Colin

Lessons In Love

March 31, 1978

Michael: Friday night, the end of a long, seemingly interminable school week. I'm not certain why I was so restless; perhaps it was because of spring, and a young man's thoughts turning to love. Well, not love, but certainly lust. Love wasn't something I was interested in at the moment, a primary reason most of my assignations (lovely word for fucking, yes?) were with men, who didn't fish about like women for Relationships. Capital 'R'. Men had relationships, small 'r'. Sex, simple and uncluttered, which *was* what I was looking for.

I'd let Nigel, my latest such friend, drag me off to the pubs; I didn't drink much, and he found it tremendously amusing to see me get tight. Ben, my American roommate, called it 'sloshed', which was as accurate as anything else. Nigel, Ben, and I had ended up at a little pub on the outskirts of town called, of all things, The King's Bollocks. Quite amusing, given it was what passed for the local queer place. Nigel and I sat together in a booth, his arm companionably about my shoulders, one hand beneath the table, more or less on my crotch. I'd had three---or was that four?---of dark bitters, and was feeling quite mellow and expansive. I didn't drink often, so two was my limit. Ben was encouraging me; I think he'd said something about wanting to see me dance naked on the table, or some such rubbish. I think he had inclinations towards men, but was just too nervous to act upon them.

I was entertaining the thought of just reaching across the table, grabbing him by the front of his sweatshirt and slipping him a bit of tongue when Nigel's clever fingers popped the button on my denims. I turned my attention fully, if somewhat blearily to him. He grinned like a devil, all flashing teeth and wicked blue eyes. "Care to go in the back for a bit of slap and tickle, Pierson? Quick toss, eh?"

I considered his offer. His fingers slipped down between my legs, cupping me, tempting me. Very tempting; I could feel myself grow hard beneath his palm. I'd had just enough ale that the few inhibitions I had went sailing merrily out the window. The more I considered it, the more the idea had definite merit. I turned a lecherous look to Ben. "Only if he watches."

Gleefully I watched dull red color work up from the neck of his sweatshirt, up his cheeks, even to the tips of his ears. Nigel leaned forward, tugged at Ben's sleeve. "C'mon, lad. I want to fuck him, and you'll like watching. I promise."

Ben's mouth opened, then closed, without saying anything; I wondered if he was going to have an apoplectic fit. But when Nigel slid from the booth, almost dragging me out in his impatience, his arm slipping around my waist, Ben wriggled out without a word and followed. Nigel knew the place better than I did; I contented myself with groping his arse as he led us toward the darkened back of the pub. My whole body sang a song of lust; Nigel was a lovely fuck, and I knew I'd have a good time---better, now that Ben was there to watch us.

Colin: I watched the masses from the corner booth I was sitting in, nursing a pint. It was dark and smoky in here, and the walls fairly vibrated with the thudding bass beat of the music; it was a perfect Friday night. Mingled in with the harsher scents of cigarette and cigar smoke, and ale, were the scents of sweat, of sex, of too many bodies packed too closely together, lust flaring hot between them. I had no illusions about why I was here; it was Friday night, and I wanted company for the evening, and for the weekend, if possible. I wanted more than just a grope in the dark, but less than what most people generally angled for, hence my being here rather than at the local bathhouse, though if nothing panned out here I might take myself off to cruise there for a while. I reached under the table and rubbed myself gently; I'd been hard nearly since I got here, watching and waiting, knowing he was out there, somewhere, the perfect fuck for the evening, waiting to be found. It was just a matter of time.

The sound of laughter close by made me refocus and look up; I nearly choked on my swallow in surprise. Well, not surprise at seeing Nigel Stephens; like me, his proclivities are not completely

unknown. One queer to another, and all that. No, what took me by surprise was seeing young Michael Pierson with him. I wasn't completely sure who the third boy with them was; I'd seen him around campus, but didn't have him in my class. He was pretty, too, though from the looks of things, very unused to the surroundings; he looked like one good *BOO* would scare him to death.

As I watched, the trio stopped by the back door, either waiting for space to clear so they could enter, or just stopping to watch the activities inside. I'd not been in the back room in a while, but just thinking about what one could find back there made my stomach tighten with need and anticipation. A willing mouth, hand, arsehole; many things to bring pleasure, in that room. Always anonymous; it was generally too shadowy to know for certain who you were fucking or sucking. While they lingered in the doorway, Pierson reached out to the other boy, the redhead, and kissed him; I could see the shock and surprise when he pulled back, along with interest of a sort blossoming on the almost-too-cute face. Stephens' waited 'til the kiss was over, then fell to Pierson like a wolf to a meal, kissing him with abandon, hands groping and rubbing wildly. I reached down and rubbed myself, groaning softly when they tumbled through the door, and out of my view. Made me wonder if Michael Pierson liked to fuck, or be fucked. I was hoping for the latter. I slid out of the booth and headed silently for the backroom, following a trail only I could see or smell, like a wolf after prey. I grinned in the darkness; not a bad metaphor. I'd wanted Pierson since the first day he'd slid his cocky self into the seats in my classroom.

Nigel had him sitting on a table in the corner when I got in; they were kissing, lips and tongues moving together, the third boy standing awkwardly to one side, obviously wanting to participate, but uncertain. I watched Michael pull back, gesture to him, then kiss him again, and my body throbbed. By the time I got close enough to hear, I was on fire. I closed the space between us, flashing Stephens a predatory grin. One to another, and all that. "Gettin' a piece for yourself tonight, boyo? Think your...friend...would care to share?"

Michael: At the doorway, I'd given in to temptation. My hand reached out, fisted in Ben's sweatshirt, and pulled him to me. I had one glance into his startled brown eyes before tilting my head and covering his mouth with my own. He made a startled sound, and I dove in, aggressive. For half a second, he was too startled to respond, but then tentatively, he began to kiss me back. I pulled him close; he was much smaller than myself, and fit in a most lovely way against my body.

He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and finally, I took one of his in my own, and placed it on my arse, pushing aside Nigel's to give Ben room. I vaguely heard Nigel's smutty laugher, and obligingly, his hands moved to my sweater, bunching it up my back, tugging at the shirt beneath, pulling it from my denims. I approved whole-heartedly; suddenly, it was too warm for this many clothes.

When I rubbed against Ben and found him as hard as myself, he gasped and pulled away. But the heat in his eyes was unmistakable. "Have a bit of fun, Ben," I said warmly, my words only slightly slurred. "It's just a bit of sex between friends. Nothing serious."

Before Ben could answer, Nigel became impatient and pulled me back around. We were roughly the same height, though he was heavier. He jerked my shirt from my denims and ran his hands beneath as his mouth came down hard on mine. Lovely; he was an aggressive kisser, an aggressive partner, and I let the lust sweep me away, let him touch and rub and almost fuck me right there against the wall in the main pub room. But enough brain cells fired that I realized that the barman would probably send someone over if we did that; they had the backroom for such activities. I pushed him away, grinned hungrily at him. "In the back. Not here."

I grabbed Ben by the shirt and pulled him through with me even as Nigel pushed at me impatiently to get me through into the dimness beyond the doorway.

Sex. Sweat. Lust. Semen. Rubber. Ale. The scents were heavy, intoxicating, and the sounds, of fucking and sucking, moans and flesh slapping together, even more so. Ben's eyes were wide; I'd seen it all before, and I was ready for the actual deed, so I ignored it as Nigel guided us to the back.

I suppose the room had once been a part of the main hall; it still had a few booths, and the odd table and chairs, pushed against the walls, almost like a storage area. It made the room rather cluttered, but also provided some interesting surfaces on which to fuck. He practically lifted me onto a table, moving quickly between my spread legs to wrap his arms around me and kiss me again. I didn't mind at all; I loved kissing, whether it was a boy or a girl. Nigel pulled back, then tugged the sweater from me, letting it drop to the tabletop, single-minded in his intent. Not someone who liked a lot of extraneous activity; he dove straight to the fucking.

I leaned over and pulled Ben back to me; he looked so uncertain, and I knew he'd bolt if I didn't occupy him. Kissing seemed to do the job; he gave himself willingly, if shyly, and I applied myself with a passion. As I convinced Ben to stay, I felt Nigel roughly unbuttoning my shirt, then he pushed it open, fingers combing through my chest hair, searching for tight nipples. He pinched roughly, and I pulled back from Ben with a hiss. "Leave them attached, eh?"

He grinned unrepentantly. It was then I noticed the amber-colored eyes watching us hungrily. I peered around Nigel's shoulder, and blinked. I *knew* that face, recognized that voice when he spoke. Well, well. The pretty professor. Somehow, I wasn't surprised to see him there. I grinned at him as Nigel unzipped me. A wave of snarkiness swept over me. "A gentleman always practices courtesy, and sharing is always good manners."

Colin: "Your mate here is about as far from a gentleman as they get, lad." I took a step closer, reaching out to touch Pierson's leg, watching his face when I did so. It was long, and muscular. I knew he was on the track team; he was probably active in a lot of sports--he had the body for it. His friend was edging away a bit; no doubt my appearance had thrown him for a loop. I gestured him back, smiling, trying to tone down the animal lust I could feel. "S'okay, we're all just friends here tonight, eh, lads? I'm happy to watch for the moment." Unspoken was that I didn't want to remain on the sidelines indefinitely; I got a smirk in reply to that. Michael reached out and took his hand, drawing it to his mouth to suck on surprisingly long fingers for such a small man; I'd be willing to bet he was a couple inches shorter than I. I watched him close his eyes as a warm, wet mouth suckled, and felt a shudder roll through my body. Pierson obviously knew how to suck; hopefully he sucked cock as well. I settled a hip against the table, leaning down toward him almost companionably. "What say you, lad? Wanna get double-fucked, tonight?"

Michael: I pulled Ben's fingers from my mouth with a wet, obscene sound, then licked across his slender wrist. "Stay, Ben...it gets better." He glanced at Richards, uncertain, but I tugged at his wrist again to get his attention. "I'll make you feel good."

Nigel slapped my hip, and I lifted. He skinned the jeans down to the ankles, and I kicked off my trainers to let him pull them from me. Nothing beneath; I knew I was looking for sex tonight. My cock sprang out, hard and eager, ready to play. Roughly Nigel pushed me back to lie on the table, and dressed only in socks and an opened shirt, I allowed it. It placed me close to Richards' thigh, and I looked up at him. Different from this angle. He looked amused, and hungry, all at once. I rubbed my cheek against his slim thigh.

I remembered his offer, and grinned. "Why not? I'm always ready to learn something new." Nigel draped my thighs across his shoulders and without any finesse, sucked me down deeply. I arched, a moan escaping me, then glanced down to see Nigel's blond head bobbing as he sucked me with rough, eager passion.

Colin: "Yeh, I'll just bet you're eager." I leaned down, taking his mouth aggressively; even if it were my style, I suspected Pierson didn't get much into gentle wooing. Anyone who looks or takes anonymous backroom groping probably didn't want slow and gentle, as a rule. I raked my fingers down his chest, rubbing with the tips, teasing the hard little points poking through crisp-soft hair. He had a fine, fairly thick covering that eased off to a light sprinkling over his belly, arrowing into a fine line down to his groin. I traced my fingers back up, plucking roughly at one tender bud, laughing when he groaned and arched his back, pushing his chest upward. I pulled back from his mouth, wet and swollen in the dim light, and gestured toward his friend. "Suck him, Pierson. Let me see if your mouth works as good here, as in class."

Michael: Nigel pulled off me with an obscenely wet sound. "Oh, it does," he said with an almost comical leer. He unzipped, and his cock, short and stout, practically leaped out, ready for action. He snugged up close, rubbing against me, and I raised a leg and kicked him in the belly, none too gently.

"Leave off and cover it up if you want to fuck. You know the rule. No coat, no fuck." He whined for a moment, but he'd never fucked me without a condom, and I was still clear-headed enough to insist. He fumbled in my discarded denim's pockets, came up with a little foil packet and a tube of gel. Still grumbling, he slipped the condom on, lubed himself up. He pulled my ass to the edge of the table, and slipped his gel-covered fingers into me without delay. I grunted, but my body opened to him; no other foreplay. I'd have appreciated a bit more preparation, but he was intent.

"Impulsive bastard," I gasped, but bore down, opening up, knowing if I didn't, the discomfort now would blossom into pain. He pulled out his fingers, folded my long legs up, and pushed against me, into me. He was thick, though not long, and it took a minute of us thrusting and working against one another to get him in. It hurt, the burn and sting was strong, but I liked it, knowing it was the precursor to greater pleasure. I bit my lower lip, but didn't make a sound, concentrating on accepting him into my body. We'd fucked several times, and it was always like this; I'd be tight, then I'd relax, and it would get good. It was just a matter of waiting it out. I opened my eyes and looked up at Ben, who watched the whole thing with a mixture of horror and lust. My cock had gone down whilst Nigel worked his way into me, and I dropped a hand to fist it, bring it back up. "Come on, Ben...let me taste you. Unzip."

He looked at me, then at Nigel, who moved slowly against me, then at Richards, who still had that amused look. He shook his head tightly, stepped back, though to his credit, he didn't flee. If he just wanted to watch, that was fine. I turned my attention to Richards. "What about you? Want a bit of a suck?"

Colin: I unzipped, for response, my eyes watching him, holding him. He laid there on the table, spread out like a King's feast, making my blood pound in my ears, making my head throb. I leaned in close and licked his ear, then whispered roughly, "I can make it even better for you, lad. Better than this buggerer can do." I was a little surprised by the rubbers; I didn't know many people - myself included - who used them. But whatever. Each person's preference, and all that. I pulled my jeans open; let my dick surge forth into the warm, thick air. I was beyond hard; I ached. I fisted myself, pulling my 'skin back, and shuddered into the stroke. So sensitive, so good. Michael turned his head toward me and I grinned, rubbing my dick against his lips. "Take a taste, lad. Wet it up, suck it down."

Michael: Although he looked almost feminine, with his longish, curly chestnut hair, his fine, odd-colored eyes and a mouth as soft and lush as a woman's---the word androgynous popped unexpectedly into my head---when he unzipped and pulled himself out, he was all man. A lot of man. Long, thick, full, curving outward aggressively. In spite of myself, I was fairly impressed; just looking at his slim body, I'd never have suspected he carried so much between his legs. He rubbed the broad head against my lips, and my tongue darted out for a taste. Hot, salty, slightly bitter, it was a taste I'd grown to love. I licked around the head, beneath the ridge of crown, into the little piss slit. He didn't seem inclined to let me do more; I wanted to taste him, to take him fully into my mouth, feel him full and heavy against my tongue, my cheeks.

I twisted a little, slid my arm around his hips, pulling him closer, looking for a better angle. Nigel had been moving steadily against me, and it had started feeling really good; my own cock rose again. He hit that sweet place within me, and pleasure washed over me in an electric flood. I wriggled beneath him, trying to get him to hit that place again, and when he hadn't nudged it again in several strokes, I pushed him off me. He knew what I wanted, and with a wiggle, I turned, and slid to my belly onto the table, my hips off, cock hanging free. He slid back into me, and I sighed with pleasure. I knew he'd hit that place better in this position. I raised up on one elbow and slid my arm again around Richards' hips, pulling him closer, until I could suck him in.

Colin: God, it's like a fantasy, his mouth. A wet dream come to life, or something. I push my trousers down a little further and spread my legs, reaching in to cup my stones. Michael's mouth is stretched tight around me, working me with lips and tongue, throat rippling where he's swallowing around me. His hand replaces mine, rubbing and tugging, working me in the same rhythm Stephens is working him. I can see him, pushing into Michael's body, his hands lightly slapping tanned, spread cheeks. Where in the hell he got a tan this time of year in England is a mystery, but an intriguing one. I'd love to have more light, more time, to see if that tan is all over his long, lovely body. The redheaded boy, Ben, moves a little closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. I reach out and stroke red-brown hair and he flashes me a look that's equal parts lust, shock and fear. I know that look; that was me, twenty-odd years ago. I try for a smile; I suspect it comes out as something predatory, animalistic. The mouth working me is insistent; hot and wet, and so lovely, it makes the blood boil in my veins, makes me want to shoot all over that fine face, rather than in his hole. Maybe I could do both. I'd like to do both. I reach out and take a handful of brown-black hair, threading my fingers through it to hold his head so I can thrust better. His eyes close, then flash open to look at me, lust riding high in dark grey eyes. "You're like a bitch in heat, lad. Can't get enough cock, can you?"

Michael: Oh, that's wonderful. Just the right amount of command, lust, derision. I hum around his cock, sucking happily. Nigel's cock hits that spot again, jolting me; he slaps my ass and thighs, and the sting, sharp and bright, sends pleasure soaring through me. My own cock has grown again, and Nigel reaches beneath me to fist it. I'm awash in a sea of lust, riding one crest to another. I know Nigel's close; his thrusts are shorter, sharper, harder. I can taste Richards' pre-come flooding my mouth; not long for him, either. I ease back, letting him slide from my mouth. His cock is red and wet and slick. "Don't come yet," I say, and my fingers tighten around him a little. "Come inside me."

As if on cue, Nigel finishes with a short sharp cry, and slumps over my back, his fingers loosening around my cock, still hard, still full. He pants against me a moment, and then with a groan, pulls out of me and staggers back. I feel oddly empty, and twist my hips when my body protests its emptiness with a spasm. I've not come yet, and I ache to be filled again. I look up at Richards and grin. My tone, when I speak, is deliberately snarky and confrontational. "Well, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?"

Colin: "You're a cheeky little bugger, aren't you?" I lean forward and brush my cockhead against his lips, teasing for a fraction of a second. "Awfully cheeky for a cocksucker." He grins at me, unrepentantly, his eyes smoldering. I reach down and grab his shirt, hauling him up enough to kiss; my taste is fresh in his mouth, mingling with the sharp scent of sex all around us, thick enough to coat my tongue. He's bigger than I am; I can't haul him around too much, nor hold him like this for long, so after a moment of trying to reach his tonsils, I let him go, biting at his lips as I pull back. He's still hanging off the table, his hips pumping forward lightly in some imagined rhythm. I slap his arse as I walk around the table. "Need a good wank, don't you? A good wank, a good fuck, anything to relieve the tension. Spread them wider for me, lad."

Stephens has caught his breath; he comes round to where I'm standing now, my dick strutting forward proudly, and hands me a condom. "He won't take you without it." The sound of foil tearing makes me twitch, I'm so hot to be inside him.

Michael: I glance back over my shoulder. Nigel hands him a condom, companionable, friendly; there's no jealousy or possessiveness between the two of us, so he doesn't mind if Richards fucks me. Richards smoothes it on over his cock, then slicks on a light layer of gel. I'm open and lubed up already, but he's a lot bigger than Nigel. I readjust myself, spreading my legs wider, tilting my arse up for him. My cock sways heavily, neglected. Now if Ben would just slide to his knees beneath the table and suck me as Richards fucks me, it would be damn bloody perfect. I glance over to him; he's big-eyed, rubbing himself through his denims. I want to tell him to pull it out, not cream in his pants, but don't. I lay my chest and cheek on the table, and spread my arms to grip either edge of it. I have the feeling that the ride Richards gives me will be far different than the one Nigel gave. "Stop fucking around back there and give it to me, already."

Colin: "Bloody arrogant little snot." I slap his arse, then once again, liking the way my handprint shows red for a moment, even in the dull light. One rub up and down his cleft, shuddering when his body grips at me, tries to hold me. He's already loose and open, bumhole winking at me like a small mouth. I push against him, my hands gripping his hips hard, holding him spread wide while I thrust in. Not hard, just insistent, groaning hugely when he shoves back at me. No easy, gentle ride, this. He's hot, ready for me. I push in harder, swallowing a shout when he sucks me in, closing tight around me. Even through the rubber I can feel the heat of him enveloping me, can feel the incredible tightness squeezing me. My balls draw up close to my body and I stop, holding still for a minute, not even close to being ready to spend. One deep breath to make sure I'm okay, then I pull out a bit, plunging in hard and fast, feeling his shudder ripple through me as his body makes the adjustment to my bigger cock.

Michael: My fingers grip the edges of the table, and I'm surprised it doesn't snap off in my hands. It feels so good. He fills me, and though I've never really cared whether my partner was big or small, I'm discovering the definite advantages to size. I swear I can feel him nudging the back of my throat, he's so deep. It hurts, it stretches places I'd never stretched before, and it's incredible. I flex around him, and his fingers bite into my hips. I thrust back as hard as I can against him, driving him as deeply as I can into him, until I can feel his belly, his crisp pubic hair against my arse. A happy hum rumbles in my chest, escapes my throat, and I grind against him. "More. Give me more...fuck me...."

Colin: "Eager lad; I like that." I'd shove my dick into him 'til it came out the other end, if it were possible. I've not had anyone this tight, this hot, in a long time. As much as I like being sucked off, even the pleasure of a hot, wet mouth isn't quite the same as burying myself balls' deep inside a tight, hot hole. I take a better grip, flashing my eyes over to Stephens, buttoning his pants up now, and the other boy, Ben, rubbing himself frantically through his jeans. Michael is mewling, pushing back against me, and I know what he wants. I want to give it to him. I lean down over him, bite at his ear, and whisper roughly, "I'm going to make you feel me in your throat, lad. Going to fuck you 'til there's nothing left of either of us." He grunts once when I withdraw, then I settle into a fast, hard pounding, feeling his body grasping me, holding me, letting me go reluctantly, over and over. God, it's good; I can hear my own gasps and grunts as I work in and out, holding him tight. One fuck isn't going to be enough; I know that already. I want the whole weekend with him.

Michael: The pace he sets is quick, hard, powerful. His thrusts rock me up onto my toes, surprising me. I see a movement from the corner of my eye; it's Nigel, moving behind Ben, nuzzling his neck, his hands moving in tandem with Ben's own. Something brushes against my thigh, a hand that doesn't belong to Richards, and in a moment, a head butts against my belly before someone takes me into his mouth. I have no idea who it is, and I don't particularly care. Whoever he is, he knows what he's doing, and that's all that matters. I spread my legs a fraction further apart, trying to give him a bit of room. I rock back onto the cock impaling, and then forward, into the hot wet mouth surrounding me. With this much pleasure, I won't last long, but hell, what a ride.

Colin: God, it's like trying to ride a tidal wave of heat. I can feel it all through me, within and without. Fucking, watching, hearing; the sounds of flesh upon flesh, and hot, wet sucking is almost too much; I may come from auditory stimulation before anything else. Stephens has decided to help the boy along; I don't know how far he'll get, probably nothing more than I'm seeing now. I can feel another hand cupping me; must be the fellow I saw crawl beneath the table. Someone I've never seen before, which is so much the better. All hot, all anonymous. I grip slim hips tighter, thrusting myself in hard; it's so close now; in just a minute I'll be screaming out my orgasm.

Michael: The man beneath the table suddenly plunges down upon me, and I can feel his nose against my belly; I'm down his throat, completely. He swallows, and that's all it takes. With a shudder that works over my entire body, I jerk, and come, spending down his throat. A muffled cry escapes me, and my fingers tighten on the table edge. It's like being dipped in lava, as if I'm on fire. My body tightens, clenches on the cock filling me as I pump hard into the mouth surrounding me. Fucked, and fucking. Nothing is better than this, surely.

Colin: Michael's orgasm tips me over the edge. All that heat, contracting tightly around me, all the *lust* enveloping me, moving over me like a second skin. I thrust hard into him, then again, then a third time, holding fast as a groan rumbles out of me, my cream filling the rubber covering me. Damn, I wish I could have come inside him; I'd have a grand time licking it up as it seeped out of him. No matter, I'll still taste him there, yet. I hold fast, trying to catch my breath, my hips still working slightly, moving gently as the last of the heat fades through me. Young Ben has a large wet stain spreading over the fly of his jeans, and Stephens is wearing a smirk like none I've seen before. Another groan from beneath the table, and Michael jerks under me again. I wonder if his cocksucker spewed all over him. God, what a time this has been. I lean over him, licking and kissing his neck, tasting the sweat all beaded up and slick on him. "If you're of a mind, I'd like to do this again. My flat isn't far from here."

Michael: "Yes." The man sucking me now licks me clean, and I shift; it tickles a bit. Richards---Colin, now that he's fucked me---licks my neck, and I want to moan. He laughs softly in my ear, then straightens and pulls out of me, moving off to the side. The man beneath me moves as Colin does, his tongue busy over my balls, over my perineum, and finally, moving around so he can lick my arse. His tongue slides into me, and I jerk, almost sliding off the table. I allow him to lick me a moment, before moving away from him. He immediately turns to Colin, stripping off the condom, sucking him in. I watch as he licks and sucks, happily. He has long black hair, and his profile is aggressively ethnic. Indian, perhaps. It doesn't matter. He's easy to look at; next time I'm here, I'll search for him. Slowly, stiffly, I shift off the table, and stand.

Nigel had thrown my denims onto the table, and I reach for them, clad only in my open shirt and socks. It doesn't bother me to be half-naked; I'm well aware my body is the tight, toned one of an athlete, easy to look upon. I slip into my denims, and zip up, not bothering to tuck in my shirt, nor even to button it. I pull my sweater over my head. I feel lazy, hazy, slightly drunk, and well and thoroughly fucked. Ben looks shocked, and Nigel smug. I'll be going with Colin; Nigel needs to make certain Ben gets back to the flat all right. And if I'm not mistaken, he'll end up in Ben's bed tonight, one way or another. I turn my attention back to Colin and his very attentive admirer.

Colin: I don't recognize the man kneeling at my feet, but that's all right. I don't need to. He's easy to spot, I'll remember him for the next time I'm here, if I need a bit of sucking done. I let him lick me clean, not surprised when he upends the rubber. His attentions make me firm again, but not hard. I need a little more time than that to recover. I push him away gently when he starts nuzzling me again. Nice, but not what I'm wanting right now. What I want is the young man standing there, watching me with an amused smirk lighting up grey eyes. I give him a lecherous wink, then back up, zipping up. The man is looking at me, and I shake my head. "Another time, maybe. Not tonight." He nods and gets to his feet, body all smooth, fluid motion. I nod in the direction of Stephens, still nuzzling at Ben. "Will they be all right? Can you come now?"

Michael: "We came in Nigel's car. Mine was too small." A Jag is definitely a two-seater, unless the third wants to practically sit on the boot, and Ben wasn't quite up to that. He's from a small, provincial town somewhere in the wilds of middle America, hopelessly innocent and not inclined to take risks. That he'd even come with Nigel and I had surprised me. "Nigel can get him back to the flat. I'm sure they'll find something to...occupy themselves."

Ben blushed again, but didn't move away from Nigel's wandering hands. Maybe Nigel wouldn't get as far as fucking him, but he'd definitely end up in Ben's bed. I'd rather wanted to be the first to fuck him, as Nigel wasn't the gentlest of lovers; maybe I would. But, whatever happened, happened. I bent and tugged on my trainers, turned back to Colin. "I'm ready to leave if you are."

A big man in motorbike leathers slid his arm about my waist and placed his big, meaty hand on my crotch, squeezing gently, his mustached face nuzzling the back of my neck. He'd sucked me before, but not here; I recognized him, but couldn't remember where we'd done it. Not bad, really, but not worth leaving what I had waiting for me now. I elbowed him in the chest, none too gently. "Oi. Leave off, nelly." I could feel his shiver; for all his size, he liked for others to abuse him. I'd probably see him later; he'd remember, and come again. For the moment, he slipped away after a quick rub against me, fading back into the gloom.

Colin: "Here often enough you have admirers, eh?" I fished about in my pocket for the keys; even into early spring it's chill outside, and now, after sweating so much, we'll want to get into the warmth quickly. Michael makes a rude gesture, then grins, and we trail out of the dim room slowly, Nigel and Ben following behind us. I never notice on the way back to this room that the corridor is long and cool; usually by the time I'm on my way here I'm so hot it would have to be snowing for me to notice a difference. Another door to go through; before it was propped open. As the hours pass, and people get drunker, the barkeep often closes the outer door, or posts someone to keep an eye out. Wouldn't do to have coppers coming in and ruining everyone's fun.

Michael waves at his friends and we part company at the front door. My car is parked off on the side, an aging Fiat that doesn't run as often as it does. I have a soft spot for it; that's the only reason I keep it. We're both shivering a bit when we climb in, and I turn the heater up on full to take some of the chill off. I shift the car into gear and turn out onto the road, squinting against the night. "Been coming here often, Michael? I was a bit surprised to see you."

Michael: I huddled into my leather jacket, leaning into the heat pouring from the dash. I've never cared much for cold weather, particularly the wet, biting kind of rawness only early spring has. Too much of Italy in me, I suppose.

I consider his question. "Not really. Just once in awhile, when I get restless, and nothing else seems appealing. I can move through there, fill and be filled, and I don't have to be pleasant or woo them or anything---just fuck, and be fucked. Sometimes, that's all you wish, you know?"

Colin: "Oh, yes. I know exactly what you mean." I turn to look at him, reassessing. He's younger than I'd originally thought; probably about eighteen. I smile, remembering that age, and all the restlessness that goes with it. "Relationships - the wooing and all that rot - are nice, at time. But other times, it's just as good to just let go." I consider his words, fuck and be fucked. "You like to go both ways, then? Top and bottom?"

Michael: I can't help but smile. "I like everything about sex. I like men, I like women. I like giving or receiving. As long as it feels good, I like it. Top or bottom, doesn't matter, though if able to do only one, I like fucking best."

I lean back, assessing him. He's a small man, but fucks like a demon. "For you, I'll be fucked, unless you want to take your turn on the bottom end." It really doesn't matter to me, one way or another, what we do together. I do want to spend some time kissing him; he has a full, beautiful mouth, and regardless of other attributes, I've always fancied a pretty mouth, male or female. With women, I like small breasts, long legs; with men, a sleek, muscular build. But that's simply icing upon an already delicious cake; ultimately, it matters little.

Colin: "I've taken my turn on the bottom, lad and prefer to the top, but for you I'd consider it." I reach out and cup his crotch, kneading gently through the denim, feeling a slight stirring beneath my fingers. "You're a quick one; I need a bit more recovery time, I think." I turn onto the small street where my flat is. Well, not so much flat, as someone's guesthouse, rented out for extra cash. Small, but separate, with its own entrance, and a parking space for the Fiat. Far enough back from the main house that I have my privacy, and it's worked out just fine. I cut the motor and let the car glide the last few feet to bump gently at a bale of hay set to catch it, then open the door. "I've not a lot in the way of space, but it's clean and private, and we can have a jolly romp." I give him a cheeky grin and gesture grandly toward the path, hidden behind the hedges.

Michael: It's a small guest house, or servant quarters, hidden behind some hedges for privacy. Nice. Probably about the same size as a large flat. But one person living alone doesn't need that much room. He jingles the keys as we walk up the small path, and I'd grope him, but my hands are cold, so I keep them in my pockets. The wind cuts through my sweater, touching my bare chest with cold fingers, and for a moment, I wish I'd taken the time to button up. But in a moment, I'll be warm, and in all likelihood, naked as well so it doesn't really matter very much. Colin unlocks his door, and ushers me in. Within, it's warm and cozy, a little cluttered, very lived-in, full of golden lamplight and blessed heat. He shrugs out of his coat and takes my own. "I'd like a shower, first," I say before he can reach for me. "I'm cold and I reek of cigarette smoke."

Colin: I laugh, nearly dropping my coat in the process. "You're psychic, Michael...I was going to ask if you'd fancy a shower before anything else." I raise one arm to my nose and sniff. "I reek, too. We can strip off, and I can wash our things in the morning. Probably will need to change the linens as well, then, too." I give him a grin, and settle the coats, then put my hand on the small of his back and give a gentle push. "Bath is that way, down the hall. It's not a big place, main room, kitchen, bedroom and bath. You go on and strip off; I'll get us some towels."

Michael: I kick off my trainers there on the spot, and allow him to give me a little push in the right direction. The bath is tiny and aggressively white, and I let my clothes drop to the tiles. I glance in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed with a combination of sex and cold; my normally olive complexion is still dark from winter holiday in Italy. I start up the hot water, and soon the bath fills with warm steam. The water is wonderfully hot when I step beneath the spray. Small things like this are enough to make me happy, and I hum contentedly as I lather up with his soap and scrub my short hair with his shampoo.

Colin: His outline behind the curtain is nice; lean, tall, muscular, and I like the arch of his back as he leans into the shower spray. My cock tingles, and I can feel a shiver of arousal all through me. I set the clean towels on the top of the toilet, then pull the curtain back enough to step into the small tub. Its not really meant for two, but we'll manage. It's not as if we're trying to *keep* from touching, after all. He's turned now, face to the spray, letting the water sluice the soap off, and I nuzzle into his back, licking at the water droplets clinging there. "Oi, you're a nice sight in my tub, Michael." I kiss under his ear, then lick the lobe, feeling his shiver against me. "You feel good, as well."

Michael: I laugh as his hands move around me, running over chest and belly, pale in comparison to my skin. He has nice hands, slim and graceful, uncallused, unlike mine. A scholar's hands. Mine bear calluses from reins and oars. His flesh is cool against mine, but warms quickly, and I rub back against him. I can feel his cock rise, and his hand slips between my legs to fondle me. I rub back with more purpose, and his cock slips between my arse cheeks, into the cleft.

I'm a little sore from taking him and Nigel both, but I'd gladly take him again, though not in the shower. I brace my hands against the shower walls and lean forward slightly, the water pounding hot over my shoulders and back, and spread my legs as much as I can within the confines of the stall. "Then feel me. As much as you want. Just no fucking here, yes?"

Colin: "Agreed. You're too tall; I'd break my back unless we were both on our knees. Besides, if I'm to fuck someone in the water, I'd rather it be a hot tub, or somesuch." His laughter rumbles through his chest again; I can feel the vibrations against my hand as much as hear it echoing in the small bath. It's hot and steamy in here, and the feel of his slick flesh against mine is almost too good. I rub a little more, letting my cock slide between his legs, nudging at his sac. The slip-n-slide friction feels bloody wonderful, and I let go his cock to slip my hands upward, pressing him back against me, rather than leaning forward. "Wonderful. You're fucking fantastic." Warm, sculpted flesh, hard against me. He's not built like a weight lifter, rather all long muscles, lean and sinewy. But there's tremendous strength in his body, and it's impressive both to touch, and to feel touching me. I scatter a few kisses on his shoulders, then step back so he can move behind me. I want to wash off as well, then get something to drink, and take him to bed. "I would ask if you need your back washed, but I'd be likely to get distracted. Perhaps tomorrow, I might, eh?"

Michael: "Perhaps." I grin as we work our way past one another in the tight spot, bodies moving against one another in the most delightful way. I soap up my hands and wash his back, his small tight arse, slipping between his cheeks. He's slim and slightly built, more slender than athletic, definitely smaller than Nigel, who is more beefy, almost running to fat. His hair is heavy and thick and curly, dark with water. I tilt his chin up, my fingers stroking his throat, and lean over his shoulder to kiss him. The position is awkward, but still satisfying; his tongue is quick and clever, and my free hand reaches to smooth over his chest. He has little chest hair, and his nipples are like little pebbles as I tweak them. I laugh against his mouth, and release him. "I'm ready to get dry, then wet again. What about you, Professor?"

Colin: "I think I'll have to agree with that plan, boyo." I lather my hair up again, then step back into the spray. While I'm not against the occasional fag, I don't like to smell of the smoke. Michael steps out of the shower, reaching for a towel to wrap around his hips. When I shut it off, he hands me one, then takes up another to towel off his hair. I'm struck again by the lithe grace he moves with, muscles flexing and bunching fluidly. I snort inelegantly, thinking of all the times I'd caught myself watching him in class. "Fancy a drink? I have some ale, and I have some plain orange juice, if you don't want any more alcohol. Or I have wine...I think. Somewhere." I give him a grin; he's not what I'd call *handsome*, but his face is striking. Not a bad cruise for the weekend.

Michael: "I don't drink much. Don't like to lose control. Juice, or tea, is fine." I hand him the towel, and watch him dry his thick hair, then drape the towel around his shoulders and finger comb them into place. For the first time, I notice the gold stud in his ear. Surprising. I raise my hand, run a finger over it. "I like it," I say decisively. "It's different."

Colin: His fingers are warm. "Ta. The faculty hates it; especially the tenured profs. They think it's an abomination, that I should outgrow my "student" phase, as one old charmer puts it. I got it a long time ago; before I even started university." I laugh, pushing my hair back out of the way. "My father saw it and called me a queer on the spot. Mum was a bit more tactful, but not by much. And probably only because ladies of her day don't use words such as that." I leave the towels draped over the side of the tub; it's not like I haven't seen what he has, nor he me, then pad off down the hallway toward the kitchen, Michael following close behind. "I don't drink often, for much the same reason, but once in a while I like to lock myself in here, and go on a bend."

Michael: I leaned against a counter as he puttered around the kitchen. A glass of cold orange juice for the both of us. I'm thirsty, and follow it up with water from the tap. I know I'll pay for it later; that, plus the ale, and I'll be in the bath half a dozen times.

Colin leaned against the counter opposite me, studying me. He seems perfectly comfortable naked. Nice body. I set the glass down on the counter, and turn to leave the kitchen for his bedroom. I strip off the towel, give it a toss onto one of the kitchen chairs. "I'm ready when you are."

Colin: I can't help the laugh that escapes; he seems so serious, his expression stern, the grey eyes dark. I shake my head and flip off the light, leaving us in only the light from the lamps in the living room, golden and warm, but not penetrating far into the kitchen. "Not just yet. Come over here." I cock my head to one side, watching him move, coming to stand before me, and the expression in his eyes when I press him back against the wall, pinning his larger frame there. I'm not small, and he's not huge by any means, but he is bigger...and it sends a lovely curl of heat moving through me. I press harder against him and tilt my head to kiss him, his mouth soft under mine, then responsive, opening to let my tongue curl along and over his. I slip my arms up around his neck, groaning softly when he relaxes back, returning the kiss completely.

Michael: I had been intending to kiss his lovely mouth once we were in bed, but this is better, definitely. I lean against the wall, and spread my legs, so I can pull him closer. He's warm and hard against me, and feels good between my thighs. It makes me wonder how he'll feel atop me, within me. I like the way he kisses, wild and abandoned and hungry, and I like the way his arms are tight around my neck, how his fingers work into my damp hair. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him, press him close into my body, my hips moving slowly against his. When we have to finally break to breathe, I burrow my face into his throat, nipping and sucking. He smells like vanilla, like his shampoo, and my arm around his waist drops, my hand caressing his smooth arse.

Colin: "I want to touch you everywhere, Michael... kiss and lick...bury my tongue where my cock was, earlier." He shivers once against me, his big hands touching, teasing, stroking me, making me echo his shiver. "C'mon, lad, let's get to bed...I oughtn't have started this in here...but I couldn't resist." I pull back just enough to see his face, warm in soft light, and reach for his hand as it slides from my waist. "Come along. Perhaps we've time for a lesson of a different sort."

Michael: I let him lead me into his bedroom, and sit down on his bed. He smiled at me, and I leaned back, spreading myself over his bed, opening my legs for him. I let one hand trail over my chest, plucking idly at a nipple, let the other slip down my belly to the base of my cock, which was rapidly filling, rising. "Just what do you wish to teach me, Professor?"

Colin: "All about pleasure, Michael. How to get it, how to savor it. The best lessons life has to offer, in my opinion." I glance down at his hand stroking over his growing cock, and smile, moving to settle on the edge of the bed, right next to his spread legs, where I can touch nearly all of him. His skin is warm, and much softer than it looks, with all that lovely hair on his chest. "Such a lovely lad...small wonder you're popular with the other boys, eh?" I lean in and kiss his chest, licking a wet line over to one nipple, teasing a whisper of air along the dampness. He gasps softly, and I grin, leaning in closer to lick over his nipple. "Have you ever been rimmed? Well and truly rimmed, not just a tongue swiping across your ass?"

Michael: "No...." He leaned over me and his lovely mouth moved over my nipples, suckling each one in turn, biting gently. Wonderful. "No, never...just like that man earlier. I liked it." His damp curls swirled over my skin, cool. I arched upward, wanting more contact, but he moved away with a soft laugh. I moved restlessly on the quilt, feeling hungry, achy. "I'm ready...."

Colin: "You're too much in a hurry, lad. Sex is the ultimate pleasure, and meant to be slow, savored. You've played with the children; now's the time to learn to play with the adults." His eyes are dark with the arousal moving through him, attested to by the cock bumping against me as I lean more fully over him, licking and sucking at random points on his chest. "You're ready to be fucked, but you need more, yes? Fucking is good...bloody good. But I can show you so much more. And I guarantee it's better than first-year English Lit." I smile against his skin when he makes a choking sound, like a cough and a laugh all at once. I shift up and over, straddling his hips, letting my bum ride his cock, rubbing down against it. "Pleasure. Go with it, Michael. Learn to ride it." I slide my hands up his arms, pressing them to the bed as I lean forward to kiss him.

Michael: His fingers wrap around my wrists, pressing them into the bed. I like having him above me, having him leaning over me, kissing me. I want to hold him, but let him hold me down, letting the tension of it roil through my blood. Though I ache for him to fill me up, to fuck me hard and fast, I'll try to slow down. His cock rubs against my belly; not so cool himself, it seemed. I raised up as much as he'd let me, sucking on his tongue as I'd suck on his cock. He moaned, and when he pulled back slightly, I bit and sucked at his full lower lip, then trailed my mouth over his chin and down his throat as far as I could reach. My cock ached for stimulation, for rubbing, and though his arse was temptingly close, I couldn't quite curl up enough to rub against him. "Teach me. Teach me pleasure, then fuck me...."

Colin: "Yes...." I let loose his arms, settling myself over him, letting him wrap his arms around me, pulling me close. His mouth is too tempting to ignore for long, even though his neck and throat are equally tempting. I dive in, taking him aggressively, stroking and sliding my tongue against his, licking and sucking, encouraging him to do the same. When I break for air, then lick down to his neck, he bucks under me, jerking when I bite down, scraping lightly with my teeth. Very sensitive here, a good spot to play a bit. "School's in session, boyo. Lessons, then rewards. Arch your head back a bit." He moans deep in his throat when I suck on the tender skin of his throat, sliding my tongue over his Adam's apple before sucking there, then running my open mouth up and down the long, rippling length. He swallows convulsively, and I stop to watch the muscles working, imagining him on my cock again.

Michael: "Ohhhh...." I close my eyes and tip back my throat for more. If anything will make me slow down, this might be it. My throat has always been sensitive. "Oh, that's lovely...more...."

Colin: "You're easy, Michael. Kiss and lick your throat, and I could do anything I wanted to, whilst you moan and writhe beneath me, begging." I lower my face, licking at his ear, teasing the tip of my tongue around the small canal, before breathing into it. "Do you like to beg, lad? Would you beg for me?"

Michael: "I've never begged, not for anything." I can feel a curl of irrational anger at his words; where it comes from, I'm not certain. My hands go to his waist, and start to push at him, but then his mouth settles on my throat again, sucking and biting, and I don't really remember why I was angry in the first place. Instead of pushing him away, I pull him closer. "Mark me. Make me remember this for days...."

Colin: I laugh softly, then push his head over to the side, baring his throat to me. The big vein pulses; if I stare hard enough, I'm sure I'll see it. I can feel it, pounding against my tongue. "Come back to me, when the mark fades, and I'll put another one there. And another one, and one after that...." I whisper the last words against his skin, licking gently down, 'til I come to a spot just above where his neck curves into his shoulder. No warning, just my hands tightening on his arms before I bite down, sucking hard until I feel the warmth blossoming under my lips. I can hear his groan, feel his jerk, then his body relaxes under mine, his hips moving up again, rubbing against me. I suck again, then pull back to watch the red-purple color begin to spread, satisfaction curling through me with its own warmth, akin to sexual pleasure. Michael rolls his head back to look at me, and his eyes are dark, nearly to black, the pupils so large. He licks his lips and I don't need any other invitation; I lean in and take his mouth roughly, releasing his arms to press myself down against him.

Michael: It's like being in the midst of a storm. I wrap myself around him as much as I can, rubbing shamelessly against him, holding him tightly, my excitement an almost tangible thing between the two of us. I've not let anyone mark me, ever. It's tremendously wanton, and I want more. With a heave, I shove him from me and move over him, nuzzling over his throat and shoulder, finally working my way beneath his arm. His scent is exciting, and I rub my cock against his leg as I choose a place between underarm and nipple, and bite down, sucking hard to leave a place of my own.

Colin: I thread my fingers through his short hair, holding him in place as the groan spills from my lips, louder than his was. He sucks harder, then moves his mouth, biting and licking 'til he gets to my nipple. I tense, expecting him to bite there, but he surprises me by only suckling at me, lips and tongue rough, but not harsh. Only a moment, then he moves back, burying his face under my arm, licking and biting at me, at the tufts of hair there. I can hear the growl rising in my chest; he's marking himself with my scent, marking me with his teeth. It's intensely primitive and incredibly arousing. Scent. Scent is a good thing. I shift around so I can get to his mouth again, wanting to taste more of him, to kiss him until the two of us are drugged senseless. I push at him until he rolls to his back once more, letting me kiss slowly down his chest, teasing bits of flesh with bites and licks until I come to his navel.

Michael: I'm in almost constant movement; I can't seem to lie still for him. I want him to touch me everywhere, and to do it *now*. I can feel his breath on my belly, hot and wet, and thrust up, my cock sliding over the smooth skin of his throat. I want him to suck me; I want to roll to my belly and rub against the quilt, offer my arse to him. I don't mind taking the bottom; twice the pleasure to be had there. He's so damned slow; it makes me want to howl in frustration. I wriggle beneath him, trying to get him to suck me without asking for it, and his odd-colored eyes look up at me with amusement. "Lessons tomorrow...fucking now." I grit my teeth. "Please."

Colin: "So bloody impatient." I laugh again, nuzzling his belly, then the base of his cock, feeling the vibrations of his body echoing through mine. "Losing all the extra pleasure because you're afraid your body might explode with wanting? It's that wanting that is the most powerful force, Michael-lad." He makes a hoarse noise, something between a growl and a groan, and I scoot a bit lower, rubbing my cheek against the satiny skin of his cock, feeling droplets of pre-come spreading over my skin. "Oi, lad. Such a treasure ought be better appreciated." I take my first taste of him, licking downward, catching the tiny trickles of fluid. He jerks like I've bitten him, his fingers clutching at the bedding. I slide my tongue over his stones, burying my face in between his legs, inhaling deeply, shuddering with arousal. Yes, further lessons may have to wait. His fever pitch is rubbing off on me, now. I breathe in again, then raise up enough look at him. "How would you like it best, eh? Back or front?"

Michael: Wordlessly, I turn to my belly, hips moving slowly over the quilt, rubbing myself into the fabric. I've had him like this, so I know how good it feels. Fancy stuff later, tomorrow, when I'm not so keyed up. Now, all I want is to feel him inside me, to feel the raw pleasure of him fucking me, feel the build up of orgasm and the mind-blowing explosion when I do spend. "Like this. Remember, no fucking without a coat on." He probably thinks me daft for insisting, but there are so many diseases out there, and I've fucked so many people, I didn't want to catch anything. No time for it.

Colin: "Aye, I remember." I kiss the hollow of his spine, flicking my tongue over the ridges and bumps there, trailing upward from the upturned arse to the base of his neck. He's delightfully sensitive and responsive here, as well; I bite down gently, nibbling, really, feeling the shivers running all through him. His skin is like fire, and I vaguely wish to be eighteen again, as well, to have all this fire and energy and need for things *now*.

My dick aches when I stand up off the bed, fisting it slowly while I straighten. Michael mutters he has rubbers in his denims, and I look around, trying to remember where I put our clothing. Ah, over the chair. I can feel his eyes burning holes in my back as I amble over, fingers still playing lightly with myself, spreading the fluid leaking from me all around the hot, thin skin. I fish through his pockets 'til I find several small foil packets. One's enough for the moment. I grab up the tube of gel, then tear the packet open with my teeth. I grit my teeth whilst I smooth it on, my fingers trembling as waves of need pour through me. The gel is cool on my palm, and I hold it there, waiting for it to warm a bit. A quick slap to Michael's thigh and he shifts, pulling his knees up under him, opening to me. I spread the gel over his hole. "Tomorrow morning I'm going to eat you, lad. I'm going to feast right here."

Michael: The whole idea sends a delicious shiver over my entire body. I'd had men lick over me, but it was perfunctory, too quickly done. I'd liked the way it felt, though. Colin obviously had a lot of experience on me, and in a corner of my mind, I was really looking forward to his lessons. I wriggled until I got my long legs folded beneath me, until my cockhead just rested against the quilt, a bit of a tease. Right now, all I wanted was straightforward, simple fucking. I wanted to tell him to hurry up and give it to me, but refrained; I knew he'd just laugh at me. Cheeky sod.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. He was smoothing something over his cock, slicking himself up. Excitement burned in my belly, and my cock twitched. He had a lovely cock, long and thick, though not as thick as Nigel's, and with a definite upward arc. The very though of him pushing into me, of the mixture of pain and pleasure, was almost enough to make me come right then.

Colin: "Right here, lad." I can feel his entire body twitch when I lay my hand on his back, fitting myself up snuggly against him. I like this position; I can fuck him, and wank him, all at the same time. And it affords me the greatest, deepest penetration. He'll feel me clear into his throat, with luck.

His body is still loose and open from earlier; Stephens isn't as big as I am, but he's thick, and cleared the way nicely for me. I press hard against Michael, pushing my hips forward. I'm not going to go nice and easy, because I know that's not what he wants. Later, later I can fuck him slow and easy, show him how good it can be. I fit myself along his back as I push in, flesh to sweaty flesh, and Christ Almighty it feels good. I lick his shoulder. "I love this, Michael-lad...filling a lovely, willing arse, feeling you tighten all around me."

Michael: My fingers curl into the quilt as he pushes into me, and I squeeze my eyes closed, all the better to savor it. It hurts, but doesn't. I bear down and push back, and then he's in, with a long lovely slide of flesh into me. I let out a shuddering sigh as he snugs up against me, working his way deeply into me until he's seated, securely. His weight upon me pushes my hips down, rubs my cock against the quilt. I shift, spread my legs a little further, moving against him as he does against me, seeking maximum contact, maximum depth. And oh, he's deep. I swear I can feel him nudging the back of my throat. I'm stretched almost to the point of discomfort, and breathe deeply, trying to relax. My body protests; three fuckings in the span of a couple of hours is a bit much, even for me. By this time, I've usually switched to a more active role. But I don't care if it hurts, aches. I rub my cheek against the quilt, and push back against him, letting him know I'm ready for more.

Colin: "There's a good lad...." My whisper seems loud, rough, in the otherwise still room. The only sounds are our breathing, and the soft, slick-wet noises of my flesh into his. I hold him tightly for a moment, giving us both a chance to grow accustomed to this before I begin to move. He's taken me twice now, and Stephens once, and I'd wager that at least some of those grunts and shudders are pain as much as pleasure, though he's not saying a word. I kiss his shoulder again, lingering on the smooth, smooth skin, feeling the warmth burning against my tongue, burning my cock where his body clutches at me. "Lovely, lovely, Michael...you feel so good...." One last moment, then I draw back and plunge in, harder, faster, wanting to feel the excitement of fucking racing through my veins, and along my nerve endings.

Michael: The kisses, the soft words, surprise me. I stiffen a little; I'm more accustomed to roughness. With women I'm gentler, though I tend to pick the ones who like it hard and unadorned. Sex has always been a rough and tumble affair for me, and to find a bit of gentleness is surprising. His mouth is by turns soft against the back of my neck, making me shiver, and then I'll feel the sharpness of his teeth, which makes me shiver for different reasons. When one stroke hits against that special place, sending an almost electrical current through me, making me cry out, it's glorious. I push back against him, wriggle, angling for that spot again, my hands gripping his linens tightly, panting with the effort.

Colin: I shift him forward, my hands sliding down to hold his hips, then to spread his cheeks wider so I can watch myself disappearing into him. It's intensely exciting, watching his body swallow mine, my flesh red and hard, and so swollen with need. I thrust harder, faster, my hands gripping him open. "Wank yourself, Michael. Do it while I do you, lad." I'd like to touch him, to do it for him, but he's enough bigger than I, I'm not sure I could do it without making it awkward. And I'm enjoying myself entirely too much right now. One hard thrust, shoving myself deeper than I've gone yet, and I pivot and swivel my hips a bit, hearing the yelp from him, then the contractions of his body as I hit that small gland. I know how good it feels; pleasure pouring over your body, in hot, melting waves. I grunt, aiming for it again and again, teeth gritted against the pleasure swelling within me.

Michael: He's fucking me hard, with abandon, and the ferocity of it makes me soar. I fumble one hand beneath me, yelping again when he hits that one place within me that brings so much pleasure. I won't be able to walk tomorrow, but that's tomorrow. Tonight, it's so rough, so wild that I can't think, can't do anything but experience it, let it carry me along, a tsunami of pleasure swelling within me. I manage to work my hand beneath me, to jerk myself once, twice, and as I do, he hits that place again, and I'm roaring out my coming, my body burning up, on fire, consumed. I spill into my hand, onto his bed, clenching tightly around him, scrabbling for purchase, for something, *anything* to hold to while I sob out my completion.

Colin: I could feel it building within me with each hard thrust; when his body tightened around mine I knew I was lost. Each stroke into him, as he grasped and milked at me, groaning and arching through his orgasm, made me throb hotly, and with one final, slamming thrust I gave into the pleasure pouring all through me like so much molten heat. I thrust in hard enough, with enough force to knock us both to the bed, my hips still pumping as heat seared through me. I could feel myself filling the rubber, my seed thick and hot, leaving me in three long bursts, then one smaller one. I lay there on him for a moment, winded beyond ability to move, panting harshly as I tried to get my breath back. I could feel his pulse hammering against me, or maybe it was my own heart, pumping wildly, or maybe the two of us together. When he shifted beneath me I moved slowly, reaching down to grip my cock so the rubber wouldn't slide off as I pulled back. I enfolded it in a bit of tissue, then dropped it into the waste bin beside the bed, slumping back beside him, still feeling tiny aftershocks zinging through me.

Michael: My whole body throbbed with pleasure; it began in my arse and moved outward. I still lay on my belly, spread fully out, one hand still around my cock, the other still gripping the spread. My breathing was loud in my own ears, and my heart pounded in my chest. Colin moved off me; vaguely I was aware of him moving about, before he returned to lie next to me, his arm casually thrown across the small of my back, hand caressing my hip. Everything hurt, seemingly hypersensitive; everything felt good. I shifted slightly, with a moan. "Oh my god.... "

Colin: "Sore, are you?" Michael nodded, or moaned softly, something indicating the affirmative, and I shifted off the bed again, slowly. My own body wasn't sore, exactly, but sensitive now. Of course, I hadn't taken three cocks in two hours, either.

I padded out into the main room, and cranked the heat up another notch. I'd hate to see the bill when it came, but I'd rather be warm now, than to have even a slight chill. I set the kettle on to boil, then rummaged about 'til I could find a small tin bowl and washcloth. Hot water into the tin; by the time I got back to Michael it would be cooled somewhat. Two cups out for the tea, and it would be two trips to get everything, even with a tray. I fished about in the cabinet beside the stove and found a bottle of aspirin. I wasn't certain how sore he was, but at least I had them if he wanted them. When the kettle boiled I put our tea together, then carried the mugs back. He was still in the same position, lying there with a dazed look on his face. One more quick trip to bring back the tin bowl, now nicely warm rather than hot. I wrung out the washcloth, leaving it nice and warm, then settled one knee onto the mattress to sit beside him.

"Spread your legs a bit, lad. This'll take some of the sting out." He stiffened when I touched him, then relaxed, moving his hand from his cock, and his legs apart for me. The first touch of the cloth made him tense, then he moaned softly when I stroked it over the small, intensely red hole. "A bit too much tonight, eh?"

Michael: "Perhaps," I murmur. The cloth settles firmly over my soreness, the heat seeping in. I stir a little beneath it, but then it starts to feel good. No one has ever bothered; it's really quite nice. Most other partners I've had would've been asleep, or out looking for another, by this time, but Colin's actually kind.

I turn my head to the side and watch him. He has very long dark lashes, like a woman's, and that soft full mouth, like a woman's. His bone structure is fine, much more than my own; he's pretty, rather than handsome. Just looking at him, I'd have figured him for someone who liked to take. He makes me think a little of that fellow on the telly show, The Professionals, with the curly auburn hair, though I've no doubt Colin's is natural. As if he can feel me watching him, those odd-colored eyes flick up to mine, and his mouth curves in a smile.

I reach up, run my fingers over his mouth, his jaw for a moment, then curl over onto my side. He wrings out the cloth in the warm water, and smoothes it over my belly, over my now-soft cock, cleaning me gently. Another gentle push, and I settle onto my back, legs open. He seems to like to look at me, and I don't mind; I have the tight, firm body that genetics and athletics has given me. I know I'm not handsome, but the body is good, and that counts for much. After he's finished washing me, he leans in and presses a kiss to my belly, just beneath my navel, and his long curls tickle over my skin. I move languorously beneath him, sore but sated. "This is very nice....

Colin: I nod, stroking the cloth over him once more, not out of necessity, but because I like to watch him stretch and move beneath my touch. He reminds me of nothing so much as a big cat, replete after feeding, and ready to lay back and be petted. So I shall. His eyes close for a moment, and his face has softened, erasing a lot of the stern harshness I'd seen at various points tonight. Eighteen...so young to be looking so serious. I wring the cloth out once more and stroke the heat down him, smiling when he moves with me, arching into it. "I've tea and aspirins, if you're wanting something for the soreness." Time to move back; the water is growing cool. He opens his eyes and touches my mouth again, one long, slim finger stroking over my bottom lip, his eyes studying my face. I grin at him. "I know what the rumors on campus say about me, lad. 'The queer professor', and all that rot. Just goes to show, appearances can be deceiving, yes?"?

Michael: They do say that about him; I can't deny it. I feel a slow grin spread over my face. "I can personally attest to your...virility. Twice in two hours, and a damned fine show both times." That seems to please him; a rich chuckle rumbles from him, and he gives the line of dark hair arrowing down my belly an impudent tweak.

He moves off the bed, and I work my way off also, tugging down the covers, sliding in, tucking a couple of pillows behind my back so I can sit up. He sets a tray between us, settling across from me, and pours some tea, handing me a china cup with faded pink roses. Chamomile, hot and good. I take the aspirins he offers; no sense in being macho about it. I ache, and shift over mostly to one hip. He has a saucer of vanilla biscuits; I remember how Cook loved them so, how she would pass them out to me secretively when I was very small. I take one; I've never been much for sweets, but I figure I can use the energy. He has a clock on his bedside table; it's almost midnight. I've been up since sunrise, getting out to run, have had school, practice, and then spent the night getting myself fucked. Little wonder I'm tired; even my energy has its limits.

Colin: "Good to see even youth has its limits." He hadn't actually yawned yet, but I was feeling wilted and it was somehow reassuring to know Michael was as well. I dunk my biscuit in my tea, considering. I've not had an overnight guest in a while, especially one of my students. Never one of my students. I've gone out of my way to avoid bedding my students in fact; it tends to make things complicated, later on. When his cup is empty I pour him another; it'll help relax him as much as the aspirin. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

Michael: I consider his question, then grin at him. "Certainly not my morning run." He laughs, helps himself to another biscuit. "Other than that, no. I'll be free for some private tutoring."

Colin: "Very up close and personal tutoring, Michael." I lean forward and brush my mouth over his, then across his cheek. "I'll show you what it is to make love to someone. You needn't be in love to make love, but it has its merits as much as fucking does. Slow, hot, sweet...they can always segue into fast and furious." He's stiffened again, barely perceptible, but then, I'm nearly on top of him, too. I wonder what it is about taking his time, about lovemaking, that makes him so nervous? He's youthful, impetuous, yes. But that doesn't null him from being able to slow down and enjoy it. I steady my cup and press my mouth harder to his, closed, still, an almost chaste kiss. He relaxes, then pulls back from me, something flashing in his eyes. Not...anger, exactly...but something. "What, lad?"

Michael: "Nothing." All this makes me think of Ian; the sweetness, the gentleness, and it makes me uncomfortable. I have a momentary urge to flee; common sense makes me stay in place. I've no auto, and it would be hellaciously cold walking back to my flat if I couldn't get a cab. So I stay, making myself relax. It's just kindness on Colin's part; he can have no idea of how much it makes me think of Ian. I've never been one much for introspection, and lying naked in a man's bed doesn't seem to be the time to start. I hand him my cup, and settle down into the warmth of the covers. I'm warm from tea, warm from the covers, my body sated and exhausted, and I'm beginning to get sleepy. I tug the covers up to my bare shoulders, and make myself smile at him. "I think I've worn myself out tonight."

Colin: It's a far cry from 'nothing', but I'll not press. We all have our secrets; we're all entitled to having secrets. One night in my bed doesn't earn me the right to his, and I'm not certain I'd want them anyway. I know I have things I'd not want anyone else to know about me. I set the cups on the tray, and set the tray on the floor, pushing it away from the bed. It's late, and I'm worn out, as well. I click the light off beside the bed, throwing the room into darkness. The light from over the stove gleams faintly down the hall, but otherwise it's dark. And warm. Michael is a welcome, solid presence beside me, and it doesn't take but a minute to scoot over onto my side to curl around him. I pet him slowly, my hand stroking over his side until he relaxes back against me. "Rest easy, lad. I'm not here for your secrets. I just want to hold you, if it's all right."

Michael: Sometimes I forget how much I love to be touched. Colin's slim soft hands move slowly over me, petting gently, and I can't help but relax beneath them, uncurling from my tight knot. After a moment, I snug close into him, rubbing my body against his with a small sigh. Nice. Very nice. His hand strokes me until I get very sleepy, then slips down to cup me, his fingers warm. His thighs curl into my own, spooning against me. He's smaller, so he doesn't cover as much of me as I'd like, and my legs are longer proportionally. But I like it. His breath is warm against my shoulder, slow and even, and before I realize it, I drift off to sleep.

Colin: I fall asleep listening to Michael's even breathing, feeling his skin warm against mine. When I wake the sun is slanting through the windows, early morning golds and pinks peeking through the blinds. Michael has shifted onto his belly, and my arm is resting across his back, one hand cupping his ass. Not a bad way to wake up, for sure. I stroke him lightly, wondering how he feels, but not ready to wake him yet. That he's still sleeping is a pretty good sign of how tired and worn out he was last night; I know from brief conversations with him before and after class that he's a distance runner, and gets up nearly every morning to run as the sun comes up. Well, today, he can take part in a different sort of exercise. I roll closer to him, cupping and stroking his bum lightly, letting my lips play along his neck, and the smooth expanse of his back. He shivers in his sleep, then smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he makes a quiet noise. It almost sounds like a name, but it's such a soft sound, I'd be hard-pressed to swear to it. Not quite ready to wake then. That's fine. I ease myself away from him and lever out of bed, taking a moment to stretch before heading for the bath. A bit further down the hall after, to put the kettle on and lay bread out for toasting. I'm not sure what Michael likes to eat, but if he's like most teenagers, it's anything that's not secured down. I like sex as a wake up, but I'm hungrier than usual this morning. Brekkie first, before anything.

He's rolled onto his side this time, and I kneel on the bed and kiss his shoulder, then his neck, whispering into his ear, "Wakey wakey, lad. Time to be up and about."

Michael: I shift, drifting up from a heavy, leaden sleep. I'd been up half a dozen times, as I'd predicted, getting rid of the ale; my body wasn't accustomed to alcohol. A soft mouth pressed kisses against my shoulder and neck, whispered into my ear. I was warm and comfortable, and didn't particularly care to move. Fingers combed through my hair, pushed it from my forehead. Nice. Slowly I rolled to my back, opened my eyes. Odd-colored eyes, golden-brown, gleamed down at me