My roommate Brad was in the kitchen making protein pancakes shirtless, humming to himself while I sat on the couch, legs curled up, editing a quick reel. His back flexed with every movement. That little crease above his hip showed every time he leaned to flip a pancake. It was so fucking hot.
Then he turned around and tossed a folded envelope at me.
“Pack your shit,” he said with a smirk. “We’re leaving in two hours.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“Content weekend,” he said, grinning like he just won the lottery. “Surprise. I booked us a room at the Andare Azul. Ocean view. King bed. Private jacuzzi. It’s giving romance. It’s giving luxury. It’s giving ‘we might accidentally film porn on the balcony’ vibes.”
I sat up fast. “Wait. The Andare Azul? That’s like... insane. Isn’t that place like five hundred bucks a night?”
He shrugged. “We’ve been killing it lately. Might as well reinvest. Plus, the fans will eat it up. Beach sunsets. Shirtless makeouts. Us tangled in white sheets. You licking cum off my chest in 4K.”
I laughed, trying not to look too excited. But my heart was already racing. A weekend away. Just us. And that bed.
He was already halfway to the bedroom. “Bring the lights and the tripod just in case. And pack something slutty.”
────୨ৎ────
By the time we pulled into the resort’s driveway, the sun was just starting to dip behind the ocean. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Everything smelled like sea salt and fresh linen. A valet took our bags while Brad handed over the keys like he owned the place.
Our suite was unreal. Smooth tile floors. Glass walls. A massive bed covered in fluffy pillows. There was a private balcony facing the ocean, and a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket like we were on our honeymoon or something.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
Brad flopped onto the bed and bounced once. “I am gonna fuck you so good in this bed.”
I grinned. “You’re not even gonna take me to dinner first?”
He winked. “Depends how hungry you are.”
We unpacked slowly, taking it in. Brad pulled out his camera gear like a pro. Tripod. Lenses. Two ring lights. His laptop. He even brought a mic we never use. “In case the moaning gets artistic,” he said.
I changed into loose swim shorts, no underwear. Brad ditched his shirt. We didn’t film anything serious that first hour. Just a few slow-mo clips of us kissing on the balcony, my hands on his waist, the wind blowing through our hair. The ocean behind us made everything feel unreal. Like we were in a commercial for gay paradise.
“Should we fuck here?” Brad asked, cock already half hard, brushing my thigh as I leaned into him.
I looked down at his bulge. “Kinda wanna ruin this view.”
We kissed again. Longer this time. Tongue-heavy. Lazy. Sunset washing us in gold. The camera caught everything but I forgot it was even there. My hand slipped into his shorts. I stroked him slow. Just enough to make him whimper once. He kissed my cheek, my jaw, the side of my neck.
And then he pulled back.
“I ordered room service for us,” he said, grinning.
I blinked. “What, like food?”
He bit his lip. “Yeah, that too.”
────୨ৎ────
We chilled in the jacuzzi or a while. Warm water, ocean breeze, the sound of distant waves crashing. I sat between his legs while he played with my hair, our bodies pressed close. No cameras, no posing. Just talking about content ideas, gym shit, who was killing it online right now. I told him I was thinking of starting a weekly Q&A thing. He said I should just do it shirtless and pretend to care.
He was relaxed in a way I rarely saw. Almost soft. His fingers kept tracing circles on my back, and every so often we’d kiss slow and wet, like neither of us was in a rush. I could’ve stayed like that all night.
Eventually, room service knocked. I got up to grab it and wheeled the tray in.
It wasn’t dinner. It was the kind of shit you’d expect to find in some luxury couple’s fantasy picnic. Chocolate-covered strawberries. Sliced peaches, still glistening. Grapes on the vine. Some weird gold-dusted truffles that looked expensive and totally unnecessary.
I laughed. “You are so fucking slutty. And here I thought you actually got me food.”
Brad grinned and didn’t answer, just reached for a strawberry and popped it in his mouth like a brat. His lips glistened.
We ate in bed, legs tangled under the sheets, watching some dumb movie neither of us cared about. Every few minutes he’d feed me something like it was a bit, brushing his fingers over my mouth to make me suck them clean.
I was half hard the entire time. I wanted to fuck. I wanted to pin him down and wreck him against the glass balcony while the whole beach watched. But Brad was chilling. Relaxed. For a man who brought an entire suitcase full of filming gear, he was acting like we were on vacation or something. This was supposed to be "content weekend"
Eventually I sighed and stood. “I’m gonna go for a walk. Maybe hit the beach for a bit.”
Brad looked up from where he was lounging against the headboard, shirtless, grape stem dangling from his fingers. “Dude. Room service is almost here.”
I paused. “Didn’t we just eat, like, a bunch of strawberries and grapes and whatever those gold balls were?”
“I mean… yeah,” he said, stretching, arms behind his head. “But I specially ordered this for you.”
I squinted at him. “Brad. I’m not even hungry, bro.”
He smirked. That lazy, cocky smirk I knew too well.
“Oh,” he said, licking a smear of peach juice from his thumb, “you will be.”
“It’s dessert.”
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
I was in my underwear, scrolling aimlessly, still wondering if chocolate-covered strawberries didn’t count as dessert for Brad… what had that mischievous son of a bitch planned instead?
“Come on, babe,” Brad called from the bed, voice smug. “Go get your dessert.”
I padded over and opened the door.
There stood a tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome man.
Six-three, maybe six-four.
My eyes dropped instantly. Grey joggers clung to thick, carved legs, muscle shifting with the tiniest move. My gaze kept climbing up to thighs like tree trunks, a bulge that made my throat tighten, a wide chest peeking out from the top buttons of a black shirt. His arms were bare, thick, manly, dusted with just the right amount of hair. That shirt was half open, showing soft dark chest hair and a little sweat glistening at the collarbone.
And then I finally looked up.
Salt-and-pepper scruff, jaw so defined it could cut me open, and eyes...grey, intense, locked straight on mine like he already knew what I sounded like when I moaned.
He looked familiar. Way too familiar.
Holy shit.
“Hi, Cody,” he said, grinning.
He even sounded familiar. My brain short-circuited.
That was Cade.
Cade fucking Wolf.
He laughed again. “Didn’t expect me, huh?”
I stared. “Wait… you know who I am?”
Cade smiled like he’d seen me naked a dozen times which, let’s be real, he probably had. “Of course I do.”
Okay. So for context?
Cade Wolf is a 51-year-old porn legend. The perfect daddy. The manly deep voice. The body. The way he fucks like it’s a slow dance and a chokehold at the same time. I’ve jerked off to him more times than I’ve used our tripod. The man eats ass like it’s been marinating. He’s a bottom’s dream. He’s what I’d call… experienced.
And now he was standing three feet away.
I blinked, still frozen. “Oh. Hey. Cade. Fuck.”
Brad’s voice called from behind me, completely casual. “Told you dessert was gonna be good.”
Then Cade leaned in and kissed me on the cheek but not just a peck. Full lips, slow, dragging, almost French. His beard scratched lightly against my skin. His breath warm.
“You gonna fuck me with your eyes all night,” he murmured, “or let me in?”
I still hadn’t moved.
Brad came up behind me, laughing. “Let the man come in, babe. Don’t get too excited yet.”
Cade stepped inside with the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.
Brad ruffled my hair. “He’s staying the night. Figured we could film something special.”
I finally turned. “Wait...what? He’s joining us?”
Brad nodded. “Last week I reached out. Cade was shooting out in a city nearby and said he might be passing through. This morning he messaged me...turns out he was staying at La Perla just down the road.”
“La Perla?” I choked. “You’re telling me Cade Wolf was five minutes away and you didn’t tell me until now?”
Brad just grinned.
I looked back at Cade who was now standing at the foot of the bed like he already owned it. “A collab?” I said, still in disbelief. “With Cade fucking Wolf?”
Brad gave me a look. “You’re welcome.”
I stepped in and kissed Brad. Quick but real.
“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear.
────୨ৎ────
Cut to the three of us lounging on the bed, soft light bouncing off the glass balcony. The vibe had shifted. Warmer. Curious.
Cade was leaning back against the headboard now, legs spread wide on the mattress, that black shirt unbuttoned completely. His chest was broad, soft in the best way, dusted with hair that tapered toward his abs.
He’d been watching a few of our scenes recently, apparently.
“You guys are fucking electric on camera,” Cade said. “Didn’t know you were into collabs.”
Brad grinned. “We haven’t done any yet. You’re the first.”
Cade chuckled, deep and slow. “When Brad DM’d me, my dick twitched.”
I instantly looked down at his crotch.
Shamelessly.
His joggers were pulled tight over a thick bulge that looked like it meant business.
Brad caught me looking and laughed. “ Cody.”
I blushed. “Sorry, I..”
Cade just smiled. “Don’t be sorry. That’s yours tonight.”
I bit my lip.
He motioned. “Come here. See what you’ve been jerking off to in real life.”
I hesitated for maybe half a second, then climbed over. Cade’s legs were spread wide now, feet planted. His thighs were massive, barely leaving enough space for me to crawl in between. I lay down on my stomach between his legs, looking up at him.
He cupped the back of my head gently, thumb stroking behind my ear.
Brad walked up beside us, camera in hand, already smirking. “This is for you, Cody. Our first collab. With your literal porn crush.”
I looked up at Cade’s face, then down at the joggers. My fingers traced the outline of his thighs. They flexed under my touch.
“Is this happening?” I asked, half-laughing.
Brad nudged me. “Oh, it’s happening.”
I hooked my thumbs into Cade’s waistband, slowly dragging the joggers down. Thick quads, lightly hairy. Strong calves. No underwear.
And then...
Fuck.
I exhaled. “Holy fucking shit.”
Coming Up Next: I got fucked by a pornstar while sucking on a cock.
DanXWrites: If you’re enjoying these stories, I share a lot more erotica on Patreon , including future parts of this story already released on there. Feel free to check it out.
