of my bare ass without flashing full hole. (Thanks hotel lights!) I always thought my ass looked cute in it, so it became my planned outfit for the evening. The bio portion was easy enough:
30 M 5’6” 142lbs
BTM Neg PreP
The text had been a lot harder. After trying a few different variations of ‘my door is open and so am I,’ I decided to cut straight to the chase.
Marriott on 37th
Room 1354
Door is open.
Just use me.
I took a deep breath. Pillows were positioned. Water was chilling in the mini-fridge. Lube and a box of condoms, with a note saying ‘optional! ;-)’ stuck to it, were on the bedside by a pad of unused post-its. I was ready to go.
I
It had been forty minutes, and my phone had been vibrating almost non-stop. I won’t lie, it felt pretty good being the new (if not the freshest) meat on the grid, but most of the messages were bots or general ‘heys’. I was not looking for chit chat. I answered a few “is this real?” messages before I finally started getting some interest. I gave some thumbs up, but after that, I let it be.
The soft knock on the cracked hotel door bolted me upright. It was actually happening.
“S’open,” I said, my voice suddenly thick. I climbed up onto all fours, ass towards the door. God, I hope it I’m not winking my ass at the cleaning staff.
His soft footsteps were loud in the silence. He turned past the bathroom, and made a soft grunt.
Should I look back? What if that scares him off? Should I say something? What should I say? What if he’s a murderer and he’s—
A cool dry palm cupped the curve of my ass and my skin erupted in goosebumps. His hand moved in a slow circle before sliding up under the waistband of my jockstrap and landing on the small of my back. His hand withdrew, and there was the scuff of denim sliding down legs. The jingle of keys.
Soft shallow breaths. Was he as nervous as I was?
He stepped to the bedside table to grab for the lube, and I peeked,
He was… kind of what I expected. Forties or fifties, a little heavy set, his cock (average thank God, I was not ready to take on the bigger guys) was already hard, sticking straight out from unkempt pubes. Just your average guy. I could have passed twenty of him on the street and not noticed.
I blinked, as it hit me. How many average guys did I pass in a day who’d dump a load in my ass with the slightest invitation? My cock, suspended in its blue pouch, twitched to life. Fuck.
The guy put another hand on my ass, and pushed me open. A moment passed, before a slick finger circled the tender skin of my hole. I gasped at the rush of sensation. How long had it been since anybody had fingered me besides… me?
He must have taken my noise for further encouragement, because after another circle he slid his finger into me. I gave way easily, I’d done a little prepping and lubing, but the shock made me briefly clamp down before relaxing.
His finger swirled and fucked me for a minute, sending tickling bolts of pleasure through me. A second finger joined in, and a small moan escaped before I could stop it. I clamped my mouth shut. I could get loud, but I was not about to get a noise complaint.
He pushed in deeper and with his other hand he pressed my hips down. I lowered my chest in turn, putting the proper arch into my back. A rush of pressure on my hole and then he was in.
He took a few hesitant thrusts, before I fully gave way, and he pushed down to the hilt. He lingered there, taking slow breaths. The warmth inside me was unmistakable, he’d gone in raw. I was getting fucked raw by a complete stranger. For a moment I was completely unmoored, my sense of self drifting out of my body like a rising spirit.
But his next thrust brought me back. That stretch, the tiniest twinge of pain. Again. Again. Warm pleasure joined the quickly fading sting as he picked up speed going into a steady rhythm. I closed my eyes to take it all in.
His hands found my hips and pressed me lower into the bed, my legs frogging out. He leaned in and the press of his weight on me held me fast. The curve of his bare belly pressing on my lower back was a tingling reminder of how long it had been since I felt skin on skin. He grunted, and changed positions. There it was.
“Oh fuck. Yes.” I whispered, as he picked up speed and pounded me right in the prostate.
That was enough encouragement and he leaned in further, and picked up speed. The crush of nearly his full weight pinned me to the sheets. It was glorious. Shit, was I into bears now? For a brief grisly moment, all I could think of was the Salem Witch trials and Giles Corey crying out for more weight until it killed him. Yes, please.
I moaned into pressed lips. I was not going to be a whiny bottom.
Now gasping and slick with sweat, the guy’s pace slowed. He rolled off me, and I was assaulted by cold and the sudden lack of him inside of me. Before I could complain, he took his previous position standing beside the bed, and yanked my ass up by the waistband of my jock.
Still holding the elastic like a set of reins, he pressed his cock to my hole and rammed it home. Stars exploded in my eyes. He pulled out and did it again. My legs began to shake.
He started into a slamming rhythm groaning with every thrust. It wasn’t long before the rhythm grew uneven, and with one last thrust, the warm jet of cum inside me, filling me. A final gasp and he collapsed on me, still inside. I ground my crotch into the covers. Holy fuck.
After a second he caught his breath, and receded. I was surprised to find that I was gasping as well. I let myself flop down onto the bed, starfishing toward cold sheets.
Blinking away the fuck-drunk sensation, I heard him pull up his pants, and go over to the side table. What was he doing? Did he want water? I was about to point to the mini fridge (which also had a helpful note), when a strange pop.
A wet line was scratched down the small of my back, before he popped the sharpie cap back on.
He mumbled something, but I was too stunned to listen. I barely noticed him leaving.
Did he? I stood up and went to the hotel mirror. Sure enough, a single tally had been drawn on my lower back like I was in some over-the-top gangbang porn. I’ll admit, I’ve seen a few (dozen) of them. The first sex I’d had in at least three months, and I was already marked out as a cumdump.
I shivered, returning to the bed and adjusting the sheets. The image of dozens of men coming in here, using me for their pleasure, and marking me made my stomach jump. My cock abruptly strained against the pouch of my jock. Fuck.
