Desire in the Isles

by Roland Graeme

  Carter grabbed Brian’s strong, black thighs to steady him while he unloaded, his big body shaking on Carter’s chest, and he felt Brian’s legs trembling and jerking, harder and harder with each spurt that Brian’s prick fed him.

  Finally, his orgasmic spasms ebbing away, Brian slowly and reluctantly withdrew his dripping cockshaft from Carter’s mouth, letting several globs of thick white cream drip down onto Carter’s sweaty chest.

  Brian dismounted from Carter, who now saw Roald standing beside the bed with his back to him, his beautiful ass facing him, almost like a little boy’s butt—small, round, and with perfectly shaped cheeks.

  Roald was jerking off with one hand and fingering his own asshole with the other, as roughly, as deeply, as he’d been toying with Carter’s asshole during the blow job—and the lurid sight of the hot-bodied blond Norwegian playing with himself with both hands like that drove Carter, who hadn’t come yet, absolutely insane with lust!

  Carter jumped off the bed, grabbed Roald, threw him down on the bed on his stomach, and, taking time only long enough to put a condom on his cock, he quickly mounted him. Roald’s fair-skinned, smooth body felt like satin under him, and he loved the way Roald’s ass yielded its curving butch sexiness to his eagerly probing cock.

  “He’s a good fuck, isn’t he?” Brian gloated. “Go on, buddy. Use his ass. He loves it.”

  Roald turned his head on the pillow so that Carter could look down into his face. Roald opened his mouth, moaned “Fuck me! Oh, fuck me with that big, hard cock!” and then extended his tongue in lascivious invitation, dripping saliva onto the pillowcase.

  Carter pressed his own open mouth down roughly and hungrily, and sucked at the blond’s lips. He sucked greedily at Roald’s tongue, then exerted more pressure and drew the other guy’s whole wet, slippery tongue deep into his own oral cavity, which tasted strongly of Brian’s thick, salty sperm. Obviously recognizing the flavor of his black lover’s jism in Carter’s mouth, Roald moaned and kissed him harder, breathlessly.

  As he kissed Roald, Carter pressed his dick firmly against his asshole, feeling that tender, sensitive aperture surrender eagerly to the pressure of his tool. He pushed the solid tip of his prick roughly against Roald’s balls and he felt the hot-assed young blond stud wince slightly at the pain. Then Carter slapped his cock and hips hard against the cheeks of Roald’s ass, his dickhead hitting into Roald’s ass crack like a fist impacting on solid flesh. “Go ahead and fuck him hard, man,” Brian urged Carter, moving closer to the other two naked men. “Take my word for it. He loves a big cock shoved up his hot ass!”

  The black stud put his chest down on the bed between Carter’s legs and he began fingering the American’s asshole again.

  Brian ran his fingertip quickly up and down Carter’s sweaty crack, pressing the flat of his hand against Carter’s swollen balls and wide-open ass cheeks while the American continued to penetrate his squirming, wildly excited new fuck buddy. Then Brian put his face into Carter’s hairy valley and began licking his cleft. He ran his wet, agile tongue heavily up and down Carter’s spread buttocks, licking and sucking at Carter’s sphincter.

  He spat gobs of warm, slippery saliva into Carter’s crack to wet it even more thoroughly, and then he went on licking and sucking. Carter could hear Brian slurping away against his asshole, could feel the warm spit being spread over his pucker by that sensuous tongue. He groaned and raised his hot rear end so that Brian could get in even closer, shoving his butt into the guy’s face.

  Grunting with bestial excitement, Brian finally jammed his stiffened tongue inside Carter’s dripping hole, spreading the pucker roughly with his fingertips. He pulled back the delicate flesh around Carter’s hole, exposing the sleek pink lining just inside the rim, then shoved his tongue inside as far as he could force it.

  When Carter felt Brian’s tongue enter his open asshole, he thought that a live, wriggling, wet eel had forced its way up inside his rectum—and when Brian started to lick his asshole with fast, deep swipes of his extended tongue, he fantasized for a moment that Brian was giving him an enema with his tongue!

  What a wild fantasy! But it’s real! Carter thought to himself, as his anal membranes convulsed fiercely around the stabbing piece of wet, limber flesh which Brian was driving in and out of his anal pucker, as though he were encouraging Carter to use his cock to fuck Roald’s asshole in the same rhythm.

  Underneath Carter’s body, Roald’s ass was humping from side to side and up and down against Carter’s hard cock, begging for it to be fully inserted up his butt. Carter’s strong thighs were outside Roald’s legs, pinning him to the bed, and Carter now clamped his thighs together, the pressure inserting his dick tightly into the crease of the blond’s ass.

  When Roald felt his ass cheeks being compressed around the shaft of Carter’s cock, he twisted his mouth up toward the hard-breathing American’s saliva-dripping tongue again and began licking and sucking for all he was worth. During this process, Carter’s latex-sheathed cock slipped out of the Norwegian’s ass.

  “Oh, God. Put it back in me. Screw me, oh, screw me!” Roald gasped between frantic kisses, his breath hot and moist against Carter’s face. “Don’t tease me any longer, Carter—I’ve just got to have your prick up my ass!”

  Carter could feel the head of his cock getting wet and slick with dribbled jism, and he knew that he was beginning to ooze fuck juice in the rubber as Roald’s shamelessly offered asshole excited him almost to the point of orgasm.

  He lifted his thighs, placed them between Roald’s thighs—forcing the blond guy to spread his legs and buns even wider—and he pressed the head of his massive, overexcited cock up tighter against that enticing asshole. Roald responded by lifting his ass so that his hot asshole was poised against the head of Carter’s cock. Carter could feel the tip of his dick kissing Roald’s hole, the puckered flesh of which—relaxed to make the insertion easier for him—smoldered hotly against Carter’s throbbing organ. Carter reared back slightly so that he could grasp his fuck tool around its base to steady it, and then he pressed the tip of it directly into Roald’s anal opening.

  Roald spread his thighs even wider apart and humped up his butt higher, eager to have Carter’s thick stud cock penetrate and soothe his burning asshole. He began begging Carter to “Fuck me, fuck me!” although his lust-strained voice was soon reduced to a mere guttural rasp under the weight of Carter’s heavy, pounding, sweaty body.

  Carter then began to reinsert his cock, slowly at first to make sure it would gain entrance at the proper angle. He was just as horny as Roald was at that point, just as eager to unite their bodies, to pound his prick in and out of that butch ass until it exploded in a hot shower of too-long pent-up come.

  Once he felt the head slip safely inside, he forced the rest of it in, inch by inch, until his entire stiff length of manhood was plunged deep into Roald’s impossibly tight, hot young stud ass. The blond groaned and shuddered under him when the insertion was completed. His breath caught in his throat, then was expelled from his lips with a choked cry of “Fuck me! Fuck me hard!”

  “My dick isn’t going anywhere now,” Carter promised. “I’m going to ream out your hole!”

  “Do it! Oh, do it! Fuck me,” Roald begged.

  “Yeah, fuck him,” Brian urged, between swipes with his tongue against Carter’s ass.

  Abandoning himself to his lust, Carter began working his dick back and forth, feeling the tight, spasmodically aroused membranes lining the inside of Roald’s long, narrow anal tube constrict against the cylindrical bulk of his erection.

  Roald was lost in anal ecstasy under him, writhing and moaning, shouting in Norwegian, rivulets of sex-sweat running down his handsome, lust-contorted face. Carter thrust his penis harder and harder, deep into the guy’s wildly humping ass, with each stroke!

  All the while, Brian was rimming Carter’s ass from behind, desperately licking his entire crack, trying to keep his hot tongue plunged inside the asshole itself despite Carte
r’s frantic humping motions against his sweat-shiny black face.

  When Brian felt Carter’s buttocks tense and go rigid, he no doubt knew Carter was about to unload his cock into Roald’s butt—so Brian crushed his face hard against Carter’s slippery-wet crack and kissed his ass, his lips compressed against the American’s sphincter muscle with a leech-like suction, his tongue rammed as deep into Carter’s hot hole as it could possibly reach.

  That did it! As Carter started coming inside Roald’s ass, he knew that Brian could feel the muscle between his legs tense and throb, helping to pump that sperm into his lover’s asshole, and he could also feel Carter’s asshole pulsating strongly against his tongue with each spurt of his jism.

  As though it were dissolving into a jet of white-hot flame spat out from the tip of a welding torch, Carter’s cock seared deeply into Roald’s flesh, blasting a thick load, contained by the condom, into the fair-skinned stud’s shudderingly responsive rectum.

  Carter’s taut belly and the fronts of his thighs banged down against Roald’s firm ass cheeks again and again, and with each slap his dick lost another fiery spurt of come deep in the blond’s guts.

  Carter emptied his balls completely, feeling his gushing jism lubricating the shaft of his prick inside the rubber encasing it while he went on fucking the other guy, his spurting tool sliding back and forth inside the other warm sweaty body long after it had been drained of its semen.

  Brian, too, continued to suck Carter’s ass for him while the American lay on top of Roald’s back, relaxing, his cock still hard, still jammed tightly up the blond’s ass—spent, but refusing to go soft at first.

  Finally, though, Carter gently pushed Brian away, rolled off of Roald, and the three men smiled at each other while they retrieved their towels and slowly wiped themselves off.

  Roald and Brian both kissed Carter on the mouth and slapped him on the ass. Then, with Brian saying a casual, “I guess we’ll be seeing you around, stud,” the two guys left Carter’s room, presumably to recuperate from the energetic, exhausting three-way in their own quarters.

  Carter felt too drained by the day’s travel and activities, and by the remarkably intense sex he’d just enjoyed, to drag himself out of bed, let alone drag himself far enough through the oil rig’s corridors to shower again. He could always do that in the morning. So he just lay back on the rumpled and sweat-and-semen stained sheets and he got ready to fell asleep, naked, not even bothering to cover himself, on the bed.

  Inexplicably, he experienced a sudden awareness of guilt.

  Damn, I just cheated on Stash—again! I’m such a whore. Couldn’t help myself, though.. Those two guys were just too hot, and the sex was too damn good. I don’t regret it, not really. And what the fuck? Stash doesn’t have to know about it.

  Then Carter caught himself.

  Huh? How can I “cheat” on Stash, when we’re not in a real relationship, and we decided from the start that we’re both perfectly free to screw around with other guys?

  I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. Stash doesn’t own me. I’m not answerable to him.

  Still—I feel kind of bad, for some reason. Why?

  Well, what’s done is done. Can’t be undone!

  I must be too tired to think clearly. I’d better get some sleep.

  In the morning his asshole felt slightly sore from the prolonged rimming which Brian’s talented tongue had given it. But Carter consoled himself with the reflection that it was probably nothing compared to what Roald was feeling this morning, after the reaming Carter had given him! And he remembered the obscene slur about the camp’s foreman written on the bathroom wall, and he laughed. He hadn’t met the shift foreman yet, but he doubted that anybody else on the rig could suck ass as well as Brian!

  “Did you sleep well?” Carter asked Stash, as they breakfasted in the oil rig’s mess hall.

  “Very. Like the proverbial log. I was dead to the world. I probably needed a good long deep sleep, to recharge my batteries. And you?” Stash asked.

  “Oh, I talked to a couple of the guys,” Carter said, which was true as far as it went—although it was hardly the full story. “One was a Norwegian. The other was a black dude, descended from immigrants, but he couldn’t have been more Scottish.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It was.”

  Stash pulled out his cell phone. “You’ll have to tell me all about it, later. Right now, I’ll have Robert bring the dinghy over to pick us up.”

  “On to our next adventure,” Carter suggested.

  “Indeed.”

  Chapter Fourteen: Steam Heat

  “I’ve found one!” Stash announced to Carter, triumphantly, on board the Rock Dove one night.

  “One what?” Carter asked.

  “An out gay man, who lives here on one of the islands, and who’s willing to be interviewed on camera for the show. And the icing on the cake,” Stash added, excitedly, “is that he’s young and good-looking. Oh, and he owns his own business. You’ll never guess what it is.”

  “Let me think. He’s a kilt maker?”

  Stash laughed. “That would be interesting, too. But I’m afraid that’s not it.”

  “Well, don’t leave me in suspense. Tell me.”

  “This guy runs a steam bath.”

  “As in—a steam bath kind of steam bath?”

  “How many different kinds are there? A bathhouse, yes.”

  “Aw, come on,” Carter protested. “He’s either pulling your leg, or you’re pulling mine.”

  “It’s legit. It’s advertised on the internet.”

  “I can’t believe there’d be enough gay men on one of these islands to keep a place like that it business.”

  “Admittedly, it’s not advertised—except on gay sites—as a gay bathhouse per se. I gather it’s more like the marine equivalent of a truck stop back home. The locals patronize it, but most of the traffic consists of sailors. When they’re in port to refuel, resupply, or just for a little rest and recreation, they go to the baths to relax and clean up.”

  “The whole thing sounds too good to be true. Show me,” Carter demanded.

  “See for yourself.” Stash called up a website on his laptop. It was a Scottish gay chat and dating site.

  The website proclaimed that it was a great place to meet gay and bisexual guys here in Scotland who are looking for friendship or sex.

  Stash clicked onto the profile of one Stewart. He was, he claimed, a thirty year old gay man who is looking for friendship, travel companions, or men who would like to come visit me on Barra and be my guests. I’m also willing to come to where you live, if you’re in the British Isles. Let’s get together and have some good times!

  Here on Barra I own and operate a steam bath. It’s not a gay bathhouse, officially. It’s just a men-only place where guys can come to take the steam and relax. It’s especially popular here during our long cold winters. But, all year round, it’s a place for men to come and socialize. Anything sexual which may go on is kept very discreet. Come visit our beautiful and friendly island, and I’ll give you a first-time discount. I may even throw in a free massage and other services! You won’t leave disappointed, I can promise you that.

  “Okay, a gay bathhouse slash whorehouse, right here in the Hebrides,” Carter said, cynically. “I repeat, it sounds too good to be true.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Stash replied. “From what I’ve learned while surfing the internet, there is a long-standing tradition of men bathing in steam baths here, for relaxation. It goes as far back as Norse times. The Scandinavians invented the sauna, after all! Officially, it’s all purely heterosexual, of course. But who knows what might go on behind closed doors, when the clothes come off and the steam gets turned on?”

  Stewart’s photo on the website showed a smiling, rather rugged-looking young ginger, with longish reddish-blond hair, a matching mustache and goatee, and sexy, deep-set green eyes. He had pink cheeks and a nice smile.

  “What do you t
hink of him?” Stash asked.

  “Um, cute, assuming that’s a recent photo, which you never can tell. You’ve talked to this guy?” Carter asked.

  “Yes. We had quite a long chat last night, while you were fast asleep. He seems sincere. The steam bath is a family business, which he inherited. He’s the one who’s, discreetly, enlarged its customer base to include gays. Anyway, this island, Barra, is right there, ahead of us, on our route. I think a stopover will be appropriate. After all, what’ve we got to lose?”

  “I don’t know, Stash. Our virtue, maybe?” Carter suggested.

  “Too late.”

  Chatting with Stewart again, Stash introduced him to Carter, and he set up a meeting.

  The town of Castlebay on the south side of Barra was the island’s only sheltered anchorage. The harbor was distinguished by yet another of Scotland’s omnipresent small old castles, in this case situated right next to the water, so that its ancient stone walls seemed to rise abruptly out of the bay. The harbor was crowded with boats, but Duncan managed to squeeze the Rock Dove in among them.

  “Do you think there’s any chance of getting any action during this visit to the bathhouse?” Carter asked Stash.

  “I’m counting on it. See? You’re not the only one who likes a little variety. Which reminds me,” Stash went on. “In all fairness, we really ought to ask Martin to come along with us. This sounds like just the sort of place where he’d be in his element.”

  “Yeah. But how are we going to explain his accompanying us, to the other guys?”

  Stash shrugged. “Who says we have to explain it? Not that the guys aren’t perfectly capable of putting two and two together. But if you’re really worried about it, you can always say you pulled a shoulder muscle, and you need Martin to carry your camera for you.”

  “You’re pretty slick.”

  Stash smiled, sweetly. “One of my many fine qualities.”

  When Martin heard about their destination, he was eager to accompany Stash and Carter.