Massage Me
by Alex Carbine
Chapter Ten.
Abracadabra!
We were in another of the faceless, endless 'eateries' in London having Lunch. Art had definitely 'perked up' after our morning's shopping. When I pointed out that he seemed brighter, he answered vulgarly, "Amazing what a mouthful of spunk can do. Even better if it's someone else's and it's fresh." I told him that the Reader's Digest probably would not print that at the bottom of a page but I knew exactly what he meant. Our 'meeting' with Derek had livened both of us.
"Of all the stuff that Derek said" I said through a mouthful of ground meat in a bap, "he did say that you would look good in a Suit." "No Alex," Art argued, "what he did say was that wearing his pleather shorts meant that if I came in 'em, me cum would not ooze through me trousers." As if to weight his argument he squeezed a bottle of Mayonnaise in little white dribbles over his chips. "OK," I conceded, "But have you got a decent suit and shoes?" I pressed.
Art stopped eating and looked at me seriously. "And what would I need a fuckin' suit for? When do you imagine I would wear one, or even where?" He looked down at his plate, obviously saddened. "Look Alex," he said looking me straight in the eye, without malice or anything, "I'm a bum-boy. I've been a bum-boy since I was little. I live with other bum-boys and work my bum for a living. I'll probably be a bum-boy until I go to the big 'arsehole' in the sky." He smiled. "What do I need a suit for?"
"For those 'Special Days' when you want to go out and do something. When you go to the Cinema, a Disco, even a meal." I said, and I would have gone on but I realised that Art was giving me a very old fashioned look. "Alex, my friend. I live wiv me Mates. We can't afford to go out to no Disco's. We only get takeaways at the most once a week. There ain't no films I want to see, least ways not at eight quid a pop." He shrugged. " And ... Wot 'special days'?" "OK," I said, "Let's create one. I hereby proclaim that the rest of the day is Art's Day." By this time I was on my feet, and the couple next to us were looking up at me. "It's time for his Medications," Art told them, laughing. I sat down, and we laughed together. The 'Special Day' was on.
So that he could have something to remember the Day by, other than a pair of pleather shorts, we stopped off at a Shopping Mall, and Art was able to select, and I paid for, several items of clothing and footwear, and when we emerged into the daylight, Art was looking and feeling great. "Alex," he said as we climbed into yet another taxi, "This is the first time I have ever had an all-new-outfit, one that did not come from the second hand shops or anyfink." He moved closed to me and we embraced in the back of that taxi, with the driver giving a wry grin as he shook his head slowly at his mirror.
At the Hotel Entrance, a doorman carried our purchases into the Lobby, and a bell-boy carried them up to my apartment. He never realised how much people judged just by looks. Normally when he tried to get into a Hotel, he was stopped because, he now supposed, he was too unkempt and scruffy. And when he saw where I was living for the moment, he was totally bowled over. He just sat in one of the arm chairs in the apartment and kept on looking around himself. However, I had to make him do one thing, that was to 'phone his mates and tell them he was OK, with me, and that they were to go on tonight without him as I had asked him to stay the night. I listened in on the call. "Hi Guys," he started. "Look I'm still here with Alex and he wants me to stay the night, you know? So can you tell the Boss that I was feeling sick or sumfink? Tell 'im it must have been someone I ate!" "I told yeh he was after yeh bum," came a voice from the background amid laughter, but they were OK about it and Art was able to relax.
I suggested we showered before going down to the Restaurant, and he went into the second bedroom to undress and shower. I went to my bedroom and undressed. I had forgotten I was still wearing the pleather jockstrap from this morning, it was so comfortable. I stood posing in front of the mirror, and my cock started to fill with the memory of Derek and what had happened. I was so busy looking at my reflection that I did not see Art come into the room. He was just wearing his pleather shorts, filling them almost to over-spill. He came over to where I was standing, and stood with me, both of us admiring our reflections. Then his hand went to my cock, as mine went to his ass. "Kiss Me then Fuck Me!" he said, stroking my hardening cock. My fingers found the hole in his shorts and I played them over his crinkly sphincter.
I wrapped my arms round his shoulders and we kissed, deeply, passionately. Our tongue danced in each other's mouths. I held his head and kissed his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips. We staggered over to my bed and fell onto it, still holding each other. He rolled me over until he was on top, kneeling either side of my hips, his body laying on top of my chest, his mouth on top of mine. We kissed, and we kissed and we kissed. Then he climbed off me and remaining on all fours, he waggled his tight pleather encased bum at me.
I got up on all fours and shuffled up behind him. My tongue was able to go through the hole in his shorts, and I was able to rim him, licking his hole and the back of his ball sack. Then I pushed him onto his back and unclasped his shorts. He lifted his bum up as I pulled his zip down and his cock came free of it's own, pointing up at me as I pulled his shorts down to his knees, then off his bare feet. He returned to all fours, and went behind me, to lick my hole as he stroked my cock, still contained in the jockstrap pouch. I felt his wet tongue swirl around my puckered anus. Then he pulled my jock off my waist and down to my knees. As I moved to kick it off, he pushed me sideways and I fell onto my back.
He clambered up between my legs and lay on my stomach, our hard cocks pressing onto each other, each feeling when the other pulsed his penis, pumping just that extra bit of blood into our love sticks to maintain the sexual excitement we felt for each other. Art started to suck my left nipple and I began to stroke his bum cheeks. Then we kissed each other, before he moved over to my right nipple, and I ran my fingers up and down his crack, feeling his balls and his brown entrance. Then he moved himself further down my body and took my cock in his hand, guiding it to his mouth and sucking it. Gently at first, then a bit more insistently, before kissing his way up my stomach back to my lips. I tasted myself in his mouth as I tongued him. Then he was back down on my cock, his head bobbing up and down, whilst I ran my hands through his new haircut. Then he moved back up to my lips and we kissed as he humped the fork of my legs, his cock sliding over my balls, in the excessive clear cum that was dribbling down my cock, his wet helmet almost reaching all the way to my hole.
Then I took charge, pushing him onto his side so I could work myself down to his cock. He lay back, his head supported by a pillow, loving it as my mouth wanked his cock, my fingers played with his balls and poked his hole. Then I knelt on the bed between his knees and, holding his cock in one hand, I sucked him as he told me what he wanted, where my tongue was to go round his helmet, how he wanted my teeth to scrape gently along his shaft, and so on. All the while his cock was jerking and pulsing with excitement in my hand, his piss slit leaking clear fluid into my mouth. He started to buck under me and I realised I was bringing him to a climax. "Too soon," he hissed at me and I took my mouth off his cock, just letting my hand gently stroke the base.
He stood up on the bed, towering over me as I knelt there, his cock now back at my mouth height. I took hold of his hips and guided his stiff member back into my mouth. He began to face fuck me, his cock jerking in and out of my mouth as he moved his bum back and forth. The strokes became deeper and more insistent. I took hold of his cock, encircling his balls and holding him at the very base of his cock. My other hand tried to insinuated itself up his back entrance, but he was just bucking too hard and fast. Then he stopped, and told me to get on all fours.
I flopped over, putting my hands on the bed and he positioned himself behind me, holding his cock out straight, squirting lube onto it and me. He entered me none too gently, forcing himself into me, his puffy purple helmet pushing my hole open for his shaft to follow. He rested his hands on top of my buttocks and began a fast and furious pumping action, his cock head reaming the inside of my love tunnel, the tube under his shaft pushing hard on my prostate gland as his cock pushed in and out.
My hands slipped on the bedspread and I fell onto my chest, my arms at ninety degrees to my body. Art followed me down, not missing a stroke, still shafting me as I lay face down. I managed to lift my bum in the air a bit, taking some of his weight on my knees and bent arms. He continued sticking himself into me, almost frantically. His exertions were pushing me along the bed, until my head came to the edge and I stayed there, hands clutching the bedspread, my head unsupported, and Art pumping into me with reckless abandon.
Then he pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back. With my knees pressed to my chest, my hole was presented for his cock to enter. He held my lower legs and slid his hardness smoothly into me, having squirted it again with more lube. Again, clutching the bedspread under me, I let him bang himself into me, his balls slapping against the base of my spine, his rock hard cock shafting my hole. Then he let one of my legs go and used his hand to wank my stiffy, matching the strokes he gave my cock, with the strokes he gave my hole.
Now I opened my legs wide and supported them myself, my hands on my upper thighs, my elbows dug into the bed, my feet suspended up over my shoulders, my hole at the right height to be shafted by him comfortably. Art continued to pump his cock deep into me as he played with my balls and wanked my cock. Then I felt him falter, and he pulled his cock out, only to start to wank it furiously. I took my own cock in hand and matched his speed of wanking. Together we brought ourselves to a climactic finish.
I started cumming first, my cum squirting lines up my stomach. Then Art began to squirt over my chest, stomach, cock and balls, each rope of his spunk splattering a long white line down my body. Our orgasm lasted for eternity, and then we collapsed, me flat onto my back, Art onto the bed to my side. He struggled up to me and we kissed and cuddled for about ten minutes, but who was counting? Then I reminded him we were going to have a shower before dinner. He laughed and asked if he could share mine. We dragged our aching limbs off the bed and limped into the shower together.
As we stood under the shower together, we kissed again, our cocks pushed against each other, the water running off them both. A thought came to my mind and I had to laugh. Art was in the process of massaging his soapy hand into my arse crack when I whispered in his ear, "And he said I was after YOUR bum!"
As usual I ask you, dear reader, that if you have enjoyed the story, to let me know. Make suggestions, whatever.
You can contact me at alex.carbine@sky.com All e-mails answered. Thank You.