I sucked a man in Reno

[ashcub]

This all happened a couple of weeks ago. A friend (straight) invited me to spend a weekend with him and his family at their place in Tahoe. I flew up from San Francisco to Reno, took an Uber down.

En route back to SF, I showed up at Reno airport and was informed that my flight had been cancelled. They confirmed me on a flight leaving the next evening, and invited me to hang out at the airport to see if I could get a standby seat. So I parked myself at the airport McDonalds with a Big Mac Meal and pulled up Growlr as a way to pass the time.

And whaddaya know, there was this super hot guy who wanted to play. His profile picture had him wearing a wrap around pair of sunglasses but he looked big, burly and outdoorsy, profile said 6’4” which had my pussy twitching. So I thought Fuck it, take the adventure. Right there and then I booked myself a cheap hotel room in downtown Reno, and hightailed it out of there.

Texting with him from the Uber, he said he would finish work around 6 and then would come over to hang out. He asked if I liked 420 (the answer was yes) and could I get some for our meet, as he was broke because he had two daughters in college (this in retrospect was a red flag but at the time I merely raised an eyebrow at this information). I assured him that wouldn’t be a problem, and got my Uber driver to take me via a weed shop downtown.

So I checked in (this was around 3pm) and settled in to wait. I was so horny I found it hard to resist playing with myself, getting stoned, hitting my poppers, but somehow I resisted. The hours really dragged by as they do when you’re waiting for a hot time. 

6 pm rolled around and no sign of this guy, 6:30, 7, 7:30. I decided he wasn’t coming and rather than be all needy and bitchy about it, to play it cool. At 8pm I sent him a message saying “how’s it going” and then half an hour later got a message apologising, saying he got tied up at work but would make it over at 10pm if that was still OK. I said of course, and he was welcome to stay the night. 

As I waited and waited I got more and more horny, the more I tried to distract myself with other things, the more horny I became. I cleaned out my hole the best I could (no way to douche), tried to keep from wanking my dripping cock, put on a skimpy pair of running shorts I like to get fucked in. But I was climbing the walls. At 10:30 I had resigned myself to this being a bust, and was about to settle down for the mother of all masturbation sessions, when suddenly PING a text message saying he was downstairs but couldn’t come up because the elevator needed a room key. Hallelujah!

So I got dressed in a hurry and went down to meet him. And he didn’t disappoint - he was a huge hulking guy, towering over me, massive barrel belly and huge chest and arms. He was what you’d call a “chub” but incredibly masculine. He was also covered with tattoos, all the way up his neck and even on his face, including a teardrop tattoo under his left eye (red flag number two, but I was so horny at this point I didn’t care), which wasn’t obvious from his profile picture. The tattoos had excited the attention of the hotel security guard, who insisted on riding up with us, giving us full side-eye. 

Up in the room the guy (I’ll call him Dave) apologised for being late, explaining that he was a professional poker player and he had to keep playing until he made enough money to pay his rent check that was due tomorrow (this was red flag number three, in retrospect). He thanked me profusely for my generosity in buying the weed, and we both hit the vape (which had been in a ziplocked plastic pouch) while chatting and getting to know each other.

He was so masculine, blue-collar, polite, gentle, and “straight”-seeming that I almost felt awkward in inviting him to make himself at home and get more comfortable. I sensed somehow that it was better to let him take the lead despite my eagerness, after waiting all day, to get the show on the road. I asked him what he had in mind for our time together and he said something like, let’s just hang out on the bed and get to know each other a little bit, see where it takes us. 

At this he finally grinned at me and pulled me into an embrace. Although he was much bigger than me, and was clearly going to be the top in our play, there was something trusting and childlike about him, as if he needed instruction. He towered over me, I was like a child’s toy in his arms as we kissed, at first tentatively, then with more and more passion. As we kissed I realised that he was missing a couple of front teeth (red flag number four), which he was embarrassed about, saying he didn’t have enough money yet to get them fixed. 

You know how sometimes when the energy is just right between two people, you overlook a few flaws. He said that he was two years sober after a bad addiction to meth and alcohol, and this was the aftermath. As I had had my own (albeit much less serious) dalliance with said substance, I wasn’t in any position to judge, and in fact I congratulated him on having the strength to pull himself out of such a strong addiction.

As we kissed more deeply you could feel how we both began to relax physically after the tension of the day. He patted the bed and we both sank down onto it, still fully dressed except for having taken our shoes off, and had a make out session that can only be described as “epic”. Pausing only to hit the vape now and then, we kissed, cuddled, and talked. Well, he talked and I listened.

Once he realised I wasn’t going to be judgemental, the floodgates opened and he told me story after story of his life. And this was (to me) a fascinating life - starting with stealing from slot machines as a wayward teenager, into drugs, gangs, jail, working as a trucker, supplementing with poker, travelling across the country, marrying a woman, having two daughters, discovering his bisexual nature, divorce, and now his life as a professional poker player. 

At some point during this session things started to heat up, we gradually shed clothes, our hands and mouths travelling across each others bodies, finding our mutual language. Almost the whole of his upper body and arms were covered in tattoos, and he took time to explain the significance of each one. The whole scene was incredibly relaxed, none of the usual frenetic rush to get into the sex. But the more he opened up about his life, the more the barriers between us seemed to disappear, and the more intimate we became.

At some point (we were now down to our boxer shorts, both of us hard and dripping underneath, but by tacit agreement keeping them on for now) I asked him if he would like to try some poppers. I had a fresh bottle I’d picked up in LA, an incredibly powerful concoction called “Jizz Juice” that knocked one sideways. Sure, he said.

So I reached across to the bedside table to get them out. I took a deep double hit, and enjoyed the rush as I watched him hit them as well (the sexiest thing about poppers). He handed me back the bottle and I screwed the lid back on and reached across to set them back down on the bedside table. And as I did so I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before: a large blue flick-knife.

Edited March 12 by ashcub

[ashcub]

So as the poppers rush overcame us both and we basically dived into each other, as one does, in the back of my mind I’m freaking out.

What the hell am I doing, I don’t know this guy from Adam and he basically has a flick-knife out in the open by the bed.

Yes, I could freak out and end the scene and kick him out, or at least try to. But then I have no way of knowing which way the scene will go. He could just pull the knife on me and at best take all my stuff (my work laptop, a brand new VR headset, my passport, my cards, my cash), at worst … well, at worst I wouldn’t make it out of here alive.

At the same time he is so incredibly hot, we’ve got so intimate and close in such a short time, and there’s no way I’m not seeing this through and getting properly fucked. Maybe it was the poppers and 420 talking but at this point I just decided I was going to trust him, trust my instincts (and my raging hormones), but keep my wits about me. Like, maybe don’t accept a drink from him, don’t go to sleep while he’s here. The Brad Pitt scene from Thelma and Louise suddenly came to mind.

Of course I had to acknowledge the knife somehow. To not do so would let on that I was afraid, and I sensed that showing fear would be unwise. In the meantime, the escalating logic of the poppers had led us to finally shed our boxer shorts and get into some proper mouth-on-cock action, so I figured I might as well just double down on the poppers and keep him distracted from any thoughts of nefarious activities.

When two people are so in sync with each other through sex, there’s this weird telepathy thing that happens, as all these thoughts are rushing through my mind I realise that he’s totally aware, somehow, of what I’m thinking, almost like he’s testing me to see how I’ll react. And so I’m like, fine, you want to play, let’s play.

As I’m sucking him he starts getting more controlling, holding my head, moving it up and down on his cock, starting to use words like “cocksucker”, basically getting into a dom/sub headspace. Which is what I want, of course, and the knife sitting on the bedside table just makes it that much more exciting and real. We both know exactly what’s happening and what the stakes are, and we both know this is going to be a special fuck. And all this without a word exchanged.

And with that, the night shifted into a different gear. We decided to take a ride to the local sex shop to buy some lube, a dildo, and some cock pills. He told me about a local sauna where the meth heads hung out, and said he’d enjoy showing me around and letting other men fuck me, if that’s what I wanted. I told him I just wanted to get him back to the hotel room, unwrap that dildo, and get to work. As far as I was concerned he was all that I needed. And he agreed.

We ended up staying up till 5am, sucking, fucking, talking, him raping the shit out of me with the dildo (he used the knife to open the packaging). I came like a firehose midway through, as did he, but we just kept going. Then at some point he decided that was the end of it, he had a doctors appointment the next morning so he had to sleep, and that was it.

We had a cigarette outside on the sidewalk. I told him he should write his life story. He said he didn’t read and write so good. I said maybe he could record some audio and video for me and I could help him transcribe it. Who knows, maybe I’ll manage to get his words on this website some day.

[ashcub]

(to the moderators: I just realised I have run foul of the edict against mentioning chems, my apologies. Could this post please be moved to the appropriate sub-forum?)