A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 06

In London he always knew someone who could fix him up for the price of a regular blow-job or a couple of rounds of casual sex in the toilets at Victoria or Kings Cross. Here he was out of his depth. He knew no one, he was flat broke and as Ant had so cuttingly reminded him on the train, he spoke very little French. He did not even know how to 'say' heroin, let alone ask for it. There was the guy at the station, he supposed, although he had no idea how to get back there. It had taken about fifteen minutes to drive here so it was probably one hell of a walk.

He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, lulled by the slap-slap-slap of water against the hull of the boat and the gentle rocking motion beneath him. It soothed him enough that he was able to finally slip into a peaceful sleep. In the end he was so tired that he did not even wake when Ant came back from the shower room and curled up around him, holding him tenderly and stroking his hair and body in exhausted wonderment.

THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE: It was mind-numbingly hot when Rayne came to his senses, conscious of a dull thumping that was not a part of his aching head. He lay in a dark place, aware that the ground was moving very slightly underneath him. For a little while he could not remember a single thing from before he fell asleep. As he tried to sit up, someone shifted beside him and he felt a hot hand on his thigh, stroking gently over his moist skin. His bones ached, particularly in his hips and lower back. That restored some of his recent memory and he began to recover the journey that had led him to this place; the gang-bang in Soho; Ant shouting at Johnno; the interminable train journey and his amazing session with Thierry. That brought back the recollection of what had followed; the guard's van and Daniel Leland's predatory smile.

Rayne shuddered quietly and rolled onto his back, staring through the dense, sweltering darkness at the ceiling. Some years back, when he was still much less worldly, he had been the cock-slut and protégé of a burly impresario and would-be fetish photographer called Dave Barry, who also went by the name of Barrington le Vay. They met in a nightclub in Folkestone when Rayne was still in his teens. Simon, his best friend, had talked him into the club night. Si was still in the process of discovering his homosexuality at this time. He was desperate to go to the only decent Gay Night within spitting distance of the Channel Ports in the hope of finding a boyfriend to whom he could willingly lose his anal virginity.

Rayne would have preferred to have gone to London but Si was nervous enough about the provinces, so they wound up at the Club Tropicana (affectionately known as the Pink Parrot) and spent the night persuading older men to buy them drinks, since they were both virtually penniless. The eighties gave them licence to experiment with hair, clothes and makeup and they spared no sartorial quarter in their determination to attract as much attention as possible. It worked too. Before the night was halfway through, Simon had been dragged off into a corner booth where some guy was relentlessly trying to eat his face and feel his dick. Rayne danced for a little while then sat on a stool by the bar, watching the wildlife.

Baz had come over to chat him up around this point. He was a big guy, not fat but very broad across the shoulders and tall with it. His dark hair was already receding from his temples although he was merely twenty-seven, and he had tried to disguise this by back-combing it so that it spiked up from his wide, sun-tanned forehead. He was wearing a tuxedo and tight black pants with the shiniest, most pointed winklepicker boots east of the metropolis. In spite of all his efforts there was something ungainly about the guy. Rayne did his best to dissuade him but quickly discovered that it was like standing in the path of an avalanche. Once Dave Barry started to talk there was no shutting the man up. Not without putting your tongue in his mouth anyway. So that was what he did.

Baz snogged him, on and off for the rest of the night. Sometimes they danced, or the older man bought him Bacardi and cokes, which Rayne drank easily as lemonade. (He could not stand the smell of Bacardi rum to this day) At one stage, Baz asked if he wanted to go somewhere quieter and Rayne experienced the first cold water shock of the night. He was not a complete ingenue but the sudden comprehension that this bizarre creature wanted to get him into bed hit him right between the eyes.

He tried to fend Baz off by pointing out that he was here with a friend but since Simon still had his face glued to some stranger's, this was not the greatest of excuses. When Si finally sought him out to sheepishly tell him that he was 'going back to Jake's for a night-cap' his last defence crumbled. If Simon was with him Rayne could just about face spending the remainder of the night in Folkestone bus station but alone he did not fancy it at all. Simon valiantly offered to ask if Jake minded him sleeping on the couch, which was not an option that appealed to him either. Lying on a lumpy settee with a growing hangover, listening to Si getting his brains banged out in the next room was not his idea of fun.

As he set out on his own from the club a taxi pulled up beside him and Dave Barry leaned out of the window and asked where he was going. When he said that he did not know, the door opened and reluctantly Rayne got in. They spent the fifteen-minute cab journey french-kissing and masturbating one another on the back seat and when they finally tumbled out into the night, to the evident relief of the cab driver, they were both furiously horny. The house was in the middle of nowhere, three storeys high, with little turrets at the front and a huge expanse of garden. It belonged to friends, Baz said; he was minding it for them.

Inside there was a heated pool in the basement and a steam room. Baz poured him large, neat vodka on request, which he knocked back in one go. Then they stripped off and lounged on the steps of the pool in the shallow water, splashing and wrestling, then kissing again, teasingly at first then more intensely. Dave Barry rolled onto him, caressing his buttocks and thighs, feeling his dick and wordlessly encouraging Rayne to stroke his lovely big boner. While the boy felt his cock for him Baz began towing him into deeper water and lifting his knees from underneath. They went under and came up gasping for air, Baz was kneeling on the lowest step under him and Rayne felt the man's erection probe urgently between his cheeks as he lay back, allowing the water to lift and carry him. Dave was pushing into him wordlessly, huffing and panting as he fucked the pretty teenager, as they had both known he would when Rayne agreed to come home with him. Rayne closed his eyes, gasping softly and let it happen. Unlike Si, he was not a virgin and this was at least an improvement on risking his arse in a cold, smelly bus station where the chances of getting raped before morning were middling to high. The pool was clean and warm and he was pleasantly drunk. Dave's big cock felt okay inside him.

They made out three times, once in the pool and twice more, naked in the steam room. Rayne woke up the next morning on a king-sized bed with black latex sheets, to which his lover handcuffed him, on his back with his legs spread wide, then gagged him and took photographs before, during and after sex.

Every Saturday night for nearly three months, Rayne Wilde stayed over with Baz at the house. The second time he went back there, the older man did a couple of lines of coke with him, then encouraged him to masturbate, naked, on the leather sofa, with a dildo and some massage oil. He took photographs incessantly. At one point he stepped up to the sofa and urged his young lover to suck him off, but he still kept snapping. They fucked for nearly four hours that night. Around two am they stopped and did another line then Dave Barry greased and mounted him again, taking him hard on the polished wooden floor until his teenage mate was whimpering with hot, horny ecstasy, his tight young body covered in sweat, lubricant and spunk...

Rayne arched his back off the sweaty sheets now, feeling them cling briefly to his moist flesh as he rose, rubbing gritty eyes. He was hard from the memories and needed to wank. The thundering sound in his ears changed momentum as he wriggled to the edge of the bed and slipped off onto his knees on the listing wooden floor. For a moment he held still, listening to Ant's level breathing and the dull pounding racket that seemed like dance music heard from a way off. There was no single discernible track, just a melee of sounds as if a neighbour with five record players had put on five different singles and was playing them all at once, at top blast.

He remembered now; he was on a boat, in France with a dirty old man who had once strapped him naked into an examination chair and asked him to straddle and ride a dildo the size of two grown male forearms and fists twined together whilst he filmed the experience.

Dave Barry had been responsible for introducing him to Daniel Leland. Dan was, according to Baz, simply 'The Dog's...' when it came to making 'arthouse' pictures; especially the kind of arthouse pictures where sexy young lads got stripped and greased and introduced to the pleasures of rough anal intercourse. Baz sent Leland some of the photographs he had already taken of Rayne and by way of a screen-test, arranged for his young lover to have submissive sex in a deserted pool hall with three randy youths in their early twenties. A friend of Dave's ran the pool hall, his brother directed the shoot and one of the studs was the brother's eldest son, who warmed Rayne up with some axle grease on the handle of a pool cue. He ripped Rayne's jeans down then mounted and fucked him over the edge of the pool table in front of his dad and uncle, Baz and the camera. When he had shot his load he climbed onto the table, encouraging his two friends to 'get some nice tight bum while he's sucking my cock clean'. Baz filmed it in shameless close up; fifty gory minutes of rough, dirty oral and anal sex, pumped up on amphetamines. Rayne had thankfully been out of his skull and it would be over two years before he saw the finished movie which managed to imply that he was far younger than he actually had been and completely inexperienced until his crude pool-cue deflowering.

In fact he had reached orgasm three times whilst they were banging him. It still made him excited and sick in equal measure to think about it. Rayne closed his eyes now and began to pump his cock steadily in his left hand.

After that shameless experience in the pool hall he had made 'Going All the Way' for Leland. Daniel Leland had been highly enamoured of his youthful good looks and was determined to milk them for all they were worth. In the movie, Rayne played a schoolboy stopped and asked for directions by two men who then offered to run him home. When they reached their destination they invited him in for a beer and took him upstairs, where the only furniture in the house apart from the fridge in the kitchen was an iron framed bed with a bare mattress. The pair asked if he would like to look at some porn magazines and masturbate with them. When he agreed they both undressed and got him stripped so that they could interfere with him on the bed. He was asked if he was a virgin and he shyly admitted that he was, a blatant lie which sexually excited his horny companions even more. They aroused him with their hands and mouths and encouraged him to stroke their big cocks, then spent some time 'teaching' him to suck and deep throat them. Once his mouth and face were running with cum they licked and sucked out his anus, feeling his cock and bollocks for him until he started to climax uncontrollably. He was shown explicit pictures of teenage boys getting fucked in the arse with big, glistening cocks and encouraged to rub and finger himself and his educators until he got excited again. His teachers wanked and lubricated him until he begged them shamelessly to put their dicks inside him. When he began to plead for it they took his anal virginity; one at a time to start with, then spit roasted him eagerly between them, and finally both came up his arsehole together.

"Aaahhhhhhhhh! Aaahhhhh....mmmmmmhhh!" the youngster moaned softly, bending his head to muffle his cries of satisfaction in the bed covers as he jerked himself off, thinking of that scene. Those two big tools had felt so good inside him that he had been able to forget about the camera for a little while and cum uninhibitedly for his two accommodating co-stars, kneeling astride one of them and riding him whilst the other pounded him hard from behind.

The floorboards creaked softly and Rayne sat up with a start, catching his breath in the darkness.

"Who's being a naughty little boy then?" a mellow, gravel-toned voice enquired from the doorway. He recognised the east-end barrow-boy accent as Terry's right away and groped helplessly for some explanation that would not sound completely lame.

"I was... I just... I couldn't sleep."

"We've been watching you at work while you was not-sleepin', gorgeous," Terry chuckled. "Quite a little cum slut, aren't you? I had a serious wank watching you get some experience with those two young blokes. I reckon young Rosie didn't know whether to blush or beat his meat."

Rayne felt the heat rise to his cheeks. Ant began to snore quietly, then rolled over and nuzzled the pillows, snuffling after his missing lover in his dreams.

"I was kind of hopin' that he'd have the energy to give you one so's I could watch," the cockney fellow said cheekily now. "From the look of you, you've been hopin' the same."

Rayne remained kneeling on the floor. His hands were sticky with spilt cum and there was a spreading pool of semen on the boards in front of him. When he did not speak, Terry pushed away from the door and came towards him. He had a hard-on, visible in the light from the corridor now. Rayne stared at his long, thick, fully erect penis, silhouetted against the doorway. Even though Terry had to be in his late fifties, he had a lovely cock. It was as long as Ant's and easily as fat but Terry was circumcised and his helm glistened wetly in the half-light as it bobbed in front of his face, then brushed its salty wetness over his lips. He opened his mouth, never able to resist a big, sexy cock on his tongue.

"Good boy," Terry breathed, almost inaudibly as the boy's full, soft, glossy lips parted around his throbbing glans, stroking the sensitive flesh skilfully. "Ohhh yesss... good boy. Suck that, baby!"

Rayne let his tongue glide down the rippling underside of Terry's long shaft, opening his mouth wider and nodding his dark head down onto the tangy fuck-rod between his jaws. He wasted no time. As his throat yielded to Terry's gentle, insistent pulsing, he let his left hand slide between his legs and began to caress himself again, stiffening as he sucked on the older man's big, ribbed, muscular penis. For an old guy, Terry was magnificently endowed and Rayne nuzzled the white curls of his sweaty crotch now as he knelt and pleasured the man. His right hand moved to Terry's balls and began to fondle them. He felt the vibration of his mate's answering groan trickle across his palate and into his skull.

Rayne made a small, satisfied noise as he tasted the sharpness of a fat pearl of pre-cum in the back of his throat. Terry pulled slowly from his mouth before he spilled his entire load and rubbed the plump, throbbing head of his gleaming, well-sucked penis over his lover's face, squeezing a streamer of sperm over his eyelids and lips as Rayne gently blew on his wet cock, still teasing him.

"Suck my bollocks, there's a good lad," he sighed. "Oh yeah... you're good. Lick 'em good... get my big fella nice and ready for your glory hole."

Rayne nuzzled his heavy balls and took them in his mouth one at a time, drawing them between his lips until the flesh stretched taut then releasing them gradually so they slipped out of his mouth a bit at a time. Terry stroked his hair and made happy little whimpering noises.

"Yeah... yeah... good lad." He moved around now, coaxing Rayne back onto the bed. "Bend over lover boy there and give him a wake-up call with your sexy mouth on his nice big cock."

As Rayne began to kiss and lick Ant's penis, it stirred and stiffened quickly to full erection. Ant turned sleepily onto his back and his hand moved down to Rayne's dark hair automatically, urging his mate to suck and swallow as he began to thrust his hips upward off the mattress. Terry bent over Rayne's cheeks and pulled the boy's slim thighs open a little wider so that he could lick and suck on that pucker of dark flesh that promised so much pleasure. Rayne uttered a little 'aaahhhh' of need as Terry's wriggling tongue quickly probed and entered him, tickling wetly into his rectum and making him twitch and stiffen in response.

There was absolutely no question of denying them this. He was hot and trembling, still needy even after pulling himself to a climax. As Terry Goodwill bent over him from behind and began to rub the head of his pulsing, sticky cock against Rayne's hole, the boy swallowed the last inch of Ant's penis down into his throat and rubbed his crotch on the bedcovers urgently. His well-fucked sphincter opened with barely a moment's resistance, engulfing Terry's thrusting prick quickly and readily. Rayne uttered a little mew of longing as that big shaft filled him up, reaching his hot spot in no time and nudging against it over and over. He heard Ant murmuring sleepy, delighted encouragement as he nodded his head over the other man's lovely, nine-inch tool. The big, fat head of his penis sat right in the back of his throat and he took a long breath through his nostrils, then another to keep from gagging on it until he could get it deeper. Ant stroked his hair and pressed his head down with both hands as he began to buck impulsively underneath the boy. Terry straddled him, kneeling on the edge of the mattress astride his slim hips so that he could pump the youngster's arse deeper and harder.

The lights had come up whilst they were fucking but Rayne was immured to everything but the sensation of burning pleasure that began somewhere under his ribs and ended in his throat and the tip of his cock. He was wriggling and moaning, taking them willingly to heaven and back so long as they brought him off in turn. The two older men passed breathless, murmured comments as they fucked him, surging in and out of his lean, wet, sexy body, their thrusting weapons making soft, slippery, squelching sounds in time with their groans of satisfaction.

Rayne managed to get to his knees under the older guy and felt Terry's groping hand between his legs even before he could touch himself. He moaned, way down in his chest, squirming in the man's powerful, seductive embrace, grinding his hips back into Terry's groin the way the young French lad had done for him in the toilet cubicle this afternoon. It felt amazing, Terry was so big and hot inside him. He did not want it to end.

Ant let him lift his head so that he was able to stroke and lick the throbbing penis in his mouth just before it exploded and he was treated to a feast of salty semen. Overwhelmed by his own need, Rayne keened more urgently, swallowing as much of his lover's spill as he could. As he knelt back into Terry's arms, gasping for air, Ant bent over him and took Rayne's stiff young cock into his own mouth, licking and sucking passionately. Rayne bucked back and forth between them, yelping like an animal. The powerful strokes of Terry's big cock quickly brought him to a thrashing, howling peak of pleasure between Ant's lips and as he subsided into the older fellow's embrace he felt Terry stab potently into his nether depths, filling him with rich, viscous heat. Rayne quivered repeatedly, eyes closed, lips parted, panting with astonishment and arousal.