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  • Boy from the states

    • It all started about five years ago, when I was twenty-five. I was very recently graduated from a Minnesota college with a degree it had taken me six years to obtain, and I was living alone in Dover, not far from London in southern England. Life was good, but things could have been better.

    I wasn't a pain, although I wasn't exactly an angel either. I made friends and we all got into our fair share of scrapes; they usually blamed the "Yankee", as I was called. However, England agreed with me and I agreed with it. It was my home.

    Then, when I was twenty-five, I met a boy online by the name of Mark. How could I have known what would have blossomed from a modest conversation and a few friendly e-mails? Mark was from the States, a Yankee like myself, and he was ten years younger than me.

    We continued to e-mail back and forth. When I was twenty-six, an ex-girlfriend and I had a son, Charles, named after me. This didn't seem to deplete Mark's feelings for me, and that encouraged the relationship from my point of view.

    Mark went off to college and we continued to e-mail and exchange loving messages, but I never really thought anything would come of it. I was going to be thirty years old soon, preoccupied with my hectic work life, my son (he was four years old and getting ready for school), and leisure. I was a psychologist, yes; but I was also a writer and making quite a bit of money on the side. When I turned twenty-eight, I had sold my small Dover residence for a much larger country home outside of the busy city.

    Of course I found time for health and enjoyment. I worked out constantly, taking great pleasure in adding to my appearance. Some people call that vanity; I say it's making the best of what God's given you. At any rate, I can't say that it all looked bad. And with hiking, fishing, gardening, and camping, I kept myself pretty busy.

    On the side, of course, I had myself quite a few little affairs. Women were an attraction, for a while, but most often it was a casual meeting with a man somewhere. Nothing, though, could have prepared me for that cold February day when the last person I ever expected to see walked into my office.

    He sat down and introduced himself. "I'm Mark."

    "Charles Ewing."

    "I know who you are, Charles."

    Then it dawned on me who the young man with the accent was. This was the boy I had e-mailed for ten years, grown into a handsome young man. He had blond-brown hair and large, soft eyes; there was such a sensuality to his appearance I found it hard to not gasp a little. His body was well muscled, and I realized he was not the boy whose pictures I had seen. He had grown from cherub to god.

    "Mark...wow."

    He laughed, and we spent awhile talking. He was vacationing in England with the sole purpose of seeing me, apparently. That was just fine with me; I had been looking forward to something like this for a long time.

    We went out for dinner to a French restaurant just a block or so away from the hospital I work at. Unlike most of the casual guys off the street that are up for a quick ass fuck or feel the compulsive need to suck dick, Mark had a charming wit and the most interesting table conversations. It didn't take me long to wonder what I had seen in so many boyfriends when I had someone so perfectly suitable right here in front of me.

    "Where are you staying, Mark?"

    He paused, and his eyes rolled down to his lap. "Well, I guess there's enough room in my car."

    "You don't have a hotel?"

    He shook his head.

    Perfect, I thought. "Good; you're staying with me. There's plenty of room at the house."

    "Chester won't mind?"

    Chester (or Charles) was my four-year-old son. I wasn't concerned. "He's with his mother."

    He smiled, a beautiful expression that sent chills all through me as I returned it. His eyes expressed the words even before his tongue did. "I'd love to stay with you."

    My bedroom isn't exactly large as far as rooms in my house go; there are a few windows, a dresser, a closet, a large T.V., and a very comfortable and very large bed with gold-coloured silk sheets. I hadn't had sex in months, and I couldn't wait to get into bed with Mark; we had talked about this for years.

    It was very casual as we came inside the bedroom and locked the door, closed the windows and drew the curtains. He turned on the T.V. as I poured some drinks, and then he peeled off his blue sweater and loose fitting khakis, tossing them into the corner. Just like I thought, I realized with a grin. Briefs. And the shape of his cock was mind-boggling.

    His bare chest was a sight for sore eyes (God, my eyes must have been aching!). The pecs were well defined and the abs were firm and without hair in the glow of the lamp. He was beautiful.

    I finished pouring the drinks, then shucked off my dress pants and unbuttoned my white shirt, making sure to put on quite a show in my short boxers and topless to boot. He just smiled as I nestled down into the bed next to him, and we watched some T.V.

    "You have a great body, Charles. It's twice as good as I thought it would be."

    "You're--" I choked on the words, trying to put it the most politely that I wanted to rip his briefs to shreds and fuck the hell out of that cock. "You're looking very nice yourself, Mark."

    He nestled close to me, pressing that hard, hot body against my dark chest, lightly fingering my light, golden chest hair. "It was so sweet of you to let me stay here, Charles."

    Again I coughed, hurt by my own raging hard-on. "Anytime, babe."

    His hands began to explore my chest, and I couldn't help it anymore. As his hands found my pecs I sank down into the bed, jerking his briefs down with one swift motion and plunging my mouth down over his long, thick member. Holy hell it was mine!

    I heard his groan of relief as he wriggled a little on the bed, that beautiful angel of lust. His breathing was erotic and deep, and I felt my rock-hard cock straining against my boxers. Yet I could not bring myself to take my mouth off of that swollen, mind-boggling cock. This was the most pleasurable moment of my life, and I wasn't even being serviced!

    That all changed when Mark suddenly sat up, those lustful, heavy-lidded eyes looking at me longingly, and he said, "My turn, big guy."

    He rolled me over onto my back and helped me get situated amongst the pillows. His hands never left my chest and stomach, which was okay by me. He lowered his lips to my boxers and licked them seductively, rubbing his full, to-die-for lips against the swollen, aching head of my cock. I thought I would die.

    "Oh, Charles." It was the most erotic thing I'd ever heard in my life.

    Down came the boxers, and I felt his warm, wet, wonderful mouth descend onto my cock, taking a good deal of it inside. I moaned in pleasure; is it just me, or can you always tell right away when you're about to receive great head? God damn, I tell you this kid knew what he was doing. Up and down, slow and wet, all over my rock-hard rod, and finally he began to tongue the underside of it. Back and forth, up and down, side to side...it was amazing. His hands, still arousing me above the waist, were finally needed to hold my still hardening cock in place while he sucked so loyally.

    Finally I just gave up trying to analyze how pleasured I was. Mark was definitely the one for me; no one could ever get me that hot. He sucked as many different ways as he could, but every time, just before I exploded into sweet ecstasy, he took his mouth away and looked up into my eyes.

    At last he crawled up and sat next to me on the pillows. I could only look into his face with so much gratitude that I wondered if my emotions wouldn't get the best of me. I wanted to kiss him.

    I did.

    His mouth was so warm, so sweet, and his tongue met mine in the perfect movement. What a kiss. What a boy.

    "Make love to me, Charles."

    I didn't need to hear it twice. His long, smooth legs had already parted, beginning to somewhat clumsily wrap around me and draw me to his bubble butt. I wanted this so bad; I was aching to be inside of him.

    Fortunately there was enough lubrication in my nightstand to get his smooth, small hole ready for me. I looked up at him and saw his content little smile.

    I thrust into his waiting asshole, feeling the smooth, warm, wet insides of his ass. The head of my cock buried into them, and for a moment all I could think about was how horny I was. God damn, this kid was a great lover.

    When I opened my eyes I was just as turned on. Mark was in paradise; his firm little hips were rising up from the covers in perfect rhythm, and his mouth opened and closed with gasping pleasure. His hands were touching my arms and my shoulders, trying to pull me down to him so he could stimulate me while I thrust endlessly into him. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed release.

    I erupted into his asshole, feeling my cock throb as it shot load after load of my seed into his young male cunt. Ashamed that I had finished before him, I reached down to perform more fellatio on his waiting cock when he suddenly ejaculated into my opened mouth. And so we drained our spunk into each other at the same time.

    At last we lay in each other's arms, exhausted but still completely aroused. I knew I had never met such a perfect man, and I wondered if he thought the same. Nestled between my arms, he seemed to purr the words I had waited to hear through many long relationships.

    "I love you, Charles."

    I buried my face into his shoulder blade and didn't trust myself to speak. When I did, my voice was racked with sincere emotion.

    "I love you too, Mark."

    ---

    Mark was everything I could have asked for in a lover, a partner, a friend. He never complained that my job was too demanding; that was a nice switch. He seemed to find ways to amuse himself without getting into trouble, as there was the T.V., the mini-gym, and on some days I left the car and went to work with a friend.
    One day, about a week or two after he had come to live with me in Dover, he showed up at the office again to make see if he could take me out to a nice dinner that night. He was working at a clothing store downtown and since he was now making his own money, he apparently saw it right to do something sweet for me.

    "After all, I owe you for that great 'meal' my first night, Charles." The glowing in his eyes almost made me hard on the spot, and I couldn't help but think that I was in for another great lovemaking session that night.

    "Hi, Charles."

    I turned around, wondering who the hell had snuck into my office through the back door. Before I could remind whoever it was that most patients used the front door (and knocked before coming in!) I saw one of my co-workers enter the room.

    Before I go on I have to say that I have always hated this guy. Bill is a great psychologist, I'll give him that, but he's one major asshole when he's not with a client. He's fairly tall with an incredible build; he's all muscle. Normally I like guys that are built like construction workers but dress like overpaid lawyers, but where Bill had a great build he had the least charm I'd ever seen in anyone. A dead fish has better manners.

    And--go figure--the guy's a homophobe.

    I was sure that rumors had gone around the office about my sexuality; some people just have that sixth sense about other people, especially my fellow psychologists. Anyway, Bill had never been able to really bully me around about it though; now was his perfect chance.

    He stopped, rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin, and made a weird face. If I hadn't known he was such a brilliant guy I would have wondered what such a dumb shit was doing in these offices. I'm sure Mark did.

    "Charles, who's your friend?"

    Mark held out his hand. "Mark."

    The jackass stared at his outstretched hand for a minute, and then smiled big and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Mark; I'm Bill."

    Thank God he's not confronting him about why he's here, I thought. Mark's eyes met mine and I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

    "Six-thirty, then?"

    "Sure."

    Bill and I both watched as Mark disappeared out the door in his sexy form-fitting sweater and khakis, waiting till the door shut to face each other.

    Bill's face was lit up in a malicious grin. "Plans, kid?"

    I hated being patronized; he knew damn well I had plans, and I was only about ten years behind him, not a teenager. "Yeah."

    "Sorry; I took the night off a couple weeks ago, and my new client has a lot of paperwork that someone needs to do." His grin broadened. "Didn't mean to break up your night, but I thought you'd be free to do it."

    I wanted to throw him out the window.

    "Cute kid."

    I feigned ignorance, but I'm not really great at lying. "Oh, I hadn't noticed."

    "You don't leave the lights on?"

    I glared at him, and he laughed, setting down his coffee and standing over me like a prick.

    "Does your son know you're a fag?"

    "You wouldn't dare."

    "Why not? Maybe he needs a real man for a dad."

    What could I do? If you've been in a situation like that before, you know there's not much you can do but sit there and take it, or kick his ass and lose your job. I waited until he was done and then started the paperwork, finally calling home and leaving a message for Mark that I had paperwork to do for a client and the dinner (and dessert) was probably off.

    The asshole (wait, he's not worthy of being called that) left me enough paperwork to keep me there till midnight. By nine o' clock I was downing aspirin and half-asleep from the monotonous work. I didn't even hear my door open, but when I heard the footsteps I looked up.

    "I...I was wondering..." Mark said, as he came closer to the desk, "if you needed some help."

    The implication was crystal clear, and I stared up at him, my headache suddenly gone. He came closer, that seductive smile working wonders on my stress. I couldn't move, I was so intoxicated by his sensual movements.

    His fingers found the buttons of my white shirt and began pulling them open, revealing my brown chest underneath. His hands skimmed my pecs and shoulders as he continued to unbutton the shirt, and I let go, slumping into my chair, letting his touch arouse me.

    When he got to my belt, he must have noticed my lust indicator was up a couple of notches. A big grin came across his face and I thought I would die.

    My pants came off and I saw my reflection in the huge window as I sat there, half-naked and letting a boy ten years my junior stimulate me manually. By now his hands were in my boxers, stroking my cock and making it swell to the usual proportions.

    "Should we try this on the floor?" Mark asked, moving up to my lap and drawing his shoulders lightly across my shoulders. I circled his waist with my arms and pressed his face to mine. We met in a kiss of relief, our tongues colliding with what I knew was urgency on both parts. And then, as I was savoring the taste of his mouth, an idea came to me.

    I pulled away.

    "Okay, we won't do it on the floor," said Mark, a little put-off by my reluctance to continue.

    "No, we really do have to continue this--next door, in Bill's office."

    The idea was met with unbridled approval, and I all but threw Mark onto the desk, throwing off his clothes as I did so. His muscled body shimmered in the moonlight, the abs rippling, his pecs firm and unmoving. I slid off my boxers and climbed up onto the desk, knocking off a few miscellaneous papers.

    "This is kinky...a little uncomfortable, but I'll get used to it," said Mark, his hot body pressed against the desk. I grinned and sank down against him, kissing him hotly again and moving my hands down to his own cock. It was growing and I could feel the life pulsating through it, as he grew excited. My own felt like it was about to explode from suspense.

    I worked my tongue from his lower lip down his impressive body to the rigid cock that was towering above his trim waist. It fit perfectly in my mouth, and I worked my tongue around it as erotically as I could, sensing the growing of the head and the quickening of his breathing. Realizing that Mark's member was too big for me to suck off completely (way too big!) I put my mouth against the shaft and licked it up and down, wetting as much of the cock as I could.

    Our eyes met, and that unspoken voice sounded from my lips. He sat up, and with gentle but obvious gestures he turned me over. I braced myself against the desk, and then Mark's hot and wet organ slid into my waiting asshole and began to enter my body.

    I felt completely satisfied, pushed to the utter limits of my orgasm as his huge rod slammed against my trim ass, stimulating me more than I can say. Our reflection in the dark window was also really hot to watch; from the side profile, I could see everything. The look of domination and adulation on Mark's face was driving me wild, and I felt myself climax. When I looked down at the result of my fornication, I could see that I had successfully climaxed all over Bill's desk.

    Mark caught on. He pulled out as he was reaching his limit and I held the cock I loved so much as he emptied his erection onto the rest of the desk. The homophobe's desk was completely covered with juice.

    "He's gonna flip," said Mark as we sat there, in the dark, putting our clothes back on and fondling each other's bodies.

    "I'll come in and clean it up tomorrow before the maintenance crew gets here," I replied. "It'll dry; when I set the papers on there it won't be a problem tomorrow. I'll just make sure the janitors don't wash it away. We want to make Bill squirm when we really do tell him, right?"

    Mark smiled and kissed me, and I felt so happy, so relieved all of a sudden. Yeah, work was a major bitch, and Bill was the biggest jerk I could think of, but somehow this kid had changed everything. I knew there was no way I could ever let him go.

    "Ready to go home, Mark?" I stood up and pulled him to his feet.

    He looked up at me and put his arms around me, pressing our bodies together and putting his head into my neck. "I'd like that, Charles."


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