Chapter 1

Enrique eyed-up the overstuffed guy at the hotel bar: he was in his late twenties, swigging beer and inhaling multiple portions of greasy pub food. Bulging love handles and rolls of fat were stuffed into an overstretched long-sleeve t-shirt, which had ridden up slightly to reveal a chunky, pale lower back. His fat ass spilled over the sides of the barstool, leading Enrique to wonder whether it could hold the big boy without buckling. He smiled at the wicked thought as he approached the doughy blond with a basket of chicken strips and fries.

The greedy guest was an angelic beauty, with full lips, handsome features, and short, well-styled blond hair. His style of dress, his easy confidence, his food and drink choices—all of it reminded Enrique of a college athlete who had gone massively, deliciously soft. Checking out (and chatting up) hunky tourists and overgrown businessmen was already the best part of Enrique’s new server job.

This porky guy was named Rob, and Enrique learned that he was on a five-day business trip. Over the course of those five days, he had plenty of opportunities to witness Rob’s displays of gluttony. Just like his first night, Rob ended the following three nights swigging beer and devouring copious amounts of junk food. Enrique pictured the buttons of Rob’s dress-shirt struggling harder and harder as each day of his trip added to his significant paunch.

When Rob didn’t appear at the bar on the fifth night, Enrique started to worry that he had already left. However, when a room service order arrived for chicken strips, nachos, mozzarella sticks, and a range of other fattening treats, Enrique had a suspicion whose room it might be going to.

He decided he had to deliver the order himself. The timing was perfect: his last table had just left, and he was getting ready to go on break before the next rush. When he saw his coworker, Hannah, approaching the room service cart, he quickly stepped in front of her. “Oh, hey, I’ll deliver this,” he said. “Just… some guys can be real creeps.”

Hannah, who was a conventionally-attractive college girl, smiled. “Aw, Enrique,” she cooed. “You’re too thoughtful.”

He shrugged, thinking about his secret, devious purpose. Some guys… “I’m gonna go on break in a minute, anyway, so the timing is perfect,” he said.

Hannah stepped aside, and Enrique wheeled the cart out of the kitchen and towards the staff elevator. He reached the sixth floor, and approached room 611 like a royal suitor bearing gifts.

He was delighted, but not surprised, when Rob answered the door. “Room service,” Enrique said.

“Amazing,” Rob answered, his eyes glazing over at the sight of the cart covered in gleaming silver trays. He took a sip of the beer that he was drinking, and stepped aside to let Enrique enter.

Enrique unclipped the sides of the cart, folding them up to create a round tabletop. He locked the wheels, spread out the silver trays, and stepped back. Smiling at Rob, Enrique asked, “Will that be all, sir?”

Rob looked lustful. Enrique eyed him: his dress pants fit snugly around his wide hips and thick thighs, and his shirt was exactly as overworked as Enrique had imagined. The buttons pulled apart over the widest parts of his monster gut, revealing a white undershirt that had clearly ridden up to expose a few inches of belly between the stressed bottom buttons. “I closed a big deal today,” Rob said. “I was hoping they’d send you.”

Enrique approached, muscular arms folded across his broad, strong chest. “And why’s that?” he asked, with an arrogant smirk. Because you want this hard body? he thought. Because you dream about guys with asses like mine?

“You know exactly why,” Rob answered, proving that he, too, could be arrogant. He rested a hand on his stomach, giving it a few gentle pats. “If something at the restaurant looks good, I want to try it. Even if it’s not on the menu.”

Enrique’s crotch stirred. For this glutton, even men were something to be devoured and consumed; sex wasn’t so different from filling his belly. Enrique closed the remaining distance between them until they were face-to-face. Or more exactly, until Rob’s fat gut was pressed against Enrique’s flat stomach. With a decisive move, he reached around and cupped one of Rob’s big ass-cheeks, pulling him into a forceful kiss.

As Enrique bounced and shook the fat of Rob’s thick rump, Rob set about unbuttoning Enrique’s uniform, revealing his lean, hardened physique. Using his free hand, Enrique took hold of Rob’s shirt, and with a single, forceful tug, sent buttons skittering across the carpet. Rob’s blubber shook free, Enrique’s maneuver forcing his undershirt to ride even higher—all the way up to his yawning navel.

“Fuck,” Rob exhaled, pulling Enrique back into their kiss. Enrique reached down and placed a hand on the fleshy underside of Rob’s belly, his fingers slipping upwards to the hem of Rob’s woefully inadequate undershirt. Enrique yanked the shirt up, making Rob’s gelatinous gut quiver. Enrique pulled back and took it in. It was a sight to behold: fat and pale, lightly dusted with light hair and lined with prominent red stretch marks, scars in Rob’s losing battle against his own gluttonous appetite.

It was Enrique’s turn to swear. “Fuck me,” he said, using both hands to heft the soft, cushiony fat around Rob’s middle. He felt like he was kneading enough dough to keep a bakery in business.

Rob pulled back and removed what remained of his button-down and undershirt. Enrique followed his lead, marvelling at the contrast between Rob’s massive white body and his shredded brown one. Rob unbuttoned his pants, and the weight of his gut undid the struggling zipper for him. He slipped a thumb under the waistband of his underwear, and pulled them down over his bulging thighs and noticeably fat upper pubic area. He placed his hands on Enrique’s hips, over his slim-fitting pants. “Take these off and bend over,” he growled.

Rob’s dick looked lost in a sea of fat. Enrique shook his head, grinning with glee. “You wanna fuck me with this?” he scoffed, grabbing hold of Rob’s fat-encased cock for emphasis. He pointed to the table, “No, I want you to eat for me. If you do a good job, then I’ll jerk you off, and we can see about some… dessert.” Enrique gestured to the bulge in his pants.

Rob hesitated. He looked uncertain. “Eat for you?”

Enrique grinned, fondling the rolls that clung to Rob’s flabby midriff. He kept his other hand around Rob’s hard dick, “Eating. You’re obviously used to it.”

Rob’s eyes searched Enrique’s. “I… you’d be into that?”

Enrique nodded, gently guiding Rob towards the bed. He pulled the table over, and sat next to his bloated fucktoy. He lifted one of the silver lids, revealing a basket of chicken strips and fries underneath. Rob kicked off his pants and underwear, leaving his obese body completely naked and exposed. Sitting, his gut spilling forward and dominating his lap, he looked especially massive. “I’ve been waiting for a guy to do this with,” Rob explained, before accepting the handful of fries Enrique fed to him.

Enrique smiled. He kept stroking and jerking, only needing a few fingers to manage Rob’s underwhelming length. His fingers brushed against Rob’s fat pad as he did his work. Rob obviously liked being fed; he licked at Enrique’s fingers, and the look on his face was pure ecstasy. His breathing was getting heavier from the combination of food and sex.

Enrique paused, not wanting things to go too fast. He unbuttoned his own pants and dropped them around his ankles, his sizable, uncut cock standing at attention. He switched from stroking Rob’s member to his own.

He rubbed his boner against Rob’s pillar-like thigh, pressing food to Rob’s lips as fast as he could swallow it. “You didn’t use to be this fat,” Enrique said. It wasn’t a question.

“I was a diver,” Rob said, through a full mouth. “I won a medal in college.”

And now you’re a prize hog, Enrique thought. “No shit,” he said. “What happened?”

Rob swallowed. Enrique pushed another handful of fries at him, and Rob complied. “I got a cushy office job. Too many business trips like these.”

He could picture Rob as a fit, lean diver, fresh out of the pool. He could also picture him in a suit, gorging his way from a six-pack to a full-blown keg at countless hotels and airport bars. “I think you like it, though,” Enrique said. He moved his hand from his dick to Rob’s chest. He cupped a thick man-tit, feeling the complete give of the fat under his fingers. He spread his fingers over Rob’s vast nipples. “How big would you say these are? B cup? C?”

Rob’s face flushed red. “Fucking hell,” was all he managed, as Enrique shoved a chicken strip into his mouth.

“Definitely C,” Enrique speculated, as he jiggled Rob’s breast fat. “You’re a regular Victoria’s Secret model.”

Rob’s face was beet red, and Enrique relished how absolutely humiliated this would-be top was becoming. Still, he kept eating, and groaned as Enrique returned to his handjob. “Did you have a big dick before you got so fat?” Enrique asked. “Did guys fight each other for a chance to suck it? Those same guys couldn’t even find it anymore.”

Rob groaned again through a full mouth as Enrique stroked and pleasured his member. He took a swig of beer, gazing at Enrique’s ripped body with an almost delirious look of pleasure on his face. He may not have expected Enrique to dominate and humiliate him, but Enrique was going to make sure he took it, liked it, and said thank you.

Rob’s dinner was about half-eaten when Enrique realized that his break was coming to an end. With a devious grin in Rob’s direction, he started jerking faster, manipulating the head of Rob’s cock with his thumb and forefinger.

Rob whined in response, and Enrique kept going. A moment later, Rob shot his load, coating his fat pad and Enrique’s fingers.

Enrique got to his feet, pulling the table/cart aside decisively. He turned, pressing his throbbing erection towards Rob’s face. Rob looked hesitant, but Enrique’s dick in his mouth resolved any doubts. The sucking quickly turned enthusiastic. Rob’s cheeks and double chin quivered as he took Enrique’s length. He was using talents for slurping and licking that he must have practiced before, probably on huge helpings of dessert.

It didn’t take much longer for Enrique to feel a familiar build-up. As he started coming, he pressed his fingers into the fat of Rob’s tits, pushing him onto his back. Rob swallowed a bit of Enrique’s load, but most of it coated his expansive belly and protruding moobs.

Enrique looked at the whale on the bed, panting and smeared with cum. As he lay on his back, his massive tits flowed out to the side, and his belly rose high in the air. It was a sight to behold. Enrique imagined sending a picture to his old diving teammates—what would they say about the behemoth he had become? Enrique wondered how a guy not much older than himself could let himself go so completely.

Enrique quickly pulled up his pants, shoving his dick inside and buttoning them easily. He picked up his uniform shirt and slipped it on, working through the buttons quickly. Rob was still on his back, breathing heavily. He managed to heft himself upright, blubber spilling forward in front of him. “Thanks,” he said, as Enrique turned to leave.

The lean server grabbed a chicken finger from the platter by the bed. Some tips are better than cash, he thought, grinning as he closed the door behind him.

~

After his encounter with Rob, Enrique found himself settling into a comfortable new routine at the hotel. He worked long hours, happy to be saving money, while his friends on the kitchen staff kept him very well-fed. Enrique was raised better than to turn down a free meal, so he ate whatever he was offered.

All of that generosity was having an unintended side-effect, though. As Enrique eyed himself in the mirror, he caught sight of a definite roll of chub peeking over the top of his waistband. He’d have to work on that.

He didn’t, thought. The only work he did was on expanding it, turning a tiny little roll into a definite starter belly, and then into a noticeable gut. The first time he went shopping for larger clothes, he tried to play it off as spending some of the money he was making. But his denial could only last for so long.

Enrique sighed as he struggled to close his work pants. Did he really have to get a larger size again, already? He looked in the mirror, dismayed at how chunky he had gotten. His pecs were significantly softer, and his arms, though still large, were less defined. Swivelling to his side, he noticed that his butt, always prominent, seemed to have rounded out even more than his middle. Frowning at his slight but marked pear shape, Enrique determined that he would definitely start working out again. Very soon—probably this week or the next. Definitely by the end of the month.

Towards the end of his shift a couple of months later, the restaurant manager caught Enrique’s attention and gestured him into the small office next to the kitchen. It was little more than a closet with a desk, chair, and shelf. Inside, the manager—a short, wiry man with the demeanor of a drill sergeant—practically threw a shirt at Enrique.

Enrique swallowed. He knew his replacement shirt was already getting uncomfortably tight, but he thought he could wear it for a few more shifts until he managed to lose some weight. He looked at the new shirt. The tag said XL, but it was his name stitched over the chest.

“The customers can see half your gut in that shirt. It’s distracting,” his boss said. “Try not to outgrow this one so fast, or the next one is coming out of your paycheck.”

Feeling heat in his cheeks, Enrique nodded. He tugged fruitlessly at the hem of his current uniform shirt, noting that it wouldn’t cover a single extra inch of pudgy brown flesh. The way the buttons peeked apart over the widest part of his stomach’s curve almost reminded him of Rob. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Enrique mumbled, as the manager practically shoved him out of the office.

A few weeks later, Enrique’s friend Aiden approached him. “I fixed a couple burgers for you tonight, big guy,” Aiden said. He was one of the cooks, and a particularly generous one. He was just wrapping up his shift for the evening, and Enrique barely had time to say thank you before Aiden clapped him on the back and slipped away.

Big guy? Enrique looked in the mirror behind the bar, stunned at how soft his face looked, and how large his body had gotten. The mirror must have been warped; there was no way his stomach looked that big. And that ass… no, Enrique definitely did not have an ass that big. He faced forward again, looking at his wide hips in his dress pants. And despite his boss’s warning, it seemed that each shift left his belly looking more and more constricted.

His stomach growled, and he checked his watch. He was busy—the late rush would be starting soon, and his burgers were getting cold.

The months slipped by, and Enrique made no effort to visit the gym or rein in his appetite. If anything, he found his end-of-shift dinners getting larger, often accompanied by sides, soft drinks and desserts.

When it was his turn to pull apart the tables after a group function one evening, Enrique realized how out of shape he had become. He wiped sweat from his brow and rested a hand on his gut, leaning back to catch his breath.

“Uh, missing something?” Aiden asked, wearing a devious smirk. He held up a small white button. Enrique looked down, and realized that his shirt had busted open while he was moving furniture.

He felt heat in his face. This couldn’t be possible. “I—” he exhaled, realizing that the light exercise had left him panting. “That’s… mine.”

“It’s management’s fault,” Aiden said. “Cheap-ass shirts… what do they expect?”

Enrique rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, knowing that his protruding belly was getting difficult for even the sturdiest 2XL shirt to contain.

“I’m gonna go complain to the boss. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you pay for that,” Aiden said. Enrique had told Aiden about their boss’s threat before. He stormed off before Enrique could stop him.

Sure enough, Enrique got an even larger shirt and a full paycheck, with no comments from management.

As usual, fitting clothes and an enabling group of coworkers allowed him to continue his gluttony unabated. And continue he did. As his gym-hardened physique retreated deeper into his memory, it got easier to indulge even his greediest cravings. He accepted that he wasn’t going to look like a male model any time soon, but figured that his body would reach a natural balance any day now. Maybe he would even start to lose weight.

However, when he eventually caught sight of his shirtless body in his bedroom mirror, he had to do a double take. Maybe his memory was playing tricks on him, but… had Rob’s belly even looked that big? He trailed a hand along the curve of his ample butt for what felt like ages. No, there was no memory problem: Enrique definitely had more junk in the trunk than the mammoth ex-jock he had seduced two years before.

He looked on in utter shock. His sharp, angular jawline had been buried under a thick double chin, with a third seemingly on the way. His cheeks were round and chubby. His collar bones were hidden, and layers of fat turned his strong, broad shoulders into a pair of sloping curves.

Speaking of sloping curves, his tits were large and undeniable, with brown nipples stretched wide by the huge accumulation of mammary fat. They bulged onto his ponderous gut, which hung over his waistband by several inches, and which curved into a pair of massive love handles at the sides, framed by multiple quivering rolls. Stretchmarks embedded themselves everywhere, from the expansive spare tire hanging from Enrique’s midriff to the flab underneath his arms. They were the only hint that he had ever been a slender jock; that his transformation into a massive fatass was still fresh.

He decided to go to the gym and step on a scale, to figure out exactly, numerically, how much damage he had done. Then, he could start working out and get some of it off. He knew the number was going to be high. As Enrique approached the hotel gym, his initial thought was a 50 pound increase. He hadn’t set foot in a gym since shortly after his tryst with Rob. As he entered, Enrique guessed that around 70 pounds might be more realistic.

Seeing the hard-bodied hotel guests on the exercise machines, Enrique felt massively obese. He approached the gym’s scales. As he stepped up and began to adjust the large counter weight, he only hoped that he had gained less than a hundred pounds. The needle of the balance beam didn’t budge as he passed 200 pounds, or 220. His mouth grew dry as he slid it past 250. 280 and 300 passed by. The needle didn’t began to dip until he reached 330.

Enrique swallowed. He slid the small weight along the scale, and as he landed on 338 pounds, the needle came to rest in a horizontal position. He thought he was going to faint. He hadn’t just piled on 100 pounds, or even 150 pounds. His new weight was close to double what he had been when he started at the hotel. He slipped his hands under the prominent shelf that was his gut, stunned at its heft. Lifting and shaking it caused his white t-shirt to ride up, exposing an enormous slab of hairy brown flesh.

Realizing that he was playing with his fat gut in public, Enrique dropped his hands, yanked down his shirt and shot nervous glances around the gym. He spied an Adonis-like man on a nearby rowing machine, who smirked in Enrique’s direction. Feeling like a colossal spectacle, Enrique waddled out of the gym as fast as he could, the fat of his rump bouncing behind him as he fled.

Once he was out of his ill-fitting exercise clothes and into his less-ill-fitting uniform, Enrique felt a little better. Soon after he started his shift, the usual demands of work pulled his mind even further away. He served tables with his usual charm, collecting healthy tips as the evening went on. A few hours in, however, his boss motioned him over.

“Can you run this up to the Imperial Suite?” the manager asked, gesturing to a silver room service cart.

“Of course, sir,” Enrique answered, knowing that he may soon be asking for yet another new uniform. He pushed the cart to the staff elevator, and rode to the top floor of the hotel.

He gave his shirt a slight tug before knocking on the door. To his surprise, the Adonis from the rowing machine answered the door.

“Room service,” Enrique said, feeling renewed embarrassment. The guy was even more conventionally attractive up close: tall, perfect v-shaped physique, handsome features, neat brown hair… Enrique tended to go for bigger guys, but this regulation hunk was making his heart flutter.

The guy stepped aside without a word, allowing Enrique to bring the tray in. As he pushed it into the common room of the large suite, he heard the door close and lock behind him. His chest tightened, and he could feel his palms growing sweaty. He hadn’t fucked a hotel guest in over a year, or any guy in close to six months. And Enrique knew for a fact that he had spent those months blowing up like a balloon, packing on the pounds like a prize porker.

He uncovered the two plates, placing the lids aside. A chicken salad with vinaigrette on one plate, a thick slice of chocolate cake on the other. He looked around the large, fashionable suite. He was standing next to a desk where a bouquet of lilies was posed in a delicate vase.

“I was hoping they’d send you.”

Feeling déjà vu, Enrique looked up. The man was leaning against the wall, and he had started to unbutton his slim-fitting dress shirt. “Me?” Enrique asked.

The man nodded. He continued to undo the buttons, until his waxed, ripped torso was clearly visible. “I saw you at the bar a couple of nights ago. And at the gym today.”

Enrique swallowed, unsure of what to say. The guy advanced towards him, filling the silence. “You didn’t stay for a workout, though. You left in a big hurry.”

Enrique felt heat in his face. “I had work,” he said, a half-truth. “What’s your name?”

There were only a few inches separating them now. “Will,” he said. “My family name is on the hotel.”

Enrique’s eyes widened. He worked for a massive hotel chain, and the dynasty that owned that chain had more money and power than Enrique could even comprehend.

Will rested one hand on Enrique’s moob, his fingers trailing along the stitching of the monogram, “And you’re… Enrique.” His other hand slid down to Enrique’s underbelly, the lower curve of his gut that no shirt he owned could properly cover. “I was under the impression that servers were supposed to keep their shirts tucked in.”

Enrique looked towards the floor, unable to see it  under his pronounced gut. “I—You’re right.”

Will’s hands roamed along his body. He leaned in, his breath hot in Enrique’s ear. “You wanna explain why your uniform isn’t up to code?”

“Because it doesn’t fit,” Enrique admitted. He knew exactly what game Will was playing; he had played it himself. He had never been on this end of the shaming before, but Enrique was surprised to find his cock stirring in his pants. His breath was fast as Will felt him up. He kept his hands at his sides, desperate to reach out and touch the man in front of him.

“‘Because it doesn’t fit,’” Will repeated back to him. He clicked his tongue. “What are we going to do about that?”

Before Enrique could respond, Will planted a forceful kiss on his lips. He kissed back, allowing his hands to roam along Will’s torso, feeling muscles that Enrique couldn’t even flex anymore.

Will had an almost feral look in his eyes as he grabbed the lapels of Enrique’s shirt and ripped it open with his bare hands. Will pressed his lips against Enrique’s again. Will’s lustful fingers immediately attacked Enrique’s vast torso, tweaking nipples, fondling rolls, cupping and wobbling the expanse of fat piled onto his midriff. It was like Will had a dozen hands; Enrique felt himself melting into the arms of a strong, capable lover.

“I’ve had the salad at the restaurant too many times,” Will said, after he broke away from their kiss. He grabbed hold of Enrique’s oversized rump, pinching it roughly. His voice was gruff. “I wanna toss your salad.”

Enrique had never had his ass eaten before. He was exclusively a top; his ass wasn’t usually the one getting played with. Enrique felt Will’s fingers undoing the beleaguered button of his pants, and he glanced around nervously as his fly was undone. “Maybe we could just do hand stuff.”

Will was grinning. He grabbed the waistband of Enrique’s pants and started yanking them down, encountering resistance from the massive thighs overstuffing the fabric. Nevertheless, he managed to pull Enrique’s pants and underwear down to his knees. From his present angle, with his paunch in the way, Enrique couldn’t see his dick. But he knew how much of it had already been consumed by pubic fat. His cock was probably half the size it had been when he had shoved into Rob’s greedy mouth.

Will moved forward, simultaneously pushing into Enrique and swivelling the big boy’s hips around. Before he even realized what Will had done, Enrique was facing the desk with his back to the jock.

Will moved quickly. He pushed Enrique’s back forward, bending him over the desk. Enrique’s colossal behind, his most prominent asset, jutted out behind him like a pair of curving hillsides. Huge quantities of blubber covered his glutes, creating a monumentally large but still impressively round bubble butt. Will slapped and bounced the two massive mounds of lard, and Enrique’s heart raced.

He felt Will spreading his giant cheeks, and then shock as Will’s tongue slipped inside his hole. He inhaled, intense pleasure washing over him. As his muscular lover kneaded and devoured his ass, Enrique started to stroke his throbbing cock. He gasped, his hips bucking with pleasure and causing his massive ass to smack against Will’s face. Will only growled with delight, and resumed his work.

A moment later, Will leaned over and whispered in Enrique’s ear. “Are you ready for the main event?”

Enrique’s stomach tightened. He was unbelievably aroused by the man taking charge of his body, but this was all new to him. As he opened his mouth to respond, he saw Will shoving something towards his lips. Chocolate and frosting smeared Enrique’s face as he bit into a large chunk of the restaurant’s chocolate cake. As he chewed and swallowed, enjoying the familiar flavour and the complete hedonism of the moment, he heard Will undoing his belt.

Enrique turned around, and saw that Will had unleashed his large, throbbing cock. It stood almost straight up. Enrique’s eyes boggled. Will wasn’t going to try to fuck him with all that… was he?

As if in answer, Will spat into his palm and started rubbing it up and down his shaft. After a moment, it was slick with a thin layer of spit and precum. It didn’t look like all that much lubrication to Enrique.

He started to straighten his back and turn around, but Will’s firm hands pushed him back down again. A moment later, Will was pushing more food on him. “I’ve never done this before,” Enrique confessed through a full mouth.

“I’ll be gentle.” Will’s voice was sweet, but as the first finger plunged into Enrique’s crack, he could hear a distinctly sadistic edge. Between the strong hands on his body and the steady stream of food, his nerves started to give way to relaxation and arousal. Will’s fingers were working his way around inside him, and a moment later, Enrique inhaled as he felt the tip.

“Fuck, what an ass,” Will growled, as he worked himself in with practiced skill. Enrique moaned, feeling a fullness inside him that was new and all-encompassing. Will’s hands were all over his gigantic backside, Will’s huge length plumbing deeper into his waiting hole. Enrique bit his lip to keep from crying out; the lack of lubrication and his total inexperience was making this bareback ride a whirlwind of pain and pleasure.

The pleasure finally started to overtake the pain when Will pressed his way into Enrique’s g-spot. Enrique inhaled sharply, and Will pushed more cake into his greedy mouth. He chewed it carefully, not wanting to choke as Will railed his hard body—and harder cock—against Enrique’s lard.

“That’s the whole slice, fat ass,” Will growled, his gyrating hips sending waves of pleasure shooting through Enrique’s enormous body. Will’s hands were all over him, kneading and squeezing his vast collection of rolls. Enrique was panting now, his blubbery chest rising and falling from the exertion. He ground himself into Will, and the combined motion of their hips, coupled with Enrique’s steady jerking, sent a final jolt of pleasure shooting through his body. An orgasm was building inside him. Will moved deeper and faster, almost frantic as his fingers rubbed Enrique’s flesh.

Enrique came, cum glazing his knuckles and spurting onto the carpet. He arched his back, almost knocking Will of balance, as he cried out with pleasure. Will was about to cum, too. With a primal groan, he swung his arm out, knocking the chocolate-smeared plate and the charming vase of lilies onto the floor, where they shattered. He pulled Enrique around, so that Will’s ass was against the desk, his tight body pinned beneath Enrique’s insurmountable bulk. Enrique slumped into Will, crushing his lover’s hips against the desktop. Will groaned, almost animal, as his hips bucked and he came.

The two men were silent for a moment, their heavy breathing the only sound in the elegant suite. Slowly, gently, Will extricated himself. Enrique winced, feeling newfound respect for all the men he had topped for.

“So… how about I call that manager of yours and tell him you’ll need the rest of the evening off?”

Enrique turned around, noticing the mess of glass and flowers on the floor. He looked at the gorgeous, wild-eyed rich boy who had destroyed his uniform, eaten his ass, rode him bareback, and force-fed him. It was the freakiest, most degrading sex of his life. And Will wanted more?

Enrique smiled: “Order me a few more slices of that cake, and you’ve got a deal.”