This episode is part of a series of Travel Tales, about Jason’s backpacking trip across Europe in 1995.
As everybody knows, frankfurters are named after Frankfurt, and hamburgers are named after Hamburg. Not quite as obviously, wieners are named after Vienna… or as the Austrians spell it: Wien. So they’re Wieners.
For most of my trip to Europe, I was a complete stranger in a strange land, with never a familiar face from one day to the next. But I had a couple friends who were enrolled in our college’s summer-long study-abroad program in Vienna, so I figured it would make sense to drop in and see them while I was in Europe. And to make it more fun… I didn’t tell them I was coming.
I knew where they were living in Vienna, or at least I had the address of their student apartment. Because in those days, people would sometimes mail letters to friends when they were away for a long time. I’d sent them a boring what’s-going-on note just before I left home, to throw them off my scent. So when I got to Vienna, instead of finding a place to stay, I started asking for directions to their place. “Wo ist diese Strasse?” I found the apartment, and knocked on their door, but they weren’t home. So I bought myself a takeaway burger-mit-käse und pommes – not McDonald’s – and sat down on the sidewalk outside with my guidebook.
While I was waiting, a girl from our college (whose name I didn’t know) recognized me and looked at me strangely – trying to figure out where she knew me from – before saying “hi”.
A couple of familiar voices approached down the street. Russ spotted me about 10 feet away and stopped in his tracks, a stupid grin on his face. Trevor, fumbling with his door key, walked past me.
“Dude, that’s cold. You’ve forgotten me already?” He turned his head and stared at me for like ten seconds, as his face turned from a smile to a grin to laughing aloud. Hugging and back-slapping followed. I may have hugged Trevor a bit longer than he hugged me.
It was quickly decided that I would stay with them in their little studio apartment, which had an easy-chair in addition to the two beds. Which was good, because my budget was kinda counting on that. Their school – not a local university, but a program specifically for students from North America – was taking a class trip to Schönbrunn Palace the following day, and they conspired to sneak me along with the group.
That night we went out to a bar down the street from their flat – the bartender knew them well – and got very drunk. The chair turned out to be not very comfortable, but I passed out and didn’t wake up until Trevor’s alarm went off.
As planned I joined them on the class tour of Schönbrunn, the imperial palace. It’s an amazing place, and I say that with the utmost aesthetic contempt. It’s an over-the-top celebration of excess. And the architecture is Baroque, which is the second-worst kind, after Rococo. (I went to art school: I get to have opinions about such things.) The palace itself is a barrage of ornate over-design, gold fixtures, etc. And the gardens are full of manicured lawns, trees, etc. and littered with faux-Classical stone sculptures.
The one redeeming piece of art in the place was the Neptune Fountain, which had “imperial excess” written all over it, but featured some rather hot-looking Tritons (basically “mer-men”) with sea-horses (not the little crustaceans, but horses with fish tails). “So, you like it?”
I turned to see who was speaking. It was the local guide from “our” school, Maximilian. He was in his mid-thirties, fairly tall, a little bearish, especially with the beard. He set off my gaydar pretty strongly. I mean, the smile and raised eyebrow gesturing at the hot gods made it pretty obvious.
“Oh, yeah! I’ve had an… appreciation for sculptures in the Classical Greek style ever since puberty.”
He moved a little closer. “So you were a… sensitive boy?”
“Definitely.” I shifted my weight to the foot closer to him. “Still am,” I grinned.
For the rest of the afternoon, Maximilian frequently made eye contact with me whenever he was talking to the group. As we stood at the bus stop to go back to the school, he “inconspicuously” positioned himself to board right after me, and sat next to me after we boarded.
“You aren’t one of our students, so who are you?” he interrogated me, with enough of a smile to know I wasn’t actually in trouble.
Trevor turned to speak from the seat in front of us. “He’s a friend of ours!”
“Not true. I’m just some strange American wandering around Europe, infiltrating educational opportunities wherever I can.”
“Das ist sehr interessant,” he replied. “Vould you be interested in some private… education?”
Trevor rolled his eyes and mouthed “oh, brother!” and turned away. “Even in Austria….” I heard him mutter in good-natured disbelief. As if I should confine my sex life to one country!
We made plans for that night.
I had dinner with my friends. Russ was a little weirded out: he knew I was queer, but wasn’t used to dealing with it. Trevor got over his annoyance: he was very used to dealing with it. And more comfortable seeing me with other guys than when I used to pine over him. As I left for Maximilian’s, Russ asked what time I’d be back.
“Um… tomorrow sometime?”
Maximilian and I spent quite a while talking and drinking a couple bottles of wine. He apologized that the wine wasn’t very good on his teacher’s salary, but as far as I could tell the alcohol content was over 10%, so it seemed fine to me. I probably did most of the talking, because – let’s face it – a college student who’s just spent a month traveling around Europe has more interesting tales at the top of his head than a general Humanities teacher. But he’d been around a bit too, and had plenty to share about Vienna, such as places to go and things to see and people to do. Such as himself.
“I bet you’ve had an interesting parade of American boys to fuck, working here!”
“No. There were a few after I started, but then the father of one of them found out, and I was almost fired.” He explained that since then, he’s kept his hands off the Americans. “But you are not a student, so there’s no rule against… what’s the word… Verbrüderung….?”
“Close enough!” He emptied his wine glass.
I filled mine. Then emptied it, while he took off his shirt.
“This way,” he led me to his bedroom. I pulled my shirt over my head as he dropped his pants. Inside his briefs was… a plump vienna sausage. Not the itty-bitty ones you get in cans. No, this was a proper wiener. And it wasn’t even fully hard yet.
He pulled off his briefs as I walked over to him. We locked lips, probing each other with our tongues. His beard was kinda scratchy, but I’d had enough guys – and girls – put up with the whiskers on my chin that I wasn’t about to complain. I slid my hand down his torso toward his cock, bumping into it sooner than I expected. It was big.
I grabbed as much of it as I could and started massaging it gently. “Ja….” he moaned. My own cock was straining to get out of my pants, but with one hand busy I could only adjust it to a more comfortable position. I continued to work on Maximilian’s maximum-size dick, as he kissed me more aggressively.
He thrust with his hips, pushing his cock against my belly. I couldn’t hold onto it in that position, which I really wanted to, so I dropped to my knees.
It was even bigger from down there. I grabbed his shaft with my left hand, and started licking his balls. They smelled like day-old underwear, with a tangy and salty taste.
“Go ahead and suck it, Jason.” To be honest, I was a little hesitant to try. I licked and took each of his balls into my mouth, sucking gently on them. “Suck my cock, Jason!”
I paused, taking a few deep breaths. Yeah, I knew how to breathe thru my nose, but that isn’t always enough.
I licked his head. It had a similar flavor to his balls. I kissed it, sucking lightly with my lips sealed around it, and my tongue teased the opening. His hips pushed forward, but my hand on his cock held it steady. I put my lips around his head again, and he thrust again, this time pushing a couple inches into my mouth. My hand slipped from his dick, and he plunged it into me. I briefly gagged, a reflex I thought I’d gotten over.
He grabbed my head with both hands, and began to fuck my face. I briefly resisted, but he strengthened his grip, and I decided to go with it. I stretched to take his cock as deep as I could, sucking hard each time he thrust it. I felt the tickle of his pubes on my nose, and pushed harder to feel more of them. I was feeling euphoric, my own cock growing harder, and began to realize that I wasn’t breathing.
I sniffed hard thru my nose, then again, but it wasn’t enough. I stretch my mouth open further pushed away and gulped for air.
“Too much for you?” he asked – a little condescendingly – as I filled my lungs with fresh atmosphere.
“No… no… I can do it.”
“Here… we’ll do it this way.” He sat on his bed, then leaned back on his elbows, spreading his legs, his cock pointing to the sky. “Suck it, Jason.”
I kneeled and started over, licking his cock head. “You love the foreplay, don’t you?” He almost sounded a little annoyed. I took the hint and went directly to sucking him.
Again I strained to take his whole cock into my mouth. He reached for my head with one hand, but couldn’t hold it, which let me control the action. And I did know how to handle a big cock, after all, spitting on my hand and using it as an extension of my mouth. Being more careful to breathe, I pumped down and up on him. He lied flat on his back. His breathing got deeper and more ragged.
“Faster!” he gasped. I picked up the pace, trying to keep time with his hips as he started flexing his butt. He was ramping up to cum, and with my free hand I scratched lightly at his taint to help push him over the edge.
But abruptly he stopped his little thrusts and said “OK, stop!” He pushed himself back up to a seated position, his red cock shining wet. “That’s not how I…”
Impressed with his ability to pull himself back from the edge and give me a turn before he finished, I finally removed my jeans and underwear. I sat on the edge of the bed, my own respectably-large cock engorged, and wet at the tip. I leaned back on my hands.
He looked at me, wondering what I was doing. “On your hands and knees,” he also pantomimed, in case he was saying it wrong.” Oh, so he does want to finish first? I got on the floor as instructed.
He produced a bottle of lube and smeared his cock with ample amounts of it. He inserted one lube-covered finger into my ass and spread it around. Then he lubed up his fingers again and pushed three of them inside. I flinched, and clinched.
“Relax, bottom boy!” He slapped me on the butt cheek with his other hand, hard enough to sting a little. His three fingers pushed deeper until they were all the way inside my ass. He twisted them one way then the other, until he was satisfied that my asshole was loose and lubed enough. “You ready?”
“I think so.”
“Sure you are! This will only hurt … as much as you want it to.” I turned my head to see him chuckle at his joke. “Hold still!”
He pressed the head of his cock into my slippery hole. I briefly tensed, then relaxed as he slid it farther in. Even so, it hurt as the girth of his shaft stretched me to accommodate it. “Does that hurt?”
“Yeah, kinda. Of course!”
“But you like that, don’t you!”
“Good!” Maximilian pushed deeper. I groaned.
He pulled out, and slathered more lube onto his cock, giving me a few seconds to recover. Then he slid it back in, slowly but without stopping. I was reamed out, but I knew he wasn’t in all the way, because his thighs weren’t up against my ass.
He ran a finger up my spine as far as he could reach and back down. He put his right hand on my hip, pulled back a little, then pushed into me again.
“You’re taking this real good!” He slapped me on the ass. “You’re gonna get it all!”
But he seemed in no hurry to get there. He continued sliding out and back in, not forcing any further, just slowly, gradually working on it. And with each cycle, my prostate got another massage, and my own cock got a little harder. I lost track of… everything. My whole consciousness focused on my aching cock and my aching ass.
Then I remember his pubes tickling my butthole.
And his thighs pressing against my ass cheeks.
I was startled by one of my elbows buckling, and nearly fell down. I’d been holding my breath. I took deep loud breaths and the light of the room returned. He continued slowly fucking my ass. My cock, which had grown limp, began to inflate again.
He paused with his cock deep inside me, and reached down for my cock. He found it semi-hard, and said “Nice!” then started stroking it. I immediately got hard the rest of the way, and moaned quietly. “Oh, yeah…” I’ve always loved being jacked off with a dick in my ass. “Do it… fuck me…”
He took that as his cue to resume pounding my ass, which I wanted, but he also stopped jacking me. “Don’t stop,” I whispered, but all he did in response was to fuck me faster. Maybe that will get me off? It seemed like it could “Fuck me harder! Make … me…”
“Ohhh…. you’re so good, Jason!” His hands gripped my hips. “Take it!” His thighs slapped into my ass with each thrust. “Heir kommt es!”
He pushed deeper than ever, so far I could feel his balls pressed against me, as they pumped me full of jizz. He relaxed, then thrust again, moaning loudly, unintelligibly. I could feel myself on the edge of orgasm, as I felt the aftershocks of his ripple thru me. Again he thrust. Then again. And he began to breathe normally again, and moan quietly. He slapped me on the ass, and pulled out.
He collapsed, sitting on the floor leaning against the bed. He smiled, massaging his deflating cock, squeezing the jizz from it, and smearing it on his chest.
I rolled over and half-sat on the floor facing him. I stayed there like that, my cock sticking up into the air, waiting for him to do something.
“Did you cum?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he added, “I’d love to watch.” He grabbed the lube and tossed it to me.
Seeing that I wasn’t going to get any further help from him, I lubed up my cock and took up a fast rhythm stroking it.
“That’s nice!” he said. “Cum for me, Jason!”
As I jacked myself, my eyes fell on Maximilian’s cock, still shiny with lube, my juices, and his jizz.
“Do it for Maxi!”
I closed my eyes, pictured Trevor in the dorm showers, and came.
Maximilian let me use the shower first. While he was in the shower, I finished off the second bottle of wine, got dressed, scribbled a note about needing to be up early the next morning, and went back to Russ and Trevor’s. Russ carefully didn’t ask what was up. Trevor figured out the gist of it without needing to ask. “Sorry it didn’t go well.” And he volunteered to make up excuses and help me avoid running into Maximilian for the rest of my time in Vienna.
I assured him that it wasn’t that bad, and that I’d had worse dates (and I had). Even disappointing sex is still sex, after all. And sometimes a Wiener is really just a dick.