Gut Feelings

GUT FEELINGS - CHAPTER FOUR by Dave MacMillan

The usual disclaimers - pure fiction, no underaged readers, and the copyright belongs to me.

I enjoyed writing GUT FEELINGS - it was my first erotic novel without an American setting or characters. I guess you could say that I let my hair down and got right down to my roots (you dirty sod!!!).

But, of course, it's in the process of being re-written. As I came to write the last couple of chapters, I found that I wanted to explore several themes that I hadn't written into the early chapters. That necessitated writing several more chapters and rewriting portions of existing ones. So - if a publisher ever buys it, it's going to be a substantially different read - and I hope an even more satisfying one.

That said, let me know your thoughts about this little crime story I've written. Comments, suggestions, compliments, criticisms - they'll all be appreciated. Write me at Vichowel@aol.com.

Aled smiled at me when we had stopped at the steps to his building. "Are you joining me?" he asked.

I studied him for a moment giving him time to consider that I might not, in fact, want what he was offering. It was the least that I could do after the blowjob he'd given me earlier in the cabaret.

He waited, his impatience growing with each new second of silence. Almost immediately he began to chew on his bottom lip, his anxiety beginning to gnaw at him. "It's free, Phillip," he said, finally surrendering to his new lack of assurance. "Come on, mate. I'm going to show you the best time you've had in a month."

"Do you know him then?" I asked, forcing surprise into my voice.

"Who?" Aled glanced about quickly.

"The man I had in my bed this time last month. He really was a good shag."

"Christ!" he hissed. "Damn me, but I actually fell for it." He shook his head. "Shit!"

My hand found his buttocks and nudged him toward the step. "You were going to show me something in your room I think. If you keep me standing out here like this, I may forget what it was."

He grabbed my hand and quickly pulled me up to the outer door of his building. "Phillip, don't play games tonight. I just want good sex and a lot of it." He opened the door and stepped back to allow me to enter. "Promise me?"

I smiled innocently at him then. "I promise."

"Good," he breathed as he followed me into the ground floor hall, slipped in front of me, and led me along the corridor to his studio flat.

He quickly opened the door and ushered me into the studio flat. He locked the door and moved quickly to the toilet. "Let's have a bit of light," he said. "I wouldn't want you falling over a stack of books in the night. Want something to drink?"

"I think not," I said as I turned back to him. I smiled and held out my arms to him. "Come here, Aled."

He grinned happily. And marched right into my arms, his hands going to my face and pulling me down to him. His lips found mine and locked on them, his tongue paced along my teeth searching for entry. My fingers explored down his back until they found the rise of his buttocks just below his belt. He moaned as I squeezed both mounds at the same time that I opened my mouth and began to duel his tongue with mine.

I held his buttocks as he ground his crutch against mine. He pulled his face from mine and said: "Let's get on the bed. I want to enjoy this thoroughly." He took my hand and led me to the side of his bed. "I want to enjoy you thoroughly, Inspector Goodson."

Turning to face me, he began to pull the shirt from my trousers. "I want you naked and laying back on my bed," he explained, his voice husky. "I want to undress you, Phillip." The shirt hem began to rise over my belly. "Do you mind?" It had reached my chest.

I smiled and lifted my arms so that he could lift the shirt off. He stood back as he pulled it off my arms and studied me. "Nice," he mumbled and dropped my shirt to the floor. His fingers reached out and touched my chest. "So very nice." They found my closest nipple and began to tweak it.

His other hand rose to my waist and its fingers began to draw little swirls on my belly, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. My cock woke up and began digging itself a channel under my pants and jeans across my groin.

Both hands suddenly descended to my belt and began to pull at it. "I want you naked!" he growled as he got the belt opened and undid the waist button of my jeans. "I want to see all of you now." The fingers of one hand pulled at the zip whilst the other hand was already pushing the denim over my hips.

"You're very close," I answered as I felt the back of the fingers of both hands against the bare skin of my bottom. He pulled both jeans and pants down then, exposing me to my knees.

"Yeah!"

Looking down at him sitting on his haunches before me, I saw that Aled was gazing at my prick as reverently as a priest looking at a holy relic. He reached out slowly and touched it with his fingertips, mesmerised by my thick cock. Even more slowly, his fingers wrapped around the shaft and moved toward my pubes, forcing the foreskin back off the helmet of my dick. He leant forward and touched my glans with the tip of his tongue. I shivered.

Leaning further into me, Aled's tongue spread across the bottom of my knob-end as his lips passed the flange and closed. The head of my prick was enclosed and he began to lick it completely clean. Satisfied, he began to take my shaft into his mouth. I watched silently as he forced all of me into his throat and rested his nose in the bed of pubic hair above my dick.

He tilted his head backwards and looked up at me. Slowly, he began to draw back, releasing my erection as he did so. His hands went to my shoes and slipped each one off before turning to the bunched clothing at my knees. I watched as he lifted one leg and then the other to slip my jeans and boxers from me, leaving me totally naked before him.

"Don't you think that you should get more comfortable?" I asked after he stood and had simply gazed at me for a few moments. I didn't mind being nude or his appreciation for my equipment but did think he shouldn't still be fully dressed under the circumstances.

He blinked and slowly began to colour as he realised what he had done. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and toed off his trainers. "I'm sorry, Phillip." He glanced back at my crutch and erection. "It's just that I so seldom see something I like."

"Oh?"

He chuckled. "Phillip, it's been my experience that rentboys rarely get to see handsome men. It's the wanker with a gut and a bald head who pay for their sex. A lad like me doesn't have to and knows it." He shook his head slowly. "You are a bloody nice package, Inspector - one I could spend the night just looking at."

"I hope we're going to do more than study each other's belly buttons, Aled. You've got a nice body yourself and I'd like to explore it."

"I expect you to do more than that, mate. I've got an itch that monster-" He indicated my prick with a nod of his head. "That thing of yours is going to scratch that itch for me, isn't it?"

"I suspect you'll feel it, if that's what you want."

He grinned and quickly opened his belt. "I want," he mumbled as he opened his trousers. "Christ, but I want it." He pushed them over his hips and sat on the edge of the bed to push them off his legs. He lay back on the bed, as naked as I was then.

"Are you stand-offish, or what?" he demanded a moment later when I'd not moved closer to him. "Come on over here - I don't bite."

"Just standing here and admiring the scenery," I told him and moved to the bed beside him.

He grabbed my hand when I was close enough and roughly pulled me down on top of him. "I want you," he growled as his lips searched for mine, his hands gripping my arsecheeks and our hard cocks rubbing against each other.

Aled was a squirmer. Our chests and bellies pressed together, he began to grind his crutch against mine, our dicks duelled. His coarse, tightly-curled pubic hair scraped against my shaft as he held me to him. His pre come lubricated our movement against each other. His fingers travelled from my buttocks to my shoulders and back again. My nipples grew hard as his smooth chest sliding across mine excited them. I felt myself begin to leak.

I broke away from our kiss, lifting myself on my elbows and looking down at him. "Do you want it like this?" I asked.

"You mean rubbing ourselves off?" I nodded. He took a deep breath. "It feels good - maybe later. Right now, though, I want you in me."

"Where are your condoms then?"

He rolled me off of him and sat up to reach to the bedside cabinet. "Here's one," he said holding it up for me to see. "It's enough to get us started." He chuckled then. "And there are more where this one comes from-" He studied me speculatively then, his gaze going from my face to my prick. "How many can you fill in one night, Phillip?"

I reached out and took his arm, turning him all the way back to face me. "Enough to satisfy both of us, I hope. Come here, Aled. I want to taste you."

He scooted across the bed to me, and I leant over him as he lay back against the pillows. My lips found one and, then, the other of his nipples. I licked them, moving from one to the other, and smiled as they grew erect. My fingers moved down onto his belly and traced the contours of his six pack out to his flanks.

When his nipples were hard, I moved slowly down his wide, smooth chest - my lips barely touching his skin. "Oh, yeah!" he moaned softly as I found his belly button and began to rim it with my tongue. My fingers found his erection and formed a fist around its shaft as my lips again took up their southward journey.

"Put it on me," I told him as I reached the first hairs of his pubis and spread my legs to give him better access to my dick.

I heard the foil packet being torn as my fist pushed his foreskin over most of his helmet. My tongue touched just the exposed tip of his dick and worried the thin layer of flesh until it could work beneath the exposed hem. He gasped as my flattened tongue spread out across his glans. I yanked his foreskin back onto his shaft then, following it down with my mouth. He bucked and groaned in pleasure as my nose pressed into his pubes and my chin buried in his bollocks.

His hand pressed the condom against my bell-end and began to unfurl it down onto my shaft. Finished with covering me, he pulled me onto my knees as I began to suck him. Spreading my legs, he raised his head up to take first one of my bollocks into his mouth and then the other, moving quickly between them. I began to hum around his cock buried in my throat.

I slipped one hand under his thigh and Aled lifted that leg to allow me to get around it. My fingertips explored along the floor of his crack until they found the puckered entrance into him. I began to press one finger against his hole, searching for resistance. It slipped into him easily.

I heard him sigh and felt his body relax beneath me. "Yeah," he mumbled, "finger fuck me, Phillip."

Even as his body relaxed and he opened himself up to the beginning of my exploration of his arsehole, his bollocks were tightening, pulling up onto the root of his shaft. "I'm getting close," he cried out.

I continued to suck him, using my throat muscles against the head of his cock to push him toward his orgasm. I swallowed continuously to milk him and hummed when I wasn't swallowing to massage him. He would be one spent lad when I finally did mount him and begin to shag him.

I pushed a second and, then, a third finger into him, burying them all inside his arse. I massaged his sphincter with them. I began to pull off him enough occasionally to lick his glans of the pre come that was now oozing from his slit freely.

Aled lay unmoving on the bed, even his efforts with my bollocks forgotten as he floated on the electric currents of pleasure that washed through him. He was silent beneath me, but I could see from how tightly his bollocks rode his shaft how close he was getting. I could feel it in his dick and how it instinctively sought the depths of my throat.

"I'm so close it hurts, mate," he groaned.

I lifted off him and licked just the tip of his dick. "Do it, lad," I told him. "Give it to me."

I dived back down his shaft, sucking hard even as his wide head pushed into my throat. It was enough to push him over.

Every muscle in the young Welshman's body stiffened. His cockhead widened and spread my tonsils. He grunted and his essence was rushing down the channel on the underside of his shaft. A rope of jizz sprayed against the back of my throat before I could pull back where I could taste him.

I let each of the next six ropes fill my mouth before I swallowed it, licking his bell end each time to clean it before his next eruption.

Aled thrashed beneath me, caught up in the feelings emanating from his prick as he orgasmed for me. I felt his sphincter begin to relax and release my fingers, then the rest of him unkinked - muscle by muscle - until he once again was relaxed.

I began to move off of him when his spasms became dry. His belly still heaved. His prick still jerked, albeit drily now - a ghost of itself but moments before. I raised one leg and placed it beside the other at his shoulder where his arm began. My knees began to inch down along his body, his ribs and then his hips - until I was beneath him, below his legs. Aled lifted a leg over my head and let it drop slowly on my shoulder, my fingers still imbedded in his arse.

I lifted his second leg onto my shoulder and leant over him to nuzzle his nipples. My cock was pressed against my knuckles at his back door. I looked up into his face. "Do you want it?" I asked.

He gazed back at me. "Yes, please." He reached under his raised arsecheek to find my prick. "Let me put it in," he said and I sat back on my haunches, pulling my fingers from him.

The helmet of my prick trawled the floor of his arsecrack under the guidance of his hand, leaving a trail of pre come in its wake. He pulled it past the well that shielded his puckered entrance onto his perinium to nudge under his loose ballsac. "It feels good, Phillip," he mumbled. "I like how hot and spongy it is against my skin."

He raised his head to look down his body, at me between his legs. He smiled as he directed my prick back to his hole. "But this is where I really want it. Put it in me."

I inched one knee forward and then the other one. The tip of my dick pressed against his raised pucker. I moved my hips slowly forward and watched in the dim light from the toilet as my cockhead pushed easily through his sphincter.

I easily pushed the rest of the way into him. "Christ! You're bloody big," he groaned and tentatively ground his arse on its invader. "Oh yeah!" he cried and began to wiggle his arse with abandon. "That's what I like, something I can feel. Fuck me, mate."

I leant into him then, pushing his knees into his chest as my lips searched for his. His hands grabbed my face and pulled it down to his. His tongue darted between my teeth before our lips were properly joined and began to duel mine for supremacy. I began to move in him as he reached out to grab my face between his hands and pulled me to him. His buttocks bucked up to meet my thrusts into him. His tongue quickly claimed possession of my mouth. His prick grew hard between us, riding my flexing belly as I began to shag him in earnest.

I was instantly caught up in the timelessness of sex. The slow, gradual build up of all nine inches of my dick slid smoothly into his bowel; his arsemuscles clutched and grasped at me all along the length of his canal as I began to withdraw. Small rills of pleasure rose in my cockhead and along my shaft to seep into me, becoming a continuing rush that carried me higher and higher.

His hands left both sides of my face and found their to my back where they travelled slowly down to my bottom and back to shoulders in a mute expression of his own satisfaction. My bollacks splatting against his arsecheeks was initially the only sound of our sex in his small studio flat.

I broke away from our kiss, my lips tracing his jaw back to his ear. They moved down his neck to his collarbone and searched out his closest nipple. I licked it, then gently bit it before moving to his other one. I began to move back and forth between the two, licking and biting. His breathing became louder and more ragged. His hips bucked up harder to meet each new thrust of my prick into him.

"Do it harder, Phillip!" he gasped, his fingers pulling at my hair and his whole body grinding under me. "I need it hard and fast, mate."

My thrusts continued long and slow and I kept on licking and chewing his nipples. He groaned and shuddered from the stimulation but didn't repeat his request. Instead, he clutched my prick tighter and longer each time it entered him. He was milking me and it caused stutters in the rush of pleasure flowing through me. My movements became shorter and faster, my bollocks churned with the orgasm threatening to flood over me, and my breath came in short, jagged sobs.

His dick thickened quickly against my belly and exploded. Jizz matted the thin layer of hair on my chest and glued me to him as I pounded into his bottom. I was no longer caught in the timelessness of our sex; I was rushing, needing the immediacy of fulfillment.

His arsemuscles clamped down me, pulling and tugging at my dick. I had no more resistance and the tidal wave of orgasm crashed over me as I rammed into him one last time, driving in as deep as I could. Every muscle in my body froze as I began to spurt my jizz into the reservoir of the condom now buried deep in his arse.

I collapsed on top of him and his arms went around my chest, holding me close against him.

I was still weak when my breathing had returned to normal. Still, I pushed up on my elbows and started to pull my prick from him. His hands grabbed my arsecheeks and held me inside him. "Leave it in me, please," he asked, his gaze pleading. "I want it there all night, Phillip. I want to feel you in me."

I smiled back at him and kissed his lips. "I can't stay all night, Aled. I've got to give a forensics lecture at King's College tomorrow morning and the Met likes us to be in full uniform when we make public appearances like that."

He smiled back. "I've got to be out that door at six - a twelve hour stint in the A & E. I'll have you on your way early enough. And I want to hold onto you as long as I can before I have to put on greens and hold some woman's hand whilst she pushes out a seven pounder. Promise you'll stay?"

I nodded and kissed him again.

I pulled my notes together slowly and glanced around the now empty lecture hall. My eyes felt as if I had sand under the lids and my body ached. I took a deep breath and stuffed the notes into my attache. I hadn't even rowed that morning. I felt nearly as dead as the bodies that had been the subject of my just completed lecture. I shuffled toward the door, feeling far older than my twenty-eight years.

I let myself out into the corridor and started for the entrance hall of the forensic science building of King's College and my Sierra in the staff car park just beyond. The young Welshman had proved to be a demanding lover last night - as had the Irish lad the night before. I resolved to go to bed early and hoped there would not be much paperwork on my desk at the Met waiting for me. I didn't want to think about drugs or the gay clubs of London - or sex. I definitely needed a day off just to recharge.

"Phillip! Phillip Goodson!"

The Irish-accented voice pulled me back into reality and I realised I had already left the building and was in the student quad. A ginger-haired lovely was standing directly in front of me.

"Richard Bell," I acknowledged him sheepishly.

"Well, as I live and breathe," an American voice spoke up at my side. I turned to find Brett moving to stand beside Richard and grinning back at me.

"Do you two know each other?" I asked.

"Well enough, Inspector, for him to have filled me in on all your finest attributes." He gazed at my crutch and licked his lips. "Is it really that big?" I blushed down to my toes; young Richard had the decency to colour too. The American guffawed.

"Actually, Inspector Goodson, I'm glad I've found you." I gazed at him, unsure I wanted to hear whatever reason he had found to want to see me. "After you left Illusions last night, I started thinking of why you said you were there-" He turned to the Irishman. "He was at the club with that med student who likes to pretend that he's homeless," he told him and I coloured again, feeling the heat of my embarrassment spread across me like fire.

"Ah, the Welshman - I hear he's quite good in bed, well worth the money if you're into rentboys in your bed-" He studied me, watching my face darken to crimson.

I now finally understood the psychology of murder, seven years after I had joined the force. I suspected I could cheerfully murder both of these lads and not feel a shread of remorse. I forced the image of a dead Yank and an Irishman hanging side by side from my mind. It was much too attractive an image at the moment.

"You both are involved in the performances at Illusions," I told them. "Think of what several uniformed bobbies inside that place would do to your audiences as well as your wallets."

I noticed that the American blanched as he assimilated that idea. The Irish lad simply groaned.

"What in God's name would that be for?" young Brett asked.

"Heroin is a nasty drug. If we can't find where it's coming from, then we'll have to put foot patrols out to try to keep it in bounds."

"There aren't that many gay coppers in London," Richard grumbled.

"Of course, there aren't. You'd get whichever lads that we could spare any particular night." I smiled tightly. "They won't be just watching the crowd; they'll be actively looking for drugs. Anything suspicious would get their attention fast." I didn't like the idea; and I was but an occasional visitor in the clubs. I knew what the introduction of a strong police presence to pink London would do to it. It would wilt and turn grey quickly. All of the life and even wildness I expected when I went out to party would be gone. I hoped these two would positively hate the thought of it.

"Do you remember the Russians who were at Illusions last night, Phillip?" asked Brett.

"An older guy and two young chaps sitting near the stage?"

"That's them. I went home with the old one last night-" I raised a brow to show him that he'd managed to surprise me. His face turned a rosy pink and I chuckled. "That's none of your damned business!" he growled.

"You mean I'm not going to hear what young Americans do for recreation when in London?" I asked, forcing shock into my voice. Richard was grinning toothily when I glanced at him.

"You deserved that one, mate," he told the American.

"Bullshit!" he hissed and I knew the good looking American was much better at dishing out humour at someone else's expense than accepting it. "Look, I was curious how Aled could get it up with an old fart. He offered me a hundred and I decided to satisfy my curiosity."

"You what? Christ, Brett! You fart money - why did you sell yourself?"

The Yank turned to face me. "He offered me ecstasy and grass almost before we got through the door."

"He did what?" I asked slowly, my mind immediately following this new thought.

"He also invited me to a weekend thing he has going on."

"And-?" Richard demanded.

"I asked if I could invite some guys from the university-" He shrugged. "I thought it might be interesting, but I'm not about to go off with a group of guys I don't know and become their pincushion for the weekend."

"There were sexual implications to this invitation?" I asked. I was no longer tired. I was no longer embarrassed by this American's brashness. But I was definitely curious.

"Ilyich said not, but I wasn't sure. I can be the best fuck a man's ever had; but it'll only happen if I want to be with him - at least, I've got to decide to want to do it with him. I don't do parties, that's why I wanted friends along if I decided to take him up on his offer."

"Think I could pass for one of your mates?" I asked.

He grinned, his hand moving to touch my arm. "You'd better. If I do this gig, I definitely want a police presence - one policeman in particular." He turned to face Richard. "I'd want you there too, guy. The more the merrier." He chuckled then. "And the safer I'll feel."

I studied the American for a moment, remembering that Aled had said that the Russians had freely offered him drugs too. The offer, in both cases, had involved party drugs. No one I had yet met could put the Russians together with heroin.

Admittedly, a number of gay men offered their friends and even their newly met sex partners grass like they would a drink. Probably many gay men had poppers in their beside cabinets right along with the condoms and lube.

I suspected, however, that a middle-aged Russian would be stingier than most young Englishmen. The rouple was nowhere as steady as the pound and, too, from what I knew of Russia things had been tight there since the Bolshevik Revolution.

A middle-classed Englishman would offer his mates grass, but he'd probably forego more than a quick drink to a rentboy. That and a sniff off his poppers once they were in bed and getting ready to do the dirty. I didn't think a Russian would be quite as generous as his English cousin. And both Aled and Brett had been rentboys in the eyes of this Ilyich, which should only serve to lower them in his estimation from equals to hirelings.

As soon as I was able to return to the office, I wanted to know what we knew about the man. While I was at it, I decided to ask the Home Office and the military lads what they knew about him - through proper channels, of course.

"This Ilyich is with the Russian trade commission, isn't he?" I asked.

Richard shrugged but Brett frowned. "I think so," he said slowly. "It sounds right."

"Good." I nodded. "Now this weekend party you were invited to - was it something firmed up?"

"He said this weekend, Phillip."

"Tell me about it."

"He wanted me to come out and to put on a Dietrich show."

"Would it be just the two of you then?"

Brett shook his head. "No. It didn't sound that way at all. Ilyich said there'd be good looking guys - English and Russian. It sounded like it was something they do pretty often."

"Middle-aged or young lads?"

"I got the impression from what he said that most of the guys were going to be young - legal, but young."

This thing was sounding more and more interesting. And curiouser. "Will you go to it?" I asked.

"If I've got you and Richard there - sure. It could be fun."

I glanced at the ginger-haired lad from Belfast. "How about you? Will you go?"

"What are you planning?" he asked without committing.

I snorted. "A bit of surveillance, I suspect. We have these Russians frequenting gay clubs and-" I glanced to Brett. "And availing them of gay sex when it's offered - or they buy it. They quite freely offer up party drugs, even to a lad they've hired. That's being a bit suspicious to me. Then, too, we have heroin entering the gay community. It becomes more suspicious."

"You think they're bringing it in?" asked Richard.

"I don't know. The odds would be against it. I've never been so lucky as to have any of my cases solved by having the evidence dropped into my lap. But it could be that happens in this case."

"Other than Ilyich offering me drugs last night what's stuck in your craw with this thing?" Brett asked suspiciously.

"Having young Englishmen trekking out to the country with young Russians is a bit strange too."

"Yeah, that is," Richard agreed. "I've seen those two younger guys at Illusions. They're good looking guys now that I think about it, but - well - I've never thought I might like to get into something with one."

"There's usually a distance - especially when there's a language difference," I agreed. "Here, there doesn't sound like there is one. That makes me me even more curious."

"What happens if Ilyich and his Russians are your drug suppliers, Phillip?" Brett asked. "I'm not ready to walk into the shoot out at the O.K. Corral here."

"The O.K. Corral?" I mumbled.

He laughed. "Sorry. American history there - if you saw as many cowboy movies as I did growing up, you'd have known what I was talking about."

"There won't be any shoot outs, Brett. We'll go to their country place and keep our eyes open. I'll try to find one or two young policemen we can take in with us. But nothing will happen - not there."

"But what happens if it's what you think it is?" Richard demanded.

"I'll ensure we have the local constabulary there. This place will be under watch. We'll have communication with the outside too. If they are doing something illegal - anybody there - they can be arrested after they've left. You two will be safe."

"That's a firm promise?" asked Brett, watching me closely.

"You and Richard won't be anywhere near that place if my suspicions become aroused. That I promise you. You're civilians, I'm not going to let you get involved in something dangerous."

"Okay, I'm in," the American announced.

"Count me in too," the lad from Belfast offered. "I need some fun anyway."

"Where is this place?" I asked Brett.

"Somewhere in Sussex. Ilyich said it was a-" He fumbled for a moment looking for the word. "A dacha his government owns."

I smiled. A simple check of that county's registry would tell where I was going to be this weekend. I could do that from the office. "Set it up with Ilyich then, Brett. And get back with me with the information."

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