This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue, go and surf elsewhere.
This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental.
The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.
My thanks to John and Brian who have read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
Thank you to those who have commented on my stories. If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all message.
Jonathan 11th February 2009
Jonathan usually woke before Chink, and he did so that Wednesday morning. He had learnt how to get out of bed without waking his sleeping companion.
He had a set routine that he followed almost every morning. He doused his face in cold water to complete the waking up process and then made his way down to the exercise room. Andy was there on the walking machine. They often met in that room in the early morning.
"Hi, Sexy," said Andy with a wink.
"I think that's a case of the pot calling the kettle black!"
"Even a hardened old sex-worker like me can still recognise one sexy guy when he sees him."
"And if you keep on ogling my crotch you will be hard enough."
Jonathan began to do some exercises with weights. At intervals over the next three quarters of an hour they chatted. When they had finished their work out, Jonathan went off for the next stage of his morning ritual in the bathroom. This was often referred to as SSS. It was only when that was completed that he went for his breakfast.
They were several of the Boys eating. Many preferred to look after the inner man before cleanliness and exercise. It was just before 11.00 that they began to assemble ready for the first of the punters. Lunch times were rarely very busy, but they had to be available. Only those who had had a particularly late night or over-night session, were allowed to be absent to catch up with some sleep.
The third punter that morning was Roger. He came through and greeted all the Boys by name, enquiring as to how they were getting on. They all liked and respected him. His demands were small, he was always grateful, and there was always a twenty pound tip for what was usually at the most a twenty minute session. They all knew, that because of the removal of his false teeth, he gave one of the very best blow jobs. That morning he chose Jonathan. Ba offered his room to save Roger having to climb the stairs.
The usual drill was for Jonathan to sit on the edge of the bed, while Roger knelt down and gave the blow job. That morning Jonathan decided he would try to do things differently.
"Roger, let's have a cuddle first. Take off your bath robe and get on the bed."
"I don't want to take off my robe. I am not a very pleasant sight now. I am so thin. I am just skin and bone, almost a walking skeleton."
"I want to give you a cuddle. Does anyone give you a hug now?"
"Alas, no."
"Well, I want to give you one. Get on the bed, I want to show my thanks to you."
"Thanks to me?"
"Yes. There are patrons and patrons, some are exceedingly selfish, but you are the opposite. You're kind, generous, and give the best blow job in the place. All the Boys are agreed on that."
Very slowly Roger removed his bath robe. "Well, what did I tell you? I'm no thing of beauty, and not a joy for ever."
"You're Roger, a kind old man. One day I may look like you, I hope I am like you in character."
As quickly as his stiff arthritic joints would allow Roger climbed on to the bed.
Jonathan got alongside and put his arms round Roger. "You're a good man." He lent over and gave Roger a kiss. The response was surprising and immediate. Roger's arms were soon round Jonathan, and he responded with passion. Jonathan's hand lightly rubbed Roger's boney chest, and moved down over his stomach to his cock. It felt like a warm limp sausage: but even in its flaccid state it was quite big. Jonathan gave it a slight squeeze and felt a slight hardening.
"It's beginning to get hard."
"It will a little, but never hard enough to do anything useful with it now. But that is nice. It is a year or two since a nice sexy lad like you gave me a kiss and held my cock."
"But I bet it has seen a lot of action in its time!"
"You're right there. I started when I was about nine. An older lad whom I admired, he must have been about thirteen, got me to suck his cock. Because I liked him I enjoyed it. Soon word got around I was 'able and willing' as they say, and I was sucking four or five of the older boys' cocks. Then when I was a little older I was getting boys to suck me. Of course, to begin with it was fruitless, and there was no cum, but pleasurable none the less. Then at Public School, there was more of it. I was initiated the whole way in my first term."
"You were fucked?"
"Yes, well and truly. I was a fag to one of the monitors. Fortunately he was a careful guy, and it didn't hurt so much as to make me not want to do it again. It became one of my duties to bend over and let him have his way. More or less every day that first year, except when there was a school rugby or cricket match. Said he had to keep up his strength.
"I did a term at Oxford before the war. There were a couple of men in my year at the college with whom I went. We had to keep a low profile; didn't do to get known as one of the limp-wristed brigade.
"Then came the war. I got the King's commission and served in the Intelligence Corps. Interesting work. Got sent round the Cape to Egypt. Served with Monty's lot, the Desert Rats in North Africa, and then into Sicily. Then posted back to Blighty and got sent across on D Day+3. Across France, Belgium, into Germany and over the Rhine and VE Day. We were about to sail for the Far East when the Yanks dropped the atomic bomb and to our great surprise it was all over."
"Did you have any...fun during the war?" Jonathan gave Roger's cock an extra squeeze.
"Oh yes. I learnt in the army who was up for it, and who were not interested, and who were totally against. There was usually two or three in any unit. We had to be additionally careful. But you could usually find somewhere safe. It was a bit difficult getting to know and be trusted by O.Rs."
"O.Rs?"
"Other ranks, non officer types. To be caught with your cock up a private's arse hole would really have been a double major scandal. Then after the war I studied law and became a solicitor in the City. Good income, and provided you were careful it was reasonably safe. The difficult time was the late forties and fifties. Lot of prosecutions. Lord Montegue and all that."
"Were you ever caught?"
"Nearly, a couple of times when I was cottaging. But I rarely did that. I moved through life with a circle of about a dozen, perhaps two dozen, friends who liked our sort of sex. Introductions would be made at dinner parties and so on, telephone numbers exchanged and a meeting arranged."
"Group activities?"
"Sometimes. Members of that circle of friends would move away, or you would just lose contact, and others were added. Then the circle decreased, dying off. I go to a lot of funerals now, and I know it'll soon be mine. Only one old friend survives and I'll be having lunch with him later. Now it is all acquaintances. But I always want to suck one more cock, so I come here once a week."
"I'm glad you do. Thanks for telling me all that."
" So what's your story, Jon? How come you are here? You are not the usual Boy that Bill gets working for him. You're better educated than most of them."
Jonathan told Roger his story. Roger made comments, and pulled a face when Jonathan told him of the persuasion techniques that Bill had used.
"I didn't realise he went to those sort of lengths. So where do you come from then?"
"My home was in Luton. Whether I'll ever go back there I don't know."
"I know Luton a little. Whereabouts?"
"Fearnley Gardens, just off the road out to Hitchin."
"I don't know that side of the town. But now I must do what I came to do. My friend for lunch will be wondering what has happened to me."
Roger clambered off the bed, and Jonathan swung round to sit on the edge. Roger knelt down between Jonathan's legs, and proceeded to give him the usual very satisfying blow job. Ten minutes later it was all over. Jonathan went with Roger to the desk, and waiting as was the custom while Roger dressed. Within ten minutes he came out respectably dressed, handed Jonathan the usual twenty pound note. "Thank you, Jon, for that lovely day. I enjoyed every minute being with you. You have made my day!"
"Thank you, Roger. Take care."
They gave each other a hug and several kisses.
Jonathan stuffed the twenty pound note into the back pocket of his jeans. Almost immediately the buzzer went again. There were ten of the boys lined up, when Ginger, the bigoted journalist, walked in. Jonathan's heart sank, and he hoped that he was not chosen, but he was.
"Jonathan, I'll have you this time. I haven't got much time, but I would like a massage first."
Jonathan led the way to the smallish room where the massage table was placed. Ginger immediately got on the table and lay front down. "Do your best to make me relax, and then we can have some real fun."
Jonathan had been trained to take time over a massage, but he could do nothing right. "A bit harder," or "a bit softer." "A little to the right" or "To the left." Ginger hardly lay still for more than about thirty seconds at a time. Nothing seemed to satisfy him. Jonathan did his best, he did not want a complaint going to Bill; and Ginger was too influential a member of Plato's to risk displeasing in any way.
After nearly half an hour Ginger sat up, when Jonathan was in the middle of massaging the front of his thighs. "Enough of that. I want to fuck you. I haven't got time to go all the way up to your room. We'll do it in here."
The room did have a supply of condoms and lube. Jonathan held out a condom to Ginger, "Do you want me to put this on for you?" Many punters liked having the condom put on for them.
"No, I'm quite capable to doing that myself."
Jonathan handed over the condom, and proceeded to start lubricating himself.
It did not take Ginger long to unroll the condom onto his hard and thick penis. "Hurry up, Boy. I can't hang around all day. I pay good money for this, and expect good service. Now lean your chest on the top of the table and feet on the floor, I'll have you standing up."
Jonathan got into position; but well before he had settled, he felt two hands on his bum cheeks pulling them apart, and the unlubricated cock force its way into him in one complete movement. The pain was considerable, and he winced.
"The trouble with you young 'uns is that you can't take things. You're as much of a Nancy as my wife. She believes in these modern things like foreplay, silly bitch. I'd trade her in for a younger model, except she'd take me to the cleaners." Ginger pounded away at Jonathan's arse for about ten minutes. He still continued to give instructions. "Press back a bit" "Try standing up more, no not as much as that." Eventually relief came as Jonathan felt Ginger tense up, and his cock pulsate within him.
There was a brief pause, thirty seconds at the most, before Ginger pulled his cock out. He whipped off the condom. "I feel better for that. Nothing like sex for relieving the tensions. I'll take a shower, you can clean up in here."
Ginger left the room leaving Jonathan to pick up the discarded condom packet and the used condom which had been flung on the floor, in spite of there being a small bin nearby to receive such items.
Jonathan was angry. He felt totally used, and of no consequence as a person. He compared Roger's behaviour and Ginger's. He went down to say good bye, and to be there to receive any tip.
Soon Ginger bounced out of the room where he had changed back into to his suit. "Feel better for that. Money well spent. Now for hard labour." He pulled out his wallet and handed Jonathan a five pound note.
Now the usual tip was twenty pounds, very occasionally a ten pound note, often given with an apology, because in these days of mass credit cards, and in spite of cash dispensers, there were occasions when people were caught short of cash. A five pound tip was almost unknown and was regarded as an insult. Jonathan had worked hard to give a satisfactory massage, and the sex afterwards had been both painful and humiliating. He put the note into his back pocket, and went off to get a shower, and to be ready for another punter.
Jonathan stood under the shower fuming at Ginger, in his mind calling him all names under the sun. Slowly the hot water seemed to wash away his anger and he relaxed.
When he had dried himself and dressed in his usual outfit, Tshirt, jeans, socks and trainers, he made his way down to the bottom floor where he could leave the towels, his own and Ginger's, to be washed.
When he got down there he saw something that he had never seen before in all his months at Bill's |Club. The back door to the outside world was rarely opened, usually for those Boys and members of the staff who were allowed into the outside world, and for the delivery of items of equipment for that part of the club. The 'respectable' part had its own entrance. Jonathan remembered that one of the washing machines had been playing up, so perhaps it was being replaced. What was surprising was that the door was open, and there was no member of the staff there, as was usually the case when the door was open for a delivery. Jonathan looked out of the door. Immediately in front of him was the cab of a truck, with noises coming from inside of something heavy being moved. The back of the truck was to Jonathan's left.
In a split second Jonathan came to a decision. He had never made any promise to Bill with regard to the Club, only when at the farm. He went through the door and ran off to the right.
Jeffrey at jeffyrks@hotmail.com