This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
In the previous chapter, C'est La Vie! 7, I described how I came out to my parents during my junior year in college, and an encounter with a hot boy, Sam, I met at a GLB center party.
C'est La Vie!: 1980, More Than Just a Job
This goes back to the summer of 1980, when I had just turned twenty-two and graduated from college. Though I was intending to go to graduate school to study painting, I decided to take a breather for a couple of years, and paint on my own, partly to see whether I was really up to a career as an artist. But first, I wanted a little down time and some fun. I had gone to college in the mid-west, so I decided to go to San Francisco for the summer and find a job while I enjoyed the legendary Gay Capitol of the US, the Castro. It was a heady place in the pre-AIDS days.
I had only been in SF for a few days, when I landed a job as a do-everything assistant at a small, gay-friendly hotel. Not a lot of money, but room and board were included.
I quickly found that it was not merely gay friendly, it was positively flaming. Among my duties was to "chamber" the rooms: clean them, make the beds, put out fresh towels, etc. The work was mind-bogglingly easy, and I usually finished my work ahead of schedule.
Toward the end of my first week, I was doing the last room of the day. Before going in, I knocked to see that it was unoccupied, opened up with my passkey, and went in with the vacuum and a pile of fresh towels.
Except, the room was not unoccupied. Lying on the bed, just wakened from a nap by my knock, was a handsome black man. He was probably in his early thirties, and had a killer body: smooth, muscular and defined and he was wearing low-rise white briefs. When he turned over as I came in the room, I could see that he had a very full basket.
"Oh, sorry," I said. "I didn't know that you were here. I can come back later."
"Hey, no problem," he said, "you can go ahead. I'll stay out of your way. Let me get off the bed so you can make it."
He stood up and turned to walk over to an easy chair in the corner. His beautiful round ass rotated under his briefs as he turned his back to me. He sat in the chair, slouching back so that his crotch was nicely on display, and his abs and chest showed up in all their hills and valleys. My cock started hardening in my shorts.
As I got to work making the bed, he said, "Have you been working here long?"
"No, just started last week," I replied.
"I just checked in yesterday," he said. "My first time at a gay hotel. I'm here for a week."
"I hope you have a nice stay," I replied, not sure how to interpret his friendliness.
"Yeah," he said. "I got in late last night, and I'm really looking forward to experiencing this place, y'know, not just the city, but the scene here in the Castro."
"Like nowhere else on earth," I said, smiling.
"Yeah," he went on. Then, after a pause during which it looked like he was struggling to say something: "I've only had one gay encounter before, and I have been thinking about it ever since. My wife took the kids to her mother's for a couple of weeks, so I made up a story about a business trip to San Francisco, and here I am. Are you gay?"
"Of course I am", I said. "I think ninety-nine percent of the Castro is. I think you're gonna learn a lot here," I said, looking at him. I noticed that the full basket was a lot fuller now, a thick ridge rising diagonally up between his leg and abdomen.
"I'm ready to learn," he said, rubbing his growing erection through the fabric of his white briefs. He looked straight into my eyes, his own glowing with lust.
Since his was the last room, and then I was off for the day, I figured I could spend as much time as I wanted. I slowly walked over in front of him, and dropped to my knees on the floor. I put my hands on his meaty thighs, and pushed them apart.
"The first lesson involves a thorough analysis of meat eating," I said, putting my hand lightly on his briefs and feeling his hard cock. It was easily eight inches, nice and thick, and curved up slightly.
He moaned softly as he felt me caress his cock. "Start analyzing", he said.
I hooked my fingers in his waistband, pulled his briefs over his cock and worked them down his legs until I could remove them. His cock sprang up extra hard, pointing at the ceiling.
He whispered, "God, I've been waiting for this so long!"
I gently took his cock in my hand and lightly caressed it, running my fingers up over its length, around the head, and back down to cup his balls and feel their weight. He moaned softly to my touch. I then leaned forward and licked from his balls up the underside of his cock and around the head, looking up at him as I did so, seeing his anticipation of ecstasy.
I kissed my way up the shaft, closed my fingers around his thickness, and brought the tip to my lips. Slowly, I let my lips slide down until I had a little more than half of him in my mouth. With his thickness, he was a real mouthful.
He moaned, "God, yes, babyÉ" as I slowly started moving up and down his length, using my hand on the base while I sucked him.
I worked my tongue on him, pulled him in until I almost choked, but got my lips down to his pubes, and then back up again. He started slowly moving his hips to fuck my face in time to my sucking. Gradually, I picked up speed, twisting my head and lips as I descended, working my tongue as I came back up. His thrusts were becoming more desperate, and even though it had only been about 5 minutes, I knew that the end was coming soon.
"Oh, man, I'm gonna cum," he gasped.
I held him in my lips and took his balls in one hand and pulled down hard on them as I felt his body tense up. I put a hand on his abs, to feel their strong muscles contract as he began to shoot into my waiting throat, 4, 5, 6 and then 7 squirts that I could feel flood into my mouth, and then more spasms as he finished off.
When he was done, I swallowed his sweet cum, then rocked back on my heels and smiled up at him. He looked utterly spent, his sweaty chest and abs heaving up and down as he recovered from his orgasm. He smiled at me.
"Oh, God, that was good," he said. "I've never had an orgasm like that before, and I never came in someone's mouth before."
"Well, ya gotta start somewhere," I said. "If you're ready for more in a little while, we can try some things that you will really like. I just need to finish your room and put my stuff away, and then I can come back for a while if you want me to."
"Man, I can't believe that this is happening," he said.
"Well, believe it. This is the Castro, remember?" I answered with a big smile.
I finished his room quickly, went to put my supplies and tools away, and then went back to his room, ready for more, and ready to get a little satisfaction myself too.
When I knocked, he replied "Come in," and there he was, naked on the bed, the lights turned down low, a bottle of lube next to him, and an unlit joint on the bedside table. It was the days before AIDS so no one was using condoms yet, except me, neatly stowed in my pocket.
"This is gonna be fun," I thought.