Cruising by JT Hancock
**CRUISING**
At what point do you forget how many people you have slept with? Even worse, at what point are you so unsure that you wouldn't even give yourself good odds to come within 500? I hit that point in my early 30s and I'm now 49 getting ready to hit the big Five O.
Where's my number now? I often wonder.
There is part of me that feels that I should be ashamed, or at least just a little disgusted at the fact that I just don't know how many men I have been with. I know how many women I have been with: two... just two, and they were utterly forgettable experiences as I worked myself through my last year in high school; clumsy squashing of body parts where I attempted (and eventually succeeded) at connecting the different parts, no different and with just as little interest as when I had gone through my Lego stage years earlier. You either enjoyed putting the pieces together, or you became bored and moved onto something else. My dick poking around and finding this odd, moist, hairy slit attached to a body that contained these semi-round orbs that I could not look at without immediately thinking of a cow getting milked. Women's bodies, I quickly realized, were just absolutely horrible things and were to be avoided at all costs.
I certainly did not start out having sex as a teenager (now in college) thinking that by the time I hit 50 I would not only not have a clue as to how many men I have fucked around with, but I wouldn't even be able to get within hundreds if I were to guess. But the minute I start to think that there clearly must be something wrong with me (an undiagnosed illness, no doubt contracted by my encounters with the two female cows from high school...), all I have to do is realize that it has been one hell of a good ride and it is not stopping any time soon.
I'm going to keep this story short, but the last couple of days has been an example of just how quickly one can run up the tally without even trying.
I'm currently into the 3rd day of a two-week cruise to Hawaii. I'm with my partner (who definitely can guess how many people he has been with in his lifetime, and probably get within at least a dozen). We had never been to Hawaii and it was on our bucket list, and if we are going to go why not take a cruise to get there. We are that statistical gay couple: highly educated with disposable income to spare. Plus, I just can't fly on a plane if it takes more than a couple of hours. Every second on a plane is like death; not that I'm afraid of flying, but that flying nowadays compared to a couple of decades ago is just pure hell: ever smaller seats, knees resting on the seat in front of you, rude flight attendants (well that part has actually never changed...), etc. But there are only two ways to Hawaii – by air or by sea.
I won't get into the details of how society works when you put thousands of people on a ship and keep them together for days – I'll leave that to the sociologists, but one part of society – gay society – works just the same way as it does in regular life, but on steroids. Your average cruise ship will have over 3000 guests and 1000 staff. That is 4000 people on average and I can tell you from experience that generally there are more than just a handful of guys who find themselves in positions wanting to get laid – both straight and gay – both top and bottom – both romantic and anonymous. People finding playmates has changed over the years, the biggest being how easy it used to be for staff to fuck around with the guests, but it is still not only possible, but incredibly easy to still hook up on a cruise.
Which gets me to this morning, as I sat and drank my coffee in one of the several buffet areas, typing on my laptop while at the same time looking out over the ocean with not a cloud in the sky or a ship on the horizon.
And did I mention that this is only day three?
The first day, the day you board the ship, was short as expected, as you get on the ship in the afternoon and after you get settled in you have barely enough time to take a quick walk around the ship when you are asked to return to your cabin, grab your life vest and get to your muster station, or as my partner likes to say, mustard station. After that you grab something to eat, finishing finding the different places on the ship, go see the first night stage show (which is usually just a sample of what is to be expected with future shows, on the ship, and these shows are often very bad stage craft to say the least, and why we always go, who knows?), then it's off to your stateroom, in our case a guest mini-suite which basically means a room that is smaller than our bedroom, a separate sitting area which consist of a couch and a chair in which we will never sit, and a balcony that we will rarely step foot upon.
However, before we call it a night there is one area that is the most important part of the ship, at least for someone like myself: the spa, and more specifically the steam room. That is where you will find the side entertainment that I've come to expect from every cruise I have taken.
Cruise ships almost always have a separate locker room for both men and women, and within those locker rooms is usually both a dry and steam sauna. Depending on the arrangement of the ship, specifically the design of the locker room, I have even found these areas to be purposely off the beaten path, at least from the aspect that when you walk in the locker room you have to go down a small hallway, or around a corner, to find the doors to the two types of saunas. Even better, many times within the saunas themselves you will find that at least one of the receded light bulbs is either tuned off or burned out, with apparently no one interested in finding a replacement, and in effect making the saunas just as good for cruising, if not better, than the best laid bath houses. It's on these same ships, within these darkened and hot rooms, where I have played around with other travelers. Even more fun and interesting however, I have found the staff also partakes on occasion.
Out in public it is nothing but courteous exchanges between guests and staff, with the staff many times not only being courteous but also somewhat distant as if they want to make sure no one – other staff members no doubt – view their interactions as anything but professional. Gone are the days when staff would often have short lived affairs with guests. I took my first cruise in 1990 and although I won't go into it here, it was clearly a time where staff openly partook in the takings of both men and women were the opportunity presented itself. I even discovered that it was quite common for single women to go on cruises and get laid a lot, not just from other passengers_,_ but staff also. I happened to be surfing a cruise vacation website, reviewing information on a particular ship, and there was a forum discussion started by a woman who clearly was getting fucked by staff left and right. It was quite a popular discussion and it was one of the few times where I realized that even though I don't think women will ever be the pigs men are, they can still be incredibly slutty.
But for men it usually starts in the locker room saunas.
On the first night of this current cruise I saw that the sauna rooms were indeed off and around the corner from the showers and lockers, but unfortunately the lights were not only all working, but incredibly bright; there would be no shadowed corners where hands, mouths, and other parts would find things to play with.
But still... I pretty much knew that if there were guys who were going to want to play around, that they would be in these two rooms and that I would be checking them out on a semi-regular basis for the duration of the cruise.
So although the first day of the cruise was short, I had figured out the lay of the land.
However, surprisingly my fun began not in the one of the saunas, but early in the morning on day two. My partner and I get up very early and with the time change we got up even earlier on that 2nd day. It was just a little over 5am and as we left the cabin it was still completely dark, the sun still an hour or so away from rising. My partner wanted to check out the gym and see what time it opened, so I stayed in the one buffet area that was closed, but at least had a coffee station so I could get my daily caffeine fix. It was there, right after my partner wandered off to the gym, where I met Miguel – Miguel from Peru to be exact, based on the information printed on his name tag.
Miguel was short, as were most staff on the ship. I don't think he could have been any taller than 5'4". If you have never been on a cruise you just have to trust me when I say that most of the male staff are short – coming from various Asian and South American countries (and a heck of a lot of other places...). You'll find the occasional tall Russian, or Indian, but for the most part they are incredibly cute, short, men.
Miguel wasn't exactly handsome, but he had exotic written all over him. Having grown up in Iowa, and even all these decades later, I am still fascinated, and very much attracted to, men who clearly are not your mid-west farm boy breed. Miguel of course had black hair, thick black hair that he no doubt could only tame by using some type of gel, it was slicked back from his forehead, short and spiked. His skin was coffee brown, and his complexion was spotless and smooth. Although he appeared to be in his mid-twenties, I could barely see a hint of facial hair. His teeth were bright white and the smile that accompanied it was just as impressive. The most striking feature on his face were his eyes, dark brown and even made bigger by the glasses Miguel wore. Gauging by the thickness I doubted if Miguel could find his way out of the buffet room if he were to lose his glasses. They were thick, black rimmed things, way too big for his face, but in a way that somehow worked; they made him even more adorable.
He also was just a little bit pudgy. Not fat, but just enough of a little stomach on him to indicate he was a good eater. I have seen a lot of Latin men from Mexico, and other south of the border countries, where they have this stumpy, short, chubby build, and again with that thick black hair and darker complexion. Shirtless, they are practically hairless. I have traveled a lot in Latin American countries and they are just all over the place. I'm not sure of the heritage, but if I were to guess there is some type of Aztec Indian Spanish mix. When you see them as a family unit, they usually have the short wives, the little cute kids, etc. Guys like Miguel just come from a culture that apparently just hasn't crossbred as much as other cultures. They may be a dime a dozen in their home countries, but for me... damn, I love these type of guys. I've played around with a handful and I have always had a good time.
Because it was so early and we had barely seen anyone since we left the room, I was surprised when I sat down after getting my coffee when he came up to my table by the window.
"Hello, can I get you some water?" he asked. He had on shorts and a Hawaiian shirt as did most the staff.
I was still a little groggy and the coffee had not kicked in yet, but I still was caught off guard by this cute as fuck little hottie standing next to me. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."
I was used to being asked if I needed anything, so I was surprised when only after a few seconds he returned.
"Is your friend coming back? Does he want anything?" Miguel asked.
Even in my uncaffeinated state I realized that apparently Miguel had seen my partner and I enter the dining area, yet I never saw Miguel when I entered the buffet.
"No, he went off to find the gym," I told him, looking at him even more closely than I had earlier, leaning in and reading his name tag. "Miguel, from Peru, is it?"
"Yes. May I ask what your name is?" He said this with a thick, adorable accent, but his English was spot on.
I told him, and we proceed to begin small chit chat, me asking him about his country and him telling me how beautiful it was and how I needed to go there one day. Because it was still so early, still dark with the sunset at least 30 minutes over the horizon, and just the two of us, I didn't find it unusual for Miguel to start up a conversation with me. When it gets busier they just don't have the time as they literally have 100s of people needing their service. However, at just a little after 5 in the morning we had the place to ourselves.
I have learned not to be surprised when someone asks if my traveling companion is my partner. The people who ask are usually women - men either not caring, noticing, or having any interest in knowing why two men are traveling together. In this day and age if someone asks I don't hesitate to tell them that yes indeed, he is my partner.
However it still caught me off guard when Miguel asked, "So, was that your boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend," I confirmed. I was perplexed that he had asked, but I tried to hide my curiosity.
"He is very handsome. You both are very handsome. I saw both of you yesterday."
His accent was so fucking sexy!
He said these things while the smile on his face continued to shine, apparently not at all discouraged or embarrassed to ask a complete stranger about his sexual orientation, and then doubling down with a compliment on your looks. However, I had to give the kid credit. I'd rather deal with people like him than those who say one thing, while at the same time you sense they are thinking something completely different, usually not so nice, inside their conservative and close minded brains.
I was beginning to like this sexy, little chubby Peruvian.
In my peripheral vision I saw little activity in the buffet; only a few elderly people shuffling along with nowhere to go, people whose internal clocks ignore the changes in time zones and need to get up and moving no matter what. I saw only one other staff, dressed exactly as Miguel, but he was on the other side of the room moving from table to table filling the sugar containers and getting ready for the buffet to open at 6:00. I could hear people in the kitchen, but it was off to the side and still cut off from the general public by a gate that would be opened once the buffet was officially open for business. As I realized that our conversation would go no further than the two of us, I figured it couldn't hurt to see what my little friend was up to, if anything.
"Miguel, you are one cutie, you know that?"
He laughed. "Thank you." He just continued to stand there, smiling.
"So, do you have a boyfriend, Miguel?" I asked.
"Oh, no." he replied, still smiling, still laughing through those adorable but clearly almost blind eyes. "I don't like anyone on the ship that way. Plus, I just like white guys and there aren't very many white guys on the ship."
"So, you like white guys?"
"Oh, yes. I love white guys." He spread out the word love for a full second as he said it.
It was at this moment when once again I realized that just as often as you hear people say that opposites attract, I am reminded that it isn't just white guys who like black guys, white guys who like Hispanic guys, Asian guys, etc. There are just as many of them who like us white guys as well. Sure, I know there are many guys who prefer their own, especially black and Latinos, but once again here I was presented with a case of someone who just loved their white bread, and just my luck it appeared that even though I was probably twice his age, he still saw something he liked. So, I decided to keep the momentum going.
"So, when are we going play, Miguel?" I asked this question as serious as I could get it across, looking at him straight in the eyes, leaning in while asking the question. I was thinking that I would probably either get a laugh or just further conversation and small talk. But Miguel was just as good as I and he decided to push it further."
"Follow me," he said, and he abruptly turned around and walked the short distance out of the buffet area to the main elevator hallway area.
I looked around the room again briefly, noticing that there was no one paying any attention, and then got up to follow.
Miguel had walked into the hallway and around a corner and had stopped in front of the elevators.
"Go in there," he said, pointing toward the men's bathroom that was next to the elevators. "Go to the last stall and leave the door unlocked."
I didn't need to be told twice, giving Miguel a grin as I turned and walked away, already knowing what the layout would be when I went in the bathroom. And for those of you who have never been on a cruise ship before, know this: every public bathroom is basically a mini sex oasis waiting only for someone like myself and Miguel to convert it into something much, much more fun.
Due to the fact that ships need to have rooms that can be sealed, not only is the public bathroom main door often closed with a latch so you can hear when someone is entering, but the stalls themselves are each separate rooms, closet sized, where the walls and doors run from ceiling to floor, with the door also closing with a latch that allows it not only to be locked, but completely sealed so that not even light can get through. Once you are in a stall no one can see in; there is no panel to peak under or over, and due to the ambient noise of the ship, you would have a hard time even hearing what was going on in a stall, even if you were in the very next stall. If you were to walk up to one the doors it would be closed, and if you turned the handle and it was locked, you would simply move to the next stall and try its handle, until you found one that was open.
I walked in and although I didn't need to I quickly tested the first two stalls, turning the handle and finding them both empty, before opening the third stall and stepping in. Even if someone had been in the bathroom I wouldn't have cared, but knowing that no one was in the bathroom still made me a little more at ease.
My heartbeat was running a little faster, not out of nervousness but more out of the fact that only a couple of minutes earlier I was relaxing, still waking up, and now here I was in a bathroom stall waiting for this hot little Peruvian kid to come in. I didn't have to wait long before the door handle turned, and in came Miguel, still smiling and still clearly not even remotely nervous. He had done this before, clearly, and again it made me at ease seeing his confidence. If someone who knew the layout of the ship as good as this kid did was not nervous, then I certainly had no reason to be nervous either.
He came over and without skipping a beat reached up and grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my face down to his, where he proceeded to kiss me roughly, immediately shoving his tongue in my mouth. It actually caught me a little off guard as I still kept thinking that this kid was some innocent, who wasn't even on this planet long enough to have the confidence he was displaying. But I'll be damn if he wasn't showing the same skill as someone who had fucked around with a ton of guys.
Miguel was my kind of guy.
Again, without wasting any time and probably with the knowledge that he only had a short amount of time before he would be missed, he reached down and pulled at the elastic on my gym shorts. I was not wearing underwear, as I rarely do when I go to the gym, so as he continued to kiss me and shove his tongue into my mouth, I found my now exposed cock and ass feeling the cool air. My cock was not quite rock hard, but it was quickly getting there.
As quickly as he started kissing me, he stopped.
"Turn around," he demanded.
I didn't hesitate. I still didn't have a clear idea of what he was looking for, but having been in situations like this before, having someone tell you to `turn around' was a good sign of things to come.
The stall was more deep than wide, so when I turned around I was facing the toilet. I felt him put his hand on the top of my back and push slightly, giving me the tell all sign to bend over, which I did, reaching across the toilet and putting both my hands on the walls, the toilet now underneath me.
I felt him bending down behind me, pulling my shorts down even further, now past my knees, and within a couple of seconds he had them at my ankles.
"Step out of your shorts," he said in a low voice, a loud whisper, probably wanting to make sure that just in case anyone had entered the bathroom that they wouldn't hear two voices in one stall.
I did what I was told and even with my gym shoes on I was easily able to slip out of my shorts as Miguel helped guide them off my feet. When done he tossed them up toward me, and I saw them hit the wall next to the toilet. I now stood there naked from the waist down.
"Spread your legs," he again whispered, while placing his hands on my inner thighs and pushing them apart.
I didn't have to be asked twice and soon I was in a position I was very familiar with: legs spread, bent over, and hands up against the wall – and to top it off, in an even more slut-ready position as I was bent over a toilet. I was now completely awake, no need for coffee to get me stimulated any further.
I could still see behind me while looking down, with just enough of a view between my legs and the toilet. Miguel was still kneeling, still completely dressed, as I felt his hands move up my legs and begin to pull my cheeks apart. I knew what was going to happen next and the anticipation was short, but it might as well been an eternity as I waited.
His tongue hit my hole, quickly followed by his lips, and Miguel began to lick and suck on my ass just as hard as he had sucked on my tongue. I moaned uncontrollably as I felt his tongue push and poke its way into my whole. His tongue wasn't going to go in – few men are gifted with such a long tongue – but still the pressure and the wetness of his mouth on my hole sent shivers throughout my body.
Miguel then proceeded to eat out my hole like there was nothing else he lived for.
I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the feeling, the experience, the excitement, the holy fucking shit of the situation. Here was this sexy little Peruvian kid who I had just met only minutes earlier who was now sucking on my hole like it was a lollypop that tasted like the sweetest candy. Miguel clearly had discovered in his short life that he enjoyed eating ass – something that I even I have never quite decided if I liked or not. Miguel, though, was clearly someone who knew what he wanted from the first moment he went up to me in the buffet. Whether he was going to get it or not, he of course would not have known, but just the fact that he had the nerve and the courage to go for it... damn, I was falling in love with this Latin kid.
Miguel was eating away and although I was in an incredible amount of bliss and barely noticing anything other than the pleasure he was giving my hole, I could still hear the fumbling of clothes as Miguel struggled to simultaneously devoir my hole with his mouth while at the same time pulling down his khaki shorts and underwear.
I felt his mouth leave my hole and felt his hands move up my back as he stood up behind me.
"I want to fuck you. No condom. Okay?" he asked. The way he said it allowed for it to technically be taken as a question, but the tone of his voice was more of a statement than a question. He was telling me was going to fuck me bareback, not really asking at all.
I was liking this guy more by the second.
I had just entered the stall a few minutes earlier, and now it was clear what Miguel had wanted to do all along. As anyone who has entered into a spontaneous connection, you knowing going in that there is a chance that either player may not get what they want. In my experience I have been disappointed more times than I can remember when I connected with someone and the extent of their needs began and ended with my dick in their mouth. Not that I don't mind getting my dick sucked, don't get me wrong, it's just that I know what I like and that is to get fucked first and foremost. I'll suck a cock and not hesitate to gulp down a stranger's load, but I never forget what is at the top of my slut boy list – and that is getting fucked in my ass, preferably bareback; I want that load in my hole. It doesn't get any more complicated than that.
So, not only was I surprised by how fast our encounter was playing out, I was now coming to terms with the fact that soon – very soon – I would be having this kid's cock shoved in my ass raw. Does it get any fucking better than that?
I spit on my fingers and reached back to my already wet hole and did the best I could to lube up my hole. I purposely did not reach back, or even try to get a glimpse, of Miguel's cock. I learned long ago that next to the actual act itself, the anticipation of knowing a cock was going to be pushed into my hole was so much better when you didn't know what that cock was going to feel like until it starts to push against, and eventually through, my asshole. As with everything, there are exceptions – the main one being when a dude has a huge fucking cock and you know that your hole is going to get pounded into the next century. That type of anticipation is rare though, because for the most part there just aren't that many guys out there that have that large of a cock where I actually get nervous about taking it. Also, in most cases I know what I'm going to get because I'm usually going to have the opportunity to suck it ahead of time. However, when I learned that I love going completely anon – taking cocks blind folded, ass in air – I realized that my ass actually quivers with hunger when it knows that a cock is coming and it's even hungrier when it doesn't know what type of cock it's going to get until it's actually pushed in completely to the balls.
That was the situation in that stall. You can't buy it or arrange it. It has to be primal and spontaneous. And as I stood there, bent over, legs spread wide, hole wet with spit, and hands pressed against the wall, I knew that I was going to get what I was probably put on this earth to do: I was going to get FUCKED.
I heard Miguel spit and heard the familiar sound of fingers sloppily wetting cock. Other than asking me if he could fuck me bareback, or more correctly just advising me that was what he was going to do, Miguel had not said anything. He was too busy trying to quickly get down to business. However, as I felt him grab my hips he leaned in and whispered, "Are you ready?"
I was more than ready.
"Yeah, just do it," I replied as I felt him position his feet to get the leverage needed to begin fucking... and he didn't waste any time.
I felt his cock – hard as a nail – push inside my guts and within just a few seconds he had popped himself completely up my hole. That familiar jolt of pain ripped through me as I realized that he had a good, average sized cock. Even if it had been smaller, I wouldn't have cared, but as I tried to wrap my head around that oh so familiar pain of not only having a cock shoved in me, but a spit fuck at that, I smiled to myself with the realization that short, little Miguel was packing a nice sized package.
It was 6 inches max, but it was a solid thickness through the middle, and as he began to pump my hole – a hole that was still screaming from being pried apart with just spit – I felt the stretch of my hole as his cock started to piston my ass, the edges of my hole stretching just a little further as his cock slid half way, and then closed up a bit as he hit the base. I loved cocks like Miguel's. It was like fucking yourself with a butt plug.
There was no slow start. Miguel just started pumping. I kept my low growl/ grunting to a minimum as Miguel got into his rhythm.
The jolt of pain lasted about 30 seconds (and I enjoyed every second, having learned years ago to endure and accept the pain as a guy shoves his cock in my hole without hesitation, and be thankful that someone has chosen my hole for the experience, and to never, ever try to push someone back, even if the cock is one of those rare huge cocks that most guys only dream about), before eventually that feeling turned into that delicious and absolute uniqueness that combines the physical sensations taking place inside your guts, with the combined explosions in your brain as you once again come to terms with the fact that some other individual, an almost complete stranger, is fucking you – his bare cock with all its glory buried deep in your ass.
I didn't have to push back much to make sure Miguel's cock was getting as deep as possible. He had positioned himself under me, with my legs spread wide, so that he could thrust upward and in, each time the head of his cock almost popping out before once again he thrusts and I feel it go deep once again. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed every second as he went in and out.
I had a feeling he wasn't going to be a long fuck, so I wasn't surprised that after just a couple of minutes I felt him speed up his pace as he grabbed my hips harder
He started to blurt out shorts exclamations as he got closer and closer:
"Fuck."
"That's it. Squeeze that hole."
"You fucker. You like it?"
"Take it, Baby."
I could only reply, "Oh, yeah," as I knew he was about to reward me with the greatest gift a guy can give another man.
"Fuck, I'm coming!" he said just a little louder, and I felt him push in, hold his cock in deep, pull back just a little before thrusting it in again and holding it there, and repeating. I couldn't quite feel his cock pulsate (rare... but with some guys you can), but I knew by his spastic movements that although I couldn't feel it, that his cum was shooting directly out of the head of his cock and splashing the insides of my guts. The thought of knowing a guy is shooting his cum in my hole always puts me into a euphoric state where I can't think of any other pleasure that even comes close – even my own orgasm.
That thought, a guy is cumming in my ass! My fucking ass! just blows my mind every time. I will never tire of it.
As a final sign that Miguel indeed knew what he was doing, after he had stopped shaking he just held his still hard cock up my ass and ever so slightly just moved it in and out. I imagined the cum in my hole as it was spread and mopped about with his cock, covering my insides. I did feel just a slight slipperiness as Miguel made these small movements, and from experience I knew that it was his cum coating his cock while at the same time being churned in my hole.
My hole now had another man's cum in it.
That is what it is all about.
I stood there, legs spread, felt his cock go slightly soft, as he slowly let it slip out of my ass. I kept my ass clenched, squeezed, knowing from experience that if I stayed too relaxed that as he pulled his cock out, his cum would most likely begin to drip out. Depending on the situation I usually loved that feeling, especially when it dripped out and I began to feel it run down my leg. However, in the stall I wanted to make sure any clean-up was easy, plus I just wanted to make sure I walked out of that stall, and that bathroom, with Miguel's cum still swimming in my hole. I would keep it there as long as I could, knowing that a good portion of it would actually get absorbed into my system. Miguel's cum would essentially breakdown to the point where it would move into my blood stream, and then through every portion of my body. The thought of his cum becoming part of me... and staying there... was just as exciting as when he first started fucking me.
I am a cum whore.
That is what I do.
I let men cum in me so they can become part of me forever.
After his cock popped out, Miguel reached out and grabbed a large amount of toilet paper and wiped off his cock. As he was wiping himself down I reached back and made sure that I didn't have anything too wet hanging around my hole; I wouldn't want a big wet spot showing through my shorts when I walked out. With my middle finger I felt wetness, some of is clearly not spit but Miguel's cum, but there was nothing that would start to drip out of my crack. So, I reached over and grabbed my shorts that were still lying next to the toilet, stood up, and quickly pulled them back on over my shoes.
Miguel was silent as he pulled up his underwear and shorts, and pulled downward on his shirt to make sure he was back to his presentable self. His only words were, "I liked your ass. Stay in here for a minute before you come out." And with that, he quickly unlocked the stall door, opening it just enough for him to fit through, stepped out, and closed the door behind him. I reached up and turned the lock on the off chance that someone may be in the restroom. It would not be the first time that I had just gotten fucked in a stall and then when sneaking out there would be someone waiting, clearly having seen that two guys had just emerged from the same stall. That was not the case though and after a short wait I opened the door and stepped out into a still empty bathroom. I had briefly heard the water running in the sink as Miguel most likely was washing his hands, but by the time I exited the stall Miguel had already left the bathroom. I had not even heard him leave.
I washed my hands, and did the familiar self-check in the mirror, making sure that to the average observer I looked normal, and definitely not like I had just gotten bent over a toilet and fucked up the ass. Because I hadn't sucked his cock, and he hadn't grabbed my hair, there wasn't that much to mess up. There have been occasions when instead of fucking, I had sucked a guy (or better several guys...) off, and when coming back into the real world and looking in the mirror I looked anything but normal. There have been countless times when looking in the mirror I saw cum spots on my shirt, in my hair, still on my face, etc. With the body it's easy enough to clean up, but when the cum is on your clothes, it's not so easy and there have been many times I have walked out of a bathroom, or bookstore, where unless you were blind or stupid, you would have clearly seen that someone or some people had clearly shot their loads all over me. I've never been embarrassed in those situations, but instead felt pride. It showed mission accomplished!
However, that morning I didn't have anything to do other than wash my hands. They were clean, but still... being in a bathroom I'm not that much of a pig where I wouldn't wash my hands before exiting. I'll carry a guy's load up my hole for hours and hours, but I won't spread germs around with my hands – that's disgusting.
I wasn't really sure how I would need to react around Miguel after that. I didn't have to wait long though because I went back into the buffet room, got a cup of coffee, and sat down at a table. Once again I didn't see Miguel, but as soon as I sat down he was at my side, once again smiling down at me, exactly as he had done just 15 or so minutes earlier. There were a few more people in the dining area, but no one close.
"That was hot," Miguel said. "I want to do it again later. I work when they show the movies outside. Meet me there if you want to do it again."
The cruise line I was one had this thing called Movies Under the Stars where they showed movies out on the main deck pool area. They didn't show them until the night, usually at 7:00 and 9:00. I knew from talking to cruise staff over the years that it was very common that some workers, often dining staff, worked several jobs in different areas of the ship, during the course of a day. You'd see them in the morning in one place, in another place in the afternoon, etc. Some workers get a break in the afternoon and then work a later shift. I imagined that Miguel probably had a little afternoon break and then worked the outside movie area in the evening.
Miguel then bent down and whispered something in my ear. Something that I've heard from so many guys, obviously a need that some tops have and get off on. He said, "Leave my cum in you all day."
"Of course," I replied, smiling back up to him.
A casual observer watching from a distance would think we were talking about nothing anymore controversial than the weather. But as if I couldn't like this guy even more, he shared his own pig desires with me. Personally, as someone who bottoms 95% of the time, when I do fuck a guy I don't give it a second thought as to how long a guy keeps my load in him. However, when a top shoots his cum in me and then takes the extra step to tell me he wants me to keep his load in me, then that is a guy that just knows how to top off an already good and piggy experience. It's like these guys want to mark their territory with their cum up your ass. It's so common for guys to want that, whether it's what we just did in that stall, or all those many times when I've driven home in m y car with cum in my ass, kept cum in my ass as I waited for the next top to come to my hotel room to dump his load, or one of my favorites – when a guy wants to fuck you knowing you are already full of cum, and then after he cums and mixes his load in with others, he then gobbles down on your hole and sucks as much of it out as he can. I have squatted on many a guy's face as they lay there, mouth open, waiting for me to push the cum out of my ass and directly into their waiting mouth. Those few guys who then spit it back into my mouth... ah, so fucking beautiful.
Miguel took off and as I drank my coffee I watched him as he worked the crowd, bringing them coffee, water, etc. I stayed about 15 minutes before taking off. I didn't wave or make any other attempts to catch his attention. By that time there were more staff working the room and I didn't want to do anything, even as casual as a wave, that could draw attention.
It had all happened so quickly and was unexpected, but my personal experiences have taught me to never be surprised at just about anything. I have fooled around with cruise staff over the years, and this would just be another case of a horny outgoing guy who isn't afraid to test the waters with a complete stranger like myself. I'm glad he did test those waters, and I think he enjoyed himself as well as he indicated he wanted at least another round. It's a two-week cruise, so there will plenty of more opportunities with him and I'm sure others.
Because it was so random though, it did once again bring up the question that I've pondered over the years and what pushed me to write this particular incident to begin with:
So how many guys have fucked me?
And the answer is: I have no idea and I never will.
However there is part of me that wishes that not unlike a car's odometer, there was some type of gauge for my own hole that had kept count all those many years ago when it first hit 001. What number was I up to? What number was Miguel? Somewhere in my past there was a 5th, and then a 10th, and then a 100th, and then 500th, and then I hit 1000 I'm sure many, many years ago.
I really ran up the count in my 30s and although I don't play around as much now as I used to, I am far from throwing in the towel. And after getting a surprise ego boost from Miguel, it only reminded me that there is absolutely no reason why I should slow down at all. In fact, as I'm writing this I'm reminded of an email from a friend of mine who for years has said I should go to IML. I've never went, and each time I don't go I regret it. Maybe this year I will go and see if I can run up the numbers even more.
For now though, I still have 10 days to put a few more fucks on the odometer and although I may not know what number I am actually on, I am going to keep enjoying each new one as if it was my very first.
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Feel free to send me any messages or feedback at iamjthancock@gmail.com. If you are outside the United States and send me a note, please let me know from where you are sending the message. I am still amazed that something I have written not only gets read, but read by people all over the world.
You can also find a few of the other stories I put on Nifty by searching "minnesotahole" and you should be able to find them. I no longer use the email listed with those stories (minnesotahole) as I moved from Minnesota a few years ago. One in particular has been popular: it's fiction and called "The Zone." Most of the stories, though, are real encounters. When the story is about a total bottom cum slut whore... well that would be me. J
Lastly, I've also written quite a few stories, also fiction, that are not nearly as graphic or sexual as most things I have written. I posted one of them on Nifty recently titled Simple Farmer. Not a lot of sex, but I think it's a good tale. Go check it out and let me know if you like it.
JT Hancock