Hostel Encounter

It was the best holiday of my life, a tour of the historical sites of the United Kingdom, and now into its second week was proving to be the journey I had always dreamed of making. Little did I know even then that I would soon fulfill a different dream that trip as well.

My fiancee and I had toured Northern England and were now well into Scotland, arriving at Glencoe with less money than we might have liked. To economize, we decided to stay at the local hostel. Coming to the U.K., we had expected rain, but the unseasonable weather was disheartening to many travellers and we had no trouble booking beds, albeit in separate dorms. My fiancee had hostelled before, but I had not, and was a little uncomfortable with the idea of bunking down with complete strangers, but our finances would be well served by the inexpensive accomodation.

We booked at midday and took a few things to our respective rooms to lay claim to a bed. Finding my room, I was pleased to see that I was sharing it so far with one other traveller. He was not in at the time, but there was ample evidence of his bed claim. I assumed he was a backpacker and he had obviously found his way into some rain in his travels as his clothes were strung up all over the room, draped over the sink, window ledge, heater, chairs and so on to dry. The room was ripe with the smell of wet fabric and sweat. An image rippled across my mind of the body that might have produced that sweat scent, worn those clothes, an image of a lithe, well-muscled young man, well-accustomed to the hardships of backpacking. I was slightly aroused by the scent and the images it inspired and recognized this in myself as I claimed a top bunk in the farthest corner of the room, from which I might view the other man's bed discreetly, though I was not plainly thinking that at the time.

I had never had any sexual experience with a man whatsoever, but recently I had become aware by degrees that I was curious about having such an experience, occasionally fantasizing about oral sex with a man when masturbating. In my mind, it was a harmless fantasy that would never come true, but it was a persistent one too.

My fiancee and I left the hostel to explore the local villages and walk some nature trails in the majestic highlands before grabbing some local pub grub. It was a fine day, even the rain held off, but more than a few times the fleeting image of the fantasy backpacker returned to my mind and I found myself less dreading our return to the hostel. I told myself that I would return anyway to a fully-booked room in any case, and that I need not form any fantasies about the young backpacker.

My fiancee and I returned to the hostel and with a deep kiss parted for the night. As I ascended the steps to the men's dorms, I felt a rush of anticipation. I put my key in the lock and opened the door onto a darkened room. A glance around proved a surprising result: unless there were to be late arrivals, only the backpacker and I were sleeping here.

It was getting late, but was not yet the hostel's curfew, and I decided it would be prudent for me to head to bed. When my room-mate arrived, if I was not asleep, I reasoned I could pretend to be and hopefully ignore the whole situation.

Ignoring the situation proved to be less feasible than I thought. I slipped into bed and found myself more fully awake than when I had decided to go to bed. The lingering scent of my dorm-mate's drying clothes, compounded with the trace of his body smells, had worked me into a state of nearly anxious arousal and I was surprised to find that I was fully erect.

I was tempted to relieve myself of that condition when I heard another key fitting in the lock. I quickly turned on my side, so much the better to appear to be sleeping and of course to hide my erection.

A sliver of light from the hallway glared and disappeared as the door closed behind the man entering and I closed my eyes against the light to remain well-adjusted to the darkness of the room. I found that I was intent on seeing what I could and I opened my eyes slightly. The figure moved quietly to his bottom bunk on the other side of the room. In the darkness I could make out his shape to some degree, though little detail. He appeared tall and thin, well-built, and to judge from what I could see of the shape of his head he had longish hair.

In the small confines of the little dorm room, I was soon less concerned with his vague appearance than with the fresh scent of him. There was a faint trace of cigarette smell, such as I had found on my own clothes after returning from the pub, and a strong sting of alcohol. There was a lingering trace of after-shave or cologne, but there was a trace scent of sweat as he began to pull off his clothes and make ready for bed. There was nothing at all offensive about the aroma, not the stink of an unwashed derelict but rather the honest smell of a man after a full day.

His body slipped beneath the sheets of his bed to become an indistinguishable grayish lump in the shadows of the bunk above. I could hear the occasional rasp of sliding sheets and the groan of bed springs as he made himself comfortable and then all was soon silence but for the sound of his restful breathing.

Frustrated and unable to appease my arousal, I gradually drifted off, tired by my own travels.

I don't know how much time passed before I realized again I was fully awake. There was a sound so slight as to be nearly imperceptible at first, a new rasp of sliding on the sheets. It was steady and rhythmic, and very soft at first: sssh-sssh, sssh-sssh, sssh-sssh. With every few minutes the sound became ever so slightly pronounced and I realized with astonishment what I was hearing. It was the sound of the sheets moving as my room-mate rubbed himself, his hand sliding up his cock and down beneath the sheets. Again I was fully erect to realize that my room-mate, inspiration for a fantasy and arousal I could barely admit to myself, was himself masturbating only a few feet from my bed.

He was trying to be quiet about it, but his passion was building and he was gaining desperation. SSH-SSH, SSH-SSH, SSH-SSH! At this point, I was desperate myself. My own hand was on my cock, longing to pull it as my neighbour was, to give some release to this anxious tension. I gave it a quick pull through my briefs and it felt so good that I might have forgotten to keep my breathing in check as I touched myself to the sound of my room-mate's growing passion and the barely discernible view of a pulse-like beating under the grey sheets of his bunk.

Instantly, he stopped. I remained perfectly still, wondering if he had noticed my change in breathing. I tried to breathe naturally as if I was asleep. My cock twitched impatiently and uncooperatively. It seemed like a long time passed as I lay still listening to my dorm-mate listening to me. Then to my surprise, I heard him move.

I could barely see in the darkness, just enough to know that my dorm-mate had propped himself upon on his elbow and seemed to be looking back at me. I could see a bit of pale light reflected in his eyes and wondered if he could also see my eyes open.

"Are you awake?" he asked and I was so startled by this violation of our silent truce of wills that I started almost violently and so removed any opportunity to continue my charade of sleep. My heart pounded as hard as I could ever remember it having done and there was a deep pang of alarm deep inside my chest. His voice was deep and masculine, accented. Scottish, I thought.

I considered bluffing it, pretending further to sleep, but I knew it was pointless and some treacherous part of me did not want to avoid this man.

"Yes," I answered meekly, immediately ashamed of the squeak I'd made. To my own ear, I'd sounded like a girl.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"No," I answered, trying to sound more masculine and to my mind at least failing miserably. My damned cock was still arrow-straight and hard.

He moved to sit on the edge of his bed, held the position barely a moment and then stood up and walked over to the bunk I was lying in. He put his hand on the edge of the bed. Now that he was closer, I could almost make out his features in the pale light and I could see he was tall and lean. His scent was in my nose and against my will, I inhaled deeply and appreciatively. My cock was straining to escape my briefs and at this range I knew he had to be able to see the tent it was making on the surface of the white sheet.

"Are you horny?" he asked directly, absurdly.

I should have been indignant, furious, offended. Instead, a desperate "yes" leapt from my throat and from whatever box I had kept it locked inside far deeper within myself. Its escape afforded an almost instantaneous and profound release of pressure and my whole body relaxed a moment with a strange relief. I resigned myself to whatever was about to happen. I was totally aroused.

He was still a moment then he ran a hand under the sheet to touch my bare flesh at the hip. I sighed with my desperate desire and with the sensory overload of his much-anticipated touch. It was like a strange and welcome dream and my body went limp and soft as his hand found the one part of me that was hard, deftly freeing it from its binding briefs.

He began slowly to stroke it, much as he had stroked his own cock and stoked my lust just a few minutes before. I grunted and groaned with each stroke of his hand, my whole body writhing in pleasure, my mind twisting at the idea that it was a man's hand that inspired that writhing, my soul undulating in the glory of a forbidden passion. He was merciless as he continued his work and my body responded fully and quickly. I was completely rapt with this perverse joy and when he whispered to me that he would satisfy my desire if I would satisfy his, I knew that he migh want more from me than I knew how to give and I agreed anyway.

Pleased with my answer, he peeled back the sheet from my body with his other hand and began to kiss and lick my chest and belly while his hand never stopped, gaining momentum as he brought me closer and closer to satisfaction.

It was not long before I knew I was going to come. I could feel the pressure of my boiling semen building toward release. No doubt familiar with the change of a man's breathing before he comes, he shifted his position to stand up straight and out of the line of fire. He continued to work on my cock but now he was gently caressing and kneading my balls too.

It was too much sensation. I arched upward involuntarily, my arms flailing out, my hands gripping the edge of the mattress, desperately holding on to keep myself from transporting completely into another world. I tried to hold back, even now wanting to prolong this unbelievable feeling, and failed. I came in huge spurts, sending string-like blasts of sperm across my belly, my chest, beads of cum even reaching my face and hair. I didn't care in the slightest for anything but the unimaginable pleasure that was centred in my cock but coursed through every inch of my body as the man continued to manipulate my cock.

Finally I collapsed on the bed as he reduced and changed his strokes so as not to overload me further. This incredible orgasm felt better than any pleasure I could ever have endured to have given myself. He gives me the coming down time I need, and I sense even through my quivering, that my lover (as I have already begun to think of this previously unknown male) is very pleased with his work. He crooked his head down to my chest and belly and lapped up the puddles of cum gently, provocatively, licking my body clean, slowly working his tongue down to my cock. This too he licks clean and the sensation is once more so overpowering that I know that I could not have stood it if he spent much time down there with that talented tongue.

When he was finished, his hands slid back up my torso to my shoulders and down to my arms. His grip was strong and he pulled me up and around until I was sitting on the edge of my bunk. He continued to pull until I hopped off the bunk and we stood face to face. My briefs, pulled out of the way for his work before, fell to the floor and I stepped out of them willingly. I don't know what surprised me more then: his sudden long, lingering kiss or the fact that I responded to it so fully. He licked my cum-drops off my chin and cheek and stood back, taking me by the hand and leading me over to his bunk.

I knew now that it was his turn for satisfaction. I felt a surge of panic, yet it receded as my lover stripped off his own shorts and lay on the bed, giving me a view of what I wanted most to see, what I had been anticipating all day. His cock was perhaps a little shorter than mine, though now fully erect. I looked over his whole body now for the first time. His arms and legs, his abdomen, all rippled tightly with muscles, though he was not bulky by any means; my own shoulders were much wider even if I was substantially less fit and softer. His chest was lightly covered in dark hair, a narrow trail of hair connected to his navel and the bushiness around his cock. He was beautiful, which was a way I had never thought of another male before.

He reclined on his bed, his pillow bunched up against the headboard to prop his head up, his arms up around his head so I could see him all the better. His hairy pits were exposed and his manly odour rose to my nostrils. He looked amused at my appreciative inspection of him and of the obvious effect he had on me. I was aroused; I was amazed that I was hard again already.

But it was his turn to be pleased and I could not understand why I so wanted to please him. I did not dwell on it either. I dropped to my knees beside his bed and put my hands on him, letting them roam willy-nilly over arms and legs, into fingers and toes while I began to kiss his chest, even nipping gently at his nipples. Now it was he who was writhing under my ministrations. I ran my tongue over him in little circles, through the hair of his chest and the nearer armpit I could reach, savouring the salty taste and scent of him until I could barely stand it. He was moaning and it was a moment before I realized that one of my hands had reached his groin area, almost as if it had an impatient will of its own. Fingers twirled in his pubes, felt the roundness of his balls and tested the hardness of the cock as my tongue and lips began to pull lower and lower down his body toward my daring hand. I followed the road of hair like a map, from the forest on his chest to the depth of his navel while my hand caressed his cock gently, letting the flat of my palm touch where it would. When my face reached his pubic hair, I was nearly intoxicated by the scent, so different from the smell of the rest of his body, even more compelling. I hungered and ached for him and my hand tightened on his cock and I heard him gasp with pleasure. I began to stroke him now as he had me, only I was nuzzling the base of his cock with my nose and mouth too, smelling and tasting him eagerly. I licked his balls and sucked them gently into my mouth before probing further down, pressing my nose and my tongue under his balls to absorb the effects of his ass crack. The earthy smell, the salty flavour of his sweat, held me licking and breathing I don't know how long while I listened to his moans keeping time to the rhythm of my handiwork.

God, I was so aroused and hungry for him that I could not stand it anymore! There was only one more sensation to be gained from this, I thought to myself, and I intended to experience it to the full and satisfy my strange craving for another man's cock. My hand and mouth traded places. I began to feel his balls once more before working my fingers down to the crack of his ass, gently probing the edges of his cheeks as my mouth introduced itself to its first cock. I licked from the base of it to its tip and was rewarded with the sound of a sharp moan from my lover and the salty taste of his pre-cum. My own cock twitched with arousal. It was so good! I wanted more and I knew how to get it. I enjoyed the same feeling of power my lover had no doubt felt over me as I practised my new skills on him.

This is what I wanted and needed to do. I continued to caress his balls and ass as I sucked him, bobbing my virgin mouth up and down over his beautiful cock, now sliding a spare hand over my own cock as I pleasured my lover. His hands were in my hair now, squeezing clumps of it in time to my movements as I took him in and out of my mouth, winding my tongue around and around his cock as I moved, wringing as much of his flavour from him as I could. He was breathing hard and fast and I knew with complete exhilaration and exultation that my lover was close to coming.

At some point I realized that I was no longer in control after all. He had taken back the pacing of my movements. The bobbing of my head, the twisting of my tongue, the kneading of his balls, even the jerking of my own cock was now directed by the spasmodic clenching of his fingers in my hair. I knew that I served him completely, serving no purpose but to pleasure him completely and though I felt as if I should be ashamed of this submissiveness I didn't care at all. I wanted him to use me this way for his pleasure. I was truly on my knees before him. I could not believe how aroused I was now, even though some part of me feared the moment I was working for as much as I desired it.

I didn't have much more time to anticipate his climax, but just in case there was still any question of whether or not I had completely submitted to a man I had not even formally been introduced to, he removed all doubt. He had repositioned himself somewhat and now his legs were up over my shoulders and I had his ass cheeks cupped in my hands at the very edge of the bunk as I sucked his cock with enthusiasm. I knew he was going to come soon and I was not sure if I would be able to handle it. He may have sensed it, or he maybe he was just being polite or perhaps he just wanted me to know how very much I had become his in just a few minutes time.

"I'm so close," he said between breaths. "I want to come in your mouth... squeeze my ass... if it's okay."

I went over the edge. It was what he wanted and now I wanted it more than he did. I squeezed his ass with both hands and with his hands still clasping my head by the hair, he threw his head back and took control of my mouth thrusts over his cock. I was dizzy with the sensation and excitement as under his complete control I bobbed madly over his cock. I was still squeezing his ass cheeks repeatedly as if in this wordless way I could beg him to fill my virgin cock-hungry cunt-mouth with his man juice, his sperm, his cum. I could hear the change in the rhythm of his breathing and it was only seconds away.

And then he came, with groans and grunts and moans, and I was grunting too as I felt his cock spasm once, twice, three times before I could feel the thick cum filling it. I was not a deep-throater and he was fully in my mouth as he came. I never stopped thrusting, never stopped twisting my tongue around his cock as it savoured the wonderful salt-bitter flavour of his orgasm. His body was twisting and shaking and trembling beneath me as I sucked every drop of his cum from his magnificent cock. It was wonderful. Finally he stopped me with his hands, holding my head in place over his throbbing cock, enjoying the warmth of my mouth but overstimulated by my continuing need.

And my need was considerable. I thought I might come without even touching myself, so great was the urgency once more for release.

He recognized my desperation. He sat up, once more taking hold of me, this time by the shoulders and pushing me gently backward so that I was lying face up on the carpeted dorm room floor. Then he sat back on the edge of the bed and told me to please myself this time. I could not resist his command and began to jerk myself off before my lover. As I did so, he leaned forward and pulled my legs up toward him so that my feet were up on the bunk beside him. He was rubbing my legs and telling me what a good little cocksucker I had turned out to be. Had I liked the taste of his cum, he asked me. Yes, I told him, breathed it to him really since I was deep into the passion of my situation. I had never imagined such excitement before as I masturbated at the command of a man I had never met before today.