A gay story: Room 117 It was my freshman year in college. While I had a scholarship that paid most of my school expenses, if I wanted to have a social life or even a Big Mac, I had to get a job. As in any other college town, good jobs are hard to come by, so I took what I could get. In this case, I worked with the maintenance department at the local mall.
One week, the mall had this arts and crafts promotion. Numerous vendors set up kiosks all about the center portion of the mall. One of the vendors was this guy named Mark who made little glass figurines out of Pyrex with a blowtorch. I found myself interested not only in the artwork, but also the fact that the guy told me that he was pulling down good money.
Like anyone who enjoys his craft, Mark was more than happy to tell me about the business. After all, like he said, his permanent shop was about 1000 miles away, and it was not like I was going to be competing with him. During my breaks that week, Mark and I talked about the business and just stuff in general. Mark was about twice my age, but he and I hit it off pretty well.
I even went there on Friday, my day off. Heck, I was 18 and malls were filled with girls, so where else was I going to be? Mark was making a large sailboat.
“Hey Barry, I thought you had the day off?” he said with a smile. “Can’t get enough of the place or what?”
“Shit,” I answered, “Other than class, where else is there to go on Friday afternoon?”
“Yeah, but if I recall my younger days correctly,” he said, as he put the finishing touches on a mast of the ship. “Friday nights are hopping for a kid your age.”
“Oh, I’ll probably hit some parties and a couple of clubs. Who knows, I might get lucky.”
“You’re a good looking kid. You have to be a hit with the ladies,” Mark offered. He sat his tools down and took a break. “I gotta have a smoke. Want to keep me company in smokers’ hell?”
Back then; I smoked too, so I joined him. At this mall, smokers have a little area with concrete benches. Mark and I were the only ones out there, since it was a little brisk outside that day. Mark and I sat on a bench that allowed us a view of people going in and out of one of the anchor stores.
Neither of us had said much as we smoked, except for commenting on the chill in the air, for several minutes. In fact, I had finished my smoke when Mark said, “Listen, I hope you don’t take this wrong, Barry, but I would like to ask you something.” As he spoke, he was looking over at me; his eyes squinted a bit at the wind that was swirling in the smokers’ hell.
I just shrugged and replied, “I don’t get offend too easily. So shoot.” After a pause, as I recall, it was like he was bracing himself in case I did get pissed. While he was older than I, I had a good six inches in height on the guy. Mark was in good shape for a thirty something, but I was built pretty well. Mark was a slender guy, though by no means frail. He just wasn’t someone who would intimidate anyone.
“Have you ever been with a man?” Mark asked. He looked at me with a look that was dead serious; otherwise, I probably would have thought he was joking. It took me a couple of moments to let the question simmer in my mind. I suppose to break the tension, Mark added, “It’s okay either way. It’s just that I’m bi, and I thought—”
“No, sorry man,” I interjected. “I don’t have a problem with gays or anything. It’s just never been my thing.” At that point, I really did not know what to do. I was cold, and until Mark had popped the question so to speak, I had wanted to go inside. Now, if I did that, he might take it that I was pissed. It’s funny how things like that sometimes work out.
“Hey, I was just asking. Please don’t feel like you have to apologize,” Mark said, lighting another cigarette. “I just find you attractive and thought it was worth a shot. It’s me who should be sorry for making you uncomfortable.”
Lighting a second cig of my own, I replied, “Don’t worry about it. I still think you’re cool, dude.” Perhaps, it was that which broke the tension, but we both started laughing.
“Fuck! It’s cold out here, isn’t it?” Mark said. It was an opportunity to change the subject, and after our smokes, we headed inside. On the way in, Mark handed me a card. “Listen, if you change your mind, my motel and room number are on the back of the card. If all you want is to drop by for a beer and a little weed, that’s fine. I would enjoy having someone to talk to.”
I took the card and shoved it in a pocket. I left the mall after a few uncomfortable minutes hanging around Mark’s kiosk. On the way out, I started to toss the card, but something made me keep it. I suppose the conversation had made me a little curious. Maybe it’s just that, even as young as I was, I had learned to keep as many options open as possible, no matter how remote.
*****
By eleven o’clock that night, it was obvious that Friday night was going nowhere. It seemed like everyone was paired up, except a few of us unlucky males. Lots of times, I have no problem with that. Hanging with my buds can be loads of fun, but I found myself thinking of the card that was still in my jacket pocket. My hand kept grasping it whenever I shoved my hands in my pockets.
What the hell, I figured. I go by Mark’s motel room and see what happens. At least, if nothing else, I can get a good buzz and go home. As I drove to the little motel along the freeway, I felt myself getting more and more anxious. I saw the red and yellow neon sign at the hotel and pulled up in front of Mark’s room on the first floor. I parked right next to his car. I had helped him unload a few things at the mall, so I knew which one was his. I still remember the butterflies. It was a feeling like I would get before I found out the score of a test I just had to pass but had no idea if I did.
I paused at that motel room door. Room 117. I still recall the numbers, and I suppose I always will. I raised my hand to knock, then stopped. What if he’s already asleep, I thought. I listened closely and could hear the TV. What if he is with someone? That would suck royally.
Finally, I knocked. Once you do a thing, I have been told, you can never go back. The bell is rung. I stood like an idiot, almost at attention, waiting for the door to open.
Just when I thought Mark might have walked over to a diner for a bite to eat, I saw the light at the peephole in the door darken. The door opened. The bell rang.
“Hey Barry!” Mark said grinning. He stood there looking up at me. Mark was dressed only in a pair of loose, blue gym shorts. “I was just having a beer and watching a movie.”
From the TV, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of one of those softcore porn movies they offer at motels. I was a little relieved to hear the moans of a woman. I don’t know that I would have been able to watch softcore gay porn.
“Well, it’s cold out there. Come on in here.” Mark was visibly excited. His smile was wide and inviting. As I entered, I looked him over. He had a nice tan and his chest had more definition than I had thought. Apparently, I thought, old Mark works out a bit.
Mark offered me a beer, which I gladly accepted. He lit a joint he had already rolled and passed it to me. I took a long, deep toke. If I was going to do anything this night, I was going to need the fortitude.
For about half an hour, we just talked and watched the show on the TV. Mark had turned down the lights before he lay down on the bed. I had taken a seat in one of the two chairs in the room. As my first beer became my second and our third joint was lit, I could feel my nervousness subsiding. In fact, as I watched two blondes in a hot lesbian scene, I felt my cock starting to stir. Looking over at Mark, I saw that he was rubbing his cock through his gym shorts. Judging from what I could see, Mark was hard as a rock.
As if in a daze, not all brought about by the drink and dope, I stood up and moved over around the foot of the bed. I looked over and watched Mark, as I did. I stopped and stood there looking down at him. Then, slowly and ever so tentatively, I slipped off my jacket and started unbuttoning my shirt.
“Wait,” Mark said, moving to kneel on the bed in front of me. “Do you mind if I do that for you, Barry?” With the silent reply of letting my hands fall to my side, I let him undress me. Kneeling as he was on the bed, we were eye to eye. His eyes betrayed his hunger. I had really never seen that in anyone’s eyes before. I wasn’t a virgin. I had been with several girls, but the look from them had always been the same nervousness I was experiencing at that moment.
As Mark slipped my shirt off my shoulders, his face was drawn next to mine. “You know, I never—” My voice trailed off.
Mark nodded knowingly. “I know, man. It’s okay. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want.” At that, he let his cheek brush mine. I felt the hard stubble of his beard, as his face grazed mine. I found the sensation mildly arousing—taboo. I felt my cock pressing at the material of my jeans, as Mark reached to unbutton them.
As Mark guided my jeans down my thighs, his lips brushed my right nipple. I exhaled deeply. Mark missed nothing. Upon hearing my breathing change, he sucked the nipple between his lips. At the same time, my jeans fell to the floor at my feet. I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of them.
Now, clad only in my socks and my bikini briefs with the purple head of my cock peeking out past the waistband, I was accepting the touch of a man for the first time. Mark’s hand slid down my stomach. His fingers slipped over my cock, pushing the front of my briefs down. “Oh,” Mark moaned, as he gripped it and looked down at it in the faint light from the TV, “Now, that is a beautiful cock, Barry.”
I slipped my brief down until they dropped to the floor, as Mark admired my cock. He guided me onto his bed and positioned me on my back. “Just relax, man. Just let it happen. Okay?” I nodded, my eyes watching him. My body wanted him, even if my mind was uncertain.
“Ohhhh fuck,” I gasped, as his tongue swept a generous drop of precum from the head of my aching cock and then swirled over the sensitive glans. My hips rose involuntarily to his mouth.
“Mmmmmm, I think my young friend likes that, don’t you?” Mark asked. His eyes looked up at me filled with lust. “I love the taste of your cock, baby.”
The sound of him calling me ‘baby’ would have sounded weird at any other time. But, in that instant, it made me want more. More of his mouth, his lips and yes, even his cock. Unlike the girls I had been with, Mark relished in devouring my cock. He attacked it. He sucked me lovingly and loudly. His eyes looked up into mine from time to time.
I found my hands gripping his head of their own volition. His lips stroked up and down the entire length of my thick, eight-inch cock. I felt his lips at the base when he willed himself to deep throat it, almost choking. The feel of his nose in my pubic hair drove me wild. Soon, I was fucking up at his mouth. I was using his mouth. His saliva was trickling down my balls, as the obscene sound of his masterful sucking drove me over the edge.
“Oh fuck, Mark,” I cried. “I’m gonna cum.” It was hardly any warning at all, because as I spoke the words, I came. As I exploded down the back of his greedy throat, Mark buried his face at the base of my cock. His tongue feathered the underside of my cock, as he milked me of my enormous load.
Finally, as my cock slowly softened between his lips, Mark released it, confident that he had milked all that orgasm had to offer. Without thinking about it, I pulled him up to me and brought his cum streaked lips to mine. My tongue swirled in his mouth, as his arms slipped under me, pulling me hard to him. His strength was surprising I thought, given his build. I found the tight embrace of another man exciting, perhaps not preferable to the soft touch of a woman but intoxicating nonetheless.
Finally, our kiss broke and Mark rolled over beside me. My hand brushed his hip, and I realized that he had removed his shorts. I lay there considering the taste of my own cum and what the taste of Mark’s might be like. I decided that the only way to find out was to return the favor.
I am sure I was awkward that first time. I am also certain I could not have chosen a better lover that first time I rang yet another bell. I had not planned on anything but maybe getting a quick blow job when I had turned my car on the freeway to that motel; though, deep down, that look—that look of hunger awakened something within me. It was as if I wanted to do anything and everything possible to feed that hunger.
Mark’s hand was slowly stroking his cock, as slid down the bed beside him until my face was there inches from his pulsing meat. The flickering light from the TV bathed it in a glow that enhanced every vein and nuance of his member. He was just as long as I, but not nearly as thick. I was immediately grateful for that. I wanted to please this man. I wanted to please, as I had been pleased.
Taking a cue from Mark, I first circled the mushroom head of his swollen cock. I flicked my tongue over the tip and took in my first taste of precum. It was slick on my tongue—mostly without taste. Slowly, I licked my lips teasingly, as I looked up to him. “Do you want my mouth, Mark?” I asked with a wry grin.
Mark chuckled a little, breathlessly, “Yeah, I want your mouth so bad I might just cum in your face right now.” That said Mark guided me down to his cock. His hand gently caressing my hair, as my lips slipped over the head.
I let my tongue lead the way down his cock. I painted the shaft with my cock, as he had done for me. I pushed my lips all the way down his cock. Gagging a little at first, I finally got the hang of relaxing my throat enough to take him completely.
His moans guided my ministrations. In that way, performing orally on a man is not much different than on a woman. The only real difference is the fact that I know exactly how fellatio feels. I know what it feels like when it is done well, and when it is performed poorly. And yes, there is such a thing as a ‘bad’ blowjob. I have never sent one back, but I have had some better than others.
I wanted the first blowjob I performed to be earth shattering. I wanted Mark to relish my efforts. As I sucked him and he responded, I felt my cock re-inflate underneath me. Soon, I was just as turned on as Mark was. My head was whipping and my lips were coursing up and down his cock as fast as I could make them go. I could feel him throb on my tongue. I felt his body tensing under my lips.
I reached up and slid one hand under his balls, tickling them with my fingertips, as I sucked. My other hand slid up his chest, located a nipple and pinched it lightly at first, then harder. I know he warned me, as I had him. I could hear him telling me that he was about to cum. I wanted it. I wanted it as badly, as I can remember wanting anything.
I moaned my invitation for Mark to cum in my mouth and with a loud, deep grunt, I felt his cum splash the back of my virgin throat. I swallowed as much of the slick, salty seed as I could. There was so damned much of it. So much, in fact, thick streams escaped my lips and covered his pubic hair and balls. When his surge subsided, I licked as much as I could from his loins.
When I had finished, I found my cock throbbing under me. I rolled over on my side and lay my head on Mark’s thigh. My cock was pointing up accusingly towards him, as I gave his balls a gentle kiss.
“I guess I might be bisexual, after all,” I laughed a little self-consciously. My hand was absently stroking my cock, as I sat up. “I loved it when you came, Mark.”
Mark sat up and brought his lips to mine. “I have been fantasizing about you, since we met. You are even better than I dreamed you would be.” His tongue lapped at the stray cum on my chin and lips. “I see you’re hard again.”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Sucking cock turns me on, I guess, huh?”
“Lucky me,” Mark said, as he pushed me down onto my back. My hands returned to his head, as I moaned my reply.