Hi, guys. I have managed to find a few hours in a very busy schedule to cobble together this tale, which I trust you will all enjoy. Just a quick reminder to keep up your donations to Nifty, they are very much appreciated. Hope this one meets with your approval.
I had begun to fill out my lanky frame with a more developed upper torso after regular visits to the local swimming pool and a new weight lifting regime I had started during my final year at college. I still had a smooth, hairless chest except for a few hairs sprouting around my nipples. Nevertheless, I considered my extremely hairy legs and tight, neat butt my best assets. I had been running long distance track all through school and college and as a consequence my thighs and calves had developed very nicely, thank you.
After experiencing several frustratingly unsuccessful attempts at fucking some of the more forthcoming females in our year, my very best school/college buddy Wanker (real name Juan Kerr) had persuaded me - without too much difficulty it has to be said - that both of us ought to give gay sex a try. We experimented between ourselves at first and found we both liked it a lot and soon began branching out, finding it much easier getting our hands inside a guy's undies than fumbling around with bras and panties and all that crap. There was also the question of enduring considerable embarrassment when we lost our hard-ons at the crucial moment. Somehow, when push came to shove, we found the idea of putting our dicks into that sloppy slit was a real turn off. Curiously, that did not happen when a guy bent over, gagging for a big hard cock to be inserted into his anal orifice and proceeded to have his brains almost fucked out by two over-sexed eighteen-year-olds!
The inevitable result of these activities was that we both enjoyed an abundance of male-on-male sexual encounters during our final school year. Don't get me wrong, sex with guys around your own age is great but I rapidly developed an unabashed lust for dirty sex, the dirtier the better, with older, more experienced partners. A number of encounters being cruised by mature men in the local parks or the cinema appeared to have spoilt me for anything else. I was also influenced by the fact they seemed honestly appreciative of my willingness to participate in whatever games they had in mind and were eager to meet me again, and again, and again - purely to further my education in sexual matters, you understand.
Once Wanker and I walked away from school for the last time, I decided I would try for a summer job to earn some extra cash. I set off with high hopes and was not too fussy about being a 'washer-upper' in the local fast food outlets, or a shelf filler at the local Sainsbury's or Morrison's. I had seen plenty of guys about my age doing such menial jobs to earn money while they were sorting out a career and was amazed when I found myself still unemployed and loafing around town a fortnight later. Finding employment for the summer months while waiting to start my fresher year at university was going to be a challenge and was not willing to be defeated (and in desperation) I accepted an invitation to spend time with a long standing acquaintance of the family. He was an unmarried sergeant in the Royal Air Force who occupied a bachelor apartment in a three-storey 'U' shaped complex close to where he was based. Two things persuaded me to give it a go (no, I did not tell my folks my reasons for accepting his invite.) First, I would be close to a huge RAF base where hundreds of hunky - and hopefully horny - guys would be around day and night. Second, the base was located not far from the coast with access to a superb surfing beach used occasionally for international competitions. As far as I was concerned, the competition for my favours would be between surfers and airmen!
After some hesitation, Dad persuaded Mum that I was about to leave home soon anyway, a taste of having to fend for myself could only be a good thing for me. They saw me off at the local coach station - my initial experience of student life: forget the train, it's too expensive - and I settled back for the ride. I picked up a magazine at random at the coach station trusting it was one of those so-called soft porn mags, all tits and bums. I pulled it out of my bag and nearly crapped myself. Instead of what I'd hoped I'd grabbed, this one turned out to be a serious, intellectual publication. However, the headline on the front cover grabbed me by the gonads. It read: MILITARY PUNISHMENT THROUGH THE AGES.
I instantly turned to the article and spent the next two hours engrossed in no holds barred descriptions of the savage punishments meted out to errant soldiers and sailors over two centuries. The article was lavishly illustrated with reproductions of early engravings and drawings of boys and young men being thrashed within an inch of their lives with the cat o' nine tails or an evil looking instrument called "a tawse", just for some minor infringement of naval or army discipline. The originals of these illustrations had mostly been done from life as the poor sods were being chastised. These had been submitted to the War Office or Admiralty as proof the sentence had been carried out. Naturally, with typical military thoroughness, they had been stored away in the archives to await discovery by a researcher impatiently looking for suitably detailed material for his magnum opus. I arrived at my destination with a raging hard-on and a cock threatening to flood my underpants with sticky pre-seminal fluid. Was somebody up there trying to warn me about something? I had great difficulty getting off that coach without embarrassing everyone - including myself - by the state of the tented frontage of my jeans! I hastily buried the publication at the bottom of my bag.
Quickly settling in with my host, I spent the first few days resuming my search for a summer job. I had hoped that being close to the air base and the coast it should prove somewhat easier to find something than it had been back home. As soon as I became familiar with the locality, however, my enthusiasm took a sharp nose-dive. There were so many hunky men around the place I was jerking off three or four times a day, then cruising the town and getting laid two or three times a night. I found the whole process very tiring! Not only was my host becoming fed up with a randy teenager loafing about hardly contributing so much as washing up the breakfast dishes but also one who had lately taken to wandering around his apartment in his skimpy briefs with what appeared to be a permanent erection! He was getting suspicious of what exactly I was up to during the day, when I was supposedly looking for work. He was not gay himself and I think my presence was starting to cramp his style with the ladies!
The holiday, of course, could not last and one evening, when it was pouring down with rain and neither of us felt inclined to venture outside, he plumped a can of ice cold lager down in front of me. As usual, I was watching TV and thinking about the latest in a growing line of guys from the base who were all experts at giving decent blowjobs. My host grabbed the remote, switched off the set and growled.
"OK, sonny, I'm getting' just a mite fed up with you doing fuck all but pull your plonker all day and splattering stuff all over my bathroom. I've got a new lady friend I want to bring back here for a long, quiet weekend soon, so here's what's gonna happen first thing tomorrow."
He went on to tell me, without mincing his words, that he thought I was "a fucking lazy idle good-for-nothing layabout with nothing on his filthy little mind but his cock. The time has come, my lad, when you either shape up or get out. You've got to get yourself work of some kind, so long as its legal. I have arranged with Sanjeev down at the newsagents to stick a postcard in his window for me, advertising your services to the local community as a char, cleaning apartments a couple of days a week for a modest sum. Evenings or weekends to be charged at double rates."
I reacted badly at first, but then I figures that I would not get too many responses. After all, who in their right mind would want to trust an unknown teenager with the run of their expensively furnished apartment? Then I reconsidered: if I could earn extra cash that way, it would be more than welcome, so I agreed to give it a try and went along with the idea. Within the first week of that card appearing, I had five apartments to clean!
Maintaining someone else's home struck me as being a bit sleazy at first and it certainly was not very exciting. However, there is something intrinsically voyeuristic about doing someone else's laundry, scrubbing out their bathroom and generally picking up after them. It is amazing what you can learn from a carelessly discarded bit of paper, an old envelope or other day-to-day unconsidered detritus. For example, I found out one officer was cheating on his wife with another man in his section; a wife was deeply involved in a lesbian affair with a Squadron Commander's daughter! Shit, none of that was my business, but it made great reading and provided me with ample wanking material late at night in the privacy of my bedroom!
All the tenants I worked for were either enlisted personnel at the base or civilians who worked there. Four of my clients were married with kids away at boarding school; their apartments were the easiest to clean. The fifth client, Sergeant Keith Haskell, was a bachelor instructor who took groups of young cadets or recruits out on to the surrounding moorland and gave them a very hard time on what he euphemistically termed "a survival course." Although he was out on manoeuvres most of the time, his apartment always looked as if a cyclone had passed through it whenever he spent any amount of time there. My arrangements were to clean each unit when the occupants were not at home. With Sergeant Haskell it was a little more difficult because his schedule was extremely erratic but most of the time he was not there. When I first met Haskell I was taken with his sturdy, muscular build, particularly with the clearly defined swelling in his combats. He must have been in his late thirties with copper coloured hair and piercing green eyes. He also possessed an attitude that was all business, in that uniquely military way all long-serving soldiers seem to acquire. I have to say he gave me a major ache in my balls and a more or less permanent hard-on.
To be continued....