We met in the same bar, had sex in the same hotel room

His name was Jeremy. At least, so far as I know it was.

I don’t know his last name. I was visiting Toronto, and I don’t know
if he lives there or was just passing through. Jeremy was with the
band; I got the impression he was a member. To this day, I’ve never
heard them play.

So that’s all I have: a name, a city, and a band. Not much to show for
a three-night stand. And I wouldn’t change anything if I could.

**

I’ve never been a big Toronto fan. Even compared with the blighted
wastes of my own infamous homeland, the city leaves a bad taste in my
mouth. Despite my natural inclination to spend all my free time holed
up in my hotel room alone, however, I was determined to give the place
a chance. I don’t recall how I found the bar, probably somebody
mentioned it once upon a time. Anyway, it only took me a few minutes
to find him.

Actually, our meeting was pretty romantic. Like, beer commercial
romantic, though. Our eyes met from across the room and everything.

Jeremy looked like Dave Grohl, with curlier hair. (Don’t laugh! I
*know* I’m not the only one with a serious Dave Grohl thing, but
that’s another story.) He seemed… aloof, somehow, laughing and bored
at the same time. Boy, do I know how that feels.

The room got out of my way, fast. I felt like a blushing teenager
again, fighting down the urge to turn tail and run.

Instead, I distracted myself by swimming a few laps in Jeremy’s wide,
innocent brown eyes. Luckily he was anything but innocent, and I had
soon progressed to feeling up every thread of his black sweater.

As nice as the bar was, we left in a hurry.

**

Life’s cash on demand, right? At that point in my life I’m ashamed to
admit I’d never felt right having sex with another man. I wanted it so
bad, and knew I should keep trying. Jeremy looked (and felt, I quickly
discovered) comfortable. From the instant our hands touched, all my
barriers came down and I was finally getting what I’d wanted.

I don’t want to give the impression he was passive. To the contrary,
once Jeremy accepted my offer we were both content to let him take the
lead. I followed him up to my own room and shivered as he undressed
me.

On reflection, being undressed is one of the hottest memories I have
of him, yet, that I let him open me up so far is unbelievable. (If
it’s not obvious, let’s just say I have trust issues.) Comfort beats
fear as surely as rock crushes scissors. Later, I reflected that the
anonymity of our encounter was my excuse to relax and enjoy things.
Why should I care what secrets he uncovered? Who would he tell?

My limbs moved more gracefully under his hands than they ever had on
their own. As he slowly exposed my skin he breathed on it hotly. No
lips, no tongue, just scalding currents of fire. The room was cool (I
hadn’t bothered to adjust the thermostat), and I quivered on the edge
of something big, a landscape built of scalding cliffs and wide,
freezing plateaus.

We blew apart long enough for me to retrieve my trusty lube. (Well, of
course I had some with me! What kind of a man do you think I am?) When
I turned around he was wearing only his black silk boxers, which
failed to join us when we floated down into the bed.

I’ve always thought men look pretty silly and undignified rutting away
at their parters, ever since I actually was a blushing teenager. I
wish I could watch Jeremy, though–I’m sure he would be elegance
personified. Lying under him, I felt involved, included.

Trapped between warm skin and cool sheets, I pressed my cheek down and
opened my ass to him. Instead of standing back and pumping away, he
folded around me with masterful rhythm. Never too much too soon,
perfectly slow and fast and slower and faster.

Time passed and passed again. At first, he reached under me once and
started to jack me off, but I batted his hand away, leaving my shaved
cock half-sleeping. Eventually, as our heartbeats synced up, Jeremy
worked in a professional-quality back rub, working up to my neck and
down to a quiet climax. Maybe that’s what I’d been missing, I thought
lazily. I’ve been trying to combine the two for years….

**

“Tie you down first?” Even as I asked, I was aware how little we’d
spoken. That was us, one of those casual gay hookups the hypocritical
homophobes warn everybody about. While I pondered this, Jeremy
assented and divested himself of his used condom.

I never liked the idea of the Boy Scouts; all that organization and
uniformity turns me off. But there’s two things I’ve taken away from
childhood encounters with them: their “Be Prepared” motto and a knot
tying guide. Long story short, I’d brought a few goodies for my own
amusement if no one else’s, certainly enough to accommodate some mild
bondage. Just call me toyslut.

Now I was on familiar territory again. I sat back on my haunches and
took the time to get my first good look at his glorious nakedness. He
was even better this way, sweat drenched and all mine. I gave him a
cat-like stretch, enjoying how his eyes widened, stockpiling my
confidence.

Then I dove in. One minute I was rubbing up and down his chest,
flicking out my tongue tip teasingly until his nipples sat up and
begged, the next trailing slowly downward towards a delicious navel.
He groaned, once from anticipation, then again with disappointment
when I skipped his cock and tasted up from his perineum to the bottom
edge of his scrotum.

Alas, it was over too fast. The last few minutes had left Jeremy wild
eyed, his toes flexing, ankles turning, and generally pretty turned
on. I was just breathing a little faster and *could* have held off,
but decided to give in anyway. While I’m confessing things, I should
add I need to work on my patience.

Rationalizing that there would be other times for my other hungers, I
closed in for the kill, turning my head parallel to his body and
wrapping my lips around his shaft sideways. I moved steadily up and
down his full, red cock, adding teeth and fingers where appropriate.

**

I treasure the next two nights. We met in the same bar, had sex in the
same hotel room, quietly sharing something simple that could never be
anything more.

I’ve been back since. He hasn’t.