Michael lay on his back for a long moment, chest rising and falling, staring up at the ceiling like his brain was still catching up. His thick cock rested heavy against his abs, still twitching from the intense rimming Paul had just given him. Finally he let out a breathless laugh and pushed himself up.
“Fuck me, I need a drink after that,” he muttered.
He stood up, completely naked, and walked over to the small table in the corner where the vodka was. The muscles in his back and ass flexed with every step. Paul stayed face-down on the bed, trying to steady his breathing. Without thinking he’d rolled onto his stomach, one leg slightly bent, his smooth, perky ass naturally tilted upward in the cool air of the room.
Michael cracked open the bottle of vodka and poured three generous shots into plastic cups. When he turned around with the drinks in his hands, his eyes landed on Paul.
For the first time ever, he didn’t just see his best mate lying there.
He saw the smooth, rounded curve of Paul’s ass — firm from all the running, pale and completely hairless. The way it sat there, slightly raised, made something hot and unfamiliar twist low in Michael’s stomach. His gaze lingered on the tight little cleft between the cheeks. He’d never looked at another lad like this before. Never had a sexual thought about a guy in his life. And now here he was, staring at his best friend’s ass with his cock starting to thicken again.
He stared longer than he meant to.
The girl noticed. She was still lying on her side, watching both of them with a lazy, knowing smile. She didn’t say anything, just let the moment hang in the air.
Michael cleared his throat, suddenly feeling weirdly self-conscious, and handed the cups out. “Here. Get that down you.”
They knocked the shots back fast. The burn felt good. Michael poured another round straight away. Then a third. The alcohol mixed with everything else that had already happened, loosening limbs and lowering guards even further.
The girl stretched like a cat on the bed and looked at Michael, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You should return the favour, babe. Eat Paul out. Fair’s fair.”
Michael paused mid-sip, glass halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Paul, then back at her. The vodka was definitely working, but this felt like a bigger step than anything they’d done so far. Up until now it had only been Paul doing stuff to him. This would be Michael actively doing something sexual to his best mate.
“You reckon?” he asked, voice a little uncertain.
She nodded, biting her lip. “Go on. He made you feel good. Now make him feel good.”
Michael looked over at Paul again. His best mate was still lying face-down, breathing a bit shaky, that smooth perky ass slightly raised. Michael swallowed. “Pauly… you actually want me to do that?”
Paul turned his head on the pillow, cheeks flushed. His voice was quiet but honest. “I’ve never done it before… but yeah. I’d like to try it. If you’re up for it.”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck, clearly debating with himself. He was drunk, horny, and the earlier rimming had felt way better than he expected, but this still felt like crossing a line. “Fuck… I dunno. It’s one thing you eating my ass, but me eating yours…”
The girl smiled softly, not pushing too hard. “It’s just us here. No one’s gonna know. And from what I saw, Paul really enjoyed doing it to you. Don’t you want to make him feel that good too?”
Michael exhaled slowly, staring at Paul’s smooth ass again. The longer he looked, the more his resistance wavered, it was so smooth and plump, honestly it was sexy. The thought made his cock twitch despite his nerves.
“Alright,” he said finally, voice rough. “If you’re sure, Pauly.”
Paul gave a small nod, heart racing. “I’m sure.”
Michael set his glass down and crawled back onto the bed. He grabbed Paul’s hips with both hands and gently pulled his best mate’s ass up higher, spreading the cheeks. Paul’s hole came into full view — completely smooth, hairless, and that soft pink colour. It looked tiny and untouched. Nothing like Michael’s own dark, hairy crack. The contrast hit him hard. It didn’t look like any guy’s hole he’d ever imagined — it looked… pretty. Almost like a pussy.
“Fuck…” Michael muttered under his breath, mostly to himself. “It’s so… pink.”
He leaned in slowly, hesitating for one last second, then dragged his tongue over the tight little hole.
Paul gasped immediately, a soft, surprised moan escaping him.
Michael licked again, slower this time, savouring the clean, slightly sweet taste. It was completely different from what he’d expected. Warm, smooth, and strangely addictive. He groaned quietly and pressed his tongue flat against it, licking broader strokes while Paul trembled beneath him.
“Fuck…” Michael breathed, surprised by how much he liked the taste. Clean, slightly sweet, nothing like the musky sweat of his own ass. He licked again, broader this time, dragging his tongue slowly over the tight little pucker.
Paul moaned louder, pushing back against his face.
Michael got properly into it. He was surprised by how much he was enjoying this — eating out his best mate’s smooth, pretty little hole. The taste, the way Paul reacted, the control… it was all hitting him harder than he expected.
He licked long, hungry stripes up and down the smooth crack, then circled the tight little hole before pushing his tongue inside. Paul’s hole flexed and relaxed around his tongue in the most addictive way. Every time Michael speared deeper, Paul let out these soft, girly whimpers and wriggled under him, desperate and shameless.
“Yeah… that’s it,” the girl encouraged quietly, fingers lazily playing with herself as she watched. “Eat him properly, Mike. Listen to those pretty noises he’s making.”
Michael groaned into Paul’s ass, gripping the smooth cheeks tighter and spreading them wider. “You hear that, Pauly? She thinks you sound proper filthy.” He pushed his tongue in deeper, fucking him with it in slow, wet strokes. “You like this, don’t you? My tongue in your hole?”
Paul’s breath hitched hard. Hearing Michael’s voice like that — deep, turned-on, and directed at him — made his head spin. This was the first time any man had ever touched him like this. Not just touched him — eaten him out. And it was Michael. His straight, gym-bro best mate. The lad he’d been in love with since secondary school. The feeling was overwhelming.
Paul moaned helplessly into the pillow, pushing back against Michael’s face. “Y-yeah… fuck, Michael… feels so good.” His voice cracked a little. This was massive for him. Not just the physical sensation, but the fact that it was Michael doing it. The same Michael who used to slap him on the back after football, who called him his best bud, who had no idea how long Paul had wanted him. Now that tongue was inside him and Paul felt like he might cry from how perfect it felt.
Michael pulled back just enough to speak, lips brushing the sensitive rim. “Never thought I’d be doing this to you, mate,” he admitted, voice thick with surprise and arousal. “But you’re taking it so well… look at you pushing back on my tongue like a proper little slut.”
Paul whimpered at the words, cock leaking steadily onto the sheets. “I can’t help it… it’s you, Michael., you’re making me feel so good.”
Michael groaned again, clearly turned on by Paul’s honesty. He dove back in harder, sucking lightly on the tight ring before spearing his tongue inside once more. He was lost in it now — the clean, sweet taste, the way Paul’s smooth hole fluttered and clenched around him, the desperate little sounds his best mate kept making. There was something powerful about having Paul falling apart like this under his mouth. He felt in total control, and he loved it.
The girl watched them for a long while, enjoying the show, but eventually she realised she’d become background noise. Neither lad was paying her any attention anymore. With a small, amused smile she quietly slipped off the bed, gathered her dress and shoes, and let herself out of the room. The door clicked shut softly behind her. Neither Michael nor Paul even noticed.
Michael kept rimming Paul for ages, tongue working deeper, hands spreading him wide, completely focused on the way Paul moaned and rocked back against his face.
“Michael… oh fuck, Michael…” Paul kept whispering, voice broken and needy. Every lick, every thrust of that warm tongue felt like it was rewriting something inside him. This wasn’t just sex. This was Michael wanting him. At least for tonight.
Eventually Michael pulled back, lips shiny, breathing hard. His own cock was rock hard again, leaking heavily.
“Jesus Christ, Pauly…” he muttered, voice thick with disbelief and lust.
He sat back on his heels and glanced over to where the girl had been lying. The space was empty. Her dress and heels were gone. The hotel room door was closed.
Michael blinked, then let out a frustrated groan. “She’s fucked off…”
Paul lifted his head, still dazed, and looked around. “What?”
“She’s gone, mate,” Michael said, running a hand through his hair. His thick cock twitched angrily between his legs, clearly not happy about being left hanging. “I didn’t even get to finish in her. Fuck’s sake.”
Paul stayed quiet for a second, face still flushed, hole tingling from Michael’s tongue. A sudden spike of nervousness hit him — what if Michael was pissed off now? What if the girl leaving had ruined the whole thing and Michael regretted everything they’d just done? But at the same time he was on cloud nine, heart hammering with pure giddy disbelief. Michael had just spent ages eating his ass, had moaned into him, had called him filthy and told him he was taking it so well. His straight best mate had wanted him like that, even if it was only for a little while. The mix of fear and overwhelming happiness made his stomach flip so hard he almost felt sick with it.
Paul looked back over his shoulder, face flushed, eyes glassy with need. He looked nervous but determined.
Michael sat back on his heels, still breathing hard, his thick cock jutting out angrily between his legs, leaking steadily. He glanced around the room again and let out a long, frustrated groan.
“Fucking hell… she’s actually gone. Just up and left.” He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, clearly pissed off. “I was this close to blowing my load in her and she bails. Typical.”
Paul stayed quiet for a moment, still face-down on the bed, ass slightly raised, hole still wet and tingling from Michael’s tongue. The sudden shift left him feeling exposed, but underneath it all he was buzzing.
Michael shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Can’t believe she dipped out like that. My dick’s proper aching now.”
Paul swallowed, then pushed himself up onto his elbows. His voice came out quiet but steady. “You can fuck me if you want… to get off, I mean.”
Michael let out a short, surprised laugh. “Yeh, you wish.”
Paul’s cheeks burned, but he didn’t back down. He looked Michael in the eye and said softly, “Yeh… I kind of do.”
Michael froze. The casual answer hit him harder than he expected. He stared at Paul for a long moment, an internal battle clear on his face — part of him still processing everything they’d already done tonight, the other part painfully aware of how hard his cock was and how tempting Paul’s smooth, perky ass looked right now.
His gaze dropped to Paul’s ass again, lingering on the tight pink hole. He swallowed thickly.
Michael blinked, still catching his breath. He looked into Paul’s eyes, properly looked, all he saw was need, then his eyes flicking down again to his best mate’s smooth, perky ass. “You sure about that?”
Paul glanced down at the bed then he repeated the line Michael had used earlier, voice soft but surprisingly firm. “What happens in Ibiza stays in Ibiza, right?”
Michael stared at him for a long second, jaw working like he was turning the idea over in his head. His cock twitched visibly at the suggestion. He let out a short, breathy laugh, half disbelief and half arousal.
“Fuck… you’re serious?”
Paul gave a small nod, heart hammering. “Yeah. I’m serious.”
Michael exhaled slowly, still staring at Paul’s ass. The frustration about the girl leaving was still there, but it was quickly being overtaken by something hotter. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, thinking.
“Alright,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “If you’re offering… yeah. Alright.”
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