Author: admin

  • Ben Halpern and his bit on the side

    The angry bee buzzed in Ben Halpern’s head. The eyes of that strange man, a few years older than he, seemed as dark as ever. The buzzing made them even darker still.

    “Fuck off” shouted Ben in the same instant he gasped for breath and found himself  wide awake. “Fuck,” he repeated and grabbed his phone.

    “Good morning, Mr. Halpern,” said a voice instantly recognisable for its foreign accent and ability to convey a soothing menace.

    “It’s 6 a bloody clock. What do you want?”

    Minutes later, Ben was showered and dressed. His parents were already eating breakfast. The dulcet Geordy tones of his mother greeted him warmly as they did each morning and expressed regret as he grabbed a slice of toast, before dashing for the back door.

    “I’ll be back by 8,” he announced for the benefit of his father and paused just long enough to ruffle the old man’s hair, in a gesture of appeasement and affection.

    “You’d better be youth. We have a long day ahead of us,” called Harry Halpern.

    In the large yard, from which Harry Halpern and Son Plumbing and Domestic Heating Engineers conducted its business, the younger Halpern was relieved to find his new, second hand car,-well really just a notch or two up from being an old banger,- was parked neatly between his dad’s motor and the firm’s van. For some reason this mundane fact was of some comfort after the strange meeting last night, as he now drove off towards the south bound carriageway of the Grangeford motorway services. He had not the slightest wish to meet Marius Metanin until he really must do so this evening. But he had little choice in the matter. Which Marius would greet him this morning, Ben wondered? The slightly sinister and certainly intimidating figure, or the quite amiable character who was all concern and who gave him that wonderful cigarette?

    “I thought it best to meet in plain sight, then we would not be so readily noticed or remembered,” was Marius’s greeting as Ben stepped into the unprepossessing Peugeot.

    Ben stared for a moment at his interlocutor, just about suppressing a twinge of fear before it become too obvious. Marius was dressed top to toe, all in a black to match his eyes, thought Ben. Even his face seemed to bare smudges of black. The man looked tired,- even vulnerable, after a fashion. Was that a balaclava Ben noticed, not entirely hidden from view?

    “I’m here because you more or less summoned me,” said a plaintive Ben. ‘Very profoundly to your disadvantage if you don’t turn up’ were your words.”

    “Terzves,” agreed Marius, speaking for a moment in his native language.

    “Sidney Tate,” he continued. “Your deal was £6000 for the 6 golden spoons and the documents of provenance you had the skill and audacity to steal. It was a very astute deal on your part.”

    Ben nodded, silently appreciative of the compliment.

    “And tell me,-I ask only because some would find you very attractive.- Did Mr. Tate demand a sexual favour, as an additional condition of your deal, I mean?”

    A second silent nod.

    “Tate being Tate, he would have paid you for such a service, had you known.”

    Ben felt his face become red, a flush of shame. He looked away. The large family clambering with much noise into a nearby campervan were suddenly of great interest to him.

    “I didn’t know, at first; until he propositioned me I mean. But then I thought what the fuck. And one way and another, I found that I’d negotiated an extra 1500 quid on top of the £6000 for the damn spoons.”

    At last, the family had decided who was sitting where and drove off.

    He turned to faced Marius.

    “And more fool me, he went back on his word to respect my limits anyway…”

    “Then, later that day, his two thugs beat you up and took the entire £7500?”

    “Yup.”

    An expression of uncharacteristic sympathy animated the tired black clad figure beside Ben.

    “Behind you. Reach behind you, on the back seat.”

    Ben did as he was told. The Waitrose bag was just like any other, except that like the one Sidney Tate had stuffed with money and his two thugs had taken from Ben, it too contained an abundance of £50 and £20 notes.

    “Jesus on a pogo stick,” exclaimed Ben.

    “As you reminded me a moment or so ago, I did say to you that it would be very profoundly to your disadvantage if you don’t turn up, said Marius enjoying the look of disbelief on Ben’s face.

    “But I thought that you were threatening me.”

    “ Hmm.., yes. A wise precautionary assumption,” agreed Marius. “But best not start counting it now. Take it from me, it is all there. All £7500.”

    “How did you know it was mine?” He ran his fingers through the notes in lieu of the pleasure of counting them.

    “Well Ben, ignoring the proprietorial glee with which your ill gotten gains are reclaimed, all I will say is that before stuffing the money, Waitrose bag, and all, back into that child’s piggy bank of a safe, the ever greedy Mr. Tate also included a scribbled note of your name. Why, I truly cannot possibly fathom.”

    Ben glanced at his phone. Time was pressing. The cares of the family business and with them the demands of his father must soon claim his full attention. For the second time in less than 24 hours he was certain that Marius Metanin was the ‘cat burglar’ for whom various police forces in England were searching.

    “Dismiss the very idea,” snapped Marius.

    Dear heavens, this man can read my mind, thought Ben, not of course for the first time in that same 24 hours.

    “Alright then, consider it dismissed Marius. Just tell me one thing though, who has the 6 golden spoons.”

    For a horrible second or two,  hands seemed destined to grab Ben and do to him who knew what? They landed one on each shoulder.

    “To borrow from Lorcan my Godfather, ‘Ya have thole, you’re a brave wee man so you are.’”

    What that meant, Ben could only guess.. But the fact that Marius was laughing heartily,- laughing even with those dark eyes, reassured him that nothing painful was imminent.

    “Who can blame you for asking,” said Marius, gathering himself.

    “By now they will be on route to a rich party member in Macau. Such it would seem are the perquisites of capitalism with Chinese characteristics. For good measure the real irony is that he is paying close on £95000 for them.”

    Ben gave a long low whistle.

    “I meant what I told you last night, Marius. I really have given up crime.”
    “I think I believe you,” Marius replied almost gently.- “Even if you are clinging to that bag of money like an inmate of a maximum security prison.”  

    A hand touched Ben’s left shoulder causing him to flinch with fear.

    “About an hour ago Sidney Tate’s business premises and his home in Lincoln were both raided by the police. Money laundering, a little trading in stolen antiques and dabbling on the edges of the narcotics trade, where all pies in which his grubby little fingers made illicit money. You will learn much of this through media platforms in the hours and days to come. So telling you now is of little consequence.”

    The grip on Ben’s shoulder eased. He sighed with relief. All he wanted to do just now was to get out of this car and run.-Not forgetting of course to take the precious Waitrose bag with him.

    “But there is one final thing before you leave here Ben. You will never speak of this conversation to anyone. Most of all, not to Oliver Groves, nor to Frazer Shaw. It will very profoundly be to your disadvantage if you do. Please believe me.”

    The look of acknowledgement on Ben’s face was all that needed to pass between them. “See you tonight, Marius.”

                                            **

    Oliver Groves was so surprised when the black and burgundy Daimler turned sedately into view that he had to grip his garden gate so as to keep his balance.

    “Rosie” he declaimed aloud.

    He beamed in unalloyed joy as the limousine drew up beside him . At the wheel, there was of course, Marius. Dear Marius. Beside him sat Ben.

    It was Marius who was the first to step from the vehicle. He looked so smart in his charcoal grey chauffeurs uniform. They hugged with obvious affection.

    “When Ben told me that he had a special ride planned for us, I had no idea he meant Rosie.”

    He paused and added with a big grin, “You scrub up well of course. But I’m so glad you are not wearing that chauffeurs peaked cap. It doesn’t suit you.”

    “I am so glad to meet with your approval,” Marius replied in a mocking tone as the two friends hugged again.

    Meanwhile, Ben who was already inwardly astonished at the difference between the complex Marius he had met last night and again this morning; and the friendly but formal Marius who called him ‘sir’ when collecting him and driving to Oliver’s flat this evening, was further taken aback when the two friends began talking to each other in Fiorentine and kissing each other’s hands.

    As Ben waited, it occurred to him to wonder what David Attenborough might make of this strange ritual.

    Those dark, dark, eyes that had perplexed Ben and made him fearful only hours before, shone with something very different now. There was a kind of magnetism about Marius, his eyes seeming to draw Ben in and to send an unmistakable message to his loins.

    “I am so, so happy to see you,” breathed Oliver, as he embraced Ben. “Our families, mine and Marius’ I mean, have been friends for decades “I’ve missed you so much Ben, it began to hurt. It really did.”

    He glanced down at the bulge in Ben’s white chino’s. “At least you’re glad to see me.”

    “Yes, I am,” Ben replied sincerely as they drew together in a deep kiss. It felt so good. His mates at the Dog and Trumpet would no doubt have something to say about this. True they had met Oliver and seemed very laid back at Ben suddenly having a boyfriend. But they were an old fashioned lot and might well harrumph at seeing him kissing Oliver in the street.

    He sensed rather than saw that their chauffeur had tactfully put a little distance between himself and he and Oliver.

    “My black leather bomber jacket suits you, Oliver.” The bare chest held Ben’s attention like nothing else could at that moment.

    Oliver just smiled and guided Ben’s hand to the open jacket.

    “Bite my nipples,” he whispered and moaned deeply as Ben moved ravenously from one nipple to the other in happy obedience. This hot August night Oliver was resolved to shag Ben’s no less hot hole in passionate love making.

    “Do you mind if I say you are very pretty, Oliver?” So saying he parted Oliver’s blond fringe, the better to gaze into eyes as brown as his own.

    “Not at all, you have before,” sighed Oliver. “But my legs need me to sit down before you do.”

    The chauffeur was already holding the nearside rear door open. Oliver relaxed into the ample rear seat and stretched his legs as Ben rubbed them with an especial care. It was to Ben’s credit, though he did not know it, that the chauffeur noted that care.

    “You did this for me weeks ago when we first met,” came Oliver’s happy reminiscence.

    “Yes. As I  remember  after those selfish sods from the Royal Military Police riding school could not be bothered to dismount from their horses and help you mend a puncture,” Ben confirmed. Again, the chauffeur in silent approbation noted what Ben had done.

    Ben for his part thought it best for now not to mention the incident just before he and Oliver first met. Here Ben had gone for a pee in what he subsequently learnt was a famed Skelthorpe cottage and had experienced his first blow job and rimming from a male: well rimming anyway. Which one of the  Fenton brothers he had exchanged first blow jobs with 9 years ago, he neither knew nor cared.

    “Thanks, said Oliver. “My legs are just fine now.”

    With the chauffeur’s encouragement and assurance that no, the limousine would not turn into a pumpkin at midnight, plans were made for the evening.

    “I’d like a long, leisurely evening ride through the highways and byways  of Eastamptonshire,” was Ben’s suggestion.

    “I could not agree more,” Oliver was quick to add; his own intentions for the evening very much in mind.

    “Is that possible?”, Ben asked, addressing Marius for the first time since they arrived to collect Oliver.

    “Of course, sir.”

    “And a fragment of supper at Mrs. Marlowe’s famous establishment,” added Oliver, hardly able to contain himself at the prospect of riding alone with Ben.

    “The drinks cabinet is empty, I’m afraid,” whispered Marius in confidential Fiorentine into Oliver’s ear, “But the Swiss Navy stand ready to serve.”

    After that, it was not long before Rosie was edging through Skelthorpe, with Oliver having drawn the blinds between the two cabins and adjusted the intercom so that he and Ben had total privacy. The early evening scarcely reduced the 40 degrees of heat, even with all the windows open.

    For a while the pair just watched the Eastamptonshire countryside glide by. Ben was even more resolved than ever, as Oliver snuggled close offering enticing  endearments, that he wanted to leave his criminal past behind him and somehow build what he could with the man nibbling his earlobes.

    “The marks and grazes on your face weren’t there a few days ago,” said Oliver sounding almost casual in his observations.

    Oliver felt his friend become tense.

    Ben had been planning what he would say since he had spent the night with Frazer. To Frazer he had told the truth of course. To others, not least his parents and his mates in the Dog and Trumpet, he proffered variants of a theme in which he had accidentally become involved in a brawl in Braxton. The theme contained a sliver of truth and because it sounded plausible to many who knew Ben, it was accepted.

    His phone pinged in timely distraction.

    Good luck. Just be your decent self xx.

    “It is from my very best friend, Frazer Shaw.” He showed Oliver the text.  “He introduced me to Marius, which is how we come to be here now.”

    “But I don’t remember seeing him with your mates in the Dog and Trumpet.”
    “You wouldn’t pretty one. It’s not really his kind of place most of the time, even though he lives not very far from it.”

    That, and the way Ben began stroking his hair, stilled Oliver’s curiosity for now.

    “I’d love you to meet Frazer. He is one of life’s good guys. You would like each other. But for now, let’s both turn our phones off.”

    Oliver who had an interest in such things, anyway, calculated that Marius was driving at about 20 miles per hour. His intention of fucking Ben as they made passionate love in this limousine from another era, made him tingle all over. Who knew that the discreet hum of a Daimler DS420 limousine in motion was possessed of such aphrodisiac properties?

    “How is it that you know Marius,” Ben asked, as Oliver began delicately unbuttoning his lover’s shirt. You are quite a posh boy compared to me, Ben did not say. But that is what he meant. Nor did he say aloud that it was more or less obvious to him now that the man acting the part of the deferential chauffeur  was probably from a supposedly superior social status than either of them. But he meant that as well.

    Oliver inhaled the heady combination of arousal, a dash of aftershave and a hint of soap, that Ben effortlessly offered his senses.

    It is very simple,” he replied with a suddenly serious and  thoughtful tone that nonetheless did not impede the sense of vocation he brought to the agreeable task of removing Ben’s clothes.

    “Our families met when my parents, unknown to each other at the time, met during a hiking trip to the Kingdom of Triesenbourg in 1989. They were camping in a small field. There was a sudden deluge of rain and the owners took pity on the young foreigners and invited them in. They both remained friends with the Metanins and soon married. That is it really, our families have been close ever since.”

    Ben helpfully raised his bum.

    As one unwrapping his prize, Oliver quickly pulled down Ben’s Chinos and Aussiebum briefs. A manhood straining and oozing, swayed delicately with the Daimler’s slowing at the Orbistan Saint Hugh cross roads and the turn northwards through the Creswell Pounds Country Park.

    “When my mother died six years ago, the old Count and the Countess and Marius flew here within 48 hours to comfort my father and I. True friends.”

    For a few seconds the lovers gazed each into the other’s brown eyes. For Ben, another layer of complexity was added to his understanding of Marius Metanin.

    “Yes, I can see that,” said Ben, “true friends to be sure.”

    Oliver was kneeling in front of him gazing at his rampant cock and trimmed brown pubes. He looked so utterly shagworthy in that open, black bomber jacket. Ben had seriously considered adding blond highlights to match those in his spikey brown hair, but through lack of time had not.

    “Are you alright. Kneeling like that, I mean,” asked Ben gently.

    “It is shag pile carpet,” was Oliver’s sexy response.

    One second later, Ben was sighing as deeply, as Oliver’s full and pretty lips were engulphing his cock.

    He moaned and sighed under their ministrations. As these continued Ben tried to make what sounds of appreciation and encouragement he could put together sound like more than just grunts.

    Oliver looked so beautiful as his lips went up and down Ben’s straining desire to shoot his hot passion down Oliver’s throat and yet postpone that bliss for as long as possible. Their eyes locked.

    “Please don’t stop my darling Oliver. Don’t stop. I love you!. I Love you.”

    But Oliver did stop, for what was but a moment; a moment which for Ben seemed to trespass upon an eternity. The Daimler stopped. But lost in his own transports of desire, Ben did not notice. Had he done so, in the fading light of late summer evening he might have noticed Marius stride leisurely to the front of the limousine and light one of those cigarettes.

    Ben was momentarily devastated, until with a little difficulty Oliver rose enough for their lips to meet. Dizzy as he was, Ben had the concern and presence of mind to ensure that Oliver did not lose his balance, as Oliver’s tongue jousted his own in the depths and passion of their kissing.

    “My bomber jacket really does suit you,” cooed Ben playfully nibbling Oliver’s nipples.

    Oliver gasped and sighed. “Harder! Do it like you mean it,” he shouted. Ben did as he was told. Just for an instant he recalled a blur of girlfriends whose tits he had devoured in a past which seemed so long ago.

    Ben took the length and loveliness of Oliver’s cock in his hand as they continued to kiss deeply; and Ben to marvel at the responses every time he bit, nibbled and sucked on Oliver’s hard nipples.

    “You are so fucking sweet,” Ben growled. “Get those lips around my shagging tackle again.”

    Everything about today, the here and now, seemed so different to their first lovemaking together in Oliver’s flat. Ben inadvertently voiced this thought as he sucked and admired Oliver’s cock almost as if seeing it for the first time.

    “It’s bigger than mine,” Ben conceded in the light hearted conversation that followed.

    “I repeat,” Ben ordered in a pretend display of dominance, “get your lips around my shagging tackle.”

    Devotion to Ben’s needs willingly became again Oliver’s mission in life. Slurps from Oliver and sighs from Ben- which became more demanding thanks to Oliver’s utter dedication,- took on a rhythm that sent a particular delirium through Ben, that not even Carrie could have equalled.

    Suddenly, an intermittent focus on Ben’s full and heavy balls came to an end. Hands gripped the sides of Oliver’s head, pulling at his blond hair as they did so. Ben was in control now. The delicious and sensual rhythm of Oliver’s blow job were unceremoniously superseded by Ben’s rising and falling hips driving his flaring, hungry rod deep beyond those pretty lips and deeply down Oliver’s throat. Oliver  and gasped for breath as he kept pace with Ben’s desire . Attempts to slow the thrusts were at all events scarcely heard or seen above the shouts of passion voiced by Ben and certainly ignored by him, as his hips rose and fell yet again in his final shattering climax.

    The tactful chauffeur knowledgeable in the skills of selective deafness finished his cigarette and set the sedate Rosie in motion just as Ben recovered from his two second post orgasm black-out. Drained and struggling to refill his lungs, he grinned contentedly at his lover.

    “You look so totally gorgeous,” he announced in unrestrained triumph as he watched his own cum spill from Oliver’s lips.

    Oliver allowed himself a wan smile as Ben calmer and more careful now, pulled the kneeling Oliver up beside him so they were sat side by side. The merest hint of a warm breeze reached them on the approaching twilight.

    Ben dabbed Oliver’s features with a white handkerchief. “Sorry if I was a bit rough,” he whispered, as much taken aback by his own fervour as he assumed Oliver to have been.

    “I like my tops to top when they top; and you topped,” was Oliver’s happy reply. Some ten seconds later came the urgent afterthought: “Not that I,..well.. you know, throw myself at guys shouting, take me! Take Me!”

    “Aww drat,”  that’s me fucked then, Ben sighed, drawing Oliver into his arms.

    “I have a feeling we have accidentally strayed into the enemy territory that is Northamptonshire,” Oliver announced, for the first time taking some notice of their direction of travel.

    Ben did not stir from the comfort and pleasure of holding Oliver close. He knew every road in Eastamptonshire by heart and a good part of the adjacent counties as well.

    “We’re looping round so as to avoid all but minor roads. We should be back in Eastamptonshire in about 10 minutes and on to Mrs. Marlowe’s.”

    “You are very clever my Ben. I know how the Eastamptonshire County Council works, but nothing of real importance.”

    Ben began to lovingly bite on Oliver’s collar bone.

    “Millions of years ago this was part of a wing,” he announced before giving his attention to Oliver’s nipples.

    The sweet tingling pain caused Oliver  to call out Ben’s name for the simple joy of saying it aloud again. They shared another passionate kiss.

    “I am going to fuck you, Ben.”

    “Yes..Please. Like you really mean it!”

    “Like I really mean it!”

    With a little prompting, Ben lay back on the limousine seat, bringing his bum to the edge of the seat. “At least I didn’t have to ask, ‘how do you want me,” he giggled just a little nervously.

    Delicate licks and kisses to Ben’s legs and inner thighs, caused apprehension to dissolve into something wanton and needful. Perhaps it was the way Oliver looked at him. Ben had become the prey, somehow very different to their first lovemaking, as it now fleeted across his mind.

    Their stiff manhoods parried briefly before the hum from the Daimler mingled with sounds of Oliver taking Ben’s heavy balls between his pretty lips and Ben emitting hums of his own.

    “Please keep going,” Ben was almost sure he heard himself say, at the same time he slapped his palms on the leather seats to each side of him. Oliver kept going. Oliver had no intention of stopping.
    “Oh Oliver! Oliver!” Ben certainly heard himself cry aloud in his next breath. His arse was being parted and one, then two digits probed in demanding ingress into his hole. Oh fuck yes. It felt like nothing Ben had experienced, ever. And it seemed like Oliver would not stop.

    From the furthermost corners of his mind, Ben recalled how he would finger fuck Carrie’s willing cunt, as if it were ages ago, rather than just weeks ago. So this is what it felt like. “Taste your beautiful cunt,” he would say, offering his fingers to her lips, and Carrie did. “Taste your beautiful fuck hole,” said Oliver, offering his fingers to Ben’s lips. And Ben did.

    Then Ben would dive into Carrie’s cunt. ‘Muff diving’ his less gallant mates at the Dog and Trumpet called it. His tongue went deep into Carrie causing her to writhe and scream to orgasm.

    The Daimler swayed slightly in a corner turn and apparent reverse movement. Oliver and Ben paused their endeavours.

    “We can wait until we get home if it is too cramped in here for your legs….”

    “No! It is going to be here, Ben. The chance to top you in a moving limo might never come again. So you might as well lay back, think of England and enjoy it.”

    Ben nodded and before Oliver resumed his quest he took time to extol the beauty and desirability of Ben’s rear.
    “No one has ever admired my bum like you do, Oliver,” he whispered, a little surprised at the suddenly submissive note  to his voice.

    “Such a pretty fuck hole,” Oliver hissed, deliberately echoing the description Ben had used to praise Oliver’s lips.

    Sounds of submission came with renewed intensity as Oliver’s tongue began to explore Ben’s arse. Slowly at first the tongue probed Ben’s bottom. With each move more determined and deeper than the one before it, Ben’s noises of appreciation became a symphony. He reached to part his cheeks, thrusting his arse forward: an encouragement Oliver did not ignore.

    No slouch in the matter of arse appreciation, Oliver rimmed Ben with a combination of skill and desire sending waves of lust through them both. Oliver’s only regret as he rimmed and playfully withdrew, that he might keep plunging his skilled tongue even deeper into Ben, was that he could not resist his desire to shag  his lover any longer.

    “Oh thanks my Oliver,” sighed Ben. He drew Oliver close as they kissed and savoured the taste of his own arse on Oliver’s lips and tongue.

    “Are you ready?” Oliver’s gentle question hid his own sense of urgent desire to fuck Ben, as much as it sounded so different from the sounds of passion that had filled the limousine hardly minutes before.

    “Rock hard for it,” said Ben, wrapping his hand around their cocks.

    With the invaluable assistance of the Swiss Navy, Oliver’s manhood entered Ben’s arse. Ben gasped for a breath. It hurt at first. More than it did during their first congress in Oliver’s bed. Oliver’s words of assurance and devotion calmed him as much as the gathering momentum of the seeing to itself, that Oliver was giving him.

    “You are a beautiful stud,” assured Oliver. His eyes locked on Ben’s as  his thrusts demanded more urgent and deeper ingress. Ben’s legs were draped now over Oliver’s shoulders, just like not so long ago, Carrie’s legs were draped over his, Ben recalled to himself.

    The pain eased, then it was gone, replaced by  sensations only men can bring forth for other men. He could not describe them. But whatever they were, Oliver was providing them and Ben did not want them to end. As he pounded Ben’s ravishing arse, Oliver was torn between trying to hold at bay a gathering orgasm, at the same time as kissing and biting Ben’s sensual neck and so sweet nipples.

    “Please don’t stop,” Ben managed to say amid the incoherent babble pouring from his lips.

    “Never!” cried Oliver sinking his teeth into Ben’s neck far harder than he had intended.

    Ben sort of screamed. His entire frame shook. His cock could take no more. A great rope of cum coursed from his balls to his cock, pooling between him and Oliver. Sensing its imminence, Oliver had slowed down is fucking.

    “H.h..h.I wasn’t even touching my dick,” Ben managed to blurt out.

    “That’s because you are total fuck stud,” Oliver said instantly as his tongue and Ben’s locked in a deep snog. So saying, Oliver resumed fucking Ben’s hole.

    “You still OK with this?,” he asked gently, though resuming his thrusts with anything but gentleness.

    “Defo,” replied Ben, realising as the lovely pounding regained its momentum that Oliver’s Adam’s Apple was quite sexy.

    “Go on my pretty Oliver. Fuck me..Yeah. That’s it. Yesss! Harder!. Make me pregnant,” Ben heard himself say. Just as Carrie had said to him. Just as Oliver had said to him.

    “You are beautiful; your arse is so tight and made for shagging.  I’ll make you so fucking pregnant Ben fucking Halpern. I want you Ben,” Oliver was shouting, calling to the heavens it seemed to him, as his entire being convulsed, sending his seed deep into his lover.

                                        ***

    Mrs. Marlowe’s famous establishment was renown for its limited but tasty menus. First come first served was its watchword and did not seem to put anybody off. The current Mrs. Marlowe was in fact Julia Craddock, great niece of the small restaurant’s founding matriarch.

    Julia welcomed Marius Metanin as she always did with a delighted pretence that she was embarrassed at his, “continental ways” and the courtly bow as his lips lightly touched her finger tips. Her cup of delight filled to its more earthly brim when she saw Oliver Groves. She embraced him with all the fervour of the family friend she was, who still privately worried for Oliver and his father. Julia had even heard of Harry Halpern and seemed delighted to meet Harry’s son at last.

    “I’ll squeeze you in somehow,” announced Julia, a wave of her hand indicating the near impossibility of the task. Not for the favoured came her expression regret and hope that the disappointed diners might try again another day.- As many of the disappointed often did.

    “I’m here not as a diner, but as a mere menial; a chauffeur in fact. I should have thought that the uniform and Rosie out there, might have provided a clue.”

    “Stuff and tosh, Marius Hance Sebastian Lorcan Metanin, off you go up to apartment and see what you can find in the larder and the fridge. You know very well how pleased Connie and Jack will be to see you.

    “Now, what to do with you two young blades? Follow me.”

    They followed, with Ben discretely assisting Oliver.

    “I was too long on my knees in the limo,” Oliver whispered as he supressed a giggle.

    “A quiet little spot, where you will not be disturbed,” Julia told them, in a confiding voice. “I’m afraid all we have left is toad in the hole, with spotted dick and custard for pudding,” she added.

    “She is like a force of nature, Oliver.”

    Oliver nodded in agreement, as they watched Julia bustle away.

    They were seated at a stone, square table, on a small terrace. Behind them, the little restaurant afford a pool of light. Before them, the long hot August day had reluctantly become a cooler night.

    A young woman arrived precariously balancing a bottle of wine, two glasses and two bowls of soup on a large tray.  “Mrs. Marlowe thinks you might like these,” said the young woman and was gone as quickly as she appeared.

    The soup was good. The wine was even better. It’s vintage in the Triesenbourg Alps prompted a knowledgeable appreciation from Oliver, to which Ben appeared to lend every interest. It was only after they had done extolling the manifest deliciousness of the toad in the hole that Ben said, “I suggested this, this… excursion, because I need to tell you something important, Oliver.”

    “Tell away,” Oliver replied breezily. An instant later, Oliver stopped refilling their glasses and allowed his fork to clatter on to his plate. A slightly shameful reality hit Oliver hard.

    “Oh! Heck Ben. And all I was intent on doing was fucking your back legs off. I do try not to be inconsiderate, but..”

    “It really is alright Oliver. But if our relationship is to be more than a bonkfest when we both have the time for one, I need to tell you that until you and I met, I was a crook. A thief, pickpocket and a burglar. You came into my life and thanks to you and only thanks to you, I can and will go straight from now on.”

    From that precis, Ben ploughed on, going into far more detail about his criminal activities than he ever had with his best Marra, Frazer Shaw.

    “Best Marra?” At last, the now seemingly impassive Oliver, got a word in.

    “Best friend” Ben lost in the intensity of what he was explaining, became clearly irritated by the interruption. “My mother is a Geordy. You know,- from Newcastle.”

    Oliver of course knew  how to define a Geordy.

    “I love you,” said Ben’s voice as if from afar, before, continuing as though he had not uttered the words at all. By now Oliver was listening to his companion in total amazement. Only when the young woman arrived with the spotted dick and custard and more wine, for which Oliver had the presence of mind to thank her,  was there any kind of pause.

    At length, Ben’s litany arrived at his most recent crime. He told of the six golden spoons; Of Sidney Tate; Of how in the pub, he had suddenly come to the realisation that he loved Oliver and would give up his life of crime forever.

    The distant expression that had dominated Ben’s features lightened as he explained how he was going to give most of his proceeds of crime away.

    “But not all of them,” he announced with a quick  grin. “I’m not Mother Theresa, after all.”

    Whatever this brief foray into humour was intended to convey was lost on Oliver who simply gave up on the spotted dick and reached gratefully for the last of the wine.

    The grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared when Ben went on to describe how later that day, Sidney Tate’s thugs beat him up and took his money.

    Of what followed after he had hired Rosie and her chauffeur at ‘mates rates,’ he decided to heed Marius’s warnings and say nothing.

    “So you see my pretty Oliver, It is all thanks to you that I want to go straight and make a go of it with you. What do you say?”

    “It is such a beautiful night,” Oliver replied.

    He needed to think. For something to do, he scrolled through his phone. Maybe the Queen was not so ill, after all. But Boris Johnson, the Prime Minister whom many thought to be a liar and now openly said so, was only waiting for his party to elect his successor, before returning his Seals of Office to the ailing Monarch.

    “I say I need time to think, Ben. You tell me all of this. You land it on me…”

    “But, but..”

    “But nothing,” Oliver’s voice, usually so warm- and come to that sexy as well,- was cool and angry. With difficulty he held Ben’s gaze.

    “You have cheek Ben. You say you want to go straight! Yet what do you do? You in effect place all the pressure and responsibility for YOU giving up crime, on MY shoulders, for goodness sake.”

    “It’s not like that.”

    “Oh yes it is, my friend. It is exactly like that!”

    “We love each other,” Ben choked.

    “Actually what it was, was sex. Great sex, especially this evening..” Oliver paused. He rebuffed Ben’s attempt to take his hand.

    “I didn’t mean that to be as callous as it sounded. For that I apologise. But until we met you were totally straight.”
    “True enough,” Ben agreed, as though the thought had never before occurred to him.

    “ I sort of hoped that we could get to know each other, have some great sex along the way and just see how things developed from there.”

    “It sounds like a plan,” said Ben, with all the fervour of a man who knew he was clutching at straws.

    “Except that it is not a plan,” Oliver stated as kindly as he could. “I cannot take the responsibility of keeping you away from a life of crime. Only you can do that. Perhaps when you have done that we can meet again.”

    The final chapter to follow.

  • Al & Buck the Pool Guy Have a Chance Meeting

    Buck Up

    We had to restrain ourselves in the shower to save something for Buck’s arrival.  Which because of our excited state and the time we indulged ourselves among the shower sprays was momentarily after we turned the water off.  The Ring driveway alert went off as we reached for towels.   Sasha of course made certain we knew by running in and woofing once; then when the front door alert went off signaling Buck on the path he barked his head off as he ran away toward the door.

    The barking stopped and the whining started as we emerged with towels around our waists; our hair, arms, and torsos still dripping.  Buck was grinning at Sasha and talking to him through the glass and when he saw us he smirked.  We let him in and he was immediately down on his knees loving on Sasha and telling him how happy he was to see him.  Just when we looked at each other noting all Buck’s attention was going to our dog he looked up.  With a wink he said, “Don’t think I’m ignoring the hosts; I’ve got a different greeting in mind for you two.”  He looked from the mound in my towel to Kent’s.  “And I know you’ve each got a big welcome for me.”  Another wink and more pets and nuzzles for Sasha.

    “Can we offer you anything to drink?” Kent asked him.

    Buck gave Sasha his usual send-off.  “Okay buddy time for me to get to work,” and Sasha trotted away happy.  Without standing Buck again looked from Kent’s crotch area to mine and then deftly put his hands up each off our towels and took a handful of each of us.  “What do you have on tap?” he asked slyly grinning up at us.

    Buck’s calloused hand had practice with my jewels; I could tell Kent was enjoying his expert fondling as much.  I guess on balance most guys like their junk handled any way a guy will do it.  “Oh so that’s where we’re starting is it?” Kent asked and reached down and riffled Buck’s wiry short red hair.

    Buck’s hand went to my waist and apparently to Kent’s; both our towels fell away.  “Man oh man it must be all that good clean living that got me to heaven today,” Buck joked and stroked the length of us.

    “About that drink,” I said.  “I suddenly feel the need to unload my bladder.”

    Buck’s eyes nearly closed for a second and then he said, “My lucky day for sure!”

    “Come on let’s go somewhere more convenient,” Kent said and offered his arm to Buck to help him up.

    Buck slapped his hand on Kent’s forearm and Kent took hold of Buck’s and Buck sprung to his feet.  “Gracious hosts help the old man up!” he said with a smile.

    As Kent led the way through our rooms to our bathroom he said back to Buck, “From what I hear old man you gave Al a run for his money yesterday.”  I grabbed the wet towels off the floor; it would have been pressing at the back of my mind has I left them.

    Buck snorted.  “I managed to keep-up with your stud of a husband; I’m glad he thinks I gave as good as I got.”  Buck grinned at me.

    We stopped just outside the wet room and Kent went for Buck’s waist and unbuttoned  his shorts; Buck’s big dick was hard and flipped out and bounced.  After I hung the towels I pulled Buck’s very well-worn t-shirt up his lean torso and off.  Buck kicked his dock-siders off and struck a pose with his hands on his waist.  “Not bad for pushing sixty eh?”

    Kent ran his hand over Buck’s big shoulder and down his fuzz-covered pec slab.  He grinned at Buck.  “Beautiful!” he responded as his hand traveled down Buck’s very lean defined abs to his fiery bush.  “Gives me hope for the future.”

    Buck stood still enjoying the attention and praise but retorted, “A fine body like your own and this hunk you’re married to are more hope than an old squid like me could give you sir.”

    Kent’s hand ran the long length of Buck’s hard-on and then he reached around to that bubble butt that had me salivating … again.  “Get on your knees thirsty boy!”

    “Goddamn yes!” Buck said as he nearly fell to the floor.  I admired his agility … and his knees’ resilience as he banged down on the tile.

    Buck had his mouth open wide but was looking my husband dead-on as he approached and aimed his hard-on.  And just like that my husband’s thick stream began; right on target into Buck’s gaping maw.  It was hot as fuck!

    “Al you have any for our guest?”

    Truth was I wasn’t sure I wasn’t too hard to piss if I had to.  Fortunately the reflex of having to piss when someone else was pissing made me feel the urge.  I stepped to beside Kent and painfully pushed my hard dick down and let go.

    “He fuckin’ loves it!” Kent said and threw his arm around my shoulders still pissing.

    Buck suddenly dipped his head and took both our streams all over himself and then threw his head back and thoroughly soaked his face as he rubbed our piss in his chest hair.

    “Fuck yeah men!  Gimme every drop ya got!”

    We both petered out after Buck had been gulping again and gargling it before he swallowed.  The stench of rank piss was thick in the glass walls of the wet room; not something I’d ever been fond of until we had this hot guy reveling in it.

    Buck smirked up at us.  “This the way you want me or want me to shower?”

    I didn’t rush to answer; I let my husband make the decision.

    I await Kent’s dick was growing again.  “How about you make yourself useful and take care of our cocks; and then clean yourself up for some harder work?”

    Buck beamed and moved on his knees toward Kent’s dick.  Looking up and from Kent to me, “Hard work is what a man like me is made for.  And your stud of a husband is to blame for the crying I’ll do when we get to the main event; he tore-up my hole yesterday.”  And then Buck had swallowed Kent whole; a feat given his size even half-hard.

    Kent threw his head back and I went in with my teeth on his luscious corded neck.  “Fuck yeah Al!” he moaned.

    “The fuck about me?” Buck joked and then had Kent’s dick-head again scraping his tonsils.

    Kent didn’t answer in words.  He clamped his hand over Buck’s wiry ginger curl-sprouts and began face-fucking him.  Buck’s grunts and moans conveyed his appreciation.

    Kent used his other hand to trap the back of my neck and he kissed me hard.  My legs were wobbly from his kiss.  Any couple who don’t kiss much (and there seem to be many after some time together) are missing the nitro in whatever explosive passions they share.  Kissing my husband makes my body hum, my dick drool, my balls boil, and my hole itch for invasion.

    I wrapped my arms tight around my husband; the turn as I held him fast caused my dick to jam into Buck’s face.  I was sure my fat dick-head went right into his eye socket but he kept sucking Kent.  I reached between us and began pulling, rubbing, and squeezing Kent’s egg-sized balls; I know that makes him go to maximum arousal and blast like a brick of C-4 detonated in his sac.  “Oh fuck yeah!” he gasped and pulled me tighter and sucked my face harder.

    Kent’s hard face-fucking made our kiss complicated but I wasn’t surrendering his lips; fuck no I wasn’t.  Buck’s grunts and gurgles, gasps and gulps, and his choking and coughing escalated but his hands were clamped on Kent’s hips cxl early communicating what he wanted.

    “If you’re not ready get ready,” Kent almost shouted in a second’s break from our kiss.  Then moments after his lips were shoved back into mine and his tongue was nearly down my throat I heard him grunt, felt him tense, then get that shudder go through him just before he loses control.  Which he did.  As his body exploded into spasmodic contortions Buck gulped and moaned and grunted as his face was held tight into Kent’s groin.  Throughout it he kissed me so violently I thought I one the other of us would break a tooth or need stitches from a tooth being driven through a lip.

    Kent’s body calmed to minor jolts and I felt him push his cock-sucker back.  “Jesus fuck you cum like a stud bull!” Buck cried. “Fuckin’ awesome for me!  Now how about you?” he asked and lest there be any ambiguity my entire hard-on was engulfed instantaneously.

    Buck sucked me like a man whose time had run out.  Actually Kent cumming while he kissed me had me on the edge.  It wasn’t more than a minute of Buck’s gonzo deep throating and I was crying out into my husband’s mouth and blasting so hard it threatened to throw me off balance.

    I felt like I came forever and Kent held me tight and kissed me throughout it.  Until Buck’s licking and sucking of my over-sensitized dick-head threatened to send me through the tiled roof of the wet room; I had to get out of his mouth and pulled back suddenly.

    “Fuck dude!” Buck exclaimed with a loud smack of his lips.  “You came a fuckin’ gallon!”

    I was gasping for breath, my whole body was buzzing, and felt as wet with sweat as if I’d been out for a run.  My balls ached from the quick hard discharge in a way I wasn’t used to.  “Damn!” was all I could get out.

    Buck sat back on his ass, arms around his knees and grinned up.  “Come on; you know you both need to piss after cumming.  I know I do!  Do you mind if I add my stream?”

    Kent and I shot each other a look and then both looked down.  The tile floor and our feel were both sprayed with cum; we hadn’t noticed when Buck had cum.  “Feel free,” Lent told him and took hold of his own dick and pointed it at Buck.

    Buck’s dick was hanging long and pointing toward the floor and our feet and suddenly the warm rush and startlingly strong scent of his piss were both assaulting my senses.  Kent had his head back as he does before he releases his stream and on cue a blast shot at Buck’s face.  “Fuck yeah; hose me down buddy!” The older man encouraged him and opened his mouth to catch as much as he could.

    The familiar reek of Kent’s piss didn’t mitigate the acrid strange scent of Buck’s.   Was I the only one who wasn’t entirely into this?  When in Rome …

    My dick erupted but went to Buck’s feet as I didn’t take hold and aim.  Buck reached out and cupped his hand in my flow and splashed it toward him as his own and Kent’s continued to splash.  He got a handful of mine and took it to his mouth and then gargled it.

    “Fuckin’ hot times gentlemen!” he pronounced.

    We were all drained; balls and bladders.  I was about to gag on the stench of it trapped in the wet room when Kent mercifully hit the controls and all the jets around us and rain head above us came on at once and doused us.

    When we bought the house and had the bathroom done our Ukrainian contractor convinced us to go the extra cost and put in a device to circulate the hot water from the separate water heater for our bathroom in the pipes; that way the water was the temp set on the control from the first drop.  Being a cold beginning-of-spring morning I was glad for the extravagance when the deluge didn’t chill me to the bone.

    I extended my arm down to Buck and pulled him up by his to where we were all standing amid the downpour.  Kent grabbed his favorite body-wash and handed me mine; he told Buck the choices who sniffed each of us as we began lathering.

    “Tough choice.  I’m an Irish Spring guy myself; get it cheap at Big Lots.”  He put out his hands to Kent and took a glob of his Pure eucalyptus scent wash.

    I mentally noted that he had chosen the one that cost three times as much as mine; once a finance guy always a finance guy.  That made my thoughts careen to the amount of water we were using with all the jets on and then …

    “Hon,” Kent said and obviously knows me well enough to see when I spiral down that financial rat-hole.

    To cover with Buck there I turned and took Kent’s wash and turned him to do his back.  Kent laughed knowingly but also commented on my touch and moaned into it; which in turn brought me out of my obsessing.

    “You want some breakfast Buck?” Kent asked when we were all toweling with the huge thick bath sheets Kent chose … which take twice the electricity to dry in the laundry.  There I went again!  “We can shoot up to the club; the golf cafe does great omelets.

    “Would you two mind if I say no?  I mean … I’m your pool man and now your fuck-toy.  I’m not your social equal you know.”

    “What the fuck?!” Kent blurted out.  “Is this Downton Abbey or some fuck?”

    “I didn’t mean … “

    “Dude seriously?” Kent bellowed and I realized he was really angry.

    “I’m … “

    “Leaving is what you’re doing.  If you think we’re … “

    “Kent!” I stopped him.

    “WHAT?!” my angry husband huffed at me.

    “Mr. S … “ Buck tried.

    “YOU!” Kent bellowed at him.  “Shut the fuck up!  And you,” he said only a small bit less venomously, “He seriously thinks we’re like the snobby assholes we live among?  Like we fucked his holes and pissed on him and left our cum in him, but we’re too good to share a meal with him?”

    “Maybe we should give Buck a chance to finish what he was going to say when you went off on him,” I suggested, rubbing my husband’s buff bare chest the way I know calms him.

    He turned to Buck but didn’t say anything. After an awkward silence Buck finally spoke.  “Mr. S … “

    Kent’s nostrils flared and I felt his heart race again.  “The fuck happened to ‘Al’ and ‘Kent’; now we’re MISTER again?”

    Buck’s eyes narrowed.  “What the fuck do I have to do to get a sentence out; shove my cock down your throat?  KENT?” he added snarling out my husband’s name and getting right up in his face.

    “Go on!” Kent told him.

    “About gagging you or what I was trying to say?” Buck said fast and aggressively.

    “We’ll see if you get the chance at the former based on what you have to say about the latter,” Kent replied and I caught the grin he was trying to hide. I let my hand which was on his solar plexus slide slowly down to where I rubbed his long dick and knob as a reward.

    “I’ve driven by your country club club-house about a bijillion times and never once been in it or invited into it.  I clean about forty pools in here.  I’d love to spend time with you two.  IN our clothes; you’re good people.  But you two might get some questions if you take me to your special sanctum with you.  I was TRYING to be respectful.”  His eyes never left Kent’s.

    “You think I wouldn’t tell someone who asked me why I was having our pool man to breakfast to take their snobby ‘tude and fuck themself with it?” Kent asked.

    “Better than telling them ‘he’s the best cocksucker I’ve come across since I met my husband’ I reckon.”

    Buck’s grin was re-emerging and Kent’s wasn’t disguised at all.

    “What makes you think you are?” Kent parried back.  When Buck looked surprised he went on.  “Pretty sure of yourself aren’t you?”

    Buck drew himself up after the moment of hesitation.  “Might have been that ‘OH FUCK YEAH’ that rattled the walls right before you blew so much spunk down my throat I thought I might just drown?” he said as a question.  When Kent didn’t answer he added, “Well that and most of the guys who use me and piss on me don’t ask me to breakfast.”  He was grinning full on now.

    “Do want to have fuckin’ breakfast with us or not?  I’m fuckin’ starving here,” Kent said.

    “The man offered you his dick hon,” I offered helpfully.

    “I think it was more of a threat than an offer,” Kent corrected me still grinning.  “And if anyone’s taking cock it’s going to be you taking it!” he added.

    Buck’s eyes got wide and his dick was growing.  My ass twitched and my mouth watered; I wasn’t sure which of my holes my husband intended to have filled but it didn’t fuckin’ matter at that point.

    Buck looked down and then up at us with a wider grin.  “Boys you have a magical effect on my old cock.”

    “Get the fuck ON his old cock Al.  Seems the only way I’m getting any breakfast here is to eat it out of you.”

    Buck and I chorused a long, “Fuuuuuuuck!”

    “That’s the idea.  Now could we move this along?” Kent chided impatiently and sat down in the floor with his back against the vanity cabinets.

    “Come on Buck.  I know you’ve got another one in you,” I told him.  “And let’s give my husband something to tide him over.”

    I stepped over and shoved my semi into Kent’s mouth; he opened wide as I stepped up.  I then bent over and put my elbows on the counter.  “Open me up for him hon.”

    Kent obliged as he worked my dick to full-on hard with his mouth and throat; he reached around and dug his fingers into my ring roughly and pulled my hole open.

    I heard and saw Buck spit onto his knob and grease it up with his hand as he approached.  “This is about the hottest fucking day of my life here boys,” he said and jammed his wet knob against my hole.

    “Go on; just shove it in Buck.  I can take it.  AndI fuckin’ want it.”

    Buck obliged with a loud grunt that went up in pitch when he broke through.  It hurt like hell; but I just gasped and growled.

    “Big fuckin’ dick!” I gasped out.  “Fuck me.  Fuck me good and hard and deep,” I urged him and watched his face contorting in all sorts of ways in the mirror as he began slamming me.

    “This what you want?  You want this old fucker to turn you out?”

    I didn’t correct his usage of the term; I just encouraged him.  “You hot big-dicked fucker.  Get your nut with my hole.  Fuckin’ flood me!”

    Buck was fucking me so hard that Kent’s head was knocking against the edge of the polished concrete counter.  But to be honest his throat-work and Buck’s pounding had me in such a state of piggy pleasure so fast that I didn’t care.  Watching our stud of a pool man straining with veins bulging as he railed my hole was the perfect porn to accompany the expert suck-job Kent was delivering.  His grunts and moans added to it.

    “Fuck your hole is tight!” Buck growled behind me.  Years of clenching around the biggest dick I’d ever taken had trained my muscles for the Olympics of bottoming.  “Fuckin’ feels like you’re milking this old bull!”  I clenched on his dick harder to reply to his praise.  “Oh fuck dude.  You really want it don’t you?”

    Kent was working my own dick like a crazed cock-sucker and moaning and grunting like he wanted it more than I did.  I was getting close and channeled my enthusiasm into working Buck’s big dick tighter as he pummeled my prostate and repeatedly stretched my second ring open.

    “Jesus you make me feel like a young buck,” Buck panted and pounded me harder.  “I just want to plant my seed and … “

    “Fucking DO IT!” I demanded.

    “Awwwwwww fuckkkkkkkkkkk,” he growled out.  And then, FUCKKKKKKK!” he shouted as his body jerked and I felt his head inside me.  “Jesus goddamn!”

    I couldn’t hold it and let out my own growl and my balls burst forth my load into my husband’s glugging throat.  It felt like my balls were expelling every drop including the reserves as Buck pounded his load into me and fell forward with his palms slapping hard onto the counter.

    “You can.  Let go.  NOW!” he gasped.  I wasn’t clenching hard anymore.  “I’m not … “

    “Mr. S had my nuts in a choke-hold squeezing them like oranges in the morning for juice,” Buck explained and backed out of me.

    I in turn backed out of Kent and expected him to catch some deep breaths but instead he manhandled me by my thighs to turn around and pulled my ass to his face.  He was slurping before I got my, “Mmmmmmm!” out.  He smacked my ass and I knew he wanted me to push it out; I did and his “Mmmmmmmmm,” confirmed it.

    “Fuck that’s about the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen!” Buck exclaimed as he stood there with his dick dripping.

    Suddenly Kent roughly pushed me off and grabbed Buck by his sagging balls again.  “What the … “ Buck yelled as Kent pulled him over and caught his dripping dick in his mouth and swallowed him.  “Ohhhhhh man!”

    Kent slurped hungrily and held Buck by the balls as he squirmed from the sensitivity until Kent had had his fill.  Then Kent got up, roughly pushed Buck over the counter and slammed his drooling prick fully inside him.  Buck shouted and hurled obscenities but Kent just went to town on his hole.

    I got behind my husband and reached in and began working his balls the way I know gets him off.  “Fuck yeah Al!” he shouted.

    It wasn’t but a few thrusts before Kent yelled and shoved deep one last time and grunted out his load.  “Buck moaned lien a bitch as my husband filled him.”

    When Kent suddenly pulled out he knocked me back.  Buck yelped but Kent pulled him and pushed him roughly to his knees and shoved his sloppy dick into Buck’s face.  “Clean it!” he ordered.

    Buck took a quick sniff and then gobbled Kent’s huge dick down and slurped all over it.  “I’m too hungry to take the time for another shower,” Kent explained.  Then he pulled out of Buck for the second time and put his hand out to help him up.

    “You don’t do anything by halfs do you?” Buck asked grinning.

    “No HALVES in this house!” Kent corrected and also confirmed.  “Now get the fuck dressed,” he said and headed into the closet.  “We’re leaving in five for the club, and I don’t care if you go or not,” he yelled out to us.  “As good as that load tasted, I’m in need of a big breakfast.”

    Buck and I scrambled for our clothes without attending to our dripping holes and followed Kent.

  • Well-Cut Hairstylist

    Arnold, 33, is a handsome Canadian dude who runs a hair salon for men called A Shining Star. The walls are covered with pics of a wide range of attractive well-groomed guys: sportsman, student, businessman, bodybuilder, skinhead, twink, daddy type. Arnold’s hair is well-cut, of course. He prides himself on highlighting facial virile beauty.

    The hair salon is located on Toronto’s Younge Street, known to be the world’s longest street: 1,178 miles (1,896 kilometres). It starts from Lake Ontario, roars through Toronto and then straight through the Ontario wilderness right into the sub-Arctic, across the top of the Great Lakes. The street ends only when it smacks straight into the U.S. border at Rainy River, Minnesota. But by the time Yonge Street reaches the U.S. border, it has turned into Highway 11, taking many roundabouts which prompt some to argue the street breaks up. The myth of “the longest street in the world” still remains popular.

    Arnold is 5 feet 11 inches tall (180.3 cm), weighs 180 pounds (81.6 kg), sports well-developed biceps, pecs and thighs, enjoys a bubble butt and a slightly above normal cock. Arnold’s hair is not the only thing which is well-cut, so is his dick. There is no excess or irregular excision of the foreskin, just a perfect head or glans exposure. I like to call it a knob or even better a mushroom because I adore the taste of creamy mushroom soup, if you know what I mean.

    Totally attracted to men, Arnold dresses to seduce them. Some days, he wears tight faded blue jeans, bulging tank tops or leather arm bands. His wardrobe contains shirts of just about every color, as well as elegant, casual or sporty pants. A drawer is filled with underwear ranging from boxers and tight white briefs to thongs, G-strings and jockstraps. Arnold likes to show off his assets by wearing lycra or spandex clothing. He refrains from doing so when he works, keeping this attire for cruising in the Gay Village along Church Street.

    It’s Friday, the salon closes at 8 p.m., in about 30 minutes. A man in his twenties walks into A Shining Star saying he just needs a mustache trim. Arnold does not share this opinion. The customer should treat himself to the all-inclusive special: shampoo, hair, beard, mustache and eyebrow cutting, shaving, head massage. But not every guy is ready to spend $80. Terrence, the young client, just wants to spend $20 for a trim, tip included.

    “My girlfriend keeps telling me that an untrimmed mustache turns her off when it comes to kissing. So, I count on you to solve the problem”, says Terrence.

    Arnold locks the door, shuts the blinds, and gets to work, scissors, comb and clipper in hand. The result seems more than satisfactory to him. To convince Terrence, the hairstylist puts on a wig and kisses him greedily.

    “Holy fuck! You perform better than my girlfriend. I wouldn’t mind and another kiss.”

    “I’ll give you more than that. I will also trim your hair and eyebrows free of charge, and even include a shampoo. Just relax and let me provide you a unique experience.” Arnold obviously kisses Terrence once more, exploring this time his mouth even deeper with a hungry tongue.

    Since Terrence is already seated in the haircut chair, Arnold decides to shampoo at the end. He starts trimming the sides and rests his body against the arm of the chair. His cock is firm and Terrence feels it, blushing on the spot.

    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to brush my arm against your… your cock, I mean your bulge.”

    “No problem, it’s a bonus”, replies Arnold.

    “You seem to be… euh… well-hung, I mean well-endowed.”

    “Nature has been kind to me and I like to share my goodies.”

    The same scenario plays out when Arnold trims the other side of the head. Terrence does not apologize this time. The hairstylist tells himself that his client takes pleasure in feeling a virile member hardening in contact with his arm. Once he has finished the haircut, Arnold attacks the eyebrows and blows away the trimmings with a warm breath. He has pulled down the fly his pants, and a bulge wrapped in an athletic jockstrap points towards Terrence… whose dick starts to get hard. Once in the shampoo chair, Terrence is in for a surprise. Arnold has removed pants and jockstrap. He positions himself in a way that allows him to both shampoo Terrence’s hair and get sucked.

    Terrence may be straight and have a girlfriend, but you would have to be an angel not to resist tasting such an appetizing cock. He has never done it before but sucking comes naturally to him; he even swallows the balls and moans with pleasure. After drying Terrence’s hair, Arnold notices that his client’s cock is fully swollen. He kneels down, pulls down the zipper and starts sucking the veiny reddish cock. “Holy fuck! You do a much better job than my girlfriend”, says Terrence before exploding his creamy cum into Arnold’s hungry mouth.

    “I can also trim your pubic hair. It will make your dick look bigger.” No sooner said than done. “You have a nice ass and I can give it a little trim too.” Terrence begins to understand what his hairstylist had in mind when he said “provide a unique experience”. He’s in for a surprise. He feels neither a pair of scissors nor a clipper, but rather a tongue licking his crack before attacking his asshole. His girlfriend has always refused rimming and now he is enjoying it for the first time. “Don’t stop, tickle my ass hole as deep has you can. It feels damn good, fucking hot to be honest.”

    Arnold goes even further. He bangs the 9 inches (22.5 cm) of his cock on the butt cheeks, then slides his dick into the crack, poking the shit hole. Terrence imagines what is about to happen; he warns Arnold: “I’ve never been fucked, so take it easy.” The hairstylist is a pro not only in cutting hair but in pounding a guy’s ass. He can be mild or wild, depending on the situation. He slowly but surely inserts a third of his rod, then pushes further as soon as he feels Terrence comfortable; the last third does not take long to glide firmly into the now begging hole. Arnold thrusts his cock with rhythm in the intact rear.

    This isn’t the first time that Arnold has fucked a client in his Shining Star salon. He has a hidden sling that he lowers from the ceiling and that’s where he installs Terrence to continue his initiation into man-to-man pleasures. He not only fucks non stop to make his client scream with ecstasy, but kisses him on the lips, bites his ear lobes, and sniffs his arm pits to provide the promised unique experience. Arnold is a well-cut hairstylist and has a well-cut dick. You could say that he is also on the cutting edge when it comes to virile fun. Metaphorically, there is nothing beyond edging hair styling. It converts Terrence who leaves the salon telling himself: “So long, girlfriend; welcome, guys!”

  • A carpenter’s commission releases the bully & beta-pig

    There will be nine chapters charting the journey of two men, alpha-male and beta-boi, as they discover how mean and dirty they really are. This story involves, humiliation, scat, piss, boot worship and pipe smoking. If these things are not for you please do move on.


    He concentrates for a moment before a small fart escapes his sweaty ring. Another toke on the pipe. He lets out a grunt and starts to shit.

    Smiling at himself Jon watches the shit begin to coil down from his hole onto Paul’s flaccid cock. He loves the feeling of power as he shits all over Paul’s withered cock, whilst his own cock literally throbs in his hand. Yes, this feels so fucking good.


    Paul is becoming aware of the fact that Jon is actually shitting on him, another wave of utter shame, humiliation and revulsion rolls over him with the pipe smoke. He mumbles around the gag but it is incoherent. Jon watches him, “you said it, you are lower than shit beta-boi, now feel my shit, my superior shit on your little clit and pathetic balls. It’s what you deserve isn’t it beta-boi? And he’s happy to see Paul faintly nod as his self-loathing consumes him. Despite what he has done with his own shit this is another level, this is lower, nastier and, especially post orgasm, it disgusts him. He can feel the soft stinking shit wrapping its self around his cock and balls. By contrast, Jon is so tuned on now he just needs to unload, but he still wants this to last.

    When there is a pile of warm soft shit smothering Paul’s junk Jon leans close to Paul’s tearstained face. “I’m gonna take your gag out pig-boi and then you will be a good little cunt and clean my arse for me. You’ll clean my arse to show your respect. Got that cunt?” He watches the conflict in Paul’s eyes, the realisation of what he’s got to do, coming to terms with the idea that he should do it even if it utterly revolts him, maybe because it revolts him. And he nods, another tear rolling down his face as Jon removes the gag.

    Jon moves froward and squats over Paul’s head so that Paul has a perfect view of his dirty arse as it descends. As it comes closer Jon pulls his cheeks apart and Paul can now smell what he can see; small lumps of soft shit clinging to Jon’s crack, hiding his hole. He heaves a little and whimpers as Jon lowers it down, “get your tongue in there you pathetic cunt, clean up my alpha arse you wimp.” And he grinds his arse onto Paul’s face. Paul can feel the slimy shit still packed around Jon’s ring spread over his nose. Jon literally uses him as toilet paper, rubbing back and forth.

    Realising there’s no get out until the job is done, Paul finally surrenders completely and pushes his tongue into the vile mess, tasting the bitter, gritty paste. This is not like cleaning Jon’s arse after a few wet farts when he was so horned up, the paste coats his tongue so there’s no escape. Paul groans and gasps for air, Jon can feel his breath as well as his tongue getting to work.

    Now Jon is buzzing with adrenalin and endorphins. He continues to wipe his arse on Paul’s face as he wanks his cock and pulls on the pipe. In the mirror he can see himself sat astride Paul’s head, victorious, huge clouds of pipe smoke swirling around him as his fist pounds his cock furiously. With a series of guttural grunts and gasps he feels his cum start to build. Scooting back, he aims his cock down as his churning balls contract sending waves of cum over Paul’s shitty face, shouting, “fuck yes, fuck, fuck, fuck yes, take it you worthless piece of shit, wear my fucking cum, YOU ARE MY FUCKING TOILET PAPER BETA-BOI. YOU ARE LOWER THAN SHIT. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

    More tears run down Paul’s face as Jon jumps down from the bench. He pauses to catch his breath and admire Paul’s destressed shitty face. Smiling at him he actually rubs Paul’s hair like he’s stoking a dog. “Almost done for now beta-boi, just relax.” And he moves back down to Paul’s legs for the final indignity of the session.

    Jon picks up two small capsules from under the bench where he hid them earlier, carefully stoking Paul’s quivering legs he pushes the bullet shaped objects into Paul’s still pliable shit chut. Paul is unaware of the intrusion of the two suppository laxatives being inserted into is arse. Jon pushes a little harder to make sure they are in as far as possible; only then does Paul wriggle to get away. Jon laughs, “easy beta-boi, relax.” He then he pulls a piece of the PVC Paul is laying on up between his legs and over his cock and balls as he had last time, sealing his waste in. Then he reaches under Paul further and drags down something else that had been covered by the PVC. It is thickly padded and Jon works it into position so half is under Paul’s backside before wrapping the other half up over his PVC clad cock and balls, sealing it with the tags at the sides.

    Paul is suddenly aware of the shit spreading over his cock and balls and the tightness of something hugging his buttocks and crotch so that the waste spreads around his balls. He starts to raise his head but Jon is there too quickly, gently holding his head, “Just need to get your little pacci back in beta-boi and then you can get up.” And he slides the facsimile of Paul’s cock, now a penis gag, he so carefully fashioned back into Paul’s mouth, fastening the strap tightly round his head. Only then does he slowly guide Paul to let him stand on shaky feet. Almost tenderly he turns the shattered man to the mirror so he can see himself.

    Jon watches with sadistic please as Paul takes in the sight of himself. His eyes go wide as he first sees that he is wearing a big, baby pink diaper over the PVC that he can feel beneath it. And then he focuses on the penis gag fixed in his mouth with the horrible realisation that the odd shape of the base is by design. Jon had crafted it to look like an oversized pacifier, a big pink baby’s dummy is in his mouth. He lets out as pathetic whimper and turns to move away. But Jon holds him, “you stay there fucker, you stay and look at yourself and remember you will never be a man, never were a man. This is what you are, a pathetic, wimpy, shit pig play thing for alpha men. When you accept that maybe you can move on. But for now, you look at yourself and think how much you hate yourself, how much you deserve to be used and abused by better men.” With that Jon walks off.

    Jon returns to check on Paul a few minutes later. Jon is dressed and sucking on a bottle of cold beer. He stands beside Paul, who was still staring at himself in the mirror exactly as he’d been told to, “here’s what happens next my awesome little beta-boi.” Before he can finish Paul’s brain has once again locked on to ‘my’ and ‘awesome’. “You’ll go home and stay in your pretty pink diaper until this evening, then you will phone me on a video call. I will then give you the honour of humping the shit in that diaper, just like last time. Only this time it will be my superior shit you are going to get off humping as you entertain me. Got that piggy?” Paul is still wide eyed, trying to process all of this. Still a bit stunned he just nods slowly.

    Jon helps Paul dress, struggling to pull his trousers over the thick diaper, his trousers bulge making it obvious what he’s wearing and further compressing the shit against his cock and balls. This time Paul isn’t getting a hard on, he’s still grossed out at wearing Jon’s shit, and humiliated to be wearing a real diaper and the over-sized penis gag dummy. Once he’s dressed Jon removes the penis gag, happy to see some of his shit still stuck to Paul’s lips and beard. He hands him the last of the beer, which silently Paul accepts. Jon puts his arms round Paul and holds him, “you did well today boi, really well, you’ve come a long way and we’re almost there.” And he nuzzles the back of Paul’s neck. Paul leans back wanting to feels Jon’s approval, his strong body, his embrace. ‘Why does it have to be this way, what does he mean by ‘getting there’’ he wonders.

    Jon walks Paul to the car with the smug knowledge of what is going to happen on the journey home. Paul once again drives very carefully unaware of the suppository dissolving in his gut, he’s lost in thought until his gut cramps, a fart builds in his colon. He eases it out hearing its muffled echo in the diaper. Minutes later the cramps have got worse and he has the mounting need to shit. He squirms in the seat as it gets worse. Minutes later he losses the fight and feels another barrage of soft shit explode into his fettered diaper, forcing itself around his arse, balls, and eventually even his cock is encased in more warm stinking shit. He actually lets out as small sob at the abject humiliation of it. But by the time he gets home his cock has started to betray him and is already chubbed up in the slippery confines of the diaper.

    Jon accepts the video call at 8pm. Paul is kneeling on a towel still dressed in the pink diaper that now bulges under the pressure of two loads of shit. He loosely holds his pipe and lighter and stares dumbly into the screen waiting for Jon to begin to humiliate him further. Jon is kicked back with a beer and his huge pipe, his jeans unbuttoned ready to enjoy taking Paul another step into submission.

    The session is much the same as before, Paul humping the shit until he’s totally into his pig zone, smoking his pipe hard as he does it. Jon gives a continues stream of humiliating and degrading dialogue constantly reminding Paul how dirty he is, how low he is and what a pathetic wimp he is. He makes Paul edge until he’s a whimpering wreck, desperate to cum. But only when he’s crying again, and almost screaming out his acceptance of being all of the things Jon is saying, is he allowed to cum. Again, after he’s cum Jon has him open the diaper and eat his own shitty cum as he acknowledges his beta-boi status loud and clear for Jon.

    Jon can see that Paul is beaten down, his self-respect in taters, which is where he wanted him, it’s why he added another humiliating diaper session when Paul was already fragile after the events of the morning. He is consolidating Paul’s beta status in his mind. He’s sure the last session should break him completely.

    When Paul has debased and humiliated himself enough to make Jon cum, he tells Paul that he can clean up. But then he gives him an option, telling him that if he hates himself enough, wants to punish himself as he probably deserves then he could choose to reseal the diaper and stay in it all night and dump yet more shit into it in the morning. The choice was his.

    Jon also reminds him that he didn’t deserve to have pubic hair and should shave it off before they next meet. Paul doesn’t respond to either of these but just sits on the open diaper feeling the shit slide down and pool under his balls. Before he goes Jon tells him that the table will be completely finished in two days’ time. He checks Paul is free to come by for the last session when they can ‘settle up’. When Paul agrees he ends the call leaving Paul to his mental turmoil.

     In chapter 8 Paul will have to pay in the most humiliating and demeaning ways for living a lie, for pretending to be a ‘real man’.


    This is the first story that I have published. It covers my own personal interest in humiliation, submission and an obsession with pipe smoking men. I welcome constructive feedback, thoughts and idea for future stories. 

  • Acceptance of Reality

    Introduction 

    In the traditional English independent, fee-paying, public school, where discipline has always been the strictest of the strict and frequent – too frequent in view of most boys – application of the birch or the cane, or, on the odd occasion, both consecutively, to the bare buttocks of miscreant boys, was considered an indispensable adjunct to correct even minor misdemeanors of daily school-life. This story commences the last week of October 1989, leading up to the fatidic date of Wednesday November 1st 1989, on which the law banning the use of corporal punishment in all schools in England, state or independent, came into force. Henceforth, from November 1st 1989. no pupil, not even a public-school boy, would have to suffer the barbaric indignity – a phrase used by several MPs (Members of Parliament)) during the final debate on the bill on its passage through the House of Commons, the British legislative chamber in Westminster – of lowering his trousers and underpants and having his bare buttocks chastised with a rattan cane.

    On Tuesday 31st of October 1989, the then Headmaster of The Churton College for Boys, was a man, aged about 60, with the tongue-twister name Mr. Oscar John-St. John, St. John-St. Claire. What was unusual about his name, was that in addition to his hyphenated, double-barrelled surname, St. John-St. Claire, pronounced Sinjun-Sinclair, his snobbish, social climber of a mother had seen fit to lumber him with two, what she thought of as English, upper-class, Christian names: the first “Oscar” and the second, double-barrelled: “John-St. John.”  As a young man, much to his annoyance, his mother always addressed him as John-Sinjun, rather than as Oscar or John and referred to him to others as: “My son, John-Sinjun.”  The poor guy had the full absurd, name: Oscar John-St. John, St. John-St. Claire pronunciation: Oscar John-Sinjun, Sinjun-Sinclair. If asked personally for his name, he styled himself more modestly as Oscar Sinclair. However, at Churton, by pupils and staff alike, he was universally referred to informally as Oscar. However, he was always respectfully addressed formally, by everyone as Mr. Sinjun-Sinclair.,

    Oscar laid down his cane, for the very last time, that fatidic Tuesday afternoon after delivering his last stroke ever to the bare buttocks of Matthew Collins, one of three sixth formers whom he had just thrashed soundly for bullying a younger boy. On Wednesday November 1st 1989, the use of corporal punishment, to correct misbehaving schoolchildren of both sexes, would be banned by law in all schools, both independent and state-controlled. Oscar was a devout disciplinarian, totally addicted to regular use of the cane; a man, who wholeheartedly believed in the curative power of a good beating, which he had, throughout his career as a school master, in loco parentis, applied regularly and vigorously to the bare buttocks of the boys in his charge; and it has unfortunately to be said, like many public school-masters, with the attendant pleasure and enjoyment of considerable, personal, sexual arousal. For Oscar was also a bachelor and a regularly practising homosexual, who lived at present, with his long-term lover. in the Headmaster’s house in the school grounds

    Oscar had served his apprenticeship to the art of delivering pain to the bare buttocks of recalcitrant schoolboys, when, at the age of eighteen, he had been appointed as head-boy at the public school, Rigby in Lincoln, where had had received his secondary education.  In his early years at Rigby, he had himself suffered, along with his schoolmates, regular bare-arse beatings at the hands of the numerous prefects, the head-boy of the year and the masters, all of whom seemed addicted to the frequent use of the cane, to keep the disobedience of the boys down to a dull roar; and even on rare occasion, Oscar had been beaten by that holier-of-holies, the Headmaster himself. Oscar had seen his final-year appointment as head-boy of Rigby, as pay-back-time for the suffering he personally had undergone in his earlier years. As head-boy of Rigby he had shown an immediate aptitude and devotion to the frequent and vigorous application of the cane to the bare buttocks of his schoolfellows. He never allowed even the most minor of faults, if detected by himself, to go unpunished.

    It is safe to say that, by the end of the first two weeks in his first term as head-boy of Rigby, he had established the reputation of being the most hated head-boy ever, due to his frequent actions with the cane on the bare arses of his erstwhile schoolmates. It mattered not one whit to him, whether he was beating a former close friend or just one of his classmates. In the first two weeks his first term as head-boy, he had applied the cane to the same number of boys, as his immediate predecessor, of one year earlier, had beaten in his entire first term. In fact, it is safe to say that Oscar thoroughly enjoyed beating his schoolmates, for he had quickly learned that beating boys on the bare turned him on sexually, which incited him to use the cane regularly, with the approval of the Headmaster; but also too regularly, in the eyes of his schoolfellows.

    The standard tariff for a beating at Rigby had, for several years, been fixed at six strokes on the bare, with an additional six strokes for cases of severe misdemeanour. It goes almost without saying that given 0scar’s devotion to the cane, twelve strokes became quickly the default option of a beating by the head-boy. The group of trembling boys, who assembled daily, at five o’clock in the afternoon, outside the head-boy’s study door, wearing only gym shorts and vests, could look forward to having their bare arses warmed by twelve swingeing cuts of the rattan cane. It was not surprising that with his devotion to the cane. Oscar, as head-boy, soon became as feared as the Headmaster, who himself was no slouch when it came to handling the rattan cane.  Due to Oscar’s experience as head-boy, during which period, his final year as a pupil at Rigby, he thoroughly enjoyed inflicting pain on his schoolfellows, and by the time he left Rigby he had decided that he wanted to be a master at a public school, in order to satisfy what had become his all-consuming, sexually arousing obsession of beating boys.

    On leaving Rigby, Oscar had then gone on to Oxford to read Greats, otherwise known as Literae Humaniores, which included – and still today concentrates on study of Latin and Ancient Greek, two dead languages, which no one speaks anymore, together with their culture, their poetry and their ancient history.  This traditional classical education in Greats and other classical courses, wallowing in the glories of past civilizations, a path, which many British statesmen, both past and present, have followed, possibly explains why the United Kingdom does so badly economically in an increasingly technological world.

    Chapter 2

    So how did Oscar become a regular, dedicated, one could almost say rabid, homosexual, with a strong sadistic streak?  Well, since the age of about of about fourteen, Oscar had known that he was naturally more attracted to members of his own sex than to females.  However, it was not until one day at school at Rigby, when, at the age of fifteen, he was forcibly introduced to gay sex, by being set upon and buggered, not once but twice, in quick succession, by two confirmed, gay sixth-formers, named Buckley and Knight, that he had realised that he too was of the same sexual persuasion as his aggressors.

    Subsequent to what had been at the time, possibly the most dramatic event of his young life, reflecting on his first encounter with full McCoy of hands-on, or perhaps better put “cocks-in,” anal sex, after the first, traumatic shock of being sexually molested – well-nigh raped – by two of his older schoolfellows, he had found that he had actually enjoyed the serial pounding of two different, sizable, rock-hard, cocks, supplied by the sixth-formers, Buckley and Knight, whilst they vigorously relieved him of his anal virginity. All in all, at the end of the day, the sudden shock had brought him categorically to acknowledge, at least to himself, that he was as gay as the proverbial coot. He found that he had thoroughly enjoyed being fucked, as a bottom – as he was later to learn the owner of the receiving anus was called, not one, but twice; and, boy oh boy, had he been memorably fucked!

    Chapter 3

    Oscar had no trouble, as a confirmed, practising, gay – and, it has to be said; as a very handsome and attractive, young-man himself – in finding his feet in the gay, undergraduate community in Oxford, where he was accepted by Gresham College to read Greats (Classics). He was in great demand at gay parties, once his newfound, gay acquaintances saw that he was not only highly experienced in gay-sex techniques, but also enthusiastically game for anything physically demanding – top or bottom – and that he was extremely well-endowed between the legs, where the centre of interest in other men resides, for most homosexual men. During Oscar’s three undergraduate years at Oxford, where he – to his credit – immersed himself in Greats, he sowed wild oats with gay abandon, as he hopped, somewhat peripatetically, from one male conquest to another, never managing to find the right guy, with whom he could develop a stable relationship. Oscar had numerous friendly gay acquaintances, but no close, gay friends. As such; he was essentially a loner, ever in search of the elusive man of his dreams.

    Oscar’s long dalliance with gay-sex finally paid off. One day, in 1950, at beginning of the final, third term, in his final undergraduate year at Oxford, Oscar was invited to a gay, male gathering, given in the house of an overtly gay young don of Gresham, his own college, with whom he himself had once or twice had sex, on a one-night-stand basis. On that occasion, he was finally to meet the man of his dreams, with whom, although he did not know it at the time, he was destined to spend the rest of his life, as his permanent sex partner. On first sight, Oscar knew instantly that fate had dictated that he and the delectable young stud, a handsome, muscular man of colour, were destined to be together. It was the sort of party, where all semblance of propriety was thrown to the wind and every man jack present was sexually available, including the older host, and was eagerly looking for partner for the classic one-night-stand. Oscar approached the young man, whom he did not know from Adam, and, without even exchanging names, propositioned him. Oscar prayed that the young man of his desire, would take a similar immediate view of him.

    Unlike Oscar, who already had long term ideas for the young man he had just propositioned, as he did not wish to throw away the apparent gem, which fate had seen fit throw into his lap. Oscar was delighted when the young man, obviously attracted to him sufficiently, accepted his proposition of sex and they immediately fell publicly into each other’s arm, as if they were old friends meeting again, after a long absence. So much so, that the don, in whose house the party was being held, observing the direction, in which the wind was blowing, suddenly drew Oscar and his new-found, potential partner to one side and quietly said to both young men:

    “This party was organized with sexual assignations in mind; so if the two of you would like some privacy to get to know one another better as newly found friends, there is a single bedroom at the top of the stairs, which you can use temporarily. The way you two are pawing each other, after only just meeting, indicates to me, as an inveterate and relatively sharp observer of human, sexual behaviour, that you both obviously want to have immediate sex together.. The only condition to this offer is that you leave the room as neat and tidy as when you entered it and wipe up your emissions, as I know, from long, personal experience, just how messy man-on-man sex can be.”

    Oscar was astounded  at the generosity of the offer, not to mention the  deep understanding of the imperiously, commanding nature of sex, which one ignores at one’s peril, by a fellow of his own college.

    Only giving themselves time to exchange perfunctorily their Christian names, Oscar said to his new conquest: “By the way, my name is Oscar,”  to which his dusky, new acquaintance replied: “And I am called Paulo.” Without even exchanging another word, the two of them in their overt eagerness to have sex with each other, rushed to the bedroom offered. Once they were alone together, with the bedroom door firmly closed, they immediately stripped themselves stark naked, each revealing, one to the other, the full extent of his physical credentials, which were, in both cases, quite jaw dropping.

    After a moment of hesitation, the cocks of both young men showed that they wanted to fuck, by becoming erect like two massive cannons preparing to fire at each other. At this stage, the two, already impressive, flaccid cocks had transformed themselves into ten-inch, rock-hard quasi- steel rods of rigid man-meat, each indicating its readiness for immediate action, by the droplets of precum oozing from its cockhead. Oscar and Paulo were each hesitant as to who should make the first move; for, to use a religious metaphor, they had had no discussion together of what might best be called: “The order of service.”  But this was no time for hesitation; someone had to strike whilst the whilst the iron was hot.

    With only a  moment’s hesitation, it was Paulo, who seized the initiative, by dropping to his knees in front of Oscar’s magnificently erect penis. After only a moment’s hesitation, he then took its head into his mouth and proceeded, in an impressively, consummate, competent act of fellation, to suck off Oscar’s erect member to orgasm. Oscar was already so sexually aroused, just at the thought of what was to come, that at the first touch of Paulo’s tongue, Oscar, somehow knew, that his cock was to experience the most sublime act of fellation, to which it had ever been subjected. Paulo was an expert at the art of fellation and sent Oscar into paroxysms of sexual delight; so much so, that, after only thirty seconds of Paulo working with his mouth on Oscar’s cock, Oscar, surprisingly, for a man so experienced in gay sex as himself, was unable to hold himself back any longer. His cock erupted into a veritable, shuddering tidal wave of ejaculative spurts, depositing  his thick, creamy sperm in viscous drops all over Paulo’s face and in his mouth.

    Oscar conscious of the generous offer of the room, and the condition not make mess with their emissions,  hastened to wipe away his own semen from Paulo’s face with a damp face cloth, which he found hanging beside the wash basin, with which the room was fitted.

    Oscar, who was already in seventh heaven, due to Paulo’s actions, now took up the batten in what was to become a two-hour, sexual relay, for the rest of the evening. He pushed Paulo, who had by now stood up again, flat onto his back, on the bed. Paulo, anticipating Oscar’s intentions, obligingly spread his legs thereby, giving his partner first sight of his anus, which Oscar saw was tightly closed; it was no more than a pucker, which boded well; for Oscar, a young man highly experienced at anal sex, preferred a bottom partner, who could maintain a firm grip on his cock with his anal sphincter muscles throughout the entire act of copulation, thus making him sing for his supper, thereby increasing the pleasure of sex for both of them.

    Paulo watched, fascinated, whilst Oscar thoroughly lubricated his magnificently erect cannon with Durol sexual lubricant, which he always carried with him, as he never knew when his cock might be called to step unexpectedly into service.  His motto was; “Always be prepared for unexpected sex.”

    For the first time since they had, somewhat perfunctorily, exchanged names, Paulo now spoke, voicing his fears clearly, saying what he thought, without any embarrassment, calling, in no uncertain terms, a spade a spade: “Oscar, I don’t know how you personally feel about gay sex, but copulation is specifically what turns me on. either as a top or bottom, as I myself like both equally well; I cannot get enough of either, however many times I fuck or am fucked, However, that having been said, I find that I agree completely with your friend, our host, who does not know me from Adam, but who has kindly lent us this room to be together for the first time.”

    He went on to explain himself: “I see that you are preparing your cock to fuck me bareback without using a condom. Speaking for myself, I think our host hit the nail on the head, when he said that gay sex can be a very messy affair, especially after seeing and experiencing the generous quantity of your emission, which I took over my face, when I sucked-off your cock just now. Do you not think that to contain the sticky mess which we shall inevitably make; it would be better if we both used a condom? That way, we shall at least keep the mess., which we shall inevitably make, down to a dull roar.”

    Oscar replies: “Hold your horses, right there, Paulo; as you do not know what I have in mind for you. I propose to fuck you bareback, because I have every intention of reaching my own orgasm, with my cock still deep inside you and depositing my load of semen in your innermost depths, thereby leaving you, with a brief-lasting souvenir of our first time together, which you will, in the course of time, eliminate quite naturally. It is not my intention, as is usually the practice in male-on-male sex, to join you in a post-copulation wanking session, designed to bring both of us to orgasm, after prematurely with withdrawing my cock, before I have climaxed inside you, which I have every intention of doing.”

    “In the worst-case scenario, I see you in the role of bottom, as a surrogate female, whom her lover has just fucked, but who in spite of climaxing inside of her, did not succeed in bringing her to her own orgasm. In such a case the male lover, would be obliged to use his finger and his tongue to satisfy his female lover, which I understand happens quite frequently; although, for obvious reasons, I speak from hearsay, never having had the pleasure of the experience of fucking a member of the opposite sex myself: a doubtful pleasure for men or our sexual orientation And so, if such a scene were to come to pass between you and me, I would feel obliged to use my five-fingered lover on your cock, as I firmly believe that both parties to any fuck, either man-to-man or man-to-woman, should reach orgasm, without which they cannot be satisfied by any sexual coupling.”

    “Now we come to the best-case scenario, which I have no idea whether what I have in mind will be successful or not. It seems to me that when a guy is bottoming, as you are about to do for me, he is playing the role of a surrogate female to his partner. And so, I ask myself if it would be possible for the top – in the present case myself – by dint of hard-work and singlemindedness of purpose, by use of his cock alone, uniquely through his copulative efforts, to take his bottom partner through to orgasm, thus mimicking the successful heterosexual sex act, in which the male partner fucks his female partner through to her orgasm. simultaneous with his own, which occurs at the moment he ejaculates his sperm into his female partner’s  vagina.

    “Now, I do not know if this is even possible or not; however, I mean to try it on you during our first coupling. It falls to me as top, to make this first time between us, as memorable an occasion as possible for both of us. So, prepare yourself, Paulo, for the mother of all batterings from my cock, which tells me it is ready for action. And, by the way, I agree with you that gay-sex is a messy business and that the bottom should always use a condom, to catch his emission, which I suggest you now do.”

    Oscar, already on his knees between Paulo’s legs, hoisted his legs, one e over each of his shoulders and prepared to penetrate Paulo’s expectant anus with his massively erect cock. Meanwhile, Paulo, rolled a rubber condom onto his own erect member.  At the first touch of his cockhead against Paulo’s anus, Oscar felt his partner’s anal sphincter muscles reflexively tighten to prevent, what they were programmed by nature to see, as an invasion by a foreign body. However, Oscar was accustomed to this initial, unavoidable, automatic resistance, which he overcame quite easily and was able to slide, with ease, the full ten inches of his enormous erection into Paulo’ s rectum.

    As he bottomed his pelvis against Paulo’s arse, Oscar was gratified to hear his partner emit a groan of contentment at a job of penetration well done; although Paulo was an active young stud of considerable, regular experience of gay sex, and possessed, like Oscar, a larger than usual cock himself, he had never before taken such an enormous piece of rigid man-meat up his own fundamental orifice. He was nevertheless taken to new heights of sexual delight, just by the act of being penetrated, for the first time ever, by such an enormous penis. As he looked forward, with anticipation to Oscar’s enormous cock beginning its pounding, he had no idea of what the future held for him.

    As for Oscar; he had no idea whether or not he was going to be able to make good on his supposition that, by use of his cock alone, he would succeed in fucking Paulo through to his own orgasm; however, he intended to make brave attempt. All he knew for certain was that with his cock deep inside of Paulo’s most private of place, where he had been literally dozens, maybe hundreds of times, with different partners in his very active sex-life, this time it felt quite different for him; he felt as if they were made for each other; at least that his what tried to tell himself

    Oscar was in a position, of which most men could only dream; thanks to being blessed by nature with a dead-straight, ten-inch-long, steel-hard piece of man-meat, he was able to treat his bottom partner, Paulo, initially, to long, languid, nine-inch thrusts of his cock, without ever withdrawing his cockhead from his partner’s anus. He normally began by penetrating his partner’s anus and giving him the full length of his ten inches erection, before gently withdrawing it, taking care to leave his cockhead inside his partner’s rectum, before giving him his first gentle, nine-inch thrust which ended by him bottoming of his own pelvis and balls against his partner’s arse. Oscar gradually increased the power and speed of his thrusting, eventually losing himself to the carnal lust which usually signals the culmination of the sex act in the top active partner.

    This time with Paulo was different for both partners. Firstly, Paulo showed himself to be an intelligent, eagerly, participating bottom, in that he gripped Oscar’s cock tightly with his anal muscles, at every thrust and withdrawal stroke.  He thereby increased the pleasurable sensations of fucking, both for himself and his partner. Oscar quickly reached the point of his own climax, at which stage, he would normally have allowed himself to enjoy his own orgasm and ejaculate his semen into the innermost depths of his partner. However, now intent on trying – for  the first time – to see, if as top, it was possible for him to bring Paulo, as his bottom partner, to orgasm, just by fucking him with his cock. With this objective clearly in mind, he steeled himself to hold back on his own climax and continued battering Paulo’s arse with his cock.

    Oscar’s first hopeful glimmer of success was when Paulo started making moans of contentment at the battering his arse was receiving from his partner’s cock. These were soon replaced by verbal exhortations pleading Oscar not to stop with his battering; culminating eventually in a hoarse cry: “Yes, yes, now, now!” On hearing this, Oscar, knew that he had succeeded in what he had himself thought an impossible task.  He had brought his partner, Paulo, to the brink of his own orgasm, by the unique effort of anal copulation with him; all the more remarkable, as this was their first sex act together: an act, which, when viewed retrospectively, by Oscar, was his first, ever, sexual act of love.

    On hearing Paulo’s cry of: “Yes, now, now!” Oscar completely withdrew his ten-inch erection from Paulo’s anus, held in the air for a second, before seizing what was a “carpe diem” moment for both of them;  he struck whilst the iron was hot, plunging his steely cannon back to the hilt, into his partner’s expectant anus. Both of them immediately exploded into orgasm simultaneously, each emitting enormous quantities of semen.

    Chapter 4

    Contrary to the strange Latin epigram: “Triste est omne animal post coitum, præter mulierem gallumque,” meaning, in English: “Every animal is sad after coitus, except the human female and the rooster.” Oscar and Paulo, both human animals and men, were overjoyed with the results of their first effort at coitus together. Both of them, serious gay, anal copulators before they met, felt that the orgasms that Oscar had successfully induced in both of them, far exceeded in intensity anything either of them had experienced in the past. Paulo was full of praise for Oscar’s efforts and pronounced is efforts as: “The best single fuck I have ever had, either as bottom or top; and let me assure you, my friend, I have experienced of plenty of both.”

    Paulo could barely wait for a return match; this time, with him taking the active role as top; he was anxious to show his newly-found lover – for he found that Oscar had made love to him, as distinct from merely mechanically fucking him, during their first round of sex together – that he was not a wimp, and that he too was capable of a creditable performance with his own cock. Paulo desperately wanted to show Oscar that his equipment, although not quite as big as his partner’s magnificently impressive piece of man-meat, was, nevertheless, of a size, which would render most men green with envy and was capable of delivering a significant punch.

    Paulo had learned much from that first fuck, with himself bottoming to Oscar as top. Throughout his previous, considerable experience at gay, anal intercourse, Paulo had never allowed himself, when topping, to climax inside of his partner and to deposit his sperm within him. However, in the light of his experience with Oscar, Paulo was determined to emulate his partner’s performance, if only partially. He vowed to himself that he would endeavour at least to reach his own climax, with his cock still inside of Oscar and deposit his semen deep inside of his partner.

    Oscar watched transfixed as Paulo prepared himself to fuck him, as he lubricated his cock ready for its penetration of Oscar’s anus. Oscar almost had an orgasm himself, when Paulo took it upon himself to roll on a latex condom onto his partner’s still stiff cock. Finally, the moment of penetration arrived and Oscar asked Paulo in what position he would like to take him for his first fuck ever of the man, who was destined, although neither of them knew this at the time, to be his life’s partner,. Paulo did not hesitate for a moment, saying immediately that he would like to take Oscar in the same, modified mission-position that Oscar had first taken him. Oscar, who was as eager to be fucked by Paulo as Paulo was eager to fuck him, immediately obliged Paulo, by laying himself down on his back on the bed and spreading his legs invitingly, giving Paulo easy access to hid port of entry.

    Paulo knelt down between Oscar’s legs, and, as his partner previously done with him, took one leg over each of his shoulders; as he approached his cockhead to Oscar’s all important anal entry port, he was already exuding copious quantities of precum. Taking a leaf out of Oscar’s book, once the dripping tip of his cockhead touched Oscar’s anus, he did not hesitate for moment, but slid the full length of his erect, naked cock, in one powerful thrust, deep into the welcoming depths of Oscar’s rectum, forcefully overcoming, in one fell swoop, the automatic, reflexive, initial resistance of his partner’s  anal muscles to repel all boarders.

    Paulo sent himself and into raptures of sexual delight at this act, which he had performed on regular basis, with a variety of ever-changing partners. during his exceptionally active sex life to date. However, he told himself that this time it was different; the two of them were obviously made for each other. Whether he was deluding himself or not, at that precise moment, there was no gainsaying of his feelings for Oscar; Paulo was already falling in love with his partner, and was intent on making the most of their first act of copulation together, in which he was the active, top partner. He knew that he had not got that proverbial snowflake-in-hell’s chance of equaling Oscar’s performance on him, just a short while ago; but he prayed that his effort would not relegate him to the status of someone, whom Oscar had picked up at the party, as a one-night-stand, which was the story of his sex-life to date; not surprising, in one so attractive visually as Paulo, Oscar was about to discover, Paulo was a first class fucker. 

    As he prepared himself to fuck Oscar for the first time, Paulo did not know that Oscar’s sex-life mirrored his own: a continuous series of one-night-stands, in the search for, if not a life’s partner, then someone, to whom he could relate and with whom he could establish a stable relationship, at least for a period of time. Paulo would have been surprised to know that Oscar feared that he, Paulo, in spite of his adulatory praise for Oscar’s performance on his arse, would leave him high and dry after his first fuck; just as much as Paulo himself feared that Oscar would dump him, thereby by relegating their nascent relationship to the scrap-heap of one-night-stands. As Paulo was preparing his cock for his maiden fuck as top with Oscar, he did not know either, that Oscar had been smitten by what the French figuratively call: “Un coup de foudre,” for him,  which translates into English as: “Overwhelming love at first sight.”

    All went well with Paulo’s first act of copulation as top with his newly found partner. With his cock inside Oscar’s innermost depths of his rectum, Paulo took long, full-length strokes of his sizeable dick, emulating Oscar’s technique on him. He quickly became so sexually aroused that he lost control over his actions and was soon battering Oscar’s arse with unabated fury. Reaching rapidly the stage, at which he could no longer hold himself back from orgasm, for the very first time, in his regular, copulative career as top, Paulo, with one final, powerful thrust of his cock, allowed himself the extreme pleasure of climaxing inside of Oscar and depositing his generous emission, in a series of sharp, ejaculative jolts, in the depths his partner’s rectum. If the intensity of the lone orgasm, which he himself now experienced, did not quite measure to the simultaneous orgasm, which Oscar had just induced in both of them, it ran, for Paulo, a close second; in his eyes it ranked as the best, single fuck, with himself acting as top, leading to the most exquisitely intense orgasm of his life that he had ever produced himself in fucking his partner.

    Whilst he had been fucking Oscar, Paulo was acutely aware of the fact that his partner too needed to emerge satisfied from his first fuck, with himself  playing the dominant role  as top. Oscar had been giving manual massage to his condom-clad cock, whilst Paulo, with his own cock, had been pounding at his partner’s arse. Now that he had himself climaxed and deposited his semen inside of Oscar, Paulo, who was a master at the art of fellation, now withdrew himself, pulled off the condom from Oscar’s cock and proceeded, for the second time that evening, to suck Oscar off to orgasm. Paulo’s oral attention to Oscar’s cock did not last very long, as Oscar was already three sheets to the sexual, arousal wind, thanks to Paulo’s vigorous machinations on his arse with his cock, before he commenced his act with his mouth.  Oscar, delighted by Paulo’s performance, viewed him as the perfect, muscular, young stud with a big cock, for whom he had long been searching, but, until tonight, had never found.

    Oscar’s own cock, was not long in yielding to Paulo’s expert attention with his mouth; and, he was quickly brought to his second, momentous climax, again depositing great gobbets of his jism all over Paulo’s face. Paulo felt, thereby, that he had successfully demonstrated his sexual credentials and waited for Oscar’s reaction to his double onslaught, first on Oscar’s arse and then, for the second time that evening, on his cock, which he had twice sucked through to orgasm. Paulo may not have equaled Oscar’s performance with his cock, but he felt that he had acquitted himself well sexually and that he was a worthy partner, who had demonstrated to Oscar that, when it came to sexual performance, he was not a wimp, but a worthy partner, to the man, with whom he was already falling in love.

    But what Paulo personally thought of his own performance so far that evening mattered little; it was what Oscar, his partner, thought that would determine his future. Paulo personally thought that Oscar and he were sexually made for one another; but he feared that, after Oscar’s virtuoso performance on his arse, he would be discarded as: “Just another one-night-stand.” At that moment, what he did not know was that Oscar had fallen head-over-heels in love with him on first sight, and that another one-night-stand was the last thing he wanted. So, they were both, unknown to the other, in fact, learning words of the same hymn.

    Oscar was ecstatic with Paulo’s performance, especially the way he handled oral sex. He said to Paulo, “I have had my cock sucked off on numerous times by various partners; but never have I experienced such intense orgasms as, twice already this evening, you have managed to induce in me. That is not to say that your cock technique is lacking in anyway, However; in my eyes,  you Paulo,  are the absolute king of fellation.”

    Paulo was overwhelmed by the praise heaped on him by Oscar. He was mightily relieved not have been discarded as: “just another one-night-stand.” Paulo saw that he had fallen into an inferiority mindset of his own making, and had, somehow, come to regard Oscar as his superior;  partly because of the colour of his skin and partly because Oscar had first approached him and not vice-versa; but also possibly because he had been invited to a party of known gays, given by a gay Don, of the very college, of which Oscar was a member. He knew that if Oscar had not been to known to the Don, with whom, he now speculated that his newly-found partner had, most probably, had had a preceding sexual relationship, they would never have been offered the private bedroom, in which to fulfil their immediate, unspoken desire to have sex with each other, which the Don had perceptively perceived.             

    But now, suddenly thinking about the subservient role, into which frame of mind he had cast himself, by the combination of circumstances outlined above, Paulo realised , in the light of the genuine praise. which Oscar had showered upon him, that Oscar viewed his new partner as an equal in every way. Without doubt, Oscar had given him the most intense orgasm of his life, in that he had had the tenacity and had succeeded, with his cock alone, to take both himself and his new partner through to the unimaginable, erotic heights of simultaneous orgasms in both of them. Reflecting on his totally imaginary fears, entirely of his own making, Paulo asked himself: “Were these the acts of a man, who would treat his partner as just another one-night-stand, destined for the scrap-heap?”

    Oscar also now realised that he had been wrong in his pre-judgement of Paulo, whose actions and fulsome praise indicated that he wanted Oscar as much as Oscar wanted him. The thought of Paulo as a one-night-stand had been banished from his mind, from the moment Paulo had shown himself decisive and had seized the initiative to break the awkwardness between them, by kneeling in front of Oscar, taking his cock into his mouth and sucking him off to orgasm. Paulo, by his decisive action, had instantly banished the self-inflicted feeling of inferiority from Oscar’s s mind. He now saw that he himself had been looking at Oscar across the room at the party with lust in his eyes and wanting him just as much as much as Oscar had wanted him. They had cemented their liaison, not by words, but by immediate sexual activity; henceforth he would treat Oscar as an equal.

    But now was not an appropriate time for words, of which they had exchanged very few, preferring to concentrate on what was obviously more important to both of them. Judging for his manner, Oscar clearly wanted to fuck Paulo yet again, which was OK by him, for Paulo  himself was looking forward to experience, for the second time, Oscar’s monumental piece of erect, well-lubricated man-meat, sliding smoothly inside him, with all the sensation of comfort of putting on a well-worn, comfortable shoe. Oscar’s second overture  gave way to three hours of,more or less continuous sex; nothing was taboo between them; you name it; they did it! Finally, they both fell asleep exhausted.

    Chapter 5

    It was not until the next day at lunch together, in a small, greasy spoon restaurant that Oscar and Paulo finally got around to a serious conversation, in which they exchanged details of their full names and brief stories of their lives to date. Despite his handsome, somewhat dusky, mixed-race appearance, Oscar had been surprised to hear that Paulo spoke perfect English, with what was clearly, an educated, upper-class accent.  Paulo turned out to be almost exactly the same age as Oscar; they had both been born in the month of July 1939. Now, here they were both at Oxford in the second term their third and final year, at the end of which, they would both graduate.

    Paulo explained that he had an English mother, named Elizabeth Ann Conway, who had married, in the face of strong disapproval from her upright, but also uptight, English parents, who disapproved of any man, who had had the misfortune – in her father’s, restrictive view – not to be born an Englishman. Anyway, Elizabeth had gone ahead and married not only a foreigner, but a wealthy, Brazilian man, of mixed race: a man of colour, named Carlos Rodrigues-Alvaro:  Alvaro was the name of the male-line of the family and Rodrigues that of Paulo’s mother. Paulo’s full name rivaled, in length, if not in tongue-twisting complexity, that of Oscar. In full, it was Arthur Michael Felipe Luiz Paulo Conway-Alvaro. Born in England, where he was brought up, the bearer of this long string of names was known, more simply, as Paul Alvaro. 

    Paulo’s father, Carlos Borges-Alvaro, was the only child of an extremely wealthy, Brazilian coffee- merchant, Alvaro e Filhos, founded by his grandfather, (Paulo’s great grandfather) in the Port of Santos, in the State of San Paulo in southern Brazil. At the age of 25, Carlos Alvaro, Paulo’s future father, then unmarried, had been sent by his father to London to develop the export of Brazilian, arabica coffee-beans to Europe. There, he had met, fallen in love with and married an English girl, Elizabeth Ann Conway. Paulo was the only child resulting from this union and had dual nationality, being both Brazilian and British.

    In contradistinction to the British, who had essentially remained aloof from the indigenous people they had colonized, the Spanish and Portuguese had, for the most part, practised miscegenation with the native peoples they had invaded, which had, by intermarriage, resulted in the preponderance of mixed-race people found today in Latin-America and the ex-colonies of the Portuguese in black, sub-Saharan Africa. They had also sought, with considerable success, to convert the indigenous people, whom they had conquered, to Christianity in the catholic faith, which was, in Elizabeth’s father’s prejudiced eyes,  another black mark against Paulo; he was a papist! 

    It goes without saying that retired Colonel Henry Conway and his wife, were both totally horrified when they learned, the catastrophic news – in   their immutable, blinkered view – that their only child, a daughter,  Elizabeth Ann, had fallen in love with not only a foreigner, but a man of mixed race, a person of colour and a catholic to boot. They beseeched their daughter to think again before marrying  – in their rigid, disapproving view – such an undesirable man, whom they had not yet met. However, Elizabeth was utterly in love with Carlos Alvaro;  so, despite her  parents’ opposition to the proposed union, as she was of age and knew her own mind, she went ahead and married Carlos Alvaro, whom she called Carlo.

    The truly happy marriage of Elizabeth to Carlos Alvaro, unfortunately proved to be short lived; it was to last but two years. Without any previous sign of warning, when Paulo was still a baby, his father, the 28-year-old Carlos , one morning, stood up from breakfast and suddenly dropped dead to the floor, from a heart attack, leaving his 25-year-old wife a widow, with a one-year-old son. On Carlos’s death, Elizabeth’s parents managed, with some considerable difficulty to swallow their disappointment at her marriage and took her and their only grandchild to live with them in their spacious house in Sevenoaks, Kent.

    In the knowledge that, unless Elizabeth married again and produced more children, the dusky-coloured Paul, as his grandparents called him, was the only grandchild that they would ever likely have, Colonel Conway and his wife managed, not without some considerable difficulty, to temper their rigid disapproval and swallow the shame, which they and they alone considered Elizabeth had brought upon the Conway family. Henceforth, they lavished all that money could buy on Paul, whom they brought up to be an English gentleman, which, in their heart of hearts, they knew he could never be;  in spite of his good looks and impeccable manners, which a prep and public school education had beaten into him, at the end of the day, he would remain what he had always been; albeit a handsome, well-mannered and well-spoken boy, but, nevertheless, a mixed-race child of colour. However, in spite of their prejudices, his grandparents came to love  him,

    Chapter 6

    Paulo spoke not one word of Portuguese, the mother tongue of his late Brazilian father, as, from the age of one, he had been completely anglicized by his maternal grandparents.  Nor had he, as a Brazilian national, ever set foot in Brazil; therefore, he had never seen his Brazilian paternal grandparents in Santos, of whom he was, quite definitively, their only grandchild, as Paulo’s late father had been his parents’ only child. Oscar learned from Paulo, that like himself, he was an undergraduate in his in his final year at Oxford and a member of another college, The House, (Christ Church College).

    Like Oscar, he too saw his career in a public school, as a master teaching mathematics. The public school, like the antiques trade, was seen as refuge from the law for timid gay men, as Paulo had been, until he met Oscar., at which point he had blossomed into the confident gay stud whom Oscar had experienced. Both Oscar and Paulo graduated at the end of the academic year, each with a first class degree in his chosen subject; Oscar in Literae Humaniores (Classics) and Paulo in Mathematics. They both enrolled for the coming academic year in the official School Teacher Training Programme at Oxford University, leading, after one year, to the most prestigious of all Post Graduate Certificates in Education in England, delivered by Oxford University.

    As graduates, Oscar and Paulo were now free from the petty regulations – such as the obligation to live either in college or approved digs: regulations, which had been designed years ago, to protect undergraduates from so-called sin – also known as human nature – at a time when the world was intolerant both of gay and premarital, heterosexual sex, both of which had been practised from time immemorial They were both of which were accepted as inevitable, but were, nevertheless, discouraged. However, human, sexual behaviour being what it is, when – and not if – they occurred, which they regularly did, just as night follows day, they were swept under the carpet. However, the antiquated rules, aimed at controlling what was then and by some people still today, considered as illicit sex – were still rigidly enforced by a fossilized fraction of dons, across the various colleges, who were still living in the dim and distant, unreal past.

    Since they had first met and started sexual relations with each other, Oscar and Paulo had been forced to keep their sexual relationship, which they could not forgo, under wraps and away from scrutiny by their respective colleges.  Neither of them was prepared to renounce the enormous pleasure of gay sex together, for the final term of the academic year, at the end of which they would both graduate and be free of pettifogging, regulations. The fact of the matter was that Oscar and Paulo, were head-over-heels in love with each other; so much so, that come hell or high water, a pair of wild horses would not have separated them. They were forced to continue their relationship clandestinely, meeting whenever they were able for surreptitious fuck, in one of their respective rooms; either at Gresham for Oscar or at Christ Church for Paulo.

    Once they had graduated, they rented a one-bedroomed flat together as practising homosexuals and risked the opprobrium of the general public.  Homosexual acts by consenting males committed in private were then illegal and could lead to prison sentences for offenders, if prosecuted by the police. It was not until the law changed in 1965, that homosexual acts, committed in private, by consenting males over the age of 21, were legalized, However, when finally legalized, homosexuality between males continued to be viewed with distaste by the vast majority of the general public. They both graduated from the Oxford Teacher Training Course and duly received their PGCE, which qualified them to teach in all schools in England.

    By now Oscar and Paulo had become an item, more or less like Siamese twins, fused at the hip  – or more appropriately at some other parts of the male body.. They faced their biggest challenge, since they had met some fifteen months ago: how to remain together, now that their time in Oxford was coming to an end? They had become such a constant in each other’s life that neither of them could envisage life without the other; they simply had to find a way to remain together. As their chosen careers were identical: both wanted to become school teachers, they toyed with the idea that one of them should find a place in a public school, and that the other should find a place in a local school nearby, enabling them to live together; and to hell with the law.

    However, the Gods were with them, in the form of a recruitment drive by Churton College for Boys, located near the city of Hereford, on the Welsh border, which sent the then Headmaster, Dr Charles Smith, a “relatively” progressive man, accompanied by a non-ex-military, younger member of the Board of Governors of the school, and, therefore, not a reactionary, so dyed-in-the-wool as his co-directors, to any form of change, to interview candidates for two teaching appointments, which they were trying to fill. Churton College was very choosy about whom it took on as teaching staff, preferring top-flight graduates from Oxford or Cambridge, for whom it was prepared to pay over the odds. The preferred staff were men, who had graduated with high honours from Oxford or Cambridge and who had themselves been exposed to the strict, corporal punishment system of a public school education; and were prepared to reflect their own experience in their careers teaching at Churton.

    At that time, it fortuitously so happened that Churton College was looking to appoint two junior masters, one to teach Latin and Greek and the other to teach mathematics, of which the current heads of each department were within a few years of retiring. It was as though Oscar and Paulo tailor made for the two posts on offer, as they were seen, by the two recruiters from Churton as ideal candidates. when the time came, to replace the present senior incumbents, both of whom were approaching retirement age.  The recruitment duo from Churton looked no further; they offered Oscar and Paulo the posts, in the full knowledge that the appointment of man of colour, like Paulo, to teaching post at a traditional public school like Churton, would ruffle a few, traditional feathers. However, whatever the background of Paulo or the colour of his skin, they saw him for what he was, in fact: a perfectly-mannered, well-educated, English gentleman.

    Oscar and Paulo were both over the moon that their biggest immediate problem had been solved. Additionally, Oscar breathed an enormous private sigh of relief that the colour of Paulo’s skin had not militated against his chosen ambition to become a master in a leading public school. They had both got their feet on the first rung of the ladder to success; who knew where it might lead? Little did either of them then realise that they would spend their entire teaching careers at Churton; they both were to retire, Oscar as Headmaster and Paul as Deputy-Headmaster and Housemaster of School House, the oldest of Churton’s six boarding houses.

    Churton was noted among English public school as being devoted to disciplining with the cane its errant pupils. In term time, Mondays to Fridays, not a day went by, but what a group of doleful-looking boys assembled at 4:30 pm, outside the Headmaster’s study, usually to be called in one by one, but occasionally, if their offences demanded, as a group, to have their bare buttocks thrashed with the birch or cane – or occasionally, if the offence was serious enough, with both.

    But the Headmaster was not alone in wielding what he referred to as: “The Rod of Justice.” The six housemasters also exacted their pound of flesh with the cane, from the bare buttocks of offending boys in their charge. Each evening, seven days a week, the boys, whom the housemaster wished as he put it: “to see” – a euphemism for: “to beat” – were obliged to present themselves to him, wearing just their pyjamas, the pants of which, once inside his study, they were told to drop and bend over the back of chair, to present their bare arses to the painful rigours of the cane. The infrastructure of corporal punishment did not stop there; the head-boy and the three prefects per house – 18 in all – were allowed to beat their fellow schoolmates; making a grand total of 26 persons who could wield the cane, which they all did quite frequently.

    This pronounced, and rigorously rigid, disciplinary infrastructure dated back to the tenure of Mr. Augustus Caesar, a dedicated and life-long practitioner of homosexuality, since his own public schooldays, who, in 1885, at the age of just 27, had been appointed Headmaster of Churton, a post he had held for 38 years, until forced into retirement, at the age of 65, in 1923, by a new Chairman of the Board of Governors, who wished to leave his mark on the school. Augustus Caesar had single-handedly imposed what was the rule of then the birch and the cane on Churton.

     His first act was to ensure that he himself as Headmaster, with little direct teaching contact anymore in class with the boys, had an adequate, regular, daily flow of boys to beat: an act which gave him great personal pleasure. This he had done by riding roughshod over his teaching colleagues, withdrawing from them, henceforth, the right to beat the boys they were teaching; instead, to write punishment notes, which were redeemable by the boys, unfortunate enough to be the bearers thereof, by a Headmaster’s  beating, which took place every day at 4:30 in the afternoon. He, thereby withdrew what the teaching staff considered their God-given-right, as masters in major public-school, to beat their pupils if necessary. They considered themselves, thereby as quasi-emasculated; exactly as if the new Headmaster had sliced off the balls from each and every one of them.

    In his career previous to Churton, Augustus Caesar he had been head-boy of Rigby: a school noted for its vigorous approach to discipline, generally known, on the grapevine, by schoolmasters of other public schools, as “The Rigours of Rigby,” the backbone of which was the regular and vigorous application of the cane to the naked arses of it pupils. Augustus had been a brutal head-boy, par excellence; he was universally hated by all his schoolfellows of all ages, even those with whom he sat together in class.  He never hesitated  to whack any boy, even one of his classmates of the same age as himself, if he detected even the slightest of misdemeanours. His apprenticeship to wielding the cane as head-boy of Rigby brought out a hitherto hidden sadistic streak in him; he discovered that he enjoyed beating the naked arses of his schoolfellows, as it aroused him sexually. It was in his time as head-boy of Rigby that he realised he was a homosexual himself, with strong sadistic tendencies. Together, those two characteristics  were to define his future career as a public school master.

    He left Rigby for Cambridge to read classics. At university he was able, for three years to indulge his recently discovered homosexuality, as he discovered that there were many male undergraduates, who, like himself, preferred sex with men rather than with women. After graduation, Augustus returned to Rigby to teach Latin and Greek and as protegee of the then Headmaster, Dr. Anthony Adam Rhys a homosexual like himself. He enjoyed a five-year stable period, as sex partner to the Headmaster, whom he called Tony, whenever they were together privately. No one was more surprised than he was, when aged just 27 in 1885, he flew a kite and successfully applied for the post of Headmaster of Churton College; a post he held for 38 years, until forced into retirement, aged 65 in 1923. He it was, who was the architect of the strict punishment environment, into which Oscar and Paulo entered and which had survived, essentially intact, for the better part of a century.

    Authors Note: Readers who are not familiar with the present punishment system at Churton, conceived and put in place by August Caesar, in the last two decades of the nineteenth century, are recommended to read my earlier story, entitled: “Appropriate Attire,” which appeared in January 2022.

    As for Paulo, he had been on the receiving end of the cane many times, during his prep and public schooldays, but he had not yet experienced the pleasure of being able to beat boys himself. Paulo knew only that whenever Oscar had beaten boys prior to having sex with him, Oscar was always super-aroused and very vigorous, which he, Paulo, had very much appreciated. The pleasure of being on the delivery end of the cane and the sexual arousal, which always accompanied the beating of a boy’s bare arse, were made apparent to him, when he too was appointed Housemaster of one of the six houses at Churton. Thereafter he became as enthusiastic to apply the cane as Oscar.

    Chapter 7

    Eventually, in the fulness of time, the present Headmaster of Churton, Dr. Charles Smith, retired and Oscar, then aged 40, was appointed Headmaster. There was no animosity by Paulo on his lover’s appointment as Headmaster of Churton. Like Augustus Caesar, who had created the punishment system, which Oscar had now inherited, he now encouraged his teaching-staff to write as many punishment notes as possible, to ensure that he himself had a regular flow of boys to beat on a daily basis, at 4:30 in the afternoon.  Oscar realised that the general climate of opinion was changing in regard to the two most important aspects of his life; homosexuality and the ability to beat, in loco parentis, the naked arses of his charges at Churton, which he considered his God-given-right, as Headmaster of a major public school. Consensual homosexual acts, conducted in private, between men over the age of 21, had become legal in 1965; at that time, although such acts were within the law, they were still widely viewed with disgust by the general public. A corollary of the legalization of sex between consulting male adults from the age of 21, was that Oscar and Paulo had no reason to keep their sexual liaison private. They wisely chose not to vaunt their sex lives in front of their colleagues, preferring to rent a discreet small flat in the village of Great Churton, just outside the gate of Churton College itself, where they could conduct their liaison in private.

    In addition, the frequent, brutal use of the cane on schoolboy’s arses was increasingly coming under fire from a number of crusading, vociferous MPs, who wished to see the practice stopped. They were not to be successful, until some 20 years later, when, in 1985, legislation was passed, banning corporal punishment in all state schools. On October 29th 1989, this was followed by legislation banning the use of corporal punishment in all schools, state or private. Until that date, Oscar as Headmaster and Paulo as housemaster, both beat on until the bitter end, thereby prolonging, as long as possible, the tradition of the stringent, corporal-punishment system developed and put in place by Augustus Caesar, in the late nineteenth century. Paulo was a true convert to the benefits of corporal punishment, which he had espoused completely and which he practised vigorously and with great personal enjoyment, almost each evening, on the bare arses of the boys, deserving or not, in his house, before repairing the flat, he shared with Oscar to immerse himself in the equally enjoyable pastime of gay sex.

    Oscar, as Headmaster of Churton, was not one to let the momentous date of withdrawal of what he had always considered his God-Given-Right as Headmaster of an important public school, to thrash the bare arses of any boy in his charge whenever he thought necessary. At one fell swoop, by an ill-conceived (in his view) act of parliament, the time-honoured, traditional way of dealing with misbehaving boys with a sharp dose the cane, had been rendered illegal. He warned his teaching staff of this impending disaster (as he saw it), which resulted in a marked increase in the number of punishment notes written in the week before the ban on the use of corporal punishment came into force. This led to an increase in the number of boys waiting outside his study each day, at 4:30 in the afternoon to have their bare arses by the Headmaster’s cane.

    Oscar, as an inveterate, dedicated thrasher of boys’ naked arses, was himself surprised to see how his teaching colleagues reacted to the withdrawal of their privilege to send boys to him for a beating. His not to question the justification of every punishment note, which each boy was required to redeem each day a 4;30 in the afternoon, with a beating from the Headmaster. In his career Oscar had never knowingly beaten a boy without justification; this having been said, whenever he beat a boy, as most boys, who had experienced a beating by him, could testify, he never held back on his delivery, inspiring himself by the aphorism: “Pain is the name of the game.”

    Prior to the ban on corporal punishment, as Headmaster, Oscar’s daily beating load – a task which, like anal sex, never failed to please – was, on average, about two or three boys a day. In the week, prior to the complete ban on the use of the cane, he was amazed and pleased, as he himself thoroughly enjoyed beating boys on the bare, to find that there were never less than ten boys with punishment notes, waiting at his study door, at the appointed hour,  to have their bare arses subject to the scourge of his cane; indeed, on one glorious occasion, he found 18 boys waiting to be thrashed; their nervous fears were not disappointed by their Headmaster’s performance. 

    The six housemasters too, also demanded their final pound of flesh, in the week before the ban on the use of the cane finally took effect, ensuring a good flow of pyjama-clad boys to be beaten, in their housemasters’ studies, before retiring to bed, in each of the six houses of Churton. In the final week before the ban on the use of the cane came into force, at the other end of the corridor to that of the Headmaster, the study of the head-boy also saw a remarkable increase in the number of boys waiting to be thrashed by the head-boy, whose vigorous use of the cane on the bare buttocks of his fellow schoolmates, was considered, by those who had had the very doubtful pleasure of being able to compare and contrast the two, as being every bit as painful as a beating delivered by the Headmaster himself.

    The final stroke of the cane, delivered to the bare buttocks of one, Matthew Collins, by the Headmaster, before being retired forever from its hitherto relentless task, of correcting errant boys, has already been mentioned in Chapter 1 of this story. Matthew Collins was one of three sixth-formers, Peter Ashcroft, John Bromley and Matthew Collins, whom Oscar, thought of collectively as the ABC group. As a group, Oscar had thrashed the three of them, on several occasions, for their loutish behaviour. However, this time glancing out of his study window, he saw the three of them bullying a smaller boy. By chance it was during the morning break on the fatidic date. Tuesday 31st October 1989, when he could legally use the cane on boys in his charge, for the very last time.

    As Oscar hated bullying of any kind, he decided it was gift from a God, in whom he did not believe, to deliver into his hands three sixth-formers, on whose bare buttocks, with a sense of poetic justice, he decided instantly, to inflict the final apotheosis of his beating career: a beating so quintessentially painful that it would transcend anything that the three boys thought possible; a beating, which they would remember for the rest of their lives. And so, in addition to the boys bearing punishment notes that fatidic, final afternoon, he sent a message to the ABC trio, via a younger boy, who just happened to be passing in the corridor outside of his study, that he wanted “to see” them, dressed “in the appropriate attire” for the occasion, in his study 4:30 that afternoon. The ABC trio had no idea that they had been observed, in flagrante, so to speak, committing what their Headmaster considered the worst of all acts: bullying a smaller boy. The ominous meaning of the message was clear; that they were ordered to appear before their Headmaster dressed in the appropriate attire, consisting of gym shorts and vest only, said it all most succinctly; they were to be beaten that afternoon, for some reason, unknown to them at that moment; in the meantime, until they were actually in the Headmaster’s study, when all would be revealed, they were left to stew in their own juice.

    Oscar was determined to make, the beating of the ABC trio, which would be his swan-song to using the cane, an occasion for all to remember, recipients and himself included. They were made to wait outside of his study, while Oscar beat the last of the boys with punishment notes. Oscar had decided, quite exceptionally, to beat the three sixth-formers in each other’s presence. Accordingly, he then called all three, eighteen-year-old, young men into his study together. By then, they were, all trembling with fear at thought of what was about to be visited on their bare buttocks with the cane; having heard through the semi-closed door, which Oscar had purposely left ajar, so that they could participate aurally, if not visually, the severe onslaught he had made with the cane, on the bare arses of the very last very last group of regular punishment-note-boys, whom he would ever beat.

    He informed them that had seen them, with his very own eyes, committing the crime, for which he was now about to beat them. He was made sure that they all knew he was full of disgust at them, for having stooped so low as to bully a much smaller boy than themselves. The three of them had seemed somewhat unconcerned by the fact that they were to receive a beating for their sins; a beating was par for a course, which they had run many times, in their careers at Churton.  However, had they known what the Headmaster had in mind to visit on their bare buttocks this time, for what he considered a cardinal sin, they would have, figuratively, been shitting bricks and been quaking with fear, at what was about to happen to their naked arses.

    Ever the master of suspense, Oscar told them all to take off their gym shorts and vests  and to stand in a line, stark naked, with their backs to the wall, still not telling them the severity of the punishment he intended for them. The three of them stood there trembling on tenterhooks, now that they suddenly realised that they were to receive the most severe beating of their lives. Each of them was sporting an uncontrollable, massive erection, confirming – if confirmation was really necessary – the strong relationship between sexual arousal and corporal punishment. The three young men were forced to stand there, dying of embarrassment, at their inability to control their own cocks. Never was there a more appropriate testimonial, than the three of them standing there, with their cocks erect, as to why a man’s penis is often referred to as: “his uncontrollable flesh.”  Once Oscar’s cane came crashing down on their naked buttocks, the immediate pain would relieve them of their embarrassment in a flash, rendering their cocks again flaccid, shrinking them to an insignificant size: a ghost of their defiant, former, erect selves.

    The moment of truth had finally arrived for the three boys to pay for their bullying. Oscar ordered the first of the boys, Peter Ashcroft, to assume the position for beating, by bending across the back of a low armchair and to brace himself for the shock of the cane, by putting his hands firmly on the arms of the chair. He then took up his position to the right-hand side of Ashcroft, with the cane in his right hand, as he intended to beat the boy’s bare arse backhand; a stroke, which he preferred, as it allowed the cane to descend on its target, in one smooth, unencumbered swoop, thereby delivering, the maximum amount pain to the boy being punished. The old maxim: “Pain is the name of the game,” was never very far from his mind whenever he beat a boy; it took him back to his own boyhood as a pupil at Frogmore, when he had frequently had been ordered to adopt the same position and suffer the same degree of pain, as he was now about to inflict on the trio of sixth-formers.

    Now that the final moment had arrived and Ashcroft was about to pay for his sins, with the curtest of phrases, and without any sympathy in his voice, Oscar said to the boy before him: “Ashcroft, brace yourself boy, for I would be lying to you if I said the beating that I am about to give you, was not going to hurt. In fact, I have every intention of making the beatings, which I am about to give all three of you, the most painful of your young lives to date. Words cannot express how deeply disgusted I feel that three sixth-formers, at prestigious school, such as Churton, which prides itself on turning out young gentlemen, should have descended so low as to set upon a boy half their size. You should be ashamed of yourselves for our actions and must now do penance for them, in an attempt to redeem yourselves. I feel that it is my duty, as your Headmaster, to assist you to rehabilitate your self-esteem, which I propose to do, by giving each of you a beating, the lasting pain of which, you cannot even begin to imagine, but the memory of which, assuming I achieve my objective, which I seriously intend to do, will remain engraved in your memories for the rest of your lives.”

    Oscar brought the cane, screeching down, with great force. His first stroke came to a sudden stop, as it arrived at the top of Ashcroft’s naked thighs, releasing all its venomous energy in the form of extreme pain, eliciting an anguished howl of, let us call it: “appreciative agony,” from the recipient. The cane, which on this occasion, truly was a rod of justice, had left a deep, livid furrow, with two well-defined rims as proof, albeit temporary, of its passage. Oscar delivered five more equally vigorous strokes, reserving three of them for so-called, hypersensitive sit-spot, located to the lower part of the boy’s buttocks, which is, in fact, the area where the pain of any beating is felt most acutely. By the time Oscar had delivered the first two swingeing stroke of the cane, he had reduced Ashcroft’s formerly proud, rock-hard cock to a shriveled insignificant piece of flesh and skin: a veritable shadow of its former self; abundant tears of pain were also coursing down Ashcroft’s face.

    If Ashcroft had thought that his suffering was over, he had to think again, as he was told by Oscar to rejoin his two partners in crime against the wall, however, this time, with his hands on his head, forbidden to touch his painful arse with his hands, in what would have, anyway, been a futile attempt to palliate the pain.  Bromley and Collins having seen what had happened to Ashcroft were both visibly trembling with fear at the thought that the same thing was about to happen to them and that there was nothing they could to avoid it. They were forced to grin and bear it, which, in view of the severity of the beating, was a tall order. 

    Bromley was the second to be called to meet his Waterloo, under the sharp crack of the cane, mating painfully with the naked flesh of his buttocks.   Like Ashcroft before him, his erect cock was soon reduced to next to nothing, as one swingeing stroke followed another. After six strokes, he too was sent back, hands also on his head, to join his two companions against the wall, as the trembling Collins followed his two partners in crime to receive what were to be his first six strokes of the cane. If the three boys had imagined that they would be discharged to tend to their wounded arses, after a mere six strokes of the cane, they were living in cloud-cuckoo-land, from which they were soon to be returned, disillusioned, to the harsh reality the real world, as Oscar immediately ordered Ashcroft to resume his former position over the back of the armchair and proceeded to give his already inflamed and painful arse a further six strokes of the cane. 

    However, this time it was excruciatingly different; Oscar doubled exactly the first six strokes of the cane, which he had given Ashcroft. He meticulously managed to land each of the second six strokes in each of the still painful, six furrows, which he had initially ploughed with his cane into Ashcroft’s arse. And as Ashcroft suddenly realised, after twelve strokes of the cane, his punishment was not yet complete, as he was ordered, by Oscar, for the second time, to resume his former position, hands on his head, against the wall, alongside his two companions.  Bromley and Collins having been forced to watch what was happening to Ashcroft, were, figuratively, shitting bricks at the thought that they were both in line to receive the same treatment. 

    The final six strokes were given to each of the three sixth-formers as gating strokes, in the form of three, crossing diagonals, bringing the grand total to 18 strokes of the cane for each of the three sixth-formers, before he allowed them to leave to tend to their wounded arses.  Never, in the annals of Churton, had such excruciating pain ever been delivered. Oscar had not been joking when he had said that the memory of the beating, would be engraved into the memories the three unfortunate recipients forever.

    After awarding the final, six, gating-strokes of the cane to Matthew Collins’s arse, Oscar was forced, very reluctantly, to lay down the cane for the very last time to comply the new Law of the Land, which would come into force on the morrow. Oscar felt that his beating of the three sixth formers, for bullying, provided a glorious,  culminating apotheosis to the use of the cane, which had served Churton well, since the manifold advantages of its regular use to keep disobedience to a minimum, had been demonstrated by Augustus Caesar, in the late nineteenth century. The cane would be greatly missed by at Churton, especially by the Headmaster, Mr Oscar Sinclair.

    Epilogue

    When, on October 29th 1989, at almost at the end of the year, the ban on the use of the cane in all schools, whether state or private, became the Law of Land, devotees to the cane, such as Oscar, mourned its passing; and he was not alone, among public school headmasters, to feel deprived of an implement, which had been part a parcel of traditional English public-school life for what seemed like eternity. Of course, the new law had to be obeyed, but similar minded headmasters – and not only the headmasters of public school – asked themselves, what was happening to the traditional Britain; was there no end to the vandalism of its treasured traditions? Both Oscar and Paulo, as Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster of Churton, respectively – but especially Oscar – felt personally emasculated, that they would no longer be able to thrash the bare arses of disobedient boys. They both believed in, and had themselves been educated in a system, in which boys were subjected to strict discipline, which the boys themselves retrospectively appreciated, as it taught them to differentiate between what was right and what was wrong.

    But there was an additional motive to their discontentment at no longer being able legally to beat a boy on his bare arse to correct him for his sins,  The fact of the matter was that the act aroused both of  them sexually, which, for many years, had given a certain “joie de vivre” to their incessant, pretty-well-every-day, copulative  activity. They were just as much in love with each other now as they were when they had first met at that party, both of thee in their final year at Oxford. They constituted together a prime example of a couple, who had fallen in love with each other at first sight and for whom their mutual love for each other had never, ever wavered. They were a prime example of an item – and no lone could deny the fact that they were certainly an item – who had fallen in love the maxim: “Sex is a toy, which never fails to please, no matter how often you play with it. ”  And play they did almost every day.

    They still loved each other to distraction and the preservation of their everyday, coital pleasure was of the utmost importance to both of them; it had become almost as important to them, but not quite, as the air they breathed to keep themselves alive. They were both now approaching 60 years of age, but they quite amazingly continued to fuck each other on a daily basis, with the same vigour, as when they had, by chance, first met, in Oxford, as final year undergraduates, in two radically different subjects, almost 40 years ago. But somehow, with the legal ban on the cane, the sparkle had gone from their intense, sexual relationship. However, help was at hand, in the form of two sizeable fortunes, which Paulo inherited, more-or-less simultaneously, from both his maternal grandparents, the Conways, in England and his paternal grandparents, the Alvaros, in Brazil.

    What happened was that Paulo’s two grandmothers died within a month of one another, leaving both his English and Brazilian grandfathers, widowers. His English grandfather, Colonel Henry Conway then died in the year following his wife’s death and left his entire estate, to his daughter, Paulo’s mother, Elizabeth Ann Conway-Alvaro, who had never remarried after the untimely, sudden death of her Brazilian husband. She had gone on living with her parents in their house in Sevenoaks, Kent, until their death. She promptly moved to a modern flat in the centre of Sevenoaks, and gave the house and a large part of her inheritance from her parents, to Paulo, her only child, to avoid death duties. So, Paulo became a relatively rich man and the owner of a large house in Sevenoaks. 

    This indirect inheritance from his English grandparents, faded into insignificance, when compared with the sum he received on the death of his Brazilian grandparents, of whom he was also their only grandchild; his own deceased father too had been the only child of his parents. Colonel Conway, who, until his dying day, try as he might, never managed to rid himself of the feeling that his only child, Elizabeth Ann, had demeaned herself by marrying a foreigner, who was, a dago, of whom, to boot, he thought of as a Brazilian half-breed. And to add insult to injury, their only child, their daughter, together with her mixed-race husband, had given the Conway their only grandchild, the mixed-race Paulo, a child of colour, whose appearance reeked of miscegenation, a practice, of which Colonel Conway totally disapproved.

    The fact that his son-in-law came from an extremely wealthy, Brazilian, upper-class, coffee-merchant family, cut no ice with Colonel Conway. The fact that they were not British to the core, was enough in his eyes to relegate the whole family, sight unseen – lock, stock and barrel– to the rubbish heap with the rest of, what the Colonel thought of as the dregs of humanity; whereas, in fact, the Alvaros were an immensely-rich, perfectly-respectable,  upper-class, mixed-race, Brazilian family. But in the blinkered eyes of Colonel Conway, all the money in the world did not make up for the fact they were, quite distinctly; one, not white; and two, not British. Had Colonel Conway, known of the sexual persuasion of his grandson, he would surely have burst a blood vessel.

    At the age of almost 50, about the time that the use of the cane was banned, by law, from all English schools, state and private, Paulo was surprised to receive a letter from Brazilian lawyer, in Portuguese, a language he did not speak, in spite of his dual nationality – British and Brazilian. On translation, he was astounded to read that he was sole legatee, under the terms of the will of his Brazilian, paternal grandfather, whom he had never met, as he had never, ever been to Brazil; and with whom he had never had any contact over the 50 intervening years. His Brazilian grandfather had finally decided that blood was thicker than water and that he would leave the entirety of his business and financial assets, which were considerable, to his next of kin, his closest blood descendent, his only grandson, Paulo Alvaro, who, in spite of his mixed-race, had been brought up and educated as an English gentleman and who had made his life in England.

    Paulo’s Brazilian grandfather had sensed that his essentially English grandson would not be interested in running a major coffee exporting business, centered in Brazil, about which he knew absolutely nothing. He had therefore sensibly stipulated in his will, that on his death, the coffee exporting business part of his fortune should be sold for the best possible price by the executor of his will, the said lawyer and his total fortune transmitted in British pounds to Paulo in England. He, thereby, relieved Paulo of the somewhat, nail-biting decision of whether to sell or keep what was an old-established family business, about which he knew nothing. Thus, a year later, Paulo found himself a multi-millionaire with no longer any need to earn a living.

    Paulo sold the house in Sevenoaks, which was much too big for the two of them. Oscar and he resigned their posts at Churton and Paulo bought a spacious flat for them in the centre of Oxford, where they had first met many years earlier. When same sex marriage became legal in March 2014, Oscar and Paulo were the first male-couple to marry in the Oxford Registry Office. They lived happily together, for fifteen years more, as Oscar and Paulo Alvaro-Sinclair. They were still sexually very active, until the age of 90, when they both died of old age, within a month of each other. Paulo predeceased Oscar, by just one month, making him his sole legatee. When Oscar expired, just a month later, his old college, Gresham, became the sole beneficiary of the fortune, which had its origins in the Alvaro coffee exporting business in Brazil, whose name was perpetuated in an annual dinner in Gresham College, called the Paulo Alvaro Gaudy.  Colonel Conway, had he still been alive would, most certainly, not have approved.

     

    THE END

  • My Two Fucking Straight Mates

    My best mates Paul and Mike were a couple of highly sexed straight guys. They were always

    teasing me about being gay, saying that one day they’d fuck my brains out etc. Both in their late thirties and me the same, they were pretty good looking guys that I always fancied and had many a wank over which they knew nothing about.

    Paul was of average build, almost bald with a sexy designer stubble whilst Mike was thick haired, hunky looking with dimpled cheeks.

    One night drinking at the pub on our usual lads boozy night out  they told me that both their wives were going away for a fortnight to Ibiza together on a girly holiday and that they did not know  how they were going to survive without a fuck for two weeks.

    “You can always use my tight hole” I joked and the guys took me seriously and said they’d be happy to shag me if I was up for it.

    “Fucking hell!” my cock just stood on end when they started to discuss what day they could come around to mine and screw my lights out.

    It was arranged for the following weekend once their wives had flown off on holiday and the thought of them actually using me had my dick rigid for days patiently waiting and wondering if they would actually go through with it.

    Saturday afternoon and all three of us were  the settee together with me in the middle. I was wondering who was going to make the first move so was a little taken aback when Paul leaned into me and began kissing me full on the lips, Mike then began to feel my chest through my ‘T’ shirt and then slipped his hand underneath it to feel me bare.

    Paul’s tongue was in my mouth and my heart was thump thumping out of control much like my prick.

    Mike’s got in on the kissing, both straight guys slipping their tongues into my mouth whilst their hands began to explore me.

    I couldn’t believe what was happening but found myself feeling for their crotches as Mike found mine and began to squeeze my dick through my shorts.

    Pal pulled my ‘T’ shirt right off my body and threw it onto the floor and Mike began to unzip my shorts to slip his hand inside.

    Mike found my stiff throbbing cock and held it tightly as I felt for their cocks hidden in their jeans.

    I was pretty amazed at the size of their pricks and how stiff they already were so tried to unzip their jeans to have a proper bare feel.

    Mike and Paul helped me by wriggling their jeans down. Paul then yanked my shorts and pants right off exposing one almighty stiff cock that needed attention.

    All three of bollock naked we could really get down to some serious cock play.

    Mike began to slowly wank my prick and Paul got on his knees on the settee and pushed his stiff aching cock against my lips.

    “Come on, suck my big cock, get it fuck ready” he said as I opened my mouth to gobble on him.

    His cock was a lovely suck and I was surprised when Mike ducked his head down and took my cock into his hot sucking mouth.

    Sucking cock and being sucked was pretty nice and had me making hungry sounds as I grabbed hold of Paul’s cum filled balls.

    It wasn’t long before Mike knelt the other side of me to join Paul’s cock in my mouth. Two lovely stiff meaty un cut cocks with foreskins tightly back exposing big hot knobs. I slurped one knob then the other, my cheeks bulging out with each knob as I chomped on their shafts.

    “Hey mate you’ll have us both creaming off if you carry on like that” said Paul. I didn’t care about that, my dick was the stiffest it had ever been and my mouth and throat were quite prepared to receive their spunk if they were ready to pop.

    Mike’s pulled away from me and started sucking me again, his hand cupping my balls, his mouth going right down on my prick until my whole cock was down his throat.

    “This guy professed to be straight? I think not” but I didn’t care about that I was just enjoying their attention.

    “Let’s fuck him” said Paul before we start coming off too soon” and my two ‘straight’ mates got me onto my knees.

    I bent over to suck on Paul’s randy cock and Mike began to spit a load of saliva onto his fingers to lube my arsehole up.

    Feeling his fingers probing into me had me gobbling Paul’s cock like crazy.

    “He’s nice and wet now” said Mike “Wet and slippery right up to his fucking prostate”.

    “Fuck him then” said Paul, his cock now edging into my own throat.

    I felt the hot tip of Mike’s uncut throbbing knob and wriggled my arse against it. He pushed gently and my arsehole engulfed his helmet with a moan.

    “Ram it into him” said Paul “Use his fucking hole like you would a filthy whore”.

    Mike shoved hard ad I felt the length of his prick glide right up my arse to his heavy balls.

    “Oh! God! Yes!” I cried “Fuck me Mike, fuck my brains out”.

    All my wank fantasies were realised only real life was so much better, a thrusting cock in my arse and another hot prick down my throat, how lucky was I?

    “Here let me get in that fucking hole” said Paul and he pulled from my mouth and as Mike yanked his cock from my arse Paul drove his cock ball deep with an almighty grunt.

    I hollered loudly but was soon silenced by Mike’s cock as it slid in my mouth.

    They horny fuckers spit roasted me and then Mike  decided to fuck me on my back . Paul held my legs wide and Mike got between my thighs and shoved his wet sucked cock back into me. My arsehole was stinging now but hungry for dick so a good gob full of spit soon lubricated cock and hole and Mike was deep shafting me again.

    “Fucking Hell!” said Paul “He can take a big cock good, look at the fucking stretched arsehole. he loves it, he fucking loves it”.

    “He’s a lot fucking better than the wife too” said Mike between thrusts. “So fucking hot and tight, it feels out of this fucking world”.

    Mike began to jack hammer my hole which had me grizzling and moaning. Paul steadied my legs so that I got the feel of the pounding ,my poor prostate hammered by the rigid prick.

    “Oh! Sweet Fuck! It’s amazing, Your cock is fucking me so good” I said wriggling beneath him.

    “Why don’t we double fuck him?” said Paul then I can get back inside him straight away”.

    The word ‘straight’ seemed a little off whack considering both my mates were supposed to be totally straight.

    “Oh! Yes please” I said “Double fuck me guys, give me both of your stiff cocks at the same time I can take it”.

    Mike slide under me his prick searching for my arsehole and sliding straight up me. Paul got on top of us both his cock nudging against Mike’s in an attempt to get stuck in me.

    “Open up for us mate” said Paul “Come on you know you want both our cocks at once”.

    I relaxed totally, my arsehole pulsating like mad, the pressure on my sphincter finally giving way to another cock.

    Paul’s cock joined Mike’s deep up my arse and the two guys began to double fuck the moans out of me.

    Being kissed passionately was something I wasn’t expecting but Paul slipped his tongue into my mouth and wrestled with my own tongue as Mike started licking inside my ear.

    With their two tongues loving me and their two cocks overpowering my arsehole I was in fuck heaven and my own dick began to jolt out a fuck load of spunk sandwiching Paul and I together.

    I was totalling abandoning myself to my best mates, letting them use my arse as they wished.

    Mike came first, his big dick jumping next to Paul’s and filling my hole with a flurry of cum. My orgasm had triggered Mike’s orgasm, my arse muscles contracting and pumping the cocks in my hole.

    Paul was pretty soon after his deep straining prick spurting high up into my gut, white washing my fuck hole with a bollock load of jizz

    The three of us lay panting, my arse was stinging, our cocks were throbbing all our balls drained dry.

    “Fuck! That was sheer heaven!” said Mike

    “Couldn’t agree more” said Paul, his fingers dipping into the cum on my belly.

    “Let him taste his own spunk” said Mike

    “Let’s all taste it” said Paul and he fingered my cum up and the three of us licked at the creamy fingers.

    “Straight guy’s fuck good don’t they?” said Paul, licking his lips.

    “That’s because gay guys take cock better” I answered.

    Thirty or so minutes later I was laying over Paul’s knee and Mike was massaging my arse and slapping it good and hard. I was gobbling on Paul’s prick stiffening it to full rigidness and then Mike began to finger fuck me with a load of spit.

    We should gave gone to the bedroom but being on the settee seemed more sexy somehow.

    Mike had four fingers stretching me open the tips of them probing my prostate which seeped a load of pre cum from my cock.

    Paul’s cock was so stiff and was a thrill to suck on I just kept gobbling and slurping on it until he stopped me.

    Mike was ready to fuck me again and so got me onto my side and entered me from the back, his saliva wet prick edging into my finger stretched hole with ease. Paul offered me his cock on suck on and between them they took me to gay heaven.

    “Suck his dick good” said Mike ramming his dick up my arse “Take my fucking cock deep”.

    I was making munching noises with my mouth giving Paul a good all round gobble that had him eyes closed in ecstasy.

    Double fucking was soon on the cards again and the randy fuckers positioned me to get stuck in.

    I was sitting on Paul’s cock my back to him whilst Mike wriggled his cock beside Paul’s to double fuck me.

    Their dicks fed up me pretty good, so good both were ball deep and throbbing inside my hot twitching arsehole.

    “Fuck me guys” I wailed, the pressure on my prostate pouring pre cum from my dick.

    “We’ll fuck you alright mate” said Mike “Fuck you and fill your gay arsehole with more cum than you can take”.

    “Do it!” I said “Fill me with your fucking cum” and the guys began to double fuck me like their lives depended upon it.

    All three of us were groaning, I was clutching Mike’s firm bum cheeks as he began to kiss me passionately. Paul stuck his tongue in my ear and whispered a multitude of obscenities that got my cock jerking wildly. My tongue rolled around Mike’s tongue as we kissed and al the time I was wondering what their wives would say if they could see the three of us.

    With my prostate battered by their hot knobs I was soon shooting me cum everywhere without even wanking my cock. My orgasm put pressure on their rampant shafts, milking them as I shot my load.

    Mike began to holler and squeal that he was coming and Paul followed almost immediately , both cocks jumping in my arse and sending jets of spunk into my guts.

    I was in a state of high pleasure and loving every second, my poor fuck weary arsehole surrendering to their spurting cocks and wallowing in the fact that they were creaming my guts.

    “That was so fucking hot” said Paul, yanking his cum coated prick from my hole leaving Mike’s pulsating cock to dribble it’s last swimmers into me.

    Balls drained and pretty tired we discussed the fucking in detail. It was certain that they would fuck me again over the next two weeks and beyond even when their wives were back.

    “We can’t get a fuck like that from our loose cunted wives” said Mike.

    “They don’t suck our cocks either” said Paul.

    I took hold of their throbbing dicks letting my fingers feel their velvety knobs and coax the last sperms from them.

    “You see mate, straight men are the fucking best” said Paul.

    “Maybe we could do it all again tomorrow” I said.

    “Fuck that!” said Mike “The night’s still young!”

  • Dark Room – A Poem

    The ‘darkroom’ smelled of poppers

    Testosterone and men

    It was the first time I was there

    But I knew I’d cum again

    I couldn’t see a single thing

    The room was black as coal

    Then I felt a stiff excited cock

    Start nudging at my hole

    I let the cock slide up me

    Enabled with some spit

    It felt so hot and horny

    And what a lovely fit

    Then I felt two lips

    Around my knob

    And swallowing my prick

    The sucking was so blissful

    I had a rock hard dick

    The horny strangers moved me

    To a mattress on the floor

    Then carried on exciting me

    Me begging them for more

    A third man knelt to join us

    His cock searching  my lips

    I sucked on it with relish

    Stroking with my finger tips

    I was in my own cock heaven

    Three cocks at my behest

    The sucking and the fucking

    Was in fact the very best

    My cock was soon erupting

    In the sucking mouth so hot

    He wouldn’t let me pull away

    So he got the fucking lot

    The man still fucking deep in me

    Began to cream my arse

    He hollered as he shot his spunk

    And fucked me really fast

    I wallowed in the four some

    I needed all their spunk

    So I gobbled quickly on the cock

    It’s cum so swiftly drunk

    The man who sucked the cum from me

    Wanked off across my face

    The volume of his juicy cum

    Left little need for grace

    The guys all then abandoned me

    And I was all alone

    Cum splattered and cum filled

    And tasting cum all on my own

    But then some one tripped over me

    And we both kissed and sucked

    I felt his stiff cock in my hand

    And knew I would be fucked.

  • Dan Needs A Public Education

    Epilogue

    I’m holding Luka’s legs apart, watching the way Xander’s thick cock stretches my best friend’s hole, and listening to the muffled whimpers that suggest he’s close to overwhelmed by the pain-pleasure of those long, deep strokes. 

    Muffled, because I’m currently riding Luka’s face while his boyfriend plows him, and so most of the volume is lost to vibration as his tongue pushes into my ass and another glistening slop of precum trickles from my dick down onto his sweat-slicked chest. It’s not the most focused rimjob I’ve had, no, but given my front row seat to watch the broad flare of Xander’s tip visibly straining my buddy’s hole with each outward pull, I can forgive him for being distracted. 

    This isn’t the first time I’ve watched them fuck. Or, for that matter, the only possible permutation I’ve observed: Luka might be getting reamed now, but I’ve seen him ride Xander’s ass while his taller, older, more muscled boyfriend whimpers and squirms as his prostate gets a battering. My friend has a pretty dick, and it turns out he knows how to use it. 

    I’ve experienced that for myself, too.

    There’s no hardship in looking up the lean, powerful stretch of Xander’s torso, either. My eyes tracking from the point where he’s buried in Luka, across the ripples of his abs… all the way up to his face, and the realization that he’s already staring back at me. A sort of knowing smirk twisting his lips, and strands of sweat-limp hair hanging down to partly cover his eyes. 

    Suddenly, I’m glad I’m in charge of holding Luka’s ankles up, because the urge to reach out and brush those hairs to the side is fierce. 

    “You like to watch, don’t you, Danny?” 

    Only Xander calls me that, and I’ve never bothered correcting him. Don’t do that now, either; just nod, wide-eyed, and then try not to groan too loudly as he reaches out and pushes his fingers between my parted lips. 

    He’s holding my jaw, gripping me in place as he fucks Luka with a sinuous roll of his hips. My tongue overloaded with the sharpness of lube and sweat, and the knowledge that I’m tasting my best friend’s hole, too, after Xander dragged his bare body over his lap and roughly fingered him until he was mewling to be nailed. That desperation overcoming any embarrassment at Keenan and I watching Xander’s teasing play out, the three of us fully clothed against Luka’s nakedness.

    He’d been hard even before he’d finished undressing, standing in-between Xander’s splayed legs. Eyes wide, breathing fast. A prey response, even if I knew he was more than willing to be caught. 

    I’d boned up too, watching Xander spank him as Luka’s cock drooled precum down the leg of his jeans. How that had escalated to pulling apart his cherry-red cheeks, rough fingertips circling and teasing around his exposed hole. A little spit – barely enough, if Luka’s whining and kicking were anything to go by – and those fingers were gouging inside, twisting and stretching as my friend whimpered and leaked. 

    Now, those same fingers are pushed between my lips and I’m having to fight the urge to let go of at least one of Luka’s ankles so that I can frantically jerk myself off. There’s something about the intensity of Xander’s stare, and the way he takes control, that leaves me with no doubts whatsoever as to why my best friend fell for him. 

    “How long since someone last used this mouth?” 

    It’s a pointless question, really, because it’s not like I can answer. Nothing intelligible, anyway; not with him pushing his hand deeper into me, as though Xander wants to force it all the way down my throat and yank out something hot, and wet, and vital. 

    And all the time the slap, slap, slap of his body against Luka’s, hypnotic in its rhythm, and so it’s only when I feel his hands grab my waist that I realize Keenan has eased in behind me. 

    Luka groans, or maybe I do, as my ass is pulled back. Hips tilted, dragging my twitching hole away from his slobbering, but I don’t have to wait long for fresh attention. Not with Keenan pushing the lubed head of his cock against me, one smooth stroke and then he’s balls-deep, as I try not to chew off Xander’s fingers.

    He’s fucking me on top of Luka’s face, and there’s something unspeakably lewd about that which makes me even hornier. Grinding myself down to meet each thrust, and knowing that our heat, and sweat, and musk is filling my buddy’s nostrils. 

    Keenan pulls me back into him, and I feel the length of my dick rub across Luka’s lips. At one time, even the idea of that would’ve seemed ridiculous and improbable – far outside of the boundaries of our friendship, close as it was – yet now I find myself arching my back more so that I can chase that soft, promising friction. 

    When we hook up, it’s like it happens in a bubble. Almost as though a fog descends, or perhaps more like it lifts from our eyes and suddenly we can each see the other as a sexual being. Like, I knew Luka was cute, and had a nice body, and I’d boned up watching him pose for photos and videos to send to Xander. But it’s a leap, to go from that to trying to find the right angle so that I can feed him the swollen, precum-slicked head of my cock. 

    We haven’t really talked about it, not specifically, this new adjunct to our friendship. When it’s just the two of us, we’re usually back in the same old routine: joking around, playing video games, and drinking enough cheap vodka to guarantee a headache the next morning. But from the way I can feel his head tilting underneath me, and his hands tightly gripping my bare thighs, it’s not exactly a mystery that he’s as into this as much as I am.

    I can’t hold back the whole-body shudder, as his tongue swirls around my tip. Knowing that, even if he could taste me before, now there’s no way Luka’s tastebuds aren’t fully saturated with the sharp-sweetness of my precum. 

    Not that he pauses to savor that, and not like I can call upon much restraint myself. All too aware that the incredible tightness of his throat is only a thrust away, his rocked-back head making it indecently easy to push myself into the cling of his gullet. 

    I look up, drool spilling over my lips as my body tries and fails to process the overwhelming sensations from my cock and my hole, to make eye-contact with Xander again. Knowing his smirk is because it’s obvious I’ve sunk into some mindless state of friction and little else.

    “Suck his dick, then,” Xander says. It’s unclear if that’s a suggestion or an order, not that it really matters either way. 

    He barely has time to pull his fingers free before I’m dipping down, suddenly ravenous to feel my best buddy in my mouth. My throat reshaping itself to his curve, so gloriously filling and thick that for a moment I feel like I’m about to lose it. Topple over into a muscle-crunching orgasm, as I hook my elbows under his thighs and use that hold on him to keep him spread for his boyfriend.

    I’m closer now than ever to where Luka’s ass is stretched and gooey around Xander’s fat inches, my drool spilling down to add to the glistening mess between his splayed cheeks. Spasming brain losing the ability to distinguish between the way my friend’s hole is being pounded, and the rough fuck that Keenan is dealing me. Each unflinching slam against my cheeks propelling me deeper into Luka’s throat, and nowhere for his contorted body to go, nothing for it to do but accept that right now he’s a means to an end for other mens’ pleasure. 

    Not that I’m much different, I realize, as Keenan’s fingers begin pulling at my well-plowed hole. 

    He gets off on playing with my ass, to the point of obsession. I think, if he could figure out the contortions required, he’d have his tongue in me alongside his dick. As it is, I’m left making muffled cries as I blow Luka and Keenan digs a finger in at the same time as he’s screwing me. Stretching me further, the sensation of it almost too much to bear as he pushes me to my limits. 

    Thing is, he knows I hate having to tap out. That I see it as defeat; that, even though I might be bent over a park bench or the arm of the sofa and letting some guy bareback me, that doesn’t make me any less competitive. Luka just rolls his eyes when I get all worked up and intense like that, having seen it so many times as we grew up together, but Keenan has learned he can take advantage instead. 

    “Such a slutty little hole,” I hear him grunt, and try to squeeze myself tighter around him in response. Clench down on his finger as it worms its way inside me, then yelp – the sound muffled, my throat filled – as he spanks my ass, hard. 

    “You know what he wants,” Xander observes. They like to goad each other on, while our mouths are otherwise occupied. “Breed the little fucker already.”

    Keenan laughs, but the intensity of his strokes builds, too. Slamming me even harder, the broad flare of his dick almost tugging loose from me on the out-stroke, before he buries himself again and I buck and twist at the storm of sensations deep in my guts. 

    It’s not tender, it’s not romantic, but I don’t care. Too focused on what comes next, that feeling of him flooding my insides, as I work Luka’s prick with my tongue and feel my best friend shuddering underneath me as he himself is worked over with ruthless focus. 

    “Oh shit…”

    The only warning I get, the only words Keenan can manage as he presses into me. Cock swelling, and I know that pulsing, throbbing sensation means he’s creaming me as far inside as he can manage. As though it’s a point of pride, that even after all the loads he’s fed me, he still wants to fill my stomach from the opposite direction.

    A long, drawn-out groan, and then he’s pulling himself free. Finger and dick yanked out of my tender entrance, and I instantly feel the slop of his cum dragged out of me too, spilling onto Luka underneath. 

    That alone, that unexpected facial, is apparently enough: suddenly I’m gulping as my buddy sprays my tonsils, the surprise and the taste of it setting me off in turn. Both of us spewing into a willing, hungry mouth, as I grind my slick ass against him and feel his thighs twitch in desperation. 

    “Fuck, your hole just went fuckin’ wild,” Xander blurts out through clenched teeth. He sounds almost shocked at it, at the potential for his boyfriend’s body to do the unexpected, but there’s no doubting the result of that. A noise halfway from a groan to a roar from deep in his chest, as he adds his own orgasm to the mix. 

    My limbs shaking, I roll off and to the side. Slumping on my back, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Ass still tingling from Keenan’s rough attentions, throat feeling like it’s coated with cum and slime. When I manage to turn my head, it’s to discover Xander has dropped down and is making out with Luka. The sound of it wet and eager, even if they’ve lost some of the intensity of just before. 

    It’ll be a while, I know from past experience, before my friend loses his glazed, dazed expression and some semblance of thought returns to his head. Look up, to see Keenan grinning down at me. I try to return the smile, with lips that feel swollen and tender. 

    “I thought you were gonna choke him,” he observes, sounding like the idea is more entertaining than something to be contrite about. 

    I wipe my mouth on the back of my wrist. “He returned the favor.”

    He turns, to sit down next to me. Fingers trailing absently across my chest, brushing across first one nipple, then the other, then back again. Idly, like you might stroke a cat on your lap. 

    There’s something weirdly pleasant about it, though part of my brain doesn’t think I should tell Keenan that. 

    “You want to shower?” 

    We’re at Xander’s place, sprawled on his living room floor. Not even having made it collectively to the bedroom this time: a movie night that turned into an opportunity for casual groping, that escalated from there. It’s not like we haven’t showered at his apartment before, though. 

    I glance at our host and his well-screwed boyfriend, who are still eagerly swapping spit. And, some sly inside voice reminds me, my cum too, plus what of Keenan’s load splashed out of my ass and onto Luka’s face. 

    “I think they’re gonna be a while,” I agree, and let myself be pulled to my feet. 

    It was strange showering with Keenan at first. Not that I hadn’t seen him undressed, even fully naked. Yet there was something unsettling about the sight of him doing an activity so everyday, so normal. When, up until then, my only real experience of him had been as a sexual catalyst.

    Despite that track record, Luka seems to have decided it’s safer if I hang out with Keenan. Or, at least, that I make better decisions that way, and we’ve said nothing that would disabuse him of that notion. Mainly because he’ll only get worried and start scolding me again otherwise. 

    The truth is more complicated, anyway. 

    I still go out looking for hook-ups, but usually Keenan is with me too. He gets off on seeing me with other guys, apparently, or using me with them. Or, like that first time we met in the woods, at sandwiching some stranger between us, and then I get to watch the way his face contorts in pleasure as he unloads in an anonymous hole. 

    Even if it’s only the two of us, though, there’s something more thrilling about having sex outside. It’s fun surprising him at work, as well, and watching him get increasingly antsy serving customers as I rub myself through my jeans across the room from him. Up until he can sneak away, drag me into the restroom. Payback’s a bitch, but I can’t say I ever complain about him pushing me to my knees so he can fuck my throat, or bending me over the sink to show me how worked up my teasing left him. 

    We’re having fun, then, even if some of it isn’t what my over-protective best friend might approve of. But that doesn’t mean Keenan isn’t willing to share me still. 

    Like for my nineteenth birthday, when he led me down into the woods and pinned me to the ground, offering up my jockstrap-framed ass as a no-loads-refused treat for anyone who wandered through. Twenty or so guys later, I was literally vibrating with the need to get off. Keenan finally let me blow in his mouth as I choked on his dick and came close to blacking out, four of his fingers inside me as he toyed with my sloppy, leaking gape. 

    I told Luka we’d gone out for dinner. Somehow the thought of that seemed even more illicit than having a train run on me. 

    He teases me about that stuff, about how I should grow a pair and tell Keenan how I feel about him. Which would be fine, if I had a clue exactly what those feelings actually were. We’ve been hanging out a lot, and hooking up plenty, but I’m still not sure how he sees me or what we are to each other. 

    Usually, at that point in our conversation, Luka likes to remind me of what I told him, what seems like aeons ago when he first met Xander. That it didn’t matter whether he was feeling something for a guy or a girl, just that he should move in quick and not overthink shit.

    It’s kinda typical, that one of the few pieces of good advice I ever give ends up getting turned around and used against me. 

    I don’t have some huge, identity-shaking objection to the idea of dating another dude. For all the uncertainty it seemed to spark in Luka, he seems to be enjoying it now. Even if you can still see him tense up sometimes, at public displays of affection. For me, it’s more like I’m not sure I’m ready for the whole “traditional dating” experience, boy or girl. And while he’s probably right, that eventually I’m gonna have to talk about this shit with Keenan, for now I’ve no objections to going with the flow. 

    That flow also includes more than a few occasions when I’ve gone over to Xander’s place to watch a movie with him and Luka, and realized partway in that I’m the only one still paying attention to the screen. Not that I’m protesting about being able to turn and watch my buddy get his cock sucked, or ride his boyfriend’s fingers while they make out. 

    They don’t seem to care if I pull my dick out and jerk off while they’re doing it, either, and it usually gets a laugh – well, Xander laughs, anyway – when I aim my load at Luka and hose him down. Maybe that’s the one other piece of good advice I came up with during those very first photoshoots: no point in the both of us needing to shower, right?

    I think, more than anything, what I like is how comfortable we all are together. Xander’s still kinda intense, which can be scary and intimidating at times, but seeing how he is around Luka takes some of the sharper edges off. And it’s not like we hook up together, each and every time. Mostly it’s just a few guys hanging out in each other’s company. 

    Finding your people, that’s what makes the difference. Whether you’re trash-talking each other playing video games, or getting spitroasted by them while strangers try to decide which of your holes they want to flood next. It may not be safe, or sensible, but – like my best friend seems to take great pleasure in reminding me – I’ve never really been safe, or sensible, myself. 

    When you think about it, life is a lot like a foot-tap from the next restroom stall. Sure, it can take some decoding to make the most of it, and even then you don’t really know what you’re gonna get, but there’s usually fun to be had if you keep an open mind. 

    And whether you’re talking about cruising, or about navigating life, once you realize the possibilities you don’t ever want to go back. 


    That’s it for this one, and a huge thank you to everyone who has read along, rated and commented, emailed me, or clicked through to my site to check out my other stories. That’s where you can find “Xander Shows Me My Prostate” – if you’ve not read about how Luka and Xander got together in the first place – as well as a growing list of other ebooks.

    I’ve also just released an ebook version of “Dan Needs A Public Education” since I know some people like a single file that can be loaded onto a Kindle, phone, or similar. Again, thanks for your support, and I’ll see you in the next story!

    -Alex

  • First Love

    It was a Friday afternoon in the Fall. That meant attending the weekly pep rally to pump up the football team for the night’s game. I made my way to the gym from 5th period English and found a seat in the bleachers. We went through the usual introductions of the starting players, cheers lead by short-skirted cheerleaders, and the playing of Queen’s “We Are the Champions” by the school band.

    After all the rituals had been completed everyone began to pile out the doors, ready to get the weekend started. As I exited the gym, attempting to spot any of my friends, I noticed a crowd of students down at the corner of the building that seemed to be surrounding something or someone. I decided to wander over and check it out.

    Upon my arrival at the back of the crowd, I saw two young men facing off in the center of the circle formed by the bystanders. They were talking and giving each other small, tentative shoves. It looked as if they’d squared off to fight but neither one really wanted to start swinging. I couldn’t hear what they were saying due to the roar of the crowd egging them on; but as they circled one another one of the guys came into clear view.

    He was a sophomore that I’d seen around campus and spoken to once before. His name was Todd and, in my opinion, he was a real cutie. He was just slightly shorter than my 5’ 8” height, and looked to weigh about 120. So he was average size for the time; not too skinny, yet not muscular either. He had a smooth cherubic face with alabaster skin, azure blue eyes, and blonde hair that curled fairly tight to his scalp.

    Out of curiosity, I started to work my way into the circle to see if I could find out what their argument was about. Just before I got close enough to the “combatants” to hear them, someone yelled “Teacher!” As the crowd began to quickly disperse, Todd and his opponent were left looking slightly confused.

    I stepped forward and took hold of Todd’s arm. “C’mon, let’s get you away from here.”

    “Okay,” he responded and walked with me down the hill toward the main building.

    “What was that all about?” I asked him.

    “Someone told Steve that I said I could beat him up. I never said that! I don’t want to fight anyone,” he concluded while fighting back tears.

    “Hey. It’s okay now. It’s over,” I said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

    “I guess. But what if he wants to finish the fight Monday when we come back to school.”

    “I really doubt that will happen. If you’re worried about it though, you can hang out with me if you’d like,” I suggested. “I don’t believe he’ll be brave enough to confront you if you’re with a Senior. And I’ll have a talk with him when I see him.”

    Todd looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and then said, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

    “Great! Monday morning I’ll meet you in front of the office. Then we’ll compare schedules and figure out the rest of the day.”

    “Sounds good. Thanks, Gary. I’ll see you next week,” Todd said and ran to catch his bus.

    Monday morning, Todd and I met as planned. We began to spend all of our free time at school together. We talked a lot and got to know each other pretty well. A couple of weeks later we were sitting in the cafeteria talking about that Friday’s Homecoming football game.

    “Todd, do you want to go to the game together?” I asked. “And afterward you could come stay at my house for the night. What do you think?”

    “Yeah, that sounds like fun,” he replied. “I’ll have to okay it with my parents, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

    The next day he said everything was set. We decided that Todd would come straight to my house with me from school. Then we’d go to the game from there. I was really looking forward to it!

    Friday finally arrived. Todd and I sat together at the pep rally, and went to my house afterwards. There we watched some TV and had dinner with my family. After eating, we got in the car and went to the game, where our team won. We then went to celebrate with most of the other students from our school by cruising down Main Street through town. We eventually got back to my house around midnight.

    As I unlocked the front door and led Todd into the house, we noticed that it was very quiet. It seemed everyone had already gone to sleep. As Todd moved toward my room I grabbed his jacket, pulling him to a stop.

    “Instead of sleeping in my room with my brother,” I whispered, “we are going to be in the Den on cots.” (Our garage was converted to a Den and was at the opposite end of the house from the bedrooms.)

    “Oh, okay,” Todd responded.

    We went into the Den and I closed the door behind us. There were 2 camp cots, each with a sleeping bag, set up side by side between the couch and the fireplace. I walked to one of the cots, sat down, and started removing my shoes.

    I glanced up at Todd and said, “I’m too wound up to sleep, but we might as well get comfortable. Then we can watch TV, talk, or whatever until we’re ready to go to bed.”

    “Sounds good.” He dropped his bag to the floor and started to undress as well.

    I pulled off my t-shirt and pants, leaving me wearing only a pair of white briefs. I turned to see Todd, with his back to me, had removed his shoes, socks, and shirt, and was sitting on the cot to pull his feet out of his jeans. He then stretched out on his back and I laid down on my side facing him with my hand supporting my head so I could look at him as we talked.

    As we reviewed the events of the evening, my eyes roamed over Todd’s body. His chest was hairless and he had large pink areolas. I could see just a bit of ‘baby fat’ remaining around his tits and waist. He, too, was wearing white briefs and the bulge of his dick and balls was apparent. I could see just a hint of blond hair on his legs.

    I was really enjoying the sight of him laying there in front of me like that. Up to that point in my life, I had had 3 or 4 friends that I messed around with – feeling each other up, masturbating together (or each other), and sucking each other. But I’d never cum inside another person. I was definitely feeling the urge to do so now.

    “Have you ever had sex?” I asked Todd during a lull in our conversation.

    “No. I haven’t really even had a girlfriend yet,” he replied. “Have you?”

    He seemed to assume that I was talking about straight sex. I chose to just go with it for the time being.

    “Me neither. But do you know the different positions?”

    “What positions?” he asked.

    “Missionary is the main one. That’s where the guy is laying atop the girl. Then there’s doggie, bronco, and some more I can’t remember names for. I saw and read about them in some old magazines of my Dad’s I found a few years ago,” I explained.

    “So, what are all these positions?”

    “If you really want to know, I think it would be easier to show you than try to describe them,” I stated.

    “Okay. Show me.”

    “C’mon,” I said as I stood up.

    He got up and followed me over to a wall. I told him, “Put your hands on the wall and lean on it like you’re gonna be frisked by a cop. He did, and I moved to a spot behind him. “Now spread your legs. See, you’re like that and I would enter from behind.”

    I demonstrated by stepping up between his legs and pushing my crotch up against his ass. Since I was stooping some, my dick was actually pressed against Todd’s taint at first. I stood a little straighter so that I slid up along his butt crack.

    His ass felt quite soft; at least as much as I could tell when both of us still had underwear on. As soon as I made contact with him, I started to harden. “So, do you get that one?” I asked as I stepped back away from him, while reaching into my briefs to readjust my cock. I moved it so that it lay up against my abdomen.

    “Yeah, I see. But, isn’t a woman’s hole in the front?” he questioned.

    “Well, yes. But if she bends over a little more and kinda hikes her ass up, you can go in from behind; just like doggie style,” I replied.

    “What’s doggie style?”

    “Let’s go back to the cots and I’ll show you.”

    We went back to the cots and I told Todd to get on his hands and knees. I had him spread his knees apart some, and I got on my knees behind him. Again I pressed myself against his ass. This time my dick fit nicely right into his ass crack due to my repositioning. I thrust against him a couple of times. God, that felt so good.

    “See, if you can imagine that we’re naked, my dick could go right up here,” I said as I slid my hand gently up between his legs, against his balls. “Which would be where a lady’s pussy would be.” Then I withdrew my hand, but not without feeling his cock twitch against my fingers.

    “Oh. Okay. I get it now. So what’s next, Gary?”

    “Well, let’s do this. Turn over and lay on your back.”

    Once Todd was on his back, I saw that he also had an erection. I could clearly see the outline of his cock through his briefs. I straddled his waist and lowered myself onto his dick. Now it was Todd’s cock that fit into the crack of my ass.

    “This is the bronco position,” I said as I demonstrated by rocking and moving up and down on him.

    “Wow!” Todd exclaimed and grabbed my hips as he thrust up against me.

    I stopped moving and looked down into his eyes. I leaned down and placed my lips on his in a kiss. There was a momentary pause, and then Todd kissed me back. A few seconds later I pulled back slightly. We both smiled as we looked at each other. Then I kissed him again. I pushed my tongue against his lips and they opened. My tongue darted into his mouth and wrestled with his.

    As we continued to kiss I supported myself with my left arm as I moved my right hand to Todd’s chest. I gently caressed his smooth chest, then moved my hand to his left tit. I moved around his areola with my fingertips, slowly circling inward. As I reached the center, I could feel that his nipple had stiffened up a bit. I pinched it gently between my thumb and forefinger and Todd let out a gasp.

    I broke off the kiss and moved my mouth down to Todd’s neck. I kissed his neck and then began to move down his body, kissing and licking every inch that I could. He tasted so good; sweet and savory. I arrived at the tit that I had pinched a moment earlier and gave it a kiss. Then I ran my tongue over it, and finally put my mouth down over the nipple and sucked it gently.

    “Ahhh, that feels good,” Todd said.

    I glided over to the right side and gave it the same treatment. I continued my exploration of his torso, licking and kissing my way down his belly. At his belly button, I used my tongue to ‘fuck’ the indentation there. Todd giggled and pushed slightly on my head. Then I arrived at the waistband of his underwear.

    I sat up, straddling Todd’s knees, and gazed down at the scene before me. Todd was looking up at me with a mingling of apprehension and excitement on his face. His chest was glistening with the remains of my licking. And then I saw his cock straining against the material of his briefs.

    I reached out, took hold of the briefs on either side of his waist, and slowly started pulling them down. Todd raised himself barely off the bed and as the underwear slid down over his hips, his cock eased free of its restraints. I moved the skivvies down his legs, under me, and off onto the floor, then turned back to view my prize.

    Todd’s dick was raised just off his abdomen, pointing at his chin. It was about 6 inches long, looked just a little thicker than mine, and was uncut. That was the first uncircumcised dick I had ever seen; I was fascinated! The head was just peeking through the foreskin, just enough to see the pee hole and a bit of flesh around it. At the base of that mesmerizing tool was a tuft of blond hair and a beautiful down-covered sac.

    I stretched a hand out to touch the shining sword in front of me. I wrapped a hand around the shaft and as I stroked I was amazed to see the head emerge completely. I stroked him a few times, just watching his cockhead play peekaboo. Then I moved my hand to the tip and felt the loose foreskin between my fingertips. I shook myself from that trance and used my other hand to fondle Todd’s balls as I resumed lightly jacking him.

    After a few moments, I leaned down and licked his balls. I took them one at a time into my mouth and sucked on them. Then I licked up from there and ran my tongue all the way up the underside of Todd’s cock. I licked around the head and Todd moaned. Placing one hand up on his chest and the other on his balls, I took his dick into my mouth. I went about halfway down his shaft and stopped. Then I began a light sucking while moving my tongue around on his dick. I pulled back, continuing the tongue movement. As I explored Todd’s cock with my tongue, the tip of it slipped between the head and foreskin! That was quite a sensation for me. Apparently, it was for Todd also because he let out another moan.

    I released his cock from my lips and laid down beside him. My right hand moved from his balls, over his dick, and trailed up his torso to his face. I caressed his jaw then turned his face to me and kissed him.

    As my hand roamed over his body again, Todd began to return the attention. His hand started on my chest, fingering the thin patch of hair in the center. He then moved to one nipple and to the other before finally starting towards my waist. We were beyond words at that point. We occasionally looked into each other’s eyes before returning our attention to the bodies we were touching.

    Todd’s hand reached my crotch and fondled me through my underwear. He lightly ran his fingertips along the shaft of my cock and then over my balls. He returned to the waistband and worked his hand under it to take hold of my dick. Together we pushed the briefs off of my hips, then I used my legs to work them the rest of the way off.

    As he stroked my 6 inch dick, I leaned forward to lick and suck his tit again. I pushed his hand away from me and rolled over on top of him. My body was stretched out over his; chest to chest, cock to cock. I put my mouth to his for another kiss and began to hump against him. Our cocks had come to rest side by side between our bodies and slid against each other as I moved my hips against him.

    Then I rose up on my knees, straddling him again. I placed both our cocks together, shaft to shaft, wrapping them in my hands, and masturbated. The feeling of another dick rubbing against mine, head to root, was incredible.

    “Will you suck me?” I asked Todd.

    “Yes. Bring it up here, Gary,” he replied.

    So I stopped stroking and moved up to straddle Todd’s chest, putting my cock in front of his face. He took hold of the base and licked around the head. I almost came right then but managed to hold it off. He pulled my hips forward so that my dick sank slowly between his lips into his warm wet mouth. As he bobbed his head back and forth on the shaft of my cock, I could feel his tongue moving along it, especially on the up stroke when he played his tongue over the top of my member. It felt so good!

    I was getting close to cumming, but I wasn’t ready yet. So, I pulled my cock out of Todd’s mouth.

    “What’s wrong? Was I not doing it right?” he asked.

    “No, you were doing an excellent job. You had me about to cum. But I want you to get off first.”

    “Okay,” he said as I moved back down, spread his legs apart, and settled between them.

    “You ready, Todd? I want to taste you. Shoot your load in my mouth,” I said, and then took his cock into my mouth again. This time I placed my thumb and forefinger around the base of his shaft and pulled down gently. That kept his foreskin pulled back so the cockhead was exposed constantly.

    I went to work on that handsome dick. I went all the way down on it until my lips hit his pubes and I could feel the head hit the back of my throat. Todd moaned and bucked his hips up a little. I backed off and started bobbing up and down, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth. I kept my lips tight around it to maintain a light suction, and I kept my tongue moving all over, focusing a lot on the head.

    “Oh yeah. That’s it. Suck that cock, Gary.”

    Todd put a hand on the back of my head and started to thrust up into the blow job. I reached one hand to his chest to play with a tit, and massaged his balls with the other hand. As his thrusts became stronger I began to focus even more on his cockhead. I licked it more and backed off to suck hard just on the head.

    “Oh god, oh god! I’m about to cum!” Todd exclaimed.

    I sped up and started to regularly let the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. He thrust harder and held my head with both hands so that he was basically face fucking me.

    “Ahhhh!” Todd’s back arched off the cot and I could feel his cock pulsing against my tongue. Then I felt something hot hit the back of my throat. He sent four more shots of cum into my mouth. It tasted both salty and sweet at the same time. Then he collapsed back on the bed.

    I swallowed all of his cum and kept him in my mouth for a minute to make sure I had all of it. Then I took his cock out, pulled the foreskin back, and lickied all around the head, like it was an ice cream cone. Todd shuddered from the sensitivity. Then I moved back up beside him.

    “How was that?” I asked.

    “I can’t believe how good that felt. I’ve never had an orgasm like that. Of course, that was my first blow job.”

    “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. It was my first, too.”

    We kissed passionately and I pushed my erection up against him. Todd reached down, took my cock in his hand, and gave it a squeeze.

    “Your turn. Stand up,” he whispered.

    I stood while Todd sat on the side of the cot. He positioned me in front of him using his hands on my hips. My dick was standing straight out from my body and leaking precum. Todd cupped my balls in one hand, opened his mouth, and took all of my 6 inches in one swoop. My knees nearly buckled as I felt the head of my cock hit the back of his throat. But he gagged a little and backed off.

    “Are you okay?” I asked.

    He still had my cockhead between his lips so he just looked up at me and nodded. Then he sucked hard on the head.

    “Oh yes, Baby!” I gasped.

    Todd grabbed my ass with both hands and began to move my cock in and out of those sweet wet lips. Damn, that felt good. I could feel his tongue running along the underside of my shaft, and it drove me crazy when it hit that spot just under the head. He took my cock out of his mouth, looked up at me, and smiled. He licked all around the head and I trembled in ecstasy. Then he resumed the blow job.

    I put my right hand on Todd’s head and tangled my fingertips into his curly hair.

    “Yeah, that’s it. Suck it. You like eating that cock, don;’ you?”

    “Mm-Hmm,” he mumbled around the mouthful of dick.

    I could feel my orgasm building. It was more intense than I’d ever felt.

    “Oh, yes! Yes. Keep sucking, babe!” I said as I started thrusting into his face.

    Todd wrapped one hand around the base of my cock to keep me from deep throating him and gagging again.He was working the head a lot with his tongue. The feeling was getting so strong.

    “Oh, Todd! Yes, here I cum!” I exclaimed as I thrust my hips forward and pulled his head down on my cock as far as I could. My dick throbbed and my whole body shook as spurt after spurt of cum exploded into his mouth.

    Finally spent, I pulled out. I saw Todd swallow my load. He looked up at me.

    “Not bad. It tastes better than I thought,” he said.

    I crawled back onto the cots with Todd and collapsed half on top of him. We kissed and then snuggled into comfortable positions and fell asleep.

  • Hot Stripper Derek Tyson Performs for a March Madness Party

    Welcome to March Madness!  I was invited to a large party over the weekend to watch the NCAA Men’s basketball tournament.  But upon arriving to watch the games, the host surprised us with an over the top hot, nude male stripper for our entertainment!   As I walked in the door, the stripper welcomed us, totally naked, and rock hard.  He was the perfect greeter, fully erect, extending the invitation for us to throw our coat over his thick 10 inch penis.  He even allowed me to touch and grab a jerk, as I placed my jacket on his huge rod, before he strutted off to hang the coats on a nearby rack.  

    As additional guests arrived, he allowed them the same pleasure, wearing nothing but a pair of work boots, and a smile.  Since I am a big fan of male strippers, I knew he looked familiar, and realized within a few minutes that this was indeed Derek Tyson.  He looked better than I remember him from the web.  His tanned, smooth skin was lightly oiled to perfection, and his light blonde leg and arm hair were a huge turn on as it glistened.  Even the small patch of perfectly trimmed pubes were light blonde!  I am personally a fan of totally smooth and shaved men, but since his body hair was so minimal, his look was intoxicating!  I couldn’t take my eyes off his enormous cock and smooth baseball sized sperm nuts, as he walked around and served appetizers and drinks to the more than 100 guests.  

    I and most of the others quickly lost track of our tournament brackets, the teams, and games.  I didn’t watch anywhere near as much basketball as I had planned on.  Instead, we were all focusing our attention at this luscious male stud, who resembled a Greek God!  I began to get a chub, fantasizing about how his massive tool would feel stuffed into any hole I might open for him.  His sheer size would be painful, yet exhilarating, if I could manage to handle both his length and girth.  His body was perfectly muscular and shredded.  His arms were huge, his abs were chiseled into a sculpted eight pack.  His perky pecs bulged, and his tiny erect nipples were like little stones that stuck out, perfected by his nipple piercings and the rings he had in them.  His powerful legs were athletic, his bulging calves were to die for, and when he turned around, his bubble butt was just perfect!  Derek confidently interacted with the crowd, never offended by the continuous grabs, squeezes, strokes and hands that petted and molested every part of him.  He even grabbed many of our hands and would guide them around his smooth and glassy muscular body for us to feel.  

    The host did inform us that Derek was totally straight, so that although he allowed interaction with anyone who wanted to play with him, there would be no fucking.  Even though hearing that was somewhat disappointing, I found it extremely hot that this straight male stud allowed so many men to just caress his hunky bod.  It was like those Jimmy Z videos.  I don’t know how he did it, but Derek’s pecker really never went soft!  Although his thick veiny shaft and juicy cock head would lower at times, a quick touch, squeeze or jerk would make it rise to full attention and point north within a few seconds.  I don’t know if it was the tight cock rings he was wearing, or maybe a little blue pill?    

    About an hour into the party, our phones were taken (we couldn’t take pics and vids anyways) and that’s when things got really exciting!  Derek’s purple, rock hard cock was oozing precum and it was literally dripping down his shaft.  I don’t know if it was from all the grabbing or stroking, but it was clear that Derek needed to do something about it.  

    The host had Derek go outside and lie down on a long dining table near the kitchen doors.  He then brought out all sorts of sauces, spreads like jam, and whipped cream; then announced, “dinner time”!  The host began to spoon out strawberry jelly and rub it on his chest, followed by honey, and then chocolate sauce on his abs, and caramel sauce on his legs.  Next was whipped cream sprayed over his massive boner.  The host stated no kissing above the neck and then asked, “who wants to eat first?”  With a crowd of over 100 people, there were of course several who were shy, but several of us were ready for this feast!  At least 15, or maybe 20 guests eagerly got around the table which looked like a buffet at this point.  There were no forks, knives or spoons, so it was just our tongues and fingers!  Within a few seconds, the meal began!  Mouths, lips, and hands, began to literally attack all parts of Derek, and again, he just laid there calmly, with a smile.  Before I knew it, someone had his cream covered cock in their mouth!  It was obvious that they couldn’t fit him very far down, but they were slurping his massive head and licking his shaft.  Others were lapping up the sauce and jam from his firm chest, legs and washboard abs.  I licked jam off his left pec, then gently bit his nipple, and I could feel Derek squirm with excitement.  I got the chance to squeeze and pat his ass before slipping a finger deep inside.  Then the opportunity came for me to grab his cock, so I sprayed and covered it with cream and aimed to stick it in my mouth.  I could barely get my hand around him, and when his beautiful pecker was inches from my lips, I immediately got hard myself, looking at this massive piece of meat, those gorgeous blonde pubes and simply the size of his delicious dick.  I struggled to get much more than his huge pecker head into my mouth, and while others were indulging in the banquet, I was stroking his nearly foot-long pepperoni sausage, and licking his swollen horse balls.  Since I couldn’t manage to handle more than a few inches, I decided to just put my tongue into his wide open piss hole, since it was so big.  Again, Derek squirmed with pleasure as I worked my tongue all around his cock head, sticking my tongue as deep into his cock hole as I could, tasting both whipped cream and precum.  

    After the guests seemed to finish with their savory meal, it was time for dessert!  With his body licked completely clean like a platter, Derek stood on the table and began to dance.  Those watching the ball game were quickly distracted as his muscular body began to move to the rhythm of the music playing over the television from the patio.  He sat on the edge of the table and spread his legs so that his tight smooth shaven virgin hole was openly visible for all to see.  He rubbed his fingers and slid them up and down inviting us to indulge!  My imagination went wild and my hard dick began to leak.  The crowd was captivated as Derek jumped off the table and began to mingle and engage with several guests.  He would grab their hands and let them rub his muscular body and stroke his horny erect cock.  Others pinched and patted his sexy ass and I even saw a couple of guys finger him. Derek was unphased as precum continued to drip out of his juicy cock, like a faucet that hadn’t been turned completely off.  Derek would take the guests’ fingers and put them over his leaky piss hole so that not a drop of his juice was wasted.  He even used his own fingers and let several guests lick them off, quenching their thirst for precum.  Ones, fives, tens, twenties, were being placed on his body as the bills stuck from the earlier meal of sauces and creams.   One guest even took a fifty and rolled it up, sticking it into his cock ring!  

    Stories I had read about Derek were coming to fruition, and I could barely contain my excitement, as I knew that he would soon perform one of his famous cum shot shows.  The host proposed offers so the highest bidder would be the recipient of his blessed load.  Bigger bills began to surface, and soon there was at least one thousand dollars in play.  A few guys who were considered the winners got ready for Derek to shoot.  They positioned themselves carefully towards the front, ready to receive their reward!  Derek again sat on the edge of the table, and the crowd surrounded him.  Several took chairs to stand up on behind the others, to watch the show begin!  I stood a few feet behind the winners so figured I had a great point of observation.  Derek began to stroke himself, others grabbed his cock and jerked him too, while squeezing his balls.  The winners also sucked him and took him as deep as they could handle.  Derek laid back and one of the winners even briefly rimmed his smooth hole.   After several minutes of stroking, most of the guests were rock hard.  A few guys started giving each other handjobs and some shirts and pants even came off.  I eagerly waited in anticipation for the big finale, and within a few minutes it was about to begin.  Derek began to moan loudly, his gleaming legs and chest tightened, veins popped and his nipple tips turned white and got rock hard.  It was a sight to behold!  Suddenly in the middle of a loud moan, Derek shouted, watch out boys, I am about to cum!  Seconds later his cock detonated like an AR-15.  The first few blasts of cum went over the top bidders heads and I was the winner; right smack on my nose and chin!  I was in ecstasy, as I watched the next strings fly several feet and land on the faces of the highest bidders.  The crowd cheered and applauded as Derek continued to erupt for another several explosions, aiming and splashing juicy white seed everywhere until the last few spurts landed on his chest and trickled down his abs.  What a show, I lost count but definitely remember at least 12 blasts of cum, shoot out of his 10 inch rocket.  I wiped his man juice off my face with my fingers and had to just swallow it. He had the sweetest tasting cum I had ever eaten.  

    Derek’s cock did finally go soft after a little while and even as it hung there, it was bigger than mine when erect.  He is truly a blessed man!  Derek left shortly after his performance, and simply put on a pair of shorts, kissed several guests on the forehead, and said goodbye as he walked out.  Not only is Derek hotter than fuck, in addition to being a stellar entertainer, he is simply a super nice guy who knows how to use his assets to turn everyone on.  I was told he shoots multiple cum shots for an event, but I guess at this show, he was only booked for one.  I left shortly after Derek, grabbing my coat and phone.  I drove the two hours or so home; horny, fully erect and leaking myself; thinking about the hot show I just participated in.  I couldn’t tell you anything about my March Madness bracket at that point, but we had just experienced our own March Madness.  I got inside the house, and jerked off myself, shooting a memorable load but nothing compared to the cum shot show I had experienced a few hours earlier.  Derek Tyson was everything and more that has been written online, and his performance exceeded any expectations I would have ever had!   I can’t wait to see Derek strip again at another party!