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Did I order a cheesecake and forget? And if so, where is said cheesecake, and what the fuck? “Y-Yes? Can I help you?” I call out, still staring through the peephole.
He looks right at the hole, as if sensing me. “Hello, sir. Are you Mr. Lachlan? I’m here for the massage.”
Uh … massage? “I didn’t … I didn’t order a massage.”
He chuckles softly. “Your friend Rico, who ordered my services for you, said you’d say that.”
I glance down. My boner is still very much alive. “Um, I am a little indisposed right now. I wasn’t expecting—”
“It’s okay, Mr. Lachlan. I can wait. You have me for the next hour.”
A whole hour?? I step away from the door and take a breath, thinking it over as I will my erection to go away. I know Rico is probably looking out for me in his own way, wanting me to feel good despite our little tiff on the beach by the bonfire, but really, this is just the worst timing. I was literally seconds from climaxing, I’m pretty sure.
And now a hot, handsome guy wants to massage me.
By putting his hands all over me and stuff.
While my body’s already stimulated, hot, and horny.
Look, the solution is simple: I can postpone my alone-time fun for an hour. Delayed satisfaction is still, in the end, satisfying. Right? Let’s just say my time for pampering in this hotel room isn’t over with; I now have a delightful massage to enjoy like a nightcap, thanks to my horny friend who is likely getting bent over a table at El Amado’s right now by Adrian the Tank.
Alone-time with my dream version of sexy Kent will resume immediately after the masseuse leaves.
Once my cock has finally shrunk enough to hide back in my robe where he belongs, I finally open the door. My masseuse, still smiling handsomely and patiently, comes in with a small folded table tucked under his arm. He’s got a cute figure, a surprisingly sculpted ass in his dress slacks, and biceps that stretch the sleeves of his dress shirt.
Goodness, Rico sure knows how to pick them.
And I’m clearly far too horny and pent-up right now to have reasoned out whether this is a good idea.
“My name is Liobardo,” he says. “I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Shall I set up here by the balcony?”
“Sure. That’s great.”
I smile back as I watch him open up the table. His ass faces me the whole time. My eyes are glued to it as he sets up a little station by the opened door and the breeze.
Okay, I am way too thirsty.
Then he comes around to the other side, looks up at me, and gives the table a gentle pat. “We’re all set up and ready.”
I approach the table, then make a sudden discovery. “Uh, I’m not wearing anything underneath my—”
He indicates a small towel. “That’s fine, sir. This will go over your sensitive area.”
If he only knows how “sensitive” my area was just five minutes ago. “Oh. Alright. I, um …”
He spreads out the towel and lifts it, then turns his face to the side to give me privacy, awaiting me.
Goodness, we’re really getting to the point, aren’t we? I’ve never actually had a massage before, so I’m not sure what the protocol is. All I know is that I’m about to feel really good, and I might just have to kiss Rico for a thank-you later on when he’s back—or rather, if he’s back.
When in Rome, right?
Or a small beach town on the Texas coast, rather.
I shrug off my robe, then lie face down on the table. I feel the towel rest softly over my ass cheeks. It’s not as big as it looked. We’re talking a light strip of towel that barely covers my ass. Am I even completely covered, or—?
“Are you comfortable?” he asks.
“Yep,” comes my muffled voice, staring at the floor through the circular head cushion thing.
Then come his hands. Like tiny mind-reading magic wands, the moment they touch my shoulders, it’s as if they know exactly what I want. He kneads my body like dough, working away all my tense spots, my aches, and my annoying pains. In a matter of minutes, I feel like soup under his skillful hands.
He moves from my shoulders and works his way down my back. His thumbs seem to find a place halfway down I didn’t even realize I was holding tension, and when he presses there, I let out a moan.
“Sorry …” I murmur lazily and happily.
He chuckles softly. “It’s no problem, sir.”
His thumbs keep working deeper and deeper, sliding down farther, until I find him working the glorious knot of nerves and tightened muscle right at the top of my ass crack. Is that my tailbone? Is that my happy spot? What in the hell is he doing and why does it feel so fucking good?
