("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text


















--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Man And Boy
by Mr. Blue Skies (mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk)

***

A married man has an unexpected encounter with a 
teenage boy. This is a story set in England, hence the 
English spelling and grammar. The title says it all 
really, although the boy in this case is 18 and the man 
is 50+. (M/M-teen, 1st-gay-expr)

***

The author is mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk who would be 
pleased to receive your comments on this story.



It was typical of an up-market English seaside hotel 
when visited in the winter. Its faded splendour more in 
evidence in the cold winter light; the lack of people 
to bring it alive and the handful of staff required to 
keep it operating at the minimum level. Welcome to The 
Imperial Hotel in Blackpool (a name that hardly 
conjures up thoughts of hot holidays) in the north-west 
of England, in January. 

Behind the desk were photographs of various British 
Prime-ministers arriving for the annual party 
conferences over the past years, all adding to the 
fading glory atmosphere. However, as the place to spend 
a couple of days whilst conducting business in the 
area, it wasn't bad; my room was warm and clean and 
surprisingly large with a separate bedroom and a 
seating area with TV, and a good sized bathroom; it had 
the advantage of facing the sea. I unpacked my case, 
changed into some casual warm clothing and then left 
for a walk along the seafront.

The wind was fierce; the previous day had been filled 
with a great storm and there was debris across the path 
and road. The sea, barely discernable against the 
equally grey sky, churned and heaved, slapping against 
the breakwater. I walked as far as a petrol station and 
bought a newspaper, just in time as the guy was 
closing, muttering about no trade on a Sunday and 
didn't know why he opened. I was glad that he had; the 
newspaper is my anonymity when away from home and 
wanting to use public places like a bar or restaurant.

I made my way back to the hotel and headed for the bar. 
It was quiet with only six or seven people sitting in 
near silence; it was well lit with a huge glass 
chandelier, and warm. I waited at the empty bar for 
someone to come and serve (this is England remember) 
casually scanning my newspaper as I did so. 

Eventually, a pretty hotel girl came into the bar and 
went behind it to serve. I ordered a beer, charging it 
to my room, and enquired as to ordering dinner. She 
told me that the restaurant was shut on a Sunday but I 
could order a meal to have in the bar. I thanked her 
and moved to a table in the corner. Here I could sit 
and read the newspaper (the anonymity bit) and enjoy my 
beer without interruption by somebody seeking 
conversation.

Finishing the beer, I left for my room where I 
undressed, showered, shaved and changed. Outside, the 
wind was picking up and I could hear the sea crashing 
against the breakwater; I decided to risk the bar-meal, 
it was too awful to contemplate going out to eat. 
Picking up my paper, I headed once again for the bar.

When I entered, I was one of three people. There was a 
pair who were obviously a local couple having a night 
out in a 'posh' place. She was dressed in a pink 
tracksuit, an incongruous choice as she clearly 
overweight and not at all athletic; he was dressed in 
the ubiquitous black tee-shirt, jeans and trainers and 
wearing a back-to-front baseball cap. Blackpool's 
finest out for the evening.

The pretty girl had been replaced by a young looking 
boy (although at least 18 as serving behind the bar). 
He gave a genuine smile as I arrived at the bar; I 
ordered a glass of red wine. He ran through the choices 
and I selected one and asked for the menu. He served me 
the wine, saying he'd bring the menu over. I took my 
drink over to the far table and folded the newspaper so 
that the crossword was available, the second stage 
anonymity when eating alone in public. The young man 
brought over the menu; I noticed then that he was quite 
striking in his looks. 

His facial features were soft and framed by locks of 
hair curling down; he looked rather feminine in a way 
but not blatantly so. I thanked him as he said to call 
him when I was ready to order. I sipped my wine as I 
perused the somewhat sparse menu and chose a light 
single course; I signalled him and watched him as he 
walked the length of the room. I gave him my order and 
asked him to bring a second glass of wine with it.

The meal and the wine came and I ate in silence, 
working my way through the crossword (and not getting 
any clues), half-listening to the non-conversation of 
the local couple. They were clearly bored and 
eventually left, he going through the door first and 
she meekly following. I finished the meal and drank the 
last of my wine as I finally got a couple of the 
crossword clues.

I was suddenly conscious of being the only customer and 
that the barman was clearly keeping the bar open just 
for me. It was gone 10pm and I was tired so I picked up 
my glass and empty plate and took them to the bar and 
wished the boy good-night. He smiled again and said 
good-night. I took the lift and walked to my room. I 
switched on the TV, washed and changed into a dressing 
gown. As I sat down, there was a knock on the door.

Puzzled, I got up and padded to the door, on opening 
it, the boy from the bar was stood outside, with my 
newspaper in his hand.

'You left this,' he said.

I thanked him; he looked past me into the room and 
asked if I needed anything as he was going to lock-up 
for the night. Before I could answer, he was telling me 
that this was his favourite room and one of the best in 
the hotel. I agreed that it was very comfortable, 
thanking him again for returning my paper and that I 
didn't need anything else tonight. He looked 
disappointed but quickly beamed his lovely smile and 
bade me goodnight. I closed the door behind him and 
wandered back into the room. 

What a good looking boy I thought to myself, and so 
pleasant too. I switched off the TV and headed for bed; 
I fell asleep quickly but did wake up later, and was 
surprised that I was thinking about the boy and how 
affable he was. I drifted off again and woke early in 
the morning to make an early start to my business 
visits. Breakfast in the hotel was just me and one 
other person and served by a sleepy older woman. I 
gladly finished the limp toast and thin coffee and 
left.

I had a busy but not very fruitful day. I was easily 
distracted and not on top of my job. I found my mind 
wandering back to the hotel, or more worryingly, to the 
boy behind the bar. I was troubled by this and resolved 
to go out to eat tonight and not in the hotel. On 
returning, I did just that; I quickly showered and 
changed as was out again within 45 minutes. I had a 
miserable meal in half-empty and cold pub. 

My mind couldn't concentrate on my newspaper and I was 
ready to go; I toyed briefly with the idea of another 
drink but the thought of being pulled over for drink 
driving prevailed and I headed back towards the hotel. 
I parked and was contemplating a walk along the 
seafront when a heavy shower of sleet served to change 
my mind. I locked the car and headed into the hotel, 
going straight to my room. 

Getting out of my overcoat, I stood in the darkness of 
the room looking out at the sleet and the heaving sea, 
my mind all over the place. I had no particular 
thoughts about the boy at all; he was just a boy whom I 
thought was a pleasant lad, nothing more. That line of 
thought sorted in my head, I turned, walked across the 
room, picked up my paper and without breaking step, 
headed for the door, out of the room and turned towards 
the bar.

There were several people in there all men, something 
to do with the local traders association or suchlike 
gathering for pre-dinner drinks. I moved forward to get 
a drink. The boy wasn't behind the bar and I breathed a 
sigh of relief. Good, I thought, now it's out of my 
head.

'Hello' said a voice slightly behind me.
I turned and there he was with a tray of glasses some 
filled with sparkling drink, others empty.

'Here, have one,' he smiled, 'they won't notice; half 
of them are pissed already.' I was startled at his 
choice of words but I thanked him and took a glass.

'Must go' he said 'I'm duty wine waiter.' I moved to a 
far table and sat down with my free glass of wine. I 
toyed with the paper and the wine whilst people 
watching. The crowd started to thin as they moved into 
the dining room for dinner and the boy and two others 
started to clear tables. I did notice that some of the 
men made a point of talking to him especially; I heard 
that his name was Matthew and that he was an eighteen 
year old student in his final year at the local college 
studying for the hospitality trade. 

I felt a twinge of annoyance, I didn't know why, and 
decided to leave. A thought flashed across my mind and 
I immediately acted upon it. I waited until he was 
clearly visible to me, and me to him; I got up and made 
for the exit. He intercepted me and offered me another 
glass of wine; I said I was heading for my room but he 
said to take one anyway.

'They'll never notice,' he said, smiling. I took a 
glass and thanked him.

Getting to my room, I stripped off and showered, shaved 
and put on the dressing gown and sat down with the TV 
on. I'd give him 30 minutes I decided. I'd left my 
newspaper on the table in the bar again, but this time 
deliberately.

After 20 minutes, I heard the lift sigh to a stop and 
the doors open. Footsteps headed along the corridor in 
the direction of my room; as they drew nearer, they 
slowed and stopped outside. There was a low mumble and 
the footsteps started again and moved further on. I 
heard a door open, then close and then silence. I sat 
sipping the wine, waiting out my self-imposed 30 
minutes…and then a further ten. After another five, I 
got up and turned off the TV, went into the bedroom, 
switched on the bedside lamp and then returned to the 
sitting area to turn off the lights. As I did so, there 
was a soft knock on the door.

I opened the door and there he stood with my newspaper 
in one hand and a tray with two filled glasses on it. 
He held out the paper. 'Paper and wine on the house,' 
he grinned,' these two were left over, I thought you 
might like them.'

'Why don't you join me?' I said, and stepped aside. For 
a heartbeat we were both unsure.

'Just for a few minutes,' he said and hesitantly 
entered the room.

He walked to the sitting area and stood holding the 
tray; I asked him to sit down. We both sat at the low 
table. For a couple of minutes the conversation was 
stilted but the wine relaxed us and we started to talk 
about general things. I steered the conversation round 
to him and he became more animated as he
talked about himself and his hopes to get into hotel 
management. 

I asked about the unsociable hours and how it would 
impact on the social side of his life. A fleeting look 
of sadness crossed his face; it was gone in an instant 
and he replied that he wasn't too bothered; he'd had a 
couple of girlfriends but they hadn't worked out so he 
preferred to keep himself busy with his college work 
and working part-time at the hotel. I gave him the 
benefit of my age in advising that he shouldn't lose 
sight of the benefits of keeping time spare for 
socialising.

'I prefer to work' was all he said. The abruptness of 
his response surprised me and there was an awkward 
silence, then, 'I didn't get on with the girls,' he 
blurted out, 'I just didn't feel comfortable with 
them.'

I told him that at his age he had all the time in the 
world before him and that there was no rush to do 
anything. He went to say something but obviously 
thought better of it. He reached forward, picked up his 
glass and finished what was left of his wine. He 
suddenly stood, 'I should get back,' he said, 'I'm 
supposed to be helping the others clear up'

I stood up and followed him to the door. He reached for 
the handle, hesitated and then turned. 'I'm sorry for 
being rude just then,' he said. I said it didn't 
matter. He looked awfully sad for a moment and then 
said that he'd found me easy to talk to and didn't feel 
awkward in my company as he did with other men. I 
frowned with incomprehension and then remembered the 
number of men in the bar who'd made a point of speaking 
to him.

'How do you mean? I asked him.

He hesitated and then said, 'I think they think I'm 
gay' he blurted out.

'Why does that bother you exactly? I asked softly.

'Because I think I might be,' he said, almost in a 
whisper.

I told him it was no great shame and better to be 
comfortable with oneself than live a life trying to be 
something one is not. He looked at me forlornly. 'Thank 
you,' he said. 'You are so very kind but I should go,' 
he added.

I reached up and gently squeezed his shoulder, 'You'll 
be fine,' I said.

In one fluid movement he moved towards me and we 
embraced; he held on to me and I hugged him in return. 
As we loosed our grip on each other, he kissed me on 
the cheek (I don't believe to this day that he knew he 
did it), 'Thank you' he said, turned, opened the door 
and left, closing it quietly behind him

For a full two minutes I stood there, my mind racing. 
Here was I, man married for the major part of my life, 
hugging an eighteen year old boy to offer some comfort. 
Not too much wrong with that you may say; the part was 
preying on my mind was that he had been gone for a full 
two minutes and I still had an erection.

I tried sleep but it evaded me; I was restless and 
still troubled with my thoughts and continued erection. 
It was no good; I gazed around the room; it was lit 
only by the glow from the street lights and the only 
sound the sound of the rain and sea. At least I could 
get rid of one distraction; I reached for the box of 
tissues and the small bottle of perfumed hand cream 
that hotels supply. As I did so, the 'phone in the 
sitting area outside rang. 'Why not in here? I asked 
myself as I got up. I picked up the phone.

'Hello,' he said, 'it's Matthew,' and then stopped.

'Hello,' I said inadequately into the silence.

He broke the silence that followed, and said, in one 
great rush, 'Can I come up and see you I know it's late 
and that I've taken enough of your time already but I 
really would like to talk to you and you were so kind 
and understanding I felt you really understood what I 
was trying to say please don't hang up on me.'

'Wait,' I said by way of interruption. He stopped 
gabbling. 'Of course you can come up,' I said, 'and 
don't rush, I'm not going anywhere.'

'Thank you, David' he said (a surprise use of my name) 
'I'll be along in ten minutes.'

I slowly put the 'phone down; now I was nervous, why 
had I said yes, I asked myself. I went back into the 
bedroom and put on my dressing gown; on second 
thoughts, I also pulled on a pair of jockey briefs. 
Going back into the sitting room, I turned off the 
light and waited whilst standing at the window looking 
out into the distance where I could see the 
phosphorescence from the waves breaking far out to sea; 
the rain continuing to batter at the windows. I was 
shaking slightly, though not with cold.

There was the slightest tap on the door; it took be by 
surprise as I hadn't heard the lift or footsteps. I 
reached the door and opened it, standing aside as I did 
so. He walked straight in and I shut the door behind 
him and dropped the safety catch. I turned away from 
the door. Matthew had stopped halfway into the room and 
watched me approach.

'I used the stairs,' he said, 'so as not to disturb 
anybody.' That answered the no noise bit: the no 
footsteps were because he was barefoot.

'Sorry about the delay in coming up, I stopped off at 
my room for a quick shower and shave.'

I asked him if he'd like a drink from the mini-bar in 
the room. He shook his head, 'No thanks' was all he 
said. I noticed he was shaking slightly.

'Are you OK? I asked him. He said he was and then went 
silent on me. Never fill a silence I had been taught, 
so I waited. It seemed to go on forever; eventually, he 
broke it, as I knew he would.

'I'm sorry about being rude, you seemed to read my mind 
and it unsettled me, I've never talked about this to 
anybody before, I thought you would laugh at me or tell 
me to go or call me queer or to pull myself together 
or...' I moved towards him and gently put two fingers 
on his lips to quieten him. He looked mournfully at me 
and his eyes welled with tears.

'It's alright,' I said, 'it doesn't matter. He fell 
towards me and hugged me, this time with more force and 
held on to me. I embraced him in return and we just 
stood there. I could smell his hair, still damp from 
his shower. I could feel myself getting hard and 
shifted my stance so that he wouldn't feel it. As I did 
so he broke the embrace and pulled his head back to 
look up to me; he had been weeping. 

I looked down at him; he looked so pitiful and sad. I 
went to speak but the words (whatever they were going 
to be) died on my lips. He gave me a tearful smile. I 
looked back at him and something in his eyes changed. 
Without any thought, I leaned down and kissed him 
softly on the mouth, tasting the salt of his tears. He 
didn't move away and we held the kiss. 

After some time, we pulled slightly apart and looked at 
each other. Then, mutually, we moved to kiss each 
other. This was different: it was a lover's kiss, we 
held on to each other, moving our arms to feel the form 
of each other, pulling each other closer. His mouth 
yielded to my tongue and he sucked gratefully upon it 
as I explored his mouth. I pressed my hard prick 
against him and he pushed back against me. It felt 
wonderful, so sexy and, above all, forbidden. This boy 
was ten years younger than my own son.

We broke our kiss; I stepped away from him but took 
hold of his left hand. I moved toward the bedroom door 
and he compliantly allowed himself to be led. We 
approached the bed and I stopped and turned. We just 
looked at each other and gave each other our silent 
consent. I reached and started to undo his white shirt; 
as I did so, he tugged inexpertly at the belt of my 
dressing gown until it came open. 

Finishing with the buttons, I pushed the shirt off of 
his shoulders whereupon it dropped to the floor. We 
stopped there, he bare-chested and me with my dressing 
gown open. I shrugged it off and left it on the floor 
next to his shirt. We embraced again and his bare skin 
on mine felt electric and my prick hardened like it 
hadn't done for years. 

I felt it start to leak pre-cum as it pressed against 
the restraint of my jockey briefs as we kissed deeply 
again, with me starting to undo the belt of his 
trousers and the zip as we did so. He pulled away to 
let them drop; he stepped out of them and then stood 
there looking at me. I moved to the bed a sat on the 
side of it, and then lay down, looking up at him. Like 
me, he still had his briefs on. He went around the 
other side of the bed and slowly climbed upon it and 
lay down beside me. Neither of us had spoken since I 
told him it was alright, back in the sitting room.

I lifted myself up to look at him; he looked so 
appealing, almost lovely in the lights from outside. I 
felt no shame or apprehension as I began to make love 
to him. I kissed him and he eagerly returned it; we 
kissed lovingly for a long while as we relaxed and 
became comfortable with each other. I move from his 
mouth to kiss the side of his face, his ear and neck. 

His breathing was coming in shallow gasps, as I caught 
sight of his face I noticed his eyes were shut and his 
sensuous lips parted. I kissed them again and returned 
to his neck and then on down to his chest and then his 
nipples. I treated them as gently as I would my wife's, 
sucking them gently, running my tongue around the 
areolas; he gasped as I gently grasped each nipple in 
turn between my lips. 

Whilst staying with his nipples, I slid my hand across 
his stomach, down towards his penis. Would he stop me 
now, I vaguely wondered? He didn't. I ran the tips of 
my fingers along the length of his surprisingly 
(pleasingly?) large erection. I moved from his nipples, 
kissing and running the tip of my tongue across his 
skin as I travelled down his chest, his stomach and 
then to the band of his briefs. 

Whilst still kissing his body, I moved my hand to his 
left hip and gently pulled at the band; he lifted his 
hips and I pulled down one side of his briefs. I moved 
to his right hip and did the same there, then, back to 
his left to pull them lower and finally back to the 
right to get them clear of his hips. His briefs were 
now clear of his hips, his erection prevented them from 
going lower. 

I lifted myself and took the waistband over his penis 
and pushed them down his thighs where he pushed then 
clear by moving his legs. He was a magnificent sight 
naked. His body was superb, young, firm and hairless 
with the exception of his fair pubic hair, his large 
circumcised penis lying along his flat stomach. 

I took a gentle hold of it; here I was on new ground, 
but my wife had shown me well. I put myself in her 
place and acted as she had done countless times with 
me. I gripped it firmly and gently pulled to milk out 
some pre-cum; I was successful as a large drop of the 
clear, slippery fluid came out, fascinated, I gently 
spread it over the head of his young, strong prick. 

I gently pulled again and another large drop oozed out 
and started to run down the shaft; another pull 
expressed a third drop. I gently spread it over the 
heap of his penis and then down the sides. With a 
couple of strokes, his penis was a gleaming, slippery 
shaft. I glanced at Matthew; he was still laying with 
his eyes shut whilst I toyed with his magnificent young 
prick.

I just had to do it; I wanted to know how it felt and 
what it tasted like. I ran my tongue over the tip of 
his prick and pushed the tip of it into the liquid eye 
of his leaking penis. He gasped and I felt a huge blob 
of pre-cum leak from my caged cock. I milked another 
drop of his pre-cum directly onto my tongue and then 
sank if penis into my mouth. It tasted salty, of him 
and of nothing I'd tasted before, another man.

My wife had taught me well. I followed the movements of 
my fist down his prick with my mouth, sucking slightly 
as I withdrew it and running my tongue around his shaft 
as I plunged it into my mouth again. It felt good and I 
felt no guilt at all nor any doubts, this felt good and 
I was enjoying it as much as Matthew. He started to 
move against my movements, making love to my mouth as I 
worked on him. 

It wasn't long before I felt his movements quicken so I 
slowed and then pulled him from my mouth. I gazed at 
his prick inches from my face and then kissed the head 
of it, milking another large drop of pre-cum as I did 
so; holding the fluid in my mouth, I moved up the bed 
and kissed him, running his pre-cum into his mouth as I 
did so. 

We kissed for some time, enjoying the slippery feel of 
his fluid between our lips. I pulled away and gazed 
down at him in the half-light, his eyes remained closed 
as I continued to gently stroke his wet and slippery 
penis. He must have sensed me watching him as he opened 
his eyes and gave me the most beautiful smile. Neither 
of us spoke. I lay on my side beside him, holding but 
no longer caressing his penis. He put his left hand to 
my face.

'Can I touch you David?' he asked.

'Of course you can,' I answered. He moved towards me 
and kissed me. It was the first time he had other than 
mutually us two and it felt almost loving and, I have 
to say, bloody erotic.

I rolled onto my back and he followed me so that he was 
above me; he kissed me again, first on my face and then 
very soon across my neck and chest and then to the band 
of my now very wet briefs. He endearingly tugged 
inexpertly at them and I made it easier by taking the 
right side at the same time as he took the left. My 
prick sprang free trailing a silvery string of pre-cum 
between the head and my stomach; I was soaked with the 
stuff. 

I kicked off the briefs and lay there. He looked down 
at me and then to my prick. 'Jesus' he said, that was 
all. He looked hesitantly at me and then back to my 
prick. Slowly he moved his hand towards it and took it 
between his thumb and forefinger. 'It's so hard,' he 
said half to himself. He then gripped it harder and 
tried the same as I had to milk it. He was none to 
gentle and I loved him for is lack of expertise.

'Careful,' I said softly, 'you'll break it.' He took 
his hand away. I took his hand and put it back on my 
aching prick. 'Only joking,' I grinned at him. He 
smiled back but this time took hold of me with a little 
more confidence; the very innocence of his touch was 
erotic. He stroked me for a while and I could almost 
feel him coming to a decision. He moved, paused, and 
then put his lips to the tip of my prick. 

He kissed the end and then its length in a series of 
pecking kisses. It was so erotic just by the very 
nature of his inexperience; it couldn't have felt 
better if he had been a naive eighteen year old girl. 
After a little time he ventured to take the head of my 
prick into his mouth. The warmth of it took be by 
surprise, that and the fact than I had by penis in a 
young boys mouth. He took it deeper in his mouth and I 
felt his teeth on my skin; he gave a couple of shallow 
plunges, his teeth still running along my skin. I made 
my mind go elsewhere; it was either that or I would 
soon cum. This was like having a virgin girl and I 
wanted it to last.

I pulled away from him. 'Wait a few minutes,' I said.

He came back up and lay beside me; I took him into my 
arms and we lay there quietly for a while.

I lifted my head. 'Let me show you,' I said.

He looked at me quizzically. 'Move further down the 
bed.' He did so. I then turned around and lay beside 
him but at an angle with my head near his hips and my 
hips well clear of him. Laying on my side, I reached 
around his body and, placing the flat of my hand on the 
cheek of his wonderfully firm arse, turned his him 
towards me and took his lovely penis into my mouth 
again. This time I was careful not to overdo it; I kept 
my movements and my touch light. I played my tongue 
along his length and over the eye of his penis, gently 
probing it to tease out some pre-cum. 

I withdrew him from my mouth every time he started to 
move with me. I wanted to show him how to do it gently, 
not for any altruistic reason in fact, purely selfish; 
I was implying how I wanted him to do it to me. When he 
got the message not to move, I moved my hips slightly 
nearer to him; he got the idea and pulled himself 
across the intervening gap between us and, without any 
hesitation, took me into his mouth. 

I love sixty-nineing with my wife and this felt as good 
if not greatly different. Matthew was much more in 
control, gently sucking me and careful as he slid his 
mouth down on me. We lay there for some time gently 
sucking; his prick felt huge in my mouth, leaking pre-
cum which I spread over it as I moved him in and out of 
my mouth. Abruptly he pulled his mouth away from me.

'I'm going to cum,' he said in a panicky voice.

I gripped his balls firmly, 'No you're not,' I said 
firmly, and squeezed them slightly. It served to focus 
his attention and he calmed down, though not before a 
small teardrop of cum oozed out of his penis. I looked 
at it and then lowered my head and took the drop on the 
tip of my tongue. I hesitated and then took it into my 
mouth. It tasted better than I expected; nothing like 
it smells and not unpleasant. My God I was learning new 
things fast.

I turned around and kissed him to see if he would taste 
himself. He didn't say anything, and then, 'David, 
please let me cum, I so want to, please.'

I pulled my head back to look down at him; we looked at 
each other in mutual understanding and then I moved 
down and kissed each nipple in turn, tugging them 
gently as I held them between my lips. I continued down 
across his lower chest and stomach; hesitating, so that 
he could feel my breath on his beautiful cock, I then 
took him fully in my mouth in one smooth motion. I 
could taste his cum on him and it still tasted fine: I 
made my decision then. I pulled away and milked some 
more pre-cum from him with my hand and spread it down 
the length of his shaft, following it with my mouth. It 
didn't take long.

After a few strokes he gave a panicky, 'I'm going to 
cum!' I didn't stop.

He made to pull away but I followed his movement. He 
relaxed then as he picked up my implied message. Then 
he started to cum. The force of it caught me by 
surprise as I had as much of him in my mouth as I could 
take. It hit me at the back of my throat and I 
instinctively pulled away just before the next one hit. 
It was followed by a third; as it did so, Matthew 
started to buck so forcibly underneath me that I pulled 
my mouth clear. 

He was making strangled cries as he came and I gently 
kept stroking his rigid cock with each spasm. Jets of 
his cum streaked as far as his nipples and then, as the 
spasms diminished, across his stomach and then just ran 
out of him as they faded way. He went quiet then and I 
gently lessened the stroking of his cock as less and 
less cum left him; as I did so, the spasms subsided and 
he lay still. 

It had seemed to go on for a long time; I lifted my 
head to look at him, his eyes were closed, he was 
dishevelled and breathing through his slightly parted 
lips. He looked wonderful. For perhaps the first time 
in my life, I could recognise beauty in another man. I 
had a fair quantity of his cum in my mouth and I was 
hesitating as to whether to swallow it; it tasted sour 
but nowhere near as unpleasant as I'd expected. As I 
hesitated, he opened his eyes and made to focus them.

'Wouldn't mind a kiss,' he said, and closed his eyes 
again.

I moved towards him; he still had his eyes closed and 
his full lips slightly parted. As I held my head above 
him, I felt his cum flow to the back of my lips; I 
lightly touched my mouth to his, and then parted my 
lips. I couldn't have hoped for a better reaction; as 
he felt the warm flow onto his lips, he held my head to 
his with both hands and returned the kiss with 
unbridled passion. 

It was so erotic; his cum between our lips was warm and 
slippery; we were able to slide our lips over each 
others; once, I slid my lips from his to the side of 
his mouth; he eagerly followed my movement so as to 
keep our mouths in contact and then firmly pushed his 
tongue into my mouth. 

I drew lovingly upon it, sucking it and savouring the 
taste before pushing my tongue into his mouth. I pulled 
away and went down to where a pool of cum lay on his 
chest, I licked it onto my tongue and returned it to 
his mouth. That seemed to trigger something in us both. 
Mutually, we went wild.

We rolled about in abandoned passion; we kissed, bit, 
scratched, grabbed at any part of each other we could 
get hold of. He took hold of my leaking prick as I 
grabbed a cheek of his lovely arse and sucked his 
softened penis fully into my mouth. He smeared my pre-
cum over his nipples and then grabbed hold of my hair; 
pulling me up and bringing my mouth to them. 'Lick it 
off,' he gasped. I did, and with enthusiasm. As quickly 
as it began, we calmed. 

I knelt above him, looking down across my hard prick at 
his face. After what felt like some time, but probably 
only seconds, he wordlessly rolled away and face down 
on the bed. He moved slightly to get comfortable but at 
the same time, gradually and deliberately, parting his 
legs. Now I was unsure; I hadn't thought that things 
would go as far as they had, let alone this. Was he 
asking me? Could I do this?

Matthew must have heard my ragged breathing; 'I'd like 
to try David,' was all he said and then, almost 
imperceptibly, raised his wonderful rounded firm arse 
and then down again. I reached across him, my prick 
brushing across his back as I did so, and picked up the 
bottle of hand lotion; the one, seemingly a lifetime 
ago, that I was going to use to relieve my thoughts 
about the very boy who now lay beneath me.

Kneeling between his legs, I gently parted the cheeks 
of his lovely arse to reveal his pink, hairless anus; 
holding them apart with one hand, I poured some of the 
lotion directly onto his opening. I placed the bottle 
back on the side and returned my hand to his lubricated 
arse.

'Tell me to stop, and I will,' I said. His only 
response was to raise his arse slightly higher.

I spread the lotion around the area of his opening, 
enjoying the intimacy of it. When he was well covered, 
I took a little more lotion on my forefinger and gently 
placed the tip of it against his opening. I paused, 
wondering if he'd ask me to stop. He didn't. I pushed; 
there was an initial resistance and then he appeared to 
relax his arse muscle as my finger slipped easily in as 
far as the first joint. I held it there for a moment 
and then withdrew it, but not completely, and then in 
again, but this time to the second joint. 

His arse tightened again and I stopped there. He 
relaxed and I withdrew my finger completely. I reached 
across for some more lotion but this time was able to 
pour some into the entrance of his arse as his anus had 
remained slightly open. The next time I slid my finger 
fully into him up to the knuckle in one smooth 
movement; he groaned slightly and pushed back against 
my hand. For a couple of minutes, I gently fucked his 
lovely arse with my finger, stopping once to re-
lubricate it. 

He said it felt good as he increasingly pushed harder 
against my finger as I pushed it into him. After 
another pull-out to lubricate my finger again, it 
slipped easily in and we built up a rhythm, me pushing 
into him and him pushing back onto my hand. I withdrew 
my finger completely and waited a couple of seconds, my 
heart hammering in my chest.

'Do you want to try, Matthew?' I asked.

'Yes,' was all he said.

He spread his legs wider as I moved to kneel between 
them. His beautiful arse glistened with the lotion and 
his anus was still parted from the ministrations of my 
finger. I took the bottle, now less than half full, and 
poured some lotion into his open arse and then onto my 
prick, so hard now it almost hurt. I placed the bottle 
to the side of the bed.

'Tell me if you want me to stop at any time,' I said.

His reply was to reach up for one of the pillows, lift 
up his arse and place the pillow under his hips. I 
looked down at Matthew, his arse lifted up for me. I 
moved to place my left hand beside his head, taking my 
weight on my left arm and legs. I took my prick into my 
right hand and offered it up to his upraised arse. As 
he felt the tip of it against his opening, he pushed 
slightly back and I slightly forward. 

The head of my circumcised prick entered his arse. We 
stopped there for a couple of seconds for which I was 
grateful; I felt I was going to cum already. I held on 
to it, withdrew slightly, and then moved into him 
again. With four or five movements, I was able to get 
about a third of my prick, where it is at its thickest, 
into him but no further. He stopped pushing against me 
and took a sharp intake of breath when I tried to go 
deeper. 

I pulled out of him and then moved to lie by him on my 
side. He moved the pillow and looked at me; 
disappointment showing on his face. 'I wanted to, I 
really did,' he said sadly. I told him that I had too 
and still wanted to. I lifted my head and kissed him 
lightly on the lips.

'Let's try another way,' I said and rolled away from 
him, onto my back. 'Come on top of me,' I said softly.

He needed no second bidding and bestrode my hips, 
facing me and smiling; he'd grabbed the lotion and held 
it triumphantly. He knelt back and took my aching prick 
in his hand and poured most of what was left over the 
end. I can still smell the sweetness of it now and 
vividly remember how cold it felt on my hot skin. He 
moved forward until his arse was over my cock and then 
knelt forward, his hands either side of my head. He 
looked down at me.
I reached around him and steadied my prick with my 
hand; then he started to press backward upon it; I let 
go of my prick. Again it slid in easily up to the same 
place as before; he pulled himself almost off and then 
pushed back again but never any deeper than before. 

He did a few movements and then stopped and then pulled 
off me. He reached for the bottle and emptied it over 
the swollen head of my cock. He then straddled me 
again, took my cock, guided it just into his arse and 
then knelt forward his head above mine. He did a couple 
of movements and it began to feel good, very good 
indeed, but still no deeper.

I looked at him. 'Relax,' I whispered.

His response was to kiss me; I responded eagerly, 
pulling his mouth to mine with my hands either side of 
his lovely boyish face. As we kissed he started to move 
back and forth again; this time though I could feel 
that his arse wasn't so tight on my prick. He got to 
the point where we'd stopped before and stopped 
pushing, but kept it there rather than draw off. I 
pulled him towards me and we kissed lovingly, as we did 
I (and he) felt my prick start to overcome the 
tightness and then, suddenly, his arse was over the 
think part and closed over me again pulling all of me 
into him. 

He gasped and so did I. It felt so good; I was up to 
the root of my cock; I was swamped by unfamiliar 
sensations. He was so hot inside and the walls of his 
arse slightly rough. I could feel his balls against the 
base of my cock and his penis, semi-hard, between us. 
We said nothing, laying still as we both came to terms 
with what we had done. 

We started to gently kiss again and he started to move; 
at first his arse pulled on my prick but the 
lubrication took over and I slid out, and then, 
joyfully, back in again. It felt wonderful and I 
remember it as if it was only yesterday. He moved 
again, and then again, building slowly to slow, 
deliberate movements; he was smiling as he became more 
confident and as I started to move against his 
movements. Between us, I could feel his penis stirring.

'Let me look at you,' I said and pushed him away from 
me so that he was sitting upright, impaled on my prick.

He looked beautiful; his lovely body rising above me. 
He smiled and then slightly closed his eyes as I took 
his penis in my right hand and started to rub it 
gently; it got to a firm state rather than a full 
erection and
stayed that way. As I continued to stoke him, he 
started to move up and down on my prick and I moving 
against him. 

Now we were fucking and it felt so good. It didn't go 
on for long, he started to move quicker and I did the 
same on his penis. I passed the point of no return and 
he must have felt my prick momentarily swell as he put 
all his weight upon me, driving me deep into him. I 
felt warmness on my hand and looked to see cum 
streaming from his penis; that finished me; I started 
to cum, and cum hard. 

It hit me so much that I let go of his penis and sat 
upright and pulled him towards me in a tight embrace as 
the first wave hit me. I felt cum stream from the end 
of my exploding prick, and then another, followed by 
another. I called out something (I know not what) and 
we gripped each other as I filled him; in all of this I 
could feel the warmth of his cum between us. As my 
spasms decreased, we kissed and then, when they had 
stopped altogether, lightly held each other, saying 
nothing. I broke the silence,

'Are you OK?' I asked, not really knowing quite what I 
was asking.

'I'm fine,' he said, 'just enjoying the feeling of you 
being inside me.'

I was suddenly cold and lay back down, taking him with 
me and keeping me inside him. I tugged a sheet from the 
dishevelled bed and pulled it over us. We lay like that 
for quite some time, not speaking, each thinking our 
own thoughts. Eventually, his arse muscles closed down 
on my softened cock and squeezed it out him.

'Oh no!' he said. 'I wanted you to stay in me.' I said 
nothing, just hugged him.

After a while he stirred. 'I should go,' he said. I 
said that he didn't have to, he could stay 'til the 
morning if he'd like to. He said that he'd like that 
but would have to be down in time to serve breakfast. I 
suggested a shower.

'Together?' he asked.

'Together,' I replied.

We showered together, soaping and washing each other, 
paying much attention to each other's penis, ball and 
arse areas. Once, when he was washing my balls, he 
slipped a soapy finger into my arse; it felt 
surprisingly good. We dried off and fell into bed. I 
pulled the duvet up over us both. I lay on my back and 
lifted my left arm; he slid his head under it and put 
in on my shoulder. We held each other as lovers for a 
while; me kissing his head from time to time and him 
occasionally tuning his head to kiss my neck. Slowly, 
Matthew first, we fell asleep.

I awoke at some time, becoming aware of being warm, 
with a half-erection and no Matthew. I then became 
aware that he was there but was the source of my warm 
feeling and half an erection; he'd woken me by taking 
my cock in his mouth. It was a wonderful feeing and, 
once fully conscious, my cock rapidly grew to its erect 
state. He didn't stop; seemingly he'd become a blow-job 
expert as he milked my prick of pre-cum and spread it 
over the length of it with his mouth. He soon realised 
that I was now fully awake as he stopped and moved up 
the bed.

'Did I wake you'? he asked with a smile, and then 
kissed me lovingly. 

I rolled him onto his back and lay on top of him, 
returning his kiss. Our pricks were hard and we pressed 
them together between us. He than parted his legs and 
pulled them up high to rest them on my shoulders. 
Placing my hands either side of his shoulders on the 
bed, I pushed forwards, lifting his arse of the bed. 

Keeping him in that position, I moved myself to bring 
my prick under his balls and against his arse. I stayed 
there, looking down at him, asking the silent question. 
His answer was equally silent; he reached for my prick 
and guided the head of it to his anus; pushing slightly 
against it to keep in there as he took his hand away. I 
gently pushed a little more.

It must have been my cum from our previous time as he 
seemed so slippery. I was able to enter him slightly, 
then pull back, and then in slightly deeper. I did this 
six or seven times and then was able to enter him 
fully. It felt bloody good. We stayed still for a few 
moments and then I started to move again. He reached 
down and pulled on his prick to move his balls out of 
the way. As he relaxed I was able to slide in and out 
of him with ease. There is no other term for it or a 
way to describe it; we made love. 

I was able to move into him as I did my wife. I would 
stop occasionally to hold myself back, and then start 
to move again. He looked up at me as I moved in and out 
of him; sometimes he would smile and then look at me 
through half-closed eyes as looks of pleasure flitted 
across his face. At times, I would move very slowly 
into him until I was as deep as I could go, and then 
stop, but keeping myself pushed hard in rather than 
resting. 

At these times he would shudder slightly and clamp his 
legs against my neck. When he did this, I could feel 
his beautiful arse clamp around my buried prick. We 
made love like this for some time, I couldn't say how 
long. There came a time however when I didn't want to 
stop moving and he didn't want me to. As my strokes 
increased, he started to meet my thrusts and also 
masturbated to the same rhythm. It was incredibly 
erotic and I noticed that, as the last time I was 
inside him, his cock was slightly softer than a full 
erection. Eventually, the inevitable happened. 

First a hint and then a full blown cum. As it hit me I 
forcefully rammed my prick into him right up to its 
root. He gasped and then relaxed as I held myself fully 
into him feeling my cum squirt out of my prick and into 
him. He felt it too and gasped as each jet entered him. 
He had let go of his prick and now had both arms around 
my neck, holding on tight as I emptied myself into him. 
It felt so good, even better than the previous time, 
but my spasms were fading now and I was no longer 
rammed up against him although still fully in him. 
Finally, I finished.

'Bloody hell,' I said; that was all. What more was 
there to say?

Matthew's arms relaxed around my neck but he pulled my 
head down to his. He kissed me lightly on the lips.

'Thank you' he said with his dreamy smile and eyes half 
closed. We stayed like that until my penis softened and 
his muscles gently squeezed me out of him.

'Now it's your turn,' I said, moving down the bed.

As I moved down, he straightened his legs, but slightly 
apart. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I took 
his now fully erect prick and gladly took it in my 
mouth. I milked it as I sucked and enjoyed the taste of 
his pre-cum which flowed freely from him. I hadn't 
realised the first time how much I'd enjoyed doing this 
to him; now I was hungry for it. 

I employed all the techniques my wife had (unwittingly) 
taught me. Matthew seemed to particularly enjoy me 
teasing his prick with just my mouth, holding his hips 
down with my hands as he tried push against me as I 
lowered my mouth onto his shaft. I let his prick spring 
free and then grab it again with my mouth, sometimes 
lightly between my teeth. He did a sharp intake of 
breath through his teeth when I did that. 

I continued like this for some time until I eventually 
felt his prick swell and his breathing quicken. I 
didn't take him out of my mouth; instead, I held onto 
him as the beginning of the end approached. He came as 
forcibly as before but this time I was ready for it and 
withdrew very slightly to give him room to cum. 

It was difficult however to hang on to him as he bucked 
with each spurt but hold on to him I did, to the point 
where I didn't think I could hold any more of his cum 
in my mouth; I solved this dilemma by slightly opening 
my mouth to release a small quantity which ran down his 
shaft. At last he lay still; I pulled gently to milk 
the last drop from his prick. Then I let go of him and 
moved back up the bed.

He sensed what I was going to do and was ready for me. 
I moved my mouth over his as he offered his parted lips 
up to me. I opened my mouth and kissed him at the same 
time. A flood of his cum flowed from my lips onto his. 
We went wild. Between us we spread his cum over each 
others lips and exchanged it between our mouths with 
our tongues. 

The passion with which we did this was like nothing I'd 
known before. I licked up any that threatened to spill 
down his face and he eagerly took it from me. In one 
quick movement, I went down to his now soft penis and 
sucked another drop from him and also licked off what 
I'd let go over him before, and then returning to share 
it with him. 

The taste I can't remember but I can clearly remember 
enjoying it. Eventually we calmed down; me half laying 
across him. We stayed like that for ten minutes or so; 
I moved and looked down at him. Softly, almost with 
love, I kissed him; he gently returned it. I lifted my 
head and looked at him again; wordlessly we knew what 
was going to happen next.

'I should go,' he said, barely audible.

I nodded. 'I know.'

He got up and headed for the shower; I waited for a few 
minutes, thinking about what had happened and how I 
felt about it. I decided I felt bloody good about it 
and got up to follow him into the shower-room. I leant 
on the entrance to the shower watching Matthew wash 
himself. He noticed me, smiled and continued to soap 
himself. He looked good, young, fit, good-looking and, 
now, an air of confidence. My cock stirred but I stayed 
watching him. He had to go and we both knew it. 

I held the towel for him as he turned the shower off; 
he walked towards me, gloriously naked with his heavy 
penis swinging. He turned his back to me and I draped 
the big towel over his shoulders, touching the back of 
his neck lightly with my lips as I did so. I moved past 
him and into the shower and turned it full on. I needed 
to wash my body and cleanse my mind of him; I knew it 
was going to be a once only liaison. 

As I showered, he dried himself; I enjoyed watching him 
as he moved so gracefully and unconscious of his 
beauty, yes, beauty, he looked so wonderful naked. I 
turned off the shower and grabbed a towel; Matthew had 
gone back into the bedroom and was picking up his 
clothes in turn as he dressed. I quickly towelled 
myself and tugged on the dressing gown, with some 
difficulty, over my still damp skin. I watched him 
finish dressing, neither of us saying anything. When he 
finished, he turned to look at me.

'Will I see you before you go?' he asked.

I said he would.

He slowly tuned and headed for the door, pausing when 
he reached it, his hand on the handle. He dropped his 
hand and turned to face me. He looked dreadfully sad. 
We spontaneously moved towards each other and embraced.

'Thank you,' he said.

We let go of each other and he turned, lifted the latch 
I'd dropped a lifetime ago, turned the handle, pulled 
the door open and left. As quick as that. I felt 
terribly alone. I decided then that I would leave; I 
didn't want to be here anymore; business could wait. 
I'd go now, before the Friday traffic got too heavy 
heading south, back to rural Wiltshire.

I didn't see Matthew during breakfast (I was ravenous) 
nor when I came to check-out. He was there however in 
the car-park by my car. He looked cold in his hotel 
uniform; hardly surprising as the wind coming off the 
sea was freezing. As I reached him, he made a play of 
helping me with my suitcase into the car.

'Will you come back David?' he asked.

'Yes,' I said, 'of course I will.' We touched hands 
briefly and I climbed into my car.
I lowered the window. 'Thank you David,' he said.

I smiled and said nothing; I couldn't have anyway, I 
was too emotional. His eyes were wet. I started the car 
and he took his hands from the door. I pulled slowly 
away, looking at him diminish in the rear-view mirror. 
He raised his hand as I turned right into the road 
fronting the cold grey sea.

'You should go to Blackpool more often,' said my wife 
dreamily. She'd just given me the loveliest blow-job. 
She'd given me it as she was slightly sore from our 
second bout of love-making in the half-light of the 
early morning. It was close on lunch-time. I'd arrived 
home from a long and tortuous drive home, navigating 
around traffic hold-ups as I tracked south towards 
home. She'd put a bottle of sparkling wine in the 
fridge for my return and we'd enjoyed a light supper 
with it. She gave out all the wifely signs of wanting 
to be taken to bed and I in turn felt incredibly horny. 

We left the table as it was as headed for bed; I cannot 
remember a time when we fucked with such animal 
passion. She came twice in quick succession before I 
could hold off no longer, roughly ramming into her as I 
came. We calmed down as I softened and then lay beside 
each other as we drifted into sleep. In the cold dawn 
light, we both stirred and turned to each other and 
gently and sleepily made love. 

It was lovely and we moved and then stopped, going on 
like this for nearly an hour before she dug her nails 
into my shoulder as she thrust against me as she came 
without any warning. I followed soon after. In the full 
winter sunlight of mid-morning, she took me in her 
mouth. Afterwards, she pulled herself up to look at me.


'You haven't been fucking another woman while you've 
been away, have you,' she asked bluntly.

'No,' I replied with complete honesty, 'what makes you 
ask that?'

'I don't know,' she said, 'misplaced feminine intuition 
I guess.'

I returned to the hotel in May, planning to stay 
overnight rather than drive home late in the day, at 
least, that's what I'd told my wife. There was nobody 
on the reception desk (not untypical in an hotel in 
England) so I took my case into the bar to get a drink 
in the meantime. Matthew was behind the bar.

'Hello,' he said brightly, 'here on business again? I 
said I was.

He hesitated' 'Would you like a drink'?

I said I would while I waited for somebody to staff the 
reception desk. He looked lovely. I ordered a beer. As 
he poured it, another young boy came behind the bar and 
picked up a bottle of wine from the rack.

'For table seven,' he said, looking at Matthew, who 
looked back at the boy, though slightly embarrassed.

'OK,' he said.

The other boy looked quizzically at him and then left 
with the bottle. I felt a great disappointment. I 
caught Matthew's gaze and nodded in the direction of 
the parting boy, raising my eyebrows in a silent 
question. He reddened slightly and then nodded.

'Good luck to you both' I smiled, feeling anything but 
glad.

He said nothing, just nodded, and left the bar to take 
an order. Leaving my drink untouched, I picked up my 
bag and left the bar. It was a long way home. I never 
saw him again.

END

The author is mr_blue_skies@hotmail.co.uk  I would be 
pleased to receive your comments on this story.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 46