Date: Sat, 22 Oct 2011 17:10:37 +0100
From: Alex Carbine <alex.carbine@sky.com>
Subject: Chapter Eleven. Massage Me.

Massage Me.

By Alex Carbine

Chapter Eleven.

And So To Bed....


	I had phoned earlier down to the Restaurant so we had a
booking. When we turned up at the restaurant entrance desk holding hands,
the Restaurant Manager's eyebrows rose a couple of inches, then he smiled
his professional smile. "Would Sir like a Private Alcove this evening?
Something out of the way, with a view, perhaps?"

	"Yeah we don't want the other guests getting a hard-on when they
see us, do we?" interjected Art before I could answer. I gave an
involuntary laugh and the Manager genuinely laughed as well. "Quite so
Young Sir. And if I may observe, Young Sir, your attire tonight will turn
several heads." "Probably them Stewards there, for a start," answered Art,
nodding over to a couple of Stewards at a service table. One of the
Stewards gave a discrete but camp hand wave back. Art's gaydar was
operating in overtime, obviously.

	"Thank you," I said to the Manager. "It will be just the two of us,
and your offer of a secluded table with a view is most generous. And to
keep the Young Sir happy, maybe you can arrange for us to have those two
for our individual Service tonight? It's a Special Day for him, you see."
The twenty pound note I slipped him completed the deal. The Manager waved
to the two Stewards, and they came over to the Entrance Desk. "You two have
been asked for especially to 'look after the needs of' Mr. Carbine and his
Young Companion this evening. Mr. Carbine says that it is the Young
Gentleman's Special Day. Please conduct them to the Balcony Table No
14. and make sure they are not disturbed by anyone other than yourselves."
Turning to me he added, "I am sure that Anton and Marc will look after you
admirably tonight. Enjoy your meals. If you will follow them they will show
you to your seats." Then he turned to the Stewards who were standing to
attention, bewildered, and just said, "Go!" and they gestured for us to
follow them.

	The Balcony Table was indeed secluded. It was like sitting in a
private dining room, with an astounding view of the Thames River on two of
our sides. Each of us had a river backdrop that the other could see. Anton
and Marc stood behind the chairs, and Art watched as I sat and the chair
was pushed in toward the table. He began to sit and his steward pushed the
chair in, almost making Art lose his balance. My steward took my napkin,
shook it open and laid it across my lap. Art allowed his steward to do the
same. Menus appeared and were given to each of us, then the stewards melted
into the background. "Fuckin' posh, innit?" observed Art quietly, probably
looking more at the prices than the list of foods.

	Having talked between us as to what we would eat, Anton approached
me and asked, "Have you decided on your order, Sir?" I took another look at
the Menu and before I could answer, Anton spoke again. "I am told The
Chicken is very tasty tonight Sir." Quick as a flash Art chipped in, "Yeah!
But that won't be until well after the meal, Sunshine!" I heard Marc, who
was standing at the service table, try to suppress a snort of laughter. Art
was laughing and I looked up at Anton, who was smirking to himself as
well. "Very funny," I laughed to Art. Then I said to Anton and Marc,
"Please understand that Art and I ARE more than just acquaintances. Art's
gaydar noted you two as 'friends of Dolly' when he saw you, and I trust
that what you see and hear tonight will go no further than this balcony." I
let that sink in for a moment. "Do you have any questions?" I asked
them. They shook their heads, mumbling "No, Sir." "OK, let's get on with
the fun then. We will not have any starters. Art and I will both have rib
eye steaks with the double fried potatoes, and Yes, Anton, I probably WILL
be tasting the Chicken AGAIN tonight, if I'm lucky." "Understood Sir," he
said closing his order pad. "Oh," I added, "And can we have a bottle of a
nice South African Chardonnay. Nothing more than 20 pounds. And put a
couple of drinks on the bill for yourselves, but don't get caught drinking
them. Now go!"

	We enjoyed our meal together. I discovered it was the first time
that Art had had a steak served like that. Before, it had been either mince
or burgers. And he had no idea of the sweets, so I ordered a Panna Cotta,
and he ended up having three, falling in love with the creamy vanilla
taste. "Bit like me," he told Marc, casually, as the steward was clearing
the table. "You know, thick and creamy, and you can't get enough of it in
yo' mouth." Anton and Marc gave us the best of their service, there when
you wanted them, and invisible the rest of the time. We ordered a pot of
coffee, and whilst we waited, Art leaned over the table and we kissed. A
cough alerted us to the arrival of the coffee, and when I ordered liqueurs,
I told the two that they could get two for themselves and join us, now we
had finished our meal. The Head Waiter came to us and asked "If everything
was to our usual high standards?" and my affirmative reply also asked him
if Anton and Marc were finished working in the restaurant for the night. "I
am sure there is nothing that cannot wait until the morning," said their
Boss amenably, and when Anton and Marc returned with our drinks, they asked
what I had said, as they had been stood down on service for the rest of the
night, apparently something that was unheard of.

	I invited them to sit and they sat either side of Art, slightly
nervous as they were sipping their liqueurs. To put them more at ease, I
told them that I too had been a 'winger', waiting table in a 1st Class
restaurant that was on a ship, when I was young. I was able to understand
what it was to push a tray for a living. When they asked Art what he did, I
just answered quickly for him that he was in the 'entertainment' business
and left it at that. Art, for once, did not elaborate.

	The coffee and the liqueurs went down well, and we had another one
all round. I seemed to be talking mainly to Anton, and Art was busily
chatting with Marc. When our chat came to a natural lull, Anton said
pointedly to Marc that they had better go, and they both thanked us for
letting them join us. I told Anton to load the bill with a sixty pound tip
that they were to split, and thanked them for their service, which we both
appreciated. Art waved to Marc and he bent down for Art to say something in
his ear, and then the two left us.

	We sat finishing the dregs of our coffee and drinks, and then I
suggested we retired up to the apartment. Art smiled and said, "And Now For
You I Kill-ah Ze Chicken!" in the voice of the Swedish Chef on 'The Muppet
Show'. As we left the table I asked him what he had said to Marc before
they went. "I told Marc that he was welcome to meet up with me again."
"That's nice," I said. Art looked at his watch. "In your apartment in about
ten minutes from now," he said.

	"No I don't mind. Why should I? It's your Special Day after
all. Anyway, my 'Little Chicken' we both know that tonight is probably
going to be our last. I've got my work to go back to. You have your Mates
to go home to. I'm only sorry that they have not shared some of the day
with you, but truthfully I'm glad they weren't here." We were by the lifts
waiting for it to arrive. I was answering his simple question, as simply as
I could, no frill. Art put his arm round my back, and nuzzled my
neck. "From the moment I met you, Art Jeffries, I liked you. And today I
have found that I have a deep feeling for you. I don't want to lose contact
with you, but I know I can't change things for you. You said earlier that
'you were a bum boy, always had been and always will be'." The lift opened
to show it was empty. We stepped in and Art pushed the button for the ninth
floor. I kissed his nose. "I would love to help you do something else, if
that is what you want to do, and it genuinely makes you happy. But I know
very few people for whom a change like that has made them feel anything but
remorse. It seems that the grass really is greener, when it's out of
reach." The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. "Best foot forward my
friend, we have a date to meet."

	The liqueurs I ordered had been delivered, when there was a knock
at the door. Art let a rather shy Marc in, and it was obvious he had never
been in these apartments before. I had opened the french windows onto the
balcony outside, and we sat around a wrought iron table sipping our
respective drinks, chatting over the sounds of London's old river at
night. The rapport between Art and Marc was obvious, and I sat quietly
listening to their chatter as they talked of nothing, at first Art covering
Marc's hand on the table, and then later as they chatted on, their hands
linked, their knees touching.

	The evening air was still and warm. I excused myself and when I
returned I was wearing a Hotel Bathrobe, and they were kissing. I sat
opposite them and Art looked at me, giving a thin smile. I openly smiled
back, and moved my knees apart to show him my erect cock poking up out of
my lap. Art said something quietly to Marc, I could not hear what, but Marc
then looked my way and saw I had a hard on, and he nodded to Art. They
stood up and both stripped unhurriedly in front of me. Their cocks were
hard as well, by the time they had removed their underwear, bits of solid
protruding flesh, nodding and swaying as they moved.

	By the light of the balcony wall-lamps, I could see that Marc was
not circumcised, his foreskin up and covering his helmet. Art's cock was
already leaking, and his clear cum glinted in the wall-lamp's glow, like a
diamond catching the light, in his piss slit. My cock was also leaking
pre-cum, and I stood up, holding the robe open so that they could see the
size of my cock and the ring of pewter that encircled it and my balls. Marc
said something to Art, and again I just could not hear what, but Art's
answer gave me a good clue. "No. The first seven inches don't hurt. It's
always the last inch that makes it worthwhile!" and they laughed out loud,
both of them. My cock grew even harder with the anticipation of the coming
evening's sport, my twitching cock pumping so much dribble that by this
time it was dripping like spider gossamer off my balls.

	I went inside into the Lounge and sat down sideways on the sofa, my
back supported at one end, my right leg hanging off the seat so my right
foot was on the floor. The two boys came in giggling Marco first, chased by
Art who was trying to grab his bum. Stopping in front of me, Marco turned
to face Art. I watched as they kissed, Marco's hands holding Art's head,
Art hands holding Marco's buttocks. As their tongues enmeshed, so did their
cocks, trapped between them, tangoing in each others' juices as their
bodies moved slightly from side to side. Holding Marco, Art made the both
of them rotate so that I, laying on the sofa, could admire Marc's brown
hole that Art was showing me as he held Marc's bum cheeks apart. I started
wanking my hard-on, looking first at the promised land, and then up at
Art's face. His eyes were on me as he smiled and slowly nodded back to me.

	Then Art broke away and dropped to his knees, taking hold of Marc's
uncut cock. As I watched, his hand drew the foreskin back, revealing the
large purple mushroom on the end on Marc's seven inch stalk. Art looked to
make sure I was watching then turned his attention back to the cock in
front of his mouth. Marc pushed slightly and it slid in between Art's
parted teeth and lips. Art took it deep to the back of his throat, his lips
encircling the rigid shaft right down to the base of the cock, so that
Marc's balls hung on and over his chin. I could see the outline of Art's
Adam's apple moving up and down his neck, and could only guess as to the
sensations Marc was feeling as Art's throat massaged Marc's helmet.

	Then Art pulled his head off Marc's prong and lay back on the
carpet, pulling Marc down to join him. As they kissed again, Art laying on
his back, Marc on all fours kneeling over his hips, Art pulled Marc's bum
cheeks apart again just to give me a glimpse of Marc's sphincter, before
sliding one of his fingers into it, up to the knuckle. Marc's head rose up
as he gave a long sigh of delight at the new intrusion. I stood up and
walked quickly into my bedroom, returning with a bag of toys, playthings
that I always travelled with, both for my own use and for use on
others. The two were still kissing as I sat back down on the sofa, my balls
hanging over the front of the seat cushion, my cock as hard as ever. I
looked into the bag, rummaging for the particular toy I knew was there.

	Leaning forward, the stiff 'Christmas-tree' like shape of the anal
beads a dagger in my hand, I put my left hand on Marc's buttock and guided
the toy with the other. Made up of twelve black rubber balls of increasing
size about 1 inch apart on a central shaft, the first two beads entered
Marc's ass easily. Dribbling lube from his darker fleshed hole to my hand,
I then started to introduce each ball into his orifice, hearing a
satisfying plop as it was accepted past his ring muscle. When all but four
balls had disappeared I knew from experience that Marc and I would have to
work together to complete the task. As I put pressure on the shaft, the
next ball slowly was engulfed by the crinkly flesh, which closed after it
tightly onto the black rubber shaft gap before the next ball. Just three to
go, the last measuring 2 inches (5cms) across, and it and the remaining two
were shaped more like an oval than a round ball, to enable a slight easing
to their introduction, given their thickness. I watched as the third to
last ball slid in, the fleshy hole stretching most of it's wrinkles away to
accommodate its' passage. Then the penultimate was taken in, and I asked if
Marc wanted a rest, to continue, or had had enough. He echoed Art when he
said, looking down into Art's face, "It's the last one that makes it
worthwhile." As I pushed the shaft handle hard to make it slide in, Marc
and Art kissed, I think so that Art's mouth would smother Marc's cry of
pain.

	I sat back on the sofa, my dribbling cock pointing into the air,
feeling very excited, and looking at the six inch (15 cms) ribbed handle
that was sticking obscenely out of Marc's bum. In my bag I had another
similar toy, but that was a solid 12 inch (30 cms) black dildo in the shape
of a cock, with an enormous head on it that you have to take first, before
the 2½ inch (6cms) veined shaft follows it all the way down to the
handle. It looks like a short Star Wars light sabre, and feels like it too.

	Marc moved off Art and the two arranged themselves so that they
were side on to me. I watched as Marc, on top, sucked Art's cock beneath
him, whilst Art slowly pulled the beads out, licking round the hole as it
shrank round each emerging ball. The sofa back supported my head and my
legs were straight out in front of me as I wanked my slick lubricated cock,
an erotic foreground to the sight of the two boys sucking each other.

	As if it had been agreed earlier, Marc now stood up to stand with
his back to me, between my out-stretched legs. Then bending down he held
his cheeks apart to show me his red, inflamed anal ring, letting me see the
red interior of his love tunnel, before reversing back, still bending, for
me to lick and kiss his wound. I took hold of his hips and pulled myself
into him, my nose squashing against the base of his spine, my extended,
pointy wet tongue slipping into the ring of fire that I had injured, time
and again lapping at his flesh until my jaw muscles ached.

	He then straightened and put his legs either side of mine, and,
guiding my cock with a hand, he sat down onto me, his stretched love glove
slipping onto my straining cock, until he had all of me inside me. I
reached round his right hip and took hold of his stiffness, starting to
wank him as best I could as he raised and lowered himself on my erection,
using his legs to manoeuvre himself. Art was standing watching this, and he
climbed up onto the sofa, so his legs were either side of my hips, and
facing me, guided his cock into my mouth. Then, with his hands on the back
of the sofa to balance himself, he commenced face fucking me, his 8 inches
(20 cms) scything in and out of my lips as he extracted the maximum
sensation from my mouth. Between the boys, I was in gay heaven, with one
boy working my cock and the other my mouth. Obviously Art's brain was
working along the same rails as mine, for he withdrew his cock and
dismounted the sofa.

	Marc stopped his up and down movements and sat fully down on my
cock. Art rummaged in my toy bag out of my sight on the floor, and came up
with a long, thick, double ended pink cock shaped dildo. At his instruction
I lifted my legs up off the floor, bending at the knees. I felt Art push
one end of the dildo into my anus and it slithered in a few inched. Then I
lowered my legs back to the floor, with my feet 18 inches or so apart.

	This time when Marc started working himself up and down on my cock,
he held the rest of the dildo in his hands, so that he was able to shaft my
hole as he bounced on my cock for his and my gratification. Art climbed
back onto the sofa as before, and the three of as worked ourselves hard to
a joint orgasm.

	Marc was unsurprisingly first to cum, still ramming the dildo into
my hole with both hands, but his cock spurting his cum in curving jets onto
the carpet in front of him. His cumming made him clench his ring round my
shaft and that was enough for him to trigger my cumming into him, deep in
his bowels, my sperm washing the inside of his tube, his movements suddenly
easier as he slid up and down on my spunk coated shaft. Art then came in my
mouth, his erection geysering hot cum into my mouth as he wanked the base
of his cock to milk the contents of his balls out into the open.

	Marc then got off my cock and went onto all fours on the carpet,
panting for breath. Art climbed down and went behind Marc, and I watched
him as he sucked and swallowed my spunk out of the Waiter's bum hole,
licking the sphincter so that my cum coated his tongue white. Having asked
what each wanted, I ordered our drinks from Room Service, and Marc
disappeared into my bedroom with the door closed, so that the Duty Staff
would not see him.

	After the delivery, he joined Art and myself and we talked of
in-consequences, well fucked, sore and happy. When we finally went to bed,
Art was on one side of me and Marc was the other. When I woke in the
morning it was because Marc was fucking Art's bum. They were both on their
sides and I turned and looked into Art's face as Marc pounded his him as he
lay with his knees bent, thrusting back at Marc with his body. "He's was
only after your bum, you know," I said and kissed his jerking nose.



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.