So on the one hand you have that type that rarely hooks up. You feel honored that they made the exception but a little guilty too 'cause you can't offer anything more. Then there's the guys that are all about the numbers. Load collectors, hole counters. Guys that are already distracted by the next conquest before you're even finished fucking. Those guys you get an ego boost when they contact you afterward 'cause hey, it's nice to be noticed in a crowd. Then there's the rest. Most guys are somewhere in between those two extremes and when it clicks right, you know it immediately. It's not about what happens next. The experience is validated right away and all you can do is laugh in the cummy mess you've made.
His Grindr profile said he was curious. Airport hotel. Lots of travelers looking for fun and the transitory nature of their stay makes it easy to indulge in activities with no strings attached. You leave it all behind in a matter of days. Turns out he's married. 7 years. No kids ("Thank God," he says but I'm not quite sure why he's thankful. Too much responsibilities? Too much chaining him to his lady? Just hates kids? I'm not sure). One of those average height beefy guys that pose in front of a mirror flexing, showing their natural musculature. It usually makes me laugh, especially with the curious comment. Kinda makes it seem like they're wrestling with some masculinity issues in defining their sexual identity, even though they don't really relate.
I had to fetch him from downstairs as he was staying at the hotel next door and my place requires a key to go upstairs. I immediately notice his bouncy gait. Side to side with a bit of a bounce like he's had too much caffeine and needs to expend some energy. Bull in a china shop comes to mind. Looked him in the eye, shook his hand and introduced ourselves. Fuck I was floored. Strong grip. Blue eyes that I could see straight through. And this raspy baritone vibrato that's so damn distinct. Sorta like Vin Diesel. I couldn't get him in bed fast enough.
There, we spent long moments making out like a couple of high school kids. Long, lingering moments that swayed to and fro like poetry written in cursive. Long dips below the line evolving into curves of other letters before they finally stop for a little space before resuming again.
I fucked him, wrapped. Fucked him with our lips locked and his legs wrapped around me pulling me in closer. Fucked him with my hand wrapped around his cock and our chests mashed together. Fucked him until the motions of the fuck stroked him in rhythmic waves against the shore. Fucked him until he sealed us together with his cum. Fucked him until his spasming ass milked a load out of me.
He laughed. I laughed. I was completely drained.
Rolling off, I flung the condom off and landed on the bed on my side. Rolled him over a little so that he was on his side as well and then pulled him to me until we made a pair of parenthesis.
I dozed off for a second. Not much, I don't think. Consciousness just slowly washed over me. I was still holding him to my chest and my cock, though it never went fully soft, got hard again. And with just a little bit of cum still oozing from my dick and his previously lubed ass, I started nudging at his hole again. I was pretty much raw fucking him with half my cock. With my one hand underneath him pulling him closer to me, my other reached around and found his cock had hardened up again. And as I whispered random thoughts against the nape of his neck to send shivers down his spine, he shot again. This time onto the sheets.
Something tells me that this isn't his first time. The "curious" thing passed awhile ago. And even though we talked about next time, it never happened. I don't think we needed it. Because at that moment, everything aligned perfectly. And we didn't need any subsequent validation. That was just fucking good, but we both still sought different fucks the next day. Just two guys taking full advantage of being away from home. No strings.