SINGER VACATION
He spent eleven months every year being perfect. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect boyfriend material for every girl holding a light stick in the crowd. Onstage, Kai sang about forever love, shirt hanging loose over his chest, cameras zooming in while fans screamed like they were about to explode. He bowed, he winked, he blew kisses. The staff called him a matinee idol and it kind of felt like a job title carved into his skin.
But then came Month Twelve. No schedules. No makeup chair. Just a car straight from the airport to the private villa, the kind with its own pool and a view of the skyline. As soon as the gate shut, he stripped down to the tiniest white speedos he owned, the thin fabric already clinging to the shape of his dick, and lay on the sunbed like he was melting.
His dancers arrived that afternoon. Offstage, without their costumes, they looked even bigger, shoulders wide, veins on their forearms popping as they hauled their bags in. “Damn, boss,” Jae laughed, eyes running over Kai’s body. “You really packed light.” Kai shrugged, pretending he wasn’t blushing. “Dress code for the month,” he said. “Or… undress code.”
They dropped their stuff and joined him by the pool. The air felt thicker than the heat. It started simple. Jae rubbed sunscreen onto Kai’s back, his big hands slipping lower, fingers dipping into the cleft of his ass. Another dancer, Min, sat on the edge of the chair, knees spreading Kai’s legs so he could rest between them, his own hard bulge pressing against Kai’s thigh. Nobody joked it away. Nobody said stop.
Inside the villa, the walls were thick. They showered together after the pool, water beating down on brown skin and hard muscle. Kai pressed his forehead to the tile, eyes closed, while Jae’s thick cock pressed up behind him, lips on his neck, fingers pushing those white speedos down. Kai gasped as Jae’s fingers found his hole, slick with soap, circling and pressing until he was loose and open, ready to be taken right there against the wall.
Nights blurred into each other. One night, they pushed him to his knees in the living room. Jae, Min, and the others stood over him, stroking their hard cocks. Kai looked up at them, mouth open, tongue out, a desperate, hungry look on his face. One by one, they grunted and came, thick ropes of hot, sticky cum splashing across his face, his chest, his hair. He was a mess, dripping with their seed, and he loved it, rubbing it into his skin like a prize.
In the mornings he woke up exhausted and stupidly happy, sheets twisted, his hole sore and used. Out by the infinity edge, he stood waist-deep at sunrise, white briefs clinging to him, watching the city wake up far away. For one month, he wasn’t the idol on the billboard. He was just Kai, greedy, needy, letting his boys wear him out. And when the manager’s messages finally pulled him back to work, he saved every memory like a secret track no one else would ever hear.
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