By CLARE LONDON (5 page)

“Fuck.” His whisper was so soft, I wasn’t even sure I’d heard a coherent word. He pressed himself back hard against the wall. I leaned my weight against his legs, grasping the creased denim of his jeans, and began to move my mouth up and down, dragging my tongue along with it. The smell of his balls was musky and erotic, the dark, rougher pubic hairs tickling at my nose. His cock was thick and hot in my mouth and tasted like nothing on Earth. I couldn’t possibly have forgotten how good a cock could taste—the sharp tang of living flesh on my tongue; the wrinkles of skin smoothing under my lips, stretching over a swelling shaft. I could feel the pulse of the vein along the side of it, could taste the droplets of precome as they oozed out of the slit for me to suck up. His hips strained against my hands as he thrust into my mouth in a parody of fucking, and his fingers gripped my hair close to the scalp. But he had no need to force me up and down. I was sucking for my own delight as well.

I hadn’t done this for so long! I reckon I’d always been pretty good at it. The pleasure returned in a rush of sensation, and I tried very hard to pace myself, to control the excitement that was racing around me, making my hands clutch too tightly at his muscular thighs, my mouth suck too greedily at his dick. But he didn’t complain. Maybe he liked it that way. Our combined breath was short and rasping, and when I glanced up, I could see a mist from his mouth as he panted his body heat into the rapidly cooling night air. My head bobbed back and forth, my mouth making soft suckling noises, and his grunts accompanied me. I wished to God I could get a hand down into my own briefs and relieve the ache I was suffering there.

I don’t know how long it took. I was lost in the rhythm of sucking, and it seemed like I’d been pressed close to his groin forever. My mouth had always been filled with this flesh; my lips had always been bruised against his taut skin as I satisfied our hunger, deeper and harder. I felt a shudder deep in his balls and the catch of his breath as it announced the imminent end. But even as my heart raced at the thought of swallowing him and my lips tightened, he yanked my head back and slid me off.

Panting, I licked my swollen, frustrated lips and lifted my head to stare up at him. He still gripped me tight, but his eyes were half-closed. His chest heaved with breaths too shallow for comfort, and his thigh muscles twitched under my touch. His cock jutted out into my face, red, glossy with my saliva, and acting bloody angry at being denied. He looked superb: a vibrant, aching statue of a man, and I wanted so much more of him that I felt a physical hurt.

“You want to fuck me?” My voice was hoarse as if I hadn’t used it for weeks. I knew what I was asking. It was all part of the strange surrender that had consumed me this night—I was contemplating letting some near stranger bury his cock in my arse, and I seemed to accept it as okay. Welcomed it, in fact.

“Yes.” His tongue slipped out and moistened his lips. He bent his head forward, gazing back down at me with half-focused eyes. “Yes!”

I stood, my knees shaky. He watched me as I slipped open the button of my jeans and unzipped myself. I was standing there in an open yard and I was going to strip myself for this man to fuck me. Let’s face it, it wasn’t going to be comfortable. We were standing on a barely swept concrete floor with a brick wall for a view, surrounded by bags of rubbish and spied on by passing foxes. What’s more, anyone might come out of the club and find us.

Which was the dominant feeling—terror or excitement?

I slid the jeans down my legs and flipped my briefs down after them. They caught on my erection, sending a shivering ache up to my groin. My dick was damp at the tip, swollen and desperate to be free of the cloth. I kicked the clothes off over my boots, my movements clumsy but determined, and pushed them away to the side. I hoped they didn’t land in anything too sordid. I stood there in my crumpled shirt and footwear, nothing else. The night air rustled gently against my shirttails, blowing soft trails in the hair on my legs and tickling under my balls. I wondered when I’d last fucked in the open air. My memory wasn’t up to scratch at all tonight.

Seve was breathing very heavily. He stared at my body, desire glittering in his eyes like fireflies. “Turn around.”

He had a London accent, but the sensuous roll to his pronunciation made my skin crawl with excitement. I felt him move up behind me and his cock nudged at my arse cheeks, catching on the edge of my shirt. He was a shaft of pure heat under the silk. His hands landed on my shoulders again, and he pressed me forward so I had to throw out my hands to protect myself. I was forced up against the wall, my back bent in a concave shape. His hand slipped down to my buttocks, touching me there, firm, possessive. He shifted a knee between my legs and spread them further apart.

My cock bobbed rather perilously near the brickwork. This was going to hurt one way or another.

“You got a condom?” I was horny but still bemused at the way things had gone so fast, so fiercely. And unused to this whole thing: it had been a bloody long time since anyone took me.

“I… no.” To give him his due, this whole thing seemed to have taken Seve as much by surprise as it had me. He cursed softly. His hand paused in smoothing my buttocks, creeping around inside the crack, brushing at my hole. I just about stopped myself pushing back against his fingers, begging for more.

“It’s okay, I have.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “In my wallet.” He bent down and I heard him scrabble around in my discarded clothing. I wondered if the fucking thing would be out of date by now—one of the guys on the construction site had slipped it to me a couple of months ago, just for a laugh. I’d never intended to use it. I heard Seve give a small, tight laugh. He’d obviously found the sachet of lube my mate had added as well. Well, now he’d know what sort of slut he was dealing with, wouldn’t he? I flushed with embarrassment, but I knew we didn’t have any kind of conversation going where I could explain that I wasn’t like that, really. And anyway, it looked like I was, didn’t it?

“Now,” I said. “Do it now, Seve. Don’t make me wait.”

My cock hung down between my legs, and I clasped it tightly. It was hot and heavy and the new pressure was a welcome if temporary relief. Seve pressed up close, leaning on my back, his breath steamy at the nape of my neck. I felt the open zip of his jeans snagging at my thighs and his cock teasing between my cheeks. My hole clenched then flexed in desperate, needy confusion, trying to prepare for him coming in. I was dead scared that he’d never get in—I had to be tight as a gnat’s arse from lack of recent attention. But from the soft, slippery touch of his cock on my chilled skin, I knew he was protected and lubed up. And then—oh fuck—there was a similarly slick finger pressing gently into me, probing and stretching the entrance.

Another thing I’d forgotten—the blessed, unmistakable delight of being fingered! My back arched shamelessly now, my body reaching for his touch, and I whimpered. His other hand twisted itself tightly into my hair and held my head back. The fingers slid in and out of me a few more times, then exited abruptly. His cock brushed there instead, a slightly clumsy prod against my hole. I opened my legs wider and my arse presented itself into his hands. I wanted him so badly I thought I was going to spontaneously combust.

He let out a deep, guttural sound in my ear and pushed into me. I yelped and jerked with the shock, but his arm gripped my waist and held me tight. He pulled back a little, then thrust more deeply, and my body moved with him. The momentum pressed me further against the wall so my forehead banged on it. I turned my head, preferring a grazed cheek to a concussion. He straightened again, pulling me slightly back, and started to fuck me with a steady, strong rhythm. I wondered, with fascination and desire in equal parts, how long he could last. He’d been ready to come only moments ago. But there was no sound from him or shiver in his body that made me think he wasn’t in total control.

“I need….” I gasped, not really knowing what the hell I was saying and far from coherent in the middle of a fuck at the best of times. But he obviously understood me because his right hand left my waist and came down to my groin. He batted my flailing hand aside—I was doing a pathetic job of pleasing myself because my concentration was far, far away—and he fisted around me with perfect precision. There was lube on his palm and my dick was leaking with eager precome, so his grip was slick and effective. I moaned loudly and began to thrust into his hand. We moved in tandem, in the same rhythm. His fingers slipped firmly up and down my cock, teasing the excitement further up from the coil of lust deep in my groin. Seve may have had control of his bodily responses, but I was hurtling over the edge too bloody soon. We rocked together, nothing to be heard but the wet slap of sweaty flesh against even more sweaty flesh; the harsh grunt of a body slamming against another; the panting of two people concentrating on what must be surely one of the most pure, physically satisfying feelings ever discovered.

To my shame, I climaxed only a few seconds later. Fuck, I don’t think I’d ever felt so good in my life, plus I’d had no practice in controlling the suspense in oh so many months. My body wanted to hit those heights and wanted it now! I gulped and sobbed and pumped out hot, creamy seed all over his hand. I looked down through ecstasy-blurred eyes as strings of it splattered onto the rough ground at my feet.

He let out another guttural moan. I was probably like a vise around his dick, but I didn’t have any kind of control over those muscles at that moment. But as I started to relax and slump under his body, he clutched me back around the waist and started to speed up his fucking. I could hear his heart hammering against my spine, and the shudder I’d been waiting for in him started to run down his torso. I could feel it at my hips, feel his legs crushing against mine, his groin trying to sink even deeper into me.

And I was the one doing this to him.

“Shit,” he hissed into my hair so that I barely heard him. His fingers pinched at my skin and he bucked a couple of times. Then I felt the erratic thrust and the catch of his breath that declared—in my experience—he was coming.

He groaned aloud and his body shuddered. In the distance, a car horn sounded from a motorist angry at having to wait behind someone at the lights. I thought I could hear the insistent throb of house music played at top volume through its window as it passed up the street on the other side of the wall. And then the silence fell around us again.

SEVE groaned with some kind of relief and straightened up. He pulled cautiously out of me, then peeled off the soggy condom and threw it into a pile of overflow rubbish by the nearest bin. I heard the soft plop as it fell onto a pile of dusty cardboard.

I realized how little our skin had touched, though my arse and legs were bare and his jeans were still wide open at his groin. I struggled to regain my breath. When I craned back to look over my shoulder, I saw his cock hanging out, fallen limp now against the denim, shining in the semidarkness with a sheen that was made up of the remnants of his come and overenthusiastic lube. Besides the sex, there’d been virtually no other contact between us. He tidied himself back into his underwear and jeans. His zip rasped in the quiet air.

That’s that, then. Talk about a soulless fuck.

He cleared his throat and said, “That was really… good.”

Good? I searched my mind for some withering response and fell short. I stretched my way upright, still leaning on the wall for much-needed support. My shirt fell softly over my bare groin, and I winced at its touch. What the hell did I have to complain about? I felt too good for snark and too well fucked for protest. It had been the hottest, fiercest, most exciting fuck I’d ever had.

“Yeah.” I hesitated a moment but then just added, “It was. Thanks.” I bent and grabbed at my jeans, then tucked in one of my legs to start dressing myself. I hissed in frustration as I got tangled at the knees. Shit, if I’d known I was going to need to pull my clothes on and off quickly, I’d have chosen to wear sweats instead. Seve caught my arm as I staggered, and I bit back more thanks. Not that he hadn’t earned it, in more ways than one.

He was all zipped up, all done and dusted and calm as anything. Maybe there was something still lingering… a breath heavier than before, a flush on his smooth skin? I was sure he’d been blown away by it as much as I had. He wasn’t rushing off, after all. Nor had he tried to slip me a twenty in payment for services rendered. Dammit, I knew I was being a hypocrite. I was creating melodrama around something that had been perfectly clear to both of us—nothing but spontaneous lust, nothing but a fast and furious race toward mutual satisfaction. And I’d welcomed it wholeheartedly.

“I’ve got to go.” I stumbled out the words. So much for any witty repartee.

Seve frowned, a brief crease on his brow. “Okay, Max.” That deep, steady voice, like he hadn’t just fucked me to a sob, like he hadn’t just come like an enthusiastic porn star himself. But I was absurdly pleased he’d remembered my name. “If that’s what you want.”

I blinked hard. “Yeah. Um… my friends? They’re still in the club.”

He shrugged and his smile had an arrogant, harsh twist to it now. “Push the door hard. Security will let you back inside. They know you’re out here.”

“You coming too?”

His dark eyes blinked as if I’d startled him. “No. I have things to do.”

He fell silent again. I just stared. Even allowing for this whole weird scenario, he didn’t seem much of a conversationalist. There was a single bead of sweat shimmering at his left temple. Once I’d seen it, I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away.

“I’ll see you around,” he said.

Before I had a chance to return the farewell, he turned away. I watched him walk diagonally across the yard and let himself out of a small access gate. The shadows were deeper there, and all I could see of his head and shoulders was silhouette. He shut the gate firmly behind him, and I heard his footsteps fading away, heading toward the main street.

I leaned back against the wall for another ten minutes or so, watching my breath huff out on the increasingly nippy air and waiting for the soreness in my arse to ease off. I wished like fuck I was still smoking.