Buying a Globe-Wernicke

The Return Visit

Norman stared at the catalogue. There were one or two items that appealed to him. He loved the plain, unadorned style of campaign furniture. Samantha had given him her permission topay a further visit to Little Kansas Antiques, although she had no idea of the real interest that Little Kansas now held for Norman. In two words, Jim Abell; that homme fatal.

Jim and Norman had not seen each other since their first meeting, but they had made a few furtive telephone calls; always when Norman was in his office. In the course of one of these conversations, Jim had laughingly admitted that he had Googled Norman when he first expressed an interest in the Globe-Werrnicke. He had found his company's website and been favourably impressed by Norman's dashing photo on it (in 'Our People').

“There and then I determined to seduce you!”

“You cheeky blighter!” was Norman's slightly shocked but amused response.

Jim laughed boisterously.

Jim was one of the most dangerously attractive people whom Norman had ever met. When he wasn't being intimidating or erotic, he was energetic, fascinating and fun; a laugh a minute. He loved life, had travelled a bit and knew a lot. When Norman daydreamed, he now dreamed mainly about Jim; gave himself a hard-on and occasionally had to seek urgent relief; either that, or go for a run, followed by a cold shower. Even Samantha, who was, fortunately, not one of the world's most observant people, had noticed the increased amount of time that he spent running – and his improved speed – and asked whether he was training for some race? Norman had made a non-committal reply.

The other reason for running was that Jim had expressed his special pleasure in Norman's legs; “your marathon-runner's legs”, as he called them. So Norman wanted to get them into top condition for their next encounter.

“The twelfth?” drawled Jim down the 'phone, “Sure, I can manage that. I'll arrange to be 'closed for stocktaking' or or some such excuse, that afternoon. And mind you don't chicken out!”

His last remark was delivered like a military order. “Chicken out” was not misplaced. There was something risky and scary about Jim and what they were going to do together, although that was part of the attraction and excitement.

I've got a date with another bloke! I've never done anything like this in my life. And what a bloke! I'm slightly scared but I wouldn't miss it for anything.

Norman had finally discovered how to change the voice on his SatNav, so it was a deep, soothing and masculine voice, like Nat King Cole's, that gave him directions this time. The journey seemed shorter, now that the route was more familiar. Even so, he felt nervous again when he buzzed the intercom at the steel gates; like someone coming for a job-interview, he thought. Jim sounded even more amused than he had last time. The gate slid open and Norman drove in. Jim was waiting on his veranda. 

It was another hot summer's day; once more Jim was naked apart from his brief trunks; scarlet this time. It occurred to Norman that Jim might be an amateur bodybuilder – he had the right physique - and that this bikini was a posing-suit. But, if so, Jim had plainly not been competing anytime recently. Bodybuilders shave their bodies, but Jim's sported a crop of short, dark hair; especially on his chest and forearms. Because the trunks were exceptionally low-cut; covering about 50% of his ass-cheeks at the back, and almost exposing the root of his penis at the front, his dense, curly crotch-hair was uncovered. It vividly reminded Norman of the moment when some pagan wind-god had uncovered Jamie MacFarlane's nakedness in front of him long ago in Scotland.

Phwoar! That's fucking erotic; Jim's sexy and he knows it! Although It would be odd if he didn't.

This time Jim didn't bother to pull on any clothes. He walked towards Norman, hugged and kissed him with – for Jim - unusual gentleness; first on the cheeks and then on the lips. He gave Norman's cock a gentle squeeze through the material of his chinos.

“So you got here okay! But” - he ran his hands over Norman - “you're bloody tense! I can feel your muscles; they're all knotted up. You need to relax! Take off your jacket and sit there.”

Jim indicated a low wooden seat. He stood behind Norman and began to massage his shoulders. Slowly the tension began to drain away. Norman's breathing slowed down; he closed his eyes. Jim continued to massage him, sometimes sliding a hand down inside his open-necked shirt to delicately tweak his nipples; sometimes kissing him fleetingly. Deftly, he unbuttoned Norman's shirt and tossed it aside. He knelt down, removed his shoes and socks and placed them neatly out of the way. Then he began to massage Norman's feet.

“You're still too tense,” Jim said. I'll give you a full body massage before we continue your training.”

“Training? I'm not in the army!” said Norman.

“I mean your sex – or rather your mansex-education,” Jim responded. “you've still got a lot to learn!”

“Who says that I need to learn more about it?”

“'You do! Look, you came back here today of your own free-will, knowing what's waiting for you. You wanted to fuck me, remember? And I have plans for you, buddy-boy. You've dipped your toes in the ocean but you're already curious and excited; don't try to deny it”

“Well...”

Jim cut in: ” You're in for some adventures! And if you pass up adventure, you're nothing but a wimp! C'mon, let's get your kit off.”

Jim began to open the fly of Norman's trousers. He grinned up at their owner.

“Buttons! I like buttons. Less convenient than a zip but fun to un-button!”

He then did so and removed Norman's trousers, followed by his briefs.

Minutes later, Norman was lying naked on the floor, face down, while Jim, who was now also completely naked, massaged him with oil. This started out by being relaxing, to rid him of tension, of which there was a lot, probably caused by anticipation of their meeting:

“What a silly little man we've been!” muttered Jim.

Subsequently it became arousing. Jim began to pay attention to Norman's backside, fingering and rimming it; finally gently inserting a long, chilly glass dildo with small knobs on the shaft, deep inside him. Norman screamed and almost had an orgasm.

Jim laughed quietly. He turned Norman onto his back and began to massage his front, paying special attention to his cock, which was soon rigid. Jim oiled it carefully, squatted over Norman and slowly slid it into his own man-hole.

He grinned at Norman. “This is gonna hurt! You've got quite a weapon here. But I'm up for the challenge.” Then he took it inside him, balls-deep.

There are few more arousing sights than a handsome, muscular, naked young man exerting himself physically or suffering pain; Jim was all of thesethings. It to some extent explains the erotic pleasure of watching wrestling and combat sports; including rugby.

Jim rode Norman's cock, bucking up and down on his strong legs. His muscles stood out and his body was soon shiny with sweat. Occasionally, he would rest for a few moments and, keeping Norman's cock prisoner inside him, lean forward to smile at and kiss him. Sometimes they hugged. Norman's eyes were tight-shut for most of the time. When he opened them, it was to look at Jim with open-mouthed astonishment. 

“That's mind-blowing, but you're still in charge. I want to fuck you properly like you did to me!” gasped Norman.

Jim grinned. “Okay; I'll be gentlemanly.” He slid off Norman's cock, lay back on the floor; grabbed his own legs behind the knees and pulled them as far forward and apart as he could manage. “On this special occasion, I'm all yours!”

Norman was eager, inexperienced and rough, but he was soon inside Jim, plunging away. It was the most exciting thing he'd experienced for years. He loved Jim's pained expression; he was nuts about Jim. Finally, he could hold back his orgasm no longer.

“Oh oh oh oh...”

“Wow, wow, wow!”

They came together; Norman shooting deep into Jim's guts, while Jim jacked himself off and splashed them both with his sperm. Then they subsided into a wet, sticky embrace.

Jim lay there breathing heavily, with his eyes shut.

Norman asked quietly: “Did I do okay?”

“You need a lot more practice but yes; you did all right. It's my ass that's sore now. Look, we've got all afternoon; I kept it free. Fancy a swim?”

“Yes, but I've not brought trunks.”

“I never wear them. Stay naked. Grab a towel. Come on.”

The main base was still surrounded by high, now rusty, military chain-link fencing with several strands of barbed-wire at the top. There were signs that it had recently been repaired and reinforced. From a point near Jim's house a narrow path led away through the trees, which were still within the fences perimeter. Jim jogged off at a brisk pace, with Norman hurrying to keep up. It was clear that, for Jim, being naked out of doors was quite normal.

Suddenly they came to a place unlike any other that Norman had seen in the area: a large pool surrounded by great grey cliffs, possibly of limestone. The place was very still and quiet; even in the early afternoon it held something of the solemnity and stillness of evening. There was a narrow path down to the water. The water seemed dark and mysterious, but this was not due to algae; it was clear but extremely deep; a flooded quarry. Jim, with a smile, unselfconsciously took Norman's hand and guided him down to a ledge. He gave Norman a quick hug, then said: “See you in there!” and dived in.

Norman was aghast. It was quite a height. He watched Jim's body plummet down to the water and then go down a long way, out of sight into the greenish depths. He surfaced on the other side after two or three minutes, laughing and shaking the water out of his hair.

“C'mon now! I dare you!”

There was nothing for it. Norman shut his eyes and dived. He hit the surface and plunged down. It was bloody cold and very dark. Lungs bursting, he struggled to the surface and struck out for land. Jim helped him out with a strong pull.

“Well done! I thought you might chicken out. Isn't it a great feeling?”

Norman, whose teeth were chattering, just nodded. Jim hugged him, rubbed him and kissed him again. Both of them being wet made it somehow more sexual.

“Don't use your towel yet! We're going to swim some more!”

And they did: breast-stroke, crawl, butterfly stroke...racing back and forth.

Finally they came out, dried themselves and basked in the sun.

Suddenly Norman shouted: “What the fucks' that?” He pointed to the pool, where a long, dark shape was now swimming close to the surface; its dorsal fin broke the water from time to time. Jim laughed happily:

“Its a Mirror Carp! They grow quite big, but they're harmless. Someone put them in there for angling; maybe the Americans. D'you think I'd take you swimming where there was something dangerous?”

“I wouldn't put it past you! As a test of courage, maybe!”

“In that case I'd have told you first, wouldn't I?”

They walked back slowly, this time, along the path, touching each other quite often.Back at the house, Jim became mischievous, then assertive, and finally achieved his 'equaliser'; fucking Norman on the sofa, spread in the 'gentlemanly' missionary position.

“You're a bloody rapist”, groaned Norman.

“Confucius said 'if rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it'. You certainly seemed to! And, in law, if you enjoyed it, it isn't rape! Now both our asses will be sore this evening!”

That at least was undisputed.

Towards six o'clock Norman drove off with a small display cabinet in the back of his car. It would be a tidy repository for his travel souvenirs, which Samantha was always threatening to give to a charity shop. There were a Buddha from Thailand, one of two African fetishes and a few other bits and bobs. They would now be out of the way.