Weaknesses

My fingers softly danced over the little goosebumps that formed, reading flesh-made braille that started at the small of his back and worked it's way up. And as my lips softly touched his neck, just below the ear, his body spewed out a couple more chapters for my fingers to read. His body shook when my lips worked up to his ear and my tongue danced across the lobe. He nearly jumped out of his skin when I bared my teeth and chewed on his neck like a starving vampire, one hand grasping a handful of wavy locks and yanking down to pull his head back. He was moaning throughout.

"You've found my weakness," he finally managed to utter. It was meant as a whisper but the deep baritone voice boomed loudly against the frail layers of night. It was a voice that matched his body, but not his age. Mid twenties. Well over six feet tall. 6'5" in fact with a slender but masculine build.

I didn't answer him. My mouth was busy for one. Secondly, any answer would have sounded weak reverberating against the boom of his announcement that shook the night.

When I entered him, I was playing with his impressive cock. Thick and meaty and of considerable length, especially if you imagine it uncurled. The unit curved up, but not in the usual way. It curled up and to the side, so that the motion of stroking his cock was natural against the physics of my shoulder. I had rimmed him a bit and was gliding up and down the valley of his mounds with my own insistent cock, using nothing but my drool as lube, until I worked up enough precum to drop his hips a little, reangle my attack and press solidly against his hole. And I was watching his face, watching him hold his breath. And with every gasp he let escape from his lips, I felt his hole open for a microsecond that let my rod slip a little more and more inside him. I felt that gasp. From his quivering hole to his leaking cock, all the while watching his face as he started up at me. Not shy. Unfazed. Looking deep into my eyes as his body let out little gasps of pressure. Pressure and pleasure. Anticipation that tightens up his body and his ass so tight before it boils over to an escape of steam, that gasp of sensory overload that the body can't contain and then just accepts for a fraction of a second, accepting another inch of my cock, accepting the sensations of my hand stroking his cock, and letting out just that tiny breath, that little leak of precum before tightening up again.

After just a moment after bottoming out in his ass, I fucked the hell out of him until he squirted a large, dense load of pearly cum all over himself. It was one of those moments where he was so fucked out he could only laugh.

We both took a chance, and it paid off. He had been at the airport flying standby and got bumped overnight. Rather than spend the whole night trying to get some shut eye on the floor by the gates, I suggested he come by my hotel just a couple blocks down and then catch the shuttle in the morning. I was a gentleman, though. I even offered the pull out sofabed in my room if he didn’t feel comfortable sharing the king-sized bed. He had a great energy, carefree navigation of obstacles with gentle improvisation rather than dour bitterness. Comical moment where I woke him up at 4:30 in the morning and he shrugged it off saying that his clock was still on Arizona time and California is an hour behind. Except, of course, that Arizona doesn't observe daylight savings and we're now on the same time. It was endearing, but I couldn't help but feel like I was taking advantage of a kid in a bit of a pickle. But all I wanted to say to him was that he found my weakness effortlessly too. Just by him being him.