I had never done anything like this before; it was risky hooking up with someone you met on an app. You hear about it all the time.
He could leave me bloody and bruised on the side of the road after taking all my money; hell it could be a group of backward thinking Neanderthals wanting to kill me. Or worse yet, he could destroy my life in another way; I was still deeply, deeply closeted. No one knew I was attracted to men.
I had spent the better part of my 29 year old life casually dating women and "working on my career." And sure I loved the taste of a cunt and to a lesser extent the feeling of fucking one, but it's never felt completely right before. My entire sex life has been like going to eat Chinese food when you're desperately craving Italian; sure it'll fill you up but your never going to be truly satisfied.
At 26, when my father passed, I started to finally accept some hard truths about myself, and after three years of self exploration and lots of money spent on therapy, I could finally say it out loud, to myself, "I'm attracted to men." It took a lot of courage to get those words out of my mouth, and it took even more to download the gay apps and start trying to put myself out there.
I made sure I didn't lie on my profiles, despite the fact that I think everyone else may have been: 29 years old, 6'3" tall, muscular frame(thanks to all the repressed sexual urges fueling my workouts), but the other categories I didn't quite know how to fill out. What's a tribe? Was I a bear, an otter? Sure I had hair, the same sandy blonde color that grew on top of my head, but what's the difference between the two? Did I like leather? And when I thought about it, I could see myself really enjoy topping but maybe I was a bottom? And why did everything in the gay community need a label?
At first I didn't post any pictures on the profile but that seemed to be a taboo, so despite my discomfort in the matter, I added an up to date photo. I didn't think I was much to look at, but the men on my apps thought otherwise. Maybe I'm just used to my features. I don't know, but one man described me as a young Paul Newman, which in my mind was an amazing compliment; he's always been my biggest old Hollywood heartthrob.
Yet despite all the work I put into making my profiles the best they could be, whenever my conversations with guys turned toward meeting up, I would chicken out. I knew I wanted to be with a man, but there's a big difference between fantasy and reality. Reality has dangers, people with bad intentions, and lots of hate. I just couldn't get passed it.
That is until HE messaged me back. He was visiting my city of Orlando, Florida for the week, and he was staying at a hotel about twenty minutes away from my home. He wasn't looking for anything serious and neither was I; plus he was absolutely gorgeous: 27, 5'6", wavy brown hair, emerald colored eyes, and that smile! Ugh! That smile! It was a devilish and devious looking smile; you could tell he had no good intentions behind that grin. It was unbelievably sexy, and he actually responded to me! A guy who could get anyone he wanted actually responded to me. It didn't even take him a full five minutes to message me back, and we had an ideal conversation. He seemed very genuine, kind, and exceptionally horny, which was perfect because just looking at his face pics gave me a stiffy! Eventually we ended up exchanging nudes. His body was fine and all; he wasn't super well defined but definitely not chubby, not that there's anything wrong with that; that smile alone was turn on enough for me, which made that perfectly round bubble butt of his the cherry on the cake. So when he invited me to his hotel room, instead of blocking him, I said yes.
After showering and trying to get a parking spot, I found myself staring at his hotel room door. I had to knock, right? I'd regret it if I didn't, so I held up my arm, made a fist and wrapped on the wood. I heard some shuffling behind the door and saw the handle start moving. Oh god! This was it; it was happening! There's no turning back now.
My nerves were palpable. I'm not sure I had ever truly felt this way before. I thought my heart was going to explode at any minute, and my stomach, I swear it had ripped it self out of my own body. And worse yet, my dick was rock hard and solid, pressing unrelentingly against the fabric of my jeans.
As the door began to open, I could feel my knees and hands begin trembling! Fuck fuck fuck! I was scared shitless. All I wanted to do was run away, far away, but it was way too late for that; because, the door was fully ajar and I was face to face with him and that devil smile!
There was a period of silence where I think I was staring at him with my mouth agape. Luckily he spoke first, "Hi! You must be Christopher! It's so good to meet you." He moved forward and gave me a tight hug where I felt his own erection pressing into mine, which caused some precum to rush out of me, soaking my black Calvin trunks; I dare not look down for fear it was seeping through and becoming visible on my pants.
I cleared my throat and tried not to think about how a few layers of fabric was all that was between my dick and his, "Yes! Hi! It's a pleasure to meet you as well Johnathon." I initiated the separation as I spoke, for fear that hug might release more precum.
"Well, come in! Come in!" Johnathon stepped away from the door and motioned me inside. I reluctantly obliged; he may have been turned on but that doesn't mean he still didn't want to mug or kill me.
I stared at him as he placed the "do not disturb" sign on the handle and carefully shut the door. It was almost 2 in the morning after all; I suppose he didn't want to risk the noise waking his neighbors.
I was finally able to take him all in, and the pictures he had sent me didn't do him justice. He was above and beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and that ass of his was just as perfect! That was evident even through those blue shorts he was wearing.
We shared another period of silence as we just stood there, waiting for the other one to make a move. After what felt like an eternity of awkwardness I thought, "Well fuck it!" And I pulled him into me and placed my lips on his.
I was kissing him like I kissed all the women I had ever been with; my lips were soft and tender. I didn't force any tongue action. It was a very controlled, almost mechanical process I had developed to just get me through an uncomfortable situation. But this didn't feel uncomfortable; this felt freeing, and natural, and so fucking hot! My control quickly vanished, and I felt myself becoming more and more ravenous. I wanted his plump eager lips on mine! God I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted before! Why? Why had I denied myself this feeling for so long?
My kiss deepened and my tongue began exploring, as did my hands; I had slipped them under his shirt and was running my fingers all along his chest and back. His skin warm, almost felt like he was on fire, and god his body was so much firmer than a woman's.
And what was even better was that he was mirroring my actions; his hands had begun exploring my body. His fingers would comb through my chest hair, and when his fingers grazed my nipples, I felt a rush of excitement overwhelm my body. Then his hands started moving south, running down my abs until he found my treasure trail, the thick tuft that merged with my pubic hair. His stopped there and began to play with it; his fingers were twisting in and out and twirling through the hair. And occasionally they would slip below my belt line and inch closer and closer to my rigid as hell member. It felt like a wave of electricity washed over me with each touch.
My cock was responding as well with every one of those below belt teases. It would lurch and jump, and release a squirt of precum every now and again. God I was aching to get out of my cock out of these tight jeans.
I was done with this exploratory shit; I need more. Much much more. I pulled his shirt off and he did the same to me, our lips separating only for the second it took for the clothing to go over our heads. I didn't want it to ever stop; I wanted our lips to be forever locked in this passionate kiss.
I kicked my shoes off my feet, each of them landing somewhere different; fuck, why didn't I have the fore thought to not wear socks. There's almost nothing less sexy than stopping a make-out to dumbly fumble with your socks, but that's what I did. I felt like an idiot, hopping around trying to balance my weight while pulling them off my feet.
While I was removing them though, Johnathon had slipped out of his shorts, and as it turned out, he hadn't been wearing any underwear. I was able to fully absorb the sight. He was standing there completely naked, watching me. His body was smooth and his skin fair. He wasn't completely hairless though; he had small patches of hair under his arms and around his rather surprisingly thick cock. It was probably of average length, maybe a tad longer, but it was for sure thicker than the average dick. Although I had very little experience with any dick other than porn, but something told me those guys were usually on the bigger end of the scale. I guess I also had plenty of experience with my own dick; I had measured it a few times in my life: 7 inches cut, maybe a bit thicker than most but Johnathon had me beat in the thickness department. Damn was he sexy though, and I don't know why but the thought of him having not been wearing underwear while we were making out filled me with lust.
