This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, places or events is coincidental. This story contains scenes of explicit sex between adult males. If you find such content not to your taste or it is illegal for you to view such content, stop reading now.

The rest of you, enjoy! If you have any comments, please email them to ap.writer1971@gmail.com

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SPLASH AT THE HOTEL Episode Two - The Interview

Now dressed in a fresh, tight white T-shirt, Conrad spent the rest of the cab ride in the front passenger seat, Michael resting a warm hand on his thigh as he drove. He had to dissuade the driver from the warm stroking motion he kept trying to start up, lest his spent cock head towards stiffness once again.

"You'd get no complaint from me, baby," Michael had laughed, but from that point on his hand had stayed motionless, Conrad's own giving it a light squeeze from time to time.

The cab sped through the residential housing to the seafront in what seemed like no time at all. Michael was right about this being a small town, Conrad thought to himself. In the warm summer weather, the beaches were packed with families and young, tanned bodies of both sexes.

In short order the cab turned off from the main road and headed inland for a couple of blocks, before drawing up in front of a building of nondescript frontage. A small plaque by the front door read:

SPRING HOUSE PRIVATE RESORT

Please ring bell for entry

"You're here," Michael said, giving Conrad's thigh one last playful squeeze.

Conrad leant over and give the driver a quick, affectionate peck on the lips before bouncing out of the passenger door and into the blistering heat. Taking the small case from Michael's hands, he proffered a couple of bills that represented a hefty tip.

Michael raised an eyebrow but made no other protest. Instead, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small business card. "Here," he said as he pushed the card deep into Conrad's pants pocket. "My cell's on there. Call when you need to book a ride back to the airport. And," he added with the killer smile that melted Conrad every time he saw it, "leave plenty of time before check-in."

And with a wink, Michael got back into the cab and drove off.

The reception area was smaller than he had imagined. On the hotel website it had seemed larger, airier. Then Conrad saw an archway opposite the resort's front door. The view of the room beyond was obscured by a large folding screen, set far enough back for people to walk through freely but preventing any sight of the room beyond. In front of it a wooden, free-standing sign read:

RESIDENTS AND STAFF ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT

Conrad nodded to himself. Beyond there would be the reception area illustrated on the website, allowing residents to consult with staff of the clothing optional resort without fear of prying eyes from casual visitors.

The area he was in now was elegantly decorated enough, showing the same subtle Spanish influences he recognized from the website photos. It was also completely empty, although that changed quickly once he rang the traditional bell on the counter. From another archway (leading, Conrad assumed, into a small corridor leading into the staff area of the guests' reception area) a tall, blond-haired man emerged. Like Conrad, he was muscular without being too pumped up, his sleeveless T showing some defined arms that suited his thin build and a red armband emblazoned with the word 'STAFF' tightly wrapped around an impressive bicep.

"Can I help you?" the blond man asked in a neutral voice. For a minute Conrad was thrown: every hotel he had ever trained or worked in (or, for that matter, visited) insisted on their receptionists being friendly and, well, receptive. While this guy was not exactly curt, his manner was so unexpectedly non-chirpy that it made Conrad blink briefly.

"Um. My name's Conrad Armstrong," he said. "I've got a job interview with Mr. Simons." He held out the interview letter, which the receptionist took and looked over. The merest hint of a smile seemed to grace his lips at one point -- he had read, Conrad presumed, the paragraph about the interview being conducted naked -- and his eyes had flicked up and down the visitor's body. Slowly the man handed the letter back to Conrad, and beckoned for him to come round to his side of the reception desk.

"Head up those stairs, and his office is the first door. You can't miss it," the receptionist said. Conrad gave him his friendliest smile (That's how you do it, he thought to himself) before heading up the stairs.

The heavy oak door was slightly ajar. Conrad's knock was greeted by a hefty "Come in!". Pushing the door open, he saw the proprietor, Jet Simons, sitting behind a heavy wooden desk. He looked younger than the photos he had found on the internet had led him to believe, his black hair lengthened into flowing locks rather than the severe crew cut Conrad had been expecting. As the resort owner walked round the desk to shake his interviewee's hand, Conrad couldn't help but admire the finely honed physique, sporting a similar sleeveless top and armband as the receptionist downstairs and a pair of shorts that gripped the thighs Conrad had imagined every night since first seeing them in photographic form.

Jet's large hands almost engulfed Conrad's as the two men shook in greeting. Then the owner indicated the sofa at the side of the room - a low, expensive velvet number, blood red and pristine.

"Please," he said, "take a seat."

Conrad sat at one end of the sofa while Conrad lifted a manila file from the otherwise bare surface of his desk. Opening it as he sat down next to Conrad, he said, "Conrad Armstrong," more to himself than to Conrad, elongating each vowel sound as if reminding himself of the name.

Conrad looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face that it took Jet a moment to catch. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, misreading the look. "Would you like something to drink? Water, perhaps? Or coffee?"

Conrad shook his head silently. Then, with a frown on his face, he asked, "Don't you want me to undress first?"

The air between them was still for a moment. Then Jet burst out into a raucous laugh, his booming voice resonating around the small office. Conrad countered the laugh with a weak smile, not really getting the joke that so tickled Jet.

Rapidly, Jet's laughter died down, replaced by a broad grin. "I'm sorry," he said to Conrad. "I only really put that into your letter to give you an out. If you wanted one, of course -- and by the fact you're here, I'm guessing you don't."

Conrad obviously failed to disguise his hurt at being deceived, because Jet melted in front of him, replacing his jokey demeanor with one approaching sympathetic camaraderie. He reached out and ruffled Conrad's hair - a move which from anyone else may have seemed patronizing, but felt to Conrad something warmer. "I'm sorry," he said.

And then, to Conrad's surprise, Jet stood bold upright. "Okay," the hotel owner said, "You're right. We should do this as I said in the letter." And with that, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head and off in a single, sweeping movement. As the shirt dropped to the floor, he put his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and shucked them to his ankles as quickly as he could before dropping back onto the sofa, completely naked except for the red armband.

In the next few seconds, Conrad's brain was so occupied in drinking in the physical form of the older nude man in front of him that it completely forgot to tell his jaw to stay where it was. Conrad had seen those photos of Jet Simons in swimwear before, of course, but nothing compared to the specimen now sitting, relaxed and half facing him, on the sofa.

Jet's chest was covered in black hair, lying smooth and flat against bronzed skin. Casting his eyes further downward, Conrad assumed the sharp abdominal definition was a recent addition. The magnificent thighs he had seen in photos, but any imagining of the penis that was now resting upon them could not do justice to the meat in front of his eyes. Conrad was used to men sporting impressive lengths once fully erect, but even soft, Jet's was nearly as long as the younger man was at his hardest.

He felt a crooked finger lift his lower jaw back up, and the rest of his head pushed back upwards so that his eyes met his prospective employer's. "Eyes front, soldier," Jet smiled. "If you want an interview in the nude, then go for it."

Conrad gulped. He'd jerked off in anticipation of this scenario so many times that he was surprised to find himself nervous. He resolved not to let that stop him, though. Remaining seated, he pulled off his T-shirt, then lifted his hips far enough off the sofa to pull off both his pants and briefs in one motion.

Free of his clothing, Conrad felt a sense of release, and relief. For the first time since he had entered Jet's office, he felt himself able to smile at the older man. For his part, Jet uttered a low, half-whistle as he surveyed Conrad's swim and dance-trained body.

For the first time, Conrad noticed that Jet's relaxed posture included his draping his arm along the back of the sofa, so that by merely reaching out a thumb he was able to gently stroke the skin of the young man's naked shoulder. That touch, when it came, was an electric jolt to his body that traveled immediately downwards to between his legs.

As Jet looked down to admire the growing penis before him, he noted other aspects of Conrad's physique. "No tan lines?" he queried.

Conrad smiled. "The product of a lazy summer with a mother who was never at home and a sheltered garden with a beautiful pool to sunbathe by," he smiled. He neglected to mention the cute-but-straight pool boy his mother had hired, and how Conrad's sunbathing naked to freak him out had turned into merry days of seduction, cute-but-straight turning out to be cute-and-gives-great-head.

Jet nodded at the information Conrad had given him. "You'll have plenty of opportunities to keep the tan topped up," he smiled. "We don't have a dress code on staff here, except for this." He indicated the red armband with the word 'STAFF' printed upon it.

"Really?" Conrad's mind was beginning to race. While he had always known that Spring House was a clothing optional resort, the prospect of actually working fully nude had never really entered his head. His cock, already hardening due to his proximity to his prospective employer, went fully stiff at the thought.

"Really," Jet laughed. "Most of us end up wearing at least something during the day, but if you want to walk round all day you can do. Mind you, with that body and such a cute erection the rest of us may not be able to get much work done."

Conrad felt his cheeks start to blush at Jet's compliments. He cursed himself: how could he let himself feel embarrassed in this position? The older man clearly saw his reddening face, and gave one cheek a friendly pinch.

"Shall we move on?" Jet asked, staring into Conrad's blue eyes with his own gray ones. The hand that had pinched Conrad's cheek lowered, but remained in contact with Conrad's skin. Jet shuffled closer to his interviewee, and Conrad turned further towards him in response, allowing the hand now exploring his body to travel down the side of his torso until it was resting on his hip.

"Now would be a good point to mention our policy towards sex," Jet said, ignoring any further reddening of Conrad's face. "Our guests flirt with staff all the time, and it's up to you whether you choose to respond. If you want to fuck a guest, you can, as long as it doesn't get in the way of your work duties."

Conrad was getting more and more turned on as Jet talked, which he guessed was intentional. He moved his arm over, running fingers gingerly through the man's cheat hair. "And... what about other members of staff?" he asked quietly.

Jet moved closer still. "If they both want it, then..." And he placed his hand over Conrad's, moving it further down his body until it met the stiff dick between his legs.

Conrad grasped the meat with fervor, exploring every inch of it with his fingers while he pressed his lips against Jet's. As he did so, he felt the older man's hand cup his balls, squeezing them and rolling them around gently before making its way to the length of his own meat.

Their kissing grew more ferocious as Jet leaned over him, forcing him onto his back on the sofa. Conrad's arms encircled Jet's broad shoulders as the man's weight bore down on him, his cock rubbing seductively against his own.

Jet's mouth moved its attentions to Conrad's neck, nuzzling and gently biting as the two bodies ground together. Conrad moved his arms up and down the older man's back, before reaching for his muscular ass and kneading the cheeks in rhythm with the thrusting that was sending electric shocks throughout his body as the two penises rubbed together.

"Are you sure this is ethical procedure for a job interview?" Conrad laughed.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no!"

It was Jet's turn to laugh. "Good. Besides, interview's over. You've got the job. Now let me at that ass."

Jet knelt up on the sofa, grabbed Conrad's ankles and pulled up his legs up so he could get a good view of the lad's backside. He pushed back on Conrad's thighs so that his glutes raised in the air, then lowered his head to lick at the hole being presented to him.

Conrad grasped his legs, bringing his ankles over his head to give his new lover full access to his ass. He was rewarded by the unmistakeable sensation of a tongue darting between his cheeks, licking the outer rim of his role before burrowing inside. He called out with pleasure at the warmth of the organ darting in and out of his hole, pulling on his own cock as he felt Jet's hands spread his cheeks further apart.

Every so often, Conrad felt the tongue withdraw, only to be replaced by a finger, sliding in to the first knuckle, then the second, then in fully, moving in and out slowly and sending his prostate into paroxysms of delight. Globs of pre-cum started dripping from his cock onto his chest.

Then the finger was withdrawn fully, and instead Conrad felt a larger pressure on his ring. Jet was on his knees now, pressing his cock-head slowly into the lad's ass, forcing the muscles to expand to accommodate his thick meat. As the head penetrated his body, Conrad shouted out in delight, feeling more and more of Jet enter him.

The older man leant over Conrad, pushing himself into his new employee until the full length of his prick were totally embedded. Then he started pumping in and out, slowly at first, then building up speed and pummeling Conrad's ass with some ferocity. He grabbed the lad's cock, jerking him off in time to his own fucking.

The sensation of Jet attacking both his ass and his cock at the same time sent Conrad over the edge. From deep within he felt his orgasm build up, felt it work its way through the meat Jet was pounding in his hand, and then spill out onto his chest, neck and face in thick streams of white cum.

The sight of Conrad's eruption brought Jet to climax also, spurting hot streams of jizz deep into the younger man's innards. Jet shouted out with pleasure as the last of his juices flowed, then withdrew his sodden cock and collapsed on top of Conrad, kissing him ravenously and enjoying the feeling of their sweat and cock juices plastering their skins as they writhed together.

They cuddled and kissed together for a while as they recovered from their exertions. Finally it was Conrad who spoke. "You know, you never asked me if I wanted to accept your job offer."

Jet raised himself up onto one elbow and looked quizzically at Conrad. Then he sighed. "Yeah, you're right." He cleared his throat. "Mister Armstrong, I would like to formally offer you the position of assistant manager. Would you do me the honor of agreeing to work, um, under me?"

Conrad couldn't help but grin at the pun made by the man on top of him. Then he grew serious again. "We'll have to discuss my duties. And salary."

"There's a contract on my desk outlining both."

Conrad got up and padded across to the desk, looking over the paperwork while Jet did the same to his naked form. Then he turned towards his employer, his face wracked in confusion. "Is this right?"

Jet smiled. "Absolutely. Listen, I can explain as I show you around, and then you can make up your mind. But can I suggest we start the tour with a shower?"

And with that, Jet took Conrad by the hand and led him out of the office, leaving their clothes behind.

END OF PART TWO