This story contains sexual situations between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.
Before turning in last night, Ty had jokingly asked me whether I give good head? Of course he knew the answer, but a few minutes after our bedroom door closed, I made sure there was no room for even the slightest doubt.
With morning upon us and George's breakfast call a good half hour away, we were both lying awake, facing each other. I was lazily stroking his arm up and down, and I moved my hand to brush away the curls that had fallen across his eyelids.
"So, what's the verdict?" I smiled.
"Huh? What verdict?"
I rolled my eyes. "Do I give good head?"
A smirk crossed Ty's face. "I really can't say for sure," he grinned. "I think I need further convincing!"
With that, he moved closer and I felt his hard-on flexing against my thigh.
I sighed. As I moved to throw back the covers, I started singing 10CC's "The things we do for love ..."
I knew what was coming. Ty's hand moved to cover my mouth. "Don't sing!" he chuckled. "Seriously, you mustn't sing. I'm going to have to gag you."
With that he rolled on his back and pushed my head gently towards his sturdy beef soldier which, like a good guardsman should, was standing to attention. I kissed it, right at the tip, and then ran my tongue the full length of the shaft. As I worked my way back to the head again, I reached down and took his low-hanging love plums in my hand. He groaned as I lightly squeezed and I felt him shudder as my mouth closed over the top half of his cock. His hand was still on the back of my head, his fingers lightly running through my hair.
I was content to concentrate on the top half of his gob-filler until it finally drove him crazy, knowing he'd push my head gently down until my nose was being tickled by his short and curlies. His ass was just beginning to lift off the sheet when our door suddenly opened.
Ty sat bolt upright, almost choking me in the process. "What the fuck?" he yelled. "For Christ's sake, Scott!"
I sat up and quickly pulled the covers over us. Scott was standing in the doorway, again in Lachie's boxers, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Ty was angry. No, he was furious. "Haven't you heard of fucking knocking," he spat.
I jumped in. "Now guys, calm down. Ty, it's OK."
Scott was still standing speechless in the doorway, looking like he wanted to disappear but not able to move.
"It's OK, Scott," I smiled. "Just remember to knock in future." I lifted the covers slightly, my now regular morning invitation for him to join us. Scott was reluctant. "Come on mate," I urged. "Hop in. This is the start of Ty's birthday weekend. Let's not `blow' this out of proportion!"
Thankfully, both boys giggled. "Sorry Ty," Scott said sheepishly. "I wasn't thinking."
Ty relaxed. "It's OK, asshole!" he laughed. "You stopped me getting an early birthday present!"
Crisis averted, Scott scampered over and hopped in next to me. I decided the moment was right to reveal part of my plans for Ty's birthday. "Mate," I said to Ty, "it's your birthday tomorrow, I know, but today we're going to celebrate, just you and me. We're going for a drive."
"What? Outside?" he asked, oblivious to the silliness of his question.
I laughed. "No, doofus. We're driving around inside the house."
"Where are we going?"
"Brisbane."
"Why?"
"I can't say."
Ty looked at Scott. "Do you know?"
"First I've heard of it," Scott shrugged. "Sounds like fun though. Can Simon and I tag along?"
"Certainly not!" I said indignantly. "If you must know, we're going to Brisbane to finish what you just interrupted! Bloody pathetic that I have to drive 170 kilometers to get a bit of dick in private!"
They both chortled, and we heard a knock on the door.
"At least someone knows how to knock," I sighed. "Come in George!"
George entered with three hot breakfasts on a tray. "Good morning all," he beamed. "It's scrambled eggs for two this morning. And a BLT for you, Scott. I was getting bored with poached eggs and toasted sandwiches!"
We all tucked in and Scott filled us in on his plans for the day. Simon was working the morning shift at the supermarket, but would be free in the afternoon. Simon would give Scott another driving lesson and then they planned to cruise into Caloundra to catch a movie.
"Is it OK if Simon comes back for dinner?" Scott asked.
"Sure," I said, knowing that Ty and I would not be back tonight.
"Can he stay the night?"
I let Ty answer. "Sure, mate," he said. "Means he'll be here on my birthday. You and Simon can help George make me a cake!"
Scott was happy. Ty was relaxed again. And I was excited about the day that lay ahead for the cute guy to my left.
While the brothers chatted, I had a quick shave and shower and got dressed. Ty got up and wandered into the bathroom. Scott had disappeared by the time Ty got out of bed and headed for the en suite. I took advantage of his morning routine to make a quick call to Warren, the Warner Music publicist in Brisbane. I introduced myself and told him I was confirming that everything was set for this afternoon. He assured me it was and asked if Ty would have any problem with media, if that's the way things turned out?
"Not at all, mate," I guaranteed. "Remember though, it's a surprise. So any photos would need to be after he knows where he is and why he's there."
I disconnected the call and then quickly corralled George and Scott in the kitchen and filled them in on the plan. They both agreed it was a masterstroke. George thought Ty would be `over the moon'; Scott was more succinct, believing his brother would be "fuckin' stoked". I let them know that we wouldn't be back until sometime mid-to-late afternoon Saturday and that seeing it was Ty's actual birthday, it would be good if they could make it a bit of a celebration.
"Is it OK if Simon's here when you guys get back?" Scott asked hopefully.
"Sure, mate," I grinned. "Tell him I'm in Brisbane with Ty for meetings with his music publisher. You can mention the other thing, but just make it casual."
I asked George if he could wait for me in his room and I'd meet him in a couple of minutes with the clothes and other items Ty and I would need for an overnight stay. I asked him to pack a suitcase for us and sneak it into the trunk of my car.
I returned to our bedroom, and heard Ty singing in the shower. Grabbing some clothes for both of us - garments I was sure he wouldn't notice were suddenly missing – I quickly took them to George. "You can pack them, George, but don't take the suitcase to the car until I get our toiletries. Just gotta wait for Ty to finish in the bathroom."
Back in the bedroom, Ty was standing naked in the middle of the bathroom, towelling himself. He knew I was checking out his bod. "You got a boyfriend, mate?" I asked. "If not, I reckon you and I could have some real fun together!"
Ty grinned. "Yeah, afraid so, mate," he sighed. "And he's a real jealous bastard. If you knew you were checking me out, he'd punch your lights out!"
I feigned disappointment. "He's a lucky guy!"
"Yeah, so I keep telling him!"
Ty moseyed back to the bathroom to fix his hair and spray cologne. "Do I need to get dressed up for this trip?" he called out.
"Nah, just your usual stuff. Jeans and shirt I guess. It's bloody hot outside today so you won't need a jacket."
Finally dressed, Ty asked what time we'd be leaving. I mentally checked my timetable; a two hour drive, an hour and a half for lunch, and half an hour to find where we were meeting Warren at 5pm. "We'll need to head off in about an hour," I replied.
Ty disappeared to the music room and sat at the piano idly playing chords. I used the time to pack up what we'd need from the bathroom; toothbrushes, deodorant, shavers and shaving gel, cologne. Anything else we could pick up as needed.
I snuck into George's bedroom, put them in the suitcase he'd packed, and walked into the kitchen. "I'll get Ty to come and have a coffee on the kitchen balcony," I told George, handing him my keys. "When he does, you can put the suitcase in the trunk."
I stuck my head out the kitchen door and called to Ty. "Come and have a coffee, mate!" As Ty walked into the kitchen, George passed him and said "Mr Stewart's on the balcony."
Ty joined me in the sun and we kicked back for a while with our espressos, enjoying the sight and sound of waves lapping on the shore beneath us. By the time 12.45 rolled around, we were starting to feel the heat.
"We should be hitting the road, mate," I said.
"OK," Ty said, jumping up from his deckchair. "Shit it's hot! I think we'd better have the roof up for the drive."
I collected my keys from where George had left them in the kitchen, grabbed my wallet and followed Ty into the lounge. We called out to Scott and George and they both played along when I said we'd see them for dinner.
We said our goodbyes and we were soon on the Bruce Highway, heading for the Queensland capital. Ty had the radio playing quietly, and was gazing out the windows. He laughed.
"What's funny" I asked.
"Seems strange to be out in the world again," he chuckled. "It's been a while!"
I reached under my seat and pulled out a CD burn of Ty's forthcoming album. "Wouldn't mind listening to this guy's songs," I grinned. "No offence, but I get sick of listening to your shit all the time!"
Ty looked at CD label. "Tyson Hill, eh?" he mused. "I hear he's fuckin' hot!"
We made good time to Brisbane and I managed to find a parking spot close to E'cco, a restaurant I'd read about in the previous weekend's Sunday paper. It was given 5-stars, so I was looking forward to a great lunch.
As we waited to be seated I was aware some customers had noticed Ty, but in a restaurant this flash, nobody makes a fuss. Once we'd had time to peruse the menu, we agreed that perhaps an entrée each and a shared dessert would be the way to go.
Ty ordered seared scallops with organic carrot risotto, Persian feta and broad beans, and I opted for field mushrooms with olive toast, rocket, parmesan, and truffle oil. I left the choice of dessert to Ty and wasn't surprised when he ordered the chocolate soufflé with wild strawberry ice cream.
After I ordered a bottle of 2008 Bindi Pinot Gris, Ty leaned across the table and whispered, "Mate, it's nearly 150 bucks!"
"How often do you turn 30 mate?" I grinned. "It works out at $5 a year, which sounds pretty reasonable to me!"
The meal, as expected, was outstanding. Again, Ty leaned in and whispered: "If this wasn't such a classy place, I'd lick the plate!"
I whispered back, "If this wasn't such a classy restaurant, I'd lick you!"
After we finished our coffees, I settled the bill and we made our way back to the car. I checked the directory, located the street where `Alexander's' was situated, and we set off, pulling up a block away at 5.25. Perfect timing. Ty went to open the door but I stopped him. "We're just waiting for a tic," I said.
"Why?" he asked.
"Stop asking questions," I smirked, "or I'll have to punish you."
Sure enough, right on 5.30, my mobile sounded an incoming text message from Warren . "Ok, mate," I said. "Let's go!"
As we walked the street, Ty kept looking at me questioningly, but I ignored him. We got to Alexander's and were met at the door by Warren, who greeted us warmly. We followed him up a staircase and were shown into the main room of the club, decorated with Lenard Cohen posters, two large screens on either side of the room showing silent footage of the DVD Cohen was in Brisbane to promote.
It was a select, invited crowd of about 40 people, several of them journalists and photographers who immediately spotted Ty and started whispering amongst themselves. Before Ty was able to say anything, Warren whisked him down to the front of the room and sat with him at one of the main two-seater tables.
Ty turned around and scanned the room and when he spotted me he beckoned, but I shook my head. This was his moment.
As Warren poured Ty a glass of champagne, the lights suddenly dimmed and a spot fell to the side of the small stage. I wish I could have seen the look on Ty's face when his hero walked out, to thunderous applause.
Cohen took his place on a stool in front of a microphone stand, and over the next 20 minutes he worked his way through five much-loved songs from his repertoire; "Born In Chains", "Suzanne", "A Thousand Kisses Deep", "I Tried To Leave You" and, to my delight and undoubtedly Ty's, he finished with "Hallelujah".
The standing ovation that marked the end of the performance was heartfelt and sustained. Cohen left the stage with no fuss, disappearing into the wings and as soon as the house lights were up, Ty bounded up to me, smiling from ear to ear. Were those tears in the corners of his eyes?
"Mate," he choked, "I don't know how you fuckin' pulled this off, but this has gotta be the best birthday present ever!" His voice dropped to a whisper; "I so wanna kiss you!"
I grinned, and whispered back, "With a room full of media? Not such a good idea."
Ty was gradually surrounded by journalists and specially invited guests, all of whom wanted to say hello and ask his opinion of the showcase. Ty said all the right things, making sure the media knew that Leonard Cohen had always been his greatest inspiration and was, in his opinion, the greatest songwriter of our time.
The noise in the club dropped to a buzz when Cohen walked out with a minder and started working the room, greeting people quickly before moving on to the next group. When he got to us, Ty was almost speechless when introduced. He managed to mumble "I don't know what to say" before being saved by a swell of photographers wanting to snap the two performers for their respective papers and magazines. Ty managed to pull himself together and pose with Cohen, who thanked him briefly and then made his exit.
For the next half an hour, I chatted with Warren while Ty posed for happy snaps with other guests, signed autographs for their kids, and humbly accepted plaudits from those who loved his album.
By 6.30pm, the function was winding up and most of the guests were filing out. Ty, clearly still on cloud nine, suggested we should perhaps be leaving too.
"You're not going anywhere," I grinned, as I gestured to Warren.
"If you'd like to follow me, Tyson" he said, without giving Ty a chance to ask any questions. Like a lamb he trotted behind Warren and in front of me, through a side door leading down a corridor to a small dressing room.
We walked inside and found Cohen sitting on a couch. He stood as Warren took Ty's elbow and moved him forward. "Leonard," said Warren, "I'd like you to meet Tyson Hill."
Cohen held out his hand and the two men shook. "I'm so pleased to meet you," Cohen said, to no response. Ty was struck dumb. He opened his mouth and at first, nothing came out. He regained his composure and managed to say, "I'm sorry. I'm lost for words. You have no idea ..."
Warren and I moved back into the corner of the room and helped ourselves to the drinks trolley, while Ty found his voice and blurted out everything he'd ever have wanted to say to his hero if he'd thought he had an ice-block's hope in hell of doing so.
Cohen was patient and kind, and clearly touched by Ty's genuine outpouring. I was equally touched when, at the end of Ty's long ramble, Cohen said "I'm glad to meet you too, Tyson. I have your album. I play it in my car back home?"
Ty looked at him in disbelief. "No shit?"
Cohen smiled. "No shit! My record company here always sends me the latest releases from my competition down under!"
Ty just shook his head. "I've gotta be dreaming," he sighed. "And I don't wanna wake up."
"I hear you sang `Hallelujah' on your last tour?"
"You know that?" Ty asked, astonished.
"I saw it in one of my online fan forums," he shrugged. "They say you make a pretty good fist of it. I wouldn't mind hearing it."
Ty looked disappointed. "The show wasn't recorded," he replied apologetically.
"No time like now," Cohen smiled, picking up one of his many acoustic guitars and handing it over.
"You want me to sing it for you now?" Ty asked in disbelief.
"I'd like that."
Ty turned and looked at me. "Mate," he gasped. "I'm playing Leonard Cohen's guitar!"
Cohen laughed, and Ty sat for a few moments, shaking his head. The room was quiet and Ty strummed a few chords, obviously trying to summon the courage. Just when I thought he wouldn't be able to sing, his powerful voice filled the room ... "I've heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord ..."
Whatever nervousness Ty felt disappeared the moment he started singing. His eyes were closed and he lost himself in the lyric. It was obvious from the outset that Cohen was impressed. When Ty finished the song, the room was silent for a few seconds, just as it had been when he sang it during his own show.
It was Cohen who broke the silence when he leaned forward and said, "Man, that was beautiful," with great sincerity. "I don't often like other interpretations of that song, but that was chilling."
"You don't know what an honor this is for me," Ty said, in awe. "Truly an honor."
Cohen stood and Ty quickly followed. The meeting was coming to an end. Cohen reached into his coat pocket and handed Ty a business card. "This has my manager's details," he explained. "Call him when my next Australian tour is announced, probably towards the end of the year. Maybe we can do something together on stage?"
Again, Ty was stuck for words. He looked at Cohen, then at me, then at Warren, and simply shook his head.
"I hear it's your birthday tomorrow?" Cohen asked.
Ty could only nod.
Cohen picked up the guitar Ty had played, signed it with an indelible marker and handed it to Ty. "Happy birthday!"
Ty was completely taken aback. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"Not at all," Cohen smiled. "I'd like you to have it."
For a moment, I could tell Ty was fighting back tears. He managed to squeak out, "thank you so much" before shaking Cohen's hand firmly and walking back out into the corridor.
In the main room of the club, I thanked Warren profusely for enabling the meeting, and Warren turned to Ty and wished him a happy birthday. Ty appeared to be in shock, but he was effusive in this gratitude.
We made our way down the staircase, Ty with guitar in hand, and exited the building. Night was starting to fall and we'd only walked a few years before Ty turned to me and hugged me. He stepped back and punched the air with his fist. "Fuck, mate" he babbled. "I sang for Leonard Cohen! Leonard Fucking Cohen!"
He grabbed me and kissed me hard. "Mike," he raved. "You? Me? Man, how is this possible? Fuck I love you, mate. You have no fucking idea what this has meant to me."
"I think I do!" I chuckled. "And it's really Monique you should be thanking. I just planted the seed."
"I'll send her some flowers. And you can plant your seed as soon as I get you home."
We kissed again, and made our way back to the car. By the time we were on the road, Ty's shock had turned to elation and he was like a little boy, excited beyond belief. "Mate," he gushed. "The man's 76 and he's played my fucking album! In his car! And he gave me his guitar! Jesus!"
He kept up his excited rant until I turned the car into the basement car park of the Stamford Plaza Hotel. He stopped mid sentence and looked at me in surprise.
"We're staying here tonight," I grinned. "I want you all to myself for a few hours, to celebrate your birthday."
"God almighty!" he laughed, his face lighting up. As quickly as it did, his expression changed.
"What's wrong?"
"I said Simon could stay the night, because I thought we'd be back at the house. Fuck knows what they'll get up to ..."
I sighed. "One more time, Ty. How old is Scott?"
Ty sighed. "18".
"Yep," I replied. "An adult. Mate, if something's gonna happen, it's gonna happen. Better it happen at the house and not in Simon's car on some back road. We're here to have some fun mate!"
"I know, Mike. Sorry," Ty said sheepishly. "This is all too good to be true. I could fucking eat you!"
"You'll get your chance!" I smirked. "You stay here while I check in, then I'll phone you with the room number and you can take the elevator from here and avoid reception."
I killed the engine, flipped open the trunk of the car and, suitcase in hand, hot-footed it to the lobby and registered. In the elevator on my way to the Plaza Suite, I phoned Ty and told him where he'd find me.
Walking through the double doors to the hotel's main suite, I let out a low whistle. I was immediately impressed. I wandered through our lounge, noted the private outdoor terrace overlooking the Brisbane River, and opened the doors to a sumptuous bedroom. This was gonna be nice!
For some reason Ty was taking his time so I unpacked our suitcase, hung up our clothes and set up the bathroom. I was pleased to see the oversized soaking tub.
As requested, a chilled bottle of Grand Crus Chablis had been delivered and I opened it and poured two glasses. Finally, I heard a knock at the door and Ty bounced in, still looking like an excited teenager. "Sorry mate," he said. "It was Scotty, wanting to know what I thought of my surprise! You can only imagine the earful he got! And you'd be proud of me. I didn't say anything about ... you know?"
I smiled. I handed him a glass of wine and, looking around, he too whistled. "Mate, this is nice!" he grinned.
"I've ordered a late dinner for us, in the room, at 9.30. Gives us time for a soak in the tub, if you like!"
"Oh no, mate," he insisted. "No, no, no. We can soak later on."
With that, he put his glass of wine down next to mine and pushed me back against the lounge room wall. He grabbed the sides of my face, kissed me deeply and forcefully and then, pulling back and looking me in the eyes, he placed his hands at the opening of my shirt and ripped it hard, tearing the material and popping buttons all over the floor.
"Hey!" I protested. "That's a Zegna ..."
"I'll buy you his Brisbane store," he panted as he ripped what was left of it from my body. As his hands moved lower, I quickly started to unbutton my jeans lest they too ended up in tatters. My fly now gaping open, he grabbed them at the top and with one quick yank, he pulled them to my ankles.
We stood facing each other, our eyes still locked until Ty's fell to the obscene tent in my boxers.
"That looks painful!"
"It is" I laughed, as Ty sank to his knees. He made quick work of lowering my shorts and my erection sprang up to meet him, smacking him on the chin. He laughed and in response, slapped his hand on my bare ass. I flinched, and his hand snaked back around front and tweaked my nipple. Hard. I groaned.
Ty's left hand started to gently but steadily stroke my cock, before he sank his face into my crotch, his tongue lapping at my balls. I ran my fingers through his hair, as much to steady myself as to show my appreciation. He took one ball in his mouth and gently sucked, dropped it out and then repeated the delicate action on the second.
When my nads had been properly bathed, he looked up, deep into my eyes, and started to lick my belly, stopping every few moments to lower his mouth and run the tip of his tongue enticingly along the underside of my shaft. The eroticism of his actions was making my legs weak.
His left hand again encircled my dick, only this time instead of jacking it, he held it perfectly straight and circled the head with his tongue. Another groan escaped my lips and as his tongue continued to thrill me, I saw his lips curl into a wicked smile.
It was time. He was ready to remind me what a hot cocksucker he was, and in one fluid gulp, I was deep in his mouth. This time, my legs really did start to shake, so much so that I had to press my hands into his shoulders to steady myself. He wasn't about to stop his ministrations, so I spread my legs a little further to keep my balance.
After maintaining a slow, torturous rhythm he suddenly picked up the pace and started to deep throat my cock, burying his nose in my pubes and then backing off to the tip before swooping all the way down again, his hand all the time playing with my dangling, churning nuts.
As the sensations intensified, my toes involuntarily curled, my teeth ground and my ass muscles clenched tight. I was trembling. I wanted this to last, but try as I did, that familiar, urgent need took over and I started to fuck his face. God bless him, he didn't miss a beat; he kept up his oral assault until I was moaning incoherently. And then the clincher. He inserted a finger into the one part of his mouth that wasn't stuffed with dick, wet it, and then reached around and slipped it deep in my ass. As soon as its tip grazed my prostate, I lost it.
A stream of obscenities spewed from my mouth as my balls erupted. I felt light-headed as the first powerful jet of semen flooded his mouth. He swallowed that first rocket, then pulled his mouth off me and stroked me quickly and firmly, resulting in four or five more ribbons of juice splattering his fine-looking face. Even though every nerve in my body was reacting to the aftershocks of such a formidable climax, I still registered the fact that Ty's face looked like a glazed Krispy Kreme donut!
After catching my breath and, with pants still around my ankles, I stumbled to the couch and sat down. Ty squeezed in beside me and looked at me closely. I leaned in and kissed him hard. His mouth tasted faintly of chocolate soufflé and strongly of ... cum.
"Ty," I panted. "Fuck!"
"That take the edge off?" he asked, with a smirk.
"Mate, you just don't know!" I laughed.
"That was just for starters, mate. After dinner, I'm really gonna say thanks!"
I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, shucked off the rest of my clothes and slipped on a white hotel bathrobe. Returning to the lounge, I threw the other to Ty and suggested he get comfortable.
Ty stripped and put his robe on, and we sank into couches opposite one another and topped up our wine glasses. For the next half an hour, Ty excitedly recalled every moment of his time with his lifelong musical idol. He barely drew breath as he recounted the conversation and told me repeatedly how much it meant to him. As happy as I was for him, there came a point when I wanted to reach out and strangle him, just to shut him up! Thankfully he was saved by the doorbell.
"You go into the bathroom and close the door, mate," I instructed. "I'll deal with room service."
With Ty out of sight, I opened the door and stood back as a waiter wheeled in a mobile table with all the trimmings; white table cloth, white rose, and dishes covered with silver lids. I had him set it up inside the room, in front of the open French doors leading to our private riverfront terrace.
The waiter ran through his checklist with me; braised caramel pork belly with Asian greens and palm sugar glaze for Ty, and slow roasted vine ripened tomato, thyme and caramelised red onion tart for me. Lemon curd tart for Ty and for me, warm sticky date pudding with butterscotch sauce.
I signed the bill, tipped the waiter and saw him to the door. As soon as he heard it close, Ty was back in the lounge, sniffing the air. "Something smells good!" he exclaimed. "I'm famished!"
We sat down and got started on our main courses, both of us tasting what the other was eating. It was always an enjoyable experience for me to watch Ty eat. The pleasure he took in tasting foods he'd never even heard of growing up on his parents' farm was touching.
We sipped on wine while our main courses digested and, as Ty started in again on his love of Lenny, I distracted him with dessert. He stopped talking while he tried to figure out what I'd put in front of him.
"Lemon tart, basically!" I laughed.
"Yeah, I know that!" he chuckled. "What's the other stuff?"
"Citrus confit and lime and rose petal sorbet," I answered, trying not to sound supercilious. "I wanted to order ice cream and chocolate sauce, but in a place like this the chef would call the police!"
"Hey," he smirked. "It looks good! Rose petal sorbet, though? Man, the stuff they call food these days!"
As Ty wheeled the table into the hallway outside our door, I slipped into the bathroom and turned on the taps over the double tub, mentally reminding myself to turn it off in half an hour. It was late, but I wanted us to be completely relaxed before we slipped beneath the sheets.
We returned to the couches while dinner went down, and after a few minutes, Ty jumped by and grabbed Leonard Cohen's guitar.
"Mate," he enthused. "Let me sing you your song, on Leonard Cohen's fucking gee-tar!"
Sitting back down again, he strummed a couple of chords and then launched in to "Until You Came Along", the song he'd written for me during his sessions in Melbourne. He'd played the rough demo to me the night after he set it to music and I remembered how it had brought me to tears.
"My world was so empty/Everything felt so wrong/I was losing my way/Until you came along" ... "Then you gifted me hope/The will to be strong/My world was so empty/Until you came along ..."
His words and his voice had a way of touching my soul and, as so often when he sang, I was transported to another place while he sang those special words and held my gaze.
"It's beautiful Ty," I sighed, and he smiled.
"Remember that night I played you the demo?" he asked. "I told you I wrote it because I love you. I love you even more now. I'll have to write you another song. No, maybe a whole rock opera ..."
He put the guitar down, stood and extended me his hand, and pulled me to my feet. He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. "I reckon the bath's ready," he smiled, untying his robe and letting it slip to the floor. Naked, he walked ahead of me to the bathroom, his glorious ass cheeks a magnet to my eyes.
With only a candle to light the bathroom, we slipped into the hot soapy water. Facing each other, he leaned in and pressed himself against my lips. His kisses were a drug to me, and I was a hopeless addict. Like with any force of nature, I couldn't do anything but yield. As aroused as I was below water level, I didn't want this intimacy to stop.
We took our time, lazily sponging each other's bodies, watching each other's reactions as wash cloths glided over our skin. The only sound we could hear was gently splashing water, until Ty stifled a yawn.
He quickly sat upright and lifted himself out of the tub. "Getting too warm," he said, as he grabbed his towel and started to dry himself. I lay back and watched him, marvelling once more at his perfect body; the strong shoulders, graceful back, hard calves and of course, that perfect ass. Dry, he dropped the towel and sauntered back to the bedroom. I heard him slip into bed, and pictured him waiting for me so we could turn our bodies into a midnight feast.
I pulled the bath plug and climbed out and after towelling myself dry, I moved to join him in the king size bed. I stopped at the end of the bed and looked at him, sprawled naked and bathed in moonlight. Lips seductively parted, eyes closed. Asleep!
I smiled to myself and for some reason recalled a song on one of my mum's Perry Como albums, which she played so often when I was young.
"Little man, you've had a busy day ..."
Always happy to have your feedback. marcusis32@live.com.au