Blowjobs and Waffles in Orlando

 

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There was enough English in his text message for me to understand that the door would be open when I reached the hotel room. Inside, he was on the bed, already hard and more good looking than I had anticipated from the pictures we had exchanged. The pillows were patterned with strategically placed silhouetted Mickey Mouse heads, something the Disney empire calls “hidden Mickeys”. 

Locking the door behind me, Donald Duck peaked enviously from the border of the wallpaper all around the dim room. I wanted to tell him how humorous I found the juxtaposition of our surroundings, but instead kept it to myself, wishing I had paid more attention in Spanish class during high school.

Thick and uncut, if he hadn’t already told me he was in town from Mexico I would have guessed by the faint scent of fresh cilantro in his sweat. Eyes on tan flesh and coarse pubic hair I noticed something glimmering in the light of the small side table lamp. The shade was embroidered with Goofy and Pluto. Goofy was throwing Pluto a bone. A standing dog playing fetch with a non-standing dog.

The family friendly imagery was becoming too much to take. His body suddenly on top of mine, he's banging into me, pressing my hands to the mattress. In my peripheral vision I see the glimmer again. Then I feel it, his silver wedding band against my own as our left hands clasp together with one last pounding motion. 

Continuing our non-verbal communication, we used the same towel the clean ourselves. By now I would typically already be out the door. 

 

 
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