It’s after midnight on my last night in Toronto and I’m in my hotel room in bed, drinking a beer. The laptop is on the pillow beside me and I’m watching Sheriff Hopper drunkenly beat up people on Stranger Things. My phone vibrates.
“Pics” the text demands.
Its someone I messaged hours ago. I send a face pic.
“Name. Room.”
I check who it is, and message back with excitement. The profile labeled “Kum in ur 
” is a black dude, so I don’t even ask for a face picture. I’ve been trying all week to entice someone of the darker complexion to come over, but they are rare, hard to get, and “Not your fetish.” This one says on his profile that he shoots big loads and is looking for a talented mouth drainer. We’re a perfect match!
“When can you be here?”
“5” he fires back.
I blink my eyes open and feel a surge of energy. I have only five minutes to prepare. Priorities! I leap out of bed, grab my wallet, the tip for the housekeepers, and laptop and throw them in the safe. Then I root through a pile of clothes in the corner, pull a pair of briefs off the floor, sniff them and put them on. I pace the room like a caged mouse until I hear a knock at the door.
It’s him. I let him through. “Hi! Come in,” I greet him warmly as I open the door.
He walks past me and puts his Tim Horton’s bag and coffee on the dresser, and adjusts the Apple earbuds he’s wearing.
I rush back into the room, past him, to get a good look at him. The young man has a presence that exudes coolness. He wears a thin, gold earring, and expensive jeans.
“How’s your night?” I ask him.
He ignores me. He won’t even meet my eyes. Instead he is unbuckling his thick black belt. I move closer to him, stand right in front of him. Maybe we will hug?
He stops and puts his hand out, flat in front of him, then swats downward, motioning for me to kneel in front of him.
“So you’re ready to go, eh! OK.” I get down on my knees.
Once his jeans are unbuttoned, he lowers them and his underwear to just above his knees. His cut cock is average size, but it is perfectly round, perfectly straight, and has a large mushroom cap head.
Intending to give him a show, I open my mouth, stick out my tongue and slowly move forward, sliding my tongue along its underside while I slide him into my mouth. I feel a large hand grasp the top of my head, stopping me. Then, he slowly starts to thrust.
Since I’m immobilized, I can only use my tongue to help. With each thrust I flick it against the underside of his penis. I reach up and stimulate his balls, grasping them in my hand. I place my other hand on his smooth, muscled ass, pulling him forward, helping him to thrust into my warm mouth.
He immediately stops and removes my hands from his body. I let them drop to the floor, and he holds my head still with both hands now. When he’s satisfied that I won’t try anything further, he resumes his slow thrusting.
He wanted a talented mouth-drainer, but my job could be done by a fucking watermelon. A little annoyed, I sit there on the floor and stare at his pubic hair. It’s neatly shaved into a triangle of tiny black curls. I look up, and see only the smooth underside of his chin. He’s staring straight ahead out the hotel window. From the 20th floor we have an amazing view of the neon lights of Zanzibar and the Eaton’s Centre. I can hear a tinny beat coming from his Apple earbuds. But whatever he’s listening too, its for him only. For me the only sounds are the traffic below, the buzz of the hotel air conditioner, and the smacking sound of his penis moving against my wet lips.
“Make your lips tighter,” he orders. They are the only words he’s uttered. When he thrusts in again, I let my lips curl inwards over my teeth, and then bite down on them, applying the tight pressure he craves. I can immediately feel the results. His cock grows stiffer, fighting against the pressure. “Good.” I can taste some salty precum now.
He’s been so steady he must be following the rhythmic beat of music. Only now he breaks from it, and goes faster. His movements become shallower and I feel him squeezing my head harder, ensuring him absolute control over his own pleasure.
Even as he thrusts, I feel him squirting his seed. I taste it filling my mouth, mixing with my saliva. He keeps going, draining the contents of his balls into his obedient fuck toy. The black man’s cum tastes nutty and delicious. When he finally stops, although I know he is sensitive, I don’t care. I’m just a lifeless toy to him, and he is just a snack for me. I bite down hard through my lips and pull up along his softening penis, so I can wring out every drop of my reward.
He gasps and flinches away as soon as I release him. Keeping his eyes averted from mine, he busies himself with buttoning up his jeans, buckling his belt up.
“Thanks for cumming,” I quip.
Without so much as a nod, he picks up his coffee and Tim Horton’s bag and leaves.