Travel Diary: Bi or Straight?

Travel Diary: Bi or Straight?

I meet up with the man from We Hold These Truths to Be Evident.

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Running late, I rounded the corner to see him down the hall from my room. As I pushed the key card into my door, he bounded up and walked in behind me.

“Sorry,” I sheepishly apologized for being tardy.

“It’s okay.”

We stood staring at each other in the garish florescent light. The last time we’d seen each other, we’d not been able to see all that much other than darkened forms. Now I couldn’t hide my imperfections, my 43-year-old skin, my slight but noticeable graying sprigs spiking through my sprouting beard. Did he think I had a spare tire? A bicycle tire? Maybe a motorcycle?

I looked into his eyes. For all his thickly matted brown hair, his eyes stared at me in a starkly contrast blue. I’ve heard of steel blue, sky blue, crystal blue. But none of these adequately described his eye color. While the irises struck me as so sapphire that no description ever really said enough about blue.

Then it struck me the blue I saw. Not a cold one of steel or ice crystals. I saw hot blue, like the natural gas flame on those stupid television commercials with people snapping their fingers and dancing around. His eyes danced on fire.

Then it happened.

His kiss seemed tentative. His lips didn’t part and his eyes remained wide open, even wider if they could be. But he closed the distance, touched me and we kissed. And in that moment, I knew the gray hairs and extra pounds and decade beyond him didn’t matter as much as our touch.

Seems almost romantic now, knowing now that in about 10 minutes hence, we would be animals, grinding with my cock deep in his ass, the rawness of our skin touching each other, my fingernails scraping his back as I felt the fevered goosebumps rise.

After two months of correspondence and the confessions of his desires after our last encounter, I now had this man in my grasp, if only for the time until his girlfriend returned and he fled from my hotel room back into her feeble arms. But for now, his mouth parted for the first moment and I finally tasted his tongue with mine. A sigh escaped my lips.

Fuck.Bi or straight guy?

I pulled him away from the unforgiving light and into the shadows near the bed. Even there, his blue-flame eyes denied the darkness, looking at me with a mixture of lust and allure. We kissed again, pressing in tighter, urging him to crank open that jaw and let me sample the delights of his spit. He did.

An eternity. A moment. We parted. “Wow.” He smiled. I removed my shoes. He took off his shirt. We were both hard, the bulges in our pants so obvious. I took off my shirt. He took off his shoes. Then I undid his belt and pushed his shorts and underwear down. He did the same to me. Socks went flying and finally, we fell onto the bed, smiling, kissing and touching one another into a frenzy of nudity.

This stranger I’d fucked and bred once who held some bizarre attention for me. I had a name for him, but was it his really? Even in the naked tangle of kisses, sucking, licking and pleasures, my mind raced about just how long I’d have to indulge myself before he’d suddenly race away to his other life where no one knew that my DNA made up a part of this man.

We each take moments pleasuring one another. Yes, indeed, indulging him in just laying back and letting my mouth lick, my teeth nibble, my fingertips brush, my hands grip. I sucked on his thick cock. As a top, he would satisfy both guys and girls. The girth would seem massive and challenging even for the most adept bottom. And most girls would squeal in delight since his length stood remarkable rigid but not obscenely long. Even I, the top, felt my own asshole twitch as this man’s magic continued to bypass my defenses and reach into the weaker spaces of my psyche.

Inside my mouth, his cock seemed to find the ability to get harder, but still against my tongue the taste of his heart beat pulsed. Just a touch of his precum would leak and his sweet and salty essence hinted at so much more to come later.

Lower to his balls, lower still to his taint and finally to that beautiful hole. Turning him over, his cheeks spread, I now devoured the meal before me. Opening him up, my tongue just inside, feeling it tighten on the tip of my tongue. I licked on. Working it and opening it up. The complexity and subtle flavors delighted my palate. Injecting as much into his hole, he began to loosen and open up to the attention.

In another tangle of kisses and naked limbs, he maneuvered on top of me, lubed up my cock and began to sit on it. He didn’t flinch or pull out. He impaled himself steadily with no appearance of pain, no grunt of satisfaction, no sound of discomfort, no hint of enjoyment. But as his ass cheeks settled on my thighs and his sugar walls began to flex with my cock inside, this slow appearance of contentment began to flood his face. No, not contentment. Completeness.

In a moment, both our more basic needs — the desires we had expressed in e-mails to one another — would come flooding forth in passionate, rapid fucking that would be hot, frenzied and overwhelming. Neither of us would find it particularly perfect since our tempos were more steady and quiet. How unusual for me to find a matching bottom, not insistent on some porn-induced code of ass-slappy dirty talk or strange grunts to assure the dumb bottom that indeed, the cock in his ass was that of a man.

Our silent connection worked and, like a perfectly tuned V8, fired on so many levels.

We fucked in many positions. On his back, on his side, on his stomach. Each allowed me to feel my cock snaking into his practically virgin hole that he claimed so few had violated prior to my arrival. I somehow felt a little evil knowing how many men I’d entered raw before him. Him virginal compared to my experience, yet we meshed in this moment.

Soon he rode me again and started begging for my load. “Please explode in my ass!”

“You can’t have it,” I teased back.

“Why not?” his smile cocked to the side, his eyes flared as he clenched my cock tighter.

“You just can’t have it,” I winked.

“What do I need to get your load?”

“What do I need to get you?”

I said it before I knew it. The words shocked even me, my mouth agape as I realized what I’d just said.

He looked at me, a tenderness coated his face.

“Always maintaining control,” he said. “I’ve read your blog.”

I never told him about the blog.

What followed was a conversation that stopped our sex but stripped us both of the pretensions between us. I learned about his girlfriend and how unlikely it would be that I would ever take her place, although the unrealistic thoughts really hadn’t crossed my mind. This veil of mysteries between us finally folded and we began to see each other as true humans, although I still wanted to use his ass and he still wanted my cum. Our conversation remains private, the true moments of intimacy between two men.

I will say, though, I’d never known anyone to read their own encounter with me on my blog and jerk off to it. And cum. Hot.

After a while, we kissed more and the blood coursed back into our cocks and I proceeded to fuck him passionately with good measure, building to the moment we’d both waited and wanted until I released my seed into his ass. My load came a quick torrent, a short burst, but then released in small spurts over the next few minutes as he jerked: “I can still feel your cock releasing your cum in my ass.”

He shot his load across his perfect chest, this milky perfection that I couldn’t resist. My tongue scraped across it and I tasted him, truly him. I looked at him, his eyes still on fire. Staring still, I went in for another sample. Then I felt his hand on the back of my head and he pulled me in for a kiss.

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  1. Bi men totally fascinate me.

  2. Good one man. Very nicely done.