Date: Wed, 10 Jun 2015 21:26:59 +0100
From: J. Forrester <niftyencomiums@gmail.com>
Subject: The Symposium - Chapter Seven

The Symposium
Chapter 07: Callum Carter's Day Off

This story is a work of fiction. Resemblances to real persons, places or
events would be extremely surprising.


Several dates, hand holding, hugging, a bit of frottage once, hand-job,
blow-job, a night in with a bottle of wine... ok, two bottles of wine and
it was good stuff too.

Callum was perhaps surprised at how much he found himself liking Paul. He
was used to more bold and adventurous companions and found Paul's quiet,
humble and reserved demeanour refreshing. Paul was safe and sweet man and
gave Callum a sense of contentment he hadn't felt for a long time. Perhaps,
he had never felt this way.

Callum had had several boyfriends over the years, a few relationships of
longevity and a few more that were passing trysts. But he wasn't 18
anymore; Callum felt differently about what he wanted now. He'd been single
for nine months, passing tryst excluded, and was ready for another
relationship.

Yet...

Callum felt Paul was perhaps too safe. He worried it was relationship that
would languish. Paul deserved better than that. Callum's melancholy had
drawn in like the autumn nights and was just as long lasting.

They walked close through the cold night – they'd enjoyed dinner and a
bottle of wine in town. The streets were quiet, as they often were in the
kind of town where one could roam streets at almost any time of the day or
night without any fear. The half naked trees were their only company - a
dog walker occasionally and cars observing the twenty's plenty limit.



Their clothes were strewn around Callum's bedroom. Callum; tall, muscular
and firm, Paul; skinny and lithe – both naked. Paul was on his back,
legs draped over the edge of the bed and his penis hard up toward the
ceiling. Callum took it in his mouth and buried his nose in Paul's
pubes. Paul gripped the bed and moaned. They continued like this for a few
minutes, each enjoying their roles, then Callum stood and loomed over
Paul. He leaned over and put his hands on the bed, each hand resting just
under Paul's armpits and he leaned forward to kiss the younger man. Paul's
tongue entered Callum's mouth – he'd become less timid over the last few
weeks, waiting less for Callum it initiate. Callum enjoyed Paul's
initiative. Paul pulled Callum onto the bed and slipped behind him, his
cock pressing into the length of Callum's arse crack.

Paul kissed the back of Callum's neck and then dropped to his knees,
pulling Callum's arse cheeks apart and pressing his tongue against the
tight hole. Callum had cleaned up earlier – shaved and scrubbed
considerately, if a little presumptuously, in case things went well.

Callum felt his cock jump without even touching it as his pleasure zone was
stimulated. He felt Paul's face withdraw and a finger slip in, pressing his
prostate and massaging it. Callum stroked his cock and breathed heavily -
they were both sweating already. Callum began to turn so Paul removed his
fingers with a quiet slurp and put both hands on Callum's hips. Paul kissed
the head of Callum's dick and then felt Callum's hand on his chin. He
raised his head to meet Callum's eyes and understood the invitation that
lay in them.

Paul stood and their bodies pressed together as they kissed again, their
hard penises rubbing and leaking with anticipation. Then Callum crossed the
room and retrieved a condom. Paul lay back on the bed and lifted a
convenient bottle of lubricant which he spread onto his hand. He bent his
legs until his feet were flat and heels almost touching his bum. His knees
parted and access to his anus granted.

Paul slipped a finger in and loosened his arse hole, then a second finger –
as his sphincter dilated and adjusted to the invasion, pleasurable
sensations pulsed through him. A third finger became comfortable, loosening
him enough for what was to come.

Paul watched Callum across the room – broad shoulders, strapping arms
and heaving chest, a firm abdomen and a firm cock and muscular legs. Paul
pleasured himself while watching Callum, considering himself to be playing
out of his league but enjoying it while it lasts.



Callum regarded Paul, supine on the bed – his skinny waist a concave
rising up to his flat chest and brown nipples. Callum's cock tingled as he
pulled on the johnny and crossed towards Paul. He hadn't had sex for months
but had imagined having sex with Paul for weeks, wanking satisfactorily to
the thought - anticipation now was a pleasing aphrodisiac.

"Are you sure you want to?" Callum asked.

"Go for it." Paul replied happily.

Paul locked his arms around the back of his knees and pulled his legs back,
proffering unrestricted access to his arsehole.

Paul felt pleasure the moment Callum's cock touched the sphincter, the
initial gentle push stimulating the rich nerve endings, sending sensational
sensual sensations all through his body. Callum entered slowly, giving the
muscles in Paul's rectum time to adjust as his substantial cock entered.

Callum pushed in inch by inch, sliding in and out just a little for a
minute before inserting the next inch. Callum enjoyed this moment; when his
penis was swallowed by the rectum – warm and soft. Paul too responded
favourable, his arse filled with erotically sensitive skin and firm,
responsive muscle.

Callum pulled out by six inches and then slowly pushed back in all the
way. Paul moaned, then Callum moaned. Paul's arms released his legs and
then extended to grip Callum at the waist, holding him in. Paul pulled
himself hp as if doing a sit-up and craned his neck, Callum stooped low and
their faces met – hot and sweaty. Their lips touching and tongues
dancing around one another.

Paul's head fell back and he bit his lip as Callum took to thrusting his
hips back and forth again, not too hard. This was not a good hard fuck,
rather a tentative exploration of their respective desires in sex. Callum
took non-verbal cues to push a little harder. Paul could feel the knot of
his prostate pump out juices that were sticky and lubricative.

Paul's arse was filled with sensations and he could sense Callum getting
close to climax. He stroked his own cock, smearing pre-seminal fluid over
his cock head. Callum came and pumped for another few moments before his
body relaxed with exhaustion and ecstasy. They were covered in sweat and
breathing hard as Callum withdrew and tidied himself up.

"You got anymore?" Paul asked boldly.

Callum looked up to see Paul's glistening dick still hard and unspent, he
smiled and retrieved another condom which he exchanged for the lube. While
Paul got ready, Callum eased a couple of fingers into his own arse and
finger-fucked his hole with vigour, relishing the sensations and priming
himself for them to multiply.

When Paul was ready, he eased himself off the bed and kissed Callum
passionately. When their lips parted, Paul took Callum's hand and led him a
few steps back to the bed, easing his hand towards the bed and bending him
over it.

Callum stuck his arse out and pushed his face low towards the bed so he was
bent far over. Paul was equally tentative and gentle about easing in,
taking time to push in seven inches of cock until his pubic bush was flush
with Callum's scrotum.

His hips gyrated and Callum too moved with the motion. Callum's sphincter
was tight around Paul's penis, the oiled friction kept his cock hard and
blissfully stroked his shaft. Both men were tiring now. Paul's speed
increased and each time he entered fully, they both groaned and Callum
would push back just a little to force Paul's cock even deeper.

Paul grunted as his cock finally ejaculated and his balls emptied a pint of
cum in a dozen spurts. Paul leaned over Callum for a moment, his tummy and
chest laying across Callum's back. They stayed like that for a minute,
content in their exhaustion. When Paul pulled out, Callum clenched his bum
to stop assjuice leaking out then turned and collapsed on his bed.

Paul pulled off the condom and dumped in the bin where Callum's were
already deposited. It was considerately knotted at the top to stop its
contents leaking out but still made a wet spat as it hit the bottom of the
bin and settled there.

Callum had managed to wrestle the duvet from under him and climbed into
bed. He rubbed the spot in front of him, inviting Paul into bed beside
him. Paul slid in and Callum pulled up the sheet, Paul shifted closer to
Callum and Callum to Paul. With their bodies spooned close together and
their legs intertwined, they both fell into a beautiful sleep.



Callum's eyes opened slowly, adjusting to a sunlight weakened by pale
clouds and half-shut curtains. Paul was smiling at him; his cute face with
blue eyes unbearably bright for such an early hour and messy fair hair like
a scarecrow dragged backwards through a hedge.

"What's the time Mr. Wolf?" Callum asked.

Paul replied, "Too early to be gobbling anything, if that's what your
asking."

Callum laughed. "The thought never crossed my mind." He peered over Paul's
shoulder to the clock at his bedside – 10:23. Callum sighed and turned
onto his back.

"You frown in your sleep." Paul observed aloud.

"Do I?" Callum answered. He smiled but weakly.

"Last night was..." Paul started then didn't seem to know how to finish the
sentence.

"Me too." Callum agreed, at this he did smile widely. "Yea, me too."

Paul seemed relieved to have it confirmed as a success. Talking about it
further would just have been weird, so he changed the subject.

"I've seen you frowning a lot over the past week," he paused. "What was
that word you used the other day... mel-something?"

"Mel-an-choly," Callum repeated. "Gloomy, pensive thoughts, sadness. I get
like this around my birthday sometimes." He admitted.

"How come?" Paul asked with naive interest.

"My... erm... my mum died just after I turned twelve." Callum said, gently
as he knew Paul would feel bad for asking. "And my dad a fortnight later."

"Oh," Paul said. "I guess you were already thinking about it but I didn't
mean to... you don't have to say anything else. Sorry."

"Mum had cancer," Callum paused, thinking that in the (nearly) ten years
since she died he had only ever spoken substantially about it to Iain. "It
was hard... it's still hard to find the right words. Dad, he didn't
cope. When your twelve you don't really understand depression, I mean, I
knew something was wrong with him but... I didn't have a word for it."

Paul said nothing, waiting for Callum to continue, and made soothing
touches along Callum's arm.

"Mum died on the twenty-sixth of November 2005, three days after my
birthday. She got me a remote control Dalek." Callum laughed, but his eyes
were watery. "Then dad jumped off a tall building. God, I remember Iain was
so angry... My first day back at school and some boy, I don't even remember
his name, he made a joke about the mess it must've made on the pavement. I
cried so hard." He had to pause, and wiped a tear from his face. "And
Iain... shit, he went ballistic. He punched that kid so fucking hard –
made some mess of the pavement."

"Bet nobody joked about that again." Paul said and Callum nodded. "I can't
imagine how you must have felt."

"Broke my heart," Callum admitted. "Into more pieces than it was made
of. Did you know you can survive with a heart that's broken? Love with it
too... so much that no-one would ever know it was broken... unless they
knew."

"And who do you love?" Paul asked.

"My mum and dad," he replied. "My uncle and aunt. And Iain, of course -
more than anyone." He turned to Paul and grinned. "And I kinda love you in
a way too."

"Kinda... in a way?" Paul asked. "In what way?" he wondered.

"I don't know."

"Ok."

Melancholy was in full swing.

"It isn't enough for your heart to break because everybody's heart is
broken now." Callum said and Paul looked puzzled. "Allen Ginsberg. Never
mind, I just like that quote." Callum waited for a moment before asking his
own question. "So, Paul, what broke your heart?"

"What do you mean?" He asked guardedly, but he knew. He knew what Callum
meant.

"We all have our secret sorrows... What's yours?"

"Longfellow. And I'd rather not..." he paused and Callum said nothing, he
didn't want Paul to feel obligated to answer just because he had spoken so
deeply.

"It's ok. I understand – I mean I don't talk much about... well, it's
just ok. If you ever want to tell-"

"I didn't get on with my dad. I don't get on with him.  I don't like to
talk about him, or think about him or acknowledge his existence as a member
of the human race. I'll never be close to the man who most disappointed
me." It all came out in one go and left a silence afterwards.

Callum nodded. "Tense." He said.

Paul chuckled at himself. "Sorry. That was a little OTT. True though, my
dad's an arse and an off-topic. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Shit. It's nearly eleven." Paul said, glancing at the clock. "Hate to make
love to you and leave you but I have an elsewhere to be."

"Hot date?" Callum asked, feigning hurt.

"Meeting mum."

"So yes then?"

Callum got hit!

"Gross. Also, no."

"Well, Iain and me are going out tonight. Celebrating my birthday early
since I'm working it this year. You wanna come?" Callum asked.

"Can't, sorry. Need to get cracking on an essay. But I'll see you
tomorrow?" Paul was back to his sweetly anxious self.

"Sounds good." Callum said.

"I used to be rubbish at remembering birthdays." Paul admitted as he
climbed out of bed. His skin was pale in the morning light, his skinny body
was tight so his ribs showed when he stretched and started pulling on his
clothes. "I remember months ok, usually. But dates? Not so much."

"Used to be?" Callum asked, stretching out in bed. Paul had a puzzled look
on his face. "You said `I used to be rubbish at remembering birthdays.'
Your underpants are back to front." He added.

Paul started to pull them down again then laughed. "No they're not." He
said, realising Callum was taking the piss. "You wanna see my cock again,
take a picture, it'll last longer." He pulled a t-shirt and jeans on before
Callum took the suggestion seriously. "My sister told me her trick was to
associate ages with the dates. So, you'll be 23 on the twenty-third."

"Also I was born the day after Kennedy was assassinated."

"Give or take thirty years?"

"Or the day Doctor Who started."

"Give or take thirty years."

"Or five months after a skinny smart arse was born."

"Give or take three years."

"Shut it."



Callum got half dressed and headed downstairs for something to eat. Iain
was already up and about.

"I saw Paul leaving." He said benignly.

"Yes." Callum said, non-commitally.

"I think the neighbours heard you going at it." Iain joked.

"The Lockhart's are cool, they won't mind."

"I meant the neighbours at the end of the street." He joked.

Callum laughed. "Fuck off."

Iain was quiet for a minute before asking, "Are you guys getting serious?"

"I- I don't know." Callum said. "I kinda figured... I thought I'd know what
Paul was thinking if we ever got to this stage. After the puppy dog eyes
and the `so nervous the couldn't talk to me' stage, I thought I'd see the
wedding carriage in his eyes this morning."

"He does seem like the commitment type." Iain agreed.

"But it wasn't like that. Last night we had sex, this morning we talked and
it all feels a bit like... Like we had sex and maybe that's it. I know
we're no farther forward in the `relationship' stakes." Callum was
confused. He realised he had expected Paul to throw the word boyfriend into
the conversation.

"Aww, pal. Are you still single then?" Iain asked.

"Looks like." Callum replied. "Anyway, I'm 21 for one more night. Let's go
out and get blootered."

"It's 11am." Iain pointed out.

"Oh. Let's have a sensible brunch and run then."

"Then get blootered?"

"You got it."

Iain smiled.



On the inside Iain was not smiling. Since he had started `feeling
different' about sex and sexuality, Callum had been a beacon. He wouldn't
say it out loud but he desired Callum, so the thought of him with someone
else. Shit, Iain realised he was jealous - which was so fucked up that he
needed a drink and or therapy.

Both boys drank to excess, moved from pub to night club, danced and crawled
into bed just before sunrise. It was suggested by their friends that they
`go on the pull', but neither were in the mood. And neither were in the
mood to explain why either.

Sunday was, mostly, uneventful. He enjoyed the quiet day, skyped with his
aunt and uncle and had lunch with Paul. Things continued in their easy way
with Paul but by the end of the meal, they both didn't say what was on
their minds. The result was that Callum was left worried that things with
Paul might be over before they had begun. Never the less, both were content
enough in the other's company and they conversed like old friends. Perhaps
that was the problem, they were friends and neither wanted to blow the
whistle and jeopardise that.



Callum had had the opportunity to request his birthday off, but hadn't
bothered. There had been something else – Mr Douglas had seemed keen for
him to be there tomorrow. And so Callum would be at work bright and early
in the morning but tonight he collapsed on the sofa early that evening to
relax. It was in Iain's company that night that he felt most at ease. They
sat close together on the sofa that night a watched a movie. There hadn't
even been any dialogue yet.

Although it was November and Scotland (and therefore cold) Iain was wearing
a pair of shorts complemented by a long sleeved hooded jumper, though it
was warm in the house. Callum scratched his knee and felt the back of his
hand brush against Iain's thigh. Iain felt it too. Callum's gaze fell from
the T.V. screen to Callum's thin legs and lean thighs which were warm
against the thin linen trousers he wore.



Callum tried to ignore the lust-fired thoughts that were starting to enter
his head but Iain's spread his legs a little and brushed his knee against
Callum's. Callum looked up, he hadn't even realised he'd been staring at
Iain's crotch, and met Iain's gaze. Iain smiled innocently, even as he
moved his hand from his lap where he'd gently kneaded his cock up to half
mast.

It occurred to both boys that this `thing' between them started nearly four
months ago now and perhaps it was the `thing' holding them back from other
relationships. Callum from Paul and Iain from... someone else.

Callum tried to ignore his desires but Iain was curious and also hadn't had
sex two nights ago and was thusly keen to release himself. Iain shifted his
bare foot and touched Callum's which was also bare. Iain's toes curved up
while his heel rested on the floor, the toes lifting the first few inches
of Callum's light linen trousers.

In his groin, Callum felt blood flow and his dick becoming engorged. He
closed his eyes as Iain's hand slid up his knee and brushed his
balls. Callum then turned his head and kissed Iain's neck. Iain let Callum
pull his jumper off and discard it on the floor; he then pulled his own
t-shirt off and both were naked from the waist up and ankle down.



Callum and Iain looked at each other. The first time they had done anything
like this had been at the behest of Mr Douglas and Finn. A few months ago
they had been here on the sofa, just as they were now, but interrupted by
the doorbell. Without interruption and without instruction, both lads were
excited to see where they would stop.

The kissed, bare chests close and warm, their hearts fast. Callum stood
then, with the intention of kneeling to pull Iain's shorts down but Iain
beat him to it – Iain reached out and tugged Callum's light trousers
down so they pooled around his ankles. Callum's tight briefs outlined his
stiff penis. Iain's hand boldly rubbed Callum's cock through his briefs and
he wasted little time before freeing it and pushing the briefs down to
Callum's ankles. Iain stared into the eye then looked into Callum's face.

"Step out of them." He told his cousin.

Callum raised an eyebrow at the command, so authoritative and strong that
he had no compunction in obeying. He stood naked before Callum and realised
he liked the idea of obeying Iain.

"Start stroking." Iain said. Even as he ordered it, he had no idea where it
had come from. He was as surprised as Callum to hear himself giving
instructions and pleasantly surprised Callum was willing to follow.

Callum rubbed his cock and glanced his thumb over the head of his penis,
making the bulbous purple shine. He continued with long purposeful stokes,
alternating the tightness of his grip and the speed of his stoking. Iain
could see Callum's toes curl as he quickly reached a point where he might
cum, but Callum didn't – he was well practiced at edging.

Iain sat transfixed by the cock before him, the tight scrotum beneath and
the explosion of brown pubes above that narrowed to a point at Callum's
belly button. Iain leaned forward and stuck out his tongue, licking the
head of Callum's penis. Callum stopped stroking and dropped his cock onto
Iain's outstretched tongue.

Iain closed his mouth around the dick by leaning forward slightly more. He
pursed his lips, the tension causing extremely pleasant sensations for
Callum. Then the doorbell rang.



Both their eyes snapped open and met with hard gazes. Both perturbed at
being disturbed.

"You go get it this time." Iain instructed. He wiped his mouth free of the
juices from Callum's excitement.

Callum grunted and stooped to pick up something to wear.

"I didn't say you should wear anything, did I?" Iain said wryly.

Callum half-smiled, unsure if he was being teased or if Iain was being
serious. He rationalised that Iain would never expect him to really answer
the door naked, and so resolved to do so. He crossed to the living room
door and pulled it open; the hall was cool by comparison.

The doorbell rang again.

Through the opaque oval glass on the front door loomed a silhouette that
Callum recognised as Stephen – their paper boy.

Callum croaked and turned back to Iain, who now blocked his entrance back
to the living room and therefore his clothes.

"It's Stephen!" Callum said in a loud whisper.

"So? Stephen's got a boyfriend, I'm sure he'll appreciate your effort."
Iain replied, giving Callum's cock a couple of pulls to restore it
thickness.

"He's seventeen!" Callum protested.

"So were the boys from the Lord Gower School." Iain pointed out.

Callum blushed and so did his cock at the memory of them.

The doorbell rang again.

Fuck it.

Callum crossed the length of the hall and unlocked the front door; then he
pulled it open, exposing himself to the night.



It was a cold night. Callum's front was assaulted by the cold wind from the
street and his bum by the warm breeze of central heating.

Stephen was indeed at the door and his mouth fell open when he saw Callum
full-frontally naked in front of him.

Callum looked over the boy's shoulder to make sure no-one else was watching
him expose himself to a teenager – he didn't want to end up on a
register. Which was stupid because Stephen was on the right side of legal;
phew.

"Umm." Said Stephen after a full minute. "I can come back..."

"For another look you mean?" Callum joked.

Stephen blushed. "No. I meant... Err. Something."

"I'll get you money." Callum said. "For the newspapers. Don't want you
thinking I'm paying for anything else." Callum winked.

Stephen blushed again, thought `what the fuck', and enjoyed the rear view
of Callum as he walked back down the hall. Callum collected money from the
table behind the living room door – Iain had backed off but grinned at
his cousin and leaned in to lick Callum's nipple, then the other nipple.

The cool wind from the open door cooled Callum's moist nipples the instant
he was back in the hall. His cock swung in front of him and Stephen, having
accepted Callum was deliberately and provocatively exposing himself, made
no subtlety of checking him out.

Callum deliberately stepped too close so his cock poked into Stephen's
belly. The boy smiled, then grinned then took the change in Callum's hand.

"Thanks." Stephen said. He surprised himself by reaching forward and
touching Callum's dick.

Callum liked it, he shouldn't but he did. The boy's finger tips pushed his
foreskin back then pulled it forward again. He sighed and mumbled thanks
again before disappearing back into the night. He looked back twice for a
glimpse of the naked stud but the door was closed.



Callum couldn't believe he'd done that. And couldn't believe the thrill of
it. As if his exposures at work weren't enough. He walked back into the
living room where he was stopped in his tracks by what he saw. Iain was now
completely naked and stoking his 8 inch cock.

He stepped forward and kissed Callum's mouth, bringing his body so close
their cock's mashed together. They stood, locked in lips and embrace for
several minutes. When they parted, Callum turned and took Iain's hand to
lead him upstairs. Iain moved too quickly at first; his cock accidentally
poking Callum's bum. They both reacted to that, both understanding what
might happen next.

They reached Iain's bedroom first and stumbled in, with Iain straddling
Callum as he fell onto the bed. Callum's stiff penis lay under Iain, the
length of the shaft running up the crack of his arse. Iain leaned forward
and softly pressed his lips against Callum's collar bone. He slid off
Callum's chest and stood with his erection pointing forward.

"Kiss it." He told Callum.

Callum propped himself up with his elbows and then sat up. Iain stepped
forward and Callum puckered up to put a big wet kiss on the tip of Iain's
dick.

"Lick it." Iain instructed, his voice trembled with excitement.

His encounters with men, Iain had to admit, had been like having his first
time all over again. His first kisses, his first oral sex, his first hand
jobs (giving and receiving). It wasn't like anything he had experienced
with women. And of all the men with whom he had tested his sexuality of the
last months; Callum, Finn and several men at the Symposium, Callum was the
most practiced, most stimulating and most thrilling.

Callum's wet tongue lapped at the tip of Iain's cock before starting at the
base of his penis and licking forward.

"Now the balls." Iain said with his eyes closed and head thrown back.

Callum dutifully drew his tongue along Iain's balls, slightly hairy but not
unpleasantly so. He popped one ball into his mouth and sooked, then the
other.

"Suck me." Iain asked. Not a command this time, a plea.

Callum opened his mouth wide and took Iain's cock in his mouth. The length
and girth blocking almost all breathing through his mouth so Callum had to
take air through his nose. Iain's dick was slick with saliva and Callum's
mouth lubricated with pre-cum. Iain began to push his hips forward;
previous sexual partners had admonished him for `face-fucking' but Callum
did not. Callum reciprocated by tightening his lips and sucking hard on the
head of Iain's dick and synchronising his rhythm with Iain's pushes.

"I think... I'm gonna... fuck!" Iain gasped.

Iain erupted thick ropes of cum, which Callum swallowed. The last few
spurts were wiped away with sticky strokes from Callum's hand.



Iain enjoyed his euphoria. When he came down from the high, he appreciated
Callum's still stiff erection. He stepped forward and bent his knee's,
making to sit on Callum's lap face-to-face and to lower himself onto
Callum's cock.

He felt the pressure on his arse, it was strange and foreign and a little
painful. He was only just beginning and it was painful – was it meant to
be. He lifted himself up a bit and then down again, Callum's cock pressed
again against Iain's anal sphincter. Callum could see Iain's discomfort.

"You shouldn't go in dry." Callum told him. "We'll need lube. And
protection." He said.

It was strange to say these things out loud. People don't really talk about
sex when they're about to do it, or during it, or after it.

"Have you got any? Lube? Protection?" Iain asked. He sounded almost as
scared as he was interested or excited.

"Yea," Callum replied like it was obvious. "But small steps, yea." Callum's
voice was gentle and Iain noticed how kind and bright Callum's eyes were.

Apart from the eyes, the face that they each looked into was almost
identical. Sure, Iain was a moth older but the genetic similarity was
striking. Mirror image.

Callum made to stand, so Iain backed off a little. Callum's sticky hand
landed on Iain's shoulder and manoeuvred him towards the bed. Iain lay down
while Callum fetched lube which he squirted onto his hand, spreading it
over his fingers.

"Pull your knees towards your chest," Callum told him. "I'm gonna push a
couple of fingers in."

Iain had enjoyed the last time Callum had probed his arse with his
fingers. Unique and exquisite sensations ensued as Callum pushed a finger
deep inside. Iain felt his arse open up as another finger was added, and
his anus stretched to accommodate.

Iain began to understand why it was called finger-fucking. He's never done
this before but would defiantly try it the next time he was having a
wank. Callum was three fingers deep and probing Iain's prostate. Iain was
clean for straight man – an anal virgin at least. Iain had obviously
been washing up carefully back here, his arse hole had the tell-tale signs
of courteous shaving.

Callum pulled out three acceptably clean fingers and lowered his head. Iain
hadn't expected to feel the tongue prodding his anus but enjoyed that
too. He started stroking his cock which was already solid again. Another
minute and he came for the second time.

Callum had been stoking his dick too, he'd been ready to cum for almost an
hour now so it did not take long for him to ejaculate all over Iain's
back. Iain looked around in surprise but smiled, accepting that after all
his instructions and the intense feeling of pleasure that Callum had given
him, he perhaps deserved being came on.

Callum missed the opportunity for penetration and even Iain wondered what
it would have been like. Both lads collapsed, exhausted, laying next to
each other on the bed.

They embrace for a while; at rest each other's arms, Callum curled into
Iain's back and they fell asleep.





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