They were a pleasant couple, in their twenties, obviously from somewhere like South London judging by their accents and on holiday. They’d come to the café where I was working and always sat outside at a table in the sun. But we don’t often get English speaking visitors to the remote area I now live in and they were keen to chat and find out about the place they were visiting, from ‘a local’. The village where I live and work is high up in the mountains, the main tourist resorts are down on the coast but occasionally more intrepid holidaymakers choose to stay up in the mountains and forgo the beaches and night clubs.
After stopping at the bar a few times we got talking, I’d finished my shift and came to sit with them. They thought I was just being friendly. I was, but there was another motive too. As she, her name was Marie, asked endless questions about what it was like to live in the Canary islands during the winter, what were the houses like and so on, her boyfriend, Mark, sipped his beer and stared off into the distance. When I could, I took a glance at him, hoping to catch his eye and draw him into the conversation. It didn’t happen. Maybe he’d picked up on the fact that I found him attractive, maybe I made him feel uncomfortable, they knew I was gay, and she seemed thrilled by the fact. He seemed worried by it.
Eventually it seemed only polite that I invite them to come for drinks up at the villa so that they could see what a real ‘local’ house was like and take in the views I have from the roof. We made a date for the following evening and I told them how to find the place, saying that I would meet them at eight at the end of the lane.
And, at eight the following evening I was at the end of the cobbled street, sweating from the intense heat and waiting. After ten minutes I decide that they had changed their minds.
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Maybe Mark had persuaded her not to come, fearing some sort of ulterior motive was at play. I decided to give them another ten minutes.
And then I saw a figure in the distance, climbing laboriously up the steep path towards me. I recognised the boyfriend from his sturdy, solid frame. He wore shorts and boots and he seemed to be struggling with the effort of lifting his legs for each step he took. It was quite a climb from the café to this part of the village and I guessed that they were town people, not much used to walking. As he came closer he saw me and waved. Eventually he panted to a halt before me.
‘Jesus, that’s hard work mate,’ he gasped.
‘I should have warned you. Where’s Marie?’
‘Long story, but in a nutshell she had too much Bacardi last night and too much sun today. She’s flat out in bed. ’
My heart did a back flip as I realised I would have him on my own for a couple of hours. He was slightly tanned from his holiday and this added the dark looks he already had. His short black hair was glistening with beads of sweat and his blue eyes glinted out from under dark brows as he looked at me, smiled and shook his head.
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‘I’m not walking up here again,’ he laughed. ‘I just came to tell you that we can’t make it tonight. Sorry to let you down but Marie’s not up to it. ’
And my heart sank.
‘You’re almost there now,’ I said, thinking quickly. ‘You may as well stop for a beer. There’s the house. ’ I pointed up hill. My house was only four doors away.
He looked uncertain. ‘Honestly mate, another time. ’
‘Come on, you can cool down before setting off again,’ I said and turned, giving him no choice but to follow.
‘Just a quick one then,’ I heard him say and he definitely sounded uncomfortable.
I showed him into the living room and he went straight to the wide patio doors. Beyond these was the spectacular view of the valley below.
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Miles away and down the coast line ran from east to west and the sun was just nearing the sea where it would soon set.
‘Nice house,’ he said. ‘Nice view. ’
‘Thanks,’ I replied. His tee shirt was stuck to his back with sweat, darkened in patches between his shoulder blades. His shorts hung over his arse and, where they too were heavy with sweat, they clung to his cheeks and accentuated their roundness. The view I was looking at was just as good.
‘Beer?’ I asked.
‘Cheers. ’
When I returned from the kitchen he was still standing at the window looking out. I invited him to come and sit.
‘Don’t want to get your sofa messed up mate,’ he said looking at the leather sofa I had sat on and indicating his sweaty clothes.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I smiled. ‘It will wipe clean. ’
He thought for a moment and then chose to sit opposite me on one of the matching chairs.
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I’d worn my own brand of football shorts for the evening, silky and cool and, with nothing on underneath them I knew that I had to watch how I sat. If I lifted my leg up and placed my foot on the sofa, as I usually did, the shorts would stretch to show off my packet. And if I moved my other leg to one side slightly then the leg of my shorts would hang open and anyone sitting opposite would be able to see that I was wearing nothing beneath them. For the moment I sat with my legs together.
Instinctively I offered him a cigarette.
‘No thanks mate, I don’t smoke… cigarettes. ’ There was an impish twinkle in his eye and he winked. Without making any reaction at all I offered a cigarette box from the coffee table between us.
‘Something stronger then?’ I opened the lid to show him a few ready rolled joints. He practically licked his lips as he helped himself.
We smoked in silence, the sun set far away and the light in the room dimmed. I turned on a table lamp, crossed the room and put on some music. He finished his beer quickly and refused a second. When I sat down again I noticed that he had changed position. He was no longer sitting upright and ridged but had slipped back in his chair a little, he looked more relaxed.
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‘So how long have you and Marie been together?’ I asked, feeling that some sort of conversation should be started.
‘Only a few months,’ he replied and that was all he had to say.
‘She’s very pretty,’ I complemented, ‘you’ve done well. ’
‘Ta. ’ He looked around the room. ‘It’s a posh place you got here, what do you do for money?’
It was a bit of a direct question, but reasonable. It was obvious that I hadn’t made my money from working in a sleepy, Spanish bar half way up a mountain.
‘Photography,’ I said simply.
‘Yeah? Neat. ’ He took a long, deep drag on his joint and held it in. I did the same and, without thinking pulled my right leg up onto the sofa.
As he exhaled his eyes dropped and his gaze fell directly on the front of my shorts. I rubbed my bare foot and lowered it to the floor again. He looked up at my face.
‘What kind of photography?’ he asked and I noticed that his speech was already a little slurred.
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I slid a book across the coffee table to him and he picked it up. Opened it, looked at a few pages and then closed it again.
‘Oh,’ he said blankly.
‘Not your kind of thing?’ I asked with a smile.
‘Not really mate. Got any with naked women?’
‘I only photograph male nudes. ’
‘Oh. ’
He changed again, became more uncomfortable and looked at his watch.
‘I should go,’ he said and started to stand.
‘Calm down,’ I said with a laugh. ‘You’re quite safe. I turned off the hidden cameras before you came. ’
He looked at me in shock and then decided that I was joking and a ladish grin spread across his face.
‘Finish your joint first,’ I said. ‘Or have another if you like.
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’
He did. Half way through the second one, when we had been sitting in silence for about five minutes, he suddenly sat upright.
‘Are you o. k. ?’ I asked, concerned in case the dope had made him feel sick.
‘You’re a professional?’ he said it more as a statement than a question.
‘Yes I am,’ I replied indicating the book on the coffee table. ‘I have published several volumes all over the world. ’
‘Would you take a picture of me?’
‘I don’t do holiday snaps,’ I laughed. But he was serious.
‘No, I mean like them in the book. ’
‘Nude?’
‘Yeah. ’
‘Well I could do. ’ I had no idea where this sudden interest had come from and assumed it was the dope talking. ‘What would Marie say though?’
‘I wouldn’t tell her.
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’
‘So what would you use the pictures for?’
‘I dunno. Forget it. ’
‘It’s up to you. I’m happy to do it, if you want. ’
‘How much would you charge?’ he suddenly realised that I might want paying. It was, after all, my job.
‘We’d work something out,’ I said and lifted my foot onto the sofa again.
This time he looked into my crotch quickly and kept his eyes there. I shifted my left leg and knew that he could now see up the leg of my shorts. If I was hinting at something he knew what it was. I could feel cool air whisper around my semi hard cock that now lay against my inner thigh. He slid back in his chair and it was my turn to look at the front of his shorts. The white material fell back against his groin, defining the shape of what lay beneath. His legs, stocky and hairy, were pushed out in front of him and he crossed his ankles, his dusty boots resting on each other.
‘That would make a good shot,’ I said.
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‘Try putting your hands behind your head. ’
He gave me a quizzical look and then his cheeky grin returned. ‘Yeah?’ he asked. ‘Like this?’
I nodded. With his hands behind his head his body was fully stretched out.
His tee shirt, now dry, had risen up from his shorts and revealed a line of dark hair running down from his navel. His stomach looked as though it had once been taught but was now slightly flabby from beer and a sedentary lifestyle. But his face glowed, his eyes were half closed and he looked like some young teenager waiting for his first kiss.
‘Don’t move,’ I said.
When I came back from my studio, camera in hand, he was in the same position. The only thing that had changed was the look in his eyes. They had closed further and he looked stoned.
‘Open your eyes a little,’ I instructed as I set the camera.
He did and they were red. That was o.
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k. I was using my digital camera and set it to black and white.
‘Now what?’ he asked after I had taken a couple of shots.
‘Pull your shirt up a little,’ I switched from looking through the view finder to looking directly at him, keeping my professional attitude.
‘Like this mate?’ He kept one hand behind his head while he used the other to drag his shirt up to his chest. He was playing with me, being as seductive as he could but not making a very good job of it.
‘No, put your palm flat on your stomach, that’s it. Now slowly draw it up so the shirt gathers on your wrist. ’
The movement revealed his flesh to me slowly. Tanned, covered with a slight matt of dark hair. He looked down at what he was doing.
‘Look at the camera,’ I said.
He looked at it and smiled a tourist’s false smile.
‘Relax,’ I laughed. He frowned.
‘What?’
‘This isn’t one for the family album. Imagine that the camera is some girl you’re trying to pull, flirt with it. ’
He snorted, coughed and said, ‘alright darling?’ directly to the camera.
‘O. k. ’ I put the camera down. ‘This isn’t going to work. ’
‘Oh no, come on mate. I’ll try harder. Just tell me what to do, talk me through it, o. k. ?’
‘O. k. ’
I checked the room, where would be a good place to photograph him?
‘Follow me,’ I said and went into the hall.
When he came from the living room, staggering a little and giggling, I was standing by the bathroom door.
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I nodded my head in the direction of the bathroom.
‘Straight up?’ he said incredulously.
‘You want to do this right don’t you?’
He shrugged and stepped inside. The bathroom was large. It had a marble corner bath with gold plated taps and a shower over it. The whole room was carpeted and lit by tiny spotlights hidden in the ceiling. He whistled admiringly as he went in.
‘Here we go,’ I said, my professional voice returning. ‘What I want you to do Mark, is this: put one foot up on the edge of the bath and start to undo your boots. That’s it, look this way. Turn a little away from me. ’
This movement accentuated the shape of his arse, his football shorts pulled tight around it.
‘You’re a soccer star just off the field. You’re gunna take a bath, get yourself ready for a night on the town with the girls, o. k.
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?’
‘Sure. ’
‘So, undo the lace, take the boot off and drop it, that’s it. Now, change sides and do the same with the other. Let me get a close up. ’
I crouched down in front of him and pointed the camera to his foot. His hands were trembling on his Doc Marten boot, grey from street dust.
‘Relax,’ I reminded him. ‘Let the dope do its work and let yourself go. You just won the game, no need to be nervous. ’
‘Sorry mate. ’
I panned out. In the view finder I could just see the hem of his shorts. I tilted upwards and snapped the front. No bulge, nothing showing. A dead shot.
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I stood back a little.
‘O. k. , now the fun part. Lean over and turn the shower on. It’s the knob there. ’
He did as he was told. As he reached across the bath his shirt rode up at the back revealing the base of his spine. I saw a smooth back with no hair, the top of his arse crack just visible from the top of his shorts. Water started to pour out from the shower.
‘Give it a moment to warm up and then get in. ’
‘What?’
‘Get in the bath. ’
‘Sure?’
‘Yup. ’
He did and stood there facing me with the shower pouring into the bath behind him.
‘O.
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k. Mark, do exactly as I say and we’ll have you on the front cover of Esquire. ’ For one horrible moment I thought he believed me, he nodded keenly like an obedient school boy.
‘Lift your arms to your head and clasp your hands behind. That’s it, now tilt your head back and get it wet. Further. ’
He put his face under the shower, water jetted out all around him, bouncing off his face and wetting his shirt. It started to stick to his chest again and, with him leaning back, his chest showed through hard and defined.
‘Now shake your head, wash that football match out of your hair. Open your mouth, let the water trickle into your throat, let it bubble out over your chin and run down your body. Feel good? O. k. step forward and slowly, very slowly remove your shirt. Pull it up from the bottom and over your head. ’
Slowly his naked chest came into view.
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Between his pecs a line of black hair formed a wet covering, around his nipples more dark hair hung matted and soaked. His dark, pink nipples stood out against the water that rained on them from above.
‘That’s it, Mark, nice and slow. Hold it there. ’
His shirt was covering his head. All there was in the viewfinder was a naked torso and the outline of his face pressing against the sodden material.
‘And now all the way off, chuck it away. Good lad. ’ I kept talking to him now that he was getting into the shoot, I didn’t want him to lose the impetus or change his mind. ‘Now turn away from me, get under again. That’s it. Take some of that shower wash there and cover yourself. Go on, get the mud and sweat from the football field out of your skin. Massage it in, all over your chest, under your arms, around your neck. ’
I photographed each change in his muscles as he lathered his upper body.
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I focused in on his hands as they smeared froth around the back of his neck and shot the glistening, short hair on the back of his head. I followed the rivulets of soap as they meandered down his spine and slid across the rounds of his backside. Jealous of their ability to caress the full, smooth shorts I moved the viewfinder to his legs, shot the backs of his knees, then travelled up again, framed the sodden football shorts that clung to his lad’s arse and defined its dark crack. And then further up again to the strong shoulders, all the time encouraging him.
‘Rub it in Mark. Imagine that there’s a girl in there with you and she’s doing it. ’ I had a plan here. I wanted him turned on when he turned around. ‘Can you feel those soft, delicate fingers massaging your skin? Can you feel her hands playing over your chest? She’s taking your nipples between her fingers now. Her nails are pinching into them, gently, sensuously. She wants you Mark, she wants to go down and take your hard cock in her hands, guide it to her soft lips and lick her tongue gently along your length. You’re the star; she’s yours to do what you want with. And she’s going to make you come as you pump your straight man cock into her young mouth. ’
His hands had slipped down his chest, played with his nipples and were now pushing into the tops of his shorts.
‘Turn to me now Mark, turn slowly and play your hands over your stomach.
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’
He did. His shorts were almost transparent now, a thick, stocky and dark cock was pressing against them. The pinkness of his cock head showed through the white material as he turned to face me. Above this a black shadow showed where his bushy pubes were and below his cock I could see his balls hanging free and warm.
‘Put your hands over your shaft, hold it through the shorts. Let it show. Let her see what a huge pole you have. Can you feel her breathing on it? Can you feel the water running into your shorts and trickling past your arse? Can you feel her fingers as she takes your cock and slowly wanks it, bringing it all the time closer to her mouth? That’s good Mark, that’s really hot. You’re turning her on. She’s begging you for it.
Now, hands inside your shorts. Push them down, slowly mate, slowly let her see what you’ve got. ’
His eyes were closed, his smile broad. It was as if he was in a trance now, feeling this unseen girl as she undressed him when all the time he was undressing for me. His shorts were lowered.
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His pubes came into view, thick and black and then the wide base of his solid cock. Slowly the shorts were pushed lower and his shaft was revealed, stocky and fat with a network of veins full and pumping. And then his head broke free, his cock snapped up, slapped against his bush and pointed straight at me. Still the shorts came lower. His balls swung free, hanging heavy in their stretched sack.
‘Turn around again,’ I ordered. He did as he was told. ‘Now bend down to take your shorts right off, push them all the way down to your ankles, and bend. That’s a good lad. ’
In this position his arse was forced open and I zoomed in on the wrinkled, dark hole hiding in amid the forest of hair.
‘That’s good. Now step out of them, stand up, turn to face me, good lad. Rub the soap over your chest. That’s it, massage it in, squeeze your nipples. Nice.
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Hey, I like the smile, that’s a wicked smile you have Mark. You’re a good looking lad. No wonder the girls want you to fuck them. Now move your hands lower, rub your palms over your stomach, lower Mark, feel your pubes. Get your fingers in there, twist them, scratch your skin in there with your nails. That’s it, you can be rough. You’re a tough lad. Now run your hands under your balls, take them in your fist, lock them in there, pull them up, show her, show her your balls, that’s it. Feels good doesn’t it?’
‘Feels great,’ he murmured.
‘Now imagine she’s at your cock again. You’re the star, you’re the hero, the player with the biggest cock. She’s on her knees. Take your cock in one hand, grip it at the base, grasp it, feel your power as you shove it in her mouth. That’s it, it’s into her throat, feel her warmth around it. ’
The water was still running down his body, running streams around his hands, hot water splashing over his inflamed cock head, his slit opening to let his pre cum ooze out.
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‘Take your other hand, feel you arse. Run your palm around it. Feel into your crack, feels good doesn’t it? Let a finger play on your hole. ’
He gasped and stretched his body up rigid when he found his hole. ‘Feels so good,’ he whispered to himself. I shot him as he opened his mouth, speaking through his smile.
‘Let it slide in further Mark, try it, see how it feels. ’
‘Yeah, that’s great,’ he said.
I had trouble hearing over the sound of the running water but I could read his expression. He was talking to himself through his trance. ‘That feels real good. ’ He was well into this now.
‘And think Mark. Think what you want to happen next. What does she do to you? What do you want to happen now?’
All the time my camera was clicking away, I had over one hundred shots now, there was nothing left to photograph apart from his cum, and I knew that was not far away.
I put the camera to one side and stepped forward.
‘Tell me Mark, tell me what happens next. ’
I could see that he was fucking is tight arse with a finger behind him, his hips were thrust forward and he was slowly wanking his foreskin back and forth over his fat, purple head. His mouth was open slightly, water running in and trickling out. His eyes still shut.
‘Suck me,’ he whispered.
‘I didn’t hear you,’ I lied.
‘Suck me,’ he said it louder.
‘I can’t hear you. ’
‘Please, suck me! Someone suck my cock. ’
I stepped into the bath. The warm water immediately soaked my clothes. I put one arm around him, and turned off the shower.
His eyes snapped open. They were inches away from mine, our bodies touching.
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I could feel his fist as it pumped on his shaft and banged against my belly, his cock head pressed against my shorts.
Without saying a word I put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently to his knees.
‘You first,’ I said.
I expected him to resist but he didn’t. Before I knew it he had pulled my shorts down and his mouth was around my swollen cock. I held his head and pushed it into my groin, gyrated my hips so that I could feel his straight face buried in my pubes. I used his head to wank myself, grasping him firmly and thumping my hips against him like I was giving him some sort of punishment. His hands gripped my legs to steady himself and I could hear him grunt with surprise at what he was doing, what he was tasting. What he was enjoying.
I looked up at the shower hanging overhead, to the fitting that held it to the wall, and winked.
And then I felt myself about to unload.
‘I’m coming Mark,’ I said and held my cock in his throat. ‘I’m going to fill your mouth with cum. ’ I pulled back out. ‘You want to find out what a man’s cum tastes like?’ I thrust back in again, my legs were shaking.
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‘You want to feel the hot splash of juice on the back of your throat?’ I drew right out, tilted his head so that he looked up at me. His eyes were wide, begging. ‘Do you?’
He didn’t answer, just dived onto my cock again and pulled me into his face. He feasted greedily, grunting, panting; desperate to find out what another man tasted like. I showed him. I heard him gag, felt my own hot cum fill his mouth around my cock, felt myself jerk against him, heard him whimper, give in, accept it. And I pumped him until I could stand it no longer. My cock slipped from his mouth and I drew him up to me so that we were staring into each other’s eyes. He opened his mouth and I could see it was still full with my juice. And, with it still open, he swallowed it all.
His cock was pressing against my wet thigh, his chest against my shirt. I turned him to the side and put one arm around him, stroked the fur on his arse cheeks and then let two fingers slip into his tight, hot hole. His eyes widened in surprise. With my other hand I tickled and stroked his balls. I didn’t touch his cock.
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‘Feel that inside you,’ I whispered into his ear. ‘Feel how good it is to let someone give you so much pleasure. ’
‘Wank me please,’ he said desperately.
‘I am,’ I replied and started sliding my fingers in and out of his arse, all the time teasing his balls.
He jolted and squirmed, tried to grasp his cock, I pushed his hands away. Instead he grabbed mine, it stiffened again, painful but willing. I could feel his body twist and slide against mine as I massaged him inside. I heard him swear, pant, whimper in disbelief. I could smell his sweat, his breath and could feel his heart racing in his chest.
‘Just imagine that’s my cock in there, fucking you. ’
My words whispered into his ear and were followed by my tongue as I licked him, tasted him. I felt his hair against my forehead.
‘Jesus,’ he said, ‘I’m gunna…. ’
‘I know, just let it happen. ’
‘Wank my cock… oh fuck.
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’
I had three fingers in him now, each thrust of my hand lifting him to his toes. I twisted his balls into my hand and pulled them down. I turned him so that his cock was pressed against me, sliding up under my shirt and rubbing against my stomach. He grappled for my cock. His pulling on my tool got stronger, more desperate.
‘Oh no,’ he started to grunt short gasps of abandon. ‘I’m coming, fuck, fuck, fuck me. Harder. ’
As I slid my fingers into him I drew him towards me, his cock rubbed against me and I jerked down on his balls. And then I felt it. A long, scorching stream of straight lad’s cum shot up my stomach and warmed my flesh.
I looked into his eyes, wide, blue, his dark brows raised in confusion. And I wrapped my lips around his. Our tongues fought. Another stream of hot juice splattered under my wet shirt and I could feel his cock slide around in his own cum as he fucked it against me.
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My fingers reached into him deeper and I pulled him to me tighter.
My cock spat for a second time, covering his hand with my own spunk as he pulled in un-rhythmic jerking movements. I kept my fingers inside him, played my thumb around the top of his arse, removed my other hand from his balls and held the back of his head, pushed him closer to me, held us together as he subsided. All there was left to do then was kiss and he explored my mouth with his like he knew this was the only chance he would get to kiss another man.
Slowly, I let my fingers leave him, but I kept my palm against his arse, enjoying the feeling of his skin, knowing that I held a straight guy in my arms and that he was kissing me, holding my cock. Knowing that he had asked me to fuck him, asked me to suck him. And knowing that those pleasures were yet to come.
I looked over his shoulder and back up to the shower fitting. The small, black-glass plate reflected the lights from the ceiling. Behind the glass the tiny red light was still showing. And I knew that I had it all on tape.
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