Christmas, London 1942- Part 4
by Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that DON'T read it. You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. No effort to portray safe sex practices has been made. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.
Quite frankly it hadn't occurred to me that a handsome man like Evan would want to get fucked and that he would be willing to get fucked by me. I would have been shocked if I hadn't been so pleased. Evan was obviously pleased as punch to be skewered on my member and had no desire for him to get off. He also liked to talk.
Evan told me that he liked older men. His first experience had been on a expedition with his father in Mesopotamia. He father was Sir Ewan Jones, a well known archaeologist. His father was called to Cairo when the financing of the expedition fell through. Evan was left with a member of the expedition.
"I was with Donald MacDonald the field man. He struck me as an old man then. He was perhaps 50, but looked older since he spent most of his time outdoors digging in the field. He had a grizzled beard and wild, fly away hair," Evan said. "My father was more of an academic archaeologist. He mostly taught and wrote. MacDonald was a wild man compared to my father. My father was always well dressed and proper. He was the kind of man you see on screen as the Englishman in the jungle having a formal dinner in a tent wearing a dinner jacket. MacDonald thought he was dressed up when he buttoned his shirt."
"We were in walled Arab house that wrapped around a garden courtyard. It had a good well and a spring. It was an oasis in miniature. My father called it the bungalow and MacDonald called it the bachelor's quarters. I thought of it as the fort. I had read Beau Geste and been much impressed.
"All the diggers and the staff left when the money ran out. I was to hold the fort with MacDonald. He liked digging alone so he was happy. The only servant we had was old Ali. He was MacDonald's personal man and there were several armed Bedouins who guarded the site. Apparently they didn't need to be paid. MacDonald had done something for them and they guarded the site as a debt of honor. We almost never saw the guards."
"When my father left the camp. MacDonald's dress code got less formal. It was hot in the field and when he got to the shady bachelor's quarters he stripped to all but naked. This rather excited me since I wasn't use to undressed adults. I had seen Greek and Roman statues, but they weren't much like MacDonald. He was heavier, but just as muscular. MacDonald was hairier too, more of a barbarian the a Greek god."
"If truth be told, he didn't have a dainty, little Classical cock either. This was a relief to me. I didn't have a dainty cock either and I was worried something was wrong. I could see glimpses of a thick member and huge balls."
"On the second night after Dad left I woke one night with some odd noises coming from MacDonald's room. I went to explore and found MacDonald with Ali sucking his cock. MacDonald saw me."
"That must have been embarrassing," I said.
"Not for MacDonald. "Either stop looking, or join us," he said. I did."
"Did they hurt you?"
"Not at all. MacDonald was the prefect Victorian Gentleman when it came to sex. He was also the perfect man to give an inexperienced teen ager his introduction to all things sensual," Evan explained.
"He did have sex with you?"
"He certainly did. He told me there is so much pure enjoyment and pleasure in sex, there's enough for everyone," he said. "MacDonald said if your mate wasn't having fun, you were doing it wrong. My father was away for three weeks and we had time to work it out."
"Ali liked man seed, so MacDonald told me to lie back and let him work his magic. I was a first rate wanker, but I always felt that odd combination of ecstasy, fear and disappointment when I ejaculated. Disappointed it was over and afraid I'd be caught, or someone would discover the remains of my pleasure. Ali solved that problem. He loved the cream and loved working to get it. I learned how to relax and enjoy sex."
Evan was undulating his hips on my pole, massaging my member with his ass. He was fully erect and drooling cock juices as we talked.
"I had no problem shooting off five or six times a day. Ali and MacDonald liked that, as did I for that matter. After a day of this I got interested in their cocks. Being a true born Englishman I had been under the impression it was appropriate for me to suck MacDonald cock, but not Ali's. MacDonald cleared that misconception up quickly. Ali's cock was a thin, long crescent with a big mushroom. It was easy to deep throat and he shot a creamy load. MacDonald had a oak tree like member, almost thicker than it was long. You, my dear Gussy, combine the most attractive aspect of both cocks."
"Well thank you," I said. No one had ever complimented me on my cock. I was pleased.
"MacDonald showed me how to fuck when he mounted Ali. Quite frankly I had no idea that could be done. I got excited but was further surprised when MacDonald pulled out of Ali's hole, bent over and let Ali fuck him. They traded places for an hour of constant ass pounding."
"You watched?"
"I watched and got more and more excited. MacDonald tended to give a running commentary on what they were doing. He explained what was the best way to get the most pleasure from a cock and an ass. Needless to say I wasn't a virgin at the end of the day. Some men have a problem taking a cock the first time, but I'm not one of those men. It was like a duck taking to water. Ali was the first to fuck me. It was wonderful. MacDonald was next. I thought he would be more difficult, but it was fine. MacDonald shocked me when he muttered, "Damn, you're even tighter than Ewan!" I had no idea." Evan spurted a single volley of cum across my chest, but did not have a full scale orgasm. He had no intention of getting off my cock.
"I think I have an ordinary life compared to you," I said.
"Chance and circumstance define our world!" he replied. "For MacDonald sex was a form of entertainment, a good way to while away the long hours with a friend in the desert.
It wasn't all sex. We would go the the dig every day and work. I got to be good at doing the delicate work near artifacts. MacDonald was a bull in the china shop man, so that worked out well. Our digging proceeded apace. He found a pile of clay bricks, that I identified as clay tablets covered in cuneiform inscriptions. Golden mummy masks are the popular vision of a treasure in archeology, but inscriptions are the true treasure."
"A day later we realized our tablet was part of a complete library, or store room of records. It was a gold mine! Mac Donald contacted his Bedouin friends to increase security. There was a German expedition 20 miles away and they were not above claiming our finds. MacDonald and the Bedouins shared a common dislike of the Germans. There had been an incident between the Germans and several Bedouin women. MacDonald had intervened and saved the day. That was the reason for our Bedouin protectors."
"We went to visit the Sheik. All was very polite and courteous. When we left MacDonald told me the Sheik was going to make a visit. Apparently the Sheik was a playmate of his and wanted some relief as he called it. "The Sheik is a liberal man when it comes to sex with men. With women other than your wife, or wives, it is a sin of the worst type. With man-sex is a different matter. They don't flaunt it, but they like it. The Bachelor's Quarters is ideal, no women, no one to tell," he explained. MacDonald said I might want to stay in my bedroom. It's a bit of a free for all."
"Of course I told him I was interested. He explained they historically liked younger men or boys. The sticky problem is Bedouin sensitivity. It's bad to say no, and you can't really change your mind mid fuck. It is almost all fucking. You have to finish what you start. I was still interested and had no intention of staying in my bedroom."
"How did it turn out?" I asked.
"It was really quite lovely," Evan continued. "I know that's an odd thing to say about a homosexual orgy but it was nice, sort of like it is here. It was the Sheik, two brothers, a father-in-law and two nephews. Apparently it was acceptable to screw persons of inferior rank or age. These men, however liked it all. They were more than willing to accept a cock up their arse. That's why they wanted the privacy of the Bachelor's Quarters."
Evan was gently bouncing on my cock. Suddenly my entire body tensed up,a second later the entire contents of my balls rushed into Evan's welcoming ass. A second after that I thought it was snowing. The snow splattered warm on my skin. I was covered in Evan's seed. Your sense of time goes haywire in an orgasm. I was sure we traded ejaculations for ten minutes or more. It seemed to go on forever.
All was well under the vaults of my house.
The Rubens changed our status with government. We were a one week sensation in the press. That faded of course. The good news was that Evan was assigned to our crew. The National Gallery wanted good press too, and Evans' superior, Dr, Smythe didn't like Evan anyway, so she was glad to get rid of him.
We returned to the church for two more days and either removed to safety, or protected everything we could. There seemed to be a brief lull in the bombing, and we went to a part of Nash's Crescent at Regent's Park next. Three of the houses were bombed leaving a gash in the beautiful curve of the crescent. The central house was totally gone. It had received a direct hit. The houses on each side were badly damaged. One had been converted into small apartments, but the other was most impressive and well furnished. The neighbors told us the owner was serving in Egypt and his wife was in Australia.
I thought it would be fairly easy to stabilize the house. Angus wasn't sure but we worked something out. Evan saw that some of the furniture was very good as were some of the paintings. He contacted the army to see of we could get permission from the owner to move them to safety.
Sometimes you discover how small the world is. Evan got in touch with the officer. He had gone to school with his son and we got permission to move the paintings to a safe place. That place was my basement. The officer was fighting the Germans and Italians in Egypt. His wife hadn't made it to Australia. She was in Singapore when he last heard from her. That was just before the Japanese captured it. He hadn't heard from her since. His son had been lost on the Prince of Wales. He wasn't too worried about the remains of his house in London.
We were the smallest cog in Britain's war effort, but I wanted to save some small portion of this man's life before the war. Perhaps his wife was alive hiding in the jungles of Malaya. If he survived, an heirloom or painting might be precious to him. I know that many houses, indeed neighborhoods in London had been bombed to dust with nothing left. It was our job to save what was left.
Evan was a wonder with regulations and forms. His time at the National gallery had been spent doing that sort of thing. He also had a knack for red tape. He seem to know people and to whom one should talk.
Our next project was a modern office block in the City. This struck me as an odd building for us, but it was the offices of the Britain Today magazine. The publisher was Sir Reginald Walbridge. He had a art collection of some note. The magazine had stopped publishing and he was the Ambassador to Turkey. It was a solid concrete and steel building by Lutyens, and it had been assumed to be safe. It stood, but several direct hits had damaged the tops floors where the collection decorated the penthouse offices. I hadn't worked on the building, but I was familiar enough with it.
The lifts weren't working so it was a long, dark climb to the penthouse. There were no problems on the lower floors except for the smell of smoke. The stair was undamaged to the roof. But portions of the penthouse were in ruins. Fortunately, those areas outside the direct hits were intact.
One bomb hit the kitchen and had partially blown out the wall to the dining room. Pantries and serving spaces separated the kitchen from direct connection to the dining room. The direct blast hadn't penetrated the formal dining area. The windows were blown out, so it was cold, but bright. Soot covered everything. We could see the frames and the paintings but not tell what they were. Several niches held statues. Pavel and Jan investigated these. They were bronze, and undamaged.
Evan, Etienne and I investigated the large painting on the wall next to the kitchen. It was portrait of Queen Victoria. It didn't appear to be by a top of the line painter, but it was salvageable. On the side wall, between the niches was a pair of paintings. They were portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds. They were in good condition. Facing them was what turned out to be a Constable landscape. It was beside a window and rain had ruined the frame, but the painting was filthy, but preserved.
Constable's thick paint application would make it a bear to clean, but Evan was sure that could be done. Johnnie and Louis found two small paintings blown on the floor, face down under the dining table. The frames and the wood stretchers for the canvas were damaged.
When we turned them face up, we were in rural France. They were by Manet. They had been beside the Constable. I thought they were too badly damaged to be saved, but Evan was unworried. "As long as the paint itself remains, the condition of the canvas is not a problem." We spent the rest of the day removing the dining room paintings. This got us a new round of newspaper coverage.
"Bomb Destroys Kitchen, Misses Treasure!" was my favorite headline. We were also referred to as London's crack art rescue team in one article. I sent a copy of this off to my family in Canada. The newspapers did not cover our work in the next room in the penthouse. It was a smaller space with framed old master drawings. Only two of the eight drawings could be saved. Only the label survived on two Rembrandt drawings. You can't win them all.
I had two nights alone in my house in this period. Angus was an intelligent man and I think he wanted me to have some free time. It hadn't been my intention to set up a dormitory for men in my cellar. This had occurred by accident. I tend to be an accommodating man and I didn't object. Angus didn't want to impose on me.
After two days alone I realized it wasn't an imposition. It was a blessing. The house was too big for a single man and most of the crew was essentially homeless. We could pool our resources and ration cards. We all seemed to get along well.
Rationality had nothing to do with my decision in reality. It was the prospect of sex that I found attractive. I had just discovered sex and I wanted to learn and do more. Most of all I wanted to feel more. The next day I asked if they would like to move in for the duration, or until my wife returned from Canada. All were willing. Most had a suitcase only. Templeton and Wally kept their apartments, but spent most weekday nights at my house.
My decision to have them stay with me made for another change. Angus knew I was new to the world of man to man sex. I had thought they were extraordinarily overt in their sexual activities. In reality they were being quite circumspect. Things got a bit more free and easy. Some of that was me being more comfortable, but Evan's open approach to all things sexual seemed to inspire everyone.
With Evan and Angus as the driving forces, the sexual activity increased and the tension dropped. It was both relaxing and relieving. I assumed most sexual anxiety comes for the competition for trying to find a partner and then concern as to whether the relationship would result in actual sex. All of us sheltered under the brick arch of my basement were willing and an orgasm was all but assured. I was the least experienced on the group, but the men were more than willing to bring me up to speed.
Dan took it upon himself to introduce me to anal sex, as a recipient rather than as a top. Dan was a thin, very cheerful man with a bushy red beard. I saw him as Johnnie's side kick. Dan liked Westerns from Hollywood and I think he saw himself as one of those comic figures who accompany the handsome hero. He possessed a thin organ and low hanging balls. At first I thought he never got fully erect. Later I realized God had given him enough foreskin for two men, his organ was always fully sheathed in skin. It looked as if he had an inch or two of overhanging skin.
Johnnie liked what he called stewed ripe sperm pudding. I had only tasted sperm fresh from the spurting cock. Dan would tie the tip of the skin, than wank and save the cream. He let it stew and ripen in the skin until Johnnie wanted it. Angus liked doing something he called docking. He would pull Dan's skin over his knob and they would both shoot their load into the tube of skin. Dan would tie it up for the fermenting process. Johnnie loved that.
It was late in the evening when Dan cuddled up to me. The other men were all ready asleep. He fondled my equipment for a while, the slipped lower and began to suck me. He sucked my cock, then my balls and he ended up at my ass hole. I went to suck him but he told me to stay back. "Sperm is a good lubricant," he whispered. "I've got a full load in my skin. It will ease the way." I knew what he wanted and for some reason wasn't at all concerned.
His tongue probed deep into my ass and then there was a finger. Soon he had my legs on his shoulders and he fingered my hole. This was most exciting. He then pulled his foreskin had and used his finger to push the skin into my ass. He had removed the tie. The lighting was dim, but I briefly saw a few drops of opalescent sperm dripping from his skin. Once the skin was in my ass, he pushed. His cock plunged through the cum filled skin deep into my ass. It was lovely. His cock was rock hard, but the thick skin cushioned the penetration.
A wave of intense pleasure flowed over me. My cock suddenly was fully erect. Dan slowly plunged his cock deeper into my ass. He then pulled out and did it again. With each stroke it got better. I barely knew Dan, but now were were one.