CINEMA SEX -- 3
Change of scene. Fade out from the cinema. New scene: a somewhat shabby room in a seedy suburb. Curtains half closed. Electric fire on to take the chill off the air. We have just got in and Robert, my hunky black friend, is already in a clinch with the handsome young man whose name is Brad. Their kisses are long and wet and noisy. Brad leans back in ecstacy with eyes half closed and is obviously prepared to let anything happen.
I wonder if I should offer them tea or coffee and then decide that what they want is love's nectar and the sweet ambrosia of sex.
I could hardly see them in the cinema and I want to get a view of Robert's ample charms. I stand behind him and loosen his belt, unzip him, pull his trousers down, then his white pants. A beautiful bum with the most shapely muscles. I kneel behind him to put my tongue to his slit. Feeling this, he leans on Brad's shoulders and pushes his great ass against my face. So much sweet black hot meat to smother me with!
I plunge my face again and again into the abyss, kneading his heroic thighs with my hands, licking the dark sweet melons until they shine with my saliva when I begin to rub my tits against those regal buns. His white pants and trousers are around his ankles and I push my hands up under his shirt and feel the muscled back and stroke the smooth neat waist and the soft mound of his belly.
Brad's pants are down and I peer around Robert's body to gaze at the younger man's black brief pants and his long shapely legs. Then I wedge myself between their eager bodies and chew hungrily against the soft material of Brad's bikini, taking the cloth-bound cock and balls between my jaws. I hear him giving little pants of delight (and the pants of delight are in my face -- that's a pun!) and feel the soft jerks of his body as he recoils against the sweet sensation.
We gasp each others names as if upon our knees in adoration of the potent trinity, Rob the muscled master, Brad the son aroused and plunging his wits against the pull of the world and I the spirit bird of contemplation recording every breath and beating their soft bodies with my brushing wings.
Meanwhile Robert is bucking against my back and shoulders and as I turn his big cock comes into my mouth and I almost scream with delight at the sensation of that heavy tool against my tonsils. I take it in both hands and kiss the member and draw back its little round of moveable flesh the better to view the prize and flawless flower of his manhood. The heavy testicles are in my hands, their sac growing smaller and tighter by the second as his virility hardens and grows.
Brad's pink cock starts to insinuate itself, pushing and probing to find its darker mate and as I slowly stand my tongue discovers the contours of Brad's lithe and muscular young body, licking the cavity of his belly button, licking and moulding with my mouth the curve of the sweet pecs and the mounds of puckered tit, lapping at his lips and face like a contented cat. His dark eyes are staring with delight and I know that his mind is high and poised.
There is only the slow tick of the ancient clock on the wall to tell me that time has not after all stopped its busy jerking forward, the tick of the clock and the sound of sighs and grunts and wet lips and in my nostrils the warm man scent of arousal and eagerness and slight sweat from upraised arms as my mouth discovers the secret places of the dark-hair pits, probing there as a bee bumbles among the blossom, my mind and all sensations buzzing and gathering.
I am eyes and mouth and touch and feel their hands upon my flesh as if they were blind and needed to palm their way. Robert's hands begin to part my buns and digit fingers rustle against my opening as I grab Brad by the waist and feel his tackle tickling my own: tickling, then pressing and probing between my legs as Robert's hand comes under me to rub the others cock. I rise tiptoe and my cock is at Brad's soft stomach leaving snail trails wet across the light haired middle portions of his lithe body. My mouth is full of his thick black hair and I feel him murring against my tits and that vibration is like the throbbing of life itself.
We are breathless and dry and I grab a bottle of squash and we pass it round, glugging at the neck with juice dripping from our chins and onto each others bodies.
Brad smiles and says, "This is so wild. I never did anything like this before. You guys are so horny."
The juice is on Robert's shapely lips and I lick it off and then bury my tongue deep into his open cave where the pink tongue writhes and wrestles with my own just as his ivory wand entangles in my pubic hairs pulling them in slight delicious pain. He has the chest of Hercules and all his potent strength and my hands massage the bunched pecs and the shoulders and the neck which almost carries the weight of the world.
Brad has a very shapely arse too, nice curve and sort of pinched in at the sides, not massive like Robert's but extra shapely. Now I'm kissing Brad and rubbing and kneading his bum and I say, "So you don't like anal at all?" I'm talking while we're kissing, straight into his mouth and then I catch a glimpse of his dark eyes with long black lashes.
He's looking at my mouth hungrily and going in for another long French job as he says, "I never really tried it. You want me to fuck you?"
He is very young and very sweet. "It's not out of the question," I say, liking the idea of being shafted by him.
Robert is very direct and positioning himself behind Brad he begins to rub his big cock against Brad's floret. Brad grabs hold of me like a drowning man but doesn't demand that this attention stop. He's even smiling while I kiss him. His thick dark hair is arranged in waves and curls on his handsome head. But when Robert gets too close for comfort he winces and says, "Cool it man. That thing is like a corkscrew."
"You work?" I ask Brad. "Or still studying?"
"At uni," he says. "And running up the bills."
I momentarily wonder if he's a rent job but decide against it. He's definitely not rough trade, too refined for that, nice accent, deep but light voice if that doesn't sound too silly, speaks down in the register but with great clarity.
"What do you do?" -- this as he nibbles my ear lobe and rubs his shaft along the length of my own.
"Self-employed builder, love."
"Mmm, yes, you have the physique for it."
"You like my body?"
He rubs his hands across my chest -- nice soft hands -- and says, "Yes Michael, you're just my type. Oh..." He winces again because now Robert is tonguing his hole. Then he relaxes in my arms and begins to enjoy it. The bubbles in the squash have made him burp and I get the scent of strawberry on his breath.
Robert's tongue is really turning him on and his body is flexing and stiffening against mine and I can tell he will soon cum. Our cocks are ramming against each other and then he is suddenly still and then gasps as he cums all over my stomach. He's holding his breath with delight, eyes closed, squeezed against me while his cock jerks out cum. He sighs and deep throats me until every last drop is expended.
Brad flops upon my sofa, legs outstretched, the picture of exhaustion. I kneel before him, young god that he is, and lick his cock and balls and stomach clean while he protests and tries to push me off. "It's too much, Michael, too much," he moans. "Oh my cock is so sensitive now. Stop it please, darling."
I reach forward and clamp upon his open mouth, saying, whispering, "I'll do anything you want, Brad."
He lays back, smiles, returns my kisses, his cock getting limp against the beautiful curve of his muscular slim thigh. The afternoon sunlight beams through a chink in the curtains and his black hair on head and around his pubes and up to his chest in a sweet line shines like thick silk twine. Fuck, I'm falling for this boy already. Dangerous. He's out of my league, clever. A lot cleverer than I will ever be. But sexy sexy sexy, irresistably sexy.
The dangerous bit lies in trying to hang on, I found that out early in my life. Guys who will fall into your arms at a first meeting, giving and taking everything with you, like twins for a few brief hours. But at the end of the session, or in the white light of morning, gone and gone for good and forever.
Guys about whom you thought, "Yeah, man, this is it, this is definitely it, I can tell he fancies me and I sure as shit fancy him."
But they don't hang about, they have lives of their own, wives and girlfriends or other boyfriends. Or they just enjoy the hunt and don't want to settle in a hut with a mate. Trouble is that I do want to settle. There's the effing rub.
Brad is off in a dream world of his own now, lying back smiling at the both of us. And if he is in some ways unattainable, Robert is a more manageable proposition. Robert is here just for the fun of it, for a homosexual kick of zest to a probably rather dull heterosexual existance -- cosy cosy cosy; and very dull. But reliable as my life is not. When he gets home the wife and kids are there, mostly.
But now Robert's here and as I turn my attention to him and he to me I certainly feel a very deep thrill. In the cinema I could feel with hands and body and lips what a great body he had. Here I can see it too in all its glory. I always say, if you're gonna have masculinity, have lots of it, bags of it, in abundance. And Robert's flesh is abundant. Almost fat, but stopping short of the boundary. A long series of magnificent curves. Even his neck is curved. The brown-black flesh almost hairless. When he stands facing you, as he does me now, there is this great wall of flesh. You just want to get up against it.
He has been excited by Brad's cumming. He was rubbing his own great cock as he watched me licking Brad clean. And although Brad is flaccid now he kneels down before him (worshipful, like me?) and licks his inner thigh with a big pink cow- tongue, slurping at the cock and balls enough to make Brad groan. Brad opens his thighs sensuously and starts to nip his own tits as a new turnon while this great black cow grazes at his crotch.
How can I describe that lovely arse of Robert's, so abundant, so profuse, so rich, so ample? I kneel down behind him and start to rub my crotch against the brown-black flesh and the sensation is so fantastic. Cock against arse heaven is beginning to drop its gauzy veils all around us, everything is dripping and bulging, everything is damp and warm. This is the steamy tropics of desire, the inner Africa of lust.
The two brown melons are perfectly situated against my inner thighs for silky rubbing and carressing (he flexes the mounds of delight!) while my cock is in his crack and for the nonce my balls are dangling against the horizontal crease of his arse but soon to rise (go up! go up! ascend into that heaven!) to join their rising brother at the warm and slippery slit. Reaching round the heap of delicious flesh, the nubile waist, I grab his cock in my hand and rub and rub.
Drugged with these sensations my half focussed eyes can see that Brad is in an ecstacy of surrender and that Robert has lifted his legs and is now tonguing the very place where my dick plays with him, pecking at that starry pucker, pushing.
Then standing up and straddling the silky nubian I lean forward over him so that my pulsing cock is over his head and am delighted to see the scholarly boy lean forward to the proferred sweet and enclose it with his lips. Into the warm wet cave I enter like a hero. His hair is in his eyes, the very picture of abandonment. As I withdraw from the calf-suck mouth I know I can do anything with him now and that he will allow and enjoy it all. Oh! To take that sweet virginity! In taking, give.
I deftly hop over my kneeling friend and before he knows it my arse is in his face. He sighs and tries another taste of man, licking, lapping at my arse and balls as I position myself over the open-legged boy who gazes at me from his dreamy daze, unafraid, lost in this living dream of sex. My cock, his crack, are wetted, my hands upon the youth-firm waist. I pull the boy to me, he completely supine on my couch. I kneel upon the cushions and Robert is kneeling too and has already entered my arse before I have given any preliminary prod to the devotee spread out before me.
With Robert's strong man-vigour in my fundament I place my hands upon the back of the sofa and in doing so my cock is already entering Brad's arse, a gentle preliminary push. Brad takes a breath and smiles and once again I wonder if the virgin is so white as she would seem. I do not withdraw.
Robert puts his hands upon mine, his black strong arms are against mine, I am squeezed and smell the delightful warmth of his pits as his face sneaks up against my cheek and I half turn as if to kiss him but to no avail. Robert pushes deeper into me and in doing so I enter deeper into Brad. Sighs and suspirations fill the air as if with gentle singing.
"Oh fuck sweet men, this feels so fucking good!" gurgles Brad with a wide grin on his face.
Fucking while being fucked can be so fundamental, never is cock so hard in anyone as when it has hard cock against its back, backing up and bucking up. The springs of the sofa start to creak and I wonder if we will break its back with all our weight.
I look down at Brad as I fuck him and see slight winces of pain but also full enjoyment and allowance for this act of rape. (What rape? I'm sure he's been here before. But let it pass! Modesty is always beguiling.)
"All right babes?" I ask solicitously.
He lifts his face to lick my pits and tits. I bend and kiss him as he strains toward me and as he strains he presents more of his hole so I can get yet deeper inside him. This boy is loving every minute, I can tell.
Flesh fore and aft, I fuck as I am fucked. A double delight, as the sailor said. Cum sandwich. Forward and I enter deeper; back and I buck against some prime black cock.
Brad is well into this occasion and keeps pushing against me. He is writhing with pleasure, nipping his own tits between thumb and forefinger and his cock is again well risen and now and again he jerks at it, not expecting to cum so soon again but just because it feels so good and hard.
Robert's pace is more urgent now and I am half crushed by his weight, but it drives me deeper into the boy and I am glad for that. Our bodies are warmer, wetter, steamy jungles of desire, warm with masculine odours, smells of sweat and cum. Grunting and groaning, getting to the climax.
Fuck me, Brad is cummin again, there's no stopping him and I watch the warm juice shoot against his chest and his contractions suck at me. Now I'm cummin too in such an ecstacy of release and the juice is like firewater as it wells from my taut balls and shoots inself in a shower of glory. This gets Robert to his peak of penis probing and I feel my cavity rinsed in a rush as with the shimmering fairy-dust from a wand of pleasure.
Hold it, hold it, hold it, ooze it all out and away. The straining peak and hold it yet again with the last inward thrust. Hold it, then collapse in a sighing laughing heap, all of a jumble there upon my trusty living room sofa.
Then comes a time of kisses and of cooing, having been pleasured and having given pleasure, warm long embraces and more pressings against the friendly bodies of ones mates. Love like a warm light bathing us. Love fulfilled and found if only for a while.
The long moment lasts, and then is broken.
"I better get back," says Robert. "Can I use your bathroom?"
He goes out and we hear the sound of running water as he cleans himself up. Brad and I are still entwined on the sofa, still romantic. But I know that it won't last.
Robert kisses us both goodbye and when he's gone the silence is ever so slightly oppressive.
"Should I go too?" asks Brad.
"Not unless you want to," I say, playing it cool.
He snuggles up to me, boy-man that he is. Soon his lips are seeking mine again. Then he leans back and I kiss his chin with its nice small cleft and then his jawline, all around, and then his neck. And then again his open mouth, my hands against his back.
And all the time I'm thinking, "What will happen this time? What will happen now?"
"How old are you?" I say.
He strokes my chest. "Great thing about older guys," he says, "is that they have such nice big broad chests. And with you being a builder...You know, I can't get turned on by a guy with a narrow chest, weedy types."
His hand's on my nipple and he's looking me straight in the eyes, long dark lashes, thick black hair, his own dark eyes, his low but sweet voice.
"I'm going along with it, but I don't really believe it," I'm thinking to myself. "He's just still turned on by what we just did. Probably wants some more."
"Don't students have to work in the afternoon?" I ask, stroking his cheek.
He takes my hand and puts it to his lips and looks at me with an expression -- well, I really don't know what it signifies.
"Don't builders?" he asks.
"I'm me own boss, that's the difference. Anyway, I finished a job early yesterday and today is just for pleasure."
He looks away and his profile is really something. He's certainly a very handsome guy.
"I'm sick of studying," he says with feeling.
"What you going to be?"
"A job in pharmaceuticals seems a certainty."
"You'll like that?"
"I'll like the money, that's for sure. And having my independence. And then perhaps one day I'll meet someone and it will all be hunky-dory."
I stroke his hair and he smiles at me. And again I think "I wonder." And again I think "Don't be so stupid."
* * * * *
The e-mail address given on the first two parts of this story is no longer operative, but any comments are welcome at firstname.lastname@example.org
There is also my somewhat ancient website to be found at the following url: http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~emenos/ for anyone interested enough.