Date: Wed, 27 Jun 2018 18:57:07 +0200
From: s <sharper@inorbit.com>
Subject: Story : When I Lost _ PART TWO

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When I Lost _ PART TWO

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When I Lost _ PART TWO

It didn't move.

Why?

Then it turned its back on me to look at the chiller, where there were
hundreds of sandwiches and drinks and lunch snacks.

"Here," I said, "let me pay for your lunch. It's the least I can do."

"No such thing as a free lunch," it answered pertly, continuing to examine
the goods.

I was examining the goods. I was 'this' close.

Jack was crazy.

"I feel like I own you," I said, watching the way it moved its head and how
it's long back curved as it balanced its weight on one plimsole.

It raised its eyebrows a little and looked directly at me, assessing my
appearance in a glance.

"OWE," I said,"owe you, I owe you, don't I? For grabbing you like that?"
and tried to smile.

Its eyes softened.

It had pouty lips and a small nose. Its golden hair poked out from its cap
like a sort of halo. Beneath a clean jawline the voice box was clearly
visible, when it smiled and swallowed, sliding up and down inside its long
neck. "Well, I suppose you could..." it said. "I'll take this one," it
selectied a box, "and this one," selecting another box, "and this,"
selecting a drink. "What about you? Having anything?"

Jack.

"Grab me one of them," I indicated, "and, yeah, that's great." It found me
a bottle of water. "Bring them over here. I'll get this. I'll treat you!"

It grinned. At last!

There was quite a scrum round the cash tills; we had to queue squashed
between people. I could feel it's shoulder pressing against mine. It was
holding the food in its arms. I knew where my wallet was. My hands were
free.

"You seemed to be in a hurry," I said, eventually.

"Just hungry," it said. "Haven't eaten all day..."

I stared for a moment.

I wanted to slide my hand onto its back and down the curve of its spine and
then over the bump of its pretty round behind, letting my palm rest there
for a moment or two, just on the mound. Under one fingertip I would feel
the seam ridge which ran down to its hole. I wanted it.

Then it looked at me. It opened its lips and then it paused and didn't
speak. It looked at me and didn't speak, and then I reached out my hand, I
slid my hand onto its back, the soft material of its white tee, the smooth
torso beneath, down the curve of its spine, over the bump where its jeans
gripped its pretty round behind, and let my palm rest there for a moment or
two, just on the mound of it. It was soft. Under one fingertip I felt the
seam ridge which ran down towards its hole; I rubbed it gently, just hard
enough so that it could feel it. Its lips were parted and now it wasn't
looking at me; it was looking at some indeterminate point straight ahead in
the distance. And I knew that it knew about Jack. The queue moved up, and
we had to pay.

The assistant placed our goods in a bag.

It picked up the bag. We turned to leave. I replaced my hand in the small
of its back as it walked towards the door, giving it slightly a guiding
push. It said, "I was going to go back to my place to eat. I'm just up the
road."

"Ok," I said.

I intended to fuck it before we had lunch.

•

We walked quickly. It gripped the bag of food to its chest
protectively. The closer we got to its flat, it didn't speak much. It
flicked its blonde fringe nervously beneath the brim of its cap. When we
got to its door it started feeling in its pocket for its keys. I took the
bag from it to help out. It found the keys. The doors were huge and
heavy. It leaned against them. They opened, and we were in a rather tacky
hallway with a red carpet leading past the ground floor flat door to a
grand staircase ascending towards a window. It ran up the stairs without
speaking.

I ran after it. Past the window the staircase continued, up into a gloomy
dark. It ran ahead and punched a light switch. Then it ran up another
flight and started to fumble with its keys again. When I caught up, it was
still fumbling.

I waited.

Then we went in.

The Victorian mansions round here have long been divided into units. This
one was a studio occupying the back half of the first floor - a large
living area with a bed. From grander days it had a moulded ceiling and a
tall, wide window; it overlooked a courtyard that had once been used for
services and was now full of flower-pots and cars.

There was a massive wisteria growing from a pot outside the building
opposite. I could see that wisteria from my own flat: In summer it gets so
filled with fat purple blossoms that the whole building seems weighed down,
under strain and close to collapse. I often stand at my window surveying
the view, like a house cat stares at the outside world, like it's a
meaninglessly distant world.

I remembered another window I had once stood at and the view of a lake with
reeds all around and nothing but hills around, and the anger I had felt.

I turned, and it was looking at me. It threw its cap onto a table. Strands
of blonde hair fell and curled over its ears; at the back they were just
long enough to reach the nape of its neck. It smoothed the fringe up out of
its eyes. It smiled like it was relieved to have made it.

I handed it the bag of food, which it took off to a preparation area, a
mini-kitchen on one side of the room, and I looked around: My flat was on
the second floor and much larger, but essentially the same kind of job. I
don't know when the walls were re-jigged and everything painted white, as
it is now. Probably in the 50s, when Britain was such a different place.

The room was dominated by an enormous Yoko Ono poster on the wall over the
bed, her straggly hair hanging like black curtains either side of her weird
face, like an emo Virgin Mary; all distorted kindness. I looked away
quickly, before I lost my hardon.

I saw it was getting the sandwich boxes and opening them and preparing a
tray to arrange it all on. I walked over to where it stood, directly behind
it, and said, "Hold on..."

It stopped, and turned, and it's face met my face. We snogged for some time
during which I took the full opportunity to explore its slim masculine
body. I pushed Jack forward so it could get an idea of what it was dealing
with. It exhaled and put its cheek on my cheek. Then it put its arms around
my waist and grasped my broad back and then my head, digging the short hair
with its fingertips; and now it was stretching its tongue as far as it
could into my mouth, mingling our saliva, hungrily drinking my taste.

"I think you should remove all of your clothes," I said kindly, separating
our heads.

It didn't speak. As I stepped back to watch, it tugged off its tee (messing
its hair) and threw it down. It pushed off its trainers and then pulled off
its socks, lifting each white ankle. Then it undid its jeans and lowered
them to its ankles, lifting each foot out of them; it kicked them away. It
was in little buff-coloured briefs, which appeared to be made of some kind
of nylon, and the size of its cock was obvious through them. It stood for a
moment and looked at me. I know it was wondering why I was still
dressed. Then it took off its briefs as well and stood up so I could give
it a good look.

It was really pale.

Jack was happy to proceed.

"Lie down on the bed," I said.

It walked over to the bed and crawled on hands and knees over the covers,
displaying its anus like a little cat.

"On your back."

I think it was about to lie face down - like it could just do nothing.

It lay on its back. It had its hands clasped behind its blonde head,
displaying its nearly hairless pits. It was looking at me with its pale
eyes. Its lips were shut. Its chest rose and fell with its breathing and
its heartbeat made the skin bounce over its flat stomach, just enough so I
could see it. Its dick, pointing up to its navel, lay hard and pink and
large in a bed of short gold pubic hair, and its bright red scrotum hung
down the gap between its white legs which spread and folded over the edge
of the bed at the knees so that its feet touched the floor. It was looking
at the outline of my Jack.

"You like kissing don'tya?" I said. "Hope you like getting fucked as
well..."

I undid my shirt, but left it on. I unbuttoned my trousers, and released
Jack sprung forward like a jack-out-of-the-box.

Hence the name.

Continuing to stare, it placed its hands on the bed so that, by pressing
down, it could support its legs. As I approached it, it raised its legs
like the beams of a drawbridge, presenting its anus correctly for
penetration. My trousers fell down my thighs as I shuffled forward.

It spat on its hand and lubricated itself between its legs, dirtily pushing
a finger in. Now I was close. It removed its finger and gripped its
thighs. I placed Jack's tip on its hole and went in, like a perfect fit.

Gasping and groaning, it grabbed me, pulling itself onto me and lifting its
face to me so that I could kiss it. Straining its neck. It was like ...

It was like it loved me. It was like it wanted fucking more than anything
else it had ever wanted; like it wanted me to give it and give it; it was
gripping Jack with so much power, every tiny movement I made inside it I
felt so much sensation, like I hardly had to move, to feel this
breathlessness, until I was just in there, fucking it, without motion, I
could feel myself, deep within its arse.

I let Jack stay there for some time, getting used to it, looking at it,
feeling its fingertips caress my backside, and inside my shirt holding my
back, watching its pale beautiful eyes looking up at me, and its lips just
parted in a curve and breathing slowly. I didn't feel like I was doing
anything to it, until a breakout of sweat started to get in my eyes: I was
pushing that hard; I was straining to keep the pressure of Jack's head on
it; the weight of my whole body was straining to maintain that pressure; my
buttocks and arms and abs and legs ached and hurt but I couldn't stop. I
couldn't stop it giving it.

It's hair fell back from its forehead.

It stared at me like I was a superhero.

It reached up and pulled my face down towards it so that it could give me
its tongue.

I thought I was about to ejaculate.

"No no..." I said

Sweat, dripping off my face and into its eyes, it wiped away like tears and
said, "Shoot inside me. Shoot inside me. Please. Shoot. Please."

Christ. That has to have been one of the most massive fucking orgasms I
have ever had in my entire life! and we were groaning and convulsing
together, cs as I was pumping Jack's massive load far inside and filling
the guts of it with my flood of sperm, and my head was misted with the
pressure of my blood, its untouched cock was spontaneously cuming huge
runny spurts, flicking a pattern of thick stripes across its white glossy
skin where it mixed with our sweat and ran to the sheets on either side.

I collapsed onto its body, squishing our juices into the fur on my chest,
panting into its neck, staring at the pillow, listening to its breath,
pressing my weight, root deep inside, milking Jack into it with gentle and
persistent thrusts. The strength of my body still pushed its legs apart. I
looked at its face and opened my mouth for its tongue whilst pumping
gently. It fed on me like a calf, ground itself helplessly against me, held
me and moaned softly.

I raised myself on my elbows and Jack fucked it rhythmically for some time,
the squelch of my sperm lubricating us. Our faces were close, eye to eye,
nose and lips touching, sharing the sensation of each physical
moment. Grinding against its balls, Jack persisted, fucking its grateful
hole whilst the light faded and the sounds of the city turned into night.

In the darkness I eased out ("Turn over."), removed my trousers and shirt
and threw them on the floor as it rolled onto all fours in silent
submission, stretching its back and exposing its arsehole to me without
further instruction.

By the dim light of the window I could see it waiting for me, offering its
behind for more pounding. I crawled back onto the bed and placed Jack's
throbbing head against its arsecrack, teasing it, and then stuck it back
in, diving into it, digging it down. I pulled it up by the waist to stand
on its knees and I fucked it like that, gripping and caressing its belly,
one arm round its neck - so that as I started to drive it more violently it
choked helplessly in my hands, it's arms waving by its sides unable and
unwilling to resist the forces of my strength as I mounted in violence,
once more approaching climax and the pressure rising in my nuts.

I pulled on its head to watch its face and found its lips to kiss,
straining its neck. The sound of my body striking its buttocks echoed
around us, mixed with the unf it exhaled with each drive. I could do this
all night, I thought, All night long, and I thought, I will NEVER stop
fucking this male!

And basically that's what I did; basically all night long, there I was,
fucking it, one way and another, fucking it basically til it was basically
inside out and we couldn't stay with it any longer cs we basically fell
asleep.

•

Morning found us wrapped up in each others arms like babies and like
men. The smell of its hair in my face woke me, and I realised that bright
sunshine through the tall window had been shining in my eyes for some time.

I stirred, and it stirred, and it turned round to face me, wrapping one leg
over my thigh so that tired Jack flopped between its legs. My balls were
sore - I mean, really sore. It put its face against mine and its chest
pressed against my chest. My arms went around it easily and my hands
gripped the muscles of its arms. I thought, Who the fuck are you, mate?

It kissed me and Jack sprang up again. It sat itself on me and started to
Jackfuck. I basically didn't have to do anything: It kept grinding itself,
pleasuring itself, leaning forward to kiss me and then kneeling back,
grinding its pelvis and moaning, holding my chest hair and stroking it and
touching or licking my nipples.

Sometimes it was looking at me with a dreamy distant sex look; sometimes it
shut its eyes, concentrating on the feeling; sometimes it was looking at
its cock like it would explode. Towering above me, nipples small sharp and
red, it lifted its buttocks and repeatedly dropped onto me, hitting itself
inside, thighs spread out like the wings of a wounded bird, piercing itself
deeply.

Sometimes my fingers lightly touched its hips; sometimes I had my hands
behind my head and let it take control; sometimes I made it lift so Jack
could drill it hard, hammering quickly, holding its hips; or I let it push
itself onto me, penetrating the heart, exciting and stimulating itself,
moaning and feeling Jack deep inside it.

And I thought, "This is fucking beautiful."

Then we came again. It was like ... moaning and moaning and shuddering,
holding my pecs. Its cum splashed my chest. Some hit my beard. And I
thought, "This is the most beautiful guy I have ever met!" And I thanked
Yoko-Saint-Fucking-Ono.

It collapsed on to me. We were hot and sweaty and full of night smells. I
held it, licking its ear, wanking myself gently in its cum-soaked hole til
Jack drooped and it levered itself off me, dripping and wet, and grinned,
"That was good..."  "It was... er what is your name, anyway?"  "David."
"David. Les," I said. "Pleased to meet you!"  "Pleased to meet you too,
Les! Wewh!" it said with a start, grasping its nose, "what's that?"
"That's you, smelly David," I said.  "No, it's you! You fucking stink!" and
it made a face. "Smelly Les!"  It laughed, kissed my chest, rubbed its face
in my fur almost down to the shitty bush stuck to Jack's root.

That's how I got the name, Smelly Les.

Somehow David never did stink. Or was I in love? Licking David's sweet ring
was like eating honey, inhaling its juicy odours. David made a face to dive
my pits; that way I knew: David wanted it, and not because it was sweet,
but because it was foul. It lay down on me, rubbing itself on my sticky
legs and torso, transferring the smells to itself like a dog. Then it
kissed me and stood up; the tall, blonde, strong, beautiful animal.

Then we showered and shat and cleaned our teeth, and then we had coffee
and, then, finally, we ate the sandwiches.

David was really hungry.

So was I.

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END OF When I Lost _ PART TWO