Across the Road
This is a true story about gay sex between a group of consenting adult males. If this offends you, you are under 18 or it is illegal in your country, please close the file and leave now. Otherwise, read on and enjoy!
Chapter 2 - Next Morning
I looked across to the bedside cabinet; the clock there said 6:45, there was plenty of time yet. Stewart and Eric were lying on their backs, their slow, rhythmic breathing attesting to a deep, untroubled sleep. Keith was on his front, twitching and breathing more unevenly; all were covered only by a sheet, the duvet was on the floor. George was nowhere to be seen.
I slid out of the bottom of the bed from between Stewart and Eric, their flaccid dicks were clearly outlined as I laid the thin sheet back over their naked bodies. I couldn't resist a quick grope but their breathing continued its steady rhythm and their dicks remained dormant. There was a distinct twitching in my groin but that would have to wait.
Keith was now uncovered and as I gently felt for his ass-hole, I had to step sharply back as he suddenly turned over. His short, thick dick sprang immediately to attention and shot three or four spurts of creamy spunk on to his chest. He groaned a little but his breathing steadied as he quickly settled back into his slumbers. I had never seen a wet dream before and could not resist scraping some of his load on to my fingers, licking it off and swallowing it down my parched throat.
Still naked, I made my way downstairs. I noticed that the pair of white Chinos half way up the stairs was not accompanied by any underwear - so I was right, George didn't have any pants on last night. I looked into the deserted lounge, discarded clothing littered the floor. The cushions from the settee were bunched up on the floor where our bodies had been. I switched off the redundant television set, its still blue screen disappearing into a blurred spot in the centre.
I went through into the kitchen, George was leaning on the counter, drinking a mug of coffee. His smooth, black ass matched the texture of the worktop but was in stark contrast to its polar whiteness. His flaccid tool protruded from his thick pubic bush and lay neatly over his ample, hairless balls. He made no effort to cover himself as I walked in. I soon noticed that both of us were stealing glances at each other's kit.
He greeted me warmly and poured me a mug of steaming coffee. It seemed to be the most natural thing in the world for two naked men, barely known to each other, one old enough to be the other's father to be standing in someone else's kitchen at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning drinking coffee!
After a few minutes banter, I could not resist reaching out for his tool and rolling it briefly in my hand. I fancied it began to harden, mine certainly did as he grabbed it and went down on me. In one smooth movement, almost before I realised, my hardening dick was in his ample mouth and one of his fingers slid smoothly up my ass. He worked with his tongue on my throbbing tool and with his finger on my sensitive prostate.
Quickly, he brought me towards a screaming climax I could not resist and in less than a minute, I was shooting my load down his red-hot throat. By then, his own dick was throbbing against his belly, the purple knob glistening with a hint of pre-cum. He pushed me gently away as he wanked himself vigorously to a quick climax, shooting five or six jets of his cum clear across the kitchen. As it dribbled slowly down the front of a cabinet, he was down on his knees licking it from the cupboard door and swallowing hungrily.
I needed a shower and had to get to work! I pulled on my discarded clothes I had sorted from the pile on the lounge floor. I took my leave of George, promising to see him again soon, slipped quietly out of the front door, across the road and into my own house. Just as I closed the door, the telephone rang; it was my wife, 'Where had I been when she called last night?' she wanted to know. Thinking quickly and not wanting to tell her an outright lie, I said that I must still have been out of the house, explaining that I had spent most of the afternoon clearing up the garden. She said it would have been pretty dark by then, but apparently accepted my explanation and dropped the subject.
I said that I was about to get ready for work. We chatted for a few minutes, she hoped I wasn't too lonely on my own, she said loved me, promised to call me again that evening and all the usual stuff, before ringing off.
I threw off the clothes I had put on only minutes before, quickly shaved, stepped into the shower and luxuriated there for a good ten minutes before towelling myself dry. Still naked, I went to the kitchen, made myself some tea and popped a couple of slices of wholemeal bread in the toaster. I wolfed down some cereal while the toast was cooking. I ate the toast and drank the tea while reflecting on the events of the last twelve hours.
As I quickly washed the pots, I enjoyed a few more minutes of total nudity. I loved the freedom of being naked around the house, something my wife would not allow when she was around. Little did she know that whenever I got the chance when she was out, I would strip off and enjoy that luxury. Now and then, I had even had the chance when working on my in some remote spot to get stripped off in the open air. Inevitably that led to a fabulous, if lonesome wank.
As I went to the bedroom to get dressed for work, I wondered what was happening across the road. I would have to get an update from Stewart just as soon as I could!
I got to work on time and followed Jacques into the office. He was about my age, average build and looks, a Frenchman who had been married to a British woman for twenty-two years and had three kids, all in their teens. I had once shared a twin room with him on a business trip. After dinner, we both had a drink too many and let our hair down a bit. We told each other things we probably ought not to have. Although nothing happened between us, we found that we both shared an interest in men, usually other married men, nothing serious, just an occasional fling.
Tom was already at work having been on an earlier shift. He was about thirty years old, around six feet tall, with fair curly hair, blue eyes and looked pretty fit. He had been married to Claire for about two years and made no secret of the fact that they were trying their utmost for a baby. She also worked for our company and, when the time was right, he often sneaked out for a lunchtime shag, though so far apparently without success.
I was the manager in the major faults escalation bureau of a telecommunications network operator, but being Easter Sunday, it was pretty quiet so about ten o'clock, I told Tom he could go an hour or so before his shift was due to end. I mischievously added that he would be able to spend more of his Sunday with Claire. Jacques gave him a knowing look and added a ribald comment about New Year babies and Tom was gone.
We had other work to do but somehow it was always the same on a Sunday, the staff just concentrated on the issues of the day and left the routine stuff for Monday when we were fully staffed. Jacques and I chatted for some time over a coffee and I mentioned that Helen was away for a week with her parents. In his direct way, he said I was so relaxed that he thought that I must have had some good sex last night. Just to tease him, I said that perhaps I had and changed the subject.
An hour or so later, he came into my office and suggested some lunch. I was in the middle of checking overtime returns and expenses sheets so I told him to sit down while I finished. I just sensed that he had some other problem he wanted to raise. After some idle chat as I worked, he suddenly said that he was not getting enough sex at home and asked what I had meant by my earlier remark. I reminded him that I shared some of his interests and started to tell him about Stewart. His ears pricked up, he began questioning me and as I answered him truthfully the front of his trousers betrayed his excitement. I was determined to make him suffer and mentioned that I had come four times in the last eighteen hours, all at the behest of men young enough to be my sons.
Jacques turned the tables on me - how would I like to see what he could do for me? My dick was once more beginning to swell with the memories of last night, so without answering him, I opened my trousers, whipped it out of my briefs and began to slowly wank. At that, he stood up, dropped his own trousers to his ankles revealing an eight inch, neatly cut specimen of erect manhood. No sign of underwear, I noticed - this seemed to be getting commonplace, maybe I should try it?
He shuffled round to my side of the desk. How could I resist a hard dick at mouth level? Jacques equally couldn't resist reaching down for mine but just at that moment the emergency telephone rang and within seconds we were our normal, professional selves, sorting out the problem. Half an hour later, it was fixed and Jacques reminded me that we had not had lunch. Being Sunday, the canteen was not open so I suggested that he went out and got us a pizza or something whilst I held the fort.
Twenty minutes or so later, he was back with pizza, some of the spicy Italian sausages our local pizza place specialised in and salad. Between a few routine telephone calls we ate our lunch and chatted, mostly gossip about colleagues. Jacques mischievously wondered if Tom had had his end away yet. I had nearly finished eating when I picked up the last but one remaining sausage and suggestively sucked it right into my mouth. Jacques nearly choked on his pizza but then without a word, dropped his trousers, picked up the last sausage, turned his back to me, bent over and slid it right out of sight up his ass!
Then the emergency phone rang again, I spat my sausage out, Jacques pulled his trousers up and sat down at his computer terminal to sort out the problem. Half an hour or so later, I noticed him sitting more and more uneasily on his chair. I assumed he just wanted to pee, so went to take over from him. But it wasn't just a pee he wanted. The peppery sausage, still embedded in his ass was having a wonderful effect. It was burning his gut, he had a huge erection which he had slipped out of his fly and was indeed bursting for a slash! Several things had to be done. First, I deep throated his dick and took only seconds to relieve the pressure in his spunk laden balls. Then he stood and ejected the sausage, with a huge explosion of wind, fortunately nothing more!
By now the problem on the telephone was solved; little did the caller know of the distractions in the office! By now his dick was soft enough to pee and he grabbed the nearest waste bin and let fly. I had my hardening dick out again and as soon as he had finished, Jacques was down on me and it didn't take long before I was again shooting the spunk from my balls, this time into his willing mouth.
By now, our shift was coming to an end. Our colleagues would be taking over shortly so we got cleaned up, emptied the waste bin and adjusted our dress - only just in time. Henry was first. I said I would wait for Barry and told Jacques he could go; Henry looked quizzically at the two remaining sausages amongst the discarded food packaging but said nothing.
Barry soon arrived and I dealt with a couple of queries on his time sheets before packing my briefcase. On the way out, I noticed Henry munching one of the spare sausages and Barry the other . . . .
To be continued; if you liked my story so far, let me know, tell me what it did for you - mailto:nakednick2@btinternet.com