The Blue Cat

by Roland Graeme

  I raised myself quickly and pulled out of him, reaching down blindly between our bodies to strip the rubber from my aching prick and fling it aside. I was just in time. I didn’t even have to touch my cock, let alone stroke it, in order to bring myself off. Hovering over Geoff, with my now freed erection parallel to his depleted one, I exploded. The pulsing waves of cum flowed out of me, spurting across his stomach and up onto his chest like so many thin, sticky white streaks drawn across a canvas by a brush loaded with paint. My pleasure and my satisfaction left their temporary mark on his body.

  Groaning, writhing under me, Geoff used his fingertips to scoop up some of my semen and transfer it to his lips. He lapped up the cum greedily, then collected a second wad of it and offered to my own lips. I let him feed me my cum, the salty taste stinging my tongue. Letting his breath out in a long, low-pitched, lascivious gasp, Geoff went limp, letting my body weigh his down.

  “Christ,” I heard Geoff moan. “I really needed that.”

  “No kidding.”

  “You seem to have been saving it up, too.”

  “For too long,” I admitted. “For much too long.”

  Chapter Two

  Military Manoeuvres

  Geoff and I became lovers.

  My family disapproved, but of course, they would have disapproved of any man with whom I became involved.

  My cousin George was particularly obnoxious. George was straight, but he hardly presented much of an argument in favour of heterosexuality. He had been married four times and divorced three times. In addition, he had mistresses. As he grew older, his wives seemed to get younger. So did the girls with whom he had his extramarital flings. At the rate he was going, it couldn’t be too long before he found himself charged with statutory rape.

  George and his current trophy wife attended one of our family’s typically stuffy get-togethers.

  “So,” was his sour-faced greeting to me. “I understand you’ve been consorting with a rent boy.”

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong on both counts. Geoff is a Corporal in the Royal Marines Commandos. He earns his own living. And I haven’t been consorting with him,” I added, with a smile. “We’ve been fucking.”

  George stiffened. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to be more of a tight-assed bastard than he already was, but now, in that eloquent American slang expression, he looked as though he had a stick up his ass.

  “The man must be a disgrace to his uniform,” he sputtered.

  “I beg to differ from you.”

  “What about his people? Is he a commoner?”

  “I suppose so. He’s what I’d call a self-made gentleman, not a born one.”

  “I cannot imagine what you could possibly see in a person like that,” he said.

  “Well, let me enlighten you, George.” I held up my hands and put them together, with the thumbs and forefingers forming a round opening, but not quite touching. “His cock is this thick. And let me tell you, when he puts that big thing in me, I’m the most sexually satisfied bugger in the British Isles. No, in the entire Commonwealth.”

  That shut him up!

  “Perhaps we’d better change the subject,” he suggested.

  “Sure,” I said. “Let’s talk about your sex life, for a change. How’s the latest paternity suit going? Have you gone in to give your DNA yet, or is your lawyer still stalling for time?”

  If looks could kill, it would have been a toss-up as to which of them would have been responsible for my demise—George or his steely-eyed wife.

  Geoff and I began spending most of our free time together. Almost from the start, I hoped that eventually he might move in with me. There wasn’t anything wrong with his flat. In fact, the first time I set foot inside it—and ended up spending the night—Geoff's housekeeping skills had impressed me. He had a military man’s taste for order and tidiness.

  However, his flat was small, and since my place was larger and more comfortable, we spent most of our time together there. I invited Geoff to keep a few changes of clothes and a second set of his toilet articles at my place, but when I broached the subject of our living together, he was wary.

  “It’s early days for a discussion like that, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “If you say so.”

  “We haven’t known each other all that long. I don’t think you should jump into anything on impulse. You might regret it later.” He smiled at me in that disarming way he had. “You’re disappointed.”

  “I’m selfish. I do so much like having you here with me.”

  “And I like being with you. But let’s not rush it. Let’s give it a chance to grow on its own.”

  Reluctantly, I agreed.

  Of course, one of the reasons Geoff was so often at my place was because he continued to pose for me. He became my favourite model and I never tired of drawing or painting him. This was one of the few things, in fact, that we ever came close to quarrelling about. Geoff thought it was somehow unethical, or at least unseemly, for me to pay for his modelling services now that we were sleeping together.

  “I’ll pose for you any time you want me to, for free,” he said.

  “But that wouldn’t be fair to the agency or to you. I’d be taking work away from both of you. After all, if I were seeing a plumber, a carpenter or an interior decorator, I wouldn’t expect him to come in here and do all sorts of work for me for free, just because the two of us were fucking.”

  We debated the issue back and forth and finally came up with a compromise. I would continue to book sessions with Geoff through the agency, but for every such session, he would also pose for me on another occasion, for free. Or rather, he would do so in exchange for the informal drawing and paintings lessons I had begun to give him and which we both really enjoyed. He was beginning to develop a solid amateur’s interest in art, which I encouraged. I took him to museums and galleries.

  The walls of his flat were bare. I gave him a couple of my unsold paintings, which he admired, to hang up there, overcoming his protests by telling him he was doing me a favour by taking the things off my hands. We also went shopping together, to find some posters and prints to brighten up his place.

  Geoff was also thoughtful. One day he surprised me by announcing that he had a little present for me.

  “What’s the occasion?” I asked.

  “Oh, no occasion. Just for the hell of it. I happened to see this in a used book shop and I thought you might like it—if you don’t already have a copy, that is.”

  When I extracted the object from the gift-wrapping paper, I could not have been more surprised. It was a small paperbound book of about fifty pages. It was the catalogue of an exhibition of my uncle’s paintings, shown in an Edinburgh gallery thirty years earlier. The first few pages of the publication were devoted to an essay on my uncle and his work. Colour reproductions of the paintings with commentaries filled the rest of the pages.

  I turned the pages, fascinated. “Not only do I not have a copy of this—I’ve never seen it before. And I’m not familiar with some of these paintings. Thank you, so very much.”

  Geoff’s claim that he had come across the catalogue more or less by chance, while browsing in a book store, was implausible, to say the least. He must have done some research on my uncle on the internet, then gone to some trouble searching out some item connected with him.

  To show my appreciation, I soon paid him back, by taking him upstairs and making love to him.

  In my bedroom, we both stripped down to our underwear.

  “Leave your knickers on for a moment,” Geoff suggested.

  “Sure. But why?”

  “Because I like the way your cock and your ass look in them,” he said. “If I were a fucking artist, with your talent, I’d want to paint you posing just like that.”

  “I have other talents…and so do you,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, don’t we? But don’t be in such a hurry. Let’s take our time. Do me a fa
vour and show me your butt. Let me see how those sweet cheeks of yours fill out the seat of those briefs. Oh yeah, you hot little fucker. That’s right. That’s what I like to see. Now play with yourself through the crotch of your knickers. Rub your cock through that cotton. Get it good and hard for me.”

  “I’m already good and hard, trust me.” I punctuated the statement with a deep, impatient groan, as I gripped and squeezed my shaft through the crotch of my suddenly too-tight briefs.

  Geoff, however, seemed caught up in his voyeurism. He continued to give me instructions.

  “Jerk yourself through the cloth. Oh yeah. That looks so hot. No fucking porno star could do it any better. Look at me while you play with yourself. See how hard I am, too. See how ready I am for you.”

  He wasn’t exaggerating. Even in the dimly lit room, I could see the outline of his hard cock and the wet stain of his pre-cum on the white cotton of his briefs.

  “You’re a goddamned prick teaser, Geoff,” I complained. “You’re driving me crazy. Come on, let’s strip down and get on with it.”

  “Patience, soldier,” he taunted me. “All in good time.”

  As I watched, he continued to work his cock through the thin layer of cotton that covered it, in much the same way that I was manipulating mine. Finally, though, he had mercy on me. He used the back of his hand to force the elastic band of the underwear down over his erection. His cock sprang out into the light, and the glistening drops that proved he was every bit as excited as I caught the little bit of light. I could see the drops where they escaped from the slit at the head of his cock.

  I sank down onto my knees.

  “Let me suck it,” I begged.

  “Not yet.”

  I moaned with frustration.

  He moved forward, but he didn’t offer his penis to my waiting mouth. Nor was he trying to reengage me in an embrace. Instead, he teased me with sadistic deliberation.

  “Don’t touch me,” he warned. “Keep your hands down there at your sides.” I let out another moan, but I obeyed.

  He ran his cock over my chest, letting it move through my hair, rubbing the wet and sticky tip over each of my nipples. He tantalized me with the sight of his erection, waving it back and forth in front of my face.

  “How do you want it?” he whispered. “Rough or smooth?”

  “Rough,” I replied, without hesitation.

  “I thought so. I’m pretty good at reading you, by now.”

  “But not too rough,” I cautioned him.

  “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll do it just the way you like. All you have to do is let me take charge…and you do what I tell you to do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Damned right.”

  He stepped back and pulled off his knickers.

  Now he was stark naked when he resumed his stance in front of me. He spread his legs, taking up a Colossus of Rhodes pose and looked down at me.

  “Do you want my cock?” he demanded.

  “You know I do.”

  “Do you think you deserve it?”

  “I’m willing to earn it.”

  “Do you want your face fucked?”

  “Yes! Yes, please!”

  “Don’t use your hands,” he once again warned me. “Don’t move. Just open your mouth. Open your mouth and take my cock.”

  I parted my lips in an exaggerated yawn, practically dislocating my jaw. He stepped forward and thrust the head of his cock into the broad oval I offered him. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, feeding me his cock. With each new lunge, more of it rammed into me. I gagged, but I didn’t pull away.

  He withdrew completely. His huge hard prick wavered there in front of me, slick and gleaming with my saliva.

  “Good boy,” Geoff murmured. “Oh, that’s a good boy. That’s how to take my cock.”

  He shoved it into my mouth again. It tasted salty and bitter, but it felt good. It felt warm, thick, and tight, and it filled my whole mouth. I clamped my lips over my teeth, so they wouldn’t scrape, then just let him go ahead and fuck my face and throat while I reached down and fumbled to get my own cock out of the pouch of my briefs.

  “Oh yeah,” he was saying. “Oh yeah, you bastard, suck it!”

  I was pumping my own prick now, my flesh tingling all over my nearly naked body, as he put his hands over my ears and held my head tight and fucked my face harder and harder.

  “I’m going to give you my cum, fucker. Hot, sticky cum. Shoot my load in your goddamn throat. Hot fucking mouth…Oh, Jesus—Oh my God!” He bellowed

  Suddenly he held my head tighter and shoved. The head of his cock went right down my throat and I felt his hot stuff shooting into me. My own cock went off like a geyser and I tried to pull back, but he held my head immobile, with his cock jammed down my throat. He was still shouting and I could hardly breathe.

  I remained kneeling there, with the warm hardness of his emptied penis still filling my mouth, blocking my throat. My own cock was still shooting wildly. His hands clasped the back of my head with my face buried in his thick scratchy pubic hair.

  “Oh shit! Fuck!” he exclaimed.

  His prick started softening, inching back out of my throat. The hands on my head relaxed, then fell away. I leaned backward and looked up.

  He stood over me with his head tilted backward, his mouth open. His cock was still dripping, white semen oozing out, dropping onto the floor. My own dick was in my hand, my own semen sticky on my fingers.

  I stumbled to my feet, feeling disoriented, my body still burning with desire. He reached out and grabbed my arm, steadying me. He drew me toward him.

  “Kiss me,” he murmured.

  I kissed him. Now there was no roughness in him. He was all tenderness.

  Afterward, when we lay in my bed together, we had one of our drowsy post-orgasmic conversations.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, Geoff,” I said. “But I can’t help myself. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I want you to know I am.”

  “What makes you think I don’t want to hear it?”

  “You seem like the independent type.”

  “I am independent. I’m use to taking care of myself. That doesn’t mean there won’t be room for another man in my life, some day.”

  “But that man isn’t going to be me.”

  “I didn’t say that. You and I get along together just fine so far, don’t we? And that’s a good start. But it’s only a start. I really am not prepared to take on a committed relationship right now,” he went on. “Let’s face it. You and I—neither of us is a starry-eyed young lad. We’re old enough, sensible enough, to know how foolish it would be to put the pressure of all sorts of expectations on each other. Don’t you agree?”

  “I guess so.” My voice sounded sullen, even to my own ears.

  He gave me a little caress, under the covers. “Are you saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t have real feelings about you.”

  “As I do for you. Is that so easy to dismiss?”

  “I’m not talking about dismissing them. I’m talking about putting them in perspective, allowing ourselves to be guided by our heads, not by our dicks.” He hesitated and when he spoke again, his tone of voice was more sombre. “And there’s another consideration.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My unit could be called up and deployed at any minute. Sometimes they don’t give us any advance notice at all. They could send us to the Middle East or to Afghanistan. I’d be gone for months.”

  “I’d wait for you to come back.”

  “But I wouldn’t want you to put your life on hold, while I’m off risking mine. I might be sent home in a box or come back with an arm or a leg blown off or half my face shot off.”

  “Don’t say such things,” I begged him.

  “But I have to talk about them with somebody,
” he said, with a sudden vehemence on his voice. “All of us who are on active duty, who know we might go into combat…we think about it, the possibility’s always there in the back of our minds, but we don’t talk about it. Not with each other, usually. We just keep it all bottled up, until we feel like we’re going to explode. It could happen. I could die or come back…well, not in one piece. Which might put a crimp in my modelling career,” he added, with an attempt at black humour that did nothing to lighten the mood. “And how’d you feel about making love to a man who’s disfigured? Not so keen, I would imagine.”

  “You must think I’m terribly superficial.”

  “No, give me more credit than that. But you are an artist and the visual is important to you. You won’t deny that you and I started out based on a physical attraction.”

  “Relationships always start out that way,” I pointed out, “based on what we can see and observe of the other person. But they don’t stay that way, on that level. Once you find out what’s in there deeper—that’s what really matters.”

  He raised himself on his elbow, turned toward me and smiled down at me, in the way he had that always disarmed me. “So you and I—we’ve gotten to know each other—we’ve gone in deeper, as you put it…is that it?”

  “We’ve gone in deeper with each other, in every sense of the word,” I said, in my own feeble attempt to lighten the mood.

  He pressed his nude body closer to mine and put his hand under the covers again. He found my cock and gave it a squeeze. As always, it responded instantly and dramatically to his touch.

  “All of this talk about going into places is getting me horny,” he whispered. “Why don’t we table this discussion, for later and right now let’s just fuck?”

  “You aren’t going to get any argument from me.”

  I can’t deny it—ours began as a mostly physical affair. We really enjoyed each other’s bodies, in every way possible.

  * * * ** * * *

  One afternoon, I received a phone call from Geoff. When I answered my mobile and heard his voice, I assumed he was merely touching bases with me, to set up the next time we could get together. I was quickly disillusioned.