Poolside Quickie

pool studNeeding to escape reality for a day, I drive the 90 miles to Palm Springs and get a room at one of the city’s clothing-optional gay resorts. The cute blond boy at the counter jokes about me having the resort to myself, as it appears I am one of only seven guests staying at this 30-room hotel tonight. That’s fine with me: It’s 112 degrees and I am more interested in relaxing by the pool than cruising random guys.

I step into my room and am blasted with the cool air of my large suite. I toss my bag on the dinning room table, peel out of my sweaty clothes and drop onto the large bed with a sigh.

I didn’t intend to take a nap, yet wake to the heavy shadows of sunset. Looking through the curtains, I see the place is still deserted: I’m guessing the few people staying here are probably at dinner. Dinner sounds good but the pool sounds better, so I step out of my room and jump into the pool. The water is warm and I float on my back to admire the sunset-streaked sky.

“Hi,” a random voice says from my right, startling me.

Some guy I didn’t notice is in the pool with me, leaning back against the tiled border. I stand, realizing the pool is only 5’ deep or so, and return the greeting. He has red-blond wavy hair, a well-manicured beard, and is sitting on the stairs leading into the pool so that only his head is above the water. I can’t guess his age due to his dark sunglasses.

He asks me if I’m here alone and confirms he is as well. His name is Dan, he’s a Realtor from Missoula and has an interesting accent I’m guessing isn’t from Montana. He stands and stretches, obviously showing off his muscular chest and massive arms. He’s a big fucker with a furry, freckled chest and a complicated tat on his left arm.

I do my best not to stare, though subtlety was never one of my strengths.

Dan sets his glasses down and takes a step towards me. “You horny?”

I nod. So much for subtlety, right? Continue reading

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Glory Daze

Glory HoleOne of my fuck-buddies calls, asking if I’ve ever met the dude in my neighborhood who advertises having a private glory hole set up in his home. I’ve seen the profile dozens of time but have never checked it out: It just seems creepy, if not dangerous, and the only photo the guy offers is a close-up of his open mouth. My buddy agrees it may be a little weird yet, being the pig that he is, wants to check it out anyway. He wants me to join him, promising we can bail if it gets weird. I doubt the dude is going to let us both come over at the same time, so I agree. In less than five minutes my buddy is instructing me to rinse off and meet at the address in half an hour.

The things my dick gets me into, right?

I get there first and wait a few minutes until my buddy pulls up and parks in front of me. He gets out of his car—wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a gray ball cap—and walks over to my car. He’s tall, thin and blond, which usually isn’t my thing, but he has a huge dick which I’ve given up on trying to swallow and a great ass which, thankfully, loves getting fucked. He looks great tonight.

I roll down the window and he leans in. “This is crazy.”

“That’s why you love it,” hey says with a smile. “Let’s go blow our loads.” Continue reading

The Porn Star

big maxI recently came across Big Max online just before midnight on a Tuesday night. I’ve seen him in dozens of porn scenes and knew he worked here in Orange County as an escort, but I have never seen him online before. I assumed it was a waste of time to hit on a famous porn star but I was horny and bored, so I sent him a simple message. “How’s it going tonight, handsome?”

“I’m good,” he wrote back. “Bored and a little horny.”

That got a rise from my eyebrows as well as my dick. “Same here.”

“You a top?” he asked. “I’d love to get fucked tonight.”

That surprised me on several levels: One; Big Max is always the big rough top in his movies. Two; while I’m not ugly, Big Max is stunningly beautiful by anyone’s standards and I wasn’t sure what he expected from me.

“Total dom top here,” I typed back, hoping that kept his attention rather than scaring him away.

We messaged back and forth a few times and before I knew it, I had his address. “What’s your name?” I asked. I’m not sure why, and I was afraid it could offend him, but I was embarrassed to admit that I recognized him from his movies. Recognized, hell: I’ve blown my load watching his scenes at least 100 times.

He said his name was Jason and I told him I’d be at his place in 30 minutes.

I took a quick shower, put on a ball cap and made it to his apartment right on time. He answered the door wearing sweats and an old wife beater that showed off his muscled body. The first thing that surprised me was how short he was: I’m six foot even so he had to be 5’7” at best. The second surprise was that he looked much better than he did in his movies; and even more muscular than I had imagined. His wavy brown hair was wet, so I assumed he just stepped out of the shower. His grey eyes looked tired and if I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed he was shy or nervous. He asked if I wanted a drink and started making polite small talk.

Continue reading