Colorado Journeys

My phone was buzzing. Normally when I’m driving and my phone buzzes I just ignore it, but the way it buzzed meant it was a call, and the only people that actually call me are friends and family. So glanced down, saw it was my sister, swiped up to answer, and pressed the speakerphone button. 

“Hey,” I said, in what was maybe a more flip tone than I’d meant. 

“How’s the drive?” she asked. 

“I’m almost to La Junta, so it’s almost over. It’s pretty now, Kansas was pretty fuckin bland.”

“That’s good! Let me know when you get to Walsenburg”

We talked for a few more minutes; I told her about the guy at the McDonald’s outside of St. Louis that had tried to get me to join some church. I think it was Seventh Day Adventist, but maybe it was Jehovah’s Witness. She carped a bit about her job and her boss, and then we hung up. I didn’t tell her about last night. That might’ve been too much information for her. 

It was a welcome call. In just the last two hours of the nineteen hour trip I’d started to realize what I was doing, and consider that maybe it wasn’t the smartest or most well thought out plan. I honestly don’t know that much about most people, but I feel like the average Joe doesn’t uproot his life on a whim. Just knowing that she, and my mom and my dad and my other friends, would always be just a phone call away was comforting. 

La Junta doesn’t look all that different from a lot of the towns in Kansas I’d just driven past. There’s a lot of flat prairie land, except it looks drier in this part of Colorado. Sometimes there are pine trees, and sometimes there’s just this broad expanse of land with mountains in the distance. Parts of it look broken down, like sometimes people just forgot that they lived here or used to live here and let old buildings, old cars, old horses just stay where they were, slowly aging out of existence.

I guess I was looking to be forgotten, too. I was working before at an architecture firm as an admin until I decided I didn’t want to anymore, and in a fit of pique I started looking for other jobs. I’d accepted this job, at a state economic development office in Walsenburg, just eight days ago. Five days ago I found a place to stay. Four days ago I started packing my stuff (I didn’t have much) into the back of my midsize Honda, three days ago i cleaned my apartment and gave the landlord the keys, and yesterday I loaded the last few belongings away from my friend’s house where I’d stayed the last two nights and began the drive. 

It was impulsive, and probably stupid, but I figured that if there’s any time to do impulsive and probably stupid things, it’s when I’m really young or really old. Twenty three counts as young enough. 

On the drive itself I switched between NPR, classical music, and indie rock. I’d dated a guy back in Wisconsin that told me “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” was his favorite radio show. That guy had to be psychotic, right? But now I was thinking of him, and how cute he was. And how thick his dick was. 

There’s something about life changes that makes me horny. And not just kind of horny, but really, really horny. Maybe it was because I was a little scared, too? Whatever it was, I was ready to go, even after last night. Fuck, just the memory of last night was so powerful.

Yesterday I made waffles to thank my friend Diane for letting me stay with her, then got on the road about eight fifteen. There’s something about driving where, even though I’m sitting down the entire time, it wears me out. So by the time six thirty was rolling around and I was outside Kansas City I was starting to get sleepy. I was uprooting my life to go across the country, so I was on a budget. I figured I’d either sleep in my car, but I might as well also open up Grindr to see if there was anyone to hook up with. Like I said, life changes make me horny, and there was plenty of time on the road earlier to think about sex. There was probably a 50/50 chance I’d get murdered if I did hook up with someone, but if I did then I wouldn’t have to worry about getting to Colorado and getting settled in before Monday anymore. 

It’d been a while since I’d updated my profile. I took a pic at lunch when I thought the light was good, just me in my car - that was probably cute enough to score some dick. I wrote up a quick bio line: “in town for the night looking for someone to be in me for the night,” and exited the app. I’d check it later when I maybe had a few messages, but for right now I found a place that Google said had good pulled pork sandwiches, so I could just read and eat for a bit. 

Once that was done I checked again, and sure enough my profile had had some hits. I love being new in town on the apps. Two guys that messaged had “no hookups” in the profile. I don’t know if they were hypocrites or they didn’t read my profile, but I didn’t want to take the time to ask. I had lingered a bit at dinner; the waitress and I had a surprisingly engaging chat about local politics. There was an apparently salacious scandal there with a local councilman who had an appetite for hookers and blow. As a result this unforeseen delay it was already eight and I didn’t have time to fuck around on Grindr when I wanted to be fucking around with someone off of Grindr. 

One of the others that texted listed himself as a bottom. I’d topped before, and I’m not opposed to it, but right now I had an itch to take a cock. Three blank profiles had messaged, but one stood out. He’d just messaged “hey”, but he included a picture - decently handsome and a little scruffy. His bio was bare besides the fact he was five foot ten and thirty six. 

“What’s up?” I asked. He was to the point - “looking to fuck. What are you into?”

I hate it when people ask me that. Honestly, sex is ridiculous. If I think about it abstractly for too long it just seems weird and vaguely hilarious. In the moment, though, I’ll be down for almost anything you are, as long as you’re enthusiastic enough. Almost. So I answered: “love head (giving/sometimes getting if you’re good enough), getting fucked, jacking off… sometimes kinkier, depending on the mood.”

He was good at responding quickly. That was a relief. I hate it when someone takes forever to respond for a hookup. “Awesome. Pics?” 

I like a man of few words. I responded with a few face ones - one of me at the zoo, baking bread, on a hike. Also a nude one, from the side - it showed a waist that’s not thin, but not fat, and an ass that is a few sizes larger than my waist. I think people now call that being thick - not fat, but with a big ass. “Hottt” was his response, and he sent a few pics of his own - one of him at work, it looked like, with a slight smile on his face. 

He was cute. About average weight, and he knew what haircut worked for him. One without his shirt - he worked out, his arms were thick. He was a solidly set man - not fat, but with a little something to grab on to. Sometimes people use the word beefy to mean fat, but I think it means someone with a little fat but also some muscle. He was beefy. Definitely one of my types. Then a dick pic. Maybe six and a half inches, a little wide. He could have me in a heartbeat. 

“Damn, you’re pretty fucking nice yourself”. What I really wanted to say was, where’s your address, I want to come over right now? Instead I waited for his response. “Are you free tonight”

“Yeah, I’m only in town tonight actually - on my way through Kansas and just stopping here for sleep”

“I don’t know if we’ll be doing much of that tonight”

“Oh? Well, if you insist… When are you free”

Please say right now, please say right now… “I can be free right now. Work should be slow tomorrow”

Jackpot. I politely declined the others who’d messaged me and asked his address. He didn’t live at an apartment complex, which was a major bonus - I was not in the mood to be aimlessly wandering around a bunch of three story buildings trying to find the right unit number. After I plugged the address into my maps and started making my way I got the usual pre-hookup feeling, a kind of rush from doing something impulsive, a strong jolt of horniness, and a nervousness about meeting someone and having sex right out of the gate. I’d done it before, but it never stopped being a strange experience. 

I was at the right street, a bunch of one and two story houses in a pretty sleepy looking neighborhood, and I heard Google’s robotic voice telling me that I’d arrived. Dammit, it was dark and I couldn’t see the street numbers on the side. I had to text him again to specify which was his. Fuck, this is embarrassing. “One sec,” he texted, “I’ll be right out.” 

Twenty seconds later a light came on at the house up ahead and the guy from the pictures - shit, had I forgotten his name? Oh, that’s right, we didn’t exchange names. Anyway, that guy was standing outside a charming two story brick house. I drove into his driveway and got out. He laughed as I walked towards him; I’m so fucking awkward when I move in general. I flashed a sheepish smile as he waved me inside. 

“Hi, I’m Chris,” I said, as I stuck out my hand for a handshake. I hadn’t planned a handshake; I legitimately forgot what cool people do when they meet the people they want to have cumming in their ass in half an hour. He laughed again, shook my hand, and said “Nice to meet you. I’m Josh.”

I got a good look at him in the dim but still revealing light of his small foyer. He was wearing a t shirt and boxers, and he looked right about as he did in his pictures. I was horny as hell, but just couldn’t shake the nerves of meeting someone and fucking right away. Instead I made small talk - I like your house, how was your day, what do you do, etc. We moved to sit on the couch in his living room. He was gracious, he seemed a little charmed by my guilelessness. I almost wish it was an act that I used, to seem introverted and apprehensive and a little naive to reel in men, but it wasn’t. It was just the disconnect between the confidence I had on the apps and the nerves I had in person. 

He was originally from Virginia, he was half Cuban, he was a warehouse manager, I asked him questions about all of that. He was actually a good conversationalist! Now he asked about me, and I told him I was tired of living in Ohio and wanted to go out West for a change. “You just, quit your job and moved?” He was surprised. 

“Yup. And normally I’m not even a risk taker; so this was a little bit of a departure,” I said with a bit of a laugh. His response: “Well, just from talking with you a little right now it seems like wherever you end up, you’ll land on your feet.” I wasn’t sure about that, but I laughed and accepted the compliment. “In the meantime, do you want to spend a little time on your back?” He asked. God, that was good. I couldn’t tell if I’d have found that smooth if I weren’t horny as fuck right now, but it definitely worked. 

“Now that’s a good offer,” I said as I leaned into kiss his neck. It was lightly bearded, and chafed a bit against my clean shaven skin. I was rock hard. He grabbed my neck and pulled my head a little back - not forcefully, but with confidence and purpose - and pushed his mouth against mine. Our lips kissed, and kissed again, and again, and then I felt his tongue lapping at them. I reciprocated. I started feeling his package, which was stiff against his boxers. His dick was straining to get out, but before I just wanted to kiss all over his body.

I started going for his t shirt, slipping my hands underneath at the bottom so I could take it off. He preempted me, quickly took off his shirt and asked huskily if I wanted to go upstairs. I assumed that’s where his bedroom was, so I said sure. “Sure,” is probably not the hottest thing to say after making out and before sex, but I felt like I’d been kissing him strongly enough before that he would know I was very interested in sealing the deal. 

As we made our way up the stairs I silently regretted my height. Being 6’5’’ meant I would never be one of those pocket gays that someone could just sling over their shoulder, take back to their cave, and have their way with. But you can’t control everything.

We made it to his bedroom and he lightly pushed me on the king size bed, before grabbing at the bottoms of my sweatpants and pulling them off. It was a more fluid motion than I’d expected, and was somehow even more turned on. I took off my shirt as he laid in the bed and rolled over almost on top of me, taking my mouth with his mouth. I pushed him so that his back was on the bed, and sucked on his neck before kissing his nipples, then taking them into my mouth and sucking on them. I could tell he liked this. 

His fingers were under the elastic band of my underwear as I was lustily going after his nipples, his big, hairy chest, his arms, his fur covered belly. He grabbed my ass and flipped me back onto my back. Less smoothly than before he removed my boxer briefs before kissing my neck, groping my dick, fondling my ass, reaching for my hole. Fuck, I was turned on. 

We made out, me kissing his neck and collar and chest and he kissing mine, until the urge became so powerful that I said “I wanna blow you so fucking bad,” and he got on his back as I sat up. I arranged myself so that I was crouching over his dick, arching my back so he could still hold onto my ass as I lowered my face onto his boxer covered groin. I took off the underwear, again not as smoothly as I would’ve wanted, but it’s hard to be smooth when we’re just fumbling around with each others’ bodies. Finally, his cock. It was pointed straight up, a little darker than the rest of his very tanned, light brown body. I looked right into his brown eyes staring at mine as I ran my tongue along the length of his shaft. 

Soon I had the whole thing in my mouth, I was getting a good rhythm going as it was hitting not quite the back of my throat. He was moaning and I thought I could taste some precum. I took a breath and forced his cock all the way in, so that I could swear I could feel it going down my esophagus. I don’t have the greatest deep-throat, but it seemed to work on him. I gagged a bit and came up, he held the side of my face as he pulled my mouth towards his again. 

“I’m gonna fuck you” he said, and he said it gruffly. Yes, absolutely, please. He positioned me on my back, he got up and knelt by my ass. He held his dick right at my hole and teased me with it, just rubbing it up against my opening. Soon his body was slowly humping mine, and then he reached to his bedside nightstand for a condom and some lube. He got one on with ease, lubed it and my ass up, had the head right at my hole’s entrance, and started pushing. Holy fuck, that was good. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was I saying that in my head or out loud? It must’ve been out loud, because his face was above mine with a kind of smirk. “You like that?” he asked, I could only say “fuck yeah.” Usually I had a broader vocabulary. 

More and more of his cock was going inside of me. Any momentary discomfort was fading away, and I could tell soon that he was all the way in. He took it out, still a little slowly. He was getting used to it again, too. But he started to speed up, and my hand shot toward my dick. God damn, this was hot; I was jerking off and he was fucking me, faster and faster. 

I had to take my hand of my dick pretty soon, though. I didn’t want to come to quickly. He’d only been inside of me what, thirty seconds? No, I wanted to make sure he could feel as good as he was making me feel. He grabbed my ass as he kept fucking me and let out a low, guttural “fuck”. His tempo changed, sometimes it got faster and sometimes he’d slow down and lean in for a kiss, but somehow it always felt in sync, like we were both just following a natural fucking rhythm. 

A bead of sweat from his forehead dropped onto my chest, I swiped it up with my finger and tasted it. It was salty and delicious, the way only sex sweat can taste. That set him over the edge, I could tell he was about to come. I started jacking off as he was getting close. I was so turned on during the entire time that it took me maybe forty seconds of jerking it before I came, he came another twenty seconds or so after. He grunted as he shot his load into the condom and almost collapsed, but gently, onto me. That was good. 

We laid there in the afterglow of sex for a little bit before he got up to get a towel. He offered me a shower and I said yes; I didn’t want to be covered in sweat, jizz and saliva all night. We were talking in the shower about his parents, who had split up just a couple of years ago, and how he visited them sometimes. His mom was going to come in from North Carolina in just a few weeks. “Hey,” he said, the tone of his voice changing to something almost nervous, but not quite. “I don’t know if you’d want to, but you’re more than welcome to stay the night here.”

To this point I figured I’d probably just sleep in my car; after coming like that it wouldn’t be hard to doze off quickly. But I leaped at the offer. I made sure it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, a suggestion he waved off breezily. An hour later, about midnight, we were naked in his bed watching Law and Order on Netflix, cuddling under the sheets. It was spring outside, but the weather was surprisingly brisk at night. Or maybe not surprising, I had no idea what western Missouri’s climate was like.

He asked me more about where I wanted to go in life. Why Colorado? Did I have longer term plans? The only long term plans I knew I had, I told him, were that one day I knew I wanted a good job and brick house kind of like this one, where there was a back yard with enough room to plant some cherry trees. I wanted to feel secure, and I wanted to read a lot. He thought, and for a little the only noise in the room was Jerry Orbach talking to Fred Thompson, before he responded, “well, I bet there’s enough room in the back for a tree or two, though you’ll have to take care of the reading part yourself.” He chuckled a bit, and I laughed too. I fell asleep with his arms around me. 

That morning I woke up about seven. His arms were still around me, though I’d woken up in the middle of the night to pee so I knew we hadn’t slept all night like that. He was hard; I could feel his morning wood at my back. That was enough of a turn on. I was rock hard seemingly within seconds. I could feel him stirring a little bit as I angled my body to where his dick was nestled between my ass cheeks. “What time is it?” He sounded groggy. 

“I think it’s about seven. Do you need to go to work?” 

“Not until eight thirty.”

I took the initiative this time. I grabbed his dick from behind me and guided it to my hole. “So we still have time, then.”

He responded by kissing my back and arranging his arms so he more fully enveloped me. He was teasing my crack, pulsing his body slowly so that his cock was grazing the outline of my ass. He spit a little on his hand and spread it on his dick so that it could more comfortably go between my cheeks, his head brushing right up against my hole. 

This one was quicker than last night, in the way early morning fuck sessions often are. He got the condom and the lube quickly, and soon I was on my stomach feeling his weight on top of me as he slowly started entering again. I was tighter, I think, because it was early in the morning. The thought briefly crossed my mind that I had better pray last night’s pulled pork stayed put. No, it would be fine. And, really, better than fine. He was again getting a good rhythm going, in and out and in and out, and I could feel my precum making a spot on his sheets. 

He was grunting, I was grabbing his ass from behind, pulling him closer into me. I wanted every part of him inside. Soon, after only a few minutes, he got on his knees and turned me around in bed, took the condom off, and started jerking off. I started pulling my own dick, and it was just the sound of heavy breathing and jacking off for a little until his face contorted a bit, and in a spasm of relief and release he came on my chest. That sent me over the edge, and I came on my stomach seconds later. 

Within twenty minutes we’d showered and he toasted bagels while I scrambled eggs. We kept talking until an awkward silence before I was going to get back on the road and he was going to go to work. “Honestly, Josh?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m never going to forget last night.”

“Me neither”

We kissed one last time as he was putting on his shoes, and I opened the door and left. That was the truth; that night was perfect in its own way. I don’t know if Josh and I would’ve been a love match if I had lived in Kansas City. But he was sweet, interesting, charming in just the right ways to me, and I seemed to be to him. It was the kind of hookup I’d remember fondly years from now, where we were at least friends for life, even if we never spoke again, on the basis of that one night alone. 

I came out of my reverie as I drove past a sign. Nine miles to the Walsenburg exit. More adventures, certainly, would come. And God, I was horny.