Hotel Hookup

It wasn't the first time we hooked up and it certainly wouldn't be the last. We were both aware we had hit upon the sexual jackpot guys in our situation found ourselves and neither wanted that to change. It was 6PM and I had been back in my hotel room getting ready for his visit for about an hour. In addition to the shower, I had been nursing a drink or two as the excitement that started the moment I stepped on the plane for this business trip built to its impending conclusion.

My business trips to a mid-sized, not-too-exciting city were how we met during the good ol' days where married guys could easily hook up via Craigslist. Drop a post in a decent-sized city and you could have your choice of men within a few hours. Unfortunately for me, I was picky. I had a type. Being a mid-40s, married business traveler I always had a thing for guys in my situation - the suburban dad who liked to fuck around with other men. The suburban dads who got off not on romance with another guy, but the primal sex they could have. The grunting, the cum, the release and the knowledge that this was about getting off and nothing more. Like I said, I was picky. I would get emails and critique their grammar and content for any clue they were anything other than what they claimed to be. I got off on the other PTA/soccer dads and I had to work to find them.

Ted, my buddy, has initially responded to a post I put up offering no-strings blow jobs in my hotel after work. His email and pic showed me exactly what I was looking for. He was in his late 40s, married, goatee, hairy chest, 6'3, decent shape, but with that slight dad-bod. He was, in my opinion, hot as hell. He just wanted to swing by, drop his work slacks, fuck my mouth and split. We exchanged the necessary hotel information and at the designated time, I propped the door ajar, turned down the lights and waited on my knees. I guess it's true what they say about not needing to brag when you have a great cock, because he hadn't bragged, but it was definitely the perfect, thick, 8" cock of porn dreams. His balls matched the size of his cock and were huge. That first of many blow job was quick, the load was pumped straight down my throat and he was out the door and on his way. His holding my head and growl of, "Swallow it" (as if I needed to be told) when he came sent me over the edge. Within minutes, I sent a follow up email telling him thanks and giving the offer of taking things to the next level. I was more than willing.

He took me up on that offer and two years of almost consistent every-other week fuck sessions, I found myself counting down the minutes until he arrived again. I sent that week's room number earlier when we started our usual back and forth emails we sent on days we met up. I was wearing what he liked me to have on which was a simple pair of basketball shorts with no underwear, shirtless and the taste of scotch on my breath. I was ready to fuck, prelubed, buzzed from a few drinks and raging horny from a day of thinking about getting railed and used while having to endure countless useless business meetings. I looked at myself in the mirror and was pleased to see a still-fit hairy body that could still turn somebody on. I downed the last of my drink as the time approached.

Always punctual, he knocked at the door when expected and I let him in. Although I am what most people would consider tall, at 6'1" I had to bend my neck up to kiss him. As soon as the door shut, he took me