My flight landed late, layover in this faceless transit city. Dragged my suitcase through the airport hotel lobby, grabbed the keycard. Room 407 overlooked the runways, lights blinking in the dark. Wife back home, clueless I’m bi. That gut hunger hit hard—craving cock. No time, flight out tomorrow. Hotel had a sauna in the basement, discreet sign. Stripped, wrapped towel, headed down. Elevator hummed, corridor echoes of rolling bags. Sauna air thick, steamy, anonymous faces. Up to the second level, pitch black room with glory hole cabins. Old guys lurking, ignored them. Waited, heart pounding.
Short Black guy showed, not tall, stroking his thick meat under towel. Eyes locked. I slipped into a glory hole cabin, door clicked shut. His cock poked through seconds later, wide but not endless. Stroked it, then he banged on the wall. Tried my door. Fuck it, I opened. He pushed in, hands on shoulders, dropped me to knees. Fumbled condom on, slammed into my mouth. No mercy, deep throating my face like a hole. Gagged but loved it, urgent grunts. Minutes in, yanked me up, spun me face to wall. ‘Wet your ass,’ he growled. Spat, fingered deep. Pinned me, nudged his sheathed dick at my hole. Spread cheeks, pushed back—he rammed full. Walls shook from his thrusts, pounding raw. Prostate lit, edged close. He sped, unloaded in the rubber, yanked out, gone. Ass wrecked, cock throbbing untouched.
The Layover
Towel back on, stumbled out to curious shadows. Still hard, kept cruising. Sauna emptying. Rubbed against a few, meh. Ended in video cabin, door ajar, jerking to porn on screen. Flickering moans filled the tight space. Footsteps—guy approached, big cock in hand, stroking slow. Waved him in, locked door. Sat, condom ready, swallowed him deep. Longer, thicker than first, gagging heaven. Finger in my sloppy ass, buzzing from before. Pulled off: ‘Fuck me?’ ‘Yeah, bitch.’ Stood, spit-lubed hole, bent over the bench. He gripped hips, speared in smooth—pre-stretched. Hammered like a machine, head jammed in corner, no escape. Prostate hammered, building fast. He gripped harder, frantic, roared cumming, pulsing against me. Triggered mine—shot hands-free, legs shaking. Stayed buried, then pulled, ditched condom, out.
Exhausted, another lurker peeked. Nah. Showered off sweat and spit, echoes of jets outside. Dressed quick, suitcase zipped. Keycard swiped at desk, night clerk blank stare. Cab to airport, ass sore, memory electric. One-night transit fuckfest, anonymous bliss. Back to normal tomorrow.