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The Night Bus Chapter Five
The week wore on and my smug certainty that Charlie would summon me again faded as I heard nothing from him. By Friday I was disconsolate and desperate. I knew from Gav and Nige's reaction last Saturday that I couldn't show up on the estate uninvited or they'd beat the shit out of me. But I worried that the longer I was away, the easier it would be for Charlie to forget me. To replace me. That evening after work I texted Charlie 'I will worship you like the god you are'; I sent a photo of myself kneeling, face up, mouth open, tongue out, as I'd knelt in the yard by the football pitch and in his bath. I took a photo of my arse as I stood bent at the waist at a 45-degree angle and sent it as well.
It didn't provoke the response I'd hoped for. 'Text 1st again I block you forever,' he typed.
So instead of being on the estate or in Charlie's flat, Saturday night found me alone in my room working my arse with my collection of toys as I watched porn, trying to make myself cum hands-free as Charlie had made me do.
The text came just before midnight. 'Come now,' Charlie typed.
'Yes, sir,' I answered. I pulled out the latex cock I'd been riding, wiped the lube off my arse, and threw on jeans, trainers, and a hoodie. After the experiences I'd had on my previous visits I chose clothes that wore more durable this time. I might blend in better, too, if no-one looked closely enough at the cut or the brands. I grabbed my fagboy necklace and summoned an Uber. The journey was only about ten minutes shorter by car than public transport but the ten minutes might matter and there was no guarantee I'd make the bus or the Tube without having to wait a half-hour for the next one. I picked a destination a few blocks from the housing estate, though, to make sure it didn't deter drivers.
I arrived in good time, I thought, as I walked up to Charlie's flat. At his front door, I stripped off my hoodie and dropped it beside me so he'd see clearly the fagboy necklace I'd put on in the car. I knocked. There was a long pause and I almost knocked again before the door opened. Charlie stood there swaying drunkenly, a can of Carling in his hand, wearing only joggers as made obvious by the outline of his half-hard cock through the material. His glassy eyes looked me up and down, seeming indecisive. I could sense things were on a knife's edge even now. I dropped to my knees and kissed each of his bare feet. They stank as they had the week before -- all of him did, I could smell from the floor -- and I wondered if there'd been another football match on the estate earlier.
I sat back on my heels and looked up at him. His face was full of contempt. I opened my mouth and held out my tongue. I thought he'd spit in it again as he seemed to enjoy doing but instead he staggered a step forwards and lowered the waistband of his joggers, tucking it behind his balls. My eyes widened as he laid his knob on my tongue; we were bathed in amber light and clearly visible to the blocks of flats behind me and anyone who stepped out of the flats on either side. But I remembered he'd told me that if he didn't care whether he was seen using me, I couldn't resist being seen whilst being used. He began to piss and I gulped frantically to keep up. He was sneering down at me now.
There was a fucking lot of piss. I was far from expert at drinking it; his had been the first and I'd only thought of it from porn. It tasted heavily of the lager it seemed he'd been drinking most of the evening if not most of the day. I did well not to gag on it but the flow was so fast and heavy it overflowed my mouth and ran down my chin and throat, down my chest, and soaked into my jeans. When at last it slowed to a trickle, then tapered off, I closed my mouth round him and sucked softly. He sighed almost resentfully when my tongue slipped under his foreskin. His cock swelled and stiffened further, then he pulled it out, turned, and staggered back inside, leaving the door open. I followed on my hands and knees and closed it behind me.
The lounge was strewn with empty lager cans and the burnt remnants of two joints were in the ashtray on the coffee table. Charlie pointed to the table then shoved his joggers down and stepped out of them. I understood and pushed my jeans down and kicked them and my shoes off. I knelt in front of the table, leant over, and gripped its edges with my hands.
'Fuck,' he said, the first word I'd heard from him since a week before. I looked over my shoulder to see him staring at my arse. I lay my chest on the table, reached back, and spread my buttocks open with my hands. His eyes met mine and I saw the contempt still there but mixed now with lust. He dropped to his knees between my calves and leant forward. It was just as well I'd spent a couple of hours loosening up and my hole was still slick inside with silicone because he simply grabbed my hip with his left hand, lined up his cock with his right, and rammed it into me. I yelped more in surprise than pain.
'Oh fuck,' he moaned. He pulled out slowly but reentered with the same force and speed. I let go of my arse cheeks and clung to the edge of the table again. He didn't pull all the way out but withdrew slowly till only his knob was still inside, then slammed his hips forwards again. 'Fuck!' we said at the same time. I lay my cheek on the cool perspex as he took possession of my hole, using it purely for his own pleasure. He leant forward and pressed the heels of his hands together in the small of my back, his long, slender fingers curling round my narrow waist. This gave him the leverage to work up a steady, rapid rhythm of fucking me. I clenched my hole tightly round his cock as he pistoned in and out. His knob kept punching my prostate on each thrust, making me pant and moan. With the warm up I'd had at home, it took only a few minutes before I felt myself on the edge.
'I'm going to cum,' I whimpered.
'No,' he said.
'Please, sir,' I pleaded.
'No!' he repeated and slapped my right buttock hard.
I struggled to contain myself but the friction of his cock ploughing through my hole and the pressure of his knob when it collided into my prostate was overwhelming. After a few more minutes I was sweating, more than he was, although I was just lying on the table. I realised I was clenching every muscle to fend off my orgasm, even muscles inside me I didn't even know I had. I held that position for what seemed an impossible length of time, even holding my breath between letting it out in a short puff and sucking in a gasp of oxygen.
'Fuckin' faggot,' I heard him grunting repeatedly over my shoulder between his own pants for air. I couldn't tell whether he was saying what I was or saying what he was doing. Either way, I was in trouble; I was loosing control of myself.
'Please, sir!' I begged again. 'I can't hold it!"
'Not on the fuckin' carpet,' he growled. Without missing a stroke, he grabbed the ashtray and pressed it into my hand. I manoeuvred it under the table to the end of my cock just in time. Thank God the table was transparent because I was in no state to rely on my sense of proprioception to get it in the right place. My cock erupted and I squealed with ecstasy; between my spasms and Charlie's relentless pounding, it took all my dexterity to catch my cum in the ashtray. I watched through the table as spurt after spurt, more than I'd ever cum before, filled it to the rim, spattering into and drowning the cannabis ash
Charlie didn't last much longer. The wild contractions of my hole pushed him over the edge. He cried out wordlessly in pleasure and triumph as he exploded inside me. He kept fucking through the first three or four bursts, then collapsed on my back, twitching.
'Fuck,' he murmured as he caught his breath. Then he lifted himself off me and slowly pulled his cock free. I sighed deeply and put the ashtray on the table before I went limp and dropped it. Charlie sprawled on his back on the carpet behind me, watching through slitted eyelids.
He cocked his head towards the ashtray. 'Go on, then. I know you can never get enough,' he said.
I blushed and looked at the nasty ashtray, the burnt black residue inside turning the semen dirty grey. I lifted my chest from the table wearily, sat back on my heels, and tilted the ashtray into my mouth. Still holding his gaze, I swallowed,
'Fagboy,' he said softly, closing his eyes.
'Master Charlie,' I replied. I turned and lay on the carpet beside his thigh, then leant over his hip and took his cock into my mouth. He moaned as I sucked and licked his cum off him. His tasted a lot better than mine. He lowered a hand to my head and slid his fingers into my hair.
'Keep doin' that till I pass out, then fuck off,' he said.
'Mmm hmm,' I moaned round his softening cock. I kept doing it a long time after he passed out, though, before I finally dressed and went home.
[Continued? I can write more if enough people want to read it.]