by James Lear
Even Captain Hathaway had more of a future than I did. Frank and Alf, Henry and Deacon Peter, all of them starting off on something new, full of hope. I was the only one who was looking for a way out. I’d been given everything—money, opportunity, good health and the wherewithal to enjoy it, a big dick that men wanted— and I was throwing it away.
“Is everything all right, Mitch?”
Claire Sutherland was towering over me. She made me jump.
“Sorry, Claire. Miles away.”
“You’ve hardly touched your food. I know it’s not exactly cordon bleu, but under the circumstances I think Stella did rather a marvelous job. Now come on. Eat up, or she’ll be offended.”
“Thanks.” I toyed with a fork.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” she said, rolling her eyes, “Why are you so glum? You should be crowned with laurels and carried through the streets! Come on, Sergeant Major, try to cheer him up. We don’t want any long faces at the Continental, dear me no! Ralph, find a bottle of something nice for Dr. Mitchell.” She clapped her hands and went onto another table, a word for everyone. At least she’d broken the ice. Bill put his hand on mine.
“Want me to go? It’s all right if you do. I understand.” He smiled, deep lines forming at the corner of his eyes. “We had fun. You’re a great bloke, Mitch. I’m glad I—”
I didn’t wait to hear any more. “Come on. We’re going to bed.” I stood up. “Ralph? A bottle of champagne to my room as soon as possible.”
“On the house!” said Claire. “Three cheers for Dr. Mitchell!”
Bill embraced me as the diners cheered, their voices echoing as we climbed the twisting stone steps to my room.
It was dark, the sun long since set into the sea. Bill opened the windows and stared out over the harbor, up to the cliffs and down to the rocks where our story had begun. His ass—the first thing I ever noticed about him when I saw him on the ferry—was stretching the cotton of his pants. He lit a cigarette, the smoke blowing back into the room on the cool night air.
I put my arms around his waist, rested my head on his shoulder blade, feeling the warmth and strength and solidity.
“What are we going to do, Bill?”
“Don’t know.”
“I’m so tired.”
He turned around to face me, and held me tight. “I know. It’s all right. We’ve got a couple of days. Let’s make them good.” He was getting hard already, pressing his groin into mine. Of course I wanted to fuck him, for him to fuck me, but I wanted more. Something to fill the void at home, to protect me from age and loneliness and disappointment. Could it be this man, this soldier in my arms, his cock against mine? Was happiness so easily found?
“I’m not a very nice person,” I began. “I lie and I cheat and I can’t keep it in my pants.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know.”
“I don’t care. I like you, Mitch. That should be enough.” He grabbed my ass. “And I want to fuck you.” “And if I want more than that?”
“Greedy bastard,” he said, giving my ass a hard slap. “I’ve got mates back at the barracks who could come over and join us if you want.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what.”
“I want you.”
“You’ve got me already.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. For what it’s worth.”
He kissed me on the mouth, the tobacco strong on his tongue.
“I could stick around for a while. I’ve nothing to rush back to.”
“And then? Next month? Next year?”
“That’s kind of up to you.”
We kissed again, deeper and longer this time. I could feel Bill’s cock throbbing against mine. It’s hard to make decisions about your future when you have a hard dick and a man’s hands kneading and spreading your buttocks.
“Mitch,” he said, coming up for air, “I need to fuck you. Now.”
There was a knock at the door. “Your champagne, sir.”
Ralph, of course. Bill let him in, took the bottle and glasses and shooed the goggle-eyed old man out of the room as fast as he could.
“Take your clothes off, Mitch. Right now.”
The champagne would have to wait. I stripped, my cock harder than ever.
“Kneel.” He pointed to the window. “Right there.”
I did as I was told. Perhaps if someone on the cliffs had binoculars they might see us. I didn’t much care. Bill was behind me, slicking himself up with lubricant. He eased himself in, then grabbed my hips and drew me back on to him. God, he was big. My ass stretched as wide as it could, but it wasn’t enough. He seemed to be growing, stiffening with every thrust.
And gradually the swirling mess of anxiety and pain and fear in my mind was calmed, and my breathing fell into the rhythm of Bill’s dick pounding in and out of my hole, and there was only one thought left. Barely a thought. Just a word. Yes. Yes.
I was saying it aloud, I realized with a little surprise, as my body arched upwards. My hands reached around to pull him in, and I shot my load without touching my own cock, sperm flying out onto the balcony and into the night, to the sea, the sky and the stars.
Bill pushed me down, and that’s when the serious fucking began.
