When the incessant ringing of your doorbell disturbs you from your sleep, you need to check who is there before you answer wearing only a robe.
I could have done with this bit of advice before I opened the door to a green-eyed adonis, who had a chest that ached to bust out of his shirt.
Picture if you will, the sight of pecks heaving while you try to wake up and find out why this hunk has gotten you out of bed.
"Mr Walker?" asked the hunk.
"Mr Robert Walker?"
I struggled to look him in the eye with those delcious pecks begging to be sucked and bitten. "Yes, that's me. What's this all about?"
"Mr Walker, my name is Andy. I'm here from Collections UK. You have outstanding debt amounting to £1,330 with your local water authority. Can I come in to discuss you making a payment today?"
After finishing another long week at work, it was time to head to the coach station at Victoria in London. From there I would begin my six-hour commute back to Plymouth.
While pulling my suitcase along behind me all I could think about was how much I wanted to cum. I felt my cock swelling inside my underwear, while I imagined a naked, toned twenty-something with his hot ass in the air. A good hard wank awaited me when I got home, but I would have preferred a long, wet blowjob.
Once I arrived at Victoria station I headed straight for the waiting area. I knew it like the back of my hand because I had been doing this commute for over three years. I sat in the waiting area with my small suitcase and bag—two things that held most of my life from one week to the next.
I've been thinking of you.
More and more with each passing day.
No one compares to you.
I wish life allowed you to stay.
I recall your deep hazel eyes.
A secret I still haven't shared.
While alone I release my cries.
You're the one who truly cared.
Love lives on
I feel your gentle kisses,
even after you're gone.
Love lives on
I feel your delicate touch,
while I lay in bed alone.
It was time to take my new car for a real spin. I had been driving my new Dodge Viper between home and downtown for a week, but I longed to get out on the open road and feel the rush of 0 to 60 in 3.4 seconds.
Saturday afternoon would be the best time because the roads would be quieter. I drove to the flat, straight Pioneer Parkway, so I could let my baby open up. There was a good straight run of ten miles before you reached Florence.
Driving along Superstition tested my patience because I itched to leave the other cars in the dirt, but I waited until I reached Exit 212. Once on Pioneer, I floored the accelerator.
I almost didn’t make it in time when I boarded the Berlin Express from Gare du Nord in Paris. It had been the day from hell. The meeting had been long and tedious, and on top of that my boyfriend had decided to dump me again. I wondered how long it would be this time.
Thankfully, I had booked a cabin, so I would be able to undress and relax before my next meeting in Berlin the following day. After squeezing passed other passengers, and having to apologise several times, I reached cabin 347.
I closed and locked the door behind me, threw my briefcase on the table and yanked my tie loose. It felt such a relief to undo the top button of my shirt. I flopped onto the seat and kicked off my shoes. I didn’t even bother to undo the laces.
While on my crowded commute to work I saw a rugged man with a black dog. They reminded me of my time living in the country when I was a boy. There was a rugged farmer called Clint, and wherever he went his black dog, Billy, went with him. They were inseparable.
Remembering Clint made my asshole twitch and my cock swell a little. I enjoyed walking, and often walked across Clint's land. During one walk, I saw him leaning against the door of his barns. He had his eyes closed and his chest was bare. My heart beat increased at the vision of his smooth, firm chest. My mouth watered, aching to chew on his solid pecks.
Billy noticed me first when I moved closer to have a better look. He ran toward me to say hello. Clint squinted toward me, "Hey there, Jay, out on one of your walks again?"
The chill of a biting wind roared in from the unkind north and woke me from what I hoped had been just a bad dream. My terrified gaze discovered I lay surrounded by dank, stark walls, broken by a small barred window and a black metal door.
Thick leather straps pinched my wrists and ankles, while my body fought against them. My heart beat increased when I discovered I lay naked on a narrow, cold and uncomfortable metal-framed bed.
Trickles of blood ran down my arm, as the nurse released yet another needle from my vein. My brain exploded with chemicals designed to subdue me, and to keep me from disrupting the chaotic world of the normal majority. My ideas and opinions disturbed them, and filled their fragile minds with discomfiting thoughts.
Ten years had past since I last felt intimacy or had sex. I often dreamed of a dark stranger fucking me in the back of his car or over my desk at work. But when it came to reality I couldn't do it. My stomach would turn. My nerves would twitch. I felt dirty and guilty.
It was the night of my fortieth birthday. My closest friends had arranged for us to spend the night in a New York bar. I had always loved New York, so it seemed the perfect place to celebrate my milestone birthday. I wasn't too sure about going to a gay bar because I had given up on those places years earlier. I thought Facebook had killed them along with all other forms of socialising.
The four of us entered a gay bar in Hell's Kitchen called Industry Bar. A mass of shirtless sweaty bodies swayed and bobbed in front of me. The entire floor moved with muscular male bodies. My heart beat increased a wee bit, and my hands tingled. I was a gazelle in a pride of lions.
I trudged up what felt an endless stairwell; the piss stained lift was out-of-order. Each floor the same as the last: flaking cheap green paint; dank, brown carpet; and dingy corridors with fluorescent lighting. The stench of degradation seeped through every brick.
The loud sound of high and drunk men told me I had reached my destination. The cheers and laughter had my fist hammering the door harder than I had anticipated. The nosy neighbour glanced through the narrow opening of her door. I flicked her the finger. Scurry away little mouse.
The sharp sound of bolts and a chain rang loud along the brick corridor. A naked, athletic man opened the door in front of me. My nostrils flared at the smell of male sweat mixed with a variety of colognes.
I heard my friend call to me from somewhere within. I squeezed past the sweaty man who had opened the door. My hand brushed past his floppy, cut dick. He winked and licked his lips.
He slept: a satisfied stallion, snug in his bed of seduction. Dents and scratches etched into the wall behind the posts of the headboard. How many had felt his ardent thrusts?
I stroked the stone window sill as I glanced out to appreciate Rome's early morning skyline. The sun gently kissed the Vatican's vast dome.
A cool morning breeze fluttered between my naked thighs, skipped across the cool stone floor and ruffled the fine bed sheet slunk across my lover's six-pack.
I strolled back toward the bed to admire his slumbered beauty, as delicate trickles of sweat snaked down his chiseled cheek, causing his stubble to glisten.
Heat sparkled inside me as I remembered a night of Roman passion and lust: kissed around the Trevi Fountain, while thrust up the Spanish Steps. My fingers rubbed my lips; I could still feel the strength of his midnight kisses.