Oscar B.A. Chapter 8
Usually I would have said no.
Fuck sharing showers.
An unconventional opinion perhaps, but, at least for me shower sex had never been as fun as everyone liked to make out.
Unless the guy in question had a showroom-standard, walk-in built for two, or, say, a heated marble bench to bend me over, the last thing I wanted was an awkward fumble, half-wet and half-freezing, squashed inside a tiny glass box and blinded by lukewarm water.
But, at that pinnacle moment in Daddy Dick's apartment, high above the city with all manner of titillating ideas feeding on his potential like a ravenous swarm of piranhas in my mind, there was only one answer I could give.
`Of course.'
Richard was my daddy now. That meant if he was going to spoil me rotten and treat me like I knew I should be treated – a piece of meat in the sheets but a prince on the streets – I would need to play my part.
A part I've practiced and rehearsed many times.
Although, from the way his eyes sparkled in the morning light inside his handsome, chiselled face, attached to his impressive body sat across from me at his elegant, glass dining table, I knew it wasn't going to be hard.
He's besotted.
I knew that look. He wasn't the first older gent to give me it. A stare that told me I was sexy and special and he was happy to have me in his home, while making it clearer than a crisp spring morning that my teenage holes were his to use as he pleased.
It was obvious that if I was going to keep him wide-eyed, ravenous and wrapped around my little finger, the last thing I needed was to deny him carnal pleasures on the first morning. If I wanted him to be mine, I would have to be his.
For now.
`Follow me,' he said.
Luckily, however, I enjoyed every moment.
With each second as he led me back through his bedroom, past the king-size bed and the charcoal sheets still crumpled from our wild night, my hanging cock swelled between my legs. Blood pumped in anticipation as he took my hand and guided me over the lush threads of his thick, grey rug to the underfloor-heated, white floor tiles of his bathroom.
All the way to his walk-in shower, big enough for two of him and three of me, wrapped in spotless, polished slate with a double sliding, glass door.
`Wow,' I said.
He said nothing, pulling open the doors, reaching in and turning on the shower via a circular stainless-steel knob on the wall.
Water crashed down from a central square showerhead, sticking out of the ceiling in the middle of the tile and glass booth. Within a minute, steam poured like an inverse waterfall up and over the doors and into the air around us.
Clouds of condensation rolled over, up and away, dancing through the beams of light shining down on us from spotlight LEDs. A large wall mirror above a large sink basin to our left began to mist over like creeping frost on a puddle.
For a second, neither of us spoke: the deep hiss of plummeting water droplets obliterated against stone the only sound as we smiled at each other in fading reflections.
`I thought you'd like it,' he said.
`Like's an understatement.'
And it was. A huge understatement. Considering my thoughts on shower fun, this was going to be a gaping exception to the rule.
`Good. Now, are you going to do everything I say?' he said.
`Of course, Daddy.'
`Undress me.'
I began with his t-shirt then moved to his jeans. Button by button and nice and slow so by the time my fingers were finished peeling down his black Armani boxer briefs, they were ready to wrap around his beautifully hard cock.
Inside the shower and on my knees, I didn't care that I couldn't see or that the water pummelled my face like tiny fists. The wide, warming stream was nothing like the pathetic dribble from the shower in my student digs: my entire body swathed in a gush of glistening heat like I was being hugged and face fucked in one.
After he unloaded across my tongue and I let the water fill my mouth and spill his creamy gift over my chest and down my six-pack, cascading over my groin as I blew my own across his feet and into the draining water, I didn't care that my knees ached or my eyes stung. After he washed me down and wrapped me in a towel of the softest Egyptian cotton, I didn't care that I was shivering.
Everything is going perfectly.
Towelling my hair into messy waves I dressed myself in the clothes from the night before. Back in the living area, I found Richard in his earlier outfit of dark jeans and a tight, dark navy t-shirt. His greying hair still wet but thick and messy like mine. It suited him.
Grabbing my wallet, keys and phone from the kitchen, we sauntered to the elevator. Kissed inside the mirrored box until we made it undisturbed to the basement parking lot. A high-pitched, double deep bounced around the seamless concrete cavern as his car chirped unlocked.
`Shit,' I said, realising in the sober light of day what make his car was.
`What?'
`I didn't realise you were driving me around in a fucking Aston Martin.'
`Cars not your cup of tea?' he said, a cheeky grin pulling at the corner of his thick lips as he reached the four-wheeled, polished beast and leaned against it.
`You can say that again. All I can tell you about this car is that it's black,' I said, walking to the passenger side. `And it's probably worth more than I could make in a decade.'
`I wouldn't say that,' he said, following me to the passenger side and opening the door.
`No?' I said, our faces centimetres from each other.
`It's onyx. Not black.'
`Very funny,' I said as he walked back to the driver side and opened the door.
`I thought so,' he said, disappearing into the car.
`Are you taking me home?' I said, sinking into the soft, dark leather passenger seat.
`That depends.'
`On?'
`If you want to go home.'
I considered my student halls. Recoiled at the thought of sitting in my poxy bedroom when I could be galivanting around the city with Richard. Hated the idea of being surrounded by imbecile students instead of a sophisticated man with a ravenous hunger in his eyes.
`Fuck no,' I said.
So, my hungry man took us for breakfast.
Not far from his place it was the most upmarket breakfast joint I'd ever stepped inside. Tall, exposed ceilings, light woods and polished concrete. White table cloths and waiters in white shirts serving us ridiculously expensive eggs Benedict and bloody Marys with sparkling water and espresso priced like wine.
Pocket change to Daddy.
Then, our stomachs satisfied but our hunger for adventure growing, he took me shopping.
Leaving the car at the restaurant, we walked through the city's bustling Saturday streets, passing towering apartment blocks and boutique shops and historic buildings old and weathered and set back from the modernity around us, until a square man in a burgundy suit jacket with an earpiece opened a gilded double entrance into a pristine and expansive department store.
A new pair of Levi jeans, a Ted Baker t-shirt and a cashmere Burberry sweater later, because he wanted to see me in "something expensive next time", he led me to a watch counter.
Row upon row of brands I'd never seen before sat on a plush bed of cream fabric, gleaming up at me from inside a pristine glass box. We were greeted by a handsome young black man in a tight white shirt and with short black hair. My height but maybe one or two years older. A student like me.
But nothing like me.
According to his tag his name was Toby. And Toby, it turned out, was already acquainted with Richard.
`Welcome back, Mr. Evans,' Toby said, a big, white toothy beam spreading. `You're looking very handsome, as usual. How can I help you today?'
Creep.
`Hi Toby,' Richard said, running a hand down my back and leaving it hot and comforting just above the rise of my arse. `I'm fine, it's this young man who needs your help.'
`Of course,' Toby said, rapidly looking me up and down. `How can I be of service.'
For a split second his perfect smile wavered and I couldn't help but grin.
`To be honest, Toby,' I said, standing closer to Richard and then leaning over the counter so my biceps and triceps bulged and my arse pushed into his crotch. `I'm not really wowed by any of these.'
`Oh really?' Toby said, his smile still faultless. `We have some more out the back but they might be out of your price range.'
I smiled at his dig. So that's how you want to play it, is it?
`No, it's ok,' I said turning to Richard. `You've spoiled me enough today.'
`Nonsense,' Richard said.
`No. I'm serious. I'm good.'
`Are you sure?' he said.
`One-hundred-percent.'
Which was the biggest fucking lie I'd ever told. Of course I wanted a new watch – who wouldn't? But what I really didn't want was to take the piss.
There was a chance that this was all a test. That Richard was seeing how far his new boy was willing to rinse him and I couldn't afford to push too hard too fast and snap the already generous purse strings.
Or, there was a chance, that Richard was getting all his gift-giving out of the way. For when lust and desire came knocking and I would have no choice but to do as I was told. Be a good boy for as long as he thought was long enough.
Can't give away all my leverage at once.
So, with a wink to Toby, I followed Richard back to the escalator, batting away his offers to buy me something else and relishing the burn in my neck made by what I assumed was Toby's envious stare. A feeling I savoured all the way back to the car.
Beep-beep went the lock.
`Last chance,' Richard said.
`I'm fine. Honestly.'
`You really don't have to be modest,' he said. `After last night and this morning, you deserve it.'
`Next time,' I said. `And, besides, everyone uses their phones. Watches are redundant.'
`Watches are classic.'
I shrugged. He sighed.
`Only if you're sure,' he said.
`I am.'
`What now then?' he said.
Now, sadly, I make you wait.
`I need to go home,' I said with a frown.
A real frown. As much as I needed to keep him at a distance, to let the cravings and urges set in, I didn't want to leave the luxury he was offering on a golden plate. But I had to play smart.
Rush in now and our arrangement might go south. Play it slow and his million-pound pad and bottomless wallet will be mine.
`I thought you were going to say that,' he said. `But I'm taking you back to mine first.'
`Why?'
`Daddy needs to unload.'
`Again?'
`You bet.'
`I'm all yours.'
Back home he fucked me raw again. Rough and raw against the wall of his hallway because he couldn't wait to get to the bedroom.
Jeans and undies down to my ankles. A generous helping of warm spit for lube. Ruthless thrust after ruthless thrust until the heat of his load streamed inside me, warming my gut like whisky on a winter's day, and mine streaked the painted wall like spilt milk.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, we were in the elevator again. A minute later we were back in his Aston. Ten minutes after that we were out of the winding roads of the city centre and on the motorway homestretch back to mine: my balls empty and my arse still humming.
`Thanks again for dropping me home,' I said, turning from the blurring green, brown and blue countryside racing by outside my window.
`No problem,' he said, his eyes still on the road.
`And for picking me up last night.'
`You were worth it.'
`Same,' I said.
Thirty seconds of comfortable silence passed until we spoke again. The fields outside now a mix of yellow and green, dotted with fluffy white clouds of wool with black heads and legs.
`When are you going to tie me up again?' I said.
`Good question,' he said. `Week days are no good for me, what with work, but my weekends are usually open.'
`Benefits of being single?'
`Yes, you can say that.'
`Well, I'm a student, so you know I'm free whenever.'
He laughed. Said, `Don't you ever study?'
`English literature, remember? All I do is read books and write the odd essay every few months. Most of my seminars I just blag. Read a random chapter and pull the answers out of my arse. It's all subjective anyway.'
He laughed again. Deep and kind and fatherly. Said, `You sure you're going to pass with that attitude?'
`Who cares? I'm in my first year. It doesn't even count toward the degree.'
`Really?'
`Yeah.'
`Wow. That's really fucking stupid.'
`I'm not complaining,' I said.
`I bet you aren't. So, Friday night? Shall I pick you up same place, same time?'
`Sounds great,' I said, the all-too familiar signs to my student complex flitting by in my peripheral.
Almost back. Back to my room. Back to normal.
`Wish it could be sooner,' Richard said, tapping the indicator and turning into the accommodation parking.
`Me too.'
Pulling into a space he killed the engine and undid his seatbelt. Turned to face me in his seat, the air around us suddenly still and absolutely silent.
`Well, what can I say? That was a thoroughly enjoyable and completely unexpected night,' he said. `I don't even care that my ex walked in on us.'
I smiled and nodded. Said, `Me too. And sleepovers aren't usually my style.'
`Is that so?'
`Yeah. But guys like you are.'
`You little creep.'
We laughed. Kissed. Then, opening my door, I scooped up my shopping bags from the back and stood out. Looking back through, at his muscular body and stunning face, I smiled my signature smile.
`See you Friday, Daddy.'
`See you then, boy,' he said.
Fifteen seconds later the red tail lights of his Aston Martin were disappearing out of view, back along the main road leading away from my halls of residence and toward the city.
Dark and ominous clouds were beginning to creep over the afternoon sky, so I walked double-time back to my block: one of fifteen identical towers made from shit-coloured concrete and reinforced glass, lined up in a confused row like the landscape had been plucked from communist Russia.
As I climbed the winding stairs, nodding at faces I recognised from months of proximity but had no idea who they belonged to, wonderful flashbacks of the night before strobed in my mind.
Drastic contrasts of Richard's life and the luxury he was prepared to bestow on me juxtaposed violently with the mediocrity glaring from peeling walls, stained, paper-thin rubber floor tiles and my normal, mundane student existence waiting one stairway higher.
When I reached my door, I couldn't help but see Richard's: expensive and shining and nothing like the pot-holed, dented wood almost hanging off its hinges.
Placing my bags on the ground with a loud sigh, I rummaged for my keys. As I pulled them, jingling from my pocket, I froze. Footsteps from inside the room next door came running, fast and frenzied. Half-a-second later its door flung open, inwards.
He was standing there.
`Hey handsome,' he said.
`Oh, hey,' I said, forcing a smile. `You been waiting by the door or something?'
`Nah. Just smoked a joint and heard your keys.'
Pushing my keys into the lock, with a click, I opened my door and threw my shopping bags inside.
`What's in the bags?' he said. `Anything for me?'
`Maybe,' I said with a wink.
`Good.'
Then he kissed me. Once on the lips, soft and tender, but dull compared to the cock-hardening scratch of Richard's beard and the strength of his large, powerful hands around my waist.
That's the problem when you agree to be someone's boyfriend for convenience: a tight hole to fuck whenever you want. When a man you really crave comes along, the last one suddenly seems oh-so-redundant.
To be continued ...
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