Ups and Downs

The Bellboy

Woody, the handsome hunk who had rescued me from the two assholes who tried to rough me up in the cheap motel, was dripping wet when he walked out of the bathroom in the St. Regis Hotel, and man, was he fucking hot! About 6’2” with broad chest and shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, bulging biceps, ripped abs, and killer quads, he projected a commanding presence that reminded me of Jeff Sullivan and his dad, but about 10 years older than the former and 10 years younger than the latter.

He would have been gorgeous under any circumstances, but the water dripping off his muscled body accentuated his masculine form to the point that I was left thirsting for the chance to lick him dry. Since he was using the plush towel in his hands to dry his light brown hair, his crotch appeared in all its glory, and damn, was it glorious! Even flaccid, his dick was longer than most men’s dicks when they are hard, and his balls were the size of walnuts. Very tasty walnuts, no doubt.

I was already in bed when he came out of the shower. “Get some sleep,” he had told me. “We’ve got a flight to catch in the morning.” And so, I crawled under the covers naked, which is how I usually sleep, and even though I was indeed tired and sleepy when I got into bed, the sight of his mouth-watering body jolted me awake, and the proof was in the tent I was pitching in the sheets.

When it comes to sex, I am normally a take-charge kind of guy, which worked well for me with the men who came to see me at the hardware store, but with Woody, I just melted. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to drop that damn towel, throw himself on top of me, and make me his bitch. And I fully expected him to do exactly that. But no.

I thought the heat he was emitting as he approached the bed would burn a hole in the mattress—or in my heart—but instead of crawling under the sheets with me, he reached over me, spreading his nipple and armpit right in my face, so close that I could almost taste them, grabbed a pillow, and headed toward the sitting room where we had eaten our supper.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” I asked. Down, boy. Don’t let him see your weakness.

“Nah,” he replied, teasingly drying off his wet cock and balls, “I’ll sleep on the sofa in the other room. I’ve got a few items of business to take care of, and I don’t want to disturb your sleep.” Oh, you fucking hot stud, disturb me! Disturb the shit out of me!

For several minutes, I lay awake with a raging hard-on hoping that he would change his mind and ravage me, but I really was exhausted, and lying on a comfortable mattress for the first time in weeks, I fell asleep in spite of my carnal desires.

The rest of the night was a fog in my mind. Though I found myself waking up several times, I was never sure of where I was or what I was doing. I was never sure if what I was sensing was real or just a dream. I decided I must be hallucinating the figure coming through the door because I did not hear a knock, and who would be coming into our room at this late hour anyway?

I had no idea how much time had passed when I woke again. Had it been hours or just a few minutes? Was I dreaming or hallucinating again, or was I really hearing sounds coming from the sitting room? Only one way to find out. I got out of bed and slinked my way to the door separating the two rooms. Whoever had passed through that doorway last had neglected to close it completely, and through the slight crack I was able to see the excitement that was going on over there.

Leaning against the back of the sofa, Woody stretched out, legs spread apart, and moaned as the head of a young man bobbed up and down over his crotch. Yes, Woody was getting a blow job. Part of me felt completely rejected. I would have done that and done it better than this guy, whoever he is. Another part of me, though, became enthralled. I had seen his dick flaccid when he came out of the shower, but now I could see it at full attention, and gawd was it impressive! I so much wanted to be the guy trying to swallow all of it but not quite succeeding.

I loved seeing the muscles in Woody’s chest and arms flex involuntarily as his synapses fired from electric jolts spreading from his crotch to every part of his body. And though I know he was trying to suppress the sound of his moans, I enjoyed hearing them confirm his divine agony. I hoped that the kid servicing him would pull back when Woody exploded so that I could watch his hot juices burst high into the air.

But Woody had other plans for this young man. He lifted the guy up from the floor and bent him over one arm of the sofa. I’m gonna get to see my Adonis fuck the kid. But Woody wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Instead, he dropped to the floor, spread the guy’s delectable butt cheeks, and sank his tongue into his eager hole. The kid squealed like a piglet, squeals of delight, of course.

I’m not picky. You can eat my ass, Woody, or I’ll be happy to help you tongue-fuck the kid. I’m really into sharing.

Satisfied that he had prepped the guy sufficiently for the main course, Woody reached over to a nearby table and retrieved a condom. Watching him fit the rubber over his cock sent lusty shivers up and down my spine. Gawd, it would be heaven to have my hand stroking that magnificent rod right now.

Is there anything more beautiful than watching a man edging the crown of his shaft into a waiting hole? Woody performed this function with compassion for his target but also with supreme confidence that exuded masculinity and sexiness. Damn, how I envied that kid. I wondered how much of Woody’s pole the kid would be able to take. Most of it, apparently, but not all of it.

My own sphincter throbbed with each thrust of Woody’s cock. Sympathy pains? Whatever you call it, I ached for the want of Woody’s dick plowing my ass. And I ached in my balls too. I could feel the juices percolating in my ball sack, preparing to blast like cannon fire from my rock-hard barrel.

Woody’s slow, deliberate insurgence soon turned into a heavy pounding, and I could tell from the kid’s muffled screams that Woody had found his prostate and attacked it with a vengeance. Like the young man, Woody struggled to stifle his moans. Even so, I imagined that hotel security would soon be knocking on our door, pleading with them to keep the noise down so as not to disturb the other hotel guests.

“Fuck, kid, your ass is so fuckin’ tight.”

“Fuck me, man. Fuck me hard. Faster, harder, deeper. Oh, gawd. Shit, man. You are so fucking hot.”

And hot he was. Woody pounded the boy’s ass so hard that I could almost feel his dick assaulting my own prostate. But that was actually my finger, which had found it’s way to my own hole without my even realizing it. My finger tried to match the rhythm and power of Woody’s thrusts. It did not quite reach my orgasm control center, but the stimulation of my rectal nerves sent shivers through my body all the same.

“Oh, fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!” And that wasn’t Woody speaking. It was the kid experiencing a rectal orgasm. And sure enough, his cock shot volleys of jizz all over the side of the sofa. Fortunately, the sofa was made of leather, not fabric, so the white cream would wipe off easily, though the globs that dripped down onto the plush carpet would be harder to remove.

“Ah…ah…ah…oh, fuck! Fuuuccckkk!” Yeah, that time it was Woody’s muffled yell. Woody shoved his screaming cock so deep into the kid’s hole that his big balls almost breached the boy’s sphincter ring.

“Oh, shit! Fuuuccckkk!” That one was me. While I had one finger up my ass, the fingers of my other hand were clawing at the carpeted floor as my dick, with no assistance whatsoever, blasted cum onto my leg, the floor, and the door. Fortunately, Woody and his target were both so caught up in their own orgasms that they did not notice me spying on them through the crack in the door. I did see Woody perk up once, but he looked in the opposite direction, so I felt relieved that he did not catch me ogling them. Then again, if he had caught me, maybe he would have invited me to join them for an encore. Dream on, Joe.

I knew I needed to clean up the mess, but I couldn’t risk getting caught, so I wiped the cum off my leg with my fingers, licked them clean, and slinked back to the bed, crawled under the covers, and pretended to fall asleep.

Several minutes passed when out of the squint of one eye I watched a slender figure exit the room. Though it was too dark for me to make out much, I did notice that he seemed to be carrying something. A bag perhaps?

Less than a minute later, I saw the muscled figure of Woody cross over my room to the bathroom. He was still completely naked, and from the faint glow of the bathroom night light, I could see that he was still semi-erect. Damn! Even in the dark, he was fucking gorgeous. And hot! Hot, hot, hot!

A couple of minutes later, he surprised me by approaching the bed instead of returning immediately to the sitting room and the sofa beckoning him. Are you going to crawl into bed with me now? You could have fucked me instead of that guy, but even if you just curl up with me, that’ll be OK. We can just cuddle tonight and fuck in the morning.

When he knelt before me, I thought for sure I was going to get my wish, but instead, he gently combed his fingers through my hair ever so lightly, trying no doubt not to wake me. Then, he kissed me gently on the forehead, whispered something inaudible into my ear (though the feel of his breath against my skin nearly drove me wild), and shuffled back to the sitting room. This time, though, he closed the door completely.

Some time later—I had completely lost control of the time at that point—I awoke to the feel of his manly hand on my shoulder. When I rolled over, I was met with the sight of his crotch right in my face. It was covered with very sexy briefs, the kind with the pouch that accentuates the contents, and I wanted nothing more than to lick through the fabric and use my teeth to pull the damn thing off so I could devour what lay beneath.

As I turned, though, he took a step back. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Breakfast awaits, and we have a plane to catch.”

As I threw off the covers and prepared to get up, I realized that I was hard as a rock. Oh, shit! When I looked up, Woody was already walking toward the sitting room with his back to me, but I could have sworn that he caught a quick glimpse of my morning wood. And I was pretty sure I saw him adjust his balls as he walked away.

After relieving my bladder and washing some of the cobwebs off my face, I returned to the bedroom to get dressed, but I could not find my clothes. “In here,” Woody called from the sitting room. “There,” he said, pointing to a suitcase in the corner. Seeing the look of confusion of my face, he added, “That’s yours. You’ll find some new clothes in there. Pick something comfortable for the flight.”

“But my cl—”

“I sent them out to be cleaned,” he anticipated my question. “The hotel staff will ship them to California. Well, don’t just stand there gaping,” he chuckled as he approached me. “As much as I’m sure the other hotel guests would love to see you having breakfast in your birthday suit, we probably shouldn’t risk that. One of them might try to steal you away from me, and I don’t want to risk losing you now that I’ve finally got you.

“Get your ass in gear,” he smirked as he slapped me on my bare butt and walked away. The feel of his masculine hand on my ass, however briefly, again sent electric shocks throughout my naked body and blood rushing to my exposed dick. Oh shit, Joe! Can’t you keep the damn thing down?

When I opened the suitcase, I found a couple of pairs of jeans, an everyday pair and a designer pair, along with a variety of shirts, casual and dressy, socks, and a week’s worth of underwear, all of which had pouches like the ones Woody was wearing. I had seen underwear like this before in online ads—and now on Woody—but I had never owned a pair. Did you know that I prefer briefs over boxers, or did you choose these because this is what you wanted to see me in?

When I turned my head to look for my tennis shoes, I found instead a box containing a brand new pair of Air Jordans. But I also found something even more interesting—two things, in fact: a condom wrapper lying next to a bellboy’s hat. Aha! It wasn’t all just a dream. That bellboy really was in this room with Woody last night. Well, if he was the same one who brought our supper last night, he was cute. I’d have fucked him myself given the chance.

Suddenly, pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. The bellboy must have brought the suitcase when he came in last night, and he must have taken my clothes in that bag when he left. And he no doubt left with a smile on his face after getting one helluva tip from Woody.

As I was getting dressed, I turned to find a mirror so I could check myself out, and then it hit me. When I shot my wad last night, Woody perked up, but I dismissed it because he looked in the opposite direction. Now I realized that he was looking in the mirror. Was he just enjoying the sight of himself shooting up the bellboy’s ass, or was he looking to discover me writhing in my own orgasm as I lay spying on them through the open doorway? Was he thinking how stupid it was to have left the door ajar, or had he left it cracked on purpose just so that I would hear them…and perhaps join them? Did I miss my chance? Will there be another chance?

The ride to Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International Airport was largely uneventful. We took the same black Mercedes SUV, but now it was driven by a man in a black business suit, white shirt, and tie. “It’s a rental,” Woody explained, providing no more details.

Our conversation on the way to the airport was no more substantive. No matter what questions I had or topics I tried to bring up, Woody always shifted the conversation to the weather, sports, or some other trivial topic. Finally, I asked, “How long are we going to be in California?”

“That depends,” he replied tersely.

“On what?” I asked.

“On how well Mr. Block likes you.”

(to be continued)