8 comments/ 26647 views/ 12 favorites Lars By: ChestersBoi This one takes a while to build so be patient with it and it will reward you in the end. A special thank you to Bill who looked it over and checked that all was well "Ah, Andy, come on in," Trev, my team leader said when I knocked on the open door of his office. I went on in and sat in the chair next to his desk. "I wanted to speak to you away from the others. This new system we're implementing, I've been looking through the budget and there's quite a bit allocated for training. Most of it will be on-site but we need someone to become our in-house expert and, as you've pretty much taken the lead on this one, I thought that, as a reward, you should get first dibs." "That sounds interesting. What's involved," I asked. "Well, I've looked at the list of what they offer on their web site and they have a week long course called CMDB for Administrators. That sounds like just the thing to set you up as our in house guru. Their training facility is based in Slough but you can't have everything. They've got one starting in July. Now how are your personal commitments?" We had a bit of a laugh about my spending a week in Slough but, for all its reputation, I've been there and it's really just another town so if the company want to send me there for a week's training then that's fine by me. As for my personal commitments, well, I wasn't going to let anything come in the way of an opportunity like this so whatever suited them, suited me. And so, to cut a long story short, two months later, I arrived at the Regency Hotel and Conference Centre, one of those big complexes complete with a health club which was a stone's throw from where the training was to be held. I'd been booked in there because it was the hotel recommended in the blurb the training people had sent me. It was a pretty posh place but the firm were paying so I didn't mind. I found a place for my car in the underground car park, took my bag out of the back and made my way up towards reception. It was quite a long walk which took me through the health club part of the complex. The walkway had windows right the way along one side through which you could the look in at the handful of people working away on impressive selection of gym hardware; treadmills, weights, rowing machines, the works. They also had quite a reasonable swimming pool which was empty except for one man swimming a very presentable butterfly. While I watched he got to the end of the pool and pulled himself out, water streaming from his body. Although he wasn't exactly Arnie Schwarzenegger he was obviously no stranger to the gym and he looked pretty fit. I wouldn't be human if I didn't check out his Speedos and, yes, the bulge there was pretty impressive as well. And then he saw me looking and gave me a wave. I hadn't even realised that I had stopped to watch him so, slightly embarrassed at staring at him like that, I smiled back before hurrying on to reception. After I had unpacked I went back down to the bar. My room was at the lower end of the range provided by the hotel and, while it was clean and comfortable, it wasn't the nicest place just to hang out. Anyway, the Arsenal match was on the telly and it's more fun to watch in the bar rather than stuck on your own in the room. I bought myself a pint of gassy, overpriced lager and looked around for a suitable place to park myself. I found a sofa facing the TV which, along with two armchairs, was grouped around a table. I put my pint down on the table and sat back. Sorted! I'm there for the duration. However, the match is well under way when I hear someone asking "excuse me, may I sit here?" I look up and it's the guy from the swimming pool. He's holding a pint and looking around for a place to watch the match. By now the bar is quite crowded and, as both the armchairs at my table are still empty, it would have been churlish to refuse. Anyway, it's nice to have company. Well, for once, Arsenal weren't playing so badly and they did credit to themselves. Moreover, it was a cracker of a match to watch and I was pretty buzzed afterwards. "So, are you a big Arsenal fan?" the guy from the pool asks when the match was over and the TV had moved on to cricket from the West Indies. "No, I support Blackpool but they're only Championship League which means they don't get on the telly very often," I replied with a wry grin. "Ah, but they had a pretty good season in the Premier League last year. I was sorry to see them relegated." And that was it. It turned out that, like me, he was pretty big on footie and, once we got chatting, there was no stopping us. I don't think I have ever hit it off so quickly with anyone. He told me his name was Lars and he was from Aarhus in Denmark and that he was over in Britain for a meeting of top managers from the international company he worked for. Despite being Danish he spoke perfect English and his knowledge of the Premier league was spot on. He was quite a bit older than me, I would guess that he must have been in his forties, but he didn't come across like my dad or anything like that. After a while he got up and bought me a second pint, and, later on, he stood up on his way to getting a third. "But I should buy this round," I protested. "Nonsense! I'm on expenses. I'll put this down under entertaining clients. Anyway, a Blackpool supporter needs all the help he can get. Now, another Carlsburg, wasn't it? Although, believe me, the Carlsburg you get here is nowhere near as good as it is back home." I watched him make his way to the bar. To tell the truth, I'd been watching him ever since he had sat down. There was something about him; on the surface he was smart and well presented, but looking at him it was easy to see that Viking blood ran in his veins. I could picture him at the helm of a longship just as easily as I could picture him behind a desk. When he came back from the bar instead of returning to his armchair he sat on the sofa next to me. I shoved up to give him some room. Having him so close made me a little uneasy but, as I was drinking his beer, I didn't say anything. "So," he said, as we supped our pints together, "do you like swimming?" "Err... yes, a bit. Why do you ask?" "I saw you watching me in the pool. I like to swim. It is good for the heart." "I guess it must be. You're certainly very fit." "I like to keep fit. It's important to keep fit. Tomorrow we must swim together, then we can keep fit together." "I'd like to but... but I didn't bring any swimming trunks," I replied with a sense of relief that I had got out of that one. "But you must swim! It is important. How else will you stay fit for football," he insisted and, as he did so, he put his hand on my knee. Having his hand on my knee put me into a complete tailspin. Part of me wanted to scream 'get your hands off me' but another part... another part was completely confused over how I felt. The bar, by now, was all but empty and the sofa was placed in such a way that the staff wouldn't notice but that was the least of my concerns. If having him sit next to me was disturbing then this was doubly so. Maybe this sort of intimacy was normal in Denmark but it certainly wasn't where I come from. It was as if... as if... as if he were making a pass at me. I looked at him and he smiled back. "I'm... I'm more of a watcher than a player," I stuttered. "Oh, I think you could be a player as well. My hand," he glanced down at my knee, "it seems to bother you?" "It does a bit," I admitted "Then I shall move it." And that's exactly what he did. But, although he removed his hand he still sat close to me on the sofa and, as we continued to sup our beer and chat I began to get used to having him so close. There was an intimacy between us, just the two of us sitting there while the barman polished glasses behind the bar. We may have only just met but, already, there was a familiarity, one where it was quite OK for us to sit this close together. More than that, I had the strangest feeling that, somehow, I wanted to snuggle up to him. It must have been a combination of the tiredness and the beer because I can't think where else it came from. When I came to the end of the third pint I made my excuses and said that it was time for me to go to bed. Lars agreed and together we walked to the lifts. I was only going to the fourth floor but Lars, of course, had a room on the eighteenth, right at the top, where the executive suites are. "It's a nice room, you should come and see it," Lars said, half joking. Wondering just how big was the half that was not joking, I just smiled until I was saved by the lift arriving at my floor. The lift doors opened and Lars reached for the button that holds the doors open. "Goodnight, Lars, thanks for the drink," I said but, as I made to leave the lift her reached out with his free hand, pulled me into him and kissed me, hard. For a moment I was too stunned to move and, as he was much stronger than me, I couldn't move much anyway. His mouth clamped over mine and I could feel his tongue probing. I didn't know how to react, I didn't know what to do, but then panic overtook me, I twisted away from him and dashed out of the lift and down the corridor. The last thing I heard was his shout of 'swimming tomorrow, don't forget' following behind me. I locked the room door behind me and lay down on the bed. He'd kissed me! How dare he! I'd never, ever had anything like that done to me before. It had been..., it had been..., I couldn't find the words to describe how it had been but, more than anything else, it had been a bit frightening. For that moment I had been overwhelmed I had felt powerless, unable to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. The suave, sophisticated, civilised man I had been talking to had shown his inner Viking, a Viking that took without asking, that took because he could. Rationally, I knew I should have been angry and maybe even a little bit repulsed. I mean, he's a guy, isn't he, and, judging from what I'd seen climbing out of the swimming pool, he was very much a guy. Now I'm not some sort of Neanderthal who thinks that gay sex is wicked or dirty or any such nonsense but I'm straight, straight as they come, and gay sex doesn't turn me on, does it? What's more, the way he had forced himself upon me, kissing me without a by-your-leave, that was half way to rape, wasn't it? But why then was my heart pounding and my pulse racing? Why, when I had been so outraged, had I done so little about it? Why hadn't I shouted or made a fuss? Why had my one response be to run away? And why then was a huge chunk of me wondering what would have happened if I hadn't run away. Why couldn't I stop wondering what would have happened if I had stayed and surrendered to the kiss? But, with three pints of lager inside me all these questions ran too deep so I stumbled to the bathroom and did my ablutions in preparation for bed. That night I had the strangest dream. It centred on the statue of the little mermaid, you know, the one in Copenhagen harbour, but, when I looked closely, although the body was undoubtedly feminine, the face was mine. I was stuck, immobile and immovable, stuck to the rock, unable to escape, when, erupting from the sea came Lars, looking just like a Viking. With a start I woke up. It would seem that Lars had really got to me. Then next morning I didn't see Lars in the dining room for breakfast and, feeling like I had dodged a bullet I left for the training course. Unless you're into Configuration Management there was precious little in the course to get excited about but I found it interesting and useful. Come five o'clock I'm arriving back at the hotel and making my way back to my room. But when I got there the red light on the phone was flashing which indicated that I had a message. I dialled zero and spoke to the operator. "Ah, yes, Mr Wilson, room four seven nine. We have a package for you down in reception. Would you like to collect it or shall I arrange for someone to bring it up?" "A package?" I queried. "I'm not expecting a package. "The label is quite clear. I believe it was dropped off at reception earlier today. I can have it sent up in no time, if you would like." "Err, yes, yes please," I replied. Five minutes later there's a knock on the door and, when I open it, there's one of the hotel staff holding a parcel wrapped in brown paper. It undoubtedly has my name and room number on it so, by now, I'm completely confused. I give them a couple of quid and take the parcel into the room. I open it up and there, inside... well, I'm not surprised any more. It's a pair of Speedos. I open them up and a note falls out. Swimming Pool 18:00 – Lars I looked at the Speedos. They were gorgeous, but then they would be, they're Speedos. I couldn't help but wonder what, by accepting them I saying 'yes' to? Were they even the right size? Well, there was an easy answer to that one. I slipped off my trousers and boxers and tried the Speedos on. They were perfect. Snug without being tight and, although I'm not the biggest fan of my body, they made the most of what I had. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to go down and do a few lengths of the pool. After all, now that I'd tried them on, it would seem a shame not to use them. As for the cost, well, maybe he felt he owed me after that kiss last night, maybe these were his way of saying sorry. So, the long and the short of it was that, come six o'clock, I was down at the pool and there he was as well. "Ah, perfect, they fit," he said as he came over. He looked me up and down and seemed to like what he saw. "I knew they were right for you. The colour, it matches your eyes." "Err... thank you," I replied. I wasn't at all sure about this but I could, at least be polite. What's more, to be fair, while he was checking me out I was looking him over and, yes, I was checking out the bulge in his Speedos. "So, who will be the fastest over ten lengths," he asked with a smile. "Come on, I'll race you." And, with that, he dived in. I followed. It was completely obvious to both of us that I hadn't got a chance but he must have slowed down so as not to embarrass me because we were pretty much neck and neck until the last length. Then he really pulled ahead so that, when I got to the end of the length, he was already sitting on the side of the pool. I rested my arms on the side and just hung there, half in and half out of the water, gasping for breath. He, on the other hand, was barely breathing heavily. "Not bad, but I think we must put in much more work to get you ready for football," he joked. "Even so, I think we have done enough for one day. Come, let us go and find somewhere to eat. The hotel restaurant is not good but I think I saw an interesting Indian place just a short drive away. Do you like Indian food?" "Indian food? Yes, that sounds fine," I replied. I wasn't planning on going out to eat but, as I was fast discovering, when Lars took control he made all the decisions. Anyway, I didn't mind the idea of going out for a curry. He helped me out of the water and, together, we made our way to the locker rooms. Here the showers were semi-open and, inevitably, we ended up stood completely naked and next to each other. Lars was completely unselfconscious about this and, as I didn't want to come across as some sort prude, I had to pretend I was completely OK with this as well. Now that the trunks were off I couldn't help but have a good look. Lars wasn't stiff or anything but, even so, it was plain that he was handsomely endowed. And then he caught me looking. "Do you like what you see?" he asked with a laugh. "Go on, have a good look. Don't be shy, I don't mind." I turned away, blushing like crazy. I hadn't been looking like that, really I hadn't but I could see why he might have thought that I was. That just made him laugh some more. Once we had got dressed we agreed to just drop our wet trunks back in our rooms and meet up, almost immediately so as to go out to eat. We took his hire car which was a pretty smart BMW and he drove maybe a couple of miles to a parade of shops. One of these was an Indian restaurant but it could not have been more different to the ones I usually went to. The food, reflecting the high number of immigrants in the area, was completely authentic and, naturally, it was served in an authentic manner. No chicken tikka marsala here. We were shown to a table and the waitress brought us a couple of pints of Cobra and some poppadoms as we checked out the menu. And, as we gorged ourselves on the rich, spicy food, and washed it down with Indian lager, I realised how much fun I was having. The food was great, the atmosphere was fantastic and Lars, Lars was just the best company ever. We laughed and we joked and we talked and we talked and I just wanted the evening to go on forever. Of course it couldn't and, eventually, we had to make our way back to the hotel. Lars explained that, as he had to drive back to the hotel, he was limiting himself to just the one pint whereas, if we went to the hotel bar, he could drink without worrying. We paid the bill. No, make that he paid the bill. He wouldn't even let me see how much it was. And then he led me out of the restaurant and we drove back to the hotel. When we got there the bar was quiet and, after we had bought our drinks, Lars led me over to a corner where we could sit without being disturbed. If the restaurant had been noisy and fun then this was cozy and intimate. I wasn't in the least surprised when Lars sat down on one of the sofas and patted the seat next to him indicating that we should sit together. Now we could really talk. We weren't laughing and joking as we had been in the restaurant, it was closer, I felt a real connection. I felt as if I could talk to Lars about anything and he would listen. He wouldn't judge, he wouldn't condescend, he wouldn't think any the less of me. In the end the bar staff wanted to close down for the night and, as it was getting late, it was time to make our way to our rooms. Once again we made our way to the lifts together, once again we got in together, once again we rode to the fourth floor and, when the door opened, I turned towards it and said "goodnight, Lars." "Goodnight, Andy," he replied. "Shall we swim again tomorrow?" "Yes, yes, I'd like that." "Until six o'clock, then. Goodnight." And then nothing. He just stood there. I was waiting, waiting to be kissed and... and nothing. I felt like a right pillock. We'd said our goodnights and now, here I was, just standing around waiting for nothing. "Goodnight, Lars," I repeated and then, after one more little pause, I left. I stormed down the corridor and into the room and just stopped myself from slamming the door behind me like some sort of petulant child. Where's my kiss, you bastard! Where's my kiss? And then I caught myself. I was angry, fuming, because he hadn't kissed me. How crazy was that! Hadn't I been angry the previous night because he had kissed me? It was just that the swimming, followed by the meal followed by our time in the bar had seemed like it was all leading up to a kiss, a kiss I might, or might not, have responded to. But why was I, a straight guy, getting all worked up about a guy not kissing me? Surely I didn't want him to. With a rare flash of insight I realised what it was all about. I wanted Lars to want to kiss me and then I wanted the power to choose, the power to say yes, or no, as appropriate. Of course this posed the question as to whether or not saying anything other than 'no' would ever have been appropriate. Surely a straight guy like myself would never say yes, would never agree to being kissed by another guy. But that ignored the memory of the thrill it had given me. If I were honest with myself then I was also angry because I had been deprived of the illicit excitement that yesterday's kiss had left me with. Because he had forced himself upon me I was absolved of responsibility and could avoid the question of whether I wanted it or not. The damn guy was doing my head in. I didn't know what I wanted or didn't want any more, whether I wanted to be kissed or didn't want to be kissed. And, if I did want to be kissed then, what did that imply? What else might I want to be 'forced upon me'? I thought quite seriously of not going swimming with him again but knew that, whatever my reservations, that, come six the following evening, I would end up down at the pool. Lars And so it turned out. I'd spent the whole of the next day thinking about meeting up with Lars and that hadn't helped my concentration one little bit. Given how much the company were paying for this training course I felt a little guilty. However, I couldn't get over how much I was looking forward to it. I wondered what he had planned for us. Indeed, I wondered whether he had anything planned for us beyond swimming. I need not have worried. Of course, when we met up at the pool, we started by swimming ten lengths. I put my heart and soul into it but there was no way I was going to be as fast as him. However, when I reached the end and surfaced, panting and exhausted, he gave me a great big beaming smile so I know he appreciated the effort. In the shower, afterwards, he was, once again, completely casual as if two men showering naked together was completely normal, which, of course, in a way it is. Even so, when he offered to scrub my back for me, I declined. After we had got dressed he told me that he had been recommended a gastropub out on the other side of Windsor. I normally find those places rather pretentious but, if that was where he wanted to go, then I had no complaints. When we got there it was OK but nothing special and, seeing as we were paying double what we had paid the night before, we weren't getting double the service, or anything like double the quality. In fact we both agreed that the Indian had been better value all round. Lars, of course, flatly refused my offer to pick up the tab. The pub was crowded and not really the place to sit and chat and, because of this, we were out quite early and it was still light. "It's far too nice to be sitting inside. Come, I know just the place," Lars said, leading me to his car. We drove a short distance and ended up in Windsor Great Park. Lars parked the car and we jumped out. "Let's walk off all that good food," Lars said as he strode off. I had to walk quite fast to keep up. Almost immediately he was leading us off the beaten track and into the wooded areas. As we got further and further from the paths he reached out and took my hand and that seemed perfectly normal. We it felt like we had been walking forever before he found a nice quiet spot where the turf underfoot was soft and springy. "This will do," he announced and he pulled me towards him, half tripped me, caught me as I fell and then lowered me to the ground. It was as neat as move as you could imagine. One moment we're walking hand in hand, the next I'm lying on my back on the ground with him perched over me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, pinning me down. "So, my little fawn, are you going to try and run away this time?" he asked but, before I could answer, he kissed me, hard, on the mouth. My whole body thrilled. A little prissy voice within me was trying to cry out 'No! No!' but a far more animal response was drowning it out with 'Yes, oh, yes!' I suppose I could have fought it but it just seemed so much easier to simply surrender. Whether by design or accident his knee was between my legs and, when he had bent down to kiss me the weight of his thigh pressed down on my prick. I felt his fingers gripping into my shoulders, tight enough to bruise but I wanted to feel them tighter. After a while he came up for air and, for heartbeat or two, just stared down at me. "You are not to say a word, do you understand?" his voice commanded. I, in a mixture of fear and exhilaration, nodded in response. He smiled back at me and his eyes remained locked onto mine. While still pinning me down with his left hand, he reached for the collar of my shirt with his right. I thought he was going to unbutton it, and, in a way, that is what he did. He looked at me with a great big smile and, with one vicious yank, ripped the front open wide. Whether it was buttons or cloth that gave way was immaterial, my chest was bare to the world. I gave a gasp but he just shook his head and shushed me quiet. Now that my shirt was out of the way, and, to make really sure that it was out of the way, he pushed the material as far back as it would go, he ran his hand over my body, almost as if he was checking for flaws. I just lay there. I didn't know what to do so I did nothing. The touch of his hand on my naked chest was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened to me and, in reaction, my prick was threatening to burst from my trousers. He wasn't gentle but, heaven knows, the last thing I wanted was for him to be gentle. His fingers sought out my nipple and pinched. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out. He shifted slightly and now his groin was resting against mine. Even through the layers of cloth I could feel that he was hard but then, so was I, rock hard. He moved again and, almost as if by accident, his prick was rubbing against mine. I would never have dreamed in a million years that anything like this could be so exciting but that's just what it was. I had never, ever, felt anything so incredibly sexy. Lars leaned forward again and I thought he was going to kiss me again but, instead, he reached out with his tongue and, like some sort of cat, licked my eyebrows. This very animal action had a deep tenderness which contrasted starkly with the stark brutality of how he had ripped my shirt. It was as if he were marking me, marking his property. His tongue moved on to my lips but not to kiss. Rather he prised them open and, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, he bit just up to the point of pain. Meanwhile his hand had made its way to the waistband of my chinos. I wondered if he was going to rip them open as well but, rather, his fingers were fiddling with the button, undoing it. The clash between my apprehension and anticipation was building to a climax. Was he really going to touch me there? Well, of course he was. Was he going to be rough or gentle? Which did I want? Whichever, I knew beyond doubt that I wanted him to touch my prick. Please touch my prick, please, please.... He undid the button at the waistband of my trousers, he undid my fly, his fingers slipped under the elasticated waist of my boxers and.... "What on earth do you think you two are doing! This is a public park! How dare you!" We both looked up and there was an elderly woman walking one of those small yappy dogs. I just wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Lars, on the other hand, just gave her a volley of what I assume was Danish. Of course, I couldn't understand a word but, but, judging by the tone of his voice, it probably translated to something along the lines of 'fuck off, bitch'. "Do you speak English?" the woman demanded. Lars just gave her another volley of Danish. "You're not allowed to do this here," the woman continued, speaking slowly and clearly as if to a child. "Do. You. Understand?" Lars waved his hand as if to dismiss her, as if he really couldn't be bothered. "Really! Bloody foreigners! No morals! You're disgusting! Perverts the two of you!" the woman exclaimed. "I'm going to call the police." And, with that, she stormed off. As she left I sat up and looked around. What, a few moments ago, had been one of the most exciting things ever to happen to me now looked pretty sordid. We were in public, my trousers were open and Lars had his hand inside them. I'm not sure if the woman was actually going to call the police and, if she did, whether we could get arrested for gross indecency or something like that but I certainly didn't want to find out. What's more, any sexiness had completely gone. My erection had evaporated like spit on a hot plate and the shrivelled peanut that was now my prick seemed to be trying to hide its face from this woman. "I'm sorry, I can't do this," I mumbled. "No, I too think it would be wise to move on," Lars agreed somewhat bitterly. "Please, can we just go back to the hotel," I said. "This shirt, it's ruined and I just want to get out of it." "OK", Lars agreed and he rolled off me and got to his feet. When I stood up the extent of the damage to my shirt became clear. Mostly it was a matter of the missing buttons but the material was ripped, one shoulder was wide open and it hung from me like a dish-rag. There was no way it was going to be repairable. I tried to pull it together in the front but to no avail and it was so torn I wasn't sure which was worse, wearing it or going topless. In the end I left it on. We made our way back to the car in silence; neither of us sure what to say to the other. In the car it wasn't too bad but, when we got back to the hotel I had to go through the embarrassment of the walk through the lobby. I had hoped it would be quiet but there was a party of American tourists booking in and they were milling about everywhere. As we went past I felt as if each and every one of them was staring at me. Lars tried to walk with me but, as far as I was concerned, that just made it more obvious. I might as well have had a big neon sign over my head saying 'pervert'. I felt sick to my stomach and just wanted this nightmare to be over. And then, when we got to the lift, one of the American families that had just booked in was waiting there and, when the lift arrived, there was no other option than to get in with them. The mother was giving me the most awful stares and, as far as the two teenage kids were concerned, I was more interesting than their proposed visit to Legoland the next day. I just hung my head in shame and stood as far away from Lars as possible. When we got to the fourth floor I couldn't even bring myself to acknowledge his presence and just left, wishing to get to my room as quick as I could. By the time I got there I was all but crying. The evening had started out so well; I'd been having a great time. I really liked Lars, he was so easy to be with and he made me feel so special and then, all of a sudden, it had all gone wrong and I had been caught heavy petting with another guy in the middle of Windsor Great Park. I didn't actually have my prick out but I might as well have done. My cheeks burnt with embarrassment at the memory. I'll never forget how it felt when that woman had arrived! Oh my god, whatever could she have thought. It had all been Lars' fault. It was Lars who had led me along, Lars who had forced me to the ground, Lars who had started it all. One minute Lars had been the perfect gentleman, one minute you couldn't ask for more and then, the next minute, he's ripping off my shirt and sticking his hand down my trousers. But, for all my embarrassment, that's where it all got complicated. For, however much I would like to blame everything on Lars, I had to accept that I hadn't exactly said 'no' at any point. Even when he had bundled me to the ground, pinning me down, I hadn't really fought him off. And, when his hand had slipped beneath the waistband of my boxers, stopping him had been the last thing on my mind. What is more, even with the embarrassment it had led to, I had to know what Lars was about to do. Oh, I'm not that innocent that I didn't know in general terms but, right there, right then, how far was he proposing to go? There was no doubt his hand was heading for my prick but what then? Was touching my prick all that he was going to do? Would it be all that I would want him to do? Where was this leading? What more did he want from me? I couldn't help but feel that, crushed beneath him like that, I would have given him anything he wanted, anything at all. And if I was prepared to surrender, what did that make me? Was I then a fag, a poof, a homo, a fairy, a bender, an arse bandit, a fudge packer, an.... Oh, the list is endless and, for all that we live in an enlightened time, there's still all the nasty names we learn at school. Queer bashing may have become socially unacceptable but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Enough, enough, my head was hurting. I turned on the telly and, because there was fuck all else to watch, ended up falling asleep to Big Brother. I went through the next day in a haze. I hadn't slept well and I couldn't stop wondering whether I was going to see Lars or not and, if I did, what was going to happen between us. We'd swapped mobile numbers but he hadn't called. I assumed, as with the Speedos, he would contact my hotel room. When I got back from the course I went straight back to my room expecting to find the message light flashing on my phone. I opened the door and went over to find... nothing. I was gutted. There were no messages. None at all. I even phoned down to reception to check. No, there were definitely no messages for a Mr Wilson, or my room. Up until that point I hadn't realised just how much I had been looking forward to seeing Lars. Sure, I was going to give him a piece of my mind about what he had got me into but, if he wasn't there, then even that pleasure was denied me. I didn't know what to do with myself. I certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of calling him on his mobile. Let him come to me! I switched on the telly but all the programs were kids stuff or games shows. I picked up the mag I had bought but its laddishness bored me and the 'D' list celeb posing in her undies didn't do anything for me at all. I thought about going swimming but, without Lars, there didn't seem to be much point. I ached to see him, I know it sounds daft, but I physically ached. In the end I kicked off my shoes and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling wondering whether I could even be bothered to go out to eat that evening. Maybe I'd just get room service and sit in front of the telly. It was nigh on half past six and I was about as miserable as I could be when my mobile rang. I picked it up but didn't recognise the number that was calling. "Yeah," I said when I pressed answer. "Andy, this is Lars. I'm sorry it's so late. I meant to phone earlier but I couldn't get away. I think I owe you a shirt. Will you let me buy you one?" "Lars!" my heart leapt. "I thought... I... err... shirt... yeah... I..." "Shall we meet in the lobby in, say, five minutes?" "I'll be there." I jumped off the bed and put on my shoes. It was as if the sun had just come out on a cloudy day. I felt so much better. I wasn't waiting five minutes. I was ready, ready for anything. I grabbed my jacket and went down to the lobby. A few minutes later and Lars appeared and I couldn't help grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Ah, my young friend, are you ready to go? I think Slough is not so good for shopping at this time of an evening so we must go into London. I am told that the Westfield at Shepherds Bush stays open until ten o'clock. Shall we go?" We went down to his car and, as we walked through the car park he reached out and held my hand. Any thoughts about what was 'proper' or 'appropriate' went right out of the window. It felt good to be walking together like this. As ever, he was the perfect gentleman, opening the door of the car for me before going round and getting in himself. Then he lent across and patted me on the knee. "Let's go and buy you a shirt." "Yes, please." And we were off. The M4 is pretty crowded at that time of night but, even so, we were parking up in the Westfield within forty minutes. I was blown away. This was fabulous and, of course, with Lars, we weren't going for Marks and Spencer or anything like that. Only the best for him and, by extension, only the best for me. He took me into this top of the range place and it was a bit like that Pretty Woman film that I girl I knew once dragged me to. Only here I'm the Julia Roberts character. Wow, did they have some posh stuff or what! At first he has to choose exactly the right shirt and then, because my trousers don't match, they have to be replaced as well. And then there's a new pair of shoes, and, after that, another shirt because it looks just as good as the first one. I started to complain that he was spending far, far too much on me but he just brushed my objections aside and, to cut a long story short, before too long I was walking out looking like a million dollars and carrying two overladen bags of new clothes. I've no idea what the final price tag was but it must have been well into four figures "You've been incredibly generous," I said as we walked back to the car. "And why should I not want my boy to look his best. You look very smart, very sexy, and that pleases me. Now, I know just the place to dine." Putting his hand in the small of my back he guided me towards his car. And then, at the restaurant, he was attentiveness itself. He even pulled back my chair for me as we sat down. As ever, he was so easy to talk to and the evening just flew by. By the time we were once again heading west on the M4 back towards Slough I was as relaxed as I had ever been. "How about a nightcap?" Lars asked as we walked from his car into the hotel. "That sounds great," I replied. "The bar is a little too public. I've got a bottle in my room. Why don't you come on up and we'll share it," he suggested. And so, this time, I didn't get out on the fourth floor but let myself be carried on up with him to the eighteenth. Still hand in hand, he led me to his room and let me in. Talk about how the other half live. His room was enormous and with fantastic views. It was split into three parts, a living area, a bedroom area and a kitchenette. And the bed, what a bed, it was big enough to hold a football match and still have room for a running track around the outside. I went over to the window and stood watching the lights of the planes approaching Heathrow. Even Slough looks good by night. Meanwhile he adjusted the lighting and put on some soft jazz before going to the kitchenette where he pulled out a bottle of champagne from the fridge. I vaguely heard the pop of the cork followed by the fizz of two glasses being filled. He brought them over and stood next to me, watching the lights of the city. "Beautiful, aren't they," he said softly. He handed me my glass and then put his arm around my waist. It was the most natural thing in the world to lean into him, to feel his strength, to let him support me. I know it was clichéd but, my god, it worked. The soft lights, the gentle music, the champagne, his arm around me, it all went together to make it simply perfect. For a while we just stood there, watching the world go by but then he turned me towards me and we kissed. Softly, gently, tenderly. He held me like I was a precious flower and he was scared he would break me. His lips were soft on mine, every nerve end tingling. His tongue teased my lips apart and I opened up in response. I felt myself melt. My knees were unsteady. It must have been the champagne. I barely noticed as he took my glass from me and put his arms around me to stop me falling. I felt so safe, so secure, so treasured, so loved. Slowly and without, for one moment, breaking contact, he led me through to the bedroom and sat me down on the bit of the bed where the covers had been turned back. Now that he didn't need to support me his hands were free to undo the buttons on my shirt and, this time, he did it without tearing. It was soon open and he was easing it back and over my shoulders. Wanting to help I reached for my trouser button but he moved my hand away. "No, this is my treat," he whispered between kisses. For the second time I felt his fingers undoing my trousers but this time it wasn't the heat of animal passion but the natural conclusion of what had gone before. Then he stopped kissing me, pushed me gently backwards and removed my shoes, my socks, my trousers and my boxers. Naked, I felt like a child being put to bed by his parent. He slipped me under the covers and, once again kissed me. "Wait there," he said as he stood back up again and, this time, it was his turn to disrobe. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen his body before, we'd showered together twice, after all, but in the soft light of his bedroom and with the romantic mood he really did look like a god. With me lying down and him standing up he seemed to tower over me. What's more, in the shower his penis had been flaccid. It certainly wasn't any more. Lars I felt a wave of panic come over me. I didn't know what to do; I didn't know what was expected of me. The only thing I knew about gay love was that anal sex tended to be involved somewhere. His prick seemed enormous. Would he want to stick that thing up my backside? It would never fit, it would hurt too much, I couldn't do it. Please, Lars, I'm scared, scared I'll let you down, scared I won't be able to love you. He must have read my nerves because, as he got into bed beside me, he gathered me in and said "I'll be very gentle, I promise I will and I won't hurt you, ever." That's what I wanted to hear. That's what I needed to hear. I let the tension fall from me and relaxed into his arms. For a while he just held me close and we kissed. He was so strong and I felt so protected, cared for. My earlier worries just fell away and, far from fearing his love I began to want it more and more. I wanted to be touched by him, all over. There was a tension between us, a sexual tension, which couldn't be denied. He laid me on my back and crouched over me, just as he had done in the park. He reached down between us and, for the first time in my life, I felt another's hand touch my prick. I had never, ever, ever, felt anything as good as that moment. Just the tips of his fingers gripping my shaft and rubbing it up and down. I arched my back and gave out a massive groan. "You like that, don't you, boy," he said with a smile. "Oh, yes!" I replied breathlessly. "You're my boy, aren't you?" "Oh, yes, yes, I am!" He manoeuvred himself until he was all but lying on top of me and, importantly, he could grip both our pricks together in one hand. I felt small and puny beside him, as if he were putting my twig next to his tree trunk, but, even so, it felt so right, he and I, gripped together in his big strong fist, moving up and down, sliding together. I put my arms around his back, his big strong back and hugged and hugged and hugged. I wanted this moment to go on forever, well, sort of. I could feel myself starting to come and I didn't want that, not yet. He must have sensed this because he stopped and lay on top of me, moving slowly against me, rubbing his prick against me. "I'm going to fuck you boy, do you know that," his voice was low and guttural. "Yes, yes, fuck me, please fuck me," I replied. He moved off me and rolled me over onto my front. I turned my head to the side and watched as he reached for the bedside draw which he opened and rummaged about in. He fetched out what looked like a large toothpaste tube. Then I felt something cool in the crack between my arse cheeks. His finger, covered with lubricant, was pushing against my bum hole, pushing, pushing, harder and harder. I could feel my earlier fears returning but I pushed them back. I wanted this, I wanted to overcome my fears. "Open up for me, boy, open up," and, with that, his finger broke through. Suddenly it was easier. He pushed and he wiggled his finger inside me until I was thoroughly slippery and ready to take him. He turned back to the bedside draw, took a tissue and wiped his hands. Then he put on a condom and I knew my virginity was not going to last much longer. He came up behind me, kneeling between my outstretched legs. I gripped the pillow and buried my face in it. I could feel his hand guiding his prick towards my hole. I began to tense. His finger had felt so large, how on earth would I ever take his prick? I could feel him pushing against me, he was too large, too big, he would never fit, never, ever.... And then he was inside me. Not much, just a bit, but he had broken through. He pushed just a little more and slipped just a little further inside. "Don't fight it, boy, don't fight it. It will hurt less if you don't fight it," he said and then he pushed a little more, slipping further in. He pushed and pushed and, with each push he was going a little deeper until he was able to withdraw a bit and push once again. Did it hurt, yes, a bit, but in a good way, and it was certainly far from unbearable. But whether it hurt or not I wasn't going to stop him as I wanted so much to feel him all the way inside me, I wanted him, every inch of him, every bit of him, I wanted him to touch my soul. Lars had now moved on to long slow strokes, each one all but withdrawing before returning to plunder just that bit further than before. And, as he pushed in, I found myself pushing back, lifting my hips, opening myself up for him. 'Come on,' I wanted to say, 'I'm not made of glass. Take me, take me, I'm yours.' My lifting my hips was all the encouragement he needed. Each stroke was getting longer, pushing deeper until he was buried to the hilt. I had taken all he had and still I wanted more. I could feel every inch of his manhood sliding back and forth, deep, deep inside me. God it was sexy! Oh, there was no way I was going to come, this was his time, not mine, but being taken like that, being his sacrifice, his boy, was a turn on beyond belief. Now that he had opened me up, now that he was all the way in, I could feel the gentleman receding and the Viking coming to the fore. He reached up, under my armpits, so that he could grab my shoulders and, as he thrust with his groin, he pulled me down onto him. The rhythm was no faster but the thrusts were harder, deeper, as if he wanted to skewer me to the bed. The grip of his hands on my shoulders was so tight his fingertips were biting into me. His full weight was pressing down on me. His head was beside mine and he snarled something in Danish into my ear. He was pushing harder, harder, harder. And then he came. It felt so good to be his boy, to be beneath him as he climaxed, to feel his prick, his magnificent prick, so deep inside me, to feel him taking his pleasure, taking, taking everything I had as I gave myself up to him. And then it was over. He didn't withdraw. Please, please, please don't withdraw! I wanted to feel him relax inside me, to savour the afterglow, to regain ourselves together before breaking apart. Sure, he was heavy on top of me but that was part of the perfection and I wouldn't have it any other way. In the end he slipped out as naturally as breathing and he rolled off me. I turned towards him and we kissed. "No longer a virgin boy, are you?" he laughed. "No, no, I'm not." "And now it's your turn." He held me in his left arm as he reached down and, once again, I felt his hand on my prick. "And are you still scared, scared of what you like?" he asked, playfully. "No, I'm not scared any more," I replied. As I said so I realised how, right from the start, Lars had seen through me, had known me better than I knew myself. How he had coaxed and encouraged me until my insecurities had slipped away and I could accept what I really was and what I really needed. The feel of his hand stroking my prick was heaven but it was only part of the jigsaw. What made it perfect was being wrapped in his arms, snuggled against that big strong chest of his and with that wonderful feeling coming from my backside. I almost no time I could feel myself building to a climax, a climax that was completely under his control. And then I couldn't hold back any longer. Why should I? I was Lars' boy, coming for him, coming at his command. My spunk shot from me, great gobbets landing all over my chest, but he didn't miss a stroke until he had pumped me dry. There was, inevitably, a certain amount of cleaning up to be done and, although I would liked to have just rolled over and cuddled, it was too messy and we both ended up under the shower together. It said a great deal about the difference between our two rooms that, whereas the shower in my bathroom was part of the bath his was a separate shower cubicle big enough for us both without crowding. This time, when he offered to wash me down, I didn't refuse, nor did I hold back from washing his prick and balls. We dried off and he took me back to bed where, between cuddles, we finished off the champagne. I spent some time playing with his prick. It just felt so nice to handle it, feeling it grow within my hands. We both knew this was going nowhere, neither of us wanted it to, but I'd never felt confident enough to do this with anyone else before. I woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed. I looked across and, there he was, still sleeping soundly. There was still some time before the alarm went so, without waking Lars, I slipped out from under the covers and went to the bathroom. When I returned I couldn't help but stare at him. He looked so good and, because the night had been warm, he was covered by only a single sheet. I pulled it back for a better look. God he was gorgeous! And there, as much asleep as the rest of him, was his prick, his beautiful prick. I wondered if I could... maybe if I were careful... it just looked so tempting. Moving as carefully as I could I got onto the bed next to him but with my head at his waist level. Very slowly I leaned across and, sticking out the tip of my tongue, traced circles around the end of his prick. He muttered something incoherent and shifted slightly, actually rolling towards me. Maybe if I were gentle.... I took the tip of his prick into my mouth and, holding it with my lips, let my tongue play with it. Asleep or not, I was rewarded with a thickening, a stiffening, as that part of him began to wake. I loved the feeling of him growing in my mouth. It was like waking the leviathan, the monster which, when roused, demands satisfaction. In no time he was big and strong and my mouth was bobbing up and down on it as I ran my lips up and down the shaft, seeing how much I could take. I was pretty sure Lars was awake by this point but he didn't say a word, he just lay there and let me have my fun. And it wasn't long before I could feel that he was beginning to come. I could feel the tension in his body, I could feel his need, I could feel how close he was, I could feel.... "I am coming... you should..." he said between groans and he reached down as if to push me away but I wasn't having any of that. I stuck to my post and was rewarded by him losing control and, suddenly, my mouth was full of his seed. I didn't want to miss a drop so I kept him in my mouth until the last little bit had oozed from him and he was going flaccid. I gave it one last kiss before scooting up the bed for a kiss and cuddle. "Thank you. Thank you but that was not so clever, young man. How do you know I am clean?" Lars chided me. "Aren't you? Clean, I mean?" "Yes, but..." "Well, there you go then," I said with some satisfaction. Lars just sighed and pulled me in tighter. We lay there for a while, just relaxing, and then there was a knock on the door. Lars pulled the sheet over the two of us and shouted "come in!" The door opened and a maid appeared pushing a trolley. "Breakfast for two, Mr Peterson," she announced. "Just leave the trolley there, Maria, thank you," Lars replied. "Certainly," Maria replied as she parked the trolley and left. "Breakfast for two? When did you order that?" I asked. "Yesterday." "I don't remember you doing that," I said with a certain amount of suspicion. "I did it before we left." "Before I agreed to come back here. You were very certain of yourself," I laughed. "Was I that easy?" "No, it wasn't like that. I ordered it just in case. If you hadn't agreed to spend the night then I would be out one breakfast. Seeing as how you did, well, would you like some coffee?" I got out of bed and, stark naked, went over to the trolley. Apart from coffee there were all the bits and pieces that went together to make a continental breakfast. Whilst I was making my selection Lars came over and stood behind me. I took a strawberry and, holding it in my teeth, turned and offered it to him. Of course, the only way he could take it was by kissing me and we ended up in a clinch which was what I was after all along. I could feel his prick stirring and mine wasn't exactly flaccid. "You, young man, are the devil in disguise," Lars said. "You tempt me beyond endurance. If I didn't have to give the keynote speech on this year's growth in the North West European sector then you would not be leaving this room today." "The only growth I'm interested in is happening down south," I replied. To demonstrate my point dropped down onto my knees and took his hardening prick in my mouth. "This is all the breakfast I need." "And I was taught not to talk with my mouth full," Lars quipped but, noticeably, he didn't pull out so, as he poured himself a coffee, I stayed on my knees, gobbling away as his prick. This went on for a minute or two and then he did pull out. "Stay there," he ordered. He went to the bathroom and reappeared wearing one of those courtesy dressing gowns that you get with rooms like that. With me still knelt on the floor her replenished his coffee cup, piled up a plate with cheese and fruit, and went over to sit in one of the armchairs. "If you insist on having breakfast on your knees then I might as well make myself comfortable," he said as he put the coffee and plate of fruit down on the table next to him. "Now, come here and finish what you started." He flipped back his gown to show that he was still hard. Without getting off my knees I shuffled over and, now that he was relaxed, I could get on with giving him a blow job. We got into a bizarre competition. Lars was trying to pretend there was nothing unusual and that he was merely eating his breakfast. I, on the other hand, was determined to make him come. OK, so I was far from the most experienced, this was, after all, only the second blow job I had ever given, the first being mere minutes ago, but I was fast learning the things Lars liked and I'm pretty sure he got off on simply having me on my knees before him. He was doing pretty well until I looked up at him and caught his eye. Suddenly he could no longer ignore me and, when I winked at him, he put his coffee cup down and all pretence that he was simply having breakfast was gone. It wasn't long after that that I got my second taste of his seed. When he had recovered Lars looked down to see me licking my lips. "Did I say you were the devil in disguise?" he laughed. "Now, get up off your knees, go and put a dressing gown on and have some breakfast." "Yes, sir!" I said, knocking off a mock salute. However, I did get up and do as he said. He was right, much as I could have stayed there all day, much as all I really wanted to do was play sexy games with him, he had to go to his meeting and I had to go to my training course. As we got ready I found out that ordering breakfast wasn't the only thing he had done. He had a spare toothbrush and razor ready for me in the bathroom and even some clean boxers and socks. "You were pretty sure I'd come," I commented as we got dressed. "Right from the moment you watched me get out of the pool," he replied. "As soon as I saw you I knew I just had to have you." "I'm not sure how I feel about that. You make me sound like this week's notch on the bedpost." "Notch in the bedpost?" Lars queried. "I don't know this phrase." "I mean, now that you've had your evil way with me that you'll cast me aside for your next conquest." "Maybe it did start out a bit like that but you turned out to be far, far more than just a one night stand. You know that, don't you?" I looked at him and thought about how it had been about far more than just sex. How we had talked and talked, how much fun we had had together. Was I just another notch in his bedpost? I was pretty sure not but I was going to run with the joke anyway. "So, how about tonight? Am I now yesterday's news? Is it time for you to find some other poor virgin to seduce and despoil? Oh, woe is me for I have fallen!" "Stop acting like a character from a romantic novel and come here," Lars said with a laugh. He pulled me towards him and kissed me long and hard. "I haven't finished with you yet, not by a long way." "Oh, sir, I don't know what you mean," I continued, playing the coquette. My hand slipped down to the front of his trousers where, I was pleased to see, there was a suitable bulge. "Ooh, hard again, I see. Shall I sort you out before we go?" "Enough! Enough!" Lars cried out. "If I don't leave in the next five minutes I'll be late for my meeting and that would never do. And I'm not having you miss your training. Come along, now!" We left the room and headed for the lifts. As we went down to the lobby we were the only people in the lift so I took the opportunity to snuggle up to him and stroke his prick through his trousers. By the time we got out at the ground floor he was as hard as rock. Together we walked down to the car park, Lars heading for his BMW, me for my Astra. "I shall see you at six o'clock at the pool," Lars said as we got to his car. "Now, have a good day." "See ya' later," I replied and I stood and watched as he got in and drove away. I spent the whole day dreaming of Lars and not concentrating on CMDB as I should have been. I could still feel where he had been inside me and I wanted so much to feel him there again. Possibly it was because I hadn't actually come that morning but I don't think I had ever felt so horny. Part of me wanted to go and jack off in the bogs but, somehow, that felt like cheating. Anyway, that's not what I was after. What I wanted more than anything else in the world was to feel his prick inside me. I compromised by sending him obscene texts. While the instructor was droning on about synchronising the data in the CMDB with the incident reporting system I was surreptitiously texting Lars, letting him know exactly how much my arse needed his prick up it or exactly how much I wanted to taste his spunk in my mouth. Of course, this just made it all worse and I was as horny as hell by the time I went down to the pool at around quarter to six. Lars obviously wasn't as impatient as me as he didn't arrive until the dot of six. As soon as I saw him my hormones started raging again. I wanted to kiss and touch every inch of that perfect body and, just as importantly, I wanted every inch of that perfect body to touch me. However, there were people around so I had to behave myself. Less so, after we had swum our laps. When we got out of the pool and went to get dressed we were all alone in the changing rooms and, when we were in the shower together, I couldn't help but get down on my knees and give his prick a little sucking. Lars nervously chivvied me to my feet but, when I stood up again, he was already hard. Maybe this was why we didn't stay under the showers for long but were soon drying off and getting dressed. Lars had made a booking for us in a little restaurant the other side of Windsor. I never did find out how he discovered all these places; I guess he he asked one of the people he was meeting with. We went down to the car park and got in his car. I was still in that naughtily sexy mood so, as soon as we pulled off, I turned towards him, reached over and undid his fly. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Playing with my favourite toy," I replied. "I want to see how hard I can get you." "If you do that I shall crash the car and that won't be very sexy," Lars responded. "It's hard enough to drive over here as it is." "Don't be so boring," I pouted. "I'm not being boring. I want to live long enough to make love to you tonight, and not just a grope in a moving car. Anyway, what if we get stopped. We'd end up spending a night in the police cells and that would be just as bad." I could see his point so I sat up again. I looked about and, over on the right, there was those endless industrial estates you get in Slough. There was plenty of car parking, most of it empty at that time of night. "Please, Lars, park up over there, just for a minute or two. I promise I'll be a good boy afterwards." Lars "After what?" Lars asked but, notably, he pulled into the car park and found a quiet spot where we were half hidden from the road. "After this," I said as I undid our seat belts and fished around in his fly for his prick. Just as I expected, he was already pretty hard and, when I lent across and took him in my mouth, he just let the seat back a notch or two, laid back and let me get on with it. In truth we were probably totally safe but it felt as if we were doing it right out in public. That just magnified the thrill and I know that Lars felt so as well because, in no time, I could feel him starting to come. I lifted my head up and said "OK, shall we go to the restaurant then?" Lars didn't say a word; he didn't need to. He just grabbed the back of my head and pushed it back down. That was, of course, exactly what I wanted. I may have started it but now he was in control. I was no longer giving him a blow job, he was fucking my face. I guess his concerns about safe sex had gone out of the window because he didn't hesitate one moment but, when the time came, he pumped his spunk, every single drop of it, deep, deep, into my throat. I waited until things had died down a little before tidying him away, doing his fly back up and sitting up again. "Thank you, Lars," I said as I sat back up again. He gave me a look. I could see him wondering why I was thanking him for me giving him a blow job but then he worked it out and just smiled. "OK, now we have indulged your need to have sex in public, will you behave from now on?" he asked, laughing. "Will you be able to control yourself?" "I'll try." "You'll do better than try. If you can't behave I'll have to put you over my knee and give you a damn good spanking." There was this massive silence as I just managed to resist saying 'yes, please'. "Just behave yourself, OK?" he said at last. "Yes, sir!" "Cheeky thing," he said but he was smiling as he did so. He started the car and pulled away. The restaurant, when we got there, was quite a posh place, definitely not pub grub. We were shown to a quiet corner and, for the time being, I behaved. Lars really was very special to be with. He and I could talk and talk and talk and he made me feel wanted, listened to, appreciated. When, with the meal over, we were sipping our coffees he moved closer to me and put his hand on my knee and that was just perfect. The evening seemed to just slip away and it was quite late by the time we paid the bill and left. We walked out into the car park and, when he held the car door open for me, I stopped and kissed him. "Lars," I said, "thank you, thank you for everything." "Maybe I should thank you," he replied. "But you've been so generous and you've looked after me so well. No one has ever treated me the way you do." "I can assure you that the pleasure has been all mine. Now get in the car. The night isn't over yet." We drove back to the hotel and went straight up to his room. While he played with the lights and phoned down to order up a bottle of champagne I excused myself and headed for the bathroom but, on the way, I had to go through the bedroom area where I made a quick detour to his bedside cabinet. There I found the tube of lubricant which I took with me as I went into the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes and, sitting on the toilet, got myself ready for him. I was pretty generous with the lubricant as, when the time came, I wanted to be as ready for him as possible. With this done I washed my hands, put on a dressing gown and went back into the room. I guess I must have taken longer than I thought because, as I emerged from the en-suite, Lars was busy tipping the waitress who had brought up the champagne. I slipped the lubricant back in the bedside draw and came up to him as he opened the bottle. "You don't waste time, do you?" Lars joked as he poured two glasses of bubbly. "We've only been back five minutes and you've got your clothes off." "I don't know what you mean," I joked back as I took the glass from him. I took a sip and batted my eyelashes at him. "I just wanted to get more comfortable." "Did you, indeed?" He reached down with his free hand and tugged open the belt of my dressing gown so that it fell open. My prick, already half erect, flopped out. "Do you like what you see?" I asked, striking a pose. "Very pretty, you are a very pretty boy, but you already know that," Lars replied. He reached out for me but I turned away. "Not so fast, sir! Did you think my charms were just there for the taking? What sort of boy do you think I am?" "A very cheeky little devil, that's the sort you are," Lars replied. "A cheeky little devil who likes to tease." "Oh, sir, you do me wrong! If I have misled you with my girlish affectations...," I looked away coyly, playing the part to the hilt. "Girlish affectations! You're a tease, a naughty little tease and I've a good mind to put you over my knee and spank you." "You'll have to catch me first," I said, dodging behind the sofa. Lars, grinning from ear to ear, put down his drink. Still keeping my eyes on his every move, I reached behind me and put mine down as well. He feinted left but I saw right through that and wasn't going to be caught that easily and I managed to keep the sofa between us. All pretence at coquettishness had gone. I had played for a spanking and we both knew that, once he had caught me, that was what I was going to get. For a while we jinked about the room but, as was my plan all along, there was only going to be one outcome. He was too fast and, when he caught me, too strong. He bundled me up and, kicking and screaming, well, mostly kicking, dragged me over to the bed where he sat down and, twisting my arm behind my back, pulled me across his knees. I played at fighting him off but not too seriously and, anyway, he was far too strong for that to work. Without any ceremony, he pulled my dressing gown aside and the smacks rained down, alternating between my buttocks. He smacked quite hard, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to really hurt and the fizz it sent through me was glorious. I, of course, was still playing along as the naughty flirt and kicking and struggling. However, he had me pinned down and I was going nowhere. There was all sorts of symbolism going on but I didn't care, I was loving every minute of it. At last he was finished, well, finished with the smacking part, anyway. Still holding my arm behind my back, he pulled me off his lap, stood up and threw me onto the bed. As I lay on my back I had a great big grin on my face. I knew I should be acting contrite after the smacking but I simply couldn't manage that. He grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and got up on the bed to kneel between my outstretched legs. He undid his trousers and pushed them down to his knees and it was no surprise at all that he was hard and strong. Still without speaking, he fitted the condom and then he lifted up my legs so that my ankles rested on his shoulders. He leant forward so that his weight was forcing me into the bed and I could feel his prick pushing at my bum hole. "This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" He looked down at me and his eyes bored into mine. I didn't say anything. There was something about the way that I was naked and he was still mostly dressed that got to me, that emphasised the difference between us and, smacked bottom or not, there was still a spark of rebellion left in me. "Tell me boy, tell me what you want." I shook my head. I could feel the tip of his prick pushing at my entrance. If only he would push a little harder, just a little more. Couldn't he tell that I had made myself ready for him, that I would welcome him inside me? "Tell me boy," he repeated. "Tell me! Now!" That was a voice I had to obey. The naughty boy was being tamed. "Please, Lars, please fuck me," I said softly. He pushed a little harder but still didn't break through. "Louder, boy, louder," he ordered. "Please, fuck me, Lars, fuck me please," I repeated. "Like this, maybe?" He pushed again and, this time, nearly broke through. "Please, Lars, please," I was getting desperate. He pushed again and this time he didn't stop until was inside me, maybe two or three inches deep. "Oh, god, yes!" I all but shouted. But he just stopped and just rested there, grinning at me. I realised that, when it came to teasing, I was a rank beginner. I'd got what I wanted but I still wanted more, much more. I wanted all of it, right inside me. I wanted to feel his thighs against my battered buttocks, I wanted to feel him push as deep as he could. I wanted all of him. I was wriggling away, trying to impale myself on him but he was ultimately in control and we both knew it. "Please, Lars, please, fuck me, fuck me hard," I begged. "Like this?" he asked as he pushed in another inch or so only to withdraw again. "Oh, please, more, more!" "Ask nicely." "Please, Lars, please fuck your boy. I need to feel you deep inside me." He rocked forward and, this time, I got what I wished for. With one smooth push he was deep inside me. I was still a bit new to anal sex and this position allowed him to go deeper than the previous time but, for all that I was stretched to the limit, it was glorious. With a slow rocking motion he started to slide back and forth within me. Each push took me to the limit of what I could take but I wanted, more than anything, to take it to that limit. And, as he opened me up, it became easier. "Harder, please, harder," I urged, although there was precious little more he could give me. I just wanted to take it all, every inch of him, to be possessed by him, to be his boy. "Tage det hele, dreng," he said, and, although I didn't understand a word it was easy to know what he meant and, as the long strokes were turning to shorter, powerful thrusts, I could feel the tension rising within him. "Oh, Lars, oh, yes!" I called out. "That feels so good! Fuck me, fuck me, fuuuuuccckkk..." "Ja! Ja! Ja!" he cried as, almost crushing me beneath him, he pumped his load into me. And then it was all over. For a while we stayed in position and I could feel Lars slowly relaxing with me. Then, when he was no longer hard enough to stay inside, he eased himself out of me and gently lowered my ankles from his shoulders. He gave me a brief kiss before getting off the bed, taking off his clothes and lying back down beside me so that we could cuddle together. "Are you OK?" he asked after a while. "I was not too rough?" "No, no, you were fine. I'm a bit sore," I admitted, "but that's what I wanted. I like it when you're rough. I like the Viking as well as the gentleman." "The Viking?" he queried. "Yes, my Viking," I replied, snuggling up to him. "You're my Viking." "OK, but I don't want to hurt you. You've become rather special to me." I just snuggled a little closer. "Now, what about you," Lars continued. "I think it's time we sorted you out." He reached down and grasped my prick. It had never really been soft all evening and, as soon as he touched it, I was hard again. I could have come almost immediately, I was that ready. Lars, however, had different ideas and, once again, he showed that I was a mere beginner at teasing. He ordered me to lie still and let him do all the work. Time and again he took me to the limit until I was almost begging to be allowed to come. "Please, Lars, this time," I pleaded as I felt my climax approaching. "This time?" "Please, oh, please, oh, pleeeeeee...." I all but exploded. I never knew my balls could hold so much or that I could shoot so far. Thick creamy spunk was all over me. My chest was covered and Lars had to use my dressing gown to keep it off the bed. Oh, bliss, oh total bliss. For the second night in a row we were forced to end up having a quick shower. And then, clean and dry again, it was back to bed to kiss and cuddle and share. It was getting late but we couldn't stop wanting to touch each other and, before we had finished, I had come twice more. At last, drained and exhausted, we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. In the morning Lars was a bit distant. Oh, he was just as much the gentleman as ever and it was fun having breakfast in bed with him but I could tell there was something on his mind. We had finished getting dressed and getting ready to leave when he came to me with a package. "I think you must go back to your room to pack your suitcase," he said, "and, after that, I have my meeting and you have your training course. I do not wish to say goodbye but we must. I have grown a little fond of you but all things must come to an end. This package, it is a little something for you but do not open it until later, when you get back to Blackpool. Will you promise me that." "I don't know if I can wait that long." "Please, Andy, for me." "OK, I promise," and I knew I meant it. "Thank you, Andy. Thank you." "Oh, Lars, thank you so much," I could feel myself tearing up. "I'm going to.... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, ever." "Don't talk silly. Now, we must go. Enough. It is time for goodbye. Goodbye, Andy." "Goodbye, Lars," and I kissed him one last time on the lips. Was I crying, well, maybe. Maybe I just had something in my eye but that didn't explain the feeling in my heart, the feeling that it was breaking. However, he was right, it was time to go. It's a long drive back from Slough to Blackpool and it gave me time to think about all that had happened, all that had changed in me. I was going to have to re-assess several things in my life, just who I was and what I wanted. That was clear. I obeyed Lars order and didn't open the package until I got home. The first thing I saw was the box, the black box which, when opened, revealed the Tag Heuer. It was simply beautiful, the bestest ever. He had, once again, been far, far too generous and, this time, there was no way I could pay him back. And then I found the note. I opened it up and read: Andy We both knew from the start that the North Sea would come between us. I must return to Aarhus and you must return to Blackpool. But, in those few short days, I have found a place in my heart for you and, whatever happens, I will never forget you. You never were, and never shall be, a "notch on my bedpost". So, wear this watch and, when you look at it, remember me and do so with fondness. Forever yours, Lars I looked at the watch and now the tears really were streaming down. How could I ever forget him? I mean, you always remember your first, don't you?