Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma, BiSexual, First, Exhibitionism, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Like many guys that have been married a while, my sex life had slowed considerably, so I used my business trips to indulge fantasies. By chance one comes true. Insightful and manipulative, Paul zeroes in on my weakness and exploits it rather adeptly.
He was doing bench presses as I spotted him, but the weight was not that significant, and I found my attention focused elsewhere. To be frank, I was absent-mindedly staring at his bulging crotch as he laid spread out on the bench before me. When he strained, his manhood was clearly outlined in the thin gym shorts, and I let me eyes linger a little longer than advisable. When I looked back down, he was staring right at me.
I looked away from his gaze, focusing on the bar as I helped him guide it back in the cradles. Was he watching me the whole time? Did he know what I was staring at? My mouth was dry and I was suddenly eager to leave the room. I had finished my workout and had only stayed behind to be helpful. As Paul sat up on the bench, I gathered up my belongings and headed for the door.
'Hey, you don't have to run off.'
'I have some business I need to take care of.'
'Well, then meet me in the bar later and we'll have a beer.'
Paul and I had met an hour earlier in the work-out room. It was Sunday night and I was in Tampa for a week-long conference. A plane had slid off a runway in Atlanta, screwing up air travel for the entire southeast, so a trip to the hotel gym had seemed the perfect solution to wake me up after a long, difficult day of travel. I was glad to see I had the place to myself, but that only lasted about ten minutes, when Paul came in. Friendly and out-going, he struck up a conversation the minute he walked in, and we hit it off right away. Younger than me by several years, he was tall, blonde and bronze, the atypical Florida boy. As we worked side by side on the ellipticals, we talked about usual range of topics; family, sports, women, money. Paul had an easy, relaxed manner that was very likeable. It was as if I'd known him for years, and the work-out went by quick.
Now as I hurried back to my room, I was embarrassed that I may have been caught staring at his crotch. Yet the image of what I saw was burned into my brain, and the embarrassment was slowly being replaced by a familiar warm glow as I wondered if he was wearing underwear. The outline of his manhood had been so obvious I couldn't seem to quit thinking about. It seemed incredible to me that he would be in a public workout room in thin gym shorts and no underwear, but I was certain that was the case, and the next thing I know I'm rationalizing. What could be wrong with enjoying the memory, it's not as if I did anything wrong? By the time I reached my room, I had made a decision to head down to the bar after a shower and see if Paul was there. After all, we had hit it off well and this trip was destined to be long and unexciting.
An hour or so later I had settled in at the bar with a beer and ordered a sandwich when Paul dropped onto the stool next to me. He was dressed in baggy shorts and a tee shirt, and flashed his dazzling smile as if we were old friends. We talked and drank beer for two hours, and I learned he had made a short trip from Ft. Lauderdale for a similar conference. It turns out we were both meeting in the same conference center, near the airport. I had chosen this hotel to get closer to the beach and away from having to dine nightly with the other conferees. I had enough of their company during the day, and I knew from experience that if I stayed in the recommended hotel, I would have no choice but to socialize. It turned out Paul had done pretty much the same thing.
When I returned to my room, I found that I couldn't get Paul off my mind. The image of his cock straining against his shorts kept flashing through my mind, so well outlined that I could tell he was circumcised, and also that he was large. I stripped off my clothes and lay back on the bed, stroking my own cock and thinking of things I could have done if I were bolder.
In my forty years, I had never touched another guy, but for the past four or five, the fantasy had been strong. My wife had no idea that I entertained such thoughts, but unwittingly may have been the cause of it. Our sex life, which was once intense, had slowed over the years until it was nearly non-existent. I talked enough with other guys my age to realize my case was not unique, but that did little to relieve my frustrations. I loved my wife and could not imagine cheating on her with another woman, though I fantasized about doing so quite often. But then I began to rationalize that sex with another man might be different.
This idea wasn't totally new to me. I can remember times from my early teen years when the thought of fooling around with another guy crossed my mind. Looking back I had a couple of opportunities to explore that side of life through horny friends who just wanted some way to get off, but I either missed the cues or let my Baptist upbringing keep me on the straight and narrow. But over the years, the thought had been there, I just suppressed it in a display of machismo that I liked better.
In recent years it had been different. My sex drive was far from declining, and with the lack of a steady physical relationship at home I needed an outlet. My work requires a good bit of travel, so quite often while away from home, when there was no chance of getting caught, I'd indulge myself in this line of thought. Many hotels had adult movie services, and many of these had gay themes. It was not uncommon for me to be laid up naked on a hotel bed watching a gay or bi flick, and then later jerking off as I imagined that I was one of the guys in the movie. I even had a small penis shaped dildo that I carried hidden away in my brief case on these trips, and it usually found its way inside one orifice or the other on my body. Consistent with my upbringing, I was behind closed doors and no one was the wiser. It was harmless, it was fun, and it seemed to take the edge off my disappointments at home.
Of late I had wondered if I might one day act on my secret feelings. I wasn't particularly sure that I wanted to, but I did realize that one of my business trips, which typically took me to places where I was unknown, might be a good opportunity. Subconsciously this was a likely factor in my practice of staying away from the crowd when I attended conferences and meetings, though I tried to justify it for other reasons. However, there was no denying I had taken steps to create an opportunity. But to be honest, I had no idea how to follow through, and as I mentioned I was far from certain that I wanted to. So at times my frustration only deepened. Then I'd have a few beers, select a choice movie in my room, and drift away into fantasy land, my frustration forgotten for a short while.
So this night was rather unusual. Instead of turning on a movie as I planned, I lay naked in my bed, hard cock in my hand, thinking of a real person I had seen only a short while ago. In my mind's eye I could see the outline of his soft cock, which had been impressive, and my own cock pulsed. When I thought of the possibility that he had caught me staring, the embarrassment returned, so I put that out of my mind. Instead I focused on things I might have done, and the result was a thundering orgasm that left my chest and stomach covered with come.
The next day, as expected the meetings were pretty dry and my mind kept wondering to the coming evening. That I was wondering if I would see Paul again troubled me greatly, so I tried to think of other things, but it kept coming back. I had never acted like this before, and I found it disturbing. My fantasies were short lived in the privacy of my hotel rooms, and they rarely were allowed to venture out. This time, however, it seemed they had slipped the lock. When the day was over and I returned to the hotel, I changed and headed straight to the work-out room. I told myself that it was simply in the interest of staying fit, but I was less than convincing.
Now I am definitely not a wimp; far from it. Of average build, I keep myself in shape and accept from the reactions of women over the years that I am reasonably pleasant to look at. While I don't consider myself 'hung', I know that my cock is above average in size, both in length and thickness. So my obsessive behavior seemed, at least to me, a little out of place. I stayed in the work-out room for nearly two hours, moving from machine to machine, sweating out my growing frustration, but he never showed. In fact, not another soul entered the room the entire time. Finally, more disappointed than I cared to admit, I grabbed my things and headed back to the room. I considered checking at the desk to see if had checked out, but I didn't have the courage. Only later did it occur to me that I didn't now his last name.
A couple of hours later I had finished my dinner and was on my third beer in the bar as I watched a baseball game when somebody sat down in the chair next to me. Paul was still wearing his suit, obviously having just gotten in. The joy I felt at seeing him bothered me a little, but I couldn't deny it.
'Jeez, today was hell. How far behind am I?'
'Just three or four.'
He waved to the waitress. 'Time to catch up.'
Before long we were laughing and cutting up just like before. Once again, I had the uncanny feeling that I was with an old friend. To keep him from drinking alone, I passed my normal limit by quite a few, and was feeling no pain whatsoever. My mind began to wander to areas that scared me; I was honestly thinking how I would go about seducing him, or at least letting him know I was interested. Paul was free with his hands, touching me often on the arm and shoulder to emphasize a point, and once he took a firm hold on my thigh as he laughed heartily at some inane comment I had made. His leg was constantly against mine, more so than the typical guy would think normal. I considered all this as possible signals, but in the end I realized that I had no idea, and I didn't have the guts to test it and take a chance on being wrong. Part of me wanted to take the risk; I was far from home and would only be here a few days. However, I didn't have the confidence or the courage to send out even the most subtle of signals. Little did I know that I was sending out signs and didn't even realize it.
In the end we parted ways and headed back to our rooms. He looked at me oddly as he exited the glass elevator on his floor so I conjured up a quick smile, suddenly concerned that the confusion I felt was unconsciously showing on my face. When the door closed I damned the alcohol, realizing I may have lowered my guard by accident. As much as I had been thinking about Paul downstairs, it embarrassed me to think he may have known it somehow. That alone told me I definitely was not ready for sex with another man.
Back in my room, I selected a movie, and sat back naked, my plastic penis in one hand. I tried to focus on the screen, but my mind kept wondering to Paul. I sucked the dildo, and imagined it was him. Then I greased it up and slid it in my ass, fucking myself silly as I called out his name. My orgasm was intense. As I fell asleep, I was concerned the neighbors next door might have heard me.
The next day, nursing a mild hangover, I directed my focus on the conference. The meetings on this day were more meaningful to my specific work, which helped to keep my interest. I was embarrassed by my behavior of the previous night, degrading myself as I did, loudly calling out another guy's name. In reality it was more than that, which was the source of my shame. In my alcohol induced frenzy, I put voice to the things I wanted him to do to me, calling for him to fuck me hard as I drove the dildo into my own bowels. That someone in the adjoining room might have heard me was a real possibility, and while that thought excited me while I was in the throes of hedonistic pleasure, it nearly paralyzed me with regret the following day. I simply had to get a grip on myself.
A hearty lunch finally cured the remnants of my hangover, and the afternoon passed quickly. As I began to feel better, I also began to relax, the concerns of the morning fading away as I participated in the discussions and felt the haze of the night before finally lift. At the end of the session, I had a couple of beers with some friends I had made, which relaxed me even more. As I drove back to my own hotel, I was feeling much better about the day, and about myself.
At first I planned to skip the work-out room, prudently deciding to spend a quiet evening alone. However, I was back in the hotel much earlier than usual, and I reasoned that it was unlikely I would run into Paul this time of day. Further I knew a good sweat would further cleanse my system and make me feel better. Sure enough, the room was empty and I had forty peaceful minutes on the elliptical before I decided to call it a day. As I picked up my towel and room key, I heard the door open behind me. There stood Paul in a business suit, obviously just getting in.
'Hey man! I was hoping you were here.'
His big, bold grin and friendly, disarming manner were my instant undoing. I found I was actually glad to see him.
'Just finishing up. I got back early today.'
'Cool. There's a good movie showing down the road. Disturbia. Heard of it?'
'I hear it's great, and really funny. The early show starts in about fifty minutes. Why don't we go? We can walk from here.'
I hesitated for a second. Even though I was surprisingly happy to see him, I still planned to head upstairs and spend the evening relaxing. He sensed my indecision. 'C'mon. It will be fun. I need a break from the booze after last night.'
Without thinking, I agreed. 'Let me grab a quick shower. How far is it?'
'Fifteen minutes tops.'
'I'll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes.'
We talked a little more about work as we rode up the elevator, looking through the glass wall at the pool and hot tub. The area was nearly deserted. He got off at his floor and I continued on to my room, happier about my plans than I expected to be. It helped that he shared my feeling that a day away from alcohol would be good. The two beers earlier had been all the 'hair of the dog' I needed to take the remaining edge off my hangover, and after my work-out I felt refreshed.
Twenty minutes later I was in shorts and sandals, waiting in the lobby. As I stood alone waiting, I had a relapse of anxiety over the previous night. Suddenly my mind was turning over scenarios where Paul somehow knew what I did. It was stupid, but for a moment I couldn't stop it. A few minutes later Paul exited the elevator. As he strolled towards me, staring off at the girls behind the check-in counter, I realized how irrational I was acting, and just as quickly I found myself appraising his good looks. It was as if I couldn't help myself. He wore an over-sized polo shirt and baggy beach pants made of lightweight material with a drawstring at the waist. Even with the loose fitting clothes, it was obvious he was fit underneath. He was one of those guys who could wear a burlap sack and it would enhance one feature or the other. As my eyes drifted downward of their own accord, I could see his manhood swinging freely beneath his pants as he walked. Was it possible he wasn't wearing underwear?
This time I kept myself from staring and turned towards the door as he approached me. 'Ready to go?'
We set off across the parking lot, and then crossed the four lane entrance to the hotel, which was beautifully landscaped and well manicured. On the opposite side was a very large Nissan dealership under towering palm trees. The cars and trucks seemed to extend forever as we walked along the front of the dealership, with dozens of each make in a variety of colors and packages. Paul stopped to admire one of the trucks, but I moved ahead to the 'Z' cars. When I looked back, Paul was headed my way, his eyes on the trucks as he passed. The fading sun was in his face, and in this lighting I suddenly had no doubt he was unfettered beneath the beach pants. His soft cock was impressive in size and well outlined as it swayed back and forth. He continued to look away, and I continued to stare, my mind drifting back to places it shouldn't be.
'Like the Z's?'
I stumbled out of my reverie, surprised how easily my resolve to keep my imagination under control was slipping. 'Hunh, oh yeah. Really fine.'
'Convertible or the hard top?'
'Down hear it would have to be the convertible, but back home I'd go for the lid.'
'No problem getting chicks in one of those.'
I almost laughed, thankful to have my thoughts redirected. 'I imagine not.'
We hurried on, realizing that we were going to be late. At first it was just a brisk walk and friendly conversation, but after a few minutes, I find myself looking down trying to catch sight of him swaying from the corner of my eye. As we crossed the lot for the theater, there were a few other people around, and I thought he was quite bold to wear such pants in public. He seemed totally unfazed.
The theater was old and only had three screens. As we entered, the run-down appearance was made more obvious by the skeleton crew. There were few patrons in the place, and I wondered if the later shows were more popular. Clearly this old facility was being left behind by the newer, glitzy multi-plexes that had become the rage in the last decade. It would be much later when it would dawn on me that Paul had selected this theater with care.
Agreeing to share a bucket of popcorn, we got drinks and moved into the darkness of the theater. Taking seats at mid-row, about two thirds of the way back from the screen, I was amazed by how few people were present for a heavily touted new movie release. The theater was large, much bigger than the new ones being built, which made it seem emptier. There was a couple against the wall on the same row we occupied. The curve of the row partially obscured them from our view. Looking back, there were two chubby girls with a guy between them on the last row with their backs to the wall. There was a black couple down front. That was it. As the previews started, another couple walked in and settled near the front as well.
Even though I was present for the entire movie, I wouldn't have been able to recall the story line had I been required. From the outset, Paul set about distracting me, though I didn't realize at first what he was up to. As we passed the popcorn back and forth, I felt his leg move to rest against my own. At first I thought it was accidental, but the pressure of his leg on mine was more than casual. My mind took up where it left off the night before, this time without the confusion of alcohol. Was this intentional? Was he trying to send me a signal?
I enjoyed the warm feeling for a few minutes, and then shifted in my seat, my leg moving slightly away, breaking the contact. A few minutes later he countered my move, bringing his leg full against mine once again. I wanted to look over at him, but I didn't dare. There could be no mistake that he was doing this on purpose. Or could there?
The movie was playing along, I could hear Paul laughing beside me, and I smiled as if I were caught up in it as well, but in truth I hadn't heard a single word from the actors. My mind was racing as I tried to discern his intent, and mine as well. It seemed I had fallen right back into the same pattern of thought I had wanted to get away from, but it troubled me only slightly. Instead, there was more drive to figure out the situation I was in, and a surprising desire to see how far this was going to go.
Finally I could stand it no longer. I had to know his intentions, and more than that, I had to know my own. Conjuring up more courage than I suspected I had, I waved off the popcorn, indicating I'd had my fill, and dropped my hand to rest on my own leg. It seemed his pressure against me rose slightly, but I couldn't be sure. Was he trying to encourage me? How was I supposed to know? By now I realized that despite my long day of recriminations, despite my denials, I truly wanted something to happen. If only I could figure out how I was supposed to go about it. If only I could be sure not to make a fool of myself.
I tried to focus on the movie, but it was impossible. A Hispanic guy got punched and the few people present laughed, but I had no idea why it was supposed to be funny. Shifting my position slightly, I tried to look down and saw that Paul had his legs wide apart, the leg against me well into my 'space'. On the pretense of setting my drink on the floor, I glanced at Paul's crotch, and could clearly see the outline of his cock as the thin material draped over it. My mouth went dry. As I sat back up, he shifted so his leg was full against me once again. That was it.
With another show of determination I didn't know I had, I faked a stretch. Then as I settled back in to my seat I moved against his leg this time, and then let my hand casually slide over so my little finger was touching him. Again I felt the slight increase in pressure. Thus further emboldened, I moved so two fingers were on his leg. From the corner of my eye I could see he was still staring at the screen, but he let out a soft sigh. He was sending me a signal, I was almost certain of it. I knew then that I was going to see this through. If I could touch him, I would. If I turned out to be wrong, and by now I felt pretty sure that wasn't the case, then I'd simply disappear and finish out the week in privacy. I might even change hotels. When the possibility of switching hotels occurred to me, I was galvanized into action. I could simply move, so I felt I had little to lose.
Having made up my mind, and knowing full well what I was doing, my mouth was dry and my heart pounded. With another feigned shift in position, I boldly moved my hand full onto his leg. Alert to any sign of a negative reaction, instead I felt his leg move under my hand as he slipped deeper into his seat. The result was that my hand was now farther up his leg. If that didn't mean go, then I didn't know how to read sign. I gave his strong thigh a tentative squeeze, and he gave another soft sigh in reply.
At that point I realized that I was actually on the cusp of sexual contact with another man. The last remaining doubt was gone. All that remained was for me to muster the courage to press on. My heart beat up into my parched throat, and I suddenly felt hot and flushed. My own cock was flexing in my shorts. I was afraid to look at him, and realized I was staring at the back of the seat in front of me. With tightness in my chest that could easily have been a coronary, I eased my hand over to the inside of his thigh and slipped it a little higher on his leg. This wasn't casual contact. This wasn't accidental. I was now into an area that had only one meaning; I wanted him.
From my peripheral vision I could tell he continued to stare straight ahead as my hand stroked his inner thigh. He body had tensed a little, but otherwise he was outwardly cool. I on the other hand could hardly breathe. I could not believe what I was doing. My heart continued to race, and I could feel clamminess across my forehead. Every sense I possessed was focused on my hand as I eased it upward and brushed his cock for the first time. When he didn't hit me or slap my hand away, I simply slid my hand up and cupped him.
It was incredible, to say the least. I could feel his ccok and his heavy balls, and no sooner had I grabbed him, I felt him begin to swell. His cock thickened under my touch, but didn't grow substantially in length. As I squeezed him and he hardened, I remembered an old saying about showers and growers. Whereas I was a grower, Paul was apparently a shower. That explained why his soft cock looked so big in his pants.
I now had my hand on another guy's cock for the first time and the moment wasn't lost on me. This fantasy had lived with me for years, now it was coming true, and I wondered how far it would go. Being in a public theater, I knew we were very limited on what we could do. I didn't realize how wrong I was.
Feeling his gaze locked on me, I involuntarily looked up and met Paul's blue eyes. He gave me one of his dazzling smiles.
'Looks like I was right about you.'
I quickly looked away, my cheeks flushing crimson and hot. For some reason his words alarmed me, which in retrospect was odd since he was in fact right about me. I stared straight ahead blankly, embarrassed, but I didn't give up my hold on the hard prize I had in hand. I had come this far and I didn't want it to end.
After a few minutes I relaxed, but resolved not to look at Paul. I didn't want his nonchalant confidence to hinder me, I wanted to press on. The conflict within me was difficult to describe. On the one hand I had crossed a barrier and I wanted badly to see it through, to fulfill my desires once and for all. Yet on the other hand I didn't want to face Paul and deal with the fact that my yearning was so transparent. The movie continued, but I wasn't even aware of the sound. My eyes looked ahead blankly as all my awareness shifted to the sense of touch.
Paul's cock was hard in my hand and it was impressive. While it had not lengthened significantly from soft to hard, it had gotten much thicker, and the heat coming off his manhood was easily felt through the cloth. Slowly I began to stroke him, and my reward was another soft sigh. He settled even deeper and opened his legs to the maximum spread. That he so clearly enjoyed my touch spurred my confidence once again, and I fondled his heavy balls and stroked his cock with increasing vigor.
Sensing movement, I glanced over and saw that he was unknotting the drawstring at his waist. I couldn't believe he was willing to do this in a public setting, but in fact we were all but alone, our actions not likely to be discernable by the few other patrons. Still it was a bold move in my view, and forgetting my resolve I looked up to his face in wonder. He simply arched his eyebrows at me, and I realized it was an invitation, and a dare.
I was nervous about where we were, but the prospect of putting my hand directly on another man's cock was a very powerful draw indeed. I continued to stroke him through his pants, looking ahead once again, but after a brief hesitation, I made the inevitable decision. Without looking, I slipped my hand from his cock and upward. Leaning slightly to my right to improve my angle, I felt my hand touch the top of his pants, and then it was under his shirt and on his stomach. Once again I was hardly breathing. Slowly I reversed direction, sliding my hand downward. My fingers plunged into his pubic hair, and a moment later my finger tips touched the base of his cock. I froze for a second, not believing what I was doing. The heat emanating from his crotch was intense, and in my heightened state of awareness it almost seemed to burn me.
Taking a deep breath, I continued onward. My fingers traced along his cock and I could feel the bulging vein that ran along the top. When my fingers brushed his glans, he jumped slightly as I closed around him, taking his cock fully into my hand. I exhaled. This was incredible, and I couldn't imagine anything more exciting. Here I was sitting in a movie theater with my hand down another guy's pants.
Feeling along his length, I explored the heat of his cock completely, from the glans to the base, memorizing every detail. Cupping his balls, I found them to be large and hanging loosely. He liked having them manipulated, and I eagerly obliged. Then I came back to the main attraction and began to stroke him once again, only this time with nothing between my hand and his manhood. It was intense. Glancing over, I saw that his pants were tented forward and moving with every stroke. There would be no doubt what was happening should someone see us.
This went on for a while as I marveled at my new found toy. I began to wonder if I could make him come right here, and what I would do to keep him from soiling the thin pants. Before I could finish the thought, I froze as I felt his arm go around my shoulders. This was an unexpected development, and I immediately thought about the people behind us. He rested his arm around me and gripped my right shoulder. My mind was racing. Should I let him do this?
No sooner had the question passed through my mind than his free hand reached down and pulled the front of his pants down. Without the drawstring, they were loose and baggy, and with ease he uncovered his hard cock, my hand wrapped around it. Even though I was stunned by his boldness, there was no question what I would do next. Without thinking, I turned and stared at the beast in my hand; I had to see it. Sliding my hand to the base, his thick hard cock extended straight out, the flared head dark in the low light of the theater. I knew from my own experience it would be purple from excitement in the light. My mouth went dry again, not so much from seeing my first hard cock, but more from seeing my own hand wrapped around it. It was a heady moment. And then it started.
With sudden clarity, I realized why he had his arm around my shoulder. He was applying pressure, pulling me to him. It was all too obvious what he wanted, what he expected.
'No.' It was a firm whisper through clenched teeth.
'C'mon, you know you want to.'
He had a point. 'Not here, later.'
'I want it now.'
I was too shocked to realize the significance of his choice of words and tone of voice, that he was demanding action of me. 'People will know what we're doing.'
'Maybe. So what.' He continued to apply pressure, trying to pull me over. To the people behind us, it was probably obvious that there was a mild struggle going on, and that began to worry me.
'So what? Are you crazy?'
His manner softened, and he eased the pressure on my shoulder. Once again I was looking into one of his disarming smiles. His cock was still firmly in my grasp, and no doubt his mind found that my refusal didn't compute well with the way I was continuing to stroke him.
'Nobody knows you here. And the room is almost empty. What could it hurt?'
My eyes dropped to his cock against my will. I wanted to taste it, but to do so here would be a much bolder action than I was accustomed to. That thought had an immediate sobering affect. For years I had rued my wife's lack of interest in sex in general, and lack of adventurism specifically. In our younger days, we were prone to the occasional daring act, even in public. How was this so different? That is, other than my years of believing that man on man sex was wrong. Perhaps I should be bolder. If I wanted excitement back in my sex life, then perhaps I needed to be willing to take some risks.
Paul must have sensed my resistance ebbing, for he began to apply pressure once again, this time gently, with much more subtlety. I moved with the pressure slightly, and then once again stiffened. Could I do this? He increased the pressure almost imperceptibly, and for an instant I had a glimpse of what it might feel like to be a girl on a bad date; this guy wasn't going to give up easily. In the end, I did it the only way it could be done. I just let myself go without thinking about it.
He guided me down and across the arm between the seats until I was face to face with his cock, throbbing in my hand. Once I dipped below the seat backs, I rationalized that the people behind us either noticed or didn't notice, but either way they couldn't see me now. I paused and Paul eased up the pressure, allowing me to set the pace now that he had won. In the dim light, his cock head seemed huge, and with my whole body shaking nervously, I extended my tongue and touched him for the first time. He twitched at the contact. Once he stilled, I again reached out, this time licking all around his glans, my tongue pressing into the slit at the tip. He was hot and remarkably smooth, something I knew from my own cock but still found amazing. I hooked my tongue under the edge of his mushroom cap, then laid his cock back against his belly and licked along the underside. He sighed quietly, but contentedly. It felt good to be pleasing him.
I tried to lick his balls, but the arm of the seat made it difficult. So instead I focused on memorizing his cock with my tongue just as I had done with my fingers. Finally I could wait no longer. Lifting him back erect, I opened my mouth and covered him, taking half his length between my lips before closing around him. In all my imagining, I had no concept of how good a hard cock feels in your mouth. The heat of it filled my senses, and as I traced my tongue all around, I could feel him twitching and his vein pulsing. In that instant I knew I loved this. I knew that I had been right, that my fantasies had been justified; I could enjoy sex with another man.
I took him even deeper, and Paul let out a low moan of satisfaction. It was so gratifying to know that my mouth was pleasing him it didn't occur to me that others might hear him. I had stepped beyond some limit, some point of no return, and suddenly my Baptist upbringing, my normally prudent and carefully managed public behavior, were all cast to the wind. I had to suck his cock here and now, and all other considerations were forgotten. It was simply a wonderful feeling to have this man in my mouth, more so than I had ever imagined.
Concentrating on what I was doing, I serviced his cock to the best of my ability, trying to remember all the things I liked about a blow job, and all the things that I wished were done better. It seemed to be working, for he began to squirm in his seat and his hands came to my head, encouraging me. For the first time it occurred to me that I might take this to completion, that I might make him come. In my fantasies I had often wondered if I could truly take another guy's load into my mouth. Now I knew without a doubt the answer was yes. I wanted it to happen, and the thought that it might caused my own cock to throb in my pants.
Just as I found my rhythm and was determined to make him come, Paul surprised me again. His right hand moved from my head to my hips and he started pushing. It took a moment for his actions to penetrate the sensory overload I was experiencing, but once they did I knew instantly what he wanted, and I resisted. As before, I felt he was asking for too much. He became more insistent, even moving his leg wider to make room, but still I held off. It hadn't yet sunk in how much his domination of me was part of his turn on; that realization was a day or two away. I simply didn't think kneeling on the floor between his legs was a good idea. Finally his insistent hand could be ignored no longer. Still holding his cock around the base, I released it from my mouth and looked up.
'That's not a good idea.' My whispered words almost caught in my throat as I looked into his determined blue eyes.
'What does it matter?'
I opened my mouth to answer, but drew a blank when I tried to come up with a good reason. I was sucking his dick in a movie theater, how much worse could it get? 'I just don't think it's a good idea.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Do it.'
His voice was very commanding, and it surprised me that my instantaneous reaction was to follow his order. As I stared into his eyes, they softened once again. I would be home days from now, lying in my own bed thinking back on this night with longing, before I would fully appreciate how easily he manipulated me over and over. 'I'm almost there. It won't take long.'
It was the same pattern as before. He smiled at me as his reapplied the pressure to my hip. I did the same as well, continuing to resist for a minute, and then as if I had no control, I felt my body began to move. Slowly at first, indecisive, but then I just slipped off the seat to the floor. Looking back to his thick hard cock, glistening in the flickering light of the movie, I was struck by the fact that it was wet from my mouth. I was sucking a cock. As I moved over between his legs, my body cramped in the limited space between the fixed theater seats, I knew I wanted it back in my mouth no matter what it took to get it.
With the constraint of the chair removed, I pulled the front of his pants lower, pushed his dick back against his belly, and went after his balls. His appreciation was immediate.
'Oh yeah, that's more like it.'
His balls were large and hung loosely, and ever so gently I sucked them one by one into my mouth. His pubic hair tickled my nose, and his musk filled my senses. In mere moments I was lost in the event again. Licking and sucking his balls until I had him moaning softly, I moved back to the main target by licking another wet trail along his underside. Then pulling his cock forward with my hand, I took it as deeply as I could into my mouth. I had pushed the dildo deep into my mouth before, trying to fancy how it would feel if it was an actual cock, but the real thing was different than anything I had ever imagined. His cock was thick and pulsed with a life of its own. He was squirming, causing his cock to move in my mouth. The result was that I could not get all of him without gagging, so I concentrated on what I could take, and assuaged my disappointment with the hope that I'd get another try under better circumstances. He seemed unconcerned as I felt the tension rise in his body, and I knew that Paul was nearing climax.
Intending to swallow his come, I tried to decide if it was better to have him deep or shallow when it happened, but I really had no idea which worked best. The thought had never occurred to me when it was my cock being sucked. In the passion of the moment, I always did what felt good without much thought whether my wife could easily swallow my load or not. Apparently Paul did the same, for he made up my mind for me. Suddenly grabbing my head with both hands, he took control for a moment, stroking his cock back and forth between my lips, and then he abruptly pressed himself as deep as he could. At that instant, as I fought the reflex to gag, I felt him swell, heard him moan, and then felt him explode. His cock convulsed, warmth spread down through my upper body, and I realized he was pumping his come directly down my throat. After two strong spasms, he pulled back and deposited the next salvo on my tongue. That was my first real taste.
It was an incredible feeling having this man come in my mouth, and I was lost in the magic of it. I had done it. I had sucked a cock to completion. I was ecstatic, loving every pulsation of his big thick cock, devouring every drop of his offered sperm. It was the fact that I was so deep into the moment that probably led to Paul's next abrupt action taking me totally off guard. His hands still on my head, he pushed me back until his spurting cock sprang free, and then he held my head in place as one rope of come sprayed across my nose and cheek, and another on my forehead and into my hair. Yet again, I was shocked by Paul's actions.
He finally slowed after coming on me and pressed his dripping cock back to my lips. Though stunned to feel his warm come across my face, I opened compliantly, sucking his cock almost without thinking as I drained the last of his come from his now softening member. He had further established his dominance over me, but I still didn't recognize it. I only knew he had come on my face, something I had only seen in internet pictures. It always turned me on, and I had fantasized about it happening to me, but in this setting I felt some dismay. The joy of having a man come in my mouth for the first time was in stark contrast to the frustration I felt that he had done this to me in public. But as I continued to suck his now semi-hard cock, I knew in my heart I wouldn't complain. I'd do almost anything to be able to feel him come in me once more.
Sucking him gently until he softened, I was amazed once more to see that his cock didn't change much in length, just girth. As I played with it, I felt his come running down my right cheek, which caused me to release his cock and sit up with purpose. I had to find a way to get it off. Using my hand I wiped down my face, leaving a cool wet trail in the wake, and then wiped my hand on the seat next to us. Several more passes, and I felt fairly clean, though my skin was drawing tight as the film of come that was left behind dried. I couldn't wipe all the come out of my hair, and a couple of wet sticky spots were left behind. Feeling Paul staring at me, I looked up to find mirth in his eyes. He was amused by my predicament.
I took one last hungry look at his crotch, my own cock aching, and then I tried to slide back up into my own seat without being too obvious. It was impossible. One minute the seat was empty, the next minute I was there. As I settled back and shifted my position to accommodate my hard dick, the brightly reflected light from the screen on my face brought home the enormity of what I had just done. I had knelt on the dirty floor of a movie theater and sucked off another man with other people in the room. This wasn't even an adult theater. Sinking deep into my seat, I tried to become invisible, hoping people might think I had just been sitting low this whole time. When I noticed the couple to our left was no longer on the same row as us, they were now several rows forward, my hopes for discretion were shattered. I could think of no logical reason for them to move other than offense at what we were doing.
I sat staring ahead for about fifteen minutes, my emotions a tangled web of elation and worry, until the movie ended. By the time the credits had rolled and the lights came up, I began to think it had all been a dream. I started to rise, eager to get out of the theater, but Paul grabbed my arm.
'Let everyone else go first.'
It only took a minute. The few people in front of us filed out to either side, the couple that had moved never looking back. Would they complain to the manager? I thought not since they hadn't done so already. Then I heard movement to my right and I looked over without thinking. The first chubby girl gave me a thumbs up, which earned me an elbow in the ribs from Paul. The guy looked at me with obvious curiosity, but the girl behind him had a look that could only be described as disgust. Pretty much a complete range of emotions from that group, but as I watched them file out and concluded they would not complain either, I felt a growing satisfaction.
My cock felt heavy in my pants as I arose, and I felt a definite wet spot in my underwear. Paul was totally relaxed as we walked out, but I was still on guard for an angry theater employee, or worse yet, the cops. But the place was nearly deserted. We made it safely to the parking lot, and finally I relaxed. Paul began talking to me about details in the movie, as if he hadn't missed a scene, and I just looked at him blankly. I could hardly remember a thing.
In the crisp fresh air of the Florida night, I began to have misgivings about what I had allowed myself to be coerced into doing. His comment that he had been right about me, consenting to suck his cock in public, other people knowing that I had done so. All these things added up to one big knot in my stomach. I was a bit shaken by my actions, and I didn't have the excuse that it was alcohol induced that I used to explain my behavior the previous night. Paul continued talking as we walked, but I was lost in my own world. With a start I realized he had asked me a question and was staring at me, awaiting an answer.
'Sorry, can you repeat that?'
He grinned affably. 'Is that truck hot or what?'
We were in front of the car lot again. I looked to where he was pointing. It was one of the special edition Pathfinders, totally outfitted with running boards and racks on top. It was a truck I'd always liked the looks of.
'That thing's fine.'
'I think I might get me one of those.'
'Shit, get two. I'll drive one of them.' We both chuckled. Just like that, I forgot my worries and fell right back into a conversation with him. He acted as if nothing had happened between us, and in retrospect that had been the best thing he could have done. I had no practice in how to act around a guy after I had just sucked his dick, and had allowed myself to wander off into doubt and worry about my actions. But Paul's relaxed manner brought me back. Before I knew what had happened, we were talking and laughing just like before. I was being expertly manipulated and didn't even know it.
As we neared the four lane in front of the hotel, I realized how sensitive my half swollen cock was in my pants. Despite the brief detour into doubts and recriminations, I still carried an undercurrent of excitement, and as I relaxed more with Paul, it came to the surface. I liked what I had done, of that there could be no doubt, and perhaps knowing that was the source of my worries. As we stepped down the embankment into the street, I looked over and watched Paul's cock swaying in his beach pants. When I looked up and saw him watching me, for the first time I didn't feel embarrassed. I simply smiled and looked away.
As soon as we hit the hotel entrance, nervousness set in once again. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to act? The anxiety was different this time; I didn't want the evening to end. We entered the glass elevator and looked out through the glass walls towards the pool area, which as usual was nearly deserted. Paul's nonchalance about what had happened had suddenly become a problem for me. I couldn't tell if it was a one time thing, or if he liked it enough to do it again. For certain, once faced with the prospect of parting ways, I knew I didn't want to let it end here. The elevator was coming to a halt at his floor, and I had just about built up the courage to speak, when he saved me the trouble.
'You got swimming trunks?'
'Let's meet at the hot tub in ten minutes. Whaddya say?'
We agreed, and he disappeared out the door. I smiled to myself, nervously happy like someone who had just been asked out on a first date.