It sure sounds an odd thing to say now, but the first time I actually really noticed Nathan Hickman was about six years after I met him.

In fact, I can't even remember him as a scrawny seventeen year old, stepping into the personnel office with his NI number scrawled on a piece of paper. Perhaps I was off on vacation that day or something. Or maybe he just wasn't what I was looking for right then. Whatever the reason, my first defining recollection of him was when he was twenty-three and I was thirty-one. Sometime shortly after he got married and I'd become head of personnel. When he knocked on my door to inform me of his change of address.

By this point he was no longer an immature runt. Years of manual labour in a brick factory had developed him into a very fit and attractive young man; and I would be lying if I said that there wasn't an instant physical attraction. He was not the tallest of guys - 5'9' at the very most - but whilst his face still held a boyish look, his physique was anything but. Even wearing the company's royal blue boiler-suit, it was painfully apparent to me at that moment that he was now well-toned and muscular; and it was with a decidedly sheepish look that I addressed him, knowing that he was a prime example of a red-blooded straight guy whom I could never hope to attain for myself.

All the same, I couldn't help but notice everything about him during those few moments that we spent together. His cropped brown hair. His bright, hazel eyes. His thick fingers and his scent of manly oil and grime. He was, in every possible way, the perfect vision of labour; and it was with some considerable amazement that I considered how I'd failed to notice him until now. A realisation made all the more pointed by the fact that I could hardly think of anyone else from that day onwards.

Indeed, it wasn't too long before I found myself almost obsessed with the fellow - a situation that became all the more acute as a result of my position within the firm. After all, as head of personnel I had access to all manner of information about the guy, and could quite easily have reached a point where my fixation resulted in the abuse of confidentiality. Lucky for me, then, that I just about had the personal resolve to maintain my decorum. Maintaining an air of cool indifference when all the time my arousal pulsed in my crotch. Put bluntly, I was gagging for the guy; but knew only too well that this was one particular obsession that was going nowhere.

I was determined not to embarrass myself. To let on to anyone that I secretly fantasised about this guy, whose social standing might have been considered somewhat less than mine. Even so, I couldn't help but occasionally steal into the dusty confines of the factory so as to just see him at work. Or watch from my office window as he mounted his motorbike after clocking-off. Or even just to pull his records from my drawer, so that I might take a longing glance at his photo - which in my opinion didn't do him justice. For no snapshot from a photo booth could ever truly capture the essence that made him so fucking adorable. That unrefined element of character that I would've given anything to get to know better.

And then one day, not long after 9/11, a chance encounter changed everything. Ironic really, given that there had been so many feigned opportunities beforehand, when I had walked on the shop-floor just to secretly observe him at his job. Indeed, it happened when I was probably least expecting any development of any kind. When work was taking up perhaps just that little bit too much of my life - which goes to explain why I was leaving the office late when I met Nathan in the car-park trying to start his bike.

Believe it or not, I hesitated from speaking to him at first - fearing, as I did, that my private emotions might betray me. Realising, however, that he was clearly having problems of some kind, I finally gritted my teeth and stepped towards him. Hoping to God that I wouldn't say or do anything that might make him comprehend the depth of my attraction.

'You okay there?' I quizzed, as calmly as I could muster.

He never once looked in my direction. But instead began to kick the vehicle with his heavy leather boot. 'It's fucking fucked!' he snapped. 'Just like the rest of my fucking life!'

Given that he hadn't long been married, I was rather surprised to hear him make such a defining exclamation. I mean, it was pretty obvious that the bike was out of sorts; but the suggestion that it reflected his personal life was something I hadn't expected at all.

'Hey, it's okay!' I insisted, daring to pull him away from the object of his frustrations - and noting the pleasurable touch of his leathers in the process. 'It can be fixed, I'm sure.'

He finally turned in my direction, glancing up at me with those sweet eyes of his. 'I'm sorry,' he apologised, in that unrefined, masculine voice of his. 'I didn't mean to lose it like that ...'

I recoiled a little. Stepping away from the sudden overriding sense of lust that had washed over me by just gazing into his face. 'That's okay,' I assured him.

He almost seemed to break into a smile. 'It's Mr. Devonport, isn't it?' he prompted.

I was flattered at his recognition, given that I was nobody to him but the potentially nameless guy in personnel. 'Yeah,' I grinned - maybe a little too keenly.

He sighed. 'Don't suppose you'd care to hit a bar in town?

I tried hard not to blush. 'Well - yeah ...' I finally gasped, desperately hoping that he wouldn't notice the bulge in my pants at this point. 'That'd be - great ...'

Which is pretty much how things between us got started.

Not that anything actually happened that evening. Indeed, for the next few weeks we basically did nothing other than establish a friendship. Going out for a drink. Playing pool. Watching the baseball. Basically just spending time with each other without ever really opening up - in a manner so typical of guys. And in all that time I never once asked him what had happened about his wife; whilst he never once asked me why I'd never had one. Because for that brief spell of time such things just didn't seem to matter. We each had the company of the other to distract us from facing reality, and right then that was enough.

So in a way it came as a complete surprise one evening, whilst watching a game of soccer at my place, when Nathan suddenly asked: 'Have you not wondered?'

I glanced across the room at him. 'What about?' I replied, somewhat defensively.

'About my wife. I mean, you know I got married.'

I tried my best to look calm. 'Yeah, of course I know. You told me at work.'

He paused. 'She left me.'

'I'm sorry.'

'You wanna know why?'

'If you wanna tell me.'

He hesitated again. 'I had sex with someone else.'

'Perhaps not the best of things to do,' I suggested.

'No. Especially given that the other person was her brother.'

I can't tell you how quickly my cock seemed to burst into life at those words. Suddenly flooding with a rush of hot blood, so that I had to immediately move my legs in order to avoid the bulge showing in my pants. Not that the thought of him having sex with his wife's brother excited me in itself - although it was admittedly pretty hot! No, it was the sudden realisation that Nathan wasn't quite the straight stud he'd have had you believe.

'You shocked?' he finally quipped.

I hardly knew what to say. I mean, was this a come-on? Was it some kind of trick? Was he just being honest for honesty's sake? Fuck, I just didn't know for sure.

'It's - surprising,' I finally stuttered.

'You won't tell them at work, will you? I haven't told the guys anything yet - and for the time being that's how I want to keep it.'

'Why should I tell them?' I smiled - not sure whether I dared to say anything about myself. 'I mean,' I began, 'I've never told them about me ...'

Nathan gazed straight into my deep blue eyes. 'About you?' he asked.

Gees, my heart was pounding again now. Taking away my breath, and almost making my head spin. I mean, this was my chance. This was the opportunity that I had been dreaming of for fuck-knows how long. And yet my legs were almost so weak that I seriously wondered whether I could get up from my chair to do the thing that I wanted to do so desperately. To step across the room and confirm my devotion with a kiss.

Somehow - and I really don't know by what means - I finally managed to force myself in his direction. To stumble almost heroically towards his handsome frame. To lean down upon him and place my hungry lips against his. Not knowing what his reaction was gonna be, but hoping to God that it would be as positive as Nathan's look now suggested.

Oddly enough, we seemed almost to hesitate at that last possible moment. As if we both wondered whether what we were about to do was actually worth the risk involved. But it was the briefest of doubts; for within a split second our mouths had finally joined, and I was pressing down on the lad with all the assurance you might have expected of someone who had waited what felt like a lifetime for this moment. Indeed, before I really knew what had happened I was falling into his lap. Wrapping my arms around his secure, manly frame; slipping my tongue deeper and deeper into his mouth as I did so.

Strangely, I still couldn't believe any of this was happening. Not that I really had time to concentrate on anything so philosophical at that moment. For it was the action between us that was very much taking my attention right now; particularly since the two of us were beginning to strip away each others' clothes. Pulling aside those last remaining divisions that stood between us and carnal gratification.

I finally slipped away from his mouth. Sliding off his lap and onto the floor so that I could trail my tongue across his dark, erect nipples; before moving further down his muscled torso so as to lick his musty belly-button, primed with his delicious crude scent. Fuck, he smelt so good! The rich odour from his pours filling my lungs, and swelling my cock. Nevertheless, as much as I adored rubbing my face across his rippled flesh, I couldn't deny that it was his hard shaft that interested me most. That throbbing length of meat that I now knew was aching between his manly thighs. Which explains why I immediately continued downwards; pushing away his briefs and nuzzling my nostrils into the dark mass of pubes that lined his crotch.

I knew that I would love his cock even before I saw it, but even so I don't think I was totally prepared for the full sense of adoration that devoured me as I first took it directly into sight. Maybe it was just the fact that I hadn't seen willing man-meat for fuck-knows how long. Or possibly it resulted from having hankered after Nathan for all this time. Whatever the reason, the dude's cock was one of the most beautiful natural wonders I had ever seen in my life. Eight inches of die-hard beef that seemed so fucking proud and straight that I swear I could've used it as a ruler. As it was, mind, drawing straight lines was pretty much of the agenda for today. Gees, I only had one object in mind as far as that magnificent offering was concerned, and I could feel my pucker quiver in feverish anticipation.

To think that he had this creature in his slacks all this time. This swollen beauty, with its fine length of tempting skin and its engorged mushroom-head beneath. What's more, it was accompanied by a pair of balls that would not have looked out of sorts on a mule. Grossly oversized orbs that one only had to glance at to know that they produced more than enough creamy spunk to satisfy even the greatest slut.

I couldn't stop myself from falling almost helplessly onto Nathan's bulbous head. My open mouth eagerly swallowing his pride as though it were made of chocolate. Except, of course, this was better than any candy. For the feel of throbbing shaft between my hungry lips was almost divine; and it was with deliberate strokes that I began to push my way up and down his length. Slipping from the tip of the oozing crest, right down to the base of his shaft. So that the end of that glorious rod pushed against the back of my throat; whilst I gave a satisfied groan at such sweet sensation, glancing up towards his pretty face with a look of pure longing. Because let's face it, I desperately wanted him to know that I desired him. That I literally ached for him as only a soul in need of rutting can understand.

Had I not so desperately wanted him to penetrate my tight, impatient ass, I could quite easily have continued blowing him off forever. Or at least until jaw-ache got the better of me! As it was, however, I just longed to feel that thick prickle between my butt-cheeks. To spin this fine, young labourer like a honcho rides a fresh mount. After all, I only had to take the briefest glance at the guy to comprehend the almost delirious energy that he had hidden till now. For Nathan was coarse and unbridled. Like an untamed stallion, whose inner rawness I could never really hope to master, but which I wished to savour as much as I could all the same. Yes sir, Nathan was one bright stud who could've lasted me a lifetime and more!

It sounds real careless to me in hindsight, but by the time I'd repositioned myself to slide down onto his throbbing mound I'm afraid using a rubber was just out of the question. Besides, I hadn't expected sex that evening, and as such didn't have such a luxury to hand; but there was no way that I was gonna let the moment pass on account of some moralising lecture I'd once heard. This opportunity might never strike again, and I'd waited too damn long to let it slip. As such, I eased myself bareback onto his length - determined, as I was, not to let him go until he paid a heavy deposit in my guts. After all, if I was gonna be damned for irresponsibility, then I might as well go the whole fucking hog!

I'd love to say that that first shag together lasted hours. That we screwed the whole night through in one relentless round of fornication. But in fact it lasted pretty much less than five minutes - which, given the level of our arousal, was not to be wondered at. Truth is, I'd spewed over Nathan's chest within seconds of him impaling me; whilst he filled my rectum with spunk shortly afterwards. With such magnitude that I distinctly remember feeling it slipping out of my butt for what seemed like days afterwards! Yet the overall brevity of our union hardly seems to matter even now. It was, without a doubt, one of the best fucks I've ever had in my life. Or indeed, ever likely to have.

For the next couple of weeks we pretty much did what all new lovers do - having sex at every opportunity. Ultimately, however, tensions at work proved our undoing; for there was no way that we could ever hope to be open in our affections given the hostility towards our sort, particularly in the factory. As a result, it was only a matter of time before Nathan gave me the cold shoulder; and indeed before long he was again just another guy in a royal blue boiler-suit (albeit still a very sexy one!)

No-one will ever compare to him. To the raw masculinity that was an essential part of his nature. He left the firm shortly afterwards, having apparently made it up with his wife; but I still think of him every day, not least of all when I'm at work and I see a guy in overalls or catch the scent of oil and grime in my nostrils. Such things serve as a constant reminder of something I never once expected to happen - but which actually did, and for which (for all its ultimate failure) I shall be forever grateful. Because those few precious weeks I spent with Nathan Hickman were the happiest days I've ever known. He might not have been my class or have shared my education. But to me he was a man, pure and simple. Nothing dandy, nothing effeminate - just an ordinary guy, whose only uniqueness was that he was fucking gorgeous. And that's something I shall remember until the day I die.

 

Marc Oranje

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