The Embarrassment of Riches

The Embarrassment of Riches Chapter Eight: The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name

The people, places and events of this story exist only in my (and now your) imagination; therefore, any resembelences to real people, real places or real events would be really cool.

E.J. had been late for work after receiving Martin's txt.

[E.J. I feel bad for running out on u & not telling you why. Didn't want u 2 hate me for lying about my age. I never meant things to go so far without telling u I'm really 17.]

He'd read it a dozen times, memorised it. Nearly fourteen years separated him from Martin but E.J. could not stop thinking about the younger man – much younger – and how much he wanted them to be together. E.J. feared what people would think of course; sex with a seventeen year old wouldn't be illegal but it would be a little seedy. Just a little.

As the deputy manager of Stirling's Symposium Athletics Club, he had quite a lot of latitude when it came to his timekeeping, especially on a Saturday. Carl, who today was manning the reception desk expressed worry when he came through the door half an hour late.

"You ok, boss?" Carl asked.

"Fine, Carl. How are things here?" E.J. replied evasively.

"Great, everything is absolutely fine."

E.J. took another hour to work up the courage to reply to Martin's text.

]Martin, glad U txt. I think I understand now. I hope U'll understand too. I also lied about my age if you still want to talk after I tell you then call. I'm 31.]

Then he spent a nerve wracking day waiting for a reply. When one didn't arrive by lunch he put his phone in his pocket and went for a walk around the Symposium. E.J. usually enjoyed people-watching or men watching if there was a particularly hot man exercising but all he could now think about was the teenager who had been in his house; whom E.J. had stroked to climax and whose mouth and wrapped around his cock and drank his cum.

By evening, E.J. couldn't even carry the phone with him – such was its weight.

E.J. found himself touring the training rooms again and spotting a familiar face. Familiarity was something he needed so he pushed into the room and approached Johnnie. Johnnie was running hard on a treadmill wearing shorts and a t-shirt with sleeves so short E.J. could see the dark hair under his arms.

"Hey, Johnnie. Long time, no see," E.J. said but knew his voice did not carry its usual lightness.

"Hi, E.J. how're things?" Johnnie replied breathlessly.

Johnnie reduced the speed slightly so he could talk more comfortably.

"Alright," E.J. lied; "Where is the usual back-up?"

"Daniel and Tom are swimming. Victor is away in Glasgow for the weekend," Johnnie responded.

"And Calvin?"

"Oh, eh, Cal has a date."

"With someone else?" E.J. asked half-fun but wholly-earnest.

Johnnie attempted to laugh naturally, "Yes. With someone else... Y'know we're not a couple, right?"

"I'm not sure I did know," E.J. admitted.

E.J. had only known Johnnie and Calvin for a few months; meeting them when their friend Victor became his tenant. Johnnie and Cal were clearly close but how close, E.J. hadn't yet divined but he sure as hell was not persuaded by Johnnie's protestations.

Johnnie pulled the magnetic safety key and the treadmill started to slow to a stop. He was still breathing hard by the time he sat down with a towel and a bottle of water.

"So you and Calvin date other people?" E.J. tried again.

"Other people? We're not dating each other. So all Calvin is doing is dating. There's no qualifier needed," Johnnie said, but he knew he was sounding irritable.

E.J. just nodded.

"He met someone at a club around about the Halloween weekend." Johnnie thought about the night he'd watched Cal with him – he'd slept with Phillip, a veritable bicycle of a man, to try and compensate. "An older guy, Hugh something." Johnnie thought for a minute then added humorously; "They had lunch last week and this week they're having desert."

E.J. smiled sympathetically; "How do you know it's desert and not..."

"I know my friend. Trust me he's having desert," Johnnie interrupted, already hating himself for the euphemism and for bleeding his heart.

"That sucks," E.J. replied, then added wryly; "Or it would... if anything is going on between you guys... which it's not."

Johnnie sighed; "I know everyone is well meaning but if you use the phrase `you should tell him how you feel' or anything approaching it... I will throw up in your face."

E.J. laughed and it infected Johnnie, soon both were laughing healthily – it was just what they both needed.

"Ok, I won't say that. All I'll say is, it would be a shame if you wanted more and didn't tell him," E.J. offered helpfully. "You'll never know what he wants if you don't take a chance."

"I'm starting to feel nauseated."

"I'd better to go."

E.J. and Johnnie parted on good terms despite Johnnie's professed queasiness.

Back in his office a while later, E.J. picked up his phone. He had one new message.

[Can I come over tonight?]

Connor had invited Tom over, so after leaving the Symposium – abandoning Daniel and Johnnie, who seemed rather down – he headed to meet the lad he was sure to start calling his boyfriend soon. The idea of spending the night with Tom again was thrilling. The idea of his parents catching him was not. Connor assured Tom that they wouldn't be interested in who was with him; they wouldn't notice Tom was older...

"And honestly, Tom, you're so baby-faced no-one is going to believe you're the proper adult in this relationship."

...and they wouldn't interrupt.

"I'm having a boy over, g'night."

That was the sum total of the exchange Tom heard between Connor and his parents.

"Don't worry, they won't hear us even if we start making a lot of noise," Connor said with a wink in his eye and emphasising the word "lot."

"Are you winking at me or having a seizure?" Tom asked in a deadpan voice.

"A seizure," Connor replied; "Maybe you should check me all over and make sure I'm ok?"

Tom smiled at the invitation. It was still early in the night, just turning 10PM, and Connor was already soliciting him.

"Sure thing, can you tell me you're first name?" asked Tom.

Connor still hadn't told him that and it was almost a game now.

"Maybe later," Connor giggled.

Connor was sat on the edge of his bed in jeans that sat low on his hip and showed off his designer Versace underwear; his t-shirt was purple and his feet were bare. Tom approached him and lifted the t-shirt.

Connor smiled widely as his top came off – he was very happy with his swimmers physique which put muscle in all the right places: his chest, arms and legs were all delectable. In comparison, Tom's lanky frame made him feel insecure; he felt surrounded by men, and boys, more beautiful than himself. And all through school he'd faced unflattering comments about his hair.

"I like skinny men," Connor said; reaching up with hands on either side of Tom's face and bringing him closer to kiss on the lips. "And I like ginger boys."

Tom nodded, accepting that Connor accepted him.

"Well, everything looks good here," Tom said, returning to the proposed scenario.

"Are you sure the seizure hasn't hurt my chest?" asked Connor, "I could swear my nipples don't feel right."

Tom leaned down and licked one nipple; then swallowed the whole thing in his mouth. Connor giggled at the sensation and had to push Tom off.

"Ok. The nipples are fine."

"I'll check your legs next, shall I?" Tom asked, squatting before him.

Connor reclined back on the bed, legs dangling over the edge; "You do that."

Tom didn't need to unbutton the jeans, they slipped off easily and revealed strong hairless legs. Tom had noticed the smooth chest already and the smooth armpits. They weren't just shaved today; Connor had waxed or used hair removal cream, adding a subtly different feel – like satin. When they were naked in each other's company the first time, Tom had asked about it.

"I epilate just about everything," Connor had admitted. "I swim and most of the guys do it. Maybe not quite as thoroughly as I do. I'm kinda smoother than a ken doll."

All the hair below Connor's neck was gone. Tom rather liked it now, although it gave Connor an appearance of innocence that was often ruined by the words that came out of his mouth. For a seventeen year old to be totally hairless was something Tom felt weird about liking so much but Connor was a very attractive boy, so Tom didn't indulge the weird for too long.

"I think the seizure had hurt by ass hole, would you check?"

Connor flipped over and Tom gripped his boxers and pulled them down his silky legs and then off. Without pause, Tom gripped Tom's arse cheeks and parted them – his anus was hairless and smooth too – then leaned forward and put his tongue to Connor's hole.

The boy had not been expecting that and gasped as a result. Over the next five minutes, Tom made the whole area slippery and wet and probed the sensitive area with his tongue; stimulating the nerve endings that terminated there.

Tom then switched to his finger, probing quite deep and watching Connor hump the bed; Connor pushed his had cock into the bed and felt the pleasurable pressure and gentle masturbation as he moved back and forward, even ever so slightly.

Tom added a second finger and Connor had to bury his face in the bed to stop from crying out from the peculiar mix of pain and pleasure elicited from the attention to his anus.

"Oh, fucking stop," Connor said at last and flipped over to face Tom. Tom was still sitting close so Connor's cock whacked his cheek with a satisfying slap. "Whoops, sorry," Connor said but then giggled.

"Turn the other cheek," Tom said, laughing too and then gripping Connor's cock to hit the other side of his face.

Tom was still dressed in a casual shirt and jeans but before Connor could undress him, Tom took the six and a half inch penis in his mouth and started sucking. Connor's hands gripped the edge of the bed and his head tilted back as he bit his lip.

"Tom?" Connor said when he regained composure; "Do you think we could..."

Tom stopped sucking and looked up at the younger man. Connor was now uncomfortable with continuing his query; fearful he would sound pushy or worse, desperate.

"Have sex? Make love?" Tom finished for him, saving Connor; "Fuck?"

"Well when you put it like that..."

"Yes."

Tom stood up and unbuttoned his shirt; revealing his skinny frame. His ribs showed when he stretched but Tom was not malnourished; he was as bereft of fat as he was of muscle. Tom unbuttoned his jeans, slipped his shirt off his shoulders and pushed the jeans down. The pile was abandoned on the floor and inside his boxers Tom's cock was hard and ready to join in.

Connor tugged the boxers down and had his mouth on Tom's cock before they reached the floor. Connor had no intention of bringing Tom to orgasm, this was just foreplay.

"Do you want to go on top?" Connor asked.

His mouth had come off Tom's penis, but he continued to stroke it.

"I'm versatile." Tom replied, but not answering the question.

"Do you want me to go on top?" Connor tried again.

Tom lowed his voice and whispered; "Yes."

Connor was a good boy – keeping plenty of condoms and lots of lube just for the occasion. He dribbled some lube onto Tom's dick so Tom could keep himself occupied while he got wrapped up. Tom's hand and dick were liberally coated with lubricant so Tom took his hand around back and speared some around his arse hole. He would need more to make entry easier but it was a start.

Tom had not had sex, either as a top or a bottom for a few years – since he was attacked two years ago. He had faint scars on his back that Connor asked about, but Tom was not ready to discuss with him. Tom had admitted to trauma in his past which was why his younger companion had waited until he was ready. It was also why Connor had asked so carefully what position he wanted. Connor had sensed the trauma was emotional and now saw it was physical too. Yet Connor knew Tom was not precious; in part Tom was trying to prove that by not taking the dominant role in their sex tonight.

"Do you want me to bend over?" Tom asked wryly.

"Oh, yes please."

Tom bent over the bed until his top half was at ninety degrees to his legs. His chest lay flat against the mattress and Tom's hands stretched forward and gripped the sheets tightly. Connor's hands separated the cheeks of Tom's bottom and stretched the hole; then his hands glided over the orbs of the pert bum and he slid his thumbs towards the hole.

Connor's thumbs gently pressed the edges of the hole to open it up then he stepped forward and pressed his hard protected cock against the awaiting sphincter. Connor pressed harder as his cock slipped in and he was able to retrieve his hands which then moved to Tom's hips.

Tom moaned more loudly than he intended, aware that Connor's parents might become alert to the sounds of sex under their room, so he muffled the sound by burying his face in the mattress. It felt good to feel Connor inside him, the younger man's solid erection sliding deeper still into Tom's rectum; Tom's prostate liked it very much, leaking juices and filling his body with pleasure.

Tom's penis was hard and pressed tight against the edge of the bed – as Connor started pulling and pushing, Tom's own penis found itself rubbing against the bed and gently being masturbated by Connor's rhythm.

Connor too was trying to muffle his sounds, occasionally letting out a low grunt as his dick pushed as deep as it would go; Tom occasionally pushed back at the same time as Connor thrust so his cock buried deeper than Connor might otherwise have attempted.

Already Connor was getting close to orgasm, a virtue of youth. He continued to fuck Tom – not as hard as he has with other partners, but this is their first time together – pushing in and then pulling out. Connor felt cum fill the condom; it was hot and sticky and plentiful as he climaxed but he kept going until his cock started to hurt and cum was leaking out the rim of the condom – spilling over his crotch and dribbling down Tom's legs.

Tom raised his head and smiled, craning his neck to look back at Connor's ecstasy-spent face. Connor pulled his cock out of Tom's arse and stepped back to Tom could straighten up. Once Tom was vertical again, he turned to face Connor with his dick still bobbing and hard.

"This isn't going to take care of itself, you know," Tom said.

Connor tittered and licked his lips before dropping to his knees to finish Tom off. On his knees, Connor's lips wrapped around the shaft of Tom's cock while his hand reached around so his fingers could plunge into the slippery hole that his penis had just left. Tom looked down at the younger man and felt a brief moment of guilt – Connor was seventeen, more than two years younger and still in high school – but then he felt his balls bust and any reticence was obliterated.

Connor did not swallow the whole load, he spat (as discreetly as is possible) into the bin beside his bed. It wasn't always his practice to do so but he was not a "cum guzzler" as Kazuo or the twins would say.

Totally spent and sated, Tom stood, crossed the room and lay on the bed. A moment later and Connor joined him. They faced each other and pulled the cover up to their waists; their legs interlocked and the hairs on Tom's legs prickled against the velvety smooth feel of young Connor's.

They kissed and their arms wrapped around each other.

"We'll go again in a little bit, yea?" Tom asked.

The virtue of youth – they'd both be ready for another load or three before morning.

"Ephraim," Connor provided by way of reply.

The non-sequitur threw Tom so that it took him several seconds to realise what he had been told; Tom had been trying to find out for many weeks now.

Connor repeated himself, sleepily, as they cuddled together; "My first name is Ephraim."

Martin had left work without replying to the text message.

When he got home, he entered the house in silence and felt his mood rest like lead in the pit of his stomach.

"Martin, what's wrong?" his mother asked.

"Nothing," he lied.

"Ok, I heard `I would rather not talk about it' but... sweetie, you look like someone stole your puppy. What's wrong?" she asked again, taking his hand.

Silence followed.

"Is it... about your mum? Should I not have given you her letter?"

Martin looked up at her; "No, not that. I... I've been dating... A man," Martin struggled to talk about it but he had no-one else to talk to and his own experience was woefully inadequate. "He's older than me and I don't know what to do."

"Older?" she asked, concern lacing her tone.

Martin knew what she was thinking; was he seduced, was he groomed on-line.

"It's nothing sinister. We met at the gym when I was there for school. I told him I was older..."

"Oh, Martin," his mother admonished him.

Shit. If she was upset about that then he defiantly wasn't going to mention that E.J. had also lied about his age and that more than a dozen years separated them.

"It was a mistake. But..."

"But you still like him," his mum finished.

Martin just nodded.

"Well, you know..." she sighed; "There are worse things than years to separate two people. Talk to him and see if he'll forgive you for lying."

Martin smiled slowly then stood to leave.

"Just... be careful," his mum added; "You know what I mean by careful?"

"Yes, shhh, mum!" he replied and then ran from the room before she could say more.

His mother was laughing at her son's discomfort.

Martin reluctantly returned, poking his head around the door and watching her happy face.

"Mum, thanks," Martin said. "I think I'm gonna go to bed, have a proper think about things."

She nodded, "You're dad likes to have a proper think sometimes... usually in the shower in the morning." She started laughing again.

"Mum!"

Martin was often a naive boy but he had learned deception – he lied that he was going to bed. He went to his room and replied to E.J.'s last txt message, typing:

[Can I come over tonight?]

After that, Martin changed out of his work clothes and into a t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. Shorts in the midst of a Scottish winter were bearable only because he was in the house and the central heating was on. It was really quite toast in his room. Martin picked up a recommended text for his Religious Moral and Philosophical Studies (RMPS) class. He was not religious but he enjoyed moral philosophy and it was one of the Highers he was confident about getting a pass in.

Martin tucked his bare legs beneath himself and sat on his bed with his back to the wall; he was trying not to think about E.J. and then he tried not to think about what had happened at work.

Naked. In the shop window. Masturbating. Seen by his class mates. Recorded by the boys from his school.

This was going to bite him on the arse.

Martin got his homework finished and was about to get started on Mathematics. It had taken a few hours but a reply from E.J. eventually came through. Martin was giddy with excitement; he hoped E.J. would want to see him – it was why he told his mum he'd be in his room all night. So now, he was sneaking out. He read and reread the message as he made his plans to sneak out.

Martin should have put a pair of trousers or jeans on but he wasn't really thinking. He pulled on his hoodie and went downstairs – it was nearly 10PM now – and said good night to his parents.

"See you when you get home tomorrow, honey," his mum said.

Good, she assumed she wouldn't see him until he got back from work tomorrow.

"Do you want a lift in the morning?" Dad asked.

"I'll take my bike, thanks."

"Steak pie for Sunday dinner?" Mum asked, trying to keep things positive.

Martin nodded.

"You ok, son?" his dad asked.

Martin caught his mother's eye; "Fine," he replied. "I'm absolutely fine."

He made enough noise going back upstairs to be heard if the parental units were listening, but they were watching BBC news and weather so probably not. He had already put off the light in his room and closed his bedroom door so at the top of the stairs he crept back down in silence. At the foot of the stairs he had left his backpack with a uniform for work tomorrow, a clean pair of clothes to come home in and other paraphernalia he might, but probably would not, need.

Martin took his house keys but didn't lock up – his dad always did that. He jumped on his bike and shivered; it was a cold November night and he could see his breath when he exhaled. When Martin inhaled, the night air burned his lungs. His legs tingled in the cold – defiantly should have covered them; riding the bike the waist of the shorts sat on his hips and he could feel the breath of wind on the small of his back.

It didn't take long to reach E.J.'s house. Martin abandoned he bike and pulled out his phone as he approached the front door. He looked at the message again; E.J.'s reply to Martin's request to come over:

[Yes.]

Martin knocked the door.

E.J. had had a drink, just one but it was a double, when he got home. It was strange to anticipate the arrival of a young lover. He hoped that's what Martin was, what Martin wanted. He was still such an attractive young man and E.J. wanted to make it work; perhaps it was folly but E.J. had taken so few risks and made so few mistakes in his life it was time for one – if that's what it was.

He heard the knock at the door and stood up. He neither hurried nor dawdled in his approach for the door. When he opened it, he saw Martin.

Martin was wearing cargo shorts that hung low on his hips and would expose the top of his arse were the hooded top he was wearing not covering it. E.J. knew for himself, since he too possessed long legs, that shorts that were knee-length for most people were noticeably shorter on him. They were shorter too on Martin; the hairs on his legs were raised to the cold and Martin's cheeks were pinched red by the November frost that was forming as the temperature fell below two degrees.

"Come in," E.J. said.

Marin entered and shivered.

E.J. closed the door and turned towards the freezing teenager. He didn't mean to make an advance, E.J. told himself, he had only meant to warm Martin up; E.J. put his arms around Martin who was still shivering and a moment later they're lips were locked.

Martin pressed his groin into E.J.'s and they both felt stiffening, Martin's hands found E.J.'s waist and slipped to the front where he pulled out the shirt and started to unbutton it. The shirt opened up and Martin pushed it off E.J.'s shoulders. When E.J. had gotten home he had removed his jacket and tie, slipped off his shoes and socks but largely remained dressed. Until now.

With E.J. topless, Martin separated the kiss and then put his hand on E.J.'s tight abdomen.

"Ah, geez! Your hands are freezin', Martin." E.J. said with a chuckle.

"It's cold outside," Martin replied; "It's warm here though."

Martin's hand slid up E.J.'s chest and a single finger circled his nipple.

"You don't look thirty-one," Martin said.

"You don't look seventeen," E.J. replied; "And actually, I'm not thirty-one until the end of the month."

"Well that makes it ok then," Martin jested.

"You know, you lied about your age. Maybe you should get spanked," E.J. suggested.

"You lied too," Martin pointed out.

E.J. thought about it, "Right! So... call it even then?"

Martin smiled and pressed himself against E.J.'s bare chest and kissed him.

"You look like you're twenty-something," Martin said, reassuring himself that the lie was believable and that he had not been stupid to be taken in.

"So do you," E.J. said for much the same reason.

E.J. looked the boy up and down. No matter how old Martin looked, he was still a boy – a teenager. But lust won over sense and sensibility.

"No shoes in the house," E.J. prompted.

Martin looked at his big feet and grinned; he pulled off his trainers and then, for good measure, pulled his socks off too.

"Can I take your jacket?" E.J. asked cordially.

Martin nodded so E.J. pulled the zipper on the hoodie down and slipped it off. Martin's t-shirt was short sleeved and showed off an impressive pair of biceps. But E.J. didn't want to stop there.

"No shorts in the house," E.J. said.

Martin allowed E.J.'s hand to find the button on the waist of his shorts and unfastened it, the zipper came down and they fell to Martin's feet. The bulge in Martin's briefs was big and twitching in anticipation.

"Martin, I'm glad you came over," E.J. said softly. "You don't have to say yes, but it would be more comfortable upstairs. Do you want to come to my bedroom?"

"Oh yes."

Upstairs, with E.J.'s shirt and Martin's shorts still abandoned in the hallway, E.J. led the way to the bedroom. It was warm in the house, comfortable for being half undressed in. Soon, there would be nudity and physical activity to generate more heat.

The curtains were drawn so E.J. turned to face Martin without fear or trepidation. He unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down; E.J. was more of a boxer's man so his hard cock had a bit of space to rise within his underwear. Watching Martin's face, he pushed the boxers down and Martin saw E.J. naked – completely naked for E.J. stepped out of his attire – for the first time. Martin thought E.J. was beautiful and his cock was something he wanted to touch or suck or...

Martin pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it on the floor and then pushed his briefs down and off. Naked and gazing at each other, neither had any preconceptions about what was about to happen. Kissing was a good start and it restarted with reckless abandon. Close and warm with wet mouths and hot bodies pressed together as their cocks engaged in a dalliance.

It was only now that E.J. realised Martin was inexperienced. His kissing was good, his blow job after the Halloween party had been great, but Martin had ran away; perhaps because E.J. had hit close to the bone. E.J. had commented Martin was acting like he had never sucked a cock before and now it was obvious – he hadn't.

Which meant he probably hadn't been sucked either.

E.J. broke the kiss and dropped to his knees. His tongue licked the underside of Martin's cock and Martin muttered in a low voice, "oh my..."

E.J.'s hands stroked Martin's legs from the ankle to behind the knee and back down again as he sucked on Martin's impressive cock. He couldn't take the whole thing in his mouth – it was more than eight inches long and his throat simply was not that deep. He slaked the whole thing with saliva as he liked and lapped at the precum and drew this tongue across Martin's balls.

Martin's testicles were wrapped in a small amount of hair but E.J. didn't mind. He looked up at his young lover and knew what he wanted to do next.

His mouth came off of Martin's cock and balls and he looked up again. E.J.'s hands slipped around to Martin's bum and his fingers worked towards the sphincter.

"Do you want to try something else?" E.J. asked.

"You want to... to fuck me?" Martin asked, feeling faintly stupid for using the phrase.

"I would have gone with `have sex' but yes. I mean, yes I want to... But only if you're ready." E.J. answered, his voice communicating neither pressure nor expectation.

"Oh, yes," Martin said; "I do want to. Do you?"

E.J. was grateful that Martin asked because there was still some reticence. He was an older man seducing a younger man – some people would frown on that – but Martin was no child, he was old enough and savvy enough to make his choice. Never the less, E.J. thought of an old poem, synonymous with homosexual love; synonymous also with an elder man's affection for a younger man.

"I am the love that dare not speak its name," E.J. muttered.

"Lord Alfred Douglas," said Martin.

Perhaps E.J. was surprised that Martin knew the line, but the teen was an avid reader and English his favourite subject. Martin smiled as E.J. muttered another line.

"Sweet youth, tell me why..."

E.J. started to look out everything they would need but asked Martin to make himself comfortable. Martin sat on the bed, naked, and stroked his cock. E.J. was wrapping up when he noticed Martin's self-pleasuring. He stopped to watch and was beholden to the sight before him.

Martin looked up and noticed E.J. watching him. He let go of his penis and put his on either side of his body and leaned back on them; spreading his legs slightly too.

"Pervert," Martin said teasingly.

"Sorry, I was distracted," E.J. replied.

"Me too," Martin answered.

Martin reached forward when E.J. got close enough and grasped E.J. big hard cock and stroked it. The condom covering it was stretched tight over E.J.'s penis, the sensation of the latex was something Martin had never felt before. Smooth, yet every vein and contour underneath could still be felt.

"Don't set me off before we get started," E.J. warned.

Martin smiled mischievously and then it faltered.

Insecurely, Martin asked; "So, what do I do now. I mean... like, what position?"

E.J. led Martin over to his bed and sat the boy down again.

"I'm gonna lie you back and push your legs up, I want you to pull your legs back as far as you can," E.J. said.

Martin complied, lying back and then pulling his knees towards his chest. Martin's anus was given optimal access and E.J. got it started by pushing a lubed finger into Martin's arse. Martin breathed deep.

"I'm just loosening you up," E.J. said.

"I know, `sokay. I've just not put anything up there for a while," Martin replied.

E.J. laughed, "Really? What have you put up there in the past? Fingers or..."

"Just fingers," he interrupted.

"How many," E.J. asked.

"More than one, but less than five," Martin answered in jest; simultaneously telling the truth.

"Good, so we can go for three then," E.J. said.

E.J. pinched three fingers together; the middle finger resting above his ring and index finger. He pushed them in and out, aiming towards Martin's navel so as to hit the prostate. He could feel the chestnut sweet-spot and Martin moaned as his sphincter was stretched by the advancing digits.

E.J. poured more lube onto Martin's hole and his fingers made another effort at spreading it in and around Martin's dilating hole.

"Are you ready?" E.J. asked.

E.J. had whispered the question, leaning over Martin; between Martin's legs and their bodies touching again. Martin brought his head up and kissed E.J.'s lips.

"Do it," Martin said.

E.J. squirted lube onto his condom-clad cock and smeared it with his hand, long strokes covered the trembling organ. E.J. rested his cock against Martin's virgin hole and stroked it up and down across the sphincter. E.J.'s cock continued to run up and down Martin's arse crack and then stopped; the tip of his dick was ready to press in. E.J. put very little pressure on Martin's hole at first and then pressed just a little.

Martin moaned as he felt his hole stretch; E.J. took it slowly, pressing bit by bit until the whole head of his dick slipped in. Martin cried out, he had never had something with such girth enter him before; it was a mixture of pleasure and pain as he stretched to accommodate E.J.'s penis.

Martin's cock was still rock hard – bit and fat and untouched, pointing up the length of his own body and aiming at his face. E.J.'s dick was almost as big as Martin's which was north of eight inches long; Martin felt every inch of it pressing in and he could imagine a cock so much like his own entering him. In fact, Martin could picture the day his cock would enter E.J.

"Fuck," the word escaped E.J. mouth without him meaning it to.

Martin was beyond words and was gripping his thighs, just behind the knees, as tightly as he could. He pulled his legs farther apart to try and spread his hole wider but E.J.'s cock was doing a good job of that already. E.J. pushed harder and could feel his dick plunge deeper into Martin's rectum.

Martin whimpered at this, so E.J. asked: "Are you ok? I'm not hurting you, am i?"

"No. Not hurting. Keep going."

Martin's arse was now invaded, his anus dilated to its fullest and E.J.'s cock pushed in as far as it could go. E.J. eased out an inch and pushed in again; then he eased out three inches and pushed back in; he eased out five or six inches and pushed deep again.

Martin cried out as much in pleasure as pain, he really could not tell the difference. Although, if he thought about it he would have realised his cock was leaking pre cum and was ready to explode though he had not touched it once. It was E.J. who noticed this neglect and reached out with his hand to grip Martin's penis. Martin was holding his own legs apart, to E.J. hands were free to roam; they roamed at his chest and at his cock.

Once of E.J.'s hands reached up from Martin's bellybutton to his nipples and pinched, then slid to his armpit; his fingers kneading the pit and his thumb playing with the nipple. His other hand gave perilous attention to Martin's aching eight incher. E.J. continued the rhythm of pumping in and out, sometimes a long and deep thrust and other times a shallow and prolonged one.

E.J.'s moans and groans were building. He knew how to make an experience last but after fifteen minutes, Martin was torturously close to cumming and E.J. was begging to cum also. His rhythm became faster – both his invasion of Martin's cherry hole and the beating of his cock. E.J. came with one last thrust and Martin's balls burst a minute later. E.J.'s cock, even once spent, was hard enough to continue pumping until Martin reached his climax.

It was the second time Martin had cum that day. Martin thought back to the four boys from his school who had watched him that afternoon – just imagine them watching him now! His cum made a pool of mess all over his chest and Martin was pretty sure the first eruption had shot over his head. Exhausted, E.J. leaned over him again – kissing Martin's stomach and abs, though they were soaked with cum, until he reached the boys lips. They kissed again for a long time, with E.J. still inside him. E.J. might have felt like a pervert beforehand but at this moment, minutes after fucking a seventeen year old boy, E.J. couldn't help but feel like a king.

This beautiful boy wanted him and, as a beautiful man E.J. was wanted in return. They fell asleep together after E.J. extricated himself and discarded the filled condom. E.J. hand laid on top of Martin before sliding off him and lying on his side; then E.J. pulled Martin towards him and they lay facing each other.

"So?" E.J. asked.

"We need to do that again," Martin answered.

E.J. laughed but only just – he was exhausted and although the spirit was willing, the flesh... actually, the flesh was also willing. But not tonight. Saturday had just turned into Sunday and Martin would stay the night, they would do it again as Martin desired but not tonight.

For now, they fell asleep.

Johnnie had been bored and unable to persuade Daniel to hit the town with him; he didn't feel much like being the sad loser who went out alone. Johnnie was sure not be alone for long, he was a sociable type after all, but all the same Johnnie returned from the Symposium with Daniel.

Johnnie took a shower and walked back to his room naked; brazenly exposing his cock in the hall gave him a cheap thrill so that he considered giving himself a hand but looking at Calvin's closed door reminded him why he had felt so dejected. Thus he felt dejected again.

Calvin was on a date with someone and Johnnie wished he was that someone. Was the answer to his mood as simple as that? Had he fallen for his best friend?

Johnnie was not used to feeling like this – he still had sex, one-night stands one might say, but they were as of late motivated by denial or jealousy. Denial that the man he wanted was his best friend – a man he had known for many years, been having sex with since puberty – and jealousy that Cal was dating men that weren't him. It really wasn't something Johnnie could talk to Calvin about... was it?

Johnnie was half asleep – in that place between sleeping and awake, where one can still remember dreaming; it was where he often thought of Cal.

Johnnie's head hurt.

His head actually throbbed with a pain he hadn't felt since...

Johnnie went to bed unreasonably early for a Saturday, but had had enough for the day. He must have been tired too, because he stumbled as he prepared for bed.

Johnnie stirred a few hours later, in the wee hours of Sunday, but did not turn when he heard his room door open; it would disturb most people to have someone in their room in the middle of the night but Johnnie was used to having company in the night. He also was not fully roused by the entry. A moment later he felt the duvet fold back behind him and someone slipped into bed beside him.

Their feet were cold.

Johnnie slowly turned to face Calvin; he hadn't expected to see his friend tonight. Cal was stripped to a t-shirt and boxers so he would probably be spending the night. But why?

"What happened?" Johnnie asked softly.

They were close together so speaking barely above a whisper.

"It all went tits up. And you know how I feel about tits," Cal replied.

"Yea."

Johnnie waited for Cal to tell him what had gone wrong with his big date.

"He's married," Cal added after a long time.

"Shit, really?" Johnnie asked, his eyes shot open and looked into Calvin's sad blue eyes.

"It's complicated," Calvin replied.

Johnnie was beginning to think that was all Cal was going to say.

"Turns out Hugh's partner has decided to have a sex change," Calvin said, pausing with a sigh. "And instead of talking about it or taking a break or breaking up... he used me as an excuse for breaking up."

Johnnie said nothing; he was sure that Calvin was reading between the lines but his intuition was pretty good.

"So, the guy is a prick? That sucks," Johnnie said.

Calvin kissed Johnnie appreciatively; "Thanks."

"You deserve someone better," Johnnie said. He felt his heart beat a little faster at the thought of talking to Cal about `his feelings'.

"I know," Cal replied with a wink. "I'll find someone who appreciates me."

"I appreciate you," Johnnie said.

"Ha ha, you know what I mean," Cal responded with a yawn, he was starting to tire out now.

"I mean it," Johnnie said seriously but Calvin wasn't listening properly.

"I'm not putting out tonight. We've fooled around and screwed around and fucked around... I think I need a proper boyfriend now."

Johnnie was about to press his point again – tell Cal that's what he wanted too but it was Calvin he wanted in that role.

"I love ya, but we're not real. I want the real thing, that's not too much to ask, is it?" Calvin said, now drifting off in Johnnie's arms.

Johnnie wanted to say I love you too; he wanted to tell Calvin what he felt was real and... Johnnie gave up and said nothing of import.

"You'd think not," Johnnie answered in defeat.

Waking up in a room reeking of cum was a new thing for Martin. It took E.J. back to his university days. It was early but Martin awoke with a jolt and although he would love to lie around, he also did not want to be late for work. It might have been the sense of duty or it might be the risk that Graham would call his house number rather than his mobile, which would give the game away to his parents that he had been out all night. Martin didn't want to have that talk with his mother.

E.J. was fine with it. Their relationship, such as it was, had been taken to a new level and was something they were both looking to explore more very soon.

Martin had been preoccupied getting ready, but he felt some discomfort as he moved around and walked to the toilet; as he washed residual cum from his legs and washed it off his torso. It wasn't until Martin left E.J.'s house and he tried to ride his bike that he realised.

Mother. Fucking. God.

His arse hurt.

Riding to work almost had him in tears. E.J. hadn't been rough or cruel, but Martin's bum was still aching from last night's encounter. He hoped no-one would notice.

Graham seemed very happy with himself when Martin arrived, calling him over to beside the cash desk. Martin's eyes were drawn to his left; yesterday, behind the partition behind that checkout, Martin had stripped naked and masturbated. He had cum all over himself and been seen by his peers; tomorrow was Monday and he would have to face them again. Martin wasn't looking forward to that.

"So, what do you think?" Graham asked.

Martin hadn't been listening to his boss; "Sorry?"

Graham sighed and pointed behind him. "Your staff photograph, what do you think?"

Martin looked over Graham's shoulder to the wall where the staff photographs were displayed. They were all life-sized head and shoulder shots. Martin's had been added overnight. As he looked, Martin realised it had been taken yesterday – he must not have noticed the photographer in the crowd or maybe a camera had been set up inside the display area. Either way it had captured a wonderful shot.

Martin was clearly bare chested, although the photo only showed his smooth shoulders and collar bones; looking closely, one could just about see whips of his underarm hair creeping into the bottom of the frame. Martin's skin had a sheen of sweat too. But the worst thing was the blob of cum visible on his chin and on the suprasternal notch where his collar bones met.

"I think it's a magnificent photo, don't you?" Graham asked rhetorically.

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If you are enjoying this story, I have also written:

School Exhibitionism - see the High School section: July 14 2007. [Thanks to the fan for pointing out I'd misspelled this story title]

The Symposium - see the Authoritarian or Athletics section: Sept 15 2015.