DEMANDING ATTENDEE
The volunteer had been assigned to him on the first day.
“Stay with Speaker Fourteen,” the organizer said. “Whatever he needs.”
He didn’t expect whatever to mean everything.
The man was perfect. Tall. Clean. Calm face, sharp eyes. The kind of man who didn’t raise his voice because he didn’t have to. He wore simple black shirts and jeans, but somehow looked richer than everyone else.
And he was demanding.
“The lighting is wrong,” the man said the first morning.
The volunteer forced a smile. “I’ll fix it, sir.”
“And the chair. Too low.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I need water. Cold. Not room temperature.”
“Yes, sir.”
Every request was calm, quiet. But heavy. Like an order, not a favor.
The volunteer ran everywhere. Adjusting. Carrying. Fixing. Sweat soaked through his back while the man stayed calm and clean, watching him work.
By the second day, the volunteer was angry.
The man stood close once, adjusting his microphone. His arm brushed the volunteer’s chest. Hard muscle under soft fabric. The volunteer noticed it and hated that he noticed it.
“Focus,” the man said quietly, eyes locked on him.
The volunteer swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
He hated how his body reacted to that voice.
By the third day, he was exhausted.
When the conference ended, the organizing team finally got their free day. The volunteer went straight to the pool. He wore his tight speedos, dark blue, clinging to his hips. The water felt cold and clean on his skin.
He swam hard. Fast. Trying to wash off three days of tension.
When he surfaced, he saw him.
The demanding attendee.
Sitting at the edge of the pool. Designer trunks. Dark glasses. Wet skin glowing under the sun. Calm as always.
The volunteer froze.
The man stood and walked closer. Slow. Confident.
“You worked hard,” he said.
The volunteer didn’t answer.
“I was hard on you.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry.”
The volunteer laughed bitterly. “You don’t look sorry.”
The man stepped closer, close enough that the volunteer could see the water dripping down his chest.
“I noticed you,” the man said quietly.
The volunteer’s heart pounded.
“Not just your work.”
The man crouched at the pool’s edge. His hand reached down, fingers brushing the volunteer’s shoulder. Firm. Warm.
“I want to make it up to you.”
The volunteer’s breath caught.
The man’s voice dropped lower.
“Let me take care of you now.”
The demanding man smiled slightly. Not cold anymore. Hungry.
The man slid into the water, his movements fluid and deliberate. He closed the distance between them, his body pressing against the volunteer's. His hands roamed, tracing the lines of the volunteer's chest, his thumbs brushing over already hard nipples. The volunteer gasped, his head falling back as the man's mouth found his neck, biting and sucking.
"You've been wanting this," the man murmured against his skin. "Don't lie." The volunteer could only moan in response.
The man's hand slid down, gripping the volunteer's ass, pulling him closer. Their cocks brushed through the thin fabric of their trunks, both hard and leaking. The man's other hand slipped into the volunteer's speedos, wrapping around his thick shaft. The volunteer bucked into his touch, a desperate sound
The man laughed, a low, throaty sound. He pushed the volunteer against the pool edge, yanking his speedos down. His mouth was on the volunteer's cock in an instant, hot and wet and hungry. He took him deep, his throat relaxing as the volunteer's hips jerked forward. The man's hands gripped his ass, holding him in place as he fucked his mouth with brutal, shallow thrusts.
The volunteer could feel the tension coiling in his gut, his balls drawing up tight. "I'm gonna cum," he warned.
The man pulled back just enough to speak. "Then cum for me."
He took him deep again, and with a strangled cry, the volunteer exploded, pouring his release down the man's throat. The man swallowed every drop, his tongue swirling around the sensitive head.
As the volunteer orgasmed, he was proud of himself. He definitely served the attendee well.
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