Southern Comfort

Ah, it's been a week already.  I am at home, frustrated, as since luck would have it I started to feel shitty on Friday and on Friday afternoon threw in the towel (I left 20 minutes early, and could feel the world screeching to a halt.  Talk about Shylock.  Trust me overlords, like Gloria Gaynor, you will survive.)  So I limped away from Dracula and climbed into bed and slept 12 hours.  Fun, fun, fun!

I am currently sitting naked, but for a bathrobe, and tapping this.  I decided that since I was under the weather I could do something productive and write you all (the few of you who actually acknowledge being out there.  Btw, a literal handful away from the 1000 mark on Tumblr, though other than selecting images, not a major ounce of creativity represented there.  But I have beaten that dead horse here too many times.  I know, no images and multisyllabic words aren't sufficient stimulation for the one handed crowd...)

Despite the minimal number of my recent entries (the fact that it takes about a week for 20 people to seem to read one of my entries is a disincentive to chronicling, I thought some of you guys like Raulito, the seductively anonymous (and damned hot) Cool Top, and Bruce Chang make it more than worthwhile.  So, here's another entry for the team (or trio.)

Admittedly, I like to score as much ass as possible while traveling.  It's like collecting merit badges or completing reading books:  a trophy of sorts.  And, I definitely like to maximize access to a limited amount of soap, water, clean towels and sheets that I don't need to launder (though, I always tip housekeeping:  not because I leave a battlefield but because I do have a scintilla of social consciousness.  And, I don't leave them a mess; I treat other people the way I would like to be treated.  But, I digress, as usual...)

So I was in this really sorry assed hotel in St. Louis that was pretending to be something it wasn't.  Anything with the Holiday Inn tag is always suspect, regardless of whether they adorn it with a Crown.  (I think it was a Crowne in this case, the e persuading Joe Six Pack that it has more "class".)  Unfortunately, I arrived well before the standard check in time and dead dog tired agreed to be put into a room that was ready (for those of you who don't travel, that means you are then agreeing to sleep in steerage for full price.)  Despite being tired, however, I was as horny as a three balled tomcat.  I hadn't gotten any the night before and wanted to make another notch on the bedpost.  So, after securing a room (ahhh!!!!) I logged in to the various sites.  It was a weekday; most gents were busy but a few bit, mostly to jerk me around while they probably jerked off.  Realizing that at the outset I wasn't resentful (occasionally bored and irritated, but that is a part of the territory) and had low expectations.  One gent, working from home, was ready and randy.  Of course, he had to do a thousand and one errands (yawn.)  I took a well needed nap, and then he was actually there knocking on my door about 90 minutes later (after he'd collected his dry cleaning, bought groceries, and put the frozen food in the freezer.  Yes, this is real!  Guys actually explain this shit to you!)

I opened the door and there was a nice enough looking guy; of course he'd shaved 10 years off his profile.  My guess was semi-retired.  He was tres-southern Midwestern, in that everything he was wearing in casual attire was top of the line  from haute outlet malls (yeah, I am being super bitchy in this blog, and admit it.  But I am also not feeling well; today's alibi.) 

He was (is) pretty fit:  tennis and the pool at his condo complex.  Clean shaven, painfully carefully groomed.  Oh well, he was there...not my wet dream and surely I wasn't his.

We kissed, he seemed moderately into it.  However, he wanted my cock and savored it and got it nice and moist and wet.  It was clear what he wanted.  His cock wasn't significant and didn't get particularly engorged so without much dialog I flipped him over and attacked his ass.  It was (is) a nice ass; firm for his age, relatively small, and super clean.  He was very feline and his purring as I ate it reflected that.  His purring was so intense that he was now putty in my hands; I rubbed my cock up and down his very wet (thanks to me) ass and as my cock head adjoined his hole he eagerly pushed back to impale himself.  Major purr.

I asked if he wanted some lube, but he indicated he was good (it was super wet and tight enough but not so tight that I felt like I'd rip him or rub the epidermis off me) and we went at it:  thrust, purr.  Withdrawal:  purr, purr.  Thrust back PURR.  You get the idea. 

It felt damn good and sucked on the back of his neck.  I recognized from the outset he (and I) saw this as a maintenance fuck:  I wanted to shoot my load and he wanted his ass stretched and his prostate massaged.  I kept thrusting and withdrawing with ongoing affirmation (purr, purr, purr!!!!) and then asked "do you want it?"  He did.  And, I let it go.  I know it was a noteworthy load.

After I shot he murmured:  "I just broke a couple of rules/I don't bareback and I don't take loads" (that was redundant, but I know when to listen and certainly not to correct.)  I assured him I was clean as my cock grew flaccid and then slowly slid out of his now slack ass.  Then he was soon on his feet.

He didn't want to cum; he was good.  He quickly slid on his Ralph Lauren shorts, his Lacoste polo shirt, and sandals by some designer I don't remember, and was out the door.

Despite the fact that he was as clean as could be, I felt somewhat dirty.  Definitely cheap.  However, I quickly got over it.  After I secured and locked the door, I turned the faucet on to scalding; wet a washcloth, got it soapy, washed the operative parts, rinsed them, and took a long nap.  To paraphrase Bob Seeger, he used me and I used him and we both got our share.  Fair enough.