BOND WEST II
by Russell S. res1961@sbcglobal.net
(M, M) story includes homosexual sex of a graphic nature, which is kind of the point of these stories, don't you think? Let me know if you liked it, I appreciate the feedback.
A second episode of the activities of Bond West, a young man making his living as an escort to other men; generally any man with the cash.
II
Bond heard his cell phone ring as it lay on the table in the other room, but couldn't answer. His immediate attention was needed somewhere else, stirring the spaghetti sauce before it burned. It was 6:00 pm, his roommate, Brent, would be home any minute, and it was Bond's turn to cook dinner. He didn't mind taking his turn in the kitchen, he just wished the damn phone wouldn't ring as soon as he got busy. Stirring the pot quickly, he bounded for the phone, but couldn't catch it before his voice mail picked up. If it was a client he hoped they'd leave a message. He'd not had a call in two days and a little cash in his pocket would be perfect just in time for the weekend. Bond chastised himself for not taking the phone into the kitchen with him, but he'd had it with him in the other room watching TV when he heard the sauce begin to bubble and splatter on the stove.
He returned to the kitchen, taking the phone with him this time. He continued with the dinner preparations, buttering French bread and sprinkling it liberally with garlic salt.
The apartment door opened with a click of the lock, then Brent announcing his presence. "Honey, I'm home."
"How many times have I heard that?" Bond wondered to himself. Brent made the same comment every time he came home knowing it was Bond's turn to cook.
"I'm in the kitchen," Bond said loudly, his voice carrying down the hall to Brent's room. Momentarily, Brent joined him.
"Just where you should be," Brent teased as he came to stand next to Bond at the stove. "Smells great, darling."
The two boys had a platonic relationship, for the most part, although Bond held a simmering attraction to Brent. Instances of sexual play between them in the past had not fostered anything serious. Bond wondered if Brent ever had fantasies of the two of them together, something he himself had had off and on for several months. No doubt about it, Brent was hot. And he was single. Bond's line of work was still a secret, the only thing holding him back from trying to get closer to Brent. One day Bond would spill the beans to his roommate, about his attraction and his line of work.
Brent moved to the sink, his feet making soft padding sounds against the linoleum. He was always barefoot at home, even in winter. Taking a glass from the cupboard Brent ran it full of water, then quickly gulped it down. Bond glanced back at him, watching the muscles in Brent's arm define even further as he lifted the glass to his mouth. Brent's dark hair spilled off of his head, partially covering his ears before layering down the back of his neck, the strands flowing outward as he tipped back to drink the water.
BEEP...BEEP...BEEP chirped Bond's phone. He had a message waiting.
Picking up his phone, Bond dialed into the message. He immediately recognized the voice of one of his regular clients, Charles.
"Stir the sauce and spaghetti, please?" he asked, holding the phone to his ear and walking toward his room. "Got to take this message."
"Sure," Brent acknowledged, taking up a nearby spoon coated with tomato sauce and bits of meat, licking it clean when he knew Bond wasn't watching.
In his room, pad and pen in hand, Bond listened to the message again, writing down what he needed to know.
"Hey, Bond," the recording began, "give me a call in the next few minutes, I'm free tonight and would love to get together. The usual thing. Around 8:00. Let me know. Bye."
Bond glanced at his clock; 6:15. Plenty of time to eat, then get ready for Charles. Scrolling down his phone list, he found the return number and pushed the buttons. Two rings later and Charles answered. The conversation was short and to the point. Charles wasn't much of a conversationalist.
"Hey, it's Bond. Yeah, 8:00 is good. That's cool. Ok, bye."
Returning to the kitchen he helped Brent drain the spaghetti, pour on the sauce, and retrieved the bread just before it charred under the broiler. Sitting down to dinner, they ate with few words between bites.
"Got a call?" Brent asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah."
"Out late?"
"Don't know. Could be," Bond fibbed, his cover being a fictitious home healthcare job.
His mouth full of spaghetti, Brent dropped the conversation.
Showered, cleaned inside and out, and casually dressed, Bond made the short trip to where his client lived. It was an old neighborhood punctuated with newer, larger houses taking the place of older, more varied and distinguished ones. Charles lived in one of the older homes, just as he had for the past 20 years. Bond parked on the street and walked to the door.
Ringing the bell, he waited a few seconds before hearing the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. As it opened Bond stepped inside. He was warmly greeted by a gentleman with graying hair, a trim build, a couple of inches taller than himself, and a sweet smile. Small lines around his eyes and mouth gave the man the appearance of being around fifty years old, although in truth he was a few years older. It didn't matter to Bond, he never asked a client his age, anyway.
The two of them embraced tenderly, the older man obviously enjoying the feel of the younger man's body pressed against him. Bond leaned in and kissed the man on the mouth, lingering before breaking it off.
Bond smiled. "How have you been, Charles?"
"Busy, but not overwhelmed," Charles replied. "I'm sure you've kept busy," he added with a touch of sarcasm, grinning.
Bond smiled again, swatting his client's denim-covered butt. "Actually, no," he admitted.
Stepping back so he could take in the whole of Bond's handsome features, Charles feigned surprise. "Well, I guess even rent boys have down time, don't they? If it's been that long maybe you're as horny as I am."
"Nobody is as horny as you are, Charles."
"Then we better get to it, don't you think?"
"After you," Bond offered.
As they made their way into the bedroom at the back of the house Bond unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, then watched Charles do the same. They both casually stripped and approached the bed. Charles would sometimes draw things out, creating as romantic a setting as possible under the circumstances, but today he was all business.
"How do you want me?" asked Bond.
"Let's see," Charles thought out loud. "On your back at the edge of the bed this time. I want to stand up, my left knee is bothering me. No sense in aggravating it."
Despite the three decade age difference, there was something about Charles that Bond admired. Maybe the man's directness, or his experience. Whatever it was, Bond felt himself getting hard. Laying back, he pulled his legs up to rest his feet on the edge of the mattress, his cock pointed toward his face. Charles was getting hard, too, but not as quickly. Bond looked at the body of the man about to fuck him and hoped he'd be able to stay in as good a shape as he aged.
Moving in closer, Charles stood with the head of his inflating cock nudging Bond's shaved balls. The contact excited him, causing his cock to jerk upwards with a surge of blood. From their prior encounters Bond knew Charles' cock could, and would, get plenty hard and plenty big. In that regard, Charles was probably the largest of Bond's clients.
"Still got that great cock, I see," Bond complimented, his eyes looking at the erection, then moving upward to Charles' face.
"And you've still got that great ass." Stroking his cock slowly, Charles rubbed the round head over and around Bond's balls, cock, and inner thighs. "Are you ready?" he asked.
"Lube me and fuck me, Charles. You always fuck me so good," stated Bond. He was glad he didn't have to lie, he actually enjoyed getting fucked by Charles. Many of his clients were lousy fucks, but he would never say so to their faces.
Charles knew he had a big cock, so he always went slow. As he rolled on a condom he muttered, "I hate these fucking things." Bond gave him a look as if to say he was sorry, but that's how it had to be. Charles understood, of course. "I know, sweetie. Have to play safe these days."
Slicking up his cock, Charles next applied a generous amount of lube to Bond's ass, probing with one long finger, then a second. The penetration made Bond's cock twitch and drip.
Continuing the finger fuck, Charles commented, "I think you are horny, aren't you? Look at your cock, it knows what's coming."
Charles removed his fingers, then immediately held his cock in position to begin it's invasion of Bond's butt. Slowly, he began to push. As Charles pushed inward, Bond pushed out. The young man began to expand, but at an agonizingly slow pace.
"God, Charles. You always tease me."
"Yes," agreed Charles, "but you seem to like it."
Bond smiled up at his trick. "I fucking love it."
Minutes seemed to drag on forever as Charles maneuvered the big head of his cock into Bond's ass. Stretched wide, Bond's body allowed the assault, changing from its initial repellant response to one of welcome. Bond sighed loudly, relaxed into the fuck, and felt over half of the thick meat sink into him.
"Oh, god," he hissed. "Oh, yeah. Fuck my ass."
Quietly, Charles continued as before, slowly filling the tight, warm, slick hole that was now greedily accepting his big dick.
"Give me that cock," Bond pleaded, his hands behind his head as he watched Charles. "Come on, fuck me."
Charles couldn't be goaded into anything faster, so Bond was forced to endure the erotic torture. Finally, more than five minutes after he'd started, Charles was in all the way, his balls grinding against Bond's ass, wet with the lube squeezed out during the long minutes of that first stroke. Holding his cock in deep, Charles began to move side to side, continuing to ready Bond's hole.
Once more Bond stated his desire. "Fuck me, Charles."
As slowly as he'd gone in, Charles now began to pull out. Stopping half way, he pushed forward until his balls again were trapped between the two men's bodies. Not waiting this time, he withdrew a second time, then changed direction, plunging back in. A few strokes later and Bond was getting what he asked for.
"Shit! Fuck!" Bond squealed as his ass took on the monster cock.
Charles continued in silence, his only sound being deep, controlled breaths. His pace quickened, but in measured increments.
When at last he was fucking Bond with full, long strokes Charles spoke, almost in prayer. "Holy fuck."
Bond could feel the outer edge of his asshole expand and contract as the big cock moved, the thick head coming almost all the way out, then plunging back in. His own cock was hard as stone, feeling the larger cock bumping the root as it dove in again and again.
"Tell me when you're close," said Bond, drawing his own deep breath, trying not to grab his cock and jack himself to cumming.
"I will, baby," Charles assured him. "I'm getting there."
Bond knew well from his experiences with different clients that if you want to get fucked for a long time the best way to go is with an older guy. Charles was no exception as he continued to fuck Bond long and hard for another ten minutes. By the time Charles made his announcement they'd been fucking non-stop for almost twenty minutes. Bond held off until he knew Charles had started to cum, then eagerly reached for his own cock and began a fast stroke, aided by plenty of oozing precum.
"AH! AH! UHGNN...!" His orgasm hit him incredibly hard, fluid rocketing out of his cock, splattering on his chin, neck, and upper chest. Wad after wad added to the growing mess across his torso, forced out by the internal pressure of Charles' cock still fucking his ass.
When it ended Bond was reduced to a shuddering mass on the bed, muscles throughout his body making small, involuntary jerks. He took a deep breath and held it, exhaling calmly as he reclaimed control of his reactions. As Charles withdrew from his ass he felt like he'd been pried open with a crowbar. Not pain exactly, but a tiny ache deep inside as if Charles had managed to reach a new depth and leave a mark. It was fun, Bond thought, but he felt he'd earned his money.
Charles walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, then retrieved two towels from the closet. By the time the water was warm Bond had made it to the bathroom, as well, walking almost normally. Under the soothing spray the two of them washed each other, kissed, and rinsed off.
Bond didn't ask for his money, but as usual with Charles he found a $100 bill tucked into his pants pocket. Still a little sore, Bond pulled his jeans up gently. When dressed he made his way back to the front door where Charles was waiting.
Charles took the young man's hand and squeezed. "Thank you, Bond. I enjoyed it, as always."
"Me, too," returned Bond. Once more he kissed the man who'd paid for their time together.
The gentleman opened the door and Bond stepped out into the night air, crisp and chilly after the warmth of the house. Looking back, he waved goodbye and smiled.
"Call me."
END
If you liked it let me know, res1961@sbcglobal.net. If you have any suggestions for Bond's further adventures send them along, maybe I can work them into a future episode. Thanks.