Fetish Galore

I supposed he didn’t mean for that to sound as it did, but it gave me a lurch of arousal anyway.

As I followed Rollo up the stairs to the balcony, I watched his two bulbous butt cheeks roll and bounce against each other, and I was sure he wasn’t wearing any briefs.

He took me to a fine room overlooking the pool and San Juan below, with a four-poster bed and all done in white muslin. The bathroom was marble and the tub had room for all three of us—or at least that was my first thought. I’d had no intention of going into heat like this, but my best of intentions had always been a bit fleeting.

When he had set my bags down, handling them effortlessly like they were feather pillows, and had done the usual bell hop’s circumnavigation of the room opening curtains and showing me what worked what, he turned and smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you . . . Ty . . . anything else at all?”

“No not now, thanks,” I said—even though it wasn’t what I wanted to say at all. I had noticed before that he was studded. He had a stud in his tongue I’d never seen before and I had no idea how he managed to eat with it. It was a small ball, but it was on a stem protruding from the center of his tongue—sticking out a half inch or more. And he had rings pierced at both of the nipples on his heavily muscled chest. I immediately found myself wondering if he had a cock stud or ring too—and, if so, how big—how well I could feel it if he fucked me.

I came back from the reverie in embarrassment and found that he was still standing there, expectant and smiling.