Gary Checks Out a Super Eight

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Even though he was nearly five years my junior, Ken was still my boss. That’s why I didn’t object when the motel he selected for the two of us to spend the night on our sales trip to Indianapolis wasn’t exactly what the truckers call a “flop box” but hardly five star accommodations either.

It was a Super Eight in Plainfield, Indiana. After the sales conference let out at about five-thirty, we were both too beat to think about a restaurant. Ken suggested why don’t we change into our bathing trunks and soak in the indoor pool, so we headed back to the motel.

In the room I remembered I hadn’t asked my wife Janet to pack my trunks so Ken offered me the use of one of his; turns out he had an extra. I remember asking him if he planned all this from the start. He gave me a funny look that made me wonder what he was thinking.

“Your wife takes better care of you than mine does of me,” I joked, trying to ease the tension.

His only reply was, “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He thereupon stripped down to nothing, oblivious of my presence. He had an impressively long cock and a set of low-hangers that belonged on an animal.

Ken was one of those guys who’s not shy about exposing his body in the presence of other men. Not being one of those guys myself, when we were changing up in the room I asked, “Mind turning your back, Ken? I have this thing about, you know.”

“No, actually I don’t know, Gary. After all, we’re two happily married men sharing accommodations on a business trip. Right?”

Since he wouldn’t turn his back, I stripped down to my briefs, then lowered my eyes and peeled those down, exposing my cock. It was average-sized but not the porn king dimensions of Ken’s. Nevertheless, he gave a low whistle.

“What’s that all about?” I asked, finally mustering the courage to look him in the eye with my cock hanging out for his approbation.

“Janet’s a lucky woman. That’s all I meant. What did you think I meant, Gar?”

“Brenda’s an even luckier woman, then,” I offered, uncomfortable about complimenting another man on his endowment when we were alone together naked.

“Is she?” was all Ken said. “Is she?”

We had stocked the in-room fridge with Michelob bottles the night we checked in. Ken opened two for us and we headed down to the pool area. The hot tub was not in use, so we eased into it sitting next to each other. Ken rose up at first, claiming the water was too hot, then gaziantep swinger sat even closer. We sipped our brews and relaxed, neither of us saying anything except sighs of pleasure and relaxation, until an officious desk clerk barged in and informed us there was no alcohol allowed in the public areas of the motel, and no glass bottles in the pool enclosure. I started to object, but Ken touched my elbow and shook his head.

Dripping wet and shivering on the elevator back up to the room, we both seemed to happen on the same idea. Ken articulated that idea for both of us when he said, “How about let’s check out the cable porn in this joint, maybe order in later?”

“Why do I think you’re not talking about pizza?”

“Nah,” Ken said, “hookers are a turn-off for me. I prefer sex with a partner I know, one who does it with tender loving care.”

“Like Brenda for instance.”

“Yeah, if you say so, Gar. Like Brenda.”

The room felt stuffy after the freezing air conditioning of the elevator. Neither of us changed out of his trunks. I flopped down on one of the twin beds while Ken took a bedside chair facing the TV. He read aloud from the card he had retrieved from on top of the TV advertising adult movies, clowning over the suggestive titles.

“Daisy Does Dubuque,” he read. “The Crack of Dawn. Oh, check this out: Measure for Pleasure.”

“You decide. They all sound good to me.”

“Measure for Pleasure it is.” Ken dialed up the front desk and authorized the use of his business credit card. “Twenty bucks!” he marveled. “Must be good for that price. Oh, well, at least it’s deductible.”

We each got another beer; I propped myself up on pillows and took a swig. The movie started. Within a couple of minutes it would have been obvious to a blind man that Measure for Pleasure was a hardcore gay flick. Two men, both hugely hung, measure each other’s cocks and then, not trusting the tape measure, line them up port to port for comparison. One thing leads to another and they begin handling each others’ merchandise.

“How do you like it so far?” Ken asked me playfully.

Truth be told, it all kind of turned me on in a forbidden fruit kind of way. I had never seriously considered whether under the right circumstances I might like to try a bisexual encounter. My pulse quickened, breathing grew shallow when I realized I might be doing that very thing before too long.

“Have you ever tried what they’re doing?” Ken asked. “Line up another man’s cock next to yours for measuring?”

“I already told you, I’d lose that contest with you, hands down.”

“Seriously, Gar, studies have shown that the size range of flaccid penises narrows down to almost zip when those cocks are hard.” He paused the video and said, “Care to test that theory with me? I know I’m game if you are. The wives will never know.”

“How shall we get each other hard for the experiment?” I asked.

He dropped his trunks and stood at the foot of the bed, legs apart and fists on hips. His cock was truly awesome. I set down my beer after taking another swig for courage, flopped forward and crawled on my elbows until my face was inches away from the tip of his penis.

“I’ll do you first if you like,” Ken said.

“No, if I don’t do this now I never will,” I heard myself say to him. I was practically gasping for breath I was so excited. Reaching for those low-hangers that had so fascinated me, I gently cradled them in my hands. The heft of Ken’s balls was impressive. I tickled the guard hairs at the bottom of his scrotum and he moaned with pleasure.

It was now or never. My eyes were open wide as I drew closer and closer to the tip of Ken’s cock. I could hear his heavy breathing in counterpoint to my own. “Here’s where you make a cocksucker out of me,” I sighed, tilted my head and took him in my mouth.

“Cock SUCKER. Cock SUCKER,” he whispered, knowing intuitively that I wanted him to call me that name over and over again, in rhythm to my slow pulls on his hardening penis. My lips made an audible pop each time I released the tip before opening wide and swallowing the whole thing again. In moments he was rock-hard and ready.

“Where do you want my cum?” Ken groaned, his voice wild with passion.

“Surprise me. Let’s live and love dangerously.”

I felt his ass cheeks tense and release in my hands where I had been caressing them. That same moment I tasted a warm river of slickery substance fill my mouth. I kept sucking as he moaned and pumped and writhed through his climax, my hands clamped securely on his tight buns so he couldn’t break free until I had drained him of semen.

“Wow!” Ken gasped after it was over. “Wow!”

“Glad you enjoyed it. Am I better than Brenda?”

“Well, goodnight,” he joked, pretending to return to his bed.

“Oh, no you don’t,” I laughed.

He climbed into bed beside me, the two of us lying head-to-foot. I could look over at the wall mirror and see him undoing the drawstring of my trunks. I raised my ass an inch off the bed and he slipped them off. Next he planted a tender lingering kiss on the very tip of my penis, followed by a teasing tonguetip lick at the little hole. I shuddered uncontrollably even though the room was warm. Ken pressed a reassuring hand to my abdomen. With the other hand he massaged the shaft of my cock as he tickled and teased the head with his lips and tongue. In no time I was hard as a rock. Suddenly Ken stopped.

“Let’s measure,” he said.

“Are you serious?”

“I’ll prove it to you; you’re every inch as long as I am in your excited state.” We kneeled face-to-face on the bed and touched our cock shafts together. Sure enough, although Ken’s was maybe a silly millimeter longer, our cocks were very comparable in size as well as thickness.

“Now lie down again while I finish you off,” Ken said. I obeyed, watching between my drawn-up knees as his mouth released and then engulfed my cock in a driving rhythm that thrilled me bone-deep. Ken paused for a moment and sloppily licked the middle finger of his left hand, next to the wedding ring he still wore. “Shall I?” he asked before shoving his finger up my asshole and moving it around until he found the seat of my prostate.

I had never experienced such complete loss of control as that night in the room, with another man’s finger up my ass while he sucked my cock. Ken’s finger was a wild thing burrowing into me. The maddening sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was as though Ken had touched something in me that called forth every suppressed orgasm and interrupted climax of my life, bringing them all out at once in an explosive climax. Ken took the first few spurts in his mouth, but after he released my cock I shot cum clear over his shoulder where it landed on his bare ass.

As soon as my culmination was through, Ken said, “Roll over,” and before I knew it he had the end of his prick penetrating my asshole. It hadn’t taken more than a few seconds and seemed so natural and so pleasurable when he shoved the rest of it in, like his finger only intensified beyond reason. Watching my reflection in the mirror being fucked in the ass by Ken I knew I was changing in that instant and that forever after I would be bi.

We never did finish watching Measure for Pleasure. Someday I’ll have to look it up, but I think I already know how it comes out.

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