I'd like to start today with a thank you to my readers for the feedback I have had so far. I'd also like to apologise for the time it has taken me to publish this chapter, but I have found myself being busier then I expected. I hope you enjoy the story as much or more then I do enjoy writing it.
This is my first story of this genre and context. Please tell me what you think by sending me your comments, views and general feedback to wheels-on-fire@hotmail.co.uk. The general disclaimer applies; any connections to names are purely coincidental. This story is for an adult audience, so please do not read if you are under the age of 18, or it is illegal to do so in your county. This story is purely fictional, none of these events have actually happened.
Superior Connections -- Chapter 4
Christian awoke in the night. Under the low light which the long curtains failed to disclose he could see a broad surface in front of him. He extended his hand forwards and traced the cool flesh with his fingers. Jacques did not move or stir. Christian moved his hand to the muscled shoulder, to the front and down a little and lightly caressed Jacques' peck. A slight squeeze confirmed that Jacques was asleep. Christian's hand moved further down the mans body. Under the sheet, over his relaxed stomach and finally on the flaccid penis. It was smaller. Cold. He played with it in his hand for a few moments before leaving it and holding the mans peck again. His board shoulders meant that spooning this man was difficult, but he felt safer if he had contact with the slow breathing man in front of him. Drifting back into sleep, Christian played with Jacques chest hair, the soft curls felling wonderful under his fingertips.
When Christian next awoke it was morning. He looked up and saw that Jacques was awake. He turned onto his side, reaching up to Jacques face and initiated a kiss. He found that his mouth was dry. He felt as if he needed a drink of water, but he had no wish to rise out of bed just yet. He was also very conscious that he was naked under the sheets and did not feel very comfortable about getting up and walking around Jacques apartment and helping himself to drinks and glasses. He remembered the lack kettle from the night before. Noted how long it was since he had last filled his jaw with liquid. He shared a smile, but only with himself, thinking how clever Jacques was to seduce this farm boy in the time it took to boil a kettle. Jacques smiled back, bringing Christian out of his thoughts. Their smiles changed to puckered lips as once again they shared a kiss. Jacques placed his hand on the back of Christian's head. He drove Christian to kiss his neck. He pressed down leading the boy to his nipples. Instinctively Christian latched on, kissing and licking his numbs to points. This twitched on the ignition. Christian's hand reached down and found the hand break was raised. He wanted to make the man happy. He was not sure of what he was doing, but the man had directed him so far so he felt that he could manage something worth moaning about.
Leaving Jacques nipples, Christian's tongue traced where his fingertips had gone the night just gone. He could see the hard cock. He could smell the musk of sweat and male hormones. The skin was soft and smooth, like velvet. He could feel the blood pumping into it, the heat, the stiffness. He wanted to taste it again. His fist wrapped around the base. His tongue left his mouth and slowly licked the helmet, tasting the salt, the sweat, the flesh. Again he was reminded that he was parched. He just hoped that he would be able to find a small well of moisture to side the tool over his tongue. By desire and will power, a well was found and he salivated over the cock. He sucked and lapped. He loved it! He did not know what he was doing. He struggled to take the bulk of it. It was large and things always feel bigger in the mouth. Needless to say, he tried his best. He had had much practice with his hands, experimenting on himself, so he included these; masturbating the man as if he was using a stick shift. He manually drove Jacques to orgasm. He moved back, sat on his hunches when Jacques came. He was not all too keen on cum at this moment in time. He looked very pleased with himself.
As Jacques came down from his orgasm high, he reached out and kissed Christian, drawing him close. Their skin stuck together by the glue Jacques had just created. Christian didn't really want to touch it. Jacques sensed Christian pulling away so he whispered into his ear, "Don't worry, it dries clear."
Jacques pushed Christian off him and lead him between two cubes to the bathroom. In one corner was the toilet, another a sink and to the right was a shower stall (the door took the place of the fourth corner). Jacques operated the shower. Told Christian to get in and turned to the toilet where he let go of a strong stream of urine. Christian felt rather uncomfortable. He had never been so close to someone while they urinated. He had certainly never been in a bathroom naked with someone before. He turned to examine the white tiles, noting that the filling had no mould or discolouring. Jacques opened the shower stall door. Letting the steam out and throwing cold air over Christian's back. Christian turned once again to face the man. There was not much space for them both in here. They were still burdened with Jacques cum. Jacques squeezed a fair amount of soap into Jacques hands. Before he could bring the gel to his body, Jacques said "lather me up first." Christian did not feel it was strange for Jacques to be ordering him to wash him, after all it was a small space and he was the smaller person who could move about in smaller spaces. He assumed that this must be what two men do, after sex, once they had shared a bed and a bathroom together. He washed Jacques. Christians hands rubbed over the mounded contours of his chest, the firm stomach and the now, once again flaccid cock. Down his hairy legs, the strong, taught flesh which kept the man before him on his feet. Then yes, down to his feet. The toe next to the big toe notably longer then either one to the side of it. This was the same on both sides. When Jacques approved of this, and felt that he was clean on this side he turned around. From his position on the floor of the stool, Christian found himself looking at Jacques arse. He started washing again, lathering up the hair on on the back of his legs (there was a lot less the the front), behind his knees, taking note that these were ticklish and then his hands met his arse. It was not the best he has seen. Age seemed to have brought it down a little, however it did have the squared shape of a breeze block due to the exercise he had put into it. Avoiding the arse crack, for he still believed that it was dirty, he raised himself from the floor to was the broad back. He could see that there was a small constellation of moles and tried to remember what start sign Jacques was. Finally, Christian reached the back of the neck. Jacques was now clad in soap, his hair running like the grain of an old piece of twisted wood. They swapped places; Jacques under the torrents of water, to was the soap and loose hairs down the plug hole and Christian into the 'dry' spot.
Jacques wished to wash the boi, for today anyway. He too shared Christian's curiosity about what the other party felt like. He lathered soap between his hands and his large hands rubbed across Christian's small body in double time. He gave a few tugs to what seemed to be Christian's permanently hard cock and then drew him in closer to share the water. The sheets of water which transferred from Jacques to christian where heavy. In next to no time his body was clean and cum and soap free in next to no time.
Jacques left the shower stall first. Leaving Christian inside to enjoy the heat and now spacious shower stall. He ran the towel over his body and to she the majority of the water then patted himself dry with a second towel. He handed Christian the second towel. Christian felt strange using a towel which had just been over another mans body but he accepted it and draped it around himself like a dust sheet over a sofa. Looking a bit like a biblical Mary from a school play, Christian dried off, by himself for Jacques had left to dress in the cube opposite. When Christian was dry he too dressed. He left his hair damp, but fashioned so as to not look a complete mess and joined Jacques in the kitchen who was standing by the hob. On on of the gas rings stood an iron pan, full of milk and porridge oats. Finally something which Christian can relate to; cereal being a link between both city and and country. Sweetened with sweetener pills, winter berries and bananas, they each had a bowl of porridge. This was good food to have before the day which lay ahead.
It was 1pm when they left the apartment. The silence of the triple glazed windows and the safety of the confides of the apartment were left behind. Into the city they went. Back on the under ground, again with the gormless people shuttling about under the city. Past the busking singers who ignored the £200 penalty fine for doing what they do and out into the open. What an oxymoron that is; cities and the open. Christian felt very closed in, the buzzing people the constant stream of cars, the closeness of the buildings, the height of the buildings. Street signs which hinder then help, a parking meter every four feet with a sign telling you not to park every two feet. A galaxy of chewing gum stars on the pavements and a small ecosystem of plant life growing up between the paving slabs. And then to his left was a Big Issue sales man, you are never more then ten meters away from one of them in the city. To his right was Jacques, immune to the suffering which Christian was experiencing. Today Jacques seemed to have lost the commanding air and grace about him, which made the tide of bodies part. Jacques has taken Christian to Soho. He knew about Soho. Or rather he knew what people say about Soho. The prostitutes, the bars, the sex. This is the place where the gay guys swarm and the men who look like women put on a dress and are showered with sequins. Christian knew what to expect, but he was not prepared for what he saw in the day time. There were gay men, openly holding hands, sitting one one another knees -- kissing! He felt very bare. He felt that anyone who looked at him could see right through him; a gay guy who really did just want to be fucked.
Jacques did not allow Christian to become to engrossed in his thinking. He moved off and Christian followed. Now aware that he most definitely did not want to be left behind. He felt very young all of a sudden. He was back to being a child, in a supermarket and he was lost. As quickly as the thought came to him, the thought was gone. He could see Jacques just in front of him. He was not able to take in much information. Like a dam had just been erected he was oblivious to much of the river of information that was now backing up on the other side of the damn. A little did get through however. He saw stores where mannequins would only wear briefs, their white defined bodies spoiled by nothing else other then a small amount of jewellery or a silver ring hanging in a plastic nipple. He would see a few people sitting outside cafes, drinking from plastic cups filled with ice and more colours then were featured in the Pride flags which would be draped in window displays or hang from poles jutting out of the brick work.
Jacques would turn a corner. Into another street filled with things he had never dreamed of seeing. His eyes were assaulted with colour a shapes. Like homo-hieroglyphics spelling out the gay culture in code. Then into another street, and another. And then they were there. On a corner, at a cross roads was the entrance to a store. The windows were filled with books and more skimpy items of attire. Above the door was a pink neon sign, declaring it a sex shop, over 18s only. Jacques entered. Christian was not sure he wanted to follow.
And here concludes chapter 4. In Chapter 5 you will discover if Christian will follow Jacques inside and see what wares she shop has to offer, or if he will turn and leave and go back to the countryside. There are two options, but as you know, Christian is standing at a cross roads. There are two other possible streets Christian can go down. But what is it that they hold?
I would like to thank you for the feed back I have so far received. I am surprised by the number of people that really do like the direction which this story is taking. I do however write for my readers so if there is something that you would like me to consider to wire into the story then please do tell me. Send me a message, even if you just want to give me feed back. I do try and write a reply to all readers. My only request is that you do not send me photos or other attachments. My email address is at the top, but here it is again wheels-on-fire@hotmail.co.uk