Desire in the Isles

by Roland Graeme

  Carter threw his ass up in the air, spreading the backs of his thighs and letting his monstrously agitated cock and balls hang down between his legs.

  Instantly, what he’d hoped for happened—another mouth grabbed his dick and began sucking desperately on its bulky shaft! The sensation of having one tongue reaming out his asshole and another tongue rubbing wetly all over his cockflesh drove Carter wild with lust!

  He looked at Quentin’s huge, stiff rod, bathed in the warm red light, and, seeing that it was momentarily free, he lunged on it, burying it deep in his mouth. He pushed his hand roughly under Quentin, deep into his ass crack, and could feel the mass of heavy, furry hair which covered his cleft.

  While he was sucking Quentin’s cock, somebody else came along, lifted the young fisherman’s sturdy legs, and got ready to penetrate him anally.

  “Any of you blokes got a rubber?” the man asked.

  “Right here,” someone replied. “Lube, too, if you want it.”

  “Thanks, mate.”

  After gloving up his dick, the man entered Quentin and started fucking him with abandon, pumping his lightly greased and very thick cockshaft deep into his rectum.

  Quentin didn’t seem to mind! He lay back quite passively, spreading his muscular thighs wide for both Carter’s mouth and the other guy’s cock. As Carter moved his mouth rapidly up and down on Quentin’s slippery tool, he could look down between Quentin’s dangling balls and see that other hard-on thrusting itself violently in and out of Quentin’s wide-open anal aperture, fucking him silly.

  It was quite a stimulating sight—not that Carter needed anything to keep his excitement going.

  Carter pressed his face into Quentin’s crotch, taking his whole cock in his mouth with each thrust. He kept his eyes locked on the other cock in front of him, watching it closely as it entered, then pulled itself part-way back out of Quentin’s asshole.

  Carter no longer felt the tongue on his asshole—but instead, he suddenly became aware of the hard head of a cock being pressed against it! Carter wriggled away.

  He stopped sucking on Quentin’s cock long enough to insist, “Whoever the hell you are—not without a condom.”

  “A Yank!” his would-be fucker exclaimed.

  “That’s right. A Yank who doesn’t bareback.”

  “No problem.” The other guy put on a rubber, and one of the other men helpfully passed him the lubricant.

  Carter resumed sucking Quentin’s cock. At the same time, he pushed his butt back into position, making his asshole available for penetration by the Scot’s hot poker. Then he felt his sphincter being stretched open—slowly at first, and then with increasing force.

  Soon the long, thick cock was jammed completely inside him and its owner was humping him hard and fast. The hot, wet mouth was still sucking madly on Carter’s cock. Caught between the two sensations of being sucked and fucked simultaneously, Carter was going crazy with heat and lust!

  He felt his dick begin to tense, and he knew that he was going to shoot. He sucked even more hungrily on Quentin’s tool, wanting him to come at the same time. Quentin was thrusting his hips spasmodically up and down, taking both the pressure of Carter’s mouth on his cock and the prick hammering away inside his hot, horny asshole.

  Abruptly, uncontrollably, Carter started ejaculating, firing his jism into that hot, fast-working mouth on his cock. Then, as though his own sperm had somehow backed up inside him, he felt and tasted Quentin’s salty come filling his mouth! They were coming together, all right!

  “Oh, Christ!” Quentin moaned. “I’m coming—it’s too much, men! Too fucking much!”

  Quentin’s burly body gyrated wildly as he shot wad after wad into Carter’s mouth and throat. Carter was unloading his own come into the guy’s mouth between his legs at the same time. And then, as though it had all been planned in advance, he felt a his fucker’s prick shudder and jerk deep in his ass, as the man lost his jism inside the condom on his cock.

  Carter humped his ass harder and faster, and he felt the cock jammed into his rear end spasm again. The prick slipped out, and Carter grunted in response to sudden loss of the pressure and friction inside his butt.

  While Carter was still climaxing helplessly, he could feel Quentin pumping his sperm into his mouth. He looked down at Quentin’s asshole and saw the telltale acceleration of the latex-sheathed cockshaft pumping away back and forth inside it, and he knew that the huge cock which was still fucking Quentin—just inches away from Carter’s own face—was now, in its turn, unloading its burning fluid.

  Carter kept his eyes fixed on Quentin’s butch asshole, enjoying the lewd sight of that long, hard fuck pole driving in and out of it.

  At last, Carter and Quentin both managed to disengage themselves from their anonymous sex partners.

  After a long moment of heavy, labored breathing, Quentin sat up, hugged Carter, and gasped, “So—how do like the orgy room, stud?”

  “It’s a lot like some of the ones in the baths back home in the States. Exciting—and exhausting,” Carter admitted, panting, as he sat on the mattress and leaned his body against Quentin’s. “That was some fucking orgasm I just had, buddy. Very intense. And I found something in here that I liked a lot. So much so, that I wish I could take it home with me, as a souvenir.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  Carter reached down and grasped Quentin’s still-hard cock, which was wet and slimy with a mixture of sperm and saliva. “This!” he grunted.

  The other man laughed. “Sorry, Yank. That’s not detachable. I’m quite attached to it, in fact, in more ways than one. Afraid I can’t do without it. But feel free to borrow it for a little while longer, as long as you promise to give it back.” Breathlessly, Quentin got up slowly and rubbed some of the sweat off his body with his hands while Carter continued to play with his throbbing prick.

  Chapter Fifteen: Personal Attention

  Returning downstairs, Quentin and Carter checked out the actual steam rooms.

  There were two of them, a dry sauna, and, by contrast, a very wet one—both surprisingly large spaces, and both heated to a pore-opening intensity. After going into the wet steam room but quickly deciding that it was too hot for them. Carter and Quentin went to sit in the sauna. Perspiring freely, they chatted.

  “I’ve got to shower and get dressed,” Quentin said, reluctantly. “And head back to my ship.”

  “And I’d better check up on my friends.”

  Before they parted, the two men shook hands.

  It had been a fleeting encounter, but a most pleasant one. And Carter soon found out that his companions had also gotten lucky.

  The doors to Stash’s cubicle and Martin’s were closed. And, from behind both doors came the muffled sound of heavy breathing, punctuated by moans. Obviously, his friends hadn’t been idle during Carter’s absence. They were both entertaining visitors.

  Amused and aroused, Carter unlocked his own room. The light had a dimmer switch, which he used to reduce the illumination inside the room to a soft, intimate glow. Deciding to resort to the tried-and-true technique of leaving the door open to advertise his availability, Carter discarded his towel and stretched out nude on the narrow bed. Shamelessly, he eavesdropped on what was going on in the neighboring cubicles.

  Stewart appeared in the doorway. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  “Very much so. Apparently, my buddies are, too.”

  “I’m glad. I’m just making my rounds, seeing if anything needs attending to. As usual, I feel overdressed,” Stewart remarked. “I was thinking about stripping down and taking the steam, myself. That’s the boss’s prerogative, you know.” He eyed Carter’s naked body. “Or—if you’d like some company—? I pride myself on providing my customers with personal attention.”

  “Get it here, close the door, and take off your clothes,” Carter urged.

  “Ah, you’re a take-charge kind of guy. I like that.”

  Soon Stewart was also nude, and lying
on top of Carter. The two men embraced and kissed, fiercely, giving in to their mutual excitement. With Stewart’s body in his arms, Carter slid his hands down the Scot’s back to his round, resilient buttocks and pulled him against his own crotch as they tongued each other’s mouths hungrily. Carter kissed and licked Stash’s ear, and said, "I want you, man. I want to do everything with you."

  “Me, too,” Stewart said. “Show me what you like. I’m up for anything.”

  Carter eased Stewart’s weight off, rolling the other man over onto his back on the bed. Getting on his knees between Stewart’s legs, Carter rested his armpits on Stash’s knees, his forearms along his thighs and one hand on his buttocks, the other between his thighs. Firmly planted above the guy’s groin, Carter slid his mouth down as far on his cock as it would go while Stewart moaned and dug his fingers into his neck.

  Very slowly at first, with slow licks and pauses, Carter brought him to a peak of excitement. Stewart’s moans and gasps became sharper and louder, and his pelvis began to rock rhythmically to and fro. And then Carter sped up his oral rhythm and made it even more frantic, more demanding.

  Stewart’s whole body began to quiver and tremble, his moans became guttural sounds resembling growls. He stiffened up, arching his back, pulled Carter’s head fiercely down. His hot, salty sperm shot into Carter’s thirsty mouth like a blast of lava!

  A few minutes later he pulled back, relaxing slightly, and took Carter by the armpits, lifting him against him, chest to chest. Their glistening, slithering bodies embraced and as they kissed, Stewart’s hand went between Carter’s thighs. He clasped Carter’s cock firmly. Carter shook with excitement. He’d been preoccupied with sucking Stewart off that he’d neglected his own erection. Now, though, Stewart began to make good on his promise to provide personal attention.

  Stewart began to stroke Carter and as he did so, he readjusted their bodies, taking the same position Carter had taken. He smiled up at him with his eyes and then lowered his ginger-colored head to Carter’s groin.

  He skipped the preliminaries—the brushing of the cockflesh against his lips, the light licking and kissing—and immediately began to stroke his mouth up and down on Carter’s prickshaft rhythmically.

  Carter shook from head to foot with uncontrollable, desperate passion. The pleasure was simply too much for him. After all the fooling around in which he’d indulged in the orgy room, he couldn’t believe how quickly, completely, and desperately his lust had revived.

  His libido was screwed to so high a pitch that the few efforts he made to prolong the pleasure were futile. He came helplessly, giving Stewart his jism as generously as his host had just fed him his own fluid.

  When Stewart had drawn himself back up onto the bed and they had kissed, pausing for the kind of long, searching, awed looks that men who have satisfied each other often exchange, they decided to go shower.

  Finding themselves alone in the shower area at the moment, the two men didn’t hesitate to get under the same showerhead and enjoy a hot shower together.

  “What if some straight sailor or tourists walks in here and sees us?” Carter asked.

  “I’m the owner,” Stewart reminded him. “I’ll take the man’s complaint—and I’ll promise to throw myself out,” he assured Carter, facetiously. “But the truth is, the majority of the men who come here don’t seem to be all naïve, or easily shocked. Maybe it’s the maritime culture—you know, the old tradition of all-male crews on ships. In the absence of women, a little quick sodomy may not seem all that onerous.”

  “Live and let lust, so to speak?”

  “Exactly.”

  First Carter soaped every pore of Stewart’s body and then he lathered Carter’s. When they were both covered with suds, both fully excited again, they rinsed themselves in the hot water.

  Without warning, Stewart turned up the cold water and shut off the hot altogether. Each of them was shaken with nervous, almost hysterical laughter and each tried to hold the other under the icy water in a bear hug.

  Finally Stewart said, “Slap me around, the way they do in saunas in Finland.”

  Carter let him go, intrigued by the suggestion, and they stepped out of the cold spray.

  “They use birch branches or something up there, but you can use your hands. You’re pretty good at that, I suspect!” Stewart added with a sly grin. He turned, bending slightly, and Carter began to slap him vigorously on his back, his shoulders, and the backs of his thighs. Pressing his body hard against Stewart’s from behind, he repeated the process across his chest, his face, his belly, the fronts of his thighs.

  “How’s that feel?” Carter inquired.

  “Surprisingly invigorating. Want to give it a try?”

  “Sure.”

  Then Stewart took over, slapping Carter with his flat hard hands until his whole body tingled. By now, both of them were tremendously aroused and ready to go at it again right there in the shower room, but at that moment two men in towels came in to shower. After nodding to them and exchanging a few pleasantries, Stewart and Carter put their own towels on, and left.

  With Stewart as his guide, Carter explored the rest of the premises. There was a massage room, with a muscular young masseur on duty. He smiled at the two men when they stuck their heads through his open door.

  “Hello, Stewart,” the masseur said.

  “Hey there, Angus, my boy. This is my friend Carter. He’s one of the Americans I told you about.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Carter. Would you like a massage?” Angus asked politely, in a lilting Scots accent. “Business is a little slow so far today. I hope it picks up after sundown. Meanwhile, I’ll do both of you for the price of one.”

  Carter couldn’t help wondering if the handsome, well-built stud was offering them more than just a massage!

  “What, your boss doesn’t get a free massage on a regular basis, any time he wants one?” Carter teased the lad.

  “It’s in my interests to keep Stewart happy,” Angus replied. “But he’s invited to contribute to the tip jar, just like anybody else.”

  Carter laughed. “My wallet’s back in my room. But I promise to take care of you before I leave.”

  “Meanwhile, you take good care of Carter,” Stewart urged. “I’d better go and relieve Malcolm, at the front desk. He’s about due for a break.”

  Angus led Carter into the adjoining cubicle, locked the door, and turned the light down low. There was a padded massage table, of course, and Angus urged Carter to stretch out nude on it. Then he anointed Carter’s body with oil, rubbing it into every muscle of his legs and thighs, every crevice of his back and buttocks.

  “Oh, that really feels good,” Carter said. “You’re good at your job.”

  “I try to be. I get a lot of practice.”

  “This place seems to be very popular.”

  “It is. After all, there’s nothing quite like it, at least not on the smaller and more isolated islands. You’d have to go to the mainland to find a gay bathhouse, and even there such places are few and far between. Stewart’s a pretty shrewd businessman. He’s built up a large clientele. We get a lot of repeat business. I have local men who book a massage with me once a week. And sailors who ask for me, every time they’re in port.”

  “So this place is really doing a service, giving a boost to the local economy,” Carter suggested.

  Angus laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it. All I know is—I’m making good money. “Of course, that’s because some of the men want more than just a massage, and they’re willing to pay for it.”

  “I can easily imagine. In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting more than just a massage right now. Don’t worry. My credit’s good.”

  “I trust you. And you’re such a beautiful man. I like your beard, and your long hair. They’re hot. I’m enjoying this.”

  “So am I.”

  When Angus finished working on Carter’s back, he said, "You’re done on that side. Roll over.”

  Carter flipped over ont
o his back and Angus began again with his toes, up his muscular, shapely calves and along his muscular thighs, rubbing the oil tenderly up his hard, flat belly and resilient broad chest. Then with Carter’s body properly anointed, Angus slid his mouth into place around his penis and he began massaging him in a different and far more exciting way.

  When the blow job had come to its inevitable conclusion and Angus once again swallowed a mouthful of the other man’s sperm, Carter pushed Angus down on the table and repeated what Angus had done. But when he reached the last part, Angus held his head in his hands and gasped, “Let’s try something different this time. Here, lie down.”

  Carter lay on his belly on the rubbing table. Angus massaged his erotically overwhelming buttocks again, rubbing in more of the warm oil. Slyly, he slipped an oily fingertip inside Carter’s sphincter ring, and began to finger-fuck his tight little asshole, stretching it, coaxing it wider open, encouraging it to relax and accept the penetration. When, after much patient manipulation, Carter was able to relax his anal defenses completely and sigh with pleasure, Angus proceeded to the actual phallic penetration.

  He put on a rubber. He didn’t bother with any additional lube. He hoisted himself onto the table atop Carter, placing one knee between his thighs, and massaged his broad, smooth back as he pulled the knee back and lowered himself onto Carter until his chest crushed into his back, his thighs pressed against the insides of his thighs.

  Angus lay that way for a moment, brushing himself lightly against the other man, and then pushed forward slowly.

  Inch by inch, his bloated cock sank inside the other young American stud’s asshole, which stretched to relieve its bulk. For many long, increasingly delirious minutes Angus proceeded thus, giving his dick to Carter an inch at a time, until he seemed to cross a threshold and Carter reared back up at him, pushing his hips and buttocks up as far as they would go.

  “Fuck me, Angus!” he gasped. “Oh, God, man, you’re in me all the way! I can feel your big, hard dick sliding right up my ass! Fuck me—fuck me, fuck me! Christ! I never thought it would feel this good!”