Date: Mon, 12 Nov 2018 18:36:14 +0000 (UTC)
From: Arthur Doyle <sirarthurpornandoyle@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Study in Fornication, Chapter 5

Chapter V: Tobias Gregson shows what he can do

Our day's exertions had been too much for my health, and I was tired out in
the afternoon. After Holmes' departure for the concert, I lay down upon the
sofa in my underwear and endeavoured to get a couple of hours' sleep. My
mind had been too much excited by all that occurred, and the strangest
fancies and surmises crowded into it. Every time I closed my eyes I saw
before me a cavalcade of cocks and arses, of beautiful men touching one
another obscenely. Though I had unleashed myself twice already that day, I
felt a hardness returning. I caressed my crotch and then brought up my
fingers to smell the sex that had spread upon them.

At that moment, there was a violent peal at the bell. The sound of the door
opening and a person dashing up the steps three at a time echoed throughout
the room. In another life, I would have jumped from my reclining position
and attempted to cover my iniquity but instead I remained in a reclining
position on the couch, my bushy legs flaunting their socks and garters, the
rounded bulge in my underpants scarcely hidden behind my resting right
hand.

The living room door burst open and in came the fair-haired detective
Gregson, oblivious to my disarray. "My dear fellow," he cried,
"congratulate me! I have made the whole thing clear as day."

He turned a shade pale as he realized that he appeared to have caught me at
an inopportune time. Averting his gaze, he suggested that he should have
announced his coming. But some glimmer in his eye suggested that his
finding me in this fashion was not entirely to his dissatisfaction.

"It's no matter," I said, feeling at the height of relaxation. Gregson's
sudden entrance should have sent me scurrying, but it instead gave me no
qualms. There was a sense of satisfaction at having my nearly-nude body on
display, the tuffs of chest hair peeking through my undershirt, especially
for a delightful dish such as himself. Though I have heretofore neglected
to mention it, Gregson was an exceedingly handsome fellow, with enthralling
emerald eyes and a neat blond beard adorning his cheeks. He was solidly
built, like myself, and I could tell that the physique of a boxer lay
concealed beneath his tight-cut checkered suit. His innocent distress made
him all the more endearing.

"Come now," I said, grinning with reassurance. "Tell me what it is that
brought you here in such a state."

Gregson paced, seeming to wish that I were more properly attired. But he
did what any good Englishman would do in an uncomfortable situation and
ignored it. I must admit to deriving some pleasure from watching him
struggle.

"It is just that I-- that is, I believe to have figured out the case."

Shifting on the couch, I offered him a seat. "I'm anxious to hear how you
managed it. Please, let's light some cigars to indulge in as you tell
me. Will you have some whiskey and water?"

The agitated detective accepted all of my offerings, ensuring that a decent
amount of space stood between as sat on the settee with the rum-flavoured
cheroot and tinkling glass in his hands. Taking my time, I lit my own
cigar, watching his eyes dart about the room in every direction but of my
undressed repose.

I'd once asked Holmes about the characters of the two Scotland Yarders he
worked with. The pick of a bad lot, he'd replied, and as jealous of his
deductive skills as a pair of professional beauties. Holmes had assured me
that both Gregson and Lestrade were quick and energetic, but
conventional--in every respect. Early on, he'd suspected that they "had
their knives into one another," a slang term for men of our persuasion who
bed each other, but later he had changed his mind. Despite repeated
attempts, neither the sour Lestrade nor his cheerier partner had ever given
in to Holmes' self-described charms. Looking at Gregson's reddened face
now, I wondered whether or not my dear flat-mate ever made mistakes in his
assessments.

Soon, a cloud of fine-scented smoke billowed about the two of us. The thin
veil provided a touch of modesty to our scene and Gregson slowly began to
unwind. The dark spirit in his glass also appeared to put him at ease, and
he told me at length about his suppositions. The particulars seemed to be
in something of the right direction, with Gregson correctly identifying
Drebber and Strangerson as members of the American religious movement known
as Mormonism. But he was under the impression that the robbery had been
genuine, committed by a man named Arthur Charpentier, sub-lieutenant in Her
Majesty's navy.

"It all sounds well and good," I said, languidly stretching my
arms. "Though I will have to put these ideas to Holmes to see what he makes
of them."

Gregson held himself starchily as I scratched at the fur just below my
neck. "And do you always trust the judgments of Mr. Holmes above all
others?"

I smiled. "He seems to have a remarkable knack for exactitude. Elsewise you
and Lestrade would not be consulting with him, eh?"

Gregson took my ribbing in stride, admitting that he also found my good
friend's skills remarkable. He told me that he had only been working with
Lestrade a short time. At the beginning of his occupation, he had failed to
understand why his senior partner put up with so strange a man as
Holmes. But he had been won over after multiple displays of the Holmes'
incredible talents. Here Gregson blushed, perhaps at some memory surfacing
in his mind.

"Your association with him appears an anomaly," he said, suddenly turning
to me with a curious look. "Though I have seen him with a number
of... companions... it has never been twice the same man." This information
was news to me, and a mixture of emotions--bewilderment, discomfiture,
satisfaction--stirred within my breast. "You seem a good match for him,"
Gregson continued. "I'm not sure he could have interrogated Mr. Drebber so
satisfactorily without you."

Recollection of that encounter caused blood to flow in my nethers and a
moment of awkward silence passed as the mound in my underpants noticeably
grew. As we waited, I took a mouthful of smoke from my cigar. "Yes," I
said, feeling bold. "The cross-examination was particularly
captivating. Perhaps you would have liked to have witnessed it yourself?"

Gregson remained rigid and aloof, giving me no indication of his
thoughts. The man began to colour even more. "That would have been entirely
inappropriate."

I launched into a hearty laugh, knocking the virtuous detective with a
friendly punch to the shoulder. "Ah, Gregson, I am only teasing. I know you
are not interested in the pleasures that Holmes and I partake in. Please,
let me refill your drink, it has run low."

My companionability seemed to help calm him once again and the fact that I
had referred openly to matters normally approached discreetly furthered the
air of familiarity between us. He took another whiskey and was on the verge
of saying something before thinking the better of it. He formed a new
question. "How is it that you and Holmes came to know one another?"

I explained the particulars of our introduction, alluding only obliquely to
my friend Stamford and the actions that tied us all together. But Gregson
appeared to gather the subtext rather easily, swallowing a large dram from
his glass as if to douse an internal conflagration blazing within him. In
an agitated and somewhat high-pitched voice, he asked if I had always known
of my attraction to other men.

"Oh yes, indeed," I answered. "From the time I was young."

He began, almost absentmindedly, to pick at the top button of his
collar. "When did you first act upon your desires?"

"Ah, now that is a reminiscence that I haven't thought about in some
time. I was but sixteen upon my introduction to male passion. The inductor
was my Greek instructor at boarding school--a cliché, I know, but he
was incredibly handsome and not more than twenty-four himself. The two of
us had an instant connection with one another, our eyes constantly catching
during lectures. One day, he bade me remain after class, saying that he
needed to give me some private lesson. He hovered over my shoulder as we
worked through a complex conjugation exercise and I felt his hot breath on
my shoulder. Daringly, I had put my hand on his crotch, his ardor evident
beneath his trousers. Fishing out his implement, I took it into my mouth,
sucking adeptly on his inflated tool. He came goblets of come, which I
greedily swallowed. A few days later, he introduced me to even finer
pleasures, fingering my virginal arsehole and eventually lunging into it
with his well-endowed instrument. We fucked daily for the entire year after
that."

Though Gregson remained under control, I could see that the story had a
prodigious effect on him, and his breath caught when I uttered the final
sentences. Almost inaudibly, he mentioned that he wished he could be so
courageous.

By this point, my erection was starting to strain at the fabric of my
underwear. "Have you ever found yourself under similar circumstances?" I
asked, realizing where our current situation was likely headed.

Gregson bit his lips and turned his head away. "Perhaps."

I spoke in a low and steady voice. "Come now, Gregson, have courage. Why
did you so boisterously barge into the residence of two men such as Holmes
and myself? Were you, perhaps, hoping to witness a scene similar to the
earlier one at Dreber's manor?"

The scent of danger and lust was strong about his figure as he turned back
to me. "Dr. Watson, I must remind you that I am a member of the police
force. As such, I must uphold all the laws of Parliament. The actions you
refer to are..."

Of course, I wasn't about to let slip this beguiling opportunity and so I
tipped forward and planted a tender kiss on Gregson's lips. He gave but a
moment's resistance, first pushing me away but then melting into my arms as
we passionately embraced. Our bodies seemed magnetically charged, pressing
together in a heady pull. I allowed my hand to enter beneath his coat,
running my fingers over the shirt covering his nipples. Surprised and
aroused, he gently moaned.

Reclining again, I spread a wicked grin over my lips. "You must understand,
Gregson. I am well versed in keeping secrets. I would never tell anyone
about certain actions that were to happen here in this apartment."

He seemed stupefied by my kiss, as if I'd hit him upon the head with the
hammer. With his eyes ablaze, he leapt upon me, seeking my lips once more,
sending his hands all over the muscled burliness of my body. I encouraged
his explorations, pushing his palm down to my crotch, to feel the inflated
implement hiding within my undergarment.

This inflamed him even more and he began to tear off his own jacket as we
continued kissing, undoing the clasps and fasteners of his clothing. He
pulled back his head, his hand bonded to the outline of my thick endowment,
as if he could scarcely believe its existence. Giving him what he wanted, I
tugged at the waistband of my underwear and allowed my enormity to spring
free. A joyous cry escaped his lips as he first glimpsed my rod, proudly
erect within its bushel of hair, a drop of precum leaking from its tip. I
smiled. Seeing men react to the sight of my cock is a pleasure that will
never grow old.

Gregson began to stammer. "I-- I can't contain myself. This is simply..."

But he was unable to finish his sentence as he had immediately lowered his
face and placed my engorged crown upon his tongue. He closed his eyes,
savoring the taste, the sensation, the overwhelming emotions associated
with finally partaking in cravings that had long remained buried beneath
propriety. Settling back, I allowed Gregson to descend upon my member,
watching as his lips passed over the corona and frenulum of my
cockhead. With the zeal of a new convert, he attempted to sink its immense
thickness over and over into the depths of his soft mouth. Warm rhapsodic
satisfaction spread throughout my body.

The man needed no instruction in his enjoyment, pulling out my towering
instrument and rubbing it all over his face like a puppy playing with a
prized possession. The glossolalia of a frenzied worshiper issued forth
from his mouth, an overexcited series of moans, sighs, and exuberant
exclamations. Some coherent words appeared, and I gathered that he was
thankful for my introducing him to the pleasures of manhood. He told me
that he had also been stirred by the sight of nude men but had always
deeply suppressed such desires. It was only when he walked in on Holmes,
myself, and Drebber earlier today that he realized the extent of his
longing. Our unrestricted activities had reawakened a lust that he
considered long since extinguished.

"Oh, Gregson," I thought. "You have yet to see what delights lay in store
for you."

Pushing him back, I slid down to my knees before him and unbuckled his
belt. Fishing out his engorgement, I placed it in my mouth, savoring its
musky flavor, that mixture of sweat and pre-ejaculatory fluid which had
come to coat it. Gregson responded by throwing back his head and panting
ecstatically. I tugged off his trousers and underwear, throwing them both
to the side as I took a good long look at his member. It was neither large
nor small, and had a charming upward bend. His bullocks, on the other hand,
were enormous, entirely outsized for his particular organ, and I delighted
in nuzzling my face against these ovoid treasures within their hairy
nest. I sucked one, then the other, running my tongue over their curvature
while they were encased inside my mouth. Gregson gasped euphorically at
each action and additional fluid came leaking from his tip.

Cradling his balls in my hand, I returned to his cock, urging as much of it
into my oral cavity as I could. I do not always have the skills of other
men--having never been particularly good at the exploit known as
`deep-throating'--but there are times when my chute can be coaxed into
performing incredible feats. Perhaps I merely wanted to show off for
Gregson's first encounter. But with slow and deliberate movements, I was
able to slip farther and farther down his shaft, pausing occasionally to
ensure that I could continue breathing without trouble. And quite soon, his
entire erection was lodged deep within my vestibule, my lips pressing up
against the wiry hairs of his crotch.

The pressure against my palate felt astounding, and the accomplishment of
disappearing the length of his dick into my fore-end with no gagging reflex
filled me with pride. Gregson's heavy exhalations suggested that the
situation was rather overwhelming for him as well. His instincts bade him
place his hands upon the back of my head and start to rhythmically thrust
his hips. The incursion was not unwelcome and I was impressed with myself
for managing to provide the man with what he clearly so desired. As he
fucked my face, his bountiful bullocks slapped repeatedly against my chin,
the feeling incredible and gratifying.

Almost without warning, Gregson came, his scrotum tightening as ropes of
savory cream erupted into my throat. He grunted and groaned, pressing his
groin against my mouth until he had exhausted his repository. I pulled
myself off when he finished, smacking my lips and wiping the excess fluid
from my moustache.

"That was quite delightful," I said, believing he might be done. In certain
cases, I have seen men grow embarrassed and uncomfortable as soon as they
achieve their orgasm and I did not wish to have Gregson turn
panic-stricken.

In fact, the opposite was true and the junior detective seemed distraught
that this licentious episode might be over so quickly. "No, no, no," he
said, turning his head from side to side. "This can not be the end of it!"

With ardor in his bright green eyes, he flipped over, placing his stomach
on the couch and thrusting his buttocks out obscenely. He ordered me to
drive my tongue between his cheeks, exclaiming that he needed to feel my
appendage stuffing his antechamber before the day was through. Such an
alluring invitation could not lightly go unfulfilled and I quickly heeded
Gregson's request.

While squeezing the tip of my dick, I ran my nose over his arse and balls,
inhaling the lustful odor of his sex. He squirmed with bliss as my wet
tongue found the puckered aperture of his wondrous hole, continuously
crying `"Yes!" as I licked his sensitive orifice. Internally, I wondered if
it was right to claim the virginity of this man, and whether or not he
would be up to the task of accepting my rather large implement, though the
throbbing of my privates overrode most of my reservations.

Doffing my undergarments, I stood and assisted Gregson in removing the
remainder of his clothing, the two of us now entirely naked in the drawing
room. I took a moment to examine his beautiful body, which was as robust
and brawny as I had imagined. His muscular physique was covered in a downy
fuzz, a lighter match to my own coarse hirsuteness. I ran my hands along
his sides, tugging at his fine chest hair as he arched his back and spread
his butt cheeks below me. I spit on his hole and began to rub my member
against his crack, which caused him to convulse in rapturous shivers. By
now, he was fully hard again and I grabbed his shaft while placing another
deep long kiss onto his lips.

He gazed into my eyes and told me he had long dreamt of a day such as
this. While touching himself alone, he had often stuck his fingers within
his craving cavity and even used cylindrical instruments on occasion to
satisfy his vexing urges. Such details fueled my own desire and I pressed
my husky figure against his, hammering my raging organ against his slippery
buttocks. Unstoppering a bottle from the side table, I smeared my hand in
unguent and tickled my fingers against his pucker. He entreated my ingress
and soon I'd snuck my smallest digit into the tight opening.

Gregson was already rather relaxed, or perhaps his solitary explorations
had helped him understand what was necessary, and I found it no trouble to
slip another finger and then even a third into his snug recesses. "My, my,"
I said, aroused beyond belief, and he responded by bucking his buttocks
against my hand and moaning like a person possessed.

It seemed that there was nothing left to do but introduce my considerable
cock to his eager receptacle and, with Gregson encouraging me the whole
way, I doused my shaft in lotion and placed the head against his
outlet. With almost no effort, my crown vanished into the enticing
compartment and then the entire length glided past Gregson's voracious
arsehole.

"Is this really your first time?" I said, wrapping my arms his body as we
both felt our connection.

He gave an affirmative grunt, too lost in pleasure to properly respond. His
sphinctral muscles reflexively spasmed, enjoyably compressing the article I
had lodged inside him. Gregson howled with delight, his sensory systems no
doubt overcome by the novel incidents they were experiencing. I tipped back
my hips ever so slightly, just to see how lenient his hole would be, and
found that the man was going to make for a fine cock-bearer--his exquisite
orifice was already quite supple.

With the two of us covered in sweat, I began to rock in and out of his
inviting entryway as we both produced feral growls. Cascades of sensual
bliss radiated from my ample instrument and I could tell that Gregson was
receiving similar signals in his body from his receptive aperture. I
modulated my thrusts, sometimes pounding away like Hephaestus at his anvil
and other times slowing the cadence to a provocative pace. Occasionally, I
pinched my partner's tender nipples with a playful squeeze or slapped his
downy buttocks with an open palm, each time eliciting joyous cries.

Our activity must have been loud and overpowering for it wasn't until we
both heard the sudden sound of the door closing and locking that we
realized there was someone else in the room.

"Why Watson," said Holmes, grinning at the carnal sight before him. "My
impression was that we'd agreed to keep such things confined to the
bedrooms."

Our rutting, sweat-stained bodies froze, my colossal implement shoved as
far inside Gregson as could be managed. Explanatory words entirely failed
to form inside my mind.

"It is no matter, of course," said Holmes, placing his hat upon the
coatrack. "I have been working for some time trying to crack the nut of
Gregson's desires. Glad that you, my dear Watson, have finally managed it."

With an air of utter nonchalance, my flat-mate began to undress, removing
first his tweed jacket and cravat, then his Oxford shoes, his argyle socks,
his woolen trousers, his vest, his shirt, his undershirt, his underwear,
and finally standing, nude and captivating, with his gargantuan uncut
colossus bulging and entirely erect in front of him. Though neither Gregson
and I moved throughout the mesmerizing performance, it produced a rousing
effect, causing both my cock and his arsehole to twitch expectantly.

Holmes continued: "But I must say, Watson, I am surprised. You are giving
Gregson a fine education in male bonding, but appear to be withholding half
the pleasure."

With this, he turned and faced us with his rear, crouching into a squat to
render apart his butt cheeks. Though thus far Holmes' enormous frontal
appendage has been the focus of much narrative attention, his backside is
also worth some careful consideration. Holmes' muscled buttocks resembled
smooth granite boulders, their vigor no doubt strengthened from many hours
of outstanding thrusting. Each cheek had but the fairest amount of hair,
yet remained among the most masculine of any anatomical structure I'd ever
seen. Within his precipitous crack lay a delectable roseate pucker, which
Holmes was now displaying proudly for his double audience.

While locking his eyes upon the two of us, he picked up a small bottle from
the floor and dabbed some lubricant upon his fingers. He rubbed his hole
with his slippery hand and carefully inserted a digit into the rose-colored
crevice. The routine had its intended effect--almost absentmindedly, I
began to once again slide my wide contrivance into and out of Gregson's
snugness. Holmes smiled and nodded his head encouragingly, pressing another
finger into his enticing slot.

While still crouching, he slowly backed up towards the couch, proffering
his prize to us two spectators. His arse was nearly at Gregson's nose when
Holmes stopped. My penetrated partner seemed at something of a loss with
how to proceed and I could feel his confusion emanating distinctly. At that
moment, Holmes caught my eyes and we shared a look. I knew what I was to
do.

Reaching forward, I grabbed the back of Gregson's golden hair and
maneuvered his bearded face into Holmes' crack. He responded like a trained
animal and, swiftly realizing what was expected of him, began to lick at
Holmes' hole. My flat-mate and I shared a grin as we both got down to
business.

Continuing my earlier actions, I pumped at Gregson's aperture, placing my
hands upon his fair-haired buttocks to better direct my lunges. The
immediate effect of this incursion was to send the young detective into a
frantic whirl of tongue lashing, licking his lingual instrument all about
Holmes' rear end and occasionally even sending it to investigate the
interior of the luscious compartment. Holmes took Gregson's hands and
placed them upon his enormous member, encouraging him to stroke it and
experience the grandeur of its ridiculous dimensions. This tactile
exploration extended to Holmes' butthole, with each man placing fingers
inside of Holmes at various times, loosening him for what was to
come. Witnessing this incredible and sordid scene quickened my stroke, and
all three of us issued groans of ecstatic delight.

Following the requisite amount of stimulation, Holmes stood and arched his
arse away from Gregson's tongue, wagging his posterior like a saucy
ingénue. Gregson became once again confused but my lust-filled mind
knew exactly what was necessary. Coating Gregson's dick in ointment, I
aimed it true and, directing his hips forward with my embedded instrument,
plunged the head into Holmes' hole. Both men gave a satisfied moan and I
knew that my movements had been enthusiastically received. Looking back at
me, Holmes winked his eye and nodded to indicate that we should
proceed. Our combined bodies slid tenderly forward upon Gregson's shaft,
which sank ever deeper into Holmes' randy receptacle. Gregson's
considerable bullocks finally came to rest within the cushioning crack of
Holmes' bottom.

"Well done!" said Holmes in an encouraging voice. "Really, Gregson, you are
getting along. We shall make something of you yet."

The sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of the scene sent me into
conniptions of unbridled pleasure. Without delay, I drove the full length
of my erection into Gregson's inviting warmth and began to buck both of our
hips together. This induced him to plunge in and out of Holmes' slick slot,
producing the most orgasmic of cries from his mouth. His breath quickened
and he tore at his beard and brow--indications of the tremendous dual
commotions now traveling through his body. I certainly envied him. It's not
every day that a man gets to delve his dick into a fine and eager opening
while simultaneously having his backend stretched by an expansive and hardy
implement.

We frolicked in this manner for a while, with me directing most of the
performance. I delighted in feeling Gregson's heavy balls slap back and
forth, sometimes coming up to contact my nether region but mostly producing
the most magnificent smacking sound upon Holmes' buttocks. Eventually
Gregson took over the lunges, moving himself back and forth upon the
effective skewer of our combined rods, allowing my grandeur to tickle that
innermost pleasure point inside his canal while concurrently egressing and
ingressing from the luxury of Holmes' compartment. Perspiration dripped
from my chest to Gregson's torso to Holmes' back, the three of us as
lubricous as a set of Greek wrestlers.

My hands ran over the bodies below me, circling Gregson's nipples and
sliding over Holmes' musculature. Instinctively, a part of me knew that my
flat-mate would allow this amount of touching, though a voice within told
me not to caress his colossal cock lest I violate our tacit agreement with
one another. How I knew this remained a mystery but I prided myself in
starting to understand Holmes' alien mind and his strange set of
rules. Gregson himself was under no such prohibitions and I eagerly watched
as he stroked the unimaginable immensity jutting from the grunting
gentleman beneath him.

Finally, Gregson cried that his critical period was almost upon him. Here
Holmes did a perverse thing and slid his hospitable channel off Gregson's
engorged implement. He tapped at my shoulder and bade me disconnect myself
as well, suggesting that the two of us sit side by side upon the couch. At
first the direction gave me displeasure, but then Holmes instructed that
Gregson bring himself to completion before us so that we could both enjoy
the sight. Smiling, I flung myself in a seated position beside Holmes and
encouraged Gregson's routine as well.

The burly detective needed little encouragement, so close he was to divine
bliss. With simian unrestraint he worked his foreskin up and down his
shaft, concentrating intently on his final release. Holmes and I relished
the recital, each of us stroking enthusiastically at our considerable
members, our nearer arms flung around each others' shoulders, our legs
stimulatingly intertwined. My entire spirit was aflame with shameless
pleasure, the display of Gregson and Holmes touching themselves sending
overpowering elicitations through my brain. No doubt my sixteen-year-old
self would be overjoyed about the resounding delights that lay ahead of
him.

For the second time in as many hours, Gregson came, his sticky ejaculate
spraying forth and crashing against my hairy chest. With a leonine roar, he
shook in pleasure, moving his cock to send the gushing fluid over Holmes as
well. While reaching a hand to smear the sultry material upon his trunk,
Holmes achieved his own orgasm, the towering derrick of his dick issuing an
ungodly amount of viscous semen as he screwed his face in ecstasy. My
attainment was not far behind and, though it was my third production today,
my bullocks managed to generate an absurd allotment of creamy cum, which
drenched us all in a third helping of hedonism.

Catching his breath, Gregson laughed heartily and leapt into our welcoming
laps. He wrapped his arms around both Holmes and I, planting appreciative
kisses upon our mouths and bodies. We three soon decided to retire to
Holmes' bed, where we lay and napped, Gregson comfortingly squeezed between
us. My hands traced lazily over his figure, occasionally daring to run over
Holmes's naked muscles as well, while I drifted off to sleep.

*****

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