Night_Train
NIGHT TRAIN.
To say I had gone to London looking for a bit of action would be something of an exaggeration. At my age, "sympathy" would probably have been more accurate. I hadn't found any of either, as it happened, and I found myself thereafter sitting in St. Pancras station having a good sulk as I waited for the train which would take me home. I've never been a "Scene" person at the best of times and now, in my fiftieth glorious year, I suspect I've left it a bit late. But, as we say, Hope Springs Eternal.
Well, it hadn't sprung on this occasion but I'm too old and too wise to get downhearted. Disappointed, perhaps, but downhearted?
Never!
The train had been due to depart at 23:04. It was already 23:25 and there was no sign of the few passengers who were waiting being allowed to board. But this is nothing unusual, of course. It was nearly quarter to midnight before we finally boarded. There was some slight comfort in the fact that there was a smoking coach in the train - something that not all trains have in these health conscious times. I settled myself into a seat by the window, leant my elbows on the table and stared at my reflection in the glass. Not that bad, I thought. Still got most of the hair. Still got the colour - even if it is ginger - and it's real, too. I don't believe in artificial youth. The real thing was quite bad enough, as I recall. I'm not tall, I'm not handsome and I'm not fashion conscious. The best I ever got was "cute" but that was quite some time ago. I do, however, look somewhat younger than I am - something that has occurred solely as a triumph of nature over neglect.
It had been a warm Saturday in late summer and I was wearing an old olive T-shirt, faded blue jeans and white(ish) trainers. This being Britain I had, of course, allowed for the weather being cooler by the time I got home and so I had also left a sweater and my jacket safely locked away in the boot of my car which I had left in the station car park. I could have driven to London but the traffic nowadays is so heavy that it just isn't fun anymore.
I was half dozing as the train rattled it's way out of the city. I had the smoking coach all to myself and I watched through half-closed eyes as the lights of the northern suburbs drifted past. The door at the end of the coach slid open and the conductor came through. We used to have guards - now we have conductors as well, like they have in the US. I gave him a peremptory inspection as he approached and then a slightly more detailed one when I realized that, actually, he looked rather tasty. He must have been about thirty-five or thereabouts, about five eleven tall and he was slim but well put together. He was wearing a white, short sleeved shirt and the grey trousers which are part of the uniform.
Now, there are uniform trousers and there are uniform trousers. Mostly they seem to fit where they touch, which is generally nowhere, but this guy must have been exactly the size and shape to make them fit properly. Craftily, I watched his reflection in the window as he approached and I fished my ticket out of my pocket. I held it out to him and he took it, looked at it briefly, then punched it with his gadget. He thanked me and walked off towards the front of the train. I sneaked a look at his rear as he went. I'd already examined his crotch as he examined my ticket and found it more than adequate. The rear view was equally pleasant. Nicely rounded and very cute. I settled back in my seat and let my imagination get to work on the observed data and in no time I was dozing happily while a phantom Phil did wonderful things to me.
The train stopped briefly at a station but no-one got into my coach and I went back to my daydream. I heard the door at the other end of the coach open and the guy came through again on another ticket punching sortie. As he was heading in the opposite direction to last time I didn't have to twist round to watch his cute arse as he strode through the coach and out of the door into the next. I caught a faint whiff of that heady man-odour as he went past and my semi-erect dick gave a little jerk of pleasure inside my underpants. I thought to myself that at least I would have something pleasant to think about while I was tossing off later.
The line north out of London passes through several stations before it reaches mine but this was a fast train and it didn't stop more than twice on the journey. With nothing much to see outside in the darkness I began to doze and to dream a bit more about my dishy conductor.
A while later the door opened and through he came again. This time, however, he plonked himself into a seat a little further down the coach and lit up a cigarette. A smoker as well. Better still - not that I'm advocating smoking to anyone, of course. I lit up one of my own and stared out into the night - more to stop myself staring at him than for any other reason. One doesn't want to give offence. One certainly doesn't want a smack in the mouth either. I was rather surprised, therefore, to note that he seemed to be staring at me. I could see him quite clearly, reflected in the glass, watching me. Probably trying to decide whether I was some sort of recycled football hooligan or other nefarious character potentially up to no good on his train. Or, of course, there was always the possibility that he'd spotted me while I was sizing up his equipment earlier. After forty-odd years of practice I've gotten to be quite good at the furtive glance which doesn't appear to be targeted in any particular direction but, like all human deceptions, it isn't infallible and I was a bit tired and possibly not as careful as I normally would have been. Oh well, nothing venture, nothing win.
I turned casually from the window and I smiled over at him.
"Busy night?" I asked.
"Nah," he replied with a shake of his head. "Been out on the town?"
"You could say that," I sighed. "Bit of a waste of time, really."
He got to his feet and I thought he was going to leave. Instead, he came over and perched himself on the edge of the table where I was sitting.
"I don't reckon much too it either," he said with a faint smile.
"I thought I was going out for a good time," I said ruefully. "I suspect good times are things you only thought you had when you were younger. The sort I had in mind, at least."
He chuckled and smiled down at me. His features took on a wholly captivating arrangement when he smiled. The expression "Totally out of my League" sprang to mind. Being hopeful is all fine and dandy but you do have to be realistic as well. Saves an awful lot of disappointment. Aim for something you're likely to be able to hit.
"D'you want a beer or a coffee or something?" he asked.
"I thought the buffet was closed this time of night."
"It is," he said slyly. "Won't be long."
He got up and went off towards the front of the train. The buffet was usually situated between first and standard class so it was quite a way. In the meantime, my brain started analysing data that had been received while I wasn't really paying attention. The net result seemed promising so I immediately rejected it as no more than lustful thinking. The guy was being friendly and it was far too presumptuous to read any more into it than that.
He came back a few minutes later with two of those horrible plastic cups which make everything taste of polystyrene.
"Coffee," he said. "Some arsehole's had the beer."
"Suits me," I said. "Thanks."
"Phil." he said holding out his hand to me.
"Mike," I said, taking it and shaking it as firmly as I dared.
His handshake was firm enough. Call me old fashioned but I still reckon a good, firm handshake is a fair pointer to its owner being a sound guy. Can't abide limp handshakers.
Phil perched himself, again, on the edge of the table. He was half-turned towards me and I was having the devil of a job not staring straight into his crotch which was only a couple of feet in front of me. He took his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and offered me one.
"Thanks," I said.
Okay, so this appeared to be going .........somewhere?
Loughborough, with my luck.
Just maybe, though.
We chatted and Phil continued to sit on the edge of the table. This was distracting to say the least and I was beginning to feel decidedly hot under the collar - among other places. I was a bit nervous. Instinct was yelling at me that the guy was coming on to me. Common sense was saying this was probably rubbish and just libido trying to get me into trouble. Libido was on full alert and drooling.
Phil finished his coffee and put the cup down on the table. He put his feet on the floor and stretched himself, arching his back and placing his hands behind him on the other edge of the table. The tantalizing bulge in his trousers was made even more evident by this and I had to look away briefly or I think I might possibly have exploded.
"You're a right one," he chuckled. "What do I have to do?"
I looked up at him.
"I've got eyes, mate," he said gently. "I know when I'm being sized up. I don't mind - honestly. D'you like what you see?"
I nodded dumbly.
"Good," he said. "I like what I see, too."
My brain ran the sentence again to check for errors. It appeared to have been heard correctly.
Phil got up and walked up to the interconnecting door. He took out some keys, inserted one in the lock and turned it. He went to the other end of the coach, winking at me as he passed, and locked it, too.
"We've got twenty minutes," he said as he returned to me.
He resumed his seat on the table's edge and smiled down at me. The bulge in his trousers had grown a bit. I stood up slowly and leant towards him. Phil didn't move. He looked into my eyes and he smiled. I moved closer and kissed him gently on the lips. He returned the kiss willingly and put his arms around me.
"Why thank you, kind sir," he whispered with a mischievous grin. "I needed that."
So we kissed and cuddled a bit for a few minutes. A look down at his crotch showed that he wasn't fooling. A little wet patch revealed where the head of his cock lay, straining, inside his trousers. A quick check of my own crotch showed the same. Phil slid a hand down on to my rear and squeezed gently.
"You are cute," he said quietly.
I rewarded his compliment by gently cupping his balls in my right hand. He moaned softly and leant back to let me have clear access. I kissed him again and slid my hand up along the shaft of his manhood. It jumped strongly at my touch and little electric shocks began to course through my own. I pushed down the zip on his trousers and slid my hand inside. The scent of his arousal hit my nostrils and my head began to spin. He was wearing underpants, I was delighted to find. Not boxers either by the feel of them. Can't stand loose boxer shorts.
I felt his hand run up my inner thigh and grasp my own throbbing member. He was gentle and he was being very attentive to me. He undid my belt and opened the button at the waist of my jeans. He pushed them down out of the way and began to knead and stroke my cock through my pants - which were getting decidedly damp.
I undid the clasp on his trousers and slid them, also, out of the way. The front of his light blue briefs was as wet as mine and bulged out impressively but not excessively. Can't abide enormous dicks - but that's just me. I moved over until I stood between his legs and our lips met again. Our crotches ground together and the heat of our mutual desire rose steadily.
"Wank me in my pants," he breathed, "Make me come, Mike. I want to cream in them so I have something to remember this."
I knew he was near to orgasm by the way his cock was jerking under my hand. I was on the edge myself and the twenty minutes must surely have been nearly up. I began to stroke him harder and faster. He began to breathe more heavily and he thrust against my hand as I stroked. He inhaled sharply, he stiffened, I felt his cock swell and stiffen even more and then he came. His cock pulsed strongly and I felt the warm semen spurt into the fabric of his briefs. He moaned softly and as he finished his release he grabbed me and kissed me warmly and passionately.
"Now you," he said. "Something to remember me by."
He turned us around and sat me on the table edge. He sat on the seat between my legs and buried his face in my crotch. I felt his tongue lick around my balls and then he was kissing up along the shaft of my cock. The train began to brake as he worked on the throbbing head. I was still wearing my pants and it was obviously his intent to make me cream them, too. I didn't mind at all. I felt it begin. The sensation spread through my crotch, my rear and up the shaft to the head of my cock. I thought I would faint when the release finally came and emptied myself into his welcoming mouth through the thin material of the white briefs I was wearing.
Phil got up and smiled at me again. Then he kissed me once more and helped me to pull my jeans up as I seemed to have lost the ability to control my hands and things for the moment. The train had slowed down to about twenty miles per hour and we were obviously approaching the stop before mine. Phil ruffled my hair and checked his trousers.
"Shows a bit," he chuckled "Dirty sod!"
"Hark who's talking," I protested.
"Look, Mike, I'm sorry but I have to go."
He looked at me and there was such uncertainty in his eyes.
"Would you like to, you know, get together again?" he asked, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Of course I would - if you want."
"Not on the train, though. I want to get to know you properly," he shrugged and gave me a shy little smile. "Am I being daft?"
"No you're not," I said. "I'd like that, too."
Phil pulled a note pad from his back pocket and wrote on the first leaf. He tore it out and gave it to me.
"That's my phone number."
I took it and held out my hand for him to give me the pad. He passed it to me and I wrote my own number in it.
"That's us even," I said.
He took my hands in his and pulled me in close. He kissed me one last time.
"I've really got to go," he said sadly.
"You free next weekend?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Okay, I'll ring you and we'll get together. Yes?"
"I'd like that."
"Right. So go on, bugger off and do your conducting. I'll talk to you soon."
He grinned at me and strode off down the coach. As he unlocked the door he looked back over his shoulder at me.
"You're a nice guy, Mike," he said with a little, shy smile.
I settled back in my seat and my heart felt warmer than it had in ages. Something had happened between Phil and I which went far and beyond just a quick wank on a train. Souls had touched and I knew things would never be the same for either of us again. Love at first sight? Honestly, up until then I didn't really believe in it.
Still, we live and learn - even at my age.
I didn't see him again before I got off the train. My heart felt strangely heavy as I plodded to the car park to find my old Astra. I missed him? Already? Surely I couldn't be lovesick at my age?
Apparently I could.
I drove home and went straight to bed. I didn't take off my come-stained briefs - they reminded me that I hadn't been dreaming.
The next day was Sunday and I was as restless as hell. I just could not settle to anything. I tried to read my "Sunday Post" but not even The Broons and Oor Wullie could tear my thoughts away from Phil. I fidgeted and paced and I'd just about decided to phone him and put himself out of my misery when the phone rang.
It was Phil.
'How're you doing?' he asked and I detected a distinct nervousness in his voice.
'I'm okay,' I lied.
There was one of those awkward silences - the ones where both of you know what you want to say but both of you are equally afraid of saying it.
I heard a huge sigh on the other end of the line.
'I'm sorry I bothered you on Sunday,' he said. 'I'll call you later in the week.'
That did it! I knew that if I let him go now that that would probably be it for us.
'Hang on, mate,' I said gently. 'Don't go, Phil. We need to talk.'
He didn't talk - so I had to take the bull by the horns myself.
'I've been like a cat on hot bricks all this morning,' I confessed. 'I can't stop thinking about you. I miss you, Phil.'
'Yes,' he sighed, 'I've been just the same, Mike.'
'I just can't get my mind focussed on anything else but you,' I went on. 'It's incredible, mate.'
There was another lengthy pause.
'Mike, I have to see you again. Now. Today,' he said. 'Please, I have to or I'm going to go mad or something.'
'I think I understand that feeling,' I said wryly. 'Okay, no problem. Your place or mine?'
'Can you come up to Derby?' He asked and his voice was trembling. 'Shit and hell, Mike, I'm sorry! Look, mate, I don't drive and I'm supposed to be on duty today. I can call in sick but if I get on a train after I do that some bastard will probably see me and rat on me.' He paused. 'It won't stop me, though, Mike. If you can't get up here I'll come to you.'
'I think I can manage,' I chuckled. 'What's happened to us, Phil?'
'I think we fell for each other,' he said quietly.
'I think you're right.'
Little sounds from his end of the call told me tears were being shed.
'Don't cry, Phil,' I said gently. 'I'll be there as quick as I can.'
'Sorry, he sniffed. 'I was afraid you'd just laugh at me or tell me to fuck off.'
Well it happens, doesn't it? The older we get the more resilient we may become to these irksome little happenings but they still hurt - away deep down in the depths of the soul - they still hurt.
'So when's the next train?' I asked. 'It takes about twenty minutes to get to the station from here and get parked.'
'Eleven forty,' he said instantly. 'Due in here at twelve sixteen.'
It was ten fifty. Time enough.
'Right, I'm on my way,' I said. 'Don't worry, I won't let you down, Phil - I'll be there.'
Another little pause.
'Thanks,' he said softly. 'I'll be waiting.'
As I hurriedly got ready images of Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson in the movie "Brief Encounter" played in my mind. That all took place in a railway station buffet during the war. I get these strange, romantic notions.
A quick shower later, clean underwear and the good trousers and shirt donned, I slipped on my best pair of trainers - I only wear proper shoes when I can't get out of it - and off I went. I was mildly surprised to find that my heart was thumping like a pile-driver, my mouth was dry as a desert, and I needed to go to the loo although I'd only been about ten minutes ago. I wondered if Phil was faring any better. I took my time driving to the station - which is actually in the next town - as my brain just wasn't getting into gear. I parked the car - badly - and trotted into the station although I still had about ten minutes to wait. I went to the gents and then I made my way to the northbound platform.
There are no ticket staff on Sundays so tickets have to be purchased on board. I sat down on one of the platform benches and proceeded to fidget some more. My train was showing on the information monitor as being on time so that was a slight relief. After what seemed like an age, I saw it coming round the bend in the track just south of the station. The Midland Mainline 125 roared and screeched to halt and then I nearly broke my neck getting aboard when I slipped on the step and nearly ended up under the train rather than on it. There was no smoking coach so I was just going to have to suffer. The train lurched into motion and my fateful journey began.
Leicester came and went. Loughborough flashed past, as the train didn't stop there, and soon we were passing the railway engineering works and yards on the approach to Derby station. My heart was racing as the train lurched and joggled its way over the complex pointwork as it approached the platform. I got up and found, with a certain amount of amusement, that my legs were shaking. I couldn't help smiling to myself at my own reactions. I was like a little kid again, setting out on a bold adventure with the possibility of pirates and treasure in the offing. I was as nervous as hell but I was elated and happy at the same time. I also needed to go to the loo yet again. I stepped, rather more carefully than I had done earlier in getting aboard, down out of the coach and looked around for Phil. I couldn't see him so I wandered off in the general direction of the exit. Just as I got there a figure came hurtling round the corner out of the ticket hall and nearly ran into me.
'Sorry!' It panted 'I'm ..... '
'Phil!' I said.
'Mike!' he said with a huge smile. 'God, I was in such a rush I didn't recognise you.'
And in that moment the power that had brought us together drew us into each others' arms. We didn't kiss but we held tight to one another and I could feel that Phil was shaking just as badly as I was.
'I missed the fuckin' bus,' he said sheepishly. 'You wouldn't believe the state my head's been in, mate.'
'Oh, I think I would,' I said. 'I nearly went under the train. My legs aren't working properly.'
'You sure you're happy about coming back to mine?' He asked. 'I shouldn't have pushed like that, Mike.'
'Why not?' I said. 'I'm not complaining,'
He grinned at me and slapped my shoulder affectionately.
'Thanks, Mike,' he said. 'I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, mate.'
'Same here,' I said. 'Anyway, I was on the verge of phoning you when you called.'
Things unspoken were passing between us as we stood there on a quiet Sunday afternoon, just the two of us, virtual strangers yet with a bond between our hearts and souls that was as old as humanity itself.
'Come on,' he said at last, 'Lets get out of here, Mike.'
'I just have to pay a call first,' I said, having spotted the gents. 'Won't be long.'
'I've been like that all day, too,' he chuckled.
I did what I had to do and returned to him. I followed him out of the station to a nearby bus stop where we only had to wait a minute or so for a little shuttle bus to pull in. The journey wasn't long and ended, for us, in a quiet area near a small park. We walked a short distance to a row of old traditional terraced houses and Phil led me up the path to his house, which was near the middle of the row. He opened the door and ushered me into his home. In less than a flash we were in each others' arms again but this time we let our passion run wild and free with kisses and caresses.
'I still can't believe you're really here, Mike,' he whispered. 'I was so sure you'd just not want to see me again. I'm sorry.'
'No need, Phil,' I said. 'I suppose I had my own doubts but - well, here we are.'
'I've been as horny as a sixteen year old,' he confessed as he led me into the sitting room. 'I've had a nearly permanent hard-on since this morning.'
I hadn't but he was a bit younger than me. Anyway, it was stirring and taking an interest now.
'D'you want a cuppa or would you like a beer?' he asked.
'A beer, thanks.'
'Have a seat, mate.' he said. 'I'll be a minute.'
The room was fairly small but it had that cosy, lived in feel to it. The furnishings were quite old and showing a bit of wear but the place was clean and fresh. On the shelf above the gas fire there was a photograph. I went over and took a closer look. In it was Phil, a woman and two little girls. It screamed "family" but I didn't panic. I decided I'd be a forward hussy and went and sat on the sofa. As I looked towards the window I spotted some kiddies' toys stacked in the corner. Okay, Phil was a married man. I would wait to see what he had to say - if anything.
He came back with two pint glasses of beer and put them down on the coffee table which was just in front of the sofa. He flopped down beside me and looked at me quietly for a few seconds.
'Okay, Mike,' he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. 'I should have told you this up front, mate, but I was just too scared'
'What? That you're married?'
'You saw the photo.'
'It's not exactly hidden. The toys were a bit of a clue as well '
'We're separated, Mike,' he went on. 'I realised about two years ago that I couldn't carry on living the lie. I knew I was gay long before I met Diane but I thought I could make a go of it. I so wanted kids, mate.'
I don't dislike children. I just never had the urge to have any of my own. Those that belong to friends and family are wonderful and I love them to death but there is one, important difference. I can give them back when they become too much for me.
'How old are they?' I asked.
'Paula's three and Holly's nearly five.'
'How long were you married?'
He smiled shyly.
'Technically, I still am,' he said. 'Seven years, Mike. We split up just after Paula was born.'
'I take it you still see your kids?'
He nodded.
'Two weekends a month.'
I shook my head and smiled at his forlorn expression.
'Does Diane know you're gay?'
'Yes, she knows,' he said meeting my eyes again. 'Are you mad at me, Mike?'
'How could I be mad?' I said gently. 'You didn't lie to me, you just didn't tell me.'
'Diane and I are still friends, Mike,' he went on. 'But that's all, I swear.'
'So where do you see me in all this?'
He blinked a couple of times in surprise at the directness of my question but he rallied himself quickly.
'I see you as the future, Mike,' he said quietly, his eyes locked on mine. 'My future. I love you.'
He reached out and took my hand. He was shaking like a leaf.
I squeezed his hand firmly.
'I love you, too,' I said. 'Weird, isn't it?'
He shrugged and smiled at me.
'Doesn't mean it isn't true, Mike. I love you like I've never loved anyone.'
'What about those two little girls?' I said nodding towards the photo.
'That's different, mate,' he said. 'They're my own flesh and blood.'
I took a swig of my beer.
'We'll just have to let things run and see where we end up,' I said. 'I can't imagine just letting go because you're technically still married. I'll take my chances with you, Phil.'
He bowed his head and stared at the slightly threadbare carpet.
'Thanks,' he said in a hoarse whisper.
'C'm'ere,' I said pulling him towards me.
He came to me willingly and I held him close and let him bury his face in my shoulder.
'I wasn't going to pounce on you till after we ate,' he said. 'So you either let me go or we're going upstairs right now.'
'Suits me,' I whispered. 'I need to be with you, Phil.'
He lifted his head off my shoulder and stared deep in to my eyes. His were so soft and brown that I could just have drowned in their quiet depths. Our lips met and merged in a long, fulfilling kiss and I felt his hand gently brush along my inner thigh. He didn't go any further. He stood up and looked down at me. I could see as plain as day that he wanted me. His jeans bulged out tantalisingly where his cock strained against the material of its prison.
He pulled me to my feet and led my by the hand out of the sitting room and up the narrow stairs to his bedroom. I got to admire his gorgeous rear as we climbed and the little flashbacks to last night on the train began to dance in my memory. We entered the small bedroom and he turned to face me again.
'I've only ever been with three guys in my life, Mike,' he said. 'One when I was twenty and the other just after I split with Diane. The other one is you, mate.'
I shook my head at him and smiled.
'Three or thirty-three,' I said. 'In the end it doesn't matter, Phil.'
'I just mean ... well, I'm not very experienced.'
'You could've fooled me,' I chuckled, gathering him into my arms again. 'Have you any idea what you did to me on that train?'
'I guess I don't.'
'The excitement? The danger? Phil, I have never done anything like that in my life before! It was incredible.'
He smiled at me.
'It was a sort of fantasy of mine,' he said. 'I got the feeling you were interested in me so I took the chance.'
I drew him in tight and I kissed him. He responded with all of his heart and I just let him go where his desire took him. I felt his hands slide down on to my backside and he pulled our crotches tightly together. I could feel his cock, hard, pressing against me. I slipped my hand between us and began to stroke him as we continued to kiss and caress.
Phil, with trembling fingers, began to unbutton my shirt. He pushed it gently off my shoulders and it dropped to the floor. He was wearing a sweat top which I easily slipped up over his head after which it joined my shirt on the floor. I looked again at his straining crotch. There was a little wet patch, now, which marked where the head of his cock lay. We embraced each other again and then Phil gently urged me down towards the bed. It was just a single, as was mine. I get agoraphobic in a double bed on my own. I sat down and he knelt down before me and removed my trainers and socks. He yanked off his own shoes and socks and then he sat down beside me.
'You can do what you like with me, Mike,' he said.
The assertion of the truly inexperienced. I'd said that, once. Only once!
I lay back and pulled him with me. The narrowness of the bed meant we had to be close to each other or fall off but we weren't caring about that. Phil went to work on my dick and I was amazed to see how big my own patch of pre-come wetness had become. I undid the fastener on his jeans and pushed the zip down, letting my hand slip inside as I went. Phil moaned quietly as I gripped his cock and squeezed it firmly.
'Oh shit, that's so good,' he breathed.
I pushed his jeans away from his loins and he raised himself enough to let me slip them out from under his beautiful backside. I sat up and pulled them right off him then I knelt across his chest and let him work on my cock for a while. He loosened my belt and undid the button on the waist of my trousers. He pulled down the zip and pushed them down off my hips to expose my cock inside my jet-black briefs. The area around the head of my cock glistened where more pre-come was oozing through the cotton. I lay down again and I let Phil remove my trousers completely. His briefs were a sort of red wine colour and they were, like everything else I had seen in his home, quite well worn. This I found to be an enormous turn on for some reason. I could see his cock jerking occasionally inside them and I knew this would end only one way. The awful desire we both felt, the raging need for release would break free as soon as I lay down with him again. I reached over and released his cock from his underwear. It was quite a pleasing thing, as cocks go. Uncut and neither too long nor too thick. I yanked the briefs off him and then I lay back beside him.
He didn't wait more than a second or so. He rolled over on top of me and our passion fanned the roaring flames of our desire to still greater heights. Our lips met and melted again and again, he began to work his way down my chest, kissing my screaming flesh all the way. He turned himself around so I could get at his cock and he engulfed mine in his hot and welcoming mouth. I took his rampant dick in my own mouth and began to tease the slit with the tip of my tongue. Phil started slightly at this stimulation but he didn't object and it wasn't long before he was mimicking my actions. I felt his cock jerking strongly in my mouth and I knew he was close. I was getting pretty close myself. I released him from my mouth, briefly. I didn't want to assume that he would welcome my coming in his mouth.
'I'm going to come, Phil,' I said.
He just went at his work harder than ever. I smiled to myself and I took his cock back into my own mouth. The taste of his pre-come drove me closer still to release. I knew he was getting very near, now, and he was thrusting gently against my downward strokes on his shaft. Suddenly he tensed. He went so hard at sucking me that I felt myself racing to the edge. I knew he was there so I didn't try to hold back. As my own release jetted into his eager, hot, mouth I felt and tasted him come in my own. He whimpered quietly as the spasms subsided and I let him free of my mouth. I gently stroked and kneaded his cock with my hand until he was relaxed again. He followed my example and he smiled up at me.
'That was fuckin' amazing, Mike,' he said. 'You made my head spin.'
I took his hand and pulled gently until he rolled over and moved up beside me again. He rested his head on my chest and I put my arm around his shoulders.
'You okay?' I asked.
'Of course I am,' he said. 'I'm knackered but I'm okay, Mike.'
'Hey, I should be the one who's knackered,' I said.
'I didn't sleep all night,' he retorted. 'I even tossed myself off but that didn't help. I knew I had to see you again.'
I held him tighter.
'Well, we've done it now, mate,' I said. 'Are you still sure this is what you want?'
'I'm sure,' he said. 'I love you, Mike.'
So we lay happily together and talked and dozed. Later we went out to eat as neither of us felt much like cooking. We spent that night together in the exploration of our new love. Three times more he sent me over into ecstatic release and I gladly did the same for him.
The next morning it was my turn to call in a sickie - well, I was utterly shagged out after all. I stayed with him all that Monday until he went on duty at six and then I went with him. When the train arrived at my stop he was there to say goodbye to me and to give me a parting kiss. If anyone saw, we didn't care. After a month or so he came to live with me and here he remains. The kids come to see us both, now, and even Diane is quite friendly with me. I think she still loves Phil. Enough to let him be happy.
The End
©2003 George Gardner