There is one cock in particular I think about often, mainly because I only encountered it once. It was attached to a guy named Stephen, who was handsome in a forgettable way—brown hair, medium build, medium height, nice face. Nice guy, but not all that interesting. In other circumstances, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance. But then there are those times when someone otherwise unremarkable becomes desirable for the simple reason that they’re the only thing on offer.

I’ve had the usual number of one-night stands, I suppose. Some of them I’ll talk about here, but many of them… meh. On this occasion, I was at a conference for work in the early weeks of my advertising job I hated. I was excited about the conference though, as it took me across the country and put me up in a nice hotel for three days, all expenses covered. You wouldn’t think that an advertising conference would be so bereft of attractive people, but apparently I managed to find the exception, which was frustrating because I was massively horny, and entirely willing to fuck either sex. After the end of the second evening, I found myself at the hotel bar nursing a beer and wondering who I could ask about where the gay clubs were (this was in the days before smartphones and hookup apps).

That was when Stephen sat down next to me. He said hi, gave me a once-over that would have been subtle enough for a straight guy to miss, and then “discreetly” removed his wedding ring. For an otherwise vanilla guy, Stephen was pretty good with the coded signals. He’d just let me know he was interested; now it was up to me to respond or not.

So I just as discreetly checked him out. Obviously fit, dressed well in dress casual clothes. Though he never told me his age, I guessed he was about forty. I was in my mid-twenties at the time, and while I generally liked men (and women) of a comparable age, I had no objection to getting with someone older… especially not when they were the proverbial bird in the hand. Plus, his talent for silent communication told me he had done this many times, which boded well. The fact that he was married wasn’t ideal, but my ethics regarding married people ebb and flow in direct proportion to my horniness. And as I already mentioned, that had come to a fever pitch.

So I turned to him and struck up a conversation. He also was apparently in town for some sort of conference, though the details of what he did disappeared from my mind almost as soon as I heard them. He would be leaving the following morning; that, to my mind, was the clincher. Whatever happened tonight, I wouldn’t have to avoid him the next day.

Little did I know.

Never someone to be coy, after about ten minutes of small talk, I turned to him and said quietly, “Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to go to your room?”

He seemed taken a bit aback, but recovered admirably. He nodded and murmured his room number. In the long tradition of illicit hotel trysts, I stayed at the bar to finish my drink while he went up to his room. After about five minutes I followed.

I made my way to his room, the usual giddy tremor of nerves and anticipation threatening the steadiness of my walk. I knocked at his door and was admitted into a hotel suite far larger and more luxurious than mine. I stood in the middle of the room for a moment, admiring it, as he closed the door and approached me from behind. I felt his hand come to rest on my hip—familiar, not tentative, but not insistent. I turned. He was about three inches shorter than me. He’d taken off the glasses he’d been wearing at the bar; the sport jacket he’d had on lay across the back of a chair in the room.

He looked at me, stepping back to give me a frank once-over.

“You’re pretty hot,” he said. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything. But I figured, what the hell.”

“Thanks.” I stepped to him and, taking his face in my hands, kissed him. He responded eagerly, his mouth opening under mine. No hesitation—some of these married guys, they need coaxing, and often are really just about the sex, after which they book it. Stephen here was obviously a more experience hand. He was a good kisser, too, sliding his tongue teasingly around mine, sucking on my lower lip. I was very quickly hard.

“So,” he breathed when he broke the kiss, “what are you into?”

“I’m good for most stuff,” I murmured back. “No pain, no water sports, but otherwise I’m down for whatever.”

“I’m a top,” he said. “You OK with that?”

I replied by kissing him deeply and letting my hand fall to the front of his pants. I squeezed his rapidly hardening cock. “Mmm,” I said in his ear, and feathered my tongue around the lobe. He shuddered and I felt his cock twitch. “This feels promising.”

He gave me a gentle push toward the bedroom door. I obliged. Standing at the foot of the bed, we continued to kiss as we unbuttoned each other’s shirts. He murmured in appreciation as my shirt fell away, admiring my gym-toned torso—this was perhaps the peak of my physical perfection, before age and metabolism made things more difficult to maintain. I’ve never not been in shape, but I was going to the gym obsessively at this point in my life, and it showed.

He was also obviously a gym-goer, though also obviously not as obsessive. But he was trim, with just a hint of a belly. I didn’t care about any of that, but was eager to get to the main event. That he leaned forward at that moment and started licking and sucking my nipple turned my dial to eleven. I could feel through his pants that his cock was now fully hard, and, despite the lovely things he was doing to my chest, I needed to see and, more importantly, taste that cock.

I undid his belt and his pants and unzipped him, my hands suddenly clumsy as he moved to my other nipple. I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of his pants and underwear and slid them down his thighs, sinking to my knees as I did so.

His cock, which had briefly caught on his underwear, sprang out at eye level, and I had to take a moment. It was—and there is no other word for it—beautiful. I mean… even a cock-worshipper like myself has to admit that, objectively speaking, most erect penises aren’t much to look at. But this one? This was in the days before unsolicited dick pics; too bad for him, because even the most unreceptive inbox would have to take a moment to appreciate this.

It was a perfect seven inches, smooth and silky, not fat or skinny but the perfect thickness. If there was a golden mean for cocks, this one was it. It curved upward ever so slightly. The head was only slightly wider than the shaft and pink-tinted. His balls were hefty but didn’t sag. He obviously groomed: the balls were hairless, his pubes, which were slightly red-tinted, neatly trimmed. A tiny drop of precum glistened on the tip.

“Oh, wow,” I said, and leaned forward to lick it. He moaned and shuddered when the tip of my tongue made contact. It tasted almost sweet. I closed my hand around his shaft, feeling it throb as his knees shuddered. As much as I wanted to just slide my lips over it, I couldn’t help but stare at it. Wetting my lips with my tongue, I leaned forward again and kissed the head, lingeringly. I stared at it again for a few seconds, and then kissed just below the head, working my way down the shaft with little, admiring pecks.

“Oh fuck,” he said in a strangled voice. “Please suck me.”

“Patience,” I admonished. “This is one of the most beautiful cocks I’ve ever seen. It needs some respect before I go to town.”

Mollified, he let me take my time, though he whimpered with increasing desperation as I kissed his impressive length. When I got to his balls, I opened my mouth slightly as I gave them each wet kisses, letting my tongue snake out to graze his sensitive skin. He moaned urgently, placing his hands on my head, not to hurry me along, but more as a sort of plea. I smiled as I slowly kissed my way back up. I do so love reducing a man to helplessness in the early stages of a blowjob.

My ministrations had worked their magic—his cock had actually grown harder, though I wouldn’t have thought that possible, and its head was now leaking copiously. I closed my lips around it, suckling at that sweet precum. I thought his legs were going to give out, he was trembling so much. At long last, I slowly slid my mouth down his shaft. I felt his pulse thud against my tongue. He let out a long, moaning sigh as I swallowed him whole, my nose nestled in his manicured pubes. I held him there deep in my throat for a few heartbeats before coming up for air.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” He met my eyes as I looked up at him, my tongue out and now slavering up and down his wet cock with abandon. “That’s amazing.”

I stood, and moved him over so he could lay back on the bed. “Lie down before you fall down,” I chortled.

“Yeah,” he agreed as he collapsed backward, “good idea.”

He scootched back on the bed as I quickly shucked my pants and underwear. His eyes lit up when he saw my hard cock swaying in front of me.

“Ooh,” he said. “You have a nice one. Can’t wait to taste it.”

“Me neither. But you first.”

I crawled up between his legs, resuming my worshipful licking and sucking. I deepthroated him a few times more, but mostly spent my attention on the underside of his shaft with my lips and tongue, tracing out the contours of that perfect cock. I remember it so vividly: perhaps I intuited at the time that I’d want to commit this to memory, and so spent a lot of time mapping every square millimetre. Three times I brought him to the brink and backed off.

“I’m close!” he gasped the first time. “Don’t make me cum! Not yet!”

“Of course not,” I assured him. “You’re not getting out of this without fucking me.”

He growled in response.

I’m not sure how long I sucked him, but the third time I edged him close he finally took my head in my hands and pulled me up to him for a kiss.

“You’re amazing!” he breathed. “I don’t think anybody’s ever sucked me like that.”

He rolled me onto my back and started working down my chest with his mouth, paying a lot of attention to my nipples while he ran his fingers lightly over my cock.

“Mmm, I love that,” I whispered.

“Yeah?” he grinned, closing his hand around my cock and giving it a delicious squeeze. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

My suspicion that he was a practiced hand at this, already more or less confirmed, was absolutely proven by the blowjob he proceeded to give me. This guy, I thought to myself deliriously as he sucked me deep, I wouldn’t have given him a second look otherwise. Some proverbial wisdom about books and covers gabbled in my mind, but I lost the power of coherent thought as he slid his tongue down over my balls and feathered over my taint. He pushed my legs back and his tongue found my hole.

“Roll over,” he ordered in a throaty growl. “Time to get you ready for my cock.”

It was all I could do not to call him Daddy.

He rimmed me for a long time. I was practically weeping with pleasure, finally begging for him to fuck me. He ignored my first few pleas, then came up to lie on top of me with his mouth at my ear. I could feel his perfect cock, still slick and wet from my sucking, resting on my ass.

“You want my cock?” he whispered throatily.

I could only whimper in the affirmative.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Please.”

He sat up and, grabbing my hips, pulled my ass up. I felt the cool caress of lube over my hole, and the sneaky intrusion of his finger. I gasped.

“Fuck me!” I implored again.

I felt his cockhead press against my hole. (A small part of my mind registered with relief that he’d somehow managed to put on a condom without me noticing; in the state he had me in he probably could have barebacked me.) With a grunt, he pressed forward, past my sphincter. The usual sharp pain almost immediately gave way to waves of pleasure as he slid into me, holding for a moment. “You good?” he asked. What a gentleman. “Fuck me,” I rasped, and he obliged.

The aesthetically perfect cock loses some of what makes it unique when it is buried, out of sight, in your ass; but its proportions and the sensations they give are not to be denied. Boring, innocuous, forgettably handsome Stephen was transformed in that hotel room into a sex god, and he rode my ass both tenderly and unforgivingly, interspersing his dirty talk with questions to make sure I was good.

Oh, I was good. We did all the positions. It was one of the longer fuck sessions of my storied sexual career. I was sore for days afterward, and had to tell more than a few people I’d hurt myself at the gym as an explanation for why I was carrying myself so tenderly. But holy shit it was worth it. I’ve never been one of those lucky guys who can orgasm from being fucked, but if any time ever came close… suffice to say, my cock did not get soft once, and by the time I finally had to apologetically call a halt because my ass couldn’t take it any more, it was so hard it was painful.

“Dear fucking Christ,” I gasped. “You’re a machine. I can’t believe you haven’t cum yet.”

“Sorry,” he said, stripping off the condom and holding it up. “Latex—not enough sensation for me, even when the ass is as beautiful and tight as yours.”

“Well, let me take care of that for you.”

“Later.” He smiled, and closed his hand around my cock. “Unless you feel the need to go, I’d like to shower and have you suck me again. Do you have an early morning?”

I did, but I was perfectly willing to go without sleep. “I’m good.”

“Excellent. Now, if I remember, you said you liked this?” He lowered his head to my nipple. As he licked and sucked at my sensitive, hard nub, teasing it with his teeth, he started stroking me.

I… did not last long. He might have gotten four or five strokes in when I shuddered and tensed and my cock exploded over his hand. He chuckled and licked some of the cum from his hand.

“Tasty,” he said, and kissed me. “I’m going to shower. Want to join me?”

I did, and that was lovely. His suite had a much nicer shower than my room, a large glassed-in cube that gave us all sorts of room to manoeuvre. We were, as it went, well balanced: I was in awe of his cock; he was over the moon to get with a twenty-something with a gym body, and spent a very long time soaping me up and tracing all the ridges of my muscles such that my cock was again hard in short order. I made him cum there under the hot water, dropping to my knees and sucking him. He came when he was buried deep in my throat. His cock throbbed and spasmed and he cried out, his hands buried in my wet hair. I pulled back in time to get his last spurt on my tongue. It wasn’t as sweet as his precum, but it was still some of the best-tasting jizz I’ve ever swallowed.

I was there until dawn. The next day was a muddled haze of fatigue and an ache in my ass that made me smile every time it twinged. After our shower we lay lazily in the bed in a sixty-nine position, licking and sucking and occasionally nodding off only to wake to the other going to town on our cock. We each came twice more.

I never got more than his first name, which probably wasn’t even real. He gave me an email that bounced back when I tried it, which I suppose is fair. He was married, after all. But after that night, all I could think was: fuck ethics, at least as far as this guy is concerned. Everybody should have the chance to have sex with that perfect cock, and his wife should just count her blessings.