Any and all feedback welcome at alex_d0uglas@yahoo.co.uk
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(Satisfaction Guaranteed)
It is my favourite time of day, that moment when the night slips away. The room starts to brighten and the cloudy sky looks like a grey sheet in front of an ultraviolet light, just slightly surreal. I curl up, feeling the warmth of his solid body beside me. He lies on his back, his lips parted slightly, a dusting of stubble across his jaw. He sleeps so deeply that he doesn't feel my gaze, or my fingertips brushing the hair back from his face. I watch his eyes dancing under the lids, the way he smiles in his dreams. Sometimes he wakes up, laughing.
I am the luckiest guy in the world. I tell myself that every day. There aren't many people in the world who would want to commit to someone like me. But Jamie saw past my illness and fell in love with a person I'm not sure has ever existed. Jamie is beautiful, successful, loving. It doesn't matter to him that I can't get a job, or that I'm uncoordinated and useless sometimes. He takes me to the gym in the mornings, since the medication I'm on means I can't drive. His friends are like him, tolerant, liberal and gentle. We have dinner parties and barbeques. He likes to cook for me when he comes home from work. He likes it even more when I bend him over the kitchen counter and fuck him until he screams and blows a load over the drawers.
I stroke his hair and he murmurs and smiles, still fast asleep. There is a knot in my stomach. I'm supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to love him back. I thought I did. An image shoots into my head, of my hands wrapped around his neck, choking the life out of his body. His tanned, smooth body. I don't know if I want to fuck him or kill him. Immediately I hate myself and I roll over, breathing hard with the effort of not thinking about it. Maybe the dose is still not right. I vow to make another appointment with my GP. It will be the second vitally important thing I have on my agenda today, the first one being to let in the plumber when he comes at 10:30 to fix the shower for the hundredth time. Jamie is thinking of redecorating the bathroom. He gets the Ideal Home magazine delivered and it's always giving him ideas. We live the suburban dream.
= = = = =
He comes down for breakfast at half eight, slightly later than usual. His hair is tousled and wet after his shower. He eats his cereal at the breakfast bar, perched on a stool. His dressing gown slides apart, and I let my eyes travel over his muscular chest down to where his cock is hanging down. His tan lines make me think of how he looks in those skimpy Speedos he wore when we were in Mykonos. My first ever official "gay" holiday. I hated every minute of it. Except the nights. Those were something else.
He feels my stare and pulls his dressing gown back around himself, checking his watch and shoveling the cereal in faster. "Fuck," he says, and milk dribbles down his chin. "I'm going to be late."
"Jesus," I mutter, feeling my cock start to burn in my pyjamas. I stand up and go over to him, grabbing his wrists, my eyes on the white drops. I feel my head cloud with lust as I bend over and lick the milk off his chin, then his lips, then my tongue is in his mouth and I've released his hands as mine slip inside the toweling robe, pushing it off his shoulders. I pull him up so he's standing, letting the robe fall to the floor. His cock is already starting to grow and he sighs as I trail my tongue down the side of his neck to his nipple, playing with the piercing until his fingers grasp at my hair and his eyes close. I know exactly where to touch him and I show no mercy as I sink to my knees. Small pearls are forming at the tip of his cock, and I lick them off, barely touching the swollen flesh. I push his legs apart and attack his balls with my tongue, sucking each one into my mouth. His cock jumps and weeps against my face as my fingers press on the skin behind his balls, working towards the dark little hole behind.
Taking his cock into my mouth, I swallow it until his pubic hair tickles against my lips. His scent is intoxicating and I groan, letting the sound vibrate on his shaft as I work my fingers up inside him. My free hand grabs his prick and starts to slide up and down, up and down. I let my tongue trail up the vein on the side, from base to tip, where some more pearls wait for me. The salty taste sends my head spinning. No more teasing. He's gasping and clutching at my head as I bob my head up and down, licking and sucking until I know he's almost at the edge.
I stand up, turn him round and push his face down on the counter, running my palms over the smooth skin of his shoulders as I slide my cock up and down his arse crack. The olive oil will do. I pour some into my hand and massage it into him, letting my cock nudge at his slick entrance until he's begging me to fuck him. "You'll be late for work," I chuckle, amazed at my own self restraint.
"Fuck work," he gasps. "Oh... my god!"
I slide inside that tight sheath until my balls are resting against him. My breathing is ragged and I run my hands over his smooth white arse cheeks. I love the sight of my cock planted inside him as I start to move and he moans again as I find the angle I'm looking for. As I fuck him, I slide my hands up his back, pulling him up a bit so I can reach around to play with his nipples. I bite on his neck, sucking until the skin is purple. And again. I want to brand him, make him scream. I slam into his body harder and harder. He tries to soothe his dripping cock but I grab his hand and force his arm up behind his back. He yelps and twists but I keep fucking until I feel his body start to tense up and he bucks his arse back against me and just as the first lines of cum burst out of him, I bite down on his bruised neck and he screams as his inner muscles start to contract around me. Just as he finishes, I close my eyes and let myself fall over the edge. My nipples tingle as I explode inside him, releasing his arm, resting my forehead against his neck, feeling my body shake and spasm, the delicious afterglow spreading through my veins like honey.
When I've steadied myself, I slide out of him and turn him around, kissing him deeply and cupping his arse in my hands, pulling him against me. The tips of my fingers brush against his hole as I feel my cum start to dribble out of him. He's gasping for breath as I release him, his cock still semi-hard, his eyes dark, his cheeks flushed.
He shakes his head, checking his new love bites in the reflection of the kettle. "Looks like a polo neck again today," he said. "Why do you always do that?"
I know he hates it, but I can't help it. And I know the pain turns him on, even though he denies it. Maybe I'm trying to make him angry. But I never can. I watch him contain his irritation and he smiles. "Well, that beats going to the gym in the morning," he says, pulling the robe on. He kisses me on the cheek and heads into the hall. "I'd better get ready and scoot," he says. "Don't forget the plumber's coming."
When he's gone, I ring my GP. It's three weeks before I can get an appointment, so I ask to speak to him directly. He's a nice guy, much better than the old git I had before who spent twenty years telling me to get more exercise and "cheer up".
He laughs when I tell him how removed I am from what I should feel, how I imagined strangling Jamie. "Listen," he says. "Last night I was making soup and my wife was going on about getting a conservatory. She's been saying that for three years now but she won't do anything about it. Drives me nuts. I imagined throwing the soup around her, just to shut her up. Felt good too, I have to say, for a second. But of course I wouldn't dream of doing it for real."
I bite my lip. "So you don't think...?"
"Alex, you have to remember that everyone feels bored, angry, miserable, whatever, from time to time. These are normal emotions. Having partner trouble is also perfectly normal. Just talk it over with Jamie and don't be so fast to see monsters in the mundane."
I love the way he says stuff like that. Slightly reassured, I hang up and scratch my hair. I stink of sex and sweat and need a shower. Just as I leave the kitchen, the doorbell rings. It is the plumber. He is early. I feel a blush creep up my cheeks as I notice his eyes traveling over my body. He hands me his business card. I notice a wet patch on the front of my pyjama bottoms and I'm mortified. "Come on in," I say, wishing I was wearing a t shirt. "Bathroom's an ensuite, upstairs."
His footsteps thud on the stairs as he follows me up. I feel his eyes boring into my back and shiver. He's tall and very well built. His hair is sticking up as if he's just got out of bed. His eyes are bright blue and cool under the thick black brows. Tufts of chest hair poke out from under his shirt. His jeans are faded and dirty. "Shower again, is it," he says, setting his tools down at the bathroom door. "I'll get on with it then. Get us a coffee, would you?"
I gape for a second. "What did your last slave die of?" I try making a joke but it comes out wrong. He's so huge the bathroom looks small and I feel myself start to dance with nerves. He looks round and his face twists into an evil grin. "Get the fuckin' coffee and maybe I'll show you," he says.
Feeling anger simmering in my chest, I go downstairs and put on the kettle. I don't remember him being at our place before. Jamie must have saved that particular pleasure for himself. I thumb his grotty business card as the water boils, noticing the little rainbow in the bottom right corner. Jamie uses some website or other to get gay friendly workmen. Mr Thomas Kirkland, plumber and handyman (satisfaction guaranteed), is obviously affiliated to the site.
Coffee made, I carry the cup upstairs and leave it by the door of the bathroom. He has already taken off the unit cover and is tightening something inside. He's humming tunelessly and I see earphones in his ears from an iPod. I gaze at the muscles sliding inside his huge biceps. This is like some kind of lame porn movie plot. Now's the time when I'm supposed to make some comment about his "toolbox", get naked and start sucking him off. He looks up and sees the coffee. Nodding me an acknowledgement, he stands up and takes a sip.
His face contorts for a second. "Fucking instant coffee?" he says, spitting it down the toilet and handing it back. "I thought you gay boys had better taste. Get me some of that Columbian, will you?" He reaches me the cup. Speechless, I take it. Then I find my voice. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I say, shaking with anger. "If you want the good shit, then do what you were paid to come here and do."
The blue gaze runs icy cold. "Whatever you want," he says. Again, his eyes drop to the stain in the front of my pyjamas. I feel myself blushing again as I go out into the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, breathing heavily. I don't know why I'm even obeying him, the bastard.
It's the "gay boys" comment that's making me crazy more than the coffee thing. I remember the torturous week in Mykonos and slump over the worktop, my head in my hands. Jamie is big into Pride. He works in an organization which promotes gay men's sexual health. He goes to a gay friendly gym. All his friends are gay or female. He even hires gay friendly workmen, although I have my doubts about the "friendliness" of Mr Kirkland. That holiday was the first time in my life that people knew something about me just by looking. They assumed and judged, just as Kirkland is doing. Jamie's whole life revolves around being gay. I feel as if I have been boxed and packaged with a nice label stuck across my chest, gay by association.
The marble worktop surface is cool against my cheek and I listen to the choking noise of the percolator, feeling my consciousness drift, trying to push the rebellious thoughts from my head.
"That coffee ready? I'm all done up there." A gruff voice from behind. I sit up, suddenly awake, wiping the drool from the side of my mouth. The coffee pot is full, my heart is beating fast with the shock of pulling me awake. I fill a mug and hand it to him. As he's taking it from me, a tremor shakes my hand and sloshes a bit over his fingers.
"You done that on purpose, you little shit," he says, shaking the scalding liquid from his hand.
I look at him and suddenly feel fear. I know he isn't playing with me. And he's so much taller than me, so big and powerful. Maybe he joined the website with the intention of gay bashing? "No, my hands shake sometimes," I stammer. "It's just the medicine I'm taking. I'm sorry, really."
He holds a dirty hand in front of my face. "Lick it off," he says. My mouth opens to protest and he shoves his burnt fingers in. I taste oil, bitter coffee. "Suck them," he says. "Just like you sucked your boyfriend's cock this morning. It's amazing the things you see when you're early for a job."
I stand up and my hands find his arm but I can't get his fingers out of my mouth and I don't dare bite, he's staring at me with this amused look like I'm some kind of rat in a lab. His fingers are thick and he fucks my mouth with them and all I can do is try not to gag. All sorts of vowel sounds are leaking from the corners of my mouth as I think of him watching Jamie and me going at it in the kitchen. Being watched doesn't bother me, it's just being watched by this monster. He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and clutches my hair so tight a whine slips from my mouth.
His hands are strong and he yanks my pyjama bottoms down and I'm naked in front of him. I can't meet his eyes. "You have a lot of scars," he says, taking my hands, turning them palm up so he can get a good look at my wrists. My body is starting to shake now. I'm scared of what he's going to do. My phone is lying on the table just meters away but it might as well be on the other side of the world.
His rough fingertips trace the scars on my wrists, the fainter ones further up. His touch is like ice, his face inscrutable. I can feel his gaze travel down to my cock, which is hardening fast. He laughs, a deep throaty chuckle. "You're all the fucking same," he says, taking my shaft into his dirty, rough palm and jacking it in time to his words. "Pathetic...little...shit. You couldn't be faithful if you tried. Look at you. You make...me...sick." His tight grip, sending fireworks into my brain.
I'm flooded with shame but I can't help pushing my cock into his hand. He tightens his grip on my wrists and spins me around, kicking my legs apart. I hear him fumble with his belt buckle, the snap of a belt. The tickle of its leather tip over my cock and balls, up my crack, brushing over my hole. Then suddenly an explosion of pain that rocks my body as the strap connects with my buttocks, forcing a scream from me. And as soon as the pain sears into my brain, his soft tongue and breath follow, soothing the reddened skin, brushing my asshole, tickling my balls.
I brace myself against the work surface where Jamie made me a casserole just last night, my fingers clutching the marble in anticipation. The thought of turning around and telling him to fuck off enters my head but as the strap connects again, my body tenses and the magnitude of my arousal blows all thoughts out of my head. "Oh Christ," I mutter. He lashes me again and again and I tense and scream and gasp. He's laughing at me. "Pathetic little gay boy," he says as he grabs my dripping cock. "Put your arms around my neck. I'm going to show you how a man should be fucked."
I am breathless as my hands lock together behind his neck, and he reaches behind me, massaging my aching buttocks with his big, callused hands, lifting me up and carrying me over to the table where he rests me on the edge. The surface is cool and soothing and I lie back, helpless with lust as he pulls his cock out of his trousers. It's long and thick, with the purple head winking out at me from under its hood. I feel the clutch of desire in my stomach, my balls. He takes his time getting ready, pulling on the condom so slowly and deliberately, feeling in his pockets for lube. Finally he's ready and he pulls his t shirt off, revealing his hairy chest and I long to run my hands over those pecs, to bury my face in that dark fur. My cock is rigid and weeping as he pushes inside my helpless body and I can't stop myself from moaning as he leans forward to nibble on my neck. The friction of his hairy stomach on my shaft is torture as he fills me up, stretches my hole tight. His breath is hot, his tongue fills my ear and sends goosebumps all over my skin. "Let go," he whispers, moving inside me and I feel his cockhead brush against something inside me, which makes my body jolt.
He straightens up and throws my ankles up over his shoulders. It's been so long since I bottomed that the pain is intense but still my cock won't go down. The pleasure from that spot inside, the sounds of his fist yanking at my dick and letting it slap onto my belly, the stinging from my buttocks...my brain is starting to overload with sensation and as he hits his stride, and starts pounding me hard, all I can do is try to brace myself and hope the table doesn't break under me. I'm completely out of control and I can do nothing but watch my rigid cock jumping and dribbling against my stomach as I feel a tightening inside, as my body starts to clutch that huge cock into a hot tight heaven. Liquid pleasure drains from all over my body to my cock and balls. He's watching them draw up and suddenly twists my nipples hard. The pain sends me over the edge. White hot spunk bursts out of my cock and my back arches, my hips jerk and I pant and groan. Before I've even recovered he pulls out of me and forces me down on my knees. Yanking the condom off, he finishes himself off stabbing that hard purple flesh through his closed fist until he blows his load all over my face and hair, then slowly strangles out the last white drips which he wipes across my lips.
Then he tucks himself all away and pulls his t shirt back on. "Mr Scott already paid by credit card," he says in a businesslike voice as his cum stings my eyes and I wipe it off, still naked and trembling on the floor before him. He has fucked me into a jelly. My hole feels hot and stretched and where he lashed me is tingling and sore. He slips his belt back on and runs a hand through his hair. "If there's any more problems with that shower, just give me a ring." I can't speak as I watch him leave. Eventually I struggle to my feet and head upstairs to shower. My body is covered in marks. I wonder how I will explain it to Jamie when he comes home.
= = = = =
After I've slept for a few hours, I call Declan, my oldest friend. The only one I have left who isn't gay, or a friend of JamieandAlex, that two headed creature I've become a part of. I spare him the details, but tell him I've just fucked the plumber, and my boyfriend will be home in a few hours.
"Sure how will Jamie find out?" Dec says. I can hear him sucking a polo mint as usual. Some things will never change. "Anyway aren't gay blokes like forgiving about shit like that?"
I sigh. "Well there are some...marks." I press my hand against my burning arse cheeks. There are tooth marks on my neck and shoulders, scratches on my inner thighs. "As for being forgiving of infidelity...that's where Jamie is just as straight as the next girl." I feel bad for making a joke out of it but I don't know how else to handle it. Declan has never seen me in tears.
He chuckles. "Well you're welcome to come and stay a while if you want," he says. "I've just got a Wii. Want to have a go?"
"A Wii? Damn! I'd love to," I say. Dec always beats me to the cool stuff. I think of Jamie and I feel a tidal wave of guilt and self hatred hitting me suddenly. "But I think I'd better talk it over with him. He won't be too happy to find out I've shagged the plumber then gone off to play with your gadgets."
"Yeah he doesn't like me much, does he."
I try to sound convincing. "Of course he likes you," I say automatically. But Dec's not far from the truth. Jamie hates him, and I don't really know why. Dec's wife just left him and he's doing a good enough job of not seeming too miserable about it all.
"Don't forget we're supposed to go to Ibiza this summer and be a pair of disgraceful thirty year old gits among all those gorgeous twentysomethings," he says.
I laugh. "Speak for yourself," I say. I make plans to go over at the weekend and hang up. The kitchen smells of sex and I open the window. I'm showered and clean and my body is glowing despite the weight of guilt pulling at my heart. I catch sight of Kirkland's business card (satisfaction guaranteed) and smile to myself for a moment as I pull out Delia Smith and try to decide what to make Jamie for dinner. He might as well dump me on a full stomach. The thought of losing him doesn't register. I can't imagine my life without him.
= = = = =
Jamie's home early for a change. We eat in silence. I watch the candlelight flicker over his face and try not to grit my teeth against the pain from my strapped arse. For the thousandth time I wish he'd bought more comfortable chairs instead of these stupid arty farty stools. The pie is burnt and I force myself to swallow a few forkfuls before pushing it to the side.
"Christ, that's gross," I say, breaking the silence. Jamie laughs and dumps his plate on top of mine. "Let's get a Chinese," he says. The dimples in his cheeks tug at my heart and I feel wretched and hypocritical, eating dinner off the table where I was fucked to oblivion by another man just hours before.
"Jamie, there's something I have to tell you," I say, closing my eyes and digging my fingernails into my palms. No point beating about the bush. "I fucked the plumber."
He freezes, and the smile stays fixed on his face but drops away from his eyes. His mouth works soundlessly until he forces out one whispered word. "Why?"
I shrug. "I don't know. One minute he was bitching about the coffee and the next he had me on the table. It was kind of surreal."
Jamie's eyes flare black and his fists clench. "You mean he fucked you? You bottomed for some complete stranger when you won't do it for me?" His voice drops low and the venom in it makes my blood run cold. "You bastard." I see tears start to glitter in his eyes. But then the hurt leaves his face and he takes some deep breaths. He turns on the light and blinks for a second. "Well, you're on new drugs I guess, maybe your judgement is...I don't know."
Anger splits through my brain. "Jamie it's not all about that!" I've lost it suddenly, my voice raised. "Will you be angry for Christ's sake and stop dismissing everything I say or do! Stop fucking...forgiving me!" I feel like I've opened a festering boil. There will be mess and blood but it's always better to release the poison. " Maybe the plumber just didn't ask me if I wanted to bottom, he just did it, just whipped the shit out of me and fucked me and I couldn't stop him and...fuck! It was the best sex I've had in a long time because I wasn't controlling every fucking second of it, like I have to do with you!"
His fist connects with my jaw, sending me spinning back against the table. Blood spurts from between my fingers, from a cut in my lip. My head spins and I sit down hard. "You ungrateful fuck!" he screams. "Look at all the shit I've put up with over the last couple of years, your moods, your fucking mania, all that bollocks at the police station! Paying off your credit card! Looking after you all this time and now it's all my fault that you can't keep your dick in your pants?" The fight goes out of him suddenly and he sits down and bursts into tears. "I hate you," he says. The words pierce my heart and suddenly I feel grief like I haven't felt in a long time.
"I can't be grateful all the time, Jamie, " I say, pulling myself to my feet. "I love you but...this is an unequal partnership. We live in your house and hang around with your friends. And then there's my illness sitting in the corner like a big fucking...pink elephant... that we both blame every time there's a problem between us." I run my hands through my hair and sigh. " I don't want to go on gay holidays and drink in gay bars all the time. I want to do normal things, like I used to. I want us to talk. We used to talk all the time." I remember those nights in the early days when we'd fuck like rabbits then talk until dawn, tangled in each others limbs. That was what I loved most about it all.
"Normal things?" he says, incredulous, and I meet his eyes. "Jamie, we are normal," I say. "I'm sick of being different and living different. If that makes me a bad person, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about the plumber." I pause at the door. "I'm going to Declan's to stay for a while. You know where to find me if you want to talk."
He doesn't stop me leaving. As my taxi pulls up, I look at him one last time. He's staring at the burnt pie I made, weeping silently. His tears pierce my heart like shards of glass. I want to hold him close and tell him I love him. But I can't. He has a lot to digest and I hope against hope, as I climb into the taxi, that we can get past this.
= = = = =
Declan isn't surprised to see me. He shows me to his spare room and then we fall on the Wii like a couple of kids. I'm desperate for the distraction. We play Prince of Persia on the Playstation and stuff ourselves with pizza and prawn crackers. Declan drinks a lot but I don't join in. I have enough drugs to keep me going. He invites some old friends around, people I've lost touch with over the years of erratic contact. They look shocked when I tell them that most of the good times we had together were because I was sick in the head, the debts I gathered, all the times I was arrested. I hide nothing from them. It's better to scare off the lightweights in the beginning, than later on when you've come to depend on them.
I clean Dec's flat while he's at work, trying to make myself useful. I go to the job market and apply for jobs. Employers tend to run a mile when they see bipolar disorder written on an application form but I keep trying. I can't stand sitting around the house. Too much time to think, to look at the gap in my life that Jamie has left behind. The simple fact is, I miss him, even though he drives me mad sometimes.
Of course I can't stay at Dec's forever. Two weeks go by and I find myself a flat. Dec and I are celebrating with a pizza and ice cream when the doorbell goes. Dec's delivering the punch line to a joke as I open the door, laughing. The smile dies on my face. It's Jamie. There are dark circles under his eyes and he thrusts a bunch of roses into my hand before pulling me into a tight hug.
I feel his breath hot in my ear and the prick of the thorns against my chest. "I've been thinking a lot," he whispers, kissing the side of my head. "I'm sorry for being such a prick. I thought I was giving you control but...you can't really give, it, you just have to take it, right? Shit, I'm not making any sense." He sighs. " Just...please give me another chance. I love you."
His hair smells of kiwi fruit shampoo and his skin is salty against my lips as I cling to him, tears stinging my eyes as his simple words unravel me. " I'm sorry." I whisper. "It didn't mean anything with the plumber, you know that."
He pushes me back and looks into my eyes. " I promise not to forgive you any more, or blame your illness for your stupid shit." He grins and settles his lips on my ear and I shiver, feeling the heat of arousal building in my pants. He knows exactly where to touch me to get me going. " Say you'll come home with me. We can get a new place, I don't care. I just want you there in it. I don't care if you fuck the occasional workman as long as you do it safe, like."
Pressed against his solid body, I close my eyes as his lips brush against mine, letting his tongue slide into my mouth. My fingers push through his hair and stroke the back of his neck. "I'll get my bags." I can't say no to him when I'm horny.
Jamie and Dec make strained conversation while I'm packing. At least he's making the effort. I know Dec will miss me. He hasn't lived with anyone since his wife left and I think he was getting used to having me around. The Ibiza thing will probably be a disaster, him heartbroken and getting a divorce and me a nutter...still you only live once. I tell Jamie about it on the way home. He suggests us taking one week's holiday together and one week with our other friends. I'm surprised at him but it sounds good. I feel hopeful that we can make it work.
I know the minute we enter the house that he's been cleaning. He does that when he's stressed or upset. I know that if I run my hands over any surface, there will be no dust. A little warmth creeps into my heart and I watch him humming and smiling as he starts pulling my clothes out of the bags and arranging them into colours and whites. He doesn't trust me to wash anything. I'm contemplating jumping on the bed, tearing off his clothes and fucking him when he gets up and stretches. "Let me get showered first," he says winking, as if he'd been reading my thoughts.
I don't need any encouragement. I pull off my clothes and sprawl myself over the quilt, already getting a boner. I play with myself idly as I listen to the spray of water. "FUUUUCK!!!!" Jamie comes running out of the ensuite, nipples hard, covered in goosebumps. "The water's freezing!"
"Thermostat must be gone again," I say, pulling him down beside me, licking the drops of water off his chest and back. It doesn't take a lot to coax his cock out after the shock of cold water it received. Soon he's gasping and spurting in my mouth, all thoughts of the shower forgotten. I slide up his body and slip my tongue into his mouth, playing with his nipple ring, feeding him his own cum as my cock beats a hot tattoo against his thigh.
"I'll sort out the shower," I whisper in his ear as I move between his legs, sliding my cock home into his hot, tight ass. I look into Jamie's eyes as I fuck him, long, slow strokes that I know he likes. The little whines he gives just make me crazy and soon I'm dumping my load inside him, feeling his legs locking behind me as he pulls me tight and tells me he loves me. I really am the luckiest guy in the world, I tell myself, kissing him deeply. But the shower still needs fixing. I wonder if Mr Kirkland will be free next Monday.