Smoking Hot Ch. 03

He pats the back of my hand twice, then leaves it. He suddenly stiffens too, standing up poker-straight, watchful. Something's triggered the sentry in him, and once I look, I see it too - two hard cases are approaching, crossing over to our side of the street. Shaved heads, no necks. Not a time for us to look the least bit queer. I know the drill.

I shove my hands in my pockets so no-one can call them small and dainty. Turn my shoulder out a bit. Get out of step with Dan. He's walking nearer the kerb than he was, striding tall. We're reaching the guys, and Dan nods at them before stepping behind me, just like the smaller of them does, and we continue on our way. I don't think Dan's even noticed what he's done.

I don't want to have to worry about a partner who might get beaten up just because they're seeing me. Let's be straight here - I can't be coping with a partner, full stop.

"I can't deal with a relationship," I blurt out.

Oh, fuck and arse! I might as well have had that second line-up of liquor.

He turns to look me up and down, like I'm some minger he's quite not remembered what they looked like from when he pulled them the night before. I look my age, I'm no prize.

"I wasn't going to ask you to marry me tonight," he retorts, all sarcastic. Marriage, as if! They do say, gay marriage will become legal soon, but I'll believe that when I see it. He adds, lightly, "But if you could stretch commitment as far as a one night stand, my balls would appreciate it."

"Ach, I could manage that, and all."

"Thank fuck! Thought I might have to go home with blue balls and the squeaks of Gem and Max in my ears..."

"I can spare you that fate, at least." I try to be solemn, but fail. Have to admit, I'm liking this guy's sense of humour.

"I'll make it worth your while, mate," he promises.

We don't say much more as we meander back to the block. But he catches my eye and follows me to my door. There's nary a soul about.

I unlock the apartment door and let him go first. I follow. As I push the door closed, I'm shoved, back to the wall, and Dan pushes my legs apart with his own as he holds both my forearms up against the wall with his and forces his face onto mine, bending his neck down.

He's kissing me. I'm being kissed, vigorously. I'm astounded, shocked. No-one's grabbed me and shoved their tongue in ma bake since... Well, Diane, most likely. But a taller man doing it, with the strength to hold me in place - not since I was a student, I don't think. A sober one - probably never.

It's slightly like being a virgin all over again, and believe me, there's a thought I never thought I'd have. I mean, out of the few things I haven't done, I didn't think there was one that innocent!

I open my mouth a bit wider, run my tongue over his lips, and let him do what he wants, docile as anything. If he wants to take the lead, I'm very, very happy to go along.

Even do a bit of joining in, not that I can do much, how he's holding me.

Eventually he stops snogging me and lets go my arms. "Not too much like commitment for you?"

"I can cope for a couple hours, I reckon."

"Good."

He runs his hands down me, and I shuck my coat off, dumping it on the floor. He hauls it up and hangs it with his on back of the door. Tidy. Probably instinct, after the military. He lifts my crew-neck pullover off, likewise. Then his hands are all over me again, my shirt is untucked, and I'm trying to show that I'm OK with it all, running my hands through his hair, but those short curls aren't enough to hold onto.

He's unbuttoned most of my shirt, and I'm trying to pull his T-shirt upwards but he's bending down, on one knee, unbuckling my belt.

He manages that, and then succeeds with the top button of my trousers, so he must have noticed how hard I am, and knowing he knows that, I know I won't be able to stay standing. As his hand tentatively reaches inside, I put my hands up on his shoulders to push him away.

He thinks he's done something wrong. No, no!

"Bedroom, now," I tell him succinctly.

We each put an arm out for the other and run through the adjacent doorway. I'm so glad I cleaned up earlier - there's my king-size bed, fresh navy-blue bedding, all pristine and waiting for us to fall on it, followed by a moment for Dan to unlace his boots and kick them off, and me to remove my own brogues and socks. Then he's on me again, only now I can reciprocate, kissing and sucking and finally managing to get rid of his T-shirt just as he gets his hand on my hot dick.

It's been a few months since I had any hand other than my own on it. I'm trying not to come too soon, seeing as I know I won't recover like I did twenty years ago. Like he thinks the same, he lets go.

"Let's get your shirt off."

He's already stroking me up and down under it, so might as well. I'm not any sort of muscle guy and there's hints of a podgy belly trying to emerge, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Nice," is all he says.

He climbs on top of me, holding my arms again, his hot chest and groin over mine, my mouth under his. It's like how we were in the hall, only horizontal and more comfortable. And I can lay my hands on his bare skin, sneaking down to his jeans which are tightly belted and not letting me fondle his arse, which seems a real tragedy, except that he's distracting me in three places at least, invading my gasping mouth, his thumbs pressing on my hands making me all helpless. Sort of - I could roll out from under him if I really tried, but why would I, when in particular the rough bumpiness of his cock and balls, still clad in thick denim, and his wicked stiff belt buckle, are weighing down over my dick, only the thin fabric of my briefs to protect it, and he's rubbing and circling over me there, so much friction.

It hurts a bit when he goes too far, so I force my arms free so I can hold him round the waist, letting him move up and down only a short way, that shuttling over my cock no longer including his buckle or top button, and it's only good pressure now, up, down, up, down, making the skin of my shaft shift with every movement.

It's like giving myself a hand job only firmer and crueller and I don't have to do anything, can't do anything, just enjoy my palms on his smooth back and his tongue penetrating my mouth, nearly as forceful as he's been with his cock, and I think of how his cock is constrained in his jeans despite being hard as rock, because he's focusing on me right now, I can feel the bump every time his cock presses over mine, his rhythm getting more urgent, his hands putting his weight on my upper arms now, and praise be, it's so good, I can feel myself leaking, getting ma gunks damp, wondering if he can feel what he's doing to me.

He looks down, and he'll see, me so close to coming he's got my undies wet, what he's done. In response to what he sees, he shifts his weight to the side for a moment, flicks my briefs down with one finger so my cock stands up proud, and returns to what he was doing.

It's too much. I'm groaning in his face, my legs bending upwards letting him lie between them, which makes his weight fall even heavier on the base of my cock and my balls, and I come like the sudden torrent of a fire hose, soaking both our stomachs.

He rolls to my side but I just lie still, sated but for wanting his mouth to stay over mine.

It's good. Grand. Not done this since... No, I have to stop thinking about the past. No matter how soon I'll probably flip and need him to get away; right now, in the present, he deserves my attention.

I give him a wee peck on the corner of his mouth and ask, "How you doin'?"

"Good." Hand goes behind his head, like he does a lot. He's got two wide navy-blue ink bands round one upper arm, forming fat chevrons, otherwise a pale pink chest with a little muscle that I'm enjoying looking at. "Looking forward to fulfilling my promise to ya. Just thinking, making it easy..."

He kneels up, and pulls my trousers and briefs to half-mast, just below my knees. Always feels filthier, that, than being completely naked. Then he shakes his head, all 'naah,' and pulls them off.

"There. A nude. You went see some art last weekend, didn't you say?"

I hastily gather my thoughts. "Yeah, but that was a new exhibition of portraits and all. No nudes beyond small blobs of oil-paint in a corner! Ah, but a couple years back I saw a Mapplethorpe exhibition in Edinburgh - that was more like!"

"Who he?" He sounds like he really wants to know.

"Ach, the best photographer ever! Did these stark black-and-white shots, mostly, but he liked leather, and young naked men - and combinations of the two... And Patti Smith and the odd still-life, to be fair. Did ye see that pic of the white tulips on the black background in my kitchen? That's his. Always liked that. I did pick up a bunch of his fetish pics, always meant to get them framed for the bedroom, but, y'know..."

"Didn't want to scare off potential conquests?"

I'd been thinking, never got round to it, but...

"Dunno. If they get scared off, maybe it's not to be? 'What's for ye won't go by ye', my gran always said."

Dan snorts. "That's bollocks. I mean, not disrespecting your gran in any way, but that leads to letting life just drift past ya, and then complaining ya never did anything with it. You've gotta go out and seize your opportunities, cos most times they won't wait."

Is that what he's doing with me? "Hm. You have a point. Depends, I think."

"Don't it always?"

Maybe I'll pull those photos out if I'm getting into a relationship. Some time in the far distant future.

Oh shit. I can feel myself tensing up. Dan can probably see.

He snuggles down next to me. "You OK, or want be under the duvet? Stop panicking, man! All I'm asking right now is a good one night stand, yeah? Then I'll push off, no clinging or loitering, no hard feelings, OK? I mean, not that I'd say no to a kip, a cuppa and a shower, but it's not like I've far to go to get home! I get it, you don't want a relationship right now, and that's OK. Really. Chill!"

I try, truly, but cuddling a guy again... Maybe I should get under the covers and warm - I can feel goose-flesh rising all over, which is only going to make my body less attractive. I mention something about that, and he's startled.

"Shut up. I know what I like. If I'd wanted a muscle Mary or a biker bear or some young twink, I'd have been looking at a different set of profiles in the first place!"

"There's an 'old pisshead' filter, is there?"

He shrugs. "Under fifty, over twenty-one... under twenty stone but no anorexics, nor all vegan and gluten-free..."

"Bit harsh on the coeliacs?"

"No, only the ones who say they're vegan as well. Anorexics in disguise, every time! Just one or the other, fair enough. Not that I think anything would last with a vegan, I like my meat too much, but I could manage a few hours!"

He's remarkably sensible, it seems.

"Did you not see my profile?" he asks.

"Just looked at the photo. You'd managed to reply to me ad with a coherent sentence that didn't make you sound like an axe-murderer or bunny-boiler, and ye looked all right."

"Tschuh. After all the effort I put into drafting it..."

"Yeah? So you read mine, then?"

"No, not then I didn't. The postcode did it for me!" He has a rueful grin. The whole building has the same postcode, not shared with anyone else. "To be honest, a blow-job without even having to go outside in the cold January rain..."

"Oh, OK! I could looked like Prince Philip and you'd still have turned up?"

"I came back."

"Aye."

This guy likes me. Fuck knows why. I suppose he's not the only one, given I do have mates at work and Laura, Will, Gareth and the gang from college, but it still surprises me.

"Why'd'ya come back?"

I meant it rhetorically, but he takes it as a serious question. He takes his time before speaking. "You're fine to look at." He counts on a second finger. "Not an arrogant arse, though you can take that self-deprecating thing too far, watch it." A third finger. "You're funny and witty and you know stuff, but you're not patronising when I don't, it's like you want to share your knowledge."

I suppose.

"And, you're a fucking expert at sucking cock!" he adds, his hand on mine which is beginning to wake up. "I'm kinda intimidated."

"Oh no, man, don't! Don't be! Truly, a guy who wants to be doing it is all I ask for. Ever."

He's making squirming, embarrassed noises of acknowledgement. "Just, like, give me a bit of guidance, tell me when it's good or it isn't, yeah?

I'm stiff again, instantly. Someone who's wanting to make it good for me - that's the sexiest thing in the world!

And he hops back between my bare legs, my cock and balls sticking out for him, and he blows a wee kiss as he bends over to get stuck in.

Oh, man. It's so good.

It's not like he's tryin' any tricks, and my prick isn't too hard to please, it fits into his hot young mouth with no real effort, but he's here, he's doing it, he wants to be doing it to me, he's clutching my legs and making wee bruises with his thumbs on the insides of my thighs...

"Oh yeah... So good, what'ya doin' with ya hands..."

"Mm-hm," he murmurs over my tip, and I'm groaning with the joy of it.

"Yeah... yeah... don' stop... ah..."

He shifts a hand to my base, and holds me still as he sinks his head lower over my cock. He's not practised at going deep, or able to do it long without gagging, but that's part of the charm, that he's trying. Learning fast. He's really having to hold me firmly now, and I'm mewling as I try to thrust. I feel my balls tightening. I wonder how he'll cope with...

He lifts his head, all covered in my spunk, and wipes his wet hand down the middle of his face. Then he gazes into my eyes, smiles, and licks all my juice off the edge of his hand, grinning all the while.

I've not felt so adored in years.

He rubs some more into my hair, the cheeky wee git. Then over my tits and into my thighs, and scoops some more up from where it's running over my balls, rubs it all over my sack, his face, and finally shoves his face next to my shrivelled cock to nuzzle all the hair and spunk and generally get a faceful of me.

Guess I don't need to wonder if he liked my taste. He finally rests, folded arms across my thighs, chin testing on his hands like he's daring me to say something.

I beckon him up the bed. He slides up my body, and I hang onto his. I know I'm a fuck-up, this isn't going to last, but tonight, boy, I'm hanging on to this one.

He's still half-clothed, decent, even, apart from being soaked in my jizz, while I'm the naked slut-boy. Me getting my kit off for clothed men; that's more like what I'm used to from saunas and all, and I like it. It's about time I pleasured him.

I start to unfasten his belt.

"What do you think you're doing?"

It's so obvious, I don't dignify it with any answer.

"Oi. You want, you ask, right?"

"Opening your kecks is askin'."

"Is not. I want to hear that purring deep voice of yours asking for me."

Ah, that's his kink! He says ask; he means, beg.

"Please sir, may I have some more cock?" I request in sarcastic sing-song.

"Nah. Think I'll just play with this naked lad in bed with me. Cute toy." He's stroking me and petting me. It's nice an' all, but something's wrong.

I eventually figure it out. He's cuddling me like a lover, not a sex object. And being me, I have to tell him, "I'm just a fuck, not your partner."

"Sheesh. Will ya fucking chill, man? Let your one-night stand last a bit more of the night, OK? We're not talking some huge commitment, like, ooh, becoming mates who shag, y'know?"

I suppose. I try to relax and nestle into him, but it doesn't work, really. Nothing he's doing wrong, just I can't be doing with all equal and nice.

Thing is, I don't want him to go, either.

"Look, please can I..."

"OK. Tell me what you want."

I mumble.

"No, look at my eyes and tell me."

I swear, those three days first off the fags was easier. He puts a finger under my chin and lifts my face to his, all dominant, and I feel myself getting stiff again which doesn't help anything. "Well?"

I manage it, partly thanks to just the asking turning me on. "Please sir, may I suck your lovely cock again?"

It's a long, long time since I got to use phrases like that in earnest.

He's clearly not into SM, though. But he recognises I'm being serious. "You are an enthusiastic little cocksucker, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"A right little faggot."

"Aye, that's me."

"Good. Take my dick, then. You've got til morning to convince me you're worth it."

'Worth what?' doesn't occur to me until long after we've shucked his clothes, he's rubbed up and down against me as I play with the sweetest buns this side of the Thames, and yes, I've sucked him off again. He's not the only one coated in spunk, now. It gets everywhere, even if you're good at swallowing like I am.

He's spent for the night after another go-round, but I curl up by his groin, his softening cock in my mouth.

"Sure you can cope with me staying over?"

"Aye, I think I can manage. You don't have to go back upstairs. I like kissing and sucking an' all." All true, except I'm not totally sure about the me coping part.

"OK. I'll just tell Max not to expect me home tonight." He taps on his phone.

He gets a reply: 'You pulled?'

'No comment.'

'That's a yes, mate. Congrats. Ya dirty stop-out!'

Dan shows the screen to me. It occurs to me, Max didn't know who Dan was going out with tonight. Possibly for this very reason.

It's a good night. I fall asleep with a mouth full of cock, and wake up with my lips just brushing his foreskin. Not having woken with anyone in my bed in years, I leap up in shock before realising who it is.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

Dan opens a bleary eye, then the other. "Mornin', mate. How you doin'?"

I'm not going to panic. I'm not.

I am.

I blurt out the first coherent thought I have, "You has a shower, I'll put coffee on," and I flee into the kitchen.