1
I didn't much want to take a lodger. But if I didn't improve the cash flow, the building society was going to repossess the house. But I wasn't prepared to take on any old lodger. I'd take my time to decide who I would permit to share my living space. I asked some guys in the pub if they knew of anyone who wanted accommodation. They came up with two names. I didn't recognise either of them. I can't expect to recognise everyone in town. Charlie told me that thirty-two year old Hugo worked in his office and had just had a messy divorce. Josh's friend Jamie was twenty-five and had a steady girlfriend. He was living in a village outside the town and wanted to move in closer to the centre. Hugo was desperate to move, but there was no urgency for Jamie. The choice was simple. I didn't want to land myself with a total nutter and wanted time to take up references and establish some ground rules before committing myself. Jamie it would be, unless someone else turned up. Of course I couldn't shit on my mates by doing the instant decision thing, so I agreed that Charlie and Josh should get their friends down the pub on the next couple of nights to meet me and talk over the possibility.
Charlie's a good guy. Always on the lookout for a good deed to do and a lost cause to support. He's short and he's way overweight and deeply married with four daughters. I suspected that Hugo would turn out to be one of his lost causes. I was right. When he swaggered in to the pub the next night, I saw that Hugo is drop dead gorgeous. He knows it and exploits it. The attitude is that the world owes him a living, and his interests are always to come first. Arrogant wasn't in it. He stayed for one drink and then went off, saying that there was a bird who needed him to make her day. Probably on the pages of a stroke magazine, I thought. Who needed a crazed up git like that anyway? Charlie made all sorts of excuses for Hugo, but I could see that he wasn't pleased at his swift departure. We had hardly touched on the details of the house, and I felt sure that Hugo had decided he wasn't interested.
The next evening Jamie came in to the pub with Josh. Josh works for the Council in some admin office. Again, his candidate for my lodger was a colleague. But he couldn't have been more different to the repellant Hugo. Early twenties, average height, slightly stocky build, average colour hair. Ask me to describe him ten minutes later and I'd have struggled. Until he smiled that is. Jamie's smile reached out and grabbed you. And it wasn't just a smile on the lips, it seemed to come from deep inside, flowing out from his eyes as well. A genuine people person, it turned out. Very easy to get on with and prepared to talk about anything. We talked in general about the house and the rent and if there were any special rules. As we walked down the High Street to go and see the house, he started to hint that he thought I might be gay, and that was no problem for him.
I wasn't sure how Jamie would cope with my occasional nocturnal companions. But then, I wasn't going to come on to him since he had the gorgeous Emma lined up to deal with his needs. Not that I would have objected if he were willing. Ordinary looking he might be, but the personality was great. I could certainly go for that. But I'm not far off being old enough to be his father, and I'm under no illusions that he'd be interested in a walk on the wild side. Just as well really. I want a steady flow of rent money, not a live in partner. We agreed on the rent, and Jamie's share of the chores, and set a date for him to move in, subject to satisfactory references from his current landlord and line manager. I'm sure that would be no problem. And it gave me nearly four months before Jamie would move in, since he had to give a full quarter's notice where he was living at the moment.
I'm Tony, by the way. Thirty-nine. Never been married. Never been with a woman, in fact. And never felt any interest in doing so either. Oh yes. And I work as a civilian with the police. I take photographs of crime scenes and victims. it's not what you would call nice work. But it's steady despite the advent of digital cameras. I also do medical stuff for the hospital; surgical techniques and recording physical debility and the like. About half my time for each of those jobs. I used to have a photo shop and develop film for other people. Business fell off, and so I took the job with the hospital. After some pictures taken in A&E one night, I got taken on by the police as well. They still want my kind of technical expertise, and I'll never be bored, but I don't think there'll be any close encounters in the dark room at work in the cop shop! Despite equal opportunities legislation, I still don't think the news that I'm gay would go down too well with my mates at work, even if I were ready to come out. The hospital's a different matter, but you have to be careful as much as you can.
it's not that I'm totally closeted. People that I'm interested in have no problems in working out the situation. No. it's more a matter of "don't ask and don't tell." I'm comfortable with who I am, and it's not as if I'm a slave to my right hand when it comes to sex. I don't think I'm god's gift, but I'm certainly not an ugly bastard either. The old body is in reasonable nick, thanks to plenty of physical activity and one session a week in the gym.
The house is secluded, set back behind the shops on the High Street, with just a number on a door to show where I live. In fact, the door is really my garden gate. You have to walk down the alley behind it and across the courtyard before you get to the front door. There's no real garden, just the courtyard in front, and that is overlooked by the windows of a tattoo parlour on one side and a solicitor's office on another. The back of the house looks onto the garden of the almshouses, so all the windows have net curtains to put off the window-lickers and other nosy folk. The house has a medieval foundation with a cellar that I've converted into a playroom. On the ground floor, there's a sitting room and a dining room, and a room that I like to call my study, with a loo under the stairs. Off the kitchen there used to be a large windowless storeroom that I've set up now as a darkroom. Then, upstairs there are the four bedrooms and two bathrooms that complete my home.
A woman called Mary comes in to clean through for me each week and to do the ironing. We get on really well, and I'm sure that's because she has sussed out that I'm no threat to her stability. Tuesday is her day, so I spend most Monday evenings ensuring that I've put away any overt evidence of my sexual interests. That means putting all the mags and DVDs in the locked cabinet on the landing and making sure that I've activated the combination lock of the door leading to the playroom.
I've lived in the house for seven months, since I moved here from the county town. I'm useless at DIY, and that meant getting someone in to convert the cellar space. I was a bit concerned about that, because I'm sure that anyone could work out from the plans what I was going to use the rooms for. OK, one of them was not an issue. It was going to be a bedroom. That sounds fairly vanilla until you saw the plans I had for large mirrors that were to be mounted on three of the walls and as the bed-head. Then there was the bathroom. A shower room big enough for at least three people to use, with a bog in plain view and a urinal for four in an alcove. The other room was absolutely plain: just six large rings set into the steel reinforcing beams of the ceiling.
Well, I need not have worried. I contacted a small firm back in the city, and they were entirely matter of fact about it all. Alan was the boss of the firm. I explained where I wanted lights, specified a non-slip sealed floor covering, and asked for some help in sourcing some large mirrors. He made some sensible suggestions about light-fittings and power supply, and then sent his sparks round to deal with what we agreed. The electrician was an old boy, close to retirement age. He came round with his son, who was young enough to be an after-thought or an accident. They did their work without any comment. The plasterer who followed the sparks was his son-in-law. None of them said anything much, apart from telling me that they liked sugar in their tea.
Then it was the turn of the plumber. Again, nothing was said. Joe was about my age with dark curly hair and a neat bum. And a wedding ring on his finger. He said that he hoped I would enjoy working out in my new gym, which flummoxed me, until I saw the glint in his eye. He knew exactly who and what he was looking at. I just winked and gave a sheepish grin in answer to his comment. The painters and the floor people came from another firm. I didn't see them at all, because I was away on a course. Alan let them in and out, and made sure that all was well at the end of each day.
I got back from the course to find a note on the hall table hoping that I was pleased with the work, and asking me to ring Alan about some ideas he had. I went down stairs and was thrilled with the atmosphere of the place. The wall lights gave gentle but clear illumination. They were black wrought iron sconces with candle bulbs. Naff, I know, but really effective against the oatmeal paint on the rough-cast walls. The floors were a tan colour, with dark brown rounded moulding at the edge, so that the mop would not have difficulty getting into the corners. I phoned Alan, and he suggested that he come round for a drink so that he could explain his ideas. We agreed on putting some shelving in the bathroom, so there would always be towels to hand. Then, absolutely dead-pan, he said, "Do you want fitted units in the other rooms so you can put away your toys after use?" Well, that made it plain that he knew what I was after, and that he wasn't put out by it. With a slight blush on my cheeks, I agreed that cupboard space would be useful. Alan promised to come round on the Monday following, with his carpentry assistant, to do the necessary work. It would be useful to have them in the house then, because the mirrors and the bed were due to be delivered. And off he went. Shit, I thought. He knows what I want, but he doesn't want to help me inaugurate the facilities.
At about eight o'clock on Monday morning, I was in the shower when I heard Alan let himself in. I finished drying myself, and left the bathroom to get dressed. On the landing, there was a young guy with long blond hair, torn jeans revealing a bit of a hairy knee, and with bulges in all the right places. "I'm Tim. Alan says do you mind if we have a cuppa before we get started," he said, looking me straight in the eye and not letting his gaze stray over my naked body. I hurried into my clothes and dashed down to find my mug of coffee on the kitchen table, and the two lads just going down to work in the cellar. I reminded them about the delivery and went off to work.
All through the day, my mind kept turning to thoughts of Tim. Fortunately, if I kept the jacket of my suit buttoned, my half hard-on wasn't noticeable. During my afternoon tea break, I went into the bog and had a wank in one of the cubicles. It didn't take long, just a few strokes and I exploded, sending a stream of cum up the partition wall. It took a minute or so for my heart to stop racing, and I was about to mop up the cum that had puddled on the floor, when I heard the door squeak as someone came in. Quickly, I wiped up my cum, flushed the bog and left, but not before noticing the large shoes and trouser cuffs of one of the uniform branch as he locked himself into the next cubicle. That was a narrow call. With a bit of luck he didn't see me wiping the floor, and wouldn't recognise who I was anyway.
At the end of my shift I headed home, looking forward to seeing the completed work in the cellar. On the table, as before, there was a note in Alan's handwriting. It read: Hope you like it. I threw my jacket on a chair in the kitchen and went down the stairs. All the doors in the lobby were shut, and a small fridge had appeared in the little space under the stairs. Opening it, I found some cans of lager. I snapped one open, and turned to the door leading to the empty room. A large cupboard had been fitted with double doors. One side was shelved and the other had hanging space. Plenty of room for the toys I had yet to buy. Perhaps I would go up to Soho at the weekend to buy them, together with the sling that I intended to suspend from the rings in the beams.
Next, I opened the door to the bedroom. Wow! The bed had been put in position, and the mirrors had been hung. The room looked spectacular. But that wasn't the first thing I noticed. Alan was sitting on the bed looking up at the TV set mounted on a wall bracket. On the screen was a porn flick. A young white guy was being fucked by two black men, one thrusting into his arse and the other into his mouth. As I watched, one of them pulled out of the white guy and pulled at his fat cock. His lips pulled back as his wanking hand thrashed more violently. The camera panned down in time to see his cum shoot out in five or six blasts, splashing across the white kid's face and back. I looked at Alan. His close-cropped, dark-red hair looked almost fiery against the bright red bed coverings and pillows. Where had they come from?
"Hope you don't mind," he said. "I took the liberty of making it all look ready for use. Do you like what you can see?" I certainly did. And I also liked the look of him. I reached out a hand and grasped his, pulling him to his feet. I'd only seen him in work clothes before, usually in baggy overalls. This evening, he was wearing tight black denims. Thanks to the stroke film, they left nothing to the imagination: a long length of cock was stretching the fabric and pointing off towards his left thigh. Above that, he wore an open-necked white shirt revealing a great deal of chest hair.
"I haven't seen it all," I said, "I haven't been in the bathroom yet." He grinned, and responded, "There'll be time enough for that, I think." And he pulled me close, wrapping me in his muscular arms. ?I'm glad you like it," he said as he kissed me, first on the tip of my nose and then on the lips. I could feel some movement in his denims as his stiff cock began to twitch, and my own dick began to extend itself in response. I ran my hand over his scalp as our lips met again, and felt his tongue begin to explore my mouth.
One of his hands ran down my back and across my buns, before moving round to squeeze my package. ?Not yet, Alan," I said, "I'm still hot and sweaty from work. Unlike you, I haven't had a chance to shower up." He just grinned again, and asked if I would like someone to soap up my back, to which I responded that he would be welcome, but that I'd sooner that he concentrate on my front. His hands gently unknotted my silk tie, and began to undo the buttons on my shirt. I tugged his shirt-tails out of the tight trousers and ran my hands up his sides. No love handles, just smooth skin, until I slid my fingers across his chest. The hair that I had seen at the neck of his shirt spread out across his pecs in a mass of curls. And there was a further surprise. Both of his nipples were pierced, the large rings just begging to be tugged. I obliged, and then quickly unbuttoned the shirt to see the delights that my fingers had discovered. Shirtless, we pressed together. The hair on our chests mingled and rasped, just as our tongues were duelling, first in his mouth and then in mine. Slowly, we humped our crutches together, evidence of strong arousal pushing out in front of each of us.
Alan knelt before me to unlace my shoes, and then to slip the socks from my sweaty feet. His mouth pressed against the bulge of my cock and traced along the length of it, before settling on the sensitive head. I moaned, anticipating the closer encounter still to come. Alan caressed my balls with one hand as he undid the belt with the other. He looked up at me, and said, "I'm ready for this." And he slipped open the waistband, and eased down my zip. His lips moved into the fly, meeting the dampened fabric of my pants. ?This smells as though you've had some activity already today," he smiled. I confessed to the wank I'd had at work, which made him laugh. ?I hope that has just made sure that you'll last longer this evening," he said, slipping my trousers down towards my knees. ?Good," he said, "hairy legs. I do like that in a man." He pulled down the bulging pants, catching the ring in the tip of my penis with the waistband, so that it flicked up and caught him on the chin, leaving a drool of lube to run down onto his neck. Briefly, my pierced cock head slipped between his lips and I felt the tickle of his tongue on my sensitive underside. His fingers slid back behind my balls and rubbed along my perineum towards my arse. ?Hairy back there, too. Nice," he said as he sniffed at his fingers. ?Yeah. I reckon you do need a shower. Let?s go for it."
With that, he bounced to his feet and kicked off the loafers from his sock-less feet, and unsnapped his jeans. As if propelled, his meaty dick fell forward from the confines of the jeans. No pants for his boy. His pubes were the same dark red as the curls on his chest. His balls hung large and low between his thighs, and his circumcised cock hung out over them threateningly. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. "Come on. I've got towels and stuff already in the bathroom."
Further surprises were in store. Black shower curtains hung ready to stop splashes of water getting onto the floor in the dry area. A bank of lockers completed the changing room theme, and blocked the view of the loo off to one side. Thinking of the loo made me realize that I needed to piss. And I had company. Standing at the urinal, long slender horn in hand, was Tim. I stepped up beside him and said, "Fancy meeting you here!" Alan came up beside me on the other side, and took hold of my cock as I pissed. He seemed fascinated by the way the pee spurted out alongside the ring in my dick head. ?This was Tim's idea," he said, "I was just going to set everything up and leave you to it, but having seen you in the nude this morning, he wanted us to help you enjoy your first time down here in the play room."
Tim turned away from the urinal and smacked his hard cock against my thigh, smearing his precum into the hair on my leg. ?Let?s hose you down, and then deal with anything else that might come up," he said, kneading at my butt cheek as he did so.
We moved into the showers, pulling the black curtain behind us. The hot water jetted furiously from the four showerheads, tingling our skin and raising clouds of steam. Tim tipped back his head under the stream of water and then swung his head to get his shoulder-length hair clear of his eyes. I gazed down the full length of his wiry frame as he stretched. The fur on his legs seemed to thicken as it crept into his crack. He saw me looking and bent forward, exposing the little pucker of his arse to me in its furry nest. I ran a finger down over the water-slicked hair, and felt his arse pout to my touch. I knelt behind him and spread his cheeks with each of my large hands, admiring the beauty of his arse before bringing my lips to kiss his. I felt him shudder and saw one hand leave the wall and grope into his groin to massage the upward curve of his delectable cock.
Alan was soaping me up as I rimmed Tim, running his hands over my hairy back and legs and up into my armpits. It felt good to wash the sweat of the day off me. Better still to have the task done for me by a hot stud like Alan. I felt his hand sweep the soap across my butt and reach through to fondle my scrotum, gently moving the orbs in their sack. He reached further forward, his hairy forearm rubbing against my perineum and washed my dick by wanking it slowly with his soapy hand. Suddenly, he stopped and reached above me, grabbing Tim's arm. ?Slow down, kid. The night is young and you don't want to waste your load on the floor just yet." Tim?'s hand slowed down and then stopped jerking his cock. Alan and I stood up and the three of us moved together into a group hug and open-mouthed kiss, our three tongues vying for attention.
We rinsed off. Shut off the flow of water, and pulled back the curtain. The towels Alan had bought were black to match the shower curtain. I liked the way Tim's blonde good looks were set off by the contrast. Alan's pale skin beneath the red hair looked just as effective. I just hoped that my own dark tan and black body hair didn't seem to be just dirty against the rich, soft fabric. Soon we were dry. None of us had lost any rigidity in our pricks. Tim's thin length swung from side to side as he reached into his bag in one of the lockers, and then plied the brush he brought out from it. A beautiful sight that got me going again. Alan pressed against me from behind, his tusk pressing against my crack as he tongued the side of my neck and played with the ring in my helmet.
Moving back into the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the red-sheeted mattress and reached out for Alan. If I'm honest, I'd rather it had been Tim, but it's important to share and share alike in a threesome. Seeing his prick up close made me realize that it was a real butt-buster. It was at least two inches longer than mine and really broad at the base, narrowing towards the tip. The skin of his shaft was darkened in a couple of places just behind the head, revealing the grip that he used when wanking himself off. I tugged on his foreskin and then nibbled gently at the wrinkled skin at the tip, getting a foretaste of the joys to come, as my tongue met with a dribble of his dick-snot. My head moved forward and my lips parted over his helmet. It took me some time to adapt to having such a whopper in my mouth. Eventually, my nose was pressed into the warm fragrance of his bush, and his big balls churned in his scrotum resting on my chin. I contracted my throat as if swallowing, and was rewarded with a groan of enjoyment from Alan. He seemed to be shifting around a bit, and I realized that he was getting to grips with Tim's lovely firm sausage.
Tim pushed up Alan's arm to reveal the blood-red thicket of hair in his pit. He smiled, and then stuck out his tongue to lap up the drops of fresh sweat that had begun to appear there. Alan writhed pleasurably, twisting his dick in my gullet. That threatened to cut off my air-way and trigger my gag reflex, so I eased off a bit, letting his fat juicy dickhead rest on my flickering tongue as I savoured again the joy of his juice. Tim's fingers pulled at the hair on Alan's chest and then his forefingers pushed into the rings set in Alan's nipples, tugging mercilessly at them. With his mouth pulled open in a silent scream, Alan came. His thick, creamy load splashed against the back of my mouth. Sweet and slightly salt, it was a real treat. Some of it trickled out the side of my mouth, and I felt Tim's tongue slide along my lip to catch a few drops, as Alan thrust the last of his orgasm into me. As his crown became too sensitive to bear any more tonguing, Alan pulled back, his shaft continuing to twitch invitingly. Tim's tongue then raped into my own mouth, seeking the remnants of Alan's come. I hotched back onto the bed while Alan passed Tim a condom and a tube of lube.
Tim slid the condom onto his slender hook. As he wanked his cock with one hand, he brought the tube of lube to his lips, and held the cap between his strong, white teeth. With a savage turn of his wrist, he opened the tube and spat out the cap. He applied a generous dollop of the gel to his cock and continued to move his fingers over the crown. Alan raised my legs to Tim's shoulders, my hairy calves rasping against his five o'clock shadow. Tim brought the tube down between my legs. The cold jelly made me draw in my breath sharply. A shapely finger began to tease the lubricant into my tight hole. Just the fingertip at first, then two joints of his forefinger entered me. He frigged the finger in and out for a few seconds before he inserted a second finger alongside the first and began to pull at the sides of my hole, stretching the sphincter. Then a third finger was added. Uncomfortable at first, but soon I was shivering with delight. Tim saw that I was ready and withdrew his fingers with an audible plop. Alan leaned forward from his vantage point at the bedside and took hold of his assistant's prick. Slowly and deliberately, he led it towards my open arse. The warmth of the young blond's pulsing prick began to invade my rectum. He eased into my tight hole, obviously wanting the moment to last as long as possible.
I knew that it would not be long, though. His hands were shaking as he grasped the length of my prick and began to tease the ring with his lubed finger. Soon he was thrusting away, alternating slow, long strokes with frenzied short jabs. I was soon as close to orgasm as he was. We paused for a few moments, pulling Alan into our tight embrace. Tim resumed fucking my now gaping hole, and Alan's mouth replaced Tim's hand in ministering to my hard-on. As I looked down my body, the sight of Tim's fit young form pushing its way between my thighs brought me closer to my orgasm. Alan pulled back from my groin, letting me see that my balls had pulled up tight against the base of my cock, and that my helmet had swollen more and more, now looking like a ripe plum as the moment of truth arrived.
My hips jerked and were then still. My dick spewed out its load of cum. It splashed up onto Tim's moving torso, and fell back onto my own belly. Tim juddered to a halt and I could feel his tension. With his eyes closed tight in rapture, he barely moved in my arse as orgasm overcame him. I could feel the pulsing of his cock, as he shot again and again into the condom buried within me. He fell forward onto my chest, smearing his finely-muscled stomach with my cum as he did so. Alan masturbated himself to a second frenetic orgasm, which splashed across Tim and me, and then he lay down beside us, moving his hands over our exposed flesh as he rubbed the cum into our skin. The air was filled with the smell of cum and fresh masculine sweat which we savoured while slowly relaxing from the sexual high of our mutual release. What a wonderful way to get my playroom off to a good start.