Papi Ch. 01

This is a work of fiction and all characters are over 18, even if one of them is repeatedly entitled as "boy". If you find man-on-man revolting, please don't read any further. The second chapter might be slightly (!) more to your taste.

Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Klaas could have kicked himself. He had stormed out like a headless chicken. No proper riding boots, a pair of normal jeans and his usual leather jacket. Not what he usually would have worn for riding. Then again, he was nearly overdressed as anybody else here rode motorcycles in sneakers and t-shirts.

He had recently relocated from the Netherlands to Barcelona to take on a role as a callcenter head supervisor. With 22, he was young for the role but he had been working in the company's callcenter near Amsterdam since leaving school at 17. He was clever, worked hard, knew his stuff and had advanced quickly. Coming from headquarters and being much younger than them had not exactly enamoured the 5 managers reporting to him, but in the last 3 months, a sort of a grudging respect had set in. And even though he was their boss, he was genuinely friendly and his boyish good looks helped not just with the women.

Like many Dutch whiteish-blonde and blue-eyed, what he lacked in size and brawn for a typical Dutchman (he was 5'6" and lightly built) he made up for with a hands-on enthusiastic mentality and a "come-on, let's go" energetic style of management.

Nevertheless, the start had not been easy. Work was challenging, he had found a small flat, but he missed home. He had broken up with his girlfriend who was furious about his move and he missed a girlfriend. He did not miss her exactly, but she had been fun in the sack and he had not had any booty since moving here. What kept him sane was the fantastic weather, the sea and his pride and joy, a fluorescent green Triumph Speed Triple. Not the latest model, certainly, but plenty fast enough to kill yourself and to get in all sorts of trouble. A real hooligan motorbike, and his gift to himself for the promotion.

It was the middle of the week and when unexpectedly his agenda had cleared for the afternoon, he had not hesitated. Bright sunshine, hot, even though it was only the end of May. He had jumped onto the bike and had taken the highway north towards the French border to explore the hills behind the coast. Now, a good hour later, he had left the coast road and had turned inland into the hills. The roads were recently re-surfaced and free of traffic, he left free rein to his motorcycle's horses.

The wind sang in his ears and he felt great when the engine all of a sudden spluttered, then stuttered and coughed and died. He quickly pulled the clutch lever and coasted to a halt on the wide gravel shoulder of the road, then opened the filler cap and gently shook the bike. A sloshing noise, but far down in the tank. Shoot, he had forgotten to fill her up.

He fumbled under the tank for the fuel tap, opened the reserve. Could he go back to the coast? He had seen some pumps there, but that had been a while ago, a bit far for comfort. He had never tried how far he could go on reserve. On the other hand, just riding into the hills hoping to find a village with a pump was certainly worse. He tapped his left chest pocket for his mobile .... Where was it? He tapped all his pockets ... no telephone, he must have left it in his locker at work when taking off his suit jacket. So, no telephone .... And then it dawned on him: no telephone, no GPS, ok. But also: no credit cards, no cash..... Well, he had to try to get to the next pump on the coast road and then see what he would do.

He pressed the starter button. After turning over twice, the engine fired, then fell into a lumpy idle .... and stalled. Klaas pressed the button again. The starter warbled, the engine turned over but did not fire up. He tried again ... and again .... and again .... Nothing.

He swore: this was just his luck. No phone, no money, out of petrol and the only people he knew in this country were at work.

He looked around. Hills ahead, hills behind, and in the middle of this dusty valley the road ... There was a cart track leading off to the left, and there seemed to be a house in the trees. He thought for a moment if he should try to push the bike to the house. 35 degrees centigrade and no shade anywhere. But just leaving it by the wayside did not feel right either. In the end he pushed it the 200 meters to the access road and another 50 meters into the track towards the house, before the heat became too much. He left the bike on the side of the track, hung is helmet and jacket on the handlebars and set out towards the house.

He approached the house, but could not see anything behind the dense hedge and the gate. Everything seemed quiet, no dog barking. Didn't they all have dogs out here? he wondered before pressing the doorbell. It was only then that he wondered how he would explain his situation as his Spanish was close to non-existent .... Or did they speak Catalan out here in the sticks? He was still pondering that thought when the intercom crackled to life:

"Hola?" a man's voice, slightly gravelly, gruff, deep. He tried to collect the few words of Spanish he had picked up:

"Hola. Hai .... Ahm well, ahh.... pech ... petrol con motocycleta on the strada. Ayudar, please?" He heard the man on the other side chuckle, then say:

"Alright, come on in, on the left side around the house, I am in the back." The intercom snapped off, and the gate opened slightly, he could slip through, then it closed again.

The house was a relatively small bungalow with a garage underneath and a well maintained front garden. When going around the house on its left, Klaas saw some jerrycans and oil pans. Does this guy maybe have petrol here he could give me? he thought.

He rounded the corner of the house and looked over a large well maintained back garden with an enormous lawn. In front of a large terrace was an equally large swimming pool.

Its owner was standing next to two deck chairs in the middle of the terrace looking at him curiously. He visibly had been lying on the farther one of the recliners, as his towel, a book and a can of beer were still there. He was a tall, maybe 1.90, a mountain of a man with huge pectoral muscles, thigs and arms, end of his forties or early fifties, he looked as if he weightlifted regularly and radiated fitness and a raw vibrant energy. His slightly too long hair was black as was the generous body hair that covered his strong limbs and his deep-tanned skin. The man stepped forward and held out his hand, they shook. He looked curiously at Klaas and said:

"Hola, I did not quite understand what you wanted to say". Klaas felt releaved to hear English. Sheepishly, he admitted:

"My Spanish is not very good", the other man nodded while looking him all over, "I just arrived in Spain and didn't have the time to learn."

"And that is why you rang at my door?" to man grinned.

"No, no, I have a problem with my motorcycle, and as I did not have my phone with me, I thought I could maybe ...."

"What's wrong with it?" said the man

"I don't know, I suddenly stopped running, maybe petrol ...."

"Where is it now?"

"A couple of meters up your driveway, off the street ...."

"Good, good, out of harms way. I am John, by the way ...."

"Klaas. Sorry for invading your privacy ..."

"Oh, don't worry, I had time to put on some shorts" he laughed at Klaas' surprised face, "I am here on my own, nobody sees me and it is warm, so why bother with clothes, right?" Klaas did not know what to say to that.

"Don't worry, we'll have a look at your bike in a minute, I have some tools here, we'll get it running, no issue." John looked up to the sun "Gosh, what a scorcher today, aye? You thirsty?"

It was only then that Klaas realized that he was totally parched and his tongue felt like an old leather strap.

"Thought so," said the guy, "I'll get you something to drink". He was turning away, then looked back: "If you want to jump into the pool, be my guest." With that he disappeared into the shade of the house.

Klaas looked at the pool. It looked deliciously cool. But he could not just jump in, could he? He did not know the guy. And he had no swimsuit.

In the end, the pool won. He dropped his dress shirt, the jeans and shoes and jumped into the water. Ahhhh, what a relief. Shortly afterwards, John was back with a cooler and a towel. When he saw Klaas in the pool, he said:

"Brilliant idea, I knew you'd jump in." He grinned, liked what he saw: a young slender guy with very light skintone, blue eyes and tousled light-blonde hair, a trim body, clearly sporty. Well developed pecks and arms, probably legs and bum as well firm and pert, but they were under water, hard to tell. Sinewy, athletic physique, but in a light, small package. Nearly naked in the sun in his pool. Delicious.

"And if you dropped your pants, I can do so too". He pushed down his boardshorts and stepped out of them, coming back onto the terrace stark naked. Klaas stared at him and mumbled:

"I have my underpants on" he said, blushing. John laughed

"Ah. You'll have wet jeans later on, but hey! your choice." While Klaas stared, John draped the towel over the second deck chair and busied himself with the cooler. Klaas could see that he was indeed tanned all over and except for between his legs, his whole body was covered with a sort of a thick black fuzz of hair, like a bear. Klaas grinned at that thought.

"That's better" said John, grinning as well, "you already look less hassled" He took a swig from his beer. "Ok, we'll have a look at your bike later, I have all the tools we might need including some petrol in the garage. And if all else fails, we can trailer your bike to .... " he hesitated, ".... where did you say you are from?"

"Badalona" said Klaas from the pool.

"Badalona, ok" said John, "bit of a trot, but hey! No problem. So relax, have a drink, and then we go see. Or are you in a hurry?" Klaas looked at his watch, 13.45, not even two hours since he had left the office. "Wife or girlfriend waiting for you at home and getting worried?"

"Naa, just ditched her, and no, no hurry, nobody gets worried."

"Excellent" said John, took a can from the cooler and walked over. "Have a drink, relax, and we'll sort it out". Klaas could not help it to see how his uncut dick slapped against his thighs as he walked. If possible, the meaty long dick was even darker tanned than the rest of John's body. It looked heavy and chuncky even though it was only fluffed up, not fully stiff. The dark schlong slapping left and right against the thighs and the fuzz all over that huge muscled body looked surreal in the glaring light.

The older one squatted down next to the pool and handed him a beer. Klaas reached up and took it, but could not help noting the ballsack and penis hanging down between his muscled thighs. The balls large and heavy, the penis long and thick even though not fully hard. He was shaved all around his cock and balls, the rest of the body was very hairy.

John saw him staring and grinned.

"When you are sufficiently cooled down, come out, you can use the other deck chair." He grinned a bit more. "And get rid of your underpants. Put them in the sun to dry, otherwise you look afterwards as if you had peed your pants." He saw Klaas' hesitant look. "I put on some shorts before because I didn't know who you were, and the neighbours are a bit special about being nude. All those tourists on the coast, I suppose." Klaas seemed to still hesitate. "I usually do not bother to put on anything. Nobody can see us here anyway, and even if.... " John made a dismissive gesture, " ... who cares, this is my land, so .... " Klaas still looked undecided. "But ok, just do as you feel, ...." He grinned, turned around and went back to his deck chair, lay down and seemed to doze.

Klaas took a sip ... good local beer. He leaned back and tried to relax. What a bizarre situation, he thought. Me alone with a naked muscle bear of a man, in the middle of nowhere, drinking beer.

After a couple of minutes, he began to feel the freshness of the water. The air was hot, but the pool had not fully heated up yet. He stepped up the steps, thought about pulling his jeans on over the moist underpants and decided: 'Why not, what should happen? He is right, relax.' With that thought, he walked across the terrace, set down his beer next to the second recliner, and pushed down his briefs. He stepped out of them and wrung them out. John opened an eye, looked up at him, smiled. Klaas while wringing them out said:

"Sorry, I was a bit tense there. Thanks for the offer, it sounds great, and no, I am not in a hurry." With that, he turned around, bent forward and laid out his undergarment on the hot concrete. When he turned back, he saw that John had not closed his eyes and had stared intently at his backside while he laid out his boxers. But instead of being embarrassed to be caught staring, he just smiled and lazily closed his eyes again. Klaas took another swig, lay down and enjoyed the hot sun on his skin.

He must have nodded off, because the next thing he knew was a big splashing sound. He opened his eyes and felt a bit whoozy when lifting his head. John had jumped into the pool and that had woken him up. The sun burned on his skin and a dive into the water seemed like a good idea. He struggled to his feet, but instead of jumping into the pool, he sat down at its edge and dangled his feet in. Ahhh, perfect .... His head began to clear again.

John was swimming laps now, powerful strokes, crawl first for 15 laps and then butterfly. "No wonder he is in good shape if he swims like that" thought Klaas. Finally, John swam over and sat in the shallow water just next to the younger man's legs.

"So, how come that you get stranded here in the middle of the hills, with hardly any Spanish and no phone, and no one waits for your return?" He grinned at Klaas to take the sting out of the remark.

"I headed off from work in Barcelona, and forgot my mobile and cards because I was eager to ride". John nodded. "And my colleagues would certainly wonder where I was if I didn't show up tomorrow morning" The older man nodded.

"You been here long?" he then asked.

"A bit over two months, my company moved me here from Amsterdam. And you?"

"I am here for most of the year since 20 years, writing ...." He was quiet for a while. "England can be very depressing in autumn. Or in winter ... or spring for that matter." They both laughed.

"What are you writing?" Klaas asked.

"Crime novels, nothing too demanding. But it makes a living." He made a wide gesture with his arm, as if to say: this is my domain. Klaas looked around. It definitely makes a decent living, he thought. "And the girlfriend did not come along with you?"

"Nah, ditched her before leaving Amsterdam". They were silent for a while. "Miss her". John gave him a half-smile:

"Miss HER, or miss IT?" Klaas laughed out loud.

"Yeah, ok, I miss IT. Big time. Her not so much, that's true..."

There was a silence again.

"Funny, a young guy like you .... good looking ... well built, single.... There should be plenty of ways of having fun in Barcelona. Don't you go out?" the question was asked lazily, just a conversation between two men, killing time, but Klaas had a certain idea what John meant with "plenty of ways". Barcelona had a lively gay scene, apart from all sorts of other interests that were catered for.

"Naah," he finally replied lazily, "I was too busy with work". John nodded at that.

"Shame ..." John said after a while. He seemed to consider something, hesitated, then said ".... Damned shame. Would you like to try?" he looked at Klass directly and Klaas blushed, did not know what to say.

"Well, would you like to?" John insisted. Klaas felt flushed and stuttered:

"I don't know .... I have never .... I am not ...." John stopped him with a gesture

"Shshshshsh. Don't worry...," he said as he slowly approached and laid a hand on Klaas' thigh, " ...you'll like it. And you can stop me anytime you like .... " he rubbed slowly Klaas' thigh and smiled his big smile "...and liking it does not make you gay".

He rubbed his thigh a bit higher, then pushed slowly his knees apart and rubbed the young man's thigh all the way up. Klaas closed his eyes and gasped. This felt so good after nearly three months without any action.

While he rubbed the inside of Klaas' thighs, the bear stared intently at the young cock that was fluffing up. It was uncut, and not overly large if that could be assessed in its half-flaccid state. But it looked clean and juicy, very smooth, no veins or anything. Just a perfectly smooth young man's dick. His mouth watered.

"Ahhh, he likes it" rumbled John's deep voice. Klaas felt his ears burn with embarrassment as the blood shoot into his member. The hands on his thighs felt too good, his cock stiffened even more, it became hot and hard and stood out like a sawed-of tee branch. It had a big bulbous mushroom head that was now an angry dark read as it crept out from under the foreskin. He was mortally embarrassed as John's hand caressed closer and closer to his stiff cock and then held it firmly, one hand around its root, the other weighing his contracted ball sack in his hand. The older man admired the rigid member for a few moments, slowly sliding his hand up and down the lengths of the hard shaft, then reached around Klaas' back and pulled him closer to the edge of the pool. And then, slowly, he descended on the angry red head, his lips formed a circle around it .... and swallowed it.

Klaas groaned and thought he would explode there and then. He had gone to heaven. Ahhhh, this was too good! He moaned, lay back on the concrete and tried not to think, just enjoying the expert mouth sucking and licking his shaft and fondling is balls.

John enjoyed licking this young dick. It was hard and enthusiastic in his hand, uncut and he loved to play with it, slide his tongue under the foreskin. But now it was hard, the glans was out, the foreskin stretched back. He licked the darker red helmet, sucked it in again. Klaas shuddered. The skin was so fair, and his dick tasted good, hardly any body hair anywhere. The perfect twink.

John's finger trailed along the edge of the ballsack down, tried to squeeze his ass, but could not get his hand underneath. He lifted Klaas' left leg, the leg came out of the water, he pushed it forward upward, over Klaas' body. "Hold it!" Obediently, Klaas pulled his upper thigh to his chest. John lifted his right leg as well, Klaas held it without being asked. John pushed with one hand Klaas' dick and nutsack up and admired the new perspective.

The same cream-coloured skin, very smooth, hardly any hair. The ball sack slightly darker, its skin pulled tight by excitement and John's hand. Underneath the skin lighter again, the protruding triangle of the perineum below the boy's balls leading to brownish-pink folds around his sphincter. There was a darker line coming down the middle of his cock, over the scrotum and continued as a slightly elevated ridge until it disappeared in the pinkish hole. John let his hand slide over the uncovered purple helmet of Klaas' cock. The folds around his backdoor twitched hard, he let his hands slide once more over the helmet. The whole perineum twitched in spasms ... he caressed the triangle lightly, then pressed gently, released, and pressed gently again, then let his hands slide to the cheeks.

Perfect firm man cheeks, like apples, pink and firm to the touch, he squeezed them lightly, then leaned forward and licked over the balls, released the tension with his hand on Klaas' dick and sucked on ball into his mouth, licked it gently, rolled it on his tongue, then the other one. And then he licked slowly lower and lower ..... he heard a surprised hiss and a sigh when his tongue reached the Dutch boy's star.