A gay story: A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 06 PART SIX – WHATEVER FLOATS YOUR BOAT
By Josh and Sadie Rose © 2005
“Ahhh, sun sea and sex… our favourite combination. What starts off as a potentially uncomfortable endeavour quickly turns out to be anything but… except perhaps for Rayne, but he’s not complaining. Much!”
***AS EVER… IF THIS STORY SHOWS UP ANYWHERE BUT LITEROTICA.COM IT HAS, UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED, BEEN TAKEN AND USED WITHOUT PERMISSION. COPYRIGHT FRAUD IS THEFT AND WE WILL TAKE ACTION AGAINST ANYONE CAUGHT STEALING OUR MATERIAL***
The concourse of Agde railway station was like the seventh circle of hell. It was a sweltering ninety degrees in the shade once Ant and his travelling companion emerged from the underpass in the midst of the evening rush hour. Taxis and cars vied dangerously with buses mopeds and bicycles for every inch of space outside and the air was heady with petrol fumes, sweat and frustration. People shouted and pushed their way into the available cabs and Ant stood precariously in the doorway for a moment, surveying the scene with a thumping heart, searching for a familiar face in the heat of all this alien chaos. Beside him, Rayne located a bench and dumped his bags on it whilst he retrieved the mangled roll-up from his jacket and extracted a lighter from the tight back pocket of his jeans. Once his cigarette was lit he leaned back against the wall observing their new environment with a cool detachment that Ant briefly envied. There was a sheen of sweat on the bridge of his upturned nose and his recently cropped hair was still somewhat unruly but apart from this he looked as calm and unconcerned as a native.
A taxi pulled up at the kerb and the back window rolled down. Christophe called out; “Do you want to share our car?”
Ant was tempted but a glance back at his inscrutable companion swayed his decision. Rayne was not even looking at them.
“Someone’s picking us up,” he called back. “We should wait really.”
“See you at the Cap,” the Frenchman saluted him and the long black car pulled away.
When he returned to the bench where Rayne had been guarding their luggage, the boy was gone but a quick, panicked assessment of the forecourt located him almost immediately. He was talking to a scruffy, rather dirty looking fellow with a deeply tanned, wrinkled face. The man spoke with his hands, pointing along the street and gesticulating in Rayne’s direction. The boy shook his head a couple of times then nodded and blew a streamer of smoke in the fellow’s face. As Ant approached them the wizened man quickly shuffled away and accosted someone else.
“Who was that?” the older man asked warily. He was still not sure if Rayne was talking to him.
“Dunno,” his lover responded with infuriating apathy. “I think he wanted me to go with him but I’m not sure why. I told him I didn’t have any money and he buggered off sharpish.”
This was in fact a blatant lie. Ant could see as much in the closed nature of his lover’s stare. He returned to the bench and checked through his bag but all his things were thankfully still there. Rayne had taken his backpack and guitar case with him, of course.
“We could have been robbed,” Ant pointed out now.
“We ‘aven’t got anything worth nickin’,” Rayne reminded him, taking a long pull on his ratty roll-up. “I thought you said somebody was coming to pick us up,” he exhaled in a plume of smoke.
“He is,” Ant said irritably. “Maybe he’s stuck in traffic. Maybe I should ring them.”
“Maybe we should get the bus,” Rayne suggested pointing to a line of service buses under the trees on the main road. He wandered off to inspect the timetables whilst Ant located a telephone kiosk and called Daniel to let his friend know they had arrived.
As he was scrutinising the list of destinations with no real idea of where they were going, Rayne became aware that the scruffy guy from the forecourt was watching him again. He sidled closer as the young Englishman pinched out the last embers of his smoke and flicked the ashes away deftly. Dark, calculating eyes took in the boy’s attitude and his looks in one appreciative sweep.
“You need more?” he asked again now. “Your friend, he not know what you…” Pressing two fingers together he mimed taking a long toke and Rayne laughed humourlessly.
“I doubt it.”
“What you like? I get for you,” the fellow promised him, resting a long, brown hand on his arm.
“I’m broke,” Rayne said apologetically, shrugging him off. “No cash… no francs. Sorry.”
“You want Marijuana, I get… just two hundred francs for two ounce.”
“No.” Rayne told him more firmly. “Not interested.”
“You want Ketamine? Heroin? I get.” Dark eyes bored into him and Rayne chewed on his lower lip speculatively.
“Your friend… the one who gets the stuff. Where can I find him?”
“No… you come with me,” the wiry fellow countered, shaking his tatty dreadlocks determinedly.
“I can’t… I’m not on my own.”
“You give me money and I fetch.”
“No… I told you, I haven’t got any money. God’s truth!” Rayne put his hands in his pockets and brought them out full of cigarette papers and sweet wrappers.
That earned him a disappointed look and he shrugged his shoulders evasively.
“You like men?” the tout persisted. “Tout le cul?”
Rayne blinked at him, not quite comprehending this.
“I take you to meet a man, oui?” The little dealer elaborated. “He will give you money if you let him fuck you in the ass. Five hundred francs, very quick.”
“Fuck off.” Rayne was already walking. The scrawny guy followed him, persistent to the last but as Ant came back down towards him with a huge, relieved smile on his face he melted away almost magically.
“What’s up with you?” Ant wanted to know as they drew level.
“No buses,” Rayne said with a shake of his head.
“No matter… Terry’s on his way. Like I said, he’s probably stuck in the traffic.”
Around ten minutes later a long, dusty black Mercedes that looked to have seen better days (probably in the 1970s) pulled up on the rapidly emptying concourse and a round, cheerful face framed by a shock of yellowing blond hair peered out of the near side front window at them. Sky blue eyes twinkled merrily as the shirtless, sun-tanned driver asked in a broad, Cockney crackle; “You ‘eading anywhere I know, mate?”
“Terry!” Ant exclaimed. “Thought you’d got lost.”
“Long time no see, Rosie!” the driver retorted with a grin like the white keys on a grand piano. “Who’s your friend then?”
Ant opened the door and ushered his lover into the back of the Merc complete with all their baggage. As they settled on the back seat he made cursory introductions.
“Terry, this is Raymonde, aka Rayne Wilde. Ray, my old friend Terence Goodwill. We go back a long way, me and Terry.”
“‘Allo,” Rayne said non-committally.
“All right gorgeous?” the man called Terence asked over his right shoulder as the Merc pulled away into Agde’s rush hour traffic. “What’s a proper darlin’ like you doin’ hanging about with an old salt like Rosie?”
“Rosie?” the boy repeated, mildly curious.
“Rosie and Jim,” Ant explained wearily. “I used to live on a narrow boat in the Black Country with a friend of Terry’s called James Hawkes. It was a kid’s TV programme…”
“Yeah… Rosie and Jim, I know.” But Rayne was grinning for the first time since Lille and Ant allowed himself to hope that things could only improve from here on in.
“How’s Daniel?” he asked now, settling into the worn leather of the rear seat and watching his beautiful lover out of the corner of his eye.
“Ahh… you know Dan,” Terry answered cryptically.
They made small talk for much of the short journey back around the cape whilst Rayne looked out of the window at the river and the dusty roadside haciendas. He was half asleep again wrapped in the stifling heat when the car pulled up at a checkpoint and inched forward through the traffic until a barrier rose and it was allowed through into the Port of Ambonne.
Ant shook him gently when the Merc stopped on the roadside by the harbour. He saw the younger man stir and blink back at him drowsily then sit up straighter as he seemed to realise that they were here, wherever ‘here’ was. His green eyes widened as he took in the palm trees on the main boulevard and the clink of mooring ropes and hoops against the jetties to their left. As Ant opened the door he climbed out and stared around him at the vast harbour town that was Port Ambonne.
There were boats moored everywhere; large and small, old and new; roped up side by side along the wooden gangplanks off the boulevard and curling around the harbour to his right. An ex-trawler was up on the hoist at the chandlery just off the main road, being inspected by a big woolly bear of a man in a skimpy pair of yellow lycra briefs and nothing else. Beyond that there were chalets and flats with open, inviting balconies all around the man-made cove. Away to the left was a huge block of apartments rising like a concrete cliff to meet the cerulean sky.
Terry, who had probably once been a muscle queen but was now a stocky fellow in his late middle age, wearing nothing but tight denim cut-offs and deck shoes, helped to carry their luggage down through an iron barred gate onto one of the jetties. Rayne found himself watching his step as the wooden planks bobbed and swayed underfoot. The sunlight glittered on the water to either side. An elderly fellow in a small, open-topped motor boat hailed them cheerfully and it was only as he looked away that Rayne realised the man was stark bollock naked. His chest and crotch were densely furred in white but his sun browned knob dangled down from the carpet of thick white hair like a pendulum on a novelty alarm clock. He blinked and wondered had he got too much sun waiting outside the station.
Now he looked around a little more attentively he began to notice that the old guy in the boat was not a lone eccentric. A pair of young women strolled along the quay, boldly naked as children. Their full, brown breasts bounced as they walked. One was shaven clean down below and the other had a trimmed stripe of bleached blonde pubis. Rayne blinked, quite astonished. His eyes followed them admiringly until they vanished from sight and he ran into the back of Terry who had stopped beside a long, white ocean-going cruiser. There was an open deck to the rear with a wooden table and cushioned chairs. A pair of half-empty glasses stood on the table as if a pleasant meal had been interrupted and was waiting to be resumed.
“Welcome aboard,” Terry declared, ushering them both onto the sun deck and following them into the cooler shadows of the lounge.
Two shallow steps led down into a spacious, maple floored leisure room. A low futon in the same pale wood, covered with a rumpled white duvet occupied the floor space on one side of the wide, bright room. The walls which were not windows were lined with cabinets and shelves filled with books and videos and even a few DVDs. Digital Video Discs were still a relatively new product on the market in the late eighties and Rayne stopped and examined one or two as he passed by. As he was thus occupied, a tall, white-bearded, sun-tanned man stepped out from one of the rooms beyond the lounge and greeted them in a baritone voice that was as rich and melodious as an opera singer’s.
“Antoine, my child! You’ve put on weight! And what is this dark angel you have been promising me?”
Rayne Wilde lifted his head and his pale green eyes met a solemn, familiar silver grey stare that almost stopped his heart in his chest. For a moment he just gaped at the man in front of him, not quite sure what to do next. Daniel Leland was about six feet tall and lean as a wooden ruler. His skin was tanned a deep, golden brown, which set off the long white hair that fell to his waist in a thick braid, hanging over his left shoulder. He wore a neatly trimmed white beard and moustache and his loins were draped artlessly in a skein of pale blue silk like a short sarong, his only attire apart from the silver loop he wore on a long black cord around his neck and the cork-soled deck shoes on his feet. He looked like Gandalf on a beach holiday. The man was ageless; he might have been in his late forties or early seventies. It was hard to say.
Except that Rayne already had a good idea.
Ant seemed not to have noticed his companion’s state of shock. He made the introductions with a naïve sweetness that genuinely hurt. Rayne felt sick. He knew that he should have put two and two together when Ant first spoke of his friend Daniel the pornographer and the boat he owned in the South of France. He had seen Dan Leland’s name written down on his passport application form and still he had not made the connection.
When Ant announced his name, Leland’s pewter stare narrowed speculatively and Rayne could see him trying to remember. He lowered his head for a moment, wondering if he should lie when the inevitable happened. There was a pensive silence and then their host rumbled; “I ‘know’ you, don’t I?”
Rayne wanted to deny it. After the events of this afternoon on the train the last thing he wanted to recall was his past knowledge of Dan Leland. He bit his lip, aware of Ant’s incredulous stare and unable to meet it. Finally he nodded his head.
“Thought so,” the quiet, cultured accentless voice remarked. “I never forget a pretty face.”
The man moved closer and touched his fingertips to Rayne’s chin, lifting the boy’s head to look into his eyes. Rayne swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly very dry. Ant murmured his name in bewilderment but he ignored it.
“You were in one of my movies, about… four years ago?”
“Nearly five,” Rayne whispered, his tongue so parched that he could barely make a sound, let alone speak coherent sentences.
“Yes, it’s all coming back. You don’t look nearly old enough. And you didn’t call yourself Rayne Wilde either?” The elderly pornographer cupped his face in a long-boned, surprisingly gentle hand. His skin was warm, like well-tended parchment. Rayne shook his head just once or twice. “What was the name of that film? A sweet young schoolboy surrendering his innocence to two horny strangers in an empty house.”
Rayne tried to speak and had to clear his throat twice before he could get the words out.
“‘Going All The Way’,” he volunteered huskily. “And it wasn’t the only film I made with you. I was in ‘Dying for It’ as well.”
Ant made a small, astonished noise in the back of his throat. “You never told me you’d been in porn movies!” he protested at last, visibly shocked.
Terry stood by him, a hand on his shoulder as if he was worried that Ant would collapse and foam at the mouth.
“You never asked,” Rayne said awkwardly, unable to meet his eyes. “I did it for the money. It’s not something I brag about, Ant.”
Daniel Leland had moved away from him and was flicking through an index box now until he came up with a small, blue card. He scrutinised a bank of videos on one of the shelves then produced a box and handed it wordlessly to Ant. The fair-haired man studied the cover for a little while, his cheeks flushing steadily. The crotch of his pants began to protrude slowly as he examined the stills on the sleeve.
“Jay Raymonde,” he said finally. “Is that your real name?”
Rayne shook his head. “I told you, Ant. I was christened Raymonde James Wilde, after my grandfathers. Rayne Wilde ‘is’ my real name. I don’t like using it when I’m selling myself so I go by Jay or Jason.”
“How old were you…?” Ant began but Rayne was already shaking his head.
“Work it out!”
He could see that Ant was already doing the maths. “Christ, Ray!” he exhaled tremulously. “I knew you weren’t an innocent but… this is something else.”
“I think they call it Hardcore, Antoine,” Daniel took the video box from his hands and put it back on the shelf. “Are you excited my dear? Would you like to watch it?”
“No!” Rayne exclaimed before Ant could even open his mouth. “No… don’t!”
He stood for a moment, worrying his lower lip between his small, white teeth as Ant gaped at him visibly aroused and perplexed. Rayne felt betrayed. He stared back at the older man accusingly then whirled away.
“I feel dirty. I need to have a shower then I wanna sleep. Alone!” he said in a grim voice.
Whilst Ant and Daniel were still talking in subdued murmurs in the day room, Terry showed him to the bathroom, which was an ornate, white-tiled cube with a showerhead protruding from the ceiling like a silver flower and a drain hole in the floor. There was enough space in the room for at least six men. Sunken lights in the walls made the cube look like the inside of a swimming pool without the water. Once he was alone, Rayne stripped and dumped his clothes outside, then hunted for the lock on the door before concluding that there wasn’t one.
Warily he turned the chromium dial in the far wall and a spill of water cascaded down onto his head and shoulders, pummelling his gritty skin until he actually began to relax slightly. It felt good to get clean. An array of soaps and gels in blocks and bottles sat on ledges around the edge of the cube and he rubbed a sweet, minty-smelling foam all through his hair and over his naked body then rinsed it off three times in all before he began to feel human again. There were no towels but when he turned off the water a soft, warm breeze began to blow from vents in the ceiling and he was soon touch dry, save for his dark, spiky hair.
His discarded clothing had gone when he stepped out into the corridor that led to the bows of the boat. The next room along was a bedroom and he discovered his bags and guitar case and also Ant’s gear in here, next to the white-shrouded, king-sized bed. There were two other bedroom suites, a toilet and a galley, which adjoined the day room where meals were prepared and eaten. As he turned to leave the largest bedroom he ran into Terry who had removed his tight denim shorts and was naked except for a pair of blue espadrilles and a broad smile.
“That’s better,” the stocky Cockney fellow told him approvingly. “Nice little body you’ve got, still. Shame about the bruises but I guess they’ll fade.”
“Does everybody wander about in the buff here?” Rayne wanted to know, ignoring the other fellow’s curiosity about his injuries.
“That’s what Naturism’s all about,” Terry laughed, then seeing the confusion on his guest’s face, he added; “Didn’t Anthony tell you this was a naturist resort?”
Rayne swore quietly under his breath and vowed that once they were on a level playing field he was going to beat Ant Wright to a bloody pulp for this. As if it was not bad enough that he was stuck on a boat with a man who had once filmed him pretending to surrender his virginity and being ripped apart by a humungous dildo, he was now surrounded by naked perverts as well.
“Do I ‘have’ to walk about in the nude?” he asked disparagingly.
“You can suit yourself, darlin’,” Terry laughed at him. “But it gets hot as hell out here during the summer. Some days it’s a blessed relief to get your kit off, I can tell you. I reckon you’d look good with an all-over tan, don’t you?”
Rayne did not answer that question. He was still preoccupied by the expression on Ant’s face as he studied that video case. Fending off Terry’s genial attempts to coax him back on deck for a cocktail he retreated to the bedroom again and curled up on the cool sheets, his head beginning to ache slightly. Once he was lying down, alone and quiet for the first time in days, he was able to take stock. It was in the back of his mind that he had smoked the last of his Kings Cross stash as they waited for Terry to collect them from the station. He was okay for the time being but it would only be a matter of about thirty-six hours before he started to get the shakes again. That was not a comforting thought.
In London he always knew someone who could fix him up for the price of a regular blow-job or a couple of rounds of casual sex in the toilets at Victoria or Kings Cross. Here he was out of his depth. He knew no one, he was flat broke and as Ant had so cuttingly reminded him on the train, he spoke very little French. He did not even know how to ‘say’ heroin, let alone ask for it. There was the guy at the station, he supposed, although he had no idea how to get back there. It had taken about fifteen minutes to drive here so it was probably one hell of a walk.
He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, lulled by the slap-slap-slap of water against the hull of the boat and the gentle rocking motion beneath him. It soothed him enough that he was able to finally slip into a peaceful sleep. In the end he was so tired that he did not even wake when Ant came back from the shower room and curled up around him, holding him tenderly and stroking his hair and body in exhausted wonderment.
THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE: It was mind-numbingly hot when Rayne came to his senses, conscious of a dull thumping that was not a part of his aching head. He lay in a dark place, aware that the ground was moving very slightly underneath him. For a little while he could not remember a single thing from before he fell asleep. As he tried to sit up, someone shifted beside him and he felt a hot hand on his thigh, stroking gently over his moist skin. His bones ached, particularly in his hips and lower back. That restored some of his recent memory and he began to recover the journey that had led him to this place; the gang-bang in Soho; Ant shouting at Johnno; the interminable train journey and his amazing session with Thierry. That brought back the recollection of what had followed; the guard’s van and Daniel Leland’s predatory smile.
Rayne shuddered quietly and rolled onto his back, staring through the dense, sweltering darkness at the ceiling. Some years back, when he was still much less worldly, he had been the cock-slut and protégé of a burly impresario and would-be fetish photographer called Dave Barry, who also went by the name of Barrington le Vay. They met in a nightclub in Folkestone when Rayne was still in his teens. Simon, his best friend, had talked him into the club night. Si was still in the process of discovering his homosexuality at this time. He was desperate to go to the only decent Gay Night within spitting distance of the Channel Ports in the hope of finding a boyfriend to whom he could willingly lose his anal virginity.
Rayne would have preferred to have gone to London but Si was nervous enough about the provinces, so they wound up at the Club Tropicana (affectionately known as the Pink Parrot) and spent the night persuading older men to buy them drinks, since they were both virtually penniless. The eighties gave them licence to experiment with hair, clothes and makeup and they spared no sartorial quarter in their determination to attract as much attention as possible. It worked too. Before the night was halfway through, Simon had been dragged off into a corner booth where some guy was relentlessly trying to eat his face and feel his dick. Rayne danced for a little while then sat on a stool by the bar, watching the wildlife.
Baz had come over to chat him up around this point. He was a big guy, not fat but very broad across the shoulders and tall with it. His dark hair was already receding from his temples although he was merely twenty-seven, and he had tried to disguise this by back-combing it so that it spiked up from his wide, sun-tanned forehead. He was wearing a tuxedo and tight black pants with the shiniest, most pointed winklepicker boots east of the metropolis. In spite of all his efforts there was something ungainly about the guy. Rayne did his best to dissuade him but quickly discovered that it was like standing in the path of an avalanche. Once Dave Barry started to talk there was no shutting the man up. Not without putting your tongue in his mouth anyway. So that was what he did.
Baz snogged him, on and off for the rest of the night. Sometimes they danced, or the older man bought him Bacardi and cokes, which Rayne drank easily as lemonade. (He could not stand the smell of Bacardi rum to this day) At one stage, Baz asked if he wanted to go somewhere quieter and Rayne experienced the first cold water shock of the night. He was not a complete ingenue but the sudden comprehension that this bizarre creature wanted to get him into bed hit him right between the eyes.
He tried to fend Baz off by pointing out that he was here with a friend but since Simon still had his face glued to some stranger’s, this was not the greatest of excuses. When Si finally sought him out to sheepishly tell him that he was ‘going back to Jake’s for a night-cap’ his last defence crumbled. If Simon was with him Rayne could just about face spending the remainder of the night in Folkestone bus station but alone he did not fancy it at all. Simon valiantly offered to ask if Jake minded him sleeping on the couch, which was not an option that appealed to him either. Lying on a lumpy settee with a growing hangover, listening to Si getting his brains banged out in the next room was not his idea of fun.
As he set out on his own from the club a taxi pulled up beside him and Dave Barry leaned out of the window and asked where he was going. When he said that he did not know, the door opened and reluctantly Rayne got in. They spent the fifteen-minute cab journey french-kissing and masturbating one another on the back seat and when they finally tumbled out into the night, to the evident relief of the cab driver, they were both furiously horny. The house was in the middle of nowhere, three storeys high, with little turrets at the front and a huge expanse of garden. It belonged to friends, Baz said; he was minding it for them.
Inside there was a heated pool in the basement and a steam room. Baz poured him large, neat vodka on request, which he knocked back in one go. Then they stripped off and lounged on the steps of the pool in the shallow water, splashing and wrestling, then kissing again, teasingly at first then more intensely. Dave Barry rolled onto him, caressing his buttocks and thighs, feeling his dick and wordlessly encouraging Rayne to stroke his lovely big boner. While the boy felt his cock for him Baz began towing him into deeper water and lifting his knees from underneath. They went under and came up gasping for air, Baz was kneeling on the lowest step under him and Rayne felt the man’s erection probe urgently between his cheeks as he lay back, allowing the water to lift and carry him. Dave was pushing into him wordlessly, huffing and panting as he fucked the pretty teenager, as they had both known he would when Rayne agreed to come home with him. Rayne closed his eyes, gasping softly and let it happen. Unlike Si, he was not a virgin and this was at least an improvement on risking his arse in a cold, smelly bus station where the chances of getting raped before morning were middling to high. The pool was clean and warm and he was pleasantly drunk. Dave’s big cock felt okay inside him.
They made out three times, once in the pool and twice more, naked in the steam room. Rayne woke up the next morning on a king-sized bed with black latex sheets, to which his lover handcuffed him, on his back with his legs spread wide, then gagged him and took photographs before, during and after sex.
Every Saturday night for nearly three months, Rayne Wilde stayed over with Baz at the house. The second time he went back there, the older man did a couple of lines of coke with him, then encouraged him to masturbate, naked, on the leather sofa, with a dildo and some massage oil. He took photographs incessantly. At one point he stepped up to the sofa and urged his young lover to suck him off, but he still kept snapping. They fucked for nearly four hours that night. Around two am they stopped and did another line then Dave Barry greased and mounted him again, taking him hard on the polished wooden floor until his teenage mate was whimpering with hot, horny ecstasy, his tight young body covered in sweat, lubricant and spunk…
Rayne arched his back off the sweaty sheets now, feeling them cling briefly to his moist flesh as he rose, rubbing gritty eyes. He was hard from the memories and needed to wank. The thundering sound in his ears changed momentum as he wriggled to the edge of the bed and slipped off onto his knees on the listing wooden floor. For a moment he held still, listening to Ant’s level breathing and the dull pounding racket that seemed like dance music heard from a way off. There was no single discernible track, just a melee of sounds as if a neighbour with five record players had put on five different singles and was playing them all at once, at top blast.
He remembered now; he was on a boat, in France with a dirty old man who had once strapped him naked into an examination chair and asked him to straddle and ride a dildo the size of two grown male forearms and fists twined together whilst he filmed the experience.
Dave Barry had been responsible for introducing him to Daniel Leland. Dan was, according to Baz, simply ‘The Dog’s…’ when it came to making ‘arthouse’ pictures; especially the kind of arthouse pictures where sexy young lads got stripped and greased and introduced to the pleasures of rough anal intercourse. Baz sent Leland some of the photographs he had already taken of Rayne and by way of a screen-test, arranged for his young lover to have submissive sex in a deserted pool hall with three randy youths in their early twenties. A friend of Dave’s ran the pool hall, his brother directed the shoot and one of the studs was the brother’s eldest son, who warmed Rayne up with some axle grease on the handle of a pool cue. He ripped Rayne’s jeans down then mounted and fucked him over the edge of the pool table in front of his dad and uncle, Baz and the camera. When he had shot his load he climbed onto the table, encouraging his two friends to ‘get some nice tight bum while he’s sucking my cock clean’. Baz filmed it in shameless close up; fifty gory minutes of rough, dirty oral and anal sex, pumped up on amphetamines. Rayne had thankfully been out of his skull and it would be over two years before he saw the finished movie which managed to imply that he was far younger than he actually had been and completely inexperienced until his crude pool-cue deflowering.
In fact he had reached orgasm three times whilst they were banging him. It still made him excited and sick in equal measure to think about it. Rayne closed his eyes now and began to pump his cock steadily in his left hand.
After that shameless experience in the pool hall he had made ‘Going All the Way’ for Leland. Daniel Leland had been highly enamoured of his youthful good looks and was determined to milk them for all they were worth. In the movie, Rayne played a schoolboy stopped and asked for directions by two men who then offered to run him home. When they reached their destination they invited him in for a beer and took him upstairs, where the only furniture in the house apart from the fridge in the kitchen was an iron framed bed with a bare mattress. The pair asked if he would like to look at some porn magazines and masturbate with them. When he agreed they both undressed and got him stripped so that they could interfere with him on the bed. He was asked if he was a virgin and he shyly admitted that he was, a blatant lie which sexually excited his horny companions even more. They aroused him with their hands and mouths and encouraged him to stroke their big cocks, then spent some time ‘teaching’ him to suck and deep throat them. Once his mouth and face were running with cum they licked and sucked out his anus, feeling his cock and bollocks for him until he started to climax uncontrollably. He was shown explicit pictures of teenage boys getting fucked in the arse with big, glistening cocks and encouraged to rub and finger himself and his educators until he got excited again. His teachers wanked and lubricated him until he begged them shamelessly to put their dicks inside him. When he began to plead for it they took his anal virginity; one at a time to start with, then spit roasted him eagerly between them, and finally both came up his arsehole together.
“Aaahhhhhhhhh! Aaahhhhh….mmmmmmhhh!” the youngster moaned softly, bending his head to muffle his cries of satisfaction in the bed covers as he jerked himself off, thinking of that scene. Those two big tools had felt so good inside him that he had been able to forget about the camera for a little while and cum uninhibitedly for his two accommodating co-stars, kneeling astride one of them and riding him whilst the other pounded him hard from behind.
The floorboards creaked softly and Rayne sat up with a start, catching his breath in the darkness.
“Who’s being a naughty little boy then?” a mellow, gravel-toned voice enquired from the doorway. He recognised the east-end barrow-boy accent as Terry’s right away and groped helplessly for some explanation that would not sound completely lame.
“I was… I just… I couldn’t sleep.”
“We’ve been watching you at work while you was not-sleepin’, gorgeous,” Terry chuckled. “Quite a little cum slut, aren’t you? I had a serious wank watching you get some experience with those two young blokes. I reckon young Rosie didn’t know whether to blush or beat his meat.”
Rayne felt the heat rise to his cheeks. Ant began to snore quietly, then rolled over and nuzzled the pillows, snuffling after his missing lover in his dreams.
“I was kind of hopin’ that he’d have the energy to give you one so’s I could watch,” the cockney fellow said cheekily now. “From the look of you, you’ve been hopin’ the same.”
Rayne remained kneeling on the floor. His hands were sticky with spilt cum and there was a spreading pool of semen on the boards in front of him. When he did not speak, Terry pushed away from the door and came towards him. He had a hard-on, visible in the light from the corridor now. Rayne stared at his long, thick, fully erect penis, silhouetted against the doorway. Even though Terry had to be in his late fifties, he had a lovely cock. It was as long as Ant’s and easily as fat but Terry was circumcised and his helm glistened wetly in the half-light as it bobbed in front of his face, then brushed its salty wetness over his lips. He opened his mouth, never able to resist a big, sexy cock on his tongue.
“Good boy,” Terry breathed, almost inaudibly as the boy’s full, soft, glossy lips parted around his throbbing glans, stroking the sensitive flesh skilfully. “Ohhh yesss… good boy. Suck that, baby!”
Rayne let his tongue glide down the rippling underside of Terry’s long shaft, opening his mouth wider and nodding his dark head down onto the tangy fuck-rod between his jaws. He wasted no time. As his throat yielded to Terry’s gentle, insistent pulsing, he let his left hand slide between his legs and began to caress himself again, stiffening as he sucked on the older man’s big, ribbed, muscular penis. For an old guy, Terry was magnificently endowed and Rayne nuzzled the white curls of his sweaty crotch now as he knelt and pleasured the man. His right hand moved to Terry’s balls and began to fondle them. He felt the vibration of his mate’s answering groan trickle across his palate and into his skull.
Rayne made a small, satisfied noise as he tasted the sharpness of a fat pearl of pre-cum in the back of his throat. Terry pulled slowly from his mouth before he spilled his entire load and rubbed the plump, throbbing head of his gleaming, well-sucked penis over his lover’s face, squeezing a streamer of sperm over his eyelids and lips as Rayne gently blew on his wet cock, still teasing him.
“Suck my bollocks, there’s a good lad,” he sighed. “Oh yeah… you’re good. Lick ’em good… get my big fella nice and ready for your glory hole.”
Rayne nuzzled his heavy balls and took them in his mouth one at a time, drawing them between his lips until the flesh stretched taut then releasing them gradually so they slipped out of his mouth a bit at a time. Terry stroked his hair and made happy little whimpering noises.
“Yeah… yeah… good lad.” He moved around now, coaxing Rayne back onto the bed. “Bend over lover boy there and give him a wake-up call with your sexy mouth on his nice big cock.”
As Rayne began to kiss and lick Ant’s penis, it stirred and stiffened quickly to full erection. Ant turned sleepily onto his back and his hand moved down to Rayne’s dark hair automatically, urging his mate to suck and swallow as he began to thrust his hips upward off the mattress. Terry bent over Rayne’s cheeks and pulled the boy’s slim thighs open a little wider so that he could lick and suck on that pucker of dark flesh that promised so much pleasure. Rayne uttered a little ‘aaahhhh’ of need as Terry’s wriggling tongue quickly probed and entered him, tickling wetly into his rectum and making him twitch and stiffen in response.
There was absolutely no question of denying them this. He was hot and trembling, still needy even after pulling himself to a climax. As Terry Goodwill bent over him from behind and began to rub the head of his pulsing, sticky cock against Rayne’s hole, the boy swallowed the last inch of Ant’s penis down into his throat and rubbed his crotch on the bedcovers urgently. His well-fucked sphincter opened with barely a moment’s resistance, engulfing Terry’s thrusting prick quickly and readily. Rayne uttered a little mew of longing as that big shaft filled him up, reaching his hot spot in no time and nudging against it over and over. He heard Ant murmuring sleepy, delighted encouragement as he nodded his head over the other man’s lovely, nine-inch tool. The big, fat head of his penis sat right in the back of his throat and he took a long breath through his nostrils, then another to keep from gagging on it until he could get it deeper. Ant stroked his hair and pressed his head down with both hands as he began to buck impulsively underneath the boy. Terry straddled him, kneeling on the edge of the mattress astride his slim hips so that he could pump the youngster’s arse deeper and harder.
The lights had come up whilst they were fucking but Rayne was immured to everything but the sensation of burning pleasure that began somewhere under his ribs and ended in his throat and the tip of his cock. He was wriggling and moaning, taking them willingly to heaven and back so long as they brought him off in turn. The two older men passed breathless, murmured comments as they fucked him, surging in and out of his lean, wet, sexy body, their thrusting weapons making soft, slippery, squelching sounds in time with their groans of satisfaction.
Rayne managed to get to his knees under the older guy and felt Terry’s groping hand between his legs even before he could touch himself. He moaned, way down in his chest, squirming in the man’s powerful, seductive embrace, grinding his hips back into Terry’s groin the way the young French lad had done for him in the toilet cubicle this afternoon. It felt amazing, Terry was so big and hot inside him. He did not want it to end.
Ant let him lift his head so that he was able to stroke and lick the throbbing penis in his mouth just before it exploded and he was treated to a feast of salty semen. Overwhelmed by his own need, Rayne keened more urgently, swallowing as much of his lover’s spill as he could. As he knelt back into Terry’s arms, gasping for air, Ant bent over him and took Rayne’s stiff young cock into his own mouth, licking and sucking passionately. Rayne bucked back and forth between them, yelping like an animal. The powerful strokes of Terry’s big cock quickly brought him to a thrashing, howling peak of pleasure between Ant’s lips and as he subsided into the older fellow’s embrace he felt Terry stab potently into his nether depths, filling him with rich, viscous heat. Rayne quivered repeatedly, eyes closed, lips parted, panting with astonishment and arousal.
“Oh yeah… that was good!” Terry growled softly in his ear.
He nodded, too breathless to speak. Ant rose up before him, kissing his mouth slowly and sensually, running shaking hands over his naked body as they knelt together on the bed. Terry kissed his shoulders and caressed his thighs in warm, steady circles. He was still inside Rayne, half hard and throbbing with pleasure. Rayne could feel the other man’s rapid pulse deep in his rectum. As Ant’s tongue lapped at the roof of his mouth, Terry huffed; “D’you want some more, gorgeous?”
Rayne nodded and made a small, affirmative noise in the back of his throat as Ant kissed him harder. His own lips were searching the other man’s face hungrily as he rotated his hips in Terry’s thrusting crotch. Now he could feel the cockney fellow getting harder inside him as he began to pump away again.
“God you’re beautiful!” Ant gasped as their lips parted with a wet sucking sound and he bent his head to kiss Rayne’s neck and throat. His hand moved between the boy’s legs, cupping his balls and rubbing them gently, then he began to lick and nibble Rayne’s erect nipples until the lad was writhing and crying out again.
“He’s something else, Rosie,” Terry groaned appreciatively. “When he’s in the mood he’s red hot, you’re so right.”
“Have you bastards been talking about me?” Rayne hissed through clenched teeth as Terry began to plumb his depths again, stoking the rebellious heat that was seething inside him.
“Talking… and watching you in action, sweet-cheeks; “Terry huffed as Ant went down on him, licking and stroking with his lips as he fondled Rayne’s aching balls. “You are such a saucy little treat, aren’t you? I must have watched that movie before but it never got to me the way it did tonight, knowing you were naked in the next room. My dick was like lead while I was listening to you begging those two big studs for some cock action. Did you want it as much as you made out?”
Rayne sucked another breath through his teeth and moaned ecstatic affirmation as Terry fucked harder, reaching around him to pinch and twist his nipples. Ant stroked his wet tongue down between his lover’s balls, deep-throating him greedily until he wanted to burst.
“Oh god!” he panted, wriggling between them furiously. “Oh Christ, yes! Ohhhhh yes!”
“Good lad. Tell us what you want, baby. Beg us for it like you did in the movie.” Terry kissed his neck and his ear wetly. His thumbs rubbed back and forth incessantly across Rayne’s stiff, sensitive nipples. Ant released his cock and began to kiss his way back up Rayne’s bare belly, sucking and biting his tender buds again.
“Fuck me! Make me cum!” Rayne implored huskily. His slim body was soaked in sweat and spilled cum. Terry drove his rod deeper, bucking faster and harder.
“Like this?”
“Aaahhhhhh… Yeah!” Rayne was nodding eagerly.
Terry’s crotch felt hot and sticky against his cheeks, his big balls swung back and forth between his mate’s thighs, bumping against Rayne’s as he fucked the boy. “Is that good, baby?”
“Mmmmmmmhhhhhh!” Rayne was nodding automatically.
Ant rose to his feet and steered his fat, purple cock head between Rayne’s wet lips. At once the boy began to lick and suck him greedily.
“Is that what you want?” Ant chuckled, throbbing with pleasure as Rayne’s mouth opened for him.
“Uhh-huh,” the boy nodded again, reaching for his own cock.
Terry got there first, closing his fingers around the youngster’s erection and fisting it steadily. Rayne whimpered with longing and swallowed Ant deeper into his mouth. His young hands moved up between Ant’s thighs now, caressing his nuts and stroking tenderly between Ant’s cheeks the way he knew the other man loved it.
Ant caught his breath and let it go in a rush of delight. “Aahhh… put your fingers in me. Oh god, Rayne… yeah! Like that!”
The younger man let his translucent eyelids and long lashes veil that huge-pupiled, lime green gaze as he swallowed Ant deep into his throat again. He pressed the first two fingertips of his left hand firmly against the pucker of his lover’s anus, then drove them steadily into his moist, hot arse. Ant swayed and put a hand on Terry’s shoulder to keep himself upright while Rayne sucked and frigged him deftly. Terry screwed the boy hard now, holding his slim hips in both hands as he fed his length repeatedly in and out of their young lover’s willing hole.
It was Terry who groaned and climaxed first, buckling forward and bringing Rayne and Ant down across the bed like a felled chimney as he spurted hard inside the boy. Ant slipped free of the youngster’s mouth as he fell backwards, still moaning in ecstasy. Rayne scrambled up between his legs at once and began to kiss his neck as he replaced his fingers with his hard young cock in Ant’s spasmodically twitching anus. At once Ant’s knees came up and he hooked his legs over Rayne’s thrusting hips, pulling him in eagerly.
“Ohhhh, yeah!” Ant keened, writhing on the bed under his lover as Rayne bucked into him furiously, pounding him with all the burgeoning frustration of the last couple of days. “Fuck me, Ray. Don’t hold back.”
Terry was laughing breathlessly as he watched them coupling on the bed. At one point he said, ambiguously; “I hope you’re getting all of this.”
Ant and Rayne were too involved in one another to care. The younger man bucked like a horse between his lover’s thighs until the sweat was running off him in streams and he could barely get his breath. When it looked as if he would collapse between Ant’s legs, he suddenly stiffened and shuddered, giving in to the powerful surge of release with a long, wordless, aching groan of passion.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Ant whispered huskily, pulling Rayne towards him as the boy’s cock slipped out of him, quickly losing it’s tumescence as the last droplets of semen were spent in Ant’s exposed crack.
Instinctively the exhausted youth straddled him and felt the mattress subside behind his knees as Terry came to join him, aroused again by the sight of their energetic fucking. The older man reached into the drawer by the bed and produced a bottle of lubricant as Rayne sat astride Ant’s throbbing penis, rubbing the head slowly against his well-fucked hole. The lube helped Ant to slip easily into his stretched ring. Terry lubed his own wand slowly, then screwed the cap back on the bottle and discarded it in order to press his circumcised tip between the boy’s bare buttocks. He wriggled a slippery finger into the youngster’s anus and Rayne squirmed and sighed; “No… Terry please.”
“We’ve just watched you do it, baby. You know you can,” Terry coaxed, still fingering him gently.
“You’re both a ‘lot’ bigger,” Rayne exhaled, shaking his head, hoping the compliment would placate them.
“Yeah yeah!” Terry chuckled, wriggling a second finger up there as Ant humped up into him a little at a time, eyes wide and eager. “I’ve just watched you taking a dildo the size of two big fists up there. Don’t spin me a line, baby! Just relax and let me get you nice and loose and ready for us.”
Rayne wriggled again as Terry cupped his cheeks and pushed him forward, up and off Ant’s hard-on, which bobbed over his belly as Ant stroked his young mate’s thighs, uttering a little whimper of disappointment. He had been aching to get his cock inside Rayne all night and those few short moments of lovely, slippery penetration were not nearly enough.
As Terry applied more lube to his fingers, Ant pulled Rayne’s mouth onto his own again and they kissed long and deep. He felt Rayne groan into his mouth and begin to squirm some more, then to buck eagerly as Terry got three, then four fingers into his arsehole and frigged him good and fast with them.
“Mmmmmhhh,” he exhaled into Ant’s mouth. “Feels good!”
Terry withdrew his fingers slowly and curled them into a tight fist, rubbing his greasy knuckles over the boy’s stretched entrance, pummelling him steadily until he was able to ease his fist slowly up the young man’s sexy hole. He kept applying lubricant and took his time as Rayne bucked and struggled, keening in a high, shuddering tone the whole while.
“Aaaahhhh…. Aahhhhhahhhhhhhiiyyy Yeah! Ohhhh Yeah!”
“You like that, baby?” Terry pumped him a little faster from behind. Ant held onto his arms as the boy knelt over him, mewling like a baby tiger. He was getting hard again and Ant was aching to fuck him but he also wanted to be the cause of the sublime pleasure he could see on his lover’s gorgeous face. He wriggled out from under Rayne now so that he could watch as Terry fisted the younger man roughly.
“Let me,” he huffed after a moment or two.
Terry had his right arm embedded in Rayne’s hole well up past the wrist and as he withdrew it slowly, glistening with mucus and a few dark flecks of shit, the boy whimpered his disapproval clearly enough. Ant applied some of the slippery gunk to his knuckles and rubbed it in swiftly, rolling Rayne onto his side and drawing one of the boy’s knees over his shoulder so that his legs were wide spread, and his hole likewise. He circled one knuckle inside his mate’s anus and the boy sighed wistfully. Ant rubbed with two, then three knucklebones until the ring of muscle between Rayne’s soft white cheeks expanded and admitted them all. As he put a bit more pressure behind them, his mate cried out quietly and reached down to stroke himself.
His body was soft and warm, moist and yielding inside. He sucked Ant’s clenched fingers into himself like a black hole, writhing and surging against the intrusion as he pumped his throbbing sex harder. The little noises escaping from his throat were fragile, half-painful, part wondering exclamations.
“Ahhh, yeah, he likes that,” Terry enthused, bending over the boy to watch him take it. “You never tried him out like this, Rosie? Shame on you!”
Rayne twisted and convulsed on the mattress. His eyes were closed again and his breathing was fast and uncontrolled. Ant could feel how focussed he was on reaching orgasm. From time to time he shuddered like a stalling engine; a violent spasm of sheer sensation, be it pain or pleasure. His dark hair was slick and sweat soaked, sticking to his cheeks and brow in little fronds. Jewels of sweat gleamed on his face and body as he rocked himself against Ant’s pounding fist, getting himself more deeply impaled with every stroke.
“Rrrrrrrrr….. rrrrrrrrrrggghhhhh….” he groaned quietly and urgently, his small, white teeth clenched hard behind curling lips. He was working on himself with both hands now, tugging on his balls and fisting his stiff, leaking cock furiously.
“Ohhh Christ I hope Dan’s getting all this!” Terry breathed, shaking his head slowly as he watched the boy begin to cum hard. His head tilted back and his mouth fell open around a long, hungry, needy cry that was almost anguished. Ant felt his body begin to shake violently. He pushed deep, one final time and pulled out slowly as Rayne squirted a fountain of semen over his belly and chest.
“Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Jesus! Jesus!” Rayne was sobbing, shaking his head from side to side. “Omigod!”
Ant spread his legs and climbed onto him before he could recover his senses. He sank into the younger man’s yielding rectum easily and began to thrust away fast and hard whilst Rayne was still whimpering under him, his cries no more than little hiccups of emotion. Terry was down beside them at once, easing the boy onto his right side and snuggling up behind him. Ant caught his breath as Terry’s hot penis joined his own, stabbing into Rayne eagerly and getting deep inside him in no time at all. The young man looped his arms around Ant’s neck, clinging to him as he was taken front and rear. He moved one knee up over Ant’s right hip, giving him better access as the two men fucked the breath out of him. Ant could hear him huffing softly, his heart hammering its way out of his skinny chest as he was pressed between them.
“Ohhhh you’re good,” he sighed, kissing the lad tenderly on the neck and throat as he surged and Terry rubbed against him rapidly in the hot, wet confines of his lover’s arse. “So good!”
“So tasty,” Terry added, nuzzling his shoulder and neck from behind. “Do you like this, baby? Do you love it this way?”
“Uh-huh…” Rayne managed a tiny, sexy, exhausted little smile for Ant. His green eyes glittered with energy behind those long, black lashes as his two randy, older mates pumped him full of their hot, copious ejaculate, both grunting and moaning with intense satisfaction before they finally slipped out of him and let him rest.
***AS EVER… IF THIS STORY SHOWS UP ANYWHERE BUT LITEROTICA.COM IT HAS, UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED, BEEN TAKEN AND USED WITHOUT PERMISSION. COPYRIGHT FRAUD IS THEFT AND WE WILL TAKE ACTION AGAINST ANYONE CAUGHT STEALING OUR MATERIAL***
END OF CHAPTER SIX.