RESORT INSPECTING
I came to the posh restaurant thinking of honeymoon plans. Surprise for her. Papers in my bag. Ring in my pocket. All very clean. Very straight.
Then I saw him.
He was by the villa, half-naked like it was nothing. Tiny trunks. Skin tight and shiny from the sun. He didn’t smile. He just looked at me. Slow. Heavy. Like he knew something about me I didn’t want to admit. My throat dried up. I pretended to check my phone.
I walked around the resort after that, acting normal. Asking about rooms. Nodding. Smiling. But my head kept going back to him. The way he stood. The way he didn’t look away first. My body felt loud inside my clothes.
They let me stay the night. Complimentary. I told myself it was practical.
The room was quiet. Too quiet. After the shower, steam covered the mirror. I wiped it with my hand and stared at myself. Bare. Breathing harder than needed. I looked different there. Exposed. Weak. Curious.
I thought of him again. The trunks. The stare. My chest tightened.
Then the door opened.
No knock.
He walked in like he belonged there. No clothes. No shame. Just skin and confidence. He closed the door behind him with his foot. We looked at each other. That was it. No words. My heart was pounding so hard it felt stupid.
“You’re staying tonight,” he said. Not a question.
I swallowed and nodded.
He stepped closer. I could smell him. Soap. Warm skin. Something sharp and clean. He lifted a hand and touched my chest, light, like testing me. I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t.
I told myself I was straight. I told myself this was wrong. My body didn’t care.
We moved closer until there was no space left. His mouth was near my ear. My hands were shaking. I let them roam anyway. It felt messy and real and too fast. Like falling.
He spun me around and pushed me onto the bed. His body covered mine, skin sliding on sweat-slick skin. His mouth found my neck, biting, sucking, marking me. His knee pushed between my thighs, forcing them apart. I felt his hard cock press against my own, a hot, thick line of need. He rocked his hips, a slow, hypnotic grind that stole the air from my lungs.
He spat in his hand and reached down, gripping both our shafts, stroking us together. The friction was incredible, a hot, slick slide that made my toes curl. He moved faster, his breathing ragged in my ear, the sound hypnotic. I was so close. My body arched off the bed. He bit down hard on my shoulder, and I came with a strangled cry, spilling hot and thick all over his hand and my stomach.
He followed a second later, a deep groan as his own release joined mine, a warm, wet mess between us.
What we did stayed in that room. Heat. Breath. Small sounds we tried to hide. I forgot her name for a moment. I hated that. I wanted more anyway.
In the morning, he was gone. The room smelled different.
I thought of him again. The trunks. The stare. My chest tightened.
Then the door opened.
No knock.
He walked in like he belonged there. No clothes. No shame. Just skin and confidence. He closed the door behind him with his foot. We looked at each other. That was it. No words. My heart was pounding so hard it felt stupid.
“You’re staying tonight,” he said. Not a question.
I swallowed and nodded.
He stepped closer. I could smell him. Soap. Warm skin. Something sharp and clean. He lifted a hand and touched my chest, light, like testing me. I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t.
I told myself I was straight. I told myself this was wrong. My body didn’t care.
We moved closer until there was no space left. His mouth was near my ear. My hands were shaking. I let them roam anyway. It felt messy and real and too fast. Like falling.
He spun me around and pushed me onto the bed. His body covered mine, skin sliding on sweat-slick skin. His mouth found my neck, biting, sucking, marking me. His knee pushed between my thighs, forcing them apart. I felt his hard cock press against my own, a hot, thick line of need. He rocked his hips, a slow, hypnotic grind that stole the air from my lungs.
He spat in his hand and reached down, gripping both our shafts, stroking us together. The friction was incredible, a hot, slick slide that made my toes curl. He moved faster, his breathing ragged in my ear, the sound hypnotic. I was so close. My body arched off the bed. He bit down hard on my shoulder, and I came with a strangled cry, spilling hot and thick all over his hand and my stomach.
He followed a second later, a deep groan as his own release joined mine, a warm, wet mess between us.
What we did stayed in that room. Heat. Breath. Small sounds we tried to hide. I forgot her name for a moment. I hated that. I wanted more anyway.
In the morning, he was gone. The room smelled different.
I left with the brochure still in my bag. And something heavier in my chest than before.
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