I think I fucked him in most positions that are listed in the Kama Sutra and a few more that are not, including but not limited to, slamming him on the floor, on the bed, in the shower, doggy, missionary, and his ravaging me while sitting on my dick. I recall doing my trademark performance with him, which means getting his legs up and over my shoulders while slowly rocking with him, pushing my cock deeply and slowly into him while moving together with each other rhythmically, then leaning over and sucking his huge cock to full orgasm. He was in ecstasy and so was I. We both blew so much cum that even the sheets were slippery! Eventually we both slept.

In the morning, the harsh realities of the business world returned, and I was hustling my ass to greet and meet the day, and he was anxious to get the hell out since he also had a business career to perform, somewhere in the financial district of Melbourne. We agreed to meet again in the evening. I assured him that I would skip any business obligations that I might encounter so that we could have a repeat performance. With great care, he did a quick exit from my room, gone. I was highly confident that he would return that evening as he said he would do. My dick was nearly sore, but also got rock hard in the shower just thinking about getting this hot-assed stud naked in my hotel room again.

That evening, I ran later than expected, and was hot-footing it to the hotel to meet up with the local Mr. Whopper, when I encountered a couple of my cohorts in the hotel lobby, who then joined me in the lift going up. As we approached my room, Mr. Whopper was sitting on a chair in the hallway, looking so fuckin good I could have jumped his bones on the spot. The bulge in his crotch confirmed the fact he looked about as happy to see me, before both of us realized that circumspection, not circumcision, was the instant order of the day. With flickers of maybe a little too much recognition, we nodded a brief hello, and I eased my key into the lock and into my room. My buddies continued on down the hall to their rooms. I eased open the door again and my guest came inside. Just then, my phone rang.

One of my colleagues, Gary (my Number-Two), was on the phone, worried about the suspicious looking guy hanging around outside my room. The conversation made me very uneasy since he seemed to be suspicious of something. I felt that I knew exactly what he was suspecting, and that was causing me to stumble over my words. He went on to say that he also thought he had seen the same guy leaving my room that morning, and thought that was odd at the time, and now to see him at my room again this evening was causing him some consternation. My words were all fucked up and I could give him no responses that were making him happy at all. He seemed almost angry or upset and declared that he wanted to come to my room to make sure things were all right, since he was concerned. Or to find out what the fuck I was up to, I suppose. I was protesting while Mr. Whopper was listening