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Airport Layover Encounter

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I used to fly frequently to the upper Midwest, connecting on Comair airline through the Cincinnati airport (actually in northern KY). The regional jets were not always reliable, and I found myself on more than one occasion with a cancelled evening flight, and no available connections until sometime the next morning. As soon as I was aware of the likelihood of a cancelled flight, I would immediately call for a reservation at a nearby hotel, since rooms quickly filled up when bad weather forced lots of cancellations. After rebooking the flight, it was off to the shuttle area for a ride over to the hotel with my carry-on bag. This narrative tells the account of one such instance. First, a little about myself. At the time, I was a middle-aged, married, family guy with a professional job and managerial responsibility. I kept myself in shape, and was from all appearances a normal, business traveler. But, I had a little secret. I enjoyed private times away from home so I could engage in prolonged, multi-orgasmic, masturbatory fantasies of sex with other men. I carried a few accessories in my carry-on bag – an anal douche, a male dildo and prostate massager, some lubricant, some cock rings, and a few sexy thongs. On a very few occasions, I had actually met with a like-minded man for sex while away on an overnight isvecbahis business trip. I tried to be careful, and limited such encounters to equally safe and sane looking gentlemen. That being said, I return to my story. I had stayed at this particular hotel on several occasions, mostly because it had a free shuttle service, was affordable, and usually had last minute vacancy. It was not the newest one on the block, and was not a chain franchise, but it was adequate. This night was no different. There was a line of travelers like myself at the front desk, stranded overnight by cancelled flights, some with reservations and some without. After a certain time, those lacking reservations were just out of luck. It was at those times that I appreciated having a reservation. On this particular night, the guy in front of me was told there was no more vacancy, and that nearby hotels were also reporting being fully occupied. As he turned around, I noticed that he was some kind of priest, on account of his clerical collar and black suit. Otherwise, he was middle-aged, of average build, with salt and pepper hair and neatly trimmed goatee. Our eyes met briefly, and I could see the look of dejection. He walked away back into the lobby, apparently to try and call other hotels. I booked my room – a single with a king-sized isveçbahis giriş bed (all that was left at that point) – and turned towards the elevator. Something made me pause, however, and I entertained the thought of inviting the rejected traveler to share my room. Surely a man of the cloth could be trusted, so what did I have to loose (other than my private play time). I went over and introduced myself, observing that he appeared to be without lodging for the night. I told him that I only had a room with a single bed, but that I felt it would have either a recliner or day sofa, which he was welcome to use until morning. He paused for a moment, understandably trying to weight the offer against his limited alternatives. With a slight smile, he accepted, thanking me profusely, and assuring me that he would stay out of my way and give me as much privacy as he could. We headed up to the room, sharing our respective traveling woes of the day. We also shared enough about each other to have some degree of comfort and trust. He was single, and a priest of a parish in the Midwest. Obviously, I revealed no hint of my secret desires. Upon arriving, we entered and settled in with our bags, me on the king bed and my guest on the day sofa. By now, it was rather late, with little to do but to prepare for getting some isveçbahis yeni giriş rest. I told him to go ahead and use the bathroom, and I would go next. I looked at my things in my bag, somewhat disappointed that I would not be free to engage in erotic self-pleasures that evening. He came out, dressed in his boxers and tee shirt, and I went in. I had in the meantime found an extra blanket and pillow, which I left on the sofa. While in the bathroom, I took a few extra moments for a quick douche, and inserted some lubricant, just in case. I exited to a darkened room, dressed as he had been. I noticed that I had forgotten to close my bag, and was embarrassed that he may have seen some of my playthings in plain view. He was attempting to find a comfortable position on the sofa, but it was just too short. He was a good sport, though, and said that he would be just fine. I knew better. I usually sleep in a king bed at home with my wife, and after a little snuggling, we separate to our respective sides, really never touching after that. So, I knew that we could do so as well. I decided to offer to share the bed with him just to be magnanimous, knowing that he would almost certainly decline. I was pleasantly surprised when he accepted. Climbing into the bed, he again assured me that he would not trouble me, and thanked me repeatedly. I turned off the bathroom light and in the darkness next to the bed, pulled my tee shirt over my head, and slid down my shorts. I always sleep in the nude, and I find it difficult to sleep with anything on.

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