Wolf Hudson
Wolf Hudson gives Christian Owen a hard bondage fuck in the shower.
Marking Time
A young man alone in the city finds his only lifeline to the real world is AOL. Will he hook up with his new-found friend also alone in the city and staying at the same hotel or chicken out as before?
Warning–Because many people consider a story without an intimately detailed sex scene a complete waste of time I give advance warning that this story deals with sexually-generated angst not sex itself. Only read this story if you enjoy tales of indecision and anxiety.
* * * * *
I tried not to think about it. It wasn t easy. I was away from home for the first time and homesickness had bushwhacked the sense of independence I had expected .
The telephone rang and I picked it up. Hello?
Martin is that you?
Yes Mom. I kept any sound of relief out of my voice.
Are you okay?
Why wouldn t I be okay?
I was worried about you. You hadn t called me since yesterday.
It s only 4:40 Mom I pointed out. You re not even home yet.
She hesitated. I heard road noise in the background which meant she was probably still on I-270 heading north. I imagined what she was wearing what her day was like what she and Dad would have for dinner. In other words all things I usually never thought about.
More cautiously she asked: How did your interview go?
I didn t compare her to a nagging Jewish mother Actually I said. Not bad. The Human Resources guy was kinda cool. He had already seen two dozen people for the position but no one even near my age. My credentials impressed him.
Of course they did she said proudly which brought back my annoyance. I controlled it though.
He pretty much let on that I was ahead of the pack or at least high up in the running. I agreed to meet him and some other bigwigs for dinner tonight.
Oh Martin! she caroled. How wonderful! You wear your blue suit okay? No the brown one maybe with a blue–
Mom I warned.
Okay okay. Wear what you want to honey. I know you ll make the right decision. She sounded slightly wounded. Just make your best impression okay?
I always make a good impression Mom. You know that.
Her sigh was very motherly. I know. You make me so proud of you Martin.
I got her off the phone and unpacked my khaki Dockers and my light blue Ralph Lauren shirt and the blue and gray silk tie. I wanted to make an impression but of a relaxed and in-command applicant not an ass-kisser. Everyone at that place secretaries to the mail-room kid to the Executive VP s were a bunch of Class-A super-overachievers with 2×4 s the size of Saturn rockets shoved up their asses. The only cool person I d met that day was Tim the Human Resources guy–and he was probably trained that way.
I ironed my clothes took a shower put my clothes on and went downstairs to catch a cab. The hotel was on 55th Street the restaurant was on 40th. Maryland born and bred I knew as much about the Big Apple as I did Peoria Illinois.
I let the doorman flag down a taxi for me and gave the driver the name of the restaurant and the address. He got there in ten minutes but made enough turns to baffle a mapmaker.
Thank you I said getting out. Will I have much problem getting a cab back to the hotel later on?
He laughed–even his laughter had an accent–and he reminded me that I was white well-dressed and in the best part of town. You could fall off into the gutter at three a.m. and two dozen cabbies would try and pick you up. At least that s what I think he said. I tipped him five dollars and waved at him when he drove away. I like friendly people with a sense of humor–even foreigners.
Tim was waiting for me in the bar along with a sharply-dressed gentleman named Mr. Dyce. Mr. Dyce looked in his early forties and had shiny black hair. He looked Sicilian. I offered my hand and for exactly one second he tried to crush it. I couldn t help but flinch. They both laughed.
You ve heard of The New York Minute? Mr. Dyce said smoothly. Well that s The New York Second.
I flexed and shook my hand appreciatively. Don t tell me about The New York Hour then I joked.
Mr. Dyce lifted his hand for the bartender. Tim tells me your from D.C. he said. If the speed at which the attractive young lady reacted was any indication Mr. Dyce came here a lot. Or he owned the place. You re old enough to drink?
Since he asked in a tone not to embarrass me I answered with deference. Yes sir. To the bartender: Do you need my I.D.?
She smiled sweetly and shook her head. Then a diet-Coke I said.
She went to pour my soda and a third man entered the bar and joined us. This was someone I recognized from that afternoon. John somebody. A fish name. Pike?
This is John Hake Martin. You remember him? Tim asked.
I said I did and John and I shook hands. He was not a member of The New York Second club. John works in your department Tim advised.
He d be your boss Mr. Dyce clarified. If that s the eventual outcome .
The cute bartender return with my soda. I thanked her and held eyes with her for a New York Second longer than I should have. She smiled at me however but hid the smile from my companions.
I ll pay for dinner if that nudges the outcome in my direction I offered.
I told you he was a wit Tim said.
I had to keep my wit in check. A crack or two might amuse these guys but they were the makers and the shakers in this town and they didn t hire wits. They hired savvy and skill. I said The truth is I understand that I m very lucky to be here tonight. The fact you asked me is an ego-booster. But I also know that I wouldn t be here if I didn t have something important to offer the firm.
Mr. Dyce grinned. Tim beamed. Every tooth in his mouth shown one-hundred watts or brighter. John Hake said to me You really developed that Coca-Cola model in two weeks?
Actually I had developed the model in one week the rest of the time I spent learning Black Jack online. It wouldn t work in the real market I admitted. The algorithms were from an old General Dynamics engine donated to the university in 1999. I rewrote the formulas based on the Minnesota expressions developed by Dr. Fletcher s team in 2002. It was strictly conceptual. It lost money consistently.
Hake nodded. But nobody has a model that works any better than yours and they re all written by experts.
I failed on the cheap I conceded. You want to pay me big money to fail big time?
I want you to succeed Mr. Dyce said softly. Can you succeed Martin?
How the fuck do I know? I wanted to say. I m a godamned junior at a nondescript college in Maryland. I get by on student loans and an allowance from my parents. I m twenty-one years old and I ve never been laid. How the hell good I am?
If you have enough money I can make it work I said honestly. Enough money will make anything work. The question is do you have enough time?
How much time is enough? Mr. Dyce asked. There was no amusement in his manner now only consideration.
Three years. Not a Sunday less. On a New York Year budget. Five years on anything less.
Mr. Dyce scowled. Tim took half-a-step backwards. John Hake who had been vacillating between friendliness and rigidity in the presence of his boss scowled as well.
Three years? On a framework you wrote in two weeks? What kind of bullshit is that Martin?
My model was bullshit Mr. Dyce. The real thing is the Titanic with watertight bulkheads. You can blow four five modules and the thing stays afloat. Imagine a financial engine that makes money even when you program it to loose.
Dyce s scowl didn t lessen any but it didn t grow worse. Let s have dinner he said.
I ordered New York Strip Steak with a baked potato and Mr. Dyce and Tim both had Filet Mignon. John had a Surf & Turf dinner with a lobster tail the size of the Titanic. We drank a French wine who s name I couldn t pronounce desert was ludicrous.
So Martin. Mr. Dyce stretched back in his chair and made it obvious he wanted a cigar. You leave town when? Thursday morning?
Yes sir. The food in my stomach had me dopey and I didn t want to get into anything serious. Tomorrow morning I m booked on a tour of Lower Manhattan–
Ground Zero.
Yes I agreed. And the Bronx Zoo tomorrow afternoon.
What about tomorrow night?
I shook my head. Dyce glanced sideways at John Hake who nodded slightly. The Red Sox are in town he said. Tomorrow night and Thursday night. How would you like to go see them?
A Yankees-Red Sox game in September? They were number one and two in the division again. The Red Sox had won the World Series last year. Washington was in the cellar with only thirty-two wins but it was their first year in town.
Who s cock do I have to suck? I wanted to ask. I said That s a very generous offer Mr. Dyce. You could just as well let me sell the ticket instead and hold my first year s salary.
More like the first year and a half John Hake said somewhat unwisely. Mr. Dyce cut him a hard glance. I liked John so I accepted.
To my relief both Tim and Mr. Dyce had pressing appointments after dinner and had to run. John and I migrated to the bar where I hoped to see the attractive bartender again but she was gone. A little after nine he stood with me on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. The September evening was cool and clear just this side of crisp.
So what you have on for tonight? I asked.
Unfortunately he said checking his watch I have to be across the river in Jersey at ten o clock. My wife and I are buying a new condo there and we re meeting the broker. Sorry.
Only in The Big Apple I thought.
I bade him good night and caught the first cab I flagged. I considered asking the cabby where the nearest nightclub was but didn t have the courage. Being alone in New York City is no fun.
* * *
It was eleven o clock. I slouched in the surprisingly comfortable upholstered chair remote in hand channel surfing. My laptop was open on the table beside me on screen Microsoft Outlook awaited any messages. The six in my In Box had already been answered and I was bored.
I wanna get naked I said aloud. Actually what I wanted was to suck a cock.
Don t get me wrong–I m not gay. I ve never had sex with a guy and I don t find guys attractive. My problem is one of fixation. Since my first image of a girl sucking a cock I ve wanted to suck one too. I ve become addicted to certain newsgroups on AOL. You probably know which ones. Like any addict I both loath and cherish my addiction.
What I need is a personal Glory Hole. To the uninitiated a Glory Hole is a 4 diameter hole in any wall through which an erection can be placed. Of necessity it is generally located at groin level in one wall of a small cubicle usually in a sex shop. I ve never seen or been inside one but I have seen pictures. Once inserted in the hole an erection can be sucked anonymously by a man or a woman–or both–depending upon your predilection.
My perfect scenario would be a 7-1/2 long penis of a Caucasian male nicely pink of medium girth with a not-to-protuberant glans. The testicles should be large and droopy enough to allow for easy fondling. My perfect pair are distinctly mismatched one hanging lower than the other. The right testicle should be larger by half. In this perfect scenario no human being would exist on the opposite side of the wall.
I shifted uncomfortably in the chair adjusted my position. In deference to the situation I sat there in my jockey shorts and my tee-shirt. In defiance of the situation I had the curtains halfway drawn though what good this did on the fourteenth floor I don t know. The building opposite was only twelve stories tall. Taller buildings were visible in the distance to be sure but from any of them you d need high-powered binoculars. Then again this was New York.
I momentarily considered giving myself a little stroking action just on the off-chance you know but my penis said Forget it. It had no interest.
Why not go online? I had thought this earlier but lethargy kept me glued to the chair. Now it was eleven-fifteen and the idea had more appeal. I got up and sat down at the table.
The hotel was rigged for wireless. I started AOL selected my screename SimplMind100 and connected via TCP/IP. Where shall we go tonight? I wondered aloud.
I scanned through the member-created chat rooms and stared at M4MNYCHotels. My hand gave a tiny shake. I got a tiny little shiver. I clicked on the name and sat there a moment thinking.
Two months ago I had almost jumped. I started up a friendship with a guy named Sean (real name? Who knows?) from Baltimore that I met online. We hit it off the first night and progressed from touchy-feely chat to heavy duty cyber in less than an hour. I promised him my oral virginity and he committed his to me. We resolved to 69 each other in bed with a camera recording.
Arrangements were made after our third session and I got as far as the parking lot of the motel. This was in Columbia Maryland halfway between our homes. I sat in the car for half and hour berating myself for being a chicken in the end I just left. If he showed up for the liaison I never knew because I deleted my screename and blocked out his. I hadn t been in an AOL chat room since then.
I double-clicked M4MNYCHotels and went in.
* * *
What hotel you in?
I had been chatting with SPUDKNOCKER99 for ten minutes. His real name was Dan he was thirty-one years old he was married with two kids and in town trying to close a deal on pharmaceutical equipment. His hotel was in mid-town from what I d gathered.
The Clarendon I lied. On 53rd.
Close he came back but no cigar. Maybe if I looked out my window I could see you. Try waving LOL.
My window faces east. Should I stand there naked?
PLEASE NO! LOL. Let me keep something to the imagination. So far I had told him my age and my general description my reason for being here and how long I was staying. I m at the Westbridge on 55th he wrote.
I shivered mightily. He was here? At my hotel? Thank God I had lied!
I could hop on over on my twinkle toes I told him. Spray you with my fairy dust.
Keep typing like that and I ll rip the hard drive out of my computer sonny boy.
My penis had discovered its missing blood supply and was struggling for freedom. I kept it where it was. How hard is it really? And how large? Does it ever give you a laptop dance?
I ll laptop dance you boyo. You ll doing the dancing of course.
He knew I was a closet flautist. He knew I joked about more. He was Bi but with very limited experience. So far his experience was at the mouths of two other men.
A laptop dance is something I might enjoy sometime I told him. Given the right circumstances.
Think you ll ever take the leap? he came back seriously.
I explained about Sean. Apart from being an asshole about it I typed that s closer than I ever imagined I d go. What about you? How did you hook up?
Good old reliable AOL. Just like this only with some chance of success LOL.
If only he knew. I shivered and typed: How big are you? The real version as opposed to the AOL version.
I didn t dare lie about that not when I d be meeting the potential blow job later on LOL. My REAL size is 8 long thick with very large veins and I get an angry red when I m hard. I m cut with a moderately big head. You?
Embarrassed I confessed. Six inches on a really good night. Normal thickness. Takes a hook to the left. Care to rent me your package tomorrow night? For my own use with the ladies?
Would rather you try the goods yourself but sure. Visa Mastercard or American Express accepted. And cash of course. Rent by the hour?
How about a one-year lease?
Sorry the lease-holder is my wife. And she never sublets. A one-night opportunity here Marty take it or leave it.
I ll take it I replied. I m upstairs in room 1412. I sat back to wait. I shook like a bamboo shack in an earthquake.
His response was immediate. I know you re joking. You wouldn t be that cruel. Actually just joking about it is cruel LOL! I have a very large erection in my hand and it nearly got yanked off!
I am so shameless I wrote. I need to be taken over my knee and given a good paddling.
On your bare ass buster.
How did you know my ass is bare?
Lucky guess. An informed guess.
My erection demanded its freedom in no uncertain terms. My heart beat like an elephant s heart: thud-whump thud-whump thud-whump. When was I this aroused? Certainly not since Sean.
Your guess is only half-informed I told him. Physically my shorts are still on mentally they ve been pitched out the window. In other words my bottom is psychologically ready for a good spanking.
LOL! You re killing me. I wasn t kidding about my erection. It s ready to rock and roll. It would react very favorably to seeing your ass getting paddled.
I m trying to think the last time that actually happened to me. I think I was ten. I ve never gotten it bare-bottomed before that was reserved for my sister. She s seventeen now.
Ever get to see it?
They did it to her in her bedroom. I could hear it though which turned me on immensely.
I bet it did. How old was she when they stopped?
Stopped?
LOL again. I keep setting myself up don t I? Is your sister hot?
I prefer to think of her as cuddly. She s blonde has blue eyes still wears braces on her teeth–which just drives her nuts but which I think is cute–and she has a nice figure. And no I ve never seen her nude so don t ask.
DARN! Skunked again. Would you like to though?
He caught me. I had often wanted to see Kierney nude had seen her countless times braless in stuff that let her nipples protrude had seen her in outfits like a tank-top and gym-shorts which clearly defined her developing breasts and left her thong panties exposed–I had even seen her in her bra and panties. I typed: Every day and every minute. Like an introduction? You d have to wait six months to bang her though she s still a minor.
Her twenty-one year old brother would do just fine.
I almost told him then. I almost placed my fingertips on the keys and typed I was lying about 53rd Street. Come up here and fill my mouth with your erection please! Instead I let my blood pressure settle again. I m curious. Did either of your guys let you cum in their mouths?
One did he replied. The second one. His name was John Smith and I kid you not. I even looked at his license. The first guy s name was Ted but I won t tell you his last name. He let me come on his chest but John wanted it all. He masturbated me the second time we did it right into his own mouth. Then he swallowed. The first time he spat it into the toilet but the second time he swallowed it. (I enjoy saying that LOL.)
So I gathered. I ve swallowed my own cum before. Does that excite you? Or turn you off?
It EXCITES me stupid! (You re not stupid sorry.) Tell me about it.
Well I typed I usually do a couple of spurts at a time. I get myself to the brink of ejaculation (not always on purpose LOL) and shoot into my palm. I don t actually cum so I m still turned on enough that I can slurp it up with my tongue. I do this two or three times before the main event but if I m lucky or really intent on enjoying myself I ll do it over and over until I ve easily had two or three sperm-loads.
I didn t know what this bit of information did to my friend but it agonized me. I squirmed in my chair.
I m currently freehanded he wrote. The concept of you enjoying yourself was just too much. Either I let go of it or it made goo-goo all over me. I wouldn t want that because like yourself cumming extinguishes my fire. Right now I want that flame hot as a blowtorch. Anyway what other pleasantries might you employ in your quest for enjoyment?
This was the Daily Double the question I d been steering him toward. I wasn t even sure I had done it consciously . . . just following my cock maybe.
I have this other fixation. Two months ago I went to this sex-shop around the Beltway from my house–its in Beltsville the Lower East Side of Maryland. I was so embarrassed it took two trips just to get in the front door. When I did get in I kept my eyes off what I had gone there to see instead browsing the magazine racks. I settled for a prepackaged set of girly mags. They were so poor quality and I was so pissed I didn t even beat off to them. I just threw them away.
Two days later I forced myself back to the place and was astonished at what I saw. Covering one entire wall and part of another was the most amazing collection of dildos you can imagine. They had long ones black ones two-headed ones green and red ones in Dayglo colors they had dildos two feet long and midget dildos. They had dildos you strapped onto your body and dildos you put batteries in and dildos with knobs and ticklers. They had–well you get the idea. They had so many dildos I couldn t possible make a choice much less an informed one. Then I saw this row of flesh-colored dildos in varying sizes all from the same manufacturer. They looked exceptionally real and even had testicles. They re called Ballsy Cocks.
The largest one nearly took my breath away. It was an incomprehensible fourteen inches long and thick as a forearm. At the other end of the scale was one six inches long and slightly thicker than myself. The head was beautifully formed like a Triceratops head. The tip had a distinctive opening that looked like a real pee-hole and it was ridged along the shaft by veins. I had never seen anything so beautiful.
I took it down with shaking hands and carried it over to the counter on rubbery knees. I put it into a Plexiglas carousel like you see at a bank–the counter area was completely enclosed in Plexiglas–along with a twenty dollar bill. The guy paid no attention at all shooting the shit with some old man. I took the dildo home with me and on the weekend when I didn t have to worry about being bothered I put it to good use. And now you know.
His reply was a moment in coming. Define good use Martin.
I think you already know I replied.
Again a pause. Did you enjoy it? Would you enjoy the real thing you think?
With numb and shaking fingers I answered: I think I would enjoy you Dan.
And then I told him he could find out for sure by taking the elevator to the 14th floor and knocking on the door to room 1412. I am waiting to find out myself and oh boy am I scared.
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