Traveller's Czech
by
BlackMoon56
Before I begin to tell you my story, you must understand the nature of my position. For whilst I long to put all the facts on paper, the reality of my situation is such that I am not able to do so. The truth, it seems, must be doctored to protect the man I love. For whilst most average guys like myself fall in love with other ordinary souls, I had the rank stupidity of falling for a fellow who was anything but. Fact is, my boyfriend could not ever risk being associated with this tale, for fear of it ending his career; and as such I have promised to write it only under total anonymity. Nevertheless, I want you to understand that everything you are about to read is true, and that Luca (my boyfriend's name for this purpose) is indeed an individual you may well have heard of. In comparison, unless you come from my particular quarter of Suffolk, then I very much doubt that you will have ever heard of me.
As such, I think it's pretty safe to tell you something about myself without fear of compromise -- a country boy, who never once intended to do anything as reckless as to meet a famous sports-star and become his lover. Indeed, scheming and planning had never really been my style. Rather I was a happy-go-lucky sort of lad, who'd left school at eighteen with a clutch of useless qualifications, and who had somehow drifted on into training as an electrician. Which is basically how I met Luca -- when I was twenty-three and he was twenty-six. Me, a brown-eyed, brown-haired cute nonentity. Him, a handsome blue-eyed Czech, whose name had become a regular feature on every back-page published in recent years.
Not that I was over-conscious of the level of his fame when I first met him. True, I knew he was a celebrity in his field, but you have to remember that I'd no experience of the cosmopolitan lifestyle that fuelled such notoriety. Villages in East Anglia are hardly renowned for their progressiveness, after all! Yet in a strange sort of way it was that same thoughtless naivety that led me to him in the first place; because if I had known what being emotionally attached to a famous foreigner was really like, I very much doubt that I would given my heart so readily. Perhaps even to the extent of avoiding meeting Luca altogether!
As it was, however, I readily agreed to go to the star's Essex estate without so much as a hesitation. A message from my boss on the mobile one Sunday afternoon, to say that he couldn't get hold of my colleague (who was supposed to be on-call), and would I be able to drop everything and head straight to the house in question. Not long qualified, my only real concern was not to let the company down; but if I'd known the real dangers involved, who knows what I would've done? That's not to say that I'd have declined the offer -- I mean for fuck's sake, I love Luca and now couldn't imagine life without him. But I do wish perhaps that I'd have gone into our relationship with my eyes open to the pitfalls about to consume me.
Not that I actually saw Luca to begin with. Instead, I was greeted at the gates of the house by the voice of a security-guard, who would only allow me access upon my declaration of a password. Thereon I was met by the same chap in person, who escorted me to the specific scene of the problem -- namely an errant fuse-box, which for some strange reason had decided to stop working (despite not looking particularly old) and had removed power from half the house in the process. After a minute or two of deliberation, I felt that the best option was to simply install a new one from off my van; and it was with a degree of smug satisfaction that I promptly began the relatively easy task.
And so my life would've simply continued in this easy, uncaring fashion -- with me completing my job and leaving -- were it not for the sudden intrusion of Luca onto the scene. Brought about, no doubt, by the fact that I had switched off all the electricity in the house to conduct my work. Which wouldn't have been so bad were it not for the fact that the star was playing on his PS-2 in one of the rooms that had previously been unaffected.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, in his guttural English. "What is going on here ...?"
I glanced up at him from my position on the floor. At which point I obviously recognised his identity, and felt somewhat embarrassed -- particularly since he was even better looking in the flesh than I'd seen him on telly. "Oh sorry," I began, "I'm just having to change the fuse-box. To be honest, it sort of never occurred to me that you were at home ..."
"Well I am!" he snapped. "And I was in the middle of a game on my Play-Station! Besides, do you not understand that I shall have no security on this house without the power?!"
"Hey," I now protested defiantly, "I was asked by my boss to come here and sort out a problem -- which is exactly what I'm doing!"
Luca stood and watched me for a brief moment; before promptly storming off again.
"Fucking foreign twat!" I muttered under my breath.
All the same, I couldn't deny the fact that he was a rather gorgeous-looking stud, whom I wouldn't have kicked out of bed in any particular hurry. Tall and muscular, with cropped light brown hair and bluish eyes, he was the very picture of athletic beauty; and there was certainly no reason to wonder why a specific brand of clothes-wear had contracted him to wear their fashionable garments. That said, that very first brief encounter hardly endeared me to him, and were it not for what happened subsequently I guess I would've left that building with a very different opinion of him than I did. Indeed, I can say with full assurance that had he not returned sheepishly to apologise then my life would've turned out very differently to the way it has.
For within five minutes he was back. This time looking nowhere near as confident as before, which naturally surprised me. After all, I would have considered him to be a competitive blockhead in every aspect of life, not least of all on the pitch; and giving an apology of any kind just seemed totally out of place for a man of his distinction.
That said, it wasn't the only surprise I would ultimately get from him.
"Hi ..." he began, shuffling around on his feet with a somewhat nervous gait.
I glanced up at him; then turned my attention back to my work. "Hi," I replied, with a deliberate coldness.
He paused; then cleared his throat. "I just wanted to apologise ..." he continued.
"What for?" I teased.
"For being rude," he explained. "I can sometimes -- sometimes forget myself."
I finally gazed up at his handsome face, and at once realised that I would find it impossible not to forgive him. "That's okay," I smiled. "I think I'll get over it ..."
He grinned back; then proceeded to chat to me about my work. Whilst I carried on with the task in hand, removing the old fuse box and replacing it with a new one. Before finally restoring the electricity upon completing the job.
"There," I sighed, putting my tools away. "I think that should do it."
"I guess you'll be off to your wife now," he promptly remarked.
I smiled. "I haven't got a wife," I replied.
"Girlfriend then ..."
I shook my head. "I haven't got one of those either."
"I see," he observed thoughtfully. "Don't suppose you have got time for a swim then?" he finally suggested.
I paused in astonishment at his apparent presumptuousness. "You offer that service to everyone who comes here?" I quipped at last.
Luca blushed. "Sorry," he answered. "I did not mean anything --"
"Hey!" I laughed. "You don't need to keep apologising all the time!"
"I did not mean to sound like I was propositioning you. I was just being a bit of an over-friendly foreigner, that is all!"
"I don't really mind if you were," I smiled, sensing that he'd taken a shine to me.
"I'd offer you some of my swimming shorts," he continued, "but they might be a bit big for you ..."
"Maybe," I replied, noting that he was physically larger than myself. "But not having trunks has never stopped me from swimming before ..."
We both laughed -- our suggestiveness clearly now having overcome whatever cultural differences lay between us. Mind, that's the glory of sex. Language, custom, upbringing -- they all pale into insignificance against the universal language of a hard cock!
And believe me, that was something we were both boasting by the time we reached Luca's private pool. For the sheer primeval joy of stripping away our clothes together was such that neither of us were able to prevent an outward sign of physical stimulation. Indeed, our manhoods were stiffly bobbing about ahead of us as we raced into the water. Pointing the way towards the heady pleasures that were now cast before us.
We frolicked and splashed; then acted out a play-fight, as if we had known each other years. But ultimately it was contact of a very different kind that concentrated our attention. For Luca was without doubt one of the spunkiest individuals that I'd met in a long time, and boasted the sort of cock and balls that desperately warranted closer attention. What's more, it was pretty obvious that the guy felt pretty much the same way about me. We might well have been born on different sides of the North Sea, but that clearly didn't prevent our mutual appreciation. English cock, Czech cock -- it was, like I say, a universal tongue!
I can't really remember who ultimately made the first decisive move, but before I knew it our two bodies had fallen together as one. At which point I suddenly seemed to come to my senses. I mean for fuck's sake, what was happening here? One minute I was changing a fuse box for a certain well-known foreign sports-star. The next I was cavorting in his private swimming-pool, and rubbing my engorged cock against his like we were long-term lovers! It was not, after all, what I'd quite expected of this particular call-out.
Indeed, it was pretty much at that point that I almost bottled the whole opportunity, pulling back from the guy and heading back to the side of the pool. An act that clearly left Luca rather perplexed to say the very least; as he struggled to catch me up, with a view to preventing me from climbing out of the water.
"What is wrong?" he quizzed, finally pinning me against the wall.
"Hey, nothing!" I laughed. "It's just -- well, I'm gonna be in big trouble if my boss finds out about this."
Luca smiled. "And you think I'm gonna tell him?"
I hesitated -- knowing damn well that my secret was safe. After all, it wasn't as if my guest was gonna want the world to know about the incident either.
"Besides," I added, "here we are in this pool together, about to do God-knows what -- and you don't even know my fucking name!"
My companion laughed. "You English," he noted. "You are so-o-o formal!"
I couldn't help but be amused at my own pomposity. "Well, maybe ..." I grinned.
At which point he stepped back and put out his hand to shake mine. "My name is Luca," he formally declared -- as if I didn't know!
"Andy," I replied, gripping him firmly.
"Andy," he continued formally, mocking my prim English manner. "I was wondering. Would you care if I took you to my room and fucked the living daylights out of your butt?"
I could hardly contain my own amusement. "Is that something Czech men usually ask other guys when they first meet them?" I quizzed. "Or just the ones they fancy?"
"Just the ones they desperately want to fuck!" he teased.
And from that point onwards I was pretty much a lost cause.
Because within a few moments we had left the pool room, and had raced on into one of his bedrooms. Falling on the bed together like a couple of horny animals.
I was still in a bit of a daze at this point as to what was actually happening to me; but by now whatever doubts and hesitations I had felt were most certainly not affecting my performance. For my shaft was throbbing so hard that it almost hurt; and glancing down at Luca's offering, I quickly established that he was suffering from pretty much the same problem. If indeed "problem" is the best way to describe it!
To be honest, the Czech's cock was a distinctly magnificent offering -- and this an admission from someone who hadn't been all innocence and light before this particular encounter. Fact is, whilst I'd hate to think that I'd been a slut, I'd certainly had my moments over the past couple of years, especially whilst clubbing down in London; and in many ways what was happening now was little more than a continuation of the same. Yet at precisely the same time it all felt so very different from anything I'd ever experienced before; and in hindsight I think I even possibly suspected that Luca might prove something more than just a one-afternoon shag. Not that I really have much chance to dwell on anything so philosophical right then. The sportsman's aching shaft was screaming out for attention -- and believe me, that's exactly what it was gonna get!
Thick and gloriously uncut, his butt-picker was one magnificent rod that would've held my attention no matter who'd been its owner; though the fact that it was someone of Luca's standing may have undoubtedly made the sight all the more appetising to some guys. Had I have known then the true depth of the guy's fame in the sporting world then maybe I would've counted myself amongst them; but as it was I simply took hold of his cock and admired it for what it was. Namely, a truly splendid and rampant joystick, which I was now gonna thoroughly enjoy. Yes, every one of its eight horny inches.
Like I say, Luca's personal identity made no direct impression on me as we lay on the bed together; but I wouldn't exactly be telling the truth if I said that his sense of foreignness didn't quietly impress me. Truth was, I don't think I'd ever been with someone who wasn't English before -- or at the very least British. As such, lying with this handsome Czech, with his pole throbbing in my hand, was strangely even more erotic than I would've perhaps imagined. For the mere idea that he had come from across the sea was oddly romantic; and the fact that he began to close his eyes and mutter in Czech as I rolled back his velvety foreskin just somehow added to his manly appeal. So much so, in fact, that I finally pushed my open mouth down upon his exposed mushroom, finally savouring the salty drool that was beginning to ooze from his engorged, crimson slit.
I don't think I can give proper justice to the hard sensation that seemed to flush through my young body as my mouth latched on to his groaning member. Sucking him into me like an oversized straw. It was, I am sure, the nearest feeling to heaven that I shall ever gain in this world. A randy tide of happiness, that literally filled every vein in my lithe body, and which not unnaturally left me groaning in sweet contentment. Not that my present sense of well-being appeared to be anywhere near as acute as that of Luca, mind. For my uncompromising strokes were being met with an increasingly incomprehensible barrage from the man -- what English he spoke having promptly been replaced by his mother tongue, which to me was one of the sexiest monologues I had ever encountered.
And that, of course, was rather odd, considering. After all, whenever I had heard foreigners speak in the past I had just automatically switched off; but today, as Luca exclaimed and babbled in his native language, I couldn't stop myself from relishing every single syllable he uttered. Every peculiar, guttural sound. Every obscure and ill-defined tone in his voice. What's more, the harder I pushed down into his crotch, the more he seemed to exclaim; and the more noise he made, the more gusto I gave to my succour. To the very point, in fact, that I honestly think I would've brought the fellow off there and then had he not then pulled himself away and lifted me further up the bed so as to fuck me. For gees, there was no doubt about how desperate he was by this point. How much he wanted to relieve himself by means of my cute pucker. Later, he was to admit that -- due to his position in the sporting world, and to the hostility that he would've experienced in his game in particular -- he hadn't slept with a guy for above six months, which explained his present desperation. But I knew nothing about his personal life then. All I understood was that he was one, very hot foreign guy, who was literally drooling at the mouth to rut me. And if anything, that was probably the sexiest aspect of the entire encounter.
He lifted and parted my legs, exposing my slightly hairy crack in the process; then eased the swollen head of his shaft to the very lips of my man-cunt, whilst bearing down on me so that our eyes were left staring straight into each other. Him dangling over me, whilst I gazed up longingly at him. And just at that very briefest of moments -- just before the two of us became one in a frenzied act of sexual desire -- it was as if the two of us saw the future suddenly stretch out before us. Hey yeah, I know for sure it sounds sentimental and slushy and just oh-so-ridiculous, but I think we both somehow realised that this wasn't just going to be some meaningless fuck. That neither of us were simply set to be notches on the bedpost, so to speak. No, there was definitely something deeper here. Something much more profound. And it was confirmed when the Czech finally thrust down upon me, whispering my name as he did so in that husky, exotic voice of his.
I don't know whether it was because he pushed down so very hard, or whether it was because I was so turned on that my pucker opened up like a flower -- but before I really knew what had happened, Luca had thrust the entire length of his cock up my rear. Emitting a hoarse groan from deep within his throat as he did so, which in itself was enough to force me to the sticky brink of ecstasy. As a result, he was giving me an unrelenting thrashing with that love-rod of his before I fully realised what was happening. His gross, throbbing member filling my guts to capacity in what seemed like but a matter of seconds. And yet for all that, the sensation he was providing felt so unbelievably natural that it was hard for me to comprehend that it wasn't the first time he'd invaded my bowels in this manner. For our two organs seemed to fit so snugly and intrinsically together that it was as though they were made for each other. His foreign, aching cock and my English, open slit -- gees, they slipped and slopped together with a quite universal passion.
It probably comes as no great surprise to report that that, our first daring act of love, didn't last too long. For we had reached our own burning form of Esperanto now. Both of us grunting and exclaiming our excitement on the heavy, sweaty air. As such, it was pretty much inevitable that we should soon be feeling the surge of cum in our balls; with Luca the first to succumb to the inevitable, as he ripped his shaft from my butt and immediately began to frantically jerk himself off over my svelte form beneath. Whilst I took opportunity to grab hold of my own cock -- still straining in my crotch -- and started to work my clenched fingers up and down, up and down. Knowing only too well that it would be a matter of a few seconds before I, too, produced a heady broth of baby-snot. Indeed, by the time that Luca's unbelievably heavy load of froth subsided, my own piss-slit was already erupting. Spewing wad after magnificent wad across my chest and belly, which naturally mixed with Luca's own Czech brew to form a solid film of cream from my neck to my crotch. Little fucking wonder that the foreign lad should immediately bend down and roll his hungry tongue upon my flesh. Lapping up the fresh jizz like a hungry animal; before rising up and inviting me to taste our nectar with an open kiss. Which I did without so much as a second thought.
I suppose it was at that point that the guy was supposed to show me the door. Or that I was meant to go to the papers and sell my story. But in reality neither of those things happened. I can't tell you why Luca chose to continue matters into a relationship -- only he can ever do that, if indeed he ever does decide to out himself. But I can tell you that the thought of betraying my foreign lover never once crossed my mind. Not even when I returned home, looked his name up on the internet, and suddenly realised the extent of the fellow's celebrity. Indeed if anything I was actually tempted to give the guy the widest of berths from that point onward, and almost regretted having supplied him with my mobile number before leaving his home later that evening. Though I do stress the word "almost". Fact is, I was a lost case to the guy from Prague even at this early point; and the next time he `phoned (that same evening!) found myself driving back to his house to consummate our affections further. This time in another bedroom. Followed by the kitchen. And the side of the pool. And pretty much the rest of the house.
By which time I was basically agog with the guy, pure and simple, and wouldn't so much as dreamt of betraying him as I would've chopping off my own dick! For his gruff, foreign ways had beguiled me in a way that no guy had ever done so before; and within a month of first meeting him I was basically living in that same house that I'd first innocently visited merely to change the fuse-box. That colleague of mine (who'd supposed to do the job in the first place) sure had a hell of a lot to answer for!
Loving Luca, with all his endearing peculiarities, is easy. Loving the professional world he works in, far less so. Which perhaps explains why I am happiest now when we are not in England, where his fame is greatest. One day, when his career is over, we may do the unthinkable and disappear into oblivion together, spending the rest of our days under some foreign sun. Until then, Luca stands as a constant reminder of a life beyond these shores. A handsome, generous, wonderful visitor to these islands, whom I would never have met had it not been for a faulty fuse-box that was (somewhat ironically) manufactured abroad.
Before I begin to tell you my story, you must understand the nature of my position. For whilst I long to put all the facts on paper, the reality of my situation is such that I am not able to do so. The truth, it seems, must be doctored to protect the man I love. For whilst most average guys like myself fall in love with other ordinary souls, I had the rank stupidity of falling for a fellow who was anything but. Fact is, my boyfriend could not ever risk being associated with this tale, for fear of it ending his career; and as such I have promised to write it only under total anonymity. Nevertheless, I want you to understand that everything you are about to read is true, and that Luca (my boyfriend's name for this purpose) is indeed an individual you may well have heard of. In comparison, unless you come from my particular quarter of Suffolk, then I very much doubt that you will have ever heard of me.
As such, I think it's pretty safe to tell you something about myself without fear of compromise -- a country boy, who never once intended to do anything as reckless as to meet a famous sports-star and become his lover. Indeed, scheming and planning had never really been my style. Rather I was a happy-go-lucky sort of lad, who'd left school at eighteen with a clutch of useless qualifications, and who had somehow drifted on into training as an electrician. Which is basically how I met Luca -- when I was twenty-three and he was twenty-six. Me, a brown-eyed, brown-haired cute nonentity. Him, a handsome blue-eyed Czech, whose name had become a regular feature on every back-page published in recent years.
Not that I was over-conscious of the level of his fame when I first met him. True, I knew he was a celebrity in his field, but you have to remember that I'd no experience of the cosmopolitan lifestyle that fuelled such notoriety. Villages in East Anglia are hardly renowned for their progressiveness, after all! Yet in a strange sort of way it was that same thoughtless naivety that led me to him in the first place; because if I had known what being emotionally attached to a famous foreigner was really like, I very much doubt that I would given my heart so readily. Perhaps even to the extent of avoiding meeting Luca altogether!
As it was, however, I readily agreed to go to the star's Essex estate without so much as a hesitation. A message from my boss on the mobile one Sunday afternoon, to say that he couldn't get hold of my colleague (who was supposed to be on-call), and would I be able to drop everything and head straight to the house in question. Not long qualified, my only real concern was not to let the company down; but if I'd known the real dangers involved, who knows what I would've done? That's not to say that I'd have declined the offer -- I mean for fuck's sake, I love Luca and now couldn't imagine life without him. But I do wish perhaps that I'd have gone into our relationship with my eyes open to the pitfalls about to consume me.
Not that I actually saw Luca to begin with. Instead, I was greeted at the gates of the house by the voice of a security-guard, who would only allow me access upon my declaration of a password. Thereon I was met by the same chap in person, who escorted me to the specific scene of the problem -- namely an errant fuse-box, which for some strange reason had decided to stop working (despite not looking particularly old) and had removed power from half the house in the process. After a minute or two of deliberation, I felt that the best option was to simply install a new one from off my van; and it was with a degree of smug satisfaction that I promptly began the relatively easy task.
And so my life would've simply continued in this easy, uncaring fashion -- with me completing my job and leaving -- were it not for the sudden intrusion of Luca onto the scene. Brought about, no doubt, by the fact that I had switched off all the electricity in the house to conduct my work. Which wouldn't have been so bad were it not for the fact that the star was playing on his PS-2 in one of the rooms that had previously been unaffected.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, in his guttural English. "What is going on here ...?"
I glanced up at him from my position on the floor. At which point I obviously recognised his identity, and felt somewhat embarrassed -- particularly since he was even better looking in the flesh than I'd seen him on telly. "Oh sorry," I began, "I'm just having to change the fuse-box. To be honest, it sort of never occurred to me that you were at home ..."
"Well I am!" he snapped. "And I was in the middle of a game on my Play-Station! Besides, do you not understand that I shall have no security on this house without the power?!"
"Hey," I now protested defiantly, "I was asked by my boss to come here and sort out a problem -- which is exactly what I'm doing!"
Luca stood and watched me for a brief moment; before promptly storming off again.
"Fucking foreign twat!" I muttered under my breath.
All the same, I couldn't deny the fact that he was a rather gorgeous-looking stud, whom I wouldn't have kicked out of bed in any particular hurry. Tall and muscular, with cropped light brown hair and bluish eyes, he was the very picture of athletic beauty; and there was certainly no reason to wonder why a specific brand of clothes-wear had contracted him to wear their fashionable garments. That said, that very first brief encounter hardly endeared me to him, and were it not for what happened subsequently I guess I would've left that building with a very different opinion of him than I did. Indeed, I can say with full assurance that had he not returned sheepishly to apologise then my life would've turned out very differently to the way it has.
For within five minutes he was back. This time looking nowhere near as confident as before, which naturally surprised me. After all, I would have considered him to be a competitive blockhead in every aspect of life, not least of all on the pitch; and giving an apology of any kind just seemed totally out of place for a man of his distinction.
That said, it wasn't the only surprise I would ultimately get from him.
"Hi ..." he began, shuffling around on his feet with a somewhat nervous gait.
I glanced up at him; then turned my attention back to my work. "Hi," I replied, with a deliberate coldness.
He paused; then cleared his throat. "I just wanted to apologise ..." he continued.
"What for?" I teased.
"For being rude," he explained. "I can sometimes -- sometimes forget myself."
I finally gazed up at his handsome face, and at once realised that I would find it impossible not to forgive him. "That's okay," I smiled. "I think I'll get over it ..."
He grinned back; then proceeded to chat to me about my work. Whilst I carried on with the task in hand, removing the old fuse box and replacing it with a new one. Before finally restoring the electricity upon completing the job.
"There," I sighed, putting my tools away. "I think that should do it."
"I guess you'll be off to your wife now," he promptly remarked.
I smiled. "I haven't got a wife," I replied.
"Girlfriend then ..."
I shook my head. "I haven't got one of those either."
"I see," he observed thoughtfully. "Don't suppose you have got time for a swim then?" he finally suggested.
I paused in astonishment at his apparent presumptuousness. "You offer that service to everyone who comes here?" I quipped at last.
Luca blushed. "Sorry," he answered. "I did not mean anything --"
"Hey!" I laughed. "You don't need to keep apologising all the time!"
"I did not mean to sound like I was propositioning you. I was just being a bit of an over-friendly foreigner, that is all!"
"I don't really mind if you were," I smiled, sensing that he'd taken a shine to me.
"I'd offer you some of my swimming shorts," he continued, "but they might be a bit big for you ..."
"Maybe," I replied, noting that he was physically larger than myself. "But not having trunks has never stopped me from swimming before ..."
We both laughed -- our suggestiveness clearly now having overcome whatever cultural differences lay between us. Mind, that's the glory of sex. Language, custom, upbringing -- they all pale into insignificance against the universal language of a hard cock!
And believe me, that was something we were both boasting by the time we reached Luca's private pool. For the sheer primeval joy of stripping away our clothes together was such that neither of us were able to prevent an outward sign of physical stimulation. Indeed, our manhoods were stiffly bobbing about ahead of us as we raced into the water. Pointing the way towards the heady pleasures that were now cast before us.
We frolicked and splashed; then acted out a play-fight, as if we had known each other years. But ultimately it was contact of a very different kind that concentrated our attention. For Luca was without doubt one of the spunkiest individuals that I'd met in a long time, and boasted the sort of cock and balls that desperately warranted closer attention. What's more, it was pretty obvious that the guy felt pretty much the same way about me. We might well have been born on different sides of the North Sea, but that clearly didn't prevent our mutual appreciation. English cock, Czech cock -- it was, like I say, a universal tongue!
I can't really remember who ultimately made the first decisive move, but before I knew it our two bodies had fallen together as one. At which point I suddenly seemed to come to my senses. I mean for fuck's sake, what was happening here? One minute I was changing a fuse box for a certain well-known foreign sports-star. The next I was cavorting in his private swimming-pool, and rubbing my engorged cock against his like we were long-term lovers! It was not, after all, what I'd quite expected of this particular call-out.
Indeed, it was pretty much at that point that I almost bottled the whole opportunity, pulling back from the guy and heading back to the side of the pool. An act that clearly left Luca rather perplexed to say the very least; as he struggled to catch me up, with a view to preventing me from climbing out of the water.
"What is wrong?" he quizzed, finally pinning me against the wall.
"Hey, nothing!" I laughed. "It's just -- well, I'm gonna be in big trouble if my boss finds out about this."
Luca smiled. "And you think I'm gonna tell him?"
I hesitated -- knowing damn well that my secret was safe. After all, it wasn't as if my guest was gonna want the world to know about the incident either.
"Besides," I added, "here we are in this pool together, about to do God-knows what -- and you don't even know my fucking name!"
My companion laughed. "You English," he noted. "You are so-o-o formal!"
I couldn't help but be amused at my own pomposity. "Well, maybe ..." I grinned.
At which point he stepped back and put out his hand to shake mine. "My name is Luca," he formally declared -- as if I didn't know!
"Andy," I replied, gripping him firmly.
"Andy," he continued formally, mocking my prim English manner. "I was wondering. Would you care if I took you to my room and fucked the living daylights out of your butt?"
I could hardly contain my own amusement. "Is that something Czech men usually ask other guys when they first meet them?" I quizzed. "Or just the ones they fancy?"
"Just the ones they desperately want to fuck!" he teased.
And from that point onwards I was pretty much a lost cause.
Because within a few moments we had left the pool room, and had raced on into one of his bedrooms. Falling on the bed together like a couple of horny animals.
I was still in a bit of a daze at this point as to what was actually happening to me; but by now whatever doubts and hesitations I had felt were most certainly not affecting my performance. For my shaft was throbbing so hard that it almost hurt; and glancing down at Luca's offering, I quickly established that he was suffering from pretty much the same problem. If indeed "problem" is the best way to describe it!
To be honest, the Czech's cock was a distinctly magnificent offering -- and this an admission from someone who hadn't been all innocence and light before this particular encounter. Fact is, whilst I'd hate to think that I'd been a slut, I'd certainly had my moments over the past couple of years, especially whilst clubbing down in London; and in many ways what was happening now was little more than a continuation of the same. Yet at precisely the same time it all felt so very different from anything I'd ever experienced before; and in hindsight I think I even possibly suspected that Luca might prove something more than just a one-afternoon shag. Not that I really have much chance to dwell on anything so philosophical right then. The sportsman's aching shaft was screaming out for attention -- and believe me, that's exactly what it was gonna get!
Thick and gloriously uncut, his butt-picker was one magnificent rod that would've held my attention no matter who'd been its owner; though the fact that it was someone of Luca's standing may have undoubtedly made the sight all the more appetising to some guys. Had I have known then the true depth of the guy's fame in the sporting world then maybe I would've counted myself amongst them; but as it was I simply took hold of his cock and admired it for what it was. Namely, a truly splendid and rampant joystick, which I was now gonna thoroughly enjoy. Yes, every one of its eight horny inches.
Like I say, Luca's personal identity made no direct impression on me as we lay on the bed together; but I wouldn't exactly be telling the truth if I said that his sense of foreignness didn't quietly impress me. Truth was, I don't think I'd ever been with someone who wasn't English before -- or at the very least British. As such, lying with this handsome Czech, with his pole throbbing in my hand, was strangely even more erotic than I would've perhaps imagined. For the mere idea that he had come from across the sea was oddly romantic; and the fact that he began to close his eyes and mutter in Czech as I rolled back his velvety foreskin just somehow added to his manly appeal. So much so, in fact, that I finally pushed my open mouth down upon his exposed mushroom, finally savouring the salty drool that was beginning to ooze from his engorged, crimson slit.
I don't think I can give proper justice to the hard sensation that seemed to flush through my young body as my mouth latched on to his groaning member. Sucking him into me like an oversized straw. It was, I am sure, the nearest feeling to heaven that I shall ever gain in this world. A randy tide of happiness, that literally filled every vein in my lithe body, and which not unnaturally left me groaning in sweet contentment. Not that my present sense of well-being appeared to be anywhere near as acute as that of Luca, mind. For my uncompromising strokes were being met with an increasingly incomprehensible barrage from the man -- what English he spoke having promptly been replaced by his mother tongue, which to me was one of the sexiest monologues I had ever encountered.
And that, of course, was rather odd, considering. After all, whenever I had heard foreigners speak in the past I had just automatically switched off; but today, as Luca exclaimed and babbled in his native language, I couldn't stop myself from relishing every single syllable he uttered. Every peculiar, guttural sound. Every obscure and ill-defined tone in his voice. What's more, the harder I pushed down into his crotch, the more he seemed to exclaim; and the more noise he made, the more gusto I gave to my succour. To the very point, in fact, that I honestly think I would've brought the fellow off there and then had he not then pulled himself away and lifted me further up the bed so as to fuck me. For gees, there was no doubt about how desperate he was by this point. How much he wanted to relieve himself by means of my cute pucker. Later, he was to admit that -- due to his position in the sporting world, and to the hostility that he would've experienced in his game in particular -- he hadn't slept with a guy for above six months, which explained his present desperation. But I knew nothing about his personal life then. All I understood was that he was one, very hot foreign guy, who was literally drooling at the mouth to rut me. And if anything, that was probably the sexiest aspect of the entire encounter.
He lifted and parted my legs, exposing my slightly hairy crack in the process; then eased the swollen head of his shaft to the very lips of my man-cunt, whilst bearing down on me so that our eyes were left staring straight into each other. Him dangling over me, whilst I gazed up longingly at him. And just at that very briefest of moments -- just before the two of us became one in a frenzied act of sexual desire -- it was as if the two of us saw the future suddenly stretch out before us. Hey yeah, I know for sure it sounds sentimental and slushy and just oh-so-ridiculous, but I think we both somehow realised that this wasn't just going to be some meaningless fuck. That neither of us were simply set to be notches on the bedpost, so to speak. No, there was definitely something deeper here. Something much more profound. And it was confirmed when the Czech finally thrust down upon me, whispering my name as he did so in that husky, exotic voice of his.
I don't know whether it was because he pushed down so very hard, or whether it was because I was so turned on that my pucker opened up like a flower -- but before I really knew what had happened, Luca had thrust the entire length of his cock up my rear. Emitting a hoarse groan from deep within his throat as he did so, which in itself was enough to force me to the sticky brink of ecstasy. As a result, he was giving me an unrelenting thrashing with that love-rod of his before I fully realised what was happening. His gross, throbbing member filling my guts to capacity in what seemed like but a matter of seconds. And yet for all that, the sensation he was providing felt so unbelievably natural that it was hard for me to comprehend that it wasn't the first time he'd invaded my bowels in this manner. For our two organs seemed to fit so snugly and intrinsically together that it was as though they were made for each other. His foreign, aching cock and my English, open slit -- gees, they slipped and slopped together with a quite universal passion.
It probably comes as no great surprise to report that that, our first daring act of love, didn't last too long. For we had reached our own burning form of Esperanto now. Both of us grunting and exclaiming our excitement on the heavy, sweaty air. As such, it was pretty much inevitable that we should soon be feeling the surge of cum in our balls; with Luca the first to succumb to the inevitable, as he ripped his shaft from my butt and immediately began to frantically jerk himself off over my svelte form beneath. Whilst I took opportunity to grab hold of my own cock -- still straining in my crotch -- and started to work my clenched fingers up and down, up and down. Knowing only too well that it would be a matter of a few seconds before I, too, produced a heady broth of baby-snot. Indeed, by the time that Luca's unbelievably heavy load of froth subsided, my own piss-slit was already erupting. Spewing wad after magnificent wad across my chest and belly, which naturally mixed with Luca's own Czech brew to form a solid film of cream from my neck to my crotch. Little fucking wonder that the foreign lad should immediately bend down and roll his hungry tongue upon my flesh. Lapping up the fresh jizz like a hungry animal; before rising up and inviting me to taste our nectar with an open kiss. Which I did without so much as a second thought.
I suppose it was at that point that the guy was supposed to show me the door. Or that I was meant to go to the papers and sell my story. But in reality neither of those things happened. I can't tell you why Luca chose to continue matters into a relationship -- only he can ever do that, if indeed he ever does decide to out himself. But I can tell you that the thought of betraying my foreign lover never once crossed my mind. Not even when I returned home, looked his name up on the internet, and suddenly realised the extent of the fellow's celebrity. Indeed if anything I was actually tempted to give the guy the widest of berths from that point onward, and almost regretted having supplied him with my mobile number before leaving his home later that evening. Though I do stress the word "almost". Fact is, I was a lost case to the guy from Prague even at this early point; and the next time he `phoned (that same evening!) found myself driving back to his house to consummate our affections further. This time in another bedroom. Followed by the kitchen. And the side of the pool. And pretty much the rest of the house.
By which time I was basically agog with the guy, pure and simple, and wouldn't so much as dreamt of betraying him as I would've chopping off my own dick! For his gruff, foreign ways had beguiled me in a way that no guy had ever done so before; and within a month of first meeting him I was basically living in that same house that I'd first innocently visited merely to change the fuse-box. That colleague of mine (who'd supposed to do the job in the first place) sure had a hell of a lot to answer for!
Loving Luca, with all his endearing peculiarities, is easy. Loving the professional world he works in, far less so. Which perhaps explains why I am happiest now when we are not in England, where his fame is greatest. One day, when his career is over, we may do the unthinkable and disappear into oblivion together, spending the rest of our days under some foreign sun. Until then, Luca stands as a constant reminder of a life beyond these shores. A handsome, generous, wonderful visitor to these islands, whom I would never have met had it not been for a faulty fuse-box that was (somewhat ironically) manufactured abroad.
From the author: thanks for reading - hope you enjoyed reading it as much as enjoyed writing it!
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