Room Service
One of the first things I put in my bio when I decided to start writing erotica was "I write consensual stories". Reluctance/non-consent/dubcon has never really been something that's appealed to me. But when I was writing Fools Rush In (which is part of the StoriesOnline April Fool's contest, meaning I can't post it here yet - but I will when I can) I realised that there was a slight reluctance element to it that I was actually enjoying. And then I read Imprisoned At Her Pleasure and realised that actually it can be really hot when done well.
I didn't intend for the first gay male story I wrote to be about forced sex, but I still had fun writing it and I hope you'll enjoy reading it. I'll have some less forceful M/M content coming soon. In the meantime, here's Room Service.
Room Service
- Content: m/m, reluctance, nonconsent, anal, butt plug, forced
Just one more room, Jay told himself, pushing the cart up the narrow hallway. One more room and then he could clock off, hit the bar and spend an afternoon drinking and gazing at the girls in their bikinis by the pool. The season was wrapping up now and the hotel was quiet, but there were still a few late summer holiday-makers taking advantage of cheaper prices and quieter bars. As long as the guests were still in the rooms, Jay still had a job.
Heād thought it would be a bit more exciting to spend his summer working in an expensive resort hotel on the Mediterranean, and doubly so when heād found work at an adults-only resort. His friends with similar jobs regaled him with stories of the wild times they'd had. These places, they said, were filled with horny women, away from home and all the responsibilities that came with it, reinventing themselves by jumping on every dick they could find. In the weeks leading up to flying out he entertained himself with thoughts of nubile 19-year-olds letting loose, of older women desperate to reclaim their youth through steamy nights with hotel bartenders. Sun, sand, sex, and a healthy bank balance when he came home. What more could he want?
And maybe he would have had more luck had he been working the bar, especially if heād landed in one of the swim-up pool bars. The guys working there spent their days chatting up giggling girls in bikinis, over-pouring their drinks, closing the bar on a whim to go and get a sneaky blowjob on the tennis courts that nobody was using at this time of year. Jay desperately wished that was him.
But no. Heād landed a job as a cleaner, somehow. He spent his days in the dark, empty corridors of the hotel, mopping floors and making beds while everyone else sunned themselves outside. The most action heād had was finding a used condom in a bathroom bin, or sliding his cart past locked doors from behind which the sounds of muted fucking filtered out, Do Not Disturb signs hanging limply from the handles.
He let himself into the last room, knocking to announce himself before propping the door open with his cleaning trolley.
āHousekeeping,ā he called, his voice echoing off the marble and glass. āAnybody here?ā