A gay adult story: California Lloyd – Part 1 by Bulge Voyeur ,
Where the Good Samaritan becomes a night-time voyeur….
I make no apology for the fact that I have an eye for a young man. And me being a creature of habit, it will come as no surprise that this one was about 20 and travelling with his parents when I encountered him – not once but twice on the same trip. Coincidence? Perhaps, but I’m not one to “pass by on the other side” when a young man needs a helping hand, so to speak!
I was on one of my photography and sightseeing trips and I had spent a few days on my own in the ever-beautiful San Francisco. Now I was off in the direction of Yosemite National Park. I had booked in at a small family-run hotel a few miles outside the Park, a rather quaint old place with a timber frontage and antique furniture everywhere. It was about 9.45pm and I was sitting quietly enjoying a drink after dinner in the hotel lounge, reading the Yosemite National Park Guide and planning my route for tomorrow, while out of the corner of my eye, I was people-watching – you know, the way you do.
The lounge was quite small and the main Reception desk was in the corner near the front doors and I could see people coming and going. There wasn’t a lot of activity though, it being a very small hotel and most guests having already checked-in but there ventured through the doors a tired-looking middle-aged couple accompanied by a young man of about 19, presumably their son. Suddenly, my Yosemite Guide was but a blur to my eyes, as I listened intently to the conversation now taking place at the desk.
It seems they had been travelling all day; they had flown-in from Atlanta, then driven here from San Francisco. They had booked rooms in another hotel but had not paid a deposit and had arrived much later than expected; consequently they had found their rooms let to someone else; an unhappy set of circumstances at any rate, from which they now needed rescuing rather late in the day.
The desk-clerk was very sympathetic and clearly wanted to be helpful.
“Well,” she said to the middle-aged guy before her, “I do have one room available for tonight and it has a King-bed; I guess that would suit you and your wife but I’m afraid we don’t have any other rooms available and the room I do have is far too small for another single bed – even if I had one – which I don’t, I’m afraid. I’m awfully sorry.”
Meanwhile, I had been sizing-up the young man. I had already put him at about 20. He was about 5’ 10” and I guessed about 165lb. He had a tanned and well cared-for complexion, while his hair was short, though not quite military, his “hard” look was reinforced by rather fetching camouflage pants and a white vest; his smooth bare arms and the tight-fitting nature of the latter declaring that the lad probably worked-out; not a lot, just enough to build some substance to his otherwise lanky frame.
Obviously weary and somewhat at a loss for an alternative, I could hear the mother and father discussing something about a sleeping-bag and talking to their son. They appeared to be considering taking the room, provided their son could sleep on the floor. I stood up.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but I couldn’t help overhearing your dreadful story. I’m sorry you’re in such a pickle; you must be so tired.”
I had their attention, if for no other reason than for my English accent!
“I’m passing through here myself,” I continued, “and ….. erm….. well, it so happens I have twin beds in my room but I only need the one. If your lad doesn’t mind sharing a room with a stranger, he’d be welcome to have the use of the other bed in my room. It is only one night after all. It’s rather late – and it would avoid all three of you having to share the same bathroom too.”
As I said this, I looked at the young man and found him looking thoughtfully back at me through half-closed eyes. After a short pause, I added a diversionary remark,
“How come it took you so long travelling from Atlanta anyway?”
The father was quick to spot an opportunity, not to mention a polite foreigner,
“I say! That’s real accommodatin’ of you sir!” he exclaimed with something of a Southern drawl.
He turned to his wife for affirmation but the mother was more cautious. As she looked slightly sideways at me, she looked me up and down, while she spoke to her husband,
“Henry, dear. We haven’t even been introduced. We don’t know anything about this gentleman.” She turned and smiled at me,
“Please don’t be offended,” she said.
I assured her I wasn’t offended but the ice had been broken and an amiable conversation quickly unfolded, the upshot of which was that it was agreed that the son, Lloyd was his name, would share my room and the bill would be split 50/50. I tried to be nonchalant about the deal but, needless to say, I couldn’t wait to see what the young man looked like without the camouflage pants and white vest! My imagination was working overtime already and I was thinking of him sleeping on top of the sheets, like all self-respecting Marines, in nothing but his jockey-shorts! Preferably with his junk accidentally hanging out of one leg!
As the deal was sealed, I shook hands with the young Lloyd and a little jolt of electricity passed through me as I felt the firm grip of his hand and the warmth of his touch. He looked at me without blinking and I saw into his beautiful steel-grey eyes, the pupils of which were, interestingly, heavily dilated. He was either rather randy or, as was more likely, rather wary of this “strange” Englishman more than twice his age.
In the small confines of the room upstairs, I could feel the heat of his body radiating his musky masculine aroma and I tried to distract myself by making casual conversation with him. He seemed a bit shy at first, so I showed him quickly where he could stow his stuff and then diplomatically offered to let him use the bathroom while I went down to make some tea, as there was no equipment in the room. I offered to get him something but he declined politely. By the time I came back, he was already in bed, bare-chested and covered up to his waist by only the top sheet, the folds of which revealed the outline of his legs. The blanket was neatly turned down and his clothes were folded in a tidy pile on the chair. There was no sign of any underwear on top of the pile, as he lay back against the pillow, his muscular arms behind his head and his almost hairless chest laid bare for me to admire. His pecs were not over-developed but his shoulders were broad and his chest showed only a few tiny hairs around his nipples.
Drinking my tea on the bed, I chatted to him some more, trying not to look too directly at him. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help admiring that chest, the profile of his smooth face, his silky brown eye-brows, his button nose and his perfectly luscious lips. At last, I was managing to engage him a little and when I eventually made him smile, he showed his beautifully white teeth. My mind was now beneath the sheet, thinking about his other attributes; American, probably circumcised – I hadn’t played with a circumcised cock in quite a while, I thought. Then I admonished myself. “And you’re not going to tonight either!” I told myself, as I sighed and said “Goodnight,” to him and turned out the light.