Date: Sat, 22 Dec 2001 17:31:33 
From: andy macdonald <andymacdon@hotmail.com>
Subject: Taking-the-Mickey

			     TAKING THE MICKEY
			     =================
			     by Andy Macdonald

Legal Notice: The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual
acts. The story is a work of fiction and has little basis in reality.

Copyright: The author retains copyright to this story. Placing this story
on a website or reproducing this story for distribution without the
author's permission is a violation of that copyright.

andymacdon@hotmail.com



"'Evenin' Stephen,"

"Good Evening, my Lord,"

"Did Mum tell you, I won't be in for dinner tonight?"

"Her Ladyship did inform me, my Lord."

"Right.  Good.  'Kay well I'll see you in the country this weekend.  I've
invited some friends down.  There'll be four of us."

"Would that be three Gentlemen Sir?  Yourself and three gentlemen?"

"Yea.  Me and three guys.  Two of them can share the Blue Room and Mickey
could have the Orange room if it's free."

"Very well, my Lord, I'll arrange everything with the new housekeeper.
Will that be all, my Lord?"

"Yes thanks Stephen - oh and I'll be pretty late back tonight so don't set
the alarm even though my Mother will probably want it set."

"Indeed, my Lord" he grinned, slid quietly out of the room and closed the
door softly behind him.

Stephen had been in service with the Earl of Cullen's father since he was a
teenager and was now the present Earl's butler.  A job he was proud to have
and which he carried out impeccably.  He nearly always travelled with the
family whether they were at Findochty Castle, in Scotland, on the southern
shores of the Moray Firth or in their extremely large and luxurious flat in
Cleveland Row overlooking Green Park in the heart of London's West End.

Stephen descended the magnificent stairs, shouldered his way through a
double-hinged swinging door and entered the large kitchen.  The new
housekeeper - Catherine to the Family and Cathy to her friends - looked up
from the heavy ledger she was working at.

"Hello Stephen, Any news?  When will we be going North?" she enquired.

"Yes, Cathy, the family will be spending a few weeks at the Castle starting
this coming weekend," he replied, "The Earl and Countess.  Oh and Lord
Findochty will have three guests - three male guests.  I gather that there
won't be anyone else staying for the first weekend but there will be a big
dinner on the following Saturday for the Hunt Ball committee."

The two then discussed various details and Stephen passed on the suggested
room allocation which Cathy wrote down in her notebook.

"You're settling in well, Cathy," said Stephen, "I don't expect you've
worked for a family as grand as this before."

"You can say that again.  I've looked after some rich people but they were
business people.  New money.  Nothing like this lot."

"This lot?  I've never heard the Earl of Cullen's family referred to as
'this lot before'.  Don't you approve?"

"Oh no, I don't mean any disrespect.  I really enjoy working for them and I
like them too.  Young Rory, sorry Lord Findochty, he's really nice.
Friendly and helpful.  But they certainly have grand names.  Why aren't
they all called Cullen?  And come to think of it, Rory's a pretty strange
name isn't it?"

"Well Cathy, the family name is Dundrod.  The head of the family is the
Earl of Cullen and he holds several other titles.  He can give these out to
his children, the eldest son is entitled to be a Lord and usually holds the
Earl's next most senior position, that is Lord Findochty.  Oh yes and
Rory's short for Roderick, one of the family names."

"Hmm, I see," said Cathy, "that's one hell of mouthful, I think Rory suits
him much better."

"You're probably right," agreed the butler, "but it wouldn't do to call him
anything but 'My Lord'."

"Yes, I can handle that." she replied wistfully.

"He's a very handsome young man but I wouldn't get too excited if I was
you."

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll soon find out.  Now, you'll need to get packed tonight because you
have to get the early flight North tomorrow."

Stephen disappeared into his 'parlour' and Cathy continued with her stock
check.

Upstairs, in his bedroom, Rory was getting ready to go out.  He enjoyed all
the pomposity, the trappings of wealth and position - more than enjoyed it,
he revelled in it and was careful not to behave in a any way that clashed
with his image as the dashing young Lord and future Earl of Cullen.  But
nevertheless, despite the 'blue blood' he was still a red-blooded young
male and, as Cathy had noticed, a very handsome example of that species.

He was tall, 6'2", with a slender but firmly muscled body.  Thick blonde
hair which he kept just slightly longer than the current fashion dictated,
long, blonde eyelashes and gorgeous always-smiling green eyes.  Light green
that seemed to hold people in an almost hypnotic gaze when he talked to
them.  You might think of him as languid, he always seemed relaxed to the
point of laziness.  His 22 year old body had not yet started to thicken, he
had a 30" waist, well muscled thighs topped by a pair of pert buttocks,
plump and well muscled.  He talked with a very slight lisp and you might
think he was an aristocratic dilettante.  You would be very wrong.  Rory
had studied martial arts at school and he held a Judo black belt.

He was a stud - a lusty male hunk - and he knew it!

"Hmm, I think I'll go trapping tonight," he said to himself.  "I'm off to
Scotland soon so I'd better take advantage of these few days in London.
Probably start off with a few pubs, I might start at Comptons, see whose
around and take it from there.  I quite like the idea of Heaven later on."

Rory lead a triple life, he was a scion of the Dundrod family, an up and
coming banker in one of the City's most prestigious merchant banks and a
gay philanderer.

He showered, slipped on a pair of white, sheer silk briefs and then took a
bit of time choosing what he would wear before deciding on an expensive
black silk shirt, that emphasized his muscular torso, a pair of beautifully
tailored Versa jeans, that looked quite ordinary until you looked at them a
second time - which a whole lot of guys would most certainly do that
evening - and a pair of light brown calf-leather boots that would have
absorbed the average kid's total wage packet for a week.  He looked the
business.

Rory slipped quietly out of the flat and strolled up St James's Street,
along Piccadilly and made his way into Soho.  Comptons was, as usual, very
crowded but as he walked in he was spotted by a group of friends, four guys
who often met up in the pub.  He eased his way through the crowd to the
corner which they'd staked out for themselves.

"Hi Andy, great to see you.  Back from sea then?"

Andy Macdonald was a long time friend whose family lived not far from the
castle; he was a marine engineer who travelled to all sorts of odd corners
of the world and came back with tales of very interesting sexual
encounters.

"Yea.  I'm just back from Indonesia.  Great place, I can recommend it
although I can't make up my mind whether the young guys there are sexier
than the Japanese lads.  You'll have to come with me some time and give me
your opinion!"

"I wish," replied Rory, "but I've got so many commitments here, it's
difficult to get away."

There were five friends in the group meaning five pints of bitter had to be
drunk so they stayed in the pub for quite a time.

Rory looked at his watch, "Hey guys, it's eleven o'clock already, what say
we move on.  I wouldn't mind checking out Heaven tonight, I feel like a bit
of slumming."

He winked at the others who all nodded their agreement.  They worked their
way to the door, through the dense crowd and Rory grinned as he felt his
bum groped several times.  Eventually they made it out into the street and
strolled along Shaftsbury Avenue.  It was well after the time the theatre
crowds had emerged and so the guys were able to get a black cab without any
trouble.  Rory sat in the middle and two of the guys used the fold down
'jump' seats.  Andy was enjoying Rory's close proximity as their thighs
squashed together.  He really fancied the young Scottish aristo but to his
chagrin, his interest had never been returned.

It was only a short trip to Villiers Street and the door of Heaven.  When
they arrived they found quite a queue of guys waiting to get in but it was
moving reasonable quickly and they were soon inside.  The group made their
way over to the bar to fuel up with drinks before wandering over to the
main dance floor.  Four of the lads paired up and started to dance leaving
Rory on his own.  He stood and watched for a bit before moving off to check
out what else was happening.  In a way he was quite pleased to be able to
give the gang the slip and prowl of to hunt on his own.

He went upstairs and into a small room on the first floor.  It was after
midnight by now and up on a stage there was a cabaret show he mingled with
the audience which was packed tight in the room.  The guy on stage was
good, really good.  Rory laughed and was drawn into the spell of the act.

As he watched he realised that a short, dark-haired lad in shiny white
nylon Adidas trackie pants was standing in front of him.  Rory figured that
the lad had positioned` himself in the audience in front of him
deliberately so that his desirably biteable sportswear covered buttocks
were pressed hard against his groin.  His thick, clean neck which smelt of
soap was distracting him from the action on the stage.

Rory leant forward and whispered into the guy's ear "Good evening, young
man, would you mind removing your filthy little bum from my crotch."

"Sorry mate, it's a bit crahded in 'ere, no wot I mean?" the lad grunted
before easing himself forward to give Rory a bit more room and a much
better view of the pert young buttocks..  But not for long.  Within a few
minutes the bum was re-established.

"What the hell," thought Rory, "he's quite a cute little bit of rough,
let's go for it!" and he took the guy by the shoulders and spun him round
so that they were face to face or rather, due to the guy's lack of height,
face to chest.

"What the fuck!", the lad spat out, "What'cha doin'?  'Oo the fuck are
you?"

Rory smiled urbanely and put out his hand which the guy, without thinking
and in an automatic reaction, shook, and Rory quickly realised that the
young man was quite drunk. Possibly too drunk for what he had in mind. But
Rory liked a bit of rough and now that he could examine this small example
of 'homo vulgaris' more closely he reckoned he would quite like to have
him.  To be honest he reckoned the common little tyke with the fit looking
body and the delicious bum would be a wicked shag, he was positively feral.

"Fancy a drink then?" Rory asked.

"Snake-bite" grunted the bit o' rough who, after a quick appraisal of the
situation had decided that the tall, languid guy was well different from
the usual trash in Heaven plus he would probably win any sort of fight he
might start.

Rory went off to the bar.  He was fairly certain that the young tyke
would've moved on by the time he got back but it was worth a try.

He was wrong.  The lad was still where he'd left him.  Rory handed him his
snake-bite.

"I'm Rory and you are . . . . ."

" . . . . Mickey" replied Mickey.

"You've got a cute bum, Mickey," said Rory with an evil grin.

"Fuck off ponce," muttered Mickey "and wot's more, at the end ov ther day,
it ain't a filffy little bum, like wot you said."

Rory stared at the lad, "Ah a conversationalist." he said.

"You what?"

"Never mind."

Mickey took a slug of his drink and looked thoughtfully at Rory. He was
impressed.  The man wore some sharp gear and he talked posh.  Rory.  Funny
sort'va name Rory.

"Funny sort of a nime ain't it - Rory" he said.

"Are you taking the Mickey!"

There was a long pause during which Rory could almost hear the cogs turning
slowly inside the lad's head.

"Fuck off ponce." muttered Mickey. "I've never 'eard of a bloke called
Rory, wot kind'va nime's that then?"

"Rory, it's short for Roderick . . . ."

"Oh gorr fuck, Roderick, Wot a poncy nime mate.  You poor sod."  Mickey was
grinning now, he reckoned he'd found some easy pickings.  This geyser was
slumming, probably a tourist come to Heaven for the first time.  Mickey's
shrewd, street-wise gaze swept up and down Rory's elegant body.  "Fuck me",
he thought, "'e's the man.  See them jeans, they never fell orf the back of
no lorry.  Must've cost a packet, an' talkin' of packets . .  yers, this
poncy toff was a bit of 'orl right, know wot I mean?"  Mickey
'accidentally' lurched against Rory and felt the soft silky shirt.  "Yesss,
luvverly!"

"Now then Mickey, how about another Snakebite?"

"Yer OK mate, I don't mind," and he handed over his empty glass. This time
he followed Rory over to the bar, sticking close behind him and admiring
the well tailored jeans - and their lean, mean contents.

Rory shouted his order over the noise of the throng at the bar, passed the
re-filled glasses to Mickey and dragged his wallet out of his hip pocket to
extract a 20 quid note from the wad it contained.  He stuffed the wallet
back and paid for the drinks then he took his glass from Mickey and
motioned with his head towards a dark corner.  The two of them eased their
way over.

"That's better, you can just about hear yourself think."

Mickey took a hefty swig of snakebite and Rory probed gently to find out a
bit more about the bit o' rough he'd picked up.  The act up on the stage
changed and a stand-up comic came on, he was very funny, a sardonic
Scotsman who captured everyone's attention.  He'd latched on to a luckless
heckler and was happily tearing him to shreds much to the delight of his
audience, Rory was finding him hilarious, the comic had his full attention
until . . .

. . . until he felt something lightly touching him behind.

With lightening speed his right hand shot round behind him, gripped the
wrist above the hand that was lifting his wallet and spun the thief round
in an agonising arm-lock.

"You thieving little bastard," he hissed.

"Oh fuck, let go me arm!  you're breakin' me fuckin' arm mate!!"

"Yes quite probably.  Stop wriggling.  Stand quite still."

Rory relaxed his hold just slightly but didn't let go completely.

"So, you're a common little pick-pocket are you?"

"No I ain't, I'm sorry it was automatic like. I couldn't 'elp it, the fing
was stickin' aht yer pocket Let go me arm, will ya, it still 'urts wot
you're doin'."

Rory didn't let go, he changed the hold he had and worked his prey across
the room, down the stairs and out into the street.

"Well now Mickey-tea-leaf, what are we going to do about you then.  Oh
look, there's a couple of coppers over there.  Maybe I should surrender you
into their care."

Mickey gave a violent wriggle, an attempted dash for freedom only to moan
with pain as Rory applied expert pressure to his captive's arm.

"Let go of me.  Get off of me arm, you're goin' ta break me arm." Now his
threats turned to frightened pleading.  "Don't 'and me over to the filth,
please Rory, let me go, I'm sorry I went fer yer money.  Please let me go,
will ya?"

"No I don't think so." said Rory and set off up Villiers Street towards the
Strand, manoeuvring his quarry along with him.

"Where we goin'?  I've left me back-pack in 'Eaven.  I've gorra go back, I
can't lose me back-pack."

Because of the shock, pain and struggle and the way he'd been manipulated
out of the club Mickey hadn't realised that Rory had grabbed the pack and
had brought it out with them.

"I've got your pack, here.  See?."

"Ow yer, thanks mate."  Mickey reached out his free hand to grab it.

"No way, tyke, leave it alone.  Now then you can take me somewhere
interesting.  Where were you going when you left Heaven?"

Mickey glared a him sullenly.  He was trapped.

"Let go me arm, will ya?"

Rory released his prey but kept a firm grip on the back-pack.  Mickey
realising that he wasn't going to get it back so the two of them set off,
across the Strand, across Trafalgar Square, heading for Soho.

"I know a club," he muttered.

To tell the truth he wasn't too upset at the turn of events.  The tall,
elegant stranger turned him on big time.  He was one of the most exciting
men he'd ever seen what with his slim, fit body, beautiful hair, clothes to
die for and he exuded a sexual aura.  Not quite the way that Mickey would
have been able to express his feelings, he just knew he fancied Rory
rotten.  Rory, in his turn, was certainly intrigued by the bit of rough
he'd picked up.  He was eager to explore the contents of the shiny, white
track suit bottoms.  He reckoned his new found bit o' rough would fight
like crazy before 'reluctantly' surrendering his oh-so- cute little bum to
Rory's probing penis.

The two of them strolled across Trafalgar Square, up St Martin's Lane and
made their way towards Dean Street and stopped opposite a non-descript
yellow door.  He pressed the buzzer on an intercom which replied:

"Wocher want?"

"It's Mickey."

"'Oo's that wiv yer Mickey?"

"Friend 'o mine."

The door buzzed and they went in.  In front of them was a steep flight of
stairs, Mickey led the way and Rory followed close behind - confirming all
his lewd thoughts about the cute, rounded buttocks that swayed in front of
him, the thin, satiny material flexing and moulding the muscled buns and
emphasising the deep, secret valley between them.

"'Ere we are then," Mickey announced.  "Yers, 'allo Sid me old china, 'ow
yer doin'?"

While Mickey greeted his friend Rory looked around the room which was
crowded with young talent.  They were a husky crowd of teens and twenty
somethings, primitive but easy on the eye though.  Languidly he looked them
over, one by one.  None was cuter than the young male animal he had snared
- and whose pack he firmly retained - but he had to admit there were some
juicy young morsels.  He realised that he was the centre of scrutiny
himself and several pairs of heads moved together to discuss the elegantly
dressed young stranger who had arrived.

"'Oo's yer friend then?" asked Sid.

"Sid - Rory."  Mickey made the introductions.

"You what?" Sid said in astonishment, "Rory?  What sort of a nime 's that
then?"

"Leave 'im alone Sid.  'E's orright, know wot I mean?  'E'd soon sort you
aht." and he glanced ruefully at his wrist.

"Snakebite?" Rory enquired, ignoring yet another assault on his name.

"Yer, if yer like, I don't mind."

Rory realised this really meant "That's very kind of you another Snakebite
would be most acceptable."

"And your charming friend?"

"Wot me, tar very much, Yea, I don't mind drinkin' wiv yer, I'll 'ave the
same."

Rory went over to the bar and ordered the drinks.  He was enjoying himself
hugely.  This den of thieves was great, light years from his usual way of
life and he realised that he was a prize exhibit.  Several of the lads
tried to chat him up but Mickey had become fiercely protective since they'd
entered the place.

"Tell yer wot," said Sid, "the lads over there've fucked orf, wot say we
grab that tible?"

The three guys pounced on the table and Mickey dived towards the chair in
the corner but before he could grab it, Rory had propelled him into the one
with its back to the action while he sat down where he could survey the
assembled talent.

"Wotever," muttered Mickey and he leant in close to Sid and the two of them
started gossiping away like a couple of teenage girls.  Lots of
adolescent-like nudging and giggling.  Meanwhile from his captured chair
Rory was able to survey the room.  He kept noticing one young barman in
thin dark trousers and a neat green shirt. He had well- groomed dark hair
and a nice, attractive face. He also had a fantastic, pert arse which
curved out from his belt to the top of his thighs and from time to time he
reached up into the overhead shelves on tiptoe, clenching his bum-cheeks
for balance.  Nice.

Suddenly Sid stood up, "Gorra piss," he announced.

"Yer, me too," said Sid.

Rory grinned at Mickey.

"You wot?  Wotcher grinnin' at?" he said, "Wot's up?"

"You 'n Sid, you're like a couple of girls!"

"Wot'cha on abaht?"

Rory leaned into Mickey and sucked his ear lobe then drilled his tongue
into his ear, at the same time he placed the flat of his hand on the crutch
of the lad's trackie bottoms.

"'Ere wot'cher doin'?  Fuck off will yer."

"What's your problem, you bit of rough?"

"Fuck off you perv.  Yo're fuckin' feelin' me up.  Yo're a poncy poofter."

"Yea and you're loving it."

"Wot'cher mean?  Why'd yer shove yer tongue in me ear'ole?  It's
disgusting."

"If it's so disgusting why did you throw an instant boner?" Rory enquired
with an evil grin, as he squeezed Mickey's groin provocatively.

"Best you keep yor mitts off of me privates," he grumbled.  "Perv!  Anyway
I'm goin' to see where Sid's at, no wot I mean?"

"Off you trot then, go and see what you can find in the bogs, maybe a big,
juicy cock to get down on your knees for.

"Fuck off." said Mickey as he flounced off.

In a flash the vacated chairs were grabbed by two of the cuter specimens
from the bar.

"Mind if we join yer?"  said the red-head.  "I'm Jason and this is Darren."

"Hello Jason, hi Darren, I think Mickey and Sid may well be back when
they've finished their business, but until then you're very welcome.

"You goin'ta get us a bevvy then?" Jason enquired.

"Certainly, I'd be delighted.  Here's a Twenty, why don't you get what you
and Darren would like?  And ask for clean glasses so that I can watch that
barman reach up for them!"

"Corr thanks mate,fanks.  Yo're the business.  'Ere Darren, ere's a note,
go and get us a coupla bevvies.  'Ow about you Rory?  Wot'cher want?"

"I'm OK thanks.  How do you know my name's Rory?"

"Evry one in the room knows yer nime's Rory, no wot I mean?  Yore the star
attraction 'ere.  I'm gobsmacked that Mickey's left yer.  By the way I
'eard 'e's a loverly shagger.  'Asn't 'ad it much but they say 'e's 'ung.
Pretends 'e don't do it but I've 'eard different.  They reckons 'e shags
like a stoat."  he leered wickedly.

At this point Mickey and Sid returned.

"Wot'cher doin' fuckin' Jase?  Fuck off back to the bar and leave the
quality to them wot can appreciate it."  So saying he tipped the laughing
Jason off his chair.

"Cheers for the bevvies then Rory." he said as he shambled back to the bar.

Rory grinned at Mickey: "The knees of your tracksuit are all wet and
dirty," he said.

"You wot?"  Mickey's eyes shot down to his legs.

"No they ai'nt . . . . oh yer a comedian then?  Anyway, we know 'ow ter
behave in 'ere, nuffink's goin' on in the bog."

Rory grinned and Sid chipped in "Come on Mickey, 'e's takin' the piss, in't
he?  'Ere Rory, wot'cher do then?  Yo're dead posh ain't cha?  Must 'ave
some posh job."

"Computers," answered Rory vaguely.

"Wot, them wordsheets and fings? You type aht letters 'n that?"

"Sometimes.  I'm head of IT for my company."

"Oh yea.  Nice one."  Rory realised that they had no idea what the head of
IT did but weren't about to admit it.  The two lads then set about probing
into Rory's life with considerable native cunning but achieving nothing.
Rory was enjoying himself hugely but was wondering how he was going to get
into captive's extremely provocative track suit.

As time went by everyone became more and more relaxed Rory became the
centre of attention, telling some hilarious stories, buying drinks and
surrounded by an admiring crowd.  Mickey was becoming more and more
possessive, protecting him like a bodyguard.  Jealous of all the attention
Rory was receiving but proud that he was his catch - having quite forgotten
how he'd been frog-marched out of Heaven!

At 3 o'clock the guys behind the bar brought down the shutters and started
to ease everyone towards the door.

"Come along lads, time to go 'ome.  Let's be 'avin' you.  Ain't'cha got
'omes to go to then?"

The chattering group tumbled downstairs and out into the street where they
split up and rolled off in different directions.  Rory's desire to
investigate the delectable contents of Mickey's trackies had by no means
waned, more the opposite, he was aching to have his wicked way with the
young guy, to fuck him long, loud and hard.

"Wotch'a goin' ter do na then mate?" his quarry enquired.

Rory reeled over to a lamp post and propped himself against it.

"Dunno," he mumbled, "must be drunker than I thought, all this fresh air,
where are we?  Can't seem to remember where my hotel is . . . ." He was
very drunk, nearly out of it - or so it appeared.

Mickey, who had sobered up a bit at the club but, nevertheless was still
fairly well away, considered another attack on that bulging wallet but the
memory of what had happened last time he'd tried, together with another
factor, a warm feeling which had begun to permeate his thoughts, decided
him against it.  This other factor now directed his plans.

"''Spose you could come 'ome wiv me," he said, "come back to mine and kip
there."

"Oh I don't think I can impose on you," mumbled Rory.

"Yer wot?  Come on mate, Mickey I'll look after yer.  Yer me mate nah, know
wot I mean?

Rory happily swayed down the street following his 'saviour', his eyes
riveted to the young guy's sexy bum rolling along in front of him.  He felt
a deep primitive lust to possess it, to investigate its privacy.  He strode
forward and cupped the muscled bum through its thin material, feeling its
warmth, its muscular power, the deep crack with its concealed delight.

"Fuck off," Mickey hissed, "leave me fuckin' bum alone will ya - I don't do
nufffink like that, OK?"

This vicious reaction only served to excite Rory even more.  He grinned to
himself as he thought he was just like a randy dog, continually sniffing
around a bitch, getting snapped at, retreating but, filled with sexual
urgency, returning to sniff again. He couldn't wait to strip down the
floppy tracksuit and lay bare its delicious contents.

"Come on then yer randy sod, we 'ave ter get the night bus.  We gorra go
dahn to Trafalgar Square."

The two of them set off across Piccadilly Circus, down the Haymarket and
Mickey led them to the bus stop.  They didn't have long to wait before
Mickey announced:

"'Ere we are then, a number 157, that's wot we want."  They scrambled
upstairs to the upper deck and flopped down in a seat near the back.  Rory
watched as they trundled South and East, round the Elephant and Castle and
somewhere down towards Brixham

"'Ere we are, 'op off nah," said Mickey.  They got off the bus and walked
along a featureless street of terraced houses, covered in peeling paint,
that had seen better times.

"This is me gaff," Mickey announced with some pride, turning into a gate
and walking through a small, rubbish-filled bit of garden and unlocking the
front door.  Shoving his shoulder against the door he forced it open over
some broken linoleum tiles.

Rory followed him in, a narrow hall from which led a steep set of stairs.
Several doors opened off the hall, obviously the small house had been
divided up into even smaller flats.

"Up 'ere," said Mickey.  Rory followed.  More key work and they were in.

Rory was assailed by the heavy odour of dirty feet and sweaty male body.
The one room contained a bare minimum of rickety looking furniture.  Old
magazines and a bottle or two were strewn around the floor.  A bed, unmade,
in one corner, a makeshift kitchen in another and a door which, he
supposed, must lead to a bathroom, or at least a toilet.  There was a
ragged covered settee and a small portable television, with a coat-hanger
aerial perched on a rickety wooden packing case.

Nice," he said without much conviction,

Mickey watched his new friend, gauging his reaction.

"Well wotcher expect.  You're so posh I s'ppose yer must live in a Castle."

"Hmm . . . " muttered Rory.  ". . . and is this all yours?"

"Nah, I lives 'ere wiv me bruvver only 'e's in the army and 'e's away a
lorra the time - 'e's away nah, no wot I mean?"

Rory had resisted messing about with the delectable little rogue for
several hours now but at last they were alone.  Rory put his hands either
side of Mickey's head and his light green eyes bored into Mickey's.  Mickey
started to tremble and Rory leant in and brushed his lips over Mickey's
lips.  Softly, of so softly he rubbed then moistened them by running his
tongue along them.  His tongue wriggled and slowly Mickey's lips opened,
just a little bit.  They kissed deeply and both pairs of hands roamed up
and down the hard, young bodies.

Suddenly Rory released Mickey and without any warning began tugging at the
slippery trackie bottoms, dragging them down across his thighs and flipping
the waistband of the tattered red briefs down below his nuts. There was an
instant increase in the smell of hot, sweaty boy-crotch.

Rory leant in and ran his nose slowly up the length of Mickey's inner thigh
and smelt the delicious odour of this dirty, sexy, young man and his cock
and balls encased in the brief red underwear.  From what he could determine
through the thin cotton the boy's equipment was small and delicate and at
the moment, due to his surprise, his cock was soft but Rory could imagine
it nestling in a mass of curly brown hair and resting on top of a pair of
fragile-looking nuts.  His thighs, strong and hairless, were spread as much
as they could under the circumstances.

"Hey," Rory whispered.  "open your legs."

Mickey snorted.  "No way, man, fuck off will yer?"

"Come on, sexy.  What's your problem? All I want to do look at your arse."

"No one messes wiv me bum," he hissed through his teeth.

"I'm not messing with it," Rory countered.  "I just want get to see it,
maybe kiss it a little."

"No," Mickey snapped back and made a grab for the waistband of the
trackies, dragging them back up.

"What's the matter?  Are you shy?  What've you got to hide?"

Mickey blushed, "I ain't got nuffink to 'ide," he muttered.

"Well why don't you strip off then and show me what you've got inside those
sexy red briefs?"

Mickey stared at his tormenter for a moment but then his passion
re-asserted itself, his longing for the beautiful elegant young god he'd
managed to trap. With a shrug he began pulling off his clothes.  The
T-shirt slid up to reveal a well-muscled chest with a pair of large nipples
that seemed to be just begging to be licked and kissed - and bitten.  His
shoes came off and the slight smell of hot young feet increased, then his
socks.  Then, at long last he shoved down his track-suit trousers and
kicked them off.  His red Jockey briefs were old and frayed.  Rory loved
it.  And the smell of it.  Now to the smell of hot, sweaty feet was added
the funky aroma of hot boy-crotch. Mickey must've been sweating all
evening, walking the streets and in the club.

All this time Mickey just stared at Rory, his eyes boring holes into his
eyes.  "Me underwear too?" he asked.

"No, hang on!" Rory said.  "Stand still and let me have a good look at
you."

Mickey stood there, his perfect young body exposed to Rory's lustful gaze.
Just the funky underwear hiding but emphasising the boy's private parts.
Rory gazed.  Now his bit of rough began to look a bit less sure of himself.
He looked almost embarrassed as Rory's eyes searched up and down his young,
pert, sexual body focusing in on the cotton pouch.

"Turn round.  I want to see if there's any stains on your arse." Rory
commanded.  The boy hesitated.  "Turn round, I said." Mickey turned.  "Well
at least you seem to be clean even if you are all sweaty."

"Yer, well I always keeps me bum clean.  Never know when I might get some,
know wot I mean?" came the reply with an evil grin.

Rory continued to enjoy the pert, pretty bum.  Two tight, muscular buns
contained in the thin, dirty cotton.  Dirty with sweat and wear but, Rory
noted, the arse of the boy's underpants was free of any brown skid-marks.
At least from the outside.  He could smell the boy, though, and his cock
lurched with the strong, sexy scent of this young cat.

"OK, turn back.  And now you're going to lose your pants."  and before
Mickey could react his partner stripped down the red briefs.  As he'd
thought, now revealed was quite a small cock, probably a bit over five
inches.  It was uncut.  The penis was quite stiff but the tapered foreskin
was obviously very tight and still hid all but the top of the young man's
knob which was just peeping shyly out of its protective housing.
Underneath were a cute little pair of balls.  Mickey kicked free of the
tattered underpants and stood defiantly in the middle of the room.  With
his fists braced against his hips, he was as pretty as any glossy porn-mag
model.  As smooth as a baby's bum, Mickey's pink skin seemed to glow in the
dim light.  He had no hair anywhere except under his arms and above his
boyish cock.

"Is it OK?" Mickey asked.  For the first time Rory detected a crack - just
a hint of insecurity in his quarry's tough facade.

Without answering, Rory grabbed him and propelled him over to the bed.
"I'll show you how OK it is," he said as he began unbuttoning his own
shirt.

"'Ere stop! I want ter tike yore clothes off of you," Mickey whispered.

"Well OK, you'd better undress me then before I drop my load."

Mickey ran his hand over the black silk shirt. "Ooh yer stuff's luvverly,
it's so good, must've cost yer loads'a'money" he ran his fingers across the
soft silkiness of Rory's shirt feeling the firm hard muscle
underneath. "Yea and yore jeans are to die for, they must've cost a bomb."

Rory slowly unfastened his belt and, with a look of intense lust all over
his face, Mickey's fingers gripped the zipper and pulled it down.  Rory's
fly opened up to reveal the sexy white-silk briefs.  Now frantic with
desire, Mickey tore down the man's jeans.  Dragged them down over his
chunky thighs and gazed for a second at the man's underwear before his face
dived between his legs to rub into the warm material, his nose filled with
the combined smells exuded by the lusty young man he so desired.

Rory knew what he himself would like at that point and guessed that this
young tyke, even as sexually turned on as he undoubtedly was, would be too
inhibited to go after it.  So he spun round presenting his silk-covered
buttocks in front of Mickey's face.  With an excited grunt the young man
shoved his face into the proffered bottom, and rubbed his nose like a randy
dog, sniffing and nibbling and snorting with lust.

"Oooh fuckin 'ell mate, oh fuck yessssss!  Wot a wicked bum yer got.  I've
got to 'ave some of this."

Rory gently fingered Mickey's stiff cock making it leap.  He tapped the
shaft and watched it stiffen some more.  Then very gently, between his
finger and thumb he eased the tight foreskin over the engorged knob.
Mickey shivered and his legs trembled slightly.  Rory took his shoulders
and manoeuvred him back so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.  He
leant in and gently licked the stiffness.  He rolled his tongue round the
knob, tickling the frenum before sliding his lips over the end and slowly
and moistly slipping his lips down the steely shaft.  Mickey groaned.  Now
he started to slide his mouth slowly up and down the stubby shaft, gripping
the long foreskin and sliding it on and off the knob.  Rory was a well
practised seducer and he could tell by Mickey's delight that the boy's cock
had seldom, if ever, received such delicious and skilled attention.

Suddenly Mickey jerked and withdrew his organ from the suctioning lips.

"Fuckin' 'ell mate," he gasped "yer gorra stop.  You'll make me cum me load
and I got ter save it fer yer arse."

Rory ignored him and went to part and lift his legs but Mickey resisted

"Wotcher doin'" he snapped.

Rory continued his manipulation and the boy's legs bent backward until his
tight little bum rose off the sheet and hovered in the air.  As pretty and
as tight as the rest of his body, his arse appeared to glow in the soft
light.

"I just have to kiss you down there," whispered Rory.

"You're just goin'ter kiss it, right?" the boy asked a bit nervously.

"Yeah," replied Rory.  "And sniff it.  And lick it.  And maybe after that
I'll tongue-fuck it for a while.  Are you worried?"

Again Mickey resisted when Rory tried to lift his legs.  "I said no," But
he didn't struggle this time.  He just relaxed and allowed his knees to be
eased back onto his shoulders.

The boy's bum hole was clenched tightly shut.  Rory ran his tongue around
the perimeter, up over the cheeks, back into the crack, and then up to the
balls. He covered every inch of Mickey's arse, sucking and kissing and
giving little bites.  Now his smallish cock, so hard and eager, bobbed
slightly against his flat belly. His balls were drawn up tight, and major
tremors moved along the soft insides of his thighs.

Rory planted his mouth directly on Mickey's tight little arse ring.  It
smelled deeply of soap, fresh sweat and funky masculinity.  Using his
tongue like a long probe, Rory prodded the clenched muscle until it finally
opened.  Just as Rory's tongue slipped inside, the boy started to buck and
twist on the bed.

At first Rory thought it was because he'd finally penetrated the boy's bum,
yet as he stared up between Mickey's legs, he saw a small seepage of semen
leak from the twitching cock.  It was amazing: This guy seemed to be more
anally sensitive than any other person Rory had ever met.

Even though his cock was still leaking across his stomach and chest, the
boy continued to buck his arse up against Rory's mouth.  "Please," he
groaned, his head rolling from side to side.  "Me arse.  I gorra cum.
Unnngggh Oh, man . . . . "

Rory deliberately avoided any further stimulation of his pulsating dick.
Mickey may have come, but the session wasn't over.  Not by a long shot.

For several more minutes he burrowed into Mickey's bum hole, his tongue
opening the reluctant little muscle until the boy moaned and squirmed on
the bed, his drooling cock poking up toward the ceiling.  "Oh, man.  Oh,
man," Mickey kept sighing as his body shuddered and jerked.

Not waiting for permission, Rory took his index finger and replacing his
tongue, slipped it into the hot little cavity.  The boy groaned, clenched
his bum, and tried to squirm away, but Rory was in complete control.

"My finger now," he thought wickedly, "my cock later." Mickey probably
didn't realize it yet, but Rory had every intention of plugging his
gorgeous little slutty bum.

"Ow," the boy whined, his arse shaking beneath Rory's penetration.  "Get it
aht of there, You Shit! I told you.  I don't 'ave anyone messin' wiv me
bum!"  Rory ignored him.  Slowly and methodically he moved his finger
backwards and forwards inside Mickey's arsehole.

He wasn't expecting the blow which threw him off balance and he toppled
over sideways and slid off the bed.  Mickey had drawn his leg back until he
could plant his foot squarely against Rory's shoulder.  With a tremendous
smack he had shoved Rory sprawling down onto the floor.  For a split second
Rory started to retaliate.  Had he done so he would have put Mickey in a
hold that would've had him screaming in agony, however he managed to
control the impulse because he wanted so badly to fuck the young man's
arse.

"Fuck off!" Mickey exploded.

"OK young man," Rory answered with a mocking grin.  "But I get to fuck you
first."

The boy's eyes narrowed, the anger darkening the shadows beneath his
eyebrows. Rory watched him seethe.  Usually his bits of rough were just
that, uneducated and compliant: Feed them! Fuck them! And let 'em go! Yet
this particular little creature had suddenly developed a very special
individuality, one that was creeping insidiously into Rory's psyche.

For several minutes they just stared at each other, panting, not unlike two
tomcats in a dark alley.  Rory found that what had begun as a simple sexual
lust was fast becoming an emotional involvement.  There was just something
intriguing about this guy.  Something that was causing a turmoil in his
head.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself say softly.  He was surprised at the
gentleness of his words.  Mickey blinked too.

Still they stood their ground, each man steadily watching the other.

"I want to suck your cock, Mickey and I won't mess with your arse.  I
promise."

"Fuck off!" Mickey spat back at him.

For a moment Rory was going to come back with a typical wisecrack reply but
for some reason he didn't understand, he just replied, "I promise."

Mickey made no response at all.

"Please," Rory heard himself say.

Finally Mickey began moving toward him, his limp cock swaying gently in the
shadows between his legs.  "Ow fuck, yore really different.  Yore a toff"
he stated quietly.  "I don't usually 'ave anyfink ter do wiv toffs
. . . but please don't mess wiv my arse no more, OK?"

Rory took the boy in his arms and kissed him.  Now their physical desires
had slid into emotional ones.  This young street urchin had somehow
overwhelmed him, what had been just a sexual transaction was now a
passionate embrace. They kissed deeply and slowly Mickey's arms rose up
behind Rory's back and began hugging him.  Rory crushed the boy against his
chest, his tongue burrowing into Mickey's mouth.

They made out together, slowly and with growing affection.  Rory sucked his
cock again, licked his pretty little balls and Mickey began clumsily to
return the favours.  He was obviously far less experienced than he would
like his lover to think but he was a quick learner and enjoyed copying the
delicious things that had aroused him to such peaks of ecstasy.

The moment he felt Mickey's tongue touch his cock, Rory thought it would
end right there.  Come boiled at the base of his penis.  If Mickey even
slipped Rory's cock head into his mouth, he'd blast a hole through the back
of the boy's head.  Yet he didn't come.  Rory licked the beautiful body,
nipping at the tits, swirling his tongue along the stem of the boy's cock,
under the delicate, hairless balls, along the soft flesh of the inner
thighs.  This time, as he had promised, he made no attempt to reach that
tempting bum hole.

Mickey seemed to revel in the attention.  He lay sighing on the bed, his
body writhing slowly, his fingers twisting again and again into Rory's
thick hair.

"Oh Man," Mickey whined, squirming.  "I gorra shoot again.  Me bollucks is
achin'."  As if for emphasis he writhed against the rumpled sheets.  Rory
grinned, this was a real street- boy, a real cute one.  When finally he
allowed Mickey to cum, Rory's lips were pressed into the dark pubic hair,
his throat milking the semen out of the boy's cock.

To his surprise Mickey suddenly twisted round and began vacuuming his
lover's cock, just as his had been pleasured and Rory shot almost
instantly, his cock plunging deep into Mickey's throat.  He withdrew his
still spaseming member and pulled Mickey up over his sweating body.  They
kissed deeply.

"Ow yer," Mickey whispered, "you're the man.  You're the best, no wot ah
. .  . "

. . . and, like an over-tired puppy, Mickey rolled off him and was
instantly sound asleep.  Rory manoeuvred their two bodies so that he was
curled up protectively around the small, warm, curled up figure.

. . . . . . . . . the next morning . . . . . . . late the next morning!

The sun streamed through the dirty, torn material that masqueraded as
curtains. On the floor, a pair of red briefs and Rory's white ones. Mickey
was sleeping or pretending to sleep on the black sheet half covered with
the duvet, his back and bubble-butt arse exposed.  The morning sun poured
through the curtains catching the faint patches of Rory's white dried cum
on the small of the bit of rough's back, his feet still with his dirty
white socks on, peeking out from under the quilt. His short-cropped hair
glistening in the morning light.

Despite the furious sex he'd enjoyed so few hours ago, the young lad's
vulnerable form added to Rory's raging morning hard-on, he was already as
horny as hell.  He rolled over and woke Mickey by nibbling his soft ear
lobe and breathing heavily inside his ear then immediately kissing his neck
and his ears and working his tongue all the way down the notches of his
spine.

"Fuck off you fuckin' pervy bastard" Mickey murmured sleepily, "Fuckin'
leave me body alone.  I don't get shagged, remember?"

"Of course you don't get shagged.  That wasn't your tight little arsehole
that gripped my cock with such intensity last night.  That wasn't you
groaning Fuck me, Rory, Fuck me, drive your fuck-stick up me mancunt.  That
must've been another cute little twink getting the fuck of a lifetime!"

"Fuck off"

Paying no attention to the half-hearted complaints from the recumbent
figure in the bed, Rory reached over to finger his cock which was rock
hard, He slid his fingers with a feather-light touch up and down the rigid
shaft, then he pursed his fingers and feathered them over the plump helmet,
causing the young cock to twitch and jerk uncontrollably.

"Fuck offffff will ya, I gorra sleep, I need me sleep," mumbled Mickey with
little conviction in his voice.

Rory could feel how stiff his cock was.  He knew the little sex-hound was
longing for it again.  Mickey groaned and rolled over onto his side half
exposing his bum and Rory gazed down at the cute round rump which was being
displayed by guy who didn't never get fucked.

Rory's libido was in overdrive remembering the hot, gripping, clenching
chute into which he'd managed to insert his finger last night.  He had to
have this guy and have him very soon.  He leant over the inviting body and
worked his face down his spine again and continuing on, to work his nose
down to his arse crack.  He eased apart the chunky round cheeks and kissed
the deep, private crevice. Mickey moaned quietly as he had last night once
he had submitted to the inevitable.

'Fuck me' Mickey whispered, "do it mate, I want it so bad, fuckin' take me,
I want you up me, soooo muuuuch, DO IT N O W"

Turning him fully over, Rory spread his legs wide apart exposing his
longing arsehole.  He reached down and grabbed a black condom from his
jean's pocket, eagerly stripped it out of its foil packed, rolled it onto
his frantic weapon then seized a tiny tube of KY and slid a big gloop of
jelly onto his fingers to spread lube up his quarries arse.  He gazed down
at the proffered bum and slid his body over his prey, mounting him in
preparation for impaling his arse and inserting his hard dripping cock and
push it slowly into his hole.  Once he was in to the hilt and he could feel
his hot balls rammed against Mickey's quivering thighs he began to thrust
fiercely, his bum clenching and thrusting, driving his invader deep into
the moaning body beneath him.

Rory stopped for a moment, nibbling at Mickey's neck, smelling his quarry's
sweat and musk, then he fucked him again, hard, soundly, rolling from side
to side, driving in deep and sliding oh so s l o w l y out again until just
his bulbous cock-head was trapped by the clenching ring of muscle.  With
each wild thrust his victim groaned deeply and the cheap bedsprings
squealed in protest.  As he continued to thrust furiously he could feel by
the jerking of the hot, hard young body beneath him that Mickey had slid
his hand under their two coupling bodies and was desperately wanking his
own cock.  Both of the young men were moaning loudly, totally focused on
their coitus.

Eagerly he pumped his aristocratic seed into the servile young bottom , he
was close and he yearned to be able to continue this turbulent mating but
it was no good.  Frantically he tried to hold back the imminent orgasm, the
exquisite pleasure was now so strong that it was painful.  He gave one last
ferocious thrust, propelling his penis deep into Mickey's gorgeous body and
froze, his legs quivering, his breath gasping and his cock jetting its
first precious jolt of man-seed deep into his horny boyfriend's body.  With
a grunt he withdrew, sliding his still pulsing weapon from its gripping
prison and shot the next spurts of cum all over Mickey's back.

Meanwhile Mickey was still wanking himself urgently and as his lover's hot
semen splatted over his skin, he came in sympathy, ejaculating his own
smelly, sticky juice all over the black sheet.

"Oh yer, that were wicked . . . Oh my lord," Mickey gasped.

"Yes?" Rory replied.

				 OooOOOooo

[Author's note: This may be a prologue.  I'll wait and see what reactions
there are.]

[Mickey's note: Wot's a prequel then?]

andymacdon@hotmail.com