It Really Wasn't Planned 2

It Really Wasn't Planned

A homoerotic tale by Anthony Thomas[Ant-Boy], that's not for children

Chapter Two

[If you're classified as a child in your state please go away and come back when old enough to read about such things as M-to-M sex, S&M practices, Water sports and all the rest. For all others -- I hope you enjoy]

That pub, what I saw and experienced in that hour and even more so what followed back in John's room that hot sunny afternoon, and evenings for the next couple of weeks, opened my eyes and expanded my horizons to an extent I would never have even dared to dream off. I had no idea what to ask for when we arrived at the bar and in reply to his question told John I'd join him in whatever he was having. The pint glass of beer he handed me moments later looked and smelt quite a different matter to the warm cans I'd experienced a few times a school as did the taste when the cool liquid entered my mouth and was thirstily swallowed.

`Hang on,' he told me when I stopped to breath, `carry on at that rate and you'll soon be pissed. Unless that's the idea,' he grinned.

`Might be a good idea,' I said without thinking, then continued, still not really thinking, `I've never really drunk alcohol before, so you better keep an eye on what I drink unless of course you want to have your wicked way with me.'

I don't know what made me say that last, or the way I said it. It just came out and I started to apologise when he handed me a plate of sandwiches and nodded to a table over in one corner suggesting we sit there and watch the world go by for a while, making no comment on my half suggestion. Perhaps, I hoped, he hadn't heard it. As we made our way over to the corner I couldn't help but notice how often he paused for a moment to talk to one person or another, this had to be a regular haunt of his. I also started to notice how many of the customers had their arms around one and another, heard snippets of conversations and, as we sat down, caught sight of two lads about our age over in another corner bodies close together and kissing with nobody paying any attention. It hit me with a bang, this was a gay pub. I seen them mentioned in the magazines I managed to obtain but would never have dared go in one on my own, now on my first full day in London I was boldly sitting in one with a coloured guy I'd met less than twenty-four hours ago and if only I didn't fuck it up some of my dreams might be close to coming true.

As I turned back to face John wondering how to phrase my next remark a middle aged man came over and tapped him on the shoulder so John got up to talk and moved slightly away from our table. I couldn't stop looking around, drinking in the atmosphere, and the rest of my first pint. Even so I did take it in they both kept on looking back at me and John shaking his head but finally nodding as they separated. When he finally returned I asked him what it had all been about but he didn't really answer, just asked, `I suppose you realise this is a gay pub?'

`I do now.'

`Ever been in one before?' he asked next and it all poured out. Mainly the beer talking I think but also so much trapped inside me for years. I told him of my staid and restrictive upbringing, hinted at my sexual inclinations, maybe went further than that, I don't remember, just the fact another pint of beer turned up at some time and was nearly empty by the time I finished my tale of woe.

`So you almost a virgin,' was his next comment I took in.

`What else could I reply except, `Yes.'

Want to change that? With me?'

I felt myself blush all over whilst answering almost with a shout, `Yes! Of course I do.'

`Do you want to know what that man was asking me earlier?' I somewhat drunkenly nodded. `He wanted to know if he could watch me fuck you sometime.' Even in my half befuddled state that shocked and I was sure everybody could see me turn bright red, but at the same time some little bit of me was turned on by the idea of being used that way with an audience and without being aware of the fact got parked the thought at the back of my mind.

The trip to the toilets I was to become much more intimately connected with before the year was out I managed without quite falling over and by the time we'd slowly made our way back, or rather John had manoeuvred me back, in this case to his room I was almost recovered from my first gay outing but to be truthful was enjoying the feeling of his hands helping steer my body, especially when they fell on my bare skin.

`Are you sure this is what you want?' he asked while waiting for the kettle to boil for coffee.

My only answer was to quickly strip down to my thin jockstrap while I still had the nerve and kneel on the edge of his bed. The wait while he kicked off his trainers, slid the sleeveless denim of his shoulders and finally unbuttoned and dropped his pants and briefs was almost impossible to bear. I remember myself rocking slightly back and forth on my folded legs and moaning a little under my breath, or so I thought. To me he was beautiful. A sort of shining dark brown all over apart from the jet black rod jutting out from his groin and slightly lighter hand palms. I knew just what I wanted even if I hadn't the words then, or the knowledge to express them. I wanted that cock inside me, its produce inside me and over me; I wanted to taste his body, I wanted him to use me, to force me.

`You can touch it you know. It won't break.'

It didn't and after I'd filled my jockstrap he forced my head back down on it, hot, almost with a life of its own, tasting musky and salty just like it smelt, long and stiff thrusting at the back of my throat, choking me as he pulled my head up and down on it by its hair. How he knew just what it was that I wanted, needed, and the way to make me achieve my desires after such short acquaintance and also, really, before I was aware of them myself, I have no idea. It has to be admitted however he'd hit the nail right on its head, I did want to be forced, even to be abused somewhat in the process, the very thought let alone action connected somehow inside my head. Not only my head was at work it seemed, there was also a distinct stirring that couldn't be ignored inside the cold sticky jock still holding my cock and balls where my cock was becoming quite uncomfortable in its attempts to straighten itself out.

My hands were placed, one pulling down lightly on his balls and the other round the base of his black rod because, at that time, I'd not had the experience required to manage a full deep face fuck though the picture that appeared somehow out of the blue of my arms tied behind my back merely enhanced my efforts to please. So I sucked and slurped even harder at the impossibly hot firm throbbing specimen of manhood violating my mouth and felt it engorge even further followed by a short series of tremors pulsing along its length before he grabbed my hair tighter, and slammed my mouth forward to receive its first offering of cum that was not from my own body. In this case hot, fresh and slightly salty that I attempted in vain to swallow but lack of breath caused me to pull slightly back, even against the hands locked in my hair, and the final ejaculations I milked from him with my hands splashed across my face to join the spit and cum dribbling from my mouth.

`That was fantastic,' he told me as I sat back on my heels, `and you look fantastic as well. They're all going to go mad over you.'

I didn't understand what he meant by the last back then and it didn't really sink in anyway, I was more concerned at slipping my jock off and allowing my now painfully bent cock to straighten itself out with a sigh of relief as it bounced back against my stomach.

`That looks good as well, what big is it? Seven inches?' I nodded. `And ready to shoot again by the look of it. How do you manage to recover so quickly?' I could have said I always did plus what we'd been up to probably had something to do with its present situation but just continued sitting back with what I'm sure was a stupid inane grin on my cum and saliva covered face enjoying the feeling of my straining erection and the fact another man was openly enjoying looking at it.

I'd just had another man's penis in my mouth, and not only that he'd cum in it and over my face and wasn't sickened by the fact, actually seemed to be almost as pleased with the result as myself. There was no way he could be as ecstatic with the fact as me, this being the first time with a real live breathing cock and I'd discovered the result to be massively better than my imagination had possibly placed it. That's probably why when he asked me how I wanted to get off I just answered, `Hard.'

`You really want me to get heavy?' My grin grew returned, `make it hurt a bit?' Larger still.

His hands moved up to my nipples, still a bit tender from his earlier ministrations, and pinched them. I grimaced but managed somehow not to pull away. `Like this?' He got a nod in reply. He twisted harder, `Lay back,' I didn't move. `I said to lie back on the bed.'

One hand came up to squash my face and forcibly pushed me to a horizontal position, `Hands behind your head.' He then moved to a position between my legs forcing them apart in the process, grabbed my ankles and pulled them up to meet my arse cheeks. My cock stood proudly upright between my outspread thighs and my balls hung down toward my arse until he grabbed them, pulling away from my body in the process and slapping my cock back and forth with his free hand. I yelped.

`Too hard?'

`No, never. Just bring me off please. I need to cum.'

He spat twice on my cock and gripped it tightly before starting a slow wank.

`Harder please! Let my balls free, make them bounce, do it hard!'

He stopped squeezing and stretching my ball sac allowing them to bounce freely against my body and spat on my cock again whilst increased the speed of his hand working up and down. His free hand moved down to my arse and I clearly felt his fingers playing with the exposed rosebud.

`Go on; stick one in, stick two in.'

He took me at my word and two fingers pushed their way easily through due to my position and the natural lube resulting from my sweat and his spit, to twist and pull inside the lips of my hole. This felt nothing like the broom handle I'd used on myself at home or even the few times I'd got my own fingers up there. This was somebody else abusing my hole and my back arched up from the bed as my bashed balls finally gave up their load, the first release actually splashing somewhere on my face, the next my chest and the remainder over my cock and Johns hand while he continued to milk me empty.

Finally he sat back after wiping his hands on my body. `You're really turning out to be a surprise. Not quite so inexperienced as I thought, even if you have only had yourself to play with before.'

Somehow I just couldn't stop that stupid grin returning when I answered, `I must have a good teacher in you then.'

`You really look a mess now,' he carried on.

Lovely -- I thought to myself.

[Just a reminder the author has other stories archived on Nifty -- look under Ant Boy'

Also he likes receiving comments from any possible readers.

Ant-Boy@hotmail.co.uk]