Date: Fri, 13 Feb 1998 10:53:31 +0000
From: romanticiser <romanticiser@geocities.com>
Subject: Forge Friend - Parts 5-8

     This story is complete a fictional account of love
between two men of consenting age and contains sex
descriptions of a gratuitous nature. If this story, or
your reading it, is illegal or offensive then you are
directed to delete it immediately. All main characters,
environments and locations are fictitious. Any
resemblance to people alive or dead is purely
coincidental.

     I would like to thank all those who have written to
thank me for writing my previous stories - I appreciate
it tremendously.

     As I finish one story and start another I hope that
the lessons learnt from each translate into a better
story for all of us.

     I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am writing
it.

     Acknowledgements, critiques, flames or any other
email can be written directly to
               romanticiser@geocities.com.

                            
                      Forge Friend
               Copyright Romanticiser 1998

Part 5 of ?

Chapter 3: Friendships.

     "Come on, time to get up." Joe rested his hand on
Ginger's arm and shook gently. "Wakey, wakey"

     Ginger opened his eyes to the dim light of the
curtained room. He felt Joe's hand touching his arm. "OK.
I'm up." And he turned over away from Joe.

     "Oh no, I'm not leaving you until you're up. You've
already told me that twice and yet you're still in bed.
Come on, up and at `em, it's already eight o'clock and
your breakfast is on the table."

     Ginger rolled on to his back and stretched his legs
out. "OK., ungh!" as he yawned and then he sat up. "OK."

     "Come on, we've got a lot of work today. Get
dressed. I'll be in the kitchen." Joe straightened and
walked out of the room, the flow of his muscles flexing
followed by Ginger's eyes.

     Ginger twisted around and sat his feet on the floor,
idly scratching his stomach. The smell of bacon tinged
the warm air. Standing up he walked over to the small
dresser by the window and opened the top left hand
drawer. His last pair of briefs sat on top of the
Victorian underwear, the washing had to be done today and
it was his turn. Grabbing the briefs he walked across the
room and entered the small en suite bathroom for his
morning shower. Joe's washing was already piled up by the
bath under the wash basin.

     Fortunately it was only underwear and socks, the
museum laundry cleaned and washed the shirts, trousers
and jackets. Joe had explained to him that he never
minded wearing different trousers or shirts but he drew
the line at wearing somebody else's underwear. It didn't
matter how you named them, tied them together or bagged
them, when you went to pick them up, yours were gone
replaced by an odd mismatched set of other peoples.

     Every day they swapped turns on breakfast and the
chores that kept the little flat working. Today was going
to be different though, Ginger had managed to persuade
Joe to move his day off to Thursdays. Ray hadn't been
happy with the thought of the forge being closed for a
day as it was one of the workshops but Ginger had got
around that one.

     As Ginger walked into the little kitchen and sat
down beside the fresh plate of bacon and eggs he said
"Morning."

     Opposite, Joe wasn't his normal cheerful self, he
seemed slightly broody and absorbed. His empty plate in
front of him, knife and fork together, he sat drinking
his coffee. "Morning."

     Ginger started eating and decided to take the bull
by the horns. "When are Ray and Gary coming."

     "In about an hour. I don't know if this idea of your
is going to work or not. I'm not keen on letting two
inexperienced people run my forge when I'm not here."

     "All they'll be doing is cleaning up the castings
that we did yesterday, they aren't working with the forge
just keeping it running. On my days off or when I'm doing
the paper Gary has been working with you. They should be
able to handle it for eight hours. Gary knows how to keep
the forge running and Ray isn't stupid."

     "I know, it's just what if something happens? Ray
might get called away and Gary could feint again."

     "Don't worry! Gary never had a problem when the
doors were open and they both know how to shut the forge
down if something happens. Look we've been through this,
you trusted Gary to keep the forge going at night. He
only has to do that at about one. We'll be back by six.
You haven't had a day off in over a month, you can't keep
going like this."

     "I know but...."

     "Do you want me to stay? I will do if you want."

     "No - I guess not."

     The conversation ended but Ginger knew that Joe
wouldn't be really happy about it. They sat in silence as
Ginger ate the rest of his breakfast.

     After their breakfast Ginger headed back to the
bedroom to wash their clothes and clean the bedroom and
bathroom as Joe dusted and cleaned the rest of the flat.

     Searching under his bed for the pile of socks and
underpants he dragged them out and added them to Joe's
pile. He filled the bath with hot water and poured in the
detergent, mixing the pale blue liquid into the clean
water. He grabbed his clothes and threw them in and
reached for Joe's, as he picked them up he smelt the
intoxicating odour of Joe rising from the pile and
couldn't resist pressing into them breathing deeply. The
musky smell seemed to shoot through his body, exciting
him, his mind revelling in the thoughts of what had been
hidden inside and the thoughts and dreams he'd had last
night.

     A creak of a floorboard and the slight squeak of the
bathroom door opening was all the warning he got. He
hastily threw the clothes into the bath as Joe's head
popped around the door. "Aren't you finished yet?"

     "Ur! Nearly" Ginger felt his face and body radiate
heat in a blush and that only caused his embarrassment to
become more pronounced.

     "OK. Hurry up." And the head vanished.

     Ginger breathed a sigh and relaxed a little.
Swirling the water around wetting the underwear for it's
soak as his mind wandered over what he'd done. The shock
of nearly getting caught in his perverted, illicit act
had scared him. Again he promised to himself that he
would forget his feelings and never act on them.

     Straightening the beds and dusting the cupboards
only took a few seconds and soon he was dressed in his
old clothes ready to leave the enclosed sanctuary of the
museum.

     Climbing down the stairs Ginger navigated the small
cottages ground floor. A noise from one of the rooms
pulled Joe's attention. He walked to the open door and
looked in. John was dusting the parlour with a small
feather duster. He was about halfway across the room and
as little photographs and `objet d'art' covered the
little cupboards and mantelpiece, he was going to be
doing it for quite some time.

     Ginger couldn't help but grin "Morning John. I see
they got you helping out."

     John looked up quickly. "Morning Ginger. Don't say a
bloody word, two of the girls are down with flu and Mrs.
Cunlif drafted me."

     As a final dig he couldn't resist he called out
"Well, enjoy yourself" and walked towards the forge
laughing at John's reply of `humph'.

     The doors of the forge were wide open letting the
cool morning air into the hot workshop. Ray and Gary were
stood outside talking with Joe as Ginger walked out.

     Ray handed Joe his mobile phone "Here take this and
stop fretting. We know what we're doing and we can call
if we need you." As Ginger walked up Ray turned and
smiled "Morning Ginger, will you get him out of here or
he'll be still here at lunch."

     Joe replied "OK. OK. I'm going but you'll call if
you need me - right?"

     "Just Go! The gates will be open in a couple of
minutes."

     Ginger walked with Joe as they headed for the gates
and chuckled silently as Joe looked back a couple of
times.

     The sky threatened rain, darkness looming in the
fast moving clouds. They waited by the gate for a couple
of minutes as the flood of coach and pedestrian traffic
entered.

     Exiting the museum they slowly headed towards the
town a couple of miles away.

     "Joe?"

     "Hmm."

     "Do you have any family?"

     "I've got a sister, she's married and lives on a
farm on Sanday up in the Orkneys. Why do you ask?"

     "I was just wondering, you don't seem to go anywhere
or ring anybody."

     "Sheila and Kirk don't have a phone, they use radio
up there. If they want to make a phone call they go to
the town and use one in the post office."

     "Oh!"

     "Communication and travel are always hard up there,
the weather can close down an island in minutes,
especially in winter.  My dad was the smith on Sanday,
repairing tools, shears, pots, pans almost anything, he
trained me to be the smith after him."

     "How come you left?"

     "Things change, even up there. Things aren't meant
to last anymore, you can't repair a thin ali pan. The
tools have become so mechanised and complicated that it's
no longer worth trying to repair them, you send them to
specialists."

     They turned a corner and headed down the valley to
the town standing on the edge of a deep gorge.

     "I left because my living dried up. Money isn't easy
to come by up there. You live on `give and take', you get
a sheep today because you'll help them when they need
it....And nobody needed me. I became a burden on my sister
and the community."

     "How did you get the job here?"

     "I don't know, luck I suppose. I was working up at
Aberdeen on the oil rigs. The recession of the late 80's
was just starting to bite and they put in career advisors
before the large redundancies came. They searched the
country for jobs and this came up. Ray was just starting
up and was after a smith. I came down for the interview
and got the job."

     "You like it don't you?"

     "God you're all questions this morning."

     "Sorry I didn't mean to ..."

     "It's OK. Yes I love it, Ray maybe the man who pays
my wages, such as they are but I love being my own man. I
decide what I do and when I do it. If you ever find a job
that suits you as well - go for it."

     "I loved printing, doing the lithographs, setting up
the text and printing it out. It's immediate and
satisfying. Now they all use computers and hi-res laser
printers. The skill has gone, you don't need experience
and skill with a chisel and hot metal type, it's an
electronics degree now!"

     "You sound bitter!"

     "Well after spending seven years learning how to do
the job and do it well only to have it taken away. Yes
I'm bitter."

     Joe laughed and Ginger looked up to see Joe smile
wryly. "We make a right pair don't we. A smith and a
printer two people out of time. living in one century
with the skills in another."

     Ginger laughed with Joe and side by side they
entered the small town.

     Joe looked up at the sky. "We've only got a couple
of minutes before it rains, want to get a coffee?"

     "OK. Where?"

     "There's a little caf not far." Joe led the way and
Ginger followed the big man as he walked down a side
street. The number of people out on the streets increased
as they headed towards the centre of town but they
cleared for Joe's hulking form. Ginger strode along in
the wake, untroubled by the passers by.

     The caf was down in the cellar of a large house
that stood alone on the corner of three streets. Joe
carefully ran his hand along the brightly painted iron
railings and gate that protected the stairway. The large
stone steps led down below the pavement and in through an
open, dark blue door. The wooden tables and chairs,
arranged in fours, filled the room except for a bar that
ran across the end. The smell of frying bacon and chips
filled the slightly smoky air.

     Joe diligently manoeuvred himself between the tables
and walked to the bar. A large woman in her late fifties
was serving behind the bar and she smiled and shouted as
he approached. "Stan, Stan, Joeseph's here." And in a
quieter voice she admonished "Joeseph, where have you
been? Me and Stan haven't seen you for weeks. You come
waltzing in here with some railings spend the day taking
out the old broken ones and fitting the new ones and then
vanish. You didn't even let us pay you."

     "I told you to forget it Marge, I enjoyed doing it."

     She picked up a mug and walked over to the coffee
urn, looking at Joe over her shoulder "That doesn't
excuse you for not coming in here for weeks, you made me
feel guilty." She returned to the counter with a full mug
of milky coffee. "Sit down at that table, drink this and
tell me what you've been doing." She pointed to a table
right in the corner next to the bar.

     "I'll need another coffee Marge, I'm not alone." Joe
turned around to face Ginger and said "Ginger, I'd like
you to meet Marge, the best coffee maker in the country
and Marge this is Ginger the best apprentice I've ever
had."

     She quickly preened her hair, smiled and said "Any
friend of Joeseph's a friend of mine. What would you
like?"

     Ginger smiled back "Coffee please."

     "Right away." She picked up another mug and walked
over to the coffee urn as Joe and Ginger settled
themselves into the chairs. "Do either of you want
anything to eat, Stan makes the best bacon barm cakes for
miles."

     Joe looked at Ginger who shook his head, "No thanks
Marge, we've only just had breakfast."

     She returned to the bar flipped open a hatch and
walked out to the table. "Suit yourselves, can't even
give away good food. Here you are petal, one of my
special coffees." And she placed the mug by Ginger.

     Ginger thanked her and asked "How much do I owe
you?"

     "Nothing dear, it's on me, I don't charge friends."
There was a muffled snort from one of the other tables
and her head shot up and looked around as Ginger thanked
her again, only to be interrupted with her loud voice
"James Alsop, Who told you to laugh? You haven't got the
gumption to think of a joke."

     At the old man's obvious uncomfortable squirming she
went in for the kill. "Aren't you supposed to be at home?
Does Elsie know you stop here after collecting your
pension?"

     The man hastily drained his cup and left apologising
all the while.

     Joe smiled at Ginger as Marge turned and went back
behind the bar, dropping the hatch behind her. Locating
herself back to her usual place she smiled at Joe and
Ginger. "Now where were we before we were so rudely
interrupted."

     Joe and Marge chatted for the next half hour about
nothing and everything. Apart from the brief interludes
of customers placing and receiving their orders. Stan
appeared for a couple of minutes, a thin man robed in a
greasy white overall who thanked Joe before he was
railroaded back into the kitchen with an order for
`Chips, bacon, egg and sausage.'

     Ginger sat and watched the two talk and drank the
refill of the milky coffee she served. After about half
an hour Joe looked at his watch and apologised to Marge
that they had to leave.

     "Just remember to come back and see us next week,
Joeseph. We missed you not coming in."

     "We will do. Thanks for the coffee. Bye!"

     Ginger thanked her and as they reached the blue door
they heard Marge's loud voice. "Stan, Stan they're
leaving, aren't you going to say goodbye."

     Ginger almost stopped but Joe's whispered command of
`Keep going' started him up the stairs.

     When they had walked about twenty feet away and
around the corner they both looked at each other and
smiled. Ginger asked "Is this how you spend you days
off?"

     "Pretty much except I like to take a walk along the
canal."

     "What canal?"

     "I'll show you after we get to the bridge." They
walked together, in comfortable silence, down the streets
of the little quiet town. Crossing over the narrow roads,
avoiding the few cars, they headed towards the main
street running by the side of the gorge.

     Ginger spoke. "It's quiet today. I expected the
streets to be filled."

     "Half term! It's always quiet during the school
holidays, Normally there are children all over the place,
especially near Samson."

     "Samson?"

     Joe turned and pointed towards the hills overlooking
the quaint town. "Samson is an enormous steam driven pump
in the main Ironbridge museum over there."

     "I wish I'd been here as a child, it would have been
great to see and experience the history instead of the
boring classes sat at a desk." They resumed their
journey.

     "I know what you mean, I see the kids running about,
fascinated with their bright eyes burning with questions.
The industrial revolution alive and available to touch,
feel and explore. Each child sees with new eyes, drinking
in the past with every breath. Our museum turns the
history class away from a book and into a place,
something tangible. No kid leaves here without
remembering that this is the birth place of our
lifestyles, the cities, railways, cars, all that industry
makes, everything we take for granted stems from this
place."

     "You'd make a great teacher Joe."

     "Nah! If I couldn't have my hands on metal everyday
I'd become bored. I used to play in my dad's forge when I
was about seven or eight, watching my dad make hinges,
pans, knives almost anything. Dad used to polish the
steel until it gleamed and threw reflections like quick
silver. I used to be entranced with the glowing metal
bending to my dad's will. Twisted and contorted but still
beautiful."

     Joe stopped and turned towards Ginger, lifting his
hands in front of him. "You see these, they itch for the
feel of metal. I made my first piece when I was eight and
except for a one year drought they have made something
every day since. Statues, railings, nails, axles it
doesn't matter what, I take pride in my work. Proud that
I create in a world where so many destroy."

     They reached the small bridge over the gorge. In
total it was only about forty feet across by fifteen
wide. Tarmac covered the humping span.

     Ginger couldn't see what was so extraordinary about
this little bridge that caused a revolution. "Joe, why is
this bridge so special?"

     "Follow me and I'll show you." Ginger walked behind
Joe as he lead him back off the bridge and down a row of
stone stairs that turned and ran under the bridge. Joe
stopped looking up to the bridge, Ginger craned his neck
looking at the underside of the graceful arch. Joe's
narrative explaining the bridge and its effects.

     "This was the first iron bridge. As you can see it
isn't one piece, it's made up from parts each
individually cast by Telford. Each piece on the left had
its exact mirror on the right." Turning round he pointed
at the other side of the gorge where the bridge met it.
SOver there it is exactly the same. I don't mean made the
same way, I mean exactly. The piece on the left side here
was cast in the same mould as the piece on the right over
there."

     "But.."

     "What made this bridge special isn't that it is iron
or that it crosses this gorge. It's that it was made
elsewhere and fitted together exactly - reproducible time
and time again. Every thing before this was hand made,
each unique. Telford proved that you could make something
accurately time and again. That was the key."

     Joe searched Ginger's face for the spark of
comprehension. It wasn't there - yet.

     "Look it's very simple. The only machines that
existed before were hand made, specials, one offs but
after Thomas Telford you could design a machine and make
it again and again. There wouldn't be any railways if all
the rails were hand made." He paused for a breath and
then changed tack. "There are millions of cars absolutely
identical, If you go to the garage and buy a spark plug
you'd expect it to fit. That is the essence of
industrialisation, making things identical in every way.
This bridge was the first example. Mass production,
admittedly on a tiny scale but Telford was first."

     Seeing the dawning light in Ginger's green eyes he
pushed the idea further. "Because of Telford you could
now have machines then mills & factories. They needed
people and so the towns and cities grew pulling the
people from the land. Society as we know it evolved from
the changes he brought about."

     Ginger paused and his eyes widening as the concept
sank in. Joe smiled as he watched Ginger rearrange his
thoughts. After a couple of minutes as Ginger looked at
the bridge with insight. Joe said "Come on let's go to
the canal."

     "Oh yes you said you would show me where it is.

     Joe pointed to the other side of the gorge further
up. "Do you see that row of laurel bushes?"

     Ginger looked but couldn't see what Joe was pointing
at. "No where?"

     Joe stood behind Ginger and pointed his arm over his
right shoulder and leaned in to guide Ginger's sight.
"Over there just above the rise, you see that row of
shiny bushes."

     Ginger only vaguely answered his mind reeling in the
feel of Joe's body so close to his, the warmth and the
tickle of breath on his ear. Overcome with a rush of
erotic thoughts, risen fast from his dreams, Ginger froze
as his mind flew into overdrive. Heat upon heat flowing
through his body.  "Uh."

     Joe stepped closer pressing against Ginger, his
armpit resting on Ginger's shoulder "Do you see the storm
damaged tree above the bridge?"

     Ginger could feel himself trembling and prayed that
Joe couldn't feel it. "Y..Yes." Any answer would do, he
couldn't see anything his eyes had closed in
concentration, feeling the moment.

     "OK now follow down at forty-five degrees to the
left. Do you see the large bush with dark shiny leaves."
Joe could feel that Ginger was quaking, he turned towards
him, concerned, and whispered "Are you all right?"

     Ginger could feel the warm breath going down his
neck, he had to move, just one step, a little step, just
move his weight, anything. His shaking grew worse as his
mind and body rebelled at each other.

     Joe pulled Ginger against him and put his hand on
Ginger's sweating forehead. "You're burning up. Come on
I'll take us back."

                        ...............

Part 6 of ?

     Ginger sat in bed waiting for Doc Williams to
arrive, the sweat was running off him, wetting the
blanket that Joe had found from somewhere. He'd tried to
convince Joe that he was all right but Joe had him
wrapped up in bed faster than grease lightening. Making
him promise to stay there until the Doc had seen him.

     The door opened and Doc Williams entered. Grey wavy
hair covering a pleasing face that had aged with the
world. The Doc was middle aged and plump around the
middle. Joe followed him into the room and would have
stood there until the Doc pushed him out.

     "How are you feeling?" His voice was melodious and
calm.

     Ginger was pleased that the Doc had arrived, maybe
Joe would let him up from this sauna. "I'm fine Doc. It
was nothing."

     The Doc looked around for a chair and seeing none
sat on the side of the bed, his bag down by Ginger's
feet. "Nothing doesn't make you nearly feint. Been
feeling hot and then cold? Any feverish symptoms?
Headache, aches and pains?"

     "No."

     The Doc leaned over Ginger and lifting each eyelid
he looked deeply into each eye. He then reached for his
arm and resting his fingers by Ginger's wrist felt his
pulse for a few seconds looking at his watch.

     "Been sleeping well? No bouts of dizziness?
Tiredness?"

     Ginger shook his head "No, as I said it was
nothing."

     "Well, I'm not sure - we've got three down with flu.
I think you probably just need some rest. You've been
working very hard recently, running two jobs can be quite
tiring."

     "Honestly Doc, I feel absolutely fine. Can't I get
up."

     "I don't think so, at least not for a couple of
hours."

     "It's stifling up here Doc, with the forge and this
blanket, I'm boiling."

     "Well, I'll open the window but I don't think I
should let you out of bed right now."

     Standing up the Doc went over to the curtained
window and opened it wide. The noise of the visitors and
children laughing, as they moved around the museum joined
with the noise in the room. Turning and facing Ginger the
Doc grinned and whispered as he walked back to the bed.
"I can't let you up, Joe would skin me alive. He's
clucking around like a mother hen down there, I wouldn't
be surprised if he came up with chicken soup insisting
that he feed you."

     Ginger smiled as the Doc continued "I've never seen
him like this before, he must really like you Ginger,
you've got a real friend there." He patted Ginger's hand
"I'll tell him you can get up in a couple of hours. Just
take it easy and get up when the gates close. Call me if
you feel it coming on again."

     The Doc stood up and picked up his bag. As he walked
to the door Ginger said "Thanks Doc."

     "My pleasure and stay well." He opened the door
turned, smiled and left, closing the door behind him.

     About thirty seconds later Joe entered with a mug of
coffee. "Well what did he say."

     "He said it was probably tiredness. Look Joe, I'm
fine, honestly I'm OK."

     "Well the Doc said you should get some rest so you
get some sleep, I'll bring you something to eat later.
All right?"

     "Yeah Joe, thanks."

     Joe walked out of the room quietly closing the door
behind him. Ginger sighed and looked at the alarm clock
on the floor between the beds. Two thirty, another three
and a half hours before Joe would let him up.

     Lying back Ginger closed his eyes and tossed and
turned under the hot blanket. After having enough he
pushed the blanket down with his feet and relaxed in the
cool air, relieving his over heated body. Feeling bored
and frustrated he turned on to his front and closed his
eyes.

                        ...............

     Joe entered quietly, shedding his clothes down to
his boxers. Night time and with the forge heat, modesty
wasn't an option.

     Walking quietly over to the sleeping form of Ginger
he sat on the floor, watching Ginger breathe, the red
hair, the colour of embers in a fire, lying on the pale
neck. The slight twist as he rested without a pillow. One
arm in front and one knee crooked. Ginger lay in the
comfortable recovery position, his back rising and
falling slowly with his shallow breaths as he  slept.

     The pale back, white and unblemished, was almost
hairless, Tiny fine hairs almost invisible at this close
range waved in the cool breeze from the open window. Joe
slowly lifted his large hand and leaning forward slightly
ran his hand along the young body resting before him. Not
quite touching but close enough to feel the heat radiate
out and the soft brush of fine hair as it danced below
his touch.

     The lightly tanned forearm lying his side showed the
sharp line of his shirts just below the elbow. The
whiteness of his skin was like a magnet. Joe's large
callused lightly brushed the fine hairs on the pale
shoulder.

     His voice almost a purr "So fine, so pure." A mantra
to the man asleep. His hand lightly touched the light
skin, smooth silky softness sliding below his broad
fingers. "My beautiful Ginger." Joe leaned forward and
touched his lips to the alabaster flesh of his arm.

     Salt, sweat, heat and a taste that was the
quintessential Ginger. His lips and tongue wanted more,
he could wait no longer. The hell of sleeping so close
and yet so far away had eroded his commitment to let
Ginger make the first move.

     Rising from the floor he leaned over and kissed
Ginger's neck, light glances of touch, barely felt and
yet so marvellous. Again and again he licked and sucked
at the tasty flesh, delighting in the quivers and goose
bumps that ran away from his agile tongue.

     Ginger moaned in his sleep moving himself flat on
his front pushing the cover further down. The jockey
covered cheeks of his bottom emerging from under the
folds of the blanket. Joe's eyes followed the line of
Ginger's spine as it flowed down his back, enhancing the
shape of his back as it sank to the thin waist, only to
rise into the tight muscular cheeks, covered with the
sheer green material of his briefs.

     The sight aroused Joe's ardour even more, he could
feel himself pant at the sight, lust driving sensible
thought away. His boxers always so comfortable now pained
and tightened against him. Pushing his hands down his
sides he pushed the light material off his hips, lifting
the front as his hardened meat jumped for escape.

     Knowing he risked all, and yet uncaring of the
possible consequences he slipped onto the small bed
touching his skin against Ginger's. Feeling the heat
between them multiply as he slowly lowered his weight by
Ginger's side.

     Ginger turned and snuggled closer rising on to his
side, unknowingly pressing his back into Joe's chest. His
eyes gleaming and filled with desire, Joe suckled at
Ginger's pale neck feeling quaking reactions and a soft
sensuous moan leave those pale lips. His hand roaming
down Ginger's side, feeling the muscles flex and shift in
harmony to his touch. Rising to flow down onto Ginger's
tight abdomen and touch those tantalising red hairs that
rose above his briefs.

     Wanting more but enjoying it too much to rush Joe
leaned over and followed Ginger's neck, kissing and
licking even as his hand stroked and caressed.

     Ginger's eyes fluttered as a moan escaped his lips,
his breathing quickening to the surges of pleasure
flooding his body. His jockeys flexing and tenting out as
his body responded to the touch it had wanted. Joe's hand
reached Ginger's smooth chest feeling the stiff nipples
stand even more firmly as his fingers brushed them
lightly.

     A moan and a word rolled together, as inspirational
as the pearly gates of Heaven opening. "OohJoemmmm".
Joe's fires fuelled by passion and knowing it was
returned leapt up, heating Joe into a frenzy of
exploration. His lips leaving the jaw of his friend and
jumping for the pale, moist lips on the Ginger's flushed
face.

     Ginger at the border of sleep and dream felt Joe's
lips touch his and his tongue flick at his widening lips.
Waking up to a dream come true, sick and perverted but
gentle, arousing, enthralling and sublime. His mind threw
away all his old prejudices, accepting the joy ride of
lust and love combined.

     Turning onto his back and feeling Joe's gentle
weight relax onto him as their kiss climbed in passion.
His arm over Joe's shoulder pulling him in tighter.

     Joe's ever wandering hand slid lower and lower
caressing from side to side the soft skin as his lips
remained locked, his tongue delving into the hot mouth of
his friend. His fingers brushed along the elasticated
edge of Ginger's briefs. In a combined action of wills
wanting and needing the same thing, Ginger pulled his
stomach in as Joe's hand slipped beneath to mingle and
press into Ginger's red pubes.

     Ginger needing more hunched his pelvis up, thrusting
his cock against Joe's large hand. A moan echoed in Joe's
mouth as Ginger pressed and pulled Joe tighter, thrusting
his tongue into Joe's fiery mouth.

     Joe's hand slid lower caressing the steel cock,
sliding the foreskin back slowly only to slide it up
again and make Ginger moan even more. Ginger widened his
legs letting Joe access all that he had, wanting Joe to
pleasure him. Calluses and broad fingers filling his
already filled briefs moved down and tickled at his
raised balls, already tight and ready to shoot. One
finger questing lower to press into the area just below
his balls.

     Ginger shook, his green eyes opening to slits as he
hunched his hips up, orgasm was close, a tingling down
below that was building far beyond anything he'd ever
known. Joe's lips pulled from his and slid down his neck
leaving a trail of saliva as that red hot tongue moved
lower.

     Ginger's hips pumped into the air a need to come
building and about to flood from his soul as Joe curled
up beside him sucking and nibbling on his enflamed
nipple. Ginger's legs lifted and held his pelvis high in
the air as Joe's finger teased lower, his large forearm
lifting and pulling at the stretched elastic. The tight
constriction and pain at Ginger's waist enhancing the
incredible sensations he was feeling.

     Touching the sides of Ginger's sweaty crack Joe
pushed his arm down further, slid his finger up and
pressed in as his finger found the rosebud entrance to
Ginger's body.

     Ginger cried out Joe's name as the tumultuous orgasm
took him. His body flailing and riding along on taut
muscles, his hips pumping, once, twice and then
explosions of lightening in his brain, a rushing in his
ears and violent spasm after spasm.

     As he sank back to the bed, tired and breathing hard
his mind kicked away the fantasy of dream as his body
relaxed.

     Joe entered the door concerned at the urgent cry of
his name, his eyes unbelieving in the sight. Ginger lay
on the bed, eyes closed, his body  red and heaving with
the exertion, his arm still embedded in his briefs with a
large dark wet spot growing on his green jockeys.

     His mind in turmoil he left the room shutting the
door behind him. Ginger's eyes flicked open with the
squeaking sound of the door closing. "Oh God."

                        ...............

Part 7 of ?

Chapter 4: Truth and Dare.

     After the streets had become silent and still, the
last of the visitors gone, Ginger remained in bed. His
stomach uncomfortably groaned and rolled, sick with
worry. 'What had Joe seen, what would he be thinking?'
Ginger's mind turned and turned rolling events and
scenarios over and over again. Joe would want him out
that was for sure.

     He looked at the door, wanting it to open and Joe to
come in, to say something, do something but it stayed
closed. Ginger waited, the cottage remained silent, no
movement, no sound of floorboards squeaking under any
feet. No smells of cooking. No news playing on the small
TV. Joe had gone, left the cottage rather than be under
the same roof as him.

     Ginger, frustrated by inactivity and unsettled by
the silence, needed to talk, shout, whatever as long as
he wasn't alone. He got up and stripped off his dry
crinkly briefs. Shit! It was laundry day, the washing was
still soaking in the bath. Neither of them had done it
when they returned and they still had to be rinsed. He
looked down at the green briefs and knew he couldn't wear
them again, not in the heat of this place. It would be
like a banner across his front 'I wanked over you'. The
black humour, sick and self recriminating made him smile,
lifting his mood slightly.

     The Victorian underwear fitted strangely, tight
around the tops of his thighs like cycling shorts and
around his waist where the draw string was pulled but
baggy and soft around his groin. The fly gaping before he
buttoned them up. Ginger pulled his jeans on, their tight
form rucking and pushing the soft cotton up tight against
him. Ginger pushed the cotton back inside as he pulled
his jeans closed. The stresses and pressures odd, on his
groin, as the tight denim pressed in.

     Ginger opened the door and walked into the small
landing. The flat was quiet, No lights were on and the
fading light outside hardly penetrated the dim rooms.

     Ginger looked through the door into the tiny cramped
kitchen. Two used mugs sat on the table awaiting washing.
The emptiness and lack of activity disturbed Ginger, he
was used to seeing the cottages empty, set out for view,
missing the people but this was worse. It had only taken
a month but he'd grown used to having people, Joe around
him and he found it unsettling.

     The small living room was dark, the curtains
blocking the last of the daylight. Ginger walked in and
opened the curtains looking out, the  cleanup crew were
emptying the waste bins, large black refuse sacks over
their shoulders. Although no noise reached through the
glass the looks on the faces, in animated conversations
and laughter, incongruous, somehow alien. Ginger watched
them as they slowly moved up the street and out of his
view.
     
     "Quiet, isn't it?" The voice, seemingly loud, made
Ginger jump around, his stalled heart beating like a trip
hammer as his eyes searched the room.
     
     Joe was sat on the floor, in the corner behind the
door, his face shaded in the dark corner.

     It took a few seconds for Ginger to work out what he
was going to say only to have Joe speak again as he got
up from the floor.

     "You hungry? I didn't feel like cooking, thought we
might go over and get something at Don's."

     Ginger tried to read Joe's face and voice but Joe
didn't seem to look at him and his voice was measured and
unreadable. "Ur OK."

     "Come on then, let's get out of here." Joe walked
out and down the stairs. Ginger searched for his boots
and socks. Walking back into the bedroom he sat on the
bed as he pulled them on. He grabbed a sweat shirt and
walked for the stairs.

     The Bull was slowly filling up again after the rush
of the day. The visiting families replaced by the
workers, able to drop their guard and relax. Don walked
out of the kitchen with two plates of steaming food
heading for Joe and Ginger. Don was worried about them,
they usually came in a couple of times a week, laughing

and joking, like the best of mates. Today there was a
sullen silence that permeated the area around them, empty
tables all around as if the other people didn't want to
catch whatever plague they had.

     Don returned to the silent pair with two pint
glasses and sat them down. "Now drink up, this is one of
my latest porters and I need to know if I have the brew
right."

     Joe's reply was a mumbled "Thanks". Ginger was
silent but looked up in mute supplication.

     "I think I'll join you." He pulled over a stool and
sat opposite the silent pair, turning his head back to
the bar called out. "Harry, another porter for me and
keep them coming." Turning back after seeing the barman
wave. "How you feeling Ginger, I heard about you nearly
collapsing."

     Ginger's voice seemed strained to start with. "I'm
OK. it was just one of those things."

     Harry walked up to the table and handed a pint to
Don as he was speaking "Where, thanks, Where were you?"

     "Under the iron bridge Joe was showing me the
construction..."

     Don watched Ginger's face as he spoke, briefly
glancing over to Joe. Don wasn't a psychologist or
trained in any official capacity but years of experience
told him that the two sat opposite really need to talk
something out. Keeping Harry supplying them with drinks
and shifting the stilted conversations back and forth
between him and Ginger and then him and Joe. Keeping them
talking was hard, pulling teeth was easier, whatever had
happened had destroyed the trust between the two of them.
They were colder towards each other than strangers.

     Like barmen the world over, Don, slowly pulled them
into the same conversation letting the booze open them
up. He didn't try to find out what had happened, digging
for that would be a disaster. He'd watched a friendship
blossom only to be curtailed by something, so sharply. As
a friend to both of them he saw his responsibilities
clearly defined.

     The pub was coming up to closing time, the museum
pub was exempt from the normal trading laws but Ray
didn't want the staff drunk. Don briefly left the two
friends at the table under an excuse of getting more
beer, Behind the bar he told Harry to "Close the bar as
usual and then go home. I've got my work cut out for me.
And tell Jen I'll be late home." Harry looked up to see
the two silent friends, Ginger staring into his pint and
Joe staring out, away over the tables, and nodded. Don
returned to the table with the small round tray with
three pints on it.

     As the bell and "Time gentlemen please." sounded Joe
started to rise only to be told to sit back down by Don.
"It doesn't apply to you two, I've decide to get drunk, I
do once a year and I'm not doing it alone."

     The pub quietened down as the crowd thinned and then
vanished, leaving for their beds. Harry supplied one more
pint for each of them and then saying "Goodnight" walked
out of the door.

     "I always like the end of a night, when the crowd go
and the noise drops." Don looked around the empty pub
"It's nice to see the people laughing and joking but as a
barman you can't really join in."

     Don turned to face him as Ginger spoke "Why do you
get drunk once a year?"

     "It's a long story, if you're up to it." at Ginger's
nod he continued. "I trained as a barman over in
Nottingham at a pub called 'The Sherwood'.  it's a very
old pub, some eight or nine hundred years old. The
building isn't that old but they always built the new one
on the ruins of the old one. Any way the pub has always
been independent of breweries, making it's own beer, some
are modern like the beers today but some are extremely
old recipes and they are a lot stronger than most people
are used to."

     Don supped part of his pint and then continued. "The
landlord of the Sherwood was an old man when I joined
them and he had no family, he was looking for someone to
take over the pub after him. Now Grimmer got three of us
together and taught us how to make the normal beers, had

us serving in the bar, cleaning tables and so on. He used
to run the cellars, setting up the barrels, leaving one
of us in charge with the normal staff. But.."

     He drained his pint watching Ginger and Joe watching
him.

     He wove his story pulling the two friends in. "But
Grimmer was a right bastard and he told each of us that
we had the job and he just had to be fair to the other
two. Well you can imagine what happened, we were all
pleased and sympathised for the others knowing that the
pub would be passed to each of us. Me I thought. Then the
right old bugger set us up, An old man came in from one
of the big breweries looking for an old recipe to try and
fight the real ale pubs. He offered us money, night after
night, more money, bloody fortunes for the recipe of one
of the old porters that Grimmer made. When I mean money,
I mean lots of it, I'm bloody telling you."

     Don stood up slowly and headed, half falling, for
the bar and started to pull more pints. "Come over here,
I can keep us topped up. Any way, where was I, oh yes. I
smelled something fishy when Mike, asked me if Grimmer
had shown me how to make this porter yet. Next day Mike
no longer worked at the Sherwood, he'd quit and left or
so Grimmer said. That's when I decided to tell him about
the old man. Grimmer then told me that I was too late,
Spenny had the pub, the fucker had told him about the old
man on the first night. Grimmer didn't trust me after
that. I quit less than a month later."

     Don watched them both as he finished his story.
Ginger looked puzzled for a moment and then the sozzled
look took over again. Joe looked plastered. Don didn't
think they were ready 'Not quite ready - yet'

     "Whiskey chasers!" Don pulled three glasses and put
doubles of whiskey in each. Putting one in front of each
of them. "Down the hatch." He gulped the whiskey down and
the picked up the pint, draining it to the dregs. He
watched Joe do the same, Ginger looked unsure but did it
none the less." 'Ten minutes - no more.'

     Ginger spoke, his voice slurring "Why do you get
drunk once a year then?"

     "Oh that's simple, Grimmer was a fucking bastard but
he was the best landlord I ever met. Every bar hand had
to get smashed as a rat, once a year so that they knew
their limit, and the consec..consk.. what it does to you.
Throwing up and the fucking hangovers - Jesus! More
importantly to teach us how to spot it in others."

     Don's question when it came was out of the blue.
Ginger would have evaded answering or lied if his brain
had been working properly. "What the fuck did you do
Ginger?"

     Ginger stammered, unable to say, the pain that had
been there earlier, avoided in the booze, returned full
force. His face turning a brilliant red.

     Don's mind slowed by alcohol wasn't that bad, he saw
where this was heading."

     "You like Joe don't you." The emphasis was so strong
on like that its meaning was unmistakable. Ginger
coloured even more with the start of tears in his eyes.

     "He's a fucking queer!" The words fast and slurred
from Joe.

     Ginger tried to run but Don grabbed his shaking arm,
holding him.

     Don's reply was fast and vicious. "So what? So are
you!"

     Joe struggled to his feet anger blazing in his eyes.
"Are you calling me a queer? I'll fucking kill you."

     "Yes! You're queer, as bent as a nine bob note. You
just don't want to admit it. You haven't had a girl in
the six years that I've known you, you've never been
married or mentioned a girl. When a pretty one walks down
the street your eyes don't follow. You're a fake, a
fraud."

     Joe sputtered, his face red and his blue eyes wide
in shock.

     "I've seen the way you look at Ginger, the way you
act towards him, best of friends HUH?.. You fancy him
something chronic don't you? DON'T YOU?"

     "You fancy men, you've been fighting it for years
and then Ginger turns up. He's got to you hasn't he?
Broken through the mask of the big strong MAN...."

     "STOP IT! JUST STOP IT! Please." Ginger's shout
faded into silence. He shook Don's hand off his arm and
ran.

     Don looked at Joe. "Well! Don't just stand there
like an idiot! Get after him, if you ever want a chance
at happiness, you'll have to catch him first."

     Joe stared at Don for long seconds and then stumbled
for the door.

                        ...............

     The cobbled street echoed his footfalls as Ginger
ran. His head wouldn't work straight. He was queer, a
puff. It was true, he knew it, the fantasy of Joe this
afternoon had hit him stronger and harder that at any
time with Julie. He'd never really been interested in
women, they were pretty but like a painting or a statue.

     The street was coming to an end, he panted as he
drunkenly ran up the slope towards the car park. He knew
he couldn't run away, he had to go back but not yet, not
now. The grass glinted slightly in the moonlit night.
Ahead of him he saw the muddied tracks of the cars as
they had rutted and torn up the grass.

     Out of breath, out of energy and will to run. Ginger
sank to the grass. With his lungs gasping for breath and
his heartbeat loud in his ears he didn't hear Joe
approach.

     Joe sank to his knees about 10 feet behind Ginger,
his mind running over what had been said. Don was right,
he didn't want to admit it. He'd run from it all his
life, living a lie. Finding Ginger in the bedroom wanking
off had affected him more than he thought possible, for
an hour he'd struggled with his body, fighting it's
reaction. Losing control and seeing the image so strong
again and feeling himself harden. 'What was he supposed
to do? He shouldn't react like he did. Christ! what a
mess."

     "You stopped running?"

     Ginger was too smashed and shell shocked to be
surprised, he turned to face the voice.

     "Nowhere to run to!"

     Joe struggled with the words, fighting a fear. "He's
right you know? I'm sorry if I hurt you, I just can't
help myself."

     "What do we do now?"

     "I don't know, this is new to me as well."

     "Do we go back to as we were or try to act normal or
what?"

     Joe's anger flared "How the bloody hell should I
know. I saw you wanking, you called out my name. What am
I supposed to do? You run away and I hide."

     Ginger started laughing.

     "What's so funny?"

     "Us!. This! Everything!"

     "Well!"

     Ginger's laugh dropped to a chuckle. "I don't know,
it's just that for days I've been dreaming of you, I
couldn't help myself. I've been scared out of my wits and
now I find you're the same."

     "Not quite!" Joe was thankful that the dark of the
night hid the flush that rose on his skin."

     "Why?"

     "I've never ... I mean .. I haven't..." he stopped
unable to find the words.

     "What?"

     In a rush it all came out "I've-never-been-with-
anybody."

     "You're a..."

     "Yes!"

     "How come?"

     "I don't know, I just haven't."

     Ginger stood up, rocking slightly before his balance
took control. "But you must have been offered. I mean
you're so..."

     Ginger walked towards him and Joe looked up at him
as he spoke, a plaintive whisper "I haven't! OK! Can we
just leave it at that."

     Ginger pulled Joe to his feet and steadied him "I
don't think so, not yet any way."

     Quickly before Joe could stop him he raised himself
to tip toes and pulled Joe's head down and kissed his
lips. When Joe's drink befuddled brain raised his arms in
shock, Ginger had already let go and was walking back
towards the village. "You coming? The forge needs coal
and it's your turn."

     Ginger didn't turn back and Joe watched him walk
away unsure of what was going to happen but like Ginger,
he hadn't got anywhere to run to either. Deep in thought,
remembering the feel of Ginger's lips he trailed after
Ginger, back to the forge.

                        ...............

Part 8 of ?

     The street was dark as Ginger returned to the
village. Don had closed up the Bull and gone home to his
wife. Ginger looked behind him and listened to the sound
of Joe walking up the street. Opening the small cottage
door he felt the blast of heat rolling out, it was always
a shock after being out in the cold.

     Joe was few feet behind him as Ginger entered the
small cottage and climbed the narrow steep stairs.
Turning on the lights in the flat he went in the kitchen
to put the kettle on. Seeing the light on the kettle glow
red he went to the loo. It always affected him like this,
he could drink and drink without need of a toilet but
when the urge came, it came strong and fast and usually
painful until released.

     Ginger sat on the toilet looking around the small
bathroom, the laundry still sat soaking in the bath tub,
leaning over he pulled each piece in to his hands and
wrung them out. Creating a pile of cold wet laundry under
the washbasin. Not willing to finish them today he pulled
the plug, resigned to repeating the task tomorrow.

     The heavy creak of a floorboard announced Joe's
arrival. "Ginger?" the voice was reserved and quiet.

     "In here!"

     "Are you finished?"

     "Yeah - I'm coming out." As Ginger left the bathroom
Joe stepped round him and closed the door behind him.
Dramatic relief in the Ahhhh! sound that escaped the
room.

     Ginger made two coffees and sat in the lounge
waiting for Joe. When he arrived he stood in the doorway
looking at Ginger, nervously moving weight from one foot
to the other.

     It felt odd to Ginger, he was younger than Joe by
over ten years but when it came to this subject Joe was a
child. Ginger didn't feel much more experienced but maybe
his fantasies had helped him "Come in Joe and drink your
coffee, I don't bite."

     Joe entered and picking up his mug he retreated to
the chair across from Ginger and sat down.

     "We need to talk Joe."

     "I know, it's just so.. uncomfortable."

     "What do you want to do Joe? Do-you-really-fancy-
me?" He hadn't intended to ask it but it just came out.

     Joe coloured and his mouth opened but no words came
out. His nod was tiny, his head hardly moved but Ginger
saw it and smiled. Joe lips raised slightly and his eyes
darted elsewhere. The perfect image of coyness, totally
unaware of his actions.

     Joe drank heavily from the mug and put it on the
floor by his feet.  Getting up he paced the small room.

     "What's wrong Joe?"

     "Oh!... I don't know."

     "Nervous?"

     "OK. petrified, I'm too old for this." He collapsed
into the chair again.

     Ginger recognised the signals Joe was sending,
Julie, had had to calm him down for his first time. Joe
was in the same boat, heading for panic if it wasn't
stopped. "Joe what scares you."

     "You scare me, this scares me."

     Ginger stood up and Joe flinched. "Calm down Joe,
we're not going to do anything tonight. We're both too
smashed, to do anything any way." He turned the subject
on to some thing Joe would be steady on. "The Forge OK?"

     "Yes, it was a bit low but we got it in time."

     Ginger headed for the door "Right! that's it then,
I'm knackered. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

     Ginger went to the bedroom and pulled the blanket
off his bed. Stripping down to his underwear he reset the
alarm clock and lay down to sleep.

     It was a good twenty minutes before Joe entered, his
eyes staring at Ginger as he pulled off his clothes and
sat on his bed. The adrenaline rush of anticipation and
the nervous fear of the unknown fading. Joe turned his
back to Ginger and lay facing the wall, looking in to the
darkness.

     His mind running through the nights events over and
over again. Why did he have to be different. He had worn
a mask to everyone and yet Don had seen through it. An
extra weight settled on the bed and Joe turned his head
to see, his eyes able to pick out Ginger as he settled
beside him. "Ginger, what are you doing?"

     "I didn't think you were still awake and I just
wanted to hold you."

     "You should go back to your bed."

     "Just shut up Joe and go to sleep. Nothing is going
to happen." Ginger cuddled in behind him and settled his
head on Joe's pillow.

     Joe froze, unsure of what was going to happen.
Ginger's body a steady pressure against him. Listening to
Ginger's breathing as it slowed and then settled in to
sleep. The feel of Ginger's skin against his caused a
reaction in Joe that wouldn't go down but unsure of what
to do he remained still.

     It wasn't innocence he knew the theory, the terms,
read about them, seen a movie or two, it was just that
he'd never kissed anyone except for his mother and
sister. He knew what French kissing was, he'd seen it
hundreds of times, he'd just never actually done it. He
was afraid of appearing stupid, of doing it wrong.

     The alarm went off. And Joe's body moved before his
eyes opened. He woke, tangled in Ginger's arms and legs,
Ginger was between him and the alarm clock. The second
thing he noticed was that he was hard, like steel, it
hadn't happened to him for years. Like any teenager, he'd
always wake sporting a hard on but it had stopped
happening everyday, in his twenties, to fade away
entirely in his thirties.
     
     Joe separated slightly and lifting his head off the
pillow  "Ginger wake up."

     Ginger's eyes opened and then closed, his arms
pulling Joe down by him again. His voice a murmur "Let's
stay in bed, I'm tired." He snuggled in tight against
Joe. Whilst Joe tried to avoid the pressure and hide his
hardness.

     Joe liked feeling Ginger's arms around him pulling
their bodies together, it felt good, it felt right. He
looked at the face a few inches away feeling a tingling
touch of warm moist breath against his skin.

     The blaring alarm cut off, automatically setting
itself to go off in another minute.

     Joe stared at the clear face and the tousled fine
red hair, the colour of molten iron. Ginger's nose was
straight with a slight bump just below the closed green
eyes. His eyelashes were so fine and pale that only a few
inches away could Joe see them. His lips were a dark
pink, thin and slightly parted, a chiselled chin below
with a little vertical cleft in the centre.

     Leaning closer he kissed the forehead, eyes and pale
lips. drawing back he saw a smile start to curl on to
Ginger's face. "Come on Ginger we've got to get up."

     "OK. in a minute. I just want to stay here, one more
minute?"

     "All right but turn the alarm clock off."

     Ginger swivelled around and turned the alarm clock
off and then pressed into Joe again. "I like it here.
Just one more minute." He pushed his arms around Joe's
broad back and then snuggled in tighter.

     Joe carefully put his arms around Ginger and then
lay his head down next to him, whispering "I like it
too."

     "Mmmm" Ginger's voice quiet and sleepy.

     "Come on now. No going back to sleep."

     "Hmm?"

     "Wake up Ginger, we can't go back to sleep."

     Ginger wrapped his leg through Joe's and pressed in
hard against him as he snuggled his head in to Joe's
neck.

     Joe lay there frozen. Feeling Ginger lightly press
his lips to his neck as below his cock was now being
pressed against Ginger's morning wood. Ginger started
rocking slightly and Joe gasped and then groaned at the
unbelievable feelings.

     Guided by Ginger's hand, Joe let his weight pull him
on to his back as Ginger climbed on top of him, rubbing
and thrusting against each other. Joe's hands
automatically rising to hold Ginger by the waist.
Ginger's voice quiet and sly "Like it?"

     Joe only moaned and before he could react further
Ginger pecked at his lips. "I want to kiss you Joe. Can
I?"

     "I've Ungh!.. I.."

     "It's OK. Joe follow my lead."

     Joe felt Ginger pull himself up higher until they
were face to face. Joe watched, dazed as Ginger slowly
tilted his head to one side and those pale pink lips
descended on to his. Ginger's mouth parted slightly his
tongue touched Joe's lips, teasing them, pressing in
between them.

     Joe opened his lips and felt Ginger's tongue enter
his mouth, gently running along the roof of his mouth
until it touched his tongue. Feelings and tastes combined
motivated him and his tongue caressed and rolled over
Ginger's. Joe tilted his head to assist his tongue, his
hands rising to pull Ginger's head and lips down tight
against his.

     He followed Ginger's tongue as it flowed around his
mouth, tasting it, him. The feel of Ginger's breath
running from his nose showed him how to breathe and his
tongue renewed its caressing touches. His body suggested
the movement, a need to be filled and he let it guide
him. His hands sliding and pressing into the tight soft
skin. His body was near cumming, enjoying the feel of
Ginger's cock pressed into his stomach.

     As Ginger's tongue slowly withdrew he followed it
entering Ginger's mouth tasting him, feeling his gums,
teeth and the tongue that pulled at him.

     Their kiss went on, Ginger was happy that Joe was
now responding, his nervousness being replaced with a
freedom to act. Ginger pulled away sucking on Joe's
tongue only to press down and start the kiss again.

     Joe moved pushing against Ginger rotating them as he
kissed Ginger again, their tongues flexing and caressing
as each tried to reach deeper parts.  Breaking frequently
only to restart with driving passion and urgent needs.

     Ginger's thigh pressed against his groin and Joe
moaned. Ginger humped a couple more times, rubbing Joe
into fervent action. The heat between them multiplying
their feelings, Joe's eyes were glazed and mere slits as
his hands rode down Ginger's back to rest on his bottom,
grasping the soft cotton covered cheeks and pulling them
up tight against him.

     Ginger wiggled and rocked his weight against Joe's
hidden erection, feeling Joe become more passionate and
instinctive in his responses.  Joe gasped and froze, all
his muscles tight as his hips rocked and pressed hard
against Ginger. Sparks of tension shooting through him as
a long denied orgasm built to unknown levels.

     The violent muscle spasm that ploughed through Joe
pressing Ginger hard against him set Ginger off and he
pulled back from the kiss, shoving harder against the big
man, enhancing the glorious feelings as his cock fired
shot after shot.

     They both nestled against each other, sweaty bodies
pressed together magnifying the intense feelings of
pleasure and relaxation as their breathing returned to
normal. Ginger leaned forward and kissed Joe softly, a
lingering contented kiss. When he pulled back he smiled
and said "Now we can get up."

     Gently pulling away Ginger rose and walked in to the
bathroom, Joe's eyes following his every movement. When
the bathroom door closed, Joe sank on to his back feeling
a euphoric peacefulness slide through him. As Joe looked
up at the ceiling, resting his head on his hands, a smile
on his face as he heard the echoing sound of the shower
as it hit the cast iron bath.

     Joe sat up and looked at the clock, thirty minutes
had gone since the first alarm, he'd been kissing Ginger
for thirty minutes, it only felt like five.  He stood up
feeling the wet stickiness in his boxers shift. He wanted
a shower as well.

     They were both drinking coffee in the little cramped
kitchen, looking at each other, smiling, when there was a
tight little knock on the door of the cottage. Joe's eyes
lost their contented look and became anxious, the fear of
being discovered cutting through his good feelings.

     "It's OK. I'll get it, Joe."

     Ginger stood up and walked out and down the little
stairs. A short muted conversation and then the tramp of
two pairs of feet coming up. Joe checked his clothing, he
was dressed for the day.

     Don stepped in to the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey
in his hand. "Morning Joe. Ready for a hair of the dog,
to clear the cobwebs, clean the mouth and blow away the
hangover."

     Ginger entered behind him and offered Don his chair.
"Have a seat Don, I don't need a hair of the dog, I'm
fine." He walked around the table and rested his hand on
Joe's shoulder. "How about you Joe."

     Don sank in to the offered chair.

     Feeling Joe's start and the tight muscles below the
shirt Ginger swapped his hands to one on each shoulder,
rubbing gently against the tension. "Relax Joe, Don
already knows."

     Joe blushed slightly "I.. I'm fine."

     "You mean I've got to put up with this hangover
alone? I get you two drunk, find out what's wrong, fix it
and I'm the one with the pain in my right eye and a
tongue that wont fit. Jesus! Somebody get me a glass."

     Joe smiled suppressing a laugh.

     As Ginger walked to one of the cupboards Don's voice
continued. "Isn't that bloody typical, out of the
goodness of my heart I get you two together. And look
what happens." He hastily grabbed the glass from Ginger's
hand. "God bless you mate." His hands fumbled at the
screw top on the bottle.

     Joe pulled the bottle from his unsteady hands and
unscrewed it. He poured a small measure in to the glass.

     Don looked at the glass picked it up and held it in
front of his face, his eyes watching the golden liquid
slosh about in the glass. Then his hands, as steady as a
rock put it down again. "Any chance of a cup of tea?"

     "What about your hangover?"

     Don grinned madly "Never suffer from 'em." And then
he burst into laughter. Ginger and Joe looked at each
other and then chuckled.

     "I just came to check everything was all right. I
wouldn't want my two best friends to fall out with me."

                        ...............

For comments, constructive criticism and so on you can email
me.
                 Romanticiser@geocities.com