All my platforms know that I’m away for three months, so my responses to comments and messages will be much slower than usual. I generally glance through my DMs everywhere but leave the comments for another time. September is dedicated to editing new content that I’ve filmed over the summer on Kala and answering comments/DMs that I put off.
Everything looks good.
I smile at the little report telling me that the highest viewed and commented on video of the week is one with my husband. All of my platforms know I’m married and in an open relationship. There’s something about seeing my authentic relationship with the man I love above all else that must translate onto the screen because my audience eats it up.
While I’m always very careful to never show my husband’s face, it’s not necessarily a secret who he is. I’m a large donor to Rainbow Dorset University, where Alka is employed as a soccer coach. My creator name, Honey Sin, is on their homepage with all their other large sponsors, and I also attend all of Alka’s games.
Perhaps the biggest reason I’m often recognized at his school is because it’s the hub of LGBTQIA+ students and faculty. If there’s anyone straight who attends or works there, I’d be surprised. Which means, chances are, my face has shown up on their feeds. And my person shows up at Alka’s games, where we don’t pretend to be anything other than what we are—a happily married couple.
I never tease the videos with my husband.Ever. They can only be found on my ReachMe account. I employ a lawyer to do primarily one thing and that’s to search for any pirated copies of me and Alka on the wide web of porn sites and get them taken down. I don’t think he’d lose his job if someone brought them to the faculty. His face is never shown, after all. But I’d rather not chance his career.
Okay. That’s enough real-life work for now. I log off all the platforms then the computer. Time to get back into vacation mode.
As I leave the technology hut, I chant in my head the time and day that I’m meeting Ono. Without my phone to remind me, I’m liable to forget. That’s the trade we make for choosing the Isle of Kala for vacation.
The Isle of Kala is the ultimate gay resort. An island chain comprising of seven islands that are all owned by a single company. The family built the resort as an ultimate escape for themselves almost two decades ago when it was difficult to find a place where they could justbewithout suffering judgment from homophobes.
Its notoriety grew exponentially when the world started to learn about it, which also meant that something had to be done about the press sneaking on, trying to “ruin” celebrities who weren’t out.
The Isle of Kala is now completely technology free for all guests. The staff have hand radios to communicate, and there’s the ability to make purchases with credit cards, but otherwise, there’s no technology that’s not controlled by the resort.
There are tech huts everywhere that guests can stop in. They’re lined with six or eight private booths with computers that are free for use.
There’s a movie theater where we can watch television or movies on one of ten screens. There are hired photographers employed by the resort to take candid photos of guests and a place to purchase them at any time during your stay.
However, we are not allowed to haveanytechnology on us at all, not even a smart watch, which means I’m going to be calling the concierge to schedule a Tuesday morning reminder about my noon meeting.
Every single person who steps foot on the islands signs an NDA, then they’re stripped of all technology. It’s locked away in a BioScan locker only accessible via the owner’s fingerprint.
This is a place where you’re allowed to be without any outside concerns at all. Even if you’re recognized, there’s no proof that you’re here. It’s the ultimate safe space.
It’s also a big fucking island with volcanoes, endless parties, infinite food, thousands of bodies, nude beaches, a variety of live music, and an eighty-page book of excursions to keep you busy during your stay.
We’re staying in the same bungalow that we always book on the sandy beaches of Anapos. We constantly say we want to try other islands and their accommodations, but we’ve rented the same one every single summer since our first trip here seven years ago.
It’s a one-bedroom sitting right on the beach with a deck that overlooks the ocean. We have a private pool and a yard surrounded by exotic foliage. We also hire a part-time butler to bring us food, book our excursions, arrange our transportation, change our linens, and take care of any random shit that we can think of.
I find Alka on the deck when I get back. After calling the concierge to schedule my reminder (on a phone that can only make calls within the resort), I head out to him.
Alka’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met. He’s all kinds of hard, lean muscles with the body of a soccer player. Obviously. He has bleach-blond hair and vivid green eyes. He’s one of those guys who, even when he’s completely relaxed like he is now, you can still trace the prominent lines of his veins on his arms and stomach.
It’s hot. Hands down.
He’s wearing sports shorts, the long kind that you’d see basketball players wear. Or guys who go to the gym. He also has on a tight white tee that I’m confident is a boy’s medium. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be that tight.
I’ll never forget the first time I met this man ten years ago at a fucking gas station of all places. I was so hypnotized that I nearly overflowed my gas tank as I stared at him. I’d been sodamn confident that he was an adult content creator too. He justlookedlike he could captivate an audience.
He kind of laughed at me when I asked him out that first time. However, I didn’t let him leave without giving me his number. I even made him stand right there while I sent him a text to make sure he didn’t give me a random number.
Fortunately, he thought that it was cute, not creepy, which is the common impression people have when we share the story of how we met.
But everything just clicked so easily. He’s polyamorous, so having an open relationship to accommodate my adult content career wasn’t something that bothered him at all. He’s a college soccer coach and damn good at his job. It was never hard to take an interest in his career because watching him work is magical.
When I see him actually get on the field to kick around and lead his team… Well, it’s mesmerizing.
I never thought I could love someone so much. I never thought someone could just fit so damn perfectly into my life, like they were always meant to be there.
Stepping up behind him, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my mouth to the back of his shoulder. Alka turns his head in my direction and smiles. “The sexy world of Honey Sin still in operation?” he asks.
