Rory and Sebastian Ch. 18

"Seb'll do just fine," I corrected him, since 'Sebastian' was something that only my Mom called me. And Rory. I removed my shirt and shoes. Then I unbuckled my belt and yanked down my jeans a bit so that he could see the tag line of my underwear, then I slowly unbuttoned my crotch, pulled down by jeans and stepped out of them. My dick was poking out of my briefs it was so hard. I pulled my underwear off; I was left standing solely in my socks, jerking my dick. Harry was doing the same, having extracted his from his pants. I let him get a good look at me and then walked over, held his head and kissed him, deeply. He pulled me onto the bed, rolling me over onto my back. He kicked himself out of his trousers and underwear and we began making out on the bed. I could feel the wetness of our pre-cums mixing off one another and the weight of him, solid muscle and strength, bearing down upon me. I ran my hands down to his butt and caressed his smooth cheeks. He must wax or something down there, because he had a fine dusting of hair on his chest which led me to think he would have it elsewhere.

"I'm going to be rough with you," he promised.

"I love to fuck, dude," I replied.

"Suck my dick."

I pushed him onto his back and got up to stand over him. I reached down to peel away my socks and then his, so that we were both completely naked. I lowered myself down and began circling my tongue round and round on his cock head, like it was a candy cane. Harry groaned and ran his hand through my hair. After a while, I started to go down further and further on him, slowly opening up my throat and coating his rod in a fine sheen of my saliva. The guy's cock kept growing and, honestly, it was a fucking monster. If I'd thought Tim was big, I hadn't seen anything yet. Harry had a monster cock and giant, heavy balls. He was cut, too. I began gagging and choking, but I was determined to keep going. I felt Harry's hand on the back of my head get a little bit more aggressive, as he held me in place and began to slowly fuck in and out of my mouth. I was jerking my own dick as we went.

"You like getting your face fucked, Seb?"

I thought, 'Heck, why not?' and nodded through the penis filling my mouth and throat.

Harry gave a short laugh. "I thought that. Get on your back."

I eased my mouth off his cock and lay back on the bed. He pulled me forward until my head was hanging off the bed, upside down. I knew what was coming; I'd been face fucked a few times by Will and done it myself. I relaxed my throat as Harry reinserted his thickness into me and began gathering speed as he fucked my face like it was an asshole. I could feel his balls banging off my nose and wondered stupidly how I'd been able to take him so he was balls deep in my throat.

"Oh, fuck, yeah. Take that, you hot slut," Harry growled. He saw me jerking off and then leaned over me. I choked a little as he moved and I could feel rivers of saliva pouring out the sides of my abused mouth. Then I felt his mouth slide over my tool and I groaned into his dick. As we kept up the sixty-nine, I ran my hands appreciatively over his ass. The guy may be fucking me like a whore, but he was giving as good as he got with the reciprocal blowjob. Eventually, though, it all got a bit much and I had to push him off to breathe properly. Taking the hint, he spun me round the opposite direction and pushed me back up on the bed. I'm a big guy and strong, but Harry could move me fairly easily. It was new experience. He forced my legs open properly, crawled between them and began slobbering over my dick again.

"This is a beautiful cock," he said, as he went to town on it. He stretched his hands up to my mouth and began to finger-fuck my face a little. I sucked on his fingers, running my tongue across them and I felt him murmur appreciatively into my crotch.

By the time he took his fingers out, I was panting and red faced. "Fuck me," I said hoarsely.

He climbed on top of me full again and stabbed his tongue deep into my mouth as his hand reached over to the bedside cabinet and extracted a tube of lube and some rubbers. He went back down on me to rim for a bit; it was the thing he was least good at it in sex, but still, a mediocre rim job is better than none. Am I right?

He clambered up to my face; his angry red piss slit only a few inches away from my mouth. He tossed the condom down onto me.

"Unwrap it and put it on me," he ordered, "then tell me what you want me to do to you."

I'm all for getting into sex properly when you're there, so I complied and opened it with my teeth. I knelt up, next to him, face to face, and began slowly unpeeling it, back onto his shaft. How the fuck that dom fitted onto him, I don't know. In another life, it must have been a parachute.

"I want you to throw on my back, on my knees, on my side," I said, slowly and calmly, looking right into his eyes. I clicked open the lube and began to slather his erection with it. "I want you to fuck me on the pillows, on the floor, against the wall, against the door, against the sink, on the couch and on the bed. Let's fuck like there's no fucking tomorrow."

I bent over right in front of him and parted my cheeks as I slid a lubed up finger into it. "I want you to use this, Harry, and for us both to have a really fucking good time."

He growled and stepped forward, grabbing onto my hips in a vice grip, before placing his cock at the entrance to my body. "Ever had one this big in you before?"

"Would I be walking if I had?" I jibed.

Harry laughed and slowly began sliding into me. I gritted my teeth when we passed the eight inches mark, but I knew he was nearly finished. The discomfort was momentary and soon gave way to a feeling of pleasing fullness.

"Fuck, yes," I hissed. "That's amazing."

Slowly, Harry began to fuck in and out of me, hitting my prostate and all the right places as he went. He built up speed and spat in his hand, then gave me a reach around. For a while there was no sound in the room except for the slap, slap, slap of flesh on flesh, the slippery slurping sounds of a cock sliding through lube and our satisfied, masculine grunts. Then Harry said, "Ride me, boy."

He pulled out and lay on his back, hands cockily behind his head. I lowered myself onto his dick and sighed as it re-entered me. I locked into eye contact with him as I began riding him. I built up a rhythm more quickly this time. I contracted my chute around his erection a couple of times and he gasped in pleased delight, giving my ass a congratulatory spank when I did so. His hands were beefy and strong and they left a pleasant sting when they slapped me. I spat on his chest and used the spit to wetly tweak and roll his nipples.

We fucked like that for about five or ten minutes and my asshole was beginning to hurt when he said, "Get on your back."

I pulled off him, grateful for the secondary respite. I flung my legs open and up in the air, like the cheapest whore I could imagine; he leaned down and kissed my again. I could feel his hand guiding his cock back in and he took no time at all, this time, in starting to brutally fuck me. The slap sounds of his balls against the bare skin of my butt were now constant. I ran my hands lustily across his rock hard chest and abs. Here I was, I thought, being fucked senseless by a guy who's over double my age. It felt just the right amount of filthy and I gave him a grin, before groaning again as my grin was wiped away by an especially hard thrust.

Later, we moved over to the wall. I stood with my hands bracing me against it, like a bottom in a real clichéd prison porno. Harry shimmied in and out of me with his hips moving with the fluidity of a professional dancer, snaking his arm around my chest that was just beginning to develop a spray of blond fuzz. I'd twist my head around to him and he sucked my tongue, possessively, domineeringly. After that, he had me turn round and hoisted me up until my legs were spread on either side of his hips, dangling completely in the air. Like I said, I'm not a little guy or a light one, but Harry was strong and I could see the muscles in his arms twitching as he held me, suspended in mid-air. From there, I was positioned so that my shoulders were bent up against the wall and I put my hands behind me. Once I had some kind of self-support, I began to fuck my ass off him. I could see he was impressed and he managed to hold himself still as I bucked up and down his pole. Halfway through this, he felt the condom break. After the abuse we'd put it through, it was pretty surprising that it lasted as long as it had. He pulled out of me and I half-groaned, half-actually-fucking-whimpered. It hurt like hell sometimes, but it was an amazing piece of meat and I'd gotten used to having it in me.

"On your knees," he panted, through gritted teeth.

I did and I looked up at him as he winked off above me. I knew a facial was coming and I was jerking my own rod in anticipation. A shower of cum shot out from my slit and splattered over Harry's ankle, feet and the hotel carpets. I exhaled deeply and could feel the sweat cooling on my body. Harry was still looming over me, then, with a massive grunt, the first glob of his spunk landed on my forehead. The rest landed in thick gooey lumps onto my eyes, nose and chin. There was a lot of it. A big load. It was warm and I stroked his leg as he came. When it was over, I stood up. Panting.

"Dude, I'm crashing here tonight," I told him. My clothes were flung around the room. We'd been at it for over an hour. I was swore, soaked in jizz and sweat, and I was exhausted. I was not getting dressed and walking home after this. After the fuck I'd just given him, the least Harry could do was let me rest a little.

He slapped my ass by way of an affirmation. "Sure thing, kid. I'll have you again in the morning. Let's shower up."

We took a shower together. It was a big shower unit and it felt a bit like a hose down after a game. I admired Harry's body again, but more dispassionately. We dried-off comfortable in front of one another and I padded into bed, naked. Harry checked his phone for messages and then got in; his enormous dick swinging flaccidly as he walked over. He looked like he was going to get some sleeping shorts, but when he glanced over at me in his bed, he shrugged. I think he thought that since I was naked too, there was no point in the shorts.

The next morning, I woke up to the slurp and sensation of Harry Martyn giving me morning head. It was, needless to say, far better than any alarm clock and I gave him fair warning before I came. He held his head there and he let me come inside him - although I felt him pool it in his mouth then spit it into the sink when we were done. He showered alone and dried, before coming back in to me to get dressed.

"Order anything you like from room service," he told me. "I've got to get going."

I stretched and let the covers fall off me. I was still naked and I could see him looking at me with lust. "What are you doing tonight?" I asked. He was going out of town in a few days, I theorized; why not enjoying him while he's here? Last night had been wild and while obviously there'd be no relationship between us, I wanted to see how much wilder it could get.

"I was hoping: you," he smirked.

"That sounds good. It'll give my hole time to recover. Just."

"I like the way you talk, Seb," he replied. "I wish I was in you right now."

"See you here at nine?" I asked.

"No dinner?"

"We can order some here when we're done," I suggested. We'd probably exhausted all decent topics of conversation in the pub last night, anyway. What was the point in going for dinner?

"Good idea. See you at nine," he said, grabbing his jacket and briefcase. "And I meant what I said about room service."

After he was gone, I left without ordering anything. I didn't want to come across like some twink rent boy who'd spread his hole for a wealthy businessman. I'd get my own breakfast; we were both adults here, not clients or customers. I returned to Harry Martyn's hotel at nine p.m. Like we'd arranged. It was a Saturday night and since Harry had no work the next day, he'd obviously decided to cut loose and relax. As soon as we got in, I could smell the whisky on his breath. We got down to business right away and within ten minutes, I was flat on my back as he pounded me vigorously.

"Ah, yeah, that's it," I encouraged him, reveling in the fullness and the force of his fucking.

"Yeah, you like that?"

"Fuck, yes."

"That's right," he hissed. "Who's your daddy?"

I grunted as he buried himself fully in me, but didn't answer. The guy knew my dad, so any reference to any of that "who's your daddy" shit was just downright fucking weird. I didn't say anything and I think he got the hint. We kept the rest of the fuck going without any more wordplay, beyond the usual spurring on and gasps. I jerked myself off and it hit his stomach and my chest; this time, Harry came in the rubber inside me and tossed it in the trash can when we he'd finished with it. We lay, sweat-soaked and panting, on his massive king sized bed. The kind of unfathomably comfortable ones that only hotels seem to have.

I firmed up again soon, as did Harry and we sixty-nined, blew and fingered each other to orgasm. After that, things took a bit of a turn. Harry got up, checked his phone and responded to a message, before walking over to his desk and removing a bag of cocaine from his briefcase. He started cutting it into lines on the table and glanced over at me: "Want some?" he asked, casually snorting a line.

"No, man, I'm good right now -- thanks."

I'm not a big drugs prude, but I'm not a fan either. A couple of spliffs, at a party, maybe. But lines of coke in a hotel room with just two other people wasn't my scene. It made me a bit uncomfortable, though I tried to rein it in; not being judgmental was one of the few personality traits I genuinely prided myself on.

Harry came back to bed and rolled on his side to look at me -- tiny flecks of white powder around his nostril. "Have you ever done a threesome?" he asked, intently.

"No," I replied, keeping my voice devoid of sentiment about threesomes. I probably would have, under the right circumstances.

Harry's big hand -- the hand that had brought me so much pleasure over the last twenty-four hours -- trailed down to my stomach. He appreciated the physique; I could feel it in the way he moved. Slowly, caressingly, sensually. "Would you like to?"

"With the right guys and if everyone involved was single, yeah. Why not."

"Good. I just invited a buddy of mine to come over. You'll like him. He's quite attractive, but gives great head."

My head raised up off the pillow. "You've invited him here?"

"Yeah," Harry said nonchalantly, rolling away from me to check his phone.

"What the hell, dude? What if I'd said no?" I realized as soon as I said that, that it implied I was therefore actually saying 'yes' now.

"You're a nineteen year-old rugby player, who fucked better than a porn star last night, Seb. You weren't going to say no to a little fun."

I definitely didn't want to seem like a prude, but railroading someone into a situation they're not comfortable with was always something that I'd disliked. "You should have asked," I snapped. "You didn't know what I'd say. And he's actually on his way now?"

"He'll be here in five minutes. At the most. Relax. Honestly. It'll be fun. Trust me!"

He reached for my dick and began to massage it to fullness again. I lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. I tried to force myself to do what he'd said and relax, but I was still pretty pissed off. Harry then lowered his mouth down onto my shaft and began to work on it. There was a knock at the door and he got up, naked and with a semi, to get it. I found myself thinking: what if someone saw him in the corridor. There was an absurdly low possibility of that though, given both the time and the angle the door was at. Why was I thinking of this? Of the mathematics of social probability? When I was lying, naked and hard, on a bed, about to be involved, apparently, in my first threeway? Why wasn't I excited?

I stood up to greet Harry's guest -- cock pointing directly at him, cool sweat still drying on my body. The guy was about six foot, slim, early thirties I reckoned, with an intelligent face, combed chestnut hair and a shy smile. He was actually quite handsome, in a retro 1930s' sort of way. What must he have thought when he rounded into the room to see a 6'4 blond guy with tousled hair and a boner? I guess since he'd come to fuck me and Harry, he probably wasn't too surprised, actually. Still, for some bizarre reason, I couldn't seem to let go of my manners and I extended my hand to him. He shook it, clearly a little taken aback and even, I think, touched, by my adherence to the courtesies.

"Seb," I said, with a firm shake and a polite smile. "Good to meet you."

"Alistair Irwin," he replied. "You're beautiful."

I felt myself flush. The guy was obviously a bit of an innocent, despite the situation he'd willingly and easily put himself in. He looked abashed standing in front of me, as if he wasn't sure he was good enough. I found myself, for one brief idiotic second, remembering Rory's insecurities, before swiftly reminding myself that Rory would happily crawl on his knees all the way to Jerusalem before he ever let himself be roped into a situation like this.

Looking at Alistair Irwin's hopeful and slightly nervous face, I knew instinctively that I couldn't back out now, otherwise this guy would think it was because he was too ugly to fuck. Was that possibly the stupidest of all reasons to stay there? Someone's ego? Actually, even now, I don't think it was. I still don't think it was wrong to stay -- fucked up as that may sound. In its own way, it would have been cruel and callow to leave. I just wish I hadn't been put in the situation, at all.

"How do you know Harry?" I asked, trying to break the tension. Before cursing myself for asking a question that could only illicit an embarrassing answer given the circumstances.

"I used to fuck him when he was married to his wife," Harry sneered. It was the first sign of outright cruelty I'd seen him and he grabbed a rapidly-blushing Alistair's ass. "Didn't I?"

Harry nodded and looked at me, apologetically. "I used to be... married... to... uhm..."

"Hey, that's cool," I smiled, reassuringly. "You're divorced now?"

"Yes," he nodded, grateful to me for seeming so unfazed.

"Have some coke," Harry ordered.

Alistair looked at me and saw from my face, I suppose, that I didn't like the idea. "Later," he demurred. "If that's okay? Eh, shall we..."

I walked over and kissed him full on the mouth. Anything, I thought, to stop the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room and make him relax. I felt Alistair's surprise as I launched myself on him and his pleasure at being so obviously desired. He reached down and began stroking my dick. He was painfully hard through his pants. I pulled his sweater off him and ripped his shirt open. I threw them onto the couch behind us and began unbuckling his pants. I heard Harry chuckle at what he was seeing. Alistair and I broke the kiss to give Alistair time to strip in full. Once he was naked, he dropped to his knees, with a hungry look on his face. He began giving me head and, true to Harry's promise, Alistair was amazing at it. His mouth was wet, his tongue on constant patrol and his gag reflex was nearly non-existent. As I submitted myself to his expect ministrations, Harry came up behind me, knelt down and parted my ass cheeks. He began rimming me and for a few moments I stood in the middle of a London hotel room, having both ends of me attended to.

We moved onto the bed and I kissed Alistair as we went. I could tell he wasn't used to being kissed very much, because he was pretty terrible at it. Stabbing his tongue in and out of my mouth. It was surprising, given how great he'd been at oral sex, but it occurred to me that whatever way Alistair Irwin's life had gone, he was apparently much more used to sucking a guy's dick than being kissed by a man he cared for. The thought made me momentarily sad. This poor guy. He got on his hands and knees and turned to look at Harry and I.