It had been three months since I traded Nigeria's humid nights for Canada's crisp air. Life in the workers' lodge, a chaotic hive of two hundred souls, was a whirlwind of laughter, late-night tales, and restless energy. That evening, the common room hummed with the buzz of twenty of us—fifteen guys, five women—lounging after a grueling day. The air was thick with the scent of beer and anticipation when Shaw burst in, his voice dripping with mischief.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we fuckin' party!" he roared, eyes glinting.
The room exploded. "Hell yeah, Shaw! Let's get wild!" Voices overlapped, raw and hungry for release.
I leaned back, a faint smile tugging at my lips, staying quiet. Davies, my sharp-witted friend, caught my vibe and grinned, leaning closer. "Peter, what's with you? Never partied before?"
I paused, my voice low. "Once."
The room erupted in laughter. "Once?" Davies cackled. "You shittin' me?"
They pounced, tossing jabs. "Virgin boy!" "Mr. Pure!" I smirked, firing back. "And you're all just a bunch of horny bastards!" The room shook with laughter, the tension electric, teasing rolling like foreplay.
Shaw, still buzzing, leaned in, his voice a sultry drawl. "Last time at Sirus Hotel, I met this goddess. Curves that could stop your heart, confidence that owned the room. In bed? Fuck, she was a wildfire—screaming, clawing, devouring me. Best night of my life."
His words lit a spark, the group leaning in, eyes wide, pulses racing. But Davies zeroed in on me. "Peter, you're not hyped. What's the deal? Hate partying?"
I sighed, my chest tight. "I don't love it."
"Why?" he pressed, his tone softer but curious.
Greenwood, who'd been silent, spoke up, his voice calm but commanding. "Peter, no pressure. But if you wanna share, we're listening. Maybe there's something we can learn."
The room stilled, all eyes on me. My fists clenched, memories clawing their way up—hot, vivid, and haunting. I'd never spoken of that night. But tonight, something urged me to let it spill.
I exhaled, my voice low, almost a growl. "Last time I partied was back in Nigeria, at Villa Hotel in Ikot Akpaden. My boys dragged me there, saying I was too uptight. The club was a fever dream—strobing lights, bodies grinding, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and raw desire.
I sat alone, nursing a whiskey, when I saw her. She was a fucking vision. Long legs that went on forever, curves hugged tight by a dress that screamed sin. Her eyes locked on mine, dark and predatory, promising trouble. My cock twitched just from that look. She wanted me—bad.
I crossed the room, my voice steady, dripping with intent. 'I want you tonight.'
She smirked, dragging a crimson nail down my chest, her touch igniting me. 'I don't come cheap, baby.'
I leaned closer, my breath hot against her ear. 'Money's no issue.'
We danced, her body pressed tight against mine, hips swaying slow, deliberate, like she was fucking me through the music. Every grind, every roll of her curves, sent heat surging through me. Her ass teased my groin, her fingers grazing my neck as she whispered, voice husky, 'Hope you can keep up, big boy.'
By the time we stumbled into the VIP suite, I was rock-hard, aching. The door slammed shut, and she shoved me against it, her lips crashing into mine, tongue slick and hungry. 'Strip,' she purred, her voice a velvet command.
I ripped off my shirt, pants hitting the floor. She stepped back, unzipping her dress with agonizing slowness, letting it pool at her feet. No panties, no bra—just smooth, glistening skin. My mouth went dry, my dick throbbing.
She sauntered over, her fingers trailing my abs, dipping lower to grip me. 'Fuck… you're huge,' she moaned, stroking me slow, her lips brushing my jaw. 'I'm gonna love this.'
I grabbed her, tossing her onto the bed, but she was faster—flipping us, straddling me, pinning my wrists. Her wet heat grazed my cock as she rolled her hips, teasing, torturing. 'You don't call the shots tonight,' she whispered, eyes blazing.
Then she sank onto me, inch by fucking inch, her tight walls gripping me like a vice. 'Ohhh… fuck… you're so deep,' she gasped, head thrown back, tits bouncing as she rode me slow, her moans filling the air—'Mmm… ahhh… so fucking big…'
I growled, gripping her hips, but she slapped my hands away. 'No touching,' she panted, riding faster, her pussy clenching me tight. 'Ohhh… shit… you're gonna ruin me…'
My control snapped. I flipped her hard, pinning her wrists, her legs wrapping around me as I slammed into her. 'Yes! Fuck me harder!' she screamed, her nails clawing my back, hips bucking to meet every thrust. 'Ohhh… Peter… it's too much… too fucking deep…!'
Her cries drove me wild, her body trembling, pussy pulsing around me. 'Ahhh… you're splitting me open… slow down…!' But I was lost, drowning in her heat, her moans, the slap of skin on skin.
Then I saw it—a drop of blood.
I froze, heart hammering, lust crashing into panic. I pulled out, staring as another crimson bead trickled down her thigh. 'What the fuck?' she whispered, her voice shaky.
'You're bleeding,' I rasped, dread choking me.
She glanced down, eyes widening. 'Oh, shit…'
I scooped her up, adrenaline surging, and bolted for a cab, rushing her to a clinic. The doctor's face was calm as he examined her. 'She's fine,' he said, a faint smirk tugging his lips. 'Just… she wasn't ready for someone your size. Small tear.'
I felt sick. 'But she's… experienced.'
He chuckled. 'Not with you.'
I bought her meds, my hands shaking. When I returned, she looked at me, her expression raw. 'You're the biggest I've ever had,' she admitted, voice soft. 'That was… intense.'
The blood stayed with me, a ghost I couldn't shake. That was the last time I partied.
The common room was dead silent, the air heavy with my words. Greenwood broke it, his voice low. 'Fuck, Peter… that's some story.'
Shaw grinned, leaning in. 'And you're still saying no to tonight?'
I exhaled, a slow smirk spreading. 'Fuck it. Let's do it.'
The room erupted, cheers echoing as the promise of Sirus Hotel loomed—a night of sweat, sin, and maybe redemption.