Page 4 of Uncharted Desires
I have to muster actual physical strength to follow Sawyer as he saunters through the room as if nothing unusual is happening until he reaches one of the doors.
I stumble over my feet, my eyes darting left and right as I follow him, taking mental snapshots of the action. Xander willneverbelieve me when I tell him about this place.
We enter yet another room, and apart from the colors of the furniture, which turn to graphite, nothing changes. A threesome fucking in one corner. Someone getting a blowjob in another. Someone else watching the action.
I must already look comical as I try to take everything in, but I fucking yelp out loud and stop on the spot when my eyes land on a naked chick with her legs spread wide, getting head. From another girl.
Subconsciously, I know I am now one of the creeps, staring like a fucking voyeur, but I can't force myself to move. How often do you see something like that? The right answer is never.
I lean to the side for a better angle and my head bumps into something solid. “Sorry,” I mumble before I realize the solid object is Sawyer. He eyes the girls, his expression stoic like it doesn't affect him, just like the rest of the action here.
“That your thing, huh?”
“Isn't it everybody’s?” I ask, and he chuckles.
We stand here for a few minutes, and I'm starting to feel a familiar tingling in my groin, something I'm not exactly eager for Sawyer to see.
I shoot him a discreet glance. Fortunately, he looks bored.
“We can move on, I guess.” I'm not sure my tone of voice matches the scenery, but he shoots me a look as if to sayFinally.I follow him as he leads me through the room, and then the next, and the next, and then I stop counting, entrapped by the images,the sounds, and the omnipresent sensation of desire coming from every corner in this godforsaken place.
We wander like this for what feels like hours, although it’s more like minutes. And by wander, I mean me following Sawyer, stumbling over my feet, bumping into him occasionally when something grabs my attention.
And then, I find myself in a new reality altogether. I halt abruptly at the sight of a couple of guys getting it on in the middle of a large leather cube.
Okay. I was not prepared forthat.
I should probably move past them, but something about the scene makes me… curious.
The people gathered around them make for an odd combination. I’d expect to see an all-male crowd, but it’s not the case. he action seems to appeal to all kinds of people, much like the chicks I had ogled before. There are single guys and gals, mixed couples, and same-sex couples, and I’m trying to comprehend what exactly draws them to this particular scene, but then again… I’m standing here myself, aren’t I?
The smaller guy straddles the bigger one, just as I’d have imagined, but the power dynamic between them defies my expectation.
They’re both half-dressed—shirtless, with their pants lowered to their thighs. The man on top seems on a roll as he grinds his hips over his—partner?—while their hard cocks are aligned, rubbing against each other, disappearing and reappearing from their palms wrapped tightly around them.
Jeez. That’sa lotof cock. Way more than I bargained for.
Yet still, something about the image, about the exoticism of it, makes me shoulder my way to the front so that I’m standing directly in the line of sight.
The guy on the bottom has one hand on the other’s waist, the other hand working their cocks. His head is dropped back, his eyes closed, and mouth ajar, expression blissful.
Damn, it must feel nice. For him, that is.
Soft moans from both of them filter through the background noise and somehow make their way into my ears. Or maybe I’m just tuned in to their frequency.
The movements of their hands pick up the pace and I’m captivated by their effortless glide.
I’m biting my bottom lip and school my features as soon as I realize. I hastily scan the space for Sawyer—the last thing I need is for him to think… whatever he might think.
Fortunately, he’s nowhere to be found. He probably got bored and moved on.
Ishouldscram and follow him, but my legs refuse to move. What’s the harm in watching for just a bit, anyway? It’s not like I’ve ever seen two guys getting it on. Naturally, I’m intrigued.
And then, like in a kaleidoscope, the scene changes, as the guy on the bottom puts both his hands on the smaller man’s ass and somehow simultaneously rolls them over and shifts so that now he’s on top, with the other’s back—well, ass—leveled with his hips.
Damn, that was smooth.
A series of events follow swiftly. Pants slide down even farther. Sound of a lube bottle uncapping. A moan, a groan, acurse. And then an index finger making its way into the bent-over ass.
