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webmaster — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 13:43:26 +0000

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Last summer, I found myself in Nashville, TN, attending some education seminars for my work. While there, I found a jazz club that was celebrating Mardi-gras, and I spent two evenings there watching women bare their tits for a green necklace, or other prize, from the group that was playing there. The music, the food, the tits and people made for very entertaining evenings. While there I met some wonderful people as well.

Also, while in Nashville, I happened across a XXX bookstore. This place, as it’s name implies is huge. They have XXX books, mags, videos, toys and theaters to watch porn in. I originally had gone there, hoping to find a glory hole that I could service some horny men through. After having listened my friend, Dawn’s glory hole story, my mouthhad been drooling and ready for some cock and cum action for some time now.

After checking things out, I decided to go into a full screen theater there. There was an open hallway between two screens. On one screen they were playing straight porn, and on the other was gay men porn. Well, since I was there to hopefully suck some cock, I naturally went into the gay side.

There was theater style seating with about 5 or 6 rows, and an aisle down the middle. On the very last row, to the left of the aisle, there was one lone seat, where it looked like the 3 or 4 seats to the left, and the seats between there and the aisle had been removed.

Immediately, I saw this seat as the most accessible for me to sit in with hopes of having some men cum up and let me service them. This had been an unfulfilled fantasy of mine, to suck off several men while they were all horny as they watched porn.

Another fantasy of mine, yet unfulfilled up till then, was having a big hard black cock in my mouth. As I sat watching the movie yet not really watching, as I really was busy watching other men as they would come into this side of the theater, stand at the back for a few minutes, and then disappear, as It seemed as if they would wander to the other side, and then they would wander back to the gay side. I watched as some of the men would be rubbing themselves.

I turned around to my left, and gasped. There was a black man, standing in the corner, stroking his exposed hardon. My heart began thumping, as I realized that one of my fantasies was right there, and I stared at his cock and licked my lips, hoping that he would notice my wanting his cock in my mouth. Soon, the man began moving away from the corner, and was walking behind me. I turned my head and continued licking my lips.

Suddenly the man walked up to me and simply put his cock to my lips. Well, now I was exhilarated. Here was one of my fantaies being fulfilled and I began licking the head of that beautiful black cock, and wrapped my hand around the shaft. I heard him moan deeply, as I slid my lips around the bulbous head and while still flicking my tounge around the head, slid his cock deeply into my mouth.

Oh my gawd, I knew I was in heaven. As he stood there and I was licking, sucking and pumping him with my mouth, another black man walked up to my right with his hard cock in his hand. I reached up and took over the stroking he had been doing, as I continued pleasuring my mouth, and the owner of the cock in my mouth.

The man I was sucking, after a few minutes said, “go on and suck him” and withdrew. I was so excited at having been presented 2 big hard black cocks for my mouth, yet felt reluctant to let this hard cock slip out from my lips, as I was hoping that this man would have filled my mouth with his cum as well as his cock. With the two emotions of excitement and reluctance, I of course went for the second, thinking that maybe this one will offer me not only his cock, but his sweet load as well.

I began licking, sucking and pumping on this cock now, and as I did, two more men came up on either side of this man with their sweet poles waving at me for attention. I reached over and grabbed one in each hand and felt two rock hard cocks thrusting back and forth in and out of my hands, almost to the same rhythm as the one that was now fucking my face.

Again, disappointed as the second cock withdrew before cumming as well. I then took turns on the two cocks I had been stroking, licking their bulbous heads, licking up and down their shafts, and deep throating them, one then the other, then one, then the other.

As I was sucking on the cock to my left, the man on the right withdrew his cock from my pumping hand, and was quickly replaced with another hard cock. Soon, I turned my mouth to administer some good ole cocksucking to the new man, and was about to lick the tip. Instead, this man was on a mission.

He grabbed my head and quickly sank his entire cock, so hard and throbbing deep into my mouth and to the back of my throat. He immediately began to fuck my mouth with quick and deep thrusts, and after about 10 or 20 good thrusts held my head and held his cock at the back of my throat. Suddenly, I felt his cock swell even bigger and harder.

As he held my head motionless, his cock head deep in my throat, his prick began twitching and throbbing wildly and I felt and tasted his hot load as it spurted time and time again with each jet hitting the back of my throat.

The feeling and taste of his spurting man juice was out of this world, and I moaned my approval around his hardness in my mouth. I was in heaven. It was worth the wait for a hot load to fill my mouth, and the cocksucking before had just kind of been a tease that made me love and appreciate that load the had just been deposited in my mouth. In Fact, at times, I wonder if god created my mouth as a sex organ, because I can suck cock and swallow cum all day, and every time it is like I have an orgasm in my mouth when there is a hard cock pumping it’s load in there.

I was exhilarated. As I sat there just replaying in my mind the events of the past few minutes, I was in such a state of euphoria. Suddenly, behind me, and to my left I felt that someone was standing there. As I turned, I was once again presented with the first big black cock aiming towards my mouth.

The excitement and euphoria instantly heightened. I turned and gave this familiar cock the attention it deserved, hoping that this time, before withdrawing, that I would get a mouthful of this man’s cum in my mouth. I licked and sucked and nibbled and deep throated and pumped him again, and he began to throb and twitch in my mouth. He was moaning, and I knew that I was going to get my reward for being such a good cocksucker soon.

And I was right. It wasn’t too long before his cock swelled bigger and harder, throbbing and twitching in my mouth I heard him say, “here you go you cock sucker , I am going to fill your mouth with my cum, here I cum, take my load you cocksucker” as spurt after stream after shot of his hot sweet load filled my mouth.

I was swallowing fast and hard, and still couldn’t keep up with his hot squirts filling my mouth. And dribbles of his cum leaked out the corners of my mouth, streamed down my chin and landed on my shirt.. OMG!!! What a day this has been. One for the records, although I don’t think I will submit it for consideration.

Almost immediately after he withdrew his cock, letting me continue to lick up the after cum, there was another man presenting his cock for me. He walked up and placed his cock to my lips and I took him in. Sucking, licking and pumping him. Just as I thought I was going to have him fill my mouth with his load, he became distracted with a man standing behind him and wanted this other man to fuck him.

Apparently, the other man declined the invitation. So his throbbing cock was once again available for my pleasure, and it wasn’t long before I felt his cock bulging, throbbing and twitching as my mouth began filling with the man’s hot load of cum.

Ever since then, I have this reality and memory to think back upon and has provided me with numerous orgasms replaying this fun time in my head. I often think about making a trip back there, and I will, sooner or later. Part of me wonders if a repeat performance will even match this one. But, hey, I am willing to sacrifice a drive up there and some time in examining that premise to see what could happen this time.

If you happen to live in, or near Nashville, perhaps I just may have the opportunity to suck you off.

Sweety guys promise: you won’t able to control you fingers while watching videos on Twinks19!

webmaster — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 08:43:26 +0000

More Sweety guys promise: you won’t able to control you fingers while watching videos on Twinks19! video samples here!
Please let me know what you think, good or bad. It’s a labor of love, but labor none the less, and it would greatly help and encourage me to hear back from my readers. Now, enjoy!

CHAPTER 10

One week later Andy had woken up early, took a shower and was waiting downstairs for Bill to finish up before he drove him to the courthouse, Jake and Brian and his family meeting them a bit later. But Andy needed to do something before Alan, Brad-Lee and Jason’s sentencing hearing started. He needed to do this if he’d ever be able to close this chapter in his life, and Dr. Manning had agreed with it, and encouraged him.

Andy felt his resolve crumble as he sat waiting for the guard who would usher him through to the room where he’d be meeting Alan. Feeling panic crawling up his spine, all fear and apprehension left his body as he felt Bill’s strong hand squeezing reassuringly on his arm, then heard him say, ‘I’ll be right here outside, waiting, you hear?’

Andy didn’t trust himself to speak, but only nodded, all his gratefulness and affection towards the man sitting next to him evident in that one action.

Getting up as the guard approached then, Bill gently pulled Andy in for a half hug before letting him follow the guard down the hall.

Andy entered the empty room and took a seat across a wooden table as he listened to the instructions of the guard regarding personal contact or item exchanges of any sort. Nodding his comprehension Andy held his breath as the guard disappeared to fetch Alan. Letting the breath out as the door opened, Andy remained seated as a sullen looking Alan shuffled in with cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Andy made eye contact with Alan and was the first one to look away. Alan settled himself across from Andy, staring at him. Andy finally forced himself to look at him as Alan said, ‘You look good, Andy.’

Andy swallowed, then said, ‘You’ve lost weight, Alan.’

‘Yeah well, a prison diet will do that to you.’

Andy sighed irretatedly, already bored with the situation.

‘Look, Alan, are we just going to sit here and make small talk all morning or-’

‘I’m not well, Andy,’ Alan cut him off, ‘I’ve realised that while in here.’

Andy stared at the man that had instilled so much fear in him, had ruined so many. He heard himself saying, ‘I told you that myself, Alan. Remember? It was when you were lying next to me on my bed, forcing me to listen to your crazy ramblings!’ Andy was yelling, trying unsuccessfully to keep himself calm.

‘I know I hurt you, I know Andy-’

”Not just me, Al,’ Andy spat his nickname like poison.

Alan nodded. ‘I realised that too, Andy. I’ll spend the rest of my life thinking about that, everyday, forever. At least I’m getting the help I never knew I needed so desperately…’

‘What happened to the videos?’ Andy asked deadpan.

‘They burnt with the cabin. We kept it all there.’ Alan said ashamedly.

‘What happened, Alan?’ Andy suddenly found himself wanting to know. ‘Surely you didn’t just wake up one day and decided to be a rapist bastard. What made you into what you are?’ Andy sounded calm, really interested to hear his tormentor’s answer. Andy looked Alan dead in the eye, no longer cowering at his intense stare.

‘I…it’s difficult.’ Alan took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I’ve always known I liked guys since the day I can remember. It was natural for me, you know. I thought, “That’s the way it should be,” because that’s what felt right, see?’

Andy gave a slight nod and Alan continued, ‘I only knew I was different from everyone else when I entered school and everyone was acting and thinking differently to how I was. And then also my father, talking to me about the sports he wanted me to get involved in, teasing me about all the girl friends I made so easily in school and so on. By the time I reached grade 2, I realised it was a bad thing, something to hide and be ashamed of.’ Alan was looking down at his hands, silent tears dripping from his eyes. He continued without looking up. ‘By the 7th grade, I realized what I was. I mean I always knew I was different, but words like faggot and homo never featured in my mind before. But as I saw the small, skinny kids getting beat up everyday, being called queer and all sorts, I was determined never to let anything like that happen to me.’ Alan’s voice held a determination that Andy recognised.

‘Anyway, rather than become the victim, I became the bully. Only I couldn’t fight my urges after a while. I started by forcing the wimpy kids to go down on me, and threatened to hurt them and their families if they refused or said anything. That was enough for a while, but I guess I needed more. When I graduated my father wanted me to go to college, but I didn’t see the need, really. I had enough money not to have to work a day in my life. So I just waited for his “Concerned Parent” act to bore him and for him to lose interest again and then I just faded in to the woodwork.’

‘What about your mother?’ Andy asked. It dawned on him then that it was the first words he’d spoken since Alan had started with his story. Alan made a rude noise with his throat before saying, ‘That bitch took my two sisters and fucked off to Europe somewhere a long time ago, dumping me with a sack of shit for a father without looking back.’

Alan sounded angry and lost to Andy.

‘Anyway, I guess I thought like if I took what I wanted without asking it still made me better than the one I was taking from, or something. I just really needed someone to tell me it was okay, that I was okay.’ Alan was sobbing in his self pity, and despite himself Andy felt himself pitying Alan. Feeling tears forming at his own eyes, Andy heard himself say, ‘Alan, there is nothing wrong with being gay. It’s not like we woke up one day and decided, now we like guys, is it?’

Alan shook his head brokenly.

‘We were born this way, and people saying otherwise can’t know what they’re talking about since they’re obviously not gay.’

Alan was full out sobbing by now, and Andy waited until he calmed down some before he said, ‘I’m so sorry your life had to turn out like this, Alan.’

Alan practically whispered through his tears, ‘I’m sorry Andy. You know that, don’t you?’

Andy remained quiet for a moment before saying, ‘I can’t say I’ll ever want to be your friend, Alan. But I realise now that you truly are sorry, and I…forgive you.’

Andy’s words made Alan look up at him, wonder and hurt in his eyes.

‘God, Andy, you’ll never know how much…’

‘It’s alright, Alan, you don’t have to say anything else.’

Andy got up from his chair and as he was about to turn around, Alan said, ‘Andy?’

Andy looked down at Alan and said, ‘Yes, Alan?’

‘Out of all the others, you were…I loved you, Andrew.’

Andy looked Alan dead in the eyes and said before he turned and walked out the room. ‘Goodbye, Alan, and good luck with the rest of your life.’

Andy left a crying Alan in his wake, walking down the hall, but running as he neared Bill, breaking down into gut wrenching sobs as the older man enveloped him in his arms.

Andy and Bill had met up with Jake and Brian and his family and were now seated in the first row of the crowded courtroom, directly behind the public prosecutor. Brian looked extremely uncomfortable to Andy the minute they had walked in to the courtroom to the frenzy of reporters and the public, but had given Andy’s searching gaze a reassuring smile as they’d made their way to their seats, and was holding on to Andy’s hand as if it was his one lifeline. As the court’s staff took their places and the crowed settled, Andy could feel the tension in the room reach fever pitch. Then Alan, followed by Brad-Lee and a heavily bandaged Jason stepped in to the courtroom to a frenzy of hushed conversation. Then the bailiff announced the judge’s entrance and everybody got up.

‘Be seated,’ came the authoritarian voice of the judge. ‘Before I sentence the convicted, are there any parties that would like to be heard?’

‘No, your honour,’ came Alan, Brewster and Brad-Lee’s defense lawyer’s reply. As the DA got up to answer the same, a voice came from the back of the courtroom, grabbing everyone’s attention.

‘Brooklyn Mildes, 21,’ came the small voice, and the man that had spoken unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the mark on his left breast for all to see. A sea of flashes went off as another man got up.

‘Brandon Mac Dowell, 23,’ and he too exposed the burn mark on his left breast.

‘Jason Evans, I was 19 years old,’ said a small looking man who’d gotten up, taking off his shirt. Brian was sobbing at this point, his body shaking as more men and boys got up at various places all around the courtroom, all admitting to have been victims of Alan Haynes’ and his group.

At a certain point Andy felt Brian’s grip loosen on his hand and saw him get up and say, ‘Brian Ash, I was 18 years old at the time.’

Andy had only then noticed that more than half the courtroom was in tears, Brian’s parents and Bill and Jake included. Andy looked over at Alan’s table, seeing him sob next to a stone-faced Brad-Lee and Jason. After another minute or so the judge hit her gravel against the board and said with an emotional voice, ‘Alright, alright! That’s enough, I won’t have my courtroom turn in to a circus!’ she yelled, a few tears escaping from her own eyes. The people remained standing as she continued, ‘If there’s nothing else?’

The two lawyers shook their heads.

‘Fine then. Alan Haynes Jnr, through the evidence presented to me, and the expert testimony I have heard, I am convinced that you weren’t at your full reason and understanding at the time you committed these crimes, and have expressed sincere regret and remorse for your crimes and will benefit more from being in a professional institution than the prison system. I therefore sentence you to the Bethany Hope psychiatric hospital until such time that the appropriate persons find you fit to return to society.’

The judge paused, more for effect than for anything else Andy thought.

‘Brad-Lee Knowles and Jason Michael Wepener, through the evidence presented to me, and the expert testimony I have heard, it is clear to me that you express and harbour no remorse or regret for the crimes you were found guilty of and were at your full reason and understanding at the time you committed those crimes. I therefore sentence you to life imprisonment, recommending that you serve at least 25 years.’ The judge smacked her gravel for added effect, then dismissed the court.

Jason jumped up from his wheelchair then, nearly falling over from the effort.

‘Why punish us? He’s the murderer! That faggot right there,’ Jason yelled, his disfigured face contracting evilly as he pointed over to Brian. The bailiff immediately detained the prisoners and escorted them back through the same doors as they had entered. Instantly the courtroom erupted into excited conversations, onlookers, eager reporters and broken families making their way outside. Andy turned to Brian, and flew in to his arms, being crushed to Brian’s chest. Feeling other arms surround them, Andy looked up to see both Brian’s family and his envelop them in a huge hug. Andy melted back in to Brian’s form, knowing at that moment he’d found a better life.

‘I don’t understand!’ Andy half whined, half moaned, his head poking out from under the table he and Jake were carrying down the stairs. ‘Brian and his family have eaten here so many times, why all the fuss now?’

‘Because this is a special evening, Andy,’ came Jake’s patient reply.

‘Why? What makes tonight so special?’ Andy demanded to know.

‘Because I’m making my famous marinated steak and potato salad, and that always deserves special treatment,’ Bill said mock seriously. ‘Now hush up and help Mommy perfect her table arrangement,’ Bill joked, giving Jake’s ass a satisfying swat on the butt with a dish towel.

‘You’re lucky I enjoy that so much, Mr. Crowe,’ Jake said over his shoulder.

‘I aim to please.’

They laughed as Andy and Jake negotiated the table in to the dining room, getting it just right according to Jake’s critical eye.

‘That should do it, love. Now go scrub up for dinner, our guests will start arriving soon,’ Jake said.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Andy said, pretending to drag his feet and stomp his way up the stairs. After showering Andy went into his room, surveying the formal clothes Jake had laid out for him. A tux complete with a bowtie and all. He sighed, and then grinned as he slipped into his outfit. If it would make Jake happy, Andy would gladly wear a bunny suit to dinner.

As Andy descended the stairs, he heard an explosion of conversation, much more than the six voices he was expecting. Walking in to the dining room, he saw a sea of faces greeting him. Julie, Jo-Ann and her fiancée, Nora, Brian’s parents Brian’s brother and his wife, Brian, Bill and Jake were all waiting for him when he entered the room.

‘Hey you guys! You look so stunning!’ Andy called out.

Every person there was dressed formally, the men complete with tuxedos of their own.

‘What’s really going on here?’ Andy asked suspiciously.

‘Nothing much,’ a dashing Brian said as he made his way through the crowed to slip his arms possessively around Andy’s waist and claim his lips as his own in front of everybody there.

Andy almost forgot where he was as he lost himself in the kiss, but was broken out of his fantasy world as Brian’s dad cleared his throat loudly. ‘Now, now son, there’d be plenty of time for that later on,’ Robert said through a grin.

Andy felt himself bushing as they pulled apart but Brian just stood there with a goofy grin on his face, refusing to let go of Andy’s waist as everyone clambered around them, wanting a word with the golden boys.

As they all sat down to dinner, Andy noticed the fine china and silverware, and suspicions started to grow in his mind. When they were all settled, Brian sitting next to him with Julie on his other side, Andy looked around the big table at all the people that had taken him in as their own. Andy realised then, that from that day on, he’ll never know another lonely day in his life. Andy took a gulp of water, trying to calm himself before he broke out in tears. Feeling Brian rise next to him, Andy eyed him questioningly before Brian took his champagne glass in his hand and said over the various conversations; ‘Excuse me. Excuse me, everybody.’ The conversations died down and he continued. ‘Thank you all for coming tonight, I really appreciate it. As you all know, well, most of you anyway,’ he said, looking down at the questioning face of his mate, ‘tonight is a very special night. But before we get to that, I wanted to thank you again for all the support Andy and I have received from you through these difficult times in our lives.’ Brian paused and looked down at Andy sadly. Shaking his head slightly, he continued, ‘But the past is in the past. Back to why we all came here together tonight.’

Brian pushed back his chair, and to Andy’s astonishment got down on one knee, and took Andy’s hand in his. Reaching in to his breast pocket, Brian took out a small black box and flipped it open with his thumb. Holding it out to Andy, he said, ‘Andrew Martin, nothing in this world would make me a happier man than if you would agree to marry me.’

A silence came over the room as Andy stared, mouth agape at his love. It took a few seconds and an anxious expression to cross Brian’s face for Andy’s brain to function again, and he jumped up and squealed in delight, yelling, ‘Oh my god! Yes, Brian, a thousand times YES!’

A collective sigh of relief came from the table, and Brian encircled Andy’s waist with his arms, picking him up and kissing him hungrily. Putting Andy back down, Brian pulled him in to him as he looked over at Bill and Jake.

He said in a serious voice, ‘Bill and Jake, I ask you for your blessing in taking your son’s hand in marriage. Do you give it?’

Bill looked over at Jake, and if it was at all possible their grins were bigger than those of Brian and Andy’s as Bill said, ‘We do.’

Taking the ring from the box, Brian took Andy’s shaking hand and placed the ring on his engagement finger then went in for anther kiss, the applause and cheers from the table fading in to the background.

Hearing the shuffling and moaning of the chairs being slid out from under the table, the two lovers broke their kiss and reveled in their friends and families’ presence. Andy noticed Nora and Sarah remaining in their seats, crying into their handkerchiefs, and Robert embracing Brian in a manly hug, while Jamie, Bill and Jo-Ann’s fiancé congratulated him. Jake, Julie and Jo-Ann circled around a deliriously grinning Andy, giving out hugs and pecks on the cheeks while making a big fuss over the ring, Julie and Jo already bitching to themselves over who was going to be Andy’s maid of honour. Andy caught Brian’s eyes through the crowd, and gave him a shy smile, blowing him a kiss across the room. Brian pretended to catch the kiss and put it in his breast pocket, sending one of his own to Andy. Andy caught it and pressed it to his heart, mouthing the words ‘I love you,’ to the man who possessed his heart.

THE END

EPILOGUE TO FOLLOW SOONxxx

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webmaster — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 10:43:26 +0000

More Lusty young males want to play dirty with their buddies – hundreds of photo and video galleries! video samples here!
A boy stumbled through the snow. He carried only one small bag, but acted as if it was made of depleted uranium. He trudged through yet another drift as he thought about how he had gotten there. Could he go back? No. Dieing of cold would be better than going back. He pulled his thin denim jacked around his frail shoulders and trudged on. He glared at the ground as he continued along the snowy streets.

It wasn’t often that the city got this kind of snow, and the road crews were not prepared for it. All the roads were covered with at least two feet of snow, four in some drifts. It was only a few days before Christmas and the holiday shopping had gone dead. No one could get out of their houses. It was a rousing twenty degrees out and all the boy had on was a tee shirt, a denim jacket, and some jeans.

He continued to plow forward, not noticing how numb his legs were. He made it to the park, he didn’t know where he was going any more, so that was a good enough place. He caught his foot on something in the snow and went down. He tried for a moment to get up, but it wasn’t worth it. He lay there, ready and willing to die.

*

A man was standing in the snow, watching the park as the little flakes fell. He enjoyed watching something so peaceful. He strolled around in the slightly less voluminous drifts, watching the icy winter day. Suddenly the peace was shattered with the form of a figure approaching the perimeter of the park. It was huddled, and he couldn’t make it out well, but it stopped suddenly and fell into the snow. It didn’t get up again and the man’s heart jumped.

He ran over to the prone figure and found a beautiful young man, wearing clothing that was much more suited to warmer weather, and he wasn’t moving. His full lips were blue, and his skin ashen white. The man suddenly felt fear that the boy might be dead and picked him up. He held him like a baby and was overwhelmingly grateful to find that he was breathing, if shallowly.

He took off running, aiming for a tall, old building. Hoping against hope that the boy didn’t have frostbite. Hypothermia he could deal with, but frostbite required surgery.

He threw himself into the lobby of his apartment building and ran to the elevator. The boy flopped loosely in his arms. He hit the “up” button and the elevator dinged. The doors opened slowly and he rushed in. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the doors closed and the elevators began rising. He hit his floor number and looked at the boy in his arms.

Even in his half-frozen state, the boy was a wonder. His face was angelic, pleasantly androgynous. He had long black hair that fell to his ears in the front and between his shoulder blades in the back. He had a sweet little nose, pouty lips, and long dark eyelashes. The rest of him was skin and bone. The man could tell that once, this boy had been well built and full of lithe muscle, but now he just looked like a jumble of sticks in a human shaped sack.

The door pinged and he rushed out of the elevator, swung right, and ran down to the end of the hallway. He fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the door while holding the boy. He finally got the door open and bustled inside. He ran through a few rooms of his apartment, and lay the boy down on his bed. He laid a blanket on top of him, temporarily, and dashed to the bathroom. He got the tub filling with scalding hot water, and went back to see to the boy. The child was breathing easier now, he had pulled the blanket around him, but his clothes were wet. The man peeled away the blanket, then each subsequent layer of fabric, until the boy’s once glorious body was completely naked. He tried not to look, but he noticed that the boy’s cock was far to big for a kid his age, which the man guessed was a very young looking sixteen.

He scooped the boy up in his arms again and carried him to the bathroom. The tub was mostly full, and steaming. It was too hot, so he added a little lukewarm water to the mix. When it was full enough, he turned the tap off and gently lowered the boy into the water, sure to keep his head out of it. The boy floated gently and seemed to relax slightly, only occasionally a spasmodic shiver racking his body. He was warming up.

The man realized that he was still wearing his parka and snow pants. He took them off in the bathroom, keeping an eye on the boy, incase his head fell into the water and he drowned. He stripped down to long underwear and rolled up his sleeves. He got down on his knees by the tub and cupped the boy’s face in his hands.

“Little one? Little one, wake up. Falling asleep right now is a bad thing.” He brushed some of his silky black locks out of his face. The lips parted, and his eyes fluttered open. They slowly shifted around until they met his. He was stunned by the emerald intensity.

*

The boy opened his eyes. He looked around at a strange room. He seemed to be weightless, then found a strange man looking at him. The boy realized that the man’s hand was on his face, and pulled away. Water sloshed. The boy looked down and found that he was in a tub of warm to hot water. He was naked. He quickly tried to cover himself with his hands, but his hands were too small. He looked at the man again.

The man’s cheeks had gone pink and he was sitting further away now.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The little boy’s voice was raw, but it didn’t hurt much to talk any more.

“My name is William Kingsley and this,” he motioned around, “is my apartment. I was walking in the park and saw you when you fell. I took you back up here and put you in this bath to try and scare away hypothermia.” The man looked to be in his late twenties, floppy brown hair, a very English looking face, and a strong, but willowy build. He reminded the boy vaguely of Hough Grant. “What is your name, little one?”

The boy shifted in the water so that he was sitting, with his back against the head of the tub.

“My name’s Logan, Logan Verdenot.” He pronounced his last name like viren-ough. He was hesitant giving this away, but the man had probably just saved his life.

“Are you feeling better?” The man, William, inched closer and Logan slid away.

“A little.” He said. Logan just stared at the man for a minute, as if William was going to eat him.

“Why were you out there in such little clothing?” The man looked worried.

“I, ” Logan figured that he owed his rescuer that much. ” I was running away.”

“From your house?” The man suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He would return the boy to his family.

“No, from my pimp.” The boy said flatly. Will sat there shocked. He couldn’t say anything. This boy was a Whore? But he was running away. He didn’t want that life.

“Oh my god.” The man breathed. He closed his eyes and shook his head. The boy was even underage. “How old are you?” The man asked quietly.

“Twenty one.” The boy answered. The man’s head shot up. “It’s true. I just look young. I really am legal. I’m turning twenty-two in a few days.” The boy looked at him worriedly.

“Truthfully?” The man asked. The boy nodded. They were silent for a moment. “Are you hungry.” The man queried.

“Yes, very.” Logan remembered his last meal. It had been scraps out of a dumpster a day and a half ago. Before that it was bread and water at his pimp’s place.

“How does grilled cheese and tomato soup sound to you.” The boy smiled.

“Wonderful. I don’t have any way of repaying you. Unless, you want to…” He bowed his head. And spread his arms. He didn’t want to, he was still sore from the last time he was raped for money. But he knew that nothing was ever for free.

“There is no need for you to pay me. I just want to help.” The boy looked up at him. The man smiled. Logan was sure that the food had strings attached, it always did, but he needed food more than decency right now. “Now, you stay in there till it gets cool, I’ll be right back.” He grinned and walked out of the room. The boy thought about making a run for it, but the smell of grilled cheese wafted in the door and his stomach growled from underwater. He sighed and lay back in the warm water.

*

A short while later, William came back in with a tray of soup and sandwiches. Logan sat up as he set the tray down on a little table he put by the edge of the tub. The water was still warm and Logan didn’t want to get out.

“Thank you, Sr.” The boy said sheepishly.

“No problem, and call me Will.” The boy nodded as he dipped one corner of his half-sandwich in the soup. He took a bite and closed his eyes. It had been so long since he had eaten, not to mention the quality of the “food” his pimp had given him occasionally. He savored the combination of the creamy tang of the soup mixed with the zip of the sharp cheddar and the nutty bread. He chewed it slowly and swallowed. When he opened his eyes again he saw the older man looking at him with wonder and curiosity written on his face. Logan smiled and the man showed amusement and satisfaction with a mess of other emotions on his face.

Logan made his eyes smile. His friends had said he could do that. That was why his pimp had liked him so much; he could make the customers believe he was really enjoying being their fuck toy. He could put a shield of sudo-joy over his torn soul. He was good at it. No one had ever seen through it before.

That was why he was so surprised when he saw a tear come to the corner of Will’s eye. He dropped the joy and let the concern show through. Will brushed the drop aside and dipped a peace of his sandwich.

“What’s wrong?” The boy couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“You’ve been hurt so much, and you are too good a covering up your pain.” He shook his head slightly.

“You saw that?” The boy was worried.

“I read people well.” The man offered up. “Some says that’s what gives me my gift.” He took another bite.

“What gift?” The boy felt as if he was about to be shoved down the rabbit hole.

“I’m a writer. Some say I’m gifted. Some say I’m gifted because I see into people. I can see their stories more fully than if they had actually told me. So all I need do is look into a rough idea of a person and they become a story.” He shrugged and took another bite. Logan looked at him for a moment then took another bite of his tomato-dipped sandwich.

“So, what’s my story?” He asked after a second’s deliberation as to weather or not he actually wanted to know.

“You, hmm. You are harder than most. I don’t know your beginning, but it was comparatively happy. You occasionally want to go back to it, even if you hated it at the time. Since then you met someone, became indebted to them, you began to work for them and they became your pimp. You’ve worked for him for a while. He’s abused you, not fed you, and defiled you. You hate it, but you can’t do anything for some reason. You feel dirty, you hate yourself, and you don’t let any one in. You let a few people in once, but he’s taken them away from you. You’ve almost gone crazy with your lot in life. You wanted something better, you tried to get it, but lost your way and ended up falling in the snow in a park in the middle of the city.” He dipped his sandwich again and took another bite while the boy stared at him aghast.

He had just been read like a book. He had only known this man for a few minutes and Will already knew more about him than most of Logan’s friends.

“Well then.” Logan took another bite of his food. Will chuckled deep in his chest. They continued to eat in silence while they both pondered the man on the other side of the table.

Will wondered why this boy was so hard to read, why did he want to hide, would he open up. Why did he want Logan to open up? He may have been good at reading others, but he himself was a mystery. He looked into his soup, trying to read his soul in the red swirls. He wanted to know this boy. He wanted to help this boy. He wanted to help him be all he wanted to be. But he didn’t know how.

Logan thought about what would come next. He frankly didn’t know. He didn’t even know what he wanted to come next. Did he want to stay with this man for a while, or did he want to move on? Would the man let him stay? Would he want to stay? What would he do here? What if he moved on? Where would he go? How would he get money, food, shelter? Surely staying here, in this warm apartment, with this kind man, and his good food, would be better than sleeping in a box in an ally having nothing to eat but food and having to sell himself to get money. But what would staying here involve? Would this man take his payment the same way that Dirk (the horny bastard that had been his pimp for so long) had? Would he throw him out in the snow? He just didn’t know.

They both ate their food, and when only a slimy residue was left in their plates, Will stood and picked up the tray.

“You might want to get out. If you could flip that switch when you have it’ll drain. There are towels in the cabinet and an extra robe on the back of the door. I’ll go put these in the dishwasher and make the guest bed for you, you should get some rest.”

Logan was speechless as Will took the tray and moved the little table back into place. Logan was welcome to stay, and he didn’t even have to share a bed with the man. He was dumbfounded. Just as soon as he had gotten over shock he got out of the cooling water and flipped the mettle tog that Will had indicated and watched as the water began to slide out of the drain, a soft wishing sound whiling around him as the water ran through the pipes in the walls.

He got out one of the big white fluffy towels and wrapped it around himself, encased in the luxurious fuzziness, the rough threads reminding his skin what life felt like. He scrubbed himself all over with the towel until he was pink all over. He was in a better place now, but the contamination of where he had been had soaked into his skin. He scrubbed a few layers of flesh off and felt much better, ready to absorb new, more pleasant experiences. He put on one of the Terrycloth robes and tied the sash tight around his frail body. The robe dragged on the ground around his ankles. He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes.

Silence.

That was a rare thing for Logan. Not outer silence, the quit of the inside of a room still had the hum of the outer world. But inside, he was quiet. There were no voices. He was Skitzo, he had contemplated it, once, but he had decided that it was just his thoughts voicing themselves, a constant buzz of inner conversation, as if his body was filled with a calm cocktail party where all the guests were himself over and over again, talking to the others in polite conversation about the world outside. They had kept him sane. They allowed him in there with him, in that room to chat with them, like an old friend, when he was being defiled or hurt. He would retreat and spend some time chatting with his inner friends and not caring what happened on the outside.

Then there was the music, a constant flow of soundless melody that drifted through his body. It was silent. He couldn’t feel the harmonies thrumming though his body, the echoes of the fine music in his soul. It changed with his mood, he feelings, his thoughts. He looked deeper within himself and coaxed the music back to life. It was faint, but a sweet tune thrummed through him. He nodded and opened his eyes.

He continued into the rest of the house. It was an elegant, homey feeling place. There were earth tones and big soft looking chairs. Almost every wall had stacks and stacks of bookshelves on it. Logan explored timidly through different parts of the one-floor apartment. He came upon the kitchen, the most modern room he’d seen so far. It had every amenity there was for a kitchen. Apparently this man prized comfort, quiet, books, and food, some of the best things to prize in this world. He went through a few more rooms and finically found Will. He was in a room that was un-characteristically sparse in books. This must be guest room. The bed was easily a queen, but obviously designed for sleeping rather than more energetic activities. This man was not sex-crazed, a good sign. Will stood up from being bent over the bed, folding down the fresh sheets he had put on it.

“Hello. Good, you are up. I’m afraid that I don’t have any pajamas that would fit you. Come, lie down, you need some rest. It’s early, but you look you could sleep anyway. Come.” He held out his hand and Logan approached carefully. He turned and took the robe off. Will took it and draped it over his arm. Logan pulled up the blankets and slipped between the soft cotton sheets. He lay his head on the pillows and pulled the blankets up to his neck. He took comfort in the soft, clean warmth of the cocoon and sighed. He looked up at Will. The man was looking down at him with something in his eyes. It wasn’t lust as Logan first dreaded, but neither was it pity. It was something like a satisfied feeling that a brother or father had when they knew their bother or son was happy and they had made it so.

Will reached down and brushed a strand of black silk off of the boy’s face. The boy didn’t flinch. He didn’t feel threatened. He didn’t think this man would hurt him. His inner song grew louder and soared with a tuneless melody that seemed to create a knot in his chest. Will smiled and his eyes glistened. Logan smiled back. Will caressed his face again and turned to go.

“Wait?” Logan’s voice came out before he knew why. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

“Your welcome.” Will said over his shoulder. He bowed his head and walked out of the room. Logan closed his eyes and was swallowed up by the music.

Will went to the solarium, as he liked to call it. It was a room with tall west-facing windows. Through them he could see the sun setting over the city. The sky was bathed in oranges and golds, turning slowly into purple, with white and blue clouds fringing pink on the edges. He leaned his back against a bookcase and watched the golden orb draw its rays below the curve of the earth. He rubbed his leg and reached into his pocket for his pills. He swallowed one and closed his eyes, feeling the tingling replace the ache in his leg. He took down a book and turned to the page that a scrap of paper marked. He red a few pages, re-marked the page and set it back. He sat in a soft leather chair and closed his eyes.

He tilted his head back and let the knowledge in the books seep into him. He always took pleasure simply letting the souls of the authors and the characters that were embedded in the books, ebb into him and give him peace and wisdom. He sat there for a while, breathing the knowledge of the ages. He cleared his head of everything and let his bones settle into the accommodating leather.

When he opened his eyes the room was pitch black and the stars were twinkling above the city. He stood and walked to his room. He opened and shut the door, stripped down and slid into his warm covers. He was soon asleep, dreaming of a world without pain.

*

Logan woke with the sun in his eyes and the smell of bacon in his nostrils. He turned his head and saw a yellow room. His eyes focused and realized that the wallpaper was a mass of yellow and a few pink flowers. The sheets were pink and yellow as well. The furniture was a pale cream color and the mirror on the far wall showed that he matched it perfectly. He slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood on shaky feet. He was naked, but there was a blue robe lying on the back of one of the chairs and he put it on. It reached the middle of his calves and he tied the sash. He walked gingerly towards the smell of food. He came upon the kitchen, and in it a bustling cook.

“Ahh! Good morning. I’m glad you’re up. I whipped up some breakfast for the two of us.” Will was smiling and Logan rubbed his eyes. He shook his head and nearly fell over. Will caught him and set him down in a tall chair by a plain wooden table that looked like and oversized cutting board. “We need to get some food into you before you collapse.” Will pushed a plate of eggs, pancakes, and bacon in front of the boy and handed him syrup and utensils. The boy stared for a moment then attacked the food vigorously. The man laughed. He had to admire the boy’s gusto, no matter how distressing the cause.

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A BOY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD – CHAPTER 12

“BOYS ON FILM”

© Sadie Rose Bermingham 2006

Apologies for the delay to Chapter 12. I’ve been swanning around Europe and London enjoying myself so things have gotten a little behind. Which, by happy coincedence, is exactly what Aldo and Barclay hope to get themselves at the end of this chapter! As usual, the author reserves the right to stomp all over the heads of anyone who pilfers this material without permission! To everyone else… enjoy!

UNPREPARED:

In spite of all his darkest speculations, Rayne was not molested as he slept in Daniel Leland’s bed. In fact the old man did not sleep there at all. Probably too busy planning his revenge, Rayne though now, with the added benefit of hindsight. The elderly pornographer had not lied about wanting to get on with his pet project. Which is why the denizens of both boats were up and about especially early on this bright, sunny, mid-June morning.

There was a sense of purpose to everyone today; even laughing and chatting casually over croissants and coffee. It was Terry Goodwill, not Leland himself, who came to wake Rayne. The big man was gruff and almost deliberately distant with him, which put Rayne on his guard at once.

“You slept well,” Terry said, as he struggled to sit, knuckling the grit from his eyes. It was less of a question, more a request for affirmation.

Rayne nodded warily. There had been nightmares; that much he recalled. When he slept alone he often suffered from them, but he sensed that Terry did not want to hear about that. Nor did he want to tell, in truth.

“Good.” The tall, brawny, ex-pat Londoner looked him up and down. “Need you feelin’ chipper today. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah?” he responded, inarticulately because the reminder made him feel sick. It was the reason he was still here, he knew. Leland had a film to make and the old man did not care how anyone else felt about that, so long as shooting ran to schedule and the bills got paid. The ’stars’ of these movies were not booked for their brains or their emotional interpretation skills; he was wise enough to know that much. He was here because he was pretty and men liked to fuck him, and even more so – men liked to watch him getting fucked.

“You seen the Treatment?” Terry asked, and he shook his head.

There would be no script. There never was but generally the production team put together a ‘treatment’, a brief guide to the programme of events, if you like. When he worked on ‘Going All The Way’ he had not bothered to read it. Baz gave him instructions; basically ‘look cute and do as you’re told’. Leland gave him technical directions from off camera, which were later edited off the soundtrack, and Rayne got naked and made out on a bare bed with two extremely bare strangers. The results, he had been assured, were astonishingly good. It was probably the only reason he was still on the payroll for this movie.

Rayne privately wished he had been a bit less eager to please back then.

“I’ll get you a draft and you can check it out before breakfast; then shower, teeth cleaned, full douche, okay? We’re outta here at ten sharp.”

Rayne looked enquiringly at him.

“We’re not filming here?” he asked blankly.

“Does this place look like a fuckin’ film set?” Terry chuckled, genuinely amused for the first time this morning. “You lemon! No, we’ll nip up to Beziers this morning, film the school sequence at a mate’s place, then come back to port and shoot on Paddy’s boat PM. Give you a break between so’s you can get some stretching time!”

He leered at the younger man and this time Rayne could not help it. He blushed like a child, unable to stop himself. The knowing look on Terry’s face was too much. Clearly he was wondering just who would help him to stretch, and even Rayne knew that they were not talking about sit-ups! Last time it had been Baz who took him on one side and gave him a quick, reassuring pep-talk like some over-enthusiastic PE coach, before rubbering up and fucking him quick and hard in the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later Rayne had been out there, on the bed with the cameras rolling, hyped up on speed.

He wished he had some speed now. Even more, he wished that Ant was still talking to him. Just having someone to hold him would have helped.

Ant was still asleep when Rayne rose and took his first shower of the day. Through the half open door he could see from the corridor into the bedroom they had shared. In the dim, warm half-light he made out the comfortable curve of the older man’s shoulder and bare chest rising from the rumpled sheets, arms twined around the shorter, leaner frame of Thierry’s naked body. The French lad’s face was buried in the crook of his right arm and his blond hair splashed over the pillow like a bright star. Rayne froze there, staring at this scene with a sudden irrational surge of jealousy that all too quickly turned to anger and frustration.

Was ‘that’ how much Ant thought of him? It certainly had not taken the other man long to find himself a replacement bedmate!

Feeling irritable and betrayed, he pulled himself away and forced his body under the shower, turning up the heat until the water was almost blisteringly hot. He felt dirty and worthless just for being here. The searing spray drilled into his flesh like a thousand superheated pins and he concentrated on the sensation. It was almost unbearable but the pain was just enough to cut through his confusion and give him focus. When he stepped out of the shower room he was calm and quiet inside.

In the Day Room people were already up and about. Arturo had arrived with the Twins and a number of other boys, who looked both scared and excited by this new situation. They whispered among themselves like children whenever someone walked into the room. When Rayne came in one of the Twins murmured something under his breath. There were a few nervous giggles but most of the lads stared at Rayne Wilde with a mixture of awe and disgust.

He turned his back on them at once, finding a plate and piling it with small, warm brioches, although he had no appetite for food at all. There was grapefruit juice in a tall jug and he poured two glasses of the stuff down his throat, followed by a tumbler full of iced water, before helping himself to coffee. Thus fortified he went up to sit on the roof deck where it was still mercifully quiet.

Aldo had beaten him to it. The Italian was tucking into a hearty breakfast of grilled mushrooms and tomatoes and two huge poached eggs on a slice of granary toast. He cheerfully waved Rayne over and the boy sank down beside him, nibbling on a brioche and trying not to look at the contents of Aldo’s plate. His companion clucked at him disapprovingly.

“You will never be strong, eating crumbs like a sparrow!” he teased. “This is good. Lots of energy but little fat. We need this today, si?”

“I dunno how you can!” Rayne told him, burying his nose in the coffee cup, which was more of a small bowl with a handle. “I just feel sick, Aldo.”

At once the other lad was concerned. He put a hand on Rayne’s arm, peering intently at him.

“You will be okay, no?”

“Yeah… I guess,” Rayne answered him non-committally, staring down into his cup. “I just… I don’t feel very hungry.”

He put down the cup and the plate, leaning forward with his arms folded on the guard-rail and his chin on the backs of his hands. It was a stunningly beautiful morning, already hot and bright although it was not much after nine am. Light glittered off the water and the streamlined hulls of the yachts and cruisers bobbing idly at their moorings. People strolled along the quayside; happy holidaymakers, blissfully ignorant of what was going on here, right under their noses. Rayne envied them. He wished that he could feel so anonymous and unconcerned. From his early teens he had been conscious of how people looked at him and whispered about him. After Brian was sent down for molestation it got progressively worse. The trial had been fairly confidential and Rayne was not named in the newspapers but Dymchurch was a small place and gossip travelled like wildfire. He shut it out because it was all that he ‘could’ do in the end. He had become very proficient at not letting others see how much he cared.

The downside to that, he supposed now, was that they all believed that he did not. Rayne clenched his teeth and looked down at his hands and wrists miserably. The scars were not so prominent now but still they stood out, slightly paler than the rest of his tanned skin. To his surprise, Aldo wriggled a little bit closer and the hand on his forearm slid up and across to his far shoulder.

“Please eat a little. Just for me,” the Italian whispered huskily. “I will take care of you, I promise. You do not have to be afraid. I will be there.”

“I’m not scared,” Rayne said stubbornly. “I… I… just… I don’t like this part. I don’t like the hanging around… people staring at me… knowing…”

Aldo nodded his head sympathetically. His arm tightened around Rayne’s slim shoulders and he murmured; “It is hard, I know. When I was first beginning in these films, I was always the bottom, si? You understand? Because I was very young and all the guys knew what I was there for. It makes you feel very… vulnerable, no?”

Rayne risked a look at him. He did not believe that Aldo would tease him about something like this but he looked anyway. The dark eyes that met his own were serious and concerned and he felt even worse knowing that Aldo seemed genuinely worried about him.

“Yeah,” he breathed quietly, at last.

“Don’t worry,” Aldo told him levelly. “These guys are good. They are not going to hurt you.”

Rayne swallowed feeling his mouth go suddenly dry. He looked away again, watching the boats and the people enjoying their pleasant, uncomplicated, ordinary lives.

“Who are the kids that came with Arturo this morning?” he asked at last, focussing on the facts. If he could look at this situation practically maybe that would help.

“You have not read the Treatment?” Aldo sounded a little surprised and Rayne’s eyes flickered up to find his face at once.

“No… Terry was gonna get me a copy. Have ‘you’ read it?”

Aldo half-smiled; “Of course!”

Something in the way he said that tightened all the muscles in Rayne’s chest and stomach. He wanted to be sick but he just took another sip from his cooling coffee, never taking his eyes off Aldo.

“Has ‘everyone else’ read it?”

Aldo’s expression sobered.

“I guess so,” he said cautiously.

Rayne finally averted his gaze. His thoughts were in turmoil but uppermost among them was a desire to kill Daniel Leland. The old goon had done this on purpose! He just wanted to see his nemesis fall flat on his arse, preferably in front of P J McNamara.

“You can read mine,” his friend volunteered stoically.

“I will,” Rayne said, with a scowl of defiance.

He was still reading as Terry shepherded them both down from the roof to make their ablutions. Aldo still watched him warily as he chewed on his lips, pale eyes growing darker and more appalled with every page. He knew that this was a particularly detailed Treatment. Some ran to no more than a single sheet of paper. Leland’s was twelve whole pages, annotated with speculative camera directions. Rayne Wilde was no prude but by the time Terence Goodwill called them down his face was scarlet.

“You know what to do, eh?” the big Londoner grinned at him as he returned to the Day Room with his breakfast untouched, an utterly unreadable expression on his face.

Rayne just looked at him. If looks had power, Terry would have been a dead man right then and there. As it was, he just flashed that too-knowing grin and walked away while Rayne fumed impotently behind him.

ANT:

For most of the evening, once Dan had steered Rayne away into his bedroom, Ant had simply felt sick. He did not know whether to be angry, or hurt or just downright dismayed by the scene that had erupted between himself and the boy he had hauled out of the snow. A part of his mind was telling him that Daniel had been right. Rayne would never be grateful to him. The little bitch had no idea ‘how’ to say thank you. His cock, and some overriding impulse to hurt people and drive them away, governed him. He had tried his hardest to penetrate the tough veneer that shrugged off any show of concern but Rayne was having none of it. Ant had hoped at the very least that beating the crap out of Christophe would win him brownie points but apparently it was not to be so. Rayne was impervious to any offer of help. He just took it for granted as if it was some God-given right.

Ant closed his eyes and tried to shut out the memories of his beautiful, defensive, angry young face. He could not bring himself to speak to anyone just yet so he had gone up onto the roof deck and was lying under the stars with a glass in his hand, wishing that tonight had gone differently. If only he had been a bit less hasty, Rayne might be here with him, curled against his side, maybe stroking or sucking him as he ran his hands through the boy’s silky hair. Ant might have gently seduced him until they were both making love fiercely beneath the bright heavens, instead of which he was here alone, seething to himself.

He silently cursed Paddy McNamara to a fiery hell. Everything had been fine until the Irish National Stud stuck his great big oar in. Rayne had been… if not happy, then at least satisfied with his lot. Ant never had the impression that Rayne Wilde was happy but he had at least seemed to be settling down before McNamara and his crew arrived. And that had been the catalyst.

He knew that Rayne was utterly unimpressed by fame, Daniel and the whole movie business rolled off his back like water in the shower, but maybe it was something about the allure of men with big cocks. Ant gritted his teeth at the idea of it. Finding Rayne curled up with McNamara on the sofa the other morning had almost been the final straw. Until then he had been able to kid himself that the boy was easily seduced; after all, they had got him very drunk the night before. It was easy enough to fall into the nearest bed… but to want to stay there the morning after. McNamara must have been some stud between the sheets because he had never known Rayne to be as animated as he was on that morning when the letter with his results arrived.

And since then he had endured the nightmare of not knowing whether his young mate had fled completely, or been abducted. In a way it had been almost a relief to know that Christophe might have taken him. At least it meant that he could do something. And punching the French pervert’s lights out had been immensely satisfying.

More so had been the chance to hold Rayne in his arms and just make a complete fuss of the boy. He had been through a nightmare. Though he made no complaint, Ant sensed that Rayne was mortified by the experience and also in considerable pain. Later, with his nerves and impulses numbed by the drugs he was so soft and compliant that Ant could not help but want to make love to him. Somehow he had managed to hold off. It was agony, lying beside his lover and rubbing against his sleek body but unable to spread and enter him. He had never wanted a fuck so badly in his life.

The half-sentient awareness of Rayne’s little chat with McNamara was the thing that completely tipped him over the edge. He could almost taste Rayne’s need for the Irishman. When the boy began to beg for sex it was all that he could do not to jump up and rip P J’s throat out. So it was that he could not quite believe the man’s immense restraint in getting up and walking away. Had he been placed in the same position he did not know how the hell he would have kept from ripping Rayne apart with his cock. In fact he wanted to get inside his lover so much that his passions were still running high once the boy discovered that he was awake and cognisant of the facts.

That had been his last mistake. Ant had been embarrassed but curiously he sensed that Rayne was too. The scene with Paddy had not gone the way his young mate expected. And then he had been forced to explain himself.

Ant let his head fall into his hands and groaned, utterly dismayed. How the hell had he let the situation get away from him so badly? When he realised that Ant was awake, Rayne had been horny enough to let him do anything. If he had just pulled the boy into his arms, said nothing, fucked him stupid… Ant sighed wearily, disgusted with himself. Since leaving London he had managed to contain Rayne’s aggression but tonight it had exploded and completely overwhelmed him. He had underestimated just how far Rayne would go to avoid confronting the truth. And now he could not even talk to the boy. He could not even say how sorry he was.

“Antoine?”

The quiet voice started him out of his agonised reflection and he peeled his hands from his eyes and looked up, blinking owlishly into Thierry’s huge, blue eyes. The slender French youth was sitting beside him. He must have come up here so quietly that Ant did not even hear his bare feet on the polished deck. Now Thierry stared down at him almost helplessly and he found himself reaching up, touching a reassuring hand to the lad’s bruised face.

“It’s okay… I’m okay… I just… I wanted a moment.”

“You want to be alone?” Thierry exhaled, almost fearfully. Ant sensed him drawing back as if he felt that he was not wanted. He curled his hand around the nape of Thierry’s neck and pulled him very gently back down until he was lying across Ant’s chest.

“No… I don’t think anyone really wants that,” he murmured reassuringly, wrapping his arms around the bewildered lad.

“It is not just you. He is angry at everyone,” Thierry whispered huskily into his ear as they sprawled beneath the stars together. “I cannot understand him, Antoine.”

“Then that makes two of us, Thierry,” he answered disconsolately.

He had no memory of staggering back down the stairs to his room but he knew that Thierry had come with him of his own accord. They had tumbled onto the bed together, the worse for wine and emotion. Thierry’s soft mouth sought out his own and they kissed long and hard, like it was something they had discovered and no one had kissed before. Ant was astonished by how proficient Thierry was; he seemed little more than a child but he kissed with a hunger that matched Ant’s own.

They wound about one another in a serpentine embrace that seemed to have no beginning and no end. Thierry’s hands moved constantly over his body, discovering his erogenous zones with a careful skill that Ant was envious of. In response he caressed the lad tenderly, stroking urgent fingers through his blond curls, coaxing Thierry’s mouth down towards his cock as they writhed together on the bed. To his amazement the blond did not fight him; he was quietly compliant with all of Ant’s desires and deliciously good at satisfying most of them too.

At some point during the night he was conscious of pulling the little blond closer to his own body, feeling Thierry straddle him willingly, rising up above his crotch and reaching back to guide Ant’s pulsing member between his creamy cheeks. His sweet hole was hot and welcoming, not as tight as Rayne’s but still pleasing nonetheless. Ant groaned long and loud as he drove his cock into the lad, feeling Thierry’s slender legs coil around his hips as he urged his groin upward to push himself deeper, his arse rising up off the mattress, back arching as he pressed his aching tool into that delicious heat. Thierry leaned over him, gasping and crying out quietly and Ant’s hands stroked his pretty face, then slid down his back to his pert bottom just as the boy’s arms snaked hungrily around his shoulders. They met at all points from the lips down and Thierry rode him almost savagely as he bucked upward to meet his new lover’s lean, smooth, undulating body.

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Standing contrapposto, I stare at myself in the mirror and gently smile.

The music on the radio fades in and out from a static to a strong signal as if each shift of my body entire affects its clarity.

The day has been long and bleak, it’s only positive occurring earlier when I got drunk and had such a wild time on the dance floor.

And as I stare at myself, thoughts wander in and out of the many possibilities regarding what the night has and will bring.

I run both of my hands through my hair to the back of my head, and then slowly down over my bearded face, and breathe deeply as I continue to stare at myself in the mirror.

Bent upward, my arms are long and slender, as my fingers shiver slightly near the quiver of my mouth. Bent upward, almost in a position for praying and at 24, I feel so young and yet so old at the same time. But the assuredness of my gentle smile has gone and I sigh as I reach over to my nightstand to turn the radio off.

I pick up a glass of water that has sat there since the morning and I sip its watery warm content. I hold onto the glass in both my hands, and my chin rests on the rim of the glass, as I continue to stare at myself in the mirror. And I’m not even sure what it is exactly that I’m looking at.

I’m standing here, in my tight blue jeans, a t-shirt and socks. In my left front pocket is a wallet, and in my right front pocket sit my keys. I put the glass down and realize once again that I’m lost and alone. So I take the keys and wallet out and flop them onto the nightstand next to the half empty glass. Overall, I’m somewhat dazed and confused by thoughts and ideas that have consume and float around me.

The cool air of the room nibbles at my being as I lift my t-shirt up over my head and let it fall to the floor. I stare at my chest and run my fingers through its hair, feeling my nipples and rubbing down over my belly and then up again.

I kiss the fingers of my left hand as they come up over my mouth again, and I become still, standing contrapposto, staring into the mirror.

And I breathe deeply.

After awhile I undo my belt and unbutton my jeans, sliding them off each leg, one by one, pulling the socks off with them and letting them land somewhere near the shirt.

And now I stand almost naked, in my white Stanfield underwear, staring into that mirror that is before me on the doors to my closet.

Clearly visible beneath my underwear stands my hardened cock. I take a deep breath and let it slowly glide out of me from the very depths of my soul.

My hands they run down and glide beneath my underwear, through the thick dark pubes that encapsulate and surround my penis and testicles.

I shiver and slightly moan as my right hand grips hard onto my cock and rubs it slowly and completely.

I pull my underwear off down over my legs so I can kick it aside. Now completely naked, I allow myself to fall back into my bed. I stare up at the ceiling as my hands run all over my chest and down over my fucking hard cock and my soft, florid balls.

In ecstasy I doth roll over and begin to rub up against my sheets in a slow and steady rhythm. I’m so hard, all seven inches of me and I kiss Jonathan deeply, and I feel his hands running through my hair and down over my back, clenching my ass as I rub my hard cock up against his hard seven and a half inch piece of manhood.

We’re completely naked and we kiss so deeply and our tongues lap madly off one another’s as we moan and groan and roll around in bed in this deep and forbidden ecstasy. And I can’t believe I’m here, with him. We enjoy each other so much and oh God, Jon’s so hot — he makes me so hard.

Jon pulls back from my lips and slowly moves down my chest, exploring every inch of my chest and my nipples with his tongue and soft kisses. He spends time on them as his hands explore me and then so gently, he jerks me off, feeling every inch of my cock and balls with his strong hands, and slowly his tongue moves down to suck and swallow and slowly he smiles at me from across the room while I dance on the dance floor with Sara.

The music is fast paced and loud and the room is crowded, as this particular nightclub always is on a Saturday night. I’ve caught this young man’s glance earlier on and ever since we’ve been eyeing each other.

The dancing is frenzied and wild, and the drinks I’ve had are going to my head and the sensation of being flows throughout my body and out into the tips of my fingers.

Sweat slightly forms on my brow as I dance and then just I stop at the end of this particular song. Its ending is abrupt, and right away another fast paced song begins and I just stand still a moment and smile softly at Sara, giving her that glance that says I’m heading to the side now: no more dancing for me.

And so I leave her and head in the direction of him. Our eyes have met and are fixed on each other as I confidently inch my way through the crowd towards him and the bar he leans against.

He’s already ordered me a drink and he hands it to me as we say hello, and shout to each other over the music and the crowd. After a few dances with him it doesn’t take long before we’re walking together along the street just laughing and joking and enjoying the lust of each other’s company. His name is Jonathan.

He’s of an average height, about five foot eleven, and he’s 23 years old. His dirty blonde hair is cut short and he has the most amazing smile and the most amazing blue eyes. It’s our first night enjoying each other’s company and we’re strolling back to his place, for a nightcap and maybe something more.

By 11:59 we’re finally at his place and after some more chitchat, we’re sitting on the couch. His place is small but comfy, and as the music plays softly, we lean into each other and kiss passionately for the first time.

It’s deep and fluid, as our lust jumps from our lips and overflows into each other’s bodies and combines into a wonderfully erotic mood. I feel his tongue lapping against mine and his hands they run through my hair and down my back. We embrace each other completely.

And as we kiss, we slowly begin to undress each other, and I can’t help but think how I want his hard cock in my mouth; and about how I want to taste him shooting his load deep into my mouth – how I’d swallow it down so willingly.

And how I’d love to slide my manhood up his lubed ass, as my hands run down along his back and around front to jerk him off some more. And then I’d cum too, and in fact, I do, as I’m so hard and the feeling in my body is just so amazingly intense.

I cum all over my right hand as I wildly rub up against it. I’m all alone, just masturbating in my bed, in my room, over this hot guy I’d seen out there on the dance floor earlier that night. And as I finish cumming, I breathe deeply and slowly, and gently fall asleep, just dreaming of him.

(c) October 7, 2002, Steven H. Lee

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As the daylight broke, I found myself in a hot lust filled dream. A beautiful man was giving my cock an incredible round of servicing. Up and down my hard shaft. And in that dream I suddenly found light pressure against my lips as my faceless lover lightly pressed his dick toward my mouth. The tip glistened with pre-cum and had a familiar and pleasant salty-sweet taste.

As I started to awaken from my dream sleep I quickly became aware that it was not a dream at all. My boyfriend, my lover of three years, Nate was positioned over me in an inviting 69 position. I had met Nate at school as an 18 year-old freshman who had just come out to my family and close friends. He, too, was newly “out” and we stuck up a friendship that had grown into a love affair. We became roommates in the second semester and had shared rooms, lives, and a passion for each other ever since.

As sophomores we moved off campus and had found a one-bedroom apartment. We shared a king-sized bed and always slept naked together. Nate has a cock that I can only call beautiful. It’s thick, cut, and a healthy 7″ when erect. Nate keeps his slim body wonderfully toned and totally hairless. Though he’s 21 years old, he has the slim hairless body of a 13 year old. He is an incredible turn-on visually and is one of the greatest cocksuckers I’ve ever met.

As I looked up from still half-opened eyes, his fully erect dick was mere millimeters from my face. Coming to my senses, I opened my mouth and welcomed the object of my sexual desire inside. Nate and I then treated one another to beautiful, lustful blow jobs.

Because I know Nate so intimately, I sensed his approaching orgasm, and concentrated even harder in pleasuring my svelte lover. Seconds later, the familiar grunt and moan signaled that his load had been dispatched and would soon be filling my mouth. As expected, he filled me with his cream while I milked his cock for every drop of his love potion. Sucking for all I was worth, I felt my own approaching orgasm. And just as that familiar tingling began at the bottom of my balls, Nate pulled off my cock and said, “Hold on, my love, you’re going to need that load later.” He immediately jumped out our bed and headed for the shower.

“That’s ONE!” he called from the bathroom. “What do you mean, Sweetheart?” I inquired. “What does ONE mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said as he emerged from the bathroom; the shower running and getting warm.

He walked over to the bed, leaned over, and gave me a kiss like only intimate lovers can share. “Happy birthday, Bri. I love you.” As we broke our kiss he said, “as soon as you shower, we’re out of here. We’ve got a birthday celebration to end them all.”

“Really?” I asked. “Who is ‘we’?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Nate replied as I heard him step into the shower.

Laying on the bed awaiting my turn in the shower, I closed my eyes to contemplate the wonderful blow job I had just enjoyed giving to my lover, still tasting the musky sweetness on my lips. I considered by own gratification that had gone unsatisfied. Dreaming of my lover and still savoring his taste, I rested for a few moments waiting for Nate to finish his shower.

I must have dozed for a few moments, because I was suddenly brought back to consciousness by a familiar warm, dampness surrounding my still semi-erect cock. I opened my eyes to see our neighbor, Mike, stark naked, kneeling over me and bringing my cock back to life. Standing behind him was his roommate and lover, Scott. Mike and Scott shared the apartment directly across the hall from us. We knew they were gay lovers and Mike and Scott knew that Nate and I were gay lovers. Oftentimes, we’d rent gay pornos on a weekend and the four of us would watch them together. It never failed that the movies always ended with each of us having hot sex on the living room floor with our lover. Up until now, though, Nate nor I had ever had sex with Mike or Scott.

Mike was an expert cocksucker along the same vein as my precious Nate. He serviced me and coaxed me toward orgasm, but always stopping just short of allowing me to cum. As the expert blowjob continued, Scott, climbed up on the bed and strattled my face. His semi-erect 7 inch dick, glistening with pre-cum, pulsating just inches from my mouth. As the sexual tension continued to build, I could wait no longer, I hungrily swallowed Scott’s gorgeous tool. In a matter of minutes, he poured his hot jism down my throat. What an incredible flavor he offered.

I, on the otherhand, was aching to shoot my own load, but the expert who was servicing my meat would not let me go over the edge. As Scott dismounted, Mike stopped sucking and re-positioned himself above my face and offered me HIS 6 inch, thick meat. As Scott went to clean up, Nate emerged from the shower and announced, “That’s TWO, birthday boy!”

I sucked Mike for all I was worth. Having no mouth on my own cock, I reached down and began jacking myself off, hoping, wanting, and needing to get off. After two or three stokes, someone grabbed my hand and removed it from my dick. “Nope, Brian, you don’t get to cum yet. There’s too much yet to do,” Nate announced.

I dutifully kept my hands off my pulsating cock, and continued to fellate my handsome neighbor. Mike as 19, and very slim. He had cleancut, boyish features, and would be regarded as a fem by some. But, to me he was a beautiful young creature. I worked on his chubby, filled with the desire to taste his semen.

I licked his balls and the underside of his fat dick. “Brian, I’m gonna cum!” he shouted. “I’m cumming. I’m cummmmmmminnnnnnggggg!” That skinny young lad shot a load in my mouth like none other I’d ever had. He came in spurts, some of which ran down the side of my mouth. I couldn’t swallow it all. As he dismounted, Mike bent down and gave me a soft, wonderful kiss. He swept his tongue across my lips, trying to taste his own juices. He licked the side of my mouth and my cheeks, licking up every drop of jism that I had not been able to keep in my mouth. What a turn-on it was to watch and feel this gorgeous man eat his own cum.

“That’s THREE!” cried Nate. “Now get yourself out of bed and jump in the shower. We’ve all taken off work and we’re gonna have a huge day today.!” “One more thing, Bri. Don’t even think of cumming just yet. You’ll need that load later.

“Jesus,” I thought to myself. I was on the verge of cumming without even touching myself. I was about to bust. But, at the same time, I knew that if I did what my friend and lover Nate asked me to do, I would be justly rewarded sooner or later.

I must have set a record for a quick shower. I was in and out in about three minutes. I quickly dressed and prepared to leave.

As we were getting ready to walk out the door, the apartment’s doorbell rang. I opened the door and was greeted by Damon. Damon was my best friend from junior high and high school. We had virtually grown up together. Damon was a hot dude and always had a cheerleader or other gorgeous girl for a girlfriend. Damon was a football player, basketball player, and musician in the school’s band. He had always been popular with both the girls and guys. Damon is a true friend. During the times that I was struggling to find my sexual identity, Damon was there for me. When I was starting to deal with the possibility of discovering my homosexuality, Damon just listened to me. He never put me down, and he never was repulsed when I shared my feelings with him. Though he was as straight as an arrow, Damon was the best friend a gay guy could ever have. He is always interested in me and my love life. My being gay is just as normal to Damon as being straight is to him.

“Happy Birthday, Bri!” Damon proclaimed as he walked in the door. He came forward and gave me a friendly hug. “I’m your chauffeur today for your birthday trip.”

“Well, then let’s haul ass!” announced Nate. He kissed me on the lips, grabbed my hand and led our troupe out the door to Damon’s van.

“Let the festivities begin!” proclaimed Damon as he pointed the large conversion van toward the interstate. In a matter of minutes, we had come to Interstate 64 and started motoring east towards Mt. Vernon. A few miles past the Scott AFB exit, we pulled off at the Mid-America Airport exit, turned left, and then turned left again and got back on the interstate heading back towards St. Louis. Moments later, we pulled off at a rest stop. We pulled to a stop and Nate jumped out. “I gotta go to the bathroom. Anyone else need to go?”

“Hell, no, Nate!” I replied. “We just left the apartment 10 minutes ago!”

Damon’s conversion van was a full sized model with two captain’s chairs behind the driver and passenger and a bench seat across the back. It was plush, comfortable and extremely roomy. One could easily sleep in the van if forced to on a long trip. Three or four minutes passed before the side door came open and Nate stood at the opening. “Look what I found for you, birthday boy!” Nate stated proudly. Standing beside him was a handsome fellow in his mid-twenties. Sandy blond hair, medium build, wire-rimmed glasses, white t-shirt and lightweight khaki shorts set off this 5′9″ young gent. He was well tanned and had a blue bandana tied around his neck.

“This is Jordan, Brian,” announced Nate. “He has something for you.”

At this, fair-haired Jordan climbed into the van and joined me on the back bench. Sitting down next to me, he immediately leaned forward and kissed me firmly on the lips while taking his right hand and reaching for my crotch. With his left hand, he expertly unzipped his pants and a seven inch uncut cock sprung forth. I love foreskins, and this one was extra special, for on the underside of his cock, just below the head, his foreskin was pierced and held a ½ inch gold hoop. What a sexy site it was.

We broke the kiss and I reached toward this beautiful piece of manhood while Jordan continued to fish for my own penis, which was growing hard for the fourth time in this young day. “Maybe they’ll let me cum this time,” I thought to myself.

Jordan stood up in the van as best he could. Still in much of a crouch, he took his bulging and pulsing cock into his hands and held it before me. I inhaled to experience the musky aroma. My mouth watered with anticipation as I looked at the beautiful dick before me, bouncing with every beat of Jordan’s pulse.

Throwing all caution to the wind, I threw myself forward and took his entire cock, hoop ring and all, into my mouth and down my throat. I was completely overcome with lust as my appetite for cock became uncontrollable. I suddenly found myself a cock crazed animal. All I could think about was having cock, cock and more cock. I had to have Jordan and I had to taste his spooge oozing down my throat. Nothing else mattered. I gave the blowjob of my life as I teased him, licking his shaft, taking his balls into my mouth, and licking the sensitive underside of his manhood. Soon a drop of pre-cum appeared on the tip of Jordan’s dick. My pointed tongue immediately targeted the slit and I orally milked every molecule of pre-cum from his dick that I possibly could. It was sweet, and oh so delicious. I had to have more. At this particular moment, my own sexual gratification and pending orgasm was put on hold. My sole purpose for my next breath was to entice a hot load of spunk out of this hot little man’s throbbing boner. After a few moments passed, my efforts were rewarded as Jordan offered up his protein-laced gift. My lips formed a seal around his meat so that not a single drop would be lost. The taste of his cum was unlike the sweet pre-cum. It was saltier, and a bit on the tart side, but all in all, still a meal fit for a king. I held Jordan in my mouth until his cock started to shrivel. After replacing his dick in his shorts, this young stud leaned forward and gave me a long, and very enjoyable kiss. “Happy birthday, lover boy. That’s FOUR!”

And just like that, he was gone.

“What is this, some kind of countdown?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, it is” replied my straight buddy Damon. “We’re giving you a ‘21 Gun Salute’ to celebrate your 21st birthday. The fourth gun just fired!” The van full of four other men, all friends and loved ones, erupted in laughter.

“Oh, my, what a gift!” was all I could say. “Twenty-one cocks? All in one day?”

“Yes, sir!” answered Damon. Though he was straight as an arrow, I loved this man because he was so open minded with my gay lifestyle. How supportive could a friend possibly be?

The van continued to be filled with laughter, which was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the sliding door. We had been so busy conversing and enjoying one another’s company that we did not see the guy walk up. He was a young, tall, African-American fellow. Somewhere between 18 and 22 years old, I would’ve guessed. Dressed in a baggy white FUBU undershirt, a single gold chain around his neck, a clean, white sweatband around his head and some low-riding baggy shorts were set off by black, high-tech tennis shoes.

Mike lowered the window. “Hey, man. I hear a man can get his dick sucked in here. Any truth to that?”

Still in my cock starved state, my single response was, “You better believe it. Get in here in the back!”

Without hesitation, the door slid open and the young, chocolate colored Adonis stepped in.

“I don’t have time for small talk or chit-chat,” I heard myself saying. “Just get in here and feed me that ebony cock of yours!”

The low-riding shorts came down easy, as did the silk boxers. True to my wildest expectation, the young stud was packing about 9 inches of brown love tool. I dove for the object of my current lust and commenced to deep throat the whole thing.

Men have often commented on my cocksucking prowess, and this was no different. Sounds of pleasure escaped the lips of this beautiful ebony god. The mere size of his dick would have been intimidating under normal circumstances, but my animalistic need to feast on cocks of any size or shape threw all inhibitions out the window. Nothing at the time could possibly compare to the feel of his cock sliding between my lips and down my throat. Occasionally I would remove his cock from my mouth and lick, nibble and kiss the underside of his shaft. I would gently take his scrotum in my teeth and seek to take one of his massive balls into my mouth. He enjoyed the service I was so happily providing him, but my animal instincts mandated that I have that gorgeous chunk of meet stuffed in my mouth.

My sheer drive to receive his seed caused me to provide this young brown cock an expert oral servicing. In no time, his moaning, his breathing, and his thrusting motion let me know that he was about to shoot his hot load. A short, masculine scream was the only prelude to the sticky load that erupted from his gun. It’s taste was delightfully delicious. After two bursts of his wonderful ejaculation, my black lover of the moment hastily pulled his still hard cock from my mouth, stuffed in back into his pants and quickly turned to leave. His only words were, “That’s FIVE, motherfucker.” And he was gone.

I was left in another terrible state. It was just a bit past 9:00 in the morning. I had sucked five gorgeously different cocks and was carrying five loads of semen in my stomach. And yet, my own crescendoed sexual tension had gone unsatisfied. I had to cum. Soon.

A few minutes to clean up and tidy up and our van was soon cruising westward back towards St. Louis. Moments later, the van slowed down and we pulled of Highway 159 and up to the giant shopping mall. Because it was not yet 10:00 a.m. there were just a handful of cars in the expansive parking lot. We pulled up to the north side of the mall. Scott led us from the van to a side door that was apparently a back entrance to one of the hundreds of shops. “What is this guy up to?” I thought to myself.

“Time for your first birthday gift, Brian. This one comes with love from Mike and me.” Scott knocked on the door and a moment later it opened.

“Hi, Mike. We’ve been expecting you,” said the twenty-something greeter. He welcomed Mike with a hug and a kiss on the lips. He greeted everyone else with a handshake, a hand on the shoulders and a “Welcome, please do come in.” He finally turned to me and said, “And this must be the guest of honor. Hi, I’m Ryan. I’m the store manager. Your friends have arranged this private shopping experience prior to our opening just for you. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

I was led in and discovered that we had come into the back room of one of the hippest and trendiest men’s fashion shops in the entire city. Cutting edge and extreme fashion surrounded us on the walls and the many floor racks. I was led to the center of the store that contained several large easy chairs and a bank of mirrors. Just behind were a series of several dressing rooms.

“Mike and I are getting you some new threads for your birthday. You try them on. We’ll pick them out, and pay for them, and you enjoy them,” announced Scott.

Ryan, the store manager, was joined by another employee. “Brian, this is Mitch. He’ll be assisting me in measuring you and selecting your fashions today. Now, Brian, won’t you please stand and let’s get you fixed up.”

I stood before the two clothiers. Ryan and Mitch both held tape measures. They promptly went to work and started measuring and recording my waist, inseam, sleeve length, neck size, chest, and so forth. “Okay, Brian, now we need you to remove all your clothes so we can fit you in your first outfit.”

I willingly obliged the hunky salesman. He was cute, bleached-blonde, slim, and talked with a slight lisp. I then learned that the lisp was caused by a huge stud that had been inserted into his pierced tongue. Upon a closer look, I also learned that Ryan was pierced in the eyebrow and both ears held multiple piercings. It was indeed a sexy site. I stripped down to my socks and underwear and waited for Ryan and Mitch to emerge from the backroom. Only Ryan returned, and upon seeing me he repeated, “Brian, I asked you to remove all your clothes. I did mean all of them, please, sir.”

Hell, by this time of the day, my friends had either been orally serviced by me or had watched me suck sufficient cock. All inhibitions were gone. I removed by Calvin Klein briefs and socks and stood before my four friends and lovers and Ryan. Ryan saw me in all of my naked glory and stopped for a moment just to look me over. “My, oh my. You are a cute one, Brian.” He reached up and tweaked one of my nipples. Mitch then emerged from the back room. He was carrying a white knit shirt with red stripes and some black leather pants. Oh yes. And he was totally naked as he delivered the first ensemble.

His cock was hard and standing out, almost parallel to the ground. He wasn’t as big as any of the other dicks I’d seen today, but his body was completely shorn of hair. He had no pubes, and the site of his hairless body was a turn on.

“Let’s try that shirt,” announced Ryan. I reached out to accept the shirt in order to put it on, but Ryan insisted that he dress me himself. I held my arms outward and upward and he slipped the shirt onto my arms. This was exquisite cotton material that felt soft and airy. As he pulled the shirt down and had it covering my head, he stopped for just a second. During that second, I felt lips surround themselves around my exposed cock. As Ryan finished pulling the shirt into place I looked down to see Mitch fellating my pounding dick. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing and enjoyed what he was doing. The shirt fit tight and accentuated my torso, showing off my tight stomach and broad shoulders. As good as the shirt felt, it was nothing compared to the ecstatic sensation of the tight lipped cock sucker paying homage to my dick. I stood, weak legged, and eyes closed savoring the complete feeling of total pleasure. Orgasm was just seconds away.

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CHAPTER 14: PULLING THE DEVIL’S TAIL

By Sadie Rose Bermingham © 2006

ATONEMENT:

Rayne woke up alone, which of late was so unusual that he took his time to assimilate and appreciate the space in which he found himself. He felt groggy and in need of a good long shower but he was not as sore as he dreaded he might have been. The bed was large and clean and very comfortable. It also showed signs of not having been slept in by more than one person. Under the circumstances that was a relief. Slowly now his memories of the last time he had been properly conscious were coming back.

He curled up again and buried his face in his arms.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a bike!” he muttered with a shake of his head. “I’ve been such a fucking muppet!”

It was earlier than he had first guessed and he took advantage of the fact that his fellow boat-mates were still asleep in various tangled configurations to quietly recover consciousness under the cool drizzle of the shower. His upper left arm was sore and he vaguely remembered that Mahmoudi had been there and had poked a needle into the crook of his elbow before he could even point out that he was left handed. He knew without asking that the shot was Diamorphine. It had knocked him straight out. Maybe it would have killed him if it had been a bigger shot but he guessed that even Mahmoudi would be pressed to explain his demise under such circumstances. And Paddy would not want something like that happening on his boat.

“Could have been worse,” he muttered to himself, tilting his head back to let the cool water flow into his mouth and run down his chin. He spat it out and shook his head. “Leland would have dumped you over the side and reported you missing three days later!”

Even Mikkal was not up and about yet and Rayne wrapped himself in a towel, feeling cold to his bones in spite of the mild, summer morning. The galley kitchen was in a semi-mystical state of emptiness and the morning half-light pushed through the gaps in the vertical blinds, reaching vague silvery fingers into the oddest corners. The quiet splashing of water against the side of the boat and the clink of mooring ropes outside broke the stillness but other than this it was bizarrely quiet. When he pulled the blinds, it was just getting light outside and somehow he managed to make himself a pot of coffee in semi-twilight without dropping or spilling anything. He was just about to take it up onto the roof and have a cigarette when someone spoke his name and he jumped so violently that he almost threw the whole shooting match onto the floor.

“Christ!” he exhaled nervously when Aldo pushed himself up off the sofa, where he had plainly spent the night. Rayne had not even spotted him when he first stumbled through into the kitchen. The Italian pushed a hand through his rumpled black hair now and knuckled the sleep from his eyes.

“Sorry… did I freak you out?”

Rayne’s knuckles tightened around the handle of the coffee pot and the huge mug in his other hand. He felt his heart quicken but at least this morning it was just natural adrenaline.

“Leave me alone!” he warned, bristling defensively when Aldo tried to get closer. “I’m warning you, this stuff is hot!”

“I’m not gonna try anything. I… I didn’t sleep too good last night if that’s any consolation,” Aldo said a little blearily.

“Good! I slept fine,” Rayne glared at him. “I’m gonna go up and have a fag. I don’t want company!”

He got it in any case. Admittedly, Aldo left him to his own devices for at least two cigarettes, by which time he was ready for the top up of coffee which the Italian brought up for him, together with a large plate of hot buttered brioches and a pot of strawberry jam.

“There’s nothing bad in it, I promise,” he said in a contrite tone as he set the tray down on the roof deck next to the younger man. “I thought you might be hungry by now.”

Rayne was and he scowled at Aldo for just a little while, then attacked the sweet rolls before they began to cool. His companion poured them both some more coffee.

“We’ve got today off,” he said quietly. “PJ’s pretty pissed off at me. I guess I’m probably not gonna work with him again for a while.”

“Serves you right,” Rayne muttered with his mouth full. He chewed vigorously for a moment then washed the mouthful down with more coffee. It made him feel sick but he needed to feel occupied and the food kept his hands and mouth busy so that he could keep conversation to a minimum. “‘ave we got any Cheerios?”

For a little while Aldo just looked at him in bewilderment, then he pushed himself to his feet and went back down into the galley with a little sigh.

Rayne dipped a finger into the jam and sucked it clean. It was sharp and sweet, just the right mix of sugar and fruit. He scooped a slightly more loaded finger of preserve into his mouth and licked his lips, relishing the sugar rush. It balanced the coffee out quite nicely.

When Aldo came back up on deck with a large bowl of cereal swimming in milk, he did not have the heart to point out that they were better dry. Instead he concentrated on picking the little cereal loops out of the milk and flipping them into the air, catching them in his mouth.

“It is little wonder that you are thin,” Aldo said at last, having observed this human sea-lion routine for a few minutes.

“I’m not gonna put much weight on with ‘you’ around, am I?” Rayne said venomously, flicking another Cheerio so high into the air that it vanished over the other side of the yacht.

“I did not give you the pills to hurt you,” Aldo countered with a shake of his head. “I am sorry, Rayne. What more can I say?”

“You think I care if you’re sorry or not?” the younger man snapped at him. “Aldo… I thought you were my fuckin’ friend!”

“I ‘am’ your friend,” Aldo protested, looking genuinely hurt by this. He shook his head at once, staring mournfully at Rayne with those dark, Latin-Spaniel eyes.

“You are a bastard!” Rayne told him, completely unmoved by this display of contrition. “You spiked my fucking drink, not once but twice! You nearly fuckin’ killed me! You’re Paddy’s fuckin’ lapdog. When he snaps his fingers, you jump to attention like you’re on a fuckin’ lead! I’ll tell you what…” he wagged a knowing finger at the Italian; “…you lot deserve each other!”

“Paddy did not tell me to give you the pills,” Aldo protested. “He said to get you ready for him, that was all. You were nervous. Clay suggested that they might… make you more relaxed. He knew someone who could get him a few of these pills. I said that I would try and give you some to make you chill out. P J did not know that we had given them to you. When you were hot for us yesterday we thought; ‘that worked!’ So we gave you some more in the morning, to help with the filming during the day. I didn’t know that you still had some drug in your system. Clay reckoned that they wear off pretty quickly.”

Rayne was just staring at him. He put the cereal bowl down slowly although he was tempted to throw it at Aldo’s head.

“Clay’s built like a brick shit-house! How much of that stuff did you give me, Aldo? I’ve taken Speed and I know how much tolerance I’ve got for ‘that’!”

The older man looked down awkwardly.

“We only gave you one the first day but it worked okay, so we thought if we trebled it yesterday…” he stopped because Rayne was looking at him like thunder. Aldo held his hands up and leaned back defensively. “Okay… I know. I’m sorry! I’m really, totally sorry Rayne!”

Pale green eyes glared at him without blinking.

“Yeah… you’re fuckin’ sorry, all right!” the boy muttered at last, returning to his Cheerios, although he had lost his appetite again.

“Paddy asked me to try and cheer you up today,” Aldo said with a hopeful little smile. “No pills, no sex… Just the chance to relax, yes?”

“Fuck. Off.” Rayne replied, completely deadpan. He did not even look up.

“He suggested that I ought to take you shopping this morning to try and get you chilled before we film,” Aldo persisted as if he had not spoken. “Artie’s given me the car keys, so I thought we might take the Alfa and go into Agde. Would you like that?”

Rayne closed his eyes tightly for a little while, feeling breathless from the scatter-gun effect of Aldo’s amiable chatter. It was beyond him how the Italian could prattle away to him as if nothing had happened. The boy could not believe that Aldo could have done something so unbelievably stupid and reckless, then come up here this morning chatting to him as if it was all a game. His own nerves were still vibrating like a struck tuning fork.

“Leave me alone,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t want to go shopping?” Aldo asked, putting his head on one side like a puppy. “He’s given us a lot of money.”

Rayne looked sidelong at him, finally. He was still feeling quite woozy and his stomach hurt but the idea of getting out of this goldfish bowl, even just for a few hours, ‘was’ very tempting. Even if he had to put up with Aldo. Besides, if they had pocket money…

“How much?” he asked at last.

The Italian flashed a feral smile.

“About two thousand francs each.”

Rayne managed a vague, mental calculation. He did it again just to be on the safe side.

“That’s about two hundred quid?”

“I suppose,” said Aldo as if it was of no real consequence.

Rayne wanted to bang his head on the deck. At home he would have had to work non-stop for three nights to make that sort of money. PJ had to be absolutely loaded if he could afford to throw cash about like this. Or maybe he just had a guilty conscience. Rayne mulled it over silently.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “That would be good.”

“Did you fuck him?” Aldo wanted to know, subtle as ever.

“Don’t you know?” Rayne’s green eyes slid back up to survey his face. “Doesn’t everyone know by now? What you did to me, the four of you? I thought there were cameras everywhere on this fuckin’ boat.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Aldo said without flinching from his stare. “Paddy took you straight to his room when he got back to the boat. You were completely out of it after…” Aldo looked away, unable to articulate his meaning.

“…after you and Clay fucked the arse out of me while I was strung out on some fuckin’ pep pills you’d bunged me?” Rayne supplied for him acerbically. “Yeah! Right!”

“The room is soundproofed and the door was locked,” Aldo told him defensively. “I know that he spent all night with you, that’s all. And Mikka never even touched you. He’s pissed off with me too, so don’t round him up with the rest of us. ‘And’ you weren’t helpless, Rayne. You ‘knew’ what we were doing to you the other day. You wanted it and you ‘liked’ it!”

Rayne bit his tongue on the verge of a sharp, clever answer. That was too close to the damned truth and Aldo knew it. He could not deny it with a clear conscience. The echoes of their vigorous sex still resonated through his body, two days later. He was sore and his back and thigh muscles were complaining but the memory of their hands and their bodies, their mouths and cocks interacting with his own… that was very clear and almost too stimulating. Aldo had fucked him hard in Beziers and he had loved it. Back in Ambonne, the Italian and his US co-star had shown him how to enjoy being the centre of rock-hard male attention. He wrapped himself more securely in his towel because the recollection gave him a hard on that was nothing to do with artificial stimulants.

But it still did not get close to the pleasure he had known in Paddy McNamara’s arms later that same night. Aldo and Clay excited him and brought him to orgasm, but Paddy blew his mind. It was not just that he was big; it was not that at all.

Rayne pushed the thoughts away. He would not think about Paddy this morning. He had not forgiven them. He still did not trust Aldo, and Paddy was in league with Aldo, therefore he was not to be trusted either. It made no difference that he could make Rayne cum without even being in the same room.

“You still doped me,” he pointed out sullenly.

“And you let go of your inhibitions,” Aldo retorted, holding his stare.

“I’m not gay,” Rayne said in a quiet, insistent monotone. “I only fuck men for money.”

“Are you saying that I ‘raped’ you?” The Italian was looking incredulously at him now.

Rayne bristled again. He wanted to say ‘yes’ just to see Aldo flinch but he looked away at last and shook his head.

Aldo’s hand cupped his chin, lifting his face instantly.

“Should I ‘pay’ you? Is that what you want?”

Rayne felt sick. He shook his head a little more adamantly, wishing that Aldo would just go away and leave him be. He was confused enough about Paddy right now without this additional complication.

“What ‘do’ you want?” his companion asked with a grimace.

“I don’t know,” Rayne answered him quietly.

“Do you want this?” Aldo reached down with his free hand and stroked his ten-inch cock, which was also quite rigid. A little jewel of semen rose to the eye immediately.

Rayne shook his head, not trusting words. He was not sure that he had the strength for a fucking right now, although the idea of Aldo’s long, hard rod inside him ‘was’ exciting. The realisation of that perplexed him too.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking me shopping?” he asked, changing the subject deftly.

Aldo looked a tad disappointed with this response but he let go of Rayne’s chin and turned away, curling around himself, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, watching the sunlight on the water meditatively. Rayne Wilde popped another small, round cereal snack into his mouth and pulled a face. Cheerios just weren’t the same once they got soggy.

KNOW YOURSELF:

Rayne sat thinking for a little while after the handsome Italian had gone in search of his clothes. It was more than two weeks now since Ant had come back to look for him and pulled him out of the snow; hard to believe, really. It felt like another world; another lifetime. A fortnight ago he had been on the verge of an eagerly anticipated gig; just an ordinary kid scraping a living in London, trying to be a rock star. He found himself wondering what would happen to him if he went back to England now. Would he wind up back on the streets? Was London even the right place to go? He knew too many dealers in the capital and they knew him by sight as well. The temptation was going to be too much to resist there.

He could get clean. He knew that he could, it was just a question of willpower. That would show Daniel-fucking-Leland a thing or two! Maybe if he could stay out here…

Rayne shook his head quickly. Not wise, that! He already knew where the drugs were here at the Cap, although he would probably give Giovanni a pretty wide berth after the events of this past weekend. There was still Mahmoudi right on his doorstep, though. Maybe there was just as much temptation out here as there was back home.

Sighing, he finished his cereal and wandered through to the bathroom where he scrubbed his teeth, shaved himself all over and took a shower. Feeling better for the kiss of blisteringly hot water on his skin, he hunted through the closet in the room where he had woken up but there was nothing clean that fitted his slender frame. Biting the bullet, he wandered back through the lounge and hopped down onto the jetty, making his careful way back along the swaying, wooden gangways to Daniel’s boat. It felt strange to come back here after the last couple of hectic days. To his relief everyone was still sleeping when he opened the screen door from the rear deck and let himself in. No one locked anything down here. That was another thing he had noticed that was peculiar about the Cap. Either everyone was honest or no one really cared if they had their lives stolen from under them. Either way it was odd.

In the first room off the corridor, it was still dark and he navigated his way to the cabinet by touch, not wanting to disturb Ant if he was still asleep. His hands found the door to the closet and lingered over the suit he had bought with Ant’s credit card on the day of Adolescent Sex’s Camden gig. Finally he decided that it was too warm for a jacket and retrieved his black jeans and a simple black shirt and teeshirt.

It felt extremely peculiar to wriggle into his well-worn, comfortable clothing. He was almost reluctant to cover his newly tanned body. The sunburn of the previous week was mellowing now so that his skin was more of an all over honey colour. There were still a few darker welts on his shoulders and buttocks where Christophe and his friends had whipped him but already they were fading into his new, sun kissed skin tones.

He stroked a wistful hand over the battered guitar case, thinking longingly of his bass and wishing that he could just slope off somewhere and find an amplifier. It would be good to just lose himself in the familiar, rhythmic patterns of the songs he had learned since his childhood. The guitar had belonged to his cousin Joe who was a couple of years older than Rayne and had played in punk bands around the pubs of East Kent for many years. Joe had sold it to him about three years ago when he was about to settle down and marry his long time girlfriend, Elle. She was expecting their first child and they needed every penny they could lay their hands on. Joe wanted the Fender to go to someone who would appreciate it, and while Rayne acknowledged that he would probably never be the greatest bass player in the world, he certainly loved his instrument. It felt as warm and familiar as a lover in his hands. When he snaked his long fingers around the slender neck and gently thumbed the strings he felt a shiver that was just like the anticipation of fabulous sex.

Jeli used to tease him about getting an erection just before they went on stage but he could not help himself. The buzz that surrounded them before a show was more intense than anything he had experienced using speed or cocaine. It was like being on another planet and communicating with aliens for the very first time. And they were beautiful, lust hungry aliens… and they wanted him and he wanted them in return.

That had not helped his relationship with Angelica in the long term; he knew it now. He had been such a flirt, and he had not cared whether the ones he flirted with were boys or girls. There were some very pretty boys down in the front row of many of Adolescent Sex’s early shows. He knew that they were primarily interested in Jeli, and quite rightly so. Who would not have been? Rayne certainly had not passed at the chance. The groupies made their love life interesting though. More than once they had come home with a boy or a girl from the show, who was willing to make out with both of them. The difference between Jeli and himself, Rayne knew now, was that she was just dipping her toes. It was a giggle for her, a little bit of freedom and exuberance before she settled down. At the end of the day she would follow the life map laid out for her by her money and her breeding. Get a qualification, a career, a good husband and as soon as decently possible, pop out a few well-bred babies to carry on the Parker line.

Maybe that would be enough for her, maybe not. Rayne doubted it somehow, but for the time being at least she seemed determined to try. She had cried when she told him about Kurt, as if she felt some sense of the betrayal she had perpetrated. He wanted desperately to believe that her tears were genuine, that she was seriously being forced into something that she had no control over. The only thing was, he did not fall for it for one moment.

Rayne knelt down and put his arms around the guitar case, holding its familiar shape against his body for a little while as he forced back the tears. For a couple of weeks he had played her game, pretending with all his heart that she was playing too and that soon she would see the error of her ways and come back to him. They were still the best of friends, that was the worst of it. Jeli could not let go of him and he had refused to let her walk away. They still talked all night, twined around one another, telling stupid jokes and confessing heartfelt secrets, like children. They fucked like rabid animals from time to time, unable to keep their hands off one another, especially just before or after a gig. Then the energy was at its peak between them. The electricity was undeniable.

They will make you want to join them but you can only watch and tell how good they are!

webmaster — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 08:43:26 +0000

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Brian gave a low, tortured moan as he tried to sit up. Pain tore through every possible part of his body. Brewster, Brad-Lee and Jason had systematically raped and tortured him until they’d completely spent themselves several times over, then had each passed out in front of the fire leaving a very bloody and ruined Brian in their wake. Brian couldn’t think about himself now, though. He had to get Andy away from these psychopaths and back to his family where he belonged.

As Brian slowly pulled his briefs up past his bloody thighs and bleeding ass, he winced at the material clinging to the destroyed parts of his body. Brian doubled over at the pain that shot from his ass up his spine and crippled his whole body. Taking a deep breath, he set out to the bed in the corner.

Andy saw the broken form of Brian approach him slowly. He remained still under Alan’s weight on him, scared the slightest movement might wake him. As Brian approached, Andy’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. Brian’s right eye was swollen shut and he had various cuts on his face that had left blood to dry around them. Both his lips were swollen too, with deep lacerations standing out prominently. Brian had on a white vest that was too big for him; it was likely Brewster’s vest. Blood had seeped through the vest at various places to reveal the true extent of Brian’s injuries. Andy imagined he saw blood running down Brian’s thighs.

As Brian neared him, Andy heard him whisper, ‘Andrew, are you awake?’

‘Yes,’ Andy replied softly.

‘Can you get up?’

‘Alan’s passed out over my chest. I’m afraid I’ll wake him if I move.’

‘Stay there, I’m coming,’ Brian breathed. When Brian reached them, he helped Andy slide out from under Alan and slipped a pillow where Andy’s body had been as a replacement for him. Andy and Brian held their breaths as Alan gave a slight moan, but he nuzzled in to the pillow and kept on breathing steadily.

Brian passed Andy his clothes and moved around to the side of the bed, looking through the duffle bag until he found what he’d been searching for. When he returned to Andy he helped him with the last of the buttons to his shirt then bent down next to him, slipping his arms underneath him and scooping up his tiny frame in one swift motion.

Andy protested weakly and said that he could walk but Brian gave a small dismissive smile and made for the door. As they passed the couch the keys to the van slipped from Brian’s hand and fell noisily to the floor. Brian and Andy listened whether the sound had awoken anybody. As Brian bent down to pick up the keys they heard a sleep drowsed Brewster yell, ‘What the fuck you doin’, Bri?’

Brian reacted in less than a second, placing Andy hurriedly on the ground before yelling ‘Run, Andy!’ and turned back to a charging Brewster.

Andy hesitated a moment before making for the door, dimly registering the confused and angry voices of the other men waking up. Andy set out in to the forest without looking back.

Brewster held a bloody Brian to the wall. Brian was trying to fend off Brewster’s angry fists as the other men in the room finally started reacting to what was going on.

‘Where the hell is Andy?!’ a thunderous Alan yelled.

‘He ran out the door,’ a panting Brewster yelled back, turning his head away from Brian for a second.

‘Goddamnit!’ Alan yelled as he sprang from the bed. Brian used Brewster’s distraction to his advantage, and as Brewster turned his face back again he was unprepared for the head butt he got from Brian. Brewster’s grip on Brian loosened momentarily and he slipped out from underneath Brewster’s hold. Running to the door Brian was tripped by someone’s hand gripping his foot and fell heavily to the ground, breathless.

Alan was oblivious to the struggles that went on in the room as he got dressed and quickly set out after Andy. Brad-Lee followed after Alan in the dead of night as Jason kept a firm hold on Brian’s ankle, pulling the squirming body closer to his. Brian gave a kick and felt his foot connect with the side of Jason’s face and heard a loud gasp coming from him. Brian retrieved his foot and started crawling away from Jason when he saw Brewster’s form towering above him. Looking up at Brewster he saw the angry giant bend down and pick him up by the waist, throwing him across the room.

Andy didn’t know where he was headed. He had a sneaking suspicion he was going in circles again and again and knew he wasn’t making any progress. A heavy guilt ate at Andy’s insides for having left Brian to face the mob alone. He only hoped he’d be able to find Brian to be okay later on and be able to apologize to him for abandoning him. Andy heard approaching voices from somewhere close by. Standing still he tried to gauge the distance of the voices. He recognized one voice as Alan’s and the other as Brad-Lee’s. Stifling a terrified sob Andy started running again.

‘You can’t get away from us, Andy. You don’t know the area at all, and you’re probably just running in circles anyway. Why not just give up, eh?’ came Alan’s cajoling voice. ‘I promise I’m not mad at you,’ Alan said.

Andy heard their footsteps getting closer, and then it went silent as he stopped to catch his breath. When he turned to set off running again, a yelp escaped his mouth as he felt strong arms wrap itself around his waist, pinning his back to his attacker’s chest.

Brian landed in front of the fireplace, winded. He didn’t try to get up as he lay there trying to catch his breath. He saw someone approaching him and felt the first kick in his side send a jolt of lightning through his whole body. The kicks were so violent that each blow literally lifted his body from the ground. From the shrieking voice coming from the body that kicked him so violently Brian got it through his pain riddled mind that it was Jason kicking him.

Brian felt the heat of the flames on his back as Jason’s kicks were sending him deeper in to the fire roaring in the hearth. Feeling the heat escalate at his back Brian’s mind dimly registered that the throw rug he’d landed on must have bunched up and was now on fire. Feeling the unmistakable strength of Brewster’s arms picking him up like a rag doll, Brian felt himself being held up by Brewster while Jason laid in to him with a sea of fists to his gut. With an almighty effort born of fear for Andy and desperation, Brian crushed his foot on Brewster’s and elbowed him in the gut. When he had one arm free he hit Jason on the side of the head with his fist with all the power he could muster. Jason fell to the ground, dazed.

Brewster recovered quickly from the surprise attack and still had one of Brian’s arms in his grasp. Spinning Brian around, he lifted his other arm to deliver a knock out blow to Brian’s head but instead felt Brian’s flat palm push with an animal strength against his chest. Losing his balance Brewster tripped and fell back in to the flames of the now heavily spread fire, and with in seconds was engulfed in its inferno. Moaning and screaming like an animal for someone to help him, Brian just stared at his rapist and tormentor’s burning body. Jason gave an anguished ‘NO!’ and dove past Brian in to the flames, attempting to save his friend. The fire had now spread through most of the cabin. Brian limped from the room, leaving Jason and Brewster behind.

Andy gave a violent struggle but couldn’t get free from the person’s grip. Alan stepped in front of Andy and his struggles died down.

‘Such beauty, my love. You truly are beautiful, Andy.’

Andy heard the awe in Alan’s voice and pulled his head back slightly then spat in Alan’s face. Alan waited a beat then swiftly lifted his hand and beat Andy’s head with an open palm until it was hanging in Brad-Lee’s grip. As Alan calmed down and was about to turn to lead the way back to the cabin Andy’s limp body shot out from Brad-Lee’s grip and kneed Alan in the groin before setting off in the woods again.

Alan buckled over and Brad-Lee’s surprise over Andy’s swift action only lasted a moment as he reached out and grabbed Andy’s wrist, spinning him around to face him. As Andy came round to face Brad-Lee he hit Brad-Lee repeatedly on the chest with his free hand. Brad-Lee bent down slightly and picked up a rock, hitting Andy against the head with it and smiled, making no attempt to catch Andy’s body as it hit the ground.

When Alan had recovered enough he bent down beside Andy and looked him over. He told Brad-Lee to gently pick him up and carry him back to the cabin. Brad-Lee lifted Andy up and hoist him over his shoulder like a sack potatoes as they made their way back to the cabin.

Alan, Brad-Lee and an unconscious Andy returned to a blazing cabin with no trace of Brewster, Jason or Brian. Brad-Lee gave a shocked ‘What the fuck?’ as they approached the cabin. Alan looked dumbfounded as he breathed, ‘Oh my god.’

‘What the fuck in hell do you think happened, Al?’ Brad-Lee asked.

‘How the fuck should I know?’ an irritated reply came. ‘We can’t waste any more time. The fire brigade is probably already on their way. We have to go now!’

‘But what about Brew and Jase? We can’t just abandon them, Al!’

‘Look Brad now’s not the time to give me lip, right? I’m sure they are fine. I’ll send for them as soon as we safely reached our destination. I promise, you hear? But just do as I say now and everything will work out fine, yea?’

Brad-Lee slowly nodded, then followed an anxious looking Alan back to the van. Alan slid open the door and settled himself in the van, then motioned for Brad-Lee to lay Andy across his lap.

When Alan and Andy had settled Brad-Lee got out and switched the safety lock from the door and slid it closed, then walked over to the driver’s side.

A long moment passed before Alan yelled, ‘Hey Brad, hurry it up already. What’s taking so long?’

When no reply came Alan sighed and gently lifted Andy’s head from his lap, gingerly placing it on the seat. Alan slid the door open again, poking his head out the door. Sighing again he said as he stepped out the van, ‘I swear to god, Brad. If you’ve gone back looking for Brew and Jase…’

Alan’s sentence was cut short by the sight of an unconscious Brad-Lee lying on the ground and a punch in the stomach from a very weak Brian. Alan recovered within a second and launched for Brian’s weaker frame. The two struggled and tried to take the advantage wherever they could, but it was obvious from the direction the fight was taking that Alan was winning.

After several long moments of extreme struggle and fight Brian collapsed to his knees totally exhausted at Alan’s feet.

Alan bent down and wrapped his fingers in Brian’s hair, pulling his head back violently. Staring in to Brian’s eyes, Alan said, ‘Now you die you son of a bitch,’ and had placed his other hand on Brian’s head ready to snap his neck and end his life when Alan suddenly loosened his grip and fell to the ground like a wet blanket.

Brian looked up to see a terrified looking Andy standing over Alan’s body with Brewster’s baseball bat in his hands breathing heavily. Brian saw Andy’s eyes roll back in his head and his body slump to the ground. Using what little strength he possessed Brian quickly reached out to Andy, trying to break his fall so he wouldn’t injure himself further. Cradling Andy’s unconscious head in his lap, silent tears of relief fell down Brian’s face as he heard police sirens in the distance. The last thought Brian would later be able to recall was of an intense thankfulness in his heart at his prayers having been answered, and that Andy was finally safe.

Bill, Jake and Chris found a sea of unconscious bodies when they arrived at the cabin a few minutes later. They also found an unconscious Andy sprawled across the lap of a passed out man leaning against a van, cradling Andy’s head protectively in his lap.

Andy was taken to hospital by the ambulance. Jake drove with Andy in the ambulance while Bill followed in the Mercedes. All the other people were taken to the hospital under police supervision until the whole mess could be sorted. Bill only hoped as he followed behind the ambulance that they finally had enough to nail Haynes for good. One of his many regrets was that it wasn’t Haynes’ charred remains the firemen had pulled from the ashes back at the cabin. God only knew what he’d do to that sick bastard if he ever laid hands on him. Another intense feeling of relief swept through Bill as he looked at the ambulance in front of him. He was so grateful that they had reached Andy in time. He only hoped they weren’t too late already.

CHAPTER 9 TO FOLLOW SOON

Nice bodies, fresh faces. these coeds could be great lovers.

webmaster — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 21:43:26 +0000

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All feedback welcomed and encouraged…

Andy woke up to Brian staring sleepily down at him. He smiled back up at his fiancé and melted in to his embrace. It had been one week since Brian had proposed, and Andy had yet to come down from his high.

‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ Brian greeted him affectionately.

‘Hey there.’ Andy yawned.

‘It’s almost noon, you know.’

Andy grunted slightly, burying his face in Brian’s side. ‘Don’t remind me. I start work tomorrow, remember. Today’s my last day before I start shifts again.’

‘And I’ll miss you terribly every second you’re away from my side,’ Brian whispered.

Andy looked back up in Brian’s eyes, a smile spreading across his face. He loved this man so much it hurt.

‘And soon you’ll start your new job at the Deli and all. You’re lucky to have Bill as a boss,’ Andy said.

‘Yeah, right. You try having your future father-in-law for a boss; see how much you like it.’

Brian sounded dramatic, but Andy knew he was excited to start work at the Deli.

‘I don’t know why we even have to go to work,’ Brian continued, ’since we’ll be leaving for our honeymoon in a couple of weeks anyway.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Andy said conversationally.

‘Forget it, boy, my lips are sealed,’ Brian said, drawing an imaginary zipper across his closed lips, but breaking in to a smile despite himself.

‘Yeah but just give me a clue, so I’ll know what clothes I have to pack.’

‘If I had my way, Mr. Martin, you wouldn’t need to pack any clothes at all, since we won’t be leaving the room all that much anyway.’

Brian raised his eyebrows suggestively at Andy.

Andy blushed red and buried his face back in Brian’s side. Brian laughed gently, the rumble of his chest sending shivers down Andy’s back.

‘You’re so cute when you blush, you know that?’

Andy groaned slightly then said, ‘So I’ve been told,’ and sank deeper in to his lover.

Andy whispered then, Brian barely able to hear his words, ‘When, Brian?’

‘Soon, love, soon.’

Andy had wanted to make love with Brian, but Brian had said he wanted to make an honest man out of him first before he took Andy. Andy didn’t mind either way, his heart, soul and body already belonged to Brian, but he appreciated Brian’s consideration of him, and it only made him love and want Brian more.

‘I suppose we should go show our faces downstairs,’ Brian said through a yawn.

He squeezed Andy into him and lifted his face to plant his lips on Andy’s for a searching kiss before letting go of Andy. Andy sat up and said as he stared at Brian’s boxer clad butt and luscious hairy thighs, ‘Bill’s making Sunday roast,’ and grinned at the appreciative moan coming from Brian’s throat.

‘Why should a Sunday roast only be made on a Sunday, though?’ Brian wanted to know.

Andy pretended to consider the question before saying, ‘Probably because it’s a Sunday roast.’

‘Oh yea? Come here Mr. Know-It-All,’ Brian pounced on Andy, covering him with his weight, planting kisses all over his exposed skin, Andy giggling and gasping in equal measure. They finally went downstairs for Sunday lunch with Bill and Jake a half hour later, existing only in their little world.

The next morning Brian was staring off into space as Bill entered the Deli, unnoticed by him.

‘My goodness, I could rob you blind and you wouldn’t even notice!’

Brian’s head shot up and he stared at Bill sheepishly. ‘Sorry, Bill. I don’t know where my head is.’

‘I do,’ Bill said, a smile creeping onto his face. Brian blushed slightly, looking away from Bill’s knowing gaze.

‘Am I that obvious?’ a flushed Brian asked.

‘You’re in love,’ Bill said, ‘it’s completely natural for you not to be living on the same planet as the rest of us.’

‘Like you’re any different!’ Brian jested, ‘You should see yourself when you’re near Jake. You turn in to a ball of clay yourself.’

‘That’s why I know exactly what you’re going through,’ Bill grinned.

Brian smiled too, but Bill could see something was weighing on his chest.

‘Hey kid, you know you can talk to me any time, right?’

Brian looked up at Bill and said, ‘Sure, Bill. I know.’

‘Something bothering you, Brian?’ Bill asked seriously.

Brian sighed before saying, ‘Well I don’t know if I can really talk to you about it…’

Bill considered Brian for a moment, then said, ‘Is it to do with your relationship with Andy?’

Brian nodded slightly, not making eye contact.

Bill walked over to him and placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder before saying, ‘I can listen, Brian, if nothing else.’

Brian looked up into Bill’s warm eyes and sighed again as he said, ‘Well, um…’ he stammered nervously, then forced himself to continue, ‘Andy really wants to, uh, well you know…’

‘Have sex?’ Bill asked bluntly.

Brian felt his face flame up and knew he was blushing uncontrollably.

‘Yea,’ he squeaked.

‘So what’s the problem, then?’

‘Well I told him I’d like to wait until we were married, not because of the traditional side of things, just because I wanted our first time to have more of a special connection to it, see?’

Bill nodded his head encouragingly, waiting for Brian to continue.

‘The thing is, Bill, I’m scared. Both Andy and my first times weren’t very pleasant, and Andy hasn’t been with anyone else besides Alan yet. I don’t want him thinking about Alan our first time together.’

Bill nodded his head sympathetically then said, ‘I hear you buddy, but obviously Andy feels ready to take that step with you. The question is, are you ready to make that leap with him?’

Brian thought about what Bill had said all day long, and by the end of the day he had come to the conclusion that he was very glad this was a short engagement, and that soon he and Andy would be joined in marriage and body.

The big day was getting closer, and Andy was kept busy with all the wedding plans, so between work and spending all his free time with Jake, Julie, and his future mother-in-law, there was precious little time left for him to spend with his Mate.

The tensions and stress of the approaching day were getting to both Brian and Andy, but they tried to give each other space while still keeping their relationship and connection strong, falling in love with each other every day, all over again.

Brian’s brother had arranged a bachelor’s party for him the Friday evening before the wedding, having rented the club for their private party. Brian’s father, uncle, nephews, Bill and other friends were waiting at the Sweet and Sour Club as Jamie dragged a mildly resisting Brian through its doors. Greeting everyone there, a beer was shoved into his hand through all the pats and well wishes. After spending about forty minutes chatting and listening to the usual ball and chain jokes, the lights suddenly dimmed in the club and darkness descended on them. Then a spotlight came on and shone on the small stage in the centre, loud music bursting through the speakers. Cheers erupted everywhere in the club as the lights again dimmed then lighted up, showing a man dressed in a cop uniform three sizes too small. Brian’s face burned with embarrassment as the stripper started dancing to the beat of the song. After having stripped himself of his shirt and boots and unbuttoned his shorts, the stripper made a B-line for Brian. Feeling as if his face was literally on fire from embarrassment as the stripper got onto his lap and started swaying his hips, Brian took it all in good spirits, to the cheers and cat-calls from his family and friends. And besides, he thought, the man was hot. Brian felt something poke him in his tummy, and saw as he looked down the huge weapon struggling to free itself from the stripper’s stretched pants. A goofy grin spread across Brian’s face as the stripper shed his pants and danced on his lap in a faux tiger-skinned thong. Everybody was having a great time, and Brian appreciated his family and friends for doing this, knowing to some it might still seem strange to see two men committing to each other in the way he and Andy intended, and start a life together. When the stripper moved on to Jamie’s lap, everyone broke out laughing as the squirming but macho acting Jamie tried to act nonchalant about the half naked man rubbing up and down his thigh. As Brian looked around the room at the people that meant so much to him, enjoying themselves and supporting him, he realized, thinking of his lovely Andy that waited for him when he got home, that he truly loved his life.

‘You guys!’ Andy yelled, scandalized, ‘I can’t believe…oh my goodness!’ Andy was speechless as he stared down at the articles in his lap. Picking one up and handing another to a curious Nora, Andy looked over at Julie and Jo-Anne. ‘What exactly does this one do, though,’ Andy asked curiously. Julie and Jo-Anne shared a look before they burst out laughing, telling Andy to let Brian help him discover its purpose. Andy blushed and shot an apologetic look to Sarah, but was surprised to see her equally engrossed in helping Nora try and figure out the purpose of the strange item Nora had taken from him. Andy’s hen night was a bit of a different sort, sure they had alcohol and music and snacks but what really mattered to Andy was the people present. Jake caught Andy’s eye and the two shared a private smile, the look in Andy’s eyes communicating the immense happiness he was experiencing at that moment. Andy spared a thought for his poor Brian, being left at the mercy of all those testosterone overwhelmed men. He couldn’t imagine what they all had come up with for his mate, but would make sure he heard all the details later. Not tonight, though, Andy thought as he stared at his family and friends around him. After all, wasn’t it bad luck for the groom to see his bride the night before the wedding? Andy grinned; his face feeling like it would tear from its intensity.

‘You ready, Andy?’ a calm Jake asked.

How dare he be this calm, Andy thought.

‘How can you be so calm, Jake?’ Andy asked, sounding stressed.

‘Just relax some, Andy,’ Jake said warmly, ‘remember, you’ve already got the man, this is just to make it official.’

Andy breathed heavily as he said, ‘That sounds good, Jake. But were you calm and collected minutes before you walked down the isle?’ an anxious sounding Andy asked.

Jake grinned as he said, ‘Hell no, honey. I was a jammed up ball of nerves feeling like I would explode at any second.’

‘Exactly,’ Andy concluded.

‘But I had the most wonderful and beautiful man waiting for me at the altar, and nothing else mattered to me at that moment.’

Jake sounded dreamy to Andy and he had to snap his fingers in front of Jake’s face to get his attention.

‘Sorry, Andy. Weddings get me all sentimental.’

‘Crisis happening,’ Andy said nervously.

Jake smiled at Andy then said, ‘Anyone ever told you you look about ten years old when you’re nervous? Like a sweet little boy.’

‘Focus, Jake!’ Andy said, too nervous to remember to breathe.

‘We ready in here,’ Bill asked as he poked his head in the door. Sensing a situation, Bill looked at his lover as Jake said, ‘Almost done, hon. Give us two seconds, won’t you?’

Bill smiled gratefully at having been saved from the line of fire before he withdrew his head and closed the door. Jake went over to Andy and took his head in his hands, forcing him to stop pacing and look him in the eyes. Jake waited a moment before he said, ‘Look, Andy, this is your and Brian’s day. It’s perfect, nothing will go wrong. And just think of this while you’re getting ready to walk down the aisle; Brian loves YOU, he chose YOU, and he’s waiting for YOU! Don’t think about anything else, just keep on thinking about Brian and the life you’re starting today.’

Andy took a deep breath and felt himself relax.

‘Thank you, Jake,’ he said in a shaky breath. Jake enveloped him in a hug, and Andy felt tears threatening at his eyes as Jake said, ‘That’s what parents are for, kid.’

Andy heard a suspicious sniff from Jake as he finished saying, ‘Now go get your man!’

Andy tightened the hug before untangling from Jake and smiled warmly at the man he loved so much before making his way to the door and took Bill’s arm, ready to start the rest of his life.

Brian was nervous. He stood at the altar, looking at all the people waiting expectantly. What if he messed up his lines, or forgot Andy’s name? he thought. All sorts of thoughts were playing through his mind as he stood there, his brother at his side as his best man. Suddenly the great big organ started beating out the wedding march, and as Andy and Bill started making their way down the aisle, all the worry and stress left Brian as he stared at his beautiful Mate. Feeling a lump forming at his throat, he hardly registered the squeeze on his shoulder from his brother as Andy made his way down the aisle. When Andy reached the altar, Brian couldn’t help but mirror the smile of pure and utter happiness on Andy’s face. Andy mouthed ‘love you,’ to Brian, and he mouthed back, ‘you too.’

‘I do.’ Andy managed to croak out past the tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

‘I now pronounce you husband and spouse,’ the pastor proclaimed joyously. Turning to Brian, he said, ‘You may now kiss your spouse.’

Brian didn’t need to be told twice and wrapped Andy in his arms, pulling him in for a crushing, earth shattering kiss. Everyone present jumped up and started cheering loudly. Before Brian and Andy made their way out of the church, Robert stood at the top of the stairs leading to the church yard, and proudly said, ‘Introducing Mr. and Mr. Brian and Andrew Ash.’

Cheers erupted as Brian and Andy made their way down the path, being assailed by grains of bird seed and smiles and well wishes form their guests. Brian and Andy gave another wave to the group before getting in to the convertible that would take them to the reception. Locking stares as they drove out the church yard, Brian said, ‘Love you, Mr. Ash.’

‘I love you too, Mr. Ash,’ Andy echoed, and leaned in for a quick kiss before settling in to his seat, feeling like the happiest man alive. And to Andy, that was exactly what he was.

The reception went down without a hitch. The speeches were beautiful, everybody enjoyed the cake and Brian was totally over the moon. But he wanted to blow this joint and take his lover with him. He had waited long enough for this night and couldn’t hold out any longer. Walking up behind his Spouse, Brian slipped his arm around Andy’s waist, pulling him into him and nuzzled his ear.

Andy had immediately relaxed into Brian’s hold, recognizing his husband’s touch instantly. He sighed in pleasure as Brian’s hot breath flowed over his neck.

‘Wanna get out of here?’

‘God yes,’ Andy breathed.

He appreciated all the effort that had gone into making their day such a special one, and was really grateful for everyone’s contribution, but he wanted, needed to be alone with his husband, and soon.

‘I’ll go tell them we’re heading off, then it’s you and me, baby!’ Brian sounded so sexy to Andy in his boyish excitement, a chill of anticipation running down his spine as he watched Brian’s full, perky ass sway in his suit pants as he turned and walked away from him. Feeling himself slightly blush from the thoughts of what he wanted Brian to do to him later in the evening, Andy returned to the conversation he was having before they were interrupted. Ten minutes later Brian and Andy were standing at their car, waving everyone off and promising their parents to phone when they arrived at their honeymoon destination tomorrow. Getting into the car, Brian placed his hand on Andy’s thigh and went in for a kiss. Pulling back, he said in a husky voice filled with love and desire, ‘This is it, honey. Only you and me.’

‘Forever, Brian, for all days.’

‘I love you, Andrew Ash.’

‘I love you, Brian Ash.’

Brian pulled out of the driveway, driving to the hotel they were staying at for the night before they flew to the Seychelles for their 14 day honeymoon. A slow smile crept over his face as he thought of what he was going to do to his beautiful lover as soon as they were behind locked doors. Andy noticed the sexy smile on Brian’s lips, and couldn’t wait to see what life had in store for his husband and himself.

Author’s note:

Ah! That’s Andy’s story then. I really enjoyed writing Andy’s story, but it was a trip, I tell you. I was thinking of perhaps continuing Alan’s story, at the hospital and so on and also explore his relationship with his father more and continue with his story… It’s just something I’m toying with. Let me know what you guys want. Later,

Well-made movies and clear erotic images of adolescent guys are waiting you on Twinks19.

webmaster — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 11:43:26 +0000

More Well-made movies and clear erotic images of adolescent guys are waiting you on Twinks19. video samples here!
PART SIX – WHATEVER FLOATS YOUR BOAT

By Josh and Sadie Rose © 2005

“Ahhh, sun sea and sex… our favourite combination. What starts off as a potentially uncomfortable endeavour quickly turns out to be anything but… except perhaps for Rayne, but he’s not complaining. Much!”

***AS EVER… IF THIS STORY SHOWS UP ANYWHERE BUT LITEROTICA.COM IT HAS, UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED, BEEN TAKEN AND USED WITHOUT PERMISSION. COPYRIGHT FRAUD IS THEFT AND WE WILL TAKE ACTION AGAINST ANYONE CAUGHT STEALING OUR MATERIAL***

The concourse of Agde railway station was like the seventh circle of hell. It was a sweltering ninety degrees in the shade once Ant and his travelling companion emerged from the underpass in the midst of the evening rush hour. Taxis and cars vied dangerously with buses mopeds and bicycles for every inch of space outside and the air was heady with petrol fumes, sweat and frustration. People shouted and pushed their way into the available cabs and Ant stood precariously in the doorway for a moment, surveying the scene with a thumping heart, searching for a familiar face in the heat of all this alien chaos. Beside him, Rayne located a bench and dumped his bags on it whilst he retrieved the mangled roll-up from his jacket and extracted a lighter from the tight back pocket of his jeans. Once his cigarette was lit he leaned back against the wall observing their new environment with a cool detachment that Ant briefly envied. There was a sheen of sweat on the bridge of his upturned nose and his recently cropped hair was still somewhat unruly but apart from this he looked as calm and unconcerned as a native.

A taxi pulled up at the kerb and the back window rolled down. Christophe called out; “Do you want to share our car?”

Ant was tempted but a glance back at his inscrutable companion swayed his decision. Rayne was not even looking at them.

“Someone’s picking us up,” he called back. “We should wait really.”

“See you at the Cap,” the Frenchman saluted him and the long black car pulled away.

When he returned to the bench where Rayne had been guarding their luggage, the boy was gone but a quick, panicked assessment of the forecourt located him almost immediately. He was talking to a scruffy, rather dirty looking fellow with a deeply tanned, wrinkled face. The man spoke with his hands, pointing along the street and gesticulating in Rayne’s direction. The boy shook his head a couple of times then nodded and blew a streamer of smoke in the fellow’s face. As Ant approached them the wizened man quickly shuffled away and accosted someone else.

“Who was that?” the older man asked warily. He was still not sure if Rayne was talking to him.

“Dunno,” his lover responded with infuriating apathy. “I think he wanted me to go with him but I’m not sure why. I told him I didn’t have any money and he buggered off sharpish.”

This was in fact a blatant lie. Ant could see as much in the closed nature of his lover’s stare. He returned to the bench and checked through his bag but all his things were thankfully still there. Rayne had taken his backpack and guitar case with him, of course.

“We could have been robbed,” Ant pointed out now.

“We ‘aven’t got anything worth nickin’,” Rayne reminded him, taking a long pull on his ratty roll-up. “I thought you said somebody was coming to pick us up,” he exhaled in a plume of smoke.

“He is,” Ant said irritably. “Maybe he’s stuck in traffic. Maybe I should ring them.”

“Maybe we should get the bus,” Rayne suggested pointing to a line of service buses under the trees on the main road. He wandered off to inspect the timetables whilst Ant located a telephone kiosk and called Daniel to let his friend know they had arrived.

As he was scrutinising the list of destinations with no real idea of where they were going, Rayne became aware that the scruffy guy from the forecourt was watching him again. He sidled closer as the young Englishman pinched out the last embers of his smoke and flicked the ashes away deftly. Dark, calculating eyes took in the boy’s attitude and his looks in one appreciative sweep.

“You need more?” he asked again now. “Your friend, he not know what you…” Pressing two fingers together he mimed taking a long toke and Rayne laughed humourlessly.

“I doubt it.”

“What you like? I get for you,” the fellow promised him, resting a long, brown hand on his arm.

“I’m broke,” Rayne said apologetically, shrugging him off. “No cash… no francs. Sorry.”

“You want Marijuana, I get… just two hundred francs for two ounce.”

“No.” Rayne told him more firmly. “Not interested.”

“You want Ketamine? Heroin? I get.” Dark eyes bored into him and Rayne chewed on his lower lip speculatively.

“Your friend… the one who gets the stuff. Where can I find him?”

“No… you come with me,” the wiry fellow countered, shaking his tatty dreadlocks determinedly.

“I can’t… I’m not on my own.”

“You give me money and I fetch.”

“No… I told you, I haven’t got any money. God’s truth!” Rayne put his hands in his pockets and brought them out full of cigarette papers and sweet wrappers.

That earned him a disappointed look and he shrugged his shoulders evasively.

“You like men?” the tout persisted. “Tout le cul?”

Rayne blinked at him, not quite comprehending this.

“I take you to meet a man, oui?” The little dealer elaborated. “He will give you money if you let him fuck you in the ass. Five hundred francs, very quick.”

“Fuck off.” Rayne was already walking. The scrawny guy followed him, persistent to the last but as Ant came back down towards him with a huge, relieved smile on his face he melted away almost magically.

“What’s up with you?” Ant wanted to know as they drew level.

“No buses,” Rayne said with a shake of his head.

“No matter… Terry’s on his way. Like I said, he’s probably stuck in the traffic.”

Around ten minutes later a long, dusty black Mercedes that looked to have seen better days (probably in the 1970s) pulled up on the rapidly emptying concourse and a round, cheerful face framed by a shock of yellowing blond hair peered out of the near side front window at them. Sky blue eyes twinkled merrily as the shirtless, sun-tanned driver asked in a broad, Cockney crackle; “You ‘eading anywhere I know, mate?”

“Terry!” Ant exclaimed. “Thought you’d got lost.”

“Long time no see, Rosie!” the driver retorted with a grin like the white keys on a grand piano. “Who’s your friend then?”

Ant opened the door and ushered his lover into the back of the Merc complete with all their baggage. As they settled on the back seat he made cursory introductions.

“Terry, this is Raymonde, aka Rayne Wilde. Ray, my old friend Terence Goodwill. We go back a long way, me and Terry.”

“‘Allo,” Rayne said non-committally.

“All right gorgeous?” the man called Terence asked over his right shoulder as the Merc pulled away into Agde’s rush hour traffic. “What’s a proper darlin’ like you doin’ hanging about with an old salt like Rosie?”

“Rosie?” the boy repeated, mildly curious.

“Rosie and Jim,” Ant explained wearily. “I used to live on a narrow boat in the Black Country with a friend of Terry’s called James Hawkes. It was a kid’s TV programme…”

“Yeah… Rosie and Jim, I know.” But Rayne was grinning for the first time since Lille and Ant allowed himself to hope that things could only improve from here on in.

“How’s Daniel?” he asked now, settling into the worn leather of the rear seat and watching his beautiful lover out of the corner of his eye.

“Ahh… you know Dan,” Terry answered cryptically.

They made small talk for much of the short journey back around the cape whilst Rayne looked out of the window at the river and the dusty roadside haciendas. He was half asleep again wrapped in the stifling heat when the car pulled up at a checkpoint and inched forward through the traffic until a barrier rose and it was allowed through into the Port of Ambonne.

Ant shook him gently when the Merc stopped on the roadside by the harbour. He saw the younger man stir and blink back at him drowsily then sit up straighter as he seemed to realise that they were here, wherever ‘here’ was. His green eyes widened as he took in the palm trees on the main boulevard and the clink of mooring ropes and hoops against the jetties to their left. As Ant opened the door he climbed out and stared around him at the vast harbour town that was Port Ambonne.

There were boats moored everywhere; large and small, old and new; roped up side by side along the wooden gangplanks off the boulevard and curling around the harbour to his right. An ex-trawler was up on the hoist at the chandlery just off the main road, being inspected by a big woolly bear of a man in a skimpy pair of yellow lycra briefs and nothing else. Beyond that there were chalets and flats with open, inviting balconies all around the man-made cove. Away to the left was a huge block of apartments rising like a concrete cliff to meet the cerulean sky.

Terry, who had probably once been a muscle queen but was now a stocky fellow in his late middle age, wearing nothing but tight denim cut-offs and deck shoes, helped to carry their luggage down through an iron barred gate onto one of the jetties. Rayne found himself watching his step as the wooden planks bobbed and swayed underfoot. The sunlight glittered on the water to either side. An elderly fellow in a small, open-topped motor boat hailed them cheerfully and it was only as he looked away that Rayne realised the man was stark bollock naked. His chest and crotch were densely furred in white but his sun browned knob dangled down from the carpet of thick white hair like a pendulum on a novelty alarm clock. He blinked and wondered had he got too much sun waiting outside the station.

Now he looked around a little more attentively he began to notice that the old guy in the boat was not a lone eccentric. A pair of young women strolled along the quay, boldly naked as children. Their full, brown breasts bounced as they walked. One was shaven clean down below and the other had a trimmed stripe of bleached blonde pubis. Rayne blinked, quite astonished. His eyes followed them admiringly until they vanished from sight and he ran into the back of Terry who had stopped beside a long, white ocean-going cruiser. There was an open deck to the rear with a wooden table and cushioned chairs. A pair of half-empty glasses stood on the table as if a pleasant meal had been interrupted and was waiting to be resumed.

“Welcome aboard,” Terry declared, ushering them both onto the sun deck and following them into the cooler shadows of the lounge.

Two shallow steps led down into a spacious, maple floored leisure room. A low futon in the same pale wood, covered with a rumpled white duvet occupied the floor space on one side of the wide, bright room. The walls which were not windows were lined with cabinets and shelves filled with books and videos and even a few DVDs. Digital Video Discs were still a relatively new product on the market in the late eighties and Rayne stopped and examined one or two as he passed by. As he was thus occupied, a tall, white-bearded, sun-tanned man stepped out from one of the rooms beyond the lounge and greeted them in a baritone voice that was as rich and melodious as an opera singer’s.

“Antoine, my child! You’ve put on weight! And what is this dark angel you have been promising me?”

Rayne Wilde lifted his head and his pale green eyes met a solemn, familiar silver grey stare that almost stopped his heart in his chest. For a moment he just gaped at the man in front of him, not quite sure what to do next. Daniel Leland was about six feet tall and lean as a wooden ruler. His skin was tanned a deep, golden brown, which set off the long white hair that fell to his waist in a thick braid, hanging over his left shoulder. He wore a neatly trimmed white beard and moustache and his loins were draped artlessly in a skein of pale blue silk like a short sarong, his only attire apart from the silver loop he wore on a long black cord around his neck and the cork-soled deck shoes on his feet. He looked like Gandalf on a beach holiday. The man was ageless; he might have been in his late forties or early seventies. It was hard to say.

Except that Rayne already had a good idea.

Ant seemed not to have noticed his companion’s state of shock. He made the introductions with a naïve sweetness that genuinely hurt. Rayne felt sick. He knew that he should have put two and two together when Ant first spoke of his friend Daniel the pornographer and the boat he owned in the South of France. He had seen Dan Leland’s name written down on his passport application form and still he had not made the connection.

When Ant announced his name, Leland’s pewter stare narrowed speculatively and Rayne could see him trying to remember. He lowered his head for a moment, wondering if he should lie when the inevitable happened. There was a pensive silence and then their host rumbled; “I ‘know’ you, don’t I?”

Rayne wanted to deny it. After the events of this afternoon on the train the last thing he wanted to recall was his past knowledge of Dan Leland. He bit his lip, aware of Ant’s incredulous stare and unable to meet it. Finally he nodded his head.

“Thought so,” the quiet, cultured accentless voice remarked. “I never forget a pretty face.”

The man moved closer and touched his fingertips to Rayne’s chin, lifting the boy’s head to look into his eyes. Rayne swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly very dry. Ant murmured his name in bewilderment but he ignored it.

“You were in one of my movies, about… four years ago?”

“Nearly five,” Rayne whispered, his tongue so parched that he could barely make a sound, let alone speak coherent sentences.

“Yes, it’s all coming back. You don’t look nearly old enough. And you didn’t call yourself Rayne Wilde either?” The elderly pornographer cupped his face in a long-boned, surprisingly gentle hand. His skin was warm, like well-tended parchment. Rayne shook his head just once or twice. “What was the name of that film? A sweet young schoolboy surrendering his innocence to two horny strangers in an empty house.”

Rayne tried to speak and had to clear his throat twice before he could get the words out.

“‘Going All The Way’,” he volunteered huskily. “And it wasn’t the only film I made with you. I was in ‘Dying for It’ as well.”

Ant made a small, astonished noise in the back of his throat. “You never told me you’d been in porn movies!” he protested at last, visibly shocked.

Terry stood by him, a hand on his shoulder as if he was worried that Ant would collapse and foam at the mouth.

“You never asked,” Rayne said awkwardly, unable to meet his eyes. “I did it for the money. It’s not something I brag about, Ant.”

Daniel Leland had moved away from him and was flicking through an index box now until he came up with a small, blue card. He scrutinised a bank of videos on one of the shelves then produced a box and handed it wordlessly to Ant. The fair-haired man studied the cover for a little while, his cheeks flushing steadily. The crotch of his pants began to protrude slowly as he examined the stills on the sleeve.

“Jay Raymonde,” he said finally. “Is that your real name?”

Rayne shook his head. “I told you, Ant. I was christened Raymonde James Wilde, after my grandfathers. Rayne Wilde ‘is’ my real name. I don’t like using it when I’m selling myself so I go by Jay or Jason.”

“How old were you…?” Ant began but Rayne was already shaking his head.

“Work it out!”

He could see that Ant was already doing the maths. “Christ, Ray!” he exhaled tremulously. “I knew you weren’t an innocent but… this is something else.”

“I think they call it Hardcore, Antoine,” Daniel took the video box from his hands and put it back on the shelf. “Are you excited my dear? Would you like to watch it?”

“No!” Rayne exclaimed before Ant could even open his mouth. “No… don’t!”

He stood for a moment, worrying his lower lip between his small, white teeth as Ant gaped at him visibly aroused and perplexed. Rayne felt betrayed. He stared back at the older man accusingly then whirled away.

“I feel dirty. I need to have a shower then I wanna sleep. Alone!” he said in a grim voice.

Whilst Ant and Daniel were still talking in subdued murmurs in the day room, Terry showed him to the bathroom, which was an ornate, white-tiled cube with a showerhead protruding from the ceiling like a silver flower and a drain hole in the floor. There was enough space in the room for at least six men. Sunken lights in the walls made the cube look like the inside of a swimming pool without the water. Once he was alone, Rayne stripped and dumped his clothes outside, then hunted for the lock on the door before concluding that there wasn’t one.

Warily he turned the chromium dial in the far wall and a spill of water cascaded down onto his head and shoulders, pummelling his gritty skin until he actually began to relax slightly. It felt good to get clean. An array of soaps and gels in blocks and bottles sat on ledges around the edge of the cube and he rubbed a sweet, minty-smelling foam all through his hair and over his naked body then rinsed it off three times in all before he began to feel human again. There were no towels but when he turned off the water a soft, warm breeze began to blow from vents in the ceiling and he was soon touch dry, save for his dark, spiky hair.

His discarded clothing had gone when he stepped out into the corridor that led to the bows of the boat. The next room along was a bedroom and he discovered his bags and guitar case and also Ant’s gear in here, next to the white-shrouded, king-sized bed. There were two other bedroom suites, a toilet and a galley, which adjoined the day room where meals were prepared and eaten. As he turned to leave the largest bedroom he ran into Terry who had removed his tight denim shorts and was naked except for a pair of blue espadrilles and a broad smile.

“That’s better,” the stocky Cockney fellow told him approvingly. “Nice little body you’ve got, still. Shame about the bruises but I guess they’ll fade.”

“Does everybody wander about in the buff here?” Rayne wanted to know, ignoring the other fellow’s curiosity about his injuries.

“That’s what Naturism’s all about,” Terry laughed, then seeing the confusion on his guest’s face, he added; “Didn’t Anthony tell you this was a naturist resort?”

Rayne swore quietly under his breath and vowed that once they were on a level playing field he was going to beat Ant Wright to a bloody pulp for this. As if it was not bad enough that he was stuck on a boat with a man who had once filmed him pretending to surrender his virginity and being ripped apart by a humungous dildo, he was now surrounded by naked perverts as well.

“Do I ‘have’ to walk about in the nude?” he asked disparagingly.

“You can suit yourself, darlin’,” Terry laughed at him. “But it gets hot as hell out here during the summer. Some days it’s a blessed relief to get your kit off, I can tell you. I reckon you’d look good with an all-over tan, don’t you?”

Rayne did not answer that question. He was still preoccupied by the expression on Ant’s face as he studied that video case. Fending off Terry’s genial attempts to coax him back on deck for a cocktail he retreated to the bedroom again and curled up on the cool sheets, his head beginning to ache slightly. Once he was lying down, alone and quiet for the first time in days, he was able to take stock. It was in the back of his mind that he had smoked the last of his Kings Cross stash as they waited for Terry to collect them from the station. He was okay for the time being but it would only be a matter of about thirty-six hours before he started to get the shakes again. That was not a comforting thought.