Troy’s Experiences: Home for the Holidays (Patreon)

All characters are 18+ Everything that happens is safe, sane, and consensual.

Hey!!! So you guys have read about the first time I sucked a dick, about how I hated it.. and six months later got addicted to cock and never turned back lmao.. experiences about first sex, etc etc.. you have heard the good, the bad, the ugly (yeah, my first grindr experience)

So, now that you guys have accepted me for me who I am.. I wanted to share a more recent experience; this happened around Christmas holiday of last year..

Before you start reading

This story involves adult themes and is intended for mature audiences only. All characters portrayed are above the age of 18, and all interactions described are fully consensual.

The story contains elements of infidelity. I understand that not all readers are comfortable with themes involving cheating or betrayal within relationships. If this subject matter is something you would rather avoid, I kindly recommend skipping this story.

Any names, identifying details, or personal characteristics used in this story are purely fictional and do not refer to any real individuals.

This content is shared as a narrative experience, not as an endorsement of real life behavior.

Home for the Holidays

So, let's talk about one of the most recent stories, and it happened during the Christmas holidays of 2025. I’d been talking to this guy for a few weeks (let’s call him Aaron). He’d lived in my city for years but had moved to Seattle a while back, long before we ever matched or started chatting. When we first connected, we clicked instantly over all the local stuff: the neighborhoods he used to live in, the changes around town, our favorite bars, the little spots only people from here really know about. It felt comfortable, familiar. And then, pretty quickly, things turned sexual.

He’s one of the very few guys who knows I write gay erotic stories. I’d shared a couple of my real hookup experiences with him...the raw, unfiltered ones, not the fictional stuff and he was genuinely into them. Turns out he writes too, nothing professional, just private little entries about his own intimate moments. We bonded hard over that shared love of putting intense, personal experiences into words… the way certain touches feel, the sounds, the smells, all of it. One night he half-joked that he’d love it if we ever met up and I ended up writing about us.

Well, Aaron… here you go.

So, he told me he was coming back to town for Christmas to visit his parents (who still live here, same as mine). He was flying in from Seattle and landing around the 23rd. Almost immediately he said he really wanted to meet up on the 26th or 27th, even if it was just for a little while.

You guys know me...I don’t hook up that often anymore. But it had been months since I’d been with anyone, and there was something about him. He had this fit, athletic body..not jacked or overly muscular, but lean, toned, clearly someone who takes care of himself, grooms well, all that. The pics he sent were hot in that understated way. So yeah… I said yes.

But right before he flew in, he dropped something I hadn’t seen coming. In one of the recent photos he sent; shirtless, looking stupidly good...there it was: a wedding ring on his finger.

Yeah. WTF, right? How could you, Troy? That’s fucked up.

Hear me out. It doesn’t excuse it, but I hadn’t connected with anyone like this in five or six months—maybe longer. Aaron and I had been talking constantly: flirty, sexual, but also just random everyday stuff that wasn’t about sex at all. When he finally told me he was married (to a woman), my brain knew I should back out… but my morality just… evaporated. I told him straight up: “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”

(I’m sorry. I know I should have given a fuck. Sometimes you make shitty choices in the moment, and you live with them later.)So fast forward to the 23rd. The day he arrived, he texted me that he was in the city and about how excited he was to meet after spending Christmas with his family. It was sweet, actually, the way he mixed in casual updates about the flight and the traffic with these little hints of what was coming. Christmas night rolled around, and my phone buzzed with a small Christmas greeting from him, attached to a picture that made my heart skip a beat: him standing in front of a mirror in nothing but these tight gray Adidas underwear, the fabric hugging his hips and thighs just right, with a noticeable bulge straining against the front. (God, by this point, the entire gay community knows that the way to my heart is a man in underwear, especially when it's fitted like that, teasing what's underneath without giving it all away.) He included a pin location to a hotel in the city and said he was booking it for tomorrow night. Would I like to?

Of course I said yes. How could I not? Bring me a fit man in tight fucking underwear with a noticeable bulge, and I'm weak in the knees, every single time. It's like my brain short circuits, and all I can think about is peeling it off slowly, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

So yeah, I ended up heading over to the hotel he booked the next evening. It was a bit of a drive, probably like 40 to 45 minutes, but he was already there like two hours before our planned time. He'd been texting me ever since he checked in: how he showered and scrubbed every inch of himself clean, how he picked up lube and condoms from a nearby store just to be prepared, how he adjusted the room temperature to that perfect cozy warmth without being stuffy. And then came the mirror selfies, him posing in those same gray Adidas trunks, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, a sly smile on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Naturally, I drove faster than I was supposed to, weaving through traffic with my mind racing ahead to that room, and I almost got pulled over for speeding, but I eased off the gas just in time to avoid a ticket.

I met him outside the hotel, in the parking lot under those dim evening lights, and fuck, he was cuter in person than any photo could capture. He looked leaner, his body more defined in that casual tshirt and trousers combo, like the pictures hadn't done justice to the way his shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist. We hugged hello, and there was this immediate spark, no awkwardness at all because we'd been chatting online for weeks, sharing everything from dirty fantasies to random life stories. It felt natural, like picking up right where we left off. We headed back to the room, and it was nothing fancy, just a standard midrange hotel setup with a king bed, clean sheets, a mini fridge humming in the corner, but it was pretty comfortable, not one of those shady motels you'd expect for a quick hookup. The lighting was soft, the air smelled faintly of his cologne mixed with whatever freshener the hotel used, and now that I was here, standing face to face with him, looking like he did, there was no backing off. My pulse was already thumping in my ears.

We didn't waste much time getting into it, but it wasn't rushed either. Since we'd been talking for so long, it flowed easy, no fumbling small talk or nervous laughs. He pulled me close as soon as the door clicked shut, his hands on my waist, and we started kissing right there in the entryway, slow at first, tasting each other's lips, his breath warm and minty from whatever gum he'd been chewing. He broke away for a second, grinning against my mouth, and whispered, "You better write about this experience, Troy. Make it as hot as those stories you shared." I laughed and promised I would, though at that moment, all I could think about was getting him out of those clothes.

We moved toward the bed, shedding layers as we went. I let my hands roam under his tshirt, feeling the smooth, warm skin of his back, the subtle ridges of his spine, and he lifted his arms so I could pull it off. His chest was lean and toned, not bulky but defined from whatever workouts he did in Seattle, with a light dusting of hair that trailed down to his navel. We made out harder now, tongues tangling, his stubble scraping against my jaw in that deliciously rough way that sent shivers down my spine. And of course, I got to see him in those Adidas trunks up close, the ones I'd requested he wear for me, and he remembered, because he's thoughtful like that. The gray fabric clung to him, outlining every curve of his cute ass and the thickening length of his cock, already half hard from our kissing. I ran my fingers along the waistband, teasing the elastic, and he groaned softly, pushing his hips forward like he couldn't wait.

We tumbled onto the bed, the mattress dipping under our weight, and the foreplay kicked in full force. I kissed my way down his neck, sucking lightly on his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin, while my hand slipped lower to cup his cock through the underwear. He was firm under my palm, twitching at the touch, and I teased him mercilessly, rubbing slow circles over the bulge until he was breathing heavy, his fingers threading through my hair. Finally, I tugged the trunks down; his cock sprang free, about 6.5 inches, cut and perfectly proportioned, with a slight upward curve that made my mouth water. The head was flushed pink, smooth and inviting, veins running along the shaft just enough to add texture without being overwhelming. It was one of the nicest dicks I've ever sucked, you know the kind that doesn't have a weird taste or smell, just clean and fresh, the skin so soft and velvety that you can tell he showered thoroughly, maybe even used a bit of unscented soap down there. It tasted like warm skin, slightly musky in the best way, and I couldn't get enough.

I started with my tongue, licking a slow stripe from base to tip, savoring the way he shuddered and whispered my name. Teasing turned into a full blowjob session, and we had fun with it, him propped up on pillows watching me work. I took him deep, relaxing my throat like I do, and of course, he was surprised to see that I didn't just boast about being able to deepthroat. His eyes went wide, a mix of shock and pure lust, as I swallowed him whole, my nose brushing against his trimmed pubes. "Holy shit, man," he gasped, laughing breathlessly, "you're not playing around, you suck dick like it's your goddamn calling. Fuck, that's... that's ridiculous how good you are." It was erotic as hell, the way his voice cracked on the words, but funny too, because he kept muttering things like, "If I knew you were this talented, I'd have flown back sooner," between moans. I hummed around him, the vibration making him buck his hips, and I let him fuck my mouth gently, saliva dripping down my chin as I worked him over, alternating between deep sucks and swirling my tongue around the head, tasting the first beads of precum that leaked out salty and sweet.

When it was my turn to get naked, he didn't hesitate. He flipped me onto my stomach, bending me over the edge of the hotel bed, my ass up in the air, and dove right in. Yeah, I'd been rimmed before, but this was more experienced, more intense, like he knew every spot to hit. It felt like he was fucking hungry, like he hadn't eaten all day and my hole was his feast. His tongue lapped at me broad and flat at first, then pointed and probing, circling the rim before pushing inside. I moaned louder than I ever have in my life, the sound echoing off the walls, raw and uncontrolled. "Oh god, Aaron, don't fucking stop," I begged, pushing back against his face, grinding my ass onto his mouth. He growled in response, spanking my cheek hard enough to sting, the slap ringing out, then soothing it with his hand while he spit directly on my hole, the warm wetness making me clench. He ate me out like a man starved, burying his face between my cheeks, his nose pressing against my skin, tongue fucking in and out, swirling and sucking until I was a trembling mess, my cock leaking onto the sheets below.

We eventually moved to sex, and he was all about the prep, which I appreciated more than words can say. He loved fingering me, taking his sweet time, coating his fingers in lube until they glistened. He started with one, sliding it in slow, crooking it to hit that spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyes. "Breathe for me," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring, walking me through it as he added a second finger, gently opening me up. The stretch burned at first, then melted into pure pleasure, his free hand stroking my back, my thighs, keeping me grounded. By the time he had three fingers in, pumping steadily, I was rocking back onto them, begging for more, my body covered in sweat and lube.

When he finally penetrated, it was perfection. He rolled on a condom, slicked himself up, and positioned behind me in doggy, my personal favorite. The head of his cock pressed against my hole, nudging in inch by inch, and I gasped at the fullness, the way he filled me completely with that curved shaft hitting all the right angles. He went slow at first, letting me adjust, his hands gripping my hips as he bottomed out, our bodies flush. "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, starting to thrust, deep and deliberate, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. I pushed back to meet him, the angle letting him pound right against my prostate, waves of pleasure crashing through me with every stroke.

We must have tried three or four positions, switching it up to keep the heat building. From doggy, we flipped to missionary, my legs hooked over his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss me, his cock sliding in even deeper, our chests pressed together, sweat mingling. He fucked me like that for a while, slow rolls of his hips turning into harder snaps, my nails digging into his back as I moaned into his mouth. Then we tried "The Captain," me on my back with one leg up on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his waist, giving him leverage to thrust at this angle that had me seeing white, his balls slapping against my ass with every plunge.

But ultimately, we ended up with his favorite: cowgirl. He lay back on the bed, pulling me on top, and I straddled him, sinking down onto his cock with a sigh that turned into a whimper. He loved watching me ride his cock, his hands on my thighs, guiding me up and down as I bounced, grinding my hips in circles to feel every inch of him inside. "Look at you," he panted, eyes locked on where we joined, "riding me like you own it. So fucking hot." I leaned forward, bracing on his chest, picking up speed, the friction building that delicious pressure in my core. His cock throbbed inside me, hitting deep, and I clenched around him, milking him as I chased my own release. We came almost together, me first, spilling over his stomach with a cry, my body shaking, and him following seconds later, hips bucking up as he filled the condom, groaning my name like a prayer.

We collapsed in a heap, tangled in the sheets, breathing hard and laughing softly at how intense it had been. He pulled me close, kissing my forehead, and once again mentioned how he'd love to read about our experience. I ended up sending him that descriptive text a few days later, reliving every detail just for him.

Well, he mentioned coming back next Thanksgiving or Christmas. I don't know what's gonna happen by then. I might not hook up again, or I might. Lord knows. So yeah, I know it's probably not ideal to hookup with married men, and it doesn't excuse my behavior at all. But like you know me, I share with you guys the good, the bad, the ugly, even if it means opening up about everything. Thanks for reading, and for accepting me as I am. :)