Date: Mon, 18 Nov 2002 13:27:22 +1100
From: Iain Robertson <iainlthr@hotmail.com>
Subject: Ships in the Night

Copyright for this story belongs to and remains with the author. I don't
have any major objection to my work being re-distributed, but ASK FIRST!!!

This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If
homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not
continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy, but
you proceed at your own risk.

This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the
usual dictates of modern society.  Unsafe sexual practices can be
undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is
your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may
inspire new work, please feel free to contact me - all emails will be
answered to the best of my ability. Iainlthr@hotmail.com.


Ships in the Night

Iainlthr@hotmail.com

He was a real spunk, the kind of guy you could stare at for hours, and he
lived across the hall from me. I had only been living here a month when he
moved in, and the day he did I noticed him, noticed the strong legs and
wide shoulders, the thin waist and tanned skin topped by a beautiful face
with a permanent smile beneath a shock of mousy blond hair.

The day he arrived I was on my way out to get some much needed groceries
when I opened my door to see his beautiful butt aimed right at me. He was
bending down over a cardboard box fishing for his keys, and as I closed my
door he straightened up at the noise behind him, and looked straight into
my eyes.  He nodded, and smiled one of those devastating grins that makes
you melt. I stammered out a weak "hello" and then he was gone, pushing the
box across his step and closing the door between us. When I got back with
an armful of bags, he was unloading more boxes from an old bomb parked on
the street in front of our building.

"Moving in?" I asked. What a stupid question!

"Yeah."

"Want a hand?"

"Nah, but thanks," he replied, then looked at my groceries. "Looks like you
got a handful anyway," and he grinned. A stunning smile of even white teeth
which lit up his face.  Blushing at my foolish attempt at conversation, I
hurried inside to save myself from even more embarrassment.

At this point I should say, in my own defence, that I am not a very
outgoing person. `Shy' would be a good description, `reserved' even better,
although downright terrified and hermit-like are probably closer to the
truth. The thought of speaking to a complete stranger could send me into
shivers, and trying to chat up a good looking guy was no more possible to
me than flying to the moon. So I contented myself with hiding away in my
flat and dreaming of the un-named hunk who lived a matter of metres from my
front door. He featured heavily in my dreams over the next few days, and it
was his face I saw as I shut my eyes and fantasised while I masturbated
every night.

About a week later our first meeting very nearly repeated itself. I was on
my way back in from a morning jog, and had just opened my door when his
suddenly flew open, and we both looked up, face to face.  When he saw me,
he seemed to jump a little, and I swore he was embarrassed as his face
blushed pink.

"Uh, hi, ." he said nervously.

"Hello again," I responded.

And silence hung in the air between us like a solid wall. We stood and
stared at each other, neither of us knowing what to do or say next. Finally
I broke the impasse with a brilliant and decisive statement.

"I'm, um, Tim," I said uncertainly. I was certain that was my name, but not
certain of how he would react.

"Oh, er, hi, um, my name's, ah, Mike," he said, proffering his hand.

So what had I expected? I looked at his hand, sticking out toward me in the
air, dumbfounded and unmoving for several seconds and then realisation
crashed into me like a tonne of bricks. I smiled weakly and shook his hand,
feeling more than ever the fool, and we shrugged at each other. I smiled
and pointed at my own living room and he gave a half hearted laugh and
looked down the hallway, and we went our separate ways. Inside, safe behind
my door, I could have kicked myself except that I would probably miss. What
an idiot I was. Why couldn't I have a simple, friendly conversation with my
neighbour?

For weeks we went on in similar fashion, bumping into each other
occasionally in the hallway, and lost for words each time. And still he
dominated my dreams, and starred in my waking fantasies. We did at least
manage to say hello to each other, and even to smile, without falling over
our own tongues, and most of the time I remembered who I was and where I
lived when I was in his presence, but that was all.  I wanted to ask him
in, wanted to get to know him and have a chat, to find out what he did,
where he was from, what he liked. Hell, I wanted to rip his clothes off and
have him make mad passionate love to me right there on the floor, but like
that was going to happen - not!

So I sat at home, dreamed of Mike, and continued my relationship with my
right hand. Neale, my best friend, who collected and discarded boyfriends
faster than I consumed dinners for one, admonished me to get out and
mingle.

"You have to circulate," he would say, "let yourself be seen. Mr Right
ain't gonna come knocking at your door." I didn't tell him, couldn't tell
him, that Mr Right could easily knock at my door, since his own was just
across the hall.

So I tried. I stood in crowded bars for hours on end swallowing far more
alcohol than was healthy and trying to look alluring and available but not
desperate. I went to the right night clubs and stood around again, still
drinking and still looking great. I went to the trendy caf^Ās and this
time I sat around and drank coffee and tried to look available. Oh, it
worked fine. I got plenty of looks, and quite a few approaches, but every
time someone spoke to me I froze up, lost for words. And besides there was
always something about him - usually that he wasn't quite . well he wasn't
quite `Mike'.

Another Saturday night had rolled around and Neale was perched on the edge
of my sofa as he made ready to go out. He was meeting George, the latest in
a long, long line! I was a little fidgety, but giving serious contemplation
to a really hot session with a jar of KY and a porno DVD, followed by a
romantic movie on TV.

"Tim," he looked at me with near pity, "you know what you need? A good hot
fuck!"

I snorted. I couldn't even find someone to talk to, let alone get him into
bed.

"I mean it. And I'm not talking romance, or dinner and flowers with a
reasonable courtship. You need to release some physical tension. I want you
to try this place." He scribbled a name and address on a scrap of paper for
me. "It's one of those `adult' stores. Tell them at the counter that you
want the `private area' - they'll give you a key and you go inside, take
off your clothes and grab a towel, and the rest of the place is pitch
black. Guaranteed you'll get yourself laid, even if you can't see him."

I stared at the writing, wondering if maybe I shouldn't try it.

"Oh, and Tim," Neale added as he stood to leave. "Remember, you're just
there for sex. Don't try to talk, okay!"

For an hour or more I agonised, the scrap of paper lying accusingly on the
table in front of me. I tried watching the porno, but that just made me
feel even more like I needed to connect with another being.  Finally, I
plucked up my courage and decided. Out I went.

Thirty minutes later, I was closing the locker where I had stashed my
clothes. With nothing but a flimsy piece of cotton around my waist, I
pushed open the door to the darkened maze beyond. A tangle of corridors led
to tiny individual cubicles on my left, and to my right a doorway opened to
a large black space. The only lighting in here was the dimmest of dull
black globes - whoever invented black globes?  - and even after my eyes had
become completely accustomed, the best I could see was dark shapes as
people moved around in the blackness.

I inched into the large open area, and realised there were figures walking
around the room, or coupled together, some standing, others lying on the
spongy floor. I could discern enough to see one shape move to another, and
then the two would blend and become a single dark blob.  Suddenly, a hand
brushed against my butt. I gasped and moved away, and another set of
fingers was cupping my cock! A third hand, or maybe it was the first one
back again, rubbed down my back. I wasn't ready for this, and I quickly
moved away from the beginnings of an orgy, slowly finding my way
backward. Another gasp as my back came up against the cold solidity of a
wall. Still unable to see anything but blurred masses, I began to edge my
way along the wall, feeling ahead of me by slowly moving my hand out to the
wall and back again.

Suddenly, my leading hand came down not against the cold wall but against
warm firm skin. I flinched and drew back quickly, looking more closely into
the darkness. A heavy shape was there, and I whispered "Sorry!" in a low
voice.

Nothing but whispers pervaded the room, and the hidden man whispered back,
"It's okay, my fault!"

I stood there, sensing rather than seeing a movement by the other man as he
detached himself from the wall to stand out a little, immediately before
me. A feathery touch sent tingles through my chest as his fingers brushed
over my nipple. I shivered with uncertainty and arousal.  Taking a deep
breath, I reached out an exploratory hand, and felt the heat of his flesh
as I made contact with rigid muscles at his abdomen. I slid my palm lower,
and felt the wiry hair of his pubic bush before I found the soft tube of
his dick. Wrapping my hand around him, I felt his erection grow as his cock
sprang to life. Quickly he became a long hard poker in my hand. I massaged
his prick for a while, and slid my fingers down until I could cup his heavy
nuts in my palm and squeeze those jewels firmly. As I did, his hands
explored me, running across my chest and around my body to grip at the
flesh of my butt cheeks, and then I felt a single finger tracing its way
down the crack of my arse.

When his digit found his target, he prodded gently at my hole and a sigh of
aroused need escaped me. In the darkness his mouth closed over mine, and
his tongue forced its way between my teeth as our moist lips connected in a
long and passionate kiss. Drawing back, he hissed into my ear in a murmur
barely audible in the quiet room.

"Do you want to fuck?"

"Yeah," I responded, my voice throaty and low, "but not here."

"Let's find a cubicle, then." He took hold of my hand and we slowly walked
between the moving blobs of darkness and along a corridor, feeling our way
as we went, until we located an open cubicle door. Inside, I checked no-one
was actually using it by feeling my way around the tiny room with my hands,
while he closed and locked the door behind us. I turned to him then, still
unable to make out his features at all in the dimness, and again we kissed
in a growing, urgent embrace as our bodies ground against each other.

His arms were around my body, his hands at my shoulders and he slowly
manoeuvered the two of us around until he could lay me back on the vinyl
covered bench which took up all one side of the tiny space. Without a word
being spoken, he leaned over me, and his lips and tongue began to lick and
nibble at me, starting at my chin and working slowly down my neck to my
chest. In an ecstatic haze, I lay there as he explored me with his
mouth. He found my nipples, and teased them, licking at each in turn before
taking the small erections in his teeth gently and pulling at them, then
releasing my tits to blow warm breath across the heated flesh. I lifted my
hands to his head, caressing his neck and shoulders and running my fingers
over his chest and pinching at his nipples as he continued his journey,
nibbling and tonguing his way across my stomach, falling closer and closer
to my now swollen and throbbing cock.

The stubble on his chin scraped at the head of my dong for a second, and
then his talented tongue began to lick at me. Slow, soft touches of his
mouth as he lapped at my slit then traced around the ridge of my glans, and
down the length of my shaft, covering my manhood in tiny kisses and bathing
me with his saliva. Back up along my weapon he came, and then his mouth
opened and he swallowed me completely, sliding his face over my member and
gripping at me with his throat. I was in heaven, and I moaned a low hum of
contentment. And then he was lifting away again, but my disappointment was
short lived as his lips closed over the rolling mounds of my nuts, and
first one by one he sucked them into his mouth, and then he swallowed both
at once, massaging my balls with his tongue. My testicles plopped from his
lips and his tongue worked its magic yet again, this time licking at the
super sensitive skin between my groin and my arse, as he bent forward and
lifted my legs above his shoulders. I trembled with delight, unable to do
any more than ruffle his hair as he lavished his attention upon me.

When his tongue found my hole, and started to lick at the twitching muscle,
I shook with delight. As he probed at my rosebud I ached and gasped. He
lifted his head and a lust-filled whispering voice asked, "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah," I answered. With my throat dry and my voice cracking, I hissed
at him. "Fuck me, man! Take me now!"

He stood for a moment, then knelt on the bench between my legs and I heard
him reach for the condoms on the wall above us. A tearing and sloppy sound
as he opened a sachet of lube and smeared the gel over his latex sheathed
prong, and then he was leaning into me again as I lifted my knees to his
shoulders. The cool, wet hardness of his cockhead pressed against the outer
edge of my ring, and I willed myself to relax, pushing back at the solid
rounded shape begging entry to my body. He nudged forward against my
resistance, and then he was in - his mushroom cap through my sphincter as
my anus involuntarily closed tightly behind his glans. The momentary pain
was quickly replaced by a sense of completeness as I accustomed myself to
his penetration, and I sighed again.

After a moment's stillness as we both adjusted, he began to slide into me,
the long thick shaft of his cock inching its way through my clenching
muscle as he probed my rectum, his pole pushing against and then scraping
over my prostate and imparting indescribable pleasure to my entire nervous
system as he did.  Gradually but steadily he sank himself into my body, not
stopping until his entire length was buried to the hilt and his heavy nuts
were rubbing against my upturned arse cheeks. He rested then, releasing the
breath he had held since starting his assault in a long whoosh as he
relaxed his tensed body against my own, and we both revelled in the moment
of fulfillment.

And then he began to move. Slow, tentative surges and careful withdrawals
to begin with, until he found his rhythm and started to rock back and forth
against me, his manhood sliding in and out steadily and caressing my
innards, massaging my gut as he thrust and parried in easy, instinctive
motion. I matched his movements, clenching at him as he pulled back, and
opening around his steel hard length as he plunged again, rocking beneath
him in a sympathetic cadence of sensual rhythm. In mutual bliss, we hunched
and breathed, as he plumbed the depths of my wet enveloping cavern and I
accepted his probing penetration. I felt his long dagger of flesh stab deep
inside me as he moaned quietly and buried his masculinity deep within my
gut. For what seemed an eternity we remained joined like this, smooth
strokes of his cock driving long and deep into me as I held and released
him, the friction of his meat within my rectum sending waves of pleasure
through me.

As my delight at his thrusting increased, I sensed his speed grow, and his
pumping become deeper and more urgent. With each lunge forward, he pounded
at me now, harder and faster, deeper and more powerful as he shifted his
weight a little and really took possession of my body, slamming himself
into me and driving his throbbing sword completely into the heated writhing
scabbard of my arse. He leaned over to hump into me again, and I grabbed at
him, throwing my arms up and around his ribs, lifting my legs to wrap them
tightly against his waist as I clenched my sphincter on his pistoning rod
of steely flesh. Pulling him down as I rolled my body up, our lips met
again, and we locked together.  His tongue probed into my mouth with the
same urgency that his manhood pierced my body and we sweated and heaved,
becoming a single animalistic mass of coital desire.

Coupled in mutual lusting need, we rutted madly, heaving and writhing as we
fucked each other with abandon. Our joining was total as the fucking,
shuddering power of our pure masculine sex consumed us. I trembled and
ached as his cock impaled me, gripped and clenched at it as I took
possession of his very masculinity, and in turn gave myself to him
completely in undiluted erotic passion. My entire being seemed centred on
the point of our connection, where his thick meaty cock entered my raging
heated cave, and an irresistible tide of passion crept up into my gut,
spreading from my groin and throughout my body. With my penis sandwiched
between us, rubbing and slamming against both his stomach and mine, I held
back as long as I could, but I knew my time was upon me. With a gasp of
surrender, I floated over the edge of climactic release, and flooded the
space between us with long sticky ropes of creamy white jizz. Spasms rocked
my body and I writhed and twitched in ecstasy as my balls emptied, and
again and again cum arced from my cock and splattered against my skin and
his.

Through my peaking release he continued to pound at me. He fucked himself
into my arse, harder and harder as my sphincter clamped itself at his shaft
and I twitched and shook around him and beneath him.  And never did we
break our kiss. I held him in a vice-like grip, and he gripped me back,
slamming his pelvis against my butt as he pistoned his hips back and forth
in urgent passion. I felt my climax reach its zenith, and slowly begin to
subside, but I held him yet as his body shuddered against my own. Just as I
started to flag, he lost control, crunching himself at me one last time,
sending his swollen rigid pole deep into me and holding it there. A quaking
commenced way down inside him and burst its way up and out, as he writhed
and shuddered, racked by spasms and his orgasm hit him, hit us both. I
knew, could sense, that his glorious manpole, buried so far inside me, was
exploding, filling me with his essence as his breathing stopped
completely. Our mouths were still pressed together, but held there by the
force of our grappling at each other, and I ached with satisfied pleasure
as he shook and trembled through his release, my body wrapped around him.

The moment was over, our passion spent, and suddenly he pulled his face
from mine, drawing deep gasping breaths as he descended from the
heights. He almost fell against me as his ravaged body collapsed from
exhaustion, and I lay back again, still revelling in the meaty thickness of
his prick sunk within my anus as I too caught my breath. Slowly, evenly
tenderly, he withdrew himself from me, and removed the layer of latex that
had sheathed him, now filled with his juice.  Sitting back on the vinyl
platform where I lay, he draped his arm over my knee.

"That was un-fucking-believable!" he gasped between panting intakes of air,
"Thank you!"

I looked into the darkness, wishing I could see his face, could know who
this amazing man was. "You too," I whispered eagerly. "Just incredible,
best ever."

For many long minutes we sat there side by side, recovering and enjoying
the warm fuzziness of afterglow. Sat in silence and sensed each other's
sated, happy contentment.  Finally, he stood slowly, reluctantly? (I
hoped).

"I suppose I better go," said a murmur in the darkness, so quiet I almost
didn't hear. I hated this part of anonymous sex, and realised that I wanted
to see him again, or at least be with him again. I hadn't actually seen him
for the first time yet.

In a stammering, breathless whisper, I started. "I, uh, don't suppose
you'd, er, like to , um ." That was as far as I got before a shooting pain
crashed through my head. He had been standing in front of me and slightly
to my left, facing away from me. As I spoke, he had turned quickly and his
arm connected with my head, the point of his elbow ramming right into my
left eye. I gasped and let out a loud `uunnnhhh."  I felt his hand reach
out and touch my shoulder as I rolled down onto the bench in pain.

"Are you okay?" came the plaintive, whispered question, concern in his
muffled voice.

"Yeah, I think so," I whispered back. "But I think I'm gonna have a black
eye!"

"Shit, I'm sorry." I heard him move again, start to crouch down in the
narrow gap between the bench and the wall. And then there was a loud
`crunch' and a yelp of pain in the blackness. Now it was my turn to
enquire.

"You okay?" I hissed, mindful that we were starting to make a lot more
noise than was expected in this place.

"Yes," came his breathless reply. "I just cracked my knee on the edge of
the bed."

"Can you walk?"

He tried to stand, but sat down again heavily. "Fuck, that hurts," he
swore.

"Do you want me to get help?" I asked in the quietest voice I could.

"No, I'll be okay, I'll just rest it awhile before I get up again."

The chance had passed, my opportunity gone and I felt like a complete fool,
sitting there, my eye socket throbbing with pain, as the man who had just
given me such incredible pleasure nursed his knee and hissed in
discomfort. I leaned very slowly, very cautiously toward the bulky darkness
where I knew he was sitting, and found his face, kissing him again.

"I have to go," I said softly, regretfully. "Thanks again."

His whispered words hid the pain he felt, and sounded disconsolate instead.
"I guess so. Maybe catch you again some other time ." It was a statement
without hope or likelihood of being true.

I slowly opened the door, and with fingers out in front to guide me and
prevent me running into anything else, I found my way back to the lockers,
changed and left.

I slept late the next day, and when I woke I had a pounding headache.
Dragging myself from the bed, I made for the medicine cabinet in search of
aspirin, and quickly swallowed a couple of the tablets. And then I looked
into the mirrored door of the cabinet. Staring back at me was a very dark,
purpled bruise around my eye, the tissue swollen and my left eye partially
closed. "Shit!"  I said aloud. How was I going to explain this at work. I
gingerly touched at it, wondering if it might go down by Monday morning. I
decided I'd better get down to the pharmacy and see if they could recommend
some kind of ointment to help with the swelling at least.

Half an hour later, armed with a tube of cream, I was walking along the
street, almost home when I noticed Mike coming toward me. He was limping
badly, favouring his right knee and grimacing, his face screwed up with
pain. `Wonder what he's done to his knee?' I thought to myself. `Knee? Now
why does that make me think of last night?' But by then I was almost on top
of him.

"Hey Mike, what have you done to yourself?" I asked concerned.

His head was down, and he tried to avoid my gaze, blushing as he coughed a
little, and stammered out, "I, uh, knocked it against a . a door, last
night," he said, finally lifting his face to look at me. When he did, his
eyes widened. "Oh, wow Tim, you've got one hell of a shiner!" he declared.

I reddened. "Yeah, umm, hit my head on a . ahhh, . door," I lied. Mike
stared at me, like he'd never seen me before, a strange look in his
eyes. He appeared to be trying to make some connection in his mind, and
suddenly, a huge grin widened his smile.

"This, ah, `door'," he asked slowly, "wouldn't have been turning around
quickly because you were going to ask it to have a coffee with you, would
it?" he smirked.

Realisation hit me like a door slamming in my face. My jaw gaped open, and
I looked at him again, then down at his knee, and back up to his face. I
started to laugh. "And I'm guessing the `door' you knocked your knee
against was flat and covered in vinyl, and that some guy who really wanted
to see you again was sitting on it, holding his injured eye, right?"

We both grinned widely, and my heart beat like a drum. "Where are you
going?" I asked him now, concerned that he was trying to walk on that knee.

"I was just going to get something for the swelling," he confessed.

I lifted his arm onto my shoulder, and helped him hobble back to our
building. "I have some anti- inflammatory cream I've just bought. Should be
enough for both of us. You need to keep your weight off your legs for a
while!" Slowly we made it back to the flats, and he looked into my face as
we neared our homes.

"Your place or mine?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

"Mine!" I said firmly, opening the door and helping him to the sofa. Once I
had him settled, I sat on the table, leaning close to him, and plucked up
some more courage. "Mike, I can't believe what's happened.  If only you
knew how long I've wanted to get to know you, and last night ."  I trailed
off as he looked at me hard. "Why didn't you say something, or invite me
in, or whatever?" I finished lamely.

"Me?" he was surprised and incredulous. "I was so much in lust with you,
Tim, that every time we met I got tongue tied, and couldn't make the words
come out, in case you weren't interested."

Again I gaped in amazement, and then began to laugh. "Well, you weren't
exactly `tongue-tied' last night.  In fact, I recall your tongue being
unbelievably flexible," I leered at him, and he blushed deeply as I went
on, "If only we'd had the courage to speak up, we could have saved
ourselves a hell of a lot of time and heartache."

"And knee-ache, and eye-ache," he added grinning widely.

"So, ah, what would you have said . if I'd managed to finish my question
last night?" I asked slowly, uncertainly.

He leaned to me again, his hands holding my face. "I would have said 'yes,
yes, YES'!" he said seriously, and then he kissed me.

When we finally separated again, I looked into his beautiful eyes and
smiled, as my grin was reflected on his face. With a sparkling look he
whispered, "Well, I guess it's your place, at least for the moment. Now are
we going to just sit here on the lounge, or are you going to help me to
your bedroom?"

We laughed together as I wrapped my arms around him.



The End

Comments, complaints or compliments? Contact me at iainlthr@hotmail.com