I am 18 and all characters and participants must be 18 . My Kik is sexyprompts

Steaming up the shower- The shower hisses to life as I rub the days labors out of my eyes. Hot water cascades out of the rain faucet, steam slowly lifting and fogging the glass. I run the soap over my arms, my chest; my neck, my cock. I scrub and clean, washing the days worries away. The bathroom is fogged over. I take a deep breath, and run my finger over the steamed glass, clearing a line a way just to a second- and there you are, your silk robe barely sitting on your shoulders. It slides to a heap on the floor as you walk toward me. I swallow. I knew this could happen. I WANTED this to happen. We’ve been waiting for this opportunity for so long. You step onto the tile, your own finger tracing a line through the glass, all the way to me.

Cafe Royale- It’s the fanciest new restaurant in town, awarded a Michelin star on its opening, causing quite the controversy as the organization broke its own rules. Reservations are already booked up years in advance. I was only able to get in tonight because a friend gave me his reservation. Apparently his wife didn’t like the idea of him dining alone.

The ambience is not quite what I was expecting- the dark lighting and sparkling fixtures make the main dining area feel like a fever dream. I give the host my friends name. “Ah of course; I have you down for a…. VIP dinner. Right this ways.” Why did she say it like that?

We walk through the main area, past tables of elaborate meals and fine vintages. Past a velvet rope, and in to an elevator. She brings me to the 4th floor. We exit into strobing lights and loud music. Men and women in fine dress sit on sunken couches, watching half-naked women dance in glass cages. My mouth drops, but the host keeps walking.

I follow another set of doors, this time into a much quieter space. A private bar with velvet booths, and candlelight. “here you are, she says go ahead and take a look at our menu. Your servant will be right with you. “

I open the menu, and look over the offerings.

“Jasmine- 5’4”, curled blond hair, energetic, enthusiastic and eager to please- market price.

Sasha- 5’11”, dark eyes, thin features. Talented, if a little stubborn- market price.”

This is not food. I look up, as a beautiful tall women with dark eyes walks past in an elegant dress to a different booth. The reality of what this room is- what I will be doing here, grips me too my core. My server walks over with a glass of red. “On the house. Are you ready to order?”

“ I’m sorry, “I say, about to get up. “There’s been a-“ I stop myself sentence as my eyes finally reach the last item on the menu. My heart starts pounding. “Yes. Yes I am ready to order.”

What does your entry say?

And the award goes too- I straighten my bow tie in the mirror. I always feel so uncomfortable in a tux. I take a deep breath. This is a big night for you. And since you invited me- it is a big night for us. Months of flirting, of hot and cold dates, of unpredictable texting and mixed signals the morning after wonderful nights, and you invited ME to your biggest night.

I call the Uber, meeting you there, as you instructed. You look astounding in a sparkling dress that flows down your figure like a shimmering stream. I tell you so. You smile, and give me a peck on the cheek. But you don’t take my hand. You never take my hand in public. We walked to our seats, sitting next to another handsome man, wearing an almost identical tux. Odd, you had chosen this tux for me. Then you look at him, it’s the same way you look at me, and suddenly I know. Everything makes sense, every missed date, every flirty look, it was all underlined by this other man.

Sure, we would never put labels on anything, you were free to date as you wished. But what was your game? Why were you inviting us both here? He looks at me, and I realize that he is having a similar revelation. You look between us, smiling at each of us.

It’s time for your category. You hold both of our hands as they call out the nominees. “And the award goes to…“ The announcer says. he calls your name. As you stand up to accept your award, you turn to us both. “Let’s celebrate later.”

You take us to a house we’ve never been to before. Is yours? Did you rent it? There’s a pool in the back, and a hot tub. But you have other plans tonight, don’t you? You didn’t invite us both here for nothing. The three of us are alone in this house. You, and your two play things. The two boys you’ve been stringing along for months, and you finally have them right where you want them.

(For women who like to play with their food before that eat it)