by Michael Arram
Instinctively, Barry knew he was seeing something he shouldn’t. He covered the only way he could think of in the heat of the moment. Looking up earnestly at Luc he urged, ‘Fuck me.’
Luc grinned down at him. ‘Fantastique!’ Todo pulled off Luc’s butt while Barry turned away from the video screen, kneeling on the sofa and sticking his bum out. There was motion behind him, followed by a subdued curse and the snap of the video being turned off.
There ensued an exchange of whispers between Luc and Todo. Suddenly Barry felt a wet tongue caress his hole, Todo at work he guessed. He groaned. An instant later there was a click and the squelching sound of something being slicked up. Lube, he imagined. Todo withdrew his tongue and spat copiously on Barry’s anus, as did Luc. Barry felt the gobs of saliva trickle down his crack. Fingers massaged his ring and he rose up a little as they penetrated him and stretched his hole.
Luc whispered in his ear. ‘What an ass! Have you done it before?’
‘It’ll hurt a bit, but soon it’ll be good. Bon courage, mon cher!’
‘What about lube for me?’
‘Gob on my hand. There! I’ll rub it into your hole. Now we’ve all three of us lubed you. It’s like a gay baptism … a baptism of spunk and spit.’
‘What about protection?’
‘This is Rothenia. It’s safe here.’
Barry doubted it, but he was in no position to object. Besides, he wanted this so badly. Luc was behind him, the warm skin of his belly pressing against Barry’s back. There was pressure against his hole, and Luc cooed in his ear, ‘Voilà, mon brave garçon anglais. Je te baiseras si bon.’
A sharp stab in his rear caused Barry a new sort of pain. ‘Owww!’ he yelped. His hole resisted stoutly, bringing tears to his eyes. Then the pressure eased and the pain slowly subsided. Luc’s fat knob had breached him. Luc held his dick inside Barry for a few moments before steadily pushed on up. Barry cried out in shock and ecstasy. This was something both new and good. His big hanging dick throbbed. Todo reached under Luc’s crotch and began manipulating Barry, as Luc’s cock started moving in him.
It was quite a ride. Luc had stamina. In the end he had Barry tight round the ribcage, fucking him frantically like a dog covering a bitch on a street corner. Barry was shouting obscenities as Luc suddenly stopped and held steady inside him. He felt a throb from his taut, distended hole and knew his virginity was gone. The French boy had come inside him.
Luc was drawing huge breaths. Eventually he asked, ‘Was it good?’
‘Want it again?’
Luc pulled out, leaving Barry’s hole wet and gaping, open to the cool air on his exposed inner flesh. Without asking, Todo took Luc’s place and Barry felt a new sensation as a more solid member pushed wider what Luc had already ploughed and seeded. Barry just hoped his backside was flexible enough to cope with the demands being made on it.
Todo pressed him down along the sofa, laid himself over Barry’s back and began an energetic bout of adolescent pounding at his butt. It went on and on.
Barry could say nothing, for his mouth was stuffed with sofa cushion. He lay there with a sweaty boy heavy on his back, pressing his knees into the cushions to raise his arse for Todo’s easier penetration. A part of his mind was asking, Do I really want this? The more primal sector of his brain had no doubts. Yes, he did. But what about that video? His higher brain functions, not yet quite shut down, would eventually have their say.
Tommy got into the habit of working out regularly with Lennie. She coped magnificently with Friday, when Tommy appeared in makeup and full drag.
‘Women react unpredictably to it,’ he confessed. ‘My second girlfriend freaked when she found I shopped for panties at Top Girl.’
Lennie raised her eyebrows. ‘How old were you?’
‘She must have been a conventional sorta gal.’
‘Christian parents I think … but you can’t blame them. Oddly enough, it turned out she was a lesbian. I wonder if it was my fault?’
Lennie gave a delighted laugh. Tommy laughed with her.
The next week they had their second meal in the Fourth District, and were enjoying themselves so much they went on to a club Tommy knew. Lennie danced very well, almost as well as Tommy, who’d had some serious tuition from his clubland friend Davey Skipper.
Everything about the night fell into place. They’d had just enough to drink and not too much to eat. It was well past two o’clock when they came out of the club. The city was silent under the stars as they wandered the empty streets in the cool air. Tommy saw Lennie to the Osraeum, bowing over her hand and kissing it in the best Ruritanian style. He straightened and smiled at her.
‘That was the best night out ever,’ she dimpled back.
‘All but perfect.’
‘And what would have made it perfect?’ she asked, her eyes daring him.
‘This.’ Tommy bent down, gathered her up and kissed her on the mouth. She did not hold back in response. It was a while before they broke apart.
‘We must do this again,’ he murmured.
‘What? The dancing or the kissing?’
‘Both. Good night, Lennie. See you tomorrow.’
He watched her go up into the palace, then strolled off back to the Residenz, feeling very unsettled.
Lance gave Henry a lopsided smile over the breakfast counter. ‘I guess.’
Henry reached up and ruffled his son’s dark hair. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Am I so obvious?’
‘To those who love you, yes. You have this little furrow that appears between your eyebrows. It makes you look so serious. Boy trouble?’
‘Sorta. There’s a new English kid in school, and he’s gay.’
‘And you’re attracted?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Lust or love?’
‘That’s always the big question, baby. Is it your dick or your heart which is engaged?’
‘I dunno. How can I tell until we hook up?’
‘You mean you’ve not talked to him?’
‘A bit. It’s difficult. Another guy got there before me.’
‘Oh. That’s a problem. No advice then, I’ll just keep my fingers crossed for you. Maybe it’ll not work out with the other guy.’
‘For the English kid’s sake I hope not. The other one’s a git.’
‘What?’ A surprised Barry looked up from the dining-hall table to find himself staring into the smiling eyes of a girl.
‘You look preoccupied. Sorry to be so nosy.’ She was Rothenian, but her English was perfect. ‘I’m Helen. I’ve been meaning to say hello.’ They did the handshake thing.
‘I’m Barry. Thanks for coming over.’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. New school syndrome mainly. It’s still so strange, although this is nearly the end of my second week.’
‘Have you made friends?’
‘Well, there’s Luc.’
The girl gave him a closed look, much as Lance Atwood had. It added to Barry’s uneasiness. He was well aware by now that hanging with Luc was a dangerous pastime, and was beginning to wonder if he should be trying to get out of the connection.
Helen’s face soon cleared. ‘You ought to increase your circle of friends,’ she commented. She called to a boy on an adjacent table, who came over and sat close enough to her for Barry to get the message. ‘This is Marky. Marky, Barry.’
Marky did the full Rothenian handshake. He was very continental-looking: full crimson lips, wide cheekbones, thick hair so black it might have been dyed, and sharp green eyes with a certain laughing twinkle to them. His English was clipped but nicely accented
‘Hello, Barry. You are from England, yes? It is a place I would like one day to visit. We have some Anglos here, they hang around with Damien and Lance. You have met, yes? I am surprised you have not joined their gang.’
Barry was not going to go through the Luc story again. ‘So what’s your gang, Marky? Are they the Aristos?’
Helen laughed and answered for him. ‘He got you there, Marky. Marek here is about as noble as they come in Rothenia. He’s one of the chancellor’s sons, but he’s very tolerant and associates with us commoners too.’
‘It’s not so simple as Anglos and Aristos in Year 12, Barry,’ Marky added. ‘There are many different groups here.’
‘Some of them wouldn’t so much as spit on me if I was on fire,’ Helen commented. ‘Those you ignore. You’ll soon work out who they are. Franz Kristof zu Brantesberh over there – tall and stupid – is one of the worst. Marky is the acceptable face of privilege.’
They laughed, and chatted for quite a while over lunch. Lance Atwood drifted past at one point, and Barry half-imagined he got a glance from the boy. He noticed that eyes followed Lance wherever he went. Barry switched back to the table and saw that Marky’s eyes too had been drawn to the vision. It looked as though even straight boys were compelled to stare at male beauty of that order.
As Lance abandoned the hall and normality returned, Marky caught Barry’s eye. He smiled a bit sheepishly. ‘Lance is something, is he not?’
‘How long have you known him?’
Helen answered. ‘He arrived in Year 8. Henry Atwood, the TV personality, is his dad. Have you watched Eastnet? No? It’s mostly in Rothenian and German. Lance is actually the son of Mr Atwood’s uncle, so they’re cousins. But Henry adopted him after his real father died. They live in the Sixth.’
Marky chipped in. ‘You must have heard about what happened at the last Olympics! He’s an amazing diver, and was lined up to lead the Rothenian bid for medals, even though he was only a teenager. He had cleaned up in the European championships. But he was disqualified when the British complained to FINA about his national status. It turned out he was technically still a British citizen.’
‘Right! I do remember. So that was Lance! The British were bad. They didn’t make the complaint till a couple of days before the games began, when it was too late to do anything. Poor Lance!’ Barry experienced a genuine feeling of sadness for the boy, even though he couldn’t account for why he should have.
Helen nodded. ‘There was a big wave of sympathy for him. I think he’s a naturalised Rothenian now, but he withdrew from competition last year, and hasn’t gone back to training with the national team.’
‘So he was depressed about it.’
Helen shrugged. ‘He’s a really nice guy … completely genuine. You’d think that looking like he does he’d be vain and self-centred, but he’s not.’
Marky agreed. ‘He can be … umm, how do you say … clueless, yes?’
Helen laughed. ‘It’s like dealing with a total innocent sometimes. But Daimey looks after him.’
‘Damien Macavoy. You must know about him.’
‘The Peacher heir? He came up and said hello to me last week.’
Helen gave a curiously neutral expression before going on hastily, ‘He can be nice if he wants to be.’
Marky pursued the point. ‘Both he and Lance have gay parents. That must be very cool, don’t you think?’
Barry considered the idea. ‘It’s certainly different. Is that why they hang out together? Lance isn’t in the rich list, is he?’
Marky shrugged. ‘No, though I suppose Henry Atwood is well off, and his partner is an army general. Despite the Atwood-Cornishes not being anywhere near the Peacher class, Lance and Damien have always been close, so far as I can remember. They also hang out with that fat Anglo kid, the professor’s son. Wasn’t there once an American guy in their set?’
Helen nodded. ‘His name was Reggie Mayer, but he left before we got to Year 8. I remember him though. He was very smart and quite sweet in a geeky sort of way. He never came back.’
As the afternoon-period buzzer rasped through the laughter and chatter in the hall, Barry found he had made two real friends, people of his age with whom he could talk easily. The three separated cheerily, expressing a wish to see each other round.
Crossing his arms, Henry looked Fritz von Tarlenheim full in the eye. ‘You know, don’t you?’
‘Don’t fake it, Fritzku. He’d tell you even before he’d tell Ed.’
‘Who, of course, told you, even though he had no business doing so.’
‘That’s hurtful. I’m discreet, me.’
‘Even still, it’s a matter of vital national concern, and you’re a journalist. You must be wetting yourself with frustration.’
Henry frowned. The two friends were doing lunch in the Flavienerhof. Fritz had hopped the new express tram from Strelzen’s Financial District, which gave him plenty of time for a leisurely meal.
Henry continued. ‘So, is he right to do it? It’s a bad time.’
‘When is a good time in Rothenia? Come on, Henry, Rudi has this great opportunity, a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make a mark in the wider world. It would be cruel to deny him.’
‘I know that, but I rather fear he’s going to permit his Rothenian enemies to do serious mischief.’
‘He also has friends, and a lot of them. So we have to make sure it goes right.’
‘It’s also dumping on Harry.’
‘You underestimate her. She’s more than capable of rising to the challenge. You’re not being sexist are you, Henry?’
‘Watch it, you tarty bisexual you, or I’ll run a feature on your latest social disaster. I mean, a golfing pro. Where did you meet him?’
‘Surprisingly, on a squash court. You should have seen his ass as he danced around the place. Amazing!’
‘And he’s only twenty-three.’
‘If you say “a bit young for you,” I really will challenge you to a duel.’
‘How long did it last?’
‘I prefer not to measure these things in days or weeks nowadays, just in the number of fucks.’
Fritz pondered. ‘Forty-six, I think.’
‘And you broke up because …?’
Fritz looked black. ‘He found me shallow.’
‘Well, there’s a put down.’
‘It actually hurt.’
Henry nodded and took Fritz’s hand. ‘I didn’t mean to imply you lack feeling, Fritzku. You just have a problem with relationships.’
‘To put it mildly. I’m getting tired, Henry, I really am. Thirty is a bitch.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He surveyed his old friend. To his eye, Fritz was undeniably going downhill. His waist was thickening, and he had lost his once-charming boyish air. There was a faint cynicism about his face which was decidedly unattractive in him, especially to those who had known him when he was younger.
Fritz gave a quirky smile. ‘Maybe you and I should get back together again, Henry.’
‘We’re not the same people any more, Fritzku.’
‘The older I get, the more my earlier affairs seem to me like a lost golden age which I squandered.’
‘I don’t think that’s just you, Fritzku. We all get that feeling, honest.’ But Henry was nonetheless troubled, for all the comforting words.
Tommy arched over Bela’s back, admiring the channel of the young man’s spine as it plunged down into the crack in which Tommy’s cock was now buried. He let it throb in the tight interior of his lover, rotating slightly, enough to set Bela whimpering.
Tommy loved to please Bela when they coupled, and by now he knew all the little ways to do it. He was aware that if he kept this up long enough, Bela would come into the mattress, which he fully intended to have happen.
He strangled the little voice that was accusing him of making up for a feeling of guilt. Was he cheating on Bela? He was regularly flirting with Lennie now, and enjoying every minute of it. He liked women a lot, and he could easily imagine he was arched up over a very different body, with his cock in a very different place.
Tommy buried his doubts in the search for orgasm. But like it or not, they surfaced anew as he lay next to a sleeping Bela. What was there to cheat on after all? No promises had been made between him and the Rothenian, and they had no domestic life together. In that case, an internal voice asked him, why haven’t you told him about Lennie? Tommy had reached no resolution of his problem by the time he too drifted off beside his lover.
For all his doubts, Barry went round to Luc’s place on Saturday afternoon. If he was honest with himself, which he was signally failing to be, he would have admitted that it was the compulsive need for sex that was driving him into the French boy’s shady world. But he was making excuses for Luc. He was also unsure of himself, and looking for more evidence before he broke with the only friend he had made in Strelzen. And of course, Luc had initiated him into gay sex. He wanted more of it.
The boy in question undulated to the apartment door totally naked, holding a plastic razor. ‘Right on time, mon copain.’ He stood there posing, pouting his wide full-lipped mouth and popping a hip.
‘Luc!’ Barry hissed. ‘Someone might come anytime.’
‘That’s the fun, yes? Now strip for me.’
‘What, in the stairwell?’
‘I’ll stand here till you do.’
So Barry hastily removed his clothing, muttering, ‘I suppose this means your mother isn’t in.’
Luc threw each discarded item of clothing back through the door. ‘Now suck me, pretty boy.’ Barry was wild with anxiety, but had a raging hardon all the same. He knelt on the greasy concrete and began slurping at the ugly, narrow cock with its bulbous head. He was beginning to suspect that, before he’d arrived, Luc had been getting pumped on some substance or other.
A door crashed above them and descending steps began echoing in the stairwell. Barry leapt up and tried to wrestle through into the flat, but Luc, a mad grin on his face, held him till whoever it was reached the landing immediately above them; only then did he let go. The two fell through the opening and Barry’s flailing bare foot slammed the door after them. The steps paused outside, and Barry was pretty sure his naked rear must have been observed as they fell through.
‘You fucker!’ he hissed.
Luc just laughed. ‘Come on. I need you.’ They got up and Luc led him through to the bathroom, handing him the razor. ‘Take all my hair off down there, except the patch over my cock.’
Luc pointed to a can of shaving mousse. Barry sighed. Luc knelt down, his cheek resting on the edge of the bath. Barry soon got into it, as Luc must have guessed he would. He scraped away the hair on the back of the boy’s legs, moving Luc’s balls aside to get between his thighs. Then he held the balls and tautened the skin as he shaved. Finally he did the crack, where the growth was quite dense. He ran hot water on a flannel and wiped the mousse and hair away.
Luc looked back at him. ‘You’ve done this before.’
Barry agreed. ‘Just to see what it was like.’
‘Now I’ll do you.’
‘I don’t …’
‘Shut up and put your ass out for me.’
So he let Luc shave his crotch and arse. When Luc said he had too much pubic hair, Barry sat on the toilet seat while Luc clipped him close, and reduced the coverage to just a small patch. After he was wiped clean he had to admit it felt good.
Luc took his hand and led him into the bedroom. ‘What about my clothes?’
‘We’re gonna fuck, aren’t we?’
‘But what if your maman returns?’
‘She’s gone away for a few days with Piotr. Maybe someone else will come, but not her.’
‘He said he might.’
‘Okay … I guess.’
They sat on the bed, and Luc began playing with Barry’s cock and kissing him. Soon they were entwined on the bed, all Barry’s doubts gone in the raging of his libido. Luc broke off. He reached over for a camera.
‘Take some shots of me.’ Barry hesitated, then stood and checked the camera. Luc was already on his knees, looking over his shoulder at Barry, pushing his semi-erect cock and balls back through his legs so they hung there engorged. He struck a few more pornographic poses.
Barry must have taken a dozen shots. They looked really sexy on the viewing panel. ‘Can I have copies of these?’ he blurted.
Luc grinned. ‘Only if you’ll pose for me. Get that monster of yours stiff.’ Barry was reluctant, but he was already a lost cause. He tried to counterfeit Luc’s poses, without quite achieving the wantonness. Luc was struggling not to laugh at his efforts, all the while reassuring him how sexy he was. Luc took a few close-ups of Barry’s dick hanging down between his legs, and then at its maximum erection, which was more or less at the horizontal. The weight didn’t allow it to go up any farther.
They snuggled together, giggling over the viewing panel. Barry thought perhaps he did look a bit sexy. He noticed Luc had been careful not to include Barry’s face in any of the shots, which he rather appreciated.
Luc lit up a joint and they lay there sharing it for some while, until Barry was feeling quite light-headed. Finally the French boy asked, ‘We gonna fuck?’
‘Guess so,’ Barry agreed. He distantly realised that it was sex he wanted, not Luc. He had no feelings for the boy, but he did so desire to join with another male body. ‘How about I … er, y’know … do you?’
Luc stared at Barry. ‘It’d take a bit of preparation, with that thing of yours. Maybe sometime, but not now.’
The possible disadvantage of having such a well-developed penis began to come home to Barry.
Luc passed him an open brown glass bottle and told him to sniff it.
‘It’s not a drug, idiote. It’ll just focus you.’
Barry took a strong sniff and recoiled, his breath catching in his throat. Then strange things began happening. His heart raced frantically while his head seemed to float free.
Luc had wrapped himself round Barry as he lay on his side, and Barry felt Luc’s cock at his hole. Luc slammed in, and fireworks went off in Barry’s head. All he could sense was the French boy’s shaft forcing its way steadily into him. He groaned and swore in what was becoming a personal delirium. Nothing mattered to him any longer except being fucked.
The bottle was at his nose, and he took another hit. It got better and better. The only thing in the universe now was sex, and he wanted it any way he could get it. The carpet in front of his eyes took on an insane importance. He saw the toenail clippings and fluff embedded in the pile with unnatural clarity, as Luc’s vigorous humping dragged and pushed his cheek across the carpet.
Eventually, the fucking slowed and stopped. They lay together, Luc breathing hard, Barry dazed with the intensity of it all. ‘I need a drink,’ he finally croaked.
Luc got up and came back with two cans of cheap local beer. Not caring what it was, Barry cracked the can and slaked his burning thirst.
They sat side by side, and somehow Barry neither wanted nor expected any post-coital intimacy from Luc. But his cock was still heavy and needed serious attention. He began jerking it almost absently.
Luc stood up and grabbed his digital camera. He began filming Barry masturbating, until Barry objected.
‘Pourquoi? You didn’t mind my taking pictures of you erect. Why is this different?’
‘It just is.’
‘Christ. It’s just a jerk-off. Stop being such a … what do you say … dick. No one can see your face.’
Barry turned on him sharply. ‘You mean you’d show it to someone else?’
‘Cos it’s my cock and it’s private.’ Barry got up and looked round for his clothes. He was slow to resent, and still half-wanted to stay, but he had an inner voice which occasionally spoke clearly to him, and currently it was telling him very loudly that Luc was bad news.
Luc looked up at him from the floor with a disdainful expression while still trying persuasion. ‘Barry, don’t be idiote. You’re making too big a thing of a jet of spunk. You like looking at porn, yes? Why care about jerking for the public? You showed Todo all you had.’
‘Yeah … and afterwards I wished I hadn’t. I’m out of here.’
Luc’s voice took on an edge. ‘I don’t think so.’
Luc gave him a long look, and uncoiled from the floor. He went over to his computer desk and clicked an icon. There a slim and naked Barry was, in full colour – his face a mask of lust, mouth hanging open – laid flat on Todo’s sofa, with Todo furiously fucking away at his small arse.
Barry stood speechless, his mind reeling.
Luc gave a little smile. ‘Sexy, yes? You’re some lay.’
‘How did you get that?’
‘Todo likes to record all his fucks. Want to see the full video? It’s received a lot of interest.’
‘Interest?’ Barry moaned weakly.
‘Over a hundred comments already. Take a seat, mon cher. Let me educate you. Oh … and don’t get dressed.’