A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 07

CHAPTER SEVEN – OLD HABITS DIE HARD

"Gosh, Chapter Seven already! To think this was only going to be a short story. Oh well, please enjoy, the party's nearly over.

"As usual, if this story shows up anywhere but Literotica it's been NICKED! Theft is cheap and nasty so go write your own!"

xxx.Sadie

AGDE: MORNING

Ant was still sleeping soundly when Rayne scrambled from the disarrayed bed and dragged himself across the corridor to the shower room. Thankfully there were no mirrors in the white tiled cubicle. The glare of lights on the polished surfaces was painful enough without the visual reminder that he was probably not looking his best right now. He turned on the water and stood underneath the jets until they grew too hot to tolerate, then adjusted the thermostat with a shaking hand and remained there with his eyes closed and his head tilted back, catching the cascade in his mouth and spitting it out until he began to feel slightly less defiled.

Still damp from the shower, he wandered through the shady galley and into the brighter spaces of the day room beyond. Although the room was empty the doors onto the rear deck were open and he could hear quiet conversation. Just as he was debating whether or not to slip unobtrusively back to bed a shadow fell across the room and he looked up into the curious, mildly amused grey eyes of Daniel Leland.

"I wasn't expecting you to surface for a few hours yet," the older man remarked a little too knowingly.

That brought back another memory from his experience of the previous night. He vaguely recalled that Terry Goodwill had seemed to be speaking to someone whilst he and Ant fucked Rayne in the bedroom, although there was no sign of the elderly pornographer at the time. Now he narrowed his eyes at the fellow suspiciously, ignoring the dig.

"Are there cameras in our room?" he demanded, all too conscious of the fact that he was still naked and Leland was not. Admittedly the old man wore nothing more than one of his omnipresent dangling sarongs and a pair of deck shoes but that was beside the point.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Daniel Leland enquired mildly, derailing his line of interrogation by refusing to appear remotely ashamed.

"It's... it's not exactly..." Rayne groped for a suitable handle and the older man supplied it for him neatly.

"...Nice? Well no, I suppose it isn't. But then I was not given to understand that you were a 'nice' boy. If it troubles you I could always promise to turn them off." He tilted his head, gazing at Rayne like some degenerate prophet from a biblical scene.

The boy chewed on his lower lip irritably. "Bit late for that, isn't it?"

"Precisely!" Leland's expression visibly brightened as if this acknowledgement was somehow a satisfactory conclusion to their disagreement. "Maybe you would feel better after some breakfast; coffee and croissants... or some fruit juice perhaps?"

He turned and sauntered back onto the sunlit deck before his young guest could open his mouth to argue that he was not hungry. Awkwardly he followed his host out into the bright, summer morning, blinking against the intensity of the light. He had been expecting to find Terry out there so he was not sure whether to be relieved or embarrassed when he discovered that Daniel's companion was a handsome looking woman of middle years who wore a magenta silk wrap, embroidered in gold thread around her slim waist. She was richly tanned, the colour of polished walnut veneer, with long, dark, red-gold hair tied back in a thick tail at the nape of her neck. Huge, round sunglasses perched on her nose obscuring much of her face and her neck was draped in strings of coloured beads and dangling ornaments that hung down between her bare breasts. Long, sun-tanned legs were crossed gracefully at the knee and her feet were bare, the toenails painted vivid pink to match her wrap. A pair of pink, beaded flip-flops had been casually discarded at the entrance to the deck area.

Rayne tried not to stare at her tits but it was hard as they did scream for attention. They were big and firm, at least a double handful apiece and tanned as deeply as the rest of her body (or the bits that he could see, in any case). Her skin was very smooth and glistened with oil and she wore ornamental swirls of golden leaves around her large, dark-brown nipples so that the teats protruded like coffee beans through the middle. He looked deliberately towards Dan Leland so that he was not forced to gaze at them.

"Rayne Wilde, meet Isolde Parvenue, one of my oldest friends out here. Isolde runs one of the most popular clubs at the Cap," Dan explained.

"Ohhh, he is adorable!" the woman cooed in a husky, French-accented voice at least two octaves deeper than Rayne had been expecting. "So slim, so pale. He is 'beautiful', Daniel!"

Rayne felt a little heat rise to his cheeks at that. He forced his eyes back to hers, seeing long lashes flicker through the smoky lenses of her shades as she watched him.

"Uh... hi," he said, blushing more hotly as the words came out more of a squeak than the assured greeting he had hoped for.

"Come and sit next to me," Isolde purred, shifting on her cushioned bench and making some room for him. "Let me look at you, cherie. So pretty!"

He bit his lip and tucked his cock between his legs carefully as he sank onto the soft bench seat where she indicated. It felt wrong somehow to expose himself to a woman who was probably old enough to be his mother. Her body felt hot next to his and he swallowed dryly.

Isolde pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead and half turned, cupping his face in her hand. Her fingernails were long and pink as well, with little diamante pieces set into them that twinkled in the sunlight. She wore a wealth of gold and diamonds on her slim, brown fingers.

"Such lovely eyes," she enthused. Her own were dark brown with little flecks of green and gold. Those long lashes were extended with a liberal coating of mascara. There were a few fine lines around the edges of her eyes and generous mouth but nothing more ageing than that. Her lips were fine and filled out with pale pink lipstick and a shimmer of gloss. He wondered if she was about to kiss him but she just let go of his chin and reached for her drink. "Like jewels!" she said, taking a little sip through the straw embedded in a heap of strawberries and crushed ice in her glass.

"Um... thanks," Rayne murmured awkwardly.

"Rayne is going to make a film for me," Daniel explained, saving him from further attempts at small talk. "Hopefully, he's going to make me a lot of money as well."

"You are Antoine's boy?" Isolde asked, turning to face him again. "His little street boy? Terry has told me of you."

"News travels fast," Rayne said, a little more dryly.

"Have a drink," Dan interjected, pouring a pinkish concoction from a tall, glass jug in the centre of the table and pushing the glass towards him.

Rayne sipped it warily. There was vodka in there and some fruit mixture that he could not decipher, cranberries possibly, or redcurrants. It was early to start drinking but he figured that he needed it and downed the lot at one draught. Daniel said nothing, only refilled his glass.

"I thought I might go for a walk," Rayne told him, emboldened by the vodka. "Y'know, get my bearings and what 'ave you."

"Should you not wait until Antoine wakes?" Isolde asked him solicitously. Dan was looking at him with a rather doubtful expression on his craggy face.

"He's not my mother. I'm a big boy now. I'm not going to get lost or run away or nothin'," Rayne said in a determined tone. "I've no bloody clothes on for a start. I wouldn't get far, would I?"

"You should be careful," the older man responded seriously, taking the deck chair opposite their lounger now.

"I will be." Rayne held his stare defiantly.

"You do not know this place. It is... fun, yes but there are darker elements here also. There are people here who are not as they might seem. Just... be careful." Leland sighed and took a sip from his own glass. "Will you not eat first?"

"I'm never 'ungry first thing in the morning," Rayne said neutrally, finishing his second drink and setting the tumbler down as he rose.

"You should put on some sun cream before you go out," Isolde warned solemnly, though there was a twinkle in her eye. "Such a pale skin, you will burn for sure."

"Are you gonna help me?" he asked cheekily, feeling the alcohol bubbling through his veins, giving him more confidence.

By way of a reply, she rose with him and nudged him back into the day room.

Isolde's long brown hands were firm and gentle on his face and neck, smoothing the sun oil into his skin in slow, deliberate circles. She took her time and forbade him to help her, so he watched her more openly this time, appreciating the rise and fall of her perfect curves as she stroked the contours of his naked body.

"How long does it take to get that colour?" he wanted to know.

"I have lived here for... nearly thirty years," Isolde said, hesitating only slightly in order to count them off.

"You must have been a child when you first came then," he ventured with a grin.

"Pretty and charming also," Isolde smiled at him as she stroked his skinny arms and his bare chest and belly. "Turn about."

When he turned away from her reluctantly, she applied a drizzle of the lukewarm oil to his naked back and rubbed it in steadily. Her hands felt good on his body and he closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the steady swirling touch of her fingers and palms on his bare skin. "I was seventeen when I came here first, with my lover. He stayed with me for two years only, then left me. Since then I have lived by my own wits."

"You're nearly fifty?" he exclaimed softly, opening his eyes wide and shaking his head. "Bloody 'ell!"

"That surprises you?" Isolde knelt and he could feel her warm breath on his buttocks and the backs of his thighs as she caressed his skin wetly there. Her thumb glided every so seductively down the crevice between his cheeks and he caught a sharp intake of the sultry morning air as it lingered there. Isolde asked; "Does that feel good?"

"Yeah."

She oiled him carefully between his legs and he parted his thighs automatically as she stroked the downy inner flanks with her slippery hands. Strong, warm fingers curled around his calves and rubbed smoothly up and down his shins to his ankles and feet.

"Turn," she said in a voice that was little more than a breathy whisper.

As he obeyed her, he noted that Leland was standing in the doorway watching them with a boyishly eager smile. Rayne swallowed with a little difficulty and tried to glare at him but it made no difference. Isolde carefully lavished oil on the tops of his feet and his ankles, then his knees and the front of his slim thighs. He waited for her to tell him that he could do the rest himself but she did not.

He was half-hard and conscious of it as she began to oil his balls, cupping them in her left hand and stroking them carefully with the right until they were hot and slippery and he was leaking a dribble of semen from his stiffening tool. He quivered as she rubbed her hands down her thighs to get rid of the excess sun oil, then wrapped her fingers around his cock and slowly pulled on it. Isolde worked her way to the throbbing head, squeezing him gently, then smoothed her hand back down his shaft, manicured fingers curled tight around it, easing back his foreskin so that the glans was exposed to her warm breath. He moaned quietly, biting on his lower lip again as she rose on her knees and bent her mouth to his erect penis. Rayne began to huff rapidly as she licked and sucked on the head of his sex, swirling her tongue around it and teasing the oozing eyelet with the tip.

When she pulled him down onto the bed with her, Rayne did not resist. He was throbbing with need and as she removed her nipple rings and passed him the bottle of oil he wasted no time in rubbing a handful into her naked breasts. They were unexpectedly firm and smooth, yielding only a little to his fondling hands, but she sighed her appreciation and wriggled down lower onto the crisp, white duvet as he caressed her, bending over her to kiss her lips and her neck. The oil was sweet smelling and slightly tart on his tongue when he began to kiss and suck on her breasts, his hands moving up and down from her slim waist to the swell of her mammaries as he pulled on her nipples with his mouth. He took his time, sheathing his teeth behind his lips so that he did not hurt her and her groans of arousal suggested that she certainly approved.

"You like my breasts?" she growled huskily.

"Are they real?" he whispered wickedly, running his tongue slowly around one nipple and then the other until she shivered with pleasure.

"Cheeky boy! What do 'you' think?"

"'alf and 'alf," he grinned back at her. "I reckon 'real' tits are softer than that. Not that I don't approve," he added quickly when her eyebrows lowered in warning. "I've never sucked a pair as big as yours."

Dan Leland was forgotten as he bent over her, his hands moving to her thighs and stroking their way up the smooth, lean expanses of her legs. She spread herself willingly for him and he mouthed and suckled more greedily on her heaving bosom, rubbing his face between her rolling breasts and inhaling her hot, sweet aroma, then kissing his way down to her belly reaching for her pussy. As his hands parted her thighs, the sarong fell away and he sat back with a start.

"Jesus Christ!"

Isolde's hands caught his wrists, keeping him from falling over backwards. She was saying something soothing to him but his ears were buzzing and his heart was racing too fast for him to follow the words. In the background Leland was laughing quietly.

The woman beneath him was perfectly smooth and sleek, her tanned body oiled and hairless all the way up her lean thighs and flat belly. Her mound was waxed and the same golden brown as the rest of her body. A large, dark, semi-erect penis jutted up proudly from the junction of her long legs. Heavy, hairless balls hung down between her thighs. She was a He!

"Fuck!" he exhaled, still blinking at her twitching cock.

Isolde held him loosely, her expression unchanging as he stared at her. In that rich, lazy, husky voice she... he purred; "Would you like to? Fuck me, I mean!"

Rayne swallowed again, heart racing though he was slowly getting over the initial shock. He had never fucked a Tranny before. Isolde wriggled and pouted at him, pretending disappointment.

"You don't want me now that that you know what I have between my legs? You want a 'real' pussy?"

"Ant 'will' be disappointed!" Daniel chuckled, still watching from the doorway, his arms folded across his bare chest. "His little rent boy is straight after all!"

Rayne's eyes narrowed, though he purposely did not look Leland's way this time. Firmly he pulled his wrists free of Isolde's hands and then, when she sighed a little resignedly, he bent over her and wrapped his lips around the head of her cock. The sigh deepened and ended in a little 'ohhh'.

Even her semen had a sweetish taste to it, almonds and rose-water and a hint of something sharp like lemon. He swallowed her deeper at once, eyes closed, relishing the thickness of her shaft as it filled the space between his jaws. He nodded his head gently and she writhed beneath him, urging herself up into his mouth hungrily.

"Oh you sweet boy. That feels so... ohhhh!"

Rayne knelt up over her, feeling the fingers of one of her hands curl into the dark nest of his hair, pushing his mouth down harder onto her rod. He opened his eyes and looked towards her. Isolde was rubbing her breasts eagerly with the other hand. Taking a deep breath through his nostrils he swallowed her all the way down and nuzzled the silky smoothness of her pelvic mound. Isolde cried his name; a soft, fractured note that was almost a plea.

He parted her legs again and stroked one finger between her cheeks, tickling and teasing until he felt her ring accommodate him. The slippery probe eased into her and she rose up off the bed covers like an eel.

"Ohhhh.... Ohhhh!" she keened, her voice raising half an octave.

As she released his head he knelt upright between her thighs and rubbed himself between her firm, brown buttocks. Isolde cried out his name again; "Rayne... Rayne... Mai oui!" as he urged himself into her, feeling her legs encircle him, pulling him down. Isolde was tight and wet and he had to buck hard to bury the full length of his erect prick all the way inside her the way she wanted it. Once he was sheathed in her, he felt her snug passage begin to relax a little. Astonishingly, she must have been quite nervous although it had never shown in her face as she held him, keeping him from fleeing her seduction. Now he crouched over her once more, thrusting eagerly as he kissed her neck and breasts again.

"Is this what you want?" he huffed in her ear.

"Ohhh... oui, vraiment!" Isolde sighed, grinding her firm arse against his groin deliberately. "So beautiful and so good in bed! Your cock feels so good in me! Perhaps you are not such a little boy after all!"

He fucked her quick and hard, a smile on his face that would not quite go away even when she squeezed tightly around him as she reached her hot, squirting climax. He bent his head, lips parted to catch a little of her semen in his mouth then pushed himself fiercely into her, as deep as he could go, slumping in her arms, across her breasts and echoing her cry of passion as he came long and hard inside her. His limbs trembled and failed him as he gave in to the climactic impulse and he felt his own spill lubricating her rectum, easing his withdrawal from her hot, needy body.

"That was... somethin' else!" he panted at last.

Isolde rolled him onto his side and wriggled out from under him with a beaming smile.

"You are a sweetheart," she purred, ruffling his hair as she rose and sashayed through to the shower room. He watched her go, appreciating the curves of her firm arse and the long, slim, shapely lines of her legs.

He washed quickly at the basin in the WC and applied some more sun oil. Isolde was still singing in a deep husky voice in the shower when he wandered back out to the rear deck with his sunglasses perched on top of his head. He felt like singing as well. Dan Leland glanced up at him from the broadsheet newspaper that was open across his lap.

"That was kind of you," he said quietly. "Not every man treats Isolde so gently."

"I wasn't gentle," Rayne pointed out.

"You were not fazed either," the elderly pornographer responded, a slight smile pulling at his lips beneath his immaculate moustache. "It was a shock, but you handled it well."

"She seemed to think so." Rayne poured himself some grapefruit juice and knocked it back in one. "Can I borrow some money?"

"Am I a loan facility now?" Leland eyed him speculatively.

"You got a free show back there. 'And' last night," the younger man reminded him seriously. "Don't think I didn't know you were watching."

Daniel seemed to deliberate for a moment.

"How much do you need?" he asked finally.

"I just want some fags, and maybe a beer or something while I'm out." Rayne put his hands on his hips and let Leland silently appraise his naked body for a little while longer. At last the bearded fellow nodded his head and reached for a leather money belt beneath his chair. He counted out four hundred franc notes and two fifties.

Before handing them to Rayne he said; "You would look good on film, still. I'd want you to pass the doctor first; some of the actors I work with are big in this industry. We don't use rubbers and I like all my boys to be clean. Do you understand?"