My second time using Sniffies as a young professor (The Bellboy)

Everyone involved in this hookup was over the age of 18Glad you all enjoyed the first story! Might as well share some more :) This one took place about a month after the first.I was super excited to go to an academic conference several years back - I’d never been to Boston before, and the prospect of three days away from faculty meetings and undergrad drama was almost as appealing as the hotel per diem.But let’s be honest: the excitement didn’t stem from the keynote speaker or the rumored open bar, but the possibility of new, uncharted territory on Sniffies. After my first experience, it felt like a drug. I kinda needed more of it.The app, once again, did not disappoint. The further east I drove, the more the map lit up with blue dots. Who knew highway rest stops were such a hotbed of desperate sexual commerce? Apparently every closeted trucker, road-weary dad, and traveling academic in America.I stopped at a service plaza somewhere in Pennsylvania with a hard-on I’d been edging since Ohio. The men’s room was a cinderblock bunker, air predictably piss-stale, but I guess that’s kind of what one should expect. I scanned the stalls, picked one at random, and settled in for a quick scroll before getting back on the road.Within seconds, a message pinged: “Ur here?” followed by a photo of a cock, thick and uncut, set against the tasteful backdrop of a public restroom floor tile.I replied, “yeah, 3rd stall from the end.”“wait 2 min,” came the response. “tap foot when ready.”He was punctual, I’ll give him that. Two minutes later, the adjacent stall door groaned open. I heard the clatter of a belt, the subtle cough, the careful clearing of a throat. Then a tentative, unmistakable toe-tap.I reached down, slid my hand under the partition. There was an answering hand, rough and broad, then another: a cock, already half-hard, bobbing in the shadow between us. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a squeeze.He guided my hand with need, stroking himself against my palm, hips jerking as I teased the head with my thumb. For a moment, I forgot where I was or that anyone could walk in at any moment.He started to breathe harder, the tempo increasing. I was so caught up in the rhythm of it (grab, twist, jerk, squeeze) that I didn’t notice the shuffle of sneakers approaching until the third stall door banged open with a violence reserved for the truly constipated.We both froze, dicks in hand, as the newcomer settled in and unleashed a piss stream that could have power washed a home. I withdrew my hand, wiped it discreetly on my thigh, and tried to breathe like a normal human.The other guy zipped up and bolted, leaving me alone with my aching, unsatisfied cock and the knowledge that this was probably the most exciting thing to happen to me in months.I zipped up, washed my hands with more care than strictly necessary, and got back on the road with a blue-balled sense of purpose.By the time I hit the hotel, I was a walking hormone. I’d barely checked in before the Sniffies notifications exploded on my phone like a fireworks display. “Damn, you cute.” “Visiting for the conference?” “Hosting in 513, chill and discrete.”I’d assumed I’d end up in some fellow professor’s suite, debating Dostoevsky before blowing him on the bathroom floor. But then I got a unique message:“U just check in?”“Yeah,” I replied, “just pulled up. Why?”“I’m a bellhop. Saw you come in. Meet me by elevators?”Twenty years old, the profile said. Brown hair, green eyes, runner’s build. The kind of kid who could charm tips out of the most bitter and priveleged in society and still make it back to campus in time for a frat party. I didn’t even bother to respond before heading to the elevator bank.Sure enough, as I passed through the lobby, a bellboy with the exact description intercepted me. I clocked his up-down glance and the subtle shift in his stance.“Can I help you with your bags, sir?” he said, putting a little extra emphasis on the ‘sir’ part.I smiled. “I travel light, but thanks.”He leaned in. “I’ve got a break in five. I’ll meet you at your room?”It wasn’t a question. I nodded, and he vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.I took the elevator up, my heart pounding and my cock already half-hard again. I barely had time to brush my teeth and adjust my hair before there was a knock at the door.The bellboy slid inside and shut the door. For a moment, we just stood there, sizing each other up. He was even cuter up close: a little acne scar on his chin, a dusting of freckles across his nose, arms wiry and tan from actual labor.I broke the silence. “How much time do you have?”He smirked, then checked the gaudy hotel watch on his wrist. “Like, ten minutes, tops. Unless you want to make me late for my next run.”“Let’s not waste it,” I said, and kissed him.The kiss went from tentative to feral in less than three seconds, his lips soft but insistent. I felt his hands slide down my back, then under the hem of my shirt. I reciprocated, grabbing his ass covered by the uniform slacks.We stumbled to the bed, still locked at the mouth. He fumbled with his belt, and I did the same, both of us stripping from the waist down but leaving our shirts and jackets on like a pair of horny, half-dressed mannequins.He broke away just long enough to ask, “You got a condom?”I nodded, dug one out of my suitcase, and rolled it down over my cock. I found a travel-sized bottle of lube in the side pocket, popped the cap, and slicked myself up. He watched, growing impatient.He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and presented his ass. I knelt behind him, slicked up a finger, and gently traced his hole. He shivered, exhaled hard, and pushed back into my hand.“Fuck, that’s good,” he whispered.I worked a finger inside, then two, stretching him slowly. He was tight, but not the kind of tight that would slow us down—just enough to be a challenge.When I couldn’t take it any longer, I pressed the head of my cock against his entrance and pushed in, slow and steady. He hissed, then groaned, then relaxed into it, letting me fill him inch by inch until I was buried to my balls.For a moment, neither of us moved.Then I started to fuck him, slow at first, then faster, the slap of skin-on-skin muffled only by the thin hotel comforter. He whimpered, tried to bury his face in the pillow, but I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back.“Quiet,” I whispered, even as I pounded into him harder. “Or you’ll get us both fired.”He laughed, then bit his lip to keep from screaming. I reached around, wrapped my hand around his cock, and stroked him in time with my thrusts.It was over embarrassingly quick. Three minutes of frantic, animal sex, and I felt my orgasm building up, then boiling over with a force that left me lightheaded. I pulled out at the last second and jerked myself to completion, shooting thick, hot ropes all over his lower back and the edge of his uniform.He came seconds later, splattering the inside of his jacket with a spurt that looked almost artistic against the hotel’s blinding white bedsheets.We both collapsed in a heap.After a moment, I grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and dabbed the cum off his uniform. He grinned, thanked me, and straightened himself up in the mirror.“Wanna do this again?” he asked.I nodded, still catching my breath. “Yup.”He winked, then slipped out the door like a ghost, leaving me alone with the faint musk of sex and the knowledge that my conference weekend hadn’t even started yet.I showered, dressed, and went downstairs for the opening plenary. As I took my seat in the back row, I spotted the bellboy gliding through the lobby, cool as a cucumber, already scanning the crowd for his next conquest.As was I.