Author: Richard Saw
Categories: Adult Friends, Athletics
I've been a long-time reader of Nifty, adoring fan of so many writers. This story: The Tale of an Aussie Rugby Bottom was a book that I published via Amazon. I no longer sell it, but I decided that people here might like to read it, and the sequel that I never published.
Characters in these stories do feature in my Holmes & Watson mystery novels (available on Amazon, search Richard Saw), so if you like a little mystery novel (with lots of sex and humour), please do look them up. But I promise that all of the good stuff will be in these stories.
And yes, do send me fan mail.
And more importantly, please remember to donations to Nifty (using link https://donate.nifty.org/). Your erections are in their hands!
In this Chapter our hero gets a boyfriend and finds himself a total Top... almost
The Tale of An Aussie Rugby Bottom, who also liked to Top - Chapter 8
Rocco decided that we should meet at the Rupert St Bar, and I agreed. The moment I walked in I recognised him. He was smaller than me -- about 5ft 5, slim, blonde, and well dressed in a tight shirt and jeans that fitted him very well. He was instantly friendly, had a great smile and was free with the cash. Which now that I was a dirt-poor restaurant manager, I really needed. He was a trolley-dolly for BA, a regular at his gym's spin classes, had two older brothers who still lived back in Rome with his parents, loved to go dancing and was a fan of horror films. He was different enough from myself or anyone I'd ever dated that when people asked why I dated him I always said -- sometimes to remind myself -- "He was nice."
And he was. After what seemed like months of dealing with crazy, it was a relief to find someone who wasn't complicated. All Rocco wanted was to get fucked. A lot. I had come out in the gay world as a bottom, but I very quickly embraced being a top. We had a couple of drinks that night and Rocco then suggested we go back to his place. I agreed, though I wasn't sure at the time how things were going to play out. I didn't have to worry though, as Rocco had it all worked out. We'd barely go in the door when he was down on his knees with my cock in my mouth. I'd not necessarily been impressed with blowjobs so far, but he worked me well. He loved my size and my muscles, and I was growling within seconds of his lips touching my cock. Satisfied he'd got things moving in the right direction, he took me to his bedroom, got me undressed and stripped off himself. Right there and then I realised I was definitely going to be the top. Ok he didn't have a micro penis, but he was about 4 inches at a push. He had amazing tan lines though, showing off an alabaster arse that was small but perky. And the moment he got on his hands and knees, well sweet Jesus I knew what I had to do.
There was a tiny struggle at the beginning but as I pushed in, he gave out a deep groan of satisfaction. I put my hands around his tiny waist, and I started to fuck him. It came so naturally, in a way that reminded me of when I used to have a girlfriend except for the fact that Rocco enjoyed it a great deal more.
"Oh, oh, oh, fuck me, take me, oh, oh..." Rocco made a lot of noise when getting fucked. But I've always been a believer that a man likes to know he has an appreciative audience, and he likes to know he's doing a good job. And Rocco certainly liked to give compliments. After that initial moment when you have to fight not to come, I was in control. Well as much control as Rocco would grant me. We went through every position we could think of, and Rocco worked hard too, riding me, and tightening himself up as we went along. His enthusiasm inspired me as well and I felt a flood of competitive pride washing over me. If there was anything good that came out of the car-crash that was soon to be our relationship, at the very least Rocco ignited my competitive spirit in sexual encounters. Eventually, as he rode me, Rocco came spectacularly. I barely had time to recover from my efforts before he'd slid down the bed, gnawed at my perineum and I was coming like a fountain too. Rocco wrapped his mouth around my cock and took the whole load like a trooper.
Unlike other encounters, he cuddled up to my sweaty chest and we fell asleep quickly. When I awoke about an hour or so later, I swore I could smell food being cooked. I discovered Rocco in the kitchen dressed in only a tight pair of underwear, boiling pasta. Dinner and a bottle of red followed before I fucked him over the kitchen table as thanks, now that I was carbo-loaded and full of energy again. He was flying the next day, so I wasn't able to stay the night -- which was a good thing -- even if this inability to spend much time together helped paper over the cracks in the relationship later on.
I expected that to be the end of things, but he texted me while he was away and when he returned he came straight over to my flat. He was out of his uniform in seconds -- well at least his pants anyway! Doggy style with him still wearing his uniform shirt proved to be quite hot. He panted a lot, wiggled his arse and I quickly realised he was only truly satisfied with a cock up him. There would be a brief moment immediately after sex when he was relaxed and calm but soon after he was back to being an Energiser bunny. He insisted that we go to dinner -- for a date I guess -- and I was horrified to realise that his idea of a good dinner was a dire Italian restaurant on Old Compton St. Or for a special occasion -- Balans. By now I was starting to ingratiate myself in the restaurant business and so not only did I know where to go but I could probably get a free meal. But even though I told Rocco this, he seemed uninterested or not to care so I chose to say nothing further.
Without any effort on my behalf, I found myself in a relationship. Since he flew short-haul flights, Rocco was working most days and if he did get home at night I was usually still working. But some nights he would appear at the flat as if out of thin air -- not always impressing Carlos I can tell you -- and then about every second weekend he'd be in town, so I'd sleep over at his flat. We'd go to the movies -- let's put it this way, never anything with subtitles, even in Italian -- and when I couldn't escape it, he'd drag me clubbing.
Actually I quite enjoyed places like GAY -- where the songs were cheesy, and the drinks were cheap. But more hard-core places weren't fun for me and everywhere we went there would be a whole posse of twinky, trashy friends that would appear as if out of thin air and make the night much longer than it needed to be. Later in life I was renowned for having a lot of friends and contacts, but I never met anyone like Rocco with so many occasional friends nor anyone with his ability to always remember their names! Interestingly, I certainly never cared if he'd slept with any of them but the moment that we bumped into someone from my past Rocco proved to be incredibly jealous.
Occasionally while Rocco was out travelling I would chat up other guys, but it was amazing how his insatiable sexual desire wore me down and I stopped looking for any additional action. I barely even had a chance for a wank as he insisted not only on getting fucked every time we saw each other, but he insisted that any time I had a hard-on all the cum end up down his throat. And if he didn't get that, he could be quite troublesome. It suddenly meant that we were having sex in friends bathrooms, in parks, at the gym, at those damn boring music festivals that he'd drag me too... though now I come to think of it, at least the sex made them somewhat bearable.
Carlos of course, found the whole situation highly amusing and he rejoiced in teasing me about me dumbing down for a boyfriend. Rocco's interests revolved almost entirely around celebrities, music, fashion, reality TV shows and blockbuster movies. When he walked in one day to the flat and saw the Katherine Hepburn biography `Kate' on the table, he sighed with disappointment, "Oh. I thought it was about Katie Price."
"He has to go!" Carlos teased me even though he'd never turned down someone dumb and full of cum' and he was well aware that a simple boyfriend was a huge respite for me. The dawning summer however produced an additional activity that Rocco and his mates insisted on. Suddenly after barely seeing them during the daylight hours, I found my Saturday afternoons re-scheduled for Soho Square, Hampstead Heath or Clapham Common for picnics' which usually involved cheap wine, nibbles from Sainsbury's bought by the inevitable fag hag who tagged along and a good portion of the day spent with your shirt off, sunbathing. As a good Australian brought up on the danger of skin cancer, the idea of hours of direct sunlight did not impress me nor did the idea of sitting around doing nothing. I once took along a small, fun-size American football only to quickly learn that throwing and catching weren't in Rocco's friend's skill sets.
But making a move on their friend's muscled boyfriend apparently was. Strangely all that time clubbing nothing had happened. Rocco had always been by my side, and everyone seemed too intent on other things to misbehave. Like Rocco, his mates' interests were completely focused on fairly generic popular culture. Because I didn't know what they were talking about most of the time and because of my body size and interest in sport, his mates had started to refer to me as the `dumb jock'. I never did anything to dispel this myth, Rocco never asked about any other interests I might have and since the image in his head of me was firmly set regardless of anything I might do, it seemed foolish to try and change it.
Rocco seemed to be frustrated when I was reluctant to take my shirt of. But I'd started to notice that when I did the serious flirting by his friends increased exponentially. I was fascinated (the junior anthropologist in me) but also concerned, as I said before. Rocco was exceedingly jealous, so it was hardly likely that he encouraged his friends to fool around with me. Obviously however, they didn't see any reason to respect Rocco if a muscled top like me was in the vicinity. They would find excuses to sit on my crotch when I was lying in the park, feel me up when we were standing in the tube, even getting up from the picnic rug was a dangerous game. Then they would insist I come with them on walks where they would immediately talk about how good they were in bed and how they needed it bad and anyway how guys usually got bored of Rocco so quickly. I had never shied away from sex talk before, but I became better at saying things that could be interpreted as innocent remarks. If at any point in my life I mastered the art of turning double-entendre into non-consequential conversation, this was it.
I was a little confused about what to do because to tell Rocco that his friends were hitting on me seemed a dangerous move. I had no interest in hurting him and it made me wonder if perhaps it was me who was taking the harmless flirtation and reading more into it than was necessary.
It eventually came to a head ... though bizarrely not in the way anyone would have expected. It turned out that one of Rocco's many clubbing friends was a trainee opera singer. Much to Rocco's horror he found himself trapped into going to see the friend in an all-male performance of Carmen by some tiny opera company. Rocco demanded that I come along as well, with the excuse that if he had to be bored, then so should I. I however found myself looking forward to it, but I decided not to admit this, for fear of opening up boxes that didn't need to be. The performance was hosted in a tiny hall up Kings Cross way, and it proved to be amazing, despite Rocco's best attempts to appear bored. But my attention was not on Rocco's friend -- who despite an impressive voice had all the acting skill of a pumpkin. No, instead I was focused on the lead, an undeniably handsome Frenchman who was called, according to the program, Durante.
I was stunned at how handsome he was -- he had a smile that seemed as if it was only for you, a body so lithe and fluid that he could have passed for a ballet dancer and had the voice of an angel -- well perhaps a fallen one... An evil, beguiling voice that suggested he could seduce you into doing the most inappropriate things without you realising it. We were all perched on stools to watch the performance and I tried not to shift too much, as his presence mere metres away from me was making me feel decidedly uncomfortable. The audience was very small, and it was easy to believe he was singing directly to me. So I took no chances and folded my arms over my chest -- partially because I was feeling a little uncomfortable with the attention and partially because it made my chest and biceps look bigger.
He definitely noticed and the smile in my direction became wider and possibly more licentious as the opera continued. Yep, he was the sort of guy who brought out the big words in you! After the show had finished, Rocco insisted we take his friend out for a drink. The friend kept us both waiting and also demanded that Durante come along. Without knowing it, Rocco was thrusting us together, so determined was he to extract a drink out of his friend as payment for being made to go to the show. Since Rocco was very opinionated, it only took one drink before he began to complain how opera bored him. Durante seemed to take it in his stride, but Rocco's friend did not and suddenly Rocco and he disappeared outside to yell and scream at each other. Which left me alone in the company of this most handsome Frenchman.
"Well I really enjoyed it," I smiled at him over the top of the beer that I was holding, trying to find a way to make this conversation less awkward.
"That's all that matters," he smiled back, and my heart melted as a result. "You are a very handsome man," he added as he leaned over to squeeze my bicep. "It was not hard to imagine you naked."
"I'm sorry?" I spluttered.
"You know. They tell performers to imagine their audience naked and ..."
Right, right," I nodded my head quickly. "I get you."
"Is it your first opera?" he asked.
Free from the somewhat oppressive presence of Rocco, I was able to be honest. "Oh god no. My parents were big on culture even though we grew up in a sports-obsessed household. We were always off to art galleries and concerts. And since I've been here I've had a few friends who've taken me to the opera. Even went to the Royal Opera house once. Though for some reason La Boheme is always being performed. I can't escape it!"
"So..." he played with the beer coaster for a few seconds before turning back to examine me closely. "What attracted you to the little Italian?"
"Rocco?" I stalled for time. Outside of Carlos, he was the first person to question why I was in this relationship, and it was making me just a little uncomfortable.
"Yes," Durante confirmed, not giving me an opportunity to escape the question.
"Oh he's fun and cute and a complete slut in the bedroom." I smirked at the last part of the sentence. I realised I hadn't blushed. Was I making progress?
"He sounds like a partner for life," Durante replied in a tone so dry that it took me a few seconds to realise the full extent of the sarcasm.
"Well he asked," I admitted. "And he was the first guy to actually want to go out on a date with me."
Durante nodded his understanding. But the silence was building, and I was finding myself lost in his mesmerising eyes. He suddenly shrugged and said, "I don't know about you, but I could only ever date someone who I thought was going to be with me for life."
There's nothing like being called out by a stranger in a bar to make you feel bad about yourself. "Well," I blustered, "I never thought it was forever. It's just good for right now."
Durante smiled kindly -- I thought -- and leant over, placing a hand on my pec, and slightly grazing my nipple which had become aroused without me knowing it. I thought it was accidental and yet it sent shivers of pleasure through me. "I am sorry. I was just -- you say `teasing' yes? I was just teasing you. You seem a very clever man. We should do some things together. Have a coffee, see some theatre. I have lots of friends who do performance art. You would like that?"
"That sounds fantastic," I admitted. I had started to miss culture and I found it hard to believe that like Rocco you could live in London and yet do so little. "It would be wonderful. I really feel like I'm missing out at the moment. But I've got to warn you. I don't have much money. I can't go to the Royal Opera or anything like that."
Durante shook his head as I could see out of the corner of my eye Rocco and his friend reappear. It didn't look like the conversation outside had resolved things. "Don't worry. My treat. It will be fun just to have someone from outside the art world to take along," he winked. "And I'm sure you can think of other ways to repay me."
"Oh yeah?" I said as my mind suddenly screamed, `Don't flirt back you fool!'
"I've got a big cock and I produce a lot of semen when I come," he calmly explained as he typed his number into my phone. With his handsome face and his intellectual manner I found the strange sentence sound rather erotic.
"Umm... I have a boyfriend," I explained, trying to keep things quiet.
He got off the stool, smiled innocently at me and remarked in his clear French accent, "And I do not care!"
They say that if you want to prevent yourself from cheating, don't get drunk and end up in someone else's hotel room. I didn't do that, but after months of living in Rocco's cultural wasteland, spending these Autumn days hanging out with a French opera singer with immaculate, mature taste in clothes, a collection of polite intellectual friends, access to some of the best theatre and music in London and a willingness to eat only at elegant brasseries -- even if he ate every little -- did not help my resolve. Hell I wasn't just drunk... I was drunk with my trousers around my ankles, leaning over the sofa and saying, `You know it's really been a long time since someone fucked me.'
Frustratingly, after that first meeting Durante didn't make a move on me. I was confused at first, then a bit flustered and then I started to think that maybe he wasn't interested and that he just wanted us to be friends. Then one night, when my senses were a little dulled, he made his move. We met for dinner after work, then went to a cabaret club where his friend was performing. Durante made some excuse that we couldn't stay long, and he said he had to go back to his place to change before we went on somewhere else. I followed along and sat on his sofa as I heard him jump into the shower. I was oblivious of his intentions until he walked out, completely naked with a hard on that jutted straight up across his six pack. I'd seen a little of his body before, but it was winter now and he was mostly dressed in trousers and sweaters. Now I could see that his body was translucent white and so defined that he seemed to have muscles in places that I didn't know you could have.
"Oh sweet Jesus," I muttered.
"You want it," Durante didn't ask, he told me.
"I can't," I confessed. "I have a boyfriend."
Durante came close to me, so close that his uncut cock was resting by the side of my face... I could almost smell it. "I told you before. `I don't care.'"
I felt my whole-body tremble. I didn't know what to think, the blood was rushing to my head.
"You are too young to be tied down," Durante informed me. "You need to be free to be taken by every man who wants you. You're a jewel in an ocean of mediocrity out there. And you shouldn't be wasted on that tedious little Italian."
It was hard to argue with that and placing my hand on his cock, I pulled it down to the level of my mouth, gulped and slipped my lips around it. I had barely realised until that moment, it had been six months since I'd had the delight of cock in my mouth. How could I have denied myself one of my favourite pleasures for so long?
There was no panic or rush with Durant. There was no twinkle in his eye as there would be if he was someone who relished claiming me away from Rocco. He was proud of his achievements though, he knew he was hot, and he knew he had what I needed. The taste of his cock was clean from the shower yet still a little salty. He dripped pre-cum as soon as I put it in my mouth and my tongue relished playing with his head underneath the hood of his cock. It was a tough angle to work with though and I soon found myself on my knees, using my hand to crank that rock-hard member downwards. Durante stood, stroking my hair and murmuring. It didn't feel like he was dominating me though, but he did seem to demonstrate how natural it was for him to get what he wanted. When he pulled my head out of the way and grabbed control of his cock, all I wanted to do was lean back and rejoice as wave after wave of cum hit my face.
Durante carefully scooped it up and fed it to me. He graciously asked me to stay the night, but I think he was relieved when I demurred and hurried off. Strangely the encounter had damaged our friendship and we would struggle to recover it. I texted Rocco and went over to his place straight away. Since he'd not organised it, he was a little flustered by my appearance, but the thought of a late-night fuck easily swayed him. I went over and rode him hard. And as much as he groaned and gasped, I couldn't think of anything else but what it felt like to suck Durante's cock.
As we lay in bed together, Rocco broke the silence by saying, "Todd, I have something to tell you..."
A million thoughts rushed through my head. Well ok, maybe just two. How did he know about me and Durante already?' and Had one of his annoying little mates got upset that I'd refused his attention and lied to Rocco about what had been happening at the picnics?'
"Todd I have to go home for a couple of weeks and look after mama. She's not well and papa and my brothers are useless."
"Oh," was all I could think of saying.
"Will you be ok?" he rolled onto his stomach, looking anxiously up at me. "If you went with other guys well..."
"It's ok," I smiled, lying. "I'll be fine."
"Just promise me you won't fuck any arse hotter and younger than me!"
"I promise," I said.
The next morning, I woke up groggily to see Rocco getting dressed and ready to leave. He came over and kissed me on the lips. "I'm off to work," he stated the obvious. I nodded and started to try and get out of bed, but he waved me off. "Stay," he said. "Don't worry about leaving until you're ready."
"But the key..." I mumbled, very aware that I didn't have a spare key to Rocco's place. Yeah, you heard right.
"Alonzo is staying over," he said, giving me the name of one of his twink mates who I'd met clubbing or out on Clapham Common, I couldn't recall. I think he was a trolley dolly or something and Rocco had told me that he stayed over occasionally when he was flying out of London. I nodded my head and almost instantly fell back to sleep. I lay on my stomach and shrugged the sheets off to keep cool.
As often happens after a disrupted sleep, my dreams seemed quite strange. First I felt like I was licking a mushroom or something and then I felt something cool on me. I tried to shake it off, but my body seemed exhausted, and it felt difficult to move. And then my mind drifted off again. Then I felt something pushing into my back, my arse even and ohhh.... It took me back to events over the last year. I started to think for no apparent reason about the hot guys at the gym. I often got hard on a morning if I was able to sleep in and today was no exception. There was this big Maori trainer at the gym and up until now I'd not really fantasied about him but now I was thinking of him getting me over a Swiss ball and lying on top of me.
I arched my back a little and I felt relieved in return. My dick was caught under me, and it felt good to push it down between my legs. It was as if I was between the ball and his big thighs. Then something started to push down, through my hole. God it felt good. I'd almost forgotten the pleasure of a good cock in my arse. I gave a little moan. This was a great dream and as long as Alonzo didn't hear my groans, I was fine.
"Oh yeah," a voice hissed in my ear as I felt the full length of a cock drill down into me. My eyes shot open, and I realised that the weight on me wasn't just in my mind. I tried to twist my head around and focus on the shape holding me down.
"Hey!" I squeaked.
"I knew you wanted this," Alonzo declared. "Everyone else has been fantasising about those big rugby thighs fucking them but not me, uh-huh!" he said as he started to push deeper in me.
My resistance disappeared with my confusion and the wind was suddenly knocked out of me. I felt my head being pushed into the pillow and I desperately twisted it to one side as morning drool dribbled out one side. "Alonzo, no. This isn't right," I started to babble. "I'm Rocco's boyfriend. He's a mate of yours. He always gets jealous, he could come back."
"I wouldn't worry about Rocco," Alonzo laughed. "I heard you boys talking last night. All he wants is that you don't go fucking anyone younger or with a hotter arse. And we both know that's not going to happen here."
"But... but..." I tried to protest ineffectively. It's quite hard to get out of sex when you've got a dick up your arse. And I knew that I wanted it. I had dodged it with Durant the previous day and I had tried to get it out of my system by fucking Rocco last night. But Alonzo had something that had broken me down so quickly. The head of his cock was much larger than his shaft and so when it had first slid into me, it had compressed down. Once it was inside me it quickly filled out and ohhh... I was lost for words. I hadn't been fucked like this, with so much pleasure, for such a long time.
Alonzo was skinny with just enough hair on his chest to be called an Otter. This whole encounter was wrong on so many levels, but I was too weak to fight it off. My body slumped and Alonzo grabbed his chance, pivoting in and out of me quickly.
"Ah, ah, oh..." I moaned.
"Oh you like this don't you boy," Alonzo almost laughed. "Com'n push that arse up. It wants to be fed doesn't it?"
I didn't fight it anymore. I couldn't. I pulled my legs apart and pushed upwards, unable to stop myself from groaning again as the new angle simply gave Alonzo a better target.
"Fuck yeah!" Alonzo crowed. "Your arse is just made for fucking isn't it? And Rocco's been running around bragging about how often you fuck him. Ha! He's gunna be so pissed when I tell him I fucked his man like a moo-cow!"
"No, no, ohhh..." I tried to fight him off but instead I ended up shuddering. "Don't tell... ohh," I couldn't even get one sentence out as Alonzo's cock seemed to be finding new ways to break me.
"You better give me a good time then," he replied. "If you don't want everyone to know what a big hungry bottom you are, do you?" He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back to control me. He then gave my arse a few firm slaps which I found myself enjoying more than usual. I didn't feel like I had any other option but to agree and give in to him. My mind was still addled, and I couldn't work out if it would be better if he told them I was a lousy fuck but... whatever would happen would hurt Rocco and I didn't want that. So it seemed best to ride it out, clenching my arse, arching my back, and pushing against Alonzo's cock in the hope that... "Oh yes, woo-hoo!" he roared, reminding me of a comic book villain who'd just humiliated the superhero.
"Play with yourself boy," Alonso demanded. "Get a firm grip on your dick and show me how..."
But I didn't even need to. The shape of his cock was more than enough for me... and the naughtiness of the whole encounter pushed me to a place where I'd not been before and quite likely would never achieve again. Lost in the pleasure of it all I started to cum without even touching myself. "Uh huh, hooo..." I wailed, unable to either believe what was happening or control myself. It dribbled to start with and then -- as if I was wetting myself -- I came. I blubbered, more at the loss of control and Alonzo took great pleasure in saying, "What's that boy? Can't control yourself?"
He slid out of me and then came around to where my head was and knelt on the bed. "Com'n suck me off," he said and as soon as his cock was in my mouth he started to groan. The load came into my mouth quickly and I choked it down as I swallowed. When he finally released my head, I rolled onto my back, sweaty and lying in a pool of my own cum.
"Well that was fun," Alonzo laughed meanly as he got off the bed.
More than ever before I felt a wave of guilt run over me. I really couldn't believe I had done this and how was I going to explain it? "This didn't happen ok?" I struggled to get the sentence out.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself bitch," he chuckled, not taking me seriously.
"No I mean it. You can't tell Rocco ok? Please?" I pleaded.
He snorted in derision at my comments with a "Whatever," and just walked out of the bedroom. Suddenly I was wide awake, mostly with fear of the potential repercussions of what had just happened. I quickly dressed, made the bed (hoping that my cum stains would dry before Rocco got home) and I got out of the house with nothing more than a swallowed `see-you' to Alonzo.
I spent the rest of the day in fear that I would get a call or a text from Rocco about my infidelity, but nothing happened. At least not until late evening where he sent me sweet messages saying that he was on his way to Italy, and he'd miss me. I guess Alonzo had kept silent but how long would that be for?