First and Only

"Yes, hold just like that, please. You pose well."

"As well I should," Philip answered as he put an arm up to lean on the frame of the door out to the balcony. All he was wearing was an opaque dress shirt, unbuttoned and gaping open, which was made even more opaque-luminous even-by the backlighting of the sun beyond the balcony of the eleventh-floor, Darlinghurst, Sydney, apartment. Philip's trim, well-muscled, but not overly so, blond body was gorgeous in its smooth-muscled sculpted lines. His cut cock hung low, nestled in a well-defined nut sack. The only jewelry Philip was wearing-by request-was an elaborate Esculpta cock ring at the base of his cock, made of black rubber, with silver lions' heads on each end that wound around the base of the cock more than once, showing the lions' heads at the top, facing away from each other.

"How about this?" Philip asked after Steve had taken a couple of photos. He lowered his head, looking at his feet, so that his face didn't show, just the tousled top of his blond, with golden highlights, head of curly hair.

Steve, about ten years older than Philip-thirty-five to Philip's twenty-five-dark-haired, slightly hirsute, rougher looking, more heavily muscled and solidly built than Philip, put the camera down, turned to his easel, and picked up a chunk of black charcoal. "Perfect. Now if you can hold that pose for fifteen or twenty minutes, we're home free." He was dressed only in gym shorts, pulled down in front by a heavy basket, and flip-flops.

"There, done," he said some fifteen minutes later.

"Can I see it?" Philip asked, raising his head. He had remained stock still the entire time.

"Later," Steve answered with a husky voice. "First we fuck. I told you you'd pose and I would sketch, and then we'd fuck." He had lost the gym shorts and was in magnificent, uncut erection.

"Where?" Philip asked, his eyes big in confirming the size of Steve for real for the first time outside the pages of a glossy nudes book. Philip felt himself going hard.

"Sit on the chair on the balcony. I'll be out there in a minute."

The minute was spent gathering up lubricant and condom packets.

Coming out onto the balcony, Steve sank down on his knees in front of Philip. He grasped Philip's legs under the knees and parted and lifted them while he pulled Philip's buttocks forward and rolled them up. He spent several minutes licking down the side of Philip's cock as it engorged, sucking on his balls, and seeking out his hole with a tongue before he returned to Philip's cock, deepthroated it several times, and then gave him the preliminaries of a blow job in earnest, while Philip moaned and bucked under him, talked dirty, and clutched at Steve's curly black head hair with his fingers.

At length, Steve pulled his mouth off the cock, and this was when Philip thought he would be fucked. He was prepared for that. For some time now he had welcomed the thought, even as thick and long as Steve's cock turned out to be.

But Steve surprised him. When he opened a condom packet, he rolled it down on Philip's cock instead of his. Then he dribbled the crowned cock with lubricant, palmed more of it, and rubbed that into his own asshole as he stood and crouched over Philip's lap. He lowered his channel on Philip's cock and started, first, a slow rise and fall rhythm on the cock, pulling Philip's face into his chest, the young man's lips onto a nipple nestled in black, curly chest hair. Philip placed his hands on Steve's waist and groaned at the surprise pleasure of his cock being worked by the older, well-experienced man.

After a few minutes of a gentle rhythm, Steve began picking up speed, fucking himself hard and deep on Philip's cock. Philip raised his head and Steve cupped his ears and brought his lips into a deep kiss. Philip reached down and started stroking Steve's cock in a rhythm matching Philip's ever-faster rise and then slam down on the cock. Philip flopped his head back as he came out of the kiss and cried out "Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, of fuck!" as Steve went after Philip's arm pits with his tongue and teeth.

They came almost simultaneously-the very first time they had sex. It was not the fuck that Philip had expected by a long shot, but it was a good one for him.

* * * *

Earlier in the day, if Philip was being honest with himself, which he always liked to try to be, he was bored and cruising. He was on the second day of a three-day layover in Sydney, and, having nothing else to do-he wanted to go to a beach, but the directions that anyone had given to him on getting to one had been too complicated-he found himself seeking out the gay districts of the city in search of some action. He'd never been to Sydney-or Australia, for that matter-before. He'd been told that there was a gay district in the southern Sydney sector of Darlinghurst, within walking distance of his hotel in the harbor area, and he had found a gay bookstore, The Bookshop Darlinghurst, there and was perusing the book offerings-and the clientele. He hadn't been laid in nearly a week, and he was getting jittery.

There were several young men there. Only one was brawny in the way Philip liked his men, though. Heavily muscled and wearing gym shorts and an athletic T-shirt with deep cuts in the armholes that showed tight, curly black hair peeking out here and there and in more profusion at the armpits. He looked like a footballer, and he looked like he could be rough in sex. He also looked several years older than Philip. All of this was enticing to the young man. But the man's attention seemed to be elsewhere.

Philip moved to the table of art books. He saw the 2013 edition of the Dieux du Stade Calendar, featuring artistic nude shots of the rugby players of Paris. He didn't have this edition of the calendar yet and thought this would be as good a place to buy it as anywhere. But as he reached for it, so did another hand. A bigger, rougher hand than his, with tight, curly black hair on the back of it. The hand came down on top of his and held his hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Philip said. "We seemed to have been reaching for the same calendar at the same time."

"I would have thought this book over here was more to your interest," the man he'd already scoped out said in a rich baritone voice.

"Uh, which one?"

"The Henning Von Berg photo book. Alpha Males."

"And why did you think I might be interested in that one?"

"All of his models are particularly hung. That's the point of the book. The lower hung a man is, the more he is Alpha material, according to Von Berg."

"Oh, and am I supposed to be impressed by big cocks?"

"I certainly hope so."

God, he's cocky-and confident of himself, Philip thought. Then he went on to append, as well he should be, as he looked down the line of the man's torso from his muscular pecs to his solid waist and the way his gym shorts were pulled down in front. Philip could make out the line of a thick cock and there were two silver lions' heads peeking above the center of the waistband, just above where the man's cock would be rooted. It didn't even appear that he was wearing a jock or briefs under the gym shorts.

"There are several copies of the calendars," he said. "We can both have one." But the man still had his hand on Philip's and Philip hadn't tried to take his away. He had come in here on the off chance of picking up a hookup for the afternoon. And this guy fit the bill. Philip didn't want to discourage him.

"You don't sound like you are from around here, and I haven't seen you in here before," the man said.

"No. I'm an American. This is my first time in Sydney. I'm just here for a few days this time, although I'll be back frequently now. I haven't seen much of anything."

Offer to show me something, Philip was thinking. I think you know what I want you to show me. You're cocky enough to assume that's what I want to see. And I'm needy enough for you to be right.

"Ah, an American. So, what part of America and what brings you here?"

"I live in Los Angeles. I'm an air steward. Just signed on for the Los Angeles-to-Sydney route. I'll be here a couple of times a week for a couple of days."

Take me somewhere and fuck me, Philip added in his mind.

"An air steward. Qantas?"

"No, Delta."

"And your interest in this art work is?"

Because I'm gay and cruising, Philip screamed in his brain. Because I'm looking for some hunk to fuck my brains out. I'm bored. And because, like the men in this art book, you fit the bill and know you do. But what he said was, "I'm also a model. On the side."

"Ah, a model . . . on the side And maybe all that entails."

Yes and on my back too. Go ahead and say it. Go ahead and make something out of it. Tell me you want me on my back.

But the man just repeated himself. "A model. I could have guessed. Nudes?"

"Yes, sometimes. But mostly underwear . . . and jeans . . . and swim wear ads."

"So, as good as nude, considering the ads for those these days."

"I guess you could say so."

Ask me to go with you somewhere, Philip's mind was begging.

"And an escort too, I'll bet," the man said. Philip had been looking away from the man and now his gaze snapped back to the man's face. He was giving Philip a level look and had a slight smile on his face. If he was moving in for the hookup-which Philip welcomed-this was the most direct stab at it Philip had heard thus far. Philip shuddered a bit. The man was a strong dominant. Philip would be manhandled. This was like winning the lottery.

"Are you always this forward?" Philip asked. He intended to make it sound insulted, but he didn't think he'd accomplished that. And he wanted to hook-up anyway.

"When I see something I'm interested in, yes. So, are you an escort in Los Angeles too?"

"Yes, when it suits."

"Both ways?"

"Excuse me? What do you mean? Both men and women? We're standing here in a gay bookstore, you know. But women hire me to escort them as well as men."

"I mean top or bottom or versatile?"

Philip gave it a few seconds to make the man wonder if he was home free-although, of course he was. He was a real hunk and he was crowding in on Philip just the way that made Philip melt to a man. "Yes to all of it," Philip answered. "Both men and women, both top and bottom. Now is that all you wanted to know? Are you really asking if I'll go with you-let you fuck me? Wanting me to say that I want you to fuck me?"

"Well, what I really wanted to know-what drew me over here-is wondering if you would model for me."

Was that a "gotcha" grin on the hunk's face?

"You're a photographer?"

"No. I'm a sketch artist. Charcoal mostly-because it's faster. I like to capture expressions and poses instantaneously."

"And should I ask what else you do as you did with me?"

"You mean other than fuck my models?"

"Yes," Philip answered, his face turning red. It wasn't this man who was going to be embarrassed by direct talk.

"No problem. No secrets. I'm in construction."

"Oh, a construction worker." Yes, he did look a little like a construction worker, Philip thought. Solid, compact, hunky, and a bit rough. And he was dressed for the part. That didn't make much difference to Philip. He liked them a little rough. And this guy had an attitude that suggested he'd drive real hard. Philip also liked casual sex. This was working out well for him.

"Not a construction worker. I said I was in construction. As in an architect. High-rise buildings. I work here and in Brisbane. But I live mainly in Brisbane because there's a lot of construction there. More than here. I keep a place here too though."

"Your place is nearby?" This was where Philip expected to be asked baldly to go there with him. He would just as baldy say yes.

"Yes, just down the street a bit. So, I wondered if you would sit for a drawing for me."

"In the nude, and then we'd fuck?" It was time to stop dancing around the topic of interest to Philip?

It came right back. "Yes, something like that. If you wanted a big cock, applied well."

"Yes."

The man looked a little surprised. He apparently hadn't expected this so fast after all the work he'd done, all of their playful bantering. He backpedaled a bit. "But you said you were a professional model and a rent boy. No preliminary negotiations? No 'It will be this much'?"

"I said escort, not rent boy. Don't cheapen it. I don't need your money."

"But you want to fuck. You came into a place like this looking for a fuck. I can tell."

"I said yes. And I've also said I don't need your money. Yes, I want to fuck. Yes, I came here looking for a hookup. And I think you'll do fine-if you haven't been hyping what you don't have. But you could pay me in some way for the modeling. There's something I need someone to do for me."

"What's that?"

"I've wanted to go to a beach. I've heard they're good here. But I have no way to get to one or any idea what direction to go in."

"You want me to take you to a beach in exchange for a fuck?"

"As the price of modeling. The fuck would be free. I want it, and I think I'd enjoy having it from you. I won't lie about that."

"You have a suit with you? I only ask because whether or not you do determines which beach I take you to."

"Not with me, but back at my hotel."

"Which is your hotel?"

"The Grace on the corner of King and York."

"The art deco one near the harbors? That's on our way to the beach I have in mind."

"Bondi beach? That's the one I've heard the most about."

"I'm thinking of a more private one. Obelisk beach. On the other side of the entrance into the bay from Bondi beach. It's more private."

"OK. How are we going to get there?"

"I have a ute. We'll take that."

"A ute?"

"The Aussie version of what I think you Yanks call a pickup truck combined with a sport's utility."

"Let's go, then. I'll get the calendar. You might want one too. You look like a rugby player too."

"I've scrummed in my time, yes. But those are French guys. They wouldn't measure up to us Aussies."

Still boasting? "Maybe you should buy the Alpha Males book, then. You said it covers champion hung guys. You could compare."

"I don't need the book. I'm in it. Page 32."

With trembling hands Philip flipped the pages of the glossy photographs of nudes. "Holy shit. That is you. Holy shit."

"Shall we go?" the man said, with a smile, as he put the palm of his hand on the small of Philip's back and started guiding the nearly hyperventilating young man toward the bookstore's door.

Already taking charge. Philip trembled with anticipation.

The man's ride turned out to be a sleek and sporty lime green Ford XR8, which he extracted from an underground garage nearby underneath a high-rise apartment house that Philip thought might be where the man had his Sydney digs.

* * * *

The man, who introduced himself as Steve on the ride to the hotel, sat in a chair and watched Philip undress in his hotel room and then pull on a skimpy Speedo. Philip kept looking at the bed. He did want to go to the beach, but what he really would have liked would have been for Steve to fuck him with that monster cock before they went-if, of course, the photograph in the art book hadn't been photo shopped. Philip was real interested in checking that out.

But Steve didn't take the hint. He just sat and watched. And Philip wasn't going to beg for it. At least not yet.

"Don't you have a suit?"

"In the ute, yes. But I'll wear what I have on," Steve answered. Philip hoped that Steve would be going into the water. He couldn't wait to see a pair of wet gym shorts hanging off the guy. He was wondering if those silver lions' heads were attached to what he thought they were. There wasn't much they could be attached to if not that.

Obelisk beach was out Middle Head Road, toward the harborside town of Manly, on the north shore of the long bay stretching inland to Sydney.

The section they went to was a gay beach permitting nude sunbathing, and although there weren't many guys on the beach, they tended to be paired off and were making out most of the time. Not actual humping, as that wasn't allowed on the beach, but everything up to penetration, and there were many pathways leading in from the road to the beach covered in heavy foliage. Pairs of men could go off into the bush for their fucking and then come back and perhaps pair off with others for another round. Several eyed Philip and Steve closely in passing, but a good look at Steve told them it was best to move on and perhaps take their chances with Philip later if he was alone.

Philip and Steve mainly made out-heavily so, and in fact probably a bit beyond the beach's "no penetration" rules. They didn't go off into the paths, and they didn't stay long on the beach. Steve obviously had an agenda. He was the aggressor. That was the way Philip wanted it.

After they had lain on a beach blanket, side by side, on their backs for a while, Steve rolled over on top of Philip. He didn't let his weight rest on Philip except at their crotches, propping himself up on his elbows and his knees, but what he did to Philip couldn't be called much less than a dry fuck-with enough penetration to make Philip moan for more. His knees were between Philip's thighs, his arms were cradling Philip's back, and his hands were cupping Philip's head, holding him captive, while Steve ground against Philip's basket with his own and trapped Philip's lips in deep, tongue in mouth kisses when he wasn't ravishing Philip's nipples with his lips and teeth.

Rolling Philip's pelvis up by forcing his thighs under Philip's, and after rubbing the underside of his nearly unclothed cock over Philip's hole at length while Philip shuddered and writhed under him, Steve pressed his cock head, fettered only by the thin material of his gym shorts and the not-much-thicker material of Philip's Speedo, against Philip's hole and actually managed a bit of penetration of the bulb in short jabs that had Philip gasping and counterpressing, bringing the gigantic bulb a bit further inside his opening, sighing for him, and whispering of moving into the foliage and completing the fuck. Philip, panting hard and groaning and moaning, begged and whined for the fuck, but Steve just laughed. At length Philip came in his Speedo and collapsed under Steve.

"Fuck me for real now, please," he whined.

"Drawing first. Then we fuck for real. Had enough of visiting a beach? Are you ready to go back to my place now? Now that I have shown that I can make you come even without taking our clothes off?"

"Oh, god, yes."

* * * *

After Steve had surprisingly (to Philip) fucked himself on Philip's cock on the balcony, he rose from Philip's lap.

"You have no end of surprises in you, do you?" Philip asked.

"It's all a progression, a conditioning-all by my schedule, my personal rules. And, trust me, you will not leave here before you've been royally fucked. It's late. I'll go fix us an omelet for dinner. You want a glass of red wine? You'll be staying here the night."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes . . . thanks," Philip answered, still confused that it was Steve who had his channel spiked-and aroused at what the man was promising was to come. And not just by what he said-also by the confident way he strutted around in the nude in his apartment, and with what was swinging between his legs. Philip would have to think about all of this. Perhaps he was more aroused by this strange approach Steve was taking than if he had just fucked him in the hotel room. Above all because now he'd seen-and handled-the man's hard cock, and now he knew, with a shudder, that he would be taxed to his limits when he had to sheath it. Sometime. Unless the man was just toying with him. He certainly had been toying with him.

Philip got up from the chair on the balcony after a few minutes and entered the living room which, in one longer-than-wide space ran into where the dining table was and then to the open kitchen beside the entry door. The eleventh-floor residence at Park Apartments on Oxford Street did have a bedroom and bath in another room. The apartment was small, but Steve had said he lived most of the time elsewhere, and Philip thought this place still was probably expensive. It was more than a hotel room; it was high in the building, and it had a spectacular view toward the city center and Circular Quay where the Sydney Opera House reigned.

Retrieving his glass of wine from the counter between the kitchen and the dining area, Philip started to make a survey of the room. He was still wearing just the open dress shirt Steve had sketched him in. His first stop was at the easel where Steve had been working. He had to admit that Steve had a great deal of artistic talent and had captured him-flattered him even-with a minimum of strokes of the charcoal. If anything, the artist had been generous with the hang of his cock. The sketch was sexy and arousing in its own right. The artist had a talent for focusing on the physical aspects of sex without losing the features that made the individual recognizable.

That led Philip to pay more attention to the rest of the room. He had been so focused on being fucked when he'd come into the apartment that he hadn't paid much attention to the furnishings and decor.

The furniture was spare but obviously of high quality. And the walls were covered with other charcoal sketches-all of other young men, like him. But there many different men were depicted. Gorgeous young men. And the sketches seemed to come in pairs for each of the young men, one an artistic pose like Steve just had done of him, and a second one of the young man in dishabille, sometimes entwined in sheets and other times just a heap on the floor. These, though, were just as sexy looking as the formally posed ones, maybe more so because of the sense-almost a smell-that came off of them of musky sex. And there was a quality about them that made Philip feel exhausted, spent and just a bit apprehensive. They made him conscious of a catch in his breath.

These young men had been sketched after being fucked totally. Fucked by Steve. Maybe fucked again after a quick sketch was done.

At one point, while standing and looking at one of these sketches, Philip had to put his wine glass down on a table, he was trembling so much. The young man looked like he had been fucked to within an inch of his life-and yet there was a sublime, if exhausted, smile on his face as if he would volunteer to die that way given another chance. What, Philip wondered, about the sketch led him to think of the fuck as having been cruel and totally taxing? Then he thought he saw it. The sketch of the young man was from his feet looking up his torso to a face of blissful exhaustion. The view was between spread and bent legs. His hole was gaping, not yet closed, sketched immediately after the cock's withdrawal. And he had been reamed extraordinarily wide. Big splotches of cum still glistened on his belly. Philip looked up and down the walls, suddenly concerned whether there had been another chance at this heaven for that young man. But he saw no more sketches of him.

He moved into the bedroom. There he found a large-sized platform bed and more sketches on the walls. Look as he might, though, Philip couldn't find any more than just those two sketches of each of the subjects. It was almost scary. In each instance the second sketch gave off the vibe that the young man had just been taxed to the limit-but would beg for more, given the opportunity. More gaping holes, more prodigious globs of cum. And yet there was no evidence there had been further sketches of any of them. It was disturbing to Philip. When-no, if-Steve got around to fucking him, would it be satisfying and a memorable experience encouraging more encounters with more men, or would he become a sex slave to a single man who showed him what sexual divinity was but who left him incapable of being satisfied by any other man? His mind kept going back to the length and thickness of that cock and to the evidence that Steve would be a cruel and expert lover.

And to those gaping bung holes after Steve had reamed them.

He shivered at the realization that he loved the idea of such an encounter, and scaring him at the prospect that it would ruin him for full pleasure from other men.

He obliquely broached his concern with Steve while they were perched at the kitchen counter and eating their omelets.

"What's in this omelet?" Philip asked.

"Left to right."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I stood at the refrigerator and took what seemed to fit from left to right. Luckily I found eggs."

"Ah. Well, it isn't bad."

"Most any food isn't bad after sex," Steve said. "And before more sex."

"Speaking of sex. All those sketches on the walls. Those all guys you've brought here and fucked?"

"Yes. You should see the walls on my house in Brisbane."

"But you fucked them, right? It was you who put them in the condition of those second sketches?" These were questions Philip really wanted to ask. Not just had Steve been the one to ream them that way but also was he really a top? It was disturbing that he hadn't fucked Philip yet. Why had it been Steve on his cock? Everything else but the reality so far pointed to Steve being a piledriver. Was this just a mad game? Was some mad rapist confederate lurking around in the shadows somewhere? Someone physically repulsive?

"The evening is young. Eat your omelet. It will give you strength."

"There are only two sketches of each. Were they drawn on the same day?"

"Yes."

"But only the two?"

"I should have warned you. I'm a first and only sort of guy," Steve said. "It seemed from how much you were on the make for casual sex at the bookstore that you'd be cool with that. I just do a guy the one day. But I totally do the guy."

"Was I that obvious at the bookstore?"

"Sure were. And you're that obvious now. You want me to fuck you right now, don't you? You want me to prove that I can fuck your brains out. Even though what we just did was great at the time, you won't be satisfied until it's me plowing you. Until I ream you a wider one."

"Yes," Philip admitted.

"Sorry. It's on my schedule. At my whim. If you weren't showing you wanted it so bad at the bookstore, I probably would have just moved on."

"Really?" Philip asked, surprised.

Steve took a minute. "OK, not really. I really did want to sketch you. And not just the first one. I want to sketch the second one. And I think you're going to be a real nice lay when we get there. But more than just this once? I don't think so. When you fly away to L.A. in that Delta jet of yours, this will just have been an interesting encounter-one from which you will be humming and can't close your legs when you walk down that airplane aisle. It will be interesting for me; I hope it will be interesting for you too."

"That's it? I don't even get my own version of the sketch?"

"No. I got my rules. I sorta broke them for you, but you have such a great look. And your cock did me good too. I don't really know yet if you're a good lay."

"You broke the rules for me?"

"I don't knowingly do rent boys. I like them fresh or gently used."

"And do they stay gently used?"

"No. I fuck them silly and ream them a wider rectum and colon. I like to stretch their canals myself. You've seen some of these sketches. You can figure that out yourself."

"I'm not sure. I think you were generous with my cock in the sketch you just did of me."

"You measure yourself short, then. Pun intended. I sketch with integrity. Even in the 'second' sketches. I sketch what's there to see. I saw you looking real close at some of them. Does that scare you?"

"Yes, a little." Which was a lie. It scared Philip more than a little. But it aroused him even more. He was already hard. He felt his juices stirring.

"Good. It's supposed to."

"Do you always talk to your men so openly about this on that one day-the day you sketch and do them? They can't all want to hear you are going to ream them wider. Although when they see you naked, they must realize that's going to be the case."

"No. You're the first one I've gone this far with in what I say. I stop when I sense they can't take any more of the truth. But I do them just the same. You are different from the others. Maybe it's because you are a rent boy. I have sensed from the beginning that you want this-all of this. But it isn't all I want. There is fear in their eyes before I stop telling them what is happening and why. I need that and look for that. I haven't seen that in your eyes yet."

"And you think you can't do that with me-ream me a wider one? Master me totally in that way? I'm an escort, not a rent boy, I'll repeat. I think there's a significant difference in fee structure and services. I make entirely too much from it to be called a rent boy."

"I'm gonna make you cry, Mate. It's in the rules. I don't know about stretching your rectum and colon, though. And that's why I should really be doing this by my rules. Reaming fresh channels is the thrill for me. I want them tight and to leave them big enough to drive a ute into. But I'll plumb you deeper than a fresher guy. We'll see how much you can take. No one has taken it all yet. I'm going to give it all to you whether or not you beg me to stop. Does this make you want to head for the door?"

Philip looked away and took a long drag on his wine. But he showed no inclination to head for the door.

"Ah, two hands on the wine glass, you're trembling so bad. I've reached you at last. And I bet you're ready to come right here and now. I bet you could come with me just telling you what I'm going to do to you."

"Yes," Philip whispered.

"Look at me."

Philip turned his head back toward Steve.

"I see it now. A trace of fear."

"Yes."

"Come to my bed now."

"Yes."

* * * *

Twenty minutes later, they were on the bed. Philip was on his back, and once again Steve was using Philip's cock. Steve was suspended over Philip's prone body like an upward-facing crab. His knees and elbows were bent and his head flopped back between Philip's feet. His buttocks were in motion, rising and falling on Philip's cock. Philip was groaning from an experience he didn't often have unless the man he was escorting was a lot older than Steve and with a lot less muscular body than Steve's. Steve had told him just to lay there and stay hard, which he was doing with the help of the Esculpta cock ring, and that Steve would do all of the work. Steve was showing that he could work Philip's cock expertly even in this position.

After ten or fifteen minutes in this position, Steve flattened his legs with them running beside Philip's torso and his feet beside Philip's legs. Steve's torso was still suspended over Philip's thighs and his fists were gripping Philip's ankles. He pistoned his ass back and forward on Philip's cock, and Philip gripped Steve's cock in two hands and stroked him, until, with a cry Philip filled the bulb of his condom.

Steve rose off him then and went across the room to his bureau where he'd put his glass of wine. He watched as Philip cooled down and regained his regular breathing. But when Philip rolled off the bed, stood, and started to walk toward his own wine glass, Steve set his down, walked swiftly toward Philip, picked him up and slammed him down on his back on the edge of the bed, stuffing a pillow under the small of Philip's back to raise his pelvis. Kneeling between Philip's spread legs, Steve's mouth went to Philip's balls and hole, which he attacked with slurping sounds, as Philip arched his back, began to breathe heavily again, and moaned to the ceiling.

It was coming, surely. Surely Steve would fuck him now. Philip was panting with short, ragged breaths, already filling out again. That cock would be inside him soon. He spread his legs as widely as he could in anticipation of what he'd have to take. He was frightened and exhilarated all at once.

Rolling the spent condom off Philip's cock, Steve deepthroated him while he started working lubricated fingers into Philip's hole. Then, standing and crowning his own cock, Steve muttered, "Here's the part where you cry." He reached down to Philip's cock and wound the Esculpta cock ring off its root and transferred it to his own staff. The lions' heads that had overlapped around the root of Philip's quite presentable cock didn't even meet when the cock ring was wrapped around Steve's root.

Philip groaned as the thick cock head pushed in beyond his rim. Steve pushed a little farther, while his hands held Philip's legs and extended them as wide and high as possible. And then he held. But only momentarily. Philip arched his back and did cry out, again and again, and was sobbing within minutes, as Steve thrust his thick cock deep in one long, wrenching motion and then started stroking hard and deep in long, thrusting strokes.

"Holy sweet jezuss," Steve muttered as Philip's channel sucked his cock in deep and Philip started causing his channel muscles to undulate over the thick cock. "You can take me deep, all the way. I don't think I've ever . . ."

Philip didn't have to be told he'd taken all of the cock. He could feel the lions' heads of the Esculpta cock ring rubbing against the rim of his hole. "Oh, daddy, oh, daddy, oh daddy, fuck me deep," he cried out in a monotonous litany as Steve, panting heavily himself, did just that.

"I've never. Oh damn, oh shit, you're good," Steve mumbled with a deep moan of his own. "What you do with those canal muscles . . ."

Steve drove Philip's body up onto the center of the bed with the pile-driving thrusts of his cock, ending up with his knees under Philip's buttocks, and Philip just lying there, spent, his arms akimbo and his head turned to the side, with his mouth yawning in a sloppy grin and creating bubbles and his body jerking slightly with each deep thrust of Steve's cock.

"Shit, you're beautiful like that," Steve muttered. And then he had pulled out of Philip and was gone for a few minutes. But he returned to exactly the same position inside Philip and raised a camera to his face and snapped off some shots of Philip's head and torso in well-fucked dishabille. All the time he continued stroking inside Philip's channel. Then he moved the focus of the camera down to where the lions' heads of the cock ring were rubbing against the rim of Philip's entrance as Steve stroked deep and fired off a few photos. "Still can't believe you're taking all of it," he muttered.

Philip dozed off momentarily soon after Steve had finished him, pulling his cock out, ripping off the Golden Ticket Magnum, and shooting off on Steve's belly in four prodigious ejaculations. His eyes opened to find Steve sitting on a kitchen stool, hovered over the foot of the bed, and his easel in front of him.

He was sketching the after being fucked silly visage of Philip, just like he'd done with all of the young conquests before Philip. Moaning, Philip flopped an arm over his face and tried to shut out the world. It had been a glorious fuck-all that he had hoped for. But it had worn him out.

"Yes, I like that better," Steve muttered, tearing off the sheet of art paper he had been sketching on and then starting all over with a new one. "Keep the arm over the face until I tell you you can move it. And spread your legs more, stuff the pillow back under the small of your back, and bend your legs, putting your feet flat on the mattress. Yes, like that. The widest hole yet, I think. All of it. You took it all."

Philip was asleep before he received permission to move.

In the dark of the night, awakening to discover that he had been stretched out beside Steve on the bed, he only had the briefest moment to think of that because Steve was pulling him up on all fours and mounting his hips and fucking him hard and deep again. He crouched over Philip close and murmured in his ear, "So tight and yet taking it so deep and expertly. Baby, I could fuck you forever."

"It's hard not being tight for a cock like yours," Philip murmured dreamily back. "Yes, there, just like that. Again and again. Oh shit. Oh FUCK! Oh god, you are the best. The very BEST!"

But when he woke in the morning, it was to find he was alone in the bed. Upon inspection, he realized that he was alone in the apartment as well.

This must be what first and only meant to Steve, he thought. So much for "I could fuck you forever." Use them and leave them-without a word of thanks or an assessment of how the other guy had done in the sack. Philip realized, though, that this was what was bothering him the most. Steve had leveled with him on what this was, and, as far as using, Philip had come out cruising looking to use another guy's cock. He hadn't been looking for anything more than a casual fuck. As ferocious as the fucking had been and as taxing as Steve's huge cock was, Philip had to admit that he had loved it. He had never taken a cock that long and thick before, and he felt a sense of accomplishment that he had now. He regretted that they hadn't barebacked. He'd felt the strong repeated release inside the condom when he'd been doggy fucked in the night, and he ached to feel the full flood of it inside him. Truth be known, he had wanted to wake in the morning with that cock working its way into him again-and he resented that it hadn't been there.

What was irritating him now was that Steve wasn't here to assure him that he hadn't been so complimentary on Philip's technique the previous night just to get the last ounce of passion out of him. He had said Philip had a good, hard cock himself, but he had said he'd have to assess how good a lay Philip was later. It was later now, and Steve had evaporated without comment. It wasn't good enough that Steve had told him he was a good lay in the heat of the fuck. Steve had been so detached and analytical before that. Philip wanted to hear Steve tell him he was the best when Steve was in his analytical mode.

The walls spoke of a legion of competitors and Philip was very much a competitor. He wanted to know how he stacked up with the competition. He'd made no bones about telling Steve he was the best. He wanted to hear the same from Steve.

The Esculpta cock ring lay on the dresser. Philip dressed, picked up and pocketed the cock ring as a souvenir of the experience, took the elevator down to Oxford Street, flagged a taxi back to the Grace hotel, stripped, and went straight to bed.

Later that afternoon, Philip heard a persistent knocking on his door. Slipping on a robe, he went to the door and opened it.

"Hello, I don't think we've ever met," Steve, leaning against the door frame, said. He was standing out in the corridor. Just in the gym shorts, athletic T, and flip-flops-no change from the bookshop or dressed any more formally than since that day, which was only the previous day, but seemed so much longer ago than that to Philip. Philip couldn't imagine how Steve had ever made it past reception. But then he'd been to this room in the same thing the previous day and had made it up here. That's how he knew where to come today.

"Of course we've met. You reamed me a new asshole last night. Just as you said you would, and I sobbed, just like you said I would. And then you left me."

"But it was a good sob wasn't it? And where did you go this morning? I went out to get us breakfast-there wasn't anything in the house to feed you. And when I got back you were gone."

"Breakfast? You were coming back?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I believe you. You said it was in your rules. Just the one day. That was yesterday, not this morning. If you've come for your precious cock ring, stay right there. I'll get it for you."

Philip thought of telling Steve to remain in the corridor and to shut the door while he retrieved the ring, but Steve already had moved inside the room. He stood just inside the open door, though.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "We've never met before."

Philip was incensed by the mocking smile on the man's face. Was there no end to the power games he played? "Of course we have. We've-"

"Shush," Steve hissed. "Go with me here. There are rules to this. I'm a first and only guy. I want you again. I want to fuck you again and again. But I have rules. I've got to have never met you before. I can't breach too many rules too quickly. But before we agree that this next fuck will be the first and only again-I hope to be followed by the next first and only-I wanted to give you this. I have my two sketches the rules tell me that I must have. This is a third. I've never done this before. I hope you appreciate what that means."

Steve unrolled the sketch he had brought with him. It had been drawn from the photograph Steve had taken of Philip under him being fully fucked. "You told me I was the best. And I'm telling you that you're the best I've ever had too. Every time you look at this, I want you to remember me-and to remember how totally I was fucking you at this time. How much you were enjoying it."

Steve fucked Philip from behind with Philip bent over the bed, spreading his legs as far apart as possible, spreading his buttocks with his hands as far apart as he could too, and panting and sobbing-and loving every stroke of it.

When they were done and stretched out against each other in the bed, Steve asked in a low voice, "When is your next flight out?"

"Tomorrow, and if I don't get some sleep before then I'll be in no shape to work the flight."

"I've been thinking," Steve said. "I have places in two cities. If you are on this route semipermanently, is there any reason you can't home base in Sydney rather than Los Angeles?"

Surprised, Philip turned his face to Steve, his mouth working but nothing coming out as he had no idea what to say. Steve saved him the embarrassment. He covered Philip's mouth with his, and turned his body toward the side so that he could slip his cock into Philip's now-reamed-to-fit ass in a side split. Once encased, Steve turned Philip belly to bed and used his powerful thighs to trap Philip's legs close together, tightening his channel impossibly on the buried cock.

Philip cried out in surprise, pain, and ecstasy. "God, that's too tight. I can't . . . oh SHIT!"

But Steve was already beginning to stroke deep. "You can and will . . . and will love every stroke of it," he commanded. "I want you as tight as possible."

Whimpering and moaning-but believing himself in heaven and mastered just as he liked-Philip happily settled down. Steve had remembered to wind the lions' head cock ring around the root of his cock-Philip could already feel the silver oblongs of the lions' heads on his rim, which meant Steve was all inside him. Philip hadn't had time to notice whether Steve was wearing a condom. Part of Philip hoped not-he wanted to feel the reward of those repeated strong ejaculations deep inside him-if only for this version of the first and only time.