Page 56 of For Keeps. For Always.

My flaccid cock stirs again, and I almost drop my cell.

Brooks: Gotta show for me?

Henley: Night x

I laugh.

I should be mad.

But that was hot as fuck.

A side to Henley I’ve never seen. One I can’t wait to be introduced to in the flesh.

* * *

I’m beat.

Fucking exhausted.

My clothes are filthy. My muscles aching.

But I’m elated.

I stood in the fucking clouds.

Abovethem even.

I felt it all.

Alive.

Inconsequential against the sprawling expanse of the sliver of the world I could see. Standing at the top of the mountain, I realized how small I was in the grand scheme of the world.

And it made me feel powerful.

In myself.

The world may be bigger than we can comprehend, but me, a small fucking being, could stand on top of it and soak it the fuck in. My soul was set on fire, and I let it fucking burn.

I’ve done my fair share of hiking over the years. But Mount Pulag had me going nonstop for over ten hours. Longer if you include the travel time to and from the base of the mountain.

I work hard. But I play even harder. When there’s a break in my schedule, I take full advantage.

Dropping my shit the moment I cross the threshold of my room, I strip the clothes from my body, needing a shower like I need my next breath.

I stand under the boiling hot water of the spray, letting it cascade over my aching muscles. Sliding down the wall, I sit, naked, and consider falling asleep where I am.

I have three more days off before my job starts again. The company I’m shooting for has decided to fly in more models. It seems redundant to me. I could get them the money shot with the girls and guys they already have, but they want more variety. It’s no skin off my nose because while they fuck around, I’m still getting paid. It’s their back pocket hurting, not mine.

Forcing myself to stand, I wash the countless hours off my body, attempting to massage my muscles as I go. But it’s futile because I have nothing left in me. I give up, dragging my towel lazily across my body, barely drying the droplets of water before falling to my bed.

Patting my bed aimlessly, I grab at my phone, ready to turn it off to make sure no one wakes me from the next sixteen hours of sleep I plan on diving into.

A message from Henley sits unread, and I perk up, the sudden burst of energy coursing through me enough to bring me onto my elbows.

The video starts with an almost indecipherable moan, a quiet cry of pleasure.

The saliva in my mouth dissipates immediately.

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