My Time

By Willie Cici
published September 8, 2019

Two college buddies spend the summer on the Costa Del Sol, working at a resort …

June 12 –

“How does he do it?”, I asked myself. I looked at my watch: 9:07am. “We just got to bed three hours ago.” I shook my head in disbelief. Wes looked refreshed, sporting a loose pair of black bathing trunks, lounging on the roof top of the resort where we worked for the summer. The black of his trunks accentuated the golden tan upon his gym-toned physique. (To see Wes, click here).

Wes and I applied for the University’s Summer in Europe Exchange Program. The program affords the opportunity to submerse yourself in the language of a particular country while working in a service-related industry. Wes and I decided to pursue three months working in Spain. We never imagined that we would spend our three months on the Costa Del Sol, working at an exclusive resort hotel as customer service representatives, a fancy word for ‘pool boy’. The resort provided housing for its single employees. In addition, the management required the customer service representatives to spend ninety minutes per day in the exercise room of the hotel spa. Wes and I sported decent physiques, but the required ninety minutes only improve our bodies. Plus, this away time from the University offered us a respite from our lacrosse coach, that miserable prick, who insisted on summer off-season training, despite NCAA rules to the contrary. Our taut, sculpted physiques would surely give us the extra edge as we served the hotel guests and patrons, wearing skin tight t-shirts and shorts or pants. When we worked the rooftop lounge, our bodies tanned beautifully. Using the lotions and products provided to hotel staff, Wes and I maintained our golden tan.

The Spanish keep late hours. When Wes and I end our shift at 2:00a.m., the town is alive with partyers. For those on holiday, the sun rise trumpets the end of the night. Many of the younger, male staff, also college students from abroad, lived at the resort. Given our odd hours, living at the resort hotel was extremely convenient.

“Who are you texting?”, I asked Wes.

“Jennifer.”, Wes replied.

“The faithful boyfriend.”, I replied sarcastically. “Does she believe you?”

“If she does, when I get back, I’m breaking up with her. I can’t be with someone that fucking dumb.”, Wes replied. We both laughed. “I told her that I was working this summer at a beach resort in Spain. What did she think was going to happen?”

“It’s okay. But … I have to ask you … we went to bed at 5am and you’re up at 9am. How do you do it?”

“Greg, look around.”, Wes said to me. He waved his hands about the empty rooftop, dotted with lounge chairs, tables, umbrellas, pools and bars. “No one. This is my time to enjoy the resort before the invasion. Most mornings I have the place to myself for two hours. Peace and quiet. Sometimes I even fall asleep. Peace and quiet.”

I stared at my good friend, making sense as usual. “I need my bed. Especially when we have to report for 10am calisthenics every day.” I paused for a moment and added. “Wes, have you noticed …”, I walked over to Wes and whispered, “These oversexed Europeans! I got groped last night on my way to the kitchen by some German broad. She pulled me into the bathroom and sucked my dick.”

“And?”, Wes asked. When I did not reply, he rubbed his fingers against each other. “How much?”

“She slipped me 50 euros.”, I said. “That wasn’t the first time. It’s happened about … five times.” I lied. It actually happened a dozen times.

“Greg, how much is this program costing us? When you subtract the minimum wage pay scale?”, Wes asked. I nodded my head, answering ‘I don’t know’. “About $5000. I did the math.” Wes smiled and said, “I already earned $2000.”

“You’re kidding?”, I said, shocked that my friend, the Bible-belt moralizer, bragged about the gratuities he earned having sex with the resort patrons. This was not the Wes I knew. His answer was as casual as the sex they were having.

“By the time we get home, we should be $15,000 deep. Maybe more.”, Wes said. “All part of the program.”

I stared at my friend. “Well, maybe it is. We have to work out every day. We have to wear tight, revealing clothing and jockstraps. We have to eat a regimented diet and we have to drink those damn protein drinks before and after our workouts. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were put out to stud.”

Wes placed his hands behind his head. “I ain’t complaining. You want to me serve drinks in tight pants. Fine. You want me to fuck hot broads on vacation. Fine with me.”

As Wes and I sat and basked in the early morning sun, one of the managers, Danilo Corneo, approached us and said, “Buenos días, amigos.”

“Buenos días, Señor Corneo.”, Wes said.

“Are you boys enjoying your time here?”, Danilo asked, as he sat in one of the oversized patio chairs near the boys.

“Sí. Mucho. Ha sido una experiencia de aprendizaje increíble.”, I replied.

“I’m sure you have learned much. The language. The Spanish … religión del placer.”, Danilo said.

“Si, Danilo. Esa es una gran descripción. La religión del placer. Pero no es solo español. Todos los europeos en vacaciones practican esta religión.”, Wes added.

“It must be difficult for you gringos to accept, but we Europeos are not … Puritans. Even the repressed English come here for a little religion.” Danilo and the boys laughed. “We Europeans enjoy our pleasure, as you have come to learn, for sure.”, Danilo said. He rose from his seat and said, “Enjoy your time here. This will be the most fun job you will ever have.”

“Si, Señor Corneo.” Wes said. As our manager departed, we spotted the first guests invading the rooftop. “’My time’ has officially ended.” He looked at his phone and said, “It’s 9:50. Time to go for our workout.”

With that, Wes and I walked the along the maze of chairs and tables until we reached the hotel corridor and rode the elevator to the first floor, to our rooms, to change into our exercise gear and report to the hotel fitness center for our morning regimen.

The next morning, I returned to the rooftop lounge. Something about Wes’ story left me incredulous. I did not believe Wes’ story about ‘my time’. As I strolled about the deserted rooftop lounge, I found Wes seated on one of the couches facing the sun, his back to me. I crept up slowly, not wanting to disturb Wes.

Then, I realized his true motive. He sat with his legs wide opened, his exercise shorts down to his shoes, his cock buried deep in someone’s mouth. “I wonder how much.”, I thought to myself. It would take some serious money to get me up after only four hours of sleep. I watched Wes thrust his hips into the mouth of his customer. I kept a distance as I did not want Wes to know that I was spying on him.

Finally, I heard the moans of pleasure and climax.

And, then, I saw the handsome stud rise to his feet, wiping his lips with Wes’ cum shot.

I ran away, shocked, horrified, incredulous. “What the fuck is he thinking?”, I thought to myself. I hurried to the hotel fitness center, hoping to wipe the memory of Wes enjoying his manly blowjob.

As I was pumping the irons, Danilo walked into the fitness center, sporting his exercise gear, tight white compression gear, obscenely form-fitting. Wes and I suspected his age at 45. For 45, he looked stunning. As he approached me, I greeted him. “Buenos días, Señor Corneo.”

“Are you … okay?”, Danilo asked, sensing something was wrong.

“No pensé que mi trabajo de verano implicaría la prostitución.”, I replied. As soon as I answered, I regretted making that admission to the manager of the resort.

Danilo smiled. “I know what happens here at the resort. As a youngster, I too experienced this … holiday phenomena. Enjoy yourself. And … a little cash is sometimes better than … a good-night kiss, …”, Danilo coyly answered.

“Really?”, I asked. Danilo nodded ‘yes’. “Okay.”, I said. I paused for a moment. “I’m learning a lot about the business world that will never be printed in a textbook.”

“Oh, my boy. Life lessons are never written. You must experience them, feel them, live them.”, Danilo said to me in a hushed, manly tone. His words oozed practical wisdom.

At 10:00am, the trainer gathered the staff and said, “Okay. Let’s get on the exercise bike. Today, we do ‘Program 35’. Make sure to use the ear buds. 30 minutes.”

I found the closest exercise bike, adjusted the seat and entered the codes for ‘Program 35’. The screen came alive and a trainer introduces himself. With that, I began my video ride along the Grand Prix race course, up and down hills and vales. The bicycle adjusted to the contours of the course. The scenery was so incredible. I could not take my eyes off the screen. This was not the first time our trainer required thirty minutes of bicycle cardio. Every Monday and Thursday, we biked, usually Program 35. Today, however, I noticed for the first time how cute the trainer on the video was.

And, then I noticed how sexy our trainer at the resort was. As he walked around, I stared at his tight compression gear, his bulge, his firm buttocks. As he turned the corner, my eyes followed him.

And, then, in my path of my sight, I spotted Wes. And, then, I realized how sexy Wes is.

And, then, I freaked.

After morning exercise, I ran back to my room to shower and change for my shift. As I showered, I heard Wes enter the room and peak into the bathroom.

“Are you okay?”, Wes asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”, I replied, ignoring Wes as I showered and bathed. When I finished my shower, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist and walked out of the bathroom.

Wes stood in the room, undressing out of his sweaty exercise clothes. “Are you okay?”, he asked again, insisting that he sensed my consternation.

“I saw you on the rooftop.”, I said.

“Oh. So, you saw me earning ‘my time’ money.”, Wes casually answered. “$200. He’s married. He needs privacy.”, Wes laughed. “He doesn’t know it. I fucked his wife too.”

“Do you hear yourself?”, I said. “You let some guy … suck your dick. For cash.”

Wes lowered his shorts and wiggled his cock in my direction. I was mesmerized. “He’s beautiful, intelligent and has a killer cock.”, I thought to myself. “I wonder what it tastes like.” I froze. “Did I just say that?”

“Yes. Aloud.”, Wes said. He drew closer to me and wiggled his cock. I fell to my knees and smelled his manly musk, the sweat on his torso, the essence of last night’s sex and morning blowjob. I loved it. I breathed in Wes’s scent and swallowed his dangling member down to the base of his shaft. “Slow down, Greg.”

I did not care. I wanted to know for myself why men paid Wes to suck his cock.

August 10 –

The older German tourist wiggled his hips as he opened the hotel room with his key card. I followed the German tourist into his room, sporting my resort uniform, bulging at the seams. Two months of exercise and protein drinks proved invaluable to my physique. The sexier I looked, the sexier I became, and the sexier I performed. The German tourist closed the door of the hotel room and stared at me. “What is your name?”

“Greg.”, I replied.

“I am Hans.”, the German tourist said.

“Of course, you are.”, I thought to myself. He might as well have said ‘John’. I watched Hans undress. I decided to put on a show for my customer. I slowly removed my polo shirt, revealing my sculpted chest. I caressed my pecs and arms, posing for Hans, who seemed to enjoy the show. I bent over and slowly removed my trousers. Underneath, in lieu of undergarments, I wore a bronze metallic speedo that nestled my junk more securely than underwear or even a jockstrap could. (To see Greg in his speedo, click here).

Hans stood naked. He knelt on the carpeted floor and crawled towards me. He lowered my speedo and kissed the tip of my cock. It leaped for joy. Hans smiled when he saw my cock react to his kiss. He licked the length of my shaft, tracing his tongue along the veins that popped on my dick. Hans then sucked my cock, taking in as much as he could, and working the rest of the shaft with his hand. Hans was not a novice. With expert precision, the older German performed his craft and brought me to the brink of climax. He slid his spit-wet finger in my ass. I bust my nut down his throat. I preferred not to do that, but I could not help myself. “Das ist gut.”, Hans said, my cum forcing him to gurgle.

“Yah. Das ist gut.”, I said. “Do you want me to …”

“No. I’m good.”, Hans said. He walked into the bathroom. It sounded as if he were taking a shower. I raised my speedo, wondering how long I would have to wait for my tip. I then realized there were two folded bill notes on the table, separate from Han’s wallet. I took the currency in my hand. “200 €.”, I thought to myself. I quickly dressed. I surmised that Hans expected me to leave before he finished showering. There would be no good-bye kiss. I opened the hotel room door, checked the hallway and made my getaway.

As I walked down the hallway, towards the elevators, I heard another hotel room door close. When I turned around, I smiled.

“I’m going to miss this when we get home.”, Wes said to me.

“I wonder … how can we do this back home?”, I asked.

“Escort agency. After hours. After practice.”, Wes replied. “On would be ‘my time’.”, he added with a wink and a smile.

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