Date: Tue, 18 Jan 2011 17:40:03 +0800
From: Marten Weber <webmarten@gmail.com>
Subject: Public Procurement (Part 5)

-----------------------------

We rode up to his floor. It was midnight by now, and the hotel quiet. I was
lost in my own thoughts, despite the fact that I was close to fulfilling a
day-long desire in the arms of this lovable French banker, this man of so
many voices and faces, at once masculine and hard, now soft and seductive.
And despite the fact that he was holding my hand, pressing me to the wall of
the elevator, now kissing my neck--for a submissive bottom, he was suddenly
very aggressive. He whispered something in my ear that I could not
understand. He grabbed my waist with his hand so vehemently, he knocked the
wind out of my lungs, and made me gasp for air, then held me firmly and
seized my groin, smiling lecherously as he felt my erection.


 The door opened on the fifth floor and a woman stepped in. She pressed the
button for the ground floor, and realized too late that we were going up
instead of down. She had her back to us, and stared at the mirrored door.

Then she noticed the smell.

She raised her nose, trying not to sniff too obviously; Romain saw it and
giggled. We stood next each other, holding hands like teenage sweethearts. I
felt my heart pound violently.

We passed the eighth floor, when the woman lifted her own hand to her mouth,
and breathed into her cupped palm.


 That did it--both Romain and I burst out laughing, doubling up beside her,
apologized profusely as we left the cabin, in wild and boisterous abandon
fell to the floor, giggling like a couple of adolescent boys. It was
priceless!

--You know what she think, you know what she think, gargled Romain, choking
on his own hilarity. In his excitement all the English grammar went out the
window.

--Do you think she realized what it was? She could have just...

--No, no, cried Romain, holding onto me as we stumbled towards his door. No,
I am sure she thought she had... do you know the joke about the whore in the
elevator?

I shook my head, catching my breath. Somewhere down the aisle we sensed a
movement, and tried to behave. Romain said softly,

--I will tell you later. In bed.

Yes, I thought. *You can tell me while I fuck you. *I stroked his hair. He
seemed so impossibly young now, wild and untamed. What a contrast to the
professional man who had given the morning lecture!

He retrieved his card, inserted it into the lock, and waited. I stepped
behind him, and pressed my hard cock into this ass. His hands stopped
moving.

--Aren't you gonna open? I said, humping him again.

--I am very comfortable here, he said, his behind backing up into my groin.

I gave him another hard shove, made him feel the full length of my manhood.
He gave a gruff groan, and finally pushed the card in far enough for the
lock to open.

We stepped inside, and stood still in the dark, waiting--an eternity, it
seemed --for the soft click of the closing door.

I looked at the spot where he had knelt before.

I looked at him, the silhouette of his face against the gray glow of the wet
city outside the window: he looked impossibly handsome and sweet.

I knew then I loved him.

An ambulance wailed past; voices outside in the aisle.

 --Do you want me back there? he said quietly, pointing to the floor where he
saw I was looking.


 I tried to make up my mind. Should I order him around--fulfill his fantasy?
Dominate him, slap him, breed him for a night, kinky and filthy, the way I
like it--make him beg for my cock, every step of the way til climax? Or
should I take him into my arms, caress him gently, kiss him, love him...? I
was at odds with myself, unable to decide.

I closed my eyes, and breathed rhythmically to calm myself down.

He made the decision for me. Suddenly his lips were on mine, and his arms
around me, and our tongues in each other's mouths. We kissed hard and long,
and halfway through he had my arms pinned up against the door. I held them
there when he let go to open my shirt, button after button, as he took
charge. He pulled the shirt apart, and his eyes gleamed lustfully when he
saw my hairless torso. For a second, I felt self-conscious: I knew where the
fat had accumulated over the past few months of too much overtime and
fast-food lunches. That's exactly the spot he hit first, kissed it, licked
it, took the excess skin between his lips.

--You are gorgeous, he mumbled through his teeth.

I was so ashamed--and so excited. He seemed so full of love and emotion, so
full of fresh-faced frivolity. I had to steady myself--my head swam.


 His tongue found my chin again, my lips, my cheeks, my neck, and then every
inch of my torso: each nipple, one on the way down, the other on the way up,
and all my ticklish skin between them. Then we locked mouths again,
exchanged between us all the tension of the day, the pent-up lust, the
pheromones and hormones in a welter of attraction; the wetness spiked with
the smell of my own cum emanating from his face and hair.

My cock was so hard, it hurt.

 At last he fell before me on his knees and opened my fly. He stroked my
monster through the fabric a little, but the lust was stronger--he could not
wait. I sensed how he tried to take it slower, desperately, but failed: he
had to have it, lick it, suck it--now! He gasped again as he beheld my
erection, grasped in his hand--his eyes glowed wildly, and just as before, my
full length and wide girth slid down his throat effortlessly. He choked,
turned purple, and when he finally withdrew, with an arch of saliva spawning
between my prick and his lips, he said,

--Ah *mon dieu* what a cock!


 He held it in his hand, then got up again. He kicked off his shoes,
stripped off his socks, and in a violent jerk, pinned me face against the
door.


 Before I knew what was happening, he had tied my wrists together with his
socks; then he let go.


 --Ha, ha, he said, laughing wily and almost with comical, boyish guile. Who
is the top now, eh! Now I have you tied up!

I must have looked very surprised, for he reached up into my face to stroke
my chin. At least I thought that's what he would be doing. Instead, he
shoved his other sock in my mouth, then took a step back.

If I was angry at the turn of events, my cock betrayed my excitement. I
literally felt the precum drip from it.

He took my nipples between his fingers and squeezed hard. I take no pleasure
in that, usually, it only hurts, but for him to do it, now, after a full day
of teasing, of longing, of dreaming to be with him (and do it to him!) it
brought me close to the edge! I gave a gasp, muffled by the garment in my
mouth. For the first time in my life, I enjoyed feeling pain. He smiled at
me, squinting slightly, as if he knew.

His right hand reached for my chin. He grabbed it hard, then shook my head,
left, right, manipulating me--and he was smirking!

--You thought you could take me? You thought you dominate me? You want to be
the top?

A sudden burst of fear rushed through me. What if he was a weirdo? A real
sadist? What if I had walked right into a trap? To my complete
embarrassment, my cock twitched at the thought. He noticed that, looked
down, and saw the fat dollop of precum on its tip.

--I think you like this, he said, taking the transparent liquid with his
index finger, reaching up, and smearing it on my lips.

I shivered with fear and excitement, yes, both, I think.

--Not so tough now, eh, Asian boy?

It was then I knew he was only acting--it was a phrase from a film, a hollow
theatrical expression. He was setting the scene--for his own submission. I
relaxed a little.

He kissed me softly on the mouth, letting his tongue linger until the cum
dissolved between us. Its smell rose into my nose. He had my palpitating
cock caught in his firm grip.

Then Romain spoke slowly, and deliberately, stressing every word.

--Now you kneel, boy!


 I hesitated. That's not what I had planned at all. That is not how I like
my encounters! It was going all wrong... but his eyes were alight with passion
and hunger.

So I did it, I knelt.

My hands were tied, so, unaccustomed to the altered balance, my knees hit
the floor with a thud. He took a step back and turned on the light--the beam
directed right into the center of the anteroom, like a spotlight on a stage.
I was on my knees, wrists fettered, a stranger's sock in my mouth. My eyes
filled up and I fell back against the door.


 He stepped into the spotlight.

And then he stripped.


 It was the longest, hottest, most erotic strip I have ever seen in my life!
It was so lascivious and professional, such absolute torture, I thought--for
the few seconds that I actually had conscious thought left--that he maybe
once may have done this professionally.

His handsome body swayed and undulated as he took each piece of clothing off
so elegantly and professionally, I lost my sense of time and space, and
floated there before him, wishing I could touch my dick. His hairy legs, his
wiry, lean body, the pale skin covered in the coarse black hair--he was the
exact opposite of me, dark, hairless, soft-skinned.

While he took off his clothes, he spoke like he had during the presentation;
he alternated between fluent American and heavily accented French. He asked,


--You like what you see, boy? and sounded like a New Yorker, and then said,

--Is that what you want? and was all French again. I fell in love all over!

He stroked his hard cock through the fabric of his shorts again, and at
last, he turned, pulled them down, and showed me his crack.

--My big man, he said, sounding like a whore, my big Asian man! Will you want
to fuck this 'ole--zis pink little 'ole? Is that what you came up 'ere for?

Oh how he teased! I nodded, but he had his eyes closed as he inserted a
finger into himself. It was pink and wet and moist hairs stuck to the
entrance of his channel.

The American returned when he said,

--You wanna fuck me?

I mumbled a yes.

--You gonna fuck me, boy?

I yelled, `fuck, yeah!'

--Spit out ze sock, said the Frenchman.

I did.

--Now, again, said the American voice. You gonna fuck that ass, boy?

--Yes.

He repeated his question, and added,

--Call me `Sir!' Are you gonna fuck that hairy French ass, boy?

--Yes Sir! I heard myself shout.

It was unbelievable! I! Me! Moi, on my knees, shouting `Yes Sir!' What the
fuck?

--Yeah! I will fuck you, you slut! Just untie me and I will fuck you til you
beg for mercy!

Romain burst out in laughter. He stood up, came to me, kissed me on the
lips, long and tender, and reached behind my back, then took the sock off my
wrists without leaving my mouth.

When I was free at last, I heard him swallow hard.

He lowered his eyes for a moment, then looked up at me.

He kissed me again, then hugged me, deep and longingly. His mouth was next
to my ear, when he whispered,

--Enough fool around. Now, big boy, you take me!


 And I did. I got up, grabbed him roughly, pulled him after me, and carried
him to the bed. Rage and ravenous lust clouded my mind. I would fuck him
now, shove my cock up his hairy ass long and deep until he had no feeling
left in his loins, until he could walk no longer.


 But then, all of a sudden, as I placed him on the sheets, the instinct was
gone, the angry passion subsided. I tried hard to feel dominant, but it all
left me that instant. I put him down, softly and with tender care.

A second ago, I had wanted to slap him and beat him and tie him up, and
force myself onto and into him. But somehow, he had taken all that desire
away.

With his look, and his kiss, and his soft surrender, he had conquered me.


 I took off my clothes and lay beside him. We kissed for ages in the soft
light of the room before with eager fingers we explored each other's bodies.
We sucked each other 69, and had our tongues up each other's cracks: every
crevice, hair and pore we licked.

All the hurry was gone, all the pressure relieved. We both sensed it--the
desire to be like this, with each other, for as long as possible. We made
love as if we both avoided climax: long, languid, lustful in its minutiae,
without the agony of artificial passion.

We paused to drink water, bathed together, then continued our bashful dance.
I took his cock in my mouth, and he mine again--as before, as deep as it had
never been taken. His face turned red and he snorted and spit, and his eyes
said `feed me your dick,' but it was all his doing! He was aggressive, not
I! I did not make him do anything, on the contrary; I was even afraid to
hurt him. It was a surprise, and a first for me.


 At last, two hours later, both wet from head to toe and covered in each
other's love, we fucked. It happened in the most unbelievable way: exhausted
from the long night, we lay together, almost ready to sleep. I held him in
my arms, prepared to hear him softly snore, when he backed up again, like
the first time at the door.

My cock was hard, and wet--he had just deepthroatead it. I did not push. I
held it still, and he slid onto it, gently impaling himself, as if my ass
were its natural sheath, its wet and moist and perfect home.

We did not move, just stayed there, breathing gently together. My cock slid
deeper and deeper, until he gave a long, hard sigh, and said,

--Oh...my...god! Now please, please, I beg you...

I nudged his ear, with my tongue tickled the lobe.

--Beg what? What are you begging for?

--I beg you, please...

--What? You little teaser... all afternoon you made me hot and horny. Now you
are begging... *en fin!*

I moved a little, shoved my cock in up to the hilt. He gasped.

--I beg of you, please, please...

--What? What...? Say it!

I withdrew my cock, slowly, centimeter by centimeter. He felt it leave his
body.

--No! he cried out.

--What? You want it back?

His voice was whiny, soft and feminine.

--*Oui!*

--What do you want now?

He croaked,

--Your cock. I beg you, please... *mon cul.*..

I shoved my dick in, hard, until he yelped.

--I beg of you, please, please...

--What?

--Please...

--What?

--Please... FUCK ME!


 There was no stopping me after that, and the dam broke. I cannot remember
all that happened: I had him on the bed, from the back, the front, and on
all fours. I had him on the floor, up against the dresser and before the
window. I made him scream with his face pressed against the glass. Then I
fucked him in the bathroom, over the toilet and with me on the seat--in the
shower, and back in the bed again. There isn't a single surface or corner of
that hotel room we did not stain with our juices--sweat and spit and cum and,
yes, he took my piss too. When I pulled out, his red hot ass gaped wide and
shouted at me,

--More! Fuck me harder! Longer! Deeper!


 At some point though, we were so utterly exhausted, we fell asleep, just in
each other's arms, like before, with my tired member resting limp against
his thigh.


 We breathed quietly together.


 At last I had my romance, when he nestled his smaller, hairier, paler body,
into my bigger, heftier frame, and said softly,

--Sweet dreams!

As if we had been lovers forever.

***


Part 6 is coming soon.


For more about my writing, visit www.martenweber.com
All my stories published so far are also free for nifty readers. Just drop
me a line at webmarten@gmail.com