The Summerhouse Ch. 13: Colin

I spluttered into my hot tea, scalding my fingers as drops of the burning liquid splashed onto them. "No. I'm bi. My fiancée sleeps with other men and women. I sleep with other men." I know my tone was unintentionally abrupt and sharp as he visibly recoiled from my peppery response. "Are you?"

"I was married," he countered a little too quickly. "To a woman," he added, needlessly.

"And? There are many men who marry and who are not completely heterosexual. I get fucked by enough of them at the club and at the sauna, although they all swear that they are completely straight. Are you at least, curious?" He didn't answer, but just stared at his cup. "Do you want me to blow you?"

He coughed and sputtered. "I haven't had a blowjob for almost forty years. Frances was never fond of that sort of business."

"I am keen on that sort of business. Are you keen to at least experiment with that? What did you tell Virginia?"

"I couldn't. I could not do... that thing... to you afterwards. I just couldn't."

I sighed. "Right, I am a bottom. If I give you a blowjob, there is no reciprocation required or wanted. I am going to blow you with nothing in return." He looked a little shocked and confused. "It's what we do."

"OK." He gulped and wiped his brow. "Just that when girls did... that... they..."

I put my drink on the table and felt that the only way I would get closer to my clothes was to complete the task Virginia had set for me. I fell from my chair, onto my knees in a smooth motion, and tugged at his greased and stained blue overalls.

They parted with a gentle tug, springing the poppers free with a row of pops. He had a sharp inhale of breath. "Shall we get out of these then?" I jerked his boiler suit, and he stood up to take his arms from the sleeves. I pulled the navy blue garment to his ankles.

He kept his white T-shirt on; I lowered his blue briefs. He oozed sweat and exertion. His virility was obvious; he was a powerful, physical man who toiled in a brutish, earthly manner.

The groundskeeper was a few stone overweight, and his greying, thinning hair across his body showed his age, but he exuded a potent authoritative aura. He sat back in the chair and my tongue swept along the slit of his erect cock.

He gasped. Perhaps out of shock or surprise, or perhaps of excitement. He tasted of piss and sweat. He reeked of masculinity; I looked at him in the eyes and smiled.

My hands rested on his chunky thighs and I slowly wrapped my lips around his blunt head and gripped his cock with my mouth. I slid down gently and ran my tongue along his sensitive underside, swishing across his glans and shaft.

It was not the biggest cock I had ever taken. It was not the widest. I didn't care. My lust was in overdrive and my eyes lit up when I saw his prick. I deep throated him once, and when his glazed expression looked down at me, I did it again and again.

I suckled the head of his dick gently as I passionately kissed the sensitive glans with my tongue. His body tingled and his hips squirmed as my mouth made his flesh sparkle and dance delightfully. Then, I effortlessly and steadily slid down this shaft to his almost imperceptible nest of thin, grey pubic hair that buried my nose in.

All the time my cock cried tears of intense arousal. I was desperately horny, and I was expressing my lust through the passionate, intense blowjob. Every lick and suck on this cock was because I was on edge. And I wanted his cum.

He may have been old enough to be my grandfather, but I didn't care. He was a man with a prick stuffed down my throat. He was a groaning, grunting, squealing, mewling bundle of horniness, who I was fellating and whose seed I was going to swallow, and enjoy.

The groaning on his cock was not just done to arouse him. I enjoyed giving head. I always loved being a cocksucker, but his dick was erotic. I squeezed the buttplug with my arse and felt it twitch against my prostate. My cock wept a little more, and I quickened my pace on the man's member.

The groundsman squirmed and cried. He spluttered something, and his cock quivered. He tried to move his chair back, but my lips held onto his prick, sucking intensely as he swore loudly.

He hadn't said a word while I blew him, but at the point of orgasm, he gibbered, screamed and cried. "Oh God, fuck, yes, wow, fuck, wow."

His climax cascaded through his body, before his dick blasted wave after wave of warm, thick spunk into my mouth. He panted and gasped, and still his manhood convulsed and more cum came.

I swallowed and licked the sapid remnants from his cock. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. "Frances never let me do that," he muttered.

"Do you want a bit of anal?" I asked, matter-of-factly. "I'm Jon, by the way."

"Colin," he said, introducing himself. "And I'm not getting another hard-on for hours. I'm fifty-nine, not twenty-nine!" He laughed as he spoke and took a few deep breaths. Colin pulled his boiler suit to his waist, got up from the chair and went to the toilet. On his return, he passed me a bag. "You've earned that!"

"Thanks," I muttered and opened the envelope pinned to the top.

Your last task to get your keys

Is really very easy.

No need to do the nasty,

No blowjobs, nothing sleazy.

We have handed them into Reception,

We found 'em in grass.

So just go and ask the girls

Better not show your ass!

You better have some clothes on

You better be quite dressed

The ladies on Reception

Might not know of your quest.

If these tasks made you blush,

If they made you squeal.

Well apprentices who pass probation

All suffer a similar ordeal.

For you we added blowjobs,

And nasty, filthy ass play.

Because you're a dirty slut

Who enjoys that every day?

But over Summer there'll be plenty

Of guys you sucked today

Running naked across the factory floor

Humiliated in some way.

Perhaps they'll show their starfish,

Perhaps they wear the skirt

The jockstrap's always fun

And a nasty shirt.

We may add some other games

Like the blowjobs you did for us

How many of them are dirty fags?

And how many would make a fuss?

So get your keys and scarper,

Come back if you want some more.

We have loads of horny boys and girls,

Who always need a damn good whore.

I looked inside the bag and pulled out a short pink gingham miniskirt with a white lace hem decoration. Colin gave a chuckle. "What are they like?"

I grumbled and slipped the miniskirt over my ankles. "Any chance of borrowing something less... Julian Clary?" I asked, and the groundsman shook his head.

"Virginia said you would ask and not to give you anything." He chuckled to himself as he got dressed and then took my half-drunk tea to the sink. I reached for his notepad and scribbled the address of the sauna underneath a headline "More free BJs" and a smily emoticon.

I felt less self-conscious as I walked across the factory car park towards the Site Reception. I looked ridiculous with my short tartan skirt, cap and T-shirt. I had hidden the slogan by wearing it inside out, but I still felt comically dressed.

I knew I would cause amusement and laughter the moment I left the site; two factory workers on a smoking break wolf-whistled me and then turned away when they realised my gender.

The small room at the front of the biggest hall had seen better days. The tired décor and peeling paint on the walls was not a great initial impression for the visitors to the factory.

Two women, who I guessed were in their late teens or early twenties, sniggered as I entered the empty reception. "Hello Miss!" The youngest said with an unsuppressed grin.

The other girl giggled, and I know I must have blushed. "Oh Hello," I replied in my poshest accent. "I appear to have misplaced my keys after a truly scrumptious night out. Lost my trousers, but found these. Apparently some filly says she found my keys and handed them in here."

"Certainly, Sir. Can you describe your lost items?"

The pink keys to the summerhouse was unmistakable and unique. I had to brave them taking a photo on their smartphone of me before they would give me my possessions. Unlocking my car and leaving the site was a relief, and I made it to my conference call with minutes to spare.

After lunch, I drove to the local shop to pick up Martin's order. The lightweight carbon-fibre frame was miles away from the rusting steel bike that Scott had. Martin had also ordered, and paid for, lights, pump, cycling lycra and a helmet. He thought of everything, and I had trouble loading the brand new road bicycle with all the accessories in the compact car, even with the quick release wheels.

I reassembled the bike in the summerhouse, awaiting Scott's return, and threw a blanket over his new vehicle. If I wasn't miles ahead of my to-do list for the week, the amount of work I had done would have worried me, but my manager was gleefully happy about my productivity, I reasoned I could have a day or two without doing my full contingent of hours without attracting a comment. I sat down with a fresh coffee at my desk when my mobile phone rang from an unknown number.

"Is that Jon?"

"Speaking," I replied to the hesitant female voice.

"It's Virginia."

"Oh, yeah!"

"Oh, Colin was very grateful. He says it was a top class piece of cocksucking!" I smiled, almost proud of the sordid compliment. "Look, I can't find my phone. I think I probably left it at your place. I thought I must have left it in the office, but it's not here. Or in my car. Or in our Stockport office, where I travelled to yesterday. I think it must have fallen out when I removed..." Her voice trailed off.

"Your clothes to get roundly fucked by Scott?" I finished for her and heard a giggle at the end of the phone.

"Yes. He threw... those items... underneath a table near the... um..."

"I'll look for you!" It only took thirty seconds to find a smartphone at the back of the summerhouse with a dozen missed calls on it. I rang Scott, and he said she would come and collect later.

Virginia arrived shortly after I finished work for the day and strode into the summerhouse without knocking. "Hiya Jon." She ran her tongue over her teeth with a wicked smile. "I think I preferred you in your wellies, miniskirt and T-shirt."

"Here's your phone. I plugged it in to charge because it was on 10%." I passed her a carrier bag of the clothes I wore. "I washed them when I got home, but they might be a little damp."

"I like the service, here. I hope Scott is as well trained as you!"

"Where's Scott?"

"He's riding here on his bike. He didn't want a lift. It's up to him." She turned her phone over in her hand and took a deep breath. "I better get going."

"You know Scott thinks you're very special. He thinks the world of you. And he's really excited about moving in with you."

Virginia pressed her lips together and nodded. "He's sort of told me. In not so many words. He doesn't talk about his emotions much."

"Shame. Because he was in a state a few nights ago, and it wasn't the cider. Worried about not measuring up and scared that he would disappoint someone very special." She snorted. "Don't tell him I told you, but he is over the moon you'll be living together."

"Thanks. I'm excited too. Be nice to live with someone I care for and love. My ex will make things difficult. He's been spying on me, I know, and he wants to go through my phone but it's well passworded. But it'll be OK, I'm sure."

"Do you want me to check your device for spyware?" I offered, and she giggled.

"I have way too many incriminating photos for you to see my smartphone. I'm probably just paranoid, and I keep him away from it now. He's not bright enough to bug it." She smirked at me, looking me up and down. "Oh, we all loved your little show earlier."

"Oh, great! I take it the poems were from you. I don't have Scott down as much of a poet."

"Olivia, in the office. She reads all the dirty books. She did it on her lunch yesterday." Virginia smiled. "She's going to write some more as we always set up some naughtiness for the guys when they finish their probation. Mostly nudity, drinking and covering them in mess. The boys love to humiliate their apprentices. But I thought you would want to see these pictures from a few years ago. I spoke to Brenda and asked for what they did to Scott when he completed his probation." She held out a memory stick, and I took it from her.

"Wow!"

"Don't let it leave these four walls. He's already going to give me a spanking when he finds out. They had a camera there when they stripped him and covered him in gunk." Her eyes glistened, and she took her phone and the bag of the clothes. "Thanks, Jon. I'll see ya around. I need to get home 'cause Derek'll be expecting me."

"Sure."

Scott arrived less than ten minutes after Virginia left and wheeled his bike in to the summerhouse. "Sorry, who are you?" He asked. "Ahh, yes! I dain't recognise ya without a cock in your mouth and a plug in your booty!" He chuckled, and I took his bike from him and wheeled it into the dark English evening. "What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of it."

"Jon, that's mine. Give it back, this isn't funny."

I ignored him. "And this can go in the bin."

"Jon!" Scott cried. "What are you doing? It was just a joke and..." Scott visibly shook when his bike landed with a thud next to the rubbish, and his scowl deepened. "Jon, that's not funny. I need that to get to work."

"Now, look under the blanket."

"What?"

"Look under that blanket, Scott."

"Oh, you fucking bastard," Scott yelled at me into the twilight. "If you and Martin have..." His hands gripped the white sheet, and he revealed the carbon-fibre road bike with the accessories and powerful lights.

He sighed and shook his head. "When does Martin get back?"

"Tomorrow. Early afternoon."

He nodded. "Because you two twats are in for a damn good hiding." He snorted, held out his hands and embraced me, patting me on the back. "Thanks man, serious wowzers. But I am still going to thrash you."

"In the meantime, do you want some dinner and a blowjob?"

"Fuck, yeah!" Scott replied as his hands caressed the smooth frame, and he sat down to look through his accessories. "Man, there's everything here," he said as he picked up the lock in his hands. "What are you cucks like! If I get knocked down, there's still lots of men who'll fuck ya, y'know. I'm not the only guy who'll tap a couple of greedy fags!"

"I know, but we like you and your testicles, Scott," I replied with a grin. "Now is a burger and chips OK?"

The Geordie hummed as he stripped naked to try on the lycra and I took a moment to admire his lean physique and impressive package. I could enjoy that cock all evening. Scott looked across at me, standing by the kitchenette ogling him, and beamed. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

* * * * *

Scott woke me on Saturday with a gentle shove. "Martin's back today, isn't he?"

"Late afternoon. I'm picking him up from the airport."

"Could you... err... do me a favour?" The cheeky Geordie beamed as he wrapped his fist around my hairless prick. "Someone's very horny this morning."

I smiled as the hand gripping my dick, gently stroked it. "Do you want to do something about it?"

"Not in the way you were thinking of!" He released his fingers from my member and giggled at my disappointment. "Iain..."

"Your ex?"

"Yeah, I'm moving back to our house today. Virginia's coming on Monday. Iain's got some stuff that needs shiftin' to Manchester 'cause he's got a room in Hulme. Can you help me move his crap up there? I've been texting him and he says he'd come next week to get it, but I'd rather not have him come when Virginia is there. It'll be awkward."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks." He bit his lip.

"When do you want to leave?"

"After you have made me some breakfast, a coffee and got on your knees!"

"I thought we established I was the horny one."

"No, we are both horny. Only one of us gets it dealt with, though. The other one has to live with a teeny stiffy and tiny blue balls!"

I fried some bacon in the pan, buttered the last two rolls and made a fresh pot of coffee. Scott muttered appreciation as he sat on the leather armchair, and I slid Scott's pyjama shorts to his ankles.

He groaned as I took his morning erection between my lips and swirled my tongue underneath his sensitive glans. Scott tasted strong and musky, and he oozed power and masculinity. He pushed his hips from the seat and my mouth smoothly swept along his prick to bury his cock.

My hand gripped the base of his cock, my vocal cords groaned into his shaft as I bobbed across the head of his prick. Quick, frenetic movements. Passionate, lustful, desperate motions to excite and arouse. I wanted to feel his cum.

He snorted and bucked his hips; his butt rose from the chair as he fucked his prick deep into my mouth. I knew I was being used, but that just caused my dick to leak more. My erection unsated and untouched.

I service Scott and attended to his arousal; it was his privilege and a mark of how our relationship worked. I was his friend, and his slut. I was there to slake his lust.

My hand pumped his prick furiously as my lips massaged and sucked his glans. He grunted and held the back of my head when his cock spasmed.

I wanted his cum. I needed to feel it and taste it. I longed for the musky, salty, aromatic goo to fly across my tongue and ooze down my throat.

He cried out as he deposited my reward into my mouth and sighed loudly. "OK, cocksucker. Want my breakfast now!" He said, dismissing me with an airy wave of the hand and a pat on the head.

Dirty, degrading and delicious.

We drove to Scott's two-bedroom terraced house in the neighbouring town. He hadn't been since he had scrapped and fought with his ex-boyfriend on the lawn of the 1960s property in the middle of an overflow council estate. Scott was silent, and he looked around the living room as he took in the memories.

"He said his stuff is in his bedroom."

"You had different bedrooms?"

"Yeah. We could bring back different guys if we wanted," he replied and then shrugged. "OK, we sometimes did that. But Iain often worked shifts and he would come home late. He wouldn't wake me if we had separate rooms. When we went to bed together, we slept in mine."

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and pointed directly above him. "He was in the front bedroom." On the floor, in front of the bed, were two suitcases and four taped cardboard boxes. "He had quite a bit of stuff," Scott said from behind me. His voice was calm and emotionless.

He was quiet as we loaded the neon pink car and drove across the Cheshire countryside and then through the Mancunian suburbs. Scott tensed, and his concentration wandered. Four times he forgot to give me directions as we navigated the streets of South Manchester.

"Wake up!" I snapped after doing another three-point turn.

"Sorry. Mind's elsewhere." He looked out of the window and shook his head. "This wasn't how I expected it to end. I'm really fond of him, but I couldn't be what he wanted or needed. And vice versa." He gulped. "I would like to part on good terms rather than hating him."

Scott tapped his phone once more and directed me into another side street. The three-storey terraced townhouse, at the end of the cul-de-sac, was a smart, newly built property. It had a trendy, desirable freshness that Scott's property lacked.

Iain opened the door wearing just a pair of black sports shorts. There was a clear tension as two ex-lovers came face-to-face for the first time in a week, and Scott held his hand out. "Sorry, mate." my friend said, with his voice breaking with emotion. "Go on, put the kettle on. I'm not coming all this way to dump your stuff without a chat. And a cuddle."