Well there is no point in my going on to give you the full blow-by-blow account of our subsequent activities that evening. Suffice it to say that by nine o’clock both of us were somewhat exhausted; so we each took a shower, separately alas, as the bathroom was tiny, got dressed and went out to a burger joint a short walk away to eat. That ended our first evening together at Martin’s. Martin and I shared his bed and I slept, for the first time in my life, next to another warm body; it was absolute heaven for me, as I lay there that Friday evening mulling over what had happened to me since meeting Martin just three days ago. And what was so agreeable was that I still had two more whole days, Saturday and Sunday, before I had to make my way back to my own dump of a home in Bradford.
We lay together, side-by-side, talking. “Well I told you it was easy,” said Martin, “And you see I was right; you have taken to sex like a duck to water. But then, don’t preen yourself too much, because most guys find it easy once they get over their initial self-consciousness; sex is the most natural thing in the world and most guys, once they get started, cannot do without it; my guess is, Kevin that you have already reached that stage.” And you know, he was right. I was looking forward to two more glorious days during which we could have sex with each other. On that note I fell asleep, somewhat exhausted by our joint efforts copulating.
Saturday morning dawned and I was up before Martin, so I went into the shower, which as I have already said was rather small. But where there’s a will there’s a way; so before I knew it, Martin who had now woken up and heard the shower, somehow managed to squeeze himself into it with me. And before I knew it, he had soaped up his cock which was already rock-hard and I felt him shafting me, standing there under the running water. This was a totally new experience for me as I had not hitherto been fucked standing up; but as ever, Martin was a complete master of the situation and as he increased his power and stroke length, he whispered into my ear: “This is what we call bare-back sex, Kevin; I’m not using a condom today; once we were pressed together in the shower, I just had to shaft you again. I couldn’t stop myself.”
At the moment of climax, to which he very quickly brought me, he suddenly withdrew his cock completely and sprayed his generous load of cream all over my arse. I meanwhile emitted my own contribution to this early morning act of copulation in the series of orgasmic jerks, which this time projected my sperm all over the walls of the shower. Our moment of ecstasy was shattered as the water in the shower suddenly went freezing cold; the hot water from the storage cylinder had suddenly run out, which obliged us to jump out of the shower, laughing at our misfortune and to attempt to dry ourselves off in what was a very cramped space; but we managed!
And so the next two days passed very quickly and I consolidated, with great pleasure, I might add, my new-found sexuality. Martin and I clearly got on well together and when I left we agreed that I would come to Leeds and stay with him every weekend; it was evident that neither of us could get enough of the other; it was an absolutely euphoric experience for both of us, I think; but certainly it was for me. As I was leaving to go back to Bradford, he handed me two flat packs of condoms. I looked at them questioningly and he said: “Take them Kevin and keep one pack on yourself at all times as you never know when you might need them. Remember, no sex without a condom; it’s a golden rule.”
I sort of protested that I did not see the need as we would be seeing one another again at the end of the week, but he said: “Take them anyway, Kevin; I don’t own you nor you me; and who knows, this week you may find that you want to have sex with some guy you come across; so be prepared.” I protested that the likelihood was remote, and pooh-poohed the idea that I would actually want fuck another guy during the coming week, before I saw Martin again. But as things turned out, Martin was wiser by far than I. With a new string to my bow I felt much more confident than I had ever felt previously and during the coming week I learned that I enjoyed another, let me call it, “activity”, which I have never even thought about until it happened; but it was one which would condition my future life in a way I had never before envisaged.
Tuesday’s post brought me the glad news that I had been accepted for the naval cadet training course. The Royal Navy had been much quicker in deciding than we had been told as it was barely a week since we had undergone the selection process. Beside myself with joy, I immediately rang Martin to see I he too had been accepted; to my infinite relief, he had and I felt a huge wave of relief flow over me at this news; at least I would have my friend and lover with me as I set out on my new venture, which would, hopefully change my life and get me off of the dead-end track I now was on. But the next day enlarged my horizons still further in a totally unexpected way.
Wednesday was one of my regular gym nights and as ever I trained alone. However, when I had finished and went into the showers, I did so with a confidence which I had hitherto lacked. The fact that I had now settled once and for all my sexuality, made me feel much less embarrassed in showing off my “credentials” in front of other other men. Well on this occasion, I was quite alone as I started washing myself off and then a slightly older guy, a well set up fair-haired type, came in and stood under the shower next to mine. He could have gone to a shower further away, but he didn’t; he came and took the shower directly adjacent to me. I had seen him around a few times but we had never previously spoken. I could see that he was looking at me intently and that his eyes quickly focussed on my crotch.
He said: “Hi, we’ve not met before; my name is Jonathan Singleton.” I realised immediately from the way he spoke that this guy was from a totally different class to me. I returned his greeting by saying: “Hi! Kevin Pettifer; nice to meet you.” He then proffered me a hand to shake, which I accepted and the ice was thereby broken. I have to say that that the stratum of society from which I come and to which I guess I still belong, does not usually shake hands with strangers, nor with anyone else for that matter; so this was quite a new experience for me and I felt out of my comfort zone. We finished showering and found ourselves alone together in the changing room and as we both were dressins, I somehow sensed that the greeting in the shower was just the beginning and I was right.
“Listen Kevin, I live quite near here, so I just wondered if you might like to come to my place and have a drink before you go home; it would give us a chance to get to know one another better.” I sort or realised then that I was being picked up, but as Jonathan was a highly attractive looking guy, I thought to myself, well, what the hell; why not? I had, by now, realised that Jonathan was probably like me: gay. Then just as we were about to leave the gym, I noticed that he was wearing a small gold stud in his right ear. Now even I knew that earrings, which were still very widely worn by men, really had little to do anymore with the wearer’s sexual orientation; but I did remember that a pierced right ear had originally been a sign that the guy was gay. So before we left to walk to Jonathan’s place, I was already more or less certain that this was more than a drink that I was letting myself in for.
As we walked along the street, Jonathan told me that he was a junior solicitor in his father’s practice, in which he hoped, one day, to become a partner; but for the moment he was sort of the general dogsbody on whom the more senior staff dumped all the boring stuff they did not want to bother with themselves. I really had not the slightest idea of what a solicitor actually did; so I just listened to him as he talked on and made appropriate noises at what seemed the right moment. To my surprise we stopped in front of an old office block to which Jonathan had a key. On the wall was a large, highly polished, brass plaque which said: Singleton, Johnson and Singleton: Solicitors. This was an area of the town where all the buildings were either shops or offices and no one actually lived. But it turned out that Jonathan lived above the “firm” as he put it. On the third floor there were a number of empty rooms which he had furnished as his bachelor pad. So Jonathan lived in what was for me “isolated splendour” right in the city centre.
I think that we were both slightly nervous, for both of us knew that more than drinks were on the table, but someone had to make the first move. Anyway, Jonathan, who was quite a gentleman, offered me a beer, which I accepted and we sat down in his living room, just looking at each other. I was about to break the silence when Jonathan suddenly said: “Look Kevin, you’re a man of the world (if only he knew!) So not to beat about the bush, I’m gay myself as I somehow think that you might have guessed and I was sort of hoping that you might be the same. In which case, if you are, I wondered if you might fancy a bit of action.”
So here I was, a newly “minted” gay guy, fresh from my initiation course into the delights of gay sex with Martin, receiving a proposition from a man whom I had just met but whom I found sexually highly attractive. I had to respond to Jonathan’s overture and so I said, with more confidence than I actually felt: “Well Jonathan, as the saying goes, “It takes one to know one” and I reckon that we both knew from the moment that we met in the shower that we were both birds of a feather. So, yes Jonathan, I am like you, gay and as we are evidently both footloose and fancy free tonight, what did you have in mind by way of action? I’m all ears.”
Jonathan looked at me with an expression on his face which somehow combined relief with anxiety. Ask me not how I divined this; but there it was; I felt sure that he did not want just a simple fuck; and I was right as he went on to explain that he was not just the normal run-of the-mill gay, but had a very special need, which he hoped I might fulfil. “You see, Kevin,” he finally began, clearly embarrassed by what he was about to say, “I’m just not one of your regular gays, who enjoys to fuck and to be fucked in turn. I’m what you might call a gay masochist: I like to be punished hard before I have sex with another man. Open that cupboard over there and look what’s hanging on the door; you’ll see that it’s a rattan cane. Now what I would really like you do is to take it and beat me hard across my naked arse with it. I know it probably sounds horrific to you, but that is what I would really like: a good old fashioned beating of the sort I had a public school when I was a boy.”
I was dumfounded by this revelation. I had never thought much about corporal punishment; in fact now I come to think about it, I had never ever thought about corporal punishment at all; the subject had never crossed my mind; and now here I was with a guy whom I had just met and he was asking me to beat the living daylights out of him. My first thoughts were that he must be joking: having me on; but he did not let the matter rest there, but pressed his case for me to thrash his naked arse.
“Look here Kevin; just think about it for a moment: you would be doing me a great favour and I think that you might find it a very erotic experience; after all it is not often that a guy asks another guy to thrash him; and I bet you a pound to a penny that if we are both stripped naked for the act, you will enjoy your part as flogger just as much as I will as the flogged. So come on, Kevin; won’t you at least give it a try? After all, what have you to lose: it’s me that’s going to suffer; although actually it is not suffering for me, as I truly enjoy the pain of the cane as it cuts onto my naked flesh. The problem is to find someone who is willing to go along with it and wield the cane; people are just so squeamish. So come on Kevin; be a sport and do me a favour; at least give it a whirl?”
Jonathan had put me in somewhat of a quandary. If I agreed to do as he asked, I was uncertain in my own mind that when it finally came to the crunch I might find myself unable to wield the cane. Anyway, after a few moments hesitation, I finally agreed “to give it a whirl” as he had put it. And so we both stripped totally naked; he pulled a low chair into the middle of the room and bent across it presenting me what I now saw was a very attractive and fuckable arse to whack. I also noticed that Jonathan was already rigid and his cock was already oozing a few drops of pre-cum in anticipation of what was about to happen to him.
My own cock was, for the moment still totally soft, unmoved by the prospect of what Jonathan had forecast as an erotic experience for me For the first time in my life, I held a cane in my hand and contemplated what I was about to do. And it was at that moment as I prepared to apply the first stroke to my partner’s arse, that I felt the first slight stirring of my own cock. Little did I know then that what I was about to visit on Jonathan’s arse, would change my future life in as profound a way as my meeting with Martin had, just a few days earlier.
I have to say that contemplating Jonathan’s naked backside as I now was, I saw that it was totally unmarked. Surely if he had been caned recently there would have been some trace. So I wondered as I steeled myself, and believe me, I really had to pluck up all my courage to give him the first blow, whether I was to be the first of his “friends” to accede to his wish to be thrashed: Frankly his backside looked like a virgin, untouched field of deliciously attractive flesh which I was about to defile. What I really wanted to do do was to fuck him hard, there and then; but this was clearly not the moment to try to change the course of the game; so I plucked up my courage, tapped the cane across the middle of Jonathan’s sexy looking rump and gave him what I thought was a resounding first stroke with the cane.
Jonathan’s first reaction was one of disappointment; “Come on Kevin, you can do better than that; that was just a flea-bite; what I want is a really hard beating, So don’t hold back at all, just let it rip and give my arse hell; don’t worry if you break the skin a bit; that is what I want. And take your time too; pause a good few seconds between each stroke to give me time to savour what I have just received.”
And so I went on as requested. By the time I had delivered six strokes, I suddenly became aware of the fact that my own cock had become rock-hard and was already exuding pre-cum. So Jonathan had been right; it was turning into an erotic experience for me. Then as I continued thrashing the supplicant backside in front of me, I suddenly found that I was enjoying myself; doing something which was giving me a great deal of erotic pleasure; and so I went on applying stroke after stroke, with maximum force. By the time I had delivered the twelfth stroke I had converted what had been a pristine pair of unblemished buns into what I later learned was referred to as a “well roasted arse”. Although I did not realise at that moment, the significance of what I had just done, inflicting pain with a cane was later to become one of the things which, like my recent introduction to gay sex with Martin, was to condition my entire future life.
My final stroke delivered, Jonathan slowly pullet himself up from over the chair, turned round, rubbing his arse with both hands, looked at me and said: “Well Kevin, as a first-timer you did pretty well; very well in fact; I really enjoyed that; it was one of the best thrashings I have had in a long time; we should make it a regular event.” Then he gazed at me, and his eyes fell and focussed themselves directly on my cock, which truly was in an aroused state, bigger and more aggressive looking that I had ever seen it until that moment; and to boot, I was dripping pre-cum from my prick like a tap with a broken washer. I see that I have just referred to my penis as my prick; well that was really a very bad choice of word, for the way I looked at that moment, it was anything but a prick, which sort of implies a small needle like organ. Tonight it was more like a ship’s cannon just about to fire its shot.
“There you are,” said Jonathan with admiration in his voice, “Just look at yourself; your cock must tell you just how much you yourself enjoyed that little exercise. My god, Kevin, you look absolutely superb and as I forecast, you did find that a highly erotic experience; the state of your cock does not lie; it tells me all I need to know. So what do you want to do now?” But before I had time to tell him what I wanted to do to him, he, he went on: “Kevin, after that sterling effort you deserve a reward.” And with that, Jonathan then bent back over the chair, spread his legs so that I could see his tight anus and said “Go on Kevin, it’s your turn now; just fuck me as hard as you can; I really enjoy being reamed out by a decent sized tool after I have just been beaten; so go ahead and fuck me just as hard as you can.”
Of course, Jonathan had hit the nail on the head, for I was already in such a state of arousal that there was nothing I wished for more than to force my dick into his arse and give him a real drumming. Then looking at the state of his backside I wondered how he was going to stand it, for already, just a few minutes after I had finished with the cane, his arse was already a mass of red and blue welts with a few drops of blood here and there where my vigour had broken his skin.
“Well go on; get on with it; there’s a bottle of lubricant in the cupboard over there so just lube us both up and get to work; don’t be shy; I need fucking just as much as you need to fuck me.” Caution was thrown to the wind as I gave my cock a good coating of the lubricant and applied a generous amount to his anus before attempting to force my cock into his hole. No sooner had I begun my efforts, than I remembered what Martin had told me; I did, in fact have a packet or rubbers in my trousers’ pocket, but I was just too far caught up by the eroticism of the whole situation, that I ignored his advice and prepared to penetrate Jonathans sphincter with my naked cock.
And there I encountered my first difficulty. Remember that I was a newly born gay, so to speak, and that my only experience hitherto had been with Martin, with whom I had, at his insistence, always used a condom. You may remember also that I told you earlier that my penis was endowed with a large and floppy foreskin. Well that fucking useless piece of flesh flopped around and made it difficult for me to force my entry via Jonathan’s very tight little arsehole, into his inner sanctum. Finally in utter desperation, I rolled the offending foreskin back so that it was held behind the rim of my cock head, much like a rolled up condom in its unused state and was able, by so doing, finally to commune with my partner.
This was my first experience of sex with another person after Martin; additionally, it was my first time “bare-back” not using a rubber and what an experience that was. It was not a very comfortable at all for me as that offending foreskin remained like a tight rubber ring behind my cock-head which made the sexual act somewhat painful. But I was just so aroused that I bashed on regardless as I desperately wanted to reach orgasm. In fact I could not stop myself as I simply had to satisfy my own urgent need to climax and shoot my sperm. Judging from the appreciative noises emanating from Jonathan, he too was clearly enjoyed what was happening to him, so that when I finally climaxed and shot my massive load into Jonathan’s rectum, he simultaneously discharged his own load all over the floor beneath the chair. It was then that I saw that my caning had only aroused Jonathan and that the act of punishment had not brought him to a climax. He had still needed the proper act of anal intercourse to satisfy him as much as I myself had needed to fuck him to complete the experience. I asked myself what I would have done if Jonathan had not invited me to fuck him. I guess that I would have been so aroused that I would have attempted to do so anyway; frankly looking back on he incident now, I doubt that I could have stopped myself to raping the guy; I was just so aroused and could not have controlled myself[ such is the force of the sex urge.