My Fair Lad - Part 18
Chas is in Ramsgate plotting his future. Mark a distant nightmare.
He's setting up home with Gav, trying to forge a new life for himself and the lad he loves.
Chas housing empire is progressing well, and he finally confronts his enemies.
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Retribution
Gav is snoring, spooning. Morning hard, I'm lodged in his crack, I could easily slip in,
He rolls over facing me,
`Oh no you don't',
he says and pushes me on my back, in one move he is on top of me, his arms holding his body partially off me, we make out and he lowers, his weight almost all on me, he's miming fucking me, I feel wetness from his cock on me, his dick sliding up between us, it's so sexy, my cock rubbing up his skin, exciting my rim, my foreskin pulled back, so sensitive.
I can't take any more, I shudder as my hot spunk floods out, he rams his tongue deep in my mouth, I haul breath in through my nose as his rim slides easily through my spunk, gliding towards his completion.
He breaks off kissing, I watch his cum face, the agony and ecstasy in a millisecond displayed as he spurts his powerful jets between us, my turn now to plug his mouth as I press his face in close, tight to mine, he's struggling to breath through his nose, his face red, he pushes me off, his primal survival kicking in.
We lay wet with spunk and heaving,
`I love you Charles David Mason', he whispers,
We kissed and chatted about the houses, what to do next, rent or sell? I wish now I'd kept the Georian one and rented it. Heck, we could eventually amass enough to just live off the rental income, then spend our days shagging each other senseless.
David and the team has completed Spencer Square. I've got the agents looking for others, I really need to get things moving or else Gav will have to go back to being an employee.
Stevies on with the sauna cabin, he's building it in the warehouse so we've been able to try out the sizes of the pool and the shower, making the sauna cosier to free up space for a bigger dip and rinse off play area.
We tour the house, the workmanship is excellent, the team are really coming on, the finishes are superb, simple surfaces like walls are plastered perfectly, joinery door casements are fault free. Rachel got a free kitchen, a shaker style that had damaged doors. It was sitting in the yard of the builders merchants, discarded. Stevie filled and re-sprayed the damaged doors, it looks like new.
The yard is flagged, ready for the cabin. I noticed the capped off water and soil pipe. Stevie built an outhouse toilet to the cabin to save wet feet through the house, it's OK for blokes, basic.
We decided to have a party to celebrate George's 18th.
Ted arranged delivery of the cabin, he rented a crane to hoist the pieces Stevie built in, the team worked hard to bolt the sides to the base and drop the roof on and to connect the power, water and drain. It looks really good.
I downloaded the spa jacuzzi app, we heard it start to fill, sounding like a washing machine.
I switched on the sauna heater and I could see the coals were fizzing and getting hot.
We stood back as the truck drove off and Slomo and Spanno refitted the rear fence panel.
I got a couple of fridge packs, switched on the outside festoon lights and we stripped off, sipping beer, revelling in our nudity, enjoying the cool night air on our privates, on display.
I like looking at men, blokes, bliss.
I ran in and filled the sauna bucket with water from a tap in the shower and ladled 3 scoops on, the heat rose like a volcano.
`Right lad's, the sauna is ready, who's for warming up?',
The sauna held six in cosy comfort, eight at a squeeze, we lined up, naked as lords, and entered the sauna, the single bulb illuminating the cramped space making it look super sleazy.
`Ready lads' I said as I scooped on a ladle as the fake coals hissed and the heat tsunami invaded our nostrils and we exhaled as one.
`Fuck' shouted George,
We sweated out the toxins and dirt of the day. The light illuminated the gleaming beads of sweat on us all, I repeated the action until we could stand no more.
George ran into the shower and we all followed and shared the two fixed rainwater shower heads, now cascading the cool water over us. I ran back in and George was last, him now controlling the ladles of water, steaming and baking us all until we could barely breathe.
We showered off the sweat and now all clean and revived we sank into the jacuzzi, warming through, its bigger than the whirlpool, circular with a seat all the way around and a central deeper drain, jets spray on your back and up from beneath the seat. We took another can each as George leapt out, his beautiful form, constantly boned these days,
Stevie watching him, he is totally besotted with him. We soaked the aches away and George leapt out and threw us all another can, then sank under in the deepest part and emerged like Venus but with a penis in the centre, the water bubbling just below his balls.
`Let's drink to Chas and Gav, our gaffers' he said,
I stood next to him in a similar condition, cocks touching tips in the cramped deep space. George looking at me, eye to eye as he feels mine touch his.
I say, `Let's toast George's 18th that he's been waiting 3 years for, now he's of age it's ok to lust after his manhood'
`To George's manhood', says Spanno and we gulp the beers.
We toast till the cans are empty, George gets towels and we dry off, nipping arses, flicking towels, landing shots on balls.
Slomo, Spanno and David leave. Gav lifts me up, Stevie lifts George and we walk into the house.
I run back and pick up the towels, turn off the electrics and lock up the lodge. I slide the zig zag doors to, lock-up and switch off the lights as three naked bums wiggle ahead of me running to the bedroom.
I finally did get George's present, as did Gav and Stevie in succession, the lad recovers with a kiss and a quick pump in minutes. All I'll say is it was worth waiting for.
I'm viewing more properties. I've decided to use some capital, I've a last million on deposit. Time to get that to earn its keep.
I check with Winston, `joint names is good, and take my advice and move into Spencer Square as your primary residence and let out the flat'. I told Winston about the suspected double dealing, he says we need proof of meetings, times and dates. He says he'll put a private investigator on Gerry to track him about his business. Let's see what they find out.
I get a call from the agent. He's just taken instructions for a house on Meeting Street. He'll pick me up in 1/2 hour. I'm first to view. No chain, lady is in a care home.
I like it, it's another with ugly extensions and this one has no real front door. The agent leaves me the keys for 1 hour and I call David, who meets me there.
David says we need to create a Georgian front door where one window is now and to extend in matching brick so the new door is central, with a two storey extension with parking at the front either with an undercroft and Georgian gates or an internal garage. This would provide two new bedrooms above with bathrooms and a combined kitchen diner living area at the rear onto a private yard thats barely overlooked for BBQ and a jacuzzi cabin maybe.
David says it's an expensive undertaking but thinks planners would love it as it's an odd looking half finished result of more likely bomb damage given the car park and new housing built around.
I buy it, it's on at £231k. I offer £200k and get rejected. I offer £215k, rejected. I offer £220 as is including all goods and chattels, it's accepted. The family have already removed any keepsakes, I'll get probably a grand for the contents.
Ben is on with the legals, harassing their solicitor to get a wiggle on. I keep the keys.
David appoints the architect to draw up plans and sketches as the extension might need planning. He uses the outfit that did the first Georgian one. He emphasises the need for it to look as if it's always been there.
We move into Spencer Square. Winston says to put our names on the council tax, utilities, bank accounts and on the electoral roll, that way there will be no Capital Gains Tax when we sell it to Your rental company and you move into Meeting Street. He's a smart guy.
We're relaxing in Spencer Square, cuddled up on the sofa, in boxers. I look at Gav, his torso is thickening up somehow, he always was top heavy but now it looks like he's grown into it. He notices me scanning him, he knows, his mouth creases into a tiny smile, he lifts his arm and he pulls me in closer. Is this what love feels like?
Rachel's done a good job of the decoration and furniture, we feel at home.
Stevie and George help us pack up the flat ready to move. George finds our bedroom toys. Making me blush.
`you won't need that with Gav's eight inches' laughs George.
It's one I knicked from the Shard, a memento.
We shifted the boxes of clothes in the shag waggon and went back to find Stevie and George sat in the kitchen, having a cuppa.
So what you gonna do with this place then?', says George, Gav's mums alright and I'm grateful for them rescuing me, but I'd love some freedom',
`Yeah me too, Ma and Pa are fine but you know, still in the same room at 20, I'd move out in a drop' says Stevie.
They look at each other and think the same thought.
`It's £600 a month, utility bills on top. George, see David, you're on the payroll as of now, I'll deduct the rent from both your take home pay, how's that'. I say.
They nod. I waggle the keys.
`Right lads, me and Gav are not your folks, we are landlords. You pay your rent and the bills and you can cum and go as you like. Main thing is no parties unless we are invited, no pissing in the showers or the whirlpool and keep the place clean'.
We will Chas', says Stevie, I've got my very own personal cleaner now',
`Gav or me or both of us will be around to give monthly inspections, to test out the whirlpool and the fancy TV, we don't want to see smelly socks and shitty underpants, understood? They nod.
`Oh and be nice to Ted, but don't let him in here, got it, never ever. He can use the warehouse kitchen and shower but he mustn't set foot up here, even if he makes you feel sorry for him'.
Stevie hugged George who gave a mock `gerroff' and they settled down, close, smiling.
We left and drove back to Spencer Square. We christened the kitchen table, the staircase and the bedroom.
The architects sketches and layout were accepted, for Meeting Place but we need to make a full planning application. That can take months.
We need a `doer upper' or two to keep the lads working. As luck would have it the agent called. An old dear on Spencer Square has popped it and the greedy family want the cash.
It's done and dusted in a week. A pitiful place, never decorated since 1930's, sticks of furniture and ancient plumbing.
David and Rachel use the same ideas for ours and it's only a few doors down, that means no toot from slo mo at 7:30 for Gav and longer morning fucks and cuddles for me.
I'm on the case now, looking for another two houses, something extendable. The bloke next door but one to us called by to have a look at ours, to meet us and to see what we'd done with the place.
He was impressed as we did the ten cent tour, telling me that with two kids they're bursting at the seams and haven't had the cash to do theirs up, just painted the kitchen doors and put a new worktop on and bought a big `American' fridge.
He says he changed jobs about a month ago and he's commuting to Brighton, he's found somewhere to rent but he can't afford the mortgage on this place plus the rent so he needs a quick sale.
I go around, yeah looks ok. I make him an offer, £180k, he winces, He's thinking £200k, we shake on £190 and I agree to pay all their legal and removal fees. He says they'll pay off the mortgage and keep the equity, he might get a new car he says, how the foolish are easily parted from their hard earned money, says this wise man!
I call Ben and he says another guy in the office will handle their legals, should be quick. It's done in three days. Ted arranges the removals from a couple of guys `who owe him one', £400. I let them live in it until the removal date on Friday.
As soon as they're gone the lads rip out the carpets and kitchen units, the grabber comes and clears the mess we've made and some old white goods and an old sofa from the back. The old shed is hoisted up in one. All done.
Pub time' says David, I'm too knackered for a shower', pub'll do me' says Spanno, so that's decided.
David and Rachel use the plans from this one, to add a third bedroom and bathrooms and a new kitchen diner, the front room can be a tv room or a bedroom as there is a small shower room and loo planned for under the stairs. I think it might split but hey ho, I'm not greedy.
The team are pleased, I get a round in and Gav the next.
`Bloody hell you're sharp Chas, that's two more houses in Spencer Square, and more work for the lads's',
Says David, we toast the projects. I get them in again.
David says he can bulk buys the materials, getting a better rate and guys can go from house to house as they finish each task so no gaps. There's less time choosing the finishes and fit out. Rachel's on the hunt for kitchens and sanitary ware.
`Just don't forget this new one's a mirror image of this one', says David. The lads throw their beer mats at him covering him in damp paper coasters.
Spanno is first to leave, then Slomo, they give George and Stevie a lift home.
We chat with David, he tries to quiz me about my money, he's convinced himself it's drugs.
`Look David, it's all kosher, metal trading is like institutional theft, all trading is. It's like gambling with your mums money and saying you'll promise to pay her back at the end of the month and you keep any surplus or cough up if you've lost. It's that simple, it has to be for the thick public school boys. Us market traders can sniff a turn in the market and know when to off load'.
He leaves mesmerised.
Gav's loving the work, he tackles everything now, he does the first fix plumbing that Spanno checks, all the wiring, he's getting good at plastering. George loves labouring, loving the banter and jokes, he's so cruel, getting gasps at how daring and accurate he is with his put downs if he's made to feel small.
George has always got the radio on, singing along, he's picking up the trade, the lingo and the skills on the way, Gav says he's always eager to try something new.
Rachel applied to the employment office and George is on an apprenticeship scheme. I'm happy, we got £10k for setting him on and we'll get another £10k if he completes his apprenticeship and we employ him. He does four days with us, we all relax when the whirlwind is at tech!
We get the old bricks for the extension from the same supplier as the Georgian terrace for Meeting Street, another demolished old piggery fits the bill perfectly.
David's on to the council and heritage society for advice on cast iron drain pipes and guttering, new front sash windows and a wide front door. The door is coming in at £10k. The guttering is cast aluminum copies, they look great.
I get Stevie on the case for the door, he says he can make one but its full time and so can't do that and skirtings and doors at Spencer Road houses. Gav and George jump at the chance.
Stevies looking for oak, sniffing around his suppliers and salvage yards. He spots an old door in bad way, the guy says it's from an old rectory. It's solid oak but has been painted on top of painting and needs a lot of work to restore as the bottom edge is rotten and the kick board is missing but it's got the classic half moon lights. The guy wanted a grand for it. Stevie says it's so badly damaged, it's firewood really. He gets it for £250. It takes three of them to lift it onto the truck it's so heavy. He's making the frame to fit the aperture for the classic Georgian look.
David gets the council to install a repro wall mounted street light in sympathy with the period. He gets quotes from electric sliding gate suppliers and opts for a custom design of Georgian wrought iron, but cast in aluminum. All in the detail he says.
The undercroft has two windows matching the others, set back forming space to park and charge a car on an angle. This takes less space than a garage and crucially, gives light to the rooms behind.
The team finish the job, Rachel has the decoators in an organises the furniture deliveries and room settings.
Another completion, another puff piece in the paper, `mystery tycoons mission' is the headline.
Gav comes in, exhausted, `all those skirtings are done in number 10, bloody miles of the fuckers, I'm gonna get a sandwich, you want one?',
`How about cheese and tomato?',
`Great, I'll make them, you make us a brew?',
I nod and stand behind him, smelling his warmth exuding from the gap between his shirt collar and his naked flesh. It's a heady scent, laced with his musk. I pull him close to me and kiss his neck as he's buttering the bread. He cuts the cheese,
`You and this bloody Tom and Jerry cheese, all holes no cheese',
It clicks, Tom and Jerry; MG Metals, it's Mark and Gerry Metals.
I call Winston.
`Good bit of work Chas, however it's difficult to prove as the registered shareholders are other companies and it's a web that will probably end up with a relative as a named nominee',
`Is there no other way?' I asked,
Well, I was thinking what would Winston do?' and I thought `whats good for the goose is good for the gander. I'd play him at his own game, do the same, each time he rips me off I'd get it back. I'll set it all up if you like, what name do you want?',
Stevie and George spring to mind,
`SG metals, and use my old warehouse address',
`Righty ho',
It takes about a week to setup and get a business bank account. I get a call and emails from Winston of the new company S&G Metals Ltd. I register it with London Metals Exchange.
Generally, my trades are doing well. I'm doing more in London now as the market opens at 11 and I've time to fit my swimming and running in before attacking the numbers, sniffing out discrepancies and opportunities.
I'm getting in a 4 miles run, from here, to the warehouse and the Esplanade holiday let and back, surveying my estate, then a brisk walk to the pool on the ring road, to tick off 60 lengths, another mile under my belt.
Before we know it, it's another 6 monthly review.
Gerry is his usual self, `meet at my club, Cols says he's looking forward to some decent exercise', I laugh, he continues;
`Listen old bean, I've a confession, I turned over a few bad cards lately, it's tough out there, sorry and all',
I was about to let Alan know, but he rang me, doing the daily audit from home.
`he's showing £200k losses', he says,
`Fuck me' I say as Gav walks by, he'd just got in from work at Spencer Street, just two doors down.
`Certainly Sir', he says and he grabs my waist, thrusting his groin into my bum, his pole prodding, getting hard.
`Look Alan, I gotta go, somethings come up',
He pulls my trackies down and I steady myself on the kitchen island as Gav growls and slides up,
`Fuck that feels so good, I've been neglecting you lately',
He pulls himself up on my shoulders, lodged fully, all eight hard inches disappear in me, his pubes gyrating on my ass cheeks, as he ploughs me, his smell of sweat, musk and builders dust, his arms gripping me in a bear hug now, he's almost lifting me off the floor as he barrels into my arse, he shudders and holds on to me as he lauches his volleys up my chute.
It's true he has been neglecting me, cutting down the sex as interest in his work satisfies him. I don't mind, we do ok, more than ok, why not we're not exactly oldies. Losing the `teenager' next birthday, then the keys to the door.
I'm looking to shaft Gerry in other ways, I start by buying tin, good old tin, it's low value and much overlooked. I buy small lots over a few months, building up my stake, the price starts to rise as automated buying picks up the trades, sniffing out a bargain. I buy a huge stake, the price shoots up, I buy all my holdings back on behalf of MMM at the peak price, recovering my stake and about £250k profit for S&G.
I'm sweating, it's stressful. I could've lost it all. I expect Gerry is so wealthy that losing £500k wouldn't vex him too greatly. I was wrong.
I get a text from Gerry WTF Chas' not his usual dear boy, or `old bean'. I ignore it.
He calls, he's angry, very angry, and tells me to buck up my ideas, he's not paying out his money for my stupid losses,
`who on earth gambles on tin rising? Have you lost leave of your senses, you'll make up the loss and we'll say no more about it',
`I'll expect you to do the same Gerry, your losses are huge this period, have you lost leave of your senses as well?',
He's apoplectic with rage and manages to splutter
`My losses were unfortunate, yours looks criminally stupid',
`A loss is a loss Gerry, and always someone else's gain, some other trader in the ring',
`What do you mean by that?',
`It's a fact though isn't it?',
He ended the call mid rant. I'd got him. He knew that he'd been rumbled, that I knew or suspected his game.
We had no more losses that year, he's stopped ripping me off. I used the S&G account more and more, not to rip him off, but to dabble in more adventurous trades, sometimes losing but building up a healthy trading balance and honing my skills trading on the more lucrative outer fringes. It's exhilarating.
Our six month review was stunning in more ways than financially. Gerry may be an absolute shit but those years in public school servicing bullies has made his mouth like silk and his hairless delicate nubile body takes Gav and I to new heights, whilst Cols a fucking ginger brute. They're like chalk and cheese.
After the losses we made £450k each, the discovery obviously focussed Gerry's mind. By year end we'd amassed £900k each. S&G had made £220k.
Winston was sorting out my tax situation. I stil paid buckets, but someone's got to provide for the nation.
My tax was helped by moving into the Meeting Street house. We rented out the three Spencer Square houses, I bought 3 more, in Broadstairs, looking at more holiday rentals.
Winston set up a company Charles Gavin Estates Ltd, two shareholders, your truly and Gav. Now all the houses are shielded from capital gains tax but we will pay corporation tax on any eventual profit, he's arranged the financing of the houses as a loan from me to the company so I can offset the market rate of interest' against the rental income.
We bought an EV van, on the books, all the lads are insured as drivers. It's really Gav's runabout. We don't need the shag wagon any more. I drop Reg a text `thanks for shag wagon, do you want it back?'.
I got a text back `it'll be expensive to ship to Thailand, scrap it along with my memories of the UK'.
I thought I'd not heard from him for a while, so he's plying his dick in foreign parts.
I called Ted. `Yeah he's sold up, a bloke who runs a stall in Bury St Edmund's bought it. The bloke doesn't want the warehouse, he's got his own, I don't know what I'll do for work?'.
I call Winston about sending money to help a relative abroad. I mention buying the warehouse off him.
`Ouch that's a lot to transfer, it will ring alarm bells. There's always a way though. I'll set up a company, two shareholders, you and Reg to buy the warehouse, you lend the new company the money to buy it. Then I'll arrange dividend payments to pay him off',
I text Reg, `how much do you want for next door?',
`Your sharp ain't ya, jump in my grave as fast would ya?',
`Yeah, as fast as you jumped in my 12 year old arse',
`Yeah, yeah whatever, you fucking loved my dick up ya. Anyways its worth a million',
`No it's not, £375k cash, into your foreign bank, by transfers over 3 months so you don't raise suspicions, I'll email the documents to sign, electronically is fine'.
`£400k and it's a deal',
`£400k and you pay the legals,
'done, gotta go the lads woken up',
I instruct Ben and Winston.
The jacuzzi cabin fitted in the back yard at Meeting Street. David had arranged the services in case we wanted one and at the same time he put the outdoor lighting in, all without asking, using his initiative.
Stevie was disappointed it fit, he was up for building another. He's always up for it by the look of his bulge. I salivate over his fit body, he hasn't a clue how sexy and built he is. It's a wonder Gav gets any work done, but all the guys are fit in their own way;
Daddy David, once a hunky builder now desperately staving off a `sit down job' belly, Spanno sinewy tall and an arse of pure muscle and a long thin schlong, Slomo, incredibly strong and broad bull like with a short beer can cock, George the hunk, in his prime, a fuck machine, and Stevie, a blond haired Viking God, soft features belying his strength under those sumptuous curves.
We were chatting in the Jacuzzi, the four of us, we had a sauna, George is in charge of the ladle, parting his cheeks to burn his crack hairs, spooning more on to stop us laughing at the sight of him, spreading his cheeks and pointing his pucker at the hot coals. Stevie had bought rough mittens for exfoliating, they're great, tiny rolls of skin rub off as he massages my back.
Gav and I lay the lads out on the benches, one on each step and we use a mitten each to massage their bodies and skin, getting rid of knots and dead skin as they groan in the heat. George is hard as Gav turns him over, he brushes his balls with the course mitten,
oh fuck' says George, don't make me shoot in here, that'd be too gross, it would cook like scrambled eggs', we all say `erghhh'.
I ladle on 4 scoops, the searing heat eases everyone's desires as we pummel their shoulders, guns, pecs and thighs, missing out the now soft cocks. We shower off, all pink and fresh then sink a few cans in the jacuzzi.
We had a Friday jock strap party, the lads were up for it, the hockey team certainly were. There's something about a jock in a jock, that view of the arse and the straps, how they sit on different arses, some high some lower, their jewels covered in mesh fabric, so tantalising, giving access of sorts but the main event shielded, unbalanced. It's always better when the guys are naked, all equal under our maker.
George says he's wearing nothing but jocks from now on, to keep him and his best friend in check. David says `that's ok with me, so long as you wear steel toe cap boots and a hard hat on site, see if you can get hi-vis jocks, they'd tick all the H&S boxes'.
Winston says he'd had a call from a law firm wanting your accounts from your first trading period. They say their client is due substantial redress for costs for training and advice plus living expenses.
`Ah, that'll be Mark, tell him I've already paid a subst amount to the partnership I was employed by. You can send him the trading statement if you must but his claim is with Gerry, surely?',
`Looks like your mate Gerry might not have shared that information with Mark', says Winston.
I get another call from Gerry, `are you deliberately trying to bankrupt me?',
`Hi Gerry, I'm well thanks, Celia ok? What can I do for you?',
`That's a million you've cost me, you shit, and after all I've done for you',
`You ripped me off Gerry and looks like you've ripped Mark off as well, using him to get at me, all those fake trades. I could get you struck off',
So is this the end of 3M? said Gerry, How can I continue to trade with someone I don't trust?'
`Gerry, this is none of my doing, it's all your own; inflating the fees due, taking a million in capital and trying to milk me dry with double dealing, stealing from our joint account to pay into yours. It should be me that's saying how can I trust you?',
`So, I'll ask you, is this the end of 3M?', I say,
`Well dear boy, you need my presence in the pit and my London persona, and I, well I need your skills in routing out a bargain and your tenacity. So if you'll have me back, and my apology then I'd like to continue, if we may?',
`We may Gerry'.
So what will Mark do with his payout from Gerry.
TBC