Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2006 21:55:57 +0000
From: Blue Skies <mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Man and Boy

This is a story set in England, hence the English spelling and grammar. It
is not written from any personal experience but was inspired by an incident
in another (hetro) story I wrote and posted sometime ago. The title says it
all really although the boy in this case is 18 and the man is 50+. The
author is mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk who would be pleased to receive your
comments on this story.


Man and Boy


It was typical of an up-market English seaside hotel when visited in the
winter. Its faded splendour more in evidence in the cold winter light; the
lack of people to bring it alive and the handful of staff required to keep
it operating at the minimum level. Welcome to The Imperial Hotel in
Blackpool (a name that hardly conjures up thoughts of hot holidays) in the
north-west of England, in January. Behind the desk were photographs of
various British Prime-ministers arriving for the annual party conferences
over the past years, all adding to the fading glory atmosphere. However, as
the place to spend a couple of days whilst conducting business in the area,
it wasn't bad; my room was warm and clean and surprisingly large with a
separate bedroom and a seating area with TV, and a good sized bathroom; it
had the advantage of facing the sea. I unpacked my case, changed into some
casual warm clothing and then left for a walk along the seafront.

The wind was fierce; the previous day had been filled with a great storm and
there was debris across the path and road. The sea, barely discernable
against the equally grey sky, churned and heaved, slapping against the
breakwater. I walked as far as a petrol station and bought a newspaper, just
in time as the guy was closing, muttering about no trade on a Sunday and
didn't know why he opened. I was glad that he had; the newspaper is my
anonymity when away from home and wanting to use public places like a bar or
restaurant.

I made my way back to the hotel and headed for the bar. It was quiet with
only six or seven people sitting in near silence; it was well lit with a
huge glass chandelier, and warm. I waited at the empty bar for someone to
come and serve (this is England remember) casually scanning my newspaper as
I did so. Eventually, a pretty hotel girl came into the bar and went behind
it to serve. I ordered a beer, charging it to my room, and enquired as to
ordering dinner. She told me that the restaurant was shut on a Sunday but I
could order a meal to have in the bar. I thanked her and moved to a table in
the corner. Here I could sit and read the newspaper (the anonymity bit) and
enjoy my beer without interruption by somebody seeking conversation.

Finishing the beer, I left for my room where I undressed, showered, shaved
and changed. Outside, the wind was picking up and I could hear the sea
crashing against the breakwater; I decided to risk the bar-meal, it was too
awful to contemplate going out to eat. Picking up my paper, I headed once
again for the bar.

When I entered, I was one of three people. There was a pair who were
obviously a local couple having a night out in a 'posh' place. She was
dressed in a pink tracksuit, an incongruous choice as she clearly overweight
and not at all athletic; he was dressed in the ubiquitous black tee-shirt,
jeans and trainers and wearing a back-to-front baseball cap. Blackpool's
finest out for the evening.

The pretty girl had been replaced by a young looking boy (although at least
18 as serving behind the bar). He gave a genuine smile as I arrived at the
bar; I ordered a glass of red wine. He ran through the choices and I
selected one and asked for the menu. He served me the wine, saying he'd
bring the menu over. I took my drink over to the far table and folded the
newspaper so that the crossword was available, the second stage anonymity
when eating alone in public. The young man brought over the menu; I noticed
then that he was quite striking in his looks. His facial features were soft
and framed by locks of hair curling down; he looked rather feminine in a way
but not blatantly so. I thanked him as he said to call him when I was ready
to order. I sipped my wine as I perused the somewhat sparse menu and chose a
light single course; I signalled him and watched him as he walked the length
of the room. I gave him my order and asked him to bring a second glass of
wine with it.

The meal and the wine came and I ate in silence, working my way through the
crossword (and not getting any clues), half-listening to the
non-conversation of the local couple. They were clearly bored and eventually
left, he going through the door first and she meekly following. I finished
the meal and drank the last of my wine as I finally got a couple of the
crossword clues.

I was suddenly conscious of being the only customer and that the barman was
clearly keeping the bar open just for me. It was gone 10pm and I was tired
so I picked up my glass and empty plate and took them to the bar and wished
the boy good-night. He smiled again and said good-night. I took the lift and
walked to my room. I switched on the TV, washed and changed into a dressing
gown. As I sat down, there was a knock on the door.

Puzzled, I got up and padded to the door, on opening it, the boy from the
bar was stood outside, with my newspaper in his hand.

'You left this', he said.

I thanked him; he looked past me into the room and asked if I needed
anything as he was going to lock-up for the night. Before I could answer, he
was telling me that this was his favourite room and one of the best in the
hotel. I agreed that it was very comfortable, thanking him again for
returning my paper and that I didn't need anything else tonight. He looked
disappointed but quickly beamed his lovely smile and bade me goodnight. I
closed the door behind him and wandered back into the room. What a good
looking boy I thought to myself, and so pleasant too. I switched off the TV
and headed for bed; I fell asleep quickly but did wake up later, and was
surprised that I was thinking about the boy and how affable he was. I
drifted off again and woke early in the morning to make an early start to my
business visits. Breakfast in the hotel was just me and one other person and
served by a sleepy older woman. I gladly finished the limp toast and thin
coffee and left.

I had a busy but not very fruitful day. I was easily distracted and not on
top of my job. I found my mind wandering back to the hotel, or more
worryingly, to the boy behind the bar. I was troubled by this and resolved
to go out to eat tonight and not in the hotel. On returning, I did just
that; I quickly showered and changed as was out again within 45 minutes. I
had a miserable meal in half-empty and cold pub. My mind couldn't
concentrate on my newspaper and I was ready to go; I toyed briefly with the
idea of another drink but the thought of being pulled over for drink driving
prevailed and I headed back towards the hotel. I parked and was
contemplating a walk along the seafront when a heavy shower of sleet served
to change my mind. I locked the car and headed into the hotel, going
straight to my room. Getting out of my overcoat, I stood in the darkness of
the room looking out at the sleet and the heaving sea, my mind all over the
place. I had no particular thoughts about the boy at all; he was just a boy
whom I thought was a pleasant lad, nothing more. That line of thought sorted
in my head, I turned, walked across the room, picked up my paper and without
breaking step, headed for the door, out of the room and turned towards the
bar.
There were several people in there all men, something to do with the local
traders association or suchlike gathering for pre-dinner drinks. I moved
forward to get a drink. The boy wasn't behind the bar and I breathed a sigh
of relief. Good, I thought, now it's out of my head.

'Hello' said a voice slightly behind me.
I turned and there he was with a tray of glasses some filled with sparkling
drink, others empty.

'Here, have one', he smiled, 'they won't notice; half of them are pissed
already'. I was startled at his choice of words but I thanked him and took a
glass.

'Must go' he said 'I'm duty wine waiter'. I moved to a far table and sat
down with my free glass of wine. I toyed with the paper and the wine whilst
people watching. The crowd started to thin as they moved into the dining
room for dinner and the boy and two others started to clear tables. I did
notice that some of the men made a point of talking to him especially; I
heard that his name was Matthew and that he was an eighteen year old student
in his final year at the local college studying for the hospitality trade. I
felt a twinge of annoyance, I didn't know why, and decided to leave. A
thought flashed across my mind and I immediately acted upon it. I waited
until he was clearly visible to me, and me to him; I got up and made for the
exit. He intercepted me and offered me another glass of wine; I said I was
heading for my room but he said to take one anyway.

'They'll never notice', he said, smiling. I took a glass and thanked him.

Getting to my room, I stripped off and showered, shaved and put on the
dressing gown and sat down with the TV on. I'd give him 30 minutes I
decided. I'd left my newspaper on the table in the bar again, but this time
deliberately.

After 20 minutes, I heard the lift sigh to a stop and the doors open.
Footsteps headed along the corridor in the direction of my room; as they
drew nearer, they slowed and stopped outside. There was a low mumble and the
footsteps started again and moved further on. I heard a door open, then
close and then silence. I sat sipping the wine, waiting out my self-imposed
30 minutes...and then a further ten. After another five, I got up and turned
off the TV, went into the bedroom, switched on the bedside lamp and then
returned to the sitting area to turn off the lights. As I did so, there was
a soft knock on the door.

I opened the door and there he stood with my newspaper in one hand and a
tray with two filled glasses on it. He held out the paper. 'Paper and wine
on the house', he grinned,' these two were left over, I thought you might
like them'.

'Why don't you join me?' I said, and stepped aside. For a heartbeat we were
both unsure.

'Just for a few minutes', he said and hesitantly entered the room.

He walked to the sitting area and stood holding the tray; I asked him to sit
down. We both sat at the low table. For a couple of minutes the conversation
was stilted but the wine relaxed us and we started to talk about general
things. I steered the conversation round to him and he became more animated
as he
talked about himself and his hopes to get into hotel management. I asked
about the unsociable hours and how it would impact on the social side of his
life. A fleeting look of sadness crossed his face; it was gone in an instant
and he replied that he wasn't too bothered; he'd had a couple of girlfriends
but they hadn't worked out so he preferred to keep himself busy with his
college work and working part-time at the hotel. I gave him the benefit of
my age in advising that he shouldn't lose sight of the benefits of keeping
time spare for socialising.

'I prefer to work' was all he said. The abruptness of his response surprised
me and there was an awkward silence, then, 'I didn't get on with the girls',
he blurted out' I just didn't feel comfortable with them'.
I told him that at his age he had all the time in the world before him and
that there was no rush to do anything. He went to say something but
obviously thought better of it. He reached forward, picked up his glass and
finished what was left of his wine. He suddenly stood, 'I should get back',
he said, 'I'm supposed to be helping the others clear up'

I stood up and followed him to the door. He reached for the handle,
hesitated and then turned. 'I'm sorry for being rude just then', he said. I
said it didn't matter. He looked awfully sad for a moment and then said that
he'd found me easy to talk to and didn't feel awkward in my company as he
did with other men. I frowned with incomprehension and then remembered the
number of men in the bar who'd made a point of speaking to him.

'How do you mean? I asked him.

He hesitated and then said, 'I think they think I'm gay' he blurted out.

'Why does that bother you exactly? I asked softly.

'Because I think I might be', he said, almost in a whisper.

I told him it was no great shame and better to be comfortable with oneself
than live a life trying to be something one is not. He looked at me
forlornly. 'Thank you' he said, 'you are so very kind'. 'I should go', he
added.

I reached up and gently squeezed his shoulder, 'You'll be fine', I said.

In one fluid movement he moved towards me and we embraced; he held on to me
and I hugged him in return. As we loosed our grip on each other, he kissed
me on the cheek (I don't believe to this day that he knew he did it), 'Thank
you' he said, turned, opened the door and left, closing it quietly behind
him

For a full two minutes I stood there, my mind racing. Here was I, man
married for the major part of my life, hugging an eighteen year old boy to
offer some comfort. Not too much wrong with that you may say; the part was
preying on my mind was that he had been gone for a full two minutes and I
still had an erection.

I tried sleep but it evaded me; I was restless and still troubled with my
thoughts and continued erection. It was no good; I gazed around the room; it
was lit only by the glow from the street lights and the only sound the sound
of the rain and sea. At least I could get rid of one distraction; I reached
for the box of tissues and the small bottle of perfumed hand cream that
hotels supply. As I did so, the 'phone in the sitting area outside rang.
'Why not in here? I asked myself as I got up. I picked up the'phone.

'Hello', he said, 'it's Matthew', and then stopped.

'Hello', I said inadequately into the silence.

He broke the silence that followed, and said, in one great rush, 'Can I come
up and see you I know it's late and that I've taken enough of your time
already but I really would like to talk to you and you were so kind and
understanding I felt you really understood what I was trying to say please
don't hang up on me.'

'Wait', I said by way of interruption. He stopped gabbling. 'Of course you
can come up', I said, 'and don't rush, I'm not going anywhere'.

'Thank you, David' he said (a surprise use of my name) 'I'll be along in ten
minutes'.
I slowly put the 'phone down; now I was nervous, why had I said yes, I asked
myself. I went back into the bedroom and put on my dressing gown; on second
thoughts, I also pulled on a pair of jockey briefs. Going back into the
sitting room, I turned off the light and waited whilst standing at the
window looking out into the distance where I could see the phosphorescence
from the waves breaking far out to sea; the rain continuing to batter at the
windows. I was shaking slightly, though not with cold.

There was the slightest tap on the door; it took be by surprise as I hadn't
heard the lift or footsteps. I reached the door and opened it, standing
aside as I did so. He walked straight in and I shut the door behind him and
dropped the safety catch. I turned away from the door. Matthew had stopped
halfway into the room and watched me approach.

'I used the stairs', he said, 'so as not to disturb anybody'. That answered
the no noise bit: the no footsteps were because he was barefoot.

'Sorry about the delay in coming up, I stopped off at my room for a quick
shower and shave'.

I asked him if he'd like a drink from the mini-bar in the room. He shook his
head, 'No thanks' was all he said. I noticed he was shaking slightly.

'Are you OK?, I asked him. He said he was and then went silent on me. Never
fill a silence I had been taught, so I waited. It seemed to go on forever;
eventually, he broke it, as I knew he would.

'I'm sorry about being rude, you seemed to read my mind and it unsettled me,
I've never talked about this to anybody before, I thought you would laugh at
me or tell me to go or call me queer or to pull myself together or..'. I
moved towards him and gently put two fingers on his lips to quieten him. He
looked mournfully at me and his eyes welled with tears.

'It's alright', I said, 'it doesn't matter. He fell towards me and hugged
me, this time with more force and held on to me. I embraced him in return
and we just stood there. I could smell his hair, still damp from his shower.
I could feel myself getting hard and shifted my stance so that he wouldn't
feel it. As I did so he broke the embrace and pulled his head back to look
up to me; he had been weeping. I looked down at him; he looked so pitiful
and sad. I went to speak but the words (whatever they were going to be) died
on my lips. He gave me a tearful smile. I looked back at him and something
in his eyes changed. Without any thought, I leaned down and kissed him
softly on the mouth, tasting the salt of his tears. He didn't move away and
we held the kiss. After some time, we pulled slightly apart and looked at
each other. Then, mutually, we moved to kiss each other. This was different:
it was a lover's kiss, we held on to each other, moving our arms to feel the
form of each other, pulling each other closer. His mouth yielded to my
tongue and he sucked gratefully upon it as I explored his mouth. I pressed
my hard prick against him and he pushed back against me. It felt wonderful,
so sexy and, above all, forbidden. This boy was ten years younger than my
own son.

We broke our kiss; I stepped away from him but took hold of his left hand. I
moved toward the bedroom door and he compliantly allowed himself to be led.
We approached the bed and I stopped and turned. We just looked at each other
and gave each other our silent consent. I reached and started to undo his
white shirt; as I did so, he tugged inexpertly at the belt of my dressing
gown until it came open. Finishing with the buttons, I pushed the shirt off
of his shoulders whereupon it dropped to the floor. We stopped there, he
bare chested and me with my dressing gown open. I shrugged it off and left
it on the floor next to his shirt. We embraced again and his bare skin on
mine felt electric and my prick hardened like it hadn't done for years. I
felt it start to leak pre-cum as it pressed against the restraint of my
jockey briefs as we kissed deeply again, with me starting to undo the belt
of his trousers and the zip as we did so. He pulled away to let them drop;
he stepped out of them and then stood
there looking at me. I moved to the bed a sat on the side of it, and then
lay down, looking up at him. Like me, he still had his briefs on. He went
around the other side of the bed and slowly climbed upon it and lay down
beside me. Neither of us had spoken since I told him it was alright back in
the sitting room.

I lifted myself up to look at him; he looked so appealing, almost lovely in
the lights from outside. I felt no shame or apprehension as I began to make
love to him. I kissed him and he eagerly returned it; we kissed lovingly for
a long while as we relaxed and became comfortable with each other. I move
from his mouth to kiss the side of his face, his ear and neck. His breathing
was coming in shallow gasps, as I caught sight of his face I noticed his
eyes were shut and his sensuous lips parted. I kissed them again and
returned to his neck and then on down to his chest and then his nipples. I
treated them as gently as I would my wife's, sucking them gently, running my
tongue around the areolas; he gasped as I gently grasped each nipple in turn
between my lips. Whilst staying with his nipples, I slid my hand across his
stomach, down towards his penis. Would he stop me now, I vaguely wondered?
He didn't. I ran the tips of my fingers along the length of his surprisingly
(pleasingly?) large erection. I moved from his nipples, kissing and running
the tip of my tongue across his skin as I travelled down his chest, his
stomach and then to the band of his briefs. Whilst still kissing his body, I
moved my hand to his left hip and gently pulled at the band; he lifted his
hips and I pulled down one side of his briefs. I moved to his right hip and
did the same there, then, back to his left to pull them lower and finally
back to the right to get them clear of his hips. His briefs were now clear
of his hips, his erection prevented them from going lower. I lifted myself
and took the waistband over his penis and pushed them down his thighs where
he pushed then clear by moving his legs. He was a magnificent sight naked.
His body was superb, young, firm and hairless with the exception of his fair
pubic hair, his large circumcised penis lying along his flat stomach. I took
a gentle hold of it; here I was on new ground, but my wife had shown me
well. I put myself in her place and acted as she had done countless times
with me. I gripped it firmly and gently pulled to milk out some pre-cum; I
was successful as a large drop of the clear, slippery fluid came out,
fascinated, I gently spread it
over the head of his young, strong prick. I gently pulled again and another
large drop oozed out and started to run down the shaft; another pull
expressed a third drop. I gently spread it over the heap of his penis and
then down the sides. With a couple of strokes, his penis was a gleaming,
slippery shaft. I glanced at Matthew; he was still laying with his eyes shut
whilst I toyed with his magnificent young prick.

I just had to do it; I wanted to know how it felt and what it tasted like. I
ran my tongue over the tip of his prick and pushed the tip of it into the
liquid eye of his leaking penis. He gasped and I felt a huge blob of precum
leak from my caged cock. I milked another drop of his pre-cum directly onto
my tongue and then sank if penis into my mouth. It tasted salty, of him and
of nothing I'd tasted before, another man.

My wife had taught me well. I followed the movements of my fist down his
prick with my mouth, sucking slightly as I withdrew it and running my tongue
around his shaft as I plunged it into my mouth again. It felt good and I
felt no guilt at all nor any doubts, this felt good and I was enjoying it as
much as Matthew. He started to move against my movements, making love to my
mouth as I worked on him. It wasn't long before I felt his movements quicken
so I slowed and then pulled him from my mouth. I gazed at his prick inches
from my face and then kissed the head of it, milking another large drop of
pre-cum as I did so; holding the fluid in my mouth, I moved up the bed and
kissed him, running his pre-cum into his mouth as I did so. We kissed for
some time, enjoying the slippery feel of his fluid between our lips. I
pulled away and gazed down at him in the half-light, his eyes remained
closed as I continued to gently stroke his wet and slippery penis. He must
have sensed me watching him as he opened his eyes and gave me the most
beautiful smile. Neither of us spoke. I lay on my side beside him, holding
but no longer caressing his penis. He put his left hand to my face.

'Can I touch you David' he asked.

'Of course you can' I answered. He moved towards me and kissed me. It was
the first time he had other than mutually us two and it felt almost loving
and, I have to say, bloody erotic.

I rolled onto my back and he followed me so that he was above me; he kissed
me again, first on my face and then very soon across my neck and chest and
then to the band of my now very wet briefs. He endearingly tugged inexpertly
at them and I made it easier by taking the right side at the same time as he
took the left. My prick sprang free trailing a silvery string of pre-cum
between the head and my stomach; I was soaked with the stuff. I kicked off
the briefs and lay there. He looked down at me and then to my prick. 'Jesus'
he said, that was all. He looked hesitantly at me and then back to my prick.
Slowly he moved his hand towards it and took it between his thumb and
forefinger. 'It's so hard', he said half to himself. He then gripped it
harder and tried the same as I had to milk it. He was none to gentle and I
loved him for is lack of expertise.
'Careful', I said softly, 'you'll break it'. He took his hand away. I took
his hand and put it back on my aching prick. 'Only joking', I grinned at
him. He smiled back but this time took hold of me with a little more
confidence; the very innocence of his touch was erotic. He stroked me for a
while and I could almost feel him coming to a decision. He moved, paused,
and then put his lips to the tip of my prick. He kissed the end and then its
length in a series of pecking kisses. It was so erotic just by the very
nature of his inexperience; it couldn't have felt better if he had been a
naive eighteen year old girl. After a little time he ventured to take the
head of my prick into his mouth. The warmth of it took be by surprise, that
and the fact than I had by penis in a young boys mouth. He took it deeper in
his mouth and I felt his teeth on my skin; he gave a couple of shallow
plunges, his teeth still running along my skin. I made my mind go elsewhere;
it was either that or I would soon cum. This was like having a virgin girl
and I wanted it to last.

I pulled away from him. 'Wait a few minutes', I said.

He came back up and lay beside me; I took him into my arms and we lay there
quietly for a while.

I lifted my head. 'Let me show you', I said.

He looked at me quizzically. 'Move further down the bed'. He did so. I then
turned around and lay beside him but at an angle with my head near his hips
and my hips well clear of him. Laying on my side, I reached around his body
and, placing the flat of my hand on the cheek of his wonderfully firm arse,
turned his him towards me and took his lovely penis into my mouth again.
This time I was careful not to overdo it; I kept my movements and my touch
light. I played my tongue along his length and over the eye of his penis,
gently probing it to tease out some pre-cum. I withdrew him from my mouth
every time he started to move with me. I wanted to show him how to do it
gently, not for any altruistic reason in fact, purely selfish; I was
implying how I wanted him to do it to me. When he got the message not to
move, I moved my hips slightly nearer to him; he got the idea and pulled
himself across the intervening gap between us and, without any hesitation,
took me into his mouth. I love sixty-nineing with my wife and this felt as
good if not greatly different. Matthew was much more in control, gently
sucking me and careful as he slid his mouth down on me. We lay there for
some time gently sucking; his prick felt huge in my mouth, leaking pre-cum
which I spread over it as I moved him in and out of my mouth. Abruptly he
pulled his mouth away from me.

'I'm going to cum', he said in a panicky voice.

I gripped his balls firmly, 'No you're not', I said firmly, and squeezed
them slightly. It served to focus his attention and he calmed down, though
not before a small teardrop of cum oozed out of his penis. I looked at it
and then lowered my head and took the drop on the tip of my tongue. I
hesitated and then took it into my mouth. It tasted better than I expected;
nothing like it smells and not unpleasant. My God I was learning new things
fast.

I turned around and kissed him to see if he would taste himself. He didn't
say anything, and then, 'David, please let me cum, I so want to, please'.

I pulled my head back to look down at him; we looked at each other in mutual
understanding and then I moved down and kissed each nipple in turn, tugging
them gently as I held them between my lips. I continued down across his
lower chest and stomach; hesitating, so that he could feel my breath on his
beautiful cock, I then took him fully in my mouth in one smooth motion. I
could taste his cum on him and it still tasted fine: I made my decision
then. I pulled away and milked some more pre-cum from him with my hand and
spread it down the length of his shaft, following it with my mouth. It
didn't take long.

After a few strokes he gave a panicky, 'I'm going to cum!'I didn't stop.

He made to pull away but I followed his movement. He relaxed then as he
picked up my implied message. Then he started to cum. The force of it caught
me by surprise as I had as much of him in my mouth as I could take. It hit
me at the back of my throat and I instinctively pulled away just before the
next one hit. It was followed by a third; as it did so, Matthew started to
buck so forcibly underneath me that I pulled my mouth clear. He was making
strangled cries as he came and I gently kept stroking his rigid cock with
each spasm. Jets of his cum streaked as far as his nipples and then, as the
spasms diminished, across his stomach and then just ran out of him as they
faded way. He went quiet then and I gently lessened the stroking of his cock
as less and less cum left him; as I did so, the spasms subsided and he lay
still. It had seemed to go on for a long time; I lifted my head to look at
him, his eyes were closed, he was dishevelled and breathing through his
slightly parted lips. He looked wonderful. For perhaps the first time in my
life, I could recognise beauty in another man. I had a fair quantity of his
cum in my mouth and I was hesitating as to whether to swallow it; it tasted
sour but nowhere near as unpleasant as I'd expected. As I hesitated, he
opened his eyes and made to focus them.

'Wouldn't mind a kiss', he said, and closed his eyes again.

I moved towards him; he still had his eyes closed and his full lips slightly
parted. As I held my head above him, I felt his cum flow to the back of my
lips; I lightly touched my mouth to his, and then parted my lips. I couldn't
have hoped for a better reaction; as he felt the warm flow onto his lips, he
held my head to his with both hands and returned the kiss with unbridled
passion. It was so erotic; his cum between our lips was warm and slippery;
we were able to slide our lips over each others; once, I slid my lips from
his to the side of his mouth; he eagerly followed my movement so as to keep
our mouths in contact and then firmly pushed his tongue into my mouth. I
drew lovingly upon it, sucking it and savouring the taste before pushing my
tongue into his mouth. I pulled away and went down to where a pool of cum
lay on his chest, I licked it onto my tongue and returned it to his mouth.
That seemed to trigger something in us both. Mutually, we went wild.

We rolled about in abandoned passion; we kissed, bit, scratched, grabbed at
any part of each other we could get hold of. He took hold of my leaking
prick as I grabbed a cheek of his lovely arse and sucked his softened penis
fully into my mouth. He smeared my pre-cum over his nipples and then grabbed
hold of my hair; pulling me up and bringing my mouth to them. 'Lick it off',
he gasped. I did, and with enthusiasm. As quickly as it began, we calmed. I
knelt above him, looking down across my hard prick at his face. After what
felt like some time, but probably only seconds, he wordlessly rolled away
and face down on the bed. He moved slightly to get comfortable but at the
same time, gradually and deliberately, parting his legs. Now I was unsure; I
hadn't thought that things would go as far as they had, let alone this. Was
he asking me? Could I do this?

Matthew must have heard my ragged breathing; 'I'd like to try David', was
all he said and then, almost imperceptibly, raised his wonderful rounded
firm arse and then down again. I reached across him, my prick brushing
across his back as I did so, and picked up the bottle of hand lotion; the
one, seemingly a lifetime ago, that I was going to use to relieve my
thoughts about the very boy who now lay beneath me.

Kneeling between his legs, I gently parted the cheeks of his lovely arse to
reveal his pink, hairless anus; holding them apart with one hand, I poured
some of the lotion directly onto his opening. I placed the bottle back on
the side and returned my hand to his lubricated arse.

'Tell me to stop, and I will', I said. His only response was to raise his
arse slightly higher.

I spread the lotion around the area of his opening, enjoying the intimacy of
it. When he was well covered, I took a little more lotion on my forefinger
and gently placed the tip of it against his opening. I paused, wondering if
he'd ask me to stop. He didn't. I pushed; there was an initial resistance
and then he appeared to relax his arse muscle as my finger slipped easily in
as far as the first joint. I held it there for a moment and then withdrew
it, but not completely, and then in again, but this time to the second
joint. His arse tightened again and I stopped there. He relaxed and I
withdrew my finger completely. I reached across for some more lotion but
this time was able to pour some into the entrance of his arse as his anus
had remained slightly open. The next time I slid my finger fully into him up
to the knuckle in one smooth movement; he groaned slightly and pushed back
against my hand. For a couple of minutes, I gently fucked his lovely arse
with my finger, stopping once to re-lubricate it. He said it felt good as he
increasingly pushed harder against my finger as I pushed it into him. After
another pull-out to lubricate my finger again, it slipped easily in and we
built up a rhythm, me pushing into him and him pushing back onto my hand. I
withdrew my finger completely and waited a couple of seconds, my heart
hammering in my chest.

'Do you want to try, Matthew?' I asked.

'Yes', was all he said.

He spread his legs wider as I moved to kneel between them. His beautiful
arse glistened with the lotion and his anus was still parted from the
ministrations of my finger. I took the bottle, now less than half full, and
poured some lotion into his open arse and then onto my prick, so hard now it
almost hurt. I placed the bottle to the side of the bed.

'Tell me if you want me to stop at any time', I said.

His reply was to reach up for one of the pillows, lift up his arse and place
the pillow under his hips. I looked down at Matthew, his arse lifted up for
me. I moved to place my left hand beside his head, taking my weight on my
left arm and legs. I took my prick into my right hand and offered it up to
his upraised arse. As he felt the tip of it against his opening, he pushed
slightly back and I slightly forward. The head of my circumcised prick
entered his arse. We stopped there for a couple of seconds for which I was
grateful; I felt I was going to cum already. I held on to it, withdrew
slightly, and then moved into him again. With four or five movements, I was
able to get about a third of my prick, where it is at its thickest, into him
but no further. He stopped pushing against me and took a sharp intake of
breath when I tried to go deeper. I pulled out of him and then moved to lie
by him on my side. He moved the pillow and looked at me; disappointment
showing on his face. 'I wanted to, I really did', he said sadly. I told him
that I had too and still wanted to. I lifted my head and kissed him lightly
on the lips.

'Let's try another way', I said and rolled away from him, onto my back.
'Come on top of me', I said softly.

He needed no second bidding and bestrode my hips, facing me and smiling;
he'd grabbed the lotion and held it triumphantly. He knelt back and took my
aching prick in his hand and poured most of what was left over the end. I
can still smell the sweetness of it now and vividly remember how cold it
felt on my hot skin. He moved forward until his arse was over my cock and
then knelt forward, his hands either side of my head. He looked down at me.
I reached around him and steadied my prick with my hand; then he started to
press backward upon it; I let go of my prick. Again it slid in easily up to
the same place as before; he pulled himself almost off and then pushed back
again but never any deeper than before. He did a few movements and then
stopped and then pulled off me. He reached for the bottle and emptied it
over the swollen head of my cock. He then straddled me again, took my cock,
guided it just into his arse and then knelt forward his head above mine. He
did a couple of movements and it began to feel good, very good indeed, but
still no deeper.

I looked at him. 'Relax', I whispered.

His response was to kiss me; I responded eagerly, pulling his mouth to mine
with my hands either side of his lovely boyish face. As we kissed he started
to move back and forth again; this time though I could feel that his arse
wasn't so tight on my prick. He got to the point where we'd stopped before
and stopped pushing, but kept it there rather than draw off. I pulled him
towards me and we kissed lovingly, as we did I (and he) felt my prick start
to overcome the tightness and then, suddenly, his arse was over the think
part and closed over me again pulling all of me into him. He gasped and so
did I. It felt so good; I was up to the root of my cock; I was swamped by
unfamiliar sensations. He was so hot inside and the walls of his arse
slightly rough. I could feel his balls against the base of my cock and his
penis, semi-hard, between us. We said nothing, laying still as we both came
to terms with what we had done. We started to gently kiss again and he
started to move; at first his arse pulled on my prick but the lubrication
took over and I slid out, and then, joyfully, back in again. It felt
wonderful and I remember it as if it was only yesterday. He moved again, and
then again, building slowly to slow, deliberate movements; he was smiling as
he became more confident and as I started to move against his movements.
Between us, I could feel his penis stirring.

'Let me look at you', I said and pushed him away from me so that he was
sitting upright, impaled on my prick.

He looked beautiful; his lovely body rising above me. He smiled and then
slightly closed his eyes as I took his penis in my right hand and started to
rub it gently; it got to a firm state rather than a full erection and
stayed that way. As I continued to stoke him, he started to move up and down
on my prick and I moving against him. Now we were fucking and it felt so
good. It didn't go on for long, he started to move quicker and I did the
same on his penis. I passed the point of no return and he must have felt my
prick momentarily swell as he put all his weight upon me, driving me deep
into him. I felt warmness on my hand and looked to see cum streaming from
his penis; that finished me; I started to cum, and cum hard. It hit me so
much that I let go of his penis and sat upright and pulled him towards me in
a tight embrace as the first wave hit me. I felt cum stream from the end of
my exploding prick, and then another, followed by another. I called out
something (I know not what) and we gripped each other as I filled him; in
all of this I could feel the warmth of his cum between us. As my spasms
decreased, we kissed and then, when they had stopped altogether, lightly
held each other, saying nothing. I broke the silence,

'Are you OK?' I asked, not really knowing quite what I was asking.

'I'm fine' he said, 'just enjoying the feeling of you being inside me'.

I was suddenly cold and lay back down, taking him with me and keeping me
inside him. I tugged a sheet from the dishevelled bed and pulled it over us.
We lay like that for quite some time, not speaking, each thinking our own
thoughts. Eventually, his arse muscles closed down on my softened cock and
squeezed it out him.

'Oh no!' he said. 'I wanted you to stay in me'. I said nothing, just hugged
him.

After a while he stirred. 'I should go', he said. I said that he didn't have
to, he could stay 'til the morning if he'd like to. He said that he'd like
that but would have to be down in time to serve breakfast. I suggested a
shower.

'Together?' he asked.

'Together', I replied.

We showered together, soaping and washing each other, paying much attention
to each other's penis, ball and arse areas. Once, when he was washing my
balls, he slipped a soapy finger into my arse; it felt surprisingly good. We
dried off and fell into bed. I pulled the duvet up over us both. I lay on my
back and lifted my left arm; he slid his head under it and put in on my
shoulder. We held each other as lovers for a while; me kissing his head from
time to time and him occasionally tuning his head to kiss my neck. Slowly,
Matthew first, we fell asleep.

I awoke at some time, becoming aware of being warm, with a half-erection and
no Matthew. I then became aware that he was there but was the source of my
warm feeling and half an erection; he'd woken me by taking my cock in his
mouth. It was a wonderful feeing and, once fully conscious, my cock rapidly
grew to its erect state. He didn't stop; seemingly he'd become a blow-job
expert as he milked my prick of pre-cum and spread it over the length of it
with his mouth. He soon realised that I was now fully awake as he stopped
and moved up the bed.

'Did I wake you'? he asked with a smile, and then kissed me lovingly.

I rolled him onto his back and lay on top of him, returning his kiss. Our
pricks were hard and we pressed them together between us. He than parted his
legs and pulled them up high to rest them on my shoulders. Placing my hands
either side of his shoulders on the bed, I pushed forwards, lifting his arse
of the bed. Keeping him in that position, I moved myself to bring my prick
under his balls and against his arse. I stayed there, looking down at him,
asking the silent question. His answer was equally silent; he reached for my
prick and guided the head of it to his anus; pushing slightly against it to
keep in there as he took his hand away. I gently pushed a little more.
It must have been my cum from our previous time as he seemed so slippery. I
was able to enter him slightly, then pull back, and then in slightly deeper.
I did this six or seven times and then was able to enter him fully. It felt
bloody good. We stayed still for a few moments and then I started to move
again. He reached down and pulled on his prick to move his balls out of the
way. As he relaxed I was able to slide in and out of him with ease. There is
no other term for it or a way to describe it; we made love. I was able to
move into him as I did my wife. I would stop occasionally to hold myself
back, and then start to move again. He looked up at me as I moved in and out
of him; sometimes he would smile and then look at me through half-closed
eyes as looks of pleasure flitted across his face. At times, I would move
very slowly into him until I was as deep as I could go, and then stop, but
keeping myself pushed hard in rather than resting. At these times he would
shudder slightly and clamp his legs against my neck. When he did this, I
could feel his beautiful arse clamp around my buried prick. We made love
like this for some time, I couldn't say how long. There came a time however
when I didn't want to stop moving and he didn't want me to. As my strokes
increased, he started to meet my thrusts and also masturbated to the same
rhythm. It was incredibly erotic and I noticed that, as the last time I was
inside him, his cock was slightly softer than a full erection. Eventually,
the inevitable happened. First a hint and then a full blown cum. As it hit
me I forcefully rammed my prick into him right up to its root. He gasped and
then relaxed as I held myself fully into him feeling my cum squirt out of my
prick and into him. He felt it too and gasped as each jet entered him. He
had let go of his prick and now had both arms around my neck, holding on
tight as I emptied myself into him. It felt so good, even better than the
previous time, but my spasms were fading now and I was no longer rammed up
against him although still fully in him. Finally, I finished.

'Bloody hell', I said; that was all. What more was there to say?

Matthew's arms relaxed around my neck but he pulled my head down to his. He
kissed me lightly on the lips.

'Thank you' he said with his dreamy smile and eyes half closed. We stayed
like that until my penis softened and his muscles gently squeezed me out of
him.

'Now it's your turn', I said, moving down the bed.

As I moved down, he straightened his legs, but slightly apart. I knew
exactly what I was going to do. I took his now fully erect prick and gladly
took it in my mouth. I milked it as I sucked and enjoyed the taste of his
precum which flowed freely from him. I hadn't realised the first time how
much I'd enjoyed doing this to him; now I was hungry for it. I employed all
the techniques my wife had (unwittingly) taught me. Matthew seemed to
particularly enjoy me teasing his prick with just my mouth, holding his hips
down with my hands as he tried push against me as I lowered my mouth onto
his shaft. I let his prick spring free and then grab it again with my mouth,
sometimes lightly between my teeth. He did a sharp intake of breath through
his teeth when I did that. I continued like this for some time until I
eventually felt his prick swell and his breathing quicken. I didn't take him
out of my mouth; instead, I held onto him as the beginning of the end
approached. He came as forcibly as before but this time I was ready for it
and withdrew very slightly to give him room to cum. It was difficult however
to hang on to him as he bucked with each spurt but hold on to him I did, to
the point where I didn't think I could hold any more of his cum in my mouth;
I solved this dilemma by slightly opening my mouth to release a small
quantity which ran down his shaft. At last he lay still; I pulled gently to
milk the last drop from his prick. Then I let go of him and moved back up
the bed.

He sensed what I was going to do and was ready for me. I moved my mouth over
his as he offered his parted lips up to me. I opened my mouth and kissed him
at the same time. A flood of his cum flowed from my lips onto his. We went
wild. Between us we spread his cum over each others lips and exchanged it
between our mouths with our tongues. The passion with which we did this was
like nothing I'd known before. I licked up any that threatened to spill down
his face and he eagerly took it from me. In one quick movement, I went down
to his now soft penis and sucked another drop from him and also licked off
what I'd let go over him before, and then returning to share it with him.
The taste I can't remember but I can clearly remember enjoying it.
Eventually we calmed down; me half laying across him. We stayed like that
for ten minutes or so; I moved and looked down at him. Softly, almost with
love, I kissed him; he gently returned it. I lifted my head and looked at
him again; wordlessly we knew what was going to happen next.

'I should go', he said, barely audible.

I nodded. 'I know'.

He got up and headed for the shower; I waited for a few minutes, thinking
about what had happened and how I felt about it. I decided I felt bloody
good about it and got up to follow him into the shower-room. I leant on the
entrance to the shower watching Matthew wash himself. He noticed me, smiled
and continued to soap himself. He looked good, young, fit, good-looking and,
now, an air of confidence. My cock stirred but I stayed watching him. He had
to go and we both knew it. I held the towel for him as he turned the shower
off; he walked towards me, gloriously naked with his heavy penis swinging.
He turned his back to me and I draped the big towel over his shoulders,
touching the back of his neck lightly with my lips as I did so. I moved past
him and into the shower and turned it full on. I needed to wash my body and
cleanse my mind of him; I knew it was going to be a once only liaison. As I
showered, he dried himself; I enjoyed watching him as he moved so gracefully
and unconscious of his beauty, yes, beauty, he looked so wonderful naked. I
turned off the shower and grabbed a towel; Matthew had gone back into the
bedroom and was picking up his clothes in turn as he dressed. I quickly
towelled myself and tugged on the dressing gown, with some difficulty, over
my still damp skin. I watched him finish dressing, neither of us saying
anything. When he finished, he turned to look at me.

'Will I see you before you go?' he asked.

I said he would.

He slowly tuned and headed for the door, pausing when he reached it, his
hand on the handle. He dropped his hand and turned to face me. He looked
dreadfully sad. We spontaneously moved towards each other and embraced.

'Thank you', he said.

We let go of each other and he turned, lifted the latch I'd dropped a
lifetime ago, turned the handle, pulled the door open and left. As quick as
that. I felt terribly alone. I decided then that I would leave; I didn't
want to be here anymore; business could wait. I'd go now, before the Friday
traffic got too heavy heading south, back to rural Wiltshire.

I didn't see Matthew during breakfast (I was ravenous) nor when I came to
check-out. He was there however in the car-park by my car. He looked cold in
his hotel uniform; hardly surprising as the wind coming off the sea was
freezing. As I reached him, he made a play of helping me with my suitcase
into the car.

'Will you come back David?' he asked.

'Yes', I said, 'of course I will'. We touched hands briefly and I climbed
into my car.
I lowered the window. 'Thank you David', he said.

I smiled and said nothing; I couldn't have anyway, I was too emotional. His
eyes were wet. I started the car and he took his hands from the door. I
pulled slowly away, looking at him diminish in the rear-view mirror. He
raised his hand as I turned right into the road fronting the cold grey sea.

'You should go to Blackpool more often', said my wife dreamily. She'd just
given me the loveliest blow-job. She'd given me it as she was slightly sore
from our second bout of love-making in the half-light of the early morning.
It was close on lunch-time. I'd arrived home from a long and tortuous drive
home, navigating around traffic hold-ups as I tracked south towards home.
She'd put a bottle of sparkling wine in the fridge for my return and we'd
enjoyed a light supper with it. She gave out all the wifely signs of wanting
to be taken to bed and I in turn felt incredibly horny. We left the table as
it was as headed for bed; I cannot remember a time when we fucked with such
animal passion. She came twice in quick succession before I could hold off
no longer, roughly ramming into her as I came. We calmed down as I softened
and then lay beside each other as we drifted into sleep. In the cold dawn
light, we both stirred and turned to each other and gently and sleepily made
love. It was lovely and we moved and then stopped, going on like this for
nearly an hour before she dug her nails into my shoulder as she thrust
against me as she came without any warning. I followed soon after. In the
full winter sunlight of mid-morning, she took me in her mouth. Afterwards,
she pulled herself up to look at me.

'You haven't been fucking another woman while you've been away, have you',
she asked bluntly.

'No', I replied with complete honesty, 'what makes you ask that?'

'I don't know', she said, 'misplaced feminine intuition I guess'.

I returned to the hotel in May, planning to stay overnight rather than drive
home late in the day, at least, that's what I'd told my wife. There was
nobody on the reception desk (not untypical in an hotel in England) so I
took my case into the bar to get a drink in the meantime. Matthew was behind
the bar.

'Hello', he said brightly, 'here on business again? I said I was.

He hesitated' 'Would you like a drink'?

I said I would while I waited for somebody to staff the reception desk. He
looked lovely. I ordered a beer. As he poured it, another young boy came
behind the bar and picked up a bottle of wine from the rack.

'For table seven', he said, looking at Matthew, who looked back at the boy,
though slightly embarrassed.

'OK', he said.

The other boy looked quizzically at him and then left with the bottle. I
felt a great disappointment. I caught Matthew's gaze and nodded in the
direction of the parting boy, raising my eyebrows in a silent question. He
reddened slightly and then nodded.

'Good luck to you both' I smiled, feeling anything but glad.

He said nothing, just nodded, and left the bar to take an order. Leaving my
drink untouched, I picked up my bag and left the bar. It was a long way
home. I never saw him again.



The author is mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk  I would be pleased to receive
your comments on this story.