The Perils of Paolo
by stimle
Paolo walked across the lobby of the Hotel del Coronado, admiring the exquisite paneling and decor of the world famous hotel. He gave the desk clerk his name and credit card and waited while the young woman punched some buttons on her computer. Within a few moments he was handed his room key and a bellboy appeared at his side.
“I’m sorry. My bags are in the limousine out front,” he said to the bellboy, pointing to a long black stretch limo. As a junior exec for one of Brazil’s largest advertising agencies, Paolo traveled extensively and was accustomed to staying in higher class hotels like the Hotel del Coronado. Although he’d grown up in Rio de Janeiro to a wealthy family, he went to a private high school in the United States and then to the Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania where he graduated top of his class. He was an editor in an ad agency and a rising young star in the company, but lately he found it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Life on the road was turning out to be lonely. He couldn’t keep a steady girlfriend at home because of he was constantly on the road, and even though he got his share of pussy whenever he traveled, he found himself longing more and more for a steady relationship and a more stable life. He had just turned 30, had lots of money, a nice house, a nice car, nice clothes, but no one to share it with.
He glanced at himself in the large mirror as he waited for the bellboy to retrieve his bags. Actually, there was only one bag. He was only in town for two nights and it was already past 6:00 p.m. He ran his fingers through his short brown hair and couldn’t help but smile. He was quite handsome. It was weird because for someone who was Brazilian, he looked like the average all-American guy. He could easily pass for some guy from Peoria, Illinois or something. He was 5’11 and weighed 170 pounds. He tried to keep in shape and whenever he traveled he made sure his hotel had some sort of gym. He heard a quiet cough next to him and realized it was the bellboy. He had no idea how long the guy had been waiting there.
“Sorry about that,” Paolo said. “Deep in thought.”
”That’s quite all right, sir,” the bellboy said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
They were just leaving the lobby when a well-dressed young man approached them, his hand outstretched. “I’m Alex Roberts, the Concierge,” he said, introducing himself. “I understand you’re in town for a couple of nights and I wanted to let you know that if there is anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call me. Here’s my card.”
Paolo smiled and took the card. “Thank you, Mr. Roberts, but my whole time in San Diego is one meeting after another. I doubt I’ll have time for any relaxation. But again, thank you.”
Paolo followed the bellboy up the curved staircase and down the hall to his room. He opened the door and set the bag down on the bed. He turned to leave and Paolo put his hand on his shoulder. “Here,” he said, handing him a few dollars.
“Thank you, sir,” the bellboy said, walking to the door.
“My dad’s ‘sir’,” Paolo said. “Call me Paolo. I know, I know, you’re not supposed to ‘socialize’ with the guests, but believe me; tomorrow all I’m going to see are business freaks. Anyway, have a good night.”
The bellboy stood where he was. “You know, Paolo, tomorrow is Halloween and it must totally suck that you have to be in meetings all day. I’m going to a killer party tomorrow night when I get off. If you want, you’re welcome to come.”
Paolo thought about it for a second. “That might be fun. But I don’t have a costume.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the bellboy said. “I can hook you up there.”
“Thanks,” Paolo said. “You know, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Steve.”
“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Paolo said, shaking his hand. Steve smiled.
“Well, I’m off at 8:00 p.m. tomorrow night. Since I can’t come to your room, what with me being an employee, I’ll give you a call from home. I’ll call the switchboard and have them put me through. Maybe you can meet me over at my house. I just live a few miles from here. Over the bridge.”
Paolo nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, but I don’t know how long the last meeting will last. How about I call you when I’m finished?” He took the card the concierge game him and handed it to Steve. “Here, write down your number.”
Steve jotted down his number and handed the card back to Paolo. “I put my address down there, too. If the meeting’s running late you can take a cab over. I’ll have the costume there and you can change and we can go from there if you want. The party’s at a friend’s house a few blocks away. I’m sure we can find a way to get you back here. Or you can crash at my place.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure I’ll be able to get a cab back here,” Paolo said. “There seem to be cabs everywhere. And besides, I don’t have to be at the airport until after 11:00 a.m.”
“Well,” Steve said, opening the door. “I’d better get back to work before they wonder what happened to me. Hope your meetings go well. And if I don’t here from you, well, it was nice meeting you.”
“Same here,” Paolo said. “But I’m sure I’ll see you again. By the way... will there be girls at that party?”
“Oh, you can count on that!”
Nice guy, Paolo thought to himself as he closed the door. It’d actually be nice to get out for a night. Usually when he was on these short business trips he was in one night and out the next day. It would be nice to actually get out and see
“Nice ass,” Steve muttered as walked down the hall. His mind was racing a mile a minute. What luck! Here was this fuckin’ Adonis – a straight Adonis – in town for just a couple of days... let the games begin! He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a few numbers.
After Steve left, Paolo ordered up room service, got undressed and watched a movie. At 10:30 p.m. he called down to the front desk and requested a 6:00 a.m. wake up call and then headed off to bed.
The next day was completely hectic for Paolo. Each meeting seemed to be longer and more boring than the one previous and he found himself wishing for the day to end so he could go to that Halloween party. Hell, just the opportunity to get out among people of his generation. Have a few drinks, a few smokes. He hated that he couldn’t smoke in the hotel meeting rooms. He looked at his watch again. Shit... was this day ever going to end?
It was almost 8:00 p.m. when the last meeting wrapped up. The meetings were at the downtown Marriott in Symphony Towers and the spread had been posh, but still boring as dirt. He took his cell phone from his briefcase and dug in his wallet until he found the concierge’s business card. He turned it over and dialed Steve’s number. Steve picked it up on the second ring.
“Hey, this is Paolo. Do you remember me?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, practically jumping off the couch. Yes! He was so totally stoked the Brazilian god had called him. “Sure I remember you. You still up for the party?”
“If it’s not too late,” Paolo said, secretly hoping it wasn’t.
“Shit,” Steve said, “the party’s just starting. Where are you?” Paolo told him where he was.
“Okay, cool. That’s only a couple miles from here. There are always cabs out front so just grab one and come on over. Did I give you my address?”
Paolo looked at the card. “Yeah... Hawthorne Street, right?”
“That’s it,” Steve said. “It should only take 10 minutes max to get here. Oh, and I got your costume all ready.”
“Thanks,” Paolo said. “So it’s okay if I change at your place?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Steve said. “But I hope you’re not shy because I live in a studio. Kinda small.”
Paolo wasn’t sure what a studio was, but he went along with it. “I don’t mind small,” he said. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on Steve’s door. It was Paolo. “Come in,” Steve said, opening the door. He was already in costume. A police officer. Complete with handcuffs and fake gun. “Like I said, it’s a small place but we’re only gonna be here for a few minutes. Just to change, and shit, you know?”
Paolo looked at Steve’s costume. “I like that,” he said. “My sister’s husband is a police officer. What did you get for me?”
“Fireman. It’s in the box on the bed. You can change in the bathroom if you want, but it’s kinda small. If you want, I can turn around.”
Paolo laughed. “I’m sure you’re not a queer,” he said, slipping off his suit coat and lying it across the bed. He undid his shoes and continued to undress. Steve pretended to watch TV but kept sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye. Paolo was down to just his sock and briefs. Nice white briefs. Yummy! Even with his fair features, he had a nice tan and it made the briefs look all the better on him. Steve couldn’t wait to get into them. Poor Paolo. Poor trusting, naive Paolo. The stud had no idea what was in store for him.
As Paolo opened the box containing his costume he looked up. “Hey Steve. Do you have anything to eat? I hate to ask, but I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
Steve practically gulped as he took in the full sight of Paolo standing there in his tighty whities. What a bod... what a god! Fuck! He quickly came back to his senses. “Um, I don’t have much here,” he said. “I haven’t gone shopping yet this week. There’s gonna be plenty to eat at the party, but I’ve got some crackers if you want.”
”That’s great,” Paolo said. “I’m starved.” He started to pull on the Fireman pants.
Steve poured some Wheat Thins onto a paper plate and set it down on the bed next to Paolo. Paolo was fishing through the box. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked.
“There’s no jacket,” Paolo replied. He had no idea that Steve had hid it earlier. “Oh well, I guess I can just wear my t-shirt.” He slipped his tight white t-shirt back on and pulled the pants’ suspenders up. He looked hot. Steve had made sure to order the pants a few sizes too large, so if you stood close enough, you could get a good look down them. Paolo seemed oblivious. He bent over and put the boots on and then the hat. “How do I look?” he asked.
“Like a Fireman,” Steve said as Paolo grabbed a handful of crackers.
“I hate to ask because you’ve already been so nice, but do you have anything to drink?”
Steve nodded. I can definitely help you out there. What’s your poison? Beer, wine, hard stuff, juice, milk?”
“I’ll take a beer,” Paolo said. Steve grabbed one from the fridge and twisted the top off. He handed it to Paolo.
“Uh, do you mind if I use the bathroom?” Paolo asked.
“Go ahead,” Steve said. He listened until he heard the sound of Paolo’s piss hitting the bowl. He quickly opened the drawer on his nightside table and opened a small bottle. Ecstasy. He dropped one into Paolo’s beer. Might as well get him in the mood now.
The toilet flushed and Paolo came out. He practically finished the beer in one drink. He tossed it in the garbage. “Are we ready?” he asked.
“My car’s on the street,” Steve said. “Let’s go. Why don’t you get your clothes in case you decide to take a cab back to the hotel?”
“Good idea,” Paolo said, grabbing his clothes. His head was starting to feel light. “Wow, I think I drank that beer too fast.”
“You’re not getting drunk already, are you?” Steve asked, mocking.
“No, no,” Paolo said. “It’s probably because I haven’t had anything to eat all day. I’m sure I’ll be better once we get to the party. Once I get some food in me.”
”Oh I’m sure you’ll feel a lot better once we get there,” Steve said. Paolo didn’t pick up on the double entendre.
As they drove into Hillcrest Paolo commented about the architecture and clubs. He had no idea Hillcrest was the gay part of San Diego. And he had no idea he was going to a party where most of the people were gay. The Ecstasy in his was keeping him nice and relaxed. He had no idea that he’d been slightly drugged, only that he was feeling good.
Once they were at the party Steve got Paolo another drink. It was gin and tonic but Steve had loaded it up with just enough GHB to knock Paolo on his (cute) ass. Paolo didn’t seem to notice that there were more men than women at the party or that most of the men seemed very effeminate. He was too busy checking out the women.
Within twenty minutes Paolo was acting like he’d drunk a 12 pack. He was stumbling, staggering and tripping around, completely giddy. He looked over at Steve and laughed. “I don’t know what the problem is,” he slurred. “I usually can drink better than this.”
Steve just smiled. “That’s okay, buddy. Hey, there’s some people I want you to meet. Some good friends. They’re over in that apartment over there. Wanna meet ‘em?”
“Sure,” Paolo said, struggling to stand up. “Give me a hand, will you?” He put out his hand and Steve took it and gently walked him over to the apartment, not letting go. He knew all eyes were on him and the completely hot, hot, hot stud he was with.
Once inside the apartment Paolo began to feel very hot. “Whew... it’s warm in here,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead and taking off his hat. There were seven guys in the apartment, all practically drooling over the sight of the visibly impaired stud.
“Why don’t you take your shirt off, Paolo?” Steve said, already pulling Paolo’s t-shirt up over his magnificently sculpted chest. Paolo didn’t seem to think it was a bad idea. He tried to help but seemed unable to work his arms.
“Feel better?” Steve asked.
Paolo nodded and then shook his head. “Still hot... don’t know what’s wrong?”
“Here, take this aspirin. It’ll make you feel better.” It wasn’t aspirin. It was Viagra. “And let’s get these pants off you.” Without waiting for a response, Steve and the guys lowered Paolo’s pants. They took his boots off and soon the poor guy was wearing nothing but his tighty whities and a giddy smile.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“We’re gonna fuck you, Paolo,” Steve said, matter-of-factly.
“What?” Paolo said, the cloud in his head clearing momentarily.
“Just what I said,” Steve said, pushing Paolo to his hands and knees. He peeled Paolo’s white briefs down and lowered his cop uniform pants. With a quick thrust he shoved his hard cock up Paolo’s virgin ass.
“Ahhh... ouchhhh... what are you doing?” Paolo asked, practically sobbing.
“Someone shut him up,” Steve said, pumping his dick in and out of Paolo’s smooth tight ass.
Three guys stepped up to oblige. One of them plugged Paolo’s protesting mouth with his fat cock while the other two rubbed their drooling dicks all over his pretty face. A couple more guys started to stroke and jerk on his hardening dick.
Paolo’s head cleared again for a few moments. What was happening? I thought Steve was my friend! What’s he doing? Ow!!!! The guy with his cock in his mouth began to cum and it ran down Paolo’s throat and out of his mouth. Another guy was standing nearby furiously jerking off his dick. He shot a huge load of cum all over Paolo’s face. And to make it worse, people had video cameras and were filming the whole thing. How could he have been so naive? So stupid? Before he could even process the thought another dick entered his mouth and he felt himself cumming. The guy wiped the cum all over his hair. Oh shit!
The guys proceeded to fuck the daylights out of Paolo. The Viagra kept his dick hard and the GHB kept him out of if just enough to know what was happening but totally unable to put a stop to it. He began to sob.
After what seem like (and actually was) hours, the fuck fest was over. Paolo had been fucked more times than he could count and his ass and mouth, dick and nipples were sore. And his body was covered with sticky, drying cum. Someone snapped a metal cock ring on his 9-inch dick, which was still hard from Viagra, and now it stuck out like a fucking tent pole. Steve picked up his underwear and stuck it on his head. Then he slipped another pair onto Paolo. They looked like the other pair, but were somehow different. They fit in the waist and hugged his ass, but the crotch area was stretchy. Instead of holding is dick flat against him like his normal briefs, these briefs were completely tented out with Paolo’s erection. He looked hilarious. Poor Paolo... wearing one pair of underwear on his head like a hat, and another pair so tented you could camp under it. And the worse part was, Steve had cut a small slit in the ass and had inserted a small hot pink electric dildo up Paolo’s ass, securing it with elastic. It was operated by remote control. The guys led him out of the apartment and let him stagger through the still full courtyard. People all around laughed at him, especially when Steve flipped the remote and made the dildo vibrate and Paolo flopped around like a fish. There were camera flashes going off everywhere.
Someone put a small brown bottle under each of his nostrils and told him to inhale. Poppers. The poor fucked up stud inhaled and once again floated away. For the next hour or so he was kept off-kilter on poppers, forced to sit and pose for pictures with people, make out with guys, and generally get groped. And he was being filmed the whole time.
It was getting really late and the party was finally beginning to break up. Steve walked up to Paolo, pulled him to his feet and took him gently by the chin. “Have fun tonight, Paolo? I did.” He was holding a brown bottle and a white rag. Paolo assumed it as more poppers but he was wrong. It was chloroform. Before he could even react, Steve had the rag pressed over his face, spinning his body around to get a better grip. Paolo was so taken by surprise that he couldn’t react. He just slipped away into unconsciousness.
The next morning Paolo woke up in his bed at the Hotel del Coronado, dressed in the suit he’d been wearing when he went to Steve’s. His wallet and cell phone were on the floor. All his money and credit cards were still there, but the business card with Steve’s address and number were gone.
He looked at the clock. Shit! He only had an hour to get to the airport. If he had more time he would’ve hunted down that fucker Steve. Of course, he had no idea that Steve wasn’t his real name and that he no longer, as of this morning, worked for the hotel. He up and quit. If he had checked, he’d have learned that the cell phone number was no longer active, either. He’d been set up. Completely. And he fell for it. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of San Diego.
Two days later a Federal Express box arrived at Paolo’s office. Inside was a videotape and a sealed envelope. The return address was a post office box in San Diego and Paolo immediately knew what it was. He opened the envelope and flipped through picture after picture of himself in the lewdest, crudest positions. He was getting fucked twelve ways to Sunday, with a dreamy, drugged out look on his face. He tossed the pictures into his trash shredder. He picked up the videotape. The label said “The Perils of Paolo.” No fucking way. NO FUCKING WAY! His curiosity got the better of him and he put it into the VCR in his office. It was the whole night, edited together, showing Paolo being totally fucked and degraded. He didn’t watch the whole thing. He didn’t have to. From what he saw everybody but him was wearing some sort of Halloween mask. And with all the drugs and poppers they’d given him, he was actually smiling through most of it. He cracked the tape over his knee and yanked the contents out. He threw it away. That’s when he noticed the letter.
“Dear Paolo: Or should I call you “Fuck Boy?” You gave us quite a time the other night. Your video’s a big hit. We’re gonna sell it online soon. I’ll send you the website address as soon as it’s set up. There will be a lot of pictures on it, too. Of all the straight guys I’ve ever had, you were by far the best. Steve”
END