Date: Mon, 8 Dec 2008 19:34:11 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Christman, London 1942

Christmas, London 1942- Part 4

by Bald Hairy Man

This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that DON'T
read it. You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, not for
minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual.  No effort to portray safe sex
practices has been made.  If you have any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.

Quite frankly it hadn't occurred to me that a handsome man like Evan would
want to get fucked and that he would be willing to get fucked by me. I
would have been shocked if I hadn't been so pleased. Evan was obviously
pleased as punch to be skewered on my member and had no desire for him to
get off.  He also liked to talk.

Evan told me that he liked older men.  His first experience had been on a
expedition with his father in Mesopotamia. He father was Sir Ewan Jones, a
well known archaeologist. His father was called to Cairo when the financing
of the expedition fell through.  Evan was left with a member of the
expedition.

"I was with Donald MacDonald the field man.  He struck me as an old man
then.  He was perhaps 50, but looked older since he spent most of his time
outdoors digging in the field. He had a grizzled beard and wild, fly away
hair," Evan said. "My father was more of an academic archaeologist. He
mostly taught and wrote. MacDonald was a wild man compared to my father.
My father was always well dressed and proper.  He was the kind of man you
see on screen as the Englishman in the jungle having a formal dinner in a
tent wearing a dinner jacket. MacDonald thought he was dressed up when he
buttoned his shirt."

"We were in walled Arab house that wrapped around a garden courtyard. It
had a good well and a spring. It was an oasis in miniature. My father
called it the bungalow and MacDonald called it the bachelor's quarters. I
thought of it as the fort. I had read Beau Geste and been much impressed.

"All the diggers and the staff left when the money ran out. I was to hold
the fort with MacDonald. He liked digging alone so he was happy. The only
servant we had was old Ali.  He was MacDonald's personal man and there were
several armed Bedouins who guarded the site. Apparently they didn't need to
be paid. MacDonald had done something for them and they guarded the site as
a debt of honor. We almost never saw the guards."

"When my father left the camp. MacDonald's dress code got less formal. It
was hot in the field and when he got to the shady bachelor's quarters he
stripped to all but naked. This rather excited me since I wasn't use to
undressed adults. I had seen Greek and Roman statues, but they weren't much
like MacDonald. He was heavier, but just as muscular. MacDonald was hairier
too, more of a barbarian the a Greek god."

"If truth be told, he didn't have a dainty, little Classical cock
either. This was a relief to me.  I didn't have a dainty cock either and I
was worried something was wrong. I could see glimpses of a thick member and
huge balls."

"On the second night after Dad left I woke one night with some odd noises
coming from MacDonald's room. I went to explore and found MacDonald with
Ali sucking his cock.  MacDonald saw me."

"That must have been embarrassing," I said.

"Not for MacDonald. "Either stop looking, or join us," he said. I did."

"Did they hurt you?"

"Not at all.  MacDonald was the prefect Victorian Gentleman when it came to
sex. He was also the perfect man to give an inexperienced teen ager his
introduction to all things sensual," Evan explained.

"He did have sex with you?"

"He certainly did.  He told me there is so much pure enjoyment and pleasure
in sex, there's enough for everyone," he said. "MacDonald said if your mate
wasn't having fun, you were doing it wrong. My father was away for three
weeks and we had time to work it out."

"Ali liked man seed, so MacDonald told me to lie back and let him work his
magic. I was a first rate wanker, but I always felt that odd combination of
ecstasy, fear and disappointment when I ejaculated. Disappointed it was
over and afraid I'd be caught, or someone would discover the remains of my
pleasure. Ali solved that problem. He loved the cream and loved working to
get it. I learned how to relax and enjoy sex."

Evan was undulating his hips on my pole, massaging my member with his ass.
He was fully erect and drooling cock juices as we talked.

"I had no problem shooting off five or six times a day. Ali and MacDonald
liked that, as did I for that matter. After a day of this I got interested
in their cocks.  Being a true born Englishman I had been under the
impression it was appropriate for me to suck MacDonald cock, but not
Ali's. MacDonald cleared that misconception up quickly. Ali's cock was a
thin, long crescent with a big mushroom. It was easy to deep throat and he
shot a creamy load. MacDonald had a oak tree like member, almost thicker
than it was long. You, my dear Gussy, combine the most attractive aspect of
both cocks."

"Well thank you," I said. No one had ever complimented me on my cock. I was
pleased.

"MacDonald showed me how to fuck when he mounted Ali. Quite frankly I had
no idea that could be done. I got excited but was further surprised when
MacDonald pulled out of Ali's hole, bent over and let Ali fuck him. They
traded places for an hour of constant ass pounding."

"You watched?"

"I watched and got more and more excited. MacDonald tended to give a
running commentary on what they were doing.  He explained what was the best
way to get the most pleasure from a cock and an ass. Needless to say I
wasn't a virgin at the end of the day. Some men have a problem taking a
cock the first time, but I'm not one of those men.  It was like a duck
taking to water. Ali was the first to fuck me.  It was wonderful. MacDonald
was next. I thought he would be more difficult, but it was fine. MacDonald
shocked me when he muttered, "Damn, you're even tighter than Ewan!" I had
no idea."  Evan spurted a single volley of cum across my chest, but did not
have a full scale orgasm. He had no intention of getting off my cock.

"I think I have an ordinary life compared to you," I said.

"Chance and circumstance define our world!" he replied.  "For MacDonald sex
was a form of entertainment, a good way to while away the long hours with a
friend in the desert.

It wasn't all sex. We would go the the dig every day and work. I got to be
good at doing the delicate work near artifacts. MacDonald was a bull in the
china shop man, so that worked out well. Our digging proceeded apace. He
found a pile of clay bricks, that I identified as clay tablets covered in
cuneiform inscriptions. Golden mummy masks are the popular vision of a
treasure in archeology, but inscriptions are the true treasure."

"A day later we realized our tablet was part of a complete library, or
store room of records. It was a gold mine! Mac Donald contacted his Bedouin
friends to increase security.  There was a German expedition 20 miles away
and they were not above claiming our finds. MacDonald and the Bedouins
shared a common dislike of the Germans. There had been an incident between
the Germans and several Bedouin women. MacDonald had intervened and saved
the day. That was the reason for our Bedouin protectors."

"We went to visit the Sheik. All was very polite and courteous. When we
left MacDonald told me the Sheik was going to make a visit. Apparently the
Sheik was a playmate of his and wanted some relief as he called it. "The
Sheik is a liberal man when it comes to sex with men.  With women other
than your wife, or wives, it is a sin of the worst type. With man-sex is a
different matter. They don't flaunt it, but they like it. The Bachelor's
Quarters is ideal, no women, no one to tell," he explained.  MacDonald said
I might want to stay in my bedroom. It's a bit of a free for all."

"Of course I told him I was interested. He explained they historically
liked younger men or boys. The sticky problem is Bedouin sensitivity. It's
bad to say no, and you can't really change your mind mid fuck. It is almost
all fucking. You have to finish what you start. I was still interested and
had no intention of staying in my bedroom."

"How did it turn out?" I asked.

"It was really quite lovely," Evan continued. "I know that's an odd thing
to say about a homosexual orgy but it was nice, sort of like it is here. It
was the Sheik, two brothers, a father-in-law and two nephews. Apparently it
was acceptable to screw persons of inferior rank or age. These men, however
liked it all. They were more than willing to accept a cock up their
arse. That's why they wanted the privacy of the Bachelor's Quarters."

Evan was gently bouncing on my cock. Suddenly my entire body tensed up,a
second later the entire contents of my balls rushed into Evan's welcoming
ass. A second after that I thought it was snowing. The snow splattered warm
on my skin. I was covered in Evan's seed. Your sense of time goes haywire
in an orgasm. I was sure we traded ejaculations for ten minutes or more. It
seemed to go on forever.

All was well under the vaults of my house.

The Rubens changed our status with government.  We were a one week
sensation in the press.  That faded of course. The good news was that Evan
was assigned to our crew. The National Gallery wanted good press too, and
Evans' superior, Dr, Smythe didn't like Evan anyway, so she was glad to get
rid of him.

We returned to the church for two more days and either removed to safety,
or protected everything we could. There seemed to be a brief lull in the
bombing, and we went to a part of Nash's Crescent at Regent's Park
next. Three of the houses were bombed leaving a gash in the beautiful curve
of the crescent. The central house was totally gone.  It had received a
direct hit. The houses on each side were badly damaged. One had been
converted into small apartments, but the other was most impressive and well
furnished. The neighbors told us the owner was serving in Egypt and his
wife was in Australia.

I thought it would be fairly easy to stabilize the house.  Angus wasn't
sure but we worked something out. Evan saw that some of the furniture was
very good as were some of the paintings. He contacted the army to see of we
could get permission from the owner to move them to safety.

Sometimes you discover how small the world is. Evan got in touch with the
officer. He had gone to school with his son and we got permission to move
the paintings to a safe place.  That place was my basement. The officer was
fighting the Germans and Italians in Egypt. His wife hadn't made it to
Australia. She was in Singapore when he last heard from her.  That was just
before the Japanese captured it.  He hadn't heard from her since. His son
had been lost on the Prince of Wales. He wasn't too worried about the
remains of his house in London.

We were the smallest cog in Britain's war effort, but I wanted to save some
small portion of this man's life before the war. Perhaps his wife was alive
hiding in the jungles of Malaya. If he survived, an heirloom or painting
might be precious to him. I know that many houses, indeed neighborhoods in
London had been bombed to dust with nothing left. It was our job to save
what was left.

Evan was a wonder with regulations and forms. His time at the National
gallery had been spent doing that sort of thing. He also had a knack for
red tape. He seem to know people and to whom one should talk.

Our next project was a modern office block in the City. This struck me as
an odd building for us, but it was the offices of the Britain Today
magazine.  The publisher was Sir Reginald Walbridge.  He had a art
collection of some note. The magazine had stopped publishing and he was the
Ambassador to Turkey.  It was a solid concrete and steel building by
Lutyens, and it had been assumed to be safe. It stood, but several direct
hits had damaged the tops floors where the collection decorated the
penthouse offices. I hadn't worked on the building, but I was familiar
enough with it.

The lifts weren't working so it was a long, dark climb to the
penthouse. There were no problems on the lower floors except for the smell
of smoke. The stair was undamaged to the roof. But portions of the
penthouse were in ruins.  Fortunately, those areas outside the direct hits
were intact.

One bomb hit the kitchen and had partially blown out the wall to the dining
room. Pantries and serving spaces separated the kitchen from direct
connection to the dining room. The direct blast hadn't penetrated the
formal dining area. The windows were blown out, so it was cold, but
bright. Soot covered everything. We could see the frames and the paintings
but not tell what they were. Several niches held statues.  Pavel and Jan
investigated these.  They were bronze, and undamaged.

Evan, Etienne and I investigated the large painting on the wall next to the
kitchen. It was portrait of Queen Victoria.  It didn't appear to be by a
top of the line painter, but it was salvageable. On the side wall, between
the niches was a pair of paintings.  They were portraits by Sir Joshua
Reynolds. They were in good condition. Facing them was what turned out to
be a Constable landscape.  It was beside a window and rain had ruined the
frame, but the painting was filthy, but preserved.

Constable's thick paint application would make it a bear to clean, but Evan
was sure that could be done. Johnnie and Louis found two small paintings
blown on the floor, face down under the dining table. The frames and the
wood stretchers for the canvas were damaged.

When we turned them face up, we were in rural France. They were by
Manet. They had been beside the Constable. I thought they were too badly
damaged to be saved, but Evan was unworried. "As long as the paint itself
remains, the condition of the canvas is not a problem." We spent the rest
of the day removing the dining room paintings. This got us a new round of
newspaper coverage.

"Bomb Destroys Kitchen, Misses Treasure!" was my favorite headline. We were
also referred to as London's crack art rescue team in one article. I sent a
copy of this off to my family in Canada. The newspapers did not cover our
work in the next room in the penthouse. It was a smaller space with framed
old master drawings. Only two of the eight drawings could be saved. Only
the label survived on two Rembrandt drawings. You can't win them all.

I had two nights alone in my house in this period. Angus was an intelligent
man and I think he wanted me to have some free time.  It hadn't been my
intention to set up a dormitory for men in my cellar.  This had occurred by
accident.  I tend to be an accommodating man and I didn't object. Angus
didn't want to impose on me.

After two days alone I realized it wasn't an imposition. It was a
blessing. The house was too big for a single man and most of the crew was
essentially homeless. We could pool our resources and ration cards. We all
seemed to get along well.

Rationality had nothing to do with my decision in reality.  It was the
prospect of sex that I found attractive. I had just discovered sex and I
wanted to learn and do more. Most of all I wanted to feel more. The next
day I asked if they would like to move in for the duration, or until my
wife returned from Canada. All were willing. Most had a suitcase
only. Templeton and Wally kept their apartments, but spent most weekday
nights at my house.

My decision to have them stay with me made for another change.  Angus knew
I was new to the world of man to man sex. I had thought they were
extraordinarily overt in their sexual activities. In reality they were
being quite circumspect. Things got a bit more free and easy. Some of that
was me being more comfortable, but Evan's open approach to all things
sexual seemed to inspire everyone.

With Evan and Angus as the driving forces, the sexual activity increased
and the tension dropped. It was both relaxing and relieving. I assumed most
sexual anxiety comes for the competition for trying to find a partner and
then concern as to whether the relationship would result in actual sex. All
of us sheltered under the brick arch of my basement were willing and an
orgasm was all but assured. I was the least experienced on the group, but
the men were more than willing to bring me up to speed.

Dan took it upon himself to introduce me to anal sex, as a recipient rather
than as a top. Dan was a thin, very cheerful man with a bushy red beard. I
saw him as Johnnie's side kick. Dan liked Westerns from Hollywood and I
think he saw himself as one of those comic figures who accompany the
handsome hero. He possessed a thin organ and low hanging balls. At first I
thought he never got fully erect. Later I realized God had given him enough
foreskin for two men, his organ was always fully sheathed in skin. It
looked as if he had an inch or two of overhanging skin.

Johnnie liked what he called stewed ripe sperm pudding. I had only tasted
sperm fresh from the spurting cock. Dan would tie the tip of the skin, than
wank and save the cream. He let it stew and ripen in the skin until Johnnie
wanted it. Angus liked doing something he called docking. He would pull
Dan's skin over his knob and they would both shoot their load into the tube
of skin. Dan would tie it up for the fermenting process. Johnnie loved
that.

It was late in the evening when Dan cuddled up to me. The other men were
all ready asleep. He fondled my equipment for a while, the slipped lower
and began to suck me. He sucked my cock, then my balls and he ended up at
my ass hole. I went to suck him but he told me to stay back. "Sperm is a
good lubricant," he whispered. "I've got a full load in my skin.  It will
ease the way." I knew what he wanted and for some reason wasn't at all
concerned.

His tongue probed deep into my ass and then there was a finger. Soon he had
my legs on his shoulders and he fingered my hole.  This was most
exciting. He then pulled his foreskin had and used his finger to push the
skin into my ass. He had removed the tie.  The lighting was dim, but I
briefly saw a few drops of opalescent sperm dripping from his skin. Once
the skin was in my ass, he pushed.  His cock plunged through the cum filled
skin deep into my ass. It was lovely. His cock was rock hard, but the thick
skin cushioned the penetration.

A wave of intense pleasure flowed over me.  My cock suddenly was fully
erect. Dan slowly plunged his cock deeper into my ass.  He then pulled out
and did it again. With each stroke it got better. I barely knew Dan, but
now were were one.