Service in the hotel room.

I was attending a conference well away from home, and in a small town in the English West Country.

I had to give talk the following day, but had set myself up in one of the best hotels in the area so that I could prepare my papers in peace.

I arrived in the hotel that afternoon and did some work. It was a very pleasant, English place, and I had an immaculate bedroom with a four poster bed.

At 7.30pm I went down to the restaurant.

I think they realised as soon as I asked for a Pastis aperitif and ordered a bottle of their very best Beaujolais that I intended to make the most of what they had on offer. My waiter was a sublime young man, immaculately dressed in a suit, very slim, well shaven, very polite and when I made a joke he giggled slightly.

It's sad though, when you are away from home, you have to dine on your own. I took some papers to read through to keep me company, but after a while I couldn't really make sense of them.

Surprisingly, this hotel restaurant served such excellent food that every mouthful was an adventure. Each course seemed to have several unexpected layers of delight. I entertained myself by trying to compare what I was eating with what I remembered of the description of that dish in the menu, and then, when my waiter came to collect the plate, by reciting to him how I had tackled that particular plate and what I had thought of it. My praise was sparkling. The waiter responded with delight, and promised to take my comments back to the chef.

It was getting late for the place, I was the last one to leave - a bit early for me really - but I could see the staff clearing up in the back and I went up to them in my impulsive state, and congratulated them on the food and wine and service, trying unsuccessfully I think, to recall every element in the dishes about which I was enthusing.

One of them invited me to the pub, but they had to be quick because it was closing in half an hour, and of course I was delighted to join them, firstly to get a good pint or two as a night-cap, and secondly to see if I could talk properly to my lovely waiter.

I ended up buying everyone the drinks in the pub, although it did not cross my mind till very much later that this was the reason why they invited me there so readily. Yes my waiter was there and, it turned out, in response to my questioning, he told me that since he was doing breakfast in the morning (which was very early) the arrangement when the hotel was not fully booked was that he should stay the night in one of the rooms. So I just asked him, I do not know why but it must have been the drink, whether he would like to come to my room maybe before the night was over. He asked for my room number and nodded slightly.

Some of us walked back together to the hotel, and we all said goodnight.

In my room, I paced up and down for about 15 minutes and had all but given up when there was a soft knock on the door. I could not believe my luck. My waiter was there, changed into some very casual trousers and a loose shirt. My that time I had worked myself up to a frenzy, and since it was obvious that he had come to me with the same idea that I had, once I had closed the door behind him, I just started to undress myself and he did the same.

Within seconds we were both naked.

He went down on his knees and took my wholly erect penis in his mouth - I got the impression he had done this before. But this was not exactly what I wanted. I let him suck me for a while, sufficient to add saliva-lubrication to aid what I had in mind. I lifted him up and turned him towards the large four poster bed, bending him down a little, opened his cheeks and simply stuck in my prick in the place where I knew from previous experience of such things, there existed an orifice capable of taking the full length of my erect penis.

I looked down at his bum and decided that it was the most beautifical naked bum I had ever seen. The skin was perfect and unblemished, the bum itself was spherical like a creamy-white football, and no one would know by looking at it, except the initiated, that inside this human sphere was a hole into which I could in due course ejaculate all the sperm in my body.

I easily found the correct place to place myself, and with a slight wiggle and waggle - up, down and also sideways - it was sliding into the hole nicely. I had hold of my waiter's hips to add some extra control, but soon I was able to thrust in and out repeatedly and more and more rapidly, listening to that sucking sound which seemed to echo around the room a little. Now and again I just pushed in and stayed there without pulling out, to admire the shape of my waiter's bum and the fact of my presence within it, and to feel with my hands the leanness of his bony hips.

In due course, after a respectable period of length of time, I had no choice but to thrust more deeply and more rapidly since I was coming to a frenzied climax. I ejaculated well inside him, but I believe a fair amount leaked out down his thighs and onto the bedclothes.

After this drama, my penis just withered to nothing and I developed a deep tiredness. My waiter sensed this and said that my four poster bed looked a lot more comfortable than his, but that he would have to set the alarm. He got into the bed, curled up and went to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to see my waiter getting up, showering and leaving. I watched through the side of my eye pretending to be still asleep. I don't really know why I did this, but I wondered if what had happened would not have done if I had not drunk so much.