Summer Ritual
The sun of Torremolinos beat down on my skin as I dropped my suitcase at the reception of Hotel Ritual. I had heard wonders about the place: its relaxed atmosphere, the rooftop with the infinity pool, and above all, the freedom to move without filters or masks. Just what I needed.
After settling into my room, I headed straight to the rooftop bar. My white T-shirt clung slightly to my sweaty chest, accentuating every line of my muscles. I ordered a gin and tonic and scanned the crowd: bronzed bodies, knowing laughs, glances that said more than words ever could.
And then I saw him.
He was in the pool, leaning on the edge with a beer in hand, the water hugging his waist. A guy around twenty-four, fair-skinned with a reddish glow—typical Irish—and a defined body that left little to the imagination. Our eyes met. He smiled. I nodded slightly, the kind of signal that says, "I've seen you, and I like what I see."
Later, I ran into him in the elevator. He smelled of salt and aftershave, and his light green eyes were impossible to ignore.
"Spanish?" he asked with that Irish accent, looking me up and down.
"Yes. First time here?"
"First time in Torremolinos. But I think I’ll be staying more than one night," he replied with a cheeky grin.
We laughed. The silence grew heavy, charged with tension. When the doors opened, he was the first to speak:
"Want to come up to my room?"
We didn’t take long to close the door behind us. He pinned me against the wall, kissing me with hunger as his hands roamed my chest, unbuttoning my pants. His body molded perfectly to mine, every touch a promise. I loved the contrast between his cool, pool-wet skin and my hot, desire-charged body.
And best of all… it was clear who wanted to give up control.
I pushed him gently onto the bed. He landed with a mix of desire and surrender. Biting his lip, he looked up at me with lust and curiosity. I pulled off his wet shirt, revealing a firm, defined torso with a light trail of hair. His nipples were hard, his breath quick… he was already mine.
"I want you to take charge," he said in a low, husky voice as he guided my hand down to his waist.
I leaned over him, asserting my dominance with a soft bite on his neck, trailing down his collarbone as my hands explored every inch of his body. His abs tensed with each pass of my tongue moving lower, teasing him with slow caresses. When I reached his swimsuit, I saw how ready he was. I slid it down his legs and, without breaking eye contact, took his cock in my hand and started playing with my mouth, drawing low moans as he gripped the sheets.
After savoring him for a while, I sat up and undressed slowly, letting him see my tense, ready body. He bit his lip again, practically begging. I reached for the lube he had conveniently left on the nightstand and began prepping him with patient fingers until he started moaning and rocking his hips, asking for more.
I turned him around; he got on all fours, offering himself completely, with that hungry, submissive attitude that drives me wild. I grabbed his hips and entered him slowly, feeling his body open to welcome me. His arched back, his muffled moans into the pillow… it was complete surrender.
We started slow, each thrust deep, building the rhythm that would merge us. Then I grabbed his hips tighter and sped up, feeling him vibrate with each stroke. I hit the right spot, and he knew it—he kept moaning my name, mixing English with gasps.
The room heated with our sweaty bodies clashing in raw desire. I pulled his hair, making him look back at me as I fucked him harder, watching pure pleasure and total submission in his eyes.
When I felt myself close to the edge, I held him tight and pounded harder until I exploded with a deep groan, releasing everything inside him as his body trembled in his own climax, intense and overflowing.
We stayed there, panting, still connected, skin to skin.
"Definitely," he said with a soft laugh, kissing my chest, "I'm staying more than one night."
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