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Driving Home

By: exiledmaster



It' s late at night. The DJ is talking about incompatibility, riffing slowly over the life story of a couple who couldn't live together but couldn't face life apart. It's all part of a build up to playing a Bob Seger song that the man who sent the story in thinks will mean something to the former partner he's imagined in the letter. What the real woman will think is anyone's guess, but this is radio where the immediate is all that matters as the audience doze in their beds or turn their radio down lower so they can hear the taxi controller sending them to their next pickup. The DJ's voice is laden with sympathy, a spoonful of honey with just a hint of cough medicine about it, the perfect voice to evoke strong feelings while conveying as little meaning as possible.

What the listeners can't see, mustn't see is that for the last five minutes the DJ has been mesmerized by a sequence of text messages on his mobile phone. Not the studio phone, the one plugged into a PC that even as Bob Seger starts will be buzzing with messages from Marie in Tyneside telling Lonesome Jon to get over himself, or Nympho Nancy in Consett (who may actually be a drunken teenage boy misusing his mum's mobile) offering to help Jon feel less lonely after hearing his sad tale. No, even as our DJ is manually setting up the digital feed that will play a nationally syndicated programme until six am he's paralyzed with indecision. What can he do about the texts?

It's not the first time in his life a plan has gone awry. He was going to be the next Kenny Everett on national radio, except crazy voices went out of fashion just as zoo radio came in. He was going to be the next Chris Evans starting with a show on local TV, just as TFI Friday turned into TFI Over. And now here he was. The Simon Bates of the late night airwaves, staring disaster in the face.

Not that he'd foreseen the potential for disaster. He'd thought it would all work out fine. What could go wrong? For five years his sex drive with his wife had been changing. He'd blamed his hours of work, her job as head of a primary school, his diet and yes, maybe even the drinking problem that had led to a three year driving ban. But he'd been eighteen months dry and he still couldn't get a hardon without either dressing in his wife's under wear so she could humiliate him or without imagining her with others. It had been a solitary fantasy, enhanced by her stockings on his legs, her panties crookedly arranged over his hips, but the inadequacies of their sex life had brought it to life. She'd wanted to know what went through his head while he played with himself, listening to her recite his failings in bed. And in the end she'd been the one to push him to do what he fantasized about, to arrange for a man to meet her and make love to her in the ways he was no longer capable of. 

So he'd done it. Tonight was to be the night, in an identikit hotel in Seaton Burn.. Except, if the texts were to be believed, it was all going wrong. And that was where the quandaries began. Did he tell his assistant to take him to the Travellodge by the side of the A1, and live in fear that the gossip would be all round the station by morning? Did he send the assistant home and try and persuade a taxi to take him to theTravellodge, ignoring the fact that he only had five pounds in his wallet? He felt the feeling in his stomach again, the one that said a drink would make all this go away. Which was why he didn't carry cash, or bank cards, for fear the siren voice would get him.

The journey from Gateshead across the Tyne Bridge was normally a gregarious occasion. Justin would drive while Tim regaled him with stories of other radio stations, celebrities he'd interviewed and events he'd compered. Not tonight. Tonight they drove in silence, the distance between them almost palpable. Tim had explained they needed to make a detour via Seaton Burn, then sat silent in the passenger seat, hands twisting together in his lap as the car surged through Gosforth, onto the A1 then off at Seaton Burn. If Justin had any thoughts about his boss's silence he kept them to himself. Not that boss was exactly how Tim could be described: Justin simply felt it easier to tell Tim he was the boss. It settled the relationship and let Justin get on with earning his allowance as a student trainee. His house mates teased him about how proud he was to be driving around in a car with the station logo on the side but Justin knew he was amassing the kind of experience that would stand him in good stead when his cv was one amongst hundreds on the desktop of station controllers looking for the next bright young thing. So he turned off the roundabout and into the country lane that led to the travellodge, ignoring Tim's patter about it being the A1 once, the Great North Road from England to Scotland.

Justin may have been ignoring Tim's patter, but he couldn't ignore the obvious change in his demeanour. He was moving in his seat, repeatedly picking up up his mobile then putting it down. It was several minutes before Justin asked Tim what they were waiting for. Instead of a reply Tim looked down at the mobile one last time, then pressed a speed dial button. Justin genuinely wasn't that concerned about the conversation; as far as he was concerned if the late night DJ wanted to meet his drugs dealer in a car park that was fine by him, so long as no-one thought they were two gay men looking for the cruising spot a few hundred meters away on another lane that led to the local golf club.

When Tim reached the end of his conversation and finally made a decision the words were strangled, clipped, the honey in the voice gone, leaving only the harsh medicine.'I may need your help here - I want you to follow me inside.' Justin was happy to do anything that meant he'd get home sooner rather than later; in his mind he was already composing an email to the station manager about Tim's fragile mental state. Justin was more inclined to see Tim's point when a man approached them out of the shadows at the back of the car park, where the light from the petrol station forecourt was least likely to penetrate.

'Are you two here for the party?' Tim stumbled over his words, leaving Justin to fill in with a hurried explanation about collecting someone. He fought the urge to take Tim's arm and steer him across the car park - it was, after all, Tim's errand and despite his stumbling manner Tim wasn't an elderly relative to be guided across the road.

If Justin noticed the young woman at the reception desk giving them a quizzical look as Tim unconvincingly explained that they were here to collect someone he didn't comment on it. It was all just colourful detail that would add to the story. The walk along the corridor to the room had something of the gallows procession about it; Justin confident and calm but completely uncomprehending of what it was that made Tim so hesitant and uncertain.

When Rose opened the door Justin was astonished, but no clearer as to what was going on. He'd met her at the Christmas party of course; a sombre and quiet counterpoint to Tim's frenetic story telling. He'd tried to make conversation with her then, to win her over as an ally but while there was alcohol in the room she was inseparable from Tim. So what was she doing here? And why was she dressed for a night out in the Bigg Market, heels as high as her skirt was short, but bristling with anger?

The atmosphere in the room was spectacularly wrong. Rose was giving off fury. Tim was bumbling, muttering inanities. Justin was attempting a facade of cool to cover his confusion. And the stranger in the corner was giving off anger; frustrated, foot tapping with malicious intent anger. There was a distinct lack of communication, but Justin was going to be the last one to set the ball rolling in such a situation So they all stood and watched and waited. It gave Justin chance to revise his opinion of Rose; in tonight's outfit she looked a completely different woman to the staid schoolteacher he met at the Christmas party.

Not surprisingly it was Rose who broke the silence. The mixture of resentment and barely managed restraint made her voice crackle like a fluttering radio signal.

' I told you he would come to make clear this is all a mistake. Now go.' The stranger's voice didn't convey the same range of emotion as Rose's. Rather it mocked, the slow tones of a Birmingham accent defusing the implied threats. 'Oi'd loike to 'ear it from yore man meself loike...' The bitter edge in Rose's voice was unleashed on Tim now.

'For once Tim be a man and get rid of him.' Justin strained hard to discern Tim's words, any pretence of a microphone voice gone. He could pick out words or phrases, but not sentences. 'Some mistake.' 'One person.' 'Not a party'. The words tumbled over themselves like rats leaving a sinking ship as Tim's confidence took on more water. The stranger wasn't impressed.

'So you've changed your mind and he's the one. It doesn't seem fair to me.' Justin took in Tim's desperate expression, and the imminent explosion of rage that lurked behind Rose' eyes. That explained the impulse for him to act, but why he did what he actually did he couldn't explain. He moved across the room, took the stranger's arm and span him into a hammer lock half remembered from an OTC self defence course. He wasn't even sure he recognised his own voice.

'I'm not anyone or anything except pissed off - now how about you fuck off and leave us.' The stranger subsided quickly, the mocking tone gone to be replaced by something much more whiney. 'I don't know what the fuck's going on like.' Justin leant forward and whispered in his ear 'If it's any consolation neither do I.'

The next five minutes were marked only by Rose staring at the window, Tim staring at the floor and Justin checking his watch. Justin remembered one of the plays he'd studied at university, modern, a tale of two men waiting for something to happen but not knowing what. He was wise enough to know that Tim knew more than he, but he wasn't going to place any bets on how much more. He wasn't content to wait for ever though.

'Are we going to go or am I needed to chauffeur people?'

Rose's tone was still as acrid.

'The plan didn't include me needing to drive home after drinking. Can you give us a lift and I'll come back for my car in the morning.' Eager to make the solution happen Tim volunteered 'I'll come over in the morning and bring you back.' If he was expecting gratitude he had to settle for a gruff whatever; at least though it was uttered in a tone that didn't threaten lacerations.

So this time they walked the opposite way down the hall,Justin leading this time, Rose close behind him, Tim trailing in the rear. The receptionist paid them no attention, as if such things were all in an evening's work. If she reacted to Rose's intake of breath and hesitation at seeing the stranger from the corner standing in the carpark she didn't show it. Justin took Rose's hand but she hesitated still; she would only walk forward when he put his arm round her shoulder, turning her slightly inwards towards him so that her view of the stranger was less straight on. He was struck by her lack of response to the gesture, neither resisting or accepting him but remaining pliable. The stranger made great play of standing on his cigarette butt, then stared at Tim and made a two fingered gesture towards him.

At the side of the car Justin got his first response from Rose; he moved his right arm to reach for his keys in his left hand pocket. Her response was to move closer to him, hooking an arm around his waist. Popping the locks on the car Justin began to explain his actions. 'OK Rose, we'll sit you on the passenger side, then Tim can get in the back from the driver's side.' He wasn't sure why it seemed important to explain himself, but it worked. Tim made no noise but walked round to the driver's side and clambered in If Justin thought there was something odd about the quietness of both of them he put it aside. If he thought Rose's lack of reaction to his doing up her seatbelt for her unusual, he put it aside. Like so much else he ignored it while he got on with the task in hand.

The task in hand was made easier by the fact that Rose was calmer. Not quiescent, like Tim, but calmer now whatever had been stressing her was behind her. She directed Justkin fron roundabout to junction calmly, so that even though he was off what was, for him at least, the beaten track, he could drive confidently. By the time the roadsigns started to announce place names he recognised from the A1 there was even an element of warmth in the car. From the edge of Morpeth Justin could navigate for himself, slowing down for the narrower roads of the 1970s housing estate and the cars parked randomly on verges and corners as if they'd been abandoned. If you ignored the slightly subdued tone Rose was her normal self.

`I've always told Tim it's daft to make you drive home from here. Both guest rooms are made up - if you stay over you can give me a lift back to collect my car.`

He'd always stubbornly resisted Tim's offers that he could stay over on a Friday night even as he resented the drive back down the Western bypass he'd been determined not to be indebted to Tim, but wrapped up as it was in the idea of doing Rose a favour the temptation of a warm bed was too good to resist. So for once he didn't stop by the kerb just long enough for Tim to climb out. He pulled onto the block paved drive and waited for Tim to get out before following Rose into the house. Not sure of what to do next he went with Rose into the kitchen. Under the clearer lights of the kitchen he was able to make a clearer inventory of Rose's clothes; a cream strapless top, a peach skirt, well above knee length, sightly flared, in silk or something like it, and backless shoes that matched the skirt. The finishing touches were simple; a gold bracelet on the left wrist mirrored by a thin gold anklet, the amber and glold earrings matched by a ring on the second toe of her left foot. If he'd pondered for months it wasn't an outfit he could have imagined her in.

In what was evidently her kitchen, all Shaker simplicity and cooured tiled, Rose was completely self assured.

'If you're worrying about Tim, don't. He'll do what he does if the show hasn't gone well; he'll go up to the sunroom and stare at the stars. Eventually he'll fall asleep, fully dressed, then wake up at seven am with the closest thing to a hangover that he gets these days.' Justin tried to manage a light tone; the last thing he wanted was to be Rose's confessor, listening to her woes, but if there was information to be gathered about Tim he was interested.

`So you're used to his ups and downs then?` 

Rose gestured at the coffee mugs.

'Let's go through to the living room'.

In the living room they settled into chairs positioned so that the occupants could see the Tv but not each other, not without turning their heads. Justin turned his body toward Rose: she simply stretched out in her seat, feet up on a square leather stool that matched the chairs.

`Tim told me, not long after we met, that everything he says he's rehearsed at least four times in his head. It's why he sounds like he's reading a script on air, because he is, but only he can see it.` Justin stayed where he was, eyes fixed on Rose's head so that, if she should turn her head, he wouldn't be caught looking at her body or the line of her thighs where her skirt draped over them.`

`He lives in his head. Everything is planned meticulously, but he never sees the flaw in his plans, so he makes all these bloody arrangements that go wrong, or takes jobs that are the next big leap forward but turn out to be dead ends.`

`Is that what happened tonight?`

Rose laughed, and looked at him for the first time since they entered the living room. Justin looked away, unsure why he felt guilty.

`Did you not figure it all out? Mind you, it's not exactly something he'd boast about.' Justin's heart leapt a little as she slipped effortlessly into an imitation of Tim's most unctuous mid Atlantic drawl.

'What can I say Justin, you're a man and so am I. The difference being my hydraulics don't work. The elevator doesn't even leave the ground floor.' 

The shift back to Rose was seamless.

'And don't mention all the cures, the tablets, the alternatives. It's the bloody wiring that's gone really. Find the right switch and suddenly, whoosh, the elevator works. Just not when anyone wants it to. Not when I want it to.' Justin was horrified to see Tim standing in the doorway, listening. He started to stammer over an apology, but Rose cut him short.

'Don't Justin. Part of him is enjoying this, the humiliation of his wife telling another man about his failings. If you edited together his emails to strangers about his fantasies you'd have a minor classic; Venus in a Barratt House.'

`I can go if you want me to.` Rose was immediately conciliatory.

` No, don't go. It's not your fault our marriage turns into Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf every so often. Tim can go back to his eyrie and pretend he's travelling the stars and you and I can sit here and talk about you for five minutes before you get some sleep.` 

So Justin sat and talked, about studying English and working late nights as a programme assistant. If he surprised himself by the warmth of his praise for Tim it wasn't unexpected to Rose.

`He has this effect on everyone who works with him. They listen to him talk about music when he's not busy being Tim the DJ and they're amazed. Trying to get him to be himself and not be a DJ on air is so hard...' For the first time Justin felt himself drawn in by the intimacy, not repelled. Rose continued, her tone far softer.

'If you ask Tim a question his first thought is not about his answer, but what other people might think the answer should be. He worries so much about being the perfect husband he can't be a lover or a friend.`

`But isn't that how performers are? Always living for the applause and the reaction?'

'Sure, I know that but he didn't start out as a performer. He was at his best when he sounded like what he was: a soul boy playing his favourite tunes.' 

Justin wasn't sure how he'd been drawn into this conversation, given that he thought Tim's only problem was that he was slightly mad, but he went with the flow.

`You sound like you loved him very much.'

'Not loved. I love him very much. You study English, you'll know your Shakespeare. Love is not love...

Justin finished the sentence for her.

`which alters when it alteration finds.' She smiled warmly at him, star student in what seemed to be a class for one.

'Precisely.' 

'So how do you end up at tonight? That man was, well he was expecting...' Rose reacted to Justin's hesitancy, and finished his sentence.

'Expecting to have sex with me? Yes, but sex, not lovemaking.' Justin felt bolder hearing Rose be so frank.

'So how does Tim feel? And how did it go so wrong?'

It was all Tim's idea, and it went wrong, well, let's just say that obnoxious prat thought I was looking for a gangbang, not a one night stand.' 

Justin's tone suggested he was trying to assume an age or wisdom he didn't possess.

`If I had a woman like you I wouldn't be able to let her go.'

'You dear sweet boy. It's not about letting me go. Tim arranged tonight to keep me close to him. Letting me go would be him waiting at home while I wander round bars seeking men at random.'

' But still, can you understand my view. It, well, it seems unnatural for him to give you away like that.'

Rose laughed out loud.

' I'm not a chattel sweetie. Weigh up the risks. I've had three years of oral sex only, and it isn't enough. So Tim can take the chance on me cruising bars, making friends, making conversation and maybe making love while I'm having sex, or he can control me. Except even that can go astray...'


Driving Home



Justin felt uncertain, desperate to try and remain afloat in a conversation without landmarks or signposts.

'I suppose it's the opposite of being a young man. When you're young you always want more opportunities than you have.' 

Rose wrinkled her nose in a surprisingly amusing way.

'I think Tim still desires sex; I think he thinks about it all the time. The problem's not desire but his soul - he just doesn't see himself in that sexy way any more.' 

'Whereas you still see yourself as desirable and still have the ability to do it...'

'I think I'm going to take some persuading about that.' 

Justin tried to avoid the cliché of taking a deep breath, but the rush of blood to his groin as the words formed in his brain seemed to choke his throat, shortening the supply of air to his lungs.

'I'd like to try and persuade you.'

Rose laughed out loud: not the sound Justin wanted to hear.

'Would you have even thought of suggesting it if you didn't know Tim had offered me to another man over the internet?' 

Justin's tone was more confident now.

'I thought about it before I knew anything about why we were in that hotel room. When I met you at Christmas you looked staid. Boring. Tonight you looked sexy and up for it.' 

Rose laughed again.

'Tim showed me some of the emails he got after he posted a headless picture of me on the internet. Up for it, gagging for it, they're such lovely phrases aren't they?' 

Justin ducked the question.

'I'm envious of the guys who saw the pictures Sounds like they were impressed.' 

For the first time Rose turned in her seat, looking towards Justin. 

'But what about you boy, would you have been impressed? What do you think of me and my middle aged delusion that some nice ordinary bloke might want to fuck me?' 

Justin abandoned any pretence of trying to steer the conversation.

'I don't like to think of myself as ordinary, but if Tim weren't here...' 

Rose uncoiled herself from the chair with a litheness that Justin had never suspected and walked over to stand in front of him, her hand stroking his face.

'The poor thing has written stories about sitting upstairs listening to me being with a man down here. He writes poems about the flavour of me after I've been with another man, lyrical flourishes about how he thinks I'll taste. If he's true to his fantasies he might whine about letting him watch next time, but that'll be the limit of it.' Justin placed his hands on her hips, tentative but trying to manouvre her as well, to shift her to a position where she loomed over him a little less. She kept her hand on his face.

'I expected it would be a man my own age, lost in a loveless marriage. Typical Tim that he found a sleazy pervert who'd fuck a pound of liver if he found it in the fridge. How about you Justin?'

If the touch of her hand was as neutral as he told himself it was why did Justin feel as if the centre of his body had shifted to his groin? He tried for a light, amused tone.

`I always thought the bits about liver had to be exaggeration, just like you always knew there was a hanky under the hat...' 

The expression that crossed her face wasn't exactly a scowl, but it wasn't about happiness either. She reached down with her hand and brushed against his erection.

`Ashamed an old woman can give you an erection Justin? Changing the subject?' 

He didn't want to show any fear, nor to admit to the frisson that her bluntness sent through him. Her fingers circled the cloth covered bulge of him as she spoke.

'I've thought about my terms for six months or more, since Tim first suggested this. How would the websites put it? No piss or scat, no hard violence or bondage, no animals or kids.' 

She curled her fingers around his shaft as far as his trousers would allow.

'What do you say Justin? Make me feel like a woman. Fuck me like a woman.' 

Whatever the source of the intuition, he knew he had no choice but to either leave or make love to Rose. The moment his hands touched the skin at the back of her knees and she slumped to a kneeling position, her thighs outside his, he knew his mind was made up. He ran his hands along her thighs, testing her resolve but also trying to buy himself time to work out what to do next. Not that he felt inexperienced, but this was beyond even what he had learned with the various girls who'd shared his bed since he left home. Sliding his hand under her thigh to the underside of panties the warmth and the wetness flooding from Rose surprised him. So did the adroit way she pulled her skirt up around her waist while leaning further forward to press her mouth against his ear.

`He's watching from the doorway. Just do me, hard, fast, any way you like.` He'd meant the finger he slipped under the scalloped edge of her panties to be a tentative exploration; her noisy vocal performance of a response persuaded him to probe deeper, harder, to add another finger. He twisted his fingers, sketching a mental map of her pussy that changed as she wriggled above him, her internal muscles shifting as her hips moved and twisted. Rose alternated between kissing his cheek and deep tongue locked open mouthed embraces that temporarily silenced her. Any plan he had to be controlled, to treat the whole thing as a practiced seduction went out of his mind. He wanted to be on top of her, to recover control and to be pushing his cock into her. He struggled for words that might one day describe how hard he was, that would explain how much her responses had turned him on, had turned flesh and blood into a stony erection. He twisted and turned and sure enough, she was on her back, legs around his body, looking up at him with a smile on her face, uncaring and happy to be so vulnerable and available. The sequence of events was frenetic, telling her to get her panties off, dropping his jeans to his ankles then stepping out of one leg, pulling her bra and top down so he could bite at and suckle her nipples, conscious of seeing Tim at the periphery of his vision his hand moving at his groin. Justin knew that some kind of masculine code meant he should be revolted by Tim, but as he continued rubbing his erection into Rose's wetness all he was thinking of was how far this would go. She kept egging him on, only stopping when he pressed his cock into her, past the lips of her pussy and sinking deep inside her. From then on each time he pushed into her she swore; nothing he did seemed wrong. He moved briefly into the pressup position, wanting to be sure he was slapping hard enough against her. The response was more vocal and then a gasp as she came, her hips bucking so hard mid stroke that he was pushed out of her completely. Any pretence of calmness or coolness was gone for Justin now; he grabbed Rose's leg and flipped her over onto her front , pulling at her hips so that she was on her knees and easier for him to penetrate. There was no variation now, just the rigorous grip of his hands on her thighs and the slap of his groin against her. His orgasm, when it came, was sharp,hard and hot, sucking energy from the pit of his stomach and leaving him bent over her, gasping. The act of easing himself out of her was scary; his cock felt tender and vulnerable, the way it had felt the night he drunkenly lost his virginity. Rose had slumped onto her side and he moved next to her, his hand cradling his cock and balls.

Her voice was low, breathless and passionate. Justin was put in mind of a woman poet he'd seen at university reading what she claimed were updates of Sappho's poems.

'Understand the game Justin. You can fuck me how and when you like. But you can't ever love me.' It wasn't until she said it that he realised how close he'd been to saying those words, the way he'd said them to his first lover, and, if he was honest, to too many of them since. The words gave him a charge, started the blood flowing at its normal temperature in his groin. He started to rub his semi-flaccid cock against her, feeling his hood return to its normal sensitivity, the head feeling less inflamed. He grasped her breasts, using his finger as tweezers to pull at her nipples. She moaned again, but kept her voice steady as she spoke. 

'Tim will want to lick me clean you know.' He was still stood there by the door, watching them. In his mind's eye Justin pictured himself on the edge of a precipice, stepping out.

'He'd better hope I can get my cock in your arse then, because I've not finished with fucking you yet.' Just saying it completed the transition back to a full erection, and he rubbed himself along her, from her pussy along the crease of her buttocks to the entrance to her rear. The air under his emotional feet turned to solid ground as she beckoned to Tim.

'Lick me out but don't get in his way' and with that she pulled her knee up, opening the way for him. He shoved at her anus, felt the resistance, the momentary panic that his cock would split then suddenly he was into her, the muscle clenching around him even as he tried to adjust. He was confused, almost in sensory overload, trying to take in her moans and gasps, the feel of Tim's hair against his thighs, the cat lapping milk noises of Tim attending to her pussy, and realised that all he could do was to take this taboo experience to its end. So he did, starting to move his cock within her, aware that his gestures towards her were becoming rougher, his grip on her tits and nipples more callous. There was no complaint from Rose; she came again and again, her voice sinking as energy drained from her. After her last orgasm she lay there and let him have his last dozen strokes inside her until he came. 

Breathless, tired, Justin lay on his back, apart from them. He was aware of Rose talking tlo Tim, but couldn't hear all the words. She rolled over towards him eventually. 'I just told Tim that once he's licked my arse clean he's in the spare room. Come to bed...'

The bedroom lights stayed off as they went to bed; clothes were heaped on the floor and no attention given to night time niceties like teeth brushing or washing. Justin was aware of her falling asleep on him, sprawling across him, but nothing more until he became aware of her hand on his cock, her thighs astride him, mounting him in a needy, assertive way that demanded nothing more than his stiffness. He let her ride him, keeping his eyes closed; if she wanted a silent fuck with a sleeping man he wasn't going to stop her. It was a lazy, fuzzy sensation, listening to the sounds of her body, feeling her orgasm as she clenched tight around him. She climbed off him, their bodies making absurd hydraulic noises s they parted. He waited, patiently, until Rose lay down beside him. In one movement he was on his knees beside her, his cock at her mouth. 'Finish me off then Rose' and she did. No more than fifteen seconds of her mouth and lips on him and he was coming on her face, her hand guiding him so that his thin dribble of come smeared on her cheek. And again, within moments they were asleep.

Breakfast the next morning was an endurance test. Justin had dressed again in the previous nights clothes, feeling rumpled and unclean despite a shower. Rose was wrapped in an ankle length dressing gown while Tim practiced looking nonchalant in pyjama pants and a teeshirt. Even with local radio playing the silence was intimidating; when Tim spoke it was with the mannered tone of a newsreader announcing freak weather in the Faroes.

'You shouldn't assume last night was anything other than a one off Justin'. The manner was final, as if that was the news and now, here's tomorrow's weather from Sian. 

Rose wasn't so sure.

'He's right Justin, you shouldn't assume. But until I tell you different you should expect me to allow you to fuck me anywhere, any place, any how.' 

Tim's voice was panicky.

' I. Rose, I'

'Shut it Tim. You wanted this, you've got it and I'm loving it. He's got a young man's body, a nice personality and a lovely cock. So you'll have to accept that your dream came true last night when you were licking my arse and that's where you'll be for now.'

Justin could only close his eyes and wonder what would happen next.



Driving Home



I once heard a radio DJ say that if someone is awake at about 2:30 a.m. midweek, it's "stupid early" or "stupid late." I was up stupid late. I had gone out to dinner with the family of a friend of mine. Someone's birthday or graduation or new haircut; I don't remember why. Dinner lasted late, but I needed to go somewhere to unwind a bit afterwards. I went to a good coffee shop I knew of and had a few too many cups of legal speed. By the time I thought I should begin the long trek home, I was riding a strong caffeine high. If I had an IV of caffeine it would have been the same feeling.

My drive home would be about 6 boring hours. On drives like this, my mind really begins to wander. It didn't take me long to start thinking about this girl in my college psychology class. She has dark olive skin and a tendency to wear shirts that show very much cleavage and upper body skin. I started imagining her riding me, those dark legs wrapped around me. The thought of just taking my dick out of my pants and jerking off was appealing. It was late at night, on a dark stretch of highway. Who would notice? But I wasn't feeling that adventurous, so I just lightly rubbed myself through my shorts and enjoyed the feeling of a nice, hard dick.

After driving a while, my hands concentrating on gripping the wheel, I started thinking about taking a break. I knew the route I was taking would put me near a good sex store that was open 24 hours. I started thinking about how my magazine collection was getting a little old, so I thought I'd go get one or two. Even though this store was clean and respectable, I always got a little nervous about going in. What if I ran into someone I know? What if my hard-on gets too obvious? But the reward is worth the petty risks.

I walked in and noticed two or three other people milling around. I looked at some of the displays, thinking that a bottle of scented lotion would feel really good, or that a vibrating pussy might be a good investment. I wandered to the part of the store that held the private video rooms. The wall that held the boxes of the tapes didn't have anything that interesting, but then, how can anyone tell anything from a porno movie by the box? I went to the magazine section.

As I walked, I noticed this other guy. Now, I've never done anything sexual with another guy, but I have had a few fleeting thoughts about it. I even had cybersex with a guy one night...after a few drinks. This guy made me think twice about it. He must have been my age, about 22. He was wearing a tight tank top, an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, and loose shorts. He wasn't bulky muscular, but was still in damn good shape. I'm in good shape, but not quite like him. We just kind of glanced at each other, acknowledging each other's existence.

We both thumbed through some of the magazines. I usually look through quite a few before I decide on one or two to buy. A comic in one caught me a bit off-guard, and I laughed out loud at it.

"What tickled your fancy there?" the guy in the Hawaiian shirt asked.

"Just this cartoon," I replied, and showed him the page. He got a good chuckle out of it.

"Yeah, that's pretty funny. Some of the cartoons in these mags are better than the ones in the paper."

"That's true."

I put that one back and started thumbing through another one. He walked to the other side of the rack. I looked at his face, and he quickly took his eyes from me and grabbed a book from his rack. I grinned inside. I pretended to be deeply interested in the one in my hands, but I was really looking at him. I caught him stealing looks at me. I think HE caught ME, because he got a smirk on his face, and picked up a bi-guy's magazine, holding it in a way that I could see the whole cover. I was really turned on by this time; almost more than I care to admit. So turned on that I decided to go into a private video booth and get some relief.

I slowly walked into the dimly-lit room with the booths, and began looking for a booth. On the drive down, I had crossed a bridge, and got $18 worth of $1 dollar bills when I paid the toll with a $20, so I had plenty of singles to feed into the machine. I turned a corner and saw the same guy from the magazine rack. We smiled at each other for a moment, almost like we were waiting for the other to make the first move. He looked around, saw an unoccupied booth, then looked at me, motioned his head to the booth, and looked back at me. I just smiled and walked into the booth, with him following me. He latched the door locked behind him. I fed a few bucks in and let the machine process them.

"My name's Brian," he said quietly and held out his hand.

"Alexander." I shook his hand as he sat down.

We watched the videos for a minute or two, no talking or anything. I was barely paying attention to the videos, but my cock was really straining against my shorts. I felt good, but I was very excited to think about what would happen, how far I would let myself go.

Brian began lightly rubbing his cock through his shorts. I had to quickly take into account the situation: I was in a locked video room, with an extremely well-built guy rubbing himself, with some steamy pornos going on. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the situation. I let my hand slide down to my own hard dick. I looked over at Brian, and he smiled at me.

"Hey, I'm gettin' pretty horny here. You uh...would you mind if I...you know, took it out?" he asked tentatively.

My heart was ready to leap out of my chest. "If you don't mind if I do," I replied.

He unbuttoned his shorts. "Go right ahead." He reached in his shorts and pulled out a gorgeous cock: about seven inches long, smooth, shaved, thick. Mine was about the same, but seeing another guy's cock like that was intense. He concentrated on the videos as he slowly slid his hand up and down his shaft, rubbing his cock, not stroking it. I undid my own shorts and let myself free. It felt good to be free and get a small bit of relief as my cock grew bigger and harder with each throb.

Brian flipped through the channels until he came to a 2 guy/1 girl flick. The girl was sitting on one guy's face, while the other stood next to her getting sucked. The second guy slid out of her mouth and bent over the 1st guy and started stroking him. The girl was moaning encouragements like 'yeah, beat that cock of his' and 'I bet you like touching another guy' and 'are you gonna suck it?'

I took that as an opening. I really wanted know what it felt like to feel that thing. I looked over at Brian.

"Hey, you want a hand?"

"Go for it, Alex."

I took my hand from my dick and wrapped it around his. It fit very nicely. I easily moved my hand up and down. It felt amazing in my hand, alternately hard and soft, just different enough from my own cock. I knew my own so well... Brian sighed. I took my other hand and worked myself again. Brian pushed that hand away.

"Please, let me."

He put his hand on my dick and beat me off. It felt so good! An "oh fuck" quietly slipped past my lips.

"You like this?" he asked.

"About as much as you," I replied.

We turned our eyes back to the TV, but I think our attention was focused on pleasuring each other. I know mine was. Our hands moved faster and faster; grips became firmer and firmer.

A bead of precum formed on my head. Brian used his index finger to swipe it up and put it in his mouth.

"Mmm, you're kinda sweet."

"You should taste the rest of my dick." Holy shit, did I just say that?

"You said the magic words." He got up and kneeled in front of me.

"Do you want me to reciprocate?"

"I think if we sixty-nined I'd blow in no time, and I want to take my time. Just relax and enjoy..."

I leaned back as he got on his knees on front of me. He gently took my cock with one hand and teased it with his mouth, kissing it and licking it like a lollipop. Fuck I was excited! 

"Mmm, your cock tastes good..."

I saw his other arm moving as he stroked himself. He beat my slick shaft momentarily. "What do you think of this?" He took my head in his mouth and swirled his tongue around. I just let out a quiet moan. He kept part of his hand on my dick, the other hand trailing fingers on my balls. I was glad I had remembered to trim my pubic hair this morning. Brian was fisting what he wasn't sucking. This guy had obviously done this before, but what came to mind was only how good it felt.

He took more of me into his mouth, in small increments. It seemed like forever, but it was only a few minutes, until I felt his nose hit the bottom of my stomach. He placed both hands on my hips and bobbed his head up and down rather quickly, but not too fast. I slid my hand up his shirt, feeling his chest muscles. I played with his nipples, pinching and pulling them. From the way he moaned around my cock, he liked it. 

I was broken out of my pleasure by the sound of someone jiggling the door handle. Brian also noticed, and we both immediately turned to the door. Upon remembering it was locked, and whoever was trying couldn't get in, he went back to business. I glanced at the TV, and saw we still had time left.

I didn't have much time left; I could feel that tingling in my balls. I thought it might have been Brian playing with me. He was indeed very easily rubbing my sac, but it was also the feeling of cum rising. Brian pulled off me and said he was close to cumming.

"Have you ever cum without cumming?" I asked.

"No, what do you mean?"

"I can make it so you don't shoot when you come. You want to try it?"

"Sure. You just hurry up and make me cum."

He returned to sucking me and stroking himself. Within moments, I heard his breath get ragged and his body jerk a bit.

"Oh god, I'm close Alex. I'm want to cum so badly, Alex..."

I pushed two fingers just between his balls and asshole as he came. His body jerked and he moaned and writhed, but true to form he didn't jizz. That would be a problem in a public place like this. When he calmed down, he pulled off me and leaned close to my face.

"That was just about the best fucking orgasm I've ever had. Now, stand up and fuck my face and cum where ever you want. If you cum down my throat, I'm going to swallow it. All of it."

I stood up on the bench and Brian walked on his knees and settled between my legs. My dick throbbed and jumped, my heart raced with anticipation. He locked eyes with me, and never moved them. His head bounced up and down on my shaft, his tongue felt like it wrapped around it several times. He again kept his hands on my hips. I put my hands on his shoulders, squeezing them in tension. In about a minute I let go a jet of cum that almost went right through his head. I came and came and came what was without a doubt the biggest load I had ever shot. I shut my eyes, tense with pleasure, but remembered and opened them. He was still looking right at me. I noticed a long drop of cum dribbling from his mouth and down his chin. When I finally calmed down, he got up and pointed at his mouth in a questioning manner. Why not, I thought? We leaned together and kissed, and he shoved part of my load into my mouth. He slid his tongue around, and we kind of spit-swapped the cum a few times. We broke, and both swallowed.

Just then the time ran out on the videos. That brought is back to reality.

"I guess we better go before anyone thinks anything's up," he said.

I agreed. We quickly got our clothes straightened and walked out. Well, I stumbled out, weak in the legs from what I had just done. When we were in the parking lot, Brian handed me a card.

"This is my business card. Call me sometime, and we'll continue the session."

I took it, smiled at him, and put the card in my pocket. He got in his car and drove away.



You tell me-should I see him again?



Driving Home



Driving home, I was feeling really horny. I wanted to share it with somebody!

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Click Here to listen. (5.5 min/mp3)

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