“Plus,” William added, “you should consider staying with Bella. You’ll find her charms to be breathtaking—in the most literal sense of the word. Breathtaking, dahling.”
Matt didn’t give a shit about optics or being a hot commodity. Life was not a giant stage—except that it was to people like William and Bella.
Cue the fucking spotlight. It was a nightclub, after all, and everyone had been waiting for Bella to claim her marked property. Matt sat illuminated in a circle of bright light.
Cue the hand on his shoulder.
Matt turned to see a tall guy standing there smiling down at him. The guy was probably in his mid-twenties, twenty-seven Matt would later learn.
“Matthew,” William said, nodding towards tall guy. “This is Vincent.”
“You can call me ‘Vince,’” the guy said to Matt. He had a deep, sexy voice. He pointed to the lipstick smear on Matt’s chest. “I believe that’s my mark. I always mark my property.”
Matt recognized Vince’s eyes. He was Bella without her makeup or costume—or more accurately Bella was just Vince’s drag persona. And, minus the 3-inch heels and 18-inch wig, Vince was a manageable height.
Cue the song, “I’ve Had the Time of My Life.” The last song in the movieDirty Dancing.
Vince took Matt’s hand, much as Patrick Swayze took Jennifer Gray’s in the famous “Nobody puts Baby in a corner” scene. Coaxed Matt out of his chair.
Pulled Matt close to him, with his hand on the small of Matt’s back. Gazed into Matt’s eyes for the opening lyric.
Took Matt’s right hand, clasped it. Moved his other hand up to Matt’s shoulders and maneuvered him through a head and shoulder roll.
Moved behind Matt and caressed a hand down Matt’s face and chest, stopping at his hip during the female vocals.
The audience began clapping in rhythm with the beat.
By the time the song ended, Matt was swooning over Vince. Would have borne his children had that been an option. Eagerly followed him to his room (south-facing second floor, overlooking the parking lot, which was its own swarming meat market).
Vince hurriedly closed the room’s curtains, explaining to Matt that open curtains/lights on signaled the guys in the meat market that you wanted company. Someone always came knocking.
Here they were in the shower, one of those hotel tub/shower combos made to accommodate one normal-sized adult. Not roomy enough for a 6’ 5” personal trainer (Vince’s day job) AND a 6’1” college soccer player. Nor were they sober enough to manage the logistics, there being a bottle of vodka in the room, and their having had a shotor two already.
They didn’t know much about each other beyond first names and the fact that both were horny.
There was a quick inventory of condoms. Matt had three. Vince had four. Both wanted to top. Vince suggested they flip-fuck. He figured they could top three times each before the 11:00 a.m. checkout time. If one of them wanted more than that, they could arm wrestle to see who got the coveted seventh condom.
Matt agreed to flip-fucking. He was a reasonable guy, willing to compromise, especially when tipsy. He agreed, though, while they were still clothed. Agreed without having seen what it was exactly he was consenting to let penetrate him.
H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T!
Matt had no idea cocks came in that size. Length and girth well past theKraken, which until that moment was the biggest cock Matt had ever seen. (Being anfCOC kid, Matt’s immediate frame of reference was Numbers 13:33. The Israelites, spying on the people of Canaan, had seen their first giants—Goliath’s ancestors. The Israelites’ takeaway was that they felt like grasshoppers compared to the Canaanites.) Matt understood the sentiment.
He had cock envy in terms of wishing he packed such a monster. He had trepidation in terms of letting that thing anywhere near his hole.
Still, a deal was a deal. Matt and Vince stumbled into the shower. Fumbled first kisses. Slowed down and merged their mouths while warmish water rained down on them.
Soaped each other up.
Matt liked the heft of Vince’s pendulous balls. Lathered them up and kneaded them clean. Decided they needed another go. Liked the way Vince’s cock showed its appreciation for all the ball-kneading, the way it swelled up and bobbed.
Vince cleaned his lipstick from Matt’s pec. Washed Matt’s hair and sculpted it into a sudsy mohawk. Gave Matt’s pubes a matching ‘do.
And, since this was a flip-fuck situation and both were eager to move on to the fucking part, at one point each had a soapy finger inside the other. That may have been what caused them to tumble sideways, pulling the shower curtain down, landing in a soggy heap on the bathroom floor.
They scrambled to the bed.
Vince toweled Matt dry, then licked his nipples until they glistened with saliva.
