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1
Rocky Hudson
Everything was neatly laid out in front of me. A toolkit of leather and straps and whips and toys, all resting on a soft, velvet red pillow inside the drawer. The vibrant red matched the color of the walls in the windowless room. There was a queen-sized bed with crisp white sheets pressed against the far corner, but my attention instead drew to the swing hanging across from the bed. The thick silk black straps were tied around large silver rings bolted into the ceiling. The seat of the swing was plush and wide, with a zipper that allowed for the bottom to open, allowing even more access to whoever was sitting on the swing. I admired it for a moment, standing there with nothing on but my black jockstrap, thinking I had just made the best purchase of my entire fucking life.
Now I just need someone to try it with.
I turned my focus back to the open drawer, a soft white light shining from all sides of it. The metallic plug reflected some of the light, catching my eye.
Decision made. I grabbed the plug, feeling the heft in my hands, and poured a small amount of lube over it. My cock grew stiff. I rubbed myself, lowering the jockstrap and releasing my growing dick.
I needed this. My week had been long, and my stress had reached peak levels. I had been working on a tough case that put me in some sticky situations and kept me up without sleep for three days in a row. The work was difficult, but thankfully it was all worth it, since I definitively closed the case earlier this afternoon.
I let out an exhale from deep in my lungs, letting go of everything except the sensation of the cold plug against my hole. I spread my legs a little wider, my body ready to take it in, my cock twitching and throbbing in the air.
And then my phone alarm started to blare out, startling me and causing the plug to slip right out of my hands, falling onto the gray wood floors with a loud clunk. I bent down and tried picking it up, but the lube spread and made the damn thing slipperier than a fucking salmon. It flew out of my hands as if it wanted to fly home for the summer, where the home of lubed-up butt plugs happened to be.
Iowa, maybe? Texas?
My alarm still sounded like a siren, echoing off the walls, breaking through the image of dildos tumbling through wild open fields.
I ignored the plug and went for my phone, turning off the alarm and checking the screen. Why did I have an alarm set for… Oh shit.
Fuck.
I was supposed to be at Miami Beach in twenty minutes for a meeting that had completely escaped my mind. With the insanity that this week had brought, I totally forgot about the time I had set aside to catch up with an old flame of mine.
Someone who I had a feeling wouldn’t mind giving my new swing a spin.
I wiped off my hands with a paper towel and went for the plug, round two. This time I was able to grab it without it leaping to the other side of the room. I wiped it off and placed it back into the drawer.
The room locked itself as I closed the door, heading straight for my bedroom, where I got changed into a pair of black shorts and a royal blue T-shirt. I walked into the bathroom, which was flooded with afternoon sunlight, and checked myself out in the wide mirror, making sure my hair wasn’t doing anything unruly. After brushing my teeth and spritzing some Tom Ford cologne onto my vital areas, I headed out.
On the way there, I set my Tesla to auto-drive mode and called the guy I was meeting with to let him know that I might be a few minutes late, considering the traffic seemed to be getting worse and worse the closer I got to the beach.
He didn’t answer. I figured he might have been driving, too. I put my phone down and glanced out the window, at the huge Royal Caribbean cruise ships that were docked at port, one of the ships getting filled with excited passengers, some of them already waving at the passing cars from the top deck. Ahead, the roads started getting more crammed until my car had rolled to a complete stop.
“Fucking hell.”
I hated being late to anything and especially to something like this. I never met with old friends or flames, always letting them get snuffed out by the passing of time. But, on a whim, I had decided to meet with Rodrigo after he had texted me one night out of the blue. We weren’t particularly close, and he had moved away two years ago, but I still could remember some of the orgasms that man had given me over the times we had gotten together. He did things with his tongue that should be made illegal.
