Jet Lag

I said "If anything, I need a drug that could make me NOT have an erection for eight hours."

"Yes, you're not who it's for. Anyway, my friend gave me a few of them. Sort of informal part of the trial."

"So you took one tonight?"

"Yes, just when we were in the bar."

"For me?"

"For you."

"Well ... it seems to work, doesn't it? And it feels as if we need some vaseline."

"You want me to bum you?" he asked, half expectantly.

"No. Well ... that's not what I meant, anyway. No, I meant just - what you're doing would work better if you were more greasy. I don't know the word for what you're doing - what is the word for nestling your stiffie along my bum like that but without actually doing me in the arse?"

"No, I don't know a word for it either. I'll have to ask Bill!" and he laughed.

"Who's that?"

"Bill Hunter. You sat next to him at dinner tonight. No reason you should know it, but - he's very active on the queer front."

"Really?" I pretended not to know anything about him.

"Yes - picks up people in bars, that sort of thing. Likes ... well, he's essentially a universalist, he likes most things. He'll know the word for this. If there is a word for this.

"Actually - Bill must have been planning something for tonight, now I think of it."

My heart almost stopped. "What - what makes you say that?" Surely he hadn't said anything about me agreeing to go to his room earlier.

"He asked me for one of these pills that make you stiff. Our medical friend gave Bill some too but he didn't bring them on the trip. Or so he said - with him, there's also the possibility that he's finished them!" and he chuckled softly at the thought.

"But, I'm getting off the subject - do you actually have any vaseline?"

"No, sorry, I don't. Oh - but I have cocoa butter."

"Oh yes, I saw you buying it. Is that good?"

"I don't know, never used it before. Here ..."

I reached up onto the bedside table and opened the tub of cocoa butter and gave it to him. A faint aroma of chocolate permeated us as he fiddled and manipulated behind me. He gave it back to me and I took a dollop and spread it on my penis. It felt cool and deliciously slippery. Sir David settled back behind me and as I began to slide my hand gently over my stiff penis, he nestled his solid erection back into the groove of my bum, but now with an easy slimy movement on the cocoa butter.

"What do you think about when you masturbate?"

"Oh. How long have you got?" The fact of even being asked was exciting and I squeezed my incredibly slippery erection. "I suppose the main ones are - it's a number of themes, but they come together in sort of - stories. Fantasies. For example, the idea of someone being captured, being a prisoner, tied up."

"Are you the someone?"

"Yes, sometimes. I'm captured by a man. We're somewhere like a lonely old farm house, he's taken me there. He has me tied up, in the nude, or he pulls my clothes away - pulls my pants down - and he 'interrogates' me. "It's sort of embarrassing now that I'm telling you - it seems so, childish."

"No, it's so - lecherous. Tell me more!"

I laughed at the word 'lecherous'. I'd never heard it used as a compliment before.

"I used to lie in bed at night and pull my pajama pants down and hold me wrists behind my back and pretend I was tied that way and that my pants had been pulled down. I would masturbate by rubbing my penis between my thighs. And I'd play my story in my head. "Sometimes he's captured me and another person too, a girl. Or it's me who's the captor and I've got this girl tied up in the nude and I question her."

"But always involving someone being tied up?"

"In that fantasy, yes. But there are other fantasies too, quite a few. It's embarrassing to tell you how many I have."

"I think a lot of people do."

"Yes. I used to think I was the only one. I still think I was a bit more - active. I used to, when I had the house to myself, I used to tie myself up. I'd get pieces of elastic and tie them in loops and then pull them over my ankles, and my knees and my wrists, so I had all the sensations of being tied up but I could get out of it fairly easily."

"No gag?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot, I'd put a facecloth in my mouth and tie something around my head to hold it in place. I used to take off all my clothes and put on a swim suit first, and I'd lie in front of the mirror in my room so I could see myself. "It was all really quite elaborate. I used to work a candle up my bum before I tied myself up."

While I'd been relating all this, Sir David had been moving his cock against me, first just sliding it along the groove between my cheeks, but then pointing a little more onto me so the slimy head was pressing directly onto my anus.

He had made everything so slippery that the smallest mis-alignment would let him slide away, and that happened several times, but then he held his penis in his hand and pressed very slowly, progressively more firmly, and I could feel my anus slowly but inexorably opening up for him.

I started to pant a bit from the effort of having my ring stretched. He paused and I could feel my anus twitch a little and clench, so he was squeezed out a millimetre. He pushed back and regained the little bit of entrance. And then I felt my anus was open, the tight little muscle ring had been penetrated and his knob was inside me.

I was masturbating but I stopped, feeling that if I gave myself even the smallest stimulus I would come. I had never been sodomised, not by an actual penis. The feeling of having something slimy and almost uncomfortably large in my bum was extremely arousing.

We lay like that for a minute, not saying anything. I could hear my breathing, and his too, both of us panting a little.

Then he resumed his pressure, just a little, but I was so slippery, we both were, and I felt his whole penis slide right up my anus, so that his belly came up against my bum, and I groaned with the effort of accommodating him.

Once again we both stayed still for a minute.

I was still panting a bit, but I said "This happens in my stories too."

"Except you're tied up." Sir David was panting too. The mental image of my being tied up was apparently too much for him. I felt him stiffen, catching his breath. And then he gasped, right in my ear, it was surprisingly loud, and I could feel him press harder into me, turning me further so I was lying almost underneath him. After a few seconds he gave a long exhaling sigh.

After another minute I could feel that he was going to sleep again, in fact perhaps he was already asleep. I roused him, not wanting him to be there in the morning, and he lay staring at the ceiling for a minute then got up and dressed.

"When we're back in London - come and visit me" he said as he slid out the door. "I want to tie you up."

* * *

It was midnight. The trouble was, I was still incredibly turned on. I'd had several encounters in that one night, but none of them had actually gone to completion, or not for me anyway - I could feel Sir David's spunk in my anus, no doubt about his completion.

In my excited state, I thought of Mr Hunter's stiff penis from our encounters in the bathrooms. I remembered that Sir David had told me he'd had given one of his erection pills to Mr Hunter. The idea swirled a little feverishly in my head.

To this day I am amazed at what I did next. The only thing I can think of is that the prolonged period of sexual arousal clouded my judgement. It certainly wouldn't be the only time that being aroused has clouded my judgement - but anyway:

I quickly pulled on my shorts and a t-shirt in the dark, grabbed my key and slipped out the door. As the door closed behind me I realised - I still had on the little black bikini! I hesitated for a moment and then mentally shrugged and set off back to the lifts. Part of me pleaded to just go back to my room and masturbate, but my aroused state was driving me to ignore all sense. I took some deep breaths and pressed the button. I took the lift back up to the sixth floor.

Walking along the corridor I was once again uneasy with how brightly lit it was, how conspicuous I was. But nobody came and I knocked lightly on Six Twelve.

Nothing happened. I knocked again, a little louder. I heard a movement inside and a moment later the door opened a crack and a face looked at me out of the gloom. There was a pause.

"You expecting anyone?" the face said, speaking back into the room.

After another pause the door opened wider and Mr Hunter appeared. He looked decidedly bleary-eyed, but his face lit up when he saw me.

"Andy! Come on in!" he said in a half-whisper, making a paranoid glance up and down the corridor as he pulled me into the room.

The room was very dimly lit. I could see the outline of the other person but very little else.

"Andy, so glad you came back!" said Mr Hunter, still in his whisper. "Just let me ..." and he headed for the bathroom.

Before he closed the door he switched on the bathroom light and I had a glimpse of my surroundings, momentarily illuminated as if by a camera flash. Then the bathroom door closed and I was plunged into darkness again, but with a detailed residual vision of what I had seen: Standing in front of me was the 'girl' from the end of the beach, the 'girl' from the tiny toilet in the bar. She was wearing a skimpy little bra and pants, and a surprisingly large erect penis was poking straight up out of the top of her pants. She was staring at me with unconcealed delight.

* * *

The bathroom door banged open again and we were momentarily bathed in light once more. Mr Hunter emerged. He was completely nude and his penis was sticking straight up, reminding me that he too had taken one of the erection pills. He was holding a cigarette in his hand and he offered it to me - it was a joint. He reached back into the bathroom to turn out the light.

As I drew on the little tube, he clicked on a small desk light so the room was dimly illuminated again. The 'girl' took the joint when I offered it to her.

Mr Hunter put a hand on each of us, on our shoulders.

"Celia - this is Andy. He's a randy little university student from England. Andy - meet Celia. She's a cheap little Puerto Rican cunt!"

"I am" nodded Celia through the joint, apparently complimented by the description.

I laughed. "Yes, he's got me right too."

Celia was now the same height as me. In the bar toilet she had been half a head taller - high heels I supposed. Her penis was somewhat bigger than mine.

"You still wearing that thing?" Mr Hunter asked me.

I shrugged off my shorts and shirt and bowed to them in the bikini. Like Celia's, it showed my stiff prick sticking straight up out of the little pants.

Mr Hunter applauded. "Here," he said to me, and pulled me between them. They both ran their hands over me, handling my cock, touching in my crack, and Celia kissed me sloppily on the mouth.

Then Mr Hunter guided me over to the round wooden table in the centre of the room. He took a vase of flowers off it and then bent me over it so I was lying along its cool surface. Celia immediately stepped forward in front of me. My face was at the height of her crotch and she took me by the hair and with her other hand masturbated her penis on my face. After a moment she brought it to my mouth, and wiped the slimy head on my lips. I opened my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr Hunter reach into a bag on the bedside table and pull out a camera. Before I had the presence of mind to stop him he took a picture of us. He put down the camera and stepped behind me and I felt him pull my bikini pants down, just off my bum. Then I felt his greasy cock against my anus. He held himself in one hand, guiding himself onto me. In my mind it was as if he was threading a needle, and when I had that thought I realised the marijuana was beginning to stake out my brain.

"Tis easier for a penis to slide into a tight anus than for a rich man to enter the gates of heaven," I thought to myself. For a moment I thought I'd said it out loud, but, no, I knew I couldn't have, my mouth was full of Celia's stiff cock, sliding back and forth. I sucked it as she masturbated herself into my mouth.

In the mirror I caught a glimpse of myself, spread on the table with my little bikini bottom stretched down under my hips, and Mr Hunter lining his knob up against me. He leaned forward onto me a little, bringing pressure to bear. The table creaked, and I felt my anus open for him, an intense tightness that had me panting for a moment, and then his solid stiff penis slid slowly all the way up my bum. For the second time that night, I groaned at the effort of accommodating such a large object in my anus, as his belly came to rest against the cheeks of my bum.

He paused there and after a moment, breathing raggedly, he said "You dirty little cunt! I'm not the first person you've had in your arse tonight, am I?"

I gave a smothered reply against the penis in my mouth.

"I think he said 'no'" Celia uttered throatily, and after a moment she added "You won't be the last, either."

* * *

The next day I was sitting with my mother in the airport, waiting to fly back to London. I asked her how the wedding had had gone and she pursed her lips, obviously none too pleased.

"Oh, Dai made a bit of a fool of himself."

"Sir David? What did he do?"

"Well, he went to sleep at the beginning of the ceremony, they had to wake him up to present the ring - he was Best Man, you know.

"Of course it's just jet lag - he said he'd been awake half the night. But even so. Then he went to sleep again at the reception dinner and they had to wake him to give his speech! All pretty embarrassing,! And as if that wasn't enough, Bill Hunter started snoring during the speech, I mean, you've never heard such loud snoring!"

I laughed, sympathetically.

"Some people are more susceptible to jet lag," I said. "So I've read, anyway."

I stifled a yawn, and my mother yawned too.

"Yes, I suppose so" she said. "I couldn't sleep that night either. I went for a walk in the gardens at some ridiculous hour. Actually, now I think of it - did you have a girl in your room? - I saw a girl in a bikini on your balcony."

"No. Of course not. You must have the rooms confused."

"I could have sworn it was your room. I counted along from the first one." She looked at me skeptically.

"Mother, there wasn't a girl in my room!"

"Oh well, if you say so."

* * *