USED - 2


"That what we did together the other day," said Stan. (Stan was my short friend from the garage.) "That's all right between mates but it don't mean they're gay, no way."

We were on the usual seat. The weather had just got hotter and I was wearing nothing but a skimpy set of shorts with slashes up the thighs to show a bit more leg. Stan was forced to wear his usual bib and brace trousers but had assured me he had nothing on under them. I could see that for myself since his packet was clearly outlined and the trousers were halfway up his arse. He wore no shirt and the braces of his trousers kept rubbing against his tits and making them hard.

I was taking it all in, like lesson number two from the great man of the world.

"So, it's all right for guys to wank together?" I asked. I was sitting on one foot with the other leg dangling from the seat and I knew that the head of my cock was just showing because Stan's eyes were continually going down in that direction.

"Course it is, everyone does it. I bet they're all at it down at your school."

"I never did it with anyone but you," I lied, looking into my hero's eyes.

"Really?" he said looking so smug and happy I almost laughed. Like he was the guy who showed the virgin the way to have fun! And also like he thought he could do what he liked with me now, despite his not being gay.

"And I really enjoyed what we did Stan. I keep thinking about it. And thinking about it makes me hard." I pushed forward on the seat so that more of my dick was showing. "But are you sure it don't mean we're gay?"

"No way, mate. I love birds. Birds with big bazookas and nice tight minges. Here, take a look at this."

He got out a girlie magazine and opened it on his lap. He was looking at a pic of a close-up shot of a woman's fanny with the lips open. It was so revolting!

"I'd love to get my cock in there," he growled. "Just imagine the sensation of it going in."

I could see what he was up to. Repeat performance of our last game. Magazine on lap. Closeness. My hand on his willy.

Not this time, Stan. This time you have to ask for it. You have to earn it. You have to be taught that you like it and that perhaps you are just a teeny bit on the gay side, wanting young schoolboys.

This time I didn't sit close to him. I just looked at the picture from where I was, trying not to vomit.

He moved closer to me on the seat, magazine in hand. "You like it, Miles?"

"Mmmmm," I pretended. "Love to get my tongue in there. Lick lick."

"Hey, Miles, you are a horny little bastard. Bet you would do it too."

He held the magazine towards me and still I refused to shuffle up. So he shuffled up to me but only got as far as my kneecap since I still had my right leg crossed under me. There was a nice bulge in his tight trouser crotch. It looked quite painful.

"But she wouldn't want me, Stan. I'm too young. Women like men, not schoolboys. Big muscular guys like you are what they're after."

He preened and shifted his balls and cock with his hand. "You are right," he said. "Women love what I got. Hey, look at this one. Fucking tits on that."

Photo-enhancement, was what I thought. It stood out a mile. And so did those big mammaries. I pushed out my chest and wriggled on the seat a bit more so that the back of my shorts was riding down and Stan could see my small waist and the nice curve of my arse. (I had practiced in front of the mirror. I had tried everything in front of the mirror and had even lugged the big mirror on casters in from Ma's room so that I could get an all-over view of my nice boy body.)

"Yeah, it's nice," said Stan weakly and dreamily, looking at my sinuous shape.

He pushed toward me further, almost crushing my knee. He'd never had such luck with anyone as he had had with me. Women! I was sure he'd never had more than a swift grope and a wet French kiss.

"Like what you said before, Miles, about you and me and a woman in the back of the car."

So he had remembered. I thought he would. And I bet he was thinking not of the woman but of the schoolboy he was now admiring. But not gay. Oh no, never gay!

I got up from the seat and his face fell, like someone had offered him a free pint and then had taken it back with a mocking laugh. I was enjoying myself, and I felt so sexy. I stood against the counter, half turned from him so that the enticement of my soft young boy curves would get him really turned on. I stroked one tit slowly with the palm of my hand and stared down at him. He looked up at me like he had seen an angel.

"Come and look at some more of these," he pleaded. He was really set on this man-boy-magazine scenario, but I was bored with it already. I needed to step things up a key.

"Looking at those women makes me so horny, Stan. And somehow looking at them with you sitting beside me makes me feel as if it's all a bit queer. Like, I start wondering if you're getting hard and this gets me going. And then I wonder if I am queer after all. Perhaps we better drop this. It might not be healthy."

He looked at me in open-mouthed astonishment, like such a thing would never cross his mind. "And besides," I said, "all this horniness makes me want to pee." And I held my cock and balls in my hand like a baby trying not to go, for fear of a slap.

I could feel my cock was getting really hard and my tool and shorts were slightly damp. I hoped he could see this evidence of my lust. He was certainly looking that way, his eyes boring into my boy crotch like two acetylene torches at white heat. Ouch! I could almost feel them burning my equipment.

"Fuck!" I said. "I'll have to go to the loo next door for a pee."

Now Stan had never seen me creeping into that loo, I had made sure of that.

"No," don't do that," he almost shouted. And he stood up as if about to restrain me and I could see a really big bulge in his pants. He put his hand over it, suddenly modest. He had nice hands, slightly podgy with nice fleshy fingers and a couple of big rings which seemed a dead giveaway to me.

"What's wrong, Stan?" I innocently asked.

"You don't wanna go in there, Miles." (He had never used my name so often.) "It's full of funny men."

`Oh,' I thought. `So that fact has not escaped your notice.'

"Funny men?"

"Queers, Miles. It's full of fucking queers."

"Really?" I said, all wide-eyed innocence. "What do they do in there?"

"Don't ask, son. You wouldn't want to know." (So now it was father-son stuff! Old Stan was quite incredible.)

"But I do, Stan. I think I'll go and take a look. I want to see for myself what it's all about."

"Don't go, Miles. You can use the garage loo. It's nearer."

"But not so interesting." I gave him a wink and a smile.

"Honestly, Miles, I mean it. I don't want you to go. It's dangerous."

I considered this. "Well, you come with me Stan, then it'll be OK." Me, the little innocent, the boy, among all those nasty randy men!

"I can't, mate. If I leave this place unattended, I'll get the sack."

"Well, they shouldn't leave you to look after it on your own. It's been a while now with just you. And always you on the night shift. There's supposed to be another guy with you. There's always two during the day. It's not fair, Stan."

I was playing on his sense of greivance. He had been grumbling about it long enough.

It was around nine thirty in the evening. The sun had just set. Hardly anybody about.

"Anyway," I said determinedly. "I gotta see some of this for myself. It's good for my education. See you in a bit, Stan." And with that I made for the door, wiggling my boy arse as provocatively as I knew how.

There was a strangled inarticulate cry behind me, but I ignored it and did not look round. I walked past the plate glass window of the office and Stan was glued to it like a sucking fish, staring in disbelief as his `boy' sashayed into the jaws of doom. I just ignored him and put a cute little smile on my face for good measure.

I came to the stairs leading down to the underground grotto. As always, I witnessed that little thrill of anticipation which I always felt as I descended those rubbish-strewn stairs. Who would be in the holy place tonight? Who had come to worship in the temple? What dark presences lurked within the shrine, ready for what orgiastic rites?

This was such an evening when the Greeks threw off their inhibitions and gathered to enact the Bacchic mysteries. I felt my arse start tingling, puckered tight. My balls had quickly ascended into my groin. The tension was exquisite. I passed the holy portal and went in.

The lights were out, as usual. Some enterprising homi had removed the bulb. I stood against the wall, waiting for my eyes to get used to the dark. After a while I was aware of a slim figure standing in one of the stalls. Jeans and tee shirt. Early twenties. Nice. Cock out, slowly rubbing. Looks round at me, cropped hair, nice face, eyes glistening in the dark. I feel the atmosphere closing in on me, that sense of claustrophobia when your brain begins to burn. Danger. Always danger. Is it that that makes your cock so stiff, danger and desire?

He turns toward me, fly wide open, cock in hand, bunched balls against the denim. Here comes the invitation to the dance. Shall I respond? He's not as thickset as my beloved Stan, more boyish like myself. That needn't be a problem, although I like a fair expanse of chest.

The stalls are set on a raised platform. This loo is pretty old. I move toward him in the gurgling dark, my heart rate fast. My hand is on his cock and on his balls, cut cock, a good six inches. He comes down off the step and stands beside me, groping my tight boy arse with one hand while the other shuttles his cock. There is a scent of beer and aftershave. Probably been out drinking with the boys and fancied some light relief. Not too drunk though, too early for that. Just nicely, sexily sozzled.

I pull one side of his tee from the grip of his belt, lift it, lick the swell of his nice shaped tit. Nuzzle that sweet small nipple. Scent of armpit mixed with aftershave. Feel the nipple tighten, start to gently nip with my front teeth, not enough to inflict any damage on the delicious thing. Sighs short and frequent are now exhaled against my hair, ruffling the back of my neck where I bend.

I lift the other side of the tee, so that both tits are now bare, two delicious points of pleasure, two heavenly discs of darkness on the pecs. One I lick and nibble as he pushes it against my face, the other I tease with my fingers, slightly scratching.

Now he has his hand on my head, trying to push it down against his cock. He wants a nice long boy suck, that's for sure.

We hear someone coming down the stairs, noisy, hurried, indiscreet. It has to be Stan, hot in pursuit of his boy.

My new friend, alarmed, turns back to his stall. I go and stand beside him.

Enter, breathless, Stan. He stan(d)s against the wall, where he belongs, seeing nothing, taking deep breaths of air loo air, mixtures of piss, cum, disinfectant.

After a while, the other looks around. I look around too. My man is leaning against the wall, hands in his trouser pockets. The other looks at me and smiles and whispers "Nice." I whisper back "I know him. He's all right."

What will Stan do now?

The other turns toward me, cock in hand. I turn to face him. Stan can see what we're at. The other slowly pushes down my shorts, pulls me to him. Now we're cock to cock. This guy's sexy, utterly smooth with a slim waist and the bum in a nice curve so I slip my hand down his jeans and hold him to me with the flat of my hand and my fingers along the crack of his arse and my middle finger probing his nice tight hole. With my other hand I'm loosening his tee again and going for his nipples.

He himself is pushing his jeans down from his waist, wriggling like a smooth slim eel.

"Miles, Miles," whispers Stan urgently, in a panic.

Stan comes towards us and when he's in grabbing distance I squeeze his cock which surprise surprise is upright hard.

"Don't do this," hisses Stan in my ear.

The other guy rubs his hand on Stan's broad chest and starts tweaking his nipples.

"Fuck off," says Stan, but he doesn't move away.

I put my face against Stan's and whisper in his ear "I think this guy is queer Stan. But it feels so good." I grope Stan's crotch again and the heavy packet's pulsing.

This whispering is ridiculous since the other guy can hear everything we say in this echoing space. Ridiculous but fun!

Stan gives a muted groan, as if in pain, but for some reason he keeps his face against mine. He says, "It's OK Miles, I won't leave you," as if I'm some frightened kid.

"Oh Stan," I softly moan. "You are a mate."

Now my mouth is against Stan's mouth, but he won't open for me to slip him my tongue. But then again he doesn't pull away. I reach over and release the flap of his bib and put my arm around his naked shoulders, nice fleshy muscle and nice curving pecs. With my hand I guide the other guy's face until his mouth is against Stan's chest and he starts feeding on those slippery nips.

"Oh," says Stan. "I can't..."

As he opens his mouth I slip him the tongue and now we're in a great big sucking Frenchie that lasts for a long time. While this passionate kiss is in progress Stan comes and stands beside me on the step of the stalls and the other guy stands down and, pulling down Stan's trousers so that the meaty cock flies up suddenly in his face, begins to masturbate both our cocks together, Stan's meat and mine gripped in one urgent fist.

"This is fucking sick," Stan protests through our slobbery kiss. "So fucking sick mate..." His voice trails off to a low vibration and his arms are now around me.

The other is bending to get two cocks in his mouth, licking and slurping all over our hot man-and-boy meat. Stan is really coming on to me now, all pretence broken by the tide of his passion, his strong arms pulling me hard against his sculpted body so that the other guy's face is between our thighs where he's grazing like a soft contented cow and sucking with the strong suck of a calf at its mother's teat.

Stan's cock against mine. Stan's balls against mine. The other guy has our balls cupped passionately against each other and against his own chin.

"Mmmm, Stan, this feels so good," I murmur. "Why didn't you tell me it would be like this?"

He gurgles but cannot answer, or is lost to coherent speech and thought. I can tell by the vibration of his mouth clamped around our meat that the other guy is whacking off as hard and fast as he can. I gotta cum so I grab my own cock and start whacking off along with the other who is now sucking Stan's cock alone. Stan's mouth and the general situation are so hot that I can hold it no longer, release is gonna come whether I want it or not. I start shooting in a massive unchained orgasm like never before, shooting all over the guy's hair and all over Stan and it feels so wonderful, my cock and balls are on fire and my mind is closing down in ecstacy.

I shoot and shoot and even when I'm dry my thighs are pushing and jacking against the empty air, and then against Stan's meaty thigh. I hang on to him so tight that he starts cummin in no time and I know he's loading the other guy's throat with his cum. Then, when Stan's jacked dry, the other guy suddenly stands up and pushes his cock against mine so that I'm leaning back against the wet stall and he's fucking my prick like mad with his own, hanging on to me like a limpet, his mouth against mine and then he's moaning and cummin and I get drenched in his hot spunk. Stan's spunk (and probably mine) are on his lips and forehead and I'm licking and slurping for all I'm worth in a never before witnessed sex frenzy.

Then, in a minute, it's all over. There's the sound of someone's steps on the stairs outside and we're all buttoned up in a flash, like a fairy suddenly appeared and waved her wand to make all decent and shipshape.

I can't believe my rotten fucking luck when in walks the black guy with the apple, the one I have been fruitlessly seeking for so long. I do not bloody believe it here he is, just as big and lovely as I remembered. And I've just cum my load! He looks at me and his lips are parted in a dazzling white smile in the dim light. So I was not forgotten, thank the Lord!

Stan and the other guy are ready to retreat.

"Come on Miles," says Stan. And then again, "Are you coming son?"

He's turned into my daddy once again.

"Just a mo, gotta adjust myself."

What is there to adjust? I'm only wearing shorts!

"Don't be long," warns Stan. "I'll wait outside for you."

Then, at last, he's gone. Just me and the black guy and the silence and the unremitting drip of the water. No time for modesty. I blurt it all out, how much I enjoyed our last meeting, how I've been wanting him, missing him, watching for him.

"You got it bad," he says, and his low sweet voice is as delicious and as chocolatey as his warm dark skin. "You wanna stay for some more?"

"I just came mate, all spunked out for now. And I gotta go shut that other bloke up."

"Marital problems, eh?" He's smiling again and his hands are reaching into the pocket of his jeans. He fishes out something small and white. "Here's my card, darling. Give me a ring sometime. I'll be in the country till the end of the month. Now you better go and calm down your lover."

I reach up my arms for a long and lingering kiss and I can't believe my luck. Then I hear Stan calling from the top of the stairs, and out I go.

No sign of the other guy, just Stan. He has some cum on his forehead and I reach my hand to wipe it away, but he pushes my hand off. "Not here!" he says, disgruntled and frowning. But he looks lovely, fussing and fretting, and I melt for him. After all, I just re-found the love of my life.

"I gotta get back to the shop. Come on, Miles."

Like suddenly he is my keeper. But I don't mind and I follow him meekly.

There are two customers waiting to be served, honest types. When they are gone, Stan sits down in the usual seat, wiping the sweat off his face and body with a towel. He has still missed the cum on his forehead and meekly allows me to remove it for him. I want to lick it off with my tongue, put my tongue in his mouth, and share it with him. But I think best not at the moment. He has a delicious smell of sweat and fresh cum about him.

Then I think of the black guy, wonder if he's still there. I want to go back. But I have to deal with uncle Stan. I finger the card in the pocket of my shorts, the precious card, the calling card of my dark deity. I rub it against my cock and balls, as if it were himself, his gracious self.

"I better go back up before Ma starts fussing," I say. "Thank you for looking after me, Stan. It was great wasn't it?"

"Just a wank," says Stan, forgetting anything else that happened. "Just a wank between guys." But I can see that he is already faltering, that the light is beginning to dawn.

I say, "I like you Stan." And it is true.

He looks at me for a while, still puzzled, still coming round.

"You better get back to your mum Miles."

He reaches out his warm dimpled hand and carresses my knee.

I go back into the flats and then out again by the garage entrance. I slip round the building with a beating heart and run down the steps to the loo. Empty. Desolate. My god has gone.

Back at the flat Ma is watching some awful old film and having a drink.

"Where you been Milesey?"

"Oh just talking to Stan."

I have let her know that Stan is a mate, shared interests, all that, and that I like talking to him. It's OK by her, no prob. She always jokes that she will one day get me a spare time job in that garage since I seem to like it so much. Then I can help her out with the bills.

I go to my room, shut the door, draw the card from my pocket. It reads `Brandon Feresh' and underneath is a mobile phone number. Nothing else. It must be his cruising card, I think. He certainly doesn't use it for business.

I want to call him right away or at least once Ma has gone to bed, half sozzled as usual. But I think no, that's not the way to do it. Not appear too eager, even though I have already given myself away to him by saying how much I like him. Play it cool, even though I'm burning. I'll leave it for a day or two, then call.

The room is warm and I push my window open wider. Nice breeze coming off the hills. Sounds of traffic in the street eight floors below. And somewhere, out there in the darkness, my dark man.

* * * * * * * *


If you liked my story you can find my `Uncle Jules' under the `Incest' section of Gay Nifty and my`Cinema Sex' under `Encounters'. Also see `The Ring' and `The Prince' under gay/scifi.

Comments welcome at charbry@supanet.com

There is also my rather ancient website at http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~emenos/

for anyone crazy enough to want more.