The Tait Chronicles

My long-term partner had fooled around behind my back and so I did the same to him. They say two wrongs can never make a right, but I have to say my night with Matt - however wrong it might seem to others - sure did feel right to me.

I awakened to sunlight streaming through a hole in the crappy curtains of our equally crappy motel room. My arm was under Matt's head and my dick was pressed hard against his smooth, silky butt. It was tempting to steer myself deep inside him, but I desperately needed a piss.

I gently moved myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Piss sprayed from my rock-hard cock. Some of the stream went into the toilet bowl but most of it splattered onto the tiles around me. I decided to clean it up later. My first priority was to return to bed.

Matt had rolled over and was on his back. It seemed he was still fast asleep. I slid in beside him and - resting on one elbow- I took the opportunity to observe him closely; far closer than I had the night before.

When I offered Matt a lift, my first impression had been of a typical farm boy - slim but toned; his complexion slightly bronzed; and his tangled blond hair far too long for my taste. Now, in the light of day, I was able to appreciate that Matt was no typical farm boy. Fast asleep beside me, he was more like some beautiful angel designed by Michelangelo.

As I watched, Matt's eyelids fluttered and opened. Eyes as blue as cornflowers looked up at me. His perfect lips parted to reveal perfect teeth as he grinned at me.

'Hi' he said.

'Hi yourself' I replied. 'Hope I didn't wake you.'

But Matt had woken up because he needed the bathroom as much as I had.

'Don't slip' I warned as he made his way to the toilet. 'I'm afraid I made a mess.'

I heard him chuckling as he pissed in the bowl.

'Your aim is terrible' he said as he climbed back into bed.

'Maybe my dick needs some target practice' I joked.

'You mean it didn't get enough last night?' he exclaimed.

I was done with conversation. It was time for deeds rather than words.

I moved my lips across Matt's hairless chest and down towards his flat stomach and cute little belly button. I let my tongue linger at his navel for a moment or two. It tasted salty. Then I moved further downwards and captured the tip of his amazingly fat cock as it emerged from hiding.

I probed his foreskin as it retreated from the huge knob it guarded. There was a small droplet gleaming in the pee-slit. I didn't much care if it was piss or pre-cum - I flicked at it with my tongue and another salty taste hit my palate.

Matt gave a low moan as my mouth enveloped the head of his dick. I paused for a while, swirling my tongue around the warm, velvety glans, before opening my mouth as wide as possible in order to accommodate his entire shaft. As I mentioned earlier, his cock was very thick at its base and my jaws ached from the effort of taking it all in. It was only about six and one-half inches long, but it was nonetheless an impressive endowment for such a skinny lad.

I took my mouth away, replacing it with a hand instead. As I gently tugged at his dick, my mouth moved to his ball-sac. I was unable to suck at his testicles - they were already up tight against him - so I licked at his hairless scrotum instead.

'If you keep that up, I'm going to blow' Matt warned me.

'Good' I said. 'I want to watch you shoot all over us. I want to watch your cum flying across the bed.'

It's a fascinating thing to watch way up close as a guy ejaculates. With my face just inches away, I continued to stroke Matt's thick, rock-hard cock.

When his breathing quickened and his balls edged even higher into his groin, I knew that Matt's load was imminent. A quick glance upwards and I could see his face. A strange mixture of agony and ecstasy was etched into his features. I felt a pulse and a thickening at the base of his dick. I gave one last gentle stroke and then clasped my fingers firmly around the shaft, squeezing and contracting.

Using my other hand, I inserted the middle finger deep within his ass until I found his prostate. By now, pre-cum was flowing freely from the eye of his cock and, as he finally blew, I felt Matt's torso arch slightly upwards.

As I held his dick perpendicular to his body, Matt's cum shot outwards and upwards at a prodigious speed and volume. Some landed on Matt, some on the bed, and some on me. With a rapid dart of my tongue, I was able to catch a few drops as they rained down on us both.

Jet after jet of creamy fluid spurted out of that beautiful cock and I had a perfect close-up of each squirt. Meanwhile, my finger - still at his prostate - was treated to a succession of extremely tight contractions as his sphincter muscles moved in rhythm with each cum-spurt.

When he was finally spent, I gently removed my finger and lifted myself upwards to survey the mayhem. There seemed to be fluids everywhere. Kneeling, I gave my burgeoning dick just a few quick strokes before adding my own juice to the mix.

The velocity astonished me. It was like being a teenager again. I watched as my cum rained down on Matt's abdomen, chest and face. And then I collapsed and we formed a lubricious man-sandwich of sweat and jizz.

We panted and laughed in each other's embrace. I felt a sudden need to kiss this beautiful boy. Before that morning, the only guy I'd ever kissed was my partner, Martin. He was the only man I'd ever wanted to kiss until I found myself glued to Matt in a cheap hotel room redolent with the aroma of freshly spilled cum.

Matt's lips parted willingly and we shared a kiss. There was still some element of passion in it, but our tongues moved without urgency. It was a kiss of tenderness. It was confirmation of an affection between us. It seemed proof that something greater than lust had brought us together.

As we showered together, both Matt and I grew excited once more. We teased each other's dicks and he squatted down to suck on my relaxed balls. It was tempting to go further but I was feeling a deep need to eat. I raised Matt to his feet and whispered the magic word "breakfast". He smiled agreement.

While towelling ourselves dry, I noticed for the first time that Matt had a few fading bruises on his chest and abdomen. They were only just visible, darkness having faded to yellow, but they worried me a bit. And, when he bent to dry his feet, I noticed two further bruises on Matt's back. One was very faint but the other was dark and obviously fresh.

'I hope I didn't cause this' I said, reaching out to touch the freshest bruise.

'No' he replied, and his face coloured. 'It was already there.'

I decided to let the matter rest. I allowed myself to think that Matt might me one of those people who bruise easily. I didn't want to think about more sinister explanations.

Once dressed, we walked a few blocks to the nearest diner and ordered breakfast with the lot. It hit me that I'd eaten only a few stale sandwiches in the last twenty-four hours. And Matt seemed just as hungry. We wolfed down bacon, eggs, beans, hash-browns and toast. There was no conversation until our plates were empty. Then, over coffee, we chatted like old friends.

Apart from an elderly man perched on a stool and flirting with the waitress, we were the only customers. So there was little chance of being overheard.

In a low voice, I confessed to Matt that I was - as I saw it - a "married" man. I told him all about my relationship with Martin and how I'd stumbled upon my man in bed with another guy. I could see that Matt believed me when I said he was the first guy I'd ever picked up and that he was only the second guy with whom I'd ever had sex.

'And I've no regrets' I assured him. 'I enjoyed every minute of last night and this morning. It was exactly what I needed but I don't want you to feel used. I don't want you to think I'm with you to get even with Martin or that I fucked you in anger.'

'Don't worry' he said. 'I'm sure I've been fucked for worse reasons than that.'

'Meaning what?' I asked.

And that's when I learned a hell of a lot more about the "simple" farm-boy I'd just spent the night with.

Matt explained that he lived on the family farm in Plainsville with his father and two older brothers. His mother had died giving birth to him and his father seemed always to have resented his youngest son's existence. Matt couldn't recall a time when his family had been anything other than contemptuous and cruel towards him.

This reached its peak when he was about twelve years old. Until then, he had been tolerated and left largely to fend for himself, with only the occasional thrashing if he did not do his chores properly. As soon as Matt was old enough to prepare simple meals and perform menial indoor tasks, his father effectively made him a housewife in place of the one he'd lost.

Once puberty dawned, Matt became even more of a wife to his father. Night after night he was bedded by his middle-aged parent. He learned to give oral sex and to accept a thrusting dick up his juvenile ass. There was never any affection - just one man's ruthless pursuit of sexual release. It became the norm for Matt.

Only at school did he find any measure of happiness, and even there he encountered problems. His teachers were surprised by his intelligence, but the general view of both staff and students was that he was a member of an eccentric and redneck farming family that didn't shower too often.

He never complained about his home life and he never reported the abuse. Who could he tell, anyway? And who would believe him?

When it became fashionable to have a home theatre, Matt's father decided to convert his youngest son's bedroom into a media centre. Matt was permanently moved to his parent's bedroom and to his father's bed.

At some stage - he couldn't really remember when - Matt's older brothers joined in on the fun. One of them was twelve years older than Matt; the other nine years older.

In addition to being busy farmers for seven days a week, neither brother was particularly attractive or personable. There had been occasional girlfriends and visits to the nearest brothel, but no steady female presence in their life.

Matt told me that his menfolk occasionally varied their diet by picking up hitchhikers - male or female - that they brought home and plied with Rohypnol-laced alcohol. Once their prey had passed out, they were routinely raped by Pa and the brothers. Afterwards, the victims - still off their faces - would be dropped on the outskirts of Plainville.

Amazingly, no repercussions ever ensued. Presumably, heavily hung-over hitchhikers woke up in a ditch with sore and cum-drenched orifices but no recollection of the night before.

At this stage, Matt pulled out his wallet and showed me a much-creased photograph of his mother.

It was like looking at his twin - golden hair, beautiful blue eyes, a clear complexion and a lovely smile displaying her perfect teeth. Perhaps this helped account for his father's attentions.

And, once they became aware of what transpired in their father's bed, perhaps it explained Matt's brothers' perverse determination to exploit him too. It was as if he was being punished for causing her death. It was also as though he had been sentenced to taking her place in their "affections".

But there was no affection. Only brutal and selfish sexual demands. And when he was fifteen, it was decided that his school days were ended.

Henceforth, while the "real" men toiled in the fields, Matt would keep house; and keep house perfectly, too - should there be any unsatisfactory performance of his endless chores, any failure to please sexually, he was punched and thrown around as though he were some useless and worn chattel.

Matt told me that Pa, Nate and Abel were all tall and large-framed men, well-muscled from their labour in the fields and weighing far more than he did. While they were all of a type, the youngest boy was his mother in almost every respect. There was nothing effeminate about him - he was undoubtedly a masculine version - but he was slight and vulnerable and easy prey.

I gathered that their cruelty was not confined to the farmstead. Matt told me of nights when one of them - sometimes all of them - would take him to the nearest truck stop.

'That place where you stopped for a leak on the way here' Matt said; 'that's where they often take me. They watch while guys line up to fuck me. Sometimes they join in, but usually they set upon me once we get back home. They glory in fucking in some truck-driver's jizz. They love watching me suck one guy off while another guy fucks my ass.

I've never met anyone local there - it's always men passing through. Some become regulars. They pass through me whenever I'm available.'

I was speechless at this recital but my face must have betrayed how upset I was at Matt's plight. He gave me a reassuring smile but I noticed that his lips trembled as he did so. And there were tears in his eyes too.

'I wouldn't blame you if you walked out right now, slamming the door behind you' he said.

Far from wanting to walk out, I was transfixed and suddenly desperate to do anything possible to protect this young lad from any further harm.

'You must get away from that terrible place' I implored. 'Get away from those animals.'

'Well, I'm away from them now' he replied. 'Every now and then, I run away- usually at weekends when it's easier to hitch a ride. But I've nowhere to go really. And no money to support me when I'm gone; no work history and no skills to get a job.

I thumb rides and pay my way with favours to horny truck-drivers or travelling salesmen, but I've nowhere to sleep except in their trucks or in sheltered doorways once they've dropped me off. So I always go back.

It's home - no matter how awful it sounds; I'm used to it. It's just the way things are.'

'You're not going back this time' I declared. 'No way can I let you go back there.'

'Easier said than done' came the reply. 'I'm enjoying my time with you, but I'll be heading home once this weekend is over.'

'And what happens then? What do they do when you return?'

'oh, I get punched and kicked around a bit. Then I make dinner and when it's time for bed - if not before - one or all of them will fuck me ragged.'

'So that's how you get all those bruises' I said.

'Yep. Afraid so. I scored this latest one' - gesturing towards his back - 'when I tried to resist having Nate and Abel inside me at the same time.'

'You mean one in your mouth and the other up your ass? I asked.

'Nope. I mean both of them up my ass at the same time. Pa was already in my mouth.'

I was shocked. I'd seen guys being DP'd in gay videos but I'd considered it something way beyond the ordinary; something, moreover, that looked extremely painful to the man on the receiving end.

'Matt' I said, 'you have to get away from them. I won't let you go back. I want to help you.'

'You've got your own problems. Your guy, Martin, is probably frantically trying to track you down so you can kiss and make up.'

At that point, I considered Martin for the first time. Matt was right. Martin probably was worried about me. I'd walked out without a change of clothes. I hadn't even taken my cell phone - something I was never without. He couldn't even call me.

'He can suffer for a while' I said.

And I admit I found myself hoping that Martin was indeed suffering. At least a little bit. I was vain enough to think no one could prefer Joseph over me, but I was also vulnerable enough to consider the possibility.

'You should call him' Matt insisted.

'Later' I said. 'Right now, I'm more concerned about you.'

Just then, two cops entered the diner and made a beeline for Matt and me.

One of them - the fat one - asked if either of us was Andrew Tait.

'That's me' I responded. 'What's the problem, officer?'

'I'd like to see some ID' he said.

I handed over my wallet, open at the window that held my licence. He scanned it closely, glanced at my Social Security card, gave it back and then turned his attention to Matt.

'And who are you?' he asked Matt.

I intervened before Matt could answer.

'Officer, please - what's going on here?'

'A missing person report has been filed' said Fatso. 'We noticed your vehicle parked outside the Vista Motel. The guy on the front desk said we might find you here.'

'Well, as you can see, I'm not missing. I'm right here having a late breakfast.'

'Well, a Mr Martin Solomon - says he's your partner - has reported you as missing.'

The other cop - who had snickered at the word "partner" - now took over.

'You probably forgot to tell him you'd be holidaying with your kid brother' he sneered

These cops were starting to annoy me; big time.

'Officers, I think I know my rights. I've confirmed my identity. I am definitely not missing. What does it matter where I'm staying?'

'And this gentleman?' he asked, casting his eye over poor Matt.

'I'm Matthew Swanson. I'm staying at the Vista too. And here's my ID.'

The fat cop sucked in his considerable gut, planted his feet even further apart, leaned back and subjected me to a piercing glare.

'Mr Tait' he said, 'I suggest you call Mr Solomon immediately and let him know you're OK. You don't have to tell him where you are but I've got better things to do than sort out lovers' quarrels.'

'I'll call him soon' I replied. 'Is that all?'

'Yep, we're done.' He replied. 'But, after you've called home, maybe you and the boy should move on. Give some other county the pleasure of your company.'

Fatso and his sidekick then headed off for the exit, pausing for a quick muttered exchange with the waitress. I heard the word "faggots" and some laughter and then they were gone.

I paid the tab. The waitress was now disinclined to look me in the face so I left a very meagre tip.

Matt and I trudged back to the Vista Motel. The clerk darted out to intercept us as we passed the reception cabin.

'I don't like having the cops around' he informed us. 'I want you guys gone.'

'Done' I replied. 'We can't wait to leave anyway. And I'd hate to damage this dump's reputation.'

I could see he had more to say but I gave him no chance. Over my shoulder I told him we'd be gone within the hour and he could hang on to the advance payment I'd made for a second night.

'Perhaps you could use the windfall to pay someone to actually clean the shower' I suggested.

Once inside our room, I noticed that Matt was looking very downcast.

'I'm sorry' he said. 'I'm causing you trouble. Maybe you should head off home. If you drop me at a gas station, I'll thumb a ride somewhere.'

I gave him a quick hug and assured him this was no big deal - just a couple of hick cops in a hick town.

We had no luggage other than Matt's grubby shoulder-pack so, after a quick toilet break, we hit the road once more.

As we passed the desk clerk's office, I flung our room key at the window. Unfortunately, the glass didn't break.

At the next hamlet along the highway, I stopped to place a collect call to Martin. He sounded very relieved if a little hysterical. He wanted to talk and apologise and explain, but all I wanted to do was let him know I was safe and then move on.

He wanted to know where I was. I told him my whereabouts were irrelevant. And then I hung up on him.

My parents were another matter altogether. If Martin had gone so far as to call the police, then he would have contacted Mom and Dad too. My father is not the worrying kind but I knew my mother would be freaking out. So I rang home too.

Mom answered the phone. Dad was out golfing. My mother expressed relief at the sound of my voice but I gave her no chance to ask questions.

'I'm fine, Mom. Martin and I had a bit of a disagreement and I'm simply cooling off elsewhere. I'm not in any trouble. Far from it. And I'm taking the opportunity to chill out and think things through.'

When she tried to prolong the conversation, I told her I had to go but that I'd see her soon - probably on Monday - and that I'd explain everything then.

Having made my duty calls, I resumed my place behind the steering wheel.

After we'd covered a few more miles, Matt asked where we were heading. I told him we were headed for the next sizable city - some ninety miles further distant from my home town. I promised him there'd be no more encounters with cops, sleazy motels or mattresses stained with other people's body fluids.

Eventually, Matt nodded off to sleep. I enjoyed glancing across at him every now and then. He was an extremely attractive young man and - even knowing how deplorable his background was - I couldn't help but reflect on how innocent and angelic he looked.

It was well past midday when we finally reached the outskirts of the big city. The sudden increase in traffic noise - or maybe the abrupt reduction in our speed - caused Matt to awaken. After yawning and stretching, he spoke for the first time in over an hour.

'Where are we?' he asked.

I told him, adding that we would soon be booked into a nice room and ordering lunch from room service.

'Sweet. I've never had room service in my life' he exclaimed, suddenly looking more boyish than ever.

Matt was very quiet when I negotiated the circular driveway of a multi-storey hotel and parked under the port-cochere. A uniformed valet opened our doors and offered to take our non-existent luggage.

My young friend trailed behind me as we moved through the revolving doors and into the massive entry hall. As we approached the reception desk, I could sense that he was overawed by this experience.

I asked for a double room, stressing that I wanted a Queen-sized bed rather than two singles. When told that only the honeymoon suite was available, I assured the man behind the desk that this would be fine.

We registered under our real names and I used my gold Amex card to ensure that no doubts were raised about our credit-worthiness. When told that a bell-boy would take our luggage and show us to our room, I said that we didn't have any luggage.

'The airline has lost our bags' I advised the concierge. 'Might be days before it catches up with us. Maybe you could tell me the best clothing and luggage stores in town. We might go shopping after lunch.'

He was happy to oblige and scribbled a few names and addresses on a slip of paper. I sensed his mind ticking over - calculating how much commission he might make.

A uniformed guy in his twenties showed us to our suite. In the elevator, I noticed him checking us out. His gaze moved from the bulge in my chinos to Matt's handsome face and ripped jeans. I suppose he thought I'd picked up some rough trade for the weekend. I didn't much care what he thought. I was just grateful to be in a big city where no one blinked an eye if two guys shared a bed; a place where almost anything was feasible as long as you could pay for it.

When the door was opened for us, I held back so Matt could enter first. The bellhop led me from the sitting room to the adjoining bedroom and en-suite bathroom with spa. He also showed me the glass doors that led to a balcony with views of the city skyline and the river. All the while, Matt stood rooted to the spot in the sitting room.

The bell-hop then showed me the refrigerated bar and the room service menu. He told us that our swipe-card also gave us access to the gym and an indoor swimming pool. I gave him a liberal tip and then he left us, wishing us a most enjoyable stay. I gained a distinct impression that he would have liked to share that enjoyable stay.

'This is like a palace' Matt exclaimed. 'Are you sure you can afford it? It must cost at least a hundred a night to stay here.'

I smiled inwardly at his naivety. A hundred a night probably seemed expensive to him. I didn't see the point in letting him know we'd be paying almost six hundred per night.

'Don't worry' I assured him. 'Everything's fine. I just want to give you a treat - something light years away from Pa and your oafish brothers.'

It was true.

Sure, I also wanted to lavish attention on Matt's body and have passionate sex at every opportunity; but, more than that, I wanted to lavish attention on all the boy's senses. I wanted him to experience luxury and freedom from care. I wanted him to have the most wonderful experience of his life thus far.

I gave a fleeting thought to Martin. One of the reasons I could easily afford this adventure was Martin's kindness and generosity to me over the years. He had resolutely refused to allow me to pay for anything much, often declaring that he was more than wealthy enough for both of us. So my own earnings sat in a bank, gathering interest and rarely being touched.

Moreover, Martin's gifts to me over time had been most generous - a new car, some shares at Christmas, a large check on birthdays, even charge accounts at various stores. But I didn't feel any guilt about being generous to Matt; I didn't feel I was using tainted money.

I had been a true and loyal companion and lover for some four years. My ultimate reward had been Martin's betrayal, his infidelity. It was time to please someone else. And it was time to please myself too.

We scoffed down burgers and fries delivered by room service. I had coffee. To my amusement, Matt had a strawberry thick-shake. He was still far more boy than man. After lunch, we headed out to visit the stores that had been recommended to me.

Matt stopped to peer at the window display of a trendy boutique. He commented wistfully on a pair of designer jeans that appealed to him.

'So let's get them' I said.

He came out of the change-room to see what I thought of them. They were practically glued to his coltish legs and perfect butt, so I told him he looked really sexy and cool. But I also told him we needed to get something a bit ritzier for later that day.

'Why?' he asked.

'Because we're going to do the town tonight, Matt; hit a few nightspots; eat at the best restaurant in town; visit the best dance clubs.'

'Sweet' was all he could manage.

We moved on to explore several department stores. I purchased new underwear for both of us. Matt told me he seldom wore underwear. If he did, he usually wore boxer shorts. We got some of these but I also insisted he get some briefs too, explaining that certain situations and certain clothes were unsuited to shorts.

While Matt was busy admiring some leather pants and jackets, I asked the shop assistant if he knew of a good stylist we might consult. He handed me a card, assuring me that Mario Guardino was "simply the best". He allowed me to use the store telephone to call Mario and I obtained an immediate appointment.

With numerous bags in each hand, we next headed to Mario's studio, just a city block away. As we strolled along, I explained to Matt that I wanted to see a stylist, a guy who could advise me on what was hot and what might suit me best. He was astonished that such a person even existed.

I didn't bother to tell him I was already reasonably certain about my own style; I didn't tell him that I was more intent upon having an expert help Matt to make the most of his own undoubted assets and good looks.

Mario's premises were almost austere in their modernity and simplicity, but there was excellent taste on display too. Elegant and colourful armchairs; exotic - and almost pornographic - pictures on the walls; and a beige carpet as soft and lush as any carefully tended lawn.

Mario himself was about what I'd expected - a bit swish and a bit gushy, with lots of hand-gestures. His clothes were amazing. Edgy and definitely more costume than practical menswear. His wore his pants tight and his basket looked like he was smuggling a few avocados.

Mario was quick on the uptake. I didn't need to explain that I wanted him to give Matt a makeover; show my young friend just how attractive he could be. With minimal words and several winks and movements of his well-tended eyebrows, Mario assured me he would effect the kind of transformation I had in mind. And I made it plain to him that I wanted no expense spared.

So I was handed over to an assistant while Mario took Matt to a side room for a consultation. The boy gave me a confused look but I explained that stylists worked one-on-one and we were both in safe hands.

Almost three hours later, I was seated in a very comfy armchair, sipping coffee and browsing through a pamphlet about the city's night life. On the floor beside me were several cartons, bags and boxes. Mario's assistant had quickly assessed me and then taken me on a bewilderingly fast tour of several nearby shops and boutiques. I'd lost track of how much I'd spent but I was well satisfied with my new wardrobe of suits, jackets, casual wear, formal wear and truly beautiful shirts and silk ties and socks.

Eventually, Mario himself returned with a flustered but happy Matt in tow. My friend's eyes shone brilliantly and there was a reddish glow in his cheeks. The two were carrying even more packages than I had acquired. I found myself longing for a private fashion parade when we got back to our hotel. I was filled with anticipatory delight.

Some might think I was striving to impress Matt with money. The reality was that I was striving to impress upon Matt just how impressive he was and how a drop-dead handsome man had been camouflaged by grubby jeans and a shabby hoodie.

I made out a substantial check to cover both Mario's fee and also the cost of Matt's clothes taken on consignment from various stores. Mario explained that he'd also made appointments for us both to visit a day spa and a top-notch hairdressing salon.

We left the stylist and headed for the nearby day spa. It amused me that Mario embraced us and applied air-kisses to our cheeks before we left. And I think it amazed Matt that homosexuals could be so openly gay in a big metropolis.

The spa was wonderful. We lay naked on adjoining massage beds - a small towel covering our genitals - and enjoyed the truly amazing attentions of incredibly skilled massage practitioners. I felt every tension and strain leave my body and I could tell that Matt was appreciating the pampering too.

I couldn't avoid getting an erection when the masseur's hands were applied to my upper thighs and my abs. Glancing across, I noticed that Matt was in a similar state. But these guys were reputable masseurs and our tenting towels were totally ignored. I dare say a great many guys get an involuntary hard-on when firm hands are on their thighs and occasionally nudging their balls. Mercifully, once the hands moved elsewhere, my arousal evaporated.

Next stop was the hairdressing salon. Matt said he didn't really need a haircut. I urged him to give it a go and assured him that the difference between a bad haircut and "back to normal" took only a week or so.

My own haircut was nothing out of the ordinary. The basic style was fine as it was; so I just received a good trim and yielded to the suggestion that a few blonder highlights be added. On the other hand, Matt's cut produced an absolute revelation.

His tangled blond mane was pruned to an adult cut that still touched his collar at the back and still left his ears half-covered, but it now sported a parting and a few platinum streaks that enhanced the fairness of his locks. His previously untended eyebrows had been tamed and he looked - in a word - beautiful. I could tell that he was pleased with the result too.

We needed a cab to get all our shopping back to the hotel. And this time we certainly needed a porter to help get everything to our suite. Once there, we collapsed into armchairs and laughed. It was obvious that Matt was sublimely happy and excited. He was also exhausted. We both were. It's not every day one has a head-to-toe makeover.

A glance at my watch revealed it was almost six o'clock. I asked Matt if he was- like me - feeling hungry. He was. So we ordered some club sandwiches to be brought to our rooms. I explained that we were having just a light snack in order to truly appreciate our dinner later that evening.

I rang a nearby five-star restaurant and booked a table for 8.30pm; that left us about two hours to rummage through the various packages and get showered. Perhaps it might also leave time for a very brief nap.

But any thoughts of napping soon disappeared once Matt began to model his new wardrobe for me. Although the boy would look good in just a sack, he was absolutely stunning in casual wear, business suits and evening wear. At one stage he held up a particular item for my inspection, saying he couldn't work out why Mario had insisted he needed it.

It was a simple jockstrap. Pristine white. And I developed an erection just looking at it.

'Mario is a clever guy' I said. 'If you don't mind missing out on a nap, I'll show you why it's essential. I bought one too. Let's put them on.'

So we stripped off and faced each other in jocks. I got Matt to turn around. I loved the way the two straps framed his buttocks. When he faced me again, I told him how sexy he looked with his junk in a soft, cotton pouch.

'Your pouch is a lot fuller than mine' he commented.

'That's because I have these stupid big balls' I replied. 'Nothing great about that. Yours looks just right and I can see the shape of your incredibly fat dick through the fabric.'

Naturally enough, the soft and sexy jockstraps - not to mention comments about their contents - had made us both horny. Already, I could feel pre-cum oozing from my hard cock, and I could see a spot developing on Matt's pouch too.

I'd intended to have a passionate night with Matt after dinner. I'd been thinking I could wait a few hours longer before enjoying his exquisite ass once more. But our dicks were not to be denied.

We hit the bedroom, throwing the bedclothes aside before moving into a tight embrace with our limbs and lips joined.

The sex was frantic. It was a ridiculously brief coupling. No foreplay. I grabbed some hair-conditioner from the bathroom to act as a lubricant. Then I positioned Matt's legs on my shoulders and entered him to the hilt. It wasn't brutal; just hard and vigorous. And that's what we both wanted.

Within a minute or so, I was pumping yet another load of cum deep inside Matt's incredibly tight and velvety ass-chute. Almost simultaneously, his own load spurted into the air, splattering jizz in all directions.

As had happened previously - back in the seedy motel room - Matt's juices made their way onto his face and the pillow beneath his head.

When we'd parted bodies, Matt surveyed the wreckage.

'We're going to need to clean up this bed' he said.

'Nope' I said. 'Listen and learn.'

I picked up the telephone, dialled housekeeping and instructed the voice at the other end that we were going out around eight and that I expected to see fresh bed-linen on our return.

'You see' I told Matt. 'It's simple. If we're prepared to pay the tariff, then the hotel will provide the service without question. Trust me; we're not the first couple to cream a bed. I'm sure it happens all the time. After all, this is a honeymoon suite. And gay cum is no greater problem than straight cum.'

With that, we showered hastily before dressing for our big night out.

Because we were going somewhere classy, I advised Matt that a suit and tie were necessary. I helped him choose which of his three new suits to wear and I also told him which shoes, shirt and tie would look best. I was surprised to learn that he didn't know how to fashion a tie into a decent knot, but he told me he'd never worn one before in his entire life.

When we were finally ready to leave, we surveyed ourselves in the full-length mirrors of the walk-in wardrobe.

Matt informed me that I looked great.

And I informed Matt that he looked even greater. And he did. Moved by an impulse I seldom felt, even with Martin, I kissed Matt's lips gently and held him close.

After that, we quit our suite and entered into the night.

I was consumed with admiration for my companion and I was torn between two pressing desires.

I wanted to eat fabulous food while gazing at his fabulous face. But I also wanted to be back in our bed, having fabulous sex while gazing at that same face.

It was to be one of the most pleasurable and satisfying nights of my entire life.