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Then I’m a pampered prince sitting on my giant, cushy bed in a big, fluffy white robe with literally nothing on underneath. The balcony door is opened, letting in the musical ambiance of the restless distant sea, breeze gently dancing in, and I’ve got a book in my hand.
Room service is a call away, and soon, I’ve got plates of sweet confections, fried confections, and a strawberry daiquiri with an umbrella in it, because that’s how extra I feel right now.
A night hanging out with Kent would have been pretty amazing, even if it led nowhere and had no kissing or naughty stuff involved, but did I even realize what kind of luxury I haven’t been taking advantage of yet here at the Elysian? I feel like an Olympian god with all of this comfort and atmosphere, for Zeus’s sake.
But damn, I’m kidding myself if I say I’m not totally thinking about Kent right now, too. I know, I only just met him today. He’ll probably forget about me by tomorrow, if we ever even do get to hang out.
I could have invited him to come back here with me. We could be chilling on my bed right now, making fun of the movies on TV. Then we might forget about them entirely and realize we can’t hold back anymore.
Then we’d be all over each other the next second, and no one would hear from us for the rest of the weekend.
Or it could play out less animal-like. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who would gently take hold of my face, stare deeply into my eyes, and torture me with his sensitive touch. I’d be falling to pieces as he softly placed kisses all over my neck, then my cheek, and only after I’ve been filled with unimaginable anticipation, he’d finally reach my lips.
I’d close my eyes.
He’d press me down to the bed, passion taking over. With just one tiny tug of my robe, it’d be off, and my whole body would be his to play with.
For hours. And hours.
All night.
I’m jostled from the fantasy when I glance down and notice something sticking straight up from between the folds of my robe: my pent-up cock.
It’s come alive with a vengeance. Apparently I have yet one more pleasure to indulge in while I’ve got the whole room to myself.
I bite my lip, take hold of it, and shut my eyes.
Kent’s face is right there, looking less pouty and more totally-up-to-no-good. A playful smirk teases his lips as he stares down my naked body.
He’s feeling frisky.
I’m feeling friskier.
As I stroke my cock, I feel his lips on me once again. Where are they? My neck, then my chest, then my nipple. I suck in air, feeling his cold tongue turn warm as he licks me, waking up every cell in my body. Who are you? Kent’s hot breath drags lower and lower.
His lips cover the head of my cock.
I could cry from the pleasure that simple wet touch of his lips and tongue gifts me.
Then he engulfs my cock all the way down.
Should I keep up with this fantasy? Could real Kent live up to this dream version of him? The faster I stroke and the closer I get, the less sure I am.
Masturbation is so evil. You know exactly what you want, in ways no boyfriend or weekend fuck boy could possibly know. How does Rico get so lucky all the time? Or is he lying when he describes how amazing the sex is?
Nothing and no one has ever beaten the power I have here with me all the time.
The power of my right hand.
“Fuck, Kent …” I’m saying his name out loud. Hearing my own voice moan his name so pornographically makes this whole thing more real, more sexual, more hot. “Fuck, you’re so good, you’re so fucking good, keep doing that, suck me off, yeah, just like that … mmm, fuck …”
Right now, I’m the stuff of every best and worst porno I’ve ever seen, and I totally don’t even care. There’s still a plate of half-eaten chocolate-dipped strawberries on the bed right next to a tiny saucer with bones from the fried chicken wings I devoured, and I’m not even sorry.
Until there’s a knock at the door.
I stop at once, boner in hand, and stare. Who the hell would be showing up at my door and knocking at this hour? I got all of my room service. Rico has his own key, but won’t be back. It’s almost midnight.
Maybe if I ignore it, they’ll go away.
Knock, knock, knock—again.
What if Kent found out where I am? What if that’s him outside the door, waiting patiently for me?
I slide off the bed still completely erect, my big boner sticking out of my robe, and hurry to the door to get a look through the peephole. Standing in the hallway outside is a surprisingly handsome man I don’t know. He’s wearing a fitted, crisp white dress shirt with a vest and bowtie. High cheekbones. Smooth russet skin. Black hair parted to the side. A charming smile, even before I’ve opened the door or acknowledged him in any way.
