Instead he points to the top of his wardrobe.
‘It’s just up there. Shall I get you another bottle?’
I nod gratefully, glad of the opportunity to be alone for a second. I sit on his bed as he leaves, then get up just as quickly, if I sit here too long my imagination could go into such overdrive I won’t be able to stand again.
So I reach for the box.
It’s not a stretch for me, being a few inches taller than Josh, but even so it’s far enough away that when I finally manage to pull it towards me, it breaks, spilling its contents across the floor.
‘Shit!’ I gasp, falling to my knees, trying to push everything back inside before Josh sees what I’ve done.
The box is broken so badly it isn’t going to happen.
Then I actually look at the contents.
I’d thought initially, in my blind panic, that they were photos, but now I see they’re prints.
Of naked men.
They aren’t porn, or if they are they’re like no sort I’ve ever seen before, no bodies glistening with body oil, no close ups of hard cocks, no vivid arcs of spunk shooting across the page.
Instead they are more artistic, men kissing passionately, men tangled together, men undoubtedly engaged in fucking, but seeming more sensual and erotic than the graphic images I’ve seen before.
More arousing than anything I’ve seen before.
I sit on the bed and flick through them, my cock almost throbbing now with the blood pumping through it, my running shorts tenting as every new image increases my excitement.
I realise Josh is taking an awful long time to fetch that water.
I look up, and he’s stood in the doorway, watching me.
I want to apologise for the mess I’ve made, for looking at his photos, but there is no way I can speak right now.
Instead I am mute as his sits beside me and reaches for my cock, stroking me softly through the flimsy material.
Slowly he undresses me, taking his time as if at any minute I might flee, realising that this is not who I am.
But this is who I am.
I lie back on the bed, watching as he tenderly strokes each piece of skin that is exposed, until I am lying there naked.
His fingers trail across my shoulder, my collar bone, stroking the sensitive skin of my neck. Then they move lower, tangling in my chest hair, pausing at my nipples to tease and tweak.
I gasp, shifting on the bed, and he smiles, watching my cock bobbing for his attention.
He moves to kiss one nipple, then trails his tongue across my chest as he moves to kiss the other, leaving my chest hair matted like a mark of where he has been. I haven’t felt his mouth on mine yet, but his lips on my chest leave me squirming with pleasure and anticipation.
Next he trails his hand down my stomach, then, reaching for the lube, quickly greases his hand and coats my shaft.
I’m helpless under his touch.
‘You’re such a little slut,’ he says affectionately. ‘Lying there and letting me do what I want to you.’
But now he is wrong; I’m no delicate flower to be treated so sensitively.
I want passion, not patience, lust, not longing.
I sit quickly, annoyed at my easy submission, of his gentle treatment of me.
I like it rough.
His smug smile is shaken when I grab him, and we are almost wrestling as we fall back on to the bed, fighting to be on top until I have him pinned beneath me.
Then I kiss him hard, until he is writhing against me, his clothed body rubbing against my bare skin, until he is breathless beneath me.
It feels as if a force of nature is unleashed.
His tongue is in my mouth, his legs entangled with mine, as I pull at his clothes, not caring if I rip them in my desire to get him naked.
I want to pause to find his tattoo, to admire his body, the smooth skin, the taut muscles, the hard cock, but let my hands do the exploring as they travel over his flesh, too excited to pause for even a second.
I reach for the lube, slicking my palm before I reach for his swollen cock, our bodies slick as we rub against each other, trying to find the best position to touch, to tease, to explore.
His hand is fast and furious, working me to a frenzy, even as his other hand travels lower, cupping my balls briefly, before his fingers slide lower, stroking the sensitive skin between balls and ass.
I want to suck him, fuck him, have him inside me, but I can’t stop now, can’t pull away now as his hand pumps at my cock, as his finger slips inside my hole, making me gasp loudly.
My hands follow his example, my finger teasing inside him, my fist gripping him hard, until I feel him spurting across my stomach.
It’s all I need to take me over the edge, and I come hard, shaking violently.
Some time later I roll over, watching him doze with his hands above his head, admiring the muscles bulging in his arms. I find the tattoo.
Then I think things over.
There was no way he couldn’t have managed those boxes on his own. Although I’m a few inches taller the boxes weren’t dusty, and who puts their wank stash where they can’t reach it easily?
Especially if you’re the kind of guy who makes sure that lube and tissues are so convenient.
All it would have needed was some loose sellotape and good timing.
‘This was a set up, wasn’t it?’
‘Mmm hmm,’ he agrees sleepily. ‘I thought you needed motivating.’
I smile, flattered. Now I have something even better to run back to.
Basic Rules Of Anal Sex
by Kay Jaybee
I re-read the piece of paper that had been shoved into my hand, aware I was being watched carefully as my eyes travelled down the sheet. This was not new information, so why had he given it to me?
A Beginner’s Basic Rules of Anal Sex
1. Start small.
2. Start slow.
3. Condoms and lube are your best friends.
4. Shit is part of life. Get used to it or forget it.
5. First time – one finger.
6. Second time – two fingers.
7. Stomach cramp is normal.
8. Third time – small anal dildo or butt-plug.
9. Fourth time – “For fuck’s sake shaft me.”
A Submissive’s Basic Rules of Anal Sex
10. Do as you’re told.
11. If no gag is provided, then bite the pillow.
12. If there is nothing to bite into, then scream.
13. It’s only blood and crap. You’ll live.
14. Expect to have to accommodate candles, dildos and fake horse
tails, as well as his dick/her strap-on.
15. Remember to say “Thank you.”
A Master’s Basic Rules of Anal Sex
16. “Bend over bitch.”
17. “Now!”
I looked from the typed white A4 sheet to the man who’d passed it to me, as I entered the nightclub. At first, I’d assumed he was giving out flyers to everyone, but he had no others in his hand, and as I glanced around, I saw no evidence of anyone else holding one.
Although I‘d been to gay clubs in the past, this was my first visit to one since my recent move to London. It was so big and busily intimidating compared to those I’d been to before. The nerves, that I’d forced myself to ignore as I queued alone to enter the thunderously loud over-neon environment, hadn’t waned as I’d hoped they would, and, as the paper creased in my grasp, my palms took on a clammy sheen.
‘It’s your first time in here, isn’t it?’
I nodded dumbly at the stranger as I stood at the side of the bar.
‘You want a drink?’
Nodding again, I wished I could think of something witty to say, but as he probably wouldn’t have heard me over the hammer of the music’s back-beat, I didn’t bother, and simply watched him dive into the throng clamouring at the bar for a drink.
Folding the piece of paper up, I shoved it into my po
cket, and examined the back view of my queuing assailant more closely. He was a little under average height, about five foot six perhaps, of fairly slim build, neatly cropped hair, blue jeans and a black T-shirt. In other words, he was interchangeable with nearly half the 20-something population that danced and chatted around me. In fact, from behind, but for the colour of his hair (ginger, rather than brown), he might have been me.
It wasn’t until he turned around, that I realised how much I’d been distracted by the list he’d pressed into my hand. How come I hadn’t noticed how attractive he was, how wide his green eyes were, and how mischievously his smile played at the corners of his mouth? As I took the pint of lager he offered me, I noticed his heavily freckled arms, and I found myself wondering how far those freckles spread over the rest of his body.
I clawed back my concentration; he was introducing himself by yelling the name, ‘Jack’ over the din. Then, after taking a swig from his pint, he pulled the paper back out of my pocket, fished a pen from his own, and scribbled an email address at the bottom of it, along with the words, You’re a submissive right? I bet you’d like it rough. Then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone with my drink.
Standing still for a second, I craned my neck, trying to find Jack again, but it was impossible to spot him amongst all the other T-shirted, short haired men. I wanted to ask him why he’d given me that list, why not just his name and email? Was he just being nice to me as I was obviously alone, or was he trying to scare me? Maybe he fancied me? I told myself I didn’t really care about the reason (even though I did a bit, he was pretty cute), and was simply pleased I’d made my first social contact in the Capital, however bizarre.
I left the club shortly afterwards. Suddenly it seemed pointless to hang around on my own, and anyway I wanted to examine Jack’s Basic Rules in private. I couldn’t stop wondering how he’d worked out I was a submissive just like that. I mean, I am a submissive, and yes, I do like it a bit rough, but I didn’t think I had that sort of information tattooed across my forehead.
It was so clinical, how he’d written it all down. Was Jack like that in bed? Did he fuck to a list? I felt my dick stirring at the thought of being under his control, and glanced at the laptop that sat on the muddled desk in the corner of my tatty rented bed-sit. Taking a deep breath, ignoring the voice at the back of my head telling me I was wasting my time as I’d never hear back from him, I typed a brief message.
Thanks for pint Jack. Meet sometime? Rob (guy you gave list to tonight).
The following morning two emails were waiting for me. The first had been sent about 2 a.m.
You know the gay bar in Richmond? Today, about 12 p.m?
The second had arrived just after 7 a.m.
I keep thinking about fucking you.
My stomach instantly knotted into a tense ball as I replied in the positive, before completely failing to relax for the rest of the morning. Jack’s freckled arms monopolised my imagination, as I mentally began to trace them across his shoulders, his chest, his legs and his arse, like an erotic dot-to-dot. Would they reach his dick? As an image of Jack, naked and hard, grew in my mind, I ran to the bathroom. Roughly wanking myself off across the bath, I visualised this freckled man ordering me to do whatever he wanted, forcing my arse to accommodate no end of objects, just as the list had suggested.
I was relieved to see that the bar wasn’t busy when I arrived at ten minutes to twelve, and I easily found a table for two. Ordering a coffee, I sat down, hoping like hell that Jack wouldn’t be too long, for ever since my morning’s masturbation, my thoughts had ranged uncontrollably from mildly kinky daydreams about him, to fantasies of extreme domination.
I was halfway through my scalding black liquid when he arrived. Spotting me straight away, Jack flicked a persuasive glance towards the door, ‘You want to drink that, or you want to come back with me now?’
Clattering my cup into its saucer without a word, I followed Jack’s retreating back in silence, my heart hammering in my chest. As we strode up the street my eyes kept wandering to his arse. It was neat and tight in his faded denims, and my throat dried at the prospect of what I desperately hoped was about to happen.
Jack wordlessly led me down a narrow side street, before fishing a key out of his pocket and shoving it unceremoniously into the front door of an old terrace house. I followed him into a poky damp hallway, lit by an insufficient light bulb.
That was when the potential stupidity of my actions hit me. I didn’t know this man. I didn’t really know where I was. I couldn’t even be sure that Jack was really his name, or what he wanted from me. The perspiration of sexual anticipation that had been prickling my back, mingled with uncertainty as we stood outside another battered door. My brain was telling me to run, but my dick was telling me how cute Jack’s arse was, and that I hadn’t discovered the extent of his freckles yet.
As if reading my disquiet, Jack took my hand. His skin was soft, but his grip was firm as he pulled me through the doorway into his own tiny bed-sit. The pressure of Jack’s touch, and the flash of passion that crossed his face as he stood in front of me, reassured me that I was right to be there after all. The lack of conversation however, was beginning to get on my nerves, ‘Why the list?’
‘First timers should get all the help they can.’ Jack spoke with a flirty smile.
Suddenly I understood, ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not my first time. I mean, I’m not a virgin.’
Jack looked genuinely shocked, ‘Really? Hell, you don’t half look like one!’
I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. ‘That’s hardly my fault is it? And anyway, if I was, that list of yours would have scared me to death!’ As I spoke I wondered if my encounter with Jack was about to be cut abruptly short, ‘I’m new to London, but not to all this.’ Edging towards the door, I enquired hesitantly, ‘You only go for virgins then?’
Jack laughed at my indignation, his expression twinkling with suggestion, ‘No! But well, I guess I enjoy a bit of teaching every now and again.’
I felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders as I saw his playful grin, and I dared to move back a little closer to him, ‘So you hover by the club door, and see if you can spot anyone who might benefit from some Basic Rules training?’
‘Exactly.’ The atmosphere between us took on a new intense edge as Jack took another step nearer to me, whispering, ‘I guess we can dispense with the beginners’ rules then. Do you want to practise some of the others instead? Some advanced training perhaps?’
My reply of, ‘yes,’ as he stretched a hand forward and ran a single finger across my cheek, was barely audible.
‘Will you follow my rules? Will you do everything I tell you?’
Again I muttered, ‘yes’, my pulse rate shooting up as I regarded Jack’s smoothly shaved face, his burning green eyes, and the enticing freckles that ran down his neck, disappearing tantalizingly beneath his white T-shirt.
He moved fast, as if he was afraid I’d change my mind. Something I couldn’t have done if I’d wanted to, my cock was pressing so hard against my boxers that its needs had overtaken every vestige of my being.
‘Strip.’ Jack’s voice cracked, his tone daring me to disobey. Fumbling with my clothes in my urgency, I was quickly naked, and felt myself being appraised by his piercing gaze. ‘On your knees!’
I’d been anticipating the command, and dropped to the thinly carpeted floor.
‘Close your eyes.’
I snapped them shut, shivering with cold and desire. As I waited, I clearly saw Jack’s Basic Rules in my mind's eye, and hoped I’d be able to live up to his expectations.
‘Open your mouth.’
I obliged, and was soon rewarded with the injection of a warm rigid dick. I gratefully ran my tongue over its length, licking the damp tip, relishing the salty, mildly sweaty taste, as Jack moved back and forth.
Jack pumped slowly at first, but then, with no warning, his pace increased to a ferocious pounding.
He banged against my lips, burning my throat and straining my neck, as he treated my mouth as if it was my arse. I gagged and spluttered as he lunged; wishing he’d actually blindfolded me, as I fought to keep my eyes closed.
When he finally withdrew, I was left panting, dribbles of saliva and pre-come running down my chin. Remembering Basic Rule no.15, I swallowed to lubricate my voice and croaked, ‘Thank you, Sir,’ and suddenly found myself thinking about his freckles again.
‘Good boy.’ Jack smoothed a hand through my hair with a tenderness of marked contrast to the previous few minutes. This temporary display of affection was short lived however, for 30 seconds later I was roughly slammed to the floor.
The second I was sprawled face down on the carpet, Jack grasped my arms and tied them securely behind my back with some sort of binding. ‘You will keep your eyes shut.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘You will be punished for being so good.’
‘Yes, Sir.’ No sooner had I agreed with him, than the first crack of leather, a belt I guess, smacked across my arse. I was unable to contain the shout that escaped my throat at the shock of this new attack.
‘The more noise you make, the harder I will hit you.’ Jack’s voice was cold, but it had taken on an urgent edge, telling me exactly how turned on he was by my obedience.
I struggled to remain silent. The continuous burn of the strap was intense against my prone backside, and it took an incredible effort of will to obey him. Screwing my eyes up tighter, and digging my teeth into my lips so hard that they drew blood, I eventually managed to ride out two fierce strikes without uttering a sound.
A clatter told me that Jack had dropped his weapon to the floor, ‘Well done, bitch, you’re a fast learner.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’ I licked away the droplets of blood that lingered on my lips, savouring the taste, as the bruised heat of my arse throbbed, and my swollen dick dug further into the carpet.
Abruptly, a hot moist tongue began to anoint my wounds. As Jack’s delicious laps coated my injured flesh, my punished body dared to calm a little, but not for long, as a blunt jamming finger bit into my anus. This time however, I felt no shock, and gave no involuntary resistance. I wanted this. Oh fuck, did I want this!
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