A two-week work trip alone in a hotel had yielded no luck on Tinder, just endless swiping with no real matches. Bored and restless, I dabbled on Grindr, open to a new experience. I wasn’t looking for love or anything serious – just someone discreet, hygienic, and willing. Even a good blowjob from anyone would do.
That’s when I met him. Another visitor in the same city. We started chatting for about three days, the conversations slowly heating up. Eventually, we exchanged pictures. First just normal ones, then more intimate. The sight of his thick, well-shaped cock made my pulse race. It felt like uncharted territory, but I was eager.
We made plans – just an oral session. That was all. No pressure, no complications. But I wanted to take things up a notch, so I surprised him. I switched my hotel to his. A bold move, but I was feeling adventurous. I sent him a picture of his hotel from outside – he didn’t believe me. So, I sent another from my room. He recognized the interior immediately.
He was out running errands, but I gave him my room number and waited. I took a long, hot shower, my body buzzing with anticipation. Evening crept in. He texted – he was coming back. I turned off the lights and slipped naked under the sheets. My heart pounded.
I had never touched a man before. My past was all heterosexual relationships. Yet, here I was, about to cross a threshold I never imagined.
The door opened. My breath hitched. He stepped inside, his silhouette against the dim hotel hallway light.
“Hey,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.
“Hey.”
There was no hesitation. He pulled down his sweatpants, revealing his already-hard cock.
Then off came his t-shirt, and he climbed into bed. His eyes flickered in surprise when he found me already naked. A smirk formed on his lips before he leaned in, his hands exploring my body, his mouth hot and eager against my skin. He was passionate – so much nibbling, caressing, and licking that I felt myself melting into the sheets.
He was bigger than me, his cock thick with a broad middle. The moment I wrapped my fingers around it, a shiver ran through me. Touching another hard cock – one that wasn’t mine – was something else. Different. Thrilling.
I went down on him first, taking in as much as I could before gagging. He moaned, and I kept going, his pleasure fueling my own.
Then he suggested a 69. We shifted, mouths working simultaneously, lost in the moment.
He came first, the warmth flooding my throat, triggering my own climax as he swallowed me down. But we weren’t done.
The second session was in the shower, steam swirling around us as I dropped to my knees, his length sliding past my lips. He groaned; his fingers tangled in my wet hair. And soon, he came all over my face and neck.
The third session was back in bed. I lay on my back as he devoured me, his mouth working me over with such hunger that I came in his mouth, shuddering beneath him.
Afterward, he left. I had dinner and watched some TV. But my body still hummed from the experience.
Then, around 11 p.m., I got horny again.
I texted him.
“You up?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to do it again.”
He agreed without hesitation. This time, I went to his room; no underwear, just my pajamas and a t-shirt. It was quick, intense, desperate. I didn’t stay the night – he had an early flight. I slipped back to my room past midnight, exhaustion settling in.
As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but smirk.
I couldn’t sleep properly that night. My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn’t rest. I kept replaying everything that had happened – the way he touched me, the way he tasted, the way he filled me.
I wanted to say goodbye before he left, but I also wanted more.
Still turned on, I started watching more porn, letting the images push me back into that space, making me hard again. But no matter what played on the screen, nothing compared to what I had actually done. The memories were more intense than anything I could watch. My body craved the real thing, not just the fantasy.
I never thought I’d be the type to take another man’s cum in my mouth, but now that I had, I wanted to do it again. I wanted to feel the heat of him, taste him, swallow him.
The hours passed too quickly. Morning crept in, and he would be leaving soon – just two hours until his flight. He had mentioned it in passing last night, between deep kisses and slow touches.
I sent him a message. “Good morning.”
No reply at first. I considered going back to sleep, but then my phone buzzed.
“Good morning,” he wrote back. “Last evening was amazing. And that late-night session…”
I smirked at my screen. He was still thinking about it too.
I teased him, hinting at what a proper goodbye would be.
“You know what I mean,” I typed.
He knew.
“I don’t think I was your first cock to suck,” he replied.
I let his words sink in, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Something about him was different. Maybe it was the anonymity. Maybe it was the way he took control but still let me savor every moment.
“Come to my room before you leave,” I typed.
A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at my door.
I opened it, and there he was – hair slightly messy, wearing the same casual confidence that had drawn me to him in the first place.
He stepped inside without a word, shutting the door behind him.
We didn’t waste time. I pressed my lips to his, deep and hungry. His taste was warm, familiar now. My hands worked to free him – he was already hard, and he had been waiting for this too.
I dropped to my knees, taking him into my mouth, slow and deep. He let out a quiet moan, his hand threading into my hair. The weight of him on my tongue, the way he twitched as I worked him – it was intoxicating. I wanted every drop.
He held back as long as he could, but when I looked up at him, eyes full of need, he gave in. His release hit my tongue, hot and thick, and I swallowed him down, savoring every second.
He exhaled sharply, running his fingers through my hair.
“That was a hell of a goodbye,” he murmured.
I smirked, licking my lips. “Breakfast.”
He laughed, tucking himself back in, adjusting his clothes.
Nothing had happened, but we both knew it had.
No names, no numbers, no lingering ties – just like we promised each other, since I was scared. Just the taste of each other’s cum and the memory of a morning neither of us would forget.
And then he was gone.