ON THE BUSES -- 2
The boy I met in the tearoom was called Sam. He lived in South Norwood – had in fact been born in South Norwood and not among the mystic isles of the east. But dreams and imaginings are more creative and life giving than the dead world of prosaic fact; and also more essentially true.
I was to get to know Sam very well, but this was just a shy beginning. I was feeling incredibly randy that morning and if he had given me the come-on I don't know what would have happened, right there in the tearoom. As it was, we made our drinks, stood around a bit looking out of the window and moaned about work. Then back to the grind. But meeting Sam cheered me up no end. I was saying to myself: `Well, if I don't hear from Jason or Eddie, then Sam….'
But I did hear from Eddie, not five minutes after getting back to my desk. The phone rang, and it was him.
"Hullo Adam, that was an incredible afternoon. Sorry I couldn't stop longer, but you know how it is. Or perhaps you don't. Never get married son!"
He was only joking. He liked his wife a lot, and his kids. But he also liked people like me.
"So how did you and Jason get on after? Have a nice time? I feel a bit jealous."
"Yeah, it was great Ed. I've just got into work."
It turned out that we both worked in the same town. He asked me if I would go to lunch with him that very day. Of course I said yes. Five minutes later, the phone rang again. It was Jason, sounding quite breathless. His telephone voice was an incarnation of slow orgasm and I was hard just listening to him. Unfortunately he worked in London and couldn't come to lunch. I told him about Eddie and he too said he was jealous.
"No need, sweets," I whispered down the phone. (I worked with two inquisitive old bags who were always nosing into other people's affairs and one of them was watching me closely and trying to hear what I was saying.)
Just then I was wanted for another call, a business one, and I had to ring off with a promise to call again and meet again very very soon (Jason's words). It was like being in heaven among the gleaming angels, all beautiful, all desirable, all available.
Just before lunch, I was attacked by panic. I really couldn't remember what Eddie looked like. How would I recognise him? Hopefully, he would recognise me. In the event, my fear proved stupid. As soon as I set eyes on him I remembered at once. He gave me a warm fatherly hug which made my shoulders tingle.
We went to an old-fashioned Italian restaurant and he said to order whatever I wanted, it was a treat on him.
"The prices are a bit fancy," I observed, not wanting to clear him out.
"Don't worry, Adam, it will all come off the expense account."
So I went ahead since he told me to have whatever I wanted. The tables thankfully had plenty of drapery so a lot of foot and leg work took place during the meal. I even managed to get a squeeze of his big hard cock. He looked superb today, full of confidence, happy, manly. He was wearing a light grey suit which showed his grey eyes to great advantage and his full figure even more so. He was talkative and funny and seemed to know everything.
He asked me to come over to his office after work so I went. It was within walking distance of my own office and the afternoon was again sunny and fresh. He had told me to ask for him by name at the front desk and when I did I was escorted to what was described as a private lift. This was intriguing. The ascent seemed to last forever. When the doors finally opened I found myself in a large foyer and a secretary phoned through to see if Eddie was ready. He was, so in I went.
His office was huge and I was astounded at the opulence. I was about to say something about this when he motioned me to be quiet. He phoned his secretary and told her she could go home now, he wouldn't need her any more tonight. After a few minutes we heard the lift door open and then shut in the outer office, and then there was silence. After a while he touched a switch on his desk, sat back in his chair, and said: "Now we shall not be disturbed by anyone Adam. The lift is locked and we are alone."
I was gasping at all this high powered all-mightiness and I couldn't help giggling. "So why does a guy as important as you obviously are travel by bus?"
He put his head back and laughed. It was a bit theatrical but very appealing. "Well Adam there are certain contacts to be had on the bus that one can't get in a private car. Like when I met you, for instance."
"And the schoolboy who got off the bus with a hard on before I came and sat next to you?"
He laughed again. "He seemed a willing lad and was obviously full of hormones. All I did was rub my leg gently against his."
"But Eddie, all this –" I indicated the office, the building. "What are you, some sort of tycoon?"
"Did you notice the name of the company outside the building?"
"Yes, it was…." (I omit the name.)
"Well, it's mine, lad. And I am it."
He couldn't stop chuckling.
The next obvious question seemed to be "So why are you bothering with me?"
"Oh Adam, you make it sound like a burden. I can assure you that our meeting and subsequent association has been nothing but pure enjoyment for me. You are a very attractive young man. And I feel that I can trust you, even though I don't know much about you."
Truthfully, I was somewhat troubled by this development. I preferred my modest manly guy on the same level as myself, or a similar one. This high-powered and influential creature might just be a passion killer. I didn't want the responsibility of it, if I can express it that way.
Then again, when I had sat down and he had poured me a drink and had stood beside my chair to hand it to me, I began to melt. He had taken his jacket off and the full glory of his figure was revealed, or half-revealed, which was even better. His thigh touched my arm as I took the drink and his equipment was on a level with my face. I could see the shape of his balls and cock through the fine material as he took a swig of his own drink.
It didn't take long for me to regain contact with the original Eddie of (was it only so recent?) yesterday. The office, the incompatibility of his status with mine, fell away like the silk gown from a harlot's smooth skin. This was just good old sexy Eddie and the appeal coming off him was like a sexual magnet.
We had a few sips and then looked at the view, which was indeed most similar to that from my own office. I wandered around this magnificent space and then saw two Eddies, one the chief executive and the other a desirable lover. That the two were combined may even have been an extra turn-on.
He put his drink on his desk and sat against the desk with legs crossed at the ankles, his arms propped slightly behind him, the perfect altar for my coming. The curve of his pecs through the white shirt, the curves of his delicious manly thighs, the curve of his broad shoulders, were all come-on signs.
He was talking, but I was not listening, just watching, and after a while he was silent. His grey eyes were so beautiful and so sexy, grey and sleepy with desire, almost as if he knew how to hypnotise me. He was just looking back at me now. He sat quite still where he was while I unbuttoned his shirt, watching the deliberate movements of my hands. I was straddled against him as I pushed the shirt up over his wonderful modelled chest and stroked his big beautiful nipples.
Then I stood back a bit while I unzipped his trousers and then again we were crotch to crotch while I leaned full against that strong exciting body, leaned forward to kiss his big lazy wet mouth.
He was about to unzip me but I said, "No, don't move Eddie, I want you just like this, this is the way I like it."
Amazingly, he did exactly as he was told, obedient to my urgent wishes. Wow! what a bigger turn-on that was than all others, that this magnificent strong man wanted to do just what I told him.
I unzipped myself and took off my shirt. I pulled my tee up behind my neck, I love it like that, it pulls the tits up and forward in an amazingly sexy way, as if a man were standing behind one with his arms under one's armpits and his fingers interlocked behind one's neck. Eddie was watching and waiting. I took off his tie and pushed his shirt back off his fleshy shoulders. Pulling down his boxers, his dong flapped rigidly upward, the eye of his helmet looking at me through the taut foreskin and pointing at me.
Again, he was going to move, but I stopped him. His strong arms were trembling slightly from standing in the one position. I liked that very much. He was watching me like a border collie awaiting orders, all eyes and ears. I sank my cock and balls onto his and gave a big sigh at the soft-hard contact. I was slowly jacking myself against him and the friction of my pubic and thigh hair against his was wonderfully stimulating. He closed his eyes.
His thighs were together, a big wall of muscle with the privates jutting out. I was straddled against him, my hands over the top of his arse muscle, jacking slowly and enjoying each thrust that brought my upright cock against his, sometimes the two cocks doinging together like a couple of springs, playing with each other. I kept leaning hard against him and forcing his head and throat backwards so that I could kiss and lick his face and the strong muscled neck and the small ears.
My hands explored the muscles of his back, the indentation of the spine, down into the deeper indentation between the two trembling buns. I began to jack under his balls, pushing up into the moist warmth, knowing where I soon wanted to go – and come.
He kept moaning Adam, Adam between my forceful kisses, and I knew that he wanted what I wanted. It was only a matter of time. I was having some difficulty now saving myself for the ultimate. I moved back and turned him over, his elbows on the desk, his big muscular arse facing towards me. He sighed with relief at the change of position. "Cream…." he gasped, indicating the desk drawer. But I didn't want no cream when I had spit enough in my gob.
I lubed his arse and my cock with sufficent spit to allow me to slide in just a bit, and then a bit more, watching my own cock disappearing up his sweet orifice. He was murring with delight. I thought this was the most beautiful thing to see, my cock and his arse, like a work of art. My hands on his thighs, I pulled him deeper against me, opening his buns wider to allow pharaoh, the living god, to enter the temple of the living god. We were incarnate deity. Karnak, Thebes, Ra and Amun. The opening of the shrine, the feeding of the dead.
Communication, from that high place to this place of glory, coming together of two rich worlds of symbolism – these were the thoughts and feelings that accompanied the blissful act of creation and re-creation. Faster and faster and deeper and harder the thrusts, he took it all and enjoyed every minute. I could feel the two of us enveloped in the one vibration. I paused, feeling my coming. Stopped dead deep inside him, and he knew that I was ready.
"Yes, Adam, my boy, yes!"
Another great and deepest thrust of all and it flooded in wave on wave of ecstatic release. I fell forward across his body in spasm and let it all spurt deep into my dearest friend.
I lay there perhaps a minute and then I could feel that he was wanking himself with me inside him. His arse was sucking at my cock like a plunger and I was still hard when he spasmed with pleasure. I put my hand over his upon his hard expelling cock and could feel the hot cum dripping over us both. It was brilliant.
We uncoupled and turned to face each other, wet and laughing. It was a good moment. But then came the inevitable feeling of wanting to get away, anywhere away. All guys feel it after sex. I think it must be genetic. The call of the plains, of the far distance. As if the circling sex-starved animal, having gained its release and having impregnated its mate, wanted only to be off to resume its semi-solitary lifestyle. Not wanting to be tied down in one spot.
If Eddie had similar feelings, he did not show them. Nor, I hope, did I. We had another drink and talked man to man stuff, where I worked, what my hobbies were. It was all perfectly civilised and pleasant, but there was the wanting to be off.
"I shan't be going home by bus this evening," he laughed. "But you're quite welcome to a lift in my car Adam."
When he said `his' car, I presumed he would be driving. But there was a chauffeur! This was a new one for me, but I took it all as a matter of course. Eddie chatted to both me and to the driver on the way home, there was no sense of strain whatever. Although I was a little disappointed that the driver was a portly middle-aged man with a moustache. My ideas of the perfect chauffeur were a little exotic, I expect.
Eddie dropped me off right outside my house, even though it took him further than he needed to go. He squeezed my knee as he said goodbye in the car and said he would be in touch. I could see that Elizabeth, my flatmate, was watching from the upstairs window.
"Oooh, get you!" she said as I came into the living room. "Who's found herself a sugar daddy then?"
"He's just a friend," I said archly, feeling terribly flustered.
"Just a very rich friend," observed Liz. "Or was the car stolen?" She stared at me in that direct way she has, knowing that I would spill the beans eventually. Since I made no immediate response, she asked "And where was Madam last night?"
We had this long running joke that she was not to try to mother me or to act like my wife just as I would not try to run her life for her in lieu of father or husband.
"I stayed with a friend," I commented dryly.
"The friend with the expensive car?"
"No, another friend."
"Well, you could have rung me to let me know. Here I was waiting up all hours wondering if you'd got yourself murdered – or worse."
We were both laughing now.
"Whore!" she cried as I went into my room to change. And when I came out stripped for the shower she eyed me appreciatively and lasciviously and muttered "What a waste!"
I gave her a quick flash and ran for the bathroom before she could grab me.
When I came down to London from Wick to work in the Civil Service, I was posted to an outstation in Surrey and had to find myself a flat. Liz, amazingly, was one of the first people to interview me for the post of flatmate and we had now been together for around two years.
Wick, my home town, is like the end of the world. Let's face it Wick is the end of the world and coming down south to the milder climate and the milder manners and finding someone like Liz to live with was bliss. She was a fellow Scot of course. I am fairly liberal in my views but even I draw the line at living with a Sassenach! (For the sake of any English readers I should point out that I am joking!)
Liz was staying in that night and after a meal and a few glasses of wine I revealed all.
"You bloody gays!" she said. "You have all the luck. Here am I looking for a nice horny young man or an equally nice older man with plenty of money, and I get nothing. Yet you manage both in the course of one evening!"
"It's a knack dear!" I cried. "You either have it or you don't."
And I gave her a cuddle. Then she told me all about her evening, which was equally as hair-raising as mine. But this is my story, not hers. And I promised to be discreet.
Just before I was about to go to bed, ever so slightly sozzled, Jason rang. Liz answered the phone and quickly started waving at me and making big excited eyes.
"It's one of your men," she whispered after pressing the `secrecy' button on the phone. "He sounds very young and sexy and he's made me quite wet."
I snatched the phone from her and ran into my room and locked the door. I laid down on the bed to speak to Jason and I could hear Liz trying to get in.
She was right when she said he sounded sexy. "I'm missing you already Adam" he said in somewhat dreamy tones and in his deepest register. "I don't suppose you can come over again tonight?"
"I'd love to sweets, but tonight I must get some sleep. I am knackered, as I expect you are too."
"Knackered, but also terribly sexy Adam. I'm wearing my leather outfit and remembering what we did last night."
I shouted to Liz to leave me alone and then said to Jason, "I only wish I was with you now darling."
"Me too Adam, our wet dicks just touching each other, our mouths together." His voice was hoarse with excitement, and so was mine by now.
I could visualise him lying back against the pink satin sheets wearing his leather getup, his smooth legs open, his nice uncut cock in his hand, and me looking into his dreamy eyes. As if I was there again, arched over him, slowly lowering my body against his. Cocks quivering and touching and growing.
Having had such easy sexual releases of late, I was totally frustrated, feeling that it was owing to me, that I had a right to demand it. But, short of shagging Liz, there was no way I was going to get it.
I made up my mind in a moment. "Oh fuck," I moaned into the phone. "Your place is not that far, I'll drive over now. But you must promise not to keep me up all night darling."
"I'll promise anything. You're really coming?"
"I will if I listen to your sexy voice any longer. Save it for me." Then, suddenly coming to my senses, "And you'd better give me your address again, my sense of place is not too good. I'll phone you if I get lost."
Liz couldn't believe it. "You're smitten, my love," she said.
"Just sex mad," I said truthfully. "Don't wait up."
"Mad fucking queen!" she shouted as I slammed the door and ran out to the car. She waved to me from the upper room as I drove off.
So there I was, driving through the night with a raging hard-on. To make things even better, it started to thunder and was soon chucking it down. The windscreen wipers could barely cope. I missed my way, found it again, then got completely lost. I was just swearing out loud and looking for a phone when I recognised the road where Jason lived. Must have been something like the homing instinct which got me there. My inbuilt aerial was picking up his signals.
I locked the car and ran to his door. A huge hollyhock standing just by the porch was nodding to me in the driving rain as if to say "Glad you got here mate."
Jason came down to let me in dressed in a magnificent scarlet silk dressing gown with a padded collar and cuffs. I chased after him up the stairs dripping rainwater everywhere.
"This is so bloody romantic," he whispered as we both collapsed onto his bed.
We had really good sex and then fell asleep in each others arms, breathing together.
I awoke to the delicious sensation of my skin touching his skin and my mouth upon his. We had had sex again and had come almost before we were properly awake. It seemed like we were twins, even thinking the same thoughts.
Then came the usual rush, he for the train and I for the bus. I asked him if trains were as exciting as buses, and for the same reason. He said of course. I made a mental note that I would have to try taking a train to work sometime. Only trouble was the train (or trains – I would have to change twice for a short-ish journey) were not really convenient for me. So it was back to the buses. I left my car outside his house because the place where I worked was crap for parking and parking in the office car park was limited to those with a medical certificate.
Not much was happening on the bus that morning. Twice I had women sitting next to me, which was a bit of a bore. I used to feel almost personally affronted when a female sat beside me. I had my eyes skinned for talent, as usual. Whatever my state of sexual satisfaction, male beauty is always a wonderful draw.
Male beauty comes in many forms, and in all shapes and sizes. The really beautiful of course satisfy all tastes, but even plain people can have beautiful bodies; and people with the most beautiful faces can have unfanciable bodies. You just home in on the best bits.
Now, sitting on the buses, a real pleasure for me is hair. The man or boy sitting in front of you is mainly registerable by his head, neck and shoulders. A really gorgeous head of hair is where it is thick and healthy and clean and slightly curly or wavy and has been cut into a pleasant shape. My hands itch to touch it, my lips desire to kiss it. I can stare at it for the whole journey, and if I have no chance to get a good look at the face, I long to do so. Often the face is a big let-down, but that does not matter. The hair has a life and being all its own.
Then again, if someone is sitting beside you, you register him mainly by the sensation of touch. You don't spend the occasion staring at his face or body, there is no time for other than quick, surreptitious glances. You feel him, the shape of his thigh, knee and leg, if the whole thing is pushed up against you. (Some men are very ladylike and hardly touch you. I prefer those who are uninhibited or unaware and give you the full crushing all over contact.)
Then there is the shoulder pushed against yours, hopefully big and manly and with some nice firm flesh on the bone. Elbows, however, are weapons of war in the search for space and can be used to deadly effect. Sometimes, if the arms are crossed, or if the guy is leaning slightly forward, you can feel the flanks and then you widen your own arm and can feel his sweet waist.
If you are both reading a paper, sometimes the hands touch in a brief electric contact and are as quickly withdrawn.
So a lot of it is tactile sensation and sometimes I don't even want to look at the guy, just feel him next to me in that intimacy that can so rarely be found except in this situation. It's as if you were a married couple, sailing side by side for a small portion of life's journey, but a very intimate and unquestioning and trustful space of time.
As I got into the lift at work I head the sound of someone running and a voice called for me to wait. I pressed the `open door' button and there was Sam, looking cool and delicious. He was smiling at me. We ascended together with the merest touch of conversation and he leaned against the handrail in the same willowy fashion that he had leaned against the draining-board yesterday. He was certainly not a disappointment on second inspection. He was wearing an open neck shirt and the flesh of his chest was creamy brown and hairless.
I was staring at him, devouring him with my eyes, and he was staring at the floor. Then he suddenly looked at me with a direct and burning gaze.
It was breath-taking.
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