“He saw your dick?”
“Shh!” Carson said. “Not so loud!”
Clarissa put her hands over her mouth and slid down behind the desk. “This is bad. Really bad. Like lose-your-job bad.”
“He didn’t seem to mind…” Carson said hesitantly.
“What? He was probably just freaked out and didn’t know what to say.”
Carson rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I should go apologize.”
Clarissa slid forward in her swivel chair. “No. No. No. That is the last thing you should do. You should never talk to him again if you can avoid it. Avoid getting this hotel a lawsuit. Avoid getting fired. Avoid getting me fired.”
Carson felt the gravity of his situation as it weighed on him. He was silent for a moment, until he heard Clarissa giggle.
“You heard him with that girl though, right?” she asked coyly. “How was he?”
Carson smiled. “Fucking amazing.”
* * *
Maybe Clarissa was right. But Carson couldn’t forget the look in Mr. Armisen’s eye the night he found Carson on the floor outside his hotel room, his erection fully exposed. Maybe it was funny? Maybe they could laugh about it.
Before he knew it, Carson found himself wandering back to the fourteenth floor. He had made up some flimsy excuse that he was just looking to help tidy things up. But when he knocked at the door, no one answered.
His heart sank. Fuck, Carson thought. He’s gone. But he shouldn’t be--Mr. Armisen wasn’t supposed to check out until Wednesday (Carson knew, he had asked Clarissa). And yet, no one appeared to be home.
Carson looked around as dirty thoughts began to swirl through his mind. Maybe if he couldn’t see Mr. Armisen off, he could just look around?
He pulled out his universal room key and opened the door.
Apparently, housekeeping hadn’t made their rounds, because the room was in total disarray. The pillows on the bed were shredded, the bedsheets stained and covered in feathers. The table had been tipped over on its side. It looked like a hurricane had hurled through the bedroom the night before.
Carson smirked. That’s some good fucking, he thought.
He walked into the room and took it in like a crime scene, picturing where the pair had flipped over and fucked throughout the evening. From the look of it, every corner of the room had been involved.
He looked up at the giant ceiling mirror hanging directly over the bed. There was something sticky speckled across it. Something silvery, and wet.
Oh fuck. That’s cum.
Suddenly, he heard a sound go off from the bathroom--water running. And Carson suddenly realized he was not alone. Only a few feet away, behind the door, Mr. Armisen was showering. He started to picture it--Mr. Armisen, wet, warm, and naked.
Carson felt his penis swell in his pants at the thought of it. He grabbed at his crotch, as if that could make his erection subside. I have to get out of here, he thought.
He turned to leave, when suddenly he spied Armisen’s suit slung over the back of a chair. And on the ground, a couple of inches away, his underwear.
Carson’s cock throbbed like a sore thumb. His mouth watered at the sight of Armisen’s crumpled grey briefs. He was unable to resist--he leaned down and picked up the underwear. It was still warm, with a sweat stain right at the seat of his pants. The fabric had been stretched thin, probably strained by Armisen’s massive thighs. And around the crotch, the cloth was stained by a couple of drops of dribble.
Carson’s hand trembled as he brought the underwear to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
It was that same sexy scent he smelled on the elevator, only so much more intense, completely unbridled by the cologne. It was just his musk, sweaty and dirty and delicious. Carson moaned. He stuffed the cotton into his nostrils, taking in every bit of Armisen’s smell. His mouth flooded with saliva as he imagined sucking on Armisen’s giant balls, his musky hole, his tasty cock--