TAKING THE MICKEY
=================
by Andy Macdonald
Legal Notice: The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts. The story is a work of fiction and has little basis in reality.
Copyright: The author retains copyright to this story. Placing this story on a website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright.
andymacdon@hotmail.com
"'Evenin' Stephen,"
"Good Evening, my Lord,"
"Did Mum tell you, I won't be in for dinner tonight?"
"Her Ladyship did inform me, my Lord."
"Right. Good. 'Kay well I'll see you in the country this weekend. I've invited some friends down. There'll be four of us."
"Would that be three Gentlemen Sir? Yourself and three gentlemen?"
"Yea. Me and three guys. Two of them can share the Blue Room and Mickey could have the Orange room if it's free."
"Very well, my Lord, I'll arrange everything with the new housekeeper. Will that be all, my Lord?"
"Yes thanks Stephen - oh and I'll be pretty late back tonight so don't set the alarm even though my Mother will probably want it set."
"Indeed, my Lord" he grinned, slid quietly out of the room and closed the door softly behind him.
Stephen had been in service with the Earl of Cullen's father since he was a teenager and was now the present Earl's butler. A job he was proud to have and which he carried out impeccably. He nearly always travelled with the family whether they were at Findochty Castle, in Scotland, on the southern shores of the Moray Firth or in their extremely large and luxurious flat in Cleveland Row overlooking Green Park in the heart of London's West End.
Stephen descended the magnificent stairs, shouldered his way through a double-hinged swinging door and entered the large kitchen. The new housekeeper - Catherine to the Family and Cathy to her friends - looked up from the heavy ledger she was working at.
"Hello Stephen, Any news? When will we be going North?" she enquired.
"Yes, Cathy, the family will be spending a few weeks at the Castle starting this coming weekend," he replied, "The Earl and Countess. Oh and Lord Findochty will have three guests - three male guests. I gather that there won't be anyone else staying for the first weekend but there will be a big dinner on the following Saturday for the Hunt Ball committee."
The two then discussed various details and Stephen passed on the suggested room allocation which Cathy wrote down in her notebook.
"You're settling in well, Cathy," said Stephen, "I don't expect you've worked for a family as grand as this before."
"You can say that again. I've looked after some rich people but they were business people. New money. Nothing like this lot."
"This lot? I've never heard the Earl of Cullen's family referred to as 'this lot before'. Don't you approve?"
"Oh no, I don't mean any disrespect. I really enjoy working for them and I like them too. Young Rory, sorry Lord Findochty, he's really nice. Friendly and helpful. But they certainly have grand names. Why aren't they all called Cullen? And come to think of it, Rory's a pretty strange name isn't it?"
"Well Cathy, the family name is Dundrod. The head of the family is the Earl of Cullen and he holds several other titles. He can give these out to his children, the eldest son is entitled to be a Lord and usually holds the Earl's next most senior position, that is Lord Findochty. Oh yes and Rory's short for Roderick, one of the family names."
"Hmm, I see," said Cathy, "that's one hell of mouthful, I think Rory suits him much better."
"You're probably right," agreed the butler, "but it wouldn't do to call him anything but 'My Lord'."
"Yes, I can handle that." she replied wistfully.
"He's a very handsome young man but I wouldn't get too excited if I was you."
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll soon find out. Now, you'll need to get packed tonight because you have to get the early flight North tomorrow."
Stephen disappeared into his 'parlour' and Cathy continued with her stock check.
Upstairs, in his bedroom, Rory was getting ready to go out. He enjoyed all the pomposity, the trappings of wealth and position - more than enjoyed it, he revelled in it and was careful not to behave in a any way that clashed with his image as the dashing young Lord and future Earl of Cullen. But nevertheless, despite the 'blue blood' he was still a red-blooded young male and, as Cathy had noticed, a very handsome example of that species.
He was tall, 6'2", with a slender but firmly muscled body. Thick blonde hair which he kept just slightly longer than the current fashion dictated, long, blonde eyelashes and gorgeous always-smiling green eyes. Light green that seemed to hold people in an almost hypnotic gaze when he talked to them. You might think of him as languid, he always seemed relaxed to the point of laziness. His 22 year old body had not yet started to thicken, he had a 30" waist, well muscled thighs topped by a pair of pert buttocks, plump and well muscled. He talked with a very slight lisp and you might think he was an aristocratic dilettante. You would be very wrong. Rory had studied martial arts at school and he held a Judo black belt.
He was a stud - a lusty male hunk - and he knew it!
"Hmm, I think I'll go trapping tonight," he said to himself. "I'm off to Scotland soon so I'd better take advantage of these few days in London. Probably start off with a few pubs, I might start at Comptons, see whose around and take it from there. I quite like the idea of Heaven later on."
Rory lead a triple life, he was a scion of the Dundrod family, an up and coming banker in one of the City's most prestigious merchant banks and a gay philanderer.
He showered, slipped on a pair of white, sheer silk briefs and then took a bit of time choosing what he would wear before deciding on an expensive black silk shirt, that emphasized his muscular torso, a pair of beautifully tailored Versa jeans, that looked quite ordinary until you looked at them a second time - which a whole lot of guys would most certainly do that evening - and a pair of light brown calf-leather boots that would have absorbed the average kid's total wage packet for a week. He looked the business.
Rory slipped quietly out of the flat and strolled up St James's Street, along Piccadilly and made his way into Soho. Comptons was, as usual, very crowded but as he walked in he was spotted by a group of friends, four guys who often met up in the pub. He eased his way through the crowd to the corner which they'd staked out for themselves.
"Hi Andy, great to see you. Back from sea then?"
Andy Macdonald was a long time friend whose family lived not far from the castle; he was a marine engineer who travelled to all sorts of odd corners of the world and came back with tales of very interesting sexual encounters.
"Yea. I'm just back from Indonesia. Great place, I can recommend it although I can't make up my mind whether the young guys there are sexier than the Japanese lads. You'll have to come with me some time and give me your opinion!"
"I wish," replied Rory, "but I've got so many commitments here, it's difficult to get away."
There were five friends in the group meaning five pints of bitter had to be drunk so they stayed in the pub for quite a time.
Rory looked at his watch, "Hey guys, it's eleven o'clock already, what say we move on. I wouldn't mind checking out Heaven tonight, I feel like a bit of slumming."
He winked at the others who all nodded their agreement. They worked their way to the door, through the dense crowd and Rory grinned as he felt his bum groped several times. Eventually they made it out into the street and strolled along Shaftsbury Avenue. It was well after the time the theatre crowds had emerged and so the guys were able to get a black cab without any trouble. Rory sat in the middle and two of the guys used the fold down 'jump' seats. Andy was enjoying Rory's close proximity as their thighs squashed together. He really fancied the young Scottish aristo but to his chagrin, his interest had never been returned.
It was only a short trip to Villiers Street and the door of Heaven. When they arrived they found quite a queue of guys waiting to get in but it was moving reasonable quickly and they were soon inside. The group made their way over to the bar to fuel up with drinks before wandering over to the main dance floor. Four of the lads paired up and started to dance leaving Rory on his own. He stood and watched for a bit before moving off to check out what else was happening. In a way he was quite pleased to be able to give the gang the slip and prowl of to hunt on his own.
He went upstairs and into a small room on the first floor. It was after midnight by now and up on a stage there was a cabaret show he mingled with the audience which was packed tight in the room. The guy on stage was good, really good. Rory laughed and was drawn into the spell of the act.
As he watched he realised that a short, dark-haired lad in shiny white nylon Adidas trackie pants was standing in front of him. Rory figured that the lad had positioned` himself in the audience in front of him deliberately so that his desirably biteable sportswear covered buttocks were pressed hard against his groin. His thick, clean neck which smelt of soap was distracting him from the action on the stage.
Rory leant forward and whispered into the guy's ear "Good evening, young man, would you mind removing your filthy little bum from my crotch."
"Sorry mate, it's a bit crahded in 'ere, no wot I mean?" the lad grunted before easing himself forward to give Rory a bit more room and a much better view of the pert young buttocks.. But not for long. Within a few minutes the bum was re-established.
"What the hell," thought Rory, "he's quite a cute little bit of rough, let's go for it!" and he took the guy by the shoulders and spun him round so that they were face to face or rather, due to the guy's lack of height, face to chest.
"What the fuck!", the lad spat out, "What'cha doin'? 'Oo the fuck are you?"
Rory smiled urbanely and put out his hand which the guy, without thinking and in an automatic reaction, shook, and Rory quickly realised that the young man was quite drunk. Possibly too drunk for what he had in mind. But Rory liked a bit of rough and now that he could examine this small example of 'homo vulgaris' more closely he reckoned he would quite like to have him. To be honest he reckoned the common little tyke with the fit looking body and the delicious bum would be a wicked shag, he was positively feral.
"Fancy a drink then?" Rory asked.
"Snake-bite" grunted the bit o' rough who, after a quick appraisal of the situation had decided that the tall, languid guy was well different from the usual trash in Heaven plus he would probably win any sort of fight he might start.
Rory went off to the bar. He was fairly certain that the young tyke would've moved on by the time he got back but it was worth a try.
He was wrong. The lad was still where he'd left him. Rory handed him his snake-bite.
"I'm Rory and you are . . . . ."
" . . . . Mickey" replied Mickey.
"You've got a cute bum, Mickey," said Rory with an evil grin.
"Fuck off ponce," muttered Mickey "and wot's more, at the end ov ther day, it ain't a filffy little bum, like wot you said."
Rory stared at the lad, "Ah a conversationalist." he said.
"You what?"
"Never mind."
Mickey took a slug of his drink and looked thoughtfully at Rory. He was impressed. The man wore some sharp gear and he talked posh. Rory. Funny sort'va name Rory.
"Funny sort of a nime ain't it - Rory" he said.
"Are you taking the Mickey!"
There was a long pause during which Rory could almost hear the cogs turning slowly inside the lad's head.
"Fuck off ponce." muttered Mickey. "I've never 'eard of a bloke called Rory, wot kind'va nime's that then?"
"Rory, it's short for Roderick . . . ."
"Oh gorr fuck, Roderick, Wot a poncy nime mate. You poor sod." Mickey was grinning now, he reckoned he'd found some easy pickings. This geyser was slumming, probably a tourist come to Heaven for the first time. Mickey's shrewd, street-wise gaze swept up and down Rory's elegant body. "Fuck me", he thought, "'e's the man. See them jeans, they never fell orf the back of no lorry. Must've cost a packet, an' talkin' of packets . . yers, this poncy toff was a bit of 'orl right, know wot I mean?" Mickey 'accidentally' lurched against Rory and felt the soft silky shirt. "Yesss, luvverly!"
"Now then Mickey, how about another Snakebite?"
"Yer OK mate, I don't mind," and he handed over his empty glass. This time he followed Rory over to the bar, sticking close behind him and admiring the well tailored jeans - and their lean, mean contents.
Rory shouted his order over the noise of the throng at the bar, passed the re-filled glasses to Mickey and dragged his wallet out of his hip pocket to extract a 20 quid note from the wad it contained. He stuffed the wallet back and paid for the drinks then he took his glass from Mickey and motioned with his head towards a dark corner. The two of them eased their way over.
"That's better, you can just about hear yourself think."
Mickey took a hefty swig of snakebite and Rory probed gently to find out a bit more about the bit o' rough he'd picked up. The act up on the stage changed and a stand-up comic came on, he was very funny, a sardonic Scotsman who captured everyone's attention. He'd latched on to a luckless heckler and was happily tearing him to shreds much to the delight of his audience, Rory was finding him hilarious, the comic had his full attention until . . .
. . . until he felt something lightly touching him behind.
With lightening speed his right hand shot round behind him, gripped the wrist above the hand that was lifting his wallet and spun the thief round in an agonising arm-lock.
"You thieving little bastard," he hissed.
"Oh fuck, let go me arm! you're breakin' me fuckin' arm mate!!"
"Yes quite probably. Stop wriggling. Stand quite still."
Rory relaxed his hold just slightly but didn't let go completely.
"So, you're a common little pick-pocket are you?"
"No I ain't, I'm sorry it was automatic like. I couldn't 'elp it, the fing was stickin' aht yer pocket Let go me arm, will ya, it still 'urts wot you're doin'."
Rory didn't let go, he changed the hold he had and worked his prey across the room, down the stairs and out into the street.
"Well now Mickey-tea-leaf, what are we going to do about you then. Oh look, there's a couple of coppers over there. Maybe I should surrender you into their care."
Mickey gave a violent wriggle, an attempted dash for freedom only to moan with pain as Rory applied expert pressure to his captive's arm.
"Let go of me. Get off of me arm, you're goin' ta break me arm." Now his threats turned to frightened pleading. "Don't 'and me over to the filth, please Rory, let me go, I'm sorry I went fer yer money. Please let me go, will ya?"
"No I don't think so." said Rory and set off up Villiers Street towards the Strand, manoeuvring his quarry along with him.
"Where we goin'? I've left me back-pack in 'Eaven. I've gorra go back, I can't lose me back-pack."
Because of the shock, pain and struggle and the way he'd been manipulated out of the club Mickey hadn't realised that Rory had grabbed the pack and had brought it out with them.
"I've got your pack, here. See?."
"Ow yer, thanks mate." Mickey reached out his free hand to grab it.
"No way, tyke, leave it alone. Now then you can take me somewhere interesting. Where were you going when you left Heaven?"
Mickey glared a him sullenly. He was trapped.
"Let go me arm, will ya?"
Rory released his prey but kept a firm grip on the back-pack. Mickey realising that he wasn't going to get it back so the two of them set off, across the Strand, across Trafalgar Square, heading for Soho.
"I know a club," he muttered.
To tell the truth he wasn't too upset at the turn of events. The tall, elegant stranger turned him on big time. He was one of the most exciting men he'd ever seen what with his slim, fit body, beautiful hair, clothes to die for and he exuded a sexual aura. Not quite the way that Mickey would have been able to express his feelings, he just knew he fancied Rory rotten. Rory, in his turn, was certainly intrigued by the bit of rough he'd picked up. He was eager to explore the contents of the shiny, white track suit bottoms. He reckoned his new found bit o' rough would fight like crazy before 'reluctantly' surrendering his oh-so- cute little bum to Rory's probing penis.
The two of them strolled across Trafalgar Square, up St Martin's Lane and made their way towards Dean Street and stopped opposite a non-descript yellow door. He pressed the buzzer on an intercom which replied:
"Wocher want?"
"It's Mickey."
"'Oo's that wiv yer Mickey?"
"Friend 'o mine."
The door buzzed and they went in. In front of them was a steep flight of stairs, Mickey led the way and Rory followed close behind - confirming all his lewd thoughts about the cute, rounded buttocks that swayed in front of him, the thin, satiny material flexing and moulding the muscled buns and emphasising the deep, secret valley between them.
"'Ere we are then," Mickey announced. "Yers, 'allo Sid me old china, 'ow yer doin'?"
While Mickey greeted his friend Rory looked around the room which was crowded with young talent. They were a husky crowd of teens and twenty somethings, primitive but easy on the eye though. Languidly he looked them over, one by one. None was cuter than the young male animal he had snared - and whose pack he firmly retained - but he had to admit there were some juicy young morsels. He realised that he was the centre of scrutiny himself and several pairs of heads moved together to discuss the elegantly dressed young stranger who had arrived.
"'Oo's yer friend then?" asked Sid.
"Sid - Rory." Mickey made the introductions.
"You what?" Sid said in astonishment, "Rory? What sort of a nime 's that then?"
"Leave 'im alone Sid. 'E's orright, know wot I mean? 'E'd soon sort you aht." and he glanced ruefully at his wrist.
"Snakebite?" Rory enquired, ignoring yet another assault on his name.
"Yer, if yer like, I don't mind."
Rory realised this really meant "That's very kind of you another Snakebite would be most acceptable."
"And your charming friend?"
"Wot me, tar very much, Yea, I don't mind drinkin' wiv yer, I'll 'ave the same."
Rory went over to the bar and ordered the drinks. He was enjoying himself hugely. This den of thieves was great, light years from his usual way of life and he realised that he was a prize exhibit. Several of the lads tried to chat him up but Mickey had become fiercely protective since they'd entered the place.
"Tell yer wot," said Sid, "the lads over there've fucked orf, wot say we grab that tible?"
The three guys pounced on the table and Mickey dived towards the chair in the corner but before he could grab it, Rory had propelled him into the one with its back to the action while he sat down where he could survey the assembled talent.
"Wotever," muttered Mickey and he leant in close to Sid and the two of them started gossiping away like a couple of teenage girls. Lots of adolescent-like nudging and giggling. Meanwhile from his captured chair Rory was able to survey the room. He kept noticing one young barman in thin dark trousers and a neat green shirt. He had well- groomed dark hair and a nice, attractive face. He also had a fantastic, pert arse which curved out from his belt to the top of his thighs and from time to time he reached up into the overhead shelves on tiptoe, clenching his bum-cheeks for balance. Nice.
Suddenly Sid stood up, "Gorra piss," he announced.
"Yer, me too," said Sid.
Rory grinned at Mickey.
"You wot? Wotcher grinnin' at?" he said, "Wot's up?"
"You 'n Sid, you're like a couple of girls!"
"Wot'cha on abaht?"
Rory leaned into Mickey and sucked his ear lobe then drilled his tongue into his ear, at the same time he placed the flat of his hand on the crutch of the lad's trackie bottoms.
"'Ere wot'cher doin'? Fuck off will yer."
"What's your problem, you bit of rough?"
"Fuck off you perv. Yo're fuckin' feelin' me up. Yo're a poncy poofter."
"Yea and you're loving it."
"Wot'cher mean? Why'd yer shove yer tongue in me ear'ole? It's disgusting."
"If it's so disgusting why did you throw an instant boner?" Rory enquired with an evil grin, as he squeezed Mickey's groin provocatively.
"Best you keep yor mitts off of me privates," he grumbled. "Perv! Anyway I'm goin' to see where Sid's at, no wot I mean?"
"Off you trot then, go and see what you can find in the bogs, maybe a big, juicy cock to get down on your knees for.
"Fuck off." said Mickey as he flounced off.
In a flash the vacated chairs were grabbed by two of the cuter specimens from the bar.
"Mind if we join yer?" said the red-head. "I'm Jason and this is Darren."
"Hello Jason, hi Darren, I think Mickey and Sid may well be back when they've finished their business, but until then you're very welcome.
"You goin'ta get us a bevvy then?" Jason enquired.
"Certainly, I'd be delighted. Here's a Twenty, why don't you get what you and Darren would like? And ask for clean glasses so that I can watch that barman reach up for them!"
"Corr thanks mate,fanks. Yo're the business. 'Ere Darren, ere's a note, go and get us a coupla bevvies. 'Ow about you Rory? Wot'cher want?"
"I'm OK thanks. How do you know my name's Rory?"
"Evry one in the room knows yer nime's Rory, no wot I mean? Yore the star attraction 'ere. I'm gobsmacked that Mickey's left yer. By the way I 'eard 'e's a loverly shagger. 'Asn't 'ad it much but they say 'e's 'ung. Pretends 'e don't do it but I've 'eard different. They reckons 'e shags like a stoat." he leered wickedly.
At this point Mickey and Sid returned.
"Wot'cher doin' fuckin' Jase? Fuck off back to the bar and leave the quality to them wot can appreciate it." So saying he tipped the laughing Jason off his chair.
"Cheers for the bevvies then Rory." he said as he shambled back to the bar.
Rory grinned at Mickey: "The knees of your tracksuit are all wet and dirty," he said.
"You wot?" Mickey's eyes shot down to his legs.
"No they ai'nt . . . . oh yer a comedian then? Anyway, we know 'ow ter behave in 'ere, nuffink's goin' on in the bog."
Rory grinned and Sid chipped in "Come on Mickey, 'e's takin' the piss, in't he? 'Ere Rory, wot'cher do then? Yo're dead posh ain't cha? Must 'ave some posh job."
"Computers," answered Rory vaguely.
"Wot, them wordsheets and fings? You type aht letters 'n that?"
"Sometimes. I'm head of IT for my company."
"Oh yea. Nice one." Rory realised that they had no idea what the head of IT did but weren't about to admit it. The two lads then set about probing into Rory's life with considerable native cunning but achieving nothing. Rory was enjoying himself hugely but was wondering how he was going to get into captive's extremely provocative track suit.
As time went by everyone became more and more relaxed Rory became the centre of attention, telling some hilarious stories, buying drinks and surrounded by an admiring crowd. Mickey was becoming more and more possessive, protecting him like a bodyguard. Jealous of all the attention Rory was receiving but proud that he was his catch - having quite forgotten how he'd been frog-marched out of Heaven!
At 3 o'clock the guys behind the bar brought down the shutters and started to ease everyone towards the door.
"Come along lads, time to go 'ome. Let's be 'avin' you. Ain't'cha got 'omes to go to then?"
The chattering group tumbled downstairs and out into the street where they split up and rolled off in different directions. Rory's desire to investigate the delectable contents of Mickey's trackies had by no means waned, more the opposite, he was aching to have his wicked way with the young guy, to fuck him long, loud and hard.
"Wotch'a goin' ter do na then mate?" his quarry enquired.
Rory reeled over to a lamp post and propped himself against it.
"Dunno," he mumbled, "must be drunker than I thought, all this fresh air, where are we? Can't seem to remember where my hotel is . . . ." He was very drunk, nearly out of it - or so it appeared.
Mickey, who had sobered up a bit at the club but, nevertheless was still fairly well away, considered another attack on that bulging wallet but the memory of what had happened last time he'd tried, together with another factor, a warm feeling which had begun to permeate his thoughts, decided him against it. This other factor now directed his plans.
"''Spose you could come 'ome wiv me," he said, "come back to mine and kip there."
"Oh I don't think I can impose on you," mumbled Rory.
"Yer wot? Come on mate, Mickey I'll look after yer. Yer me mate nah, know wot I mean?
Rory happily swayed down the street following his 'saviour', his eyes riveted to the young guy's sexy bum rolling along in front of him. He felt a deep primitive lust to possess it, to investigate its privacy. He strode forward and cupped the muscled bum through its thin material, feeling its warmth, its muscular power, the deep crack with its concealed delight.
"Fuck off," Mickey hissed, "leave me fuckin' bum alone will ya - I don't do nufffink like that, OK?"
This vicious reaction only served to excite Rory even more. He grinned to himself as he thought he was just like a randy dog, continually sniffing around a bitch, getting snapped at, retreating but, filled with sexual urgency, returning to sniff again. He couldn't wait to strip down the floppy tracksuit and lay bare its delicious contents.
"Come on then yer randy sod, we 'ave ter get the night bus. We gorra go dahn to Trafalgar Square."
The two of them set off across Piccadilly Circus, down the Haymarket and Mickey led them to the bus stop. They didn't have long to wait before Mickey announced:
"'Ere we are then, a number 157, that's wot we want." They scrambled upstairs to the upper deck and flopped down in a seat near the back. Rory watched as they trundled South and East, round the Elephant and Castle and somewhere down towards Brixham
"'Ere we are, 'op off nah," said Mickey. They got off the bus and walked along a featureless street of terraced houses, covered in peeling paint, that had seen better times.
"This is me gaff," Mickey announced with some pride, turning into a gate and walking through a small, rubbish-filled bit of garden and unlocking the front door. Shoving his shoulder against the door he forced it open over some broken linoleum tiles.
Rory followed him in, a narrow hall from which led a steep set of stairs. Several doors opened off the hall, obviously the small house had been divided up into even smaller flats.
"Up 'ere," said Mickey. Rory followed. More key work and they were in.
Rory was assailed by the heavy odour of dirty feet and sweaty male body. The one room contained a bare minimum of rickety looking furniture. Old magazines and a bottle or two were strewn around the floor. A bed, unmade, in one corner, a makeshift kitchen in another and a door which, he supposed, must lead to a bathroom, or at least a toilet. There was a ragged covered settee and a small portable television, with a coat-hanger aerial perched on a rickety wooden packing case.
Nice," he said without much conviction,
Mickey watched his new friend, gauging his reaction.
"Well wotcher expect. You're so posh I s'ppose yer must live in a Castle."
"Hmm . . . " muttered Rory. ". . . and is this all yours?"
"Nah, I lives 'ere wiv me bruvver only 'e's in the army and 'e's away a lorra the time - 'e's away nah, no wot I mean?"
Rory had resisted messing about with the delectable little rogue for several hours now but at last they were alone. Rory put his hands either side of Mickey's head and his light green eyes bored into Mickey's. Mickey started to tremble and Rory leant in and brushed his lips over Mickey's lips. Softly, of so softly he rubbed then moistened them by running his tongue along them. His tongue wriggled and slowly Mickey's lips opened, just a little bit. They kissed deeply and both pairs of hands roamed up and down the hard, young bodies.
Suddenly Rory released Mickey and without any warning began tugging at the slippery trackie bottoms, dragging them down across his thighs and flipping the waistband of the tattered red briefs down below his nuts. There was an instant increase in the smell of hot, sweaty boy-crotch.
Rory leant in and ran his nose slowly up the length of Mickey's inner thigh and smelt the delicious odour of this dirty, sexy, young man and his cock and balls encased in the brief red underwear. From what he could determine through the thin cotton the boy's equipment was small and delicate and at the moment, due to his surprise, his cock was soft but Rory could imagine it nestling in a mass of curly brown hair and resting on top of a pair of fragile-looking nuts. His thighs, strong and hairless, were spread as much as they could under the circumstances.
"Hey," Rory whispered. "open your legs."
Mickey snorted. "No way, man, fuck off will yer?"
"Come on, sexy. What's your problem? All I want to do look at your arse."
"No one messes wiv me bum," he hissed through his teeth.
"I'm not messing with it," Rory countered. "I just want get to see it, maybe kiss it a little."
"No," Mickey snapped back and made a grab for the waistband of the trackies, dragging them back up.
"What's the matter? Are you shy? What've you got to hide?"
Mickey blushed, "I ain't got nuffink to 'ide," he muttered.
"Well why don't you strip off then and show me what you've got inside those sexy red briefs?"
Mickey stared at his tormenter for a moment but then his passion re-asserted itself, his longing for the beautiful elegant young god he'd managed to trap. With a shrug he began pulling off his clothes. The T-shirt slid up to reveal a well-muscled chest with a pair of large nipples that seemed to be just begging to be licked and kissed - and bitten. His shoes came off and the slight smell of hot young feet increased, then his socks. Then, at long last he shoved down his track-suit trousers and kicked them off. His red Jockey briefs were old and frayed. Rory loved it. And the smell of it. Now to the smell of hot, sweaty feet was added the funky aroma of hot boy-crotch. Mickey must've been sweating all evening, walking the streets and in the club.
All this time Mickey just stared at Rory, his eyes boring holes into his eyes. "Me underwear too?" he asked.
"No, hang on!" Rory said. "Stand still and let me have a good look at you."
Mickey stood there, his perfect young body exposed to Rory's lustful gaze. Just the funky underwear hiding but emphasising the boy's private parts. Rory gazed. Now his bit of rough began to look a bit less sure of himself. He looked almost embarrassed as Rory's eyes searched up and down his young, pert, sexual body focusing in on the cotton pouch.
"Turn round. I want to see if there's any stains on your arse." Rory commanded. The boy hesitated. "Turn round, I said." Mickey turned. "Well at least you seem to be clean even if you are all sweaty."
"Yer, well I always keeps me bum clean. Never know when I might get some, know wot I mean?" came the reply with an evil grin.
Rory continued to enjoy the pert, pretty bum. Two tight, muscular buns contained in the thin, dirty cotton. Dirty with sweat and wear but, Rory noted, the arse of the boy's underpants was free of any brown skid-marks. At least from the outside. He could smell the boy, though, and his cock lurched with the strong, sexy scent of this young cat.
"OK, turn back. And now you're going to lose your pants." and before Mickey could react his partner stripped down the red briefs. As he'd thought, now revealed was quite a small cock, probably a bit over five inches. It was uncut. The penis was quite stiff but the tapered foreskin was obviously very tight and still hid all but the top of the young man's knob which was just peeping shyly out of its protective housing. Underneath were a cute little pair of balls. Mickey kicked free of the tattered underpants and stood defiantly in the middle of the room. With his fists braced against his hips, he was as pretty as any glossy porn-mag model. As smooth as a baby's bum, Mickey's pink skin seemed to glow in the dim light. He had no hair anywhere except under his arms and above his boyish cock.
"Is it OK?" Mickey asked. For the first time Rory detected a crack - just a hint of insecurity in his quarry's tough facade.
Without answering, Rory grabbed him and propelled him over to the bed. "I'll show you how OK it is," he said as he began unbuttoning his own shirt.
"'Ere stop! I want ter tike yore clothes off of you," Mickey whispered.
"Well OK, you'd better undress me then before I drop my load."
Mickey ran his hand over the black silk shirt. "Ooh yer stuff's luvverly, it's so good, must've cost yer loads'a'money" he ran his fingers across the soft silkiness of Rory's shirt feeling the firm hard muscle underneath. "Yea and yore jeans are to die for, they must've cost a bomb."
Rory slowly unfastened his belt and, with a look of intense lust all over his face, Mickey's fingers gripped the zipper and pulled it down. Rory's fly opened up to reveal the sexy white-silk briefs. Now frantic with desire, Mickey tore down the man's jeans. Dragged them down over his chunky thighs and gazed for a second at the man's underwear before his face dived between his legs to rub into the warm material, his nose filled with the combined smells exuded by the lusty young man he so desired.
Rory knew what he himself would like at that point and guessed that this young tyke, even as sexually turned on as he undoubtedly was, would be too inhibited to go after it. So he spun round presenting his silk-covered buttocks in front of Mickey's face. With an excited grunt the young man shoved his face into the proffered bottom, and rubbed his nose like a randy dog, sniffing and nibbling and snorting with lust.
"Oooh fuckin 'ell mate, oh fuck yessssss! Wot a wicked bum yer got. I've got to 'ave some of this."
Rory gently fingered Mickey's stiff cock making it leap. He tapped the shaft and watched it stiffen some more. Then very gently, between his finger and thumb he eased the tight foreskin over the engorged knob. Mickey shivered and his legs trembled slightly. Rory took his shoulders and manoeuvred him back so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He leant in and gently licked the stiffness. He rolled his tongue round the knob, tickling the frenum before sliding his lips over the end and slowly and moistly slipping his lips down the steely shaft. Mickey groaned. Now he started to slide his mouth slowly up and down the stubby shaft, gripping the long foreskin and sliding it on and off the knob. Rory was a well practised seducer and he could tell by Mickey's delight that the boy's cock had seldom, if ever, received such delicious and skilled attention.
Suddenly Mickey jerked and withdrew his organ from the suctioning lips.
"Fuckin' 'ell mate," he gasped "yer gorra stop. You'll make me cum me load and I got ter save it fer yer arse."
Rory ignored him and went to part and lift his legs but Mickey resisted
"Wotcher doin'" he snapped.
Rory continued his manipulation and the boy's legs bent backward until his tight little bum rose off the sheet and hovered in the air. As pretty and as tight as the rest of his body, his arse appeared to glow in the soft light.
"I just have to kiss you down there," whispered Rory.
"You're just goin'ter kiss it, right?" the boy asked a bit nervously.
"Yeah," replied Rory. "And sniff it. And lick it. And maybe after that I'll tongue-fuck it for a while. Are you worried?"
Again Mickey resisted when Rory tried to lift his legs. "I said no," But he didn't struggle this time. He just relaxed and allowed his knees to be eased back onto his shoulders.
The boy's bum hole was clenched tightly shut. Rory ran his tongue around the perimeter, up over the cheeks, back into the crack, and then up to the balls. He covered every inch of Mickey's arse, sucking and kissing and giving little bites. Now his smallish cock, so hard and eager, bobbed slightly against his flat belly. His balls were drawn up tight, and major tremors moved along the soft insides of his thighs.
Rory planted his mouth directly on Mickey's tight little arse ring. It smelled deeply of soap, fresh sweat and funky masculinity. Using his tongue like a long probe, Rory prodded the clenched muscle until it finally opened. Just as Rory's tongue slipped inside, the boy started to buck and twist on the bed.
At first Rory thought it was because he'd finally penetrated the boy's bum, yet as he stared up between Mickey's legs, he saw a small seepage of semen leak from the twitching cock. It was amazing: This guy seemed to be more anally sensitive than any other person Rory had ever met.
Even though his cock was still leaking across his stomach and chest, the boy continued to buck his arse up against Rory's mouth. "Please," he groaned, his head rolling from side to side. "Me arse. I gorra cum. Unnngggh Oh, man . . . . "
Rory deliberately avoided any further stimulation of his pulsating dick. Mickey may have come, but the session wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
For several more minutes he burrowed into Mickey's bum hole, his tongue opening the reluctant little muscle until the boy moaned and squirmed on the bed, his drooling cock poking up toward the ceiling. "Oh, man. Oh, man," Mickey kept sighing as his body shuddered and jerked.
Not waiting for permission, Rory took his index finger and replacing his tongue, slipped it into the hot little cavity. The boy groaned, clenched his bum, and tried to squirm away, but Rory was in complete control.
"My finger now," he thought wickedly, "my cock later." Mickey probably didn't realize it yet, but Rory had every intention of plugging his gorgeous little slutty bum.
"Ow," the boy whined, his arse shaking beneath Rory's penetration. "Get it aht of there, You Shit! I told you. I don't 'ave anyone messin' wiv me bum!" Rory ignored him. Slowly and methodically he moved his finger backwards and forwards inside Mickey's arsehole.
He wasn't expecting the blow which threw him off balance and he toppled over sideways and slid off the bed. Mickey had drawn his leg back until he could plant his foot squarely against Rory's shoulder. With a tremendous smack he had shoved Rory sprawling down onto the floor. For a split second Rory started to retaliate. Had he done so he would have put Mickey in a hold that would've had him screaming in agony, however he managed to control the impulse because he wanted so badly to fuck the young man's arse.
"Fuck off!" Mickey exploded.
"OK young man," Rory answered with a mocking grin. "But I get to fuck you first."
The boy's eyes narrowed, the anger darkening the shadows beneath his eyebrows. Rory watched him seethe. Usually his bits of rough were just that, uneducated and compliant: Feed them! Fuck them! And let 'em go! Yet this particular little creature had suddenly developed a very special individuality, one that was creeping insidiously into Rory's psyche.
For several minutes they just stared at each other, panting, not unlike two tomcats in a dark alley. Rory found that what had begun as a simple sexual lust was fast becoming an emotional involvement. There was just something intriguing about this guy. Something that was causing a turmoil in his head.
"I'm sorry," he heard himself say softly. He was surprised at the gentleness of his words. Mickey blinked too.
Still they stood their ground, each man steadily watching the other.
"I want to suck your cock, Mickey and I won't mess with your arse. I promise."
"Fuck off!" Mickey spat back at him.
For a moment Rory was going to come back with a typical wisecrack reply but for some reason he didn't understand, he just replied, "I promise."
Mickey made no response at all.
"Please," Rory heard himself say.
Finally Mickey began moving toward him, his limp cock swaying gently in the shadows between his legs. "Ow fuck, yore really different. Yore a toff" he stated quietly. "I don't usually 'ave anyfink ter do wiv toffs . . . but please don't mess wiv my arse no more, OK?"
Rory took the boy in his arms and kissed him. Now their physical desires had slid into emotional ones. This young street urchin had somehow overwhelmed him, what had been just a sexual transaction was now a passionate embrace. They kissed deeply and slowly Mickey's arms rose up behind Rory's back and began hugging him. Rory crushed the boy against his chest, his tongue burrowing into Mickey's mouth.
They made out together, slowly and with growing affection. Rory sucked his cock again, licked his pretty little balls and Mickey began clumsily to return the favours. He was obviously far less experienced than he would like his lover to think but he was a quick learner and enjoyed copying the delicious things that had aroused him to such peaks of ecstasy.
The moment he felt Mickey's tongue touch his cock, Rory thought it would end right there. Come boiled at the base of his penis. If Mickey even slipped Rory's cock head into his mouth, he'd blast a hole through the back of the boy's head. Yet he didn't come. Rory licked the beautiful body, nipping at the tits, swirling his tongue along the stem of the boy's cock, under the delicate, hairless balls, along the soft flesh of the inner thighs. This time, as he had promised, he made no attempt to reach that tempting bum hole.
Mickey seemed to revel in the attention. He lay sighing on the bed, his body writhing slowly, his fingers twisting again and again into Rory's thick hair.
"Oh Man," Mickey whined, squirming. "I gorra shoot again. Me bollucks is achin'." As if for emphasis he writhed against the rumpled sheets. Rory grinned, this was a real street- boy, a real cute one. When finally he allowed Mickey to cum, Rory's lips were pressed into the dark pubic hair, his throat milking the semen out of the boy's cock.
To his surprise Mickey suddenly twisted round and began vacuuming his lover's cock, just as his had been pleasured and Rory shot almost instantly, his cock plunging deep into Mickey's throat. He withdrew his still spaseming member and pulled Mickey up over his sweating body. They kissed deeply.
"Ow yer," Mickey whispered, "you're the man. You're the best, no wot ah . . . "
. . . and, like an over-tired puppy, Mickey rolled off him and was instantly sound asleep. Rory manoeuvred their two bodies so that he was curled up protectively around the small, warm, curled up figure.
. . . . . . . . . the next morning . . . . . . . late the next morning!
The sun streamed through the dirty, torn material that masqueraded as curtains. On the floor, a pair of red briefs and Rory's white ones. Mickey was sleeping or pretending to sleep on the black sheet half covered with the duvet, his back and bubble-butt arse exposed. The morning sun poured through the curtains catching the faint patches of Rory's white dried cum on the small of the bit of rough's back, his feet still with his dirty white socks on, peeking out from under the quilt. His short-cropped hair glistening in the morning light.
Despite the furious sex he'd enjoyed so few hours ago, the young lad's vulnerable form added to Rory's raging morning hard-on, he was already as horny as hell. He rolled over and woke Mickey by nibbling his soft ear lobe and breathing heavily inside his ear then immediately kissing his neck and his ears and working his tongue all the way down the notches of his spine.
"Fuck off you fuckin' pervy bastard" Mickey murmured sleepily, "Fuckin' leave me body alone. I don't get shagged, remember?"
"Of course you don't get shagged. That wasn't your tight little arsehole that gripped my cock with such intensity last night. That wasn't you groaning Fuck me, Rory, Fuck me, drive your fuck-stick up me mancunt. That must've been another cute little twink getting the fuck of a lifetime!"
"Fuck off"
Paying no attention to the half-hearted complaints from the recumbent figure in the bed, Rory reached over to finger his cock which was rock hard, He slid his fingers with a feather-light touch up and down the rigid shaft, then he pursed his fingers and feathered them over the plump helmet, causing the young cock to twitch and jerk uncontrollably.
"Fuck offffff will ya, I gorra sleep, I need me sleep," mumbled Mickey with little conviction in his voice.
Rory could feel how stiff his cock was. He knew the little sex-hound was longing for it again. Mickey groaned and rolled over onto his side half exposing his bum and Rory gazed down at the cute round rump which was being displayed by guy who didn't never get fucked.
Rory's libido was in overdrive remembering the hot, gripping, clenching chute into which he'd managed to insert his finger last night. He had to have this guy and have him very soon. He leant over the inviting body and worked his face down his spine again and continuing on, to work his nose down to his arse crack. He eased apart the chunky round cheeks and kissed the deep, private crevice. Mickey moaned quietly as he had last night once he had submitted to the inevitable.
'Fuck me' Mickey whispered, "do it mate, I want it so bad, fuckin' take me, I want you up me, soooo muuuuch, DO IT N O W"
Turning him fully over, Rory spread his legs wide apart exposing his longing arsehole. He reached down and grabbed a black condom from his jean's pocket, eagerly stripped it out of its foil packed, rolled it onto his frantic weapon then seized a tiny tube of KY and slid a big gloop of jelly onto his fingers to spread lube up his quarries arse. He gazed down at the proffered bum and slid his body over his prey, mounting him in preparation for impaling his arse and inserting his hard dripping cock and push it slowly into his hole. Once he was in to the hilt and he could feel his hot balls rammed against Mickey's quivering thighs he began to thrust fiercely, his bum clenching and thrusting, driving his invader deep into the moaning body beneath him.
Rory stopped for a moment, nibbling at Mickey's neck, smelling his quarry's sweat and musk, then he fucked him again, hard, soundly, rolling from side to side, driving in deep and sliding oh so s l o w l y out again until just his bulbous cock-head was trapped by the clenching ring of muscle. With each wild thrust his victim groaned deeply and the cheap bedsprings squealed in protest. As he continued to thrust furiously he could feel by the jerking of the hot, hard young body beneath him that Mickey had slid his hand under their two coupling bodies and was desperately wanking his own cock. Both of the young men were moaning loudly, totally focused on their coitus.
Eagerly he pumped his aristocratic seed into the servile young bottom , he was close and he yearned to be able to continue this turbulent mating but it was no good. Frantically he tried to hold back the imminent orgasm, the exquisite pleasure was now so strong that it was painful. He gave one last ferocious thrust, propelling his penis deep into Mickey's gorgeous body and froze, his legs quivering, his breath gasping and his cock jetting its first precious jolt of man-seed deep into his horny boyfriend's body. With a grunt he withdrew, sliding his still pulsing weapon from its gripping prison and shot the next spurts of cum all over Mickey's back.
Meanwhile Mickey was still wanking himself urgently and as his lover's hot semen splatted over his skin, he came in sympathy, ejaculating his own smelly, sticky juice all over the black sheet.
"Oh yer, that were wicked . . . Oh my lord," Mickey gasped.
"Yes?" Rory replied.
OooOOOooo
[Author's note: This may be a prologue. I'll wait and see what reactions there are.]
[Mickey's note: Wot's a prequel then?]
andymacdon@hotmail.com