Confession Time: Motel Hijinks

One of the things that I like to do as a writer is challenge myself to take on different genres. A cursory glance through my catalog of stories would show that I've tried my hand at writing science fiction, romance, incest, Twilight-Zone-like twists, anal, reluctance and non-consensual, and the like.

Most of the stories I've published here are complete fiction. However, a couple of the stories have been completely, 100% true (which ones are an exercise up to the reader), some have been about 50% true, and some have been based in truth but deviated quite quickly.

I started to think that perhaps some of the actual true stories that I've experienced might lend themselves to publishing, but they aren't really stories per se. They don't have a plot, don't have much character development, they're just snapshots of events in my life that are kind of cool or interesting.

Some of them are incredibly short, some are quite involved. Some stretch credulity, and some are so complex that you need a cheat sheet just to understand how all the players connected.

One thing that all of them have in common, though, is that they are 100% true and real. If you don't believe that they really happen, well, that is of course your prerogative. All I can tell you is that unlike fiction, real life often strains believability.

I'll also provide you this caveat: Not everything I have done in my life is something I'm proud of. Some of the vignettes will probably make me look like a hero, some will probably make me look like a schmuck, and some will probably make me look like an asshole.

I'm human. So sue me. Hopefully they'll be entertaining, at least.

Take this first vignette, for example. Completely true, and really hot. It really doesn't put me in the best light, to be sure.

I was about 20 years old and probably not the most ethical person when it came to sex. Well, I know that now. Back then, I thought I was a fine, upstanding young man who just found himself in situations beyond his impulse control.

See, when I was growing up I was "the fat kid," and couldn't get anyone to look at me sideways, if at all. Completely ignored and I had no chance in hell of being one of those guys that girls drooled after.

It was so bad that when puberty started righting the wrongs of my earlier misfortune, I was incapable of understanding why I was getting a lot of attention from the fairer sex. At 19 and in college, I had started rowing crew and my body changed from slightly pudgy to trim, with broad shoulders and a confident stance and posture. I never quite got to the 6-pack abs that some on my rowing team had, but I was in the best physical shape of my life.

Mentally and emotionally, though, I was totally unprepared for how girls looked at me. I had been friend-zoned for so long, I had zero game. My default attitude was that I was still not on someone's radar even when I was directly in their crosshairs.

Let's put it this way - I could have a girl naked in my bed, my cock in her mouth, and I would convince myself that she was just going to tease me and keep me in blue-balls hell.

All of this was to simply say that I was terrible at picking up hints - as if being hit upside the head with a metaphorical cast iron skillet were a 'hint.'

Before I turned 20, a large group of my friends decided to drive to another state several hundred miles away to do some roller-coaster riding as a celebration for completing our final exams. After all was said and done, there were about ten of us caravanning for the drive.

The plan was to camp in one of the campgrounds that were situated close to the parks, go ride roller coasters, and then do some campfire activities at night.

Well, as is often the case when you get large groups of people together, not everything goes according to plan. In particular, not everyone gets along with everyone else, and personalities really clash when you get into 'roughing it' situations.

Most of the people were coupled off, and there were only two people - myself and another guy named Mark - who weren't with any kind of significant other. Me, because the girl I had just started to date seriously couldn't get away from her job, and Mark, because no girl would really go near him. He was just a whiny, weasel-y wuss of a boy who complained about everything.

In fact, it was Mark's fault that many of the people in the group weren't getting along. He had insisted on having his way on everything, from having the spot to pitch his new ultra-expensive single-person tent to having the exact way to build a fire, to a particularly nasty episode where his ultra-expensive hair gel spilled in his ultra-expensive single-person tent and smelled so bad he couldn't stand to be in it any longer. He whined and moaned and complained, but no one would take mercy on him and allow him to crash in their tent.

(Honestly, Mark was an annoying shit the entire time. That particular part about the hair gel was a constant recurring theme during the trip. When he poured it all over himself and his tent, the rest of us took it as a matter of comeuppance to force him to stay in his own damn tent and suffer through the god-awful stench. Trust me, he deserved the cold shoulder when he spilled it all over.)

We were supposed to be there for a week, but we only made it through two nights.

On the third night, the weather took a turn for the Old Testament. Severe winds ripped through the campground, sending everything flying (including Mark's ultra-expensive single-person hair gel-drenched tent) and we decided we had had enough of the roughneck life and broke down to go find a motel.

Being poor college students, though, and with ten people, getting multiple rooms simply wasn't an option. So, my friend Tom and I split the cost of a single room and snuck all ten of us into that single room with the sleeping bags. The room had two double beds, which meant that Tom (being one of the benefactors) could get a bed for himself and his girlfriend, and I could get a bed (as one of the benefactors) and share it with someone else.

This is where things got really interesting. Like, really interesting.

I decided that I would much rather share the bed with my friend Keith and his girlfriend, Melissa, than share it with the only other single in the party - Mark. Quite frankly, by this point in time, I was at my wits end with Mark and could barely stand the sight of him, much less consider sharing a bed with him.

I would have one side of the bed, Keith would have the other, and Melissa would be right in the middle.

Now, I know what you're thinking, and I'm gonna stop you right here. Remember, I said this is a true story, not an erotic one. Well, I mean it's erotic too, but keep in mind that there is rarely a boom-chikka-bow-wow in real life. There ain't gonna be no orgy in this story.

The reality of the situation couldn't have been less sexier. I refused to have Mark sleep in the same bed with me, so Melissa had volunteered for the bed, complaining that the floor was too hard and she was tired of the sleeping bag.

Keith, however, wasn't too happy about Melissa taking the spot. If anyone was going to be sleeping next to his girlfriend, it would be him.They argued back and forth, and Keith tried to persuade me to give up the bed so that he could sleep in there with Melissa.

Nope. Nuh-uh. Not giving up the bed. I paid for it, I'm sleeping in it.

So, the cramped configuration was the compromise. It was going to be either both of them, or Mark (because as it turns out, there wasn't even enough room on the floor for everyone if I had the bed all to myself anyway).

Tensions ran high. People grumbled and complained for a long time. Mark wouldn't shut up about how unfair it all was. Even after settling under the covers, Keith kept trying to plead with me to let him have the bed for just the two of them.

Melissa finally shushed Keith, and he eventually stopped complaining.

"Turn off the lights!" someone whined.

"No, don't do that," our friend Linda said. "If you do that, we'll never be able to go to the bathroom without stepping on someone."

"Ugh, fine!"

Keith fidgeted. Melissa sighed loudly.

See? Not sexy.

So that's how I found myself in a small motel room on a double bed with Keith and Melissa who were spooning as I tried to claim the tiny remains of the bed that I had paid for. The room was hot with all of the people in it, and the window air conditioner was kicking on and off as it tried to keep the temperature down.

Normally, I slept in just my underwear, but this time it wasn't going to fly. I put on a pair of loose-fitting shorts and with the heat I didn't bother with a shirt. I don't know if that had anything to do with the events of that night, but maybe it didn't hurt, either.

The lights were on, and slowly - ever so slowly - people started to drift off to sleep. Occasionally I would hear intense whispers as someone argued about something, but for the most part things seemed to begin to settle down.

Except Keith. He just couldn't get comfortable. Of course, because we were on a motel bed, every time he adjusted his arm or tried to scoot towards Melissa, the springs caused the mattress to bounce like a trampoline.

"Stop it!" Melissa hissed, annoyed.

"I'm falling off!" he complained.

Melissa scooted in so that he could have more room, which of course had finite amount of space. There simply was no additional place for her to go, and I could feel her press up against my side.

Suddenly, I felt her leg cross over onto mine. I was lying on my back, which is how I prefer to sleep, so the sudden weight of her leg draped over mine made me look at her in surprise.

She just looked back at me, a truly evil grin pulling her lips up at the corner. Her eyes were wide open and she was looking at me intently.

What are you doing? I mouthed at her.

She didn't say anything or even blink.

Keith shifted again, and her face twisted into a mask of irritation. "Keith!" she hissed a warning, closing her eyes for a moment as if she was counting to five.

"I'm still on the edge," he whispered back. He bounced again into her, and I felt her crotch press against the skin of my thigh, now exposed as my shorts had ridden up. One more quick bounce and she took the opportunity to let her hand fall straight onto my cock.

I looked at her again, my eyes trying to convey how panicked I was. Keith and I were friends, and the last thing I wanted to do was get into a fight with him. Her look registered absolutely no fear, though, and her fingers enclosed around the outline of my dick through my shorts.

True to form, I was hard in less than 0.48 seconds.

Now, like I said before, I could be a really, really dense person at times. I've had my share of teases and was convinced that Melissa was simply being a tease. At no point in the time that I had known her (which was, I admit, only a few months) had she ever given any indication that she found me attractive or appealing in any way.

As such, I figured that she was simply taking the opportunity to have a little fun and give me a heart attack in the process. I turned my head to look down and was horrified to see that in the light of the room it was impossible to miss what she was doing to me under the sheet and light blanket.

In fact, it looked even worse than what it was. To anyone who might have seen, it looked like she was giving me a hand job.

So far though, she was only squeezing my cock, and it felt really, really nice. I knew that she shouldn't be doing that - no not one bit! - because I had just started dating this girl who couldn't make it because of work and she was dating Keith and oh by the way he is right behind you!

I felt the muscle in her thigh flex, her skin touching my skin. I let out a breath as silently as I could, because for all that was motherfucking holy and sinful, I needed to moan. Instead, all I could do was close my mouth and force all of that hot air through my nostrils.

Her fingers came up from my cock to my stomach, and then I felt fingernails slide across my abdominals to reach my chest. My abs clenched in ticklish response, and I remembered that I couldn't move at all or else Keith would feel the mattress bounce underneath him.

I looked back at Melissa, and she was loving this. That's when I knew it was just a game for her, a tease. I began to relax a little knowing that she would get bored and just go to sleep. She had gotten me hard, but there was no way that I was going to be able to do anything about it, what with the light on and seven other people within ten feet of us and oh by the way her fucking boyfriend spooning her at the same time.

So, I figured that I would be safe except for an excruciating case of blue balls and no relief until I probably managed to get back to see my new girlfriend. In about a week.

Sigh.

Melissa's fingernails stopped playing with my chest hair, slid across my chest to catch a nipple in-between her thumb and forefinger. My chest has always been sensitive, and her fingernails were finding just the right balance of pressure - not too hard and not quite a scrape.

Moving excruciatingly slowly - I'm not sure if she was trying to tease or if she was trying to keep Keith unaware, or both - her hand then dropped back down my stomach to the elastic of my shorts. I felt her nails try to find a gap underneath the waistband, and instinctively I sucked in my breath to create one.

What are you doing? I argued with myself.

Don't worry, I thought. She's not going to actually do anything. Not with Keith right there!

Sure enough, she slid her nails underneath the elastic and kept them there. She just traced them back and forth across my flat diaphragm, suppressing giggles as my body ticklishly reacted to what she was doing.

Then she went in for the kill.

Her fingers started to bump against the head of my cock, but I just dismissed it as part of her tease, especially since it felt like an accident. Um, yeah. "Accident."

Look, I told you, all right? I had some serious issues with self-esteem. Yes, even then, with her hand down my shorts and bumping against the head of my cock, I thought she was just teasing me. And yes, in retrospect, I agree I was something of an idiot.

Back to the story.

When she grabbed my cock in her hand, it felt sudden and with distinct purpose. She gripped me the way a baseball player might have gripped a bat awaiting the perfect pitch. My mouth flew open but I held my breath, not daring to make any sound whatsoever.

That's when Keith moved again. He had been resting his arm on Melissa's shoulder, but now he decided he was going to wrap her in his arms and was sliding his hand down her arm.

The arm that was holding my dick.

I looked over at Melissa in panic, but she just rolled her eyes in annoyance at what he was doing. I felt her let go of my cock and bring her hand out of my shorts to her chest. Her timing was impeccable, and Keith never knew how close he came to touching my dick.

Trust me, I did not want that to happen under any circumstances.

Melissa wasn't the only one feeling frisky, apparently. Keith, it appeared, had some bumping and grinding on his mind as well. Completely oblivious to the fact that I could feel the mattress shake, he started to press himself into Melissa from behind.

Once again, she rolled her eyes and reached back to slap him on the hip. "Quit it!" she hissed at him, then turned back to me. She mouthed, Sorry, to me.

For my part, I was in a rather uncomfortable position. My shorts had snapped back on top of my cock, so that I was half in, half out. I reached down and pulled the elastic back up over my dick.

She realized what I was doing, and pouted. What? I asked, silently. As if there was a reason to keep myself pinned underneath the waistband of my shorts.

Keith fidgeted again, and her jaw set in frustration. "Keith," she warned.

"I don't have any room," he said, frustrated.

She looked back at me, and then she tapped me on my shoulder. She mouthed the words, Face me.

It took me a moment to actually comply. I was tired. The constant infighting was exhausting. I really wanted to sleep. I didn't think that I'd be able to do it on my side, but if it got Keith to stop fucking moving, then so be it. I did, turning on my side and Melissa scooted several inches in my direction.

And pressed up against me. "There," she said over her shoulder. "You have all the room you need. Now stop moving around."

Now Keith rolled onto his back. His girlfriend was now face to face with me, her thighs pressing against mine. She had decided to wear a t-shirt and some silk short shorts (I think that's what they were called), so I felt all of her smooth skin against mine.

My erection wasn't going down any time soon. It was pitching its own tent - appropriate for camping after all, my mind joked - and pressing right into her groin.

It felt good. So unbelievably fucking "girlfriend? what girlfriend/Keith? what Keith?" good. She did something with her hips and pushed back at me, letting me know that she was welcoming the pressure as much as I was.

Melissa looked at me from a mere few inches away, and never looked down, never took her eyes away from me. From that moment, everything happened by sheer touch.

Once again I felt her palm against my cock on the outside of my shorts. I felt it cradled in the cup of her hand, my heart pounding as I tried to figure out her end game.

Again, it's difficult to put into words just how much denial I was in. This was not the kind of thing that happened to me. I wasn't even sure if she was going to turn around and start screaming bloody murder in a second, telling everyone that I had pushed my erection into her hand.

But did I stop myself? NoooOOOOoooo.

Once again, I felt her hand searching for my waistband, finding it, and pulling my cock out of my shorts. With the angle we were in, though, it didn't work. With one hand, she tried her best to pull my shorts down underneath my balls to set me free, and managed to get it kinda-sorta down a bit.

Changing her mind, she decided to take another tack. She pulled my shorts back up to my waist - See? She was just giving me blue-balls, just like I said - and then slid her hand up my bare thigh through the shorts leg hole. Going in from that angle, she could move aside my shorts and my underwear and pull me straight out.

I could feel the strain of the cloth being pulled to the side, but my cock didn't care. I'm free! I'm free! FREEDOM! my Braveheart cock cheered.

She held my dick in her vice-like grip again, squeezing it playfully and trying not to move very much. If she were any more aggressive, the rhythmic motion would be completely recognizable.

As she was, there was no room to do much anything else. She was pressed so close to me that if I were sticking straight out I'd actually be inside her.

Wait a minute...

Ohhhhh... Now I got it.

Comprehension dawned on me and she caught it in my eyes. It seemed that she was waiting for me to finally glom on to her intentions. A wicked, evil grin crept up the corner of her lips, and I felt my cock start to bend towards her.

All I could do was watch. I couldn't reach for her, because Keith would probably get handsy again. But I did feel my cock head slide against her skin as she tried to do the same thing with her little silk shorts leg hole and put me inside the cuff.