I think the rays of the morning sun through the thin curtains woke me up. Either that, or my pussy craving my attention. At least that’s what I like to believe.

Because I’m old I know to know how much I enjoy sex. And why not? I love what it does to my body — whether it’s a man’s hands or my own fingers — a man’s cock or my favourite vibrator. All the sensual pleasures of a female body. And the sensation of losing control once the orgasm surges through me and I hear myself screaming in ecstasy.

Lying in bed I close my eyes — my fingers already found my clit, making it swell and harden with excitement. Slowly I masturbate, lusty images filling my mind: Big male hands forcing my thighs apart — thirsty tongues licking up my juices — fat cocks thrusting into me brutally, spurting long jets of semen across my naked body.

“Mmm!”

I bite my lip so the neighbours won’t hear me screaming. My free hand finds my breast and kneads it, making my cunt quiver. With thumb and index finger I squeeze my nipple hard — twisting it until pain turns into pleasure. I massage my clit with increasing intensity — my entire body trembling with lust.

“Oh! Oh!”

I force two fingers up into my cunt, feeling how wet I am. Warm love juice seeps across my hand. I move it up and down, fucking myself with it like a cock — driving my fingers in and out of my pussy in hard, fast thrusts.

I writhe on the sheet. A wave of pleasure rolls through my entire body — a harbinger of the violent orgasm to come. Or — no. I pause for a while — slipping my slick fingers out of my soft crevice. Oh. So close it almost hurts to stop. I take a deep breath. And another.

Knock, knock.

At first I can’t figure out what it is. Dizzy with lust I need to entangle myself from my dirty fantasies and find my way back to reality. Okay — I’m in my bed — naked underneath the thin duvet.

Knock, knock.

At last I get it: Someone’s knocking on my door. I shake my head — imagine I could be that lust, plain and simple, could mess up my mind like that. A crimson silk bathrobe lies across my chair. I reach for it as I get up and put in on. My hair is still a bit of a mess, but so what?

I open the door to reveal to men in white overalls. One has black hair and slightly dark skin — perhaps a Turk. The other a bit taller and looks like a Viking: Pale — with red hair and a beard.

“Good morning”, the Turk says with no hint of an accent. “We’re here to check your apartment.”

“Check?” I say.

“Yeah,” the Viking replies. “The housing association is renovating all the flats. You should have gotten a letter …”

“Hm,” I reply. “Probably.”

A letter from the housing association? I’m sure I’ve thrown that directly into the bin. Not nearly sexy enough for me. The two men look at me expectantly.

“May we come in?” the Turk asks cautiously.

I step aside.

“Oh yeah,” I say. “Sorry.”

They enter, and I close the door behind them as they continue into my living room.

“Would you like coffee or anything?” I ask.

“No thanks,” I hear the Viking reply. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”

They walk around the room talking quietly. I can’t hear what they’re saying. My abdomen is still a bit sore — a clenching sensation of unfulfilled excitement. As soon as they’re gone, I will go back inside and continue masturbating. It’s a rather kinky feeling. Walking around thinking about masturbation with two strange men in the flat. And they don’t even look half bad. A couple of handsome guys, actually.

I sit on the bed and play with my iPhone. No dirty messages. Perhaps I should send one myself, then? I feel like texting Sophie, telling her I’ve had rough sex with the two workmen. I giggle at the thought. She might just believe it — and be a bit shocked — and very curious. Yes, damn it — I’ll do it! I open iMessage and start typing:

“Hi Sophie …”

“Excuse me.”

I look up. The Turk stands in the doorway smiling tactfully at me. Yes — he really is a bit of a hunk.

“We’re done,” he says. “Just go back to what you were doing.”

The Viking stands behind him, smiling lewdly.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

The two men glance at each other.

“Ah,” the Turk says. “I believe you were.”

I sit up in bed, feeling my nipples standing out, poking the silk robe. He’s got a bit of a nerve! How does he know …?

“Well, well,” I reply cheerily. “You believe that, do you? And what etiler escort do you think it was?”

The Turk does not reply — just raises his eyebrows. The Viking takes one step forward and lets his gaze run up and down my body.

“A nice spring morning like this,” he says quietly. “You might as well enjoy yourself a bit …”

“Enjoy?” I say.

“I believe she’s been enjoying her cunt,” the Turk says to his Viking partner.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I reply. “That’s what you guys like to think about? Hot babes masturbating?”

Their smiles widen. Oh yes — men love it when women talk dirty. I look from one to the other. They don’t say a word. They’re not quite sure what to make of me.

“So …” I say slowly. “Would you like to watch?”

They nod. But I can tell: They don’t believe I really mean it.

With a quick gesture I rip off my robe, sitting stark naked in front of them. Their eyes widen, their smiles fade. Men! What pushovers they are. Show them a pair of tits and a pussy and you can make them do anything. Anything,

“You like that?” I say huskily. “Two horny guys like you — you’d like to se what I was doing?”

I don’t await their reply. I lie on my back and spread my legs, hearing them sigh at the sight. My fingers find my wet cunt and begin to massage my clit. Oh yes. It’s even better than before. The unexpected interruption has made my cunt even hungrier, and now — two strange men are watching me masturbate. That’s kinky as hell, and I rub myself even more vigorously — for their sake.

I look at them. They have recovered from the initial shock, and lust has taken over. Their glazed eyes are focused on my cunt, occasionally scanning my naked body — my long, slender legs, my full, soft breasts. I believe I can see their cocks starting to bulge beneath their white overalls.

“Ah!” I gasp.

The Turk takes a step forward and slowly approaches the bed. My eyes follow him as I masturbate eagerly. He puts his face between my thighs, and now I feel his mouth against my pussy lips.

“Ohh!” I cry.

Yes — I had it coming. I’ve been showing off, turning them on. And now he wants to join in. Wasn’t that what I was hoping for? His fat, wet tongue licks up my juice. I hear him swallowing — drinking from my cunt. I let go with my fingers — instead I feel his tongue rotating around my little, hard clitoris. He kisses it, sucks it greedily. And now — now he forces two wide, male fingers up into my cunt and starts to thrust them in and out. I thrash about on the sheet in ecstasy.

“Ahhh, yes,” I whimper. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

He gradually increases the rhythm — fingerfucking me, making slurping sounds between my thighs. The sensation is incredible. My juices squirt in little droplets across his hand.

I hear the sound of a zipper. The Viking has pulled down his fly and produced his cock. It’s incredibly handsome: Long and wide — crowned with reddish pubes at the root. Holding his half-erect member he walks to the bed, crawls up and straddles my face. I lift my head and open my mouth, allowing him to guide his cock in between my lips. I feel the hot member throbbing inside my mouth, straightening in tiny jerks. He grabs my hair and begins to slide his cock back and forth.

The Turk’s fingers thrust violently in and out, in and out of my cunt — until I can’t hold back any longer. I feel the orgasm approaching — more powerful than ever before. And suddenly I almost black out — and I come.

“Mmm! Mmm!” I scream, the Viking’s cock pumping in and out of my mouth.

I grab his buttocks hard — if not, I would fall over. But his hand in my hair holds me up as he fucks my mouth in long, lusty thrusts. His cock is hard as stone now — it jerks violently as if he’s about to come. But suddenly he pulls out.

A loud “pah!” escapes me as the huge member pops out of my mouth.

The Turk looks up at me grinning between my trembling thighs, his face wet with my juices.

“I want to see your cock!” I hear myself whisper to him. “Show me!”

The Turk stands up and quickly pulls off his overalls. He’s quite muscular and very hairy, his cock even longer than that of the Viking — and completely erect. Playing with my cunt — and feeling me climax — has really turned him on.

The Viking stands by the bed, still wearing his overalls, lazily caressing his erect member. The Turks lies on top of me, guiding his huge cock directly beşiktaş escort towards the mouth of my pussy. I whimper in anticipation, feeling the head of his member pressing against my labia. My cunt opens and he enters me. I feel his long member slowly penetrating me — inch by inch, until his entire shaft is buried inside my succulent slit. It’s happening! I think. I’m about to get fucked!

I hardly understand how it happened: Lying here with one workman’s cock inside me, the other watching, masturbating. But it’s too late for regrets. I spread my legs, feeling the Turk slowly pull almost all the way out of my cunt. Only — with a hard, violent motion — to enter me all the way again. And then he begins pumping — hard, deep thrusts, making me cry out with pleasure: “Yeees! Aaah!”

He grabs my wrists, holding me down as he fucks and fucks. I feel an almost superhuman strength in each and every thrust and it makes me so incredibly hot. He’s completely in control — I’m helplessly at the mercy of this muscle man and his massive cock. His hard, dark eyes stare at me — his face almost devoid of expression — except for determination and concentration. The hard member hammers in and out of me as the Viking stands above us, stroking his cock. A drop of clear fluid oozes from its tip.

Suddenly, the Turk pulls out.

“Ah!” he gasps. “Like that. Your turn.”

The Viking almost jumps into bed with me — and suddenly it’s his cock I have inside me. Before I realize what’s happening he begins to thrust. The rough fabric of his overalls rhythmically scratches the insides of my naked thighs.

“Oh!” I cry. “No … ah!”

Now the Turk is standing next to the bed, massaging his impressive member. His dark shaft glistens, dripping with my love juices.

“Yeah,” he says. “Two for the price of one, eh? It’s your lucky day!”

The Viking fucks me relentlessly, his mouth open with excitement, his face flushed.

“Damnit,” he gasps. “This is fucking good pussy!”

Eyes closed, I writhe on the bed, moaning. They’re taking turns with me — and I brought it on myself. The Viking’s rock hard cock thrusts deep into me — up and up and up, until I feel yet another orgasm surging through me.

“Aaah!” I scream. “Aaah!”

I thrust my abdomen up against the pumping cock. My entire body jerks spasmodically. The Viking groans with excitement.

“Ah, fuck it,” he gasps. “I think I’m gonna come.”

“Let her taste it!” the Turk commands.

The Viking pulls out, his glistening wet cock already jerking as he eagerly clambers up to my face.

“Ah!” he gasps. “Now open wide!”

I open my mouth just as the first spurt of semen bursts from his cock, hitting the back of my throat.

“Ohhh!” he yells. “Ohhh!” His cock fires again and again — long, salty jets of spunk pumps into my wide open mouth. I swallow mouthful after mouthful until his ejaculation finally subsides. Then I gently close my lips around the swollen head of his cock.

The Turk has climbed back into the bed and I feel his fat cock entering me.

“Yeah,” he pants. “Great pussy.”

He begins fucking — slowly this time. Pulling all the way out and sinking in to the hilt with every thrust. The Viking’s cock pops from my mouth — he steps down from the bed and sits in my armchair. He’s still out of breath, his face flushed, his half-erect cock jutting out of the fly of his overalls.

The Turk’s cock plunges in and out, in and out of my soft, tender pussy. I moan quietly. I don’t think I can come anymore — but the lustful motions of his cock seem to prolong the ecstasy of my previous orgasm — to keep it going indefinitely. Stretching my arms, I grab the edges of the mattress.

“Pin me down,” I whisper, “like before …”

He smiles viciously, grabs my upper arms hard and forces me down into the mattress. Now he increases his tempo, still thrusting as deep, but in a more demanding rhythm.

“You’re gonna get another load,” he hisses. “I just gotta … like that …”

He thrusts faster and faster, as if using my pussy to masturbate his cock. It’s not “lovemaking” anymore — I’m reduced to a hole he uses for his pleasure — to make himself ejaculate. And that excites me too. I whimper gratefully, feeling juices ooze from my cunt.

“Ohhh!” he yells. “Yeahhh!”

He pulls out, kneels between my legs, and places his hands on his hips. His huge, glistening cock jerks violently. And once again, spitting fulya escort out a small load of sperm. But the third time a meter-long jet of white semen shoots into the air, landing like a long string from my belly to my left breast. The Turk’s spunk feels burning hot against my naked skin. His cock jumps wildly — spurt after spurt bursts out of it, decorating me with wild pattern of slimy semen. When his ejaculation finally — finally — subsides, he grabs his member in his big, hairy fist to masturbate the final, thick drops out of it.

“Yeah, like that,” he grunts.

He closes his eyes, savouring the afterglow of his orgasm. Then he climbs out of the bed — and suddenly I feel his hairy arms under my back and my legs. He lifts me up — I feel light as a feather — and carries me towards the bathroom. I feel myself relaxing completely — just curious about what will happen next.

The Turk carries me into the bathroom and places me in the tub — the smooth enamel feels cold against my hot skin. He takes the showerhead, turns on the water, and adjusts the temperature. Carefully he begins rinsing the semen of my body. I feel the warm jets of water trickling around my breasts, over my belly and thighs.

From the bedroom I hear the sound of fabric dropping to the floor. And shortly after, the Viking comes into the bathroom stark naked. He is skinnier than the Turk, but seems wiry and athletic. He sits on the toilet seat, watching intently as his partner washes me off.

The Turk lets the hard water jets circle my nipples. I feel it throughout my body — rekindling my lust. I take the showerhead from his hand and smile naughtily to the two men.

“Well, boys,” I say huskily. “Are you ready for a little show?”

Then I point the jet of water at my cunt. The sensation is even crazier than I expected, making me gasp loudly with lust. I look down between my legs, letting the drizzling water circle my tender clit. Waves of pleasure surge through my entire body, making me tremble in the tub.

“Oh!” I pant. “Oh! Oh!”

The two men recently ejaculated and I know what men are like: It takes some time before they’re ready again. But as I look up at the Turk I get a huge surprise: His large cock is already fat and stiff again. He bares his teeth in a devilish grin, calmly stroking the hard shaft. Is it the sight of his erection that does it for me — or the sensation of warm sprays of water against my cunt? I don’t know. But whatever it is, yet another orgasm comes surging through my body, making me gasp and thrash about in the bathtub.

“Ohhh!” I moan. “Ohhh! Ohhh!”

“Yeah!” the Turk yells. “Like that! Keep going!”

Sobbing with joy I point the showerhead toward my cunt. I can hardly take anymore — but I obey. If he orders me to come again, I shall. He masturbates at the sight. The Viking stands up — his cock is only half-erect, but he massages it feverishly. He wants to join in.

“Damn it!” he hisses. “Come on!”

Then he finds the perfect cure for his predicament: He looks at me. Looks at my body, writhing lustfully in the tub, my wet breasts bouncing, the water pouring over my cunt, circling my jutting clit.

“Yeah …” he whispers. “Fucking hot …”

And now his cock begins to rise in little jerks. That is the power I possess: My naked body — my shameless lust — that’s what men like. That’s what arouses them — makes their cocks stand at attention — and makes them spurt.

The two men stand above me, masturbating, as I let the showerhead play across my tender cunt.

“Come on!” the Turk commands. “Come on!”

The orgasm hits me so hard I think I’m going to faint. Every muscle in my body straightens out, tightens, quivers. I sob helplessly, waves of pleasure rushing through me. All I sense is my own flesh.

“Yeah!” the Turk grunts. “Like that!”

I look up just in time to see the head of his cock swelling madly before the first long spurt of semen shoots out, hitting me in the face. His massive cock fires and fires — while I lie there in the bathtub beneath a fountain of spunk.

“Oh!” the Viking cries. “Take it! Take it all!”

He, too, begins to ejaculate. Grunting and roaring the two men empty their hot semen over my face and body. Their ejaculations merge with my own orgasm, my own lust — as if I was shooting sperm all over myself.

And finally: Silence.

Only the sound of heavy breathing — mine and the two men’s. We’re spent. We can’t go on.

The shower is still running. I wash the last two ejaculations off my body. Then I turn off the water.

Smiling, the two workmen exit the bathroom. I hear them get dressed. Hear them leave the flat — without a word of goodbye. But what is there to say, anyway?

I lie in the bathtub for a long time — breathing deeply. I need a cigarette. But I’m not moving.

It was my senior year of high school, and my 3rd and final year as a Varsity Cheerleader Team… Rah Rah and all that stuff. There are two things that really come back to me in the way of memories about those times… Jealousy and Competition amongst us… and Road Trips! I’m gonna skip the petty stuff and go for what you guys always ask me about. In this case, I’m gonna tell you about one of the basketball road trips we went on.

We were on our way home from a disastrous loss at the hands of another high school that we should have beaten big time! Our supposed State Championship bound basketball team got slaughtered! The ride back home on the bus was about 4 1/2 hours, and the first hour was spent yelling and screaming trying to blame it on anything. Finally, one after another started to drift off to sleep. Rain pelted the windows. It was just downright dreary and depressing. Linda and I were the only two cheerleaders still awake.

The others were curled up in their seats dreaming. Most of the team had drifted off too. Linda and two of the last 5 guys announced they were turning in too. Linda asked me if I was gonna hang or jet, and I looked at the three guys left awake. They said they weren’t ready to go to sleep yet, if I wanted to hang out with them. So, the four of us were there in the back seat of the bus talking.

We got to talking about their upcoming college plans, and then dating. We laughed, because not one of us was dating anyone at the time. I told them I’d be their girlfriend until they found someone. They seemed to like that a lot. We started posing all sorts of scenarios as to which nights I’d date who, etc. I told them we could “double date”. or “triple date” to solve that. The next thing we were arguing about, was what if one of them wanted to make out with me. What would the other two do? Hahahaha I remember just sitting there with my arms crossed under my breasts shaking my disbelieving head listening to them banter. That’s when the conversation got tense. I asked them what would be wrong with sharing me at the same time? That’s when one of them, Hank, whispered. “You mean.. like in sex and stuff?”

I must have been looking down when he said that, because when I looked up I saw all three of them staring at me like a steak dinner. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Sure why not? But, everyone would get the same treatment no favorites or individual favors. That’s when Devon blurted out. “How about right fucking now?” I shushed him, and looked around quickly and nervously too, wondering if I had made a mistake in what I had just proposed. Everyone else, except for the driver, appeared to be asleep, and the only noise filling the air was the hum of tires on the water soaked highway.

“What have you got in mind, ” I asked? There’s not much we can do here in these confined taksim escort surroundings. ” Burt whispered, “First, let’s have a feel of those beautiful tits of yours, baby. ” I bit my lip as I pulled up the front of my sweater, exposing them to my appreciative boyfriends. Hank was the first to reach out and touch them. As a matter, of fact, he wasn’t timid at all; because of the way he just filled both his hands and proceeded to massage them roughly. He pulled me sideways onto the seat where I now lay on my back with my head in his lap, and my legs in Devon’s lap. He was running his hands up and down my legs while Burt got on the floor and started sucking on my belly button. Hank had bent down and began kissing me fully on the mouth, as I felt Burt’s tongue move from my belly button to my breasts, sucking and licking me to pure lust and desire.

Then I felt a finger slip up my thigh into my panties and into my pussy I arched my back at this and moaned into Hank’s mouth sucking tongue like I was gonna rip it out of his mouth. As I opened my eyes to Hank shifting position, he ordered Burt to grab the duffel bag on the seat in front of him and they positioned it under my head and neck. I was panting and moaning louder as Devon had succeeded in getting his second finger into my twat. with his other hand somewhere under my ass lifting it up and down his plunging fingers. I heard the familiar zip of a fly, and looked up to see this big cock now hanging down in my face. I didn’t even think. I just opened my mouth and accepted the gift.. My ears were filled with “holy shit”. etc. as I sucked away at the cock in my mouth.

Two more zippers made their presence known, and I suddenly came to my senses.. With a mouth full of cock, I tried to protest what was apparently going to happen. when a comforting voice said, “don’t worry Lisa, we are just interested in blowjobs right now. ” With that, I stopped fighting and sucked. I felt the heat and hardness of another cock rubbing over my tits and those wonderfully talented fingers working between my legs Suddenly, what seemed like only a minute, Hank grunted and told me he didn’t want to make a mess, so I’d better swallow all of it I did. I gulped hot cum from the jerking cock in my mouth. So thick and gooey was the cum. I swirled my tongue lovingly around the head as the last of his cum oozed into my mouth. Hank pulled his cock from my mouth and smiled down at me. I remember looking up and smiling. licking my lips and mouthing “thankyou”.

Next came Devon.. His beautiful fingers pulled from my pussy, and as I started to protest, Hank and he switched places. Devon put his fingers to my lips and watched me suck and lick my juices from them. Then, he moved forward and with his hand around the base and his fingers beyoğlu escort in my hair. he pushed his cock into my waiting mouth. Devon’s cock was about the same size as Hank’s had been, so I felt really comfortable with it moving in and out of my mouth. He’d pull it out just enough to take turns pushing it into each cheek from the inside.. He told me later, I looked really sexy with his cock head trying to push it’s way thru my cheek. Men.. I tried to scootch up some so I could tilt my head back further.. knowing it would be easier to take more of him in my mouth. and throat. *smile*.. which I was pretty sure none of them knew about yet.

Devon was a stud. he took his time much to the whining of Burt who was constantly insisting that he be given his turn. Then, I felt Devon push forward.. felt his weight behind his thrust. knew he was now testing the limits of my ability to take more and I did. I felt hands mashing my tits.. and the constant fingering of my cunt. when it hit me like a tidal wave. I came just as Devon’s cock found it’s way into my throat all the way.

He began fucking my throat… three short strokes, and then he’d push it down the length of his shaft until my tongue reached out and licked at his balls… He kept this up for what seemed like 4 or 5 minutes… I couldn’t really tell for sure… I was too busy remembering to breathe when he pulled his cock out to where he let me lick and suck on the fat crown..

“Okay, babe… I’m gonna cum, but you best be swallowing it, Lisa. Don’t be spitting my seed out either. ” He came Gawd, did he cum… jerking and pulsing cum.. I almost choked during the first burst of cum. In his excitement, he had pulled back to where a blast of cum went partially down my windpipe. but like a good girl I swallowed. As I thrashed around between the two invading pleasure giving objects, I came again. and again. Later, they told me they were worried that I’d wake up everyone on the bus. So they made sure my mouth was always full.. And the did… keep my moans of ecstasy muffled with plenty of cock.

Reluctantly, Devon withdrew. I watched as each inch of his long cock slipped surrealistically from my mouth I lay there in a daze. panting and swallowing.. still feeling like I had more cum to swallow. I had my thighs locked around Hank’s wonderful hand not willing to turn loose for anything. Comforting words followed. “Don’t worry, Baby.. I’ll make it up to you later. ” With that assurance, I relaxed my death grip on his hand, groaning deeply as he pulled it back.

But now, Burt wanted his turn and he wanted it now! As Hank zipped up and moved away, Burt pushed his way to my face and grabbed a chunk of my hair and tried to stuff his fat cock in my mouth. I quickly turned my head to the side cihangir escort to avoid it, which followed with a sneering hurting remark. “Open your mouth whore!” I wasn’t a whore! I started slapping at him, and Hank moved it to calm things down. Big tears filled my eyes, and trickled down my cheeks. The pouty look on my face confirmed my hurt feelings. Burt’s anger and frustration suddenly turned to apologetic gestures.

Before he could gush out more, I told the two of them that I was going to the bathroom, and would be back in a few minutes. I could tell that it was difficult for Burt to release his grip on my hair but he did. I found the quiet solace of the bathroom, as I thought back about what I’d just done. I still didn’t think I was a whore. horny, maybe. but not a whore! I washed my face and straightened my skirt and sweater then went back out to the boys.

Burt was the only one awake now Hank had evidently gone back to his seat too.. As Burt attempted to speak, and I shushed him with my fingers to his lips. He had this big hurt puppy dog look on his face. I can still see it in my memory today. I sat beside him and put my hand on his thigh, and gently rubbed his leg as I whispered to him. I haven’t forgotten about you. “Smile” I was just saving the best for last. With that, his face broke into a big broad smile. I told him he’d have to be very quiet and TELL me if he saw anyone moving at all! I wasn’t about to fuck up now. Literally, or so I thought!

I crawled up on the seat and knelt beside him. slipping my hand inside his open trousers, as I bent forward to kiss him At first he balked at kissing me, but as soon as I had my fingers wrapped around his dick, he whimpered like a baby into my mouth. My mind reeled as I became aware of how big around his cock was in my hand. Both of his hands had slipped under my sweater and were kneading my breasts. It felt soo good. Suddenly, I made a dangerous decision. I straddled his lap, as I worked his fat cock through the opening in his pants.

Breathlessly, I stared into his handsome face and told him to move my panties aside. As he did, I worked the head of his cock up into my pussy and let out a long sigh as I slid down over it. I cupped his face in my hands, and said. “Don’t make any noise. Just let me do all the work okay?” He just nodded his wrinkled head at me as I put my arms around his neck and began slowly working my hips up and down the hot meat impaling me. Ummmm. I can still feel it He lasted about 1 minute. maybe less. I knew when he was ready to cum It was in his eyes. We both locked eyes and held on tight as his cock swelled inside me, pulsing and squirting cum deep in my pussy. As I felt him soften and slip out I slid off his lap to the bus floor and took his cock in my mouth and licked and sucked our juices from it.

I wiped my mouth on the towel someone left on the seat and stood to blow him a kiss before I turned and went to my seat with Linda. She was smiling as I sat down. I wonder how many others watched what we did in the back of the school bus that night.. I’ll try to write more later. There was actually a really cool followup to this trip *s*

It’s only Rock ‘n’ Roll, but she likes it.
So One More Time, For Old Time’s Sake

…

This story is based around real locations I experienced as a music journalist, the Festival, the Studio and the party venue are real, and although the characters are composites they are based around real people I encountered within that scene…

Names have — naturally, been changed to protect the guilty…

A twisted love story

She’s feeling him up with all the care and attention of the blind reading Braille, weighing his balls (they feel loaded), slim fingers tightening on his stubbornly flaccid cock in a vice-grip that must be reducing the sensitive organ to little more than raw nerve ends. Somewhere in his dishevelled mass of lank greasy hair he’s got to be wincing in pain, laid flat-out on his back in the rear cave of a Daihatsu van, denim pants near open to his knees, while she’s crouched, looking up at him appealingly — Em, Emily, my darling slut, but he’s not responding. Zero erection.

‘He’s spaced, the bastard, wired. So far out to lunch he’s coming in for breakfast.’ She tucks his cock away and stands up in disgust.

We leave Sneak the Freak to sleep it off. Out through the Press-Cage patrolled by Security Gorillas, by the crush-barriers and the Rent-a-Thug Bouncers. Some SF writer guesstimated if everyone alive on this planet were to stand heel-to-toe they’d cover an area that equals the island of Zanzibar. That might look like what we’re seeing now, this human avalanche at yet another last of the classic Rock Fest’s, a heaving sea of metronomic handclaps at the terminal end of a long l-o-n-g devolutionary process.

For miles around there’s the living dead of two Rock revolutions in their Desolation Raw elephants graveyard psychedelic shacks and hippie tat, with a high fashion-dummy-weirdo count — a sprinkling of Mohican ‘n’ leathers, a large percentage joints, long ratty hair, brown rice ‘n’ herb.

Em’s large liquid eyes run the panoramic length of stage beneath the mega-video screen and spiderworks of scaffolding. A singer shakes hair all over his sapphire-silk blouse, an ambling splash of colour. ‘That coulda been the Seeds Of Doubt up there.’ I duck the question. Nubiles in very little clothes and not-so-nubiles in authentic counter-culture regalia prompting decidedly sexist reactions. ‘Naw. The only good thing to come outta the Seeds — for me, was you. You and Twig the Wonder Kid.’ She grins mischievously and knees me in the groin.

Twenty-five years. Two and a half decades since we entered the charts at no.47, peaked at no.46 — then vanished. A neat little 45-rpm package, dark blue label with silver lettering in an orange-printed bag-sleeve. Eighteen years since I hung up my hi-heel boogie-sneakers, and still she can’t forget. Art-School R&B, the anger of frustrated energy screwed down tight, raw and violent with a loutish sexuality and an amphetamine burn of painful amplification. The back of a Transit van with Vox amps stacked high and I’m trying hard to concentrate on a book — ‘The Naked Lunch’, in the half-dark, and Sneak’s there behind me.

‘I want it betwixt your lips, my battle-snake, my sex-shooter. Mind your teeth, take it deep… AAAAAHHHHH, that’s IT, suck like that.’ He’s laid on his back, legs splayed and bent at the knees, while she’s crouched down there somewhere. At first I can’t see her face for his thighs. That’s the first time I saw Emily — all those years back. She says ‘I’m Emily, I’m in the erection business.’

He moves his leg. I see those beautiful whoreish lips closing in around that animal cock with the vulgar grace of a delicate cannibal, she takes it in three gulps as though it’s too big, or her mouth’s too small to manage it with one. The first gulp takes her upper lip out over the fat crown-top of the glans, the second gulp takes the entire glans, her teeth visible as she balances the mouthful for the final swallow that feeds half its full length deep into her sexy throat, her complexion flushed with pride at her achievement.

That long night-black hair, the curve of her perfect breasts shimmering with the movement of her head — up and down, slow and greedy, up and down, nipples dark and distended, sometimes brushing the rough surface of the stained mattress at her lowest pass. Thrusting the shaft deep and deeper into her mouth, I can see it now, can almost feel the hot flesh on her tongue as I see it disappearing between hungry lips. As she shifts her head around it I notice her tongue darting little lapping touches.

See Emily play. How to be a suck-cess in every mouth-watering prick-teasing detail. ‘Don’t scrape the soft tip with your teeth, don’t gag or shy back when I spurt in your mouth.’ The sound low in her throat as she swallows. Em, the image of cock before her eyes — always. Em on the dietary value of fresh semen, perpetually aroused. An orgasm a day keeps boredom at bay. Emily — my wife. Em, daintily removing a pubic hair that’s become lodged between her teeth, dabbing her spermy mouth with my handkerchief, then repairing the damage to her make-up…

A beylikdüzü escort prurient documentary-maker’d find picaresque backdrops aplenty in the tent city sprung up around the Festival enclosure. Fanning down the dirt-track central thruway there’s low-grade acid, coke, doctored speed, magic mushrooms, Moroccan and Lebanese hypermarts to scramble the most discerning braincell, there’s stalls unfurling phantasmagorical wares of rare precious and beautiful bootlegs, CND and Green texts, exotic narcotics and fast whole-foods with side-deals of faded bohemian kitsch and hand-crafted artefacts made by ageing Beatnik gypsies.

But the only queues are at the Beer Tent, and the guy with the pirated cassettes got ripped off and left early in grand pique. High-cc Triumphs cruise in their own private Mad Max phantasies. The sun’s going down, campfire wood-smoke mixes dope-smoke, and entropy runs aground…

‘It’s smaller than I remember’ she muses distantly. For a moment I don’t connect. ‘Sneak’s cock — it used to precede him by some nine inches. Sometimes seemed he was cock up to the eyebrows in those days. It’d near trip him up. Often I couldn’t LEVER it into my pussy with a shoe-horn, now he can’t even GET a horn!’ There’s a sadness I can’t touch. A beauty and innocence none of them could ever touch. She wants 1967, and all I can give her is the feed-in groove to the bleak nineties.

‘I want to go. Let’s go NOW! Sneak says he saw Derek working a studio in Sheffield. He’s got the address. We could go. It could be like it was in the sixties — just once more for old time’s sake. Just this once. It’s twenty-five years almost to the day. We can’t let it go by uncelebrated. We just can’t.’

The sun comes up like a huge belisha beacon on a miles-long auto-tailback. We’re breathing lead-impregnated air. A community disintegrates across acres of garbage, and in the aftermath, kids with black bin-liners scavenge returnable bottles in a spirit of Free Enterprise Thatcher might smile on. Then the M-way to Sheffield. Sun pours down like buttermilk over knife-cut bridges. Sneak, in the back of the Daihatsu van, sleeping it off. Em slouched beside me, like it used to be en-route for those College Hops, those Mecca Ballrooms that charged 7s6d entry — that’s just thirty-seven pence! Don’t that date-stamp you? It all comes back to me in bursts, flashbacks, after burns.

The Seeds Of Doubt — me (Farfisa organ), Sneak (drums), Derek (vocals/ bass guitar), and John (lead guitar). Getting blagged out of door-money, done-over by local yobs, precious equipment ripped-off and trashed. Haunting M1 Services poring over juke-boxes searching for your own name, sleeping in the back of a Ford Transit, falling behind on h.p.’s for Fender Strats and Gibsons, infused by thefted Chuck Berry runs and uppers, wearing pointed-toe shoes with buckles, and growing your hair a little longer. The hazards of crabs, food poisoning or worse. Sharing good gigs, bad gigs, staggering through barriers of paint-peeling amps sniffing out functioning mikes, sharing the Transit, the soundchecks, the Transport Caffs… sharing Emily. ‘Put on a gown that touches the ground, Emily.’

‘We’ll play a game, eh, Em? I’ll be the famous photographer, and you’ll be the model.’ And she’s mock-posing nude for Derek’s imaginary camera, holding those breasts out, nipples rising from their launch-pads all sexed up. We’re pouring beer over her bare stomach and lapping it up from the pretty indentation of her navel, blowing ciggy smoke into her fluffed-up pubes so they steam and fume like tropical rainforest.

Other girls come and go, but Emily’s always there. She talks of moving on, of chasing the Stones or perhaps Eric Burdon, as we talk of chasing the charts, cutting our first, flop single. The second record — “Girl With The Unquiet Mind”, is John’s song, some say he wrote it for Em, an eerily sparse song, but then John always had a strangeness that sets him apart. Last saw him on Oxford Street, shaven head and saffron robes, into some Ashram, and celibacy. No chance of a one-last-time for old-time’s-sake with John. But Derek and Sneak?

Sneak comes awake halfway down the M-way, and wants feeding. Humping amps for Howl at the Festival is hungry work. He smells of sweat, and his dog-breath’s rancid, his Howl T-shirt does little to contain his expanding waistline, and what his straggling hair’s lost on top he’s put on round his wispy beard. ‘Wha’ ‘appened last night? Wow, was I ever outta it.’

‘NOTHING ‘appened,’ from Em pointedly. Then ‘you got paid off, you were too stoned to move. Don’t you remember? You promised you’d take us to Derek’s studio. You will, won’t you?’

He wolfs burgers and coffee like a dying man, ketchup on his chin like a bloody lip. Em smiles across at me — ‘Blue Boar Services’, remember?

Sheffield in early autumn’s first phase. A location of picturesque shabbiness. Sneak points, ‘there, in that complex.’ An ancient building subdivided into a map of rehearsal rooms, jagged lines of deep bass lurking behind avcılar escort every other door. And Derek, black leather jacket stylishly scuffed, and reflector shades, hair cropped to a mere shadow-stubble across the dome of his head. ‘GRRRREATTT to see you all again. Wow. Course, things’ve changed, I’m into management now and record production.’ He beckons us through into his lair, an adventure playground of sound that’s been through several lives.

Past incarnations peel off the wall in flakes of dead paint. Pre new-depression the building might have started out as a factory block. A Mill. In this room-space, footprints walk up the walls towards the ceiling in odd formations. They date from its phase as a Karate School — ‘HID-AR-EE-GAM-I’ is left-punching, ‘KNEE-KO-ASHI-DATCHI’ is cat stance. The rest of the foot-placing diagrams are semi-eclipsed by attempted sound-baffles for rehearsing bands.

A record playback’s in progress. An anthracite-black angular youth behind the studio glass, hair disarrayed around a deep-furrowed centre-parting, his hands limpet-clamping headphones in close, his guitar hung quivering loose. He’s drinking the playback in intense concentration. Derek watches pale blue digitals tick off the seconds, pin-sharp graphic equalisers rising green, peaking into red.

‘I wanna know what Derek thinks’ comes over the speaker link. The p.a. explodes shockwaves of sonic violence, a protracted guerrilla-war of plaster-cracking rhythms overlaid with surgically sampled sound-bite samples.

‘It’s fine’ concedes Derek cautiously. ‘But we’ll wrap it up there for today. Right?’ The tetchy beats fade and shimmer back.

He turns to us, ‘so whaddya think? Amazing in’it. Needle — they’re gonna be well-HUGE.’ Shelby’s the vocalist. She’s dressed in severe blacks and blood reds, lips bruised crimson, hair razored high over her ears and raised, plumed elaborately, like porcupine quills in deep shock.

‘Terry Wogan won’t play it’ says Em.

‘Sassy bitch, ain’t she — but then, you always was’ with a conspiratorial wink. ‘I hear you two got married? You made an honest woman of her?’ Well, someone had to. The group split after the next few disastrous singles, and she was pregnant… collectively, by the band.

Someone had to look after her. It MIGHT’VE been my kid. Twig — she COULD be mine, not that it matters, she’s made it all worthwhile. She’s real to me in ways that chasing the charts never was, and if I’ve got to work nine-to-five to pay the bills then that’s alright too. I’ve not looked back once, no regrets, je ne regretted rien. But for Em it’s different. She won’t admit it, but she thinks I’ve failed, given in, sold out. SHE still believes in the Seeds Of Doubt, she’s their last fan, and if she wants the old days, just one more time — then I can’t deny her it.

‘Do Needle need a Roadie?’ from Sneak. ‘I just got paid off from that Howl tour. Poxy band anyway. Now’t like WE used to be, eh — the Seeds on full rev? Then WAS a time, and some. You’ll vouch for that won’t you, Em?’

‘What do you mean Sneak? You were always too blocked to notice.’

And from Shelby, with utmost vehemence, ‘we don’t need no burnt-out hippie to Roadie for US.’

‘You’re prob’ly right’ with forelock-tugging mock-humbleness. ‘I’m too old for it anyway, amps are heavier than they used to be. Guess I’ll just sign on instead, what do you think? Hey Derek, what sorta groupies do Needle score anyway?’

‘Germ-free ones, I hope.’ They dissolve into hacking laughter.

‘Groupies don’t figure.’ Shelby, cool, intelligent. ‘The groupie system denigrates women, implies women can only gain prestige by forming a parasitic attachment to a high-profile man. Even a degrading attachment — that’s the only role they’re fit for. That’s shit. Women compete on equal terms in nineties music.’

‘That’s because groupies gotta be male and gay to stand a chance of getting laid in the nineties’ from Em tartly. She has a small penis-shaped birthmark on her inner thigh. We first discovered it when we shaved her pubes. Bored out of our skulls after a bad gig in Doncaster, taking it in turns to hold her legs apart, then to wield the cut-throat blade over her pouting not-so private parts. Giggling, she said it was more guitar-shaped. Sneak said it was more the shape of cocks to come. She agreed the combination of the two — penis and guitar, was appropriate.

By common consent we split back to Derek’s flat. Like Rome, Sheffield is a city built on seven hills and we’re looking down on its centre from the steep crawl of sharp incline, city-lights coming up like some huge Spielberg space-craft beyond his window. The walls and ceiling are painted black. There’s a small Sanyo portable CD-player slotted into Dexion shelving, and a twelve-inch TV-screen showing a docu-retrospect on the Iranian human-wave assaults on Iraqi positions during the Gulf War. It glows like a miniature ikon. A 26-inch screen wired to a video machine storms silver static, green inset digital numbers flickering, both TV’s are esenyurt escort silent.

Derek slots a cassette-tape that’s spliced with white leaders into a tape-machine and as we settle in around the floor or on the low waterbed, a cut-up commentary of the Kennedy assassination comes in, jerky and trip-treated, repeating phrases and sentences in loops that become alien and hypnotic. There’s a framed album sleeve of Adam Faith’s ‘Beat Girl’ soundtrack on the wall, and a naked storefront dummy with rouged nipples and stuck-on pubic hair in the corner, a fragment of broken 78-rpm record impaled on its finger like a ring.

Sneak and Shelby collapse on the bed — their apparent tribal animosity disappearing by the minute, and they’re falling together, laughing. Derek leans over and whispers something inaudible in her ear which provokes a further storm of hysteria. In the half-dark with a can of Guinness I watch as he sets up the video. Em’s sat on the edge of the waterbed cross-legged. I imagine the position must cause her vagina to gape lasciviously. The video snaps into place and the silver hail drains from the screen, replaced by images in blurry colour. A strange erotic numbness overtakes me as though somehow time and morality have become suspended in this room, in this gloom.

Two women are sunbathing on the deck of a cabin cruiser, a blonde and a brunette — Derek depresses the fast-forward and they’re moving in jerky comic animation, down the companionway into the galley beneath for sun-oil, and they begin rubbing it into each other’s bodies in rapid circular caresses that become increasingly intimate, their backs glistening, their soft stomachs moist and greasy, their full firm breasts quivering free beneath sticky-moist fingers. Derek’s attention flits from the screen.

Sneak’s rolling somewhere in a mass of matted hair on top of Shelby, they’re drinking and kissing and he’s shimmied one enormous breast free and he’s squeezing and kneading it so the nipple stands out swollen-hard. Derek’s leering behind his shades, a lecherous sideways leer practised from early Elvis Presley movies. Em’s moving closer to him, and I’m holding the beer-can so tight I can feel it indenting. I want to get out but I can’t move. I know what’s going to happen, I’ve seen the script, I’m knotted up inside but I’m helpless to stop it. I’m lust for words.

Iranian boy-soldiers go down in a scythe of gunfire, a helicopter battleship cruises above them. Kennedy’s motorcade approaches the Dallas Book Repository. On the 26-inch the blonde lies on her back, legs splayed as the brunette goes down on her, a probing female tongue delving into the large fleshy folds of the slit filling the screen. Em unconsciously runs a finger down the curve of her own vaginal lips to relieve the sexual ache building there, detecting a ready moistness.

There’s an obscene gurgling noise coming from the corner, the waterbed rippling like tide. Never would’ve guessed Shelby to be so pneumatic beneath all that black, her pallid skin — by contrast, now so white and shivering in the TV light, moving and squirming her dress off, no underwear, Sneak’s hands all over and into her pubic bush, she’s groaning, her hands in his hair, long black-varnished nails clawing him down onto her. His pants slithering back off his ugly buttocks.

Em’s hissing in Derek’s ear, her long hair falling all around them so I can’t see her expression, but I can imagine. I’ve seen it before. But he’s intent on — first, the screen, then on the action behind him on the waterbed, shifting his gaze from one to the other, sweat stood out on his forehead, his hand hidden on his crotch. On the screen they’re sixty-nining beautifully, explicitly, spit-pearls of saliva mingling cunt-juice, tongues lashing and working raw clitoral buds to a frenzy, and behind them — two boyfriends/husbands have appeared, with expressions of exaggerated surprise cracking their faces.

Newscaster on the portable TV, map of the Persian Gulf with flexing arrow-graphics. Lee Harvey Oswald fires once, fires once, fires once. Shelby’s urging Sneak on, his fat buttocks glistening over her, his hand fumbling between their naked bellies, his stiff cock nudging at her, parting her pussy, and he’s sinking luxuriously slowly down into her, her breath exhaling sharply, ‘yes, yes.’ Tits straining and shimmering, eyes closing, thick black make-up smudging around her eyes. Derek’s attention’s fixed back on the screen, then on the bed, Em’s impatience becoming more urgent, her hand in his shirt-front, her tongue in his ear. There’s a savage throb between my legs that I can’t control, wherever I look it’s happening….

On the screen, a great swollen dome of thick cock is pressuring a tongue aside and sliding with inexorable grace into undefended quivering cunt, the tongue content to lubricate its length in quick stabs and long lingering curls as it feeds out of sight into the glistening syrupy suction-cave. While the distracting heave of Sneak’s quickening rhythm gives flick-flickering glimpses of Shelby’s parted legs as he pumps — like the proverbial Heavy Metal fiddler’s elbow, into her. It’s drawing my attention, against my will. Even as I close my eyes to fight the erotic images and the rage in my thighs, I can hear her pant, panting and whimpering, their squelching sex-noises audible even above the sharp retort as Oswald’s rifle explodes and explodes and explodes in hard cyclic punctuation…

Coach Hazard, the coach of my university wrestling team, who ran a program of total commitment of players to each other and him—in every way—had told all of the wrestlers that they could come over and use his swimming pool at any time. And I was so sore and strung out after the sessions where I was initiated—totally—into and by the squad that I took him up on the offer one afternoon. I was still being broken in and hadn’t been given a position on the squad, and I knew there was a wrestling meet during that time and figured that Hazard and the rostered wrestlers would be busy with that and that I’d have the pool to myself.

I did, in fact, have the pool to myself for almost the first hour I was there. I laid out on a lounge and got heated up for a while and then I went into the pool and swam laps. I probably swam a good many, as I was trying to numb myself to my circumstances. I hadn’t known before I went out for wrestling on Coach Hazard’s team that the deal included being fucked at will by any of the regular team members and by Hazard as well until I paid my dues. But I had learned that the hard way—and I dearly wanted to be on the wrestling team, so . . .

I had been preoccupied with these thoughts as I swam my laps, trying to work the soreness out of my body from some of the sexual positions I’d been put in that morning. When I came up out of the pool and was toweling myself off, though, I noticed I no longer was alone.

Andreas, one of the more intriguing members of the wrestling team was stretched out on the other lounge, which was right beside the one I had been using. I say intriguing, because he always seemed to be missing or in the background during my team punch ordeals. I knew he was queer—or at least bi—because I had seen him having hot sex with Greg in the wrestling gym showers once, but he had never hit on me yet. Which, given the choice, was a little disappointing, because he was one of the hottest of the wrestlers. He was Greek and had the tanned Mediterranean coloring and the good bone and muscle structure and easy flowing movements of that ethnic type. He had curly black hair, a handsome face with flashing white teeth and an easy smile. The black hair repeated it’s curl on his forearms and his calves, in his arm pits, and across his chest and down the front of his body, but I wouldn’t necessarily say he was particularly hairy. Maybe he would turn that way in his later years. I knew from watching him and Greg going at it that he had a very nice package, and that was evident now as well with a view to his skimpy sock swim suit as he stretched out on the chaise close to where I now sat and unfolded myself and closed mecidiyeköy escort my eyes, trying both to pretend I was alone and not to follow up on my natural attraction to Andreas.

Silence for a while and then, “Hi, I’m Andreas. I’ve been told your name is Sam.”

“Yes,” I answered, trying to be both polite and distant.

“I’m sorry you’re having such rough time at wrestling.”

“Yes, well . . . Thanks.” I kept it at that for a moment, but then I said, “I thought there was a serious wrestling meet today and that you’d all be at that.”

“The other team couldn’t muster up enough wrestlers in my weight class, so I wasn’t needed.”

“Oh.”

“Well, as I said, I’m sorry you are being used by the wrestlers as you are. I wouldn’t do that to anyone who objected.”

“I’ll bet no one has ever objected if you asked.” Now why did I say that?

He laughed. “Well, I don’t keep track, so I don’t know if that’s true.”

“So, you don’t join in . . . with the other wrestlers because you don’t like sex that much?” I was pretty sure that wasn’t true based on what I’ve seen.

“Oh no. I like sex all right. In fact, I like it just fine. I’m Greek. Really from Greece. We seem an uptight culture, but we’re really pretty free with that sort of stuff underneath. The Grecco form of wrestling, for instance. What Coach Hazard has bastardized here. That’s really done in the buff, and I grew up doing that. No, I’ve grown up getting sex freely and whenever I could get it.”

“So you’re what, straight, bi, gay?”

“Oh, I guess you could call me bi, but in the Mediterranean context I could still be considered straight. I was fucking girls and lonely housewives when I was fifteen. Guess I’ve always been able to do that when I wanted. But I’ll admit that I fooled around with other wrestlers pretty early too. And when I went into the Army, it was the accepted thing to do. At first, we’d go down to the back fence in the evening when we felt the pressure and we’d get blow jobs from the queers who gathered there to feed on handsome young and fit soldiers. Then some of us would go on to having sex with each other during guard duty in remote areas, just to escape the boredom and because they did their best to keep us away from the neighborhood goods and we were heavy with testosterone. But, in those situations, as long as you were the fucker and not the fuckee, you weren’t considered gay.”

“Sounds like Greek boys are really randy.”

“Yes. I’d fuck another boy, or a man, or a girl, or a middle-aged woman . . . or a sheep.”

“God, a sheep?” beşiktaş escort That got me looking over him all bug eyed.

“No, not really,” he laughed. “Some Greek boys will do that. But I’ve never done it. It just isn’t looked at the same way in the Med as it is here—again, as long as you’re the one doing the fucking. It goes back to why I told you I was sorry for what you’re going through. I like the sex, but only if it’s mutual. I don’t like to force myself on anyone, and I’ve never had to do that.”

“So, you haven’t joined in with me because either you feel sorry for me or I repulse you.”

“Oh no, neither of those. I’m mad at what they do to guys like you, and you certainly don’t repulse me; quite the opposite.”

Silence for a few minutes.

“And you. You don’t enjoy it, do you?” Andreas asked.

Silence for a few minutes.

“Well, sometimes I do, I guess. It’s increasingly getting to where sometimes it gives me pleasure as well. But it still scares me and makes me mad most of the time. Being used like that.”

“So, it’s not the act. It’s the force and being used?”

Silence for a few minutes.

“Yeah, I guess that might be it.”

“And do I . . . do I repulse you?”

A rather weak “No.” And then stronger. “No. You are one of the most desirable of the wrestlers. I . . . I saw you with Greg. I am drawn to Greg, too, but he pushes at me too much for me to really enjoy it. But seeing you and Greg. I almost . . .”

“I think I like you better than I like Greg. I bet we could . . .”

Silence for a few seconds. “Yes, I think we might too.”

“If I come over there, would I be forcing myself on you?”

A few seconds of silence.

“No, don’t think so. I think I might like that . . . if we went slowly. I have a pretty sore ass, as you can imagine.”

“And you’d take me? Let me control and do it to you? . . . In the Med sense I’m still not gay, and I don’t want . . .”

“Umm, yes, I guess so,” I responded.

I watched as Andreas fluidly rose from his lounge. He stood beside mine for a minute while he untied the strings to his sock suit and let it fall to the ground. I experienced a thrill and a big intake of breath, as I saw his magnificent body in complete nakedness once more. He leaned over and pulled my Speedo down and off my legs and then he stretched himself on top of me and we kissed and enjoyed the sensation of our bodies touching. Our hands in a firm grip, with arms stretching above our heads, touching all along their stretch. Our lips on lips and tongues playing with tongues; our chest and etiler escort nipples rubbing; our hearts thumping in rhythm; our bellies touching, both panting a bit, our pelvises and cocks touching, entwining, increasingly grinding; our thighs rubbing; our toes touching and running up each other’s thighs. Our entwining became more hurried and we writhed against each other, enjoyed our bodies chaffing against other. We turned so I was on top and then we were on our sides facing each other, and then he was on top again. We panted and moaned and sighed as our cocks engaged as swords and we dry fucked each other up our bellies or between our thighs. Neither of us was moving to take control, but we were both aggressive and submissive at the same time. We decided to release our hands almost simultaneously—neither of us would have been able to say whose idea that was—and our hands joined the exploration, heightening our sexual tension and our frenzied play.

But it was more than the exploration that was causing us to heat up. We were being fried by the sun. I, because I was the most sensitive and he was naturally tanned from life in the Mediterranean, was the first to break, declaring that I was being cooked and had to go into the pool to cool off. His dive was right behind mine, just as neat as mine, and we both stroked to the end of the pool and immediately went into another lip lock, our fingers more aggressively exploring each other under the water.

Andreas hauled me up to where I was sitting on the side of the pool, my legs in the water, and he gave me a slow, expert, complete blow job. When he finished, I lay back on the cooking tiles, oblivious to the heat, and raised my arms across my face, blocking out the sun, completely enjoying the moment. He ran his hand up my hips and waist and held them there at my sides. He still held my cock in his mouth, waiting for it to subside, not wishing to abandon it until I was soft once more.

“I thought . . .” I started to say. “Isn’t what you’re doing? . . .”

“Shush,” he whispered. “I think you’re worth going over that threshold.”

I found myself calling out to him, almost in a whisper, “Fuck me, Andreas. I want you to fuck me?”

“What is that you said?” he asked in surprise.

“Fuck me. It’s my choice. I can’t feel liberated from all this until I’ve made the choice freely, myself. I want to make that choice with you. You’ve made a decision with me; I want to ask for it from you. Fuck me.”

He rose up to me and entered me and fucked me, gently at least at first, but then passion swept us both up and the sex became very hot—but mutually satisfying. He hadn’t been pumping me for long before he noticed that I was stretched out on the hot tile surrounding the swimming pool. He slowly slid me back into the swimming pool and we discovered that sex was much more interesting and whole new positions were possible when the partners are immersed in water.

We crossed the threshold together in a burst of flowing.

About ten years ago, I was midway through my college years. During this time, I met what was to be a good buddy of mine, Stan. We had met at a mutual friend’s apartment. She, Ellen, had a get together with about twelve or so of us. It was the beginning of the Fall semester, and it was exciting to meet new people.

Through the semester, Stan had gotten to know Ellen’s roommate, Liza, fairly well. Ellen and Liza had been living together for about a year and a half before Stan and I had met them. They were very outgoing and hospitable, and at different times when they’d have these small get-togethers, Stan and I would find ourselves being the last guests to leave.

Thus, the four of us gradually grew into pretty good friendships. However, Stan and Liza eventually became such good friends, that two years later they were wed. Of course, Ellen and myself were among those in the wedding party. Even though she and I never had inclinations to become more than friends, I still found her to be attractive.

Now, during these years, Stan and I would often go out on weekend backpacking trips. We’d often leave on a Friday afternoon, and return late Sunday night or Monday afternoon. Summer, Winter — we went whenever.

This one weekend we headed out to hike a fairly remote trail. It was August and pretty hot and sticky during the day, and not too much less so in the evening. We had set camp close to a stream. Since we were part way up a mountain, the water was nice and comfortable. Our first night there, we decided to lounge in the stream. Since it was halfway up the mountain, the stream was full of rocks and boulders of different sizes. Some sections were only a foot deep, but then there’d be a section about the size of a large hot tub that would be three or four feet deep.

We found a nice comfortable hole like this and made that our hangout the first night. I always bring a few beers with me, so we sat back, drank some, and just took in the mountain air. It felt like such freedom.

The next day was pretty much the same — hot and sticky. Since we didn’t have much daylight the previous day when we first hiked in, we didn’t have time to scout out the area. However, this second day we had all the time in the world to hike about. It was very secluded.

As it started getting dark, we cooked dinner over the fire, and quickly cleaned up our mess. Since we were feeling pretty sticky and dirty, we couldn’t wait to get back into the stream and let it rinse us off as we just laid in it. The hazy moon was out about halfway. I had found a couple sterno cans in my pack, so we lit those and placed them like candles on the rocks. We were sitting naked and happy in the stream.

We sat back and chatted for awhile. I asked Stan how he and Liza were doing.

“Things are going great,” he answered. “That’s cool”, I said, “are y’all still enjoying the physical stuff, or has it become old hat by now?”

“Oh man,” Stan came back, “it has actually gotten better.”

“Really? I thought people always said that it kind of lost it’s thrill after a year or so. Not so for you two, huh?”

“Well, there was a point when it lost a little luster, but then Liza and I started talking more openly about our sexual turn-ons, fantasies and such. We’ve also been able to talk about our past experiences. We were both a little reluctant at first to talk about our past lovers, but we actually found ourselves getting turned on by hearing how sexually minded the other has always been.”

“Wow!” I was pretty amazed at how open they were, especially Liza. She was definitely not a prude, but I never saw her as a “wild girl”. She was also attractive. She was normal height, and was in pretty good shape. She was one of these women bahçelievler escort who is a tad thicker in the upper torso, but had real nice slender legs. On top of this, she probably had a good 38” bust. Nice to look at , and I’m sure nicer to hold. “So, Liza had a wild past?”

“Well, not too wild.” Stan knew he could trust me not to ever mention any of this conversation to anyone without even having to ask me. “However, there was this one night years ago when she and Ellen had one of those get togethers. As always, you and I were hanging there for awhile after everyone else had left. I can’t believe neither you or I caught onto this, but apparently I had quite the bulge in my shorts.

“Ooh, she noticed your bulge. That’s pretty wild stuff,” I joked.

“Oh wait, you’ll see. See, after you and I left, Ellen and Liza started giggling, and quickly realized what the other one had noticed in my shorts. They began joking around about it, and Ellen started pretending she was me. She took a banana and stuck it in her shorts. ‘Hey, Liza, you ever see a pop tent like this one.’ She was saying shit like that, and started coming up to Liza and humping her leg with the banana. Apparently they really thought this was funny, and Liza pushed Ellen onto the couch, and sat on her lap, facing Ellen, and began grinding her.”

“Whoa, get out!” I said. I got that excited lump in my throat, and felt my little man begin to wake from his slumber. “Good grief!”

“Well, keep listening,” warned Stan. “Apparently they were doing this whole grinding thing for a bit, and they were laughing and groaning and pinching and tickling each other. Ellen squeezed one of Liza’s breasts, and then double-cupped her ass in both of her hands. Soon, where they were once jokingly sticking their tongues out at one another, they soon found their tongues touching. From what Liza says, once that happened, it was obvious to them both that the kidding was now tossed to the side, and they were well on their way to having sex. She said they had some more fun with that banana, and they went down on each other several times.”

I was in a thrilling shock. I mean, this was the kind of stuff I would beat off to while making it up in my head. I was rock hard. “Stan, man, I hope you don’t mind, but that whole story has got me totally revved up.”

“I figured it would. Liza worried that if any of our friends knew, they would think she was disgusting. I told her that at least most of our guy friends wouldn’t — they’d think it was very cool. When I told her that most guys get off thinking about that kind of stuff, she asked me if I thought you were one of those kinds of guys. I told her that you and I never talked about that specifically, but that I knew you well enough to know this is the kind of stuff you’d get off on while reading it in Forum or something like that.”

“Hell yeah, man. Shoot, let’s get out of here now so that we can do a foursome or something,” I joked. “Seriously, though, I am stoked. I hope you don’t mind, but the thought of sweet Liza getting roused up like that — umm. I think I’ve got the biggest flag pole in the state right now.”

“Well, you and I both,” Stan said.

“Well, maybe you’re second biggest.”

“Fuck that, I’d put you to shame.”

“Alright, it’s revelation time.” As I said this, we both stood up out of the water and stuck our pelvis’ out to display our wankers. At any other time, this would have been obviously awkward, but we were both feeling a buzz from the sex that was in our heads.

“I am the Champion!” I exclaimed, and start swatting my penis back and forth.

“Not quite,” stated Stan, as he began swinging himself back and forth, as well. We arnavutköy escort kept doing this and moving them towards the other as if to be fencing one another with our penis’.

“Dude, man,” I laughed, “this is so gay.”

“I know, but who cares.”

We continued bumping our penis’ together, until we made each contact slower and last longer. Pretty soon we were pressing them up against each other.

“Alright,” I said, “I think I see a male ‘Ellen and Liza’ incident happening here.”

“That’s cool.”

We kept pressing against each other, until I backed up a bit, and looked at his penis. We were about the same in size and girth. I started getting that exciting tingling in the back of my throat. I had so often fantasized about the sight of a woman getting fucked and giving blow jobs, that now and then I wondered what it would be like from the woman’s perspective. I started getting down on my knees, but there were too many rocks to do this comfortably. Without missing a beat, Stan sat back on a rock, and then laid back on it so that he was kind of arching backwards. This positioned his head so that as he laid it back on the rock, he really couldn’t see his pelvic area.

This made me feel even more free to do what I had often dreamt. His hardon had just loosened up a tiny bit. I put one hand on it, and ran my tongue from his balls all the way up the underside of his penis. I knew exactly how this felt to him; all he could do was moan. I then batted his balls around with my tongue. By this time, he was rock hard again.

I rubbed it around on my face, while taking glances at it from time to time so the visual would get me even more excited. I then positioned my mouth above his shaft and tongued his head a bit, all around the top and sides of it. Then I ran my tongue once more from his balls all the way to the top, and this time as I went down, I moved his pulsating dick into my mouth. The excitement forced a moan from my throat. Stan just continued groaning. I then picked up the pace, and pretty much just envisioned myself as a slutty, sexy whore, and just sucked him like I’d been doing it all my life.

I could tell he was getting ready to cum, and I couldn’t wait. I felt him jolt, and I ran my tongue once more up the underside of his meat at about the same pace as his cum was traveling the same direction to spurt out the top. I had my open mouth right at the head when the cum started shooting out, so that some landed in my mouth, and some got on my face. I then began sucking on him all the way into my mouth again, and I knew exactly where and how to push the rest of his cum out of his sack, up his shaft and into my mouth. I applied just enough suction so that he could feel it pulling at whatever cum was left over in his balls.

I was afraid that after he’d cum, he’d lose his edge, and feel too weird to do anything on me. However, he was in sex mode.

“Alright, slut-boy, time for you to take the rock chair.” That’s all I needed to hear. I sat back on that rock just as he had been.

“Alright, you little fuck bitch — get going.” I said this without the slightest tone of joking. Just as he couldn’t, I was unable to see him as he sent me into the same stratosphere he was in just minutes before.

Once I was sucked dry, we sat back in the water, and laughed.

“You know,” Stan began, “Liza could tell how turned on I was getting when she first told me about her and Ellen. She asked me if I ever thought about having some kind of sex with one my buddies. She said it’d be cool to have a foursome with another guy and girl, but only if each of us could have sex with each of the others, which included me and whoever the dude would be. She şirinevler escort said, ‘You and John ought to get it on during one of your backpacking trips.’ I told her it could happen.”

As he was talking about this, the images I got in my head of a foursome like that was getting me stiff again. I thought about Liza in some white nylons, and bending that bitch over on her hands and knees. ‘Now arch your back, ‘ I’d command her. I’d then sink my dick firmly inside her cunt, and begin pumping her like crazy. I imagined looking over to a vanity mirror, and seeing her nice plump ass rippling with waves with each of my strong thrusts, and her large breasts swinging crazily underneath her. Oh man, I was all psyched up again.

Feeling a new liberty to do so, I reached over and wrapped my hand completely around Stan’s equally stiffened member. “Just as I thought,” I said.

Stan told me to hold that thought, as he jumped up and ran over to our backpacks. He jumped back, and I could clearly see the small jar of Vaseline in his hand. “Might as well do this right,” he said.

Before I could ask who was going first, he told me to bend over like the whore I was. This sent a chill up my spine. I gladly took the position, spreading my legs just a bit, and arching my back. I basically pictured myself as Liza in the way I had just imagined mounting her. Stan had a big lump of jelly in his fingers, and rubbed it onto my asshole. Just feeling this on my ass got me more excited. He wiped the excess off on one of the shirts nearby.

As he came back over to me, I clearly remember the sensation I got when feeling him position himself between my legs and grab my butt cheeks. I felt like so many of the sluts I’d seen in so many porns. He pressed the head of his dick on my hole, and that’s when it dawned on me the size difference between the two. Oddly enough, this just excited me all the more.

He didn’t say anything. He just made short thrusts back and forth, until it was like my hole gave in to the fight, and his whole cock slid into my ass. I let out a groan that sounded exactly like how the prettiest woman would groan, without me even trying to.

“Oh yes,” I repeated, over and over in different tones. I could feel my ass cheeks rippling waves back and forth with each thrust. As Stan was getting close to cumming, he leaned forward so as to lay his chest on my back, and with his face just behind my head, he pumped me with short, fast and strong thrusts, saying, “I’m going cum inside you, bitch.” He said this over and over until his cock was once again emptied.

I laid there for a few seconds, catching my breath, feeling limp. I then shot up, and without a pause, ordered Stan to bend over like the bitch he was. Our roles shifted 180 degrees, and now he was my ass whore to control.

After I was finished reaming him out, we were both ready to get some sleep.

We both slept great that night. In the morning, there was no awkwardness. We got up, brushed our teeth, and took in the freshness of the morning air. All we could do was laugh about what had happened. The rest of the morning was to be spent packing up camp, and heading back home. As we briefly chatted this out, we realized how relaxed our schedule was.

At almost the same time, we looked at each other with the same look in our eyes.

“I think we have time for one more thing,” I said.

We took off our shorts as we got back into the tent. Almost instinctively, we laid down on our sides in the opposite direction of the other, so that each of us was staring right at the others cock. We 69ed each other, making for a spectacular start of a day.

As we drove back home, we laughed more about it, and were both somewhat ecstatic that we had opened up a whole new realm of possibilities for our sex lives.

When I pulled my truck into Stan’s driveway, Liza walked onto the front stoop. Before getting out to unload Stan’s gear, I said without hardly opening my lips, “I can’t wait to get a piece of that.”

“Trust me, my friend, you won’t be waiting long.”

3 Power Corrupts

The big, golden male gazed enraptured at the lithe brunette who straddled him. As often as they shared their bodies, it still awed the older man that all this beauty was his and his alone. The dark tresses framed an angelic face, flushed and damp from their lovemaking. The expressive, espresso eyes were closed and the red, kiss-swollen lips open as the younger man panted at his exertions or mewled his pleasure. It was a sight that never failed to take Vincent’s breath away. He reached to caress the smooth chest and gently tug at the tight, dark nipples, earning a low moan of appreciation. Keeping up the stimulation to his mate’s sensitive nubs, he let his other hand ghost over satin-soft thighs to drift ever closer to the slender, rosy-hued erection that wept its desire. He thumbed a drop and brought it to his lips and groaned at the salty-sweet taste of his lover that exploded over his tongue. He began a slow stroke in time with his beloved’s movements as Wyl rode Vincent’s throbbing rod.

“So beautiful, angel,” Vincent husked. “So good, so tight.”

“Love to feel you in me, Vincent,” Wyl panted, locking his scorching sienna orbs on his mate’s of smouldering sapphire. “Come in me, make me come.”

“Come for me, my Own,” Vincent growled.

The deep, possessive, commanding tones, accompanied by a series of rapid, feral thrusts against Wyl’s jewel, were an irresistible combination. He threw back his head with a cry of his lover’s name and his crème pulsed white and hot against Vincent’s lightly furred stomach and chest. He heard the roar of his name as his channel contracted around the rigid flesh impaling him and then the wet heat of his lover’s seed filled him. Wyl felt himself rolled with preternatural speed as the last of his orgasm ebbed away. Then he moaned and shuddered as Vincent’s fangs pierced his throat. The erotic caress triggered a second smaller climax and Wyl whimpered in Vincent’s embrace.

“Feed from me, Mine,” Vincent whispered as he tenderly positioned Wyl’s head. He closed his eyes in pleasure at the sensation of the younger male’s delicate suckling.

Wyl felt Vincent’s powerful essence in every cell as he tasted his mate’s blood. It seemed to flood his senses, threatening to overwhelm him. It would take many years for him to become accustomed to Vincent’s potent elixir. He felt his mate’s gentle touches soothing him and he tried to burrow deeper into the protective arms as he licked closed the tiny wounds.

“I love you so much, Vincent,” Wyl sighed as he nestled against the bigger body. His sated body was relaxing in the languid afterglow, leaving him drowsy and lowering his defences.

“Sleep, my love,” Vincent crooned. “We have a busy time ahead of us.”

“Seamus mentioned you and Yasmin were…close,” Wyl whispered. The tiny niggle of doubt that had rooted in his heart had finally blossomed into anxiety now they were so close to meeting this woman from his mate’s past. He felt his head tilted and he gazed into Vincent’s warm eyes.

“What I shared with her as opposed to what I have with you would be like comparing the heat of a candle to that of the sun. I have had lovers, my Own, but she is not one of them. By the time I met her, the call to find my Chosen was strong. We enjoyed each other’s company not our bodies. I could not give her what she wanted and would not take advantage of her.”

“I’m glad you kept looking,” Wyl whispered, burying his head into the crook of Vincent’s neck and shoulder.

“Never doubt your place at my side,” Vincent rumbled. “You are my Chosen, the other half of my soul. I will love you, and only you, for eternity. The years I waited to find you were worth the emptiness now that I have you to fill my arms, my heart, my soul. Seamus has contacted her to let her know I have found you and we are Bonded. Yasmin is a very talented spell-caster and we will need her expertise to deal with our new challenge. Sleep now, my angel.”

Wyl snuggled closer, Vincent’s words banishing the last of the worry that had plagued him. He loved the bigger vampire more than he could ever express in mere words, but Vincent had found the ones to assure him he was loved as much in return. He let the thought ease him into sleep.

****

As Seamus drove the silver Mercedes slowly up the impressive driveway to the magnificent villa Yasmin owned, Wyl stared at it with wide eyes. It was a single-story, white stucco building. A veranda encircled it, its roof supported by pillars in matching coral pink. Red bougainvillea, pink roses and white jasmine scaled trellises whilst scenting the air. It was both a visual and olfactory treat.

“It’s beautiful,” Wyl murmured from his place between David and Vincent.

“Too many flowers,” grumbled Gabriel from next to Seamus. A Lycan’s sense of smell was hyper-sensitive and the mix of flowers was already proving too sickly-sweet for his taste.

“It will be better inside, love,” David soothed. “Yasmin will keep her incense to a minimum and has promised there will only be small clusters of fresh flowers inside.” cihangir escort The petit blond caressed the broad shoulder of his large, dark mate. He smiled indulgently at the huffed sigh and the stroke of Gabriel’s hand across his own.

“Are we really looking for living mummies?” Wyl asked, looking at Vincent and then David. It still seemed like a plot for a movie to his naive mind.

“Not living, Wyl,” David replied. “Simply animated corpses.”

“Many of our kind can bend the will of a human to their desires. The danger is, if they are captured, they may remember something to identify their controller. But it is the easiest and preferred method of using a minion,” Seamus said. “Some mages posses skill enough to animate golems, others have power and skill enough to use zombies to do their bidding. However, that is an uncommon and ancient power. Our adversary has taken a step beyond even this. I think they are trying to prove both their power and ancient knowledge. They have gone through the full processes of embalming and reanimation, troublesome, time-consuming and very draining for the necromancer. Few would bother with this today, even if the ability was not incredibly rare. Mummies are no more than mindless creatures existing by the will of their master but using one shows we are dealing with someone of unusual skill, strength and power of mind. These minions can’t be stopped by gun or knife and will walk through fire or water. There is neither reason nor compassion.”

“How do we stop them?” Wyl asked.

“Decapitation. Effectively the mage becomes the creature’s mind. Detach its head and the mage cannot control its body. We then burn its remains to ensure it cannot be used again. They are highly effective killing machines,” Gabriel growled. “They do not weaken under tooth and claw.”

Wyl shuddered and then smiled as Vincent slipped an arm around his shoulders and David gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He had gone from having no one to being a part of a tightly-knit, loving family, from living hand-to-mouth to living in luxury. Although his new life had its dangers, he would not trade it, or the love he had found with Vincent and his new family, for anything. He took a deep breath and smiled at the other vampires. Whatever they faced, he would face it with them.

****

The men stepped out from the car and two servants, dressed in black harem pants and flowing tunics came to meet them. One began emptying the car whilst the other ushered them inside. The interior of the villa was no less impressive than the exterior. The hall had a white marble floor and the doorframes were black marble. The doors were mahogany, deep, rich, and almost sensuous. The walls were a soft cream colour and dotted with vibrant tapestries or had small niches inset which held talismans of gold, crystal and precious stones creating a bejewelled effect.

Wyl felt comforting warmth permeate his body as he looked around. There was almost a palpable, positive aura. He let it wash over him with a smile. Not much less than a year ago his home had been a bedsit where food was sometimes a luxury. Now his home was a penthouse suite and this villa just one of several magnificent homes he had visited. His smile widened as he remembered Coleran and the castle in Ireland.

“Vincent! How wonderful to see you again.”

The female voice in cultured English tones had Wyl’s attention instantly diverted and he blinked at the coffee-skinned woman walking swiftly toward his mate. Her hair was a luxuriant jet black, reached to her waist and was adorned with crystal pins that added a shimmer as she walked. She wore a pant and sari outfit in white and gold that made her skin glow. Her eyes were the same chocolate brown as his own but almond shaped. She was a vision of loveliness.

However, it was not her physical appearance that caused Wyl’s family to gasp, but the way she flung her arms around Vincent’s neck and kissed him deeply.

Vincent kept his arms at his side and his lips firmly closed. He could not believe Yasmin would do this to him. She *knew* he was Bonded. This was a grave insult to his Chosen as well as likely to distress his young lover. He stared stonily at her, noticing the low-level arousal with a narrowing of his eyes, as she moved away with a look of confusion on her face.

Yasmin had been delighted to hear that Vincent and his family would be working with her. It had been many years since they had spent time together. Seeing him in her hallway, the blond’s grace, power and natural raw masculinity had affected her in the same way as it had the first time they had met. She had intended the kiss to show she bore no ill-will that Vincent had kept away for so long. Although she had initially been hurt, she understood, and accepted, that Vincent desired to find his Chosen and did not, could not, love her. She glanced, puzzled, at Gabriel whose low, deep growl had caught her attention. Then she slowly took in all the shocked faces of those she considered good friends…and one other. Her eyes widened in horror. güngören escort Vincent’s aura and that of the slender, dark, young man were so entwined as to be one. An elegant hand flew to her mouth.

“What have I done?” she asked, distraught.

Vincent’s nostrils flared. The arousal had fled leaving anxiety in its stead. The confusion seemed genuine and yet Seamus had rung and spoken to ….Ishmael. His infuriated, indigo gaze moved to the young man who stood some distance away. He could have been Wyl’s twin brother, except for the darkness of his skin.

“Do you care so little for your sister that you would see her punished?” he growled ominously.

“You wouldn’t hurt her, Vincent,” Ishmael said in mocking tones. “You make such a performance of the so-called etiquette to be followed. Yasmin is one of your own kind and you and she…”

Ishmael’s voice was cut off as Gabriel lunged and pinned him by his throat up against the wall. Despite his desperate struggles, Gabriel’s hold did not relax.

“Say the word, Vincent and I will teach this pup that etiquette is meant to be followed or there are penalties to suffer.”

Vincent saw Ishmael’s complacent look replaced by one of abject fear at Gabriel’s furious visage and threatening words.

“You know the penalty for insulting my Chosen, Ishmael, whether it was your sister or you. Perhaps I should let Gabriel have his way.”

“Vincent?” Wyl asked softly, but the restraining hand and shake of David’s head stopped him speaking further.

“Vincent, I meant no dishonour or insult to your Chosen or to you. I did not know you had found him. I don’t understand,” Yasmin said.

“I called to let you know,” Seamus said, his voice hard and angry. “We knew you had been away for over a year, cloistered to take your power to a higher level. I spoke to Ishmael. I gave him the news of Vincent’s joy.”

“This is Wylem Taylor, known to us as Wyl. He is my Chosen. We Bonded just under a year ago,” Vincent said, his voice warm and proud as he drew Wyl to his side.

“I am honoured to meet you, Wyl and I apologise for my brother and for myself.” As she spoke, Yasmin glanced at Vincent. Never had she seen such pride, possession or love ablaze in the big male’s eyes. A quick peek at Wyl and she saw the same emotions reflected in espresso orbs. She could also now see that their auras were not simply entwined, they had merged. Vincent and Wyl were truly as one.

Wyl nodded and gave a shy smile, uncertain what was expected of him in these circumstances. He could see Gabriel still holding Ishmael and began to think this was perhaps the big Lycan’s way of putting the other man in his place.

“Vincent?” Gabriel rumbled, cocking his head at Ishmael.

“He may go unpunished…this time,” Vincent growled, giving a cold stare that made the young man in Gabriel’s grip tremble even more.

With a grunt, Gabriel released his fingers and had already moved to wrap an arm around his own beloved Chosen before Ishmael had unceremoniously landed in a heap on the marble floor.

“If you and Wyl…There is an office, or I can show you to your rooms?” Yasmin said, pointing at a door tentatively. There was another look in Vincent’s eye.

“Show the others their rooms if you wish, but speak with your brother to ensure he creates no further mischief,” Vincent rasped. The call to reaffirm his Bond with Wyl was rising and he had every intention of answering it. It would settle them both.

****

Vincent locked the door of the indicated office behind them, his eyes sweeping the room and taking in the black leather chaise-longue. The bigger male was certain Wyl would be feeling the bonding call as much as he and Wyl’s body would produce enough of his lubricant with deliberate arousal. He swept the lithe body into his arms, thrusting his tongue deep into Wyl’s willing mouth. The instant acquiescence of his lover tempered the fire that raged in Vincent’s veins. He growled softly as Wyl’s arms wound around his neck and the younger man opened his mouth wider, inviting him deeper.

Vincent lifted his mate, never breaking the kiss, and laid him on the chaise-longue. In seconds he had denuded the lithe form and his mouth and hands were intent on an amatory assault, covering every precious inch of soft, warm skin. The tantalising scent of Wyl’s arousal rose, filling Vincent’s nostrils and he gently turned his mate onto his stomach. He parted the creamy mounds and gave a soft growl of approval at the drops of lubricant. He licked at the dilating rosette, encouraging it to bloom and open. The earthy-sweet taste had the bigger male almost tearing open his own jeans to release hard, damp flesh.

Manoeuvring his Chosen so that the lithe body draped comfortably over the chaise-longue, Vincent stroked himself to distribute his copious pre-come and then lined his crimson-hued shaft against Wyl’s dilated, glistening portal. He groaned as he slid into his lover’s molten heat, each millimetre of his flesh surrounded by his lover’s body and the tight bağcılar escort sheath rippling its welcome.

“Mine,” Vincent husked as he began a series of hard, fast thrusts. There would be time for long, slow and sweet later. At this moment he needed to reaffirm Wyl’s place in his life and the Bond they shared.

“Yours,” Wyl cried as Vincent’s rod rubbed his sweet spot and his mate’s hand pumped his eager erection. He came hard and fast, the feeling of sharp teeth at his shoulder coinciding with liquid fire filling his still spasming channel.

All too soon, Vincent slid carefully from the sanctuary of Wyl’s body, the younger man silently mourning the loss of their intimacy. Then Wyl murmured his appreciation at the tongue that licked at his most private place. He was tenderly rolled onto his back and the tongue bathed his depleted sac and softening sex. He smiled as Vincent’s still-clothed body blanketed his naked form.

“My Own, my Chosen,” Vincent whispered. “I love you, Wyl.”

“I love you, Vincent,” Wyl replied, pulling the beloved face down for a long, deep kiss.

For a few moments, the couple enjoyed the simply intimacy following their passionate coupling. Then Vincent pulled Wyl to his feet and helped the younger man dress.

“Are you ready to join the other, angel?” he asked solicitously.

“I’m fine,” Wyl replied. He knew his cheeks would pinken when he joined them. However, it had been what he and Vincent needed. He smiled into his mate’s broad chest. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

****

Vincent guided Wyl to the room he thought Yasmin most likely to have left the rest of his family. He smiled to find the others waiting, their anxious faces softening into answering smiles. David was sitting in Gabriel’s lap and at Vincent’s nod, the big Lycan visibly relaxed, nuzzling at his own mate.

“Yasmin is ‘speaking’ to Ishmael,” Seamus affirmed. “She is genuinely distressed at the whole incident.”

“If she wasn’t I would not have been so forgiving,” Vincent replied.

“We must ensure this doesn’t interfere with our mission,” Seamus said, ruffling Wyl’s dark hair as the younger man sat next to him.

“It won’t,” Vincent affirmed. “It was not a deliberate act against Wyl. Perhaps now Ishmael will take things more seriously regarding our world and its protocols.”

“Surely Ishmael is one of us?” Wyl asked.

“He has his sister’s longevity, but as yet has shown no signs of any mage powers. Because he rarely involves himself in our world he is ignorant of proper behaviour amongst our kind,” Seamus said. “However, I never expected him to be quite so stupid.”

“Let’s put it behind us and move on,” Vincent said, taking his place next to Wyl. “We have a new challenge to face and we need to work as a team.”

****

It was only a few more minutes before Yasmin arrived, with a chagrined Ishmael in tow, to escort the men to the room set aside for their discussions. The thick, black velvet curtains effectively blocked out the light and the room was illuminated by candles and lanterns. There was a mild aroma of rose in the air and numerous energy crystals were present. The group sat cross-legged on large, soft, floor cushions at a low table as Yasmin spoke.

“Our adversary seeks the Amulet of Vashti,” she said. She gave Wyl a soft smile, aware that the newest member of the group was unlikely to know of it or its history. “It is an amulet of power. Originally created to amplify a mage’s powers for any individual spell, it was stolen by a practitioner of necromancy who tried to pervert its use to only the black arts. When recovered, a spell-caster of light attempted to reverse this and in some way the amulet became imbued with power of its own. It is now as likely to act against its user as with them. Its power also increased and so it was decided it was safer to destroy it than keep it. It could be broken into five pieces, but nothing less. So the star points were given to spell-casters across the world and I inherited the centrepiece.”

All eyes moved to the pink crystal on a long gold chain around her neck that nestled just beneath her breasts.

“Because of its unpredictability, no one has bothered with it for centuries. However, two mages are dead and two star points missing. One of the remaining holders was already in this country and the other has been brought here for their own protection. We will be part of the group helping guard them, but also trying to establish who we face. It was deemed that I would be safe enough in your company. The first spell-caster to be killed was not thought to be the guardian of the star point and so we were caught off-guard.”

“It must be another spell-caster,” David said.

“Magic is certainly involved, but we don’t know who they are or who they work with. The use of mummies is almost unheard of now and requires a mage of great skill, power and mental ability. The talent is also ancient and arcane and beyond the knowledge and strength of most mages I know. It is not an aptitude I possess,” Yasmin said. “Yet if more than one spell-caster were working together, I cannot see how they intend to use the crystal. It will only work for one individual at best. Many eyes are watching rogues and dark mages and yet none appear to be our foe. I have asked a sister spell-caster to assist us. Ayesha has been a friend for many years.”

For those who regularly read my stories, please heed this warning. This story was written for a friend and is D/s.

With thanks to Blitzwing.

*

Stefan moved in to clean the table as the group headed out of the bar. Almost immediately it was filled with a new group. Friday and Saturday nights were regularly busy, so he knew it would be more of the same the next night. He trotted back to the bar to continue serving the seemingly never-ending line of customers. He liked working in this bar. Although it was predominantly gay, there were often mixed groups that enjoyed the music played there.

“Large gin and tonic, please. It’s really busy tonight.” The customer smiled companionably at Stefan as he placed his order.

Stefan returned the smile and nodded his agreement. He’d seen this guy here on a couple of occasions, but this was the first time they’d spoken. As he poured the drink, Stefan surreptitiously studied the other man. Where Stefan’s hair was strawberry blond and short, the other man’s was light brown and longer. It was too dark to see the colour of his eyes. But he presented a pretty enough picture so that Stefan would be interested if things looked likely to progress. He especially liked the way the other man’s smile seemed to light up his face. He decided he liked that look and would aim to see it as often as possible. As he took the proffered money, their fingertips brushed together and their eyes met.

“Do…ah…you get…um… a break here?” the man stammered shyly.

“I get fifteen minutes in about an hour,” Stefan said consulting his watch.

“I’ll be here. My name is Kevin.”

“Stefan,” came the reply. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

****

In his shower, Stefan cleansed away the night’s sweat and grime. He replayed the evening’s events. True to his word, Kevin was waiting as Stefan took his break. They had chatted comfortably enough. Kevin saying he was a departmental manager of a large store. And that he was single. Stefan smiled as he remembered that titbit of information. As he thought about the other man, Stefan’s hand roamed across his lightly furred chest to tweak at a tightening nipple. As one hand worked his nipples, the other began to stroke his rapidly hardening shaft. He wondered whether Kevin’s body was furred or smooth. His hand abandoned his nipples in favour of cupping his sac and rolling his balls. He thought of what Kevin might look like on his hands and knees, casting a sultry ‘come hither’ look over his shoulder. The hand working his shaft pumped harder, Stefan’s hips now snapping rhythmically into the tunnel his hand provided. With a grunt, his release spurted thickly on the wall of the shower to be washed away by the cooling water.

Stefan slept well that night, a lithe brunette featuring prominently in his dreams.

****

The next evening Stefan kept watching out for Kevin. The other man had assured him he would be in. Somehow Stefan missed his arrival. Instead he caught his first glimpse of Kevin in deep conversation with another man. Stefan knew the other man was a regular, but not his name. He realised he was getting agitated watching them. He growled angrily as he watched the man touch Kevin’s shoulder, elbow, side…

//Enough// Stefan thought angrily. He picked up a cloth to pretend to be cleaning and strode towards where the men stood. His anger was slightly appeased to notice that for all the touches Kevin was receiving he offered none in return. In fact, on closer inspection, he appeared to be trying to avoid them.

“Good evening, Kevin. How are you?” he asked smiling widely, as though he’d just noticed the other man.

“Stefan,” Kevin said, his face lighting up. “Good to see you.” The smile was warm and genuine and just a touch relieved.

“I will see you later? The same time as yesterday,” Stefan didn’t mean to make the suggestion sound like an order, but sometimes his English let him down slightly. He was Romanian by birth and had studied English only for a year. He was happy enough that the interloper seemed disgruntled that Kevin was pleased to see him.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Kevin replied in a husky voice.

****

Stefan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He prayed fervently that he hadn’t misread Kevin’s reaction. He spotted Kevin and strode purposefully forward. Clasping the other man’s hand he led him wordlessly upstairs to the least frequently used storeroom and pushed him inside, locking the door. As soon as he was satisfied they couldn’t be disturbed, he pushed Kevin roughly, but with care, against the wall. He had a couple of inches in height and breadth on the other man and immediately put them to use, standing aggressively over Kevin as he put his hands either side of his head, encircling him. He leant forward and was pleased to see Kevin wanted the kiss. Resisting the impulse to plunder this time, Stefan brushed lightly over Kevin’s lips once…twice…then crushed their lips together. As Kevin’s mouth opened on a soft ‘oh’ Stefan dominated the kiss. His tongue swept unchallenged into the warm wet cavern, tasting and possessing imperiously.

He slid his hands under Kevin’s t-shirt finding smooth, warm skin. kağıthane escort He caressed the soft belly before moving upwards and entrapping both nipples, delighted to find one was pierced and sporting a ring which he tugged on firmly as he continued to ravish Kevin’s mouth. The resultant thrust of slender hips and the bulge that pressed against Stefan’s thigh told the blond all he needed to know. He dropped a hand to Kevin’s groin and cupped the hardness he felt. He broke the kiss, stared into Kevin’s desire-darkened eyes and squeezed the cloth-concealed swollen flesh.

“Please,” Kevin begged. “Oh, God..yes…please.”

Stefan was squeezing rhythmically. He growled at the pleading tone from the other man. He unsnapped and unzipped, pushing the pants to pool around Kevin’s ankles. Impatiently he shoved the briefs to mid-thigh. Kevin’s cock sprang free to fit comfortably in Stefan’s hand. An inch or so smaller than Stefan’s own, cut and curling slightly to the left. He swung the unresisting man to stand with his back against Stefan’s chest.

“Lean back against me,” Stefan commanded and was obeyed immediately. One hand continued to fist hard flesh, the other tugged on the nipple ring. Kevin moaned mindlessly as Stefan manipulated his body. The blond bent to kiss and bite gently at Kevin’s throat, the darker man angling his neck for more of the pleasurable sensations. As Kevin writhed in his arms, Stefan felt his own shaft throb. Briefly relinquishing his hold on the nipple-ring, Stefan freed his aching dick. He pushed it along the cleft of Kevin’s ass and left it to nestle there as he resumed his erotic torture of the pierced nub.

“Yes,” Kevin murmured, feeling the hard flesh push up and down between his buttocks. He ground back shamelessly, lost in sensation. A twist to his nipple coincided with a hard pull on his swollen flesh. “Oh, God, comingcomingcoming,” he babbled. His cream pulsed free from his body and he felt Stefan’s hand drop from his nipple to his hip.

“Good boy,” Stefan growled, as he milked the other man. He then pushed Kevin to bend a little at the waist and jacked furiously at his own dick, coming in creamy strands across Kevin’s lower back and taut cheeks. He pulled the smaller man back to his chest and held him as their breathing gradually slowed. He reached for the towel he’d purposely left and cleansed both Kevin and himself. He also wiped the evidence from the floor. Dropping the towel to one side, he wrapped an arm around Kevin’s waist and drew him into a tight embrace. The hazel eyes were still pleasure-dazed and Stefan kissed the red, inviting lips.

“Next time I want you naked.” He relished the shiver of anticipation that the words engendered. The hazel orbs darkened and focussed on him.

“I’d like that,” Kevin said throatily. “Are you working tomorrow? If not would you like to meet for lunch, maybe spend the afternoon together?”

“I do not work Sundays or Mondays,” Stefan said, sucking slowly on a succulent morsel of neck and shoulder. “Tell me where and what time.”

****

Lunch was leisurely, the food good, the wine palatable, but the company was the most enjoyable of all. Kevin was easy to talk to and a good listener. Stefan told him of his decision to move to England, of his qualifications, the difficulty getting work commensurate with his studies in Hospitality Management. It meant that during the day for five days, Stefan had a waiting job and Thursday to Saturday that job was supplemented by the bar-work. Despite the difficulties in obtaining a position which reflected his degree, Stefan still enjoyed the work he did. He was, however, taking some additional studies using distance learning to move on. They found they had a similar sense of humour and the time slipped by quickly. As it did, their hands began to touch, fleeting fingertip contact becoming lengthier caresses.

“Would you like to come home with me?” Kevin asked.

The uncertainty in the hazel eyes make Stefan want to catch hold tightly to the hand that gently grazed across the back of his knuckles and kiss it reassuringly. Instead he locked his smouldering sapphire gaze on the sienna orbs and smiled.

“I would love to,” he answered honestly.

****

Stefan caught his breath at the luxury apartment on the city centre limits that Kevin took him to. A concierge sat and nodded at Kevin as the two men entered and, as they rode up in the lift, Kevin explained that the desk was manned 24/7. There was also a security guard in the back who monitored comings and goings. Five stories later, Stefan was entering the apartment itself. The living room was probably as big as his entire flat. Three walls were cream coloured, the fourth was glass, home to large French windows leading onto a balcony. There was a reclining seat and table outside and in front of the glass, a wooden dining table and chairs. The sumptuous suite was coffee-coloured leather, cushions, throws and rugs ranged from black to cream and it spoke of taste and wealth. The kitchen was partially obscured by a wall, but Stefan took in the breakfast bar and the blue and white of the cupboards beyond.

“Through there, Kevin etiler escort said indicating a door to Stefan’s right. “First left bathroom, second left, guest bedroom, first right master bedroom, second right a small office and at the end of the hall is a cupboard space for hanging coats and storing things. You like it?” he added, looking anxiously at the blond.

“It is quite magnificent,” Stefan nodded. “Very nice.”

“Can I offer you anything?” Kevin’s voice had become rougher, huskier and it immediately caught Stefan’s attention. “Coffee, beer … me?”

Stefan sauntered over to him and reached to stroke a smooth cheek. He pulled Kevin into a one armed hug as he smoothed a few stray hairs from the beautiful face.

“I thought you would never ask,” he grinned, dropping a kiss to Kevin’s nose. Then he crushed their mouths together in a hard, possessive kiss. “Here? Bedroom?” he growled.

“Please, Stefan, please,” Kevin moaned.

“What, baby? Tell me what you need.”

“You, Stefan. Take control? Please?”

Stefan rumbled as he mouthed at Kevin’s throat, the brunette having dropped his head back to offer easy access. Stefan was dominant without ever becoming a Dom and had bedded submissive partners without them being a sub. At the moment, he wasn’t sure just what it was Kevin needed, but he could certainly take control.

“Bedroom, now,” he rasped. He followed the other man into the master bedroom and swept his gaze around the room. The same cream and chocolate theme was evident in the light walls and dark, silken bedding. One wall was mirrored and clearly housed the wardrobe and the bed was king-sized. Unthinkingly Stefan licked his lips as he eyed the expanse of mirror and then turned a predatory eye on Kevin who stood, body visibly thrumming with anticipation and eyes darkened with desire. “Strip…slowly,” he growled. He stood watching as the other man disrobed, admiring each new piece of skin that was revealed. Kevin’s chest was lightly haired and the golden nipple-ring glinted enticingly. The skin of his abdomen was smooth, but a dark treasure trail led to a nest of curls that adorned the hard flesh Stefan had already touched. Flesh that was now erect, red and wet. “Turn around,” Stefan commanded. “Stop,” he barked as Kevin completed an 180° turn. He gazed at Kevin, devouring him with his eyes. “Bend forward, spread yourself,” he husked. He bit back a moan of appreciation as he was instantly obeyed. “Good boy. Get on the bed, on your back. Put a pillow under your hips. I want your arms above your head and your legs spread wide. Go.”

Kevin couldn’t stop the whimper as he did as commanded. He felt vulnerable yet safe. He was certain he could trust Stefan with the gift of his submission.

“Can you see me?” Stefan’s voice reached his ears and Kevin moved his head.

“Yes, sir,” he whispered throatily.

“Watch me,” Stefan purred. The blond knew he had a good body and he exercised to keep himself in condition. His muscles were well-defined without being overly-so. He had close to wash-board abs and was justifiably proud of the way his body looked. He posed for Kevin, allowing his hands to tease at his body, watching as the other man began to writhe his hands clenching and unclenching, before stalking to the bed. He knelt over Kevin, his cock hard and dripping, just millimetres from the other man’s mouth.

“Please, sir, please,” Kevin begged, his eyes never leaving the erect organ so close yet so far from his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” Stefan ordered.

“Let me suck you?” he asked, glancing briefly at the blond.

Stefan said nothing, but nudged at Kevin’s lips and slid inside as the smaller man opened to him. Languidly Stefan rocked his hips as he felt Kevin’s tongue swirl over his hardness, licking, sucking and probing at his slit. He made small sounds of appreciation before slowly withdrawing. He moved to lie between Kevin’s spread thighs. He ran his fingers up and down the splayed limbs, watching as Kevin trembled and gasped. His lover’s erection rolled languorously over his abdomen leaving silver trails of need in its wake. Stefan bent to taste them and gave a growl of approval. He heard the barely-there whimpers and raised his head to lean inches from Kevin’s face.

“Tell me you want my mouth,” Stefan husked.

“Yes … oh, God yes, please, sir,” Kevin pleaded.

“Here?” Stefan teased, nipping at an earlobe. “Or here?” he tugged at the nipple-ring. “Maybe here?” he nipped a satiny inner-thigh. “Or here,” he rasped, enveloping the turgid flesh to the root to a scream of delight that had his own flesh surging in empathy. Engrossed in pleasuring his new lover, Stefan was only vaguely aware of a barely-heard ‘please’. He continued to bob up and down, sucking hard and suddenly found his mouth filled with Kevin’s salty elixir. He swallowed rapidly, massaging his lover’s balls to milk every drop of Kevin’s crème. It was only as Kevin’s climax began to recede that Stefan registered what his lover was saying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Stefan looked at Kevin with concern.

“You enjoyed it, I enjoyed it. What is wrong?” Stefan didn’t like the frightened beyoğlu escort look on his lover’s face. This was not good.

“You didn’t give me permission to come,” Kevin whispered.

“Is that what you would have preferred?” Stefan asked. “I am not a Dom, Kevin. I would not presume to have forbidden you to enjoy what we were doing, not unless you specifically asked me to do so. Even if I had, I would not want you looking so afraid of me. I want to share pleasure with you. I hoped we may have a relationship. Please, Kevin, talk to me.” Stefan sensed that his lover would find it easier to talk if he felt secure. He moved to hug Kevin tightly and cradle his head. He felt the darker man nestle a little closer and was reassured by the action. He stroked Kevin’s back in an attempt to coax him to talk.

“I like being told what to do,” Kevin whispered. “I like putting myself in my partner’s hands, mild bondage and spanking, but not pain. My last boyfriend seemed to like the same things. Then he started ringing me and leaving me kneeling naked for longer and longer. When he spanked me it was hard and painful and he would still take me, sometimes ignoring the safeword I used, saying I was too soft and needed toughening up. I had to be naked as soon as he arrived, not look directly at him and call him ‘sir’. I was forbidden to come until he said and he was angry if I failed. Sometimes my punishment was to be tied to the bed, putting a cock-ring on me once he got me hard again and keeping me unfulfilled as he pleasured himself over and over. I began to realise that if he didn’t get me hard before we started, I wouldn’t harden because I wasn’t enjoying it any more. He was furious when I broke off the relationship and it’s taken a long time for me to try again.” The sigh was deep and heartfelt. “If you want to leave, I’ll understand. I’m such a screw-up. I’ve ruined everything.”

“Nothing’s ruined, baby,” Stefan murmured, nuzzling at soft, brown hair. “You are not a screw-up. Let’s take this slowly and make sure we do what’s good for us both. You like my mouth on your cock, what about your nipples? What else do you like?”

“I love my nipples being played with, mouth or fingers,” Kevin said throatily. “I like love bites, not bruising my throat, but discreet. I like knowing my lover has marked me … oh yeah,” Kevin’s words dissolved into a moan of appreciation as Stefan rolled him onto his back, pinched one nipple whilst sucking at his shoulder.

“What else?” Stefan growled.

“Rim…rimming,” Kevin panted, as his lover bit gently at his neck.

“Roll over,” Stefan’s voice was a dark, sensuous purr and the sinful sound had Kevin trembling with anticipation. “Pillow your head on your hands; you will be in this position for a while.”

Stefan let a finger tease Kevin’s cleft, stroking the soft skin hidden there. Kevin reacted immediately, gasping, eager and willing. Stefan wanted to make him writhe and squirm, and beg for more. He also loved the idea of controlling him this way, to make the smaller man go wild just with his tongue. Stefan firmly cupped Kevin’s cheeks, kneading the hot flesh, and ran a thumb down between them again. This time he spread the cheeks, displaying his lover. Stefan relished the moan and the already shaking legs. He held Kevin open, doing nothing but devouring him with his eyes. The sight of his lover totally spread open arousing him further.

Suddenly the blond needed so much more. He grasped Kevin’s hips in a tight grip, and his tongue caressed the cleft as a prelude for what was to come. He could feel Kevin shaking with eager anticipation under his hands, trying not to push back. It was Stefan in control. Stefan’s tongue teased his lover and left a wet path along his exposed skin. The blond licked around his lover’s opening and his hands cupped Kevin’s cheeks again, pulling them apart, granting him easy access. He moved slowly, licking and lapping, and didn’t allow Kevin’s moans to dictate the pace. The brunette was just so responsive, and Stefan felt his own cock getting harder and harder.

Kevin knew his role was to take, to let himself go. To submit not only to Stefan, but to the pleasure he was going to give him. Slowly he relaxed into the lovemaking, trusting the man whose tongue was giving him so much delight. He moaned softly and felt one of Stefan’s hands caress his cheek lovingly, gently. He relaxed further.

Stefan felt the conscious submission and probed gently inside his lover. He knew how his lips and tongue would feel on the delicate skin and took advantage of it. His tongue pushed back and forth, licking across the smaller man’s opening in soft, warm, wet strokes. He lavished undivided attention on this special part of his mate. Stefan felt the growing strain in Kevin’s body. The brunette wanted to rock back hard and take more of his lover’s tongue in him, his moans coming from deep within his throat. Stefan could feel the further relaxing of his lover’s inner muscle, opening to him more, allowing him to gain even deeper access. Kevin also spread his legs even wider- if that was possible. He looked and sounded so wanton like this, Stefan loved it, and a growl escaped his throat. One hand abandoned his lover’s cheek and travelled between his thighs. Kevin was rock hard again, and Stefan could feel pre-come on his cock. When he caressed the tip, Kevin bucked against him and called his name in a throaty rasp. Stefan’s tongue pulled away for a moment, making Kevin groan in frustration.

This is a true story. I hope you enjoy and I enjoy your comments too! Thanks.

***

I was parked in the lot of a park near the University of Texas at Dallas as the sun was going down. I would sometimes stop at this parking lot to stroke in my car before going home which was not too far away. I had also used the parking lot as a meeting place for hookups that wanted to suck my cock. It is a good spot, in that, the approach for cars and foot traffic are very visible and no one can really surprise you as long as you keep watching rather than closing your eyes while getting your tool worked. Of course, that is sometimes difficult.

Mine was the only car there until another small sedan pulled into the lot. I stepped out to smoke a cigarette and stare at porn on my phone. It was getting dark fast now. Dark enough that I had not zipped up nor fully put my dick back into my boxers after stroking some in my car before. I was extremely horny but had been unable to find an available sucker into car head (which is a big turn on for me).

After about ten minutes, I hear a car door close from the other car which was a good 100 feet away. A young twinkish white boy, clearly a college student, started walking over towards me. I was surprised because I had never been approached here before. He walked up and greeted me and asking if he might bum a smoke which I supplied. We started making mild chit chat and he asked me what I was up to and it was plainly clear to me that I was being cruised. I was thrilled!

I answered with “just hanging out here before I head home” and the tension was palpable. It was fully dark now. He clear saw that my pants were unzipped topkapı escort and I did not conceal that I had porn on my phone. I decided that fortune favors the bold and asked him if he liked to suck cock…which he replied with an enthusiastic yes.

I wanted him to get on his knees right there with my car blocking the view from the road, but he was too nervous for that. So, we got in my Corolla and I pulled down my trousers and boxers releasing my stiff cock. I’d been turned on for hours and the precum had been oozing for quite a while. My cock is a grower and was rock hard at its six and a half inch potential. Not the longest, but I do have some good girth and a well defined mushroom head. I was aching for some release and the wet spot on my boxers and the glistening cock head reflected that fact.

He leaned over the console between us and took me in his mouth. I drew in a sharp breath upon feeling his warm wet lips engulf me and I heard him moan as well. His tongue swirled around my head as he held me in his mouth and used his hand to squeeze out all the precum from my cock from root to tip. I love a sucker who likes precum because I ooze a river of it.

I checked around for uninvited guests while I felt him sucking and nursing my cock head as his right hand cupped my ample ball sack and he gently kneaded my balls. I breathed a little harder watching his head slowly go up and down. I ran my hand through his soft mop of brown curls and moaned with delight. My legs opened a little wider and I leaned the seat back a little more hoping that sweet mouth would take more of me in. He worked me up and down at a slow şişli escort steady pace twisting his head to the right and left from time to time. I heard him softly moan and his breathing increased. He re-positioned himself onto his knees so he was more directly over my dick. It was very clear that this kid was no newbie to sucking cock nor doing it in a car. I fucking loved it.

My left hand gripped a handful of his hair, an action he loved, because he throated me to the root. My leg shook with the pleasure of it and he whimpered his own. I told him he was such a good boy and a dirty cock sucker and his enthusiasm increased, It was clear that he liked a little humiliation and dominance which I supplied.

I pulled his head off my cock by the handful of hair and put his mouth on my sack. He moaned loudly and eagerly licked and sucked by balls. I pressed his face into my sack and pulled him off and onto my dick. His moans increased as my hips began to rock and my hand forced his head down onto me as I face fucked hm. His breathing increased and the slurping/gagging sounds uttered from him as I pumped his tight mouth. It felt so good to feel his face depressed into me and the tightness of the back of his throat as he struggled to yawn it open to avoid gagging.

I released him and he shot up taking in a deep breath. His watery eyes and wet chin enhanced the little wicked smile on his face. He loved the throat fucking. I told him that the three day load in my sack was his now to take. He lowered his head back down and draped himself across the seat and console. He surprised me because rather than start pumping my dick for that bayrampaşa escort load…he lightly and sweetly tonuged my cock head. The tip of his tongue flickered with energy at the hole and under the head. The sensation was electric to me. I squirmed and moaned in my seat. My legs shaking involuntarily as he worked it. All his skills were on display to me now.

I managed to look around again and the coast was still clear as started to pump and suck and lick and stroke my dick. The pressure and speed varied as well as the depth of his oral assault. Both legs were quivering now and my hips arched forward. My arms were spread with one hand on the door and another on the passenger seat. I felt the swelling beginning and I told him I would cum soon. His only response was to cup my sack again and start to pump my cock from tip to base with his mouth moaning and whimpering all the while.

Cries began escaping my tightly closed mouth as my orgasm approached. I cried, “Oh my God!” when the first jet of cum shot like a rocket from my dick coating the back of his throat. He squealed at the same time and my right hand pushed his head down deeper onto me. My left was white knuckled as the second rope sprang out and he swallowed as best he could. My body convulsed and trembled with each eruption and I tried to keep the volume of my ecstasy at minimum which was very difficult!

He squeezed my nuts as four more ropes of cum pumped forth into his hungry throat and mouth. I felt him swallow again and as the last rope exited me the tension released and I collapsed back into the seat. He slowly sucked me and worked out all the cum he could from my spent dick. I shuddered and trembled each time he squeezed the head. I sat there trying to breathe as my world spun around me. He gave my wilting cock one last head sucking pop and sat up. He smiled in the dark and whispered a thank you before exiting which I barely had the wind to return.

The End

Hey! My name is Jaymes and I am just dying to tell you about my first encounter with my lover, Ben.

I was a Freshman in college and a theater major. I was in the production week of one of the shows I was starring in, when I met this guy. He was about 6′ tall with medium length blonde hair, green eyes, and a muscular build. He was wearing all black, which really showed off his sexy muscles on his arms. I later discovered his name was Ben and he was lighting the show for us.

During our lunch break, I took my chances and hunted down this cute guy in the lighting booth. I knew he’d be alone, since no one else was allowed to work up there except for the techies. Everyone else had left for lunch, so he was up there playing with the lights. I climbed the ladder to the booth and took a deep breath as I stepped through the door. I guess I caught Ben off guard, because he jumped a little bit and I saw his hand quickly move from his crotch to the table. He flicked one of the windows off on his computer and smiled at me nervously.

“Hey, Jay! How are ya?” Ben eyed me closely. I could see that, through his black jeans, a lump was forming. I couldn’t help but put my hand in my pocket and re-adjust my growing erection.

“Fine, Ben. No one was doing anything exciting for lunch, so I stayed behind. Need some help?”

“Nah, just checking some things out on the internet here… needed some… uh… gels for the lights before the show!” Ben looked a bit flustered.

I looked at Ben suspiciously and tried for a sly comment and a smooth line. “Really? That’s cool. şişli escort Ya know, I was once a light tech myself in high school. Lemme check and see what you’re getting, so I can make sure that it’s the right stuff.” Before Ben could utter a word, I reached over and quickly clicked the window open of what he was looking at. Ben turned about ten shades of red as I got a look at what he was checking out. A picture of two hot guys in the shower feeling each others cocks and getting soaped up filled the screen. I grinned to myself and turned to Ben. “Looking for gels, eh?” Ben looked down at his lap in embarrassment. “Hey, man, that’s cool. You know, I think I’ve seen this site before. I really love this picture, don’t you? My cock’s about the size of his.” I watched Ben’s eyes light up, half in amazement and half in disbelief, while I pointed to a picture of a guy with a 7″ dick.

“You mean, you’re…?” Ben started.

“Gay? Oh sure… have been ever since high school. I was on the football team for a while and couldn’t stand staring at all those gorgeous guys in the locker room everyday. Gave me a hard on that was sure to cause some trouble if I kept it up. So I dropped the team and started acting. Found out you could meet a lot of accepting people in this field.”

“Well, I am straight, man.” Ben turned his eyes from my gaze.

“And is that why your cock is buldging out of your jeans like that?” I asked quickly. Ben smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

“So maybe I think of guys now and then. I’ve never done anything with them.” beşiktaş escort Ben answered me.

“Well, no one’s around. Wanna try something?” I asked devilishly. Before Ben could protest, I bent down and kissed his cheek and then lightly kissed his lips. He returned the kiss warmly, filling my mouth with his tongue, playing with me feverishly. I felt his hands reach up and grope for my cock through my pants. I shushed him and knelt down. Unzipping his pants, I watched as his 8″ dick sprang from his crotch. My delighted eyes grew wide and I flicked at the head with my tongue.

I watched as Ben moaned while the pre-cum oozed from the tip. I poked my tongue in the little hole and swirled it in his juices. In one quick motion, I took his entire length down my throat and sucked firmly and slowly. Ben was near screaming, and I squeezed his balls lightly and sucked each one in my mouth. I doubt he knew what was happening, but, in no time, he was moaning in pleasure as his cum spurted out from his cock and covered my face and tongue. I smiled and licked it all up. Ben sighed and reached for me. I kissed him and let him taste his own cum.

“I wanna please you, Jay! I wanna feel your cock!” Ben sighed and kissed me back.

“Do you still have your key to every room in the theater?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Even the catwalk?”

“Yes.”

“Then come with me.” I led Ben to the door which opened to the catwalk above the theater. He unlocked the door and we climbed the ladder to the platform that was suspended over where the taksim escort audience sits. From that height, we could see a few of the actors returning from lunch, so we kept it quiet. I pulled Ben’s jeans down to his ankles and told him to bend over. I licked from his balls up the sensitive skin all the way to his puckered hole. I flicked my tongue around it, and heard Ben try and suppress a groan. I got his ass all nice a wet with my saliva and slapped his cheeks a few times with my rock solid dick.

Slowly, I pressed a finger into his asshole and felt Ben tense up. He eventually got used to the pressure and loosened up enough for me to fit two fingers all the way in his ass. He was groaning, but biting his lip to keep from attracting attention from the others below us. I touched the tip of my cock to his hole and pushed gently. It slipped in without difficulty and I slowly moved the length of my shaft in and out. Ben began to get used to the feeling and he was bucking his hips back, urging me to thrust harder and faster. I could see Ben grabbing at his cock, and the sight of this turned me on so much. I could feel his ass shutting itself around my cock. It was so tight and warm, and I was getting close.

I told Ben I was gonna cum soon, so he began pulling on his dick faster and faster. I couldn’t contain it anymore. I began to feel that telltale throbbing in my balls and I shot off all over his ass, covering him globes with milky cum. It wasn’t long before Ben came as well. However, he was aimed in a not so opportune direction and he blew his load right off of the catwalk. I watched as it fell directly onto my friend, Jake’s, neck. He looked up quickly to see me and Ben half naked on the platform. A huge grin came across Jake’s face and he began walking out of the theater and towards the door to the catwalk, adjusting his growing erection as he went…

::Thanks so much to Niqqi_6 for editting

It was hot outside and we had nothing to do. We sat on the front porch in an old shack of a house. It was one story and looked to have been built sometime in the 1930s as deep in remote isolation as possible. Twenty years later the house had long since been without tenants; until about a month and a half ago when Jaymin and I discovered it and moved in. We had no money at the time, and what renovations we could afford were few and much needed. We had no idea who lived there before us or how long they had been gone. But it certainly seemed as if they weren’t coming back, for which we didn’t blame them. The shack was altogether lonely, even with the two of us there. Nothing except occasional cars on the dusty road half a mile away, visible by the brown-orange clouds. Interrupting the disturbing silence. The silence that only a shack in the middle of nowhere knows. And the loneliness was so oppressive, that neither Jaymin nor myself could stand more than a few minutes away from the company of the other.

Jaymin and I had sat in chairs next to one another after waking up late in the day, looking out into the oblivious blue sky. Before us, the sky was clear and empty and as desolate as the dirty sun-dried ground around us. I got up unceremoniously and Jaymin glanced away from the horizon of distant nothing to see what I was doing. I walked in front of him to the side railing of the porch and leaned against it with my forearms folded in front of me. From there I could see the sky behind the shack and the dismal overcast approaching. Another hot summer storm. This one was only going to be rain. No thunder, lightning, or any real winds. Disappointing.

I crossed in front of Jaymin again and sat back down, looking at the wooden chair that was broken in places but still sturdy. The heat from the minimal amount of physical exertion it took to move to the railing and back again flushed my face and an immediate sweat broke on my brow. Shadows were short and it was midday.

Once more the silence around us consumed the air, numbingly reaching into our inner ears until it was at last blessedly breached by the caw of a far-away crow. I looked over at Jaymin, utterly rugged with unwashed locks of thick brown hair falling around his head making him look beautiful and unclean. His face was browned even more than his natural tan by the midwestern sun and he wore old overalls with both straps hanging at his sides and off the chair. My eyes instinctively fluttered bağcılar escort from eye to eye; noting the depth of brown, then to his sharp jawline, his well pronounced pecs, down his abs, and to the tuft of hair where the overalls barely covered his crotch. All in an instant I took in his full, dark beauty. My blonde hair was wet with sweat, lying in graceful waves that framed my face. My eyes hurt from the sunlight, but I knew Jaymin was now staring at the blue that showed through my squint.

“I wanna do you,” he whispered to me with respect for the quiet. “Right now. Let’s go inside.”

The screen door swung lazily closed behind us and we walked into the bedroom. I pulled off the wet tank top I was wearing and unzipped my jeans. When I crawled on the bed, I saw him move over to the window to open it. No breeze came in to stir the stale air inside the dim room. With his hands on the bottom ledge he gazed out. I looked at him. His torso sprouted so masculine and hard and sculpted from the low-riding and clumsy wrinkles of his overalls. His head turned to me. The motion was softened greatly by his mass of brown hair through which he now ran his hand.

With little effort, he allowed the denim overalls to fall off his hips and to the floor where he casually stepped out of them. I was barely turned on and had come into the room with him only for something to do. We made love so often that it wasn’t really something I got too excited about anymore. Even though his narrow hips and firm body were divinely erotic, he was mine and I had had him many times before. He felt the same way about me, I’m sure.

He crawled onto the bed where I sat naked without even bothering to pull down the covers. He came forward and my feet went between his legs. All the while, his face was careless. This was more like masturbating with another person than making love. He sat on my ankles for a moment, holding his unerect penis in his right hand and pumping it gently to encourage it. I could feel his cheeks on my feet, warm and plush and smooth.

I sat up, leaned forward, and took his cock in my hand and stroked it for him. As it became hard, Jaymin stared at my face with a blank expression backed by secret emotion, touched by me doing this for him. I had to learn to read his blank stares long ago by looking into his eyes alone, not his face which remained always soft and distant. By his eyes I could tell what kind of stare it was. Whether he was sad, in thought, bahçelievler escort or in this case, amused as if our sex had suddenly become something novel and quaint.

We both leaned back as he kissed me. I fell into the pillow and his body weight pressed against me. Hands were around my face and moving across various regions of my body. Fingers were in my hair, and his hips were grinding against my dick until it became hard. The only part that made the experience truly worthwhile was, aside from the orgasm that was always invariably intense with Jaymin, the kissing. He pulled off my lips and got to work.

With his hands on my hips, he easily pulled me down the bed further to him. He cleared his throat, either to prepare to say something or to just break the silence. As my legs were lifted his hands glided up the underside of my thighs to their resting places beneath my knees. Now exposing my hole to him. This orifice he adored, as if it were some other entity apart from myself. He inserted himself. I closed my eyes, feeling his palms on my legs as he held me down in place. The heat emanating from his erection that pushed deeper into my body was always enjoyable. That heat let me know, on a deeper level of consciousness I think, that what was entering me was alive. That it belonged to someone who wanted to put it in me. That was what made it sexy.

He pounded into my hole for a good ten minutes. At one point, he released my legs and lowered himself onto my body, hugging my chest and nestling his head in my neck so that his almost inaudible grunts could be heard in my left ear. Those grunts in the silent day gave me chill bumps. It was sensual. And it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up with pleasure.

His thrusting continued. I put a hand to my own cock and jacked off. It wasn’t but another five minutes before I came; dribbled cum, not a ropey shot or even a substantial stream. The well had been dried by overusage lately. But the orgasm was, as ever, supernatural. For a blind moment undulating waves of pleasure swept through my flesh, pushing out the spirit so that I was floating above our bodies in bed. As I came back to my senses, I relaxed my muscles. Realizing that I had arched my back and rolled my eyes and head back, I opened my eyes and saw Jaymin looking into my face, still pleasuring himself with my hole. Which I appreciated and was glad I could do for him. I smirked despite myself and so did he. şirinevler escort

“You’re pretty when you’re like this,” he said in a husky voice, not referring to my physicality.

He laid back down upon me, snuggling with me as if the upper halves of our bodies were independent and unaware of the fucking that our lower halves were doing. His motions were no longer meant to give me as much pleasure as he could manage, but instead were simple and lazy, intended only to get himself off. I can remember our first several times in bed together. We both tried our best to impress the other, using all the tricks we knew. Until at last, we reached that point in our relationship where we ran out of those tricks and stopped trying so hard. That’s when sex became sexy. It wasn’t as spectacular or physically enjoyable as before, but it was real. Sexual. Sexy.

With his head and his soft hair at my cheek, I had looked out of the window at the sky while waiting for him to finish. The clouds had come in and there was a new overcast. My right hand swept lazily up and down Jaymin’s warm back. I don’t know how much time passed. I even thought Jaymin had fallen asleep until I realized I was still being penetrated. My mind wandered away, thinking about storms and rain and silent nowheres when suddenly, I was brought back by a hot and gooey feeling deep inside of me. I enjoyed it. It felt nice to have Jaymin shoot his seed in me. Almost as if we were trying to get pregnant. He fucked me for a moment longer, enjoying his orgasm. I felt his body shiver and tremble and I held him tightly to me, his heart pounding against the steady pace of my own. And then it was done.

His penis softened in my ass, submerged in his own semen inside of me. And we laid there. And I finally drifted so deep into daydreams, that I closed my eyes and fell asleep. After what seemed like a short but unknown stretch of time, my eyes reopened with the sound of rumbling thunder. Jaymin was awoke too, having fallen alseep in the same position his body collapsed in. He moved a little and his penis squirmed out of my hole just slightly.

I sighed. And there was the realization that it was raining. Warm drops that fell into the open window. And finally, with a broken voice Jaymin spoke with his breath still hot against my neck, “Michael…”

A moment passed where it seemed he searched for the reason he spoke in the first place. “I think I’m dying.”

We didn’t look at each other and my gaze still was turned toward the sky through the open window.

“Either that. Or. Uh… I think I may love you. I can’t tell yet… But I can feel it.”

He said nothing else after that, as if those words had been more physically taxing than making love. And then it was quiet save for the rain. And he pulled his cock out of me. And we laid there forever and ever until the storm was over.

Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

Please tell me what you think. Your comments will help me improve.

The first chapter of many. I hope you like it.

*****

I had come to Paris with my Uncle Andy as part of a “well done” package for completing my first year Uni. exams without too much hassle. I was after an Architecture degree and had kept up with the work and played quite hard too; all in a fairly vanilla way. But hey, I was still just 19 and had plenty of time to broaden my horizons and dip my toe (and anything else that would fit) into more murky sexual waters.

Uncle Andy had been around all my young life. I remember him teaching me to swim, me holding a football with outstretched arms while he held me gently under my waist and hips. His encouraging (and harmlessly provocative) banter; “That’s the way my big, strong boy. You’ll have the strongest legs and the biggest bum in the pool. Now Mike, kick for all you’re worth.”

And I did. I so wanted to impress this young man with his fit, muscled body and tanned good looks. I was barely a third his age and a pudgy, tallish child with no idea that by the time I was 18 I’d be looking at uncle Andy completely differently.

He was like a god; blonde, fit, toned and tanned. He’d taught me almost everything and now I wanted one more lesson.

“OK stud?” Andy teased, as he led the way out of the check-out area and towards the car hire desk. The fit, tanned male assistant with twinkling brown eyes, dark curly hair and a sophisticated aroma of expensive cologne was about the same age as Andy, (34/35) and speaking French so quickly I couldn’t understand. I was impressed how fluently Uncle Andy was keeping up. There was an aura of flirting and good-natured banter about the conversation. The desk attendant was looking my way and smiling and winking at me. Andy stage whispered that the guy fancied me and had a special price for the hire car if I went to the back room and sucked his cock. Every so often Andy and the guy would stop talking and look at me earnestly. This wasn’t like my uncle. He was normally so protective towards me. What was going on?

Suddenly Andy burst out laughing. Now the car rental guy looked puzzled.

Andy smiled over at me and explained that the questions were about my driving ability and did I want to drive in Paris?

“Was I old enough?” asked the assistant, and Uncle Andy had told the guy that I was old enough for anything he could think of and looking for new experiences in Paris. All said with a nudge and a wink to rub home any double entendre.

“Bastard” I muttered under my breath and tried hard not to redden up as they resumed their chat in French. My uncle signed some papers and picked up the keys. After a firm handshake and a weak smile from me we headed outside to the parking lot with the luggage trolley.

“You know, Jean-Claude back there would love to show you around. He reckons you are so young and inexperienced he could make you cum in 10 minutes. I said No way, More like 5.”

I slapped his shoulder in a playful but hard way and he winced with make-believe pain and we pushed on to the rental car park.

Andy had booked an Audi: a long sleek shiny, black automobile that promised speed and comfort. The interior was red leather and polished wood. I couldn’t help thinking, “crumpet catcher” but I hoped not.

We had fun inputting the hotel address on the sat-nav. and made our way round the ring road to the hotel. It had a wide pull-in area and we left the car to be parked as a young, slim, uniformed guy came and took our bags. He led us inside and waited nearby as we booked in to our room. Then he took the key from the receptionist, who had kept our passports, and led the way to the lift. I admired his tight-fitting trousers and waist-coat, thinking he was a lot nearer my age than Uncle Andy and if I was here alone I’d like to feel confident enough to make a move.

He was a hot, young Latino, about my age and slightly smaller in height. He certainly looked fit and good looking, with come to bed dark brown eyes, twinkling through long, black lashes.

Once in the hotel room it was obvious that we were sharing a bed albeit a large one, and since Andy was picking up the tab I didn’t want to rock the boat. He tipped the bell boy, giving him one of his special head to toe appraisals and getting a slight blush and warm smile back. As Andy palmed his bum as he escorted taksim escort him out of the door he muttered, “See you later, lad.”

He smiled as he closed the door and then headed for the shower and I settled on the bed and started to flick through the TV channels.

I must have dozed off because five minutes later I heard Andy calling me to join him in the shower.

“Hey It’s great in here. Plenty of room. why don’t you join me? Not still shy are you? Come and look at my latest tattoo. Bet you can’t spot it. It’s really discreet.”

Now one thing I loved about Uncle Andy was his body. Ever since the swimming lessons I had been attracted. He was fit and toned, with a tan to die for. I had to wonder how far the tan went nowadays. I remembered a brown body and a beefy white bum with marked tan lines. He had gradually acquired several tats to his calf, shoulder and chest .They were all very artistic and he had recently taken to wearing stubble, all of which reinforced his manly beauty. And I did find him beautiful.

I wanted to look like him. I wanted to speak and act like him. Most of all I wanted to fuck like him. On and on, never losing rhythm or intensity. I wanted to be a heavy cumer like him and a quick reloader. And how did I know all this about Uncle Andy?

Because ever since my 18th birthday he had been visiting me every month and fucking me senseless.

“Come on Mike. I’m getting lonely in here,” he shouted so I could hear him above the noise of the running water. I quickly stripped off and peeked round the bathroom door. It had a walk in shower and Andy was standing in the middle, water bouncing all over his fit, brown body. No sign of a tan-line there.

He had his back to the door and was soaping up his crotch with some enthusiasm. Before he could speak again I had stripped naked, slipped in behind him and wrapped my arms round his hard body and was kissing the back of his neck.

“Mmmm, now that’s what I need. A nice firm back rub.”

I pushed my groin into the firm orbs of his muscled arse. “Mmm” he murmured again. “Now who’s pleased to see me?”

I groaned as he spun me round and soaped up my chest and stomach. His deft fingers roamed expertly over my slim, hard six pack. “I see you’re a little excited Mike”, he said as his hands brushed my stiff cock. “Let me loosen you up a little,” and before I knew it he was probing my hole with a digit. He got one finger in up to the second joint and as I moaned and pushed my ass up in pleasure, he leaned forward and took my bottom lip gently between his teeth.

“Don’t let me do anything you don’t want,” he murmured in my ear. “But you are such a sexy young man, I can’t keep my hands off you.”

As if to reinforce his last comment I gasped as I felt another finger push its way between my hard, muscled bum cheeks to join the first.

“Ohh, Yes, yes, YEEEESSSSS!!” was all I could say. Uncle Andy had quickly and firmly inserted three long, slim fingers into my back passage and seemed to be enjoying waving them around in there as if to attract attention. So much for loosening me up. I was grinding my bum against the palm of his hand as he kissed my lips with abandon, running his determined fist down to grasp my rock hard cock, and then up, pinching my nipples and making me tingle all over.

“Oh Mike, you are so sexy,” he moaned in my ear. “I want to take you now, just as we are, naked and wet in the shower.”

“Oh yes, Uncle Andy. I love it when you –Oh, Oh, –OH GOD yes, YEESSS.”

Andy had hardly waited for me to agree and as soon as he felt my sphincter relax had spun me round ready for his final assault. And this was it. He had succeeded, without much effort, in getting his 8 inch stiff, erect cock past my muscle and into my love channel. I had arched my back and pushed out my bum and was gasping for breath as Uncle Andy, in the throes of abandoned passion, was humping his rock hard pole further and further up into my rectum.

Just at that moment I heard the hotel room bell ring and a cheery voice called out, “Room service. Where would you like the champagne?”

Andy, almost without losing stride called back “Just leave it on the table. I’ll be out in a minute.” He covered my mouth with a hand to muffle my pants and gasps but without much success as that was the moment he bottomed out and I let out an almighty “Fuuu…” which he stopped dead by squeezing my throat hard with both topkapı escort hands. “Ugg, MMMM. shtooo…”was all I could murmur.

“Sorry but you have to sign this now,” came back the reply. “Do you want me to come in there so you can carry on with… with… whatever you’re doing,” the steward said. “It’s no problem, I’m sure I’ve seen it all before.”

“Ok, I’ll just grab a towel,” called back Andy, but before either of us could make a move the bathroom door was pushed open and there, wide eyed with amazement, and with a fast growing erection in his tight black trousers, was the cutest Latino waiter I had ever seen. He was the spitting image of the bell hop from earlier but broader in the chest and in an even tighter pair of pants.

“What the fu…” he murmured.

Uncle Andy ploughed on, regardless of what we looked like. A broad smile spread across his face and he seemed to be enjoying the extra attention. He turned us to face the new-comer and pushed as deeply as he could with his stiff cock.

“Oh God yes. Fuck me Andy. Fuck me hard.” was how I greeted the newcomer. I was completely in the moment and wouldn’t have stopped for the hotel manager himself. Andy was holding my hips and thrusting hard and I could feel every inch of his stiff tool inside me.

The waiter was standing as close as he could get without getting wet. He had started rubbing the crotch of his trousers and they were now tenting out at the front.

Andy whispered in my ear as he snuffled and poked with his demanding tongue. “What say we invite him in? Bet he’d love to join us. You hold out your hand and see what he does.”

I released my hold on the tiled wall and reached for him, doing my best to smile and appear casual while all the time Uncle Andy’s rock hard dick was pounding my butt.

“Come,” I said and beckoned him in with us. The lad was only about 20 and could easily have been the older brother of the bell boy. A modern haircut, long on top and shaved at the sides set off a lovely pair of dark eyes. They twinkled mischievously as he licked his lips. He seemed undecided but suddenly made up his mind and began to undo his tight black trousers, stepping out to reveal a pair of muscled brown legs and skimpy red briefs, struggling to contain his engorged cock. With both hands he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, never taking his eyes off us. For our part we had slowed our love making and I was enjoying the slow fuck of my life. Andy was pushing gently in to the hilt, pausing and then pulling almost completely out before pushing in again.

“Come,” I said and held out my hand again. Our eyes locked and he smiled widely, then nodded in agreement. Our new visitor pushed off his shoes and socks and, just clad in the most revealing , skimpy red briefs, stepped into the shower with us. As I was nearest I took advantage and pulled him to me, enfolding his short, wiry, smooth body in both my arms. His head came to my chest and he started to pull on my nipples as I bent lower and kissed him. I was surprised by his enthusiasm as he bit my lips and pushed his tongue firmly into my mouth.

Fuck, could he kiss.

His hands found my stiff cock and he began pulling and yanking as though he would pull it off. I moaned into his ear and licked around it, biting the lobe provocatively as he pushed his briefly clad member into my groin, pushing and gyrating his hips forcefully. He was now, like us , dripping wet. Andy was still fucking me slowly and whispered to me to get his pants off. I moved my hands to his narrow hips and began to lower his red briefs. They clung to his wet body in a thoroughly sexy way, showing off the hard outline of his cock. When he realised what I was about he quickly pulled them off in one graceful movement and stepped out one foot at a time, bending to show off his firm buttocks until he stood before us buck naked in all his young manly glory.

“You like?” he cheekily enquired as he wiggled his firm erect cock and hard muscled arse. We both agreed that we liked it.

“Yes we like it a lot. Come here and let us show you how much.”

Andy pulled out of me and cleaned off his still erect cock with a fist full of shower gel and reached out, grabbing the waiters stiff member.

“Come here you stud,” he said and pulled him into a firm embrace. They locked tongues and groped each other firmly. Not wishing to be left out I nuzzled between them, forcing my tongue into each mouth beyoglu escort in turn and was rewarded by a firm slap on my buttocks from Andy and a good tug on my nips by slave boy, (as we quickly called him). Andy had pushed him to his knees and forced his cock into the gaping drooling mouth. As he held him down by the shoulders he applied firm pressure and slid his cock in and out of the willing, sucking mouth.

“Oh yes, oh yes, this is good. Nearly as hot as you lad,” he moaned. “Come on. You’ve not experienced a 3 some. This should be fun. Your turn.”

With that he pulled out and pushed me into line, slapping my arse so I bucked forward, leaning closer to slave boy, who stretched his head forward, engulfing my hard, dribbling cock and sucking it to the back of his throat.

“Oh god, you’re really good at this. What a tremendous suck. Come on man, deep throat me.”

As my cock disappeared inch by inch down slave boys gagging throat, I saw Uncle Andy move and stand behind his bum. He reached over the boys back and grabbed his hair, pulling his head forcefully back while murmuring, “Come on you slut. Take it. Take it all”.

Slave boy gagged and moaned. His eyes were watering and rolled back in his head. Then I felt his head lunge forward, engulfing me up to the hilt, as Andy forced his 8 inches fully into his hole in one thrust. What a slut; he took it all without a murmur.

“Cop that boy. Now really get working on my cock with your lovely tight bum.”

I could feel that tightness in my balls and the ecstasy of an impending explosion creeping through my groin. I renewed my thrusting and held his face as he moaned and sucked me deeper and deeper into his saliva drooling mouth.

I could hear several firm arse slaps followed each time by a gasp and a moan from the slave bent over before me.

“Oh yes, I’m cumming. Oh yes, yes,” moaned Andy as our coupled rhythm pushed the boy back and forward in time.

With that I felt my balls tighten and released a huge load into the slurping, gasping mouth. Slave boy was getting punished at both ends. Andy seemed to be shooting a huge load and seemed to be really enjoying it as he slapped arse and pulled nipples fiercely. I pulled out of the wide open gullet and half my load dribbled to the floor. I leaned forward and licked his lips with gusto. He opened his pretty lips and inserted a firm tongue covered in my cum into my welcoming mouth.

Meanwhile Andy had shot his load and pulled out. Cum dribbled from his cock and the sweet boys’ arse.

“God that was some hot fuck,” he said as he bent over and kissed me hard on the mouth. “Want to swap places and do it again?”

He knew I was quick to reload, as was he, and I leaned forward taking him in a warm, sensuous embrace. “You bet you big stud. Lets just clean up, relax, and have a drink or two. I’ll be ready before you are, old man.”

“I’m so sorry gentlemen.”

Our slaveboy spoke in a rich foreign accented voice. “But I must return to my duties. The manager is not kind if he finds anyone entertaining the customers without his permission. I don’t want to lose my job and I am on a last warning. But, for you young and handsome men, I could ask my brother, Paulo, to come up. I think he showed you to your room earlier. He is going off duty now and usually waits for me until I finish at 6pm. He would love to entertain you on his own time and I think you would both enjoy him. He is every bit as accommodating as me and just one year younger. The company are very strict about age. You like? Yes?”

As he spoke he was quickly drying and getting dressed. He was commando and, lacing up his shoes he winked at me and tossed his wet, red briefs at my feet.

“Keep these,” he said. “I think they’ll be a snug fit and they’ll excite my brother if you wear them when you are together.”

Shall I send up Paulo?” he asked Uncle Andy.

“You certainly will,” Andy replied, and he left the shower to produce a 50 euro tip from his wallet. He stuffed it in the waistband of slave boys trousers

“Thank you sir. My name is Miguel. Please ask for me if there is anything similar I can do for you. “But,” and he whispered as he looked furtively about as though he could be overheard. “Be prepared to pay twice as much if you contact me through the manager or hotel desk. Best to go through room service. Much cheaper.”

With that he batted his black eyelashes, smiled and let himself out. We heard his footsteps disappear down the corridor.

“Well, what do you make of that?” said Andy.

“I’ve no idea but lets drink some of this champagne before Paulo appears. Good idea of yours to order it.”

“Yes, but I didn’t order it. I thought you did.”

“What the fuck is going on?” asked Uncle Andy. “We’d better ask Paulo when he arrives.”

I had sat there at Joey’s beachside bar for more than an hour, watching the young man playing in the surf. When I’d first arrived at the bar, both bored and out of sorts, I’d seen him on his surfboard, riding the waves and doing quite well at it. At length, however, I saw him tire of that and come up on the beach and bury the tip of the board into the wet sand, with a strong force that, in itself, would have arrested my attention.

He was probably not over twenty and had a natural sensuality that made me catch my breath. He was tall, but not overly so, and on the lithe side, but even there, it was not at the expense of natural body tone, hard muscle, and a perfect balance of symmetry and beauty. His hair was dark, as were his eyes when he came close enough for me to see them. The hair was long and silky, and I was to learn it came down to below his shoulders, although when I first saw him it was tied back in a ponytail. The sun had tanned him deeply—he might even have been of Hispanic ancestry. His legs were strongly muscled without being heavy, and much of his body was covered—but again not overly much—in tightly curled black hair. His chin had that five-o’clock shadowing that so many young men prefer these days, and the body hair was more prominent on his forearms and legs and undergirded his pectorals, with a line running down his sternum and pronounced six pack and into the waistband of his low-rise, almost thong, navy-blue swimsuit. His nipples were pronounced, the aureoles large, and peeked out of his curly chest hair enticingly. A silver ring in one nipple only heightened the sensuality and mystery of him.

It was easy for me to be smitten. I had sent Scott packing earlier that day. It wasn’t just that he had become grasping and was taking for granted that I would give him anything he wanted just to be in my bed when I wanted him there. I had become bored with him. His only conversation was about some electronic toy or clothing item he wanted. And he’d become untrustworthy, hanging out with other men his age, whispering to them knowingly—I’m sure talking to them about me and what I did for him—what he did to me. And his eyes had been roving, like he was looking for his next sugar daddy rather than concentrating on the one he had.

He hadn’t been pleased when I’d had Thomas pack his bags and put them by the front door in the foyer and laid just enough cash out on the top of a suitcase for him to fly back to New York. But I had no commitment to him. I was bored.

Unfortunately, I also was horny and I hadn’t thought ahead too well. I wanted what Scott gave me. I just didn’t want it to be Scott who gave it to me. Always before when I’d come down here to the beach, I’d had someone in tow. I hadn’t had to go to bars alone or hadn’t had to try to cruise. I was a little too old for cruising, I had to admit. And I hadn’t had to do it for years. I always brought my young men down from New York—where they sought me out. Where they wanted to be close to me, to be seen with Peter Cordell, to appear perhaps in photos in the society pages, where they would be lurking behind me and whatever beautiful super model I had on my arm for public appearance sake.

When Scott was gone, I walked the streets of the resort town, thinking that I would enjoy doing so when I was free and when no young man was cajoling me to look in this shop or that and to buy him this or that. But I quickly found that I didn’t want to be alone. I just didn’t want to be constantly wheedled to give, give, give.

I’d found myself at the patio bar off the back of Joey’s—really just a vine-covered trellis over a deck out on the sand behind a rather seedy beach bar—and watching the activity on the beach. There wasn’t much of it.

But my eyes would have picked out the dark, young man even if the beach had been crowded. He moved like a dancer. Fluid motion. As he moved, I could see his burnt-gold skin stretching over hard muscle. This was accentuated when he stretched out as he drove the front edge of the surfboard into the sand. In what was almost a connected, extended motion, he’d stripped off the tight black Lycra leggings he’d been wearing to surf—and I almost became breathless at seeing him just in a skimpy swimming suit. What were surely heavy balls and a thick cock were pulling the front of the thong-type suit down to where I could see a good inch of curly black pubic hair. I found that the beer glass I was holding was trembling. I wanted to palm his belly and move my hand down under that waistband.

After he had planted the surfboard in the sand, he walked slowly up the beach toward where I sat. His eyes were cast off to the side of me, though, and his feet were carrying him on a veering path off toward my left. For the first time I looked along the beach at the verge between sand and vegetation and saw that there was a line of red- and white-striped cabanas, the door flaps of some closed and of others lifted on stakes to make a sort of entrance porch.

The young man was moving toward the first of these, his smiling eyes latched fındıkzade escort onto an older man sitting on a beach chair in the shade of the open and raised flap of the first cabana to my left. The man looked like he was in his late fifties. A banker perhaps. He too was deeply tanned. His hair was gray, including a thick patch on his chest. I wouldn’t say he was heavy, but he had the look of a man who once had been well-toned but was beginning to be defeated by time. Distinguished looking, though, at least from the side angle I got. And his eyes were plastered on the movement of the young man as he approached.

And whose wouldn’t be? I know mine were.

The two only had eyes for each other, though, and as the young man drew closer, I saw that he had a gorgeous, almost mischievous smile that melted hearts and launched propositions.

The young man stood there in front the older man for a brief moment, as they conversed. The older man had been reading a hardback book, which he turned over in his lap without closing it.

I watched, almost in shock, as the older man put a hand on one of the younger man’s thighs and the younger man leaned forward and took the older man’s lips with his, while one of his hands slipped underneath the book on the older man’s lap. The older man responded, the two of them still lost in the kiss, by raising his hand from the other man’s thigh and cupping his basket through the barely covering material.

They came out of the kiss and the older man rose and turned and walked into the cabana. The younger man looked around—I looked away just in time for him not to think that I had been watching—and then entered the cabana as well, pulling the flap closed.

I sat there, trembling, for several minutes, not realizing that I was holding my breath until I almost passed out from the lack of oxygen.

I couldn’t help myself. I was drawn to the cabana like a moth to the light. Standing and looking around to see if anyone was watching me, I sauntered—or tried to make it appear like I was aimlessly sauntering—off the deck and onto the sand. I’d already paid for my drinks. I walked off to my left, down the beach and parallel to the water’s edge until I’d passed four cabanas. When I reached the fourth one, I walked around to the rear of that cabana and started working my way back toward Joey’s, all the time looking around as casually as I could muster to see if anyone was watching me. There was almost no one there. It was late in the season and a weekday. The resort coast was nearly deserted.

I had already seen that the cabanas were constructed like panel flaps, so that the material didn’t bend around the corners and the panels of the tents would lay flat when the cabanas were taken down. The material was slit there and the corners were held together by a series of ties from ground to roof. Standing at one of the back corners of the cabana, I could easily part the panels between ties enough to spy what was going on inside.

I almost gasped as I saw the older man, chest down on a beach lounger, and up on his knees, his buttocks in the air, with the younger man, crouched athletically over his hips, hands clutching the older man’s waist, and slow fucking the older man, using the leverage of his feet on the lounger next to the older man’s thighs for control in the rhythm of the fuck. The young man’s black, silky hair had been let loose and it did, indeed, cascade to below his shoulders. It shimmered in the rhythm of the fuck. The sounds and murmurings both made indicated that they were taken with each other and thoroughly comfortable in the fuck. They weren’t hurrying; there was nothing furtive in their coupling. This wasn’t a chance encounter, I knew.

They were displayed at an angle from me, their butts toward where I was positioned. The older man’s buttocks were milky white, but there were almost indistinct tan marks on the younger man’s undulating buttocks. I watched, mesmerized, at the beautiful butt cheeks of the younger man clinching and expanding as he fucked the older man. And I gasped again when I saw the younger man’s cock withdraw a good half foot from the ass of the older man without losing purchase and then sliding in again. And again, and again, and again.

My hand went to my zipper. In time, the younger man moved the older one to his back and crouched between his thighs, lifting his legs up and out, and continued fucking him in long, steady strokes. The younger man lowered his face to the older one’s periodically and they kissed like longtime lovers.

The older man was moaning and clearly was in seventh heaven. Who wouldn’t be?

When I had come, I zipped myself back up and withdrew. I couldn’t bear anymore. I wanted the young man to do me too.

I left the beach then and went cruising. I knew all of the bars to go to, but it was low season already and the pickings were slim. I regretted having thrown Scott out now rather than when we got back to New York. But that didn’t matter aksaray escort much. I wouldn’t have wanted Scott for the same reason that I didn’t find anyone in the bars that night who I wanted. I wanted the young man on the beach.

I spent a restless night, dreaming of me and the young, burnt-gold man with the long, silky black hair. I got up in the morning, went to the gym, and ate a humongous breakfast at a pancake house on the main boulevard. I was fagged out when I got home and fell onto the bed and slept for two hours. At three, I got up from the bed, already knowing where I was going.

I was the only one that early in the day on the back deck at Joey’s on the Beach. The beach was deserted and the flap was down on my angel’s cabana. That’s how I was thinking of him—my own dark angel. And mine. After one beer, which I nursed for a half an hour, I started thinking of leaving the bar. But just as I was about to rise from the bar table, the flap came up on the cabana, and the young man jogged out into the sunlight. He was wearing a black bikini swimsuit this afternoon, the sides of which were held together by large metal rings. He had a large, multicolored beach towel under his arm, which he dropped on the beach a few yards above the high-water mark, and he was holding a pair of sunglasses in one hand, which he leaned over and put down on the towel after he had spread it out.

I took my breath in and held as I watched the muscles stretch in his lithe body as he leaned over the towel. He only lingered there a minute, though, before he turned and ran into the surf. When the water was above his knees he dove into an incoming wave and I lost sight of him. I didn’t let my breath out until I had.

He was out of sight now, swimming out into the water, although I fancied I could see his head and the curve of his churning arms from time to time out beyond where the surf was breaking.

I turned my attention to the cabana. The older man emerged, raised the flap on the poles and stood there, his eyes shielded by a hand, obviously searching for his lover out in the ocean.

I couldn’t help myself. As he stood there, I compared him to myself. He was older than I was, and not in as good a shape—certainly heavier than I was—and, although he’d been well-muscled at some point in his life, there was a sag of skin under his upper arm as he held a hand over his eyes. There were other signs that he was losing his muscle tone, and his tanned skin looked just that way—tanned to a leathery brown. I fancied from what I could see that he wasn’t as handsome as I was. I know, from my observations of the previous day, that he wasn’t as well-endowed as I was. He could be richer than I was, although most certainly not as accustomed to fame—in New York and internationally, at least. I didn’t recognize him as anyone of import. Of course, perhaps my dark angel wouldn’t be as impressed by the nature of my fame as some others would. Still, there was the possibility that my dark angel was a dancer; he certainly moved like one.

What did this old man have that would make the dark angel choose him over me? Nothing, I optimistically told myself. So, it was mostly a matter of getting the young man’s attention.

While I had been assessing the older man who now was sitting in the beach chair under the cabana flap and had opened his book, the younger man had returned from the ocean and now was lying on his belly on the towel.

I gasped and my hand involuntarily went to my crotch when I saw it—it was lying there beside him on the sand, next to the towel. The black bikini. He must be naked, taking the sun in totally, I now realized. I ached to go out onto the sand and see him this way. It didn’t matter that I’d seen him naked and fucking the older man the previous day. There was something so much more sensual about seeing him naked on a towel on the beach—where anyone else passing by could see him too.

I kept my eyes riveted to him, fantasizing going out there and straddling his hips, holding his cock erect as I descended on it, and leaning over and taking that nipple with the ring in my mouth and teething him until he groaned and lifted my face to his in a long, lingering kiss. When he turned over, I had looked away momentarily, and I castigated myself for not remaining alert and on watch, as if just a brief glance of him would make my day.

And it obviously would, because there, while I was watching him, he stood in all of his glory, facing my direction, his glorious cock and balls hanging free in a patch of black, curly hair between his thighs, as he reached down and picked up the bikini and put it back on, reattaching the rings somehow at his hips. That’s when I saw that he had a ring in his cock head too, and I felt my sphincter muscle clutch, already feeling it rub against my inner channel.

And then he was walking. Not toward the cabana, but toward Joey’s. I tore my eyes away from him, looking down into my almost-empty beer glass, as he climbed the three eyüp escort wooden steps to the deck. As I was looking down, I could see his feet and I wanted to groan. The feet were slim, but long, the toes also slender and long. And there was a patch of black hair on the top of each one. I was feeling very hot.

I heard him ask for a drink and then say, sorry, that he didn’t have money with him and that he’d have go to his nearby cabana and . . .

I built up the courage to intervene at that point. I think my voice sounded strained and squeaky. Nonetheless I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by so I stood and offered to buy his drink for him—”and I need another beer too, bartender”—so that he could quench his thirst before having to traipse over to the cabana and back.

“Yes, thank you . . . if I can join you for the drink.”

Could he join me? I was doing all I could do not to hyperventilate.

“Have you been swimming in the ocean yet?” I asked. “Is it too late in the season to do that? The temperature too cold?” I felt like an idiot for not coming up with anything better to say than this. And then he proceeded to confirm my idiocy.

“Surely you know I’ve been swimming in the ocean, Mr. Cordell. You’ve watched me do it, haven’t you? Yesterday as well as today.”

I was shocked, but then I felt all sorts of posturing and foreplay was being brushed aside. He obviously was in the game. And I knew this game so well. He was approachable.

“You know who I am, do you?” I didn’t have to sound surprised. I was. Not necessarily that he’d know who I was, given what he obviously was. But that he would be so straightforward in getting to the bottom line. It was almost refreshing.

“Yes, of course. You’re the Peter Cordell who produces for the Metropolitan Opera, aren’t you? I read the New York papers.”

“Yes, you have me there. And you are?”

“Raul. You can just call me Raul.”

Ah, yes, Hispanic. I very much liked the passion of a Latin lover. Scott was West coast, sun, beaches, muscle shirts, and all about himself.

“Ah, the newspapers.”

“And we have a few mutual friends too.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. For instance, I know one of the members of the Met’s permanent dance troupe. Jason Deavers. You might remember him.”

“Yes, of course.” Certainly I remembered Jason. I opened my legs for him nightly for a month two years ago. Raul most certainly was direct. Well, I could be direct too.

“I would like to see you. Away from the beach,” I said. I turned my face to him and looked directly in his eyes.

“I’m rather attached,” he responded.

“Yes, I have seen that. But you may be interested in reassessing your situation.”

“I rather doubt that,” he answered. I looked away then. This obviously was going to be expensive. He wanted to haggle. But then he surprised me.

“Did you know that they give performances in the old opera house in Charleston?” He asked. “The local troupe is quite good, I think. I have an extra ticket for a performance of Mozart’s Idomeneo for tonight. It’s a powerful work—Greeks and fated lovers and tragic promises and all. Very melodramatic, but not much performed anymore. If you wouldn’t be too averse to a busman’s holiday . . .”

“He certainly is resourceful,” was my thought as I clothed myself in a tuxedo that evening, after having already been to the barbers and then having a long shower and primping and making myself the best I could be. He was going to great lengths with me. This then, I knew, was going to be very, very expensive. But I had seen him fucking the older man, and I was assured that he would be very, very worth it.

The ticket he left for me was for one of the private boxes high up above and at the corner of the stage. It was angled, so that no one from the audience could look into the box, and only singers positioned well up into the height of the set could see much of anything in the shadows.

I was the only one in the box until shortly after the first interval. In the interval, I had craned my head out around the edge of the box and scanned the audience and seen that, yes, both Raul and the older man were seated in the orchestra section. Raul looked magnificent in his tuxedo. That must have cost the older man a fortune. And the older man was probably paying for all of these empty seats in this box as well—and perhaps didn’t even like opera. Raul had his hooks into that man really good. He should be grateful that I intended to take Raul away from him.

After the lights went down following the interval, I felt more than heard that someone had entered the box. I turned my face and saw that it, indeed, was Raul.

There were practically no preliminaries. I heard the zipper of his tux trousers being lowered after he’d sat in the chair beside me and felt the hand on the back of my neck, coaxing my face down into his lap. And to the glorious live, opera music of Mozart, sung rather well for the provinces, I gave Raul the best blow job performance I could muster up—luxuriating in my tongue’s play with his cock ring.

He stopped me short of making him come, though, and I watched in fascination as he took a condom packet and a tube of lubricant out of his jacket pocket. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Strip off your trousers and briefs, please, and sit on my cock. Oh, and you look quite handsome tonight.”