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Jul. 30th, 2016 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iniquiticity Washington’s sent him to Chicago to visit some possible expansion site for their office. Alex doesn’t mind Chicago, especially in the spring, and when he gets off at O’Hare he’s already got his next couple of days planned out in his head. He’s made some posts on Craigslist (m4m - thin latino in town for two nights and looking to be rammed, can host… pix for pix), done some googling, has some good ways that he might spend his time. There’s some investigations that he can do for the blog that maybe he’ll post in a few weeks. The key, he’s learned, is to never post where he was at the time he was there.
He blocks off the days for work, because of course there’s always more to do than just whatever Washington’s asked of him, but that still leaves two full nights to get into trouble. The place that they’re scouting is dull - a perfectly generic office building that Washington will hate because there’s no good infrastructure for upgraded internet, secure access, cameras or additional executive elevators - but it’s nice that he automatically knows what to say and how to say it. The corporate realtor is ugly and old and throws herself, desperate in too many ways, at Alex’s feet. Maybe they can get the place on a discount deal and find another use for it. Alex briefly entertains a six-floor sex dungeon but disciplines himself. It is not likely Washington will get him a six-floor sex dungeon, no matter how sexy he is. He reasonably directs his daydreams to imagining hot Chicago queers that will ram him into the mattress.
Once the realtor is finished slobbering his knob, he begs off a dinner invitation from her to discuss further terms about the property and googles up the best gay bars on his phone. He checks grindr and swipes between drinks and men not his types - some kid even asks to call him daddy, which is a horrible first that he concentrates on obliterating from his memory with gin. He’s trying to get into bourbon because Washington’s into it, but it’s not his fault his boss is a robot that’s powered primarily by kale and motor oil. Once he’s acquired the number of some potential opportunity for tomorrow, he folds his hands into his pockets and meanders down to the bathroom. It’s perfect for his uses, two stalls, narrow and side-by-side. He guesses and selects a stall and takes a piss and glances around the graffiti -grime walls.
Ah, there it is, a rough hole dug out of the stall divider. It’s worn and disgusting and Alex sighs with content, because he does best at Washington’s side and on the other side of a glory hole. He checks grindr again, then, hearing the bathroom door open, grunts and knocks on the glory hole wall. The guy on the other side gets the idea, because Alex hears a zipper and then a cock - pale and mostly soft - pushes through the hole. Alex rubs the base of his palm against it in approval and hears a moan. Then, he squats down and tongues the head tenderly. hello, he’d like to say, affectionate as if with a pet. The stranger pushes his cock into Alex’s mouth, and it’s smooth and clean and excellent, a perfect catch. Alex breathes through his nose and lets the man fuck his mouth, listens to the sex grunts and soft curses from the other side of the divider. No accent that he can hear, for one. White. Around his age, Alex guesses. Not a bad catch.
The stranger doesn’t disappoint, and neither does he. he lets himself be used, lets the stranger slide in and out of his mouth, offers off his tongue. The guy’s firm, well-endowed but not enough that he chokes. They hover, in this pure sex moment. Alex forgets the office, and Washington, and his trip, and the building, and the bitch realtor who asked him if he was married. It’s wonderful to reduce himself to this.
The guy pushes harder against his mouth, and he can feel the pressure of it. He sucks urgently, because that’s his job. That’s what gets him his reward, after all. The guy jerks and comes, and a lot too, that Alex sucks down like he needs it, like he wants. This is a very good thing. Alex gives himself one squeeze, then a second. He counts time in his head and wonders if Washington is out of the office yet. He can usually get a Skype orgasm out of the guy. Well, he still has at least three more bars to hit up. Maybe if he finds someone more gorgeous, he can have a real life cock in his ass.
“Thanks,” the guy says, in the other stall. Alex waits a few moments for the bathroom door to shut, to preserve the mystery. Then, he flushes out of principle, exits the stall, and smirks at himself in the mirror. He looks good. He washes his hands and exits the bathroom and orders another double G&T.
“The night is young,” he says to himself at the bar, running his teeth over his molars. His phone dings: a grindr match. The match sends him a picture of a big, black cock, and he grins to himself, downs the drink in four gulps. He’s feeling pleasantly buzzed and still a little hard in his pants.
where r u? i can host if u want.
Chicago does okay, in his book.
He blocks off the days for work, because of course there’s always more to do than just whatever Washington’s asked of him, but that still leaves two full nights to get into trouble. The place that they’re scouting is dull - a perfectly generic office building that Washington will hate because there’s no good infrastructure for upgraded internet, secure access, cameras or additional executive elevators - but it’s nice that he automatically knows what to say and how to say it. The corporate realtor is ugly and old and throws herself, desperate in too many ways, at Alex’s feet. Maybe they can get the place on a discount deal and find another use for it. Alex briefly entertains a six-floor sex dungeon but disciplines himself. It is not likely Washington will get him a six-floor sex dungeon, no matter how sexy he is. He reasonably directs his daydreams to imagining hot Chicago queers that will ram him into the mattress.
Once the realtor is finished slobbering his knob, he begs off a dinner invitation from her to discuss further terms about the property and googles up the best gay bars on his phone. He checks grindr and swipes between drinks and men not his types - some kid even asks to call him daddy, which is a horrible first that he concentrates on obliterating from his memory with gin. He’s trying to get into bourbon because Washington’s into it, but it’s not his fault his boss is a robot that’s powered primarily by kale and motor oil. Once he’s acquired the number of some potential opportunity for tomorrow, he folds his hands into his pockets and meanders down to the bathroom. It’s perfect for his uses, two stalls, narrow and side-by-side. He guesses and selects a stall and takes a piss and glances around the graffiti -grime walls.
Ah, there it is, a rough hole dug out of the stall divider. It’s worn and disgusting and Alex sighs with content, because he does best at Washington’s side and on the other side of a glory hole. He checks grindr again, then, hearing the bathroom door open, grunts and knocks on the glory hole wall. The guy on the other side gets the idea, because Alex hears a zipper and then a cock - pale and mostly soft - pushes through the hole. Alex rubs the base of his palm against it in approval and hears a moan. Then, he squats down and tongues the head tenderly. hello, he’d like to say, affectionate as if with a pet. The stranger pushes his cock into Alex’s mouth, and it’s smooth and clean and excellent, a perfect catch. Alex breathes through his nose and lets the man fuck his mouth, listens to the sex grunts and soft curses from the other side of the divider. No accent that he can hear, for one. White. Around his age, Alex guesses. Not a bad catch.
The stranger doesn’t disappoint, and neither does he. he lets himself be used, lets the stranger slide in and out of his mouth, offers off his tongue. The guy’s firm, well-endowed but not enough that he chokes. They hover, in this pure sex moment. Alex forgets the office, and Washington, and his trip, and the building, and the bitch realtor who asked him if he was married. It’s wonderful to reduce himself to this.
The guy pushes harder against his mouth, and he can feel the pressure of it. He sucks urgently, because that’s his job. That’s what gets him his reward, after all. The guy jerks and comes, and a lot too, that Alex sucks down like he needs it, like he wants. This is a very good thing. Alex gives himself one squeeze, then a second. He counts time in his head and wonders if Washington is out of the office yet. He can usually get a Skype orgasm out of the guy. Well, he still has at least three more bars to hit up. Maybe if he finds someone more gorgeous, he can have a real life cock in his ass.
“Thanks,” the guy says, in the other stall. Alex waits a few moments for the bathroom door to shut, to preserve the mystery. Then, he flushes out of principle, exits the stall, and smirks at himself in the mirror. He looks good. He washes his hands and exits the bathroom and orders another double G&T.
“The night is young,” he says to himself at the bar, running his teeth over his molars. His phone dings: a grindr match. The match sends him a picture of a big, black cock, and he grins to himself, downs the drink in four gulps. He’s feeling pleasantly buzzed and still a little hard in his pants.
where r u? i can host if u want.
Chicago does okay, in his book.