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THE XAVIER - PART ONE
The deal with Xavier was this: I picked him up in a cafe in a railway station. I was attracted by his potential. He was extremely fit. His legs were narrow and strong and spread naturally when he sat. Tight black low-rise cords. He had removed his jacket and thrown it over his bag. His arms were well-defined. His white t-shirt rose up at the back revealing a firm spine and just enough of a sharply defined arsecrack from which fine dark hairs erupted like a shoal of long tiny very fast fishes. He was leaning forward with his elbows on the small circular table so that his face was in shadow. His fringe hung down, longer than necessary. His hair was longer at the back as well. His shoulders were broad; he had considerable strength. I could see his build through his t-shirt. A lovely body. That's what attracted me: He had potential. He wasn't cruising but he was friendly. He was sitting by himself and I asked if I could join him.
His voice was much deeper than he looked like he would have, seeming to issue from a place further down his throat than I had expected. "Be my guest," he said without looking up. Just my type! I like an athletic guy, but quiet and intelligent; he might be a fit! I guessed that I could pull him and wanted to find out if there was a prize worth winning behind the promising appearance, so I placed my coffee down, sat, and leaned back crossing my legs, with my toe pointing straight at him, and folded my arms. I looked at him until he looked up and grinned. "Yo'alright?" he said. Friendly enough. "Oh definitely," I said. He looked down at his coffee with a shy smile and took a sip. "You don't mind me sitting here?" I said. He shook his head. "I didn't mean to invade your space. You look deep in thought." That line made him smile again. It was an obvious pick up hook. "I'm not," he said. "Oh that's ok then," I added. I tapped my foot a few times to see if he was taking notice. He was. "You ..." he said, raising his head and flicking back his hair. He didn't finish the sentence but laughed as though I had said something funny. He had good teeth. His lips were pink and soft like a very wet sofa when he pressed them together. I continued to watch him and I suppose that was strange because it made him self-conscious, but I could see he liked it. "Yeah ..." I said, as though confirming his question. I stared and reached out for my coffee without looking at it, which meant I missed it by quite a bit and had to look where it was and that made him smile again as he became acutely aware that I was cruising him and he had to decide if he was interested. He was interested. He met my stare and was serious. He parted his lips and licked his teeth - cute and white, even, and a cute pink tongue I wanted to suck in a way that knew would make it hurt and make him struggle either to give me more or pull it back. "You're on your way somewhere," I said. He nodded. "Train leave soon?" "Twenty minutes." "That's enough to get acquainted," I said, friendly as arseholes! He leaned back and looked me over (as though he hadn't already checked me out). His dark eyebrows and dark eyes contrasted his pale luminous skin. His jawline had a little scruff. Just enough. His neckline revealed a little hair. Just enough. I was desperate to see him naked. I could see his body through the white cotton. "Acquainted?" he said, laughing. "What's funny?" I said. "S'nothin'," he said wiping his nose unconsciously; "funny word." "Oh sorry, I just mean ..." "Yeah," he said, "I know." By now I was hard in my pants and when I uncrossed my legs, as I had to, I saw him glance quickly at the shape in my fly (I was sitting far enough back from the table for him to look). I maintained my silence; for a bit we just eyed each other. He already spread his legs, as I said, it was the natural way he sat, but now he moved his knees a bit further apart so that I could see them either side; wider than the average guy has to spread. I tapped the table leg, which felt brazen, and moved my foot towards his and tapped his toe under the sole of my foot. He smiled broadly, self-consciously, and looked to either side as though worried someone would see. He was so charming. Then he slid his foot slightly towards me so that I could rest my shoe on his. I pressed down, letting him feel the full bearing force of it. We were in no doubt. "I need to go," I said, downing my coffee in a long gulp. He looked at me questioningly. I clarified: "I'm busting for a leak," I said. "Oh ... Oh yeah," he nodded. "me too." And we both got up. "Lead the way," I said. "My train leaves soon," he muttered. "I know," I said, "but I'm going to be quick, or we can do this later if you think." He didn't answer.
The toilet was down some steps. He vaulted the barrier and so did I. The attendant was not interested. He found a cubicle and pushed in. I followed, quickly leaning on the door to make it close as I unbuckled. He sat on the toilet seat and helped, which was good, but slowed it down. I let him get on with it, brushing his hair with my fingertips and holding his head with my hands as one tests a melon for ripeness. His ears were soft and stuck out like little radar. He was ripe ... He had my trousers open and reached in, touching my balls, to help my prick out. It was stuck down my leg. When it flipped out, the glans was big and red, the foreskin had already peeled back. He put his lips round it immediately and started to work. I knew: he wanted to drink my spunk. He rubbed his crotch but didn't attempt to get his own dick out: we both knew there wasn't time; it was either me or him. My prick went right down his throat and I could feel it punch the back of his neck. I really wanted to facefuck him brutally, but that's not on in a public place. He was choking himself on it enthusiastically, then off and licking the underside, round the tip, wanking it and just enjoying the pleasure of holding a big man's dick in his grip. "Don't yank it man," I said. My hands were wet with my own precum; I wiped it in his hair. "Like that ..." I whispered. "Yeah ..." He didn't answer.
I shook as as he swallowed my cum, and the door rattled. I leaned back, to still it, and forced him to take all of it by grasping him and holding him whilst he squirmed and tried to get breath. When I looked at his face, some of my sperm had dribbled down his chin and wet the neck of his t-shirt. His eyes were running with tears, and a kind of excitement I only see in certain types of men: those who want to be used. I lifted him up from the seat by hooking his armpits. He wiped the cum from his face and looked at his fingers before licking them. His lips were redder now than they had been, and swollen where they had been holding and repeatedly up and down the thick shaft of my rabid erection. "That was quite impressive," I said, letting my hardon poke out, dripping and gradually losing its tone. "I wish I had a video of that blowjob." "That good eh?" He rubbed my nose with his nose and put his tongue in my mouth. "Ew, my cum!" I said. He apologised and swallowed a few more times. "Ok, no problem, don't worry. I like it!" He actually looked relieved. He touched my prick again and it leapt up. "I need to fuck you," I said; feeling him through his zip I squeezed it a few times and felt it fill out. "No time," he said, kissing me deeply. He was so aroused! I was glad he'd be thinking about me on the train, and that when at last he got the chance to masturbate I'd be at the centre of his fantasy. "My balls ache," he said, kissing me repeatedly and holding on to as tight as though attempting to absorb me completely. I squeezed his cock again. "You're hot," I said. "When do you return?" "I don't know." I was confused. "I don't know," he said. "Depends." I let go of his cock and grabbed his arse. The lines of the cords added a texture to the shape of his cheeks packed into the tight jeans - too tight for me to squeeze a finger into. He groaned again. "Oh god ... I gotta go!" He reached down for his coat and bag. "Gi'us your number," I said. "Quickly!" "Oh yeah," he said, to my relief. "Definitely. Let me put it in your phone." I handed it to him and watched as he deftly entered the number and then phoned himself - proved it wasn't a dud. His phone buzzed from somewhere. He hung up and gave the phone back to me. "Right. Call." he said. "Perhaps YOU should call," I said, sensing a power play. "If that's alright," he said meekly, returning my authority. "Course it is! I'd like that arse." "Can't wait," he grinned and reached for the door catch. I let him go. I had a pee - it was a bit painful - and then left, with my dick like a submarine in my trousers. When I looked at my phone I saw his name in the recents where he had entered it. Fuck he was cute. I hoped he would text me and then we would meet somewhere I could put him through his paces properly. I needed to test him, but basically (I imagined his arsecrack crammed with dark hair opening like a forest path with areas of sunlit smoothness and other areas of dense growth, all leading to that pink pulsating orchid mouth friendly on anything I wished to give it) I needed to fuck it like something wild.
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END OF THE XAVIER - PART ONE