It was almost noon when I checked into the hotel. I calculated it was 4 AM in Arizona and didn't think Jerry would appreciate my calling him at that hour; despite some sleep on the plane, I had jet lag and wanted to get into bed and have a good sleep. As it turned out it was better that I did delay calling him because I awoke around 7 PM which was 11AM his time. His guard bitch of a receptionist congratulated put and me me right through to Jerry. By that time he had contracted the Lottery officials and they wouldn't make pay out except to me personally but it could wait until I got back to the States - they had no problem with that.
Jerry remarked that I didn't have to stay a month. Just come on home when I'd kinda thought things through as to what I wanted to do from now on out and I told him I would probably cut my visit to two weeks. I responded that my thinking was sort of fucked up at the moment - not only because of winning the lottery but also because of our night out in Phoenix. He chucked and I told him it wasn't funny, I rarely had sex more often that once or twice a month and getting so much in one night had me all fucked up - all I could think about was getting more.
He said he'd get on to a web site that listed male escorts and gay bars and would give them to me tomorrow. (Of course, I didn't have my lap top with me and wasn't too sure if it would work here anyway.) I thanked him and told him that I was going to ask him to have a security system installed at the house but for two weeks I'd chance it if he didn't mind checking on it once in a while. So, I showered, put on a suit and went to the Brasserie, one of the hotel's restaurants. It was unbelievably crowed - and a lot of American tourists. In the waiting line, about three groups ahead of me, a couple and a boy were seated at a table for four. The man evidently recognized me as an American and came over and said they'd be pleased to share their table with me. They introduced themselves as Jim and Carol Bunning from Omaha and their son as Chris, who I guessed to be about 14. I introduced myself as Dr. Logan. (Previously I mentioned looking young was not always a good thing for a doctor. And, saying you were a psychologist wasn't always wise, either. It seemed to put people on guard - guess they thought you were going to be reading their minds as they talked.)
As it turned out they had tickets for a theater, we ordered and I ordered a bottle of wine from the wine list. It was obvious that we all enjoyed the dinner conversation. When it was time to get up from the table I told them I hoped they would enjoy the theater. They thanked me for the wine and Chris volunteered that he wasn't going with them.
Well, I had a couple of drinks at the bar, went up to the room, turned on the TV, undressed, put on a bathrobe and propped myself up on the bed with pillows at my back. Within 5 minutes the telephone rang - it was Chris Bunning asking if he could over to my room for a while. Interesting! So I said yes. His mom and dad were both great looking people and Chris had the best of both of them - he was out-of-this-world cute. He sexually excited me and I wasn't even into boys.
Blond and blue eyed with beautiful facial features. Like me, kind of on the skinny
side and with a complexion so soft looking it made me want to touch his cheeks. Shy,
he was not. He took off his shoes and sat on the bed next to me. He kept calling
me "doc" until I told him my first name was Jon.
"What a crappy TV show, Jon!"
The remote was fastened to the nightstand on my side of the bed. When I told him to change the station if he wanted, he reached over me, lying atop my legs, and surfed through the available programs.
"Hey, Jon, they've got pay channels here, wan'ta see if we can find something sexy?
"Not with you. You're too young for that stuff."
"You sound like my dad. I guess things are different than when you and my dad were kids. I know about it - fucking girls, gay sex, the whole bit."
"Congratulations!" To tell you the truth he had given me an erection with his lying across my legs - and I mean where my legs joined my body.
"Are you married, Jon?"
"No, not yet."
"Are you gay?"
"Hold it right there Chris, being single doesn't equate to being gay."
"I know that. Just hoping I guess."
"What do you mean by that? Surely you aren't gay. You're too young to know if you are or aren't for one thing."
"Yea, but I intend having a lot of fun while I are until I find out I aren't."
I had to smile at his silly, smart-ass reply because he'd come back at me with it so quickly.
"Have you been fooling around with other boys?"
"Boys and men. I love cocks. The bigger they are the more I love em."
"Jeez, Chris, I fucking can't believe you. Did you come over to my room in the hopes that I was gay?"
"Yea, I mean in a way. I was hoping I could put the make on you."
"Well, you get an "A" for honesty, anyway."
"Thanks, now why don't you be honest with me?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Shit, Jon, I sized you up at the dining table. And, when I leaned across your lap your erection was poking me in the belly. How big is that thing, anyway? It felt enormous?
He really shocked me. Was I that transparent? Nobody had ever asked me before let alone out-and-out declare that they knew I was gay.
Chris quickly brought me back to reality. I had paused a little too long. He climbed over my legs, and sitting, facing me with his knees bent, he kisses me hard and directly on my lips. When he let me come up for air, I told him I was uncomfortable with this. He parted my robe, exposing my erection and said that he didn't think my cock was uncomfortable with it, unless my erection was painful - he didn't know how damn close he was to the truth with that remark. I'd had more than my fill of Chris, I threw him off of me and back on the bed, kissed him hard as I reached down and unzipped his jeans, pulled them down and then pulled his shorts down. His quite sizable young dick flew up and I said.
"OK, you little shit. However this turns out, you asked for it"
"Fuck me!"
"No way am I going to bang your ass. You wouldn't be able to walk back to your room if I fucked you."
He didn't answer but pushed me off of him and rolled over, scooted down and took my cock into his teenage mouth. He hadn't lied - he did know about gay sex. I looked down and I could see him bobbing his head up and down with his mouth over my cock. It was just too much, too hot. I could feel my cock pulsate, I climaxed. It was not just a climax - it was a blinding climax. I thought for a moment that I was going to pass out. I intended to return the favor and go down on him but he started masturbating - jacking his cock wild and crazy, screamed and ejaculated a rope of cum over my genitals. Then I did collapse. Honest to God, I think every ounce of my energy had just drained out of my body, through my piss slit and into Chris' mouth.
He wanted to go back to his room and leave a note that he was spending the night with me. I nixed that idea very firmly and told him that for one thing it was my first night here and I was exhausted. He kissed me and said he would get together with me real soon. As much as I had enjoyed sex with him, I hoped it wouldn't happen again - it was just too risky - he was pure jailbait. (By the way did you know that the risk factor is why guys do it in pubic places - gays seem to get an additional thrill knowing it is dangerous.) I didn't realize it at the time, but this experience with Chris, along with the others I had in Phoenix were formulating the way I wanted to spend the rest of my life.
Jerry called me at 4 in the afternoon and had one gay bar and a long list of escorts, with telephone numbers that he had found on the Internet. He took a lot of time to assure me that the escorts he selected were younger than I was and had big cocks, because he knew I was a size queen. I let him have his fun with his jibes and remarks about the cocks that I liked, as if he knew my preferences better than I, even though he wasn't exactly on target with some of his remarks.
As a matter of fact, a guy's facial features and physical build are as important to me as the size of his cock. You don't always have the opportunity to see a guy's cock before you make the decision that you like him. I've had sex, repeatedly with the same guy because I liked him for reasons other than the size of his dick.
Earlier on I had taken a walk down Kensington Road to the tube station to take the tube (subway) down to the Westminster Abbey and Trafalgar Square Area and walked around. On Kensington Road I had noticed a couple of fast food type restaurants and in one they were grilling steaks. A steak appealed to me and I didn't want to go back to the Brasserie, because I didn't want to run into the Bunnings again. However, I did go to the bar, that was part of the Brasserie, and after a couple of Scotch and Sodas I walked to the fast food place I had seen before. It was around 9 PM after I had eaten and left and again took the tube to the Soho area where the Village was located - that was the pub that Jerry had found on the Internet - I'm sure there are a lot more though.
The Village turned out to be a waste of time. Like a lot of English pubs, it didn't lack for regulars. The regulars were a known quantity. An American that walked in the door was an unknown quantity. The next two days, I spent in Exeter, Lincoln, York and Durham because I was interested in the cathedrals there (on my last visit here I had found an illustrated book about English cathedrals). York was also the location of the National Railway Museum and, on my last visit, I had become fascinated with British passenger trains and I wanted to visit the museum. The train back from York to London arrived at King's Cross Station.
Near the station exit was a sort of irregular shaped, paved square with trees, benches, bookstands and quite a crowd of people, including some hot looking studs and very young boys - all cruising the place. I decided to hang out for a while.
I bought a newspaper, sat down on one of the benches and lit a cigarette. I hadn't smoked until I came to London - I guess boredom is what started it and English cigarettes were so awful I didn't think I'd have any trouble kicking the habit when I left. It didn't take long to become aware that 2 guys had their eye on me; one a young boy, probably around Chris' age and an older guy between 20 and 25. The next development was that the two of them had an animated conversation together and the kid left immediately thereafter. The older one moved to and sat on a bench about 10 feet across from me. We made eye contact a couple of times and, when I lit up another cigarette he came over and asked for a light. Then he asked if he could sit next to me. He had black hair and heavy, black brows, yet his complexion was fair and his eyes were blue. He had on black boots, jeans, a plaid shirt and a black, leather, tight fitting jacket. He introduced himself to me as Kent. The most captivating aspect of him was that he had about 3 day's growth of beard, which was as black as the hair on his head. He was absolutely and totally masculine.
It wasn't until he handed me back my lighter that I noticed he had long, slender fingers with long, well tended nails. So, there was a turn-on that neither Jerry nor I was aware of. I found his hands absolutely beautiful; I could just imagine them wrapped around my cock.
I told Kent my name was Jon (forgetting the last name and the doctor part).
"I see you have luggage. Did you just arrive in London?" Those fucking Englishmen could seduce you with their sexy accents. It was impossible to tell the gays from the straights.
"Yes and no. I've been staying here for a few days but now I'm returning from a tour of several Cathedrals."
"I'm from Canterbury, are you familiar with the cathedral there?
"I've never seen it but know the history - bombed by the Germans in WWII, rebuilt in a very modern style and utilizing the ruins of the original building as the entrance."
"I'm impressed. You are well educated and well read, I'd guess"
"Thank you Kent, and from our short conversation I'd guess the same about you."
"I'd like to show you Canterbury, or for that matter Westminster Abbey here in London."
"You know, this is my second visit here and I still haven't seen the interior of the Abbey."
"What part of the States are you from."
Southwestern - Arizona to be precise."
Damn, I really was taken by his looks, especially at close range, also his voice and his manner as well as his dress - he was dressed casually but looked very neat and clean - despite being unshaved. I decided to take the plunge - from the first I was sure he was trying to pick me up.
"Kent, are you a hustler? Are you trying to pick me up?"
Giving himself a little maneuvering space he replied, "You surprise me. I've never been asked that before. I could be. Why? Do you want to be hustled?"
"I've never been hustled before, but I think I'd like to be it if you were the hustler."
"Can we go and get a cup of coffee and talk about this?"
"Sure, it's a bit chilly sitting here anyway."
Because of my luggage we hailed a cab eventhough the coffee shop turned out to be rather close.
To reintroduce the subject, Kent asked me if I'd ever hooked up with a hustler before.
After 3 cups of coffee plus bacon and eggs, we came to an agreement. I told him I wasn't interested in paying him for one hour - I was interested in a longer period of time. Kent said if he stayed several days and I paid for entertainment, food and drinks - and of course the lodging he'd settle for 600 pounds, British currency per 24 hours. I knew nothing about it but later found out accidentally that it was below the prevailing price.
He asked if we could swing by an adult store and buy some porno movies before we went to the hotel and also go by his lodging to get some clothing.
By the time we got back to the Tara I was so fucking horny I was about to rape him in the taxi.
Naked, he was an Adonis with body hair and in need of a shave. He had a fat, 5" uncut cock with a foreskin that skinned all the way back and large balls. He was oral passive and anal active. We spent most of the time that we were in the room naked and both of us had erections 90% of the time. He loved to sit in a chair with his ass on the edge of the seat, leaning back and his legs spread wide apart, jacking while he watched the porno videos on TV. I loved just looking at him but loved it even more when I got on my knees between his legs and sucked his cock into my hungry, cocksucking mouth.
Kent and I grew extremely fond of each other. It took a few days but was a development neither of us had expected and a surprise to both of us. I was closer to being in love with him than I had ever been with any other man. He stayed with me until the morning I left and went to Heathrow to see me off.
In that time, we had picked up some condoms at a nearby Boot's Pharmacy; he had slowly, carefully and professionally gotten all the way into my ass with his hot, fat cock. I grew to love it. Then, as I mentioned previously - Kent was oral passive. But, at the same time he loved to shoot his love juice into my mouth. Actually, we made a good pair - we seemed well suited to each other. He was so hot that I could shoot while sucking his cocks or at some point when he was fucking me. I never felt the need to masturbate the whole time we were together.
The best part of our relationship, though, was that we did a lot of chatting, laughing, touching and kissing. We just enjoyed being with each other. We liked each other's company.
Besides the sex, we did go to Canterbury, the Westminster Abbey in London, several plays, quite a few straight bars and different restaurants, one bath and spent a weekend in a small hotel by the sea in Cornwall. Because of the length of time we were together, we went on a shopping spree for some more clothing for Kent and, over his objections, I put them on a credit card and whispered that he could repay me when we got back to our room by taking his cock out of his pants.
I had to fight back tears when he hugged me goodbye at Heathrow as I finished customs and left for the holding room where passengers waited to be boarded. My only comfort was that we had exchanged addresses. He didn't have a telephone but I told him he could call me collect.
TO BE CONTINUED