An Unsound SleepCopyright by rag23
To add insult to injury, and to prove that things are never so bad that they can’t get worse, the company had decided to cut our travel budget, so we had to double up on the rooms.
My roommate was a guy named Peter. He was a nice enough fellow, I guess, although he tended to be a little conservative and more than a little reserved. We’d had lunch once or twice when he started at the company the year before, and we always exchanged polite hello’s in the hallway, but we really didn’t know each other at all.
I certainly had no intention of bonding with Peter during the conference. I was annoyed and upset about my girlfriend, even though it had never been the most promising of relationships, and I didn’t really have the energy to try to cultivate a new friendship. The night we arrived at the hotel, we had a drink at the bar to unwind, and we agreed to meet for dinner each day between the day and evening sessions – but that was about as far as it was going to go, friendship-wise.
I had an early session the next morning, and flying always exhausts me, so I went to bed early the first night. Peter was sitting up in bed working on his presentation that was scheduled for the following evening, watching the television as he worked. I assured him the television wouldn’t bother me, and then I put my head down and was asleep almost before my head touched the pillow.
When I opened my eyes again, half in and half out of sleep, the room was completely dark. The television was off, but the air conditioner hummed noisily from the other side of the room – a good thing, because I don’t sleep well in total silence. I shut my eyes and was about to drift back into sleep when I heard an odd sound, barely audible above the hum from the air conditioner. In my half-sleep state I couldn’t place the sound at first, but after a few seconds I realized what I was hearing: Peter was sitting on the edge of his bed, just out of my line of sight, jerking off. He was trying to be as quiet as possible, but his excitement was obvious in his labored breathing, even if I couldn’t hear the sound of his hand working on his cock.
My initial shock turned into a kind of odd fascination. I’d never seen another guy masturbate, and I was surprised to find that I was a little excited in spite of myself. Maybe it was just that it was dark, and it was at that point in the middle of the night when the whole world seems like a different place, when nothing seems quite real. And there was just something exciting about the idea of spying on someone in such a private moment. I wondered, too, if Peter’s excitement at that moment was heightened at all by the fact that I was lying in bed, presumably sound asleep, just a few feet away…
I still couldn’t see him, and I resisted the urge to shift on the bed. For whatever reason, I didn’t want to interrupt him, or make him think I was waking up. If it hadn’t been so late, if I wasn’t still half in a dream, maybe these thoughts would never have come into my head. Maybe, maybe not – I wasn’t about to stop and analyze it. So I stayed in the same position, lying on my side facing his bed, trying to breathe normally and let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
After a few more minutes his breathing became heavier, more ragged, and I was a little disappointed that he was already about to come. I had been getting unbelievably excited by the sounds coming from the end of Peter’s bed, and I was mildly shocked to discover that I didn’t want the novel experience to end so soon.
I heard him get up from the bed, probably to go find a towel. I let my disappointment fade away, and my body relaxed a bit. It was already starting to seem like a dream, and I could feel the sleepiness returning. My eyes started to close just as a shadow moved in front of me: Peter was suddenly standing directly between our two beds, facing me. The bed was at such a height that my head was almost exactly at the level of his very large, very erect cock.
I realized that the sounds I’d heard just moments before hadn’t been Peter bringing himself to orgasm. If his breathing had gotten heavier, it was because he’d just come up with a new idea, and it answered the question I’d had about whether my presence was adding to the thrill of what he was doing.
He had decided, obviously, to jerk himself off right in front of me.
His legs were spread apart slightly, and one of his hands was gently cupping and massaging his balls while the other slid slowly and rhythmically up and down his hard cock. Hi s cock was only about a foot from my head, and even in the room’s almost total darkness I could see the thick veins that stood out along the shaft.
I was amazed and stunned by what he was doing, but now it was absolutely critical that I not show any reaction. I kept my eyes mostly shut so he wouldn’t notice me blinking, but I suspected he was too preoccupied right now to notice anyway.
He was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake up, but after a few more minutes he seemed almost delirious. His hand started to move faster along his prick, and I was shocked to see it grow another half-inch inside his fist.
"Oh, God, yeah," he whispered.
The veins of his huge cock pulsed beneath his fingers, and he squeezed and tugged on his balls at the same time. He fell back onto his bed, flat on his back with his cock still gripped tightly in his hand, and I heard more than saw the great burst of cum that shot out of him and landed on his chest, his stomach, and probably on the bed as well.
For a long, endless time, I watched him lay that way, still gently fondling his massive balls and his slowly shrinking cock. Finally he got up, very quietly now, and went to clean himself off.
Ten minutes later he was sound asleep. It took me another two hours before I could even close my eyes.
I had three sessions scheduled for the next day, and the less said about them, the better. On top of my physical exhaustion from having been up half the night watching Peter make himself come right beside my face, I was having trouble concentrating on much of anything. Images from the night before kept flashing through my mind.
Peter was his usual conservative self at dinner. He had no trouble making eye contact or polite conversation, so I knew he was completely unaware that he’d had a true audience for his one-man performance. I followed his cue and did the same, while I was already wondering what might be in store for tonight.
When we finished eating I said that I was going back to the room to do some work and then get to bed early, since I had another early session scheduled for the following morning. All of that was true, but I suspect that I also wanted Peter to know that the coast was clear, and that I’d probably be sound asleep as soon as he came back to the room after his evening session.
By the time I got through with my work, at around ten o’clock, I really was too exhausted to think of anything except sleep. I decided it was for the best, anyway – what Peter did was his own business, and I shouldn’t have been so damned fascinated by it in the first place. I fell asleep feeling relieved, and quickly drifted into blissful, dream-filled sleep.
Several hours later, my eyes flickered open. I was on my side again, but this time I was facing toward the wall, away from Peter’s bed. My head was near the edge, and my body was stretched diagonally to take up almost the whole bed.
And Peter was right in front of me.
He was leaning with his back against the wall, completely naked with his legs about two feet apart. He was stroking his cock again, the same way he had done it the night before, but he had gotten bolder tonight, so that his cock was literally only inches away from me.
He wasn’t completely hard yet, so I couldn’t have missed very much while I slept. His penis grew in his hand like a living thing, and I was amazed to see him push himself off the wall and actually take a step closer to the bed. He squeezed his cock and extended it to its full eight or nine inches, and then he amazed me again by pushing it down and placing it no more than two or three centimeters from my mouth.
What the hell could he have been thinking? If I woke up at this point, he must have realized that it would be absolutely devastating. The fact that my own cock was as hard as steel didn’t matter – I was still completely baffled that Peter could lose himself so much in his sexual excitement that he would risk such a thing. It was, I thought, as if he were drugged.
Or drunk. I realized I could smell two things in the hotel room: the whiskey on Peter’s breath, and the musky, slightly sweaty, but not altogether unpleasant scent of his cock.
That explained the lapse in judgment, I supposed. It made me wonder just how far he would go with this…
I decided to test him a bit. I closed my eyes tightly, then exhaled loudly and shifted on the pillow, as if I were about to wake up. Then I turned my body so it was facing in the other direction, making sure that I moved my head all the way to the far edge of the bed.
I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to give anything away. I’d made it look as if I could have woken up, but hadn’t – and if Peter was sober, that would scare him enough to get back in bed, or at least go finish what he had started in the bathroom. He wouldn’t feel too bad because I hadn’t really caught him at anything, and he’d be relieved as hell.
For almost a full minute, nothing happened, and I resisted the temptation to open my eyes. I was just about ready to conclude that Peter had taken the safe choice and gotten back in bed when I heard his footsteps approaching. Instead of getting in his bed, though, he stopped and remained standing in front of me.
I let one eye open the tiniest bit.
His cock was bigger than ever, and now he had it pushed almost all the way against my mouth. As I watched, mesmerized, he very lightly rubbed the tip of the head along my lips. It was already wet with pre-cum, and I had an overpowering urge to wrap my mouth around it, to suck it and find out what it tasted like.
The cock was barely touching me, and Peter didn’t try to push it in any further. He moved it very gently from one side of my mouth to the other, tracing the line of my top lip and then my bottom lip. After a few seconds of that, he guided the head away from my mouth and slid it along my cheek, again so softly that I could have conceivably remained asleep. He continued that way, pressing his hot flesh against the cool skin of my face, my throat, and then always coming back to my mouth for a few extra seconds each time. That was obviously his favorite image, seeing the head of his immense dick parting my sleeping lips. Finally he just kept it there while he stroked himself harder and faster, panting noisily and not realizing – or not caring – that I could feel his powerful strokes through my lips, and that his cock was pushing harder and harder at my mouth.
He gasped suddenly and pulled back at the last possible moment, but not before a ribbon of cum shot across my face. Peter backed up and let the rest of it spray over the bed and the floor.
I could feel his hot, thick cum on my cheek and my neck, and a small amount dripped down into my mouth as I lay there. I was still frozen, wondering how Peter would react or what he would do, but I instinctively swallowed it.
It took a few seconds before he realized what had happened.
"Oh, shit," he whispered.
I heard him walk unsteadily toward the bathroom, and then I could hear water running for a few seconds before it was shut off again. More footsteps, and then I felt a warm, wet washcloth being pressed against my neck and my face.
He cleaned off my face as carefully as he could manage, and I obliged by keeping still and ignoring everything he was doing. The taste of his salty, creamy cum was still very much in my mouth, and I felt as if my own cock could explode at any moment.
A few minutes later Peter finished cleaning up, and he staggered back to his own bed and was snoring almost immediately.
I snuck a peek at the clock on the bedside table: 4:30 a.m. At least, I thought, I’d already gotten almost a full night’s sleep. It wouldn’t matter too much that I wasn’t going to sleep another minute tonight.
The next day was our last full day at the conference.
I felt rested and strangely pleased the next morning. It was an odd, exhilarating kind of power that I felt. Peter, on the other hand, was less talkative than usual, and seemed to be suffering from both a lack of sleep and a massive hangover. I noticed that he avoided making prolonged eye contact, and he seemed just a little embarrassed – not because he thought I had been awake, of course, but simply because he had accidentally unloaded his cock onto my face the night before.
I breezed through my sessions, even though a large part of my mind was once again busy replaying the previous night’s events. I could still hear Peter’s groans in my head, and I could still remember the shock of feeling his cum splatter on my face. Maybe I should have felt humiliated by what had happened, but I didn’t. I was the one, after all, who had made him come, who had made him forget what he was doing and risk everything for the sake of his hungry cock.
By the time Peter met me for a late dinner at the bar, he was back to normal and had no trouble looking me in the eye. We were both relieved to have finished our work at the conference – the only thing left was an obligatory client brunch the next morning.
"I think I’m going to celebrate a little," I said, ordering a second glass of Scotch after I finished my meal. "Since it’s our last night here and all, I mean."
"Drink up," Peter agreed. "I celebrated a little too much last night, I think, so I’ll pass – but don’t let me stop you."
By the time I was through with my third glass of Scotch, I was making a point of slurring my words and generally acting as drunk as hell.
"Maybe we should get you back to the room," Peter said. "We can order room service if you want another drink up there."
This sounded fine to me. When I got up from the barstool, I realized that I wasn’t just acting drunk – I was drunk. I let Peter steady me on my feet, and then I followed him to the elevator and down the hall to our room.
Inside the room, I staggered over to the edge of my bed and sat down heavily.
"You’re not much of a drinker," Peter observed, sitting down at the desk beside the window and looking at me carefully.
I tried to nod my head. "A lightweight," I agreed. "I think I gotta lay down now. I think that would be… good."
I wasn’t quite as drunk as I was letting on, of course, but I was drunk enough to start taking my clothes off in front of Peter. I yanked off my tie and struggled with the buttons of my shirt, then absently unbuckled my belt and let my pants fall to the floor. Before I had a chance to think about it (or think better of it), I pulled down my boxer shorts as well. Then I stood up, wobbling a bit and pretending not to notice him staring at my exposed cock. I turned back toward the bed and let myself fall face down onto the mattress. My head was turned to face the bathroom, away from Peter.
I started to snore very quietly. The alcohol and the general lack of sleep over the last two nights made me feel incredibly relaxed, almost anesthetized, and I really did come close to falling asleep while I laid there on the bed, naked.
Thirty minutes passed with nothing happening. I found that I didn’t mind too much. Exposing myself to Peter like this was exciting enough, and I could feel my erection pressing almost painfully into the soft hotel mattress.
Eventually I heard him get up from his chair.
"Hey, Dan," he said, in a normal tone of voice. "Hey, you awake?"
I didn’t move on the bed, and kept snoring lightly.
"Dan," he said, even louder. "Can you hear me?"
He waited a few seconds to see if I was going to answer, or turn over, and then I heard him walk toward the bed.
I felt his hand poking my leg, lightly at first and then with a little more force. Then he actually slapped me on the back of my thigh.
"Wow," he said, again in a completely normal tone of voice. "You’re totally passed out, aren’t you?"
I felt him staring at me, and I wondered what he was looking at, what he was thinking.
The next thing I heard was the sound of his zipper coming down, and my cock grew another inch against the bed. Peter took his time getting out of clothes, obviously savoring the moment and the unusual opportunity. He didn’t even bother turning out the lights, knowing that I couldn’t see anything and I wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
I couldn’t open my eyes this time, unfortunately, but that didn’t matter.
Peter surprised me by reaching around my legs and sliding my body down toward the corner of the bed, and then pushing my thighs open so that my legs were straddling the corner. My ass was down near the very edge of the bed.
I didn’t know what to expect. One of my arms was up around my head, and the other was hanging down near the bottom edge of the bed. Peter walked around my legs, not bothering to be as careful with me as he had been before, and then suddenly I felt a lump of hot, soft flesh being pressed into my open hand.
"Ah," Peter groaned. He reached down and closed my hand around his cock, which immediately started to expand and become even hotter.
"That’s it," he said. "Jerk me off, Dan. Wrap your hand around my dick and jerk me off. That’s right…" He was obviously playing out his own fantasy, and he saw himself as the dominant one, forcing himself on me – which was, after all, pretty close to the truth.
He started pumping his hips, actually making me jerk him off, sliding his cock in and out of my hand. It was enormous by this point, and I wished more than anything that I could see it, that I could see what he was seeing. It felt good in my hand, soft and rigid at the same time, and full of heat.
I thought that maybe he would make himself come that way, but he stopped the hand job after two or three minutes. Then he crawled onto the bed and positioned himself near my head. Again, he didn’t feel the need to be gentle. He slapped his thick cock against my presumably unconscious face, and pushed his balls up against me, dragging them along my cheek and against my lips. His fingers found their way into my mouth, pushing open my lips as if I were an inanimate toy. Then he shoved his balls into my mouth while he rubbed the head of his cock back and forth against my face. I tried to picture it in my head, what was happening: another man forcing his balls into my mouth, rubbing his cock obscenely across my face, and obviously enjoying the spectacle of my humiliation.
Peter had more in mind, though, than humiliating me.
"I’m gonna fuck your little mouth, Danny boy," he said, and then he did it. He took his shaved balls out of my mouth and shoved the giant head of his cock between my lips. I kept my mouth open and let his cock rest against my tongue, knowing it would encourage him to go even further.
He didn’t need any encouragement. He moved his body to straddle my head more comfortably, and then he began pumping his fat cock in and out of my face, using my tongue and his own pre-cum to lubricate himself. He knew he couldn’t push his whole cock into my mouth without making me gag or at least waking me up, so he only pushed three or four inches in at a time.
Peter was talking more than ever now, timing his comments to match the rhythm of his cock as it fucked my mouth. "How do you like that in your mouth, how does that feel… Jesus, that looks good… Gonna stretch out those lips a little… Oh, fuck… fuck…"
I thought for sure that he was going to dump a load of cum in my mouth at that exact moment, but he didn’t. He pulled his dick from my mouth and then got up off the bed, and I realized that it was probably over. He was probably coming right now, and the amazing episode was going to end.
Instead, I felt a hand pushing open my ass, and then something hot and hard and wet was being guided toward my asshole.
Did he really intend to fuck my ass?
"Just the head," he said, as if to answer my question. He sounded drunk, now, or like a possessed man. "I’m just gonna put the head inside, that’s all…"
And with that, he slid the fat, smooth head of his cock inside my ass.
He moaned with agonized pleasure, and it was a good thing he was making noise because I was unable to keep from groaning myself. His cock was unbelievably thick, but after the initial, painful shock, I could feel my ass stretching around his meat, struggling to accommodate him.
"Oh, Jesus," he whispered. "Just… another inch…"
I almost stopped him at that point, but I knew it was too late. Peter pressed his weight forward, and at least three more inches of his fiery cock slid into my asshole. The pain was intense, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from screaming. I struggled to relax, to accept his cock in my ass, and to still feign unconsciousness at the same time.
He pulled back until only the head was still inside of me, and then he pulled that out, too. He traced a line around my asshole with the tip of his cock, and then slipped it back inside just as I was beginning to recover from the first penetration.
"Fuck, yeah," he said. "You know… what I’m gonna do...? I’m gonna tear your fucking ass apart, Dan, I’m gonna split you open…"
He started working his cock in and out, now, taking his time, obviously wanting this to last as long as possible. He kept himself from going in too deep, probably no more than four inches at the most, but his cock was so unbelievably fat that I really did feel as if I was being split open – as if he were assaulting me with a weapon. He grabbed hold of my hips and started pulling my ass toward him as he plunged forward, and suddenly another inch of cock was stuffed inside of me. He fucked me harder, faster, and I felt his cock grow thicker inside of me, swelling immensely, and I thought that he had to be as thick around as a fucking horse.
"What the fuck do I care if it’s too big," he said out loud, struggling to get the words out between his uneven breaths, still maintaining his rhythm as he worked over my ass. "You can’t feel it anyway, right? What are you… going to do… about it?"
I had time to think, Oh my God, and then I felt all of Peter’s weight descend on me, and an unimaginable pain shot through my body as he slammed the full length of his staggering cock up into my ass. He kept filling me up and it seemed that it would never end, that it would go on forever, and then I felt his balls slapping against mine and I knew that all of it was inside me, every monstrous inch. And I was letting it happen.
He didn’t wait for me to recover. Immediately he started pumping away, using short, powerful thrusts that kept him as deep as possible inside of me. And even that didn’t seem to be deep enough for him. Sweating and panting, he lifted my right leg and turned my body slightly, so that I was lying on my left side and facing away from him. He repositioned himself to straddle my left leg, so that he was actually fucking me sideways. Then he pushed my right leg up and out of the way and slid forward at least another inch, sending a shockwave of pain and agonized pleasure through my ass as he ripped me open in a new direction.
"Oh my god," he said. He kept saying it, again and again, as he lengthened his strokes and did his best to break me into two pieces. He was slamming into me with such force that my whole body shook when he hit me, and I was actually being pushed off the bed. Peter didn’t care. The only that mattered to him was fucking me, tearing me open with his amazing and terrible cock.
"I’m gonna cum in your ass," he said. "Gonna fill you up… make you take it up your ass, take every inch and every fucking ounce of cum…"
I barely understood what he was saying because I was almost delirious by this point. My ass was finally getting a little numb from the rape, and I found that I could even tighten myself around him now. I knew that would make him come even sooner, and that’s what I wanted – not because I wanted it to end, but because I wanted his cum in my ass, I wanted him to empty himself inside of me, over and over again, and then I wanted him to do it again, as many times as he wanted, until he finally used me up and exhausted himself.
He suddenly cried out and fell into me, and then I felt it: blazing hot liquid erupting from his cock in wave after wave as the orgasm hit him, filling me with his cum until I thought I would burst. He didn’t stop fucking me as he came, ramming into me so hard that he was actually lifting my body off the bed now with his pounding, lifting me up with the strength of his cock and his powerful strokes, as if I’d truly been impaled.
Finally he collapsed on top of me, completely spent. I could still feel his cock pulsing inside me, and I squeezed it as tight as I could, as if I could suck it dry with my ass. Peter shuddered against me and I felt another wave of cum blast through my insides.
It took about ten minutes before Peter could move again. He finally pulled his cock out of my ass and rolled off me, leaving only his cum inside me. He had fucked me so deeply that there was no mess for him to clean up – all of his cum was buried deep inside me, far up my shattered ass.
A few minutes later he turned out the lights and went to sleep.
I didn’t bother moving or changing position on the bed. I liked the idea that if he got up in the middle of the night, he’d have a good look at the ass he had just fucked so violently. And I wondered how the hell he would try to explain this in the morning…
At some point I fell asleep.
When I awoke, many hours later, my ravaged asshole was the first thing I noticed. The next thing I noticed was a note that had been left on my pillow, from Peter: "I caught an early flight back this morning after the brunch, but didn’t want to wake you up. You got back to the room pretty late last night and I thought you could probably use the sleep. Hope you had a good time wherever you went."
I chuckled painfully at the note, tossed it in the wastebasket, and walked on unsteady legs to the shower. Peter may have been gone, I knew, but he’d left more than the note behind. I could still feel his cum inside me, some of it even running down the insides of my thighs as I stepped into the shower. Despite the soreness, I decided that we’d probably both had a pretty good time.