My First Night at 'the Gaythering,' I Came Three Times Inside an Amazon Goddess
Never in my life had I cum three times inside the same person in one evening.
Original illustration by Roy (@theslagroom)
I had just finished Love Burn, where I didn’t have sex for five days or even cum once—a rarity for me. Unlike past Burns, this one wasn’t sexual—it was more spiritual, about connecting with friends and family and reflecting on the person I am and the person I want to be.
But the moment I arrived in South Beach, Miami, surrounded by gorgeous men and women, I was ravenous. My sexual energy was flowing through me to the point that my hips (specifically my groin) were leading as I walked.
Luckily, I arranged a stay after the Burn at The Gaythering, a (cruisey) gay hotel (and social hub) for queer locals and visitors alike.
Now, I have been to many a gay sex resort, but there is something special about The Gaythering. Perhaps it’s that everything is so meticulously laid out with an endless supply of gems throughout the property. Every little sign has gay puns or something queer and clever (like the back of my room keycard, which read, “It’s not a tiara. I simply bedazzled my horns.”) There’s a whiteboard to share your Instagram and Twitter handles. The decor is gay sex: flags that read “eat my ass” and illustrations of nude men. The curtains are red, and the walls are dark blue.
For the first two nights, my room had a sling (across from which was an iPod stand to record) with a spanking bench (aka bondage horse) beside it. There was a little stool (for short tops) and a basket with paper towels and wet wipes.
My only gripe with the hotel, more specifically my room, was the lighting. It was very harsh, with no dimmers or LED lights. Of course, this is on purpose, as it creates a BDSM vibe, but as a neurospicy boy sensitive to lightning, I wouldn’t have minded the option for some softer and cooler lights.
After showering (I hadn’t for five days) and settling in my room, I hopped on ~the apps~. A chorus of ba-da-boops chimed. (I was fresh meat and getting a lot of attention.)
I started flirting with an OnlyFans model, Dangerous Goddess, who was drop-dead gorgeous. Goddess’ lips were full, and her round eyes were dark brown. Though, to be honest, her face wasn’t initially what drove me to her. She stood at 6’2 and weighed 225 pounds. Being a trained dancer, her ass was like two watermelons, and the power of her thighs—I think she could easily lift an eighteen-wheeler. Her implants were double Ds, and her dick—10 inches. (And I mean a REAL 10 inches, not 8 inches we’re calling 10. I’m onto you hoes.)
(A photo of Dangerous Goddess, courtesy of Dangerous Goddess)
Dangerous Goddess was a real-life Amazon, and she wanted to fuck me. I felt honored—dare I say, blessed.
Since most of her replies were monosyllabic, I couldn’t gauge what our vibe would be—a quick encounter or a more passionate, longer session. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was in the mood for. I was running on empty from lack of sleep and mental overstimulation, so the former didn’t sound bad, but also, I have never fucked an Amazon before—and who knows when I would again. To cum once seemed like a waste.
“Let’s just wait and see the vibes,” I said aloud to no one.
There was a light knock on my door. I opened it to see her standing eye-to-eye with me—an unlikely occurrence as I tower at 6’4.
I hugged her, touching the small of her back. Her skin was so soft like the product of silk and butter creating an illegitimate child together.
She asked how I was doing, and I shared I had just gotten into town. She nodded as she assessed the room. Despite living in Miami for the past few months, she had never been inside a room at the Gaythering. She circled the sling, running her fingers down each pole.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked before correcting myself. “I actually only have water or pineapple juice.”
“Water is fine,” she said. When I turned around with the bottle in my hand, she had unzipped her sweater crop—her full, heavy breasts stood perky.
I placed the bottle on the dresser and wrapped my arms around her. “Good God,” I said as my fingers traced her hip bone up her torso and landed on her nipples, which I gently pinched.
“You are a sight for sore eyes,” I said. “Would you mind taking off your sunglasses?” She placed them on their dresser, and we eye-gazed, looking past our facades and into each other’s souls. I smiled.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she giggled.
“Like what?” I replied, fully aware of my look.
She blushed while looking away, and I ran my hands under her booty shorts to grab her ass.
“Wow,” I said, like a stupified Owen Wilson.
(A photo of Dangerous Goddess, courtesy of Dangerous Goddess)
My hard cock pressed against her hip bone through my sweatpants. She applied her palm over my Addidas and massaged me.
She then pulled away.
“So, what brings you to Miami?” she asked, sipping her water.
“Love Burn,” I replied. “Have you ever he—”
“I was there, too,” she said. We spoke briefly about our experiences. She didn’t have the Burn she wanted or needed—a lot of older white people did not respect or simply know how to interact with a Black trans woman (i.e., nonconsensual touching of hair).
“I’m sorry that your Burn wasn’t what you had hoped for,” I replied. She casually waved her hand, brushing me off. She was used to it by now, but it was still a shame that this level of casual transphobia and racism existed at the Burn. You’d think—hope—the community would know and do better. When the conversation lulled, we stripped while maintaining eye contact and moved to the bed.
We were both so painfully erect; we could have sword-fought, and undoubtedly, she’d have won. Even with my new fillers, she was nearly double my size. On our sides, we lay on the bed and held each other while dry humping—our dicks pressed together—until neither of us could take it anymore. She pushed my shoulder back so I was lying flat on the bed and straddled me.
I handed her the bottle of lube, and she applied some to my dick and her pussy before inserting just the tip inside.
“Ohhhhhh,” I said, an expulsion of air more than any coherent words.
She let out a deep breath and took the rest of me before shifting her weight side to side, loosening herself up and getting me even deeper.
I grabbed her glorious ass and lifted her before pushing her back down on my cock.
“Good girl,” I said.
“I’m not usually a good girl,” she replied, taking the lead and controlling the rhythm. “I’m either a mommy or a bad girl.”
“Noooo,” I said. “That’s not true. You project ‘bad girl’ as a coping mechanism. It’s a wall you put up to protect yourself. But you are a good girl at heart.”
The corners of her lip raised, and I knew she felt seen.
She started contracting her hole while I was inside of her, it was sucking me in deeper, like the Dune wormussy popcorn bucket. I wish she could consume all of me—a full anal vore, but alas, some fantasies will always have to remain fantasies.
I flipped her onto her back to do the most intimate of the intimate: missionary with eye contact. We kissed, her lips soft. Our bodies smushed together, ungulating as one. One hand was on her breast, the other wrapped around her back.
I rested my forehead against hers, and we looked into each other’s eyes—neither breaking eye contact. Our sex was deep, both literally and metaphorically.
When she flipped over onto her knees, assuming the doggy position, I knew I’d have to go slow, or I would shoot out my five-day load with the same zeal as prisoners rioting during a jailbreak.
I planted my elbows next to her head and let my body weight crush hers. She was now flat on her stomach, and I was gyrating inside of her.
“Does my baby girl like Daddy’s dick?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Daddy is going to treat her baby right. He’s going to show her how much he loves her with all of his cum.”
“Daddy, I need it,” she said. That’s all I needed from her, but I wanted to look her in the eyes when I came, so I flipped her to her back. Her long legs assumed a V formation.
“This is for you, baby,” and I shoot my seed out—a tsunami of cum. If there were a little village of innocent anal dwellers living inside her pussy, they would have all drowned, even those who did their best to get to higher ground.
She clenched her hole magically, and her pressure only extended my orgasm—more and more cum. “Baby,” I shouted as the final drops splashed inside her wet insides.
When I pulled out, she told me to look down. She placed her hand under her pussy and shot out a small cup’s worth of cum. She held it under my mouth, and I slurped it all up. For when an Amazon gives you nectar, you drink.
We spent the next hour watching music videos together—Beyoncé turned to Miguel, Frank Ocean, Ciara, and other late 2000s and early 2010s classics. We cuddled until we were both hard again. This time, we fucked on our sides while cuddling. I kissed her cheek, her chin, and her neck while she grinded her ass into my cock.
Suddenly, she got up and moved to the bondage horse, placing her legs on each side so her ass was beautifully displayed like a Christmas ham. I held the top of her shoulders as I thrusted deeper and deeper into her. Her ass would ripple with each thrust, her soft skin jiggling on my groin. She started giggling. Bizarre, I know, but it made sense in the moment. Somehow, there was something sweet and funny in this position—though I couldn’t tell you what.
With her ass on full play, I would have cum again, and I didn’t want to just yet. The second session was just getting started. When I pulled out, my tip was covered in precum. We returned to the bed, back to missionary, where I could better control my orgasm.
When I was ready to explode, I returned to the cuddle position. I kissed her lips while I shot inside of her, all the while stroking her dick—using her precum as lube.
My orgasm was as mighty as the last. There was still so much sexual energy inside of me—one load wasn’t enough to get out the previous five days of retainment. I prayed the little village inside her didn’t rebuild, as I would have flooded any developments again.
After we caught our breaths, she said she was a witch. I said I could tell. She asked me if I was a witch, and I replied, “No,” but then corrected myself. “Yes, I am. I’m not sure why I wasn’t being honest.”
“I wanted to have sex magic tonight; I hoped it would happen,” she said. “I didn’t think it would be this good.
When she asked if I had a partner, I told her about Eve. “I wish I could find a man like you,” she replied. “It’s just hard being Black and trans. I’m always the fetish, never the girlfriend. The fuck without the intimacy.”
“You will find someone like me,” I said, believing my words. “They will be harder to find, and it may take longer, but you deserve and will be fully loved by a man or woman.”
I knew the third time we fucked would be our last, but I had another load in me, and she hadn’t cum yet.
She flipped over so I could fuck her from behind while grabbing her breasts. She was on her knees, stroking herself.
“Tell me when you’re going to cum so I can cum with you,” she said. I couldn’t kiss her from this position, so I focused on her body. Her shoulders—a complete V that led to the curve in her back and her gigantic behind. The power of her thighs. The smoothness of her skin.
“Daddy’s gonna give you one more load,” I said.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said as she sped up her stroke. I came inside of her a final time while she clenched her pussy and came on the sheets—a colossal load, as she hadn’t released in weeks.
At long last, I was satisfied. Emptied. Drained. There was nothing left inside of me.
“Thank you,” she said. “I needed this.”
“Truly, the pleasure was mine.”
I slept like a baby that night and woke up to a text saying I was leaking out of her in the car ride home.
I told her how much I appreciated our time together.
“Let’s stay in touch,” she texted back. “And when the stars are aligned, let’s meet for more sex magic.
Use the promo code “BOYSLUT” at checkout for 10% off your stay at the Gaythering.