Unexpected Layover Pt. 01

Peter Stephens had anticipated the hotel lobby would be crazy, but not this crazy. What the airline had described as a "scheduling software glitch" escalated into dozens of grounded flights, with hundreds of stranded passengers. There were probably 50 or 60 people trying to push their way to the desk clerk, hoping to get one of the few rooms left.

His own flight had sat on the tarmac for nearly five hours, waiting to take off. It wasn't an entirely awful time -- one of the few benefits of his frequent flyer status was the First Class upgrade, which meant a nearly nonstop supply of vodka tonics during the delay.

He usually avoided even making eye contact with his seatmate. His travelling companion tonight, though, was ravishing -- a buxom redhead, very well preserved, and enjoying her merlots. She laughed at all the right places, patting his arm on every punchline. Of course, when he got home, he'd have to tell Margot that he was stuck next to some fat guy reading Golf Digest, but that was a good problem to have.

Once the flight's cancellation was inevitable, Peter sifted through his hotel loyalty cards, hoping his elevated status at one of them might guarantee a room within easy shuttle distance from the airport. The redhead -- he never did catch her name -- said if he had trouble finding a room, he could crash at her place. "Since, after all, we will both have the same makeup flight to catch in the morning," she said. Her words were rushed -- she was either surprised at her boldness, or drunker than he thought.

Peter considered that for just a second, and then thought of Margot. In all his years on the road, he'd never fooled around, and wasn't going to throw away his marriage for this woman. After all, it's just pussy, right?

He politely declined, though it dawned on him it might have been an innocent invitation. He was good looking, but not that good looking. Who was he kidding? Yeah, he would have been on her couch, for sure.

They parted at the curb; she laughed when he told her to "stay in touch." He watched her as she rolled her bag to the garage; he was never much of an ass man, but hers was hypnotizing.

Like the blue spot that lingers after a flash photograph, her tight bouncing ass burned into his mind's eye. He couldn't stop thinking about it -- what it would feel like, what it would taste like -- during the shuttle ride to his hotel. The vodka sodas fueling his imagination, in the darkness of the van he could feel his pants stiffen. For the remainder of the short drive, he closed his eyes and thought of all the different places he could have cum on the redhead before it was time to drive back to the airport.

So now here he was, fairly drunk, standing in a hotel lobby trying to cover his raging hard-on with his briefcase and a USA Today Sports section. He needed to eat, take a shower, and toss off before getting some sleep -- probably not in that order.

Once again that night, he blessed his Road Warrior status, and walked right past the mob and straight to the concierge desk. He dropped his briefcase and roller bag and approached the concierge. Peter didn't think the bulge in his pants was still visible, but he stood extra-close to the desk just in case.

Dustin, the concierge, noticed and was impressed. This close to the airport, he was used to guests looking harried and broken by the airlines. He was surprised at how well put together this guest looked, at this time of night -- a little sweaty, sure, and he could smell the vodka from across the desk. But his shirt was tucked in, his tie relatively straight, and his clothes still looked pressed. (Particularly around his fly, Dustin giggled to himself.)

Dustin buttoned his jacket and made his most polite pouty face. "Sir, our check-in is to the right. Unfortunately, we are oversold this eve-"

Peter cut him off. "I have Ivy status with your hotel; you can check me in so I can avoid that line. And also, that guarantees me a room." He handed over his membership card with his American Express.

Dustin stood tall and pressed his lips together. "Of course sir, it will be my pleasure to serve you," he read the name off the card, "Mr. Stephens." He began retrieving the reservation from his computer.

After a few moments, Peter said, "Look, I'm sorry. That came out jerkier than I intended. It's just been a really long-"

"I understand, sir. The airlines have ruined a lot of people's nights. This is your first time staying with us, isn't it?"

Peter was trying to adjust his pants, inconspicuously, when Dustin looked up at him. "If that's what your computer says, then, yeah. You know all these places start to look alike. Impossible to tell one from the other."

"Well, I like to think ours provides a memorable experience," he smiled. "We try to go out of our way to satisfy our guests."

Peter started to roll his eyes, but instead they locked onto Dustin's. Maybe it was just the overhead lights, but the concierge's eyes were a striking emerald -- almost identical to the redhead's. Peter stared, his mind wandering back to what could have been...

"Mr. Stephens? Is everything all right?" Dustin broke the spell, and Peter could have sworn he was smiling.

"I... uh, yeah. Sorry. Just a little too much to drink before getting here. I just need to get upstairs and get in the shower. Wash this day off."

"Yes sir, I understand. I was just saying, if you had been here before, I'm sure I would have remembered you." The concierge smiled again and went back to his computer. "We have a room with two twin beds, and one with a king -- do you have a preference?"

"No, I could care less. It's just me."

"That's a shame." They made eye contact. Dustin smiled; after a moment, Peter grinned, as well.

"Yeah, well, missed opportunities, believe me!"

"Oh, I believe you, Mr. Stephens."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Stephens. I know how it works for traveling businessmen." Again, Dustin held his eyes.

"Yeah, well it's not the norm, that's for sure. I don't care what room you give me -- the larger bed will just be wasted space."

"Don't think of it as 'wasted space' -- think of it as 'potential room to move'."

Holy shit, Peter thought, this guy is flirting with me. Twice in one night! He laughed to himself. Only, he figured, there's no way this dude was flirting with him. He looked and acted completely straight. Again, Peter's mind had gone straight to the gutter.

He realized he was staring again -- Dustin had turned away and was running Peter's credit card. And he was staring at the concierge's ass! The way his cheeks pressed against his gray flannel made him flash back to the redhead walking into the garage. But this one looked firmer... He started to wonder what it felt like...

Stop it! He told himself.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Stephens?"

"No, um. No, I was looking at your uniform..."

Dustin turned away and coyly looked over his shoulder. "Oh? Did I sit in something?" He ran his hand over his ass.

"No. It's just..." Think quickly, Stephens! "Um, you guys have had the same uniforms for years... Must get old."

Dustin stretched out his arms to shoot his cuffs, and then smoothed the front of his pants. "Well, they just don't fit well. You, clearly, have a much better tailor than I."

"Well, when you get to be my age, one of the few pleasures left is having your suits made to order."

"At your age? Hah! I bet you have many pleasures." Dustin paused. "It looks good on you."

Dustin handed him the registration card and a pen. As Peter reached for it, Dustin made a point to rub his finger along the top of the guest's. Peter's heart jumped in his chest.

"Our Fitness Center is open 24 hours-"

"Not tonight. Vodka and ellipticals are a bad combo."

Dustin laughed. "Well, you clearly take care of yourself. So in case you wanted a workout tonight, I thought I'd mention it."

"Well, at my age, you need to work a lot to stay halfway fit." He signed the card and slid it back.

"At any age, it's a lot of work." Dustin handed him back his cards, making a point for their fingers to touch again.

Maybe it was the vodka, maybe he was still horned up from his fantasizing on the van. But Peter decided to play along. "Well, keep doing whatever you're doing. It's easier to maintain than to make up for lost time. Trust me, I wish I had your body."

Me too, thought Dustin.

From the crowd in the lobby, one guest was loudly arguing with a clerk.

"So, uh, you have a lot of crowds to deal with tonight," Peter stammered.

"Oh not much longer for me."

"When do you get off?" Peter heard what he said too late to take it back. His question hung in the air.

Dustin handed him his key card. "My shift ends in about ten minutes. If that's what you're asking."

A group in the lounge exploded in laughter, breaking the tension for a moment. Peter reached for his bag. "I'll bet you'll be glad to get out of here. Is there anything even to do in this town at midnight?"

"There are a few things I can think of... But as of right now, I have no firm plans."

"No hot date with some giddy grad student?" Peter honestly didn't know what he wanted the answer to be, at this point.

"Oh, no. I'm unattached at the moment."

Peter paused to look him over. All-American jaw, broad shoulders, a nice smile. And a great ass. "I'm surprised. I'd guess you could have whoever you want."

"Oh, I don't know about that Mr. Stephens."

"I bet you could." With that, he smiled, took his room key and walked to the elevator. Twice in one night, he had his A-game in flirting on. And flirting with a dude! Pushing 40, this made him feel like a dirty old man. He was barely two steps away when he realized his cock was rock-hard and tenting his pants. He started to cover it, then thought better of it.

He turned to face the Lobby as the elevator doors closed; Dustin was watching him. Hah!

It figured, Peter thought, as he walked the corridor to his room. Mine is at the far end of the hall.

He slipped his key in the lock and entered a junior suite. Nothing fancy, just an extra couch -- and a huge King bed, covered with a fluffy white pillowtop comforter. It had been a long day, and he thought about face-planting directly onto it.

Instead, he fired up the shower and took off his pants, draping them over the towel rack so they could steam. In the mirror, he caught the head of his cock poking out through his boxers. "Well, hello there buddy. We'll get to you in a minute."

He sat on the bed, peeling off his socks and typing Margot a "good night" email on his phone, in case she was already asleep. He unbuttoned his shirt and peeled off his sweaty undershirt. He took off his boxers, and rolled them up with his t-shirt and socks and shoved them in an outside pocket of his suitcase.

He checked himself out in the mirror -- not bad. A little flab around his waist, but the shoulder and bicep work he'd been doing at the gym was paying off. He knew hotel mirrors were angled to flatter their guests, but his stiff dick looked longer and fatter than ever before. He walked over to the closet to hang his jacket, enjoying the feeling of bouncy freedom.

His phone rang. "Um, hello?"

"Mr. Stephens, this is Dustin at the concierge desk." Oh, if only you could see me now, Dustin, Peter laughed to himself. "I just wanted to make sure your room was satisfactory."

"Sure, yeah, all good."

"I ended up giving you the larger bed."

"I see that."

The pause was long enough that Peter thought they'd been disconnected, then he heard the elevator dinging through the phone.

"Is there anything you need this evening?"

"Well, I was about to call down for Room Service."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Stephens. I should have told you. In-Room Dining closed an hour ago."

"Shit. I'm famished. Is there a good pizza place that delivers?"

"Let me see what I can find out for you. Is there anything else?"

"I was just in the closet..." he let that hang for a second, "And I didn't see any robes."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I will have one brought up for you right away. Is there anything else?"

Well... "No, Dustin," he looked at his cock in the mirror. There was a pearl of precum balanced on the tip. He squeezed it off and tasted it. "I think if I get a shower and something to munch on, I'll be great."

"Of course, sir." They hung up.

Peter got in the shower, and soaped himself up, paying careful attention to his hard-on. He knew he'd have to listen for the door, so he decided not to finish himself off just yet. And, besides, his goddamn cell phone started ringing

He got out of the shower and toweled himself dry while listening to Margot complain about her day. It usually didn't bother him, but tonight, he really didn't want her voice in his head.

There was a knock at his door. "Honey, that's my Room Service, I have to go... Love you too, good night."

He wrapped the towel around himself and opened the door. There stood Dustin, standing behind a Room Service cart. On the table was a folded robe, a bottle of Merlot (and two glasses!), and a cheese plate. Dustin's eyes popped out when he saw Peter's glistening body, barely contained by his towel.

"This was the best I could put together for food, Mr. Stephens. Compliments of the house."

"Much appreciated."

"May I come in?"

"Please do. Um, put that over by the couch, I guess." Peter walked to the bathroom to plug his phone in the charger. "And that robe is here just in time."

Dustin smiled. "Timing is everything." The concierge lifted the robe off the table and unfolded it. He held it open for Peter.

Peter smiled back, and walked over, turning his back to Dustin and sliding his arms into the proffered robe. He took off his towel and tossed it to the bathroom. As he turned back into the room, he realized the robe had no belt. Dustin was holding it. He quickly pulled the robe closed; Dustin smirked and handed him the belt.

Peter smiled and looked at the food, and then at Dustin. "Thank you. Everything looks wonderful. Although I have to confess, I'm not much of a wine drinker."

"Oh, Mr. Stephens, this is a local vintner. It's quite good. You should try it." Dustin poured a glass and handed it to him.

He sipped it. The sweetness cut through his dry mouth and gave him a quick rush. "I'd offer you some, but since you're working, that would be bad."

"Oh, I told you. My shift is over. I'm clocked out."

"So, you're here on your own time?"

"Making sure you're satisfied, yes sir." They held each other's eyes for a beat. Dustin leaned over the cart to move the cheese onto the coffee table. When he stood, he adjusted his jacket and his tie. Ever the professional.

"Wait a second," Peter smiled. "Is that a clip-on tie?"

Dustin turned a little red. "Yes, I'm sorry to say it is."

"I haven't seen one of those since Fourth Grade!" Peter walked up to Dustin and stared at his collar. Laughing, he reached up and played with the perma-glued knot.

It was only a second, but to Peter, it felt like hours. Standing there, with his hand on Dustin's tie, they locked eyes. Slowly, nervously, Peter slid his two fingers along Dustin's neck, over his Adam's apple. He let his finger curl under Dustin's collar, and popped the tie off.

Dustin took a step into him. Peter slid his palm along Dustin's neck, behind his ears, and along the back of his head. Their entire time together, Margot had long, full hair; Dustin's buzz cut felt funny under his fingers. It was so foreign, so alluring.

Peter could hear his pulse; he couldn't breathe. He could not look away from the young man inches in front of him.

Dustin took the wine glass away from Peter and put it on the dresser. Then he slid his hand just inside the robe, resting it on Peter's hip.

"You're warm."

"I, uh, I just took that shower."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"You don't have great water pressure."

They both laughed. Dustin bit his lower lip and leaned closer to Peter. Peter licked his lips.

"Listen, Dustin. I, um. I never-"

"Shhhhh..." Dustin put his finger on Peter's lips. He slowly traced it in a circle; Peter's mouth opened just a bit, in a gulp for air. Dustin leaned in and slid his tongue over Peter's lower lip, letting it rest.

Peter opened his mouth and let his tongue meet Dustin's. Ohhhhhhh godddddd... He closed his eyes and pulled Dustin's face against his.

That was the final signal Dustin needed. He pushed his tongue deep into Peter's mouth, running it between his upper teeth and the inside of his lip. Peter's knees buckled.

Dustin slid his arm along Peter's waist, pulling their bodies tight. Peter ran his fingers through Dustin's buzz cut, madly sucking on his tongue. They stood there, kissing passionately, lost in each other's mouths.

Peter broke the kiss to catch his breath. He checked himself to see if he was having second thoughts. Oddly, he wasn't. He reached for his wine glass and caught himself in the mirror. He started to feel ashamed, when he noticed the young stud next to him. Their eyes met in the mirror.

Dustin stood behind Peter, still watching each other's reflection. He kissed Peter's neck, sucking his earlobe. He reached around and slid his hand inside his guest's robe, fingering his chest hair.

Watching himself like this drove Peter wild. His knees shook. He saw his cock poke through the opening in the robe. He turned and faced Dustin.

Stepping up -- it was only by an inch, but Peter had never kissed anyone taller than he -- he gave Dustin a quick tongue dart. "You, my friend, are overdressed."

He unbuttoned the concierge's uniform jacket and slid it off his shoulders. While he did that, Dustin undid his top few shirt buttons. Their hands met as Peter finished unbuttoning the shirt.

Peter slipped his arms inside Dustin's shirt and around his waist, as their lips met again. They both could barely breathe, mouths pressed against each other, tongues wrestling for dominance.

Peter cupped Dustin's ass. Oh god, it is so firm... He was so used to his wife's ass -- not flabby, but not coiled like this. And hers was mostly off limits, anyway. He kneaded the cheeks, feeling Dustin clench and tense. He tried to slide his hand down the back of his pants, but couldn't...

Without breaking lip contact, Dustin unbuckled his belt and opened the clasp on his pants. As soon as he did, Peter's hands slid down, under the elastic of his briefs. Dustin moaned, sucking in Peter's tongue.

Peter's fingers explored Dustin's bare ass. The light peach fuzz was a delightful surprise. As his fingers grabbed each cheek, pulling it apart and rubbing, he slid his tongue to Dustin's neck, nuzzling his shoulder.

Dustin put his hands on Peter's shoulders and spun him back to the mirror. Hypnotized, Peter watched his reflection as Dustin opened his robe and let it fall to the floor. Dustin kissed his neck, and ran his hands over Peter's nipples.

"Oh god..." Peter rubbed the back of his head against Dustin's cheek. He reached behind him and slid his hands into Dustin's pants, at his hips. He tried to pull them down with limited success, while Dustin's hands kept exploring his chest.

Dustin traced his fingers down to Peter's belly. Suddenly Peter was self-conscious. When he compared himself to the other middle-aged guys at the gym, he felt good; but what would this stud think?

Dustin seemed to read his mind. "Mmmmmm, I love your fur," he said, playing with the hairy patch above Peter's waist.

Still staring at each other in the mirror, Dustin stuck his tongue in Peter's ear. Peter could barely groan. He leaned back into Dustin, feeling the bulge in his pants pressing into his waist.