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ROOM WITH A POOL VIEW

Adam L. Stuart

The gaudy hotel room curtain nearly knocks the lit joint from my lips when I finally find and yank the cord to open it in search of a window to crack. It’s instantly apparent that although the first floor “pool access” rooms—like the one I was promised when I made my reservation—have sliding glass doors, the second floor “pool view” rooms—which I ended up getting due to an “unfortunate overbooking”—have sealed glass that don’t allow guests to enjoy the warm evening breeze here in beautiful downtown Burbank, California.

Fuck … I hope they weren’t bullshitting me when they promised to move me to the first ground level room that becomes available during my weekend stay. If this business trip hadn’t been so last minute I probably would have made a bigger stink, but at this point I consider myself lucky to have a pool at all, let alone a view of it.

Slowly I inhale a long toke while recalling the break-of-dawn call from my boss saying I would need to fill in for him at this sales convention in the morning. I was already in a piss-poor mood thanks to another sexless night with Mike, who had been too trashed the night before to suck my dick, let alone take off his jeans before crashing. Fast forward to me waking today and pointing out the morning tent my cock was making in the sheets—which he responded to by turning on his side and promptly going back to sleep.

Halfway through an attempt to snap one off on my own, my boss’ ringtone sounded. I now had to scramble to pack, book a room, and drive my not-so-happy ass south for six hours on the 5 freeway. The entire way, all I could think about was Mike and how I need to trade him in for a newer model. Preferably one with a sexual appetite that matches my own—i.e., someone who wants to fuck morning, noon, and night.

I’m now in my hotel room taking another hit and staring longingly down at the pool. How am I going to release some tension tonight? I wonder. The answer is easy: First, smoke a joint. Second, take a swim. Third, find someone to fuck.

As if the universe is conspiring in my favor, out of the sliding glass doors of the pool access room directly below mine walks the type of man I could see myself fucking morning, noon, and definitely tonight. His skin is SoCal bronzed, his body is 24-Hour-Fitness conditioned and his mussed brown hair and the manicured scruff on his angular face is celebrity rock star. As he rounds the pool, his back still towards me, I quickly turn one of the two cushioned chairs by the window around so it faces the pool and sit down, ready to enjoy the view. The small white hotel towel wrapped around his waist barely covers him and I can’t wait to see what’s underneath.

I take another long drag with one hand while the other unbuttons and unzips my jeans, allowing my hardening cock to come out and play. As if timed deliberately, my eager palm surrounds my growing shaft just as the stud below bends over to remove his pool shoes. Along the way his towel falls to the ground, revealing a backside that looks mighty delicious in a pair of navy blue square-cut swim trunks.

When he turns around, my eyes dance up and down his flawless physique—from his face and swimsuit model pecs to his beach body abs and impressive bulge—and I’m suddenly grateful my window up here doesn’t open because I’m so desperate to jump this guy’s bones that I might just leap from it.

Instead I do the next best thing: I spit on my hand and start moving it slowly up and down my stiff rod, my goal being to take my time and make this worth my while.

No sooner do I begin than my Greek god of the pool glances up in my general direction. I’m so caught up in the moment that it takes me a second to realize that if I can see him he must certainly see me—especially with my curtains wide open and the wicker lamp above my head turned on. It’s like having a spotlight on me. But all I can think to do is to stop my hand and freeze—as if not moving makes me invisible.

To my delight, the sight of me gawking in his direction—cock in one hand, glowing joint in the other—seems to amuse and entice him. His lips form into a sexy smirk and he runs a hand through his scruffy hair as if pretending to style it while flexing his built arm muscles for my enjoyment. Next he tucks the thumb of his other hand into the top of his swim shorts, pulling them down just enough to tease me with a glimpse of his nicely manicured pubes.

Holy fuck … this dude’s digging the idea of me watching him …

After quickly scanning the pool area for innocent passersby, I set my weed in the ashtray, jump to my feet, and yank my jeans all the way down, presenting him with a well deserved view of the rock hard trouble he’s caused. Clearly impressed, he glances briefly over his shoulders and then takes his long fingers south, somehow managing to slip them all into the front of his skin-tight trunks, cupping his ever-growing package in his lucky hand.

Will he be daring enough to fully unwrap this present and let me see his gift? I sit back down in my chair and wait to find out.

But then, just as quickly as it had gone in, the hand is pulled hastily out as a sudden rumbling reveals the presence of an elderly couple entering the pool area with a rolling suitcase. As my eye candy bends down to grab his towel, I pull the switch on the spotlight over my head, throwing me into darkness. As I wait for the couple to proceed past the deep end and then stop and fumble to open the door of their pool access room, I hope against hope that this interruption hasn’t brought an end to my brief but hot adventure.

Once the coast is clear, I stand again and yank the light back on. Knowing full well that my fun could easily be cut short again, I perch myself at the window and stroke my rod harder and faster. The object of my lust has entered the shallow end of the pool and is aiming his glistening wet body in my direction. Once he’s sure I’m watching, he pulls his trunks down far enough to reveal what I’ve been longing to see: his wet but semi-hard member, which is thicker than I would have imagined and well worth the risk this highly public flirtation is putting me at.

As if mirroring me, he begins stroking himself, matching my movements almost exactly. He leans his head back slightly, closes his eyes, and then licks his lips as if imagining my mouth wrapped around his impressive rod. I close mine as well and can practically taste his salty tip on the back of my throat as my strokes become stronger and more frenzied. Unable to hold back, I use my free hand to steady myself as a huge load shoots from my dick like a bullet and coats the floor-to-ceiling window. Holy crap, this feels good.

I open my eyes and begin rubbing the tip of my dick in the warm puddle that’s now making its way down the glass. Too weak in the knees to stand, I fall back into my chair, still exposed, jeans around my ankles, trying to peel myself off the moon and return to planet Earth—or at the very least, to my hotel room in Burbank. As I come to my senses, I glance through the window, past the dripping cum and down to the pool area. The pool god is still down there, clearly unfinished with his business and now motioning with his free hand for me to come join him in the pool.

Hell, yeah.

I’m hoping he gets that I need a moment to collect myself. While remaining seated, I nod my head in agreement as I reach for a final drag of my pot and then stump the joint out in the ashtray. As the last puff of smoke leaves my lips, my head begins racing with the possibilities about to transpire. The thought of him down there, still hard as a rock, having chosen me as the lucky bastard who gets to finish him off is just the motivation I need to get up from this chair and start revving my engines.

First, swim trunks. Where are my swim trunks? Fuck, did I remember to pack them? Not wanting to look away for a second, I grab my duffle bag, set it on the table under the wicker lamp next to my chair, and start digging, praying that I remembered to pack my swim trunks. Found my lube at least—that will soon come in handy. As I set it near the ashtray I drink in another view of the incredible man I’m about to fuck who continues to beckon for me.

I’m on my way, damn it … I just need to find my …

My heart sinks as I notice a blond, ripped, slightly taller version of my pool god—bronzed, tussled hair, and also wearing a white hotel towel—walking out to the pool area from the same room beneath mine. He tosses his towel on a deck chair and jumps in, immediately approaching the other stud. Other than the blond hair, the biggest difference between the two is that the swim trunks on this one—which are just as tight and just as revealing—are not blue but red. Red hot, just like he is.

Still a bit dazed from that final drag, my brain races to piece together the unexpected appearance of Blondie. Despite the fog coursing through my head from the stress and the weed, it doesn’t take long for me to grasp reality. All this time my sexy pool boy wasn’t flashing me, jacking off for me, or even motioning to me—he was doing it for his blond and perfect boyfriend below me.

God damn it … he probably hasn’t even noticed me. Where is my fucking swimsuit?! Does it even matter at this point? Evidently not, since Blondie has pool access and I’m stuck with this motherfucking pool view room.

Despite my mind racing furiously in circles, I can’t help but notice the sexy blond dropping to his knees in the water, his full lips making a beeline for the dark-haired pool boy’s massive cock, which is now hovering perfectly above the water level for all to see. I wipe my cum from the window with a ratty T-shirt I’d pulled from my bag and then fall back into my chair in defeat. I’m about to pull the curtains closed when I figure, What the hell? Why not enjoy this view for awhile?

As I watch Blondie’s tongue teasing the tip of Pool Boy’s penis, I’m imagining myself in his skimpy red trunks. Enough with the teasing already, I think. By this point I’d have swallowed it whole and sucked it dry. My man in blue seems to have similar thoughts. Clearly ready to get down, he grasps the back of Blondie’s head with both hands and plants his throbbing manhood firmly in the back of his throat, then pulls back and forth with his hands, gently forcing his boyfriend’s lips up and down his swollen tree trunk of a shaft.

While I can’t look away, a part of me is shocked that all this is going on in full view in a hotel pool.

As I fantasize about taking the dark-haired stud in my mouth, I salivate even more watching his bare, tight ass clenching with every thrust. What I wouldn’t give to tap that! If only my window could open even slightly so I could hear the inevitable moans of pleasure as well as the sound of the water sloshing as he pushes and pulls the wet mouth surrounding him faster and faster.

All of a sudden, Pool Boy pulls out halfway and takes matters into his own hand, feverishly yanking the skin up and down his oversized organ. And then, to my surprise, he deliberately tilts his head upward and shoots me a sexy grin. He pulls out of Blondie’s mouth entirely and, thanks to the light in the pool, I can just make out his load flowing like a fountain into the mouth of his lucky recipient, who savors every gulp.

I look down and realize that my own dick is ready to go for round two. I’m spinning in circles now because there’s no doubt in my mind: Pool Boy has just put on a show with his handsome plaything for my benefit. And I need to show my gratitude by returning the favor. So with the spotlight still shining over my head, I stand before him once again, pressing my now fully-hard eight incher against the only thing separating us—the cum-streaked window of my pool view room. Having gotten his attention, I squeeze some lube into my palm and slather it all over my cock, eager to demonstrate that I’m ready to play too.

Blondie appears to have recovered from his work as a sperm depository and seems confused by his lover’s distraction from him. He rises to his feet and plants a hot kiss on Pool Boy’s lips, digging deep into his mouth with his tongue in a somewhat transparent attempt to woo the stud’s attention back using the taste of his own steamy sex, which probably still lingers in his mouth. With my slippery hand surrounding my shaft, I sit back down and close my eyes just for a second, imagining that it was me who had sampled my pool god’s tasty protein shake. Imagining that my lips are touching his. Imagining that it’s my tongue darting in and out of his mouth.

I reopen them in time to witness my god in blue doing a brisk backstroke to the deep end while hastily yanking his tight swim trunks back into position. In a panic, I flick off the lamp once more and am thankful I did when I see two obviously drunk ladies approaching the pool from the direction of the hotel lounge. I’m guessing happy hour must have ended as I watch them swagger back and forth, one of them barefoot with her spiked heels in hand slung over her shoulder.

I’m greatly amused when they spot the two studs, who are now occupying opposite ends of the pool. The barefoot girl ventures to the edge and begins speaking to Blondie. I don’t need to hear what’s being said: Horny drunk chick, scantily clad swimsuit model—the math is easy. Good luck, sister. If any outside party ends up getting some hot pool action tonight, it’s sure as hell not gonna be you.

Evidently her girlfriend’s also good with math and seems to sum up the situation quickly. These guys are way too beautiful to be straight. Thankfully she’s sober enough to pull her drunk friend away from the pool, and within seconds they’re out of sight.

Immediately after the girls disappear, the boys swim back together and meet up in the pool’s shallow end. When my long distance playmate for the evening starts whispering in his blond boyfriend’s ear, I have a strong hunch he’s telling him about me. My suspicions are confirmed when I see him point towards my window. Blondie seems confused as he squints aimlessly up in my direction, a puzzled look on his flawlessly chiseled face.

What the hell—why not illuminate the scene so he can join the fun? I stand once more, my hand still cupped around my member, and ta-dah!—yank the lightswitch. My bulb is now turned on and—as both of them watching from the pool can clearly see—so am I.

I press my slippery cock to the window and rub it back and forth, this time for Blondie’s benefit, then recline back in the chair and continue stroking. In a flash, the red trunks are down around the fair one’s thighs, letting me know he’s definitely along for the ride and ready for action.

They both are. It seems the interruptions—and the fact that they have an eager audience one floor up—have heightened not only the intensity of their desires but also their sense of urgency. Within seconds, Blondie has guided Pool Boy to the stairs leading out of the shallow end and positioned him on his knees, facing away from me. When the blue trunks are pulled down, I’m given the best view of the night: a look at the dark-haired one’s hungry hole, which I can tell from here is begging to be filled.

At this point, I would probably just start fucking him—a thought that causes a dollop of pre-cum to rise and emerge from the tip of my throbbing manhood—but it seems Blondie has other ideas. Even with his red trunks out of the way and his monstrous dick hard and ready, he can’t seem to resist the opportunity to aim nose-first into Pool Boy’s crack. The only problem is, the ass in question is half in the water and half out, so he reaches down for Pool Boy’s legs and, in an unexpected move, lifts them high into the air. With Pool Boy balancing on his firmly anchored forearms, Blondie pulls the blue trunks off completely—rending a quick cover-up impossible—and adroitly rests his snack’s legs on his muscled shoulders. This allows him the use of both hands, which he uses to spread those delicious ass cheeks apart.

While he now has full access to the tasty treat he’s anxious to sample, the move is a complex one—and by far the evening’s most daring. Pool Boy is completely exposed, his hard cock dangling in—or rather, stabbing—the air, and if someone were to venture into the pool area there would be no escape for the two studs.

But they don’t seem to care. I salivate as Blondie assaults Pool Boy’s sacred spot—tonguing around and up and down, and around and in and out—all the while wishing his tongue was my tongue. The kicker is that even though he’s the lucky bastard enjoying the one-eyed feast, his eyes keep darting up at me, watching as I stroke my dick in long, hard motions as if to show my appreciation for the view he’s kindly providing.

He pulls his mouth away and then slowly slides a finger into Pool Boy’s ass. I stand for a better view of the action and get more looks from the blond Adonis, who grins at me as he pushes and then pulls his digit in and out. It’s one hot visual, and I’m not sure which of us is enjoying it more. I now desperately want to feel something in my ass, so I turn around and place my bare cheeks—spread apart with my hands—against the window, as if wishing one of these two beautiful cocks could slip right into my hole from down there at the pool. God, I want to get fucked so bad.

As I peer over my shoulder and back down to the water, it’s clear that Blondie is taking the hint. With my ass still on the glass, I turn just enough—and just in time—to see the other eager bottom’s legs back on the pool floor and Blondie’s oversized cock going for gold. Somehow, with no condom and no lube other than spit and the natural wetness provided by their aquatic venue, that enormous monster is easily swallowed by the tight hole.

Holy fuck, they are actually going for it … in a hotel pool …

I turn back around so my friends can watch me stroke, and for a second I think Pool Boy has forgotten about me. But after a series of deep thrusts, he looks up with a smile, obviously getting off on the fact that I’m getting off watching him getting plowed.

I’m so close to cumming. And so apparently is Blondie, who starts moving in and out faster and more turbulently. I amp myself up and join his new rhythm while trying to stall my release as long as I can. The water, which is now splashing ferociously around them, causes both of their perfect bodies to glisten. I can’t hold back another second.

Considering it worked so well the first go-round, and knowing I have both boys’ attention, I let out a loud moan and paint the window once more with my pleasure. Despite being my second load in less than an hour, it’s epic in volume and volcanic in pressure. I shake and I tremble, all the while locking eyes with Blondie, who takes my cue and manages three more thrusts before closing his eyes, throwing his head back, and Oh, God!-ing so loudly that I can literally hear it all the way up here through the closed window. At least I think I can.

Having no doubt filled my pool playmate to the rim with jizz, Blondie collapses in the water without pulling out, and somehow they manage to turn in unison so that he’s sitting on the stair with Pool Boy in a reverse cowgirl on his lap. They are both looking up and smiling at me.

I fall back in my chair, exhausted. I might just as well have been fucked, given how indescribably satisfied I feel.

But the game’s not over. As far as I can tell, Pool Boy hasn’t yet cum again. He’s got his hand around his gigantic stiffy and his tongue out, which he’s using to make licking motions in my direction. Yes, I think to myself, if I were down there, I’d lick every drop of your man butter.

He continues wagging his tongue, only now he’s pointing up at the glass and motioning to me. In an instant I get it. He wants one more show. He wants to watch me lick the window clean.

It’s certainly not my first choice, but at this point I’m game for whatever it takes to see another knot of Pool Boy’s juice. With a mischievous smile, I let go of my rapidly shrinking cock and lean forward towards the glass. Now it’s my turn to tease, and I relish every second as I wiggle my licker back and forth as it tentatively emerges from my mouth. The two studly pool inhabitants watch rapt as I lean forward another notch. My tongue is out. Pool Boy’s hand is making its way up and down his joystick. And I’m about to sample my own DNA …

… When the phone in my hotel room rings.

Oh shit. I’m so busted …

What if it’s hotel security calling about a complaint they received from another guest? God forbid I get booted out on my ass and have to scramble to find another place to stay.

The panic must be registering on my face because by the second ring, my co-conspirators have emerged from the pool and are rapidly walking their dripping and spent bodies over to their towels.

By ring three, I’m freaking out. And it’s not a reaction to the weed I smoked earlier. What the fuck am I gonna do? I look nervously around the room, then head to the phone. Better to face the music. At least they aren’t pounding on my door.

“Hello?” I say timidly, sounding incredibly guilty.

I’m greeted by a voice that’s way too chipper for me. It’s the nerd at the front desk, asking if I’m enjoying my pool view room. Is he kidding me? It’s the best fucking hotel room I’ve ever had.

The chipper voice tells me that tomorrow they will have a pool access room available below mine, which I can move to after 1:00 p.m. “Just in time for a little pool fun,” he says.

I can’t help but smile.

I ask if he means the room directly below mine, and never in my life have I been happier to hear the word no. “I’m very sorry,” he says, “but the room directly below yours is booked through the weekend. But we can offer you the room next door …”

Glancing out my second floor window once again, I’m delighted to see two amazingly hot specimens—one in blue trunks and the other in red—splashing innocently around in the pool. I say a quick thank you to the universe and surprise the front desk nerd by asking if he knows of any stores still open in Burbank tonight where I could buy a swimsuit.