The Symposium

The Symposium Chapter 07: Callum Carter's Day Off

This story is a work of fiction. Resemblances to real persons, places or events would be extremely surprising.

Several dates, hand holding, hugging, a bit of frottage once, hand-job, blow-job, a night in with a bottle of wine... ok, two bottles of wine and it was good stuff too.

Callum was perhaps surprised at how much he found himself liking Paul. He was used to more bold and adventurous companions and found Paul's quiet, humble and reserved demeanour refreshing. Paul was safe and sweet man and gave Callum a sense of contentment he hadn't felt for a long time. Perhaps, he had never felt this way.

Callum had had several boyfriends over the years, a few relationships of longevity and a few more that were passing trysts. But he wasn't 18 anymore; Callum felt differently about what he wanted now. He'd been single for nine months, passing tryst excluded, and was ready for another relationship.

Yet...

Callum felt Paul was perhaps too safe. He worried it was relationship that would languish. Paul deserved better than that. Callum's melancholy had drawn in like the autumn nights and was just as long lasting.

They walked close through the cold night – they'd enjoyed dinner and a bottle of wine in town. The streets were quiet, as they often were in the kind of town where one could roam streets at almost any time of the day or night without any fear. The half naked trees were their only company - a dog walker occasionally and cars observing the twenty's plenty limit.

Their clothes were strewn around Callum's bedroom. Callum; tall, muscular and firm, Paul; skinny and lithe – both naked. Paul was on his back, legs draped over the edge of the bed and his penis hard up toward the ceiling. Callum took it in his mouth and buried his nose in Paul's pubes. Paul gripped the bed and moaned. They continued like this for a few minutes, each enjoying their roles, then Callum stood and loomed over Paul. He leaned over and put his hands on the bed, each hand resting just under Paul's armpits and he leaned forward to kiss the younger man. Paul's tongue entered Callum's mouth – he'd become less timid over the last few weeks, waiting less for Callum it initiate. Callum enjoyed Paul's initiative. Paul pulled Callum onto the bed and slipped behind him, his cock pressing into the length of Callum's arse crack.

Paul kissed the back of Callum's neck and then dropped to his knees, pulling Callum's arse cheeks apart and pressing his tongue against the tight hole. Callum had cleaned up earlier – shaved and scrubbed considerately, if a little presumptuously, in case things went well.

Callum felt his cock jump without even touching it as his pleasure zone was stimulated. He felt Paul's face withdraw and a finger slip in, pressing his prostate and massaging it. Callum stroked his cock and breathed heavily - they were both sweating already. Callum began to turn so Paul removed his fingers with a quiet slurp and put both hands on Callum's hips. Paul kissed the head of Callum's dick and then felt Callum's hand on his chin. He raised his head to meet Callum's eyes and understood the invitation that lay in them.

Paul stood and their bodies pressed together as they kissed again, their hard penises rubbing and leaking with anticipation. Then Callum crossed the room and retrieved a condom. Paul lay back on the bed and lifted a convenient bottle of lubricant which he spread onto his hand. He bent his legs until his feet were flat and heels almost touching his bum. His knees parted and access to his anus granted.

Paul slipped a finger in and loosened his arse hole, then a second finger – as his sphincter dilated and adjusted to the invasion, pleasurable sensations pulsed through him. A third finger became comfortable, loosening him enough for what was to come.

Paul watched Callum across the room – broad shoulders, strapping arms and heaving chest, a firm abdomen and a firm cock and muscular legs. Paul pleasured himself while watching Callum, considering himself to be playing out of his league but enjoying it while it lasts.

Callum regarded Paul, supine on the bed – his skinny waist a concave rising up to his flat chest and brown nipples. Callum's cock tingled as he pulled on the johnny and crossed towards Paul. He hadn't had sex for months but had imagined having sex with Paul for weeks, wanking satisfactorily to the thought - anticipation now was a pleasing aphrodisiac.

"Are you sure you want to?" Callum asked.

"Go for it." Paul replied happily.

Paul locked his arms around the back of his knees and pulled his legs back, proffering unrestricted access to his arsehole.

Paul felt pleasure the moment Callum's cock touched the sphincter, the initial gentle push stimulating the rich nerve endings, sending sensational sensual sensations all through his body. Callum entered slowly, giving the muscles in Paul's rectum time to adjust as his substantial cock entered.

Callum pushed in inch by inch, sliding in and out just a little for a minute before inserting the next inch. Callum enjoyed this moment; when his penis was swallowed by the rectum – warm and soft. Paul too responded favourable, his arse filled with erotically sensitive skin and firm, responsive muscle.

Callum pulled out by six inches and then slowly pushed back in all the way. Paul moaned, then Callum moaned. Paul's arms released his legs and then extended to grip Callum at the waist, holding him in. Paul pulled himself hp as if doing a sit-up and craned his neck, Callum stooped low and their faces met – hot and sweaty. Their lips touching and tongues dancing around one another.

Paul's head fell back and he bit his lip as Callum took to thrusting his hips back and forth again, not too hard. This was not a good hard fuck, rather a tentative exploration of their respective desires in sex. Callum took non-verbal cues to push a little harder. Paul could feel the knot of his prostate pump out juices that were sticky and lubricative.

Paul's arse was filled with sensations and he could sense Callum getting close to climax. He stroked his own cock, smearing pre-seminal fluid over his cock head. Callum came and pumped for another few moments before his body relaxed with exhaustion and ecstasy. They were covered in sweat and breathing hard as Callum withdrew and tidied himself up.

"You got anymore?" Paul asked boldly.

Callum looked up to see Paul's glistening dick still hard and unspent, he smiled and retrieved another condom which he exchanged for the lube. While Paul got ready, Callum eased a couple of fingers into his own arse and finger-fucked his hole with vigour, relishing the sensations and priming himself for them to multiply.

When Paul was ready, he eased himself off the bed and kissed Callum passionately. When their lips parted, Paul took Callum's hand and led him a few steps back to the bed, easing his hand towards the bed and bending him over it.

Callum stuck his arse out and pushed his face low towards the bed so he was bent far over. Paul was equally tentative and gentle about easing in, taking time to push in seven inches of cock until his pubic bush was flush with Callum's scrotum.

His hips gyrated and Callum too moved with the motion. Callum's sphincter was tight around Paul's penis, the oiled friction kept his cock hard and blissfully stroked his shaft. Both men were tiring now. Paul's speed increased and each time he entered fully, they both groaned and Callum would push back just a little to force Paul's cock even deeper.

Paul grunted as his cock finally ejaculated and his balls emptied a pint of cum in a dozen spurts. Paul leaned over Callum for a moment, his tummy and chest laying across Callum's back. They stayed like that for a minute, content in their exhaustion. When Paul pulled out, Callum clenched his bum to stop assjuice leaking out then turned and collapsed on his bed.

Paul pulled off the condom and dumped in the bin where Callum's were already deposited. It was considerately knotted at the top to stop its contents leaking out but still made a wet spat as it hit the bottom of the bin and settled there.

Callum had managed to wrestle the duvet from under him and climbed into bed. He rubbed the spot in front of him, inviting Paul into bed beside him. Paul slid in and Callum pulled up the sheet, Paul shifted closer to Callum and Callum to Paul. With their bodies spooned close together and their legs intertwined, they both fell into a beautiful sleep.

Callum's eyes opened slowly, adjusting to a sunlight weakened by pale clouds and half-shut curtains. Paul was smiling at him; his cute face with blue eyes unbearably bright for such an early hour and messy fair hair like a scarecrow dragged backwards through a hedge.

"What's the time Mr. Wolf?" Callum asked.

Paul replied, "Too early to be gobbling anything, if that's what your asking."

Callum laughed. "The thought never crossed my mind." He peered over Paul's shoulder to the clock at his bedside – 10:23. Callum sighed and turned onto his back.

"You frown in your sleep." Paul observed aloud.

"Do I?" Callum answered. He smiled but weakly.

"Last night was..." Paul started then didn't seem to know how to finish the sentence.

"Me too." Callum agreed, at this he did smile widely. "Yea, me too."

Paul seemed relieved to have it confirmed as a success. Talking about it further would just have been weird, so he changed the subject.

"I've seen you frowning a lot over the past week," he paused. "What was that word you used the other day... mel-something?"

"Mel-an-choly," Callum repeated. "Gloomy, pensive thoughts, sadness. I get like this around my birthday sometimes." He admitted.

"How come?" Paul asked with naive interest.

"My... erm... my mum died just after I turned twelve." Callum said, gently as he knew Paul would feel bad for asking. "And my dad a fortnight later."

"Oh," Paul said. "I guess you were already thinking about it but I didn't mean to... you don't have to say anything else. Sorry."

"Mum had cancer," Callum paused, thinking that in the (nearly) ten years since she died he had only ever spoken substantially about it to Iain. "It was hard... it's still hard to find the right words. Dad, he didn't cope. When your twelve you don't really understand depression, I mean, I knew something was wrong with him but... I didn't have a word for it."

Paul said nothing, waiting for Callum to continue, and made soothing touches along Callum's arm.

"Mum died on the twenty-sixth of November 2005, three days after my birthday. She got me a remote control Dalek." Callum laughed, but his eyes were watery. "Then dad jumped off a tall building. God, I remember Iain was so angry... My first day back at school and some boy, I don't even remember his name, he made a joke about the mess it must've made on the pavement. I cried so hard." He had to pause, and wiped a tear from his face. "And Iain... shit, he went ballistic. He punched that kid so fucking hard – made some mess of the pavement."

"Bet nobody joked about that again." Paul said and Callum nodded. "I can't imagine how you must have felt."

"Broke my heart," Callum admitted. "Into more pieces than it was made of. Did you know you can survive with a heart that's broken? Love with it too... so much that no-one would ever know it was broken... unless they knew."

"And who do you love?" Paul asked.

"My mum and dad," he replied. "My uncle and aunt. And Iain, of course - more than anyone." He turned to Paul and grinned. "And I kinda love you in a way too."

"Kinda... in a way?" Paul asked. "In what way?" he wondered.

"I don't know."

"Ok."

Melancholy was in full swing.

"It isn't enough for your heart to break because everybody's heart is broken now." Callum said and Paul looked puzzled. "Allen Ginsberg. Never mind, I just like that quote." Callum waited for a moment before asking his own question. "So, Paul, what broke your heart?"

"What do you mean?" He asked guardedly, but he knew. He knew what Callum meant.

"We all have our secret sorrows... What's yours?"

"Longfellow. And I'd rather not..." he paused and Callum said nothing, he didn't want Paul to feel obligated to answer just because he had spoken so deeply.

"It's ok. I understand – I mean I don't talk much about... well, it's just ok. If you ever want to tell-"

"I didn't get on with my dad. I don't get on with him. I don't like to talk about him, or think about him or acknowledge his existence as a member of the human race. I'll never be close to the man who most disappointed me." It all came out in one go and left a silence afterwards.

Callum nodded. "Tense." He said.

Paul chuckled at himself. "Sorry. That was a little OTT. True though, my dad's an arse and an off-topic. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Shit. It's nearly eleven." Paul said, glancing at the clock. "Hate to make love to you and leave you but I have an elsewhere to be."

"Hot date?" Callum asked, feigning hurt.

"Meeting mum."

"So yes then?"

Callum got hit!

"Gross. Also, no."

"Well, Iain and me are going out tonight. Celebrating my birthday early since I'm working it this year. You wanna come?" Callum asked.

"Can't, sorry. Need to get cracking on an essay. But I'll see you tomorrow?" Paul was back to his sweetly anxious self.

"Sounds good." Callum said.

"I used to be rubbish at remembering birthdays." Paul admitted as he climbed out of bed. His skin was pale in the morning light, his skinny body was tight so his ribs showed when he stretched and started pulling on his clothes. "I remember months ok, usually. But dates? Not so much."

"Used to be?" Callum asked, stretching out in bed. Paul had a puzzled look on his face. "You said `I used to be rubbish at remembering birthdays.' Your underpants are back to front." He added.

Paul started to pull them down again then laughed. "No they're not." He said, realising Callum was taking the piss. "You wanna see my cock again, take a picture, it'll last longer." He pulled a t-shirt and jeans on before Callum took the suggestion seriously. "My sister told me her trick was to associate ages with the dates. So, you'll be 23 on the twenty-third."

"Also I was born the day after Kennedy was assassinated."

"Give or take thirty years?"

"Or the day Doctor Who started."

"Give or take thirty years."

"Or five months after a skinny smart arse was born."

"Give or take three years."

"Shut it."

Callum got half dressed and headed downstairs for something to eat. Iain was already up and about.

"I saw Paul leaving." He said benignly.

"Yes." Callum said, non-commitally.

"I think the neighbours heard you going at it." Iain joked.

"The Lockhart's are cool, they won't mind."

"I meant the neighbours at the end of the street." He joked.

Callum laughed. "Fuck off."

Iain was quiet for a minute before asking, "Are you guys getting serious?"

"I- I don't know." Callum said. "I kinda figured... I thought I'd know what Paul was thinking if we ever got to this stage. After the puppy dog eyes and the `so nervous the couldn't talk to me' stage, I thought I'd see the wedding carriage in his eyes this morning."

"He does seem like the commitment type." Iain agreed.

"But it wasn't like that. Last night we had sex, this morning we talked and it all feels a bit like... Like we had sex and maybe that's it. I know we're no farther forward in the `relationship' stakes." Callum was confused. He realised he had expected Paul to throw the word boyfriend into the conversation.

"Aww, pal. Are you still single then?" Iain asked.

"Looks like." Callum replied. "Anyway, I'm 21 for one more night. Let's go out and get blootered."

"It's 11am." Iain pointed out.

"Oh. Let's have a sensible brunch and run then."

"Then get blootered?"

"You got it."

Iain smiled.

On the inside Iain was not smiling. Since he had started `feeling different' about sex and sexuality, Callum had been a beacon. He wouldn't say it out loud but he desired Callum, so the thought of him with someone else. Shit, Iain realised he was jealous - which was so fucked up that he needed a drink and or therapy.

Both boys drank to excess, moved from pub to night club, danced and crawled into bed just before sunrise. It was suggested by their friends that they `go on the pull', but neither were in the mood. And neither were in the mood to explain why either.

Sunday was, mostly, uneventful. He enjoyed the quiet day, skyped with his aunt and uncle and had lunch with Paul. Things continued in their easy way with Paul but by the end of the meal, they both didn't say what was on their minds. The result was that Callum was left worried that things with Paul might be over before they had begun. Never the less, both were content enough in the other's company and they conversed like old friends. Perhaps that was the problem, they were friends and neither wanted to blow the whistle and jeopardise that.

Callum had had the opportunity to request his birthday off, but hadn't bothered. There had been something else – Mr Douglas had seemed keen for him to be there tomorrow. And so Callum would be at work bright and early in the morning but tonight he collapsed on the sofa early that evening to relax. It was in Iain's company that night that he felt most at ease. They sat close together on the sofa that night a watched a movie. There hadn't even been any dialogue yet.

Although it was November and Scotland (and therefore cold) Iain was wearing a pair of shorts complemented by a long sleeved hooded jumper, though it was warm in the house. Callum scratched his knee and felt the back of his hand brush against Iain's thigh. Iain felt it too. Callum's gaze fell from the T.V. screen to Callum's thin legs and lean thighs which were warm against the thin linen trousers he wore.

Callum tried to ignore the lust-fired thoughts that were starting to enter his head but Iain's spread his legs a little and brushed his knee against Callum's. Callum looked up, he hadn't even realised he'd been staring at Iain's crotch, and met Iain's gaze. Iain smiled innocently, even as he moved his hand from his lap where he'd gently kneaded his cock up to half mast.

It occurred to both boys that this thing' between them started nearly four months ago now and perhaps it was the thing' holding them back from other relationships. Callum from Paul and Iain from... someone else.

Callum tried to ignore his desires but Iain was curious and also hadn't had sex two nights ago and was thusly keen to release himself. Iain shifted his bare foot and touched Callum's which was also bare. Iain's toes curved up while his heel rested on the floor, the toes lifting the first few inches of Callum's light linen trousers.

In his groin, Callum felt blood flow and his dick becoming engorged. He closed his eyes as Iain's hand slid up his knee and brushed his balls. Callum then turned his head and kissed Iain's neck. Iain let Callum pull his jumper off and discard it on the floor; he then pulled his own t-shirt off and both were naked from the waist up and ankle down.

Callum and Iain looked at each other. The first time they had done anything like this had been at the behest of Mr Douglas and Finn. A few months ago they had been here on the sofa, just as they were now, but interrupted by the doorbell. Without interruption and without instruction, both lads were excited to see where they would stop.

The kissed, bare chests close and warm, their hearts fast. Callum stood then, with the intention of kneeling to pull Iain's shorts down but Iain beat him to it – Iain reached out and tugged Callum's light trousers down so they pooled around his ankles. Callum's tight briefs outlined his stiff penis. Iain's hand boldly rubbed Callum's cock through his briefs and he wasted little time before freeing it and pushing the briefs down to Callum's ankles. Iain stared into the eye then looked into Callum's face.

"Step out of them." He told his cousin.

Callum raised an eyebrow at the command, so authoritative and strong that he had no compunction in obeying. He stood naked before Callum and realised he liked the idea of obeying Iain.

"Start stroking." Iain said. Even as he ordered it, he had no idea where it had come from. He was as surprised as Callum to hear himself giving instructions and pleasantly surprised Callum was willing to follow.

Callum rubbed his cock and glanced his thumb over the head of his penis, making the bulbous purple shine. He continued with long purposeful stokes, alternating the tightness of his grip and the speed of his stoking. Iain could see Callum's toes curl as he quickly reached a point where he might cum, but Callum didn't – he was well practiced at edging.

Iain sat transfixed by the cock before him, the tight scrotum beneath and the explosion of brown pubes above that narrowed to a point at Callum's belly button. Iain leaned forward and stuck out his tongue, licking the head of Callum's penis. Callum stopped stroking and dropped his cock onto Iain's outstretched tongue.

Iain closed his mouth around the dick by leaning forward slightly more. He pursed his lips, the tension causing extremely pleasant sensations for Callum. Then the doorbell rang.

Both their eyes snapped open and met with hard gazes. Both perturbed at being disturbed.

"You go get it this time." Iain instructed. He wiped his mouth free of the juices from Callum's excitement.

Callum grunted and stooped to pick up something to wear.

"I didn't say you should wear anything, did I?" Iain said wryly.

Callum half-smiled, unsure if he was being teased or if Iain was being serious. He rationalised that Iain would never expect him to really answer the door naked, and so resolved to do so. He crossed to the living room door and pulled it open; the hall was cool by comparison.

The doorbell rang again.

Through the opaque oval glass on the front door loomed a silhouette that Callum recognised as Stephen – their paper boy.

Callum croaked and turned back to Iain, who now blocked his entrance back to the living room and therefore his clothes.

"It's Stephen!" Callum said in a loud whisper.

"So? Stephen's got a boyfriend, I'm sure he'll appreciate your effort." Iain replied, giving Callum's cock a couple of pulls to restore it thickness.

"He's seventeen!" Callum protested.

"So were the boys from the Lord Gower School." Iain pointed out.

Callum blushed and so did his cock at the memory of them.

The doorbell rang again.

Fuck it.

Callum crossed the length of the hall and unlocked the front door; then he pulled it open, exposing himself to the night.

It was a cold night. Callum's front was assaulted by the cold wind from the street and his bum by the warm breeze of central heating.

Stephen was indeed at the door and his mouth fell open when he saw Callum full-frontally naked in front of him.

Callum looked over the boy's shoulder to make sure no-one else was watching him expose himself to a teenager – he didn't want to end up on a register. Which was stupid because Stephen was on the right side of legal; phew.

"Umm." Said Stephen after a full minute. "I can come back..."

"For another look you mean?" Callum joked.

Stephen blushed. "No. I meant... Err. Something."

"I'll get you money." Callum said. "For the newspapers. Don't want you thinking I'm paying for anything else." Callum winked.

Stephen blushed again, thought `what the fuck', and enjoyed the rear view of Callum as he walked back down the hall. Callum collected money from the table behind the living room door – Iain had backed off but grinned at his cousin and leaned in to lick Callum's nipple, then the other nipple.

The cool wind from the open door cooled Callum's moist nipples the instant he was back in the hall. His cock swung in front of him and Stephen, having accepted Callum was deliberately and provocatively exposing himself, made no subtlety of checking him out.

Callum deliberately stepped too close so his cock poked into Stephen's belly. The boy smiled, then grinned then took the change in Callum's hand.

"Thanks." Stephen said. He surprised himself by reaching forward and touching Callum's dick.

Callum liked it, he shouldn't but he did. The boy's finger tips pushed his foreskin back then pulled it forward again. He sighed and mumbled thanks again before disappearing back into the night. He looked back twice for a glimpse of the naked stud but the door was closed.

Callum couldn't believe he'd done that. And couldn't believe the thrill of it. As if his exposures at work weren't enough. He walked back into the living room where he was stopped in his tracks by what he saw. Iain was now completely naked and stoking his 8 inch cock.

He stepped forward and kissed Callum's mouth, bringing his body so close their cock's mashed together. They stood, locked in lips and embrace for several minutes. When they parted, Callum turned and took Iain's hand to lead him upstairs. Iain moved too quickly at first; his cock accidentally poking Callum's bum. They both reacted to that, both understanding what might happen next.

They reached Iain's bedroom first and stumbled in, with Iain straddling Callum as he fell onto the bed. Callum's stiff penis lay under Iain, the length of the shaft running up the crack of his arse. Iain leaned forward and softly pressed his lips against Callum's collar bone. He slid off Callum's chest and stood with his erection pointing forward.

"Kiss it." He told Callum.

Callum propped himself up with his elbows and then sat up. Iain stepped forward and Callum puckered up to put a big wet kiss on the tip of Iain's dick.

"Lick it." Iain instructed, his voice trembled with excitement.

His encounters with men, Iain had to admit, had been like having his first time all over again. His first kisses, his first oral sex, his first hand jobs (giving and receiving). It wasn't like anything he had experienced with women. And of all the men with whom he had tested his sexuality of the last months; Callum, Finn and several men at the Symposium, Callum was the most practiced, most stimulating and most thrilling.

Callum's wet tongue lapped at the tip of Iain's cock before starting at the base of his penis and licking forward.

"Now the balls." Iain said with his eyes closed and head thrown back.

Callum dutifully drew his tongue along Iain's balls, slightly hairy but not unpleasantly so. He popped one ball into his mouth and sooked, then the other.

"Suck me." Iain asked. Not a command this time, a plea.

Callum opened his mouth wide and took Iain's cock in his mouth. The length and girth blocking almost all breathing through his mouth so Callum had to take air through his nose. Iain's dick was slick with saliva and Callum's mouth lubricated with pre-cum. Iain began to push his hips forward; previous sexual partners had admonished him for `face-fucking' but Callum did not. Callum reciprocated by tightening his lips and sucking hard on the head of Iain's dick and synchronising his rhythm with Iain's pushes.

"I think... I'm gonna... fuck!" Iain gasped.

Iain erupted thick ropes of cum, which Callum swallowed. The last few spurts were wiped away with sticky strokes from Callum's hand.

Iain enjoyed his euphoria. When he came down from the high, he appreciated Callum's still stiff erection. He stepped forward and bent his knee's, making to sit on Callum's lap face-to-face and to lower himself onto Callum's cock.

He felt the pressure on his arse, it was strange and foreign and a little painful. He was only just beginning and it was painful – was it meant to be. He lifted himself up a bit and then down again, Callum's cock pressed again against Iain's anal sphincter. Callum could see Iain's discomfort.

"You shouldn't go in dry." Callum told him. "We'll need lube. And protection." He said.

It was strange to say these things out loud. People don't really talk about sex when they're about to do it, or during it, or after it.

"Have you got any? Lube? Protection?" Iain asked. He sounded almost as scared as he was interested or excited.

"Yea," Callum replied like it was obvious. "But small steps, yea." Callum's voice was gentle and Iain noticed how kind and bright Callum's eyes were.

Apart from the eyes, the face that they each looked into was almost identical. Sure, Iain was a moth older but the genetic similarity was striking. Mirror image.

Callum made to stand, so Iain backed off a little. Callum's sticky hand landed on Iain's shoulder and manoeuvred him towards the bed. Iain lay down while Callum fetched lube which he squirted onto his hand, spreading it over his fingers.

"Pull your knees towards your chest," Callum told him. "I'm gonna push a couple of fingers in."

Iain had enjoyed the last time Callum had probed his arse with his fingers. Unique and exquisite sensations ensued as Callum pushed a finger deep inside. Iain felt his arse open up as another finger was added, and his anus stretched to accommodate.

Iain began to understand why it was called finger-fucking. He's never done this before but would defiantly try it the next time he was having a wank. Callum was three fingers deep and probing Iain's prostate. Iain was clean for straight man – an anal virgin at least. Iain had obviously been washing up carefully back here, his arse hole had the tell-tale signs of courteous shaving.

Callum pulled out three acceptably clean fingers and lowered his head. Iain hadn't expected to feel the tongue prodding his anus but enjoyed that too. He started stroking his cock which was already solid again. Another minute and he came for the second time.

Callum had been stoking his dick too, he'd been ready to cum for almost an hour now so it did not take long for him to ejaculate all over Iain's back. Iain looked around in surprise but smiled, accepting that after all his instructions and the intense feeling of pleasure that Callum had given him, he perhaps deserved being came on.

Callum missed the opportunity for penetration and even Iain wondered what it would have been like. Both lads collapsed, exhausted, laying next to each other on the bed.

They embrace for a while; at rest each other's arms, Callum curled into Iain's back and they fell asleep.

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