This is a story set in England, hence the English spelling and grammar. It is not written from any personal experience but was inspired by an incident in another (hetro) story I wrote and posted sometime ago. The title says it all really although the boy in this case is 18 and the man is 50+. The author is mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk who would be pleased to receive your comments on this story.
Man and Boy
It was typical of an up-market English seaside hotel when visited in the winter. Its faded splendour more in evidence in the cold winter light; the lack of people to bring it alive and the handful of staff required to keep it operating at the minimum level. Welcome to The Imperial Hotel in Blackpool (a name that hardly conjures up thoughts of hot holidays) in the north-west of England, in January. Behind the desk were photographs of various British Prime-ministers arriving for the annual party conferences over the past years, all adding to the fading glory atmosphere. However, as the place to spend a couple of days whilst conducting business in the area, it wasn't bad; my room was warm and clean and surprisingly large with a separate bedroom and a seating area with TV, and a good sized bathroom; it had the advantage of facing the sea. I unpacked my case, changed into some casual warm clothing and then left for a walk along the seafront.
The wind was fierce; the previous day had been filled with a great storm and there was debris across the path and road. The sea, barely discernable against the equally grey sky, churned and heaved, slapping against the breakwater. I walked as far as a petrol station and bought a newspaper, just in time as the guy was closing, muttering about no trade on a Sunday and didn't know why he opened. I was glad that he had; the newspaper is my anonymity when away from home and wanting to use public places like a bar or restaurant.
I made my way back to the hotel and headed for the bar. It was quiet with only six or seven people sitting in near silence; it was well lit with a huge glass chandelier, and warm. I waited at the empty bar for someone to come and serve (this is England remember) casually scanning my newspaper as I did so. Eventually, a pretty hotel girl came into the bar and went behind it to serve. I ordered a beer, charging it to my room, and enquired as to ordering dinner. She told me that the restaurant was shut on a Sunday but I could order a meal to have in the bar. I thanked her and moved to a table in the corner. Here I could sit and read the newspaper (the anonymity bit) and enjoy my beer without interruption by somebody seeking conversation.
Finishing the beer, I left for my room where I undressed, showered, shaved and changed. Outside, the wind was picking up and I could hear the sea crashing against the breakwater; I decided to risk the bar-meal, it was too awful to contemplate going out to eat. Picking up my paper, I headed once again for the bar.
When I entered, I was one of three people. There was a pair who were obviously a local couple having a night out in a 'posh' place. She was dressed in a pink tracksuit, an incongruous choice as she clearly overweight and not at all athletic; he was dressed in the ubiquitous black tee-shirt, jeans and trainers and wearing a back-to-front baseball cap. Blackpool's finest out for the evening.
The pretty girl had been replaced by a young looking boy (although at least 18 as serving behind the bar). He gave a genuine smile as I arrived at the bar; I ordered a glass of red wine. He ran through the choices and I selected one and asked for the menu. He served me the wine, saying he'd bring the menu over. I took my drink over to the far table and folded the newspaper so that the crossword was available, the second stage anonymity when eating alone in public. The young man brought over the menu; I noticed then that he was quite striking in his looks. His facial features were soft and framed by locks of hair curling down; he looked rather feminine in a way but not blatantly so. I thanked him as he said to call him when I was ready to order. I sipped my wine as I perused the somewhat sparse menu and chose a light single course; I signalled him and watched him as he walked the length of the room. I gave him my order and asked him to bring a second glass of wine with it.
The meal and the wine came and I ate in silence, working my way through the crossword (and not getting any clues), half-listening to the non-conversation of the local couple. They were clearly bored and eventually left, he going through the door first and she meekly following. I finished the meal and drank the last of my wine as I finally got a couple of the crossword clues.
I was suddenly conscious of being the only customer and that the barman was clearly keeping the bar open just for me. It was gone 10pm and I was tired so I picked up my glass and empty plate and took them to the bar and wished the boy good-night. He smiled again and said good-night. I took the lift and walked to my room. I switched on the TV, washed and changed into a dressing gown. As I sat down, there was a knock on the door.
Puzzled, I got up and padded to the door, on opening it, the boy from the bar was stood outside, with my newspaper in his hand.
'You left this', he said.
I thanked him; he looked past me into the room and asked if I needed anything as he was going to lock-up for the night. Before I could answer, he was telling me that this was his favourite room and one of the best in the hotel. I agreed that it was very comfortable, thanking him again for returning my paper and that I didn't need anything else tonight. He looked disappointed but quickly beamed his lovely smile and bade me goodnight. I closed the door behind him and wandered back into the room. What a good looking boy I thought to myself, and so pleasant too. I switched off the TV and headed for bed; I fell asleep quickly but did wake up later, and was surprised that I was thinking about the boy and how affable he was. I drifted off again and woke early in the morning to make an early start to my business visits. Breakfast in the hotel was just me and one other person and served by a sleepy older woman. I gladly finished the limp toast and thin coffee and left.
I had a busy but not very fruitful day. I was easily distracted and not on top of my job. I found my mind wandering back to the hotel, or more worryingly, to the boy behind the bar. I was troubled by this and resolved to go out to eat tonight and not in the hotel. On returning, I did just that; I quickly showered and changed as was out again within 45 minutes. I had a miserable meal in half-empty and cold pub. My mind couldn't concentrate on my newspaper and I was ready to go; I toyed briefly with the idea of another drink but the thought of being pulled over for drink driving prevailed and I headed back towards the hotel. I parked and was contemplating a walk along the seafront when a heavy shower of sleet served to change my mind. I locked the car and headed into the hotel, going straight to my room. Getting out of my overcoat, I stood in the darkness of the room looking out at the sleet and the heaving sea, my mind all over the place. I had no particular thoughts about the boy at all; he was just a boy whom I thought was a pleasant lad, nothing more. That line of thought sorted in my head, I turned, walked across the room, picked up my paper and without breaking step, headed for the door, out of the room and turned towards the bar. There were several people in there all men, something to do with the local traders association or suchlike gathering for pre-dinner drinks. I moved forward to get a drink. The boy wasn't behind the bar and I breathed a sigh of relief. Good, I thought, now it's out of my head.
'Hello' said a voice slightly behind me. I turned and there he was with a tray of glasses some filled with sparkling drink, others empty.
'Here, have one', he smiled, 'they won't notice; half of them are pissed already'. I was startled at his choice of words but I thanked him and took a glass.
'Must go' he said 'I'm duty wine waiter'. I moved to a far table and sat down with my free glass of wine. I toyed with the paper and the wine whilst people watching. The crowd started to thin as they moved into the dining room for dinner and the boy and two others started to clear tables. I did notice that some of the men made a point of talking to him especially; I heard that his name was Matthew and that he was an eighteen year old student in his final year at the local college studying for the hospitality trade. I felt a twinge of annoyance, I didn't know why, and decided to leave. A thought flashed across my mind and I immediately acted upon it. I waited until he was clearly visible to me, and me to him; I got up and made for the exit. He intercepted me and offered me another glass of wine; I said I was heading for my room but he said to take one anyway.
'They'll never notice', he said, smiling. I took a glass and thanked him.
Getting to my room, I stripped off and showered, shaved and put on the dressing gown and sat down with the TV on. I'd give him 30 minutes I decided. I'd left my newspaper on the table in the bar again, but this time deliberately.
After 20 minutes, I heard the lift sigh to a stop and the doors open. Footsteps headed along the corridor in the direction of my room; as they drew nearer, they slowed and stopped outside. There was a low mumble and the footsteps started again and moved further on. I heard a door open, then close and then silence. I sat sipping the wine, waiting out my self-imposed 30 minutes...and then a further ten. After another five, I got up and turned off the TV, went into the bedroom, switched on the bedside lamp and then returned to the sitting area to turn off the lights. As I did so, there was a soft knock on the door.
I opened the door and there he stood with my newspaper in one hand and a tray with two filled glasses on it. He held out the paper. 'Paper and wine on the house', he grinned,' these two were left over, I thought you might like them'.
'Why don't you join me?' I said, and stepped aside. For a heartbeat we were both unsure.
'Just for a few minutes', he said and hesitantly entered the room.
He walked to the sitting area and stood holding the tray; I asked him to sit down. We both sat at the low table. For a couple of minutes the conversation was stilted but the wine relaxed us and we started to talk about general things. I steered the conversation round to him and he became more animated as he talked about himself and his hopes to get into hotel management. I asked about the unsociable hours and how it would impact on the social side of his life. A fleeting look of sadness crossed his face; it was gone in an instant and he replied that he wasn't too bothered; he'd had a couple of girlfriends but they hadn't worked out so he preferred to keep himself busy with his college work and working part-time at the hotel. I gave him the benefit of my age in advising that he shouldn't lose sight of the benefits of keeping time spare for socialising.
'I prefer to work' was all he said. The abruptness of his response surprised me and there was an awkward silence, then, 'I didn't get on with the girls', he blurted out' I just didn't feel comfortable with them'. I told him that at his age he had all the time in the world before him and that there was no rush to do anything. He went to say something but obviously thought better of it. He reached forward, picked up his glass and finished what was left of his wine. He suddenly stood, 'I should get back', he said, 'I'm supposed to be helping the others clear up'
I stood up and followed him to the door. He reached for the handle, hesitated and then turned. 'I'm sorry for being rude just then', he said. I said it didn't matter. He looked awfully sad for a moment and then said that he'd found me easy to talk to and didn't feel awkward in my company as he did with other men. I frowned with incomprehension and then remembered the number of men in the bar who'd made a point of speaking to him.
'How do you mean? I asked him.
He hesitated and then said, 'I think they think I'm gay' he blurted out.
'Why does that bother you exactly? I asked softly.
'Because I think I might be', he said, almost in a whisper.
I told him it was no great shame and better to be comfortable with oneself than live a life trying to be something one is not. He looked at me forlornly. 'Thank you' he said, 'you are so very kind'. 'I should go', he added.
I reached up and gently squeezed his shoulder, 'You'll be fine', I said.
In one fluid movement he moved towards me and we embraced; he held on to me and I hugged him in return. As we loosed our grip on each other, he kissed me on the cheek (I don't believe to this day that he knew he did it), 'Thank you' he said, turned, opened the door and left, closing it quietly behind him
For a full two minutes I stood there, my mind racing. Here was I, man married for the major part of my life, hugging an eighteen year old boy to offer some comfort. Not too much wrong with that you may say; the part was preying on my mind was that he had been gone for a full two minutes and I still had an erection.
I tried sleep but it evaded me; I was restless and still troubled with my thoughts and continued erection. It was no good; I gazed around the room; it was lit only by the glow from the street lights and the only sound the sound of the rain and sea. At least I could get rid of one distraction; I reached for the box of tissues and the small bottle of perfumed hand cream that hotels supply. As I did so, the 'phone in the sitting area outside rang. 'Why not in here? I asked myself as I got up. I picked up the'phone.
'Hello', he said, 'it's Matthew', and then stopped.
'Hello', I said inadequately into the silence.
He broke the silence that followed, and said, in one great rush, 'Can I come up and see you I know it's late and that I've taken enough of your time already but I really would like to talk to you and you were so kind and understanding I felt you really understood what I was trying to say please don't hang up on me.'
'Wait', I said by way of interruption. He stopped gabbling. 'Of course you can come up', I said, 'and don't rush, I'm not going anywhere'.
'Thank you, David' he said (a surprise use of my name) 'I'll be along in ten minutes'. I slowly put the 'phone down; now I was nervous, why had I said yes, I asked myself. I went back into the bedroom and put on my dressing gown; on second thoughts, I also pulled on a pair of jockey briefs. Going back into the sitting room, I turned off the light and waited whilst standing at the window looking out into the distance where I could see the phosphorescence from the waves breaking far out to sea; the rain continuing to batter at the windows. I was shaking slightly, though not with cold.
There was the slightest tap on the door; it took be by surprise as I hadn't heard the lift or footsteps. I reached the door and opened it, standing aside as I did so. He walked straight in and I shut the door behind him and dropped the safety catch. I turned away from the door. Matthew had stopped halfway into the room and watched me approach.
'I used the stairs', he said, 'so as not to disturb anybody'. That answered the no noise bit: the no footsteps were because he was barefoot.
'Sorry about the delay in coming up, I stopped off at my room for a quick shower and shave'.
I asked him if he'd like a drink from the mini-bar in the room. He shook his head, 'No thanks' was all he said. I noticed he was shaking slightly.
'Are you OK?, I asked him. He said he was and then went silent on me. Never fill a silence I had been taught, so I waited. It seemed to go on forever; eventually, he broke it, as I knew he would.
'I'm sorry about being rude, you seemed to read my mind and it unsettled me, I've never talked about this to anybody before, I thought you would laugh at me or tell me to go or call me queer or to pull myself together or..'. I moved towards him and gently put two fingers on his lips to quieten him. He looked mournfully at me and his eyes welled with tears.
'It's alright', I said, 'it doesn't matter. He fell towards me and hugged me, this time with more force and held on to me. I embraced him in return and we just stood there. I could smell his hair, still damp from his shower. I could feel myself getting hard and shifted my stance so that he wouldn't feel it. As I did so he broke the embrace and pulled his head back to look up to me; he had been weeping. I looked down at him; he looked so pitiful and sad. I went to speak but the words (whatever they were going to be) died on my lips. He gave me a tearful smile. I looked back at him and something in his eyes changed. Without any thought, I leaned down and kissed him softly on the mouth, tasting the salt of his tears. He didn't move away and we held the kiss. After some time, we pulled slightly apart and looked at each other. Then, mutually, we moved to kiss each other. This was different: it was a lover's kiss, we held on to each other, moving our arms to feel the form of each other, pulling each other closer. His mouth yielded to my tongue and he sucked gratefully upon it as I explored his mouth. I pressed my hard prick against him and he pushed back against me. It felt wonderful, so sexy and, above all, forbidden. This boy was ten years younger than my own son.
We broke our kiss; I stepped away from him but took hold of his left hand. I moved toward the bedroom door and he compliantly allowed himself to be led. We approached the bed and I stopped and turned. We just looked at each other and gave each other our silent consent. I reached and started to undo his white shirt; as I did so, he tugged inexpertly at the belt of my dressing gown until it came open. Finishing with the buttons, I pushed the shirt off of his shoulders whereupon it dropped to the floor. We stopped there, he bare chested and me with my dressing gown open. I shrugged it off and left it on the floor next to his shirt. We embraced again and his bare skin on mine felt electric and my prick hardened like it hadn't done for years. I felt it start to leak pre-cum as it pressed against the restraint of my jockey briefs as we kissed deeply again, with me starting to undo the belt of his trousers and the zip as we did so. He pulled away to let them drop; he stepped out of them and then stood there looking at me. I moved to the bed a sat on the side of it, and then lay down, looking up at him. Like me, he still had his briefs on. He went around the other side of the bed and slowly climbed upon it and lay down beside me. Neither of us had spoken since I told him it was alright back in the sitting room.
I lifted myself up to look at him; he looked so appealing, almost lovely in the lights from outside. I felt no shame or apprehension as I began to make love to him. I kissed him and he eagerly returned it; we kissed lovingly for a long while as we relaxed and became comfortable with each other. I move from his mouth to kiss the side of his face, his ear and neck. His breathing was coming in shallow gasps, as I caught sight of his face I noticed his eyes were shut and his sensuous lips parted. I kissed them again and returned to his neck and then on down to his chest and then his nipples. I treated them as gently as I would my wife's, sucking them gently, running my tongue around the areolas; he gasped as I gently grasped each nipple in turn between my lips. Whilst staying with his nipples, I slid my hand across his stomach, down towards his penis. Would he stop me now, I vaguely wondered? He didn't. I ran the tips of my fingers along the length of his surprisingly (pleasingly?) large erection. I moved from his nipples, kissing and running the tip of my tongue across his skin as I travelled down his chest, his stomach and then to the band of his briefs. Whilst still kissing his body, I moved my hand to his left hip and gently pulled at the band; he lifted his hips and I pulled down one side of his briefs. I moved to his right hip and did the same there, then, back to his left to pull them lower and finally back to the right to get them clear of his hips. His briefs were now clear of his hips, his erection prevented them from going lower. I lifted myself and took the waistband over his penis and pushed them down his thighs where he pushed then clear by moving his legs. He was a magnificent sight naked. His body was superb, young, firm and hairless with the exception of his fair pubic hair, his large circumcised penis lying along his flat stomach. I took a gentle hold of it; here I was on new ground, but my wife had shown me well. I put myself in her place and acted as she had done countless times with me. I gripped it firmly and gently pulled to milk out some pre-cum; I was successful as a large drop of the clear, slippery fluid came out, fascinated, I gently spread it over the head of his young, strong prick. I gently pulled again and another large drop oozed out and started to run down the shaft; another pull expressed a third drop. I gently spread it over the heap of his penis and then down the sides. With a couple of strokes, his penis was a gleaming, slippery shaft. I glanced at Matthew; he was still laying with his eyes shut whilst I toyed with his magnificent young prick.
I just had to do it; I wanted to know how it felt and what it tasted like. I ran my tongue over the tip of his prick and pushed the tip of it into the liquid eye of his leaking penis. He gasped and I felt a huge blob of precum leak from my caged cock. I milked another drop of his pre-cum directly onto my tongue and then sank if penis into my mouth. It tasted salty, of him and of nothing I'd tasted before, another man.
My wife had taught me well. I followed the movements of my fist down his prick with my mouth, sucking slightly as I withdrew it and running my tongue around his shaft as I plunged it into my mouth again. It felt good and I felt no guilt at all nor any doubts, this felt good and I was enjoying it as much as Matthew. He started to move against my movements, making love to my mouth as I worked on him. It wasn't long before I felt his movements quicken so I slowed and then pulled him from my mouth. I gazed at his prick inches from my face and then kissed the head of it, milking another large drop of pre-cum as I did so; holding the fluid in my mouth, I moved up the bed and kissed him, running his pre-cum into his mouth as I did so. We kissed for some time, enjoying the slippery feel of his fluid between our lips. I pulled away and gazed down at him in the half-light, his eyes remained closed as I continued to gently stroke his wet and slippery penis. He must have sensed me watching him as he opened his eyes and gave me the most beautiful smile. Neither of us spoke. I lay on my side beside him, holding but no longer caressing his penis. He put his left hand to my face.
'Can I touch you David' he asked.
'Of course you can' I answered. He moved towards me and kissed me. It was the first time he had other than mutually us two and it felt almost loving and, I have to say, bloody erotic.
I rolled onto my back and he followed me so that he was above me; he kissed me again, first on my face and then very soon across my neck and chest and then to the band of my now very wet briefs. He endearingly tugged inexpertly at them and I made it easier by taking the right side at the same time as he took the left. My prick sprang free trailing a silvery string of pre-cum between the head and my stomach; I was soaked with the stuff. I kicked off the briefs and lay there. He looked down at me and then to my prick. 'Jesus' he said, that was all. He looked hesitantly at me and then back to my prick. Slowly he moved his hand towards it and took it between his thumb and forefinger. 'It's so hard', he said half to himself. He then gripped it harder and tried the same as I had to milk it. He was none to gentle and I loved him for is lack of expertise. 'Careful', I said softly, 'you'll break it'. He took his hand away. I took his hand and put it back on my aching prick. 'Only joking', I grinned at him. He smiled back but this time took hold of me with a little more confidence; the very innocence of his touch was erotic. He stroked me for a while and I could almost feel him coming to a decision. He moved, paused, and then put his lips to the tip of my prick. He kissed the end and then its length in a series of pecking kisses. It was so erotic just by the very nature of his inexperience; it couldn't have felt better if he had been a naive eighteen year old girl. After a little time he ventured to take the head of my prick into his mouth. The warmth of it took be by surprise, that and the fact than I had by penis in a young boys mouth. He took it deeper in his mouth and I felt his teeth on my skin; he gave a couple of shallow plunges, his teeth still running along my skin. I made my mind go elsewhere; it was either that or I would soon cum. This was like having a virgin girl and I wanted it to last.
I pulled away from him. 'Wait a few minutes', I said.
He came back up and lay beside me; I took him into my arms and we lay there quietly for a while.
I lifted my head. 'Let me show you', I said.
He looked at me quizzically. 'Move further down the bed'. He did so. I then turned around and lay beside him but at an angle with my head near his hips and my hips well clear of him. Laying on my side, I reached around his body and, placing the flat of my hand on the cheek of his wonderfully firm arse, turned his him towards me and took his lovely penis into my mouth again. This time I was careful not to overdo it; I kept my movements and my touch light. I played my tongue along his length and over the eye of his penis, gently probing it to tease out some pre-cum. I withdrew him from my mouth every time he started to move with me. I wanted to show him how to do it gently, not for any altruistic reason in fact, purely selfish; I was implying how I wanted him to do it to me. When he got the message not to move, I moved my hips slightly nearer to him; he got the idea and pulled himself across the intervening gap between us and, without any hesitation, took me into his mouth. I love sixty-nineing with my wife and this felt as good if not greatly different. Matthew was much more in control, gently sucking me and careful as he slid his mouth down on me. We lay there for some time gently sucking; his prick felt huge in my mouth, leaking pre-cum which I spread over it as I moved him in and out of my mouth. Abruptly he pulled his mouth away from me.
'I'm going to cum', he said in a panicky voice.
I gripped his balls firmly, 'No you're not', I said firmly, and squeezed them slightly. It served to focus his attention and he calmed down, though not before a small teardrop of cum oozed out of his penis. I looked at it and then lowered my head and took the drop on the tip of my tongue. I hesitated and then took it into my mouth. It tasted better than I expected; nothing like it smells and not unpleasant. My God I was learning new things fast.
I turned around and kissed him to see if he would taste himself. He didn't say anything, and then, 'David, please let me cum, I so want to, please'.
I pulled my head back to look down at him; we looked at each other in mutual understanding and then I moved down and kissed each nipple in turn, tugging them gently as I held them between my lips. I continued down across his lower chest and stomach; hesitating, so that he could feel my breath on his beautiful cock, I then took him fully in my mouth in one smooth motion. I could taste his cum on him and it still tasted fine: I made my decision then. I pulled away and milked some more pre-cum from him with my hand and spread it down the length of his shaft, following it with my mouth. It didn't take long.
After a few strokes he gave a panicky, 'I'm going to cum!'I didn't stop.
He made to pull away but I followed his movement. He relaxed then as he picked up my implied message. Then he started to cum. The force of it caught me by surprise as I had as much of him in my mouth as I could take. It hit me at the back of my throat and I instinctively pulled away just before the next one hit. It was followed by a third; as it did so, Matthew started to buck so forcibly underneath me that I pulled my mouth clear. He was making strangled cries as he came and I gently kept stroking his rigid cock with each spasm. Jets of his cum streaked as far as his nipples and then, as the spasms diminished, across his stomach and then just ran out of him as they faded way. He went quiet then and I gently lessened the stroking of his cock as less and less cum left him; as I did so, the spasms subsided and he lay still. It had seemed to go on for a long time; I lifted my head to look at him, his eyes were closed, he was dishevelled and breathing through his slightly parted lips. He looked wonderful. For perhaps the first time in my life, I could recognise beauty in another man. I had a fair quantity of his cum in my mouth and I was hesitating as to whether to swallow it; it tasted sour but nowhere near as unpleasant as I'd expected. As I hesitated, he opened his eyes and made to focus them.
'Wouldn't mind a kiss', he said, and closed his eyes again.
I moved towards him; he still had his eyes closed and his full lips slightly parted. As I held my head above him, I felt his cum flow to the back of my lips; I lightly touched my mouth to his, and then parted my lips. I couldn't have hoped for a better reaction; as he felt the warm flow onto his lips, he held my head to his with both hands and returned the kiss with unbridled passion. It was so erotic; his cum between our lips was warm and slippery; we were able to slide our lips over each others; once, I slid my lips from his to the side of his mouth; he eagerly followed my movement so as to keep our mouths in contact and then firmly pushed his tongue into my mouth. I drew lovingly upon it, sucking it and savouring the taste before pushing my tongue into his mouth. I pulled away and went down to where a pool of cum lay on his chest, I licked it onto my tongue and returned it to his mouth. That seemed to trigger something in us both. Mutually, we went wild.
We rolled about in abandoned passion; we kissed, bit, scratched, grabbed at any part of each other we could get hold of. He took hold of my leaking prick as I grabbed a cheek of his lovely arse and sucked his softened penis fully into my mouth. He smeared my pre-cum over his nipples and then grabbed hold of my hair; pulling me up and bringing my mouth to them. 'Lick it off', he gasped. I did, and with enthusiasm. As quickly as it began, we calmed. I knelt above him, looking down across my hard prick at his face. After what felt like some time, but probably only seconds, he wordlessly rolled away and face down on the bed. He moved slightly to get comfortable but at the same time, gradually and deliberately, parting his legs. Now I was unsure; I hadn't thought that things would go as far as they had, let alone this. Was he asking me? Could I do this?
Matthew must have heard my ragged breathing; 'I'd like to try David', was all he said and then, almost imperceptibly, raised his wonderful rounded firm arse and then down again. I reached across him, my prick brushing across his back as I did so, and picked up the bottle of hand lotion; the one, seemingly a lifetime ago, that I was going to use to relieve my thoughts about the very boy who now lay beneath me.
Kneeling between his legs, I gently parted the cheeks of his lovely arse to reveal his pink, hairless anus; holding them apart with one hand, I poured some of the lotion directly onto his opening. I placed the bottle back on the side and returned my hand to his lubricated arse.
'Tell me to stop, and I will', I said. His only response was to raise his arse slightly higher.
I spread the lotion around the area of his opening, enjoying the intimacy of it. When he was well covered, I took a little more lotion on my forefinger and gently placed the tip of it against his opening. I paused, wondering if he'd ask me to stop. He didn't. I pushed; there was an initial resistance and then he appeared to relax his arse muscle as my finger slipped easily in as far as the first joint. I held it there for a moment and then withdrew it, but not completely, and then in again, but this time to the second joint. His arse tightened again and I stopped there. He relaxed and I withdrew my finger completely. I reached across for some more lotion but this time was able to pour some into the entrance of his arse as his anus had remained slightly open. The next time I slid my finger fully into him up to the knuckle in one smooth movement; he groaned slightly and pushed back against my hand. For a couple of minutes, I gently fucked his lovely arse with my finger, stopping once to re-lubricate it. He said it felt good as he increasingly pushed harder against my finger as I pushed it into him. After another pull-out to lubricate my finger again, it slipped easily in and we built up a rhythm, me pushing into him and him pushing back onto my hand. I withdrew my finger completely and waited a couple of seconds, my heart hammering in my chest.
'Do you want to try, Matthew?' I asked.
'Yes', was all he said.
He spread his legs wider as I moved to kneel between them. His beautiful arse glistened with the lotion and his anus was still parted from the ministrations of my finger. I took the bottle, now less than half full, and poured some lotion into his open arse and then onto my prick, so hard now it almost hurt. I placed the bottle to the side of the bed.
'Tell me if you want me to stop at any time', I said.
His reply was to reach up for one of the pillows, lift up his arse and place the pillow under his hips. I looked down at Matthew, his arse lifted up for me. I moved to place my left hand beside his head, taking my weight on my left arm and legs. I took my prick into my right hand and offered it up to his upraised arse. As he felt the tip of it against his opening, he pushed slightly back and I slightly forward. The head of my circumcised prick entered his arse. We stopped there for a couple of seconds for which I was grateful; I felt I was going to cum already. I held on to it, withdrew slightly, and then moved into him again. With four or five movements, I was able to get about a third of my prick, where it is at its thickest, into him but no further. He stopped pushing against me and took a sharp intake of breath when I tried to go deeper. I pulled out of him and then moved to lie by him on my side. He moved the pillow and looked at me; disappointment showing on his face. 'I wanted to, I really did', he said sadly. I told him that I had too and still wanted to. I lifted my head and kissed him lightly on the lips.
'Let's try another way', I said and rolled away from him, onto my back. 'Come on top of me', I said softly.
He needed no second bidding and bestrode my hips, facing me and smiling; he'd grabbed the lotion and held it triumphantly. He knelt back and took my aching prick in his hand and poured most of what was left over the end. I can still smell the sweetness of it now and vividly remember how cold it felt on my hot skin. He moved forward until his arse was over my cock and then knelt forward, his hands either side of my head. He looked down at me. I reached around him and steadied my prick with my hand; then he started to press backward upon it; I let go of my prick. Again it slid in easily up to the same place as before; he pulled himself almost off and then pushed back again but never any deeper than before. He did a few movements and then stopped and then pulled off me. He reached for the bottle and emptied it over the swollen head of my cock. He then straddled me again, took my cock, guided it just into his arse and then knelt forward his head above mine. He did a couple of movements and it began to feel good, very good indeed, but still no deeper.
I looked at him. 'Relax', I whispered.
His response was to kiss me; I responded eagerly, pulling his mouth to mine with my hands either side of his lovely boyish face. As we kissed he started to move back and forth again; this time though I could feel that his arse wasn't so tight on my prick. He got to the point where we'd stopped before and stopped pushing, but kept it there rather than draw off. I pulled him towards me and we kissed lovingly, as we did I (and he) felt my prick start to overcome the tightness and then, suddenly, his arse was over the think part and closed over me again pulling all of me into him. He gasped and so did I. It felt so good; I was up to the root of my cock; I was swamped by unfamiliar sensations. He was so hot inside and the walls of his arse slightly rough. I could feel his balls against the base of my cock and his penis, semi-hard, between us. We said nothing, laying still as we both came to terms with what we had done. We started to gently kiss again and he started to move; at first his arse pulled on my prick but the lubrication took over and I slid out, and then, joyfully, back in again. It felt wonderful and I remember it as if it was only yesterday. He moved again, and then again, building slowly to slow, deliberate movements; he was smiling as he became more confident and as I started to move against his movements. Between us, I could feel his penis stirring.
'Let me look at you', I said and pushed him away from me so that he was sitting upright, impaled on my prick.
He looked beautiful; his lovely body rising above me. He smiled and then slightly closed his eyes as I took his penis in my right hand and started to rub it gently; it got to a firm state rather than a full erection and stayed that way. As I continued to stoke him, he started to move up and down on my prick and I moving against him. Now we were fucking and it felt so good. It didn't go on for long, he started to move quicker and I did the same on his penis. I passed the point of no return and he must have felt my prick momentarily swell as he put all his weight upon me, driving me deep into him. I felt warmness on my hand and looked to see cum streaming from his penis; that finished me; I started to cum, and cum hard. It hit me so much that I let go of his penis and sat upright and pulled him towards me in a tight embrace as the first wave hit me. I felt cum stream from the end of my exploding prick, and then another, followed by another. I called out something (I know not what) and we gripped each other as I filled him; in all of this I could feel the warmth of his cum between us. As my spasms decreased, we kissed and then, when they had stopped altogether, lightly held each other, saying nothing. I broke the silence,
'Are you OK?' I asked, not really knowing quite what I was asking.
'I'm fine' he said, 'just enjoying the feeling of you being inside me'.
I was suddenly cold and lay back down, taking him with me and keeping me inside him. I tugged a sheet from the dishevelled bed and pulled it over us. We lay like that for quite some time, not speaking, each thinking our own thoughts. Eventually, his arse muscles closed down on my softened cock and squeezed it out him.
'Oh no!' he said. 'I wanted you to stay in me'. I said nothing, just hugged him.
After a while he stirred. 'I should go', he said. I said that he didn't have to, he could stay 'til the morning if he'd like to. He said that he'd like that but would have to be down in time to serve breakfast. I suggested a shower.
'Together?' he asked.
'Together', I replied.
We showered together, soaping and washing each other, paying much attention to each other's penis, ball and arse areas. Once, when he was washing my balls, he slipped a soapy finger into my arse; it felt surprisingly good. We dried off and fell into bed. I pulled the duvet up over us both. I lay on my back and lifted my left arm; he slid his head under it and put in on my shoulder. We held each other as lovers for a while; me kissing his head from time to time and him occasionally tuning his head to kiss my neck. Slowly, Matthew first, we fell asleep.
I awoke at some time, becoming aware of being warm, with a half-erection and no Matthew. I then became aware that he was there but was the source of my warm feeling and half an erection; he'd woken me by taking my cock in his mouth. It was a wonderful feeing and, once fully conscious, my cock rapidly grew to its erect state. He didn't stop; seemingly he'd become a blow-job expert as he milked my prick of pre-cum and spread it over the length of it with his mouth. He soon realised that I was now fully awake as he stopped and moved up the bed.
'Did I wake you'? he asked with a smile, and then kissed me lovingly.
I rolled him onto his back and lay on top of him, returning his kiss. Our pricks were hard and we pressed them together between us. He than parted his legs and pulled them up high to rest them on my shoulders. Placing my hands either side of his shoulders on the bed, I pushed forwards, lifting his arse of the bed. Keeping him in that position, I moved myself to bring my prick under his balls and against his arse. I stayed there, looking down at him, asking the silent question. His answer was equally silent; he reached for my prick and guided the head of it to his anus; pushing slightly against it to keep in there as he took his hand away. I gently pushed a little more. It must have been my cum from our previous time as he seemed so slippery. I was able to enter him slightly, then pull back, and then in slightly deeper. I did this six or seven times and then was able to enter him fully. It felt bloody good. We stayed still for a few moments and then I started to move again. He reached down and pulled on his prick to move his balls out of the way. As he relaxed I was able to slide in and out of him with ease. There is no other term for it or a way to describe it; we made love. I was able to move into him as I did my wife. I would stop occasionally to hold myself back, and then start to move again. He looked up at me as I moved in and out of him; sometimes he would smile and then look at me through half-closed eyes as looks of pleasure flitted across his face. At times, I would move very slowly into him until I was as deep as I could go, and then stop, but keeping myself pushed hard in rather than resting. At these times he would shudder slightly and clamp his legs against my neck. When he did this, I could feel his beautiful arse clamp around my buried prick. We made love like this for some time, I couldn't say how long. There came a time however when I didn't want to stop moving and he didn't want me to. As my strokes increased, he started to meet my thrusts and also masturbated to the same rhythm. It was incredibly erotic and I noticed that, as the last time I was inside him, his cock was slightly softer than a full erection. Eventually, the inevitable happened. First a hint and then a full blown cum. As it hit me I forcefully rammed my prick into him right up to its root. He gasped and then relaxed as I held myself fully into him feeling my cum squirt out of my prick and into him. He felt it too and gasped as each jet entered him. He had let go of his prick and now had both arms around my neck, holding on tight as I emptied myself into him. It felt so good, even better than the previous time, but my spasms were fading now and I was no longer rammed up against him although still fully in him. Finally, I finished.
'Bloody hell', I said; that was all. What more was there to say?
Matthew's arms relaxed around my neck but he pulled my head down to his. He kissed me lightly on the lips.
'Thank you' he said with his dreamy smile and eyes half closed. We stayed like that until my penis softened and his muscles gently squeezed me out of him.
'Now it's your turn', I said, moving down the bed.
As I moved down, he straightened his legs, but slightly apart. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I took his now fully erect prick and gladly took it in my mouth. I milked it as I sucked and enjoyed the taste of his precum which flowed freely from him. I hadn't realised the first time how much I'd enjoyed doing this to him; now I was hungry for it. I employed all the techniques my wife had (unwittingly) taught me. Matthew seemed to particularly enjoy me teasing his prick with just my mouth, holding his hips down with my hands as he tried push against me as I lowered my mouth onto his shaft. I let his prick spring free and then grab it again with my mouth, sometimes lightly between my teeth. He did a sharp intake of breath through his teeth when I did that. I continued like this for some time until I eventually felt his prick swell and his breathing quicken. I didn't take him out of my mouth; instead, I held onto him as the beginning of the end approached. He came as forcibly as before but this time I was ready for it and withdrew very slightly to give him room to cum. It was difficult however to hang on to him as he bucked with each spurt but hold on to him I did, to the point where I didn't think I could hold any more of his cum in my mouth; I solved this dilemma by slightly opening my mouth to release a small quantity which ran down his shaft. At last he lay still; I pulled gently to milk the last drop from his prick. Then I let go of him and moved back up the bed.
He sensed what I was going to do and was ready for me. I moved my mouth over his as he offered his parted lips up to me. I opened my mouth and kissed him at the same time. A flood of his cum flowed from my lips onto his. We went wild. Between us we spread his cum over each others lips and exchanged it between our mouths with our tongues. The passion with which we did this was like nothing I'd known before. I licked up any that threatened to spill down his face and he eagerly took it from me. In one quick movement, I went down to his now soft penis and sucked another drop from him and also licked off what I'd let go over him before, and then returning to share it with him. The taste I can't remember but I can clearly remember enjoying it. Eventually we calmed down; me half laying across him. We stayed like that for ten minutes or so; I moved and looked down at him. Softly, almost with love, I kissed him; he gently returned it. I lifted my head and looked at him again; wordlessly we knew what was going to happen next.
'I should go', he said, barely audible.
I nodded. 'I know'.
He got up and headed for the shower; I waited for a few minutes, thinking about what had happened and how I felt about it. I decided I felt bloody good about it and got up to follow him into the shower-room. I leant on the entrance to the shower watching Matthew wash himself. He noticed me, smiled and continued to soap himself. He looked good, young, fit, good-looking and, now, an air of confidence. My cock stirred but I stayed watching him. He had to go and we both knew it. I held the towel for him as he turned the shower off; he walked towards me, gloriously naked with his heavy penis swinging. He turned his back to me and I draped the big towel over his shoulders, touching the back of his neck lightly with my lips as I did so. I moved past him and into the shower and turned it full on. I needed to wash my body and cleanse my mind of him; I knew it was going to be a once only liaison. As I showered, he dried himself; I enjoyed watching him as he moved so gracefully and unconscious of his beauty, yes, beauty, he looked so wonderful naked. I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel; Matthew had gone back into the bedroom and was picking up his clothes in turn as he dressed. I quickly towelled myself and tugged on the dressing gown, with some difficulty, over my still damp skin. I watched him finish dressing, neither of us saying anything. When he finished, he turned to look at me.
'Will I see you before you go?' he asked.
I said he would.
He slowly tuned and headed for the door, pausing when he reached it, his hand on the handle. He dropped his hand and turned to face me. He looked dreadfully sad. We spontaneously moved towards each other and embraced.
'Thank you', he said.
We let go of each other and he turned, lifted the latch I'd dropped a lifetime ago, turned the handle, pulled the door open and left. As quick as that. I felt terribly alone. I decided then that I would leave; I didn't want to be here anymore; business could wait. I'd go now, before the Friday traffic got too heavy heading south, back to rural Wiltshire.
I didn't see Matthew during breakfast (I was ravenous) nor when I came to check-out. He was there however in the car-park by my car. He looked cold in his hotel uniform; hardly surprising as the wind coming off the sea was freezing. As I reached him, he made a play of helping me with my suitcase into the car.
'Will you come back David?' he asked.
'Yes', I said, 'of course I will'. We touched hands briefly and I climbed into my car. I lowered the window. 'Thank you David', he said.
I smiled and said nothing; I couldn't have anyway, I was too emotional. His eyes were wet. I started the car and he took his hands from the door. I pulled slowly away, looking at him diminish in the rear-view mirror. He raised his hand as I turned right into the road fronting the cold grey sea.
'You should go to Blackpool more often', said my wife dreamily. She'd just given me the loveliest blow-job. She'd given me it as she was slightly sore from our second bout of love-making in the half-light of the early morning. It was close on lunch-time. I'd arrived home from a long and tortuous drive home, navigating around traffic hold-ups as I tracked south towards home. She'd put a bottle of sparkling wine in the fridge for my return and we'd enjoyed a light supper with it. She gave out all the wifely signs of wanting to be taken to bed and I in turn felt incredibly horny. We left the table as it was as headed for bed; I cannot remember a time when we fucked with such animal passion. She came twice in quick succession before I could hold off no longer, roughly ramming into her as I came. We calmed down as I softened and then lay beside each other as we drifted into sleep. In the cold dawn light, we both stirred and turned to each other and gently and sleepily made love. It was lovely and we moved and then stopped, going on like this for nearly an hour before she dug her nails into my shoulder as she thrust against me as she came without any warning. I followed soon after. In the full winter sunlight of mid-morning, she took me in her mouth. Afterwards, she pulled herself up to look at me.
'You haven't been fucking another woman while you've been away, have you', she asked bluntly.
'No', I replied with complete honesty, 'what makes you ask that?'
'I don't know', she said, 'misplaced feminine intuition I guess'.
I returned to the hotel in May, planning to stay overnight rather than drive home late in the day, at least, that's what I'd told my wife. There was nobody on the reception desk (not untypical in an hotel in England) so I took my case into the bar to get a drink in the meantime. Matthew was behind the bar.
'Hello', he said brightly, 'here on business again? I said I was.
He hesitated' 'Would you like a drink'?
I said I would while I waited for somebody to staff the reception desk. He looked lovely. I ordered a beer. As he poured it, another young boy came behind the bar and picked up a bottle of wine from the rack.
'For table seven', he said, looking at Matthew, who looked back at the boy, though slightly embarrassed.
'OK', he said.
The other boy looked quizzically at him and then left with the bottle. I felt a great disappointment. I caught Matthew's gaze and nodded in the direction of the parting boy, raising my eyebrows in a silent question. He reddened slightly and then nodded.
'Good luck to you both' I smiled, feeling anything but glad.
He said nothing, just nodded, and left the bar to take an order. Leaving my drink untouched, I picked up my bag and left the bar. It was a long way home. I never saw him again.
The author is mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk I would be pleased to receive your comments on this story.