How the Coronavirus Jump-Started my Sex Life - 22. Chapter 22

I guess it’s pretty obvious I have become much more comfortable with the idea of being gay and giving BJs, and getting fucked. A week ago, I would never have dreamed of answering the question “What are you doing for the next hour?” by saying, “Getting fucked.”

But I did say that to Alan that night.

He chose to host our sexcapades in his room that time and we spent quite a while cuddling and me licking almost his entire body, slowly and lovingly, although I would never say that word to him. When he was on his belly and I had worked my way down from the back of his neck to the rounded mounds of his ass, he said softly, “Your tongue feels so good everywhere you put it.” I kissed and licked the hemi-sphere of his left glute as he began to sigh and then moan very softly. His butt wiggled a little from side to side and I shifted to his right glute. As I worked all the way around the equator of his cheek, I hesitated when I reached the cleft.

“Don’t stop.” He spoke so softly I almost doubted he’d actually spoken.

I took a deep breath and shifted slightly on the bed so I could lean further up his body. Gently, I kissed that outrageously sexy spot just about where the two globes of his butt start to grow out from his back. Although his back and his buns are smooth and hairless, there is a small triangular patch of hair right there. When my lips touched flesh just north of his butt-crack, Alan gasped and then moaned.

I worked my way down kissing the deepest part of the crevice, blowing hot breath on him, and licking ever so lightly. He wriggled around some more and moaned frequently as I tasted his skin again and again. When I had dropped enough to be at the deepest part of the crevice, I began to pull his cheeks apart so I could fit my mouth between the mounds of firm flesh and so I could run my tongue along the groove, working my way south millimeter by millimeter.

When I was a centimeter or so above his anus, I exhaled a gentle stream of warm air onto his opening. I guess that was quite erotic for him as he gasped loudly, wriggled from side to side a couple of times, and slid his knees out from his body to open himself more to me. As I shifted lower to the bed between his strong legs, he actually raised his hips off the mattress so his ass was as open and easy to access as possible. It was also stunningly beautiful in its complete submission to me.
His dick became visible below his balls as he raised his groin off the mattress. He was rock hard.

I leaned down until I was only centimeters from his sphincter. I placed my thumbs to the flat areas just outside his ball-sac adjoining his thighs, flattened my palms against the curved flesh at the bottom of his bottom, stretched my fingers across his glutes, and pulled gently to the sides. I opened my mouth and exhaled again right onto his rosebud, which quivered in response as he also let out a groaned, “Oh, baby!” With no more warning, I delicately tapped his anus with the tip of my tongue for about a quarter-second contact. He reacted as if I had punched him somehow. He cried out, “Oh, fu-uck!” as his whole butt quivered and his anus opened for a split second in recognition.

Then I began licking around the opening, trying not to actually touch it but to titillate him with expectation and maybe some hope. He began moaning and groaning and wriggling like he had ants in his anus. “Oh, god, babe!” he cried out. “Fuck! Oh. Oh. Ahhh!”

After several minutes of tonguing him, I stuck my middle finger into my mouth to get it wet, managing to wet my finger without having to discontinue licking his hole.

Then I turned my finger around and slipped it in alongside my tongue until I was able to finger-fuck him without a complete discontinuation of my oral work. His gasps, groans, and moans were almost as loud as they usually were during an orgasm, so I was sure he was having a marvelous time. Actually, I was, too. His taste was an erotic combination of Irish Spring and him, that special Alan flavor I’d become addicted to this week.

Eventually, I found the lube and replaced my tongue with two greased-up fingers of my right hand. I reached my greased left palm under his body and slid it between the sheet and Alan’s great cock. It was scaldingly hot and already wet with precum. All this time he was crying out, whimpering loudly, and wriggling his whole butt. I worked his hole with strong plunges as my fingers dragged along each side of his prostate button. When my palm held most of his fleshpole, I began squeezing rhythmically and then pulling up from root to tip and back again.

Alan would have been heard throughout our floor if there’d been anyone to listen. I thought it slightly humorous, but I was so serious about playing his body like a Stradivarius that I didn’t even chuckle. We were making amazing music together until I felt his cock expand in my hand and a few seconds later I saw his balls retract and simultaneously felt his sphincter try to amputate my fingers while his cock began spewing hot jizz into my hand and the sheets.

In spite of the clamping on my fingers, I was able to pull back an inch and drive back in to bash his prostate again.

“Oh, god! Oh, fuck. Oh, god! Oh, my god! Od, fuck!”

When his ass unclamped and his cock settled down, I pulled my fingers back away from his prostate but kept them inserted for a moment. Gently I swirled them around inside his sphincter as he moaned. I pulled my hand out from underneath him and licked off the cooling goo covering my fingers and palm. Oh, I loved his taste!

Finally, I pulled my fingers out and lay down beside him. He turned his head to look at me. He was still a little winded from his orgasm but he had bright eyes and a very real smile on his face.

“Unbelievable,” he said quietly before reaching up to my face. He ran his hand along the side of my face all the way to my chin. Then he dropped his hand down to the back of my neck. He turned onto his shoulder facing me. His eyes never leaving mine, he pulled my face down into his for a lingering sweet kiss.

Saturday Plans

Over breakfast at the dining hall, Alan asked if I had anything I needed to work on during the day.

“Not particularly.”

“Would you like to get out of the city for a few hours?”

“That sounds great. What d’ya have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Someplace in the mountains, maybe?”

I sipped my coffee as I considered the possibilities. “The simplest destination would be to drive up the back side of Sandia Mountain. We’d be at the crest in about an hour, maybe less. There is, of course, a great view off the edge overlooking the city of Albuquerque with the Rio Grande in the distance. However, it will be near freezing there this afternoon, I would guess.”

“Is it that high?”

“It’s 10,600 and some odd feet in elevation. I’m pretty sure there will be some old packed snow around there.”

“What else can we do there.”

“There’s a hiking trail right along the rim of the mountain so it’s got lots of great views to the west. If we go about 30 minutes further from the base of the mountain, we’d get to Madrid.” I pronounce the name MAD-rid, as locals do).

“MAD-rid?” he asked skeptically.

“Yeah. It’s spelled like the capital of Spain but at some point the townsfolk got mad about that so they changed the pronunciation to distance themselves from the Spanish city. There’s a really cool artists’ colony in what used to be a mining town. It went belly up sometime in the 20s, I think. It was a ghost town for 30 or 40 years until artists started settling there in the 70s or 80s. Now it’s got lots of ‘Wild West’ architecture and every type of artist you could name and every building seems to be a gallery.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. But everything is probably closed because of the lockdown, right?”

“Yes, it probably is.”

“Let’s save that until after the pandemic ends.”

“Good idea. Sandia Crest might be more fun after it warms up a little more, too.”

“Okay, what’s your plan B, my little travel guru?”

I chuckled as I considered a trip to the Jemez. “Oooh, I have an idea.”

He leaned across the table at me. “With that twinkle in your eye, I think this is going to be good.”

“How would you like to spend an hour or so soaking in a private, natural hot-spring in the mountains where you might even get lucky?”

“Oh, really?” he said with a skeptical tone.

“Very really,” I answered flatly.

He grinned wickedly. “I think I could go for hot-tubbing and getting lucky. How far away is it?”

“I would guess about 50 miles. It’s a noted scenic area with some unusual sights to see.”

“Such as?”

“Let’s see,” I stalled as I thought about Jemez. “There’s the ruins of a Native American pueblo similar to the one we saw at Quarai.”

“Great. That was very cool.”

“And a weird place called the Soda Dam, I think.”

“What’s that?”

“Hard to describe. How about I show it to you in a couple of hours?”

“Yep. Good plan, dude!”

“We might have trouble finding lunch, so I think we need to take it with us.”

“Okay. Do you think they’d make us a take-out lunch here?”

“Can’t hurt to ask.”

The day manager, a sexy guy in tight jeans and a UNM tee-shirt, said he would make them personally and we should check back in about half an hour. That gave us time to return to our rooms, dress for a hike and also for a hot-tub adventure, and grab the Durango before we returned to the dining hall. As we picked up our box lunches, I couldn’t help but try to imagine the manager without his facemask. I mean, he had a great body and a full head of medium brown hair with brown eyes. His forehead was strong and his fingers were thick with a bit of hair on them and on the back of his hands. I also caught a little glimpse of hair in the opening at his collar.

Will we ever be able to see strangers’ whole faces again? I wondered.

He asked us where we were headed, so I responded, “The Jemez.”

“Oh, I love it there,” he said enthusiastically. “What are you planning to do?”

“Just see the sights, mostly,” I said. “The monument, the Soda Dam, Battleship Rock probably.”

“You are going to the springs, aren’t you?”

I think I blushed as I nodded and said, “Absolutely.”

“Those springs are magnificent. My older brother was supposedly conceived there.”

“Wow!” Alan exclaimed.

The manager looked at Alan. “Yeah. The place is notorious. It’s really a very romantic spot. I’m sure Martin isn’t the only New Mexican conceived there. Hell, I’ve even tried it myself but the condoms saved me, I guess.”

I think I was still blushing because he shoved a bag containing our lunches across the counter to me. “You’ll have no worries about conceptions if you don’t take any women along.”

“Yeah,” Alan said a little too quickly. “Well, we gotta be going.”

He grabbed the bag and shot off towards the door without a backward glance.

“Bye,” I mumbled and started off behind Alan. After a couple of steps, I remembered the manners my mom had taught me. I stopped and turned around toward the manager. He was staring at me with inquisitive eyes. “Thanks again,” I said. “You’ve been quite helpful.”

“Have a great day!” He didn’t stop looking so I gave him a sort of wave, which I immediately suspected looked quite nellie. He nodded and I turned back around to see Alan just hitting the door to the outside.