GAY SEX STORY
"Hot Cowboy"

Cowboys turn my crank. It’s something about the way they move – easy, confident. And if a hunky stud in a Stetson and skin-tight jeans is nearby, I’ll cancel other plans, at least until I’m sure he’s “not available.”

So, when this dude wandered into the lobby of the hotel where I was staying, I pretended an interest in that day’s paper, but my eyes had spotted the bulge down his inner thigh. His narrow waist and slim hips supplied plenty more fantasy, and the cowboy boots and hat only added fuel. He tilted his hat back, surveyed the room as if looking for someone, then put his luggage down, next to me.“

Don’t tell me you’ve been stood up,” I quipped.

He chuckled. “Maybe I have,” he said. “I’m an hour late. If I check the desk for messages, would you mind keeping your eye in my bag?”

“My pleasure,” I replied, moving my eyes obviously back to his crotch. “Glad to help a man in his hour of need.”

He laughed as he turned and headed for the reception desk. When he leaned on the counter while waiting for the clerk to check for messages, his jeans stretched even tighter over his muscular butt. And then he slowly turned and gave me a wicked grin. With his moustache and goatee, it spelled trouble – the good kind.

“No one gets this lucky,” I thought. But my eyes didn’t stop surveying his body, imagining the goodies hidden under those clothes.

The clerk returned and shrugged his shoulders – no messages. Then the cowboy raised two fingers, in a V, to me. I signalled back an okay, and he moved to the sign-in desk and was handed a key. Then he ambled back to me – Lordy, I do love the way cowboys walk.

“My client must have thought I got a later flight, but they know I’m staying here. So, no problem.” He was standing close to me, legs parted. The bulge had not diminished. It was hard to take my eyes off it, but I managed, somehow.

“Do you want to join me for a drink?” I asked. “My name’s Steve.”

“Nick,” he replied, and as we shook hands, he added, “I’d like to take my gear to my room. Why don’t we have a beer there?”

“Sure thing,” I gasped. If he didn’t see my look of surprise, he must have been blind. However, he just grinned, reached for his dufflebag, and I followed him to the elevator.

It was mid-afternoon, so we were alone when the doors closed. “Do you have to be anywhere soon, Steve?” he asked. He was starting to undo the top buttons of his shirt.

“Not till late tomorrow morning.” And I started opening my shirt, too, watching Nick watch me. And we both continued our slow-motion strip until the elevator stopped.

“After you, sir,” I said. “You’re the host.”

“Does a host choose everything?” Nick winked when he asked that, then he led the way down the hall to his room.

Following him, I replied, “We can take turns if you’d like.” When we arrived at his room, he opened the door and said, “After you, sir,” and he closed the door and tossed the keys on the desk. His back was turned to me, so I reached around him with my hands to explore his chest and brush his nipples with the edges of my thumbs. When he turned to face me, I said, “Take your shirt off slowly.” And I watched him open the remaining buttons, lift the tails from his pants, and let it fall to the floor. Nick was in first-class shape. His taut, muscular torso was tanned – this man liked the outdoors. The nice covering of fur and two tempting nipples were mouth-watering. Both his left wrist and upper arm were encircled by leather straps, which emphasized his thick forearm and biceps. Circular tattoos reached from just above his left elbow to his shoulder. Was he a top exclusively? Nick certainly didn’t need anything to make him look more macho.

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