The Halfway Inn Part 1 - Sex Stories

The Halfway Inn Part 1

... something." He seemed the type of person who would be terrified by directed questions at the best of times. I nodded in spite of my disappointment. There was no point in pouring one for myself; I might end up doing something I'd regret in the morning. The plan had been to get him nicely merry and then confide in him – apologetically, of course – that I always needed to masturbate before sleeping. In his half-drunken state, the likelihood was that he would join in with the noisy fist-pounding I'd give my cock after lights-out and then I'd get up and go over to his bed and confide that I knew a few tricks that could help bring him off. But that wasn't to be. There was no way I could suggest something so uncouth to a colleague who wasn't at least halfway to being drunk. I stood up and pulled down my trousers as Pete took off his shirt. I was wearing a tight white pair of Calvin Klein briefs which I'd worn deliberately to show my bum off at its best. There didn't seem a lot of point in that now. To my surprise, though, I could feel Pete peering over at me as I stepped out of my trousers. I folded them up and put them on the back of the chair near to my bed, wearing just my underpants and socks. All the time, he made no bones about the fact he was checking me out. He stared over at my bulge as if fascinated by it, smiling and nodding appreciatively. "You fill those out pretty nicely, Rob," he remarked after seeing that I had noticed his interest. I was pleased at his attention ...

... but thought I ought to take a modest line. Straight men are often intimidated when other men with large genitals: as an especially well-endowed bloke, that's a rule of thumb I've found it useful to work to. "I think it's the way they're cut," I said coyly. "They have a very supportive pouch to emphasize the... er... shape of what's inside." He chuckled. "Oh, right... yeah, I've seen those kinds of briefs in shops. They have a sort of strap inside them, don't they?" "Some of them do." Mine didn't. I didn't need any help to be able to make the sort of mound in my underwear you could stand a row of books on. "Don't they hurt your balls, though?" he asked. "Doesn't the strap dig in?" "I don't know," I admitted. "With this type, I think it's all in the stitching." I was lying, of course: these were just fairly bog-standard briefs, albeit well-branded ones with a generous fit for guys who were built like me. I went into the little bathroom, still wearing my socks, to clean my teeth. "Well, they look good on you, Rob," he called over to me, apparently enjoying the view of my crotch from the side. This was starting to seem hopeful. I'd have to be careful how I played things from here. I really didn't want to mess things up at such a crucial point. "Thanks," I smiled, squirting a gob of toothpaste onto my brush. "It's quite refreshing to be with a guy who can be so open about finding another man attractive – I like that." He laughed as I started brushing my teeth. "I'm not like these ...