Roswell's Frontier Motel

Manuel held my hips steady as I shot off up into his face for a fourth rapid time, at last relieving that almost perpetual dull pain in my testicles, spent and no longer suffering, if at least for a few hours.

"Man, that's what I love about you," Manuel said, with a sly grin, as he licked my dick clean. "You come in buckets. It must be nice to be able to do that."

He turned me over on the bed in his El Paso apartment, straddled me, like a cowboy on his horse, and began stroking his luscious brown cock in and out of my ass.

"And this is what I love," I said between gasps. "But it's not fun, coming like that. I've got a condition—extra heavy cum production. I've got to have constant relief, or my balls drive me crazy with the pain. My girl at night, you most afternoons, and I've still got to go to the doctor every couple of weeks to be milked. In between it's constant pounding my own meat. I can't wait to outgrow this."

"Well, let me see about that," Manuel said, pulling me up on my knees while he continued to fuck into me hard. his hand came around and wrapped itself around my cock and milked me in rhythm with the stroking of his cock. In short order, I was gushing for him again.

"Ah, I see," he said. "You seem to be right."

Later, as we were engaging in postcoital fondling and kissing, he leaned over, opened the drawer to his bed stand, and took out a business card.

"Here," he said. "Try this place. Ask for the north wing."

I turned the card over and over in my hand, focusing on what was printed on it. It was for the Frontier Motel in Roswell, New Mexico, not all that far away from where I was temporarily working, in El Paso. I could get there on a Saturday and still be back at the defense lab by Monday morning.

"What happens there that would help my problem?" I asked.

"You'll have to go and see," Manuel said with a grin. "I've had others with your problem. I guess you could say I naturally sniff them out. And I've heard going to this place helps."

"Roswell, New Mexico," I pondered out loud. "Isn't that where they had those UFO sightings in the late 1940s that everyone talked and wrote so much about?"

"Yep," Manuel said. "The trip is worth it just for the tourism value."

Two weekends later, midafternoon on a Saturday, I checked into the Frontier Motel in Roswell. The guy at the desk, who looked sort of creepy, gave me a sharp look when I asked for the north wing, but he didn't hesitate in fishing out a key and getting me registered. A studly looking black guy, all muscle and white teeth, had checked in right before I did, and when I pulled my car around to the somewhat isolated north wing, I saw that his Jeep Wrangler was parked near the door to the room I was given.

The north wing was sort of strange in appearance. There probably was only one hill of any height in Roswell, but the north wing of the Frontier Motel, a low, rambling series of wings around a swimming pool in the center court that obviously had been built in the fifties or earlier, was built right up against that hill, its back wall almost digging into the hillside.

I hit the swimming pool right after I'd checked out the room. And the black guy, who apparently was on my wavelength had done the same and was just settling on a lounger when I entered the pool area.

He said hi to me in a pleasant enough way, but he had the same pained expression on his face that I got a couple of times a day. I quickly surmised that he had the same semen buildup problem I did, and I assumed that this was the secret of the motel's north wing. It was a place where guys with the same problem could come and engage in near-constant sex, and therefore help each other out. It seemed like not much of an answer to the problem, but it also probably was better than nothing.

He could tell just by my walk and how I was delicately moving—and probably by that familiar expression on my face—that we shared this problem, and it wasn't long before we were back in my room and fucking each other furiously.

He had a beautifully built chocolate body and a big black dick to die for. His balls were rock hard and ready to explode.

But he took care of me first. I was laying back on the bed, my legs dangling off the side, and his mouth was playing my cock like it was a raspberry Popsicle. He had one hand pulling at my nipples and the fingers of the other one, heavily lubricated, were working my ass, preparing me for his own release.

He sucked me hard and relentlessly, and it wasn't long before my hands were bunching up wads of bedspread and my head was thrown back with my mouth open wide and howling at the ceiling as I came and came and came in big spoutings down his soft throat.

He swallowed me off in big gulps and then stood between my spread legs, gave me a grin and a chuckle, and just lifted my hips off the bed and pulled my ass onto his engorged cock. My torso was balanced on my shoulders and rising to meet his beefy midsection. I managed to get my legs up and running up his torso on either side of his head and held close to him by his ropy-muscled arms. He was pounding in me hard and deep, jabbering up a storm of appreciation at the tight ass I was entertaining him with and rocking my shoulders back and forth on the bed. I was talking back at him because I was equally impressed with the size and talent of his piece.

He came in floodings of cum that confirmed that he had the same problem that I did and then pushed my body completely up on the bed, turned me on my stomach, and covered me with his body close. We explored each other where our hands could reach for a bit, but within fifteen minutes, I could feel both of us getting hard again, and my balls were telling me that I, at least, had another big load to give.

The black stud thrust his cock into my ass and pumped himself to another quick ejaculation and I gave the load I had to give to the bedspread my cock was being rubbed against in the rhythm of the black buck's fucking.

He came up off me then and we set a time to meet shortly after dinner to get our rocks off again—which is obviously what we both were there to do—and then he left me and I went into the shower.

I could have sworn as I was taking a piss before turning on the shower that I could hear soft, rather eerie music and the sounds of gentle moans coming from beyond the shower stall wall. This didn't really cut through my mellow feeling from the great fuck I'd gotten from the black stud at first. This was a motel, and the walls were bound to be thin, and there very well could just be a couple in the next room making whoopee to the radio. But the shower was against the back wall, and that's where the sounds seemed to be coming from—and the back wall was against the hillside. There couldn't be another bank of rooms on that side of this wing.

Mellow I was, though, so I didn't give it much thought as I turned on the shower. And once the shower was on, I couldn't hear the noise at all.

I was soaped up real well and was rinsing off when the strangest things began happening. The water was getting thick and oily. It wasn't unpleasant, that oily feeling, cascading down my naked body and my tensing muscles and my still half-hard piece and my once-again heavy and hard—and beginning to pain me—balls. But it wasn't water, that was for sure. And there was a sensation of motion. My first thought was that we were having an earthquake. We were having an earthquake in the wilds of New Mexico, and here I was buck naked and oily in a shower stall.

But it was the shower stall that was moving. Just the shower stall. Nothing else in the bathroom was moving. The shower stall was turning. And as it turned, an opening was revealed in the back wall.

I tensed and started screaming at what I saw beyond the opening. A large, dimly lit cavern. Moist walls, dripping water, a sense of a pulsating, dim light of changing colors, and soft music. But it was what was moving slowly around in the cavern that made me scream. Spider-like things. Living, moving spider-like things. Big ones. Each twice as tall as a man and four times as bulky. And, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see that there were men suspended under some of them, young, muscular naked men, loosely held close to the bellies of the spider-like creatures with strands of webbings. That was the moaning I had heard. The men were moaning.

I shrank back into the shower stall and turned to escape. But there was no escape. When the stall had turned, the back wall had cut off access to the bathroom—to the world that made sense and wasn't terrifying. The only opening now was into the cavern. Still, I shrank back as far as I could against the wall. But I was oily now and slid down into a fetal position on the floor of the stall.

Tentacle like things—a giant spider-like being's appendages—were coming into the stall and wrapping themselves around me. I screamed again as they drew me out and brought me under the belly of one of the beings, turning me so I was stretched out and my chest was turned toward what must be the chest of the being. I looked down, between my legs, as the appendages pulled my legs up to its sides and tucked my feet and calves into some sort of pocket sack on either of its side, holding them there close and opening my legs wide, letting me feel that there was something beating away inside that spider-like thorax, a heart of some sort. When I looked down, I saw that there was a long, thick thing looking very much like an elephant-hung cock hanging between the being's last set of appendages. The cock-like thing was all nubbly and it had a mushroom cap with a whip-like device hanging out of its head. Looking up, I saw another cock-like proboscis hanging out of the being's round little head—and from its belly at the level of my navel was a smaller cock-like proboscis and at chest level two smaller appendages with small suction cup-like hands on them.

Spent from screaming and completely terrorized, I was moaning now. But it wasn't moaning like the other imprisoned men around me were doing. Their moaning was that of passion and satisfied lust.

Why were my feeling different? Why weren't they as terrified as I was?

The spider-like being was lowering his head at me. All I could focus on, though, was that black cock-like thing swinging down from where its nose should be. the tip of it was at my lips, and I compressed them, trying to keep the invader out. But it was forcing my lips open and entering me. It was swabbing the inside of my cheeks with its mushroom cap and secreting a not-unpleasant oily substance into my mouth. A substance that had a calming influence on me as it trickled down my throat. The probe was also moving around in my mouth, caressing my inner cheeks and making small rhythmic movements toward the back of my throat.

I was being face fucked by the spider's head proboscis, but increasingly I didn't care. The soft, eerie music was building and flowing into my senses, and the moaning from those other men around me—moaning punctuated occasionally with a cry of overflowing passion—was becoming more prominent and was beckoning to me.

The two suction cup-like hands were sucking on my nipples now, and I felt the bulbous mushroom cap of the spider's other cock, the long, thick, dangling one, caressing the rim of my oiled asshole.

I lurched and tried to turn from it as it slowly rotated and screwed into me, reaching a depth that no human man had explored. But the spider had a firm hold on me with its various appendages, webbing, and the sheathing of my feet and calves at its sides. Suction cup-crowned appendages I hadn't seen before applied themselves to my balls and worked them, teasing testicles into semen production that needed no teasing. Something inside the spider enveloped my toes and began sucking them sensuously. The muscles of my feet and calves were being massaged. Appendages were massaging my butt cheeks and spreading them wider, as the spider's cock probe dug deeper up my ass channel and thickened. The cock probe's nobby sides were undulating along my tender passage walls and stroking my prostate and that whip-like device on the head giving tingles of sensations on walls not yet being discovered, stretched, and massaged.

My cock was going to full attention and I managed to cast my gaze down the length of my torso just well enough to see the spider's probe at my navel level whirring and emitting a thinnish hollow tube about a third of an inch. The probe moved around until it felt the cap of my erect and throbbing cock. Then as I watched in what should have been horror, but, thanks to the calming mouth swabbing, was more curiosity, leathery prongs sprang out from the side of the probe and attached themselves to the cap of my cock, holding it in place as more of the tube glided out of the spider's probe and into my piss slit. It widened as it ran into me and I moaned to this entirely new kind of fucking.

I held very still now, know how sensitive this invasion was, as the tube ran down a good distance into my urethra.

I could see as I looked closer that there was a line running out of the base of this probe and up toward the ceiling of the cavern, where there was a transparent container of some sort, into which whitish fluid was running in spurts from other lines running up from the bellies of the other spiders that were slowly sliding around the room.

This also was when I saw the black stud. He was under the belly of the nearest spider to me. And he was as attached as I was. And he was moaning for the spider in a way he hadn't moaned for me.

We were all being milked. It was all being collected in that container up there. For what purpose I could only surmise.

But I wasn't much interested in surmising just now. The probes invading my body were working in unison. They were gently moving in and out of me, coming close to the entrance of their assigned orifice and then invading a bit deeper with each reentry. I was being fucked three ways at once and having my nipples and testicles worked to boot. And it was like no other sensation I'd ever had before. The being had left my hands free, and I wrapped them around my cock and gently pumped myself in counter movement to the stroking of the tube running inside my tool, helping to bring myself to an orgasm like I'd never known.

I, of course, came almost immediately—and prodigiously and with a great cry of release—and I watched a stream of whitish fluid run up through the tubing coming out of my piss slit and on up the lines toward the container above.

The spider gave a little sigh, and its heart beat a bit faster as I ejaculated, and I could almost imagine that the fuck was as good for it as it had been for me. The soft music and the moaning around me increased its volume in my brain as the various appendages on the spider caressed my body, encouraging me to reload. And reload I did, and soon the sensuous moaning I heard was my own, and I was making another flooding deposit in the large jar at the ceiling.

A third time, a sixth time, a tenth time. I had never felt as pleasantly spent and thankfully drained before. More coaxing and a twelfth time. The spider was trembling with pleasure. I was a star producer.

And then I woke . . . naked . . . under the running water of the shower stall in the north wing room of the Frontier Motel in Roswell, New Mexico. It was daylight.

I didn't for a second think that this had been a dream. I felt great. My balls didn't ache. There was no semen buildup. At daylight there always had been semen buildup and jacking off had always been my first chore of the day.

I dried and dressed and went to the motel's reception desk.

"Was there something wrong with your room?" the creepy desk clerk asked. And he looked liked he was prepared for some weird song and dance.

"Not at all," I answered. "In fact, if the room's available, I want to book it for tonight too."

That afternoon, I saw the big black stud at the pool again. And although we were pleasant to each other and exchanged knowing smiles, there was no offer of a relief fuck from either of us today. We were both saving ourselves for that night.