“Bingo, mon ami.” He was wearing one of the brightest smiles I have ever seen, probably the main reason why black outs in the Philippines are eminent. “I, the most exquisite Amadeo Lucas of Québec, son of the renowned art tycoon Pierre Lucas and the Honorable Marie Shavonne Beauséjour-Lucas, member of the Senate, have flown across the four prestigious provinces of the beloved monarchy of Canada . . .” He trailed off, his tone soft and sad. “Only to get rejected by my one true love.”

“Kaizer.”

“Ah, yes! My beloved, his saccharinity and roughness felt sweet and sour on my tongue. Oh, mon cœur! Mon cœur si froid et pâle.” And he rambles tons of French vernacularities that my mind could not catch up. I shush his mouth, hoping to stop him from speaking, except he licked it like some good ol’ slut. I’m no stranger to this kind of horniness, but this is next level, a line one should not step on. “My, that work of art tastes better than I thought,” he said.

I quickly retracted my fingers from him as I found it of no use anymore. I was stunned to hear that from his mouth. Even those I have met before had not shown this kind of indecency toward me, or maybe it’s that they want to make a good impression on me before becoming their midnight snack. This has to stop.

“Amadeo,” I said. 

“I’m envious of how Kaizer–”

“Amadeo!” I stood up from the stool, hoping to stop him from speaking more. I do not like the way where this will go.

“–moans your name every time–!” 

He never got to finish his sentence. From outside of the counter, someone handed over two goblets of mojito topped with strawberries. Oh, he’s just in time because I was about to clench my fist and let it kiss Amadeo’s unblemished face–I don’t care whether his mom is a member of the Senate! He placed it with finality in front of us as if halting what seemed to be a below-the-belt conversation. I took a look at the man, and it was the same person wearing the black hoodie. But something’s not right.

“I prefer that you drink this mojito and not spout things to Arthur.”

That voice . . . Kaizer? I took a look at the guy in the black hoodie that confirmed my deep-seated thoughts. This is rather getting suspicious by the minute.

“Oui, mon amour.” Eager as a slave following his master, Amadeo took the mojito and took a seat away from me, scared of what Kaizer might do to him. I let out a smirk before sitting down. 

“So, should we unpack a few things left unsaid, Kaizer?” I cross my legs as I want to hear more about some juicy information straight from the tap. But knowing Kaizer, he did not budge any tea about what Amadeo had said.

Instead, he just slumped his head on the counter, asking the waiter for one more. Beer, perhaps. The bartender at the side complied and took the empty glass in his hand to fill it up. Oh no, you don’t, Kaizer, I said to myself. Knowing you, you’re not as tolerant as I am with this liquid enemy. I immediately took the drink he was supposed to take and gobbled it whole, even if it burned my throat badly.

Do you know how rubbing alcohol, or any alcohol at all, felt like mint in the mouth when it touched the skin? One time, out of desperation to try alcohol at such a young age, I drank a teaspoon of rubbing alcohol. And no, it was not a good idea . . . at all. Before it could even reach the trachea, I spat the shit out, irritated by the discomfort the goddamn thing it gave me. I never told this to anyone. If my father would read this shit, do ask your son if he’s still okay. I switched off to an actual drinking alcohol like vodka since then.

“You goddamn shi–Arthur, that’s not your typical vodka, geez!” Kaizer shouted as he realized someone had taken his drink. He was wide awake and horrified about it.

Too late, you fucking bitch, I muttered in my head as the heat from the alcohol is spreading like wildfire in my body. I kept repeatedly asking the bartender if they could turn the AC up a notch, and they said it was already at its highest point. By this time, I am actually starting to reach the limit of my tolerance. Before I felt everything was being sucked by the void, I fell on something soft, comforting me to the quiet abode of exhaustion. I don’t know if it was a hallucination, but I felt like some angel shouted my name, trying to save me into the fall from grace.

I had a dream. I don’t know if it’s everything I wanted, but it was a very naughty dream. A dream capable of ruining my entire career or even my life a thousandfold.

For some reason I was in a room, colors blurry, visions unclear. Some guy held me, and I kissed him without any thoughts whatsoever. I can’t decode his face from all the fuzziness of the vodka. Yes, maybe it’s the vodka, Arthur. And if it’s a dream then anything I do is within only the boundaries of my imagination. 

I pressed my lips against him, his hands above him as I held him with much force. He tried saying my name but my lips drown him to the abyss. I sucked his neck, leaving a bruise so red. Down my kisses unto his clothed body, and I undressed him quickly before sucking and biting many a part of his body. Everything. In this dream, I want to take possession of this person. Maybe only in this dream. I went down and down until I got to his pants. I looked at him, trying to ask if it was alright if I did the deed, to which he nodded yes. 

With my mouth, I unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, then unwrapped the long, thick rod of Asclepius that slapped my face. My, this is a nice treat. I guess this guy had something to brag about, after all. I gently licked the tip of his rod, wild moans escaping through that sexy mouth of his. His long, juicy cock is throbbing, asking if I could go deeper into the caves of the void. I badly wanted to tease him more, and I started licking the hole in the rod. His sword twitched wildly, and moans of pleasure and arousal were all I could hear.

I licked the base of his glans. He tried to take control of the scene, but with me holding his hands tight, I did not oblige. Slowly, I took in half of his length. His girth became a bit of a problem because I needed to open my mouth wider than normal, as I did not want to scrape his shaft with my teeth, as pointy as it was already. In and out, his dick went inside my mouth as I controlled the pacing. He could not do anything but only moan in pleasure. I tried taking his whole length, but it suffocated me as I could not breathe any further. I concentrated, slowly taking him whole before going in and out of pleasure. He said he was close to coming, to his trying to hasten the pace. I do not intend to give him the pleasure to do so.

I stopped giving him head, went up to his face, and kissed him, my saliva mixing with his as we swordfight using our tongues. Slowly, we went to bed to continue the business. We kissed tenderly, feeling the heat and sweat of each other’s bodies. As he lay down on the bed, I sat on him, entrapping him in my legs. I bit the end of my shirt while I unbuttoned my pants to release the roaring dragon that intended to breathe fire when angry. Confusion was evident in the guy’s face. I reassured him that it wouldn’t hurt. I’d be gentle. Among others, these three words are obviously a lie. There was never such a thing as gentle when you’re in the heat of the night. Not even the holiest of the holy could promise gentle care for this kind of act.

I took a condom from the drawer beside the bed and ripped it with my mouth quickly. The size was around 2XL. Fuck, this won’t fit. He told me that that ain’t going anywhere, not on his hole. I quickly told him it would be fine, although we both were red from it. I slowly inserted the condom up to the base of my shaft. I then removed the guy’s unzipped shorts to reveal his slightly hairy legs and hole. I licked his hole whole as I lifted his legs up high. He let out a lot of moans, but judging from his reactions, this was not his first time taking the role. After all, sans Gale, I’m more into giving than receiving.

When I felt that he was thoroughly prepared, I stopped licking and went into the main dish. Slowly his hole swallowed my dick halfway, alongside more moans. I shushed him and told him it was alright. For his sake, the moment I was midway from the base, I pushed harder, my base reaching his. His eyes shot in surprise, and he yelped a moan. I held his now flaccid cock and started rubbing it up and down so that the pleasure would still be there. I felt that his hole wanted more, but I could not give anything more–everything was inside him already! I informed him that I would be starting to move, and he nodded. I slowly took it out up to the midpart before quickly pushing right inside him. I started to move back and forth while he writhed in pleasure and pain escalating.

We have tried a lot of positions: commando, dog-style, cowboy, reverse cowboy, everything under the sun. Yet, between us, he’s the only one releasing love juices non-stop; I still have yet to reach my orgasm.

I rammed and rammed his hole as hard as possible, focusing on hitting the G-spot, not realizing that my sword was poking into his stomach. He was about to cum again, all while letting out moans of wanting more but saying otherwise. I hasten my pacing as I come closer to my climax, and when I did . . . the condom got ripped for I don’t know what reason. When I pulled out from his now tired hole, the gooey white liquid slowly streamed toward the bed. The guy fell asleep really quickly. Dizzy as he is, I, too, fell face-first to the bed, with him on the side. It felt tiring, even for a dream. I felt good.

Until a loud crash happened and awakened my sanity a-whole, sober as quick as lighting. I woke up facing the headboard of a room with a white bed. The whole room reeks of alcohol.

“Where– Where the fuck am I?” I asked myself. I looked at the bed where I rested, and it was a whole mess of shit and–wait! “Why the fuck am I naked?” I saw my dick with a broken condom on it, with leftover cum that became clear as water and viscous as glue. Hold up, did I–holy shit! It wasn’t a dream at all?

Everything from the dream zone came crashing right back at my head as I feared for my life. I tried finding my shorts, but . . . I tripped over something when I got back on my feet to grab the shorts that I had found near the door. Something yelped, “Ow! That hurts!” which widened my eyes in horror as I recognized the voice. I hope I am wrong, but God forbid, it wasn’t when I looked at where I tripped. It was a man, naked as I was, holding on to his cum-leaking ass, thinking the pain would go away.

I am flabbergasted.

“A–Arthur?” he said, when he looked at me sitting in fear near the door, horrified. Even he was horrified, too. I mean, who wouldn’t be when the one you have that one hell of a night is none other than Kaizer Licht Woodsworth, Jr., the owner of The Espresso Machine and your boss?