The Tait Chronicles

[Apologies to the reader. There was an unfortunate mix-up in the posting of these episodes. So we jumped from Episode 2 to Episode 5. For anyone who cares, here is one of the missing bits - Episode 3.]

As the weeks turned into months, and as summer and fall gave way to winter, Martin Solomon became an increasingly important part of my life.

We got together at least once or twice a week - always at his house on the outskirts of town - and I found myself regarding Martin as my secret friend. Over time, it was not just receiving awesome blow jobs that bound me to him - although awesome blowjobs were always on the menu - it was also the discovery that he was an intelligent, amusing and likeable guy.

Secrecy was important to me. I didn't want anyone to know that I was on very intimate terms with a gay guy. I was much too uptight to even think of being seen publicly with him. I had this ridiculous notion that everyone would instantly assume we were lovers. I would quite happily go bowling with a few buddies or visit the beach with an old pal, but then I knew - or assumed - that they were straight.

But don't get me wrong. There was nothing obvious or overt about Martin. If I hadn't had my dick in his mouth so often; if he hadn't swallowed my cum so greedily and happily on so many occasions, then I dare say I would have assumed that he was straight too.

Like the chicken and the egg - it's hard to say which came first. Did I fall out of love and lust with Gemma before I fell into friendship with Martin or afterwards? I think it happened before. I think the prime spark had little to do with sex and more to do with my unwillingness to settle down.

At a party to celebrate a friend's engagement, a pal asked just when I intended to make an honest woman of Gemma. I might have replied: "Who knows? Maybe never." But Gemma was standing right beside me and she astonished me by declaring that we hadn't settled a date yet. It was a true enough statement but a bit misleading. Marriage was the furthest thing from my mind. I hadn't realised that so many of our friends assumed that my girlfriend and I were headed for marital bliss.

From that moment forward, I began to notice how often Gemma gushed about having children and a nice home one day ... soon. Scary stuff. Almost as scary as her habit of staring in jewellery shop windows and exclaiming over solitaire diamond engagement rings.

Up till then, I'd been quite happy distributing my favours between Gemma and Martin. His mind-blowing oral talents hadn't drained me to the extent that Gemma missed out on regular sex, but then his talents didn't have any strings attached to them. My conscience - often elastic - recoiled from the idea that every time I screwed Gemma I was encouraging her to imagine us one fuck closer to the altar. So we broke up. She mentioned marriage one time too often. I spoke my mind. And we never dated again.

One evening, as I lay beside him in the afterglow of having received yet another magnificent head job, Martin attempted to explain gaydar to me. I'd been musing - as I so often did - on how on earth it had come about that he and I were in bed together.

'What prompted you to approach me that first time?' I asked.

'I've told you before. You're a very attractive young man and I suspected something significant lurked inside your underwear.'

'Yeah. Maybe so' I replied. 'But surely you don't ask every guy you fancy if he'd like to be sucked off.'

'No. Of course not. I use my gaydar.'

'I'm guessing that's like radar' I said. 'How does it work?'

'Well, it's like a sixth sense. When I see a nice guy with a nice body, I can sense whether he falls into one of three categories.'

'Interesting' was my response. 'Go on. Tell me more.'

'OK. The first category is the guy who is definitely 100% straight. No point in even attempting to try anything on. I'd probably get my face smashed in.

The second category is the guy who is obviously gay or bisexual. I can tell the moment our eyes meet. It's like a sexual Morse Code.'

'Jesus Christ!' I interrupted. 'Is that me?'

'No' he said laughingly, 'but don't make it sound like leprosy. It's not so awful. It's actually very helpful to be able to detect a sign that some nice young fellow is up for a bit of fun. It saves a lot of time pussy-footing about.'

'I guess that's true' I replied.

'You, my dear Andy, fall into the third category. A guy who is approachable, who is haveable, but he's not aware of it. He's never had sex with another man.

Maybe he's never even thought about it. He's not homophobic but he's not all that curious to try it either. He's comfortable to jog along the conventional path that his family, education and life experiences have more or less dictated.

At the risk of insulting you, he's a bit lazy. The path of least resistance is the one he follows unless someone takes the time and trouble to lure him down a street he has never travelled before.'

'Lazy?' I exclaimed. 'It's not laziness that stopped me from having sex with guys. It just never occurred to me.'

Martin held his hands up in mock surrender.

'OK. OK' he said. 'Maybe there are two subsections to the third category. I guess there are guys who you suspect might pick up on the message being sent to them and there are guys who are totally oblivious.'

'Which silly subsection was I in?' I asked.

"Oblivious' he said. 'You won't remember it, but, before I finally got your attention, I sat opposite you quite a few times on the early-morning train. I checked you out thoroughly; undressed you with my eyes; practically bored a hole in your skull with my gaze; and you took absolutely no heed. In fact, I doubt you ever really noticed anyone at all. I was ready to smile if you looked my way but you were always buried in a book or the newspaper. I was amazed that anyone could fail to notice my interest.'

'Look at me now' I said, gesturing to my rock-hard cock. 'Looks like I'm interested.'

And I remained interested right through to winter, but - as I mentioned earlier - I do have a conscience. I began to feel guilty about always being the recipient of Martin's attentions. I began to feel guilty that all I did in return was jerk him off in a rather perfunctory manner. It seemed to me that this was hardly an equitable state of affairs but Martin never indicated that he expected anything more. I tried to ease my conscience with the thought that he must obviously derive pleasure from just my company and friendship too, but it seemed a hollow thought.

When the nights grew colder, it became more difficult to leave Martin's warm bed or fireplace and head off into the cold and drive home. One Friday night he beseeched me to stay. I said I'd stay if he promised to answer some questions that were whirling through my head. He looked thoughtful but gave me his solemn promise, so I rang my folks to say I'd be back tomorrow.

We were in armchairs either side of the hearth. The fire was stoked way up high and so it was no discomfort to chat and sip wine while naked.

'Ask away.' Martin said.

'Umm ... There are a few things I worry about.'

'OK.'

'Umm ... Do you ever wish I'd suck your dick?'

'Yes. I would love that, but it's not something I'd force you to do. It's not a deal-breaker. Would you like to suck my dick? I don't think so.'

'Well' I said 'the question isn't whether I'd like to. For me, it's more a feeling that I should. It seems so selfish to give nothing in return for what I get from you.'

'Bullshit. I get plenty from you. You're like a work of art come to life. Apart from your fantastic body and your amazing dick and balls, there's your drop-dead gorgeous face. I've always been a sucker for blue-eyed blonds. You're a template for everything I've ever jerked off over. And, to top it all off, you're uncut. What more could I wish for?

And it's not all about your looks or the sex. I enjoy your company too. I love cooking for you and watching you eat, but I don't expect you to cook for me in return. And I love having you in my mouth knowing that I will get to swallow your beautiful cum. And I love kissing you and just holding you close in bed, even when you're not hard ... which isn't all that often!'

We both laughed but I persisted.

'Martin, when we go back to bed I want to try sucking your cock. I mightn't be any good at it and I'm not at all sure I want to swallow cum, but I know I want to give more of myself to you than I do now.'

'Fair enough' he said. 'We'll give it a try and if it doesn't go too well then we'll be no worse off. I'm happy as things are. If some extra icing's going to be on the cake, then that's a bonus. But it's not a debt you owe me. You owe me nothing. OK?'

Soon afterwards, we were in bed and kissing. Our bodies were thrusting against each other as they always had but, on this occasion, I slid downwards to face Martin's groin. I held his balls, giving each a gentle squeeze. I examined his erection as though I was seeing it for the very first time. I took it in my hand and rubbed a fingertip over the slit, spreading pre-cum all over the glans. I put that finger in my mouth and it tasted fine. Not bitter or sour. A bit bland if anything. I then opened my mouth and enveloped the head of his dick. It felt surprisingly large once it was in my mouth but it seemed to rest quite naturally against my palate.

Taking care to keep my teeth clear, I allowed his cock to slip further into my mouth. With about four of his six inches inside me, I rested for a while. I found I could swirl my tongue against his shaft. I found it far easier than I'd expected. I wasn't gagging or gasping for breath. More to the point, I wasn't revolted either. So I moved my head in order to take in all of his dick. When it touched the very back of my palate - where swallowing takes place - I did gag and withdrew coughing and spluttering.

'Sorry.'

'Don't be sorry' Martin said. 'You're doing fine. Just take it easy. It's not a race. You don't have to do anything more tonight. What you did felt wonderful - like a gift from the heart - not just sex.'

But I wanted to persist and I gradually grew comfortable with the process. Eventually, it was Martin who made all the moves, sliding in and out as though fucking my mouth. Not roughly. His were very gentle thrusts. Even when he was close to ejaculating, he maintained a slow and steady rhythm. When he reached that point, he asked if I wanted him to cum in my mouth. I gave an affirmative grunt.

I had been jacking my own cock the entire time. Now - just as his juices exploded into my mouth - so did my own cum burst forth and splatter all over his legs. I found, at the very peak of my own orgasm, that his cum tasted just fine and I swallowed most of it without a qualm. I say most of it because I was no expert - there was more of a load than I'd anticipated and some escaped my lips as I swallowed.

Almost immediately, Martin pulled me up towards him and kissed me more deeply and passionately than I had ever been kissed before. Then he drew his face back and smiled.

'That was beautiful. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.'

'Steady on' I joked. 'It can't have been that good. You've got to leave me some room for improvement.'

And so he knew that it would happen again. That I had added something new to my repertoire; something I'd never done before; something exclusive to us.

In the morning, I woke to the smell of coffee as Martin brought a tray into the bedroom.

I stretched and yawned, peering at him through sleepy eyes. He put the tray down on a bedside chest and reached out to smooth my ruffled hair.

'You look like a sexy haystack' he joked.

'Is that meant to be a compliment?' I asked, feigning indignation. 'Or are you hinting that I need a haircut?'

'I hate it when you get a haircut' he replied. 'You always get it cut too short. If I'm going to do wicked things to a natural blond, then I want abundant blond tresses within my reach; not a buzz-cut.'

'I'll bear it in mind, Martin. Maybe I should stop shaving and trimming down below so you can go down in a field of corn.'

He sat on my side of the bed and we sipped at our coffee in companionable silence.

'What else?' he suddenly asked.

'What do you mean?'

'Last night you said you had questions. Questions. Plural. But you've only asked one.'

'Oh God' I moaned. 'It all seems silly in the light of day. Let me at least have another cup of coffee first.'

'Wrong!' exclaimed Martin. 'First you're going to kiss me. Then you can have some more coffee. And then you're going to ask all your other questions no matter how light the day is.'

I'd never kissed him good morning before. All our previous encounters had been in the evening or night-time. It seemed oddly domestic and yet perfectly fitting. A fairly chaste kiss, though - I'm convinced that mouths can't possibly taste too good first thing in the morning!

'Come on then' he prompted as I sipped my coffee. 'Proceed with the Great Inquisition.'

'I don't want to' I bleated. 'Not now. Some other time maybe.'

'Andrew Tait' Martin exploded, 'you are such a coward. And you're a prude too. Afraid to call a spade a spade for fear of blushing.'

I couldn't really argue with this assessment of my character. And I was already blushing.

'Allow me to help out' he persisted. 'You want to ask me about fucking. Right? Man-on-man fucking.'

'Uh, I guess so' I mumbled, continuing to look cowardly.

'OK then.'

And, with a roll of his eyes he began what almost amounted to a speech.

'Let's see now. Have I ever had anal sex? Yes. Was I the fuckee or the fucker? Both. Do I have a preference? Yes - I prefer being the fuckee. No. That's not emphatic enough. I LOVE being fucked.

Have I had anal sex with lots of guys? No. Would I like you to fuck me? Darned tootin' I would. Is it essential between you and me? No.

Will I still love you - yes, that's right, I used the "L" word, Andrew - will I still love you even if we never fuck? Yes. Of course I will.'

'Love me?' I interjected.

'Yes, but don't interrupt and don't try to distract me.'

'Where was I?' he continued. 'Oh yes. Is anal sex painful? I guess it can be. Especially if it's not what you really want. I've only fucked a guy twice. And I didn't like it at all because it just didn't float my boat. The first guy was obviously highly experienced and, to be honest, his ass-hole was so slack it was like falling into a tunnel. The second guy was much tighter but I still didn't enjoy it.

I discovered my preference the very first time a man fucked me. It felt wonderful. I loved it. And before you ask - no, I haven't been fucked by very many guys at all. Five, to be exact. On separate occasions, mind. Not all five one after the other in an orgy! And each time was enjoyable. It's what turns me on the most.

And another thing - before you ask - no, they did not have huge donkey dicks like yours. They were all about the same size as me. So, if you ever fuck me - and you don't have to but I hope you will - yours will be by far the biggest cock I've ever taken. And, if you ever fuck me - and you don't have to but I hope you will - I want you to be gentle ... for the first few minutes. After that, you can go to town on me!'

As I said earlier, it was quite a speech. Martin's words rang with sincerity and passion, and I was left gob-smacked.

'Any other questions?' he demanded.

'Umm ... no; not really; except is there any more coffee?'

More eye-rolling from Martin. He grabbed my mug and stalked off to the kitchen to get me a refill, flinging a few more words over his shoulder as he went through the door.

'I'll get some more coffee, but when I come back we're going to get all your questions out into the air even if I have to torture you.'

He returned almost immediately, handed me a steaming mug and then plonked himself down in the bedroom chair. He lifted one eyebrow inquisitively.

'Well?'

'Umm ... I think that'll do for now, Martin. Thanks for being so open. I really appreciate your honesty but I desperately need a piss and I want to take a shower.'

'Well. Of course you do' he retorted. He wasn't angry but I detected a high level of impatience.

'You want to wash my dried cum off your body and you want to brush your teeth. You want to gargle with Listerine and then use some breath spray. You want to lavish deodorant on each armpit and you want to give yourself a good splash of my eau de toilette. Then you'll come back to me - all sweet and hygienic - and then you'll feel more inclined to kiss and cuddle and allow me to lick you all over.'

'You make me sound obsessive' I objected.

'Yeah. Perhaps. Sorry about that. I'm not really knocking you for being a clean freak. I can't stand guys who neglect hygiene. What I'm really leading up to is the question you haven't asked yet.'

'Oh. Really. How do you know what I'm thinking? Am I that transparent?'

'To me you are' said Martin. 'You're the most honest and - in many ways - the most naive man I've ever known. I've seen and heard you try to tell a lie on your cell phone. You're about as convincing as unset jello.'

'OK then, Martin. Go ahead and answer some dumb question I haven't even asked you, and then I'll go take a leak before I wet myself.'

Martin's response surprised me - even shocked me a bit - but it did answer a question I'd been too embarrassed to ask.

"While you're in the shower, Andy, I'm going to administer an enema to myself. You do know what an enema is, I suppose?'

'Yes.'

'And then' he continued 'I'm going to shower, brush my teeth and scrub my ass-hole too. And I'm going to practise clenching that ass-hole so it's as tight as a mouse's ear. And then we're going back to bed for the morning and we're going to see if fucking works for us. And your head is not going to be filled with nonsense about putting your dick somewhere yucky. And you won't have any cause to worry that a tiny speck of Martin-shit might get lodged in your foreskin. OK?'

'Maybe' I replied. And then I scuttled off to relieve my poor bladder.

I spent a long time in the shower. I was thinking about what Martin had just told me. It was true that I had been deeply worried that anal sex would be messy and smelly and gross. But I found myself growing hard as I contemplated easing my cock into the clean, tight hole I'd been promised.

After he'd showered, Martin joined me in the bedroom. I did my best to appear nonchalant but my heart was beating like a drum. It's a wonder he couldn't hear it as he slid into bed beside me.

We both smelled gorgeous, which proves I'm not the only guy on earth who uses deodorants and stuff!

Even though we hadn't really quarrelled, our first embrace and kiss felt a lot like a peacemaking.

I found myself relaxing and moving in exact sync with Martin. For the first time ever, we got into a sixty-nine position with me using my new-found oral skills as best I could while he performed his usual magic on my attachments. He got me to kneel with my bum in the air. First he got underneath me and licked my balls. Next he got behind me and started kissing my butt all over.

I was startled when he parted my cheeks. I was just about to protest when I felt his tongue at my ass-hole. He slurped and teased my little pucker for a few minutes and then there was a slight pause.

When he resumed I felt his tongue flicking in and out of me. Just a succession of delicate and shallow flicks but it was sensational. It seemed as though his tongue had somehow attained erection because he began moving it in and out of my ass-hole. I don't know how deep he went - not far surely - there's a limit to how far you can stick your tongue out - but he seemed to reach a very acceptable and pleasurable limit as far as I was concerned.

It was a strange feeling at first but I cannot deny that it was highly erotic and enjoyable.

Martin ceased worshipping my backside and got me to lie flat on my back. He then sucked my cock for a while before reaching into the bedside table for a condom and some lube. He expertly encased my dick in latex and then applied some warm and sweet-smelling lubricant.

My eyes never left his as he positioned himself above my rock-hard cock. Gazing at me and smiling, Martin began a slow descent onto me.

I felt some initial resistance and I saw a slight grimace as the tip of my dick first entered him. He paused for a while before continuing to move his butt downwards. Bit by bit, I felt myself gliding into a wonderfully warm and resistant tube. It was tight but it also felt welcoming. It was almost unbearably erotic. And when his ass finally reached the base of my dick, once I was fully inside him, Martin leaned forward and kissed me.

Our tongues thrust against each other for a time and then I began to thrust my tongue into his mouth more vigorously - in and out, in and out - just the way I wanted to start thrusting my cock in and out of him.

It took some fairly athletic manoeuvring, but somehow we stayed connected all the while as we changed position. Eventually, I was kneeling on the bed and Martin's legs were on my shoulders, his calves brushing against my ears. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. After some cautious initial thrusts, I was encouraged by my friend to "go for the burn".

So I did. I bucked and heaved like a man possessed. I slam-fucked him until we were both gasping and almost weeping with joy or pain. I took my cock all the way out so only the tip of the head remained inside him, and then I slammed into him as deep and hard as I could. It was easier now that I'd greased a channel for my dick. His ass was still as tight as anyone could wish for but it had accustomed itself almost magically to accepting this hooded marauder.

Martin was jerking on his cock while I fucked him. I could tell he was on the brink of shooting his load several times because his sphincter gripped on me like a really tight rubber band. When this happened, he let go of his dick until the urge to ejaculate subsided.

When I drew almost all the way out for the last time, I screamed that I was about to burst. Martin grabbed himself and jerked urgently. Just as his juices sprayed all over us both, I thrust into him as deep and as hard as I could and felt the cum burst out of me at full throttle.

I was sweating and laughing and weeping and gasping and celebrating. And so was Martin. I collapsed onto him and we laughed again at how I was trembling all over.

We were still connected but I was no longer hard. I reached down to hold on to the condom as I withdrew.

'This is the worst part' said Martin.

I could see pain on his features as I manoeuvred my dick free. When the last of me flopped out of him, there was a definite noise. It was like a tight squelching sound. It was as if his ass-hole had slammed a well-oiled door shut.

Lying at his side, I carefully removed the cum-filled condom, noting that there were - as he'd promised - no unsightly or offensive specks or odours. He watched as I painstakingly tied the condom off with a knot.

'You're such a neat-freak' he joked.

'You're such a fantastic fuck' I responded.

And that's how we celebrated the arrival of winter.