My shift at the Donkey Shoe ends at 6:00 P.M. I need my raincoat going home as a steady drizzle falls from the sky, but it isn’t the reason why I walk to my studio at a brisk pace. I’m used to the rain, it’s the need to prepare for tonight that has me giddy and in such a hurry. Seeing Fernando has my heart racing and blood erecting my penis off and on, the thought of seeing him, this time face to face and not sitting side to side.
I punch in the security code for the door to the studio apartments entrance and make my way upstairs. Once inside my studio I text Fernando a friendly text.
Thanks for lunch again, see you at Gossip at 8:)
As I make a move to take off my jacket my phone digs and I see a response. It reads: See you at 8 ;)
I can’t help but blush at the winky face and send him a winky face in return. My cock throbs inside my jeans at the thought of kissing the tall muscular Latino adonis, Fernando. I place my hand over my bulge and rub it some, sending waves of pleasure though my groin and up my body. A fluttering is in my chest and I take a deep, almost raddling, breath.
Get a grip, Alonso, I tell myself. Don’t jump the gun. He might turn out just to be another flake or creep.
Anyway, there’s no point in rubbing my groin and working out a load. I should save it for later in case me and him end up undressing and sharing each other’s bodies. Instead I strip and head into the bathroom to shower and douche. Douche first and shower second to be more specific.
It feels like forever the process of douching. Sticking the tub up and flushing water into my hole. Holding said water then pushing it out into the toilet. Repeating the process over again till the liquid is clear. It’s a necessary process though, having a brown accident is never fully fun and sexy.
During this time of douching my cock deflates to much of my relief.
The shower afterwards is quite relaxing and creates a calming effect as I shave the pubic hairs around my cock, making a smooth surface with a cock that seems even bigger than normal. My cock has enlarged some during the process and I touch the new smoothness. Sliding my hand downwards till it slides over the base of my cock, forcing my cock to point downward as I continue sliding down towards the head.
My fingers wrap about the head and I pull backwards, the skin sliding back, revealing the pink and throbbing gland underneath. Gently my thumb rubs the slit at the tip of my cock head and I gasp under the warm spray.
Quickly I let go of my cock and it slaps against my abdomen and I grunt in frustration. It takes all my willpower to not reach down and stroke, pumping my cock towards spurting out that white salty-sweet liquid of life.
To pull my attention, I grab my jade bar of soap and begin to scrub the grime of the day away. I scrub under my bits, on my chest, down my abs, around my cock, and reach behind to scrub the two globes that make up my ass. I turn as I scrub, letting the jets of warm water wash message my skin and muscles.
I debate on squatting and shaving my taint, the strip of flesh between my balls and my puckering asshole. The memory of shaving and accidentally cutting resurfaces and I decide against it for now. Maybe another time.
After toweling off, I head to my closet and decide what to wear. Deciding on what exactly is the perfect attire is hard to figure out, but in the end I decide casual yet nice. A black Andrew Christian jockstrap, jeans, and a wine red polo. I also pick a cologne that holds the smell of fresh cut grass, oak, and the light scent of sweat and sex.
There is still half an hour by the time I’m done. I snack on bits of bread to have some carbs to absorb the coming alcohol and mindlessly watch Mindhunter on Netflix. My eyes jump to my phone every couple minutes and seconds even as I think about meeting Fernando and the mysteries he holds.
I pat the spot under my shirt where my late older brother’s army dog tags hang. Never do I go anywhere without Jose’s tags, it keeps him with me and makes me feel as though he watches over me. They are comfort.
Taking from the coffee table, I light a joint to calm the nerves more. Slowly, I take a deep drag and then exhale a plumb. When I’m halfway through the joint, I remember the coin and extinguish the joint.
From my work pants I retrieve the coin and inspect it again.
My heart drops.
“What the fuck,” I yelp and coin falls to the floor.
The spikey crown with the Spanish motto that reads “there is no pleasure without pain” is still present. What makes my heart drop is the fact that the two meeting swords under an ancient lighthouse are gone. Instead, on the gold coin’s back is a ship crashing through churning waves under storm clouds.
How is this possible? I think. How can it be so different from what I remember? How strong exactly was that weed?
With both hands, I rub my eyes to make sure there isn’t anything in them. Finely, I bend down and pick the coin up and inspect it again. My eyes weren’t playing tricks, the swords meeting under the lighthouse are gone. There is only the ship and the storm.
I wonder if I misremembered what was on the coin’s back but it all just adds to the strangeness of Fernando. The lack of name for his hometown or ‘village’ as he called it. His accent with no true pin point of origin. The lack of knowledge towards dietary restrictions such as allergic, vegetarian, and vegan. His green eyes. Green, a color I’d never once seen in my life in another latino male or latino in general. But then again there were reasonable explanations for all of this.
English might not be Fernandos original language. They might say things different where he came from, but he did say down the coast making it seem that he was very much American. But what about the name that’s hard to pronounce even for me. My head is going round and round with it all, trying to come to reason but also with so many look holes. And the coin?
What time is it? Pops into my head.
I look at my phone and it’s five minutes to eight. I place the coin on the coffee table, grab a coat, and head out towards Gossip.
When I’m at my studio apartment’s door to the outside, I hesitate to leave. A part of me is screaming to stay. Loose his number and watch Mindhunter or Call Me by Your Name for the hundredth time. With a deep breath, a part of me grabs me by the balls, and I exit into the night. Walking calmly towards Gossip and the mysterious and frightening Fernando with a hard cock and perky nipples.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/pfxwh1/forbidden_desirespart_3_mm