What the Resort Offered Wasn’t in the Brochure

We had been looking forward to that trip for months. My parents were celebrating twenty-eight years of marriage and had decided the occasion deserved something big: a luxury resort in Punta Cana, business-class flights, and two weeks without having to think about anything. My older brother couldn’t travel because of a work commitment, so I had the luck—or the bad luck, depending on how you looked at it—of accompanying my parents alone. Separate rooms, of course. Wouldn’t have it any other way.

The flight was an interminable torture. Nine hours that felt like twenty, with turbulence in the middle of the Atlantic and a baby crying two rows behind us. When we finally landed at Las Américas and boarded the shuttle, the Caribbean humidity hit me like a punch. I could barely keep my eyes open during the hour-long drive to the resort.

My first glimpse of the hotel took my breath away. It was enormous, a complex that disappeared among palm trees and white pathways. After check-in, they introduced us to our personal butler, a detail I wasn’t used to. The idea of having someone attending to me at all times made me feel more uncomfortable than reassured. He guided us through the exclusive area while a bellhop pushed our luggage, pointing out the gym, event rooms, private beach access, and the complex’s six restaurants.

At twenty-five, I still hadn’t traveled as much as I would have liked, and I had never been anywhere with this level of service. I was determined to make the most of every inch of the place.

After recording the typical room video to send to my best friend, I took a quick shower and went down to dinner with my parents before the restaurants closed. The idea was to fill my stomach and collapse, exhausted, to fight the jet lag.

It worked. The moment my head touched the pillow of that enormous bed, I lost consciousness until seven the next morning.

I went out onto the terrace to watch the sunrise. Dozens of employees moved through the gardens, getting everything ready: raking the sand, lining up the loungers, serving the first coffees. I arranged to meet my parents for breakfast at eight-thirty.

After breakfast, they went to the main pool and I headed straight down to the beach. I chose a secluded lounger in an area where there was hardly anyone around and spent a long while staring at the horizon. The sun was beginning to bear down and my thirst became unbearable. There was a beach bar beside the palms, so I walked over.

—Good morning —I greeted him.

—Hello, my friend, how’s it going? What can I get you? —the bartender replied, a man with the most genuine smile I had seen in days.

—Well, I don’t know… What do people order here?

—The very best, the very best is pineapple. Anything with pineapple tastes good here, brother.

—A piña colada, then.

—Coming right up. You go get comfortable; they’ll bring it to your lounger.

I went back to reclining with that strange feeling service treatment gives you when you aren’t used to it. I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses and let the murmur of the sea lull me.

Not even five minutes had passed when a voice made me open my eyes.

—Sir, with pleasure. Your piña colada, nice and cold.

It took me a moment to react. The waiter standing in front of me had to be around my age. Cinnamon-colored skin, strong arms, a lean, muscular build, not very tall. The nameplate on his white uniform said “Mateo.”

—Uh, thank you. Thank you very much —I stammered.

—If you don’t mind, your room number? It’s to confirm that you’re in the exclusive area.

—Ten thousand seven hundred thirty-one.

—All right. Everything’s in order. If you need anything, I’ll be around this area. At your service.

Mateo walked away, and I turned around as discreetly as I could to look at him from behind. The uniform outlined his waist and, lower down, a round, tight ass that strained the fabric of his trousers. When he reached the bar, I took a sip from the glass and almost let out a sigh. It was delicious. Too delicious, actually: you could barely taste the alcohol, but it definitely had twice the usual amount.

I was so comfortable that I fell asleep again. Luckily, it was only for a few minutes, until my phone vibrated on my towel. My parents were already waiting for me at the restaurant. I searched for Mateo with my eyes before leaving, but I didn’t see him.

The three of us ate together, talking about the place, how well everything was organized, and the heat. Then we went back to the room to rest and, as expected, the bed made me its prisoner once again. I dropped into a two-hour nap.

I got up somewhat disoriented, with the sole idea of getting into the shower to clear my head. My parents were off somewhere in the hotel. I was just about to go into the bathroom with a towel around my waist when someone knocked on the door.

It was the butler. He asked whether I needed anything, whether everything was in order. With one hand I held the towel so it wouldn’t fall to the floor, and with the other I held the door. An awkward, brief, formal conversation. When he finally left, I stepped under the lukewarm water for a good ten minutes.

I had dinner with my parents, we had a drink at the lobby bar, and I went back to the room. Once again, I slept straight through.

***

The second day began just like the first. I woke at seven, procrastinated on my phone for a while, had breakfast with my parents, and went down to the beach. I chose the same secluded lounger again.

Not even five minutes had passed when that familiar voice startled me.

—My friend, here’s your delicious pineapple so you don’t get hot.

—But I didn’t order it.

—No problem. Everything’s included here, and my job is to make sure you have a good time.

—Well, I couldn’t be better —I said without thinking.

—That’s how it should be. Enjoy it, and as soon as you finish it I’ll bring you another.

—Thank you, Mateo.

—At your service!

This second drink was even better than the one the day before. Less strong, colder, more pineapple. I savored it slowly while spying on Mateo over the top of my sunglasses. I had noticed how he joked with the other guests, always wearing that same attentive smile. But when he looked at me, the smile had something different about it. Something I couldn’t read.

He came back before I had finished.

—Let’s see that glass. It’s warm now, isn’t it? Here, have the next one.

—You’re going to be the death of me.

—Here we make everything delicious, brother.

—I don’t doubt it.

—Anything else I can do for you?

—I’m fine, thanks.

In my head, however, there was another answer. He could do a lot more for me. He could serve me in my room, on my bed, face down, with that cock—which God knew what it was like—buried in my ass for the rest of the afternoon.

I didn’t know whether it was the sun, the two drinks in a row, or whatever was running through my mind, but I was starting to sweat in a strange way.

—That drink is very full. Don’t you like it? I can change it, no problem.

—I’m not much of a drinker, and I think it’s already starting to affect me.

—Would you like a soda or some water, brother? Ask for whatever you need.

—Water, please.

He took less than two minutes to return with a frozen bottle. I drank almost the whole thing in one gulp.

—Are you all right? Should I call someone?

—It’s the combination of the heat and the alcohol. It’s nothing.

—I’m going to run a few errands and come back. If you’re feeling bad, I’ll take you to the infirmary or wherever you want.

—I don’t want to keep you. Go.

I closed my eyes and tried to control my racing heart. It wasn’t the alcohol; I knew that perfectly well. It was Mateo. It was that polite, helpful tone that suddenly sounded like something else when he looked me straight in the eyes.

When my pulse returned to normal, I sat up on the lounger. Mateo appeared a few seconds later.

—Better, my friend?

—Much better.

—That’s good.

—I think I’m going up to the room to get out of the sun for a while.

—Would you like me to come with you?

—I’m fine, don’t worry. You’re very kind.

—Whatever you need, brother.

I went up to the room, washed my face, and stretched out on the bed with my phone. The air conditioning brought me back to life in five minutes. I was practically recovered when someone knocked on the door.

It was Mateo.

—Everything’s all right, isn’t it? I felt bad leaving you, brother, in case you weren’t okay.

—Much better. The air helped.

At that moment, my phone rang on the nightstand.

—Come in for a second; don’t stay in the hallway. I’ll just take this.

Mateo stepped inside and stopped right by the entrance, the door slowly closing behind him. It was my parents, telling me they were at a catamaran activity and that we would meet for lunch in an hour and a half. I hung up quickly.

—I was saying that the cold air helped. I hardly ever drink, so it goes straight to my head.

—Alcohol hits fast here. Especially during the first few days. A lot of Americans drink everything in sight and end up a mess.

—I can imagine. You must see all kinds of things.

Only then did I realize I was wearing nothing but my underwear. I had taken off my swim trunks before lying down and had completely forgotten. The bulge showed unmistakably through the fabric, already beginning to swell simply from having him standing in front of me. I felt a different kind of heat rise up my neck.

—Sorry you have to see me like this.

—Make yourself at home. I don’t mind.

His tone changed again. I looked at him. We held each other’s gaze in silence, without pretending otherwise. His eyes moved from my face to my torso, down to the bulge in my underwear, then back up without a trace of shame. Mine traveled over his short uniform, his cinnamon-colored skin, the line of his jaw, and, unable to help myself, the crotch of those white trousers that were beginning to show something.

—Can I ask you something?

—Of course. At your service.

—When they say everything is included, does that include you?

Mateo stared at me for several seconds. He didn’t move.

—I’m here to make sure you enjoy your stay, in every way I can.

—And what can you offer me?

—You just have to ask.

—I want you to come closer.

He didn’t hesitate for an instant. He crossed the room and stopped a few inches from my face. I smelled the clean sweat of his uniform, his cheap cologne, and something sweet and pineapple-like from the bar.

—Do you have time? I don’t want to get you into trouble.

—As much as necessary. You’re in charge.

—Can I take your clothes off?

He didn’t answer. He began unbuttoning his shirt with a calmness that made me nervous, one button at a time, never looking away from me. When he finished, I pulled the garment off him effortlessly and left it on the chair. His torso was completely tanned, his abs defined, his shoulders rounded, his small dark nipples already hard and erect. I wrapped my hands around his waist, pulled him toward me, and went straight for his mouth.

The kiss was immediate and hungry. He tasted of mint, probably from chewing gum. At some point our teeth collided in our haste to find each other. I thrust my tongue deep into his mouth and he gently bit it, sucking it as if he were going to suck something else. My cock was already hard, slipping out through the elastic of my underwear, and when I lowered my hand to feel him through his trousers, his was hard too. Very hard. I squeezed the bulge through the fabric and felt it pulsing, thick and long, angling toward his hip. My mouth watered just imagining it free.

—Look at how hard you are, you bastard —I whispered in his ear.

—And you, papi. Yours is practically all the way out.

He slipped his hand inside my underwear without asking, grabbed my cock, and pulled it out in one motion. He began jerking me off slowly, squeezing me firmly, while I bit his lip. With his other hand he pinched one of my nipples and drew a moan from me.

I pulled back a little and began kissing his neck, his collarbone, his chest. I stopped at one nipple, sucked it, bit it, and he let out a hoarse moan that went straight between my legs. I moved to the other and did the same, then continued licking his stomach, every groove of his abs, his navel, the trail of hair descending from it. I traced him with my mouth, coating him in saliva, until I knelt in front of him.

He gently held my head. I unbuttoned his trousers, pulled off his belt, and lowered them. A neatly trimmed patch of black hair appeared, and just beneath it, something I hadn’t expected: white underwear stretched to the limit, the tip of his glans poking above the elastic, soaking the fabric with a stain of pre-cum.

I pulled the elastic down and his cock sprang free, smacking me in the face. When his trousers were around his ankles, what I had in front of me was easily twenty-two centimeters, and far from thin. It was as thick as a wrist, with a prominent vein running along the top, a dark, broad glans shining with pre-cum. He was by far the best-endowed guy I had ever been with. I gripped the base with one hand—I couldn’t quite close my fingers around it completely—and began stroking him slowly, watching his breathing change and the way he bit his lower lip.

I licked his balls first, large and hanging, heavy with anticipation. I took one completely into my mouth, then the other, continuing to jerk him with my hand. I ran my tongue from the base to the tip, very slowly, savoring the sweat and salt, and he muttered “motherfucker” through his teeth, pushing me to the brink of coming without even touching myself.

He was hot and throbbing, and the dark glans begged to pass through my mouth. I closed my eyes and leaned in. I wrapped my lips around it and moved forward as far as I could. The glans hit the roof of my mouth and I had to open my jaw wide to let it in without scraping it with my teeth. Mateo kept hold of my head, but at first he let me set the pace. I moved up and down slowly, covering him with saliva, letting it spill from the corner of my mouth down to my chin. Because of its size, little more than half of it fit; every time I tried to force myself a little deeper, I gagged dryly and he smiled down at me.

—Easy, papi, easy. Don’t choke.

Little by little he took over and began fucking my mouth carefully, measuring every thrust. He held my head with both hands and started pumping deeper, until tears began spilling from my eyes on their own and drool streamed down my chest to my cock. I tightened my lips and worked him with my tongue as much as I could. I ran my hand over his balls, squeezed them, pulled them downward, and he answered with longer thrusts.

—What a sweet little mouth you’ve got, papi. You’re going to make me come like that.

After a few minutes, I pulled away. My lips were swollen, and my chin was dripping with saliva and precum.

—Fuck me, please.

—Are you sure? With this beast, I’m going to split you in two.

—Please. I want to feel all of it.

—Get on the bed. Naked.

I did, with the ridiculous embarrassment of removing my last garment in front of him. I felt self-conscious about my body after seeing his, but there was nothing to be done. I threw my underwear onto the floor and knelt on the mattress, my cock pointing toward the ceiling, my heart pounding in my temples.

—Get on all fours. And spread wide.

I obeyed him. I stuck my ass out, my knees as far apart as I could manage, and he came toward me without wasting a second. He ran his hands over my buttocks, spreading them with his thumbs, and let out a low whistle.

—Look at that pretty pink little ass. I’m going to eat it all up.

He bent down and began eating me with an intensity I hadn’t expected. His tongue moved quickly and forcefully, circling my hole before pushing inside. He licked me in circles, drove it in, pulled it out, blew on me, gave my buttocks little bites, and went back to it. I gripped the sheets with both hands and moaned helplessly.

—Fuck, fuck…

—Easy, papi. This is just the appetizer.

A saliva-slicked finger suddenly entered me, all the way in. I arched over the bed. He began moving it in and out calmly, searching for the spot he knew how to touch, while continuing to lick around me. Two minutes later, he inserted a second finger. He opened me with his fingertips, pulling in different directions to stretch me, then spat over me again to keep everything properly wet. I knew perfectly well what was coming next and was grateful for every minute of that preparation.

After we had been like that for five minutes, he stopped. I rested my head on the sheet and turned my face. I watched him grip his rock-hard member, spit into his palm, and guide it toward my entrance, rubbing the shining glans up and down my crack. I closed my eyes.

—Relax, here it comes.

—Do it.

He began pushing the tip in. It hurt. An electric stab ran through me from top to bottom, and I fought the urge to tell him to stop. He stayed there, the glans piercing the ring, giving me time to breathe. When he advanced another centimeter, I complained involuntarily.

—Wait, fuck, wait.

—I’m going to get some cream. Don’t move.

He returned within seconds with the bottle of moisturizing cream from the bathroom. He coated his cock generously until it dripped white, then poured a liberal amount over my ass, using two fingers to spread it inside. He pushed his fingers in to the knuckles, thoroughly slicking me up, and positioned himself behind me again. He placed his hands on my hips, settled himself, and pushed once more. The first half slid in almost imperceptibly through the cream. After that I could still feel it, a thick filling that opened me from within millimeter by millimeter, but it was bearable now. He did everything very slowly, very patiently, entering a little, withdrawing, then going back in a little deeper, until, after more than fifteen minutes, he had buried himself completely inside me. I could feel his balls resting against mine and the hair on his pubis brushing my buttocks.

—Is it all the way in?

—It’s all the way in, papi. And now comes the best part.

He didn’t give me time to answer. He began moving slowly and thrusting without stopping, with a perfect rhythm. At first, long, very long strokes, pulling almost all the way out until the glans was just about to slip free, then driving it all the way back in. I dropped onto my forearms and gave him my entire ass, arching my back to offer it to him better. Every thrust drew a hoarse moan from me that I buried in the pillow.

—That’s it, papi. Open that little ass for me. Squeeze.

—Harder, fuck me harder…

He shifted gears. He gripped my hips with both hands and began hammering me with short, rapid thrusts, the wet sound of skin against skin filling the room. His balls bounced against mine with every blow. The bed creaked. My face was buried in the sheet, biting it so I wouldn’t scream. Then he slowed again, fucking me slowly, savoring it, and two minutes later sped up once more.

He pulled my hair backward, forcing me to arch my neck. Without pulling out, he bent over my back and whispered in my ear, panting:

—Tell me you like it, papi. Tell me.

—I love it, fuck. Don’t stop, don’t stop…

—Do you like my cock? Tell me.

—I love your cock. Break me in two.

He slapped my right buttock, making me clench my ass around him, and he let out a guttural moan. I could feel him throbbing inside me, growing harder and thicker. I have no idea how long he kept going like that. He pulled all the way out and drove back in without hesitation; then he switched to short, rapid thrusts; then he started over again. It was by far the best fuck of my life, and I was having it in the Caribbean without ever seeking it out.

—I’m about to come.

—Wait. Can we do it in another position?

—Of course. Which one?

—Lie on your back.

He withdrew slowly, with a wet sound that made me shudder. He lay down immediately, his cock shining with cream and saliva, throbbing toward the ceiling, soaked in me. I climbed on top, braced myself against his thighs, and lowered myself slowly. He slid in without resistance. I felt him rising inside me, a deep fullness that reached my throat. We looked into each other’s eyes in silence while I sat all the way down and he held my hips to guide me. I had never had anything so deep inside me. Nothing. I could feel the pulse of that cock pounding inside.

I began riding him. At first slowly, lifting and lowering myself with my legs, pulling him halfway out and then sinking all the way down again. I placed my hands on his chest to get leverage and sped up. He moved his hips from below, thrusting into me every time I came down, and it struck my prostate with brutal precision. A high, ridiculous moan escaped me, which he celebrated with a crooked smile.

—There, there it is, right, papi? Ride me right there.

—There, fuck, don’t move, right there…

He grabbed my waist and began lifting and dropping me, using me like a toy, impaling me on his cock again and again. His thighs were sweaty, and I slid over him. My cock bounced between us, hard as a rock, dribbling pre-cum onto his stomach without anyone needing to touch it.

A few minutes later I closed my eyes and felt the contractions. I was going to come without even touching myself. A deep tingling from inside me rose up my spine.

—I’m going to come, keep going, keep going…

Mateo sat up just enough to bring his mouth to my cock and let my cum fill his lips without flinching. The first jet hit his chin; the next ones went straight into his mouth, thick, hot streams he swallowed with difficulty while continuing to thrust up into me. A strand hung from the corner of his mouth to his chest. Meanwhile, he sped up his thrusts, driving into me furiously. The contractions of my sphincter tightening around him did the rest. He let out a restrained, almost animal growl and emptied himself inside me. I counted at least five hot bursts, each accompanied by a deeper thrust, feeling his cock pulse and fill me from within. I clung to him, trembling, my thighs convulsing involuntarily.

We stayed still for a few seconds, trying to breathe. We were soaked, and the room smelled of sweat, cream, and sex. I felt him slowly soften inside me. When I carefully lifted myself up, a stream of warm semen ran down the inside of my thigh. I covered myself with my hand instinctively and went straight to the bathroom.

—Do you want to shower?

—No, brother, I don’t have time. I’ll steal some water, though; you left me nice and dry.

—No problem.

Mateo dried himself with one of my towels, running the cloth over his still-shining cock and the chest stained with my cum. He dressed in thirty seconds and left the room as if nothing had happened.

I got into the shower and let the water clean me inside and out. I could feel his cum running down my legs for a long time afterward. My parents were waiting for me for lunch.

During lunch they asked whether I wanted to go into the city for sightseeing the next day. I declined the invitation without thinking. I preferred to stay at the hotel.

I took a nap. Mateo’s scent was still in my bed, and just thinking about what had happened there a few hours earlier, his cock splitting me in two and the salty taste of his skin, I got hard again. I lowered my hand, grabbed my cock, and was about to jerk myself raw, but I stopped myself. I needed to rest.

What I didn’t know was that the next day was going to be even better.