The Harrington Hotel Ch. 02

My prick was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

He removed my shirt then suddenly dropped to his knees and went about taking off my shoes and socks.

When he began opening my slacks I thought: What should I do? This isn't right - I'm supposed to be doing this for him.

Suddenly my slacks were on the floor and he gently assisted me in stepping out of them.

"Ohhh, what cute little undies," he said of my red, string bikini briefs.

He wasted no time in hooking his fingers beneath the elastic waistband and quickly tugged them down to my knees.

My throbbing prick sprang into his view.

"Ohhh Johnny, " he moaned. "Perfect...I adore your penis...I love it when I can take the whole thing in my mouth!"

Oh my - those were words I'd never heard from anyone.

I was standing naked before him now. His hands reached behind me and clutched the round globes of my buttocks. He kneaded and squeezed the soft flesh then guided me to sit on the loveseat. He pushed my knees far apart then moved in-between them.

Without hesitation, he gripped my cockhead between his lips then lowered his face to my belly.

He had done it - he'd taken the entire length of my four-inch erection into his mouth!

"Ohhh Terry..." I moaned.

I couldn't help myself. The urgency in my balls was so overwhelming I began thrusting my hips upward in time with his sucking.

He knew I was close to cumming. He encircled my balls with two fingers then gently lowered them to delay my climax. A trick I used quite often to tease my men.

I groaned in frustration but soon lost my mind in his expert sucking. His lips and tongue teased and tantalized my hard prick like never before.

Sure, some of the men I met at The Harrington had sucked me, but nowhere near as good as Terry.

Those men only did it out of curiosity. In the deep, dark recesses of their minds, they had dreamed and fantasized what it would be like to suck cock but were so ashamed of their dirty thoughts they could only perform this act with a total stranger a thousand-miles from home locked safely inside the darkness of a hotel room.

Those men were not very good at it either. They tried hard, and yes a warm mouth is better than nothing, but I could always tell their hearts weren't really into it...that all-the-while my prick was between their lips, they were feeling guilt and shame for succumbing to their unnatural desires.

But oh my goodness, Terry, he knew his way around a cock. It was far-and-away the greatest blowjob I ever received. I even took mental notes of some of his moves so I could use them when it came my turn to reciprocate.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh..." was the only sound to come out of my mouth the entire time.

When my balls swelled and rose he did not try to delay my orgasm this time. On the contrary, his mouth bobbed up-and-down faster and faster until my balls exploded so hard a blinding light filled my head.

"YES - YES - YES - YES - YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS..." I shouted my pleasure.

He greedily gulped down everything I gave him. I couldn't believe my good luck in finding Terry tonight.

Truth be told, he is the man in my masturbatory fantasies. Smart, funny, kind and gentle. So comfortable to be with he makes me happy I am queer.

I was still catching my breath when Terry stood and positioned himself between my wide-splayed legs.

I lovingly gazed at the most beautiful hard cock I had ever seen. I licked my lips then slid them over his purple glans.

I proceeded to thank him for my orgasm using only my hands, lips and tongue on his gorgeous manhood.

***

"How do you do it?" I asked him in the semi-darkness; the only light coming from the open bathroom door.

We were naked on the loveseat, I was sitting high on his thighs. His arms enveloping me, pulling me gently against his body. His hands roaming freely over my hairless chest and legs. I'd never felt so safe and secure in my life.

"How were you able to so easily accept the fact you were gay?" I asked him.

He sighed then softly said, "John, there was nothing easy about it...I lived a secret life for years...my wife, my kids, my friends, people at work...no one knew or even suspected I was queer...I was very good at playing the role of the manly husband, father and co-worker...I did everything that was expected of a straight man in my generation."

Terry sighed again. "John, I was like you at your age...I knew I was different as far back as high school, but you just didn't express those kinds of feelings in those days...no, it was at college that I met the first true love of my life - he was my roommate - my friend - my confidante, and the night he slipped into my bed naked he became my first real male lover."

"Oh my...what did you do?" I asked him.

"Oh, you know, I acted surprised with plenty of fake outrage but he climbed on top of me anyway...he said, 'Terry, I know how you feel about me...I see you staring at me when you don't think I notice...the way you submissively do whatever I tell you to do...'"

"Was that true?" I asked.

"Oh God, yes...I had such a crush on him I couldn't believe how I felt - it was all new to me...and very embarrassing..."

"Did you know he was gay?" I asked.

"No, not in the least...and honestly, I didn't know I was gay at the time..."

Terry laughed softly then said, "I was glad it was dark in the room so he couldn't see the expression on my face...I loved the weight of his body on mine so much that I got a hard-on...he felt it against him and said, "Yes, I am attracted to you too!"

"Oh my..." I gasped.

"When he said that my whole body relaxed and melted into his...he kissed me on the lips and I kissed him back...when he hooked his fingers in my undies I raised my hips so he could pull them off me...after that, every night once we were done studying, he would smile at me and say, 'I want you in my bed tonight...no, I NEED you in my bed tonight!'"

"Oh my..." I sighed.

"Yeah..." he sighed too. "I was head-over-heels in love with him...I would do whatever he wanted...he taught me how to please a man in bed."

"So you knew you were a 'bottom' right from the start?" I asked him.

"I guess you could say that being submissive is a state-of-mind...you don't suddenly wake up one morning and say to yourself 'I want to become a man's bitch!'...no, you gradually learn things about yourself until one day when a man comes into your life who you simply adore - who you love for his confidence and strong personality, well, pleasing him seems like the most natural thing in the world to do."

"You're right," I said to Terry, "...for whatever reason, I am happiest when the man I'm with is strong and commanding."

"...and what YOU want never enters your mind because it's your man's desires that are important..." added Terry.

He turned my face to his and gave me a quick peck on the lips. I didn't want it to end. I pressed my lips harder into his and the brief kiss became a long and passionate, erection-inducing make-out session.

In the semi-darkness, I saw a wry smile on his face. Their was a playfulness in his voice when he said to me, "I want you in my bed tonight...no, I NEED you in my bed tonight!"

***

My head gently rose and fell with every breath he took. I had listened to his heart go from a rapid pounding back to a normal beat. We both lay basking in the afterglow of powerful orgasms.

We had gotten so excited on the loveseat he finally led me to his bed and had me lie on my back. His intention was to kneel between my legs but in my whiniest little voice protested:

"Nooo, I want some too...don't be so selfish..."

He first tried laying full-length beside me but our bodies didn't mesh together properly so he got on all fours above me. It was very exhilarating.

His head bobbing up and down over my hard prick while his erection and large scrotum dangled over my face. I guided his throbbing cock to my mouth and massaged his balls at the same time.

It was the first time I'd ever 69'ed with a guy. I liked it. Not only was my dick inside a warm mouth, but my hands, lips and tongue were free to do whatever they wanted on his long and slender shaft and his heavy, manly balls.

"That was wonderful," I said to him still relishing his taste in my mouth.

"Oh God, yes," he replied softly. Then as an afterthought added: "I wish you lived in Chicago."

I answered, "There's nothing keeping me here."

His silence was deafening so I defensively added, "It wouldn't be right to have the two best cocksuckers living in the same city."

He chuckled softly but said nothing.

"I guess it's time for me to go...thank you for a wonderful night," I said.

He tightened his grip on my shoulder and said, "I'd like it if you spent the night with me..."

My heart fluttered.

"What would your co-worker think?" I asked.

"Oh, I got him a room on the other side of the hotel, and who cares?...I put in a wake-up call for six...will you sleep with me tonight?" he asked softly.

"I'd love to..." I answered thinking this would be another first: actually spending an entire night at The Harrington Hotel.

Without thinking I added, "Thank you for the best birthday I've had since I turned eleven and my dad bought me a brand new bicycle."

His body flinched beneath mine.

"What? Today is your birthday?" he said with surprise.

I immediately regretted mentioning it. I always hate when people make a fuss over me.

"Yeah...and I'll never forget this birthday," I said.

We continued talking in hushed tones. I told him more about myself and he told me more about himself. It was perfect. Natural. Nothing forced or awkward. It was like we were old friends.

But then came the question men sometimes ask me...a question for which I have no good answer.

"John, you are a smart and pretty boy...you have a great sense of humor and you're fun to be with...why do you come here for anonymous sex with strange men? When you go with a man to his room here, you have no idea what his plan is for you...at a place like The Harrington chances are the man is a legitimate businessman, but you don't know that for sure...why do you continually take the risk of being alone with strange men?"

I have been asked this question so many times I automatically responded with my standard answer.

"I may be young, but I have a pretty good radar when it comes to men. I haven't been inside THAT many rooms here...I only go with the men I KNOW I can trust," I said to him.

"John, you're full of crap..." he softly said. "Tell me the truth, you'll follow ANY men who show the slightest interest in you to their rooms!"

OH MY HELL - why is he suddenly being mean to me?

"No-no, that's not true," I protested. "I won't follow just any man to his room...only the ones I like!"

A moment of clarity struck me like a bolt of lightening. Every claim I'd made to Terry was false.

I DON'T have a good radar system that can filter out the bad men from the good; YES, I have been inside many rooms at The Harrington; and YES again, when I go to a man's room I have some trepidation because I don't really know if I can trust him or not.

Worst of all, I WILL go to a man's room whether I like him or not...heck, just tonight I went to bed with Roly-Poly, a man I detested...I don't know why I did that...or why I did the same with other men I found offensive.

"John, what's the real reason you do what you do?" he asked me in a barely audible voice.

A lump formed in my throat. Tears welled in my eyes.

"It's safer here than cruising that dark park at night...it was dangerous," I softly replied.

My head rose-and-fell on his chest as he deeply sighed.

"So before you were of legal drinking age you cruised a gay park? And it was probably very late at night, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so..." I replied.

"You're an intelligent boy, John...WHY have you been so promiscuous for so long...why do you take the chances you do?" he asked me softly.

I briefly hesitated then explained, "I am lonely...talking with men - being with men - it gives me a sense of closeness with them, an intimacy I need to make me feel like I'm a part of the human race..."

"You really believe that, don't you?" he said.

"Well, yes...I only do it because, uh, I have a craving for human companionship, and it's the only way I know how to make myself happy," I said to him in the darkness.

"That's utter and complete nonsense, John," he said loudly. "If you truly believe what you said to me I feel nothing but pity for you!"

"Terry, please, I uh-"

"John, you don't like yourself very much, do you? Outwardly, you come off as a boy who is comfortable with his sexuality, but that is a total lie, isn't it? You hate yourself for being queer, don't you, John?"

My teardrops trickled onto his chest.

"I just want to be normal, Terry...you know, like most guys my age...I didn't choose to be gay...I hate being different...whenever I'm around my friends - even my family - it's like they have no idea what to talk about...everyone acts like they have to be careful what they do or say around me...I want to feel normal, but I know they think I'm different - that I am not one of them, but..."

"But what?" he asked.

"But I am like them...I have a brain like them - I have feelings like them - we all want the same things...a good job, close friends, a love in our lives...but I can't do it - I can't be with them and feel good about myself!"

"So seeking out strange men for sex satisfies your need for intimacy? he asked.

"That's part of it..." I softly said.

"What else is there?" he asked me.

I sighed and paused before I answered the question.

I finally said to him, "What I said earlier is the truth: when I'm with a man - either talking with him at the bar or later in his room, it's the only time I feel like my life has any meaning...the man is actually interested in me...he listens to me..."

"He'll do or say anything, John, he wants sex from you," said Terry.

"No, no there's more to it than that...at the beginning, when he and I first meet...before it even enters his mind that he might get laid...no, we make a real connection...I can feel it - I can sense it...it's the only time in my boring life that I feel I have something positive to offer the world...when I can entertain and cheer up a man - whether he's lonely from being on the road, or even if yes, his ulterior motive is for me to diddle his cock...well, it gives me a sense of purpose - I'm an important person to him - someone cares for me, even if it's only for a couple hours - I am able to connect with most of these men on a human level...that is when I feel most alive - that is what gives my life true meaning."

***

I decided to stay away from The Harrington Hotel the next week. Maybe it was out of a sense of loyalty to Terry, or maybe it was because of some of the things he'd said to me.

"John, you will only feel better about yourself when you treat yourself with respect."

And: "Having indiscriminate sex with strangers is no path towards personal fulfillment."

And: "You're not going to find everlasting love and companionship hanging out in a bar filled with amoral and horny businessmen!"

I was in kind of a rut anyway and thought doing something different would help me gain some perspective on my life choices.

My night with Terry had left me happy and fulfilled. After work on Monday I had no compulsion whatsoever to go to the bar. I went straight home and contentedly surfed the internet for a few hours. I was proud of myself for not cruising even a single gay porn site.

I was coming back from the laundry room the next morning when I opened the door and heard my cell phone ringing. My heart skipped a beat.

My only thought was "It must be Terry calling me from Chicago!"

I hurried to answer the phone and when I saw the caller id I was briefly disappointed. Strange, it was Paul the Bartender.

"Hi Paul," I said into the phone.

"Are you alright, John? I became worried when you didn't come into the bar last night," he said.

"Oh, uh, thanks, but no, I'm fine," I replied.

After a brief pause, he softly said, "I missed you."

To me, those three words are second only to 'I love you' in importance. When someone tells me they missed me, it means they actually care for me or concerned about my well-being.

My initial thought was 'How did he get my phone number?' but I remembered the time he asked about a certain Armani suit that the store was out of. I told him to give me his number and I'd call when the shipment arrived. He'd hesitated then said "Why don't I call you instead" so I did give him my phone number.

I told him last week when I was in the bar the suits had arrived...why is he calling me now?

"Hey Paul, what's up?" I asked.

"Oh, you know, not much...like you I've got two-days off...it was pretty quiet last night, you didn't miss anything at the bar," he said.

Yes, he and I both have Tuesday/Wednesday off, but that didn't explain why he was suddenly calling me now.

His voice sounded like he was unsure what to say next. He was making small talk trying to delay telling me his real motive for the call.

A sudden thought came to mind that caused me to frown at the phone. I KNEW why he called - I KNOW what he wants!

He blurted out, "Uh, John...I was wondering if maybe on Wednesday you and I could have lunch together...we've known each other for quite a while and we get along real well...I'd like to buy you lunch!"

Of course you would, you closet pervert, I cynically thought to myself. Oh well, at least I'll get a free lunch out of the deal.

"Yeah, sure," I replied curtly.

"Great! How about 'Cattleman's Steakhouse' at noon?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Okay...I'll see you there," I said softly.

"Good. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better," he said then ended the call.

I'll bet you are, I thought to myself.

I was overcome by a sudden wave of self-loathing. I should have said 'No' to Paul.

Terry had mentioned my biggest problem is lack of self-respect...that I always manage to put myself in the worst possible situations because I don't like who I am.

Oh well, I sighed...what's one more backseat bj? At least I'll get a great steak out of it.

***

I felt so good after work Thursday night I convinced myself it was okay to break my vow of staying away from the bar for a week. Besides, I wanted to see Paul.

Yes, okay...I was wrong about Paul's motive for inviting me to lunch. I really have become a bitter cynic at the ripe old age of twenty-two. I guess I've been around so many hypocrites and lying closet-queens it's difficult for me to recognize the 'good guys' when I actually do meet them.

Anyway, I had a wonderful time at lunch with Paul. I'd forgotten how much we already knew about one another.

The year or so I've been going to The Harrington Hotel, we had discussed our lives quite openly with one another. He'd told me about his wife and family, and I'd revealed things about myself I normally wouldn't tell anyone else.

He's not a judgmental man. I had wondered what he thought of my habit of going to men's hotel rooms and he simply responded: "A young guy needs to 'sow his wild oats' before he settles down."

'Sow his wild oats'? Who uses that phrase anymore? It was then I realized Paul was quite a bit older than I had originally thought.

We sat talking in the restaurant for so long our server politely told us they closed from 3 to 4 to get ready for the dinner crowd.

Paul looked at me as he paid the check and remarked, "Wow, sure doesn't seem like we were here for three-hours."

I smiled and simply said, "Time flies when you're having fun."

Outside, standing beside our cars, Paul was hesitant to leave. He made small talk until there was a moment of silence between us.