Chapter 1

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?'

'No.'

'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?'

'You bet.'

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.