The blinking neon signs drew me near, like a Siren in Greek mythology. She called to me in a loud flash. CASINO, RACEBOOK, 99% SLOTS, BUFFET.
I ignored the sign that said Valet and drove slowly into Free Self Parking, looking for just the right spot. I passed a number of close spaces until I found what I was looking for: a crowded area near the rear entrance, a spot I could back into, a run with minimal turns to the exit without a traffic light, right turn only. There was nothing in the car to identify me save my fingerprints; those I didn't worry about, since the car was titled in my name anyway.
I examined myself in the mirror. Dyed hair, tinted contact lenses, a different mustache for every gig, I wouldn't have recognized myself, except for the perpetually innocent face I presented to the world.
The car was filthy, deliberately. Checking to be sure that I was alone, I took a handful of mud from the bucket beside me and smeared the license plate, slapping my hands clean of the loose dirt. I would wash them first thing once I got inside. I locked the car; no one would possibly steal it, but I don't gamble about such things.
I washed my hands, then made sure I remembered how to get from each bank of elevators to the rear door without having to stop and read signs. The place was crowded, as planned, and I absorbed the sights, the sounds, the smell as I ambled toward the Card Room. Every table was filled, also as hoped for. My eyes were at the podium before my body got there, trying to read which list had the most uncrossed-out names on it.
"How long for Seven Card High-Low?"
"About a half hour." Perfect!
"That long? All right, I'm Lou."
"I'll call your name when a seat is open, Lou."
Now I just needed to find a horny guy with a fat wallet. I've been doing this for a long time; I can usually find the right guy on my first try, usually meaning at least half the time. This one was easy. He was wearing a blue blazer, white shirt and tie; obviously he was attending the convention. His watch was a Rolex, the ring on his right hand had diamonds. His left hand was bare. All that was left was to make sure that his libido qualified.
He looked up at me as I approached the empty chair next to him. We nodded and I sat down without speaking. After a few seconds, I said, "Hi, I'm Lou." Might as well stick with the same name.
"Pleased to meet you. You here for the convention?"
"Yeah. Its boring as hell, but my boss is paying."
"Where's your wife?"
He held out his bare hand. "Haven't seen her in a year; don't care if I never see her again."
"Getting any since you've been here?"
I sighed and sat back. Let him think his own thoughts for a minute or two.
Finally, I whispered, "Wow!"
He looked at me. "What is it?"
"Look at the rack on that redhead at table three."
"Ooh yeah, that's nice stuff."
Here goes nothing, Frank, oops, I mean 'Lou'. Frank was my name yesterday. "Something like that would almost make me want to go straight."
Sam's head spun toward me. I looked at him sheepishly. "Hey, when there's no girl available, what's a guy to do? Pay for it?"
He stared at me, saying nothing.
"Do you have any scotch in your room, Sam?"
"In the service bar, I guess."
I stood up. "What are we waiting for?"
Sam stood up slowly, hesitatingly. I took his elbow and led him for two steps toward the elevator before releasing it; no sense in putting on a show.
He looked toward the podium. "Shouldn't we tell them to cross our names off the waiting list?"
I whispered, "Let's not draw attention to ourselves, Sam." This guy was definitely sailing into uncharted territory, and his mind was spinning. As we waited for the elevator, I glanced down at his three piece set, now showing a bump in his slacks. I thought that maybe I wouldn't mind sucking that cock after all.
In the elevator, he was quiet, pensive. At his floor, he led the way to his room, my eyes picking out the exit doors and stairwells. He took out his key card and opened the door, leading me inside the room. It was a typical hotel room, bath near the door, bed in the middle, with a bench at the foot of the bed. I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside handle and closed the door, ignoring the chain.
Sam hung up his jacket in the closet, then turned to me. "I don't know..."
"Relax, Sam. Lie down on the bed and let me do all the work."
As he did so, right on top of the covers, I glanced around. The tables and furniture tops were clear. That meant that any valuables were in his pants, his jacket pockets or the dresser drawers, and I would have no time to go through the drawers. Sitting at the foot of the bed, I took off his right shoe, then his left, and sat them both on the cover as I removed his socks and stuck them into the shoes. Then I set the shoes on the floor and quietly shoved them as far as possible under the bed.
I moved up alongside him and began to remove his tie. Hmm, Hermes, top quality. I folded it carefully, giving it the treatment it deserved. I thought about turning on the radio for some music, to make him more relaxed, but I didn't know what he liked and I didn't want to break the mood he was already in, so I passed.
"Nice tie, Sam. Why don't you take off your glasses?" He grunted, put them on the night table, along with the watch-what a stupid fuck. I laid the tie gently next to them, but knocked his glasses off behind the table. "Oops, sorry. I'll get those later."
No way they could get fingerprints off of clothing, even if they bothered to try. I began to unbutton his shirt and he raised his back off the bed to allow me to get it off him; he had no undershirt on. I folded that also, running my hands over it to be sure that there was nothing but lint in the shirt pocket. The shirt went onto the bench by the foot of the bed.
I glanced down; his cock was pressing against his zipper, tenting his slacks. I opened his belt slowly; just as slowly, I began to pull down the zipper. When his cock popped out, I could see that he wore no under-shorts.
"Aha. You knew you were going to get lucky today, didn't you, Sam?"
"I didn't know it was going to be with a guy, Lou."
"That makes you double lucky, Sam."
He smiled, weakly. I glanced down to see a healthy looking cock, maybe seven inches, cut, firm and ready, veins pulsing with anticipation. I was glad that only my mouth would have to handle it; I sure didn't want it poking me up the ass. I reached to undo the one remaining barrier, the button at his waist.
"Lift up your ass, Sam. Let me get these pants off without ruining them." He did so, and I slid them off, leaving Sam as naked as the day he came out of his mother's cunt. Standing, I carefully folded his slacks, feeling the wallet in there as I put them alongside his shirt.
At this point, it was clear sailing ahead. I could grab the watch, slacks and jacket and be gone before he knew what hit him, except that he would be pissed as hell and would definitely call the cops. But if I cleaned out his pipes for him first, he would take longer to realize what I had done and also he would have been embarrassed, less likely to call the police and have to tell them that he had just gotten a blow job from some guy. And he wouldn't have been able to hide it, because cops are not dumb. He could say it was some broad, but they would know he was lying, at least as soon as they checked at the Card Room.
But most important, I hadn't had a good mouthful of cum in a few days, and I missed that taste. Pussy juice is fine, but nice creamy cum swirling around in my mouth before I swallow is a special treat.
I approached him from the side, kneeling on the bed by his waist. I pushed him away from me so that I could bend and take his meat into my mouth without breaking my back. With one hand holding his cock, I bent to kiss the purple crown, meanwhile kneading or feathering his nipples. My first touch had caused him to inhale and hold his breath; when I rose from the first kiss, he exhaled and closed his eyes. My left hand stayed on his chest, rubbing, while my right hand played with his nuts; my mouth sucked, unassisted. Sam's right hand held the back of my head, more to hold it in place than to push it farther onto his cock.
Unlike a seduction, or a date with my regular guy-I had a regular lady that I lived with and fucked often, and a regular guy that I got it on with once in a while-unlike my usual slow pace, when I'm blowing a victim, I move my head as fast as possible. I want his fuck sauce, not just for my own pleasure but to delay any call to the police, so speed is a plus. That, together with fondling his balls, can usually get a guy off quickly.
Sam's breath quickened to a panting; he was close and I knew it. I let him feel just a touch of my teeth on his crown and at the same time gave him another squeeze of his balls. He grunted and began to spurt his sperm into my mouth, again and again and again. Shit, Sam, how long has it been for you? Don't you know how to jerk off? Sure, that's all I had to do was to ask those questions out loud; he'd sit bolt upright and I'd never get a dime. Instead, I moaned, as though I loved sucking cock and swallowing; easy, because it's true.
.... There is more of this story ...