Date: Thu, 20 Oct 2011 23:00:27 +0100
From: Alex Carbine <alex.carbine@sky.com>
Subject: Chapter Ten. Massage Me.

Massage Me

by Alex Carbine

Chapter Ten.

Abracadabra!


	We were in another of the faceless, endless 'eateries' in London
having Lunch. Art had definitely 'perked up' after our morning's
shopping. When I pointed out that he seemed brighter, he answered vulgarly,
"Amazing what a mouthful of spunk can do. Even better if it's someone
else's and it's fresh." I told him that the Reader's Digest probably would
not print that at the bottom of a page but I knew exactly what he
meant. Our 'meeting' with Derek had livened both of us.

	"Of all the stuff that Derek said" I said through a mouthful of
ground meat in a bap, "he did say that you would look good in a Suit." "No
Alex," Art argued, "what he did say was that wearing his pleather shorts
meant that if I came in 'em, me cum would not ooze through me trousers." As
if to weight his argument he squeezed a bottle of Mayonnaise in little
white dribbles over his chips. "OK," I conceded, "But have you got a decent
suit and shoes?" I pressed.

	Art stopped eating and looked at me seriously. "And what would I
need a fuckin' suit for? When do you imagine I would wear one, or even
where?" He looked down at his plate, obviously saddened. "Look Alex," he
said looking me straight in the eye, without malice or anything, "I'm a
bum-boy. I've been a bum-boy since I was little. I live with other bum-boys
and work my bum for a living. I'll probably be a bum-boy until I go to the
big 'arsehole' in the sky." He smiled. "What do I need a suit for?"

	"For those 'Special Days' when you want to go out and do
something. When you go to the Cinema, a Disco, even a meal." I said, and I
would have gone on but I realised that Art was giving me a very old
fashioned look. "Alex, my friend. I live wiv me Mates. We can't afford to
go out to no Disco's. We only get takeaways at the most once a week. There
ain't no films I want to see, least ways not at eight quid a pop." He
shrugged. " And ... Wot 'special days'?" "OK," I said, "Let's create one. I
hereby proclaim that the rest of the day is Art's Day." By this time I was
on my feet, and the couple next to us were looking up at me. "It's time for
his Medications," Art told them, laughing. I sat down, and we laughed
together. The 'Special Day' was on.

	So that he could have something to remember the Day by, other than
a pair of pleather shorts, we stopped off at a Shopping Mall, and Art was
able to select, and I paid for, several items of clothing and footwear, and
when we emerged into the daylight, Art was looking and feeling
great. "Alex," he said as we climbed into yet another taxi, "This is the
first time I have ever had an all-new-outfit, one that did not come from
the second hand shops or anyfink." He moved closed to me and we embraced in
the back of that taxi, with the driver giving a wry grin as he shook his
head slowly at his mirror.

	At the Hotel Entrance, a doorman carried our purchases into the
Lobby, and a bell-boy carried them up to my apartment. He never realised
how much people judged just by looks. Normally when he tried to get into a
Hotel, he was stopped because, he now supposed, he was too unkempt and
scruffy. And when he saw where I was living for the moment, he was totally
bowled over. He just sat in one of the arm chairs in the apartment and kept
on looking around himself. However, I had to make him do one thing, that
was to 'phone his mates and tell them he was OK, with me, and that they
were to go on tonight without him as I had asked him to stay the night. I
listened in on the call. "Hi Guys," he started. "Look I'm still here with
Alex and he wants me to stay the night, you know? So can you tell the Boss
that I was feeling sick or sumfink? Tell 'im it must have been someone I
ate!" "I told yeh he was after yeh bum," came a voice from the background
amid laughter, but they were OK about it and Art was able to relax.

	I suggested we showered before going down to the Restaurant, and he
went into the second bedroom to undress and shower. I went to my bedroom
and undressed. I had forgotten I was still wearing the pleather jockstrap
from this morning, it was so comfortable. I stood posing in front of the
mirror, and my cock started to fill with the memory of Derek and what had
happened. I was so busy looking at my reflection that I did not see Art
come into the room. He was just wearing his pleather shorts, filling them
almost to over-spill. He came over to where I was standing, and stood with
me, both of us admiring our reflections. Then his hand went to my cock, as
mine went to his ass. "Kiss Me then Fuck Me!" he said, stroking my
hardening cock. My fingers found the hole in his shorts and I played them
over his crinkly sphincter.

	I wrapped my arms round his shoulders and we kissed, deeply,
passionately. Our tongue danced in each other's mouths. I held his head and
kissed his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips. We staggered over to my bed
and fell onto it, still holding each other. He rolled me over until he was
on top, kneeling either side of my hips, his body laying on top of my
chest, his mouth on top of mine. We kissed, and we kissed and we
kissed. Then he climbed off me and remaining on all fours, he waggled his
tight pleather encased bum at me.

	I got up on all fours and shuffled up behind him. My tongue was
able to go through the hole in his shorts, and I was able to rim him,
licking his hole and the back of his ball sack. Then I pushed him onto his
back and unclasped his shorts. He lifted his bum up as I pulled his zip
down and his cock came free of it's own, pointing up at me as I pulled his
shorts down to his knees, then off his bare feet. He returned to all fours,
and went behind me, to lick my hole as he stroked my cock, still contained
in the jockstrap pouch. I felt his wet tongue swirl around my puckered
anus. Then he pulled my jock off my waist and down to my knees. As I moved
to kick it off, he pushed me sideways and I fell onto my back.

	He clambered up between my legs and lay on my stomach, our hard
cocks pressing onto each other, each feeling when the other pulsed his
penis, pumping just that extra bit of blood into our love sticks to
maintain the sexual excitement we felt for each other. Art started to suck
my left nipple and I began to stroke his bum cheeks. Then we kissed each
other, before he moved over to my right nipple, and I ran my fingers up and
down his crack, feeling his balls and his brown entrance. Then he moved
himself further down my body and took my cock in his hand, guiding it to
his mouth and sucking it. Gently at first, then a bit more insistently,
before kissing his way up my stomach back to my lips. I tasted myself in
his mouth as I tongued him. Then he was back down on my cock, his head
bobbing up and down, whilst I ran my hands through his new haircut. Then he
moved back up to my lips and we kissed as he humped the fork of my legs,
his cock sliding over my balls, in the excessive clear cum that was
dribbling down my cock, his wet helmet almost reaching all the way to my
hole.

	Then I took charge, pushing him onto his side so I could work
myself down to his cock. He lay back, his head supported by a pillow,
loving it as my mouth wanked his cock, my fingers played with his balls and
poked his hole. Then I knelt on the bed between his knees and, holding his
cock in one hand, I sucked him as he told me what he wanted, where my
tongue was to go round his helmet, how he wanted my teeth to scrape gently
along his shaft, and so on. All the while his cock was jerking and pulsing
with excitement in my hand, his piss slit leaking clear fluid into my
mouth. He started to buck under me and I realised I was bringing him to a
climax. "Too soon," he hissed at me and I took my mouth off his cock, just
letting my hand gently stroke the base.

	He stood up on the bed, towering over me as I knelt there, his cock
now back at my mouth height. I took hold of his hips and guided his stiff
member back into my mouth. He began to face fuck me, his cock jerking in
and out of my mouth as he moved his bum back and forth. The strokes became
deeper and more insistent. I took hold of his cock, encircling his balls
and holding him at the very base of his cock. My other hand tried to
insinuated itself up his back entrance, but he was just bucking too hard
and fast. Then he stopped, and told me to get on all fours.

	I flopped over, putting my hands on the bed and he positioned
himself behind me, holding his cock out straight, squirting lube onto it
and me. He entered me none too gently, forcing himself into me, his puffy
purple helmet pushing my hole open for his shaft to follow. He rested his
hands on top of my buttocks and began a fast and furious pumping action,
his cock head reaming the inside of my love tunnel, the tube under his
shaft pushing hard on my prostate gland as his cock pushed in and out.

	My hands slipped on the bedspread and I fell onto my chest, my arms
at ninety degrees to my body. Art followed me down, not missing a stroke,
still shafting me as I lay face down. I managed to lift my bum in the air a
bit, taking some of his weight on my knees and bent arms. He continued
sticking himself into me, almost frantically. His exertions were pushing me
along the bed, until my head came to the edge and I stayed there, hands
clutching the bedspread, my head unsupported, and Art pumping into me with
reckless abandon.

	Then he pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back. With my knees
pressed to my chest, my hole was presented for his cock to enter. He held
my lower legs and slid his hardness smoothly into me, having squirted it
again with more lube. Again, clutching the bedspread under me, I let him
bang himself into me, his balls slapping against the base of my spine, his
rock hard cock shafting my hole. Then he let one of my legs go and used his
hand to wank my stiffy, matching the strokes he gave my cock, with the
strokes he gave my hole.

	Now I opened my legs wide and supported them myself, my hands on my
upper thighs, my elbows dug into the bed, my feet suspended up over my
shoulders, my hole at the right height to be shafted by him
comfortably. Art continued to pump his cock deep into me as he played with
my balls and wanked my cock. Then I felt him falter, and he pulled his cock
out, only to start to wank it furiously. I took my own cock in hand and
matched his speed of wanking. Together we brought ourselves to a climactic
finish.

	I started cumming first, my cum squirting lines up my stomach. Then
Art began to squirt over my chest, stomach, cock and balls, each rope of
his spunk splattering a long white line down my body. Our orgasm lasted for
eternity, and then we collapsed, me flat onto my back, Art onto the bed to
my side. He struggled up to me and we kissed and cuddled for about ten
minutes, but who was counting? Then I reminded him we were going to have a
shower before dinner. He laughed and asked if he could share mine. We
dragged our aching limbs off the bed and limped into the shower together.

	As we stood under the shower together, we kissed again, our cocks
pushed against each other, the water running off them both. A thought came
to my mind and I had to laugh. Art was in the process of massaging his
soapy hand into my arse crack when I whispered in his ear, "And he said I
was after YOUR bum!"



As usual I ask you, dear reader, that if you have enjoyed the story, to let
me know. Make suggestions, whatever.

You can contact me at alex.carbine@sky.com All e-mails answered.  Thank
You.