My series of tests and interviews ended the day after my epic sexual tournament with Ian McCluskie; from which I had needed twenty-four hours to fully recover. Fortunately I was not about to leave Scotland immediately. I had never been to Edinburgh before and had tacked two days of leave onto my two and a half days of interviews etc. I planned to visit the main museums and art galleries, buy a few presents for my family and, if further adventures befell me, so be it. They did.
I was in my hotel room writing a few postcards to friends and family when Reception rang me. A Sergeant Dakin was downstairs on important business and needed to see me. This was a surprise: I was expecting no-one. I was now on leave for forty-eight hours. My immediate thought was that the GOC, who had been chairing the Board that I had attended, had decided not to appoint me and was, out of courtesy, letting me know, by hand of Sergeant Dakin, as soon as he could. He had in fact decided exactly that, but I did not learn about his decision until more than a week later, by letter.
"Send him up," I said and returned to writing postcards. The hotel was rather basic. It did not run to a writing desk, so I was writing at the dressing table, with a mirror in front of me. There was a brisk knock at the door.
In the mirror I saw the door open and Sergeant Dakin entered. It was Ian's friend Tam, carrying an attaché case and looking the perfect NCO in plain clothes: blue blazer, fawn trousers, regimental tie and pale blue shirt.
"Hong Kong tailor," I thought. I knew that Tam, like Ian, was no longer in the Army; strictly speaking, he was no longer Sergeant Dakin. He had used the title to plausibly gain access to me; he could not possibly be the bearer of any official message. He must want to talk to me quite badly, for some non-official reason.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" I asked.
He grinned and locked the door. "One guess!"
He crossed the room and placed a hand on each of my shoulders. He started to massage them expertly. It felt good. I was wearing an open-necked shirt. One of Tam's hands slid inside and brushed my nipples. I leant back; he bent over and kissed me full on the mouth. I got up. I was taller than he was. I kissed him again. He was really pleased.
"Ian can be a real bastard," he said; indistinctly, as my tongue was inside his mouth at the time.
Having been flogged and fucked into submission by ferocious and muscular Ian two days before, even though I had on balance enjoyed it, I agreed. "He's a very hard man. I'm glad I was never a squaddie serving under him."
"That's no' what I mean. I mean that he doesn't share. He wanted you all to himself. I hardly got a look in and I'm his - his mucker!
That wasn't literally true. Tam had been allowed to ride my cock, and I had come inside him, at the end of my sexual rollercoaster with Ian. However I didn't like to point this out. Tam was not in a receptive mood.
"So now you've come for your share of Jimmy? I should be flattered!"
Tam brightened perceptibly. He had a really attractive, ready smile. When he had been younger, with his green eyes, red hair and fresh complexion, he must have been very handsome. Even now, aged perhaps fifty, he was still very fit and well-preserved. Although the red hair was now pepper-and-salt, and worn very short; his face had become sunburnt and freckled; and he was lean, rather than just slim, he still had a handsome, muscular and well-proportioned body and regular, pleasing features.
"Aye well... It's not just that. You do understand, don't you? I have needs and they fucking take over. If I get in the mood and I can't get laid, I'm impossible to live with. I really fancy you and I had to watch Ian fucking you... I can't tell you what that felt like."
He shook his head angrily. "I'm no use at words. I need... I want... to fuck with you! Is that so hard to understand? Is it so much to ask?"
Realising that I was behaving exactly like Ian, I teased him. "What exactly would you like to do to me?"
Tam grabbed a tasteless china ornament from the chimneypiece. He threw it violently across the room. It smashed to smithereens.
"Whatever: fucking whatever!"
"Whatever? You mean anything? Can I fuck you?"
"Aye! Just fucking do it! Don't talk so much! Do it!"
"Get on the bed." I decided to take Tam at his word.
He smiled and shook his head. "You'll need to get me there first. Come on, strip! We can fight for the privilege."
Nothing loath, I placed the "Do Not Disturb" sign outside the door, locked it, and started to unbutton my shirt cuffs. I remember that the shirt had narrow blue and white stripes. Then I recalled how Ian had sat back and watched when I had stripped on his orders in his drawing room. I stood with my hands on my hips and watched as Tam shed his jacket, tie and started to unbutton his own shirt.
"Let me." I walked quickly across to him.
Tam was happy for me to unbutton him, brushing the smooth, pale skin with my fingertips. He did the same for me. We were now both naked to the waist. I took him in my arms and kissed him lightly on the face, neck and shoulders. He was wearing some spicy aftershave, under which I whiffed the smoky smell of male desire. Forget "making love:" Tam urgently needed a fuck and I was the man to administer it.
We were both wearing similar fawn trousers. However the cut clearly showed who was an officer and who was an "other rank."
My trousers were peg-topped and quite wide, with turn-ups. They broke, as they should, over the instep. A crocodile-skin belt held them up just below my navel. Officers may look smart; in fact they should, but not sexy. Other ranks have no such inhibitions: Tam's trousers were a fashionable 1970s cut: low-waisted, which exposed almost all his torso, with a wide belt. They fitted snugly round his ass, crotch and thighs, but from the knees down they were wider, flared, although not bell-bottomed. You had to be super-fit to carry them off successfully. With even a slight pot-belly, they would look foul. Tam could carry it off. When he moved, I noticed two things: firstly, I could see no trace of underwear above his belt, but the trousers were so tight across his ass that I could see the faint outline of a pair of micro-bikini briefs. They barely covered his ass-cheeks; almost a thong. I found this erotic. Secondly, he had a massive erection. It was straining against his breeches-fly and seemed desperate to make a dash for freedom. I reached down and playfully squeezed it, and his balls.
Tam gasped, "Oh, you bastard!"
Tam looked at me for a moment; then he moved towards me. Not taking his eyes from mine, he slowly drew my trouser zip downwards. Being unzipped by another man - or a woman - is very erotic. He slid his hand inside. He grinned.
"I'm going tae grab it."
He did, immediately. My boxer shorts offered no protection. His hand closed round my cock. Then he was on the floor, kneeling in front of me, with his lips round my cock; tongue, lips and salivatory glands working overtime. I touched his reddish, pepper-and-salt hair. My trousers and under-shorts were soon round my ankles. He started handling my balls. I love that. Then I felt myself starting to come. I didn't want that just yet. I pulled him to his feet and kissed him on the mouth, where I could taste my own sex. I lost no time in unzipping him and pulling down his trousers, which was not easy, given that they were so tight. He was now hobbled below the knees. Not only that, but he was still wearing shoes and socks. I was not: just slippers, which I now kicked off. I then kicked aside trousers and shorts. I was now naked apart from my watch-strap.
Tam was bent over, frantically scrabbling with his shoe-laces. I placed one hand on his neck to keep him that way, and then began to work a finger of the other hand into his asshole. I wriggled it around inside.
"Fuck!" shouted Tam and almost fell over.
After playing with him for a bit, I let him get completely naked and we began our wrestling match. I was bigger and heavier than Tam, but he was not an easy opponent to defeat. He was very fast, agile and aggressive; had limitless energy; and, as we got hotter and sweatier, seemed to slip out of my arms like quicksilver. More than once he returned my compliment by flicking a finger up my ass when I least expected it, causing paroxysms of lust and fury.
Finally, I had him on the ground, on his back. I was kneeling astride him, teasing his cock by letting it brush my balls, touch my ass-pucker but not get any further. He was getting more agitated by the moment. I teased him further by gently slapping his face, pulling his nose and messing his hair. That really pissed him off.
I sank back on my hunkers and received an anal shock. Something hard and sharp had forced its way up my asshole and was now pressed against my prostate gland. Tam, the bastard, had shoved his thumb deep inside me: it was his thumbnail that had hurt the tender membrane. I went ballistic at the pain and indignity. For a moment I tried to strangle him, but fortunately remembered that I did not actually want to face murder charges.
While he was still weak and gasping, I got him on the bed, legs in the air and using my own saliva as lube, I roughly plundered his ass. Tam was not a wimp. He was not going to scream out loud, but his mouth was open and, between groans and gasps, he was hissing curses and threats, promising to kill me. I plunged into him more vigorously. Eventually, I came; erupted might have been a better word. By this time tears were streaming down Tam's face.
"You swine," he whispered. Then he kissed me.
Afterwards, when we had showered and rested, we lay on the bed, talking and laughing. He was a beautiful man, I decided. He had not an ounce of surplus flesh on him. It was all muscle, sinew and bone. His pale, almost translucent skin, was flawless, except where he had imposed tattoos on it. Not too many, I was relieved to see. I loved looking at, and touching him.
Tam looked at me and smiled. "Shall we do it again, now?"
"You have to be joking!"
"No I'm not! Get a load of this!"
Tam grabbed me and sank his teeth into my armpit. The pain immediately roused me. I convulsed and my cock became hard again. Then he bit my ass-cheek, drawing blood, this time.
"You're on, you fucker!"