Date: Thu, 25 Aug 2005 08:19:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: dante umbero <danteumbero@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Chauffeur

This is a story of Gay erotic fiction, set in 1920's England.  If you are
underage: or you or your jurisdiction aren't prepared for reading about
two adult men in sexual situations than go away, or enter at your own
volition, otherwise read on and enjoy.  Any association between these
characters and any personages living or dead is purely coincidental and
unintentional on the part of the author.
Dante

Forward:
The 1920's were a time of transition for English society.  The ancient
class structures were breaking down.  The advent of World War I had seen
the decimation of the men of the upper classes and the movement of men
from the lower echelon into the vacuum in the professions.  This was also
a time when men born to the landed class were realizing that the land
could no longer sustain their way of life and more and more of them were
moving into professions like the law and medicine.

In that time period it wasn't unusual for an aristocratic man to have a
man servant.  They would've lived together; the servant would've helped
his employer dress and perhaps slept in an adjacent room.  This
arrangement could've, and likely did, allow for a pair of socially
mismatched men to live a rich love life in the midst of society.  This is
a story based on English society in the interval between two world wars.

My Chauffeur                                   -Part I-

Cecil Beaufort, only grandson and heir of the sixteenth Earl of
Castleford, was sleeping lightly in the casualty ward at Royal Surgeons
hospital London.  He was senior resident in charge and he would, at the
end of the month, be leaving a fully qualified physician.  His father had
died in the Great War and as the heir to his grandfather's Earldom; he
could've followed his school mates into a life at the apex of English
society.  Or at most, entered the military if he felt he needed a
profession, but he had chosen to enter university and pursue medicine.
He had always been interested in anatomy and had dissected farm animals
that were destined for the larder on his grandfather's estates.  The
Earl, who doted on the boy, had initially objected but had been persuaded
after seeing to it he was accepted at Edinburgh and then the Royal
Surgeons; the best appointments that a promising doctor could want.

The ward matron sent the orderly on duty to knock on his small
office/sleeping room.  Cecil was average in height and slightly built.
His face was traditionally aristocratic with high cheekbones and a
slightly aquiline nose.  His blond hair was well pomaded, parted on the
left and combed back from his forehead.  His eyebrows were slightly
reddish and his mustache was copper colored and also well waxed.  He was
dressed in a tweed suit but had removed the coat that hung on the back of
the office door.  He jerked awake to the accustomed knock of the orderly
and said, "Right" to the orderlies request that he come to the reception
area.
He splashed water on his face at the small sink and swallowed some of the
ice cold water.  Pulled on his white surgery jacket and hurried into the
small examination room.  The attendants were just putting the stretcher
down on the table when he took the small clipboard and asked the Sister
what the situation was.

"Well, my lord, the policeman said he broke up a fight between him and
another man.  He has a knife wound in his upper abdomen and it appears a
broken arm."  She said.

Cecil had begun to exam the patient as the Sister was talking.  The man
was about his age, dressed like a worker, dirty dungarees and a soiled
jacket.  The ward sister was busily cutting his clothes off so Cecil
examined his head, his auburn hair spilled into his unfocused blue eyes
and his creamy complexion was quickly turning pale.  Cecil looked over
his patient's head, finding no wounds he looked at his abdomen that was
revealed under the sister's sharp scissors.  The knife wound was in the
left upper quadrant about an inch wide, it was oozing blood.  He touched
the man's abdomen and the man screamed in pain.  He also noted the
deformed lower right arm that bespoke a fractured radius and ulna.

"Sister have the matron alert the operating theater I'll need to open his
abdomen, I believe the knife has nicked his spleen.  I'll ring Dr.
Morrison for permission."  Cecil said as he picked up the phone on the
ward desk.

He quickly explained the situation to his attending and was given
permission to operate.  The patient was slightly more conscious when he
had replaced the receiver and he leaned down near him, looking again at
the clipboard he said, "Mr. Kingsley, can you hear me?"  He continued
when the man groggily nodded, "I'm going to have to operate, I think the
knife nicked your spleen. Do you have any family we can contact?"

"Nnn..no," the man slurred and fainted again.

"Go ahead and take him to the theater," Cecil said to the attendants who
picked up the stretcher and hurried from the room.

Cecil entered the theater from the sinks where he had scrubbed in and an
attendant pulled a sterile gown over Cecil's vest and trousers put a hat
on his head and a mask over his mouth and nose.  Cecil, and the intern
who was assisting, quickly draped the man's abdomen and when the intern
who sat at the patient's head and was dropping ether onto a gauze filled
screen held over the man's nose and mouth nodded, made an initial
incision that lengthened the knife wound.  He quickly exposed the spleen
that was indeed lacerated and he clamped and removed the injured organ
then held out his gloved hand and the assistant slapped the needle holder
with the catgut suture into his palm and the intern at the head of the
table called off the suture numbers to the Sister so she could write them
down.  The case proceeded like an exercise in the anatomy lab.  Cecil
irrigated the blood from the man's abdomen and carefully examined both
his large and small intestines for lacerations.  Finding none he
proceeded to close the abdomen, but inserted a small rubber drain in the
wound that would stimulate the patient's body to expel any possible
infection which was the gravest danger.  The procedure had taken about an
hour and the patient's grey color was turning pinker as his body shifted
fluid to accommodate the loss of blood.  His lips, under the auburn
mustache, were pinker and his finger nail beds were less blue also.  The
attendants took the patient to the post operative ward, after the intern
had put his arm in plaster and Cecil pulled off his gown and mask and
went back to his office.

When he entered Dickie O'Conner was sitting at the Resident's desk
waiting for Cecil to report off the night.

"I hear you've been in theater with a knife wound, how did it go?" Dickie
asked.

"Textbook, mate, textbook, the man was lucky the ambulance was nearby, 30
minutes longer and he would've bleed to death.  I'm having Baxter type
his blood, I'm afraid we'll need to transfuse him.  I'll stay and perform
the transfusion myself.  The ward's full so you'll be busy."  Cecil said.

"Thanks old sod," said Dickie, "Still trying to save the poor and
afflicted are we?  You know I stopped trying to save them my first year
of Residency.  His types are too plentiful and we'll end up supporting
the lot while they hang round the local pub.  By all means old man, carry
on with your charity case.  This time next year I'll be delivering the
heirs of your peers and depositing the proceeds."

"Right then," said Cecil, "Mrs. Madden in bed one had a quiet night..."
Cecil rattled through report then returned to post operative to see the
knife wound.

When he sat down the man's eyes fluttered open for a moment and met the
steady grey eyes of Cecil; smiled, mouthed a "thanks" then went back to
sleep.

The day Sister brought round the results of Baxter's typing and told
Cecil that a man waiting out in the alley matched.  Cecil told the sister
to bring the man in clean off his arm and setup the transfusion set.
Cecil looked over the patient's temperature graph and noted his pulse and
respirations were elevated, he still looked very pale and his lips still
were tinged with cyanosis.  Cecil wrapped the patient's arm in a
tourniquet while the sisters setup the tray of needles and syringes and
the tramp from the alley was seated in the chair by the bedside.  Cecil
quickly inserted needles in both men's antecubital vein and proceeded to
do a live transfusion from the tramp to the patient.  The sister counted
the syringes of whole blood and recorded them along with the patient's
pulse and temperature.
Twelve syringes later, Cecil removed the needles and told the Sister to
give the tramp his tot of Rum and a meal, Cecil noted the patient's lips
were pink and his complexion was ruddier than before surgery.

"Amazing what a little blood will do isn't it Cecil?"

Cecil turned to see the tall distinguished figure of Dr. Sir Alfred
Morrison.  "Yes, Sir Alfred, it is.  I was afraid he'd lost too much
blood to recover.  Now, if infection doesn't set in, he should recover
given a convalescent period."

"That was good work, my lord, good work indeed.  Couldn't have done it
better myself.  You have the gift of a healing touch, as my old nurse
would say; a superstitious Irish woman full of old wives tales and homely
remarks."  Sir Alfred cleared his throat then looked around to see if the
Ward Matron was out of their hearing.  "Cecil I need to speak with you in
the Attending lounge when you're finished here."  He said.

"Of course, Sir, I'll be along momentarily."  Cecil replied and wondered
what was up.
Cecil tucked the sheet around the patient's plastered arm and instructed
the ward sister to call him for any elevated temperature and when the
patient awakened he could have weak tea or veal broth.  He should have
all the fluids he could handle.  His hand lingered on the brow of the
patient noting that it seemed cooler, then nodded to the Sister and went
to meet Sir Alfred.
Cecil entered the hollowed halls of the Attending Lounge, it reminded him
of a rather shabby club lounge with its leather armchairs and sagging
sofa.  Sir Alfred was sitting at the table that dominated the library
alcove writing on a paper.  Cecil cleared his throat and Sir Alfred
looked up and motioned him to a seat across the table.

"Cecil, I want to commend you again on the handling of that knife wound,
you saved that man's life."  He paused and looked at the document before
him.

"Thank you Sir Alfred."  Cecil replied worried now that he was somehow in
trouble.

"Cecil at the end of the month you'll be finished here, what are your
plans afterward?"

"Well, Sir, I'd planned on taking a holiday then looking around for a
practice I could join.  My Grandfather is anxious I learn what I need to
know to succeed him."  Cecil paused.

"The House of Lords: good heavens man, forgive me, what a waste.  You are
a healer, a Physician like no other I've trained.  Cecil, what I'm about
to tell you cannot leave this room.  We normally do not consider our
Residents for positions here at Royal Surgeons, but the attending staff
and the board of governors would like to see you in a position here.  We
have a chair in surgery that is going to be empty at the end of this
term.  I and most of my colleagues would like to see you in it."

Cecil was floored; it was an honor almost unheard of for a newly
qualified Physician.  Most of the Attendings had many years of practice
behind them.  Cecil smelled his Grandfather's hand.  "Sir Alfred, this is
an unexpected honor.  I am of course very grateful, I should have to take
this very seriously," Cecil paused then looked at Sir Alfred and said in
a very dry voice, "and ask my Grandfather, about it."

Sir Alfred smiled then said, "Cecil, I think I understand you.  Your
Grandfather had absolutely nothing to do with this offer.  You have
obtained this through your own merits.  Believe me no social connection
could make me agree to approach you with this, and I'm afraid I'm rather
disappointed you would consider me so shallow.  No you should consider
this a word to encourage you to submit your name for the chair."  Sir
Alfred pushed the paper he had been working on toward Cecil.

Cecil picked up the paper and read the recommendation signed by every one
of his Attending Physicians during his tenure here.  He was humbled and
gratified.  He cleared his throat then looked at Sir Alfred and said,
"Sir Alfred, please forgive me but my Grandfather is well known for
engineering things in my favor, I never intended..."

"My boy I understand completely.  Please consider this seriously.  I'm
afraid you will have to submit your name by the end of the week to be
considered.  Now I really must go make rounds with the house staff.  Send
a note to the Governors offices if you want your name considered."  Sir
Alfred stood up and then squeezed Cecil's shoulder, "Consider it Cecil."
Then he left Cecil sitting lost in thought.


Cecil returned to Post Operative and sat by the patient's bedside and
looked over his chart again.  The chart said, Bill Kingsley, he was
indeed the same age as Cecil.  He is listed as living in the East End,
apparently a common laborer.  Cecil looked at the sleeping man; his
auburn hair was tumbled into his eyes.  Cecil felt something stir within
himself; the chart said the temperature was elevated that was dangerous.
It said he was a veteran of the war; Cecil himself had served only
briefly before the war ended and he entered university.  The patient's
eyes opened briefly and he smiled at Cecil then he fell asleep again.

The Ward Matron found Cecil asleep in the chair beside Kingsley, she
touched his shoulder and he jumped awake.

"My lord, his temperature is the same, you should go home.  You promised
me last time you wouldn't do this again; now go home, I'll send the
orderly round to your rooms if there is a change."  She smiled and Cecil
stretched and yawned.

"Thank you Sister, I'll be in my rooms. I'm on duty again tonight I'll
see him then."  Cecil said and left the ward.  He left the hospital and
went across the lane to the Residents' hall and up to his rooms.  He
hurriedly wrote out a note to the Govenors to ask that his name be
considered for the soon to be empty chair then he rang for the doorman
and gave him the note and retired.

The next night, Cecil was called by the Ward Matron to see Kingsley who
had awakened and wished to thank the doctor.  Cecil sat beside the bed
and the Sister pulled the curtain round the bed.

Kingsley was sitting up propped on pillows with his hair neatly combed.
"I just wanted to thank you; the Sister there told me you saved my
life."  He said and extended his left hand to be shaken.

Cecil took his hand and gave it a firm shake then said, "Not at all,
that's what I'm here for.  You had a close call though, that's for sure.
What was the fight about?"
The patient blushed and ducked his head, "Had my hands where they
shouldn't have been, sir."  He mumbled.
Cecil chuckled then said, "Well I hope that's the end of it."

They chatted for about an hour that night and then every time Cecil made
rounds on him after that.  Cecil slowly learned that Kingsley had served
as driver for Colonel Sir Edward Nicely during the war and had been
mentioned in dispatches during the same battle of the Somme that had
claimed his own father.  In spite of the wide social distinctions between
them, they found a common ground in their war experiences.  Kingsley
learned from one of the Sister's that Cecil's father had died in the war
and when he asked who he was, was able to tell Cecil that he had met his
father once at a command conference.  Cecil learned that Kingsley worked
for a construction company as a laborer but had probably lost his
position as he'd been out too long.  Kingsley's recovery was slow but
sure, twice a day Cecil came through and checked the wound, and every
time he bared Kingsley's abdomen and saw that swath of ivory skin taunt
over his rippled stomach and the trail of copper hair that surrounded his
navel and then dived under the turned back sheets, he felt his manhood
stir and was glad of the Prince Albert frock coat they wore on rounds.

Cecil had always known he was different from his friends.  When he was
away at school as a teen he had tossed others off and had himself been
tossed off.  Unlike most of his friends though, he had also enjoyed
"lifting the shirt" of one of his schoolmates who liked to be buggered.
During his time at public school he had explored sex with the other boys
and had come to realize when the others had started to develop an
interest in girls, that he didn't share that interest.  In fact he wasn't
interested in girls, in that way, at all.  He knew that someday it was
expected he marry and produce another Earl of Castleford but he had
always managed to put that day off and out of his mind.  Now after eight
long years of dedicating all his time and energy to his studies, this
lower class working man's tight abdomen caused him to think about what
was staying hidden under the sheet.  He also thought Kingsley noticed his
interest and thought he detected a stirring in that sheet.  He spent odd
moments dreaming about Kingsley's wonderful hair and muscular frame
knowing that there wasn't any possibility that anything could come of it.

After three weeks of convalescence and the day before Cecil was due to
finish his Residency, Kingsley was ready for discharge.  Cecil came round
and found the Ward Matron arguing with the patient.

"You cannot go home alone; you will have to have continued care sir."
She said.

"Well I ruddy well will have to go it alone as I've got no one to care
for me haven't I Sister."  Kingsley said.

Cecil stopped at the bedside at that point and interrupted.  "What's this
Kingsley?  Haven't you someone at home who can look after you?"

"No sir, I haven't.  My parents are dead and my only sister lives in
Birmingham with a husband and five children, she's no time for the likes
of me.  I told the Sister here I could take care of myself.  Haven't I
watched her change the dressing twice a day for weeks?  Didn't I do
dressing changes in the War?  I can manage this sir."  Kingsley said.

"It isn't a matter of your ability, Kingsley.  I hadn't realized you
didn't have anyone at home.  Where do you live?" Cecil asked.

"I've got a room in the East End, if the land lady hasn't given it up.  I
sent round the rents for the month but you never know."  Kingsley said
and sighed.
Cecil thought for a moment the vaguest sketch of an idea forming then
said, "Kingsley I'm going off duty in an hour, I'll come round and pick
you up and take you to your rooms and we'll see if you still have a place
to stay.  If not we'll see what we can arrange."

Kingsley blushed then said, "Cor, sir but you can't be going over to my
digs, they're hardly respectable."

"No arguments, Kingsley, I didn't bring you through this bit only to have
you pop open like a bad pudding when you try to lift a hod of bricks.
I'll be back around in an hour."  Cecil said and walked off.

He heard the Sister say as he passed out of ear shot, "There, you see, I
told you.  You should be grateful you sod that his lordship has taken one
of his fancies to you.  Now I won't tolerate any ill temper..."

As usual Cecil was detained with cases he was particularly interested in
and it was late when he went back around to collect Kingsley.  He found
him still in bed clothes.  "Well Kingsley, sorry about the delay, we'll
need to get you dressed."  Cecil said, looking around for a Sister and
eyed the man's clothes.  They were clean and relatively new, probably
taken from another patient who hadn't made it out of casualty.  The
Sisters kept a stock of various men's clothes for just such
contingencies.  I'll give you a hand; that plaster will be hard for you
to manage alone.  Kingsley sat up on the bedside and dangled his bare
legs to the floor, the sheet only covering his lap.  Cecil took the shirt
and took his bandage scissors from his pocket and cut off the sleeve to
accommodate the plaster then helped the man into it.  Cecil noted the way
his muscular shoulders turned into the mounds of his pectorals and the
glint of copper hair peeking from his axillae.  His chest tightened as
his hand brushed across the firm muscles as he buttoned the shirt.  He
turned and picked up the man's trousers and puddled them on the floor at
his feet.  He noted the copper hair that covered his calves and the firm
muscles there also.  Kingsley tucked his feet into the pants legs and
Cecil squatted down and gathered up the waist of the pants and pulled
them up his legs, his thumbs parting the copper hair as they moved up his
body.  Kingsley stood up and Cecil found himself staring at his semi
erect penis, surrounded by copper hair.  The foreskin was just drawing
back from the head.  Cecil's breath
caught as he admired the splendid manhood.

Kingsley, coughed then said as he pulled the trousers up one handed,
"Thanks, mate, I can take it from here."

Cecil blushed and stood up and started filling out the paperwork to get
Kingsley out of there.  In silence he led Kingsley out of the ward to
where his Bentley roadster was parked.

They were soon moving through the early evening traffic Cecil steering to
Kingsley's instructions.  About an hour later they pulled up in front of
a rather tired looking shop front.  Kingsley opened his door and went to
grab his small sack of belongings, Cecil grabbed the bag first smiled and
said, "Already anxious to overdo?  Really Kingsley I should have kept you
in another week."

Kingsley laughed, "Thanks no; I'm about fed up with the Sister's
mothering me, Sir, my room's upstairs."

Cecil followed Kingsley up two flights of creaking stairs to a small door
under the eaves, the key opened the door and they entered what Cecil
would have termed a windowless closet.  The room was just big enough for
a camp bed with a small chest beside it.

"I see the old bird hasn't given up my lease, my stuff is still here."
He said as he opened a drawer of the chest.
The dust on the top had alerted Cecil, he disturbed it as he picked up a
small photograph framed in cheap card stock.  He squinted in the dim
light to see a young man in uniform, obviously taken during the war.
"Who's this Kingsley, a brother?"

"Here, I'll take that," he replied as he took the photo from Cecil,
"that's my best mate Tom, or he was my best mate."

"Sorry I didn't mean to pry."  Cecil said as he watched Kingsley's
expression soften as he looked at the photo.

"He died in the war; a shell hit the ambulance he was driving.  Bloody
waste of a good mate!" he sighed and sat the picture down.

"Kingsley," Cecil said quietly, "how would you like to work for me?"

"Me, sir, what kind of work could I do for you?  I'm nothing but an out
of work laborer."  Kingsley said and looked into the grey eyes.

"I talked to Sir Edward Nicely, he tells me you were a first rate orderly
and driver.  I'm in need of a valet who can also double as my Chauffeur.
Next week I'm fully qualified and will need a man servant."  Cecil said
looking into Kingsley periwinkle eyes.  "It'll fetch you around 50 pounds
a year plus room, board, and uniforms."

"But you don't know much about me, sir.  I don't think I can, I'm not
trained and besides you don't know all about the fight...I mean."
Kingsley started then stopped.

"Kingsley, I think I know you well enough to trust you in my home.  You'd
have no reason to steal there.  As far as training, your duties would be
similar to what you performed for Sir Edward as orderly.  Drive me to the
Hospital and my Surgery, care for my shoes and lay out my clothes."
Cecil said and smiled at him.

"It wasn't stealing, sir.  I was..snogging where I oughtn't have."  He
answered and looked at the photograph again.

"Now Kingsley, a man who gets in trouble stepping out with another's
girl, that's understandable. Again it won't happen again I'm sure."
Cecil said at a loss now, he was beginning to think there really was
something amiss.

"It...weren't..."Kingsley mumbled and turned away from Cecil.

"What's that Kingsley?"  Cecil said straining to hear.

Kingsley turned abruptly and said clearly in a tone tinged with sadness,
"It weren't a girl, sir.  The bloke who stuck me, caught me buggering his
best mate.  I'm sorry," he paused then continued, "you see now why I
can't take the position you offered.  It wouldn't be right of me to repay
your kindness with this mess."  He turned again away from Cecil as he
finished, expecting him to leave.

Cecil stood transfixed his thoughts flooding with the possibilities, he
placed a hand on Kingsley's shoulder and whispered, "I understand, I..."

Kingsley turned and looked into Cecil's eyes, he could see the confession
on his face.  He leaned toward Cecil and their lips met.

Cecil felt Kingsley's manhood rise up hard against his own as they
explored each others
mouths with their tongues.  Cecil's hand strayed up his firm back and
then tangled into the auburn hair he'd been dreaming of for weeks.
Kingsley's good hand was on Cecil's backside and was kneading his bum,
his senses reeling from the cologne Cecil wore and the feel of the well
tailored suit.  Kingsley had had many men but never an Aristocrat like
Cecil.

Cecil could feel the hard muscles again and the strong arms that were
locked around him, he reached down and loosened the trousers he had so
recently put on him and then reached in and felt the hard tube of flesh,
when he fished it out the flies and gripped it and started a slow wank on
it, Kingsley broke their kiss and moaned.  Cecil smiled and sat on the
bed he watched as his hand made the foreskin bunch up behind the head
then snap forward and cover it each time he could sense the sigh escape
from Kingsley, then he leaned forward and slowly took the man's cock into
his mouth.  Kingsley slid his hips forward and Cecil's nose was buried in
the fragrant coppery pubic bush that fanned out from the base of his cock
and trailed up to his navel.  He tasted pungent and manly and Cecil's own
cock was aching.  His hand slipped around Kingsley's bollocks and he
squeezed gently, his finger traced behind the egg sized balls and
followed the hard ridge of  Kingsley's erection.  Cecil started matching
Kingsley's rhythm stroke for stroke when he thrust forward Cecil
swallowed his manhood and when he pulled back Cecil licked the Corona of
his cock.

"Ah I'm gonna cum."  Kingsley whispered, and thrust forward one last time
and held Cecil's head in place.

Cecil felt Kingsley's cock get harder and then felt the first rush of
semen as it flooded into his waiting mouth and throat.  He almost joined
Kingsley in an orgasm but managed to control himself.  When the rush
passed, Kingsley slowly withdrew from his mouth and Cecil watched with
regret as the foreskin once again demurely covered the flaring purple
head.
Kingsley sat down beside him and leaned in and kissed him again while
with his good hand he fumbled at Cecil's flies, Cecil finally helped him
and let his smaller circumcised cock out.  Kingsley's hand fondled it and
looked down.

"Here now, you're no Jew."  He said quietly.

"No, but all the men in my family were circumcised; a roundhead is what I
was called at school.  The medical thought at the time was it prevented
masturbation."  Kingsley looked puzzled, "You know, tossing off."  Cecil
said and smiled.

"Did it work?"  Kingsley said, and let his fingers run through the pale
gold hair at the base of Cecil's cock.

"Good Lord, no."  Cecil laughed, then moaned quietly as Kingsley wanked
him.

"You want to bugger me?"  Kingsley asked.

"Too right, I do."  Cecil said.

Kingsley laughed softly then stood up.  With his good hand he popped the
button of his trousers and they slid down his legs.  Cecil caught a
glimpse of his flaccid cock now mostly hidden by his bush, as he turned
and bent over the chest bracing his legs apart and rolling his hips up.
Cecil thought he had never seen a better bum in his life, even the
captain of the cricket team at school hadn't been that beautiful.  His
dick throbbed as it slid through Kingsley's crack and the hair there
prickled his head.  Kingsley handed Cecil a small bottle of olive oil and
Cecil spread it on himself and on Kingsley's tight hole.  He positioned
his cock and slowly pushed forward into the man's tight sleeve.  Both men
moaned softly as Cecil penetrated the tight ring.  Cecil was in paradise,
Kingsley's tight hole clenched each time he pulled back and Kingsley
pushed back each time Cecil thrust in.  Cecil was soon leaning forward
over Kingsley with his nose in his hair and then he let his lips touch
his neck and slid over to his ear.  He let one of his hands stray around
to Kingsley's cock only to find it hard again and he started slowly
wanking him as he picked up his thrusts.  Kingsley was moaning with him
and leaning back to meet his thrusts when Cecil came, he sighed and
blasted several loads deep into the man, lost in the fever of the sex and
release of his pent up frustration.  Kingsley's hand gripped Cecil's now
slack hand around his rigid cock and finished himself off and leaned his
head back over Cecil's shoulder as he fired another load onto the front
of the chest and moaned.

They stood like that for a moment locked in the afterglow, Cecil ran his
hands up Kingsley's chest and felt again the hard muscles put on by
carrying bricks up scaffolding.

"That was wonderful, Sir.  I hope we can do it again."  Kingsley said as
he sighed again.

"We can, especially if you came to work for me."  Cecil said and once
again buried his nose in the auburn hair that smelled of hospital soap.

To be continued....