London Encounter
Hearing Tomasso ask to see Chris and I fuck was somehow one of the most exciting things someone has suggested in a long time. On the one hand, it was part of what Chris and I did all the time, but on another, because he wanted to watch, this sensual aficionado, it felt new and almost unknown.
He leaned against the slightly raised head of the day bed and he was stroking his cock really slowly – like he did everything. I still wanted to explore that amazing thing, but I knew he wanted something else.
I turned to Chris and kissed him and we kissed hungrily but, channeling Tomasso, deeply and slowly. I think we were learning something new that day and I liked it. Chris gently pushed me down on the day bed and reached underneath for the lube we kept there. He poured out a bunch and gently slid a few fingers into me, pushing them in with slow but intense pressure. I had my cock in my hand but I just ran my thumb over the head, feeling a steady flow of precum.
I turned to Tomasso and we looked at each other. He smiled and stroked his cock. He said, “What is it like to have your lover's hand inside you?”
I shut my eyes and thought a moment and said, “It's like he really knows me and he knows what I want.” I hadn't expected to say that, but I knew it was true. I looked at Chris and he had this expression on his face and his eyes were bright with tears. He leaned forward and kissed me and I almost came, but then he said, “You're right, Mike...” and he stopped for a moment, then said, “I want to call you Michael now. Is that all right? You're my Michael. No one else's.” I knew he was thinking of my dad.
It was my turn to get teary and we kissed a little and Chris' hand continued to explore my ass in ways he had never done before. But then he leaned back and drizzled lube on his cock. I was close to Tomasso, his thigh not far from my head. I felt his hand in my hair, stroking. He said, “You are Michael. Mike is so...childish. You are very much not a child.” He ran his hand through my hair some more. “Why do you like being fucked, Michael?”
Another amazing question. Why did I? I was still getting used to Chris calling me Michael, which he had never done and I realized I really liked. But I finally turned to him and he ran his hand over my forehead. “It's like his hand in me...but more. It feels like the closest we can possibly be when he fucks me.”
Tomasso nodded, but then asked, “But you get fucked by other people....”
“Yeah, but when Chris does it, we have this whole other layer of feeling along with it so it feels completely different.”
Tomasso nodded and ran his fingers over my lips. Just then, I felt Chris cock begin to slide into me. Slowly, powerfully. I almost fucking came again just by the intensity. I had no idea why we hadn't done it this way before, but I knew we would now. I looked into Chris' eyes and he grinned at me and stuck a finger in my mouth and at the same time slowly pulled his hips back, then gradually pushed forward, his cock moving so that I could feel every bit of it as it went deep, it found the magic spots that made me crazy and my cock gushed precum a few times
I felt Tomasso move and he crawled over and sat on his knees beside us as if he was praying or something. He reached out and ran his fingers through the precum pooling on my belly, scooping some of it up and he brought it to Chris' mouth who licked it. Chris grabbed his hand and sucked his fingers for a moment. At the same time, his gave me a few deep, slightly more powerful fucks and he made circles with his hips so his cock seemed to stretch me and he hit that spot again and my cock gave another burst of what looked like precum mixed with cum. I was so close.
Tomasso scooped up some of this and brought it to my mouth, letting it drip off his fingers onto my tongue. Holy fuck this guy was intense. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but this was not my show.
Chris fucked a little more intensely, a little faster. He leaned down and kissed me a few times. I looked at Tomasso and he was jacking himself slowly and his dick was all wet. He said, “You two are so in love. Watching you is not just sexy, it's beautiful.”
His words were like magic and for the third time I had to hold myself back, not wanting to cum yet. My cock continued to drool and Tomasso continued to feed both of us while still stroking his own cock. I realized in that moment that he was doing this for us. He had reached the limit of what he could do, but he wanted to witness and share something that was just Chris and I. I looked up at him and our eyes met again. I understood something. “You're so....generous, Tomasso. And while you do it, I gotta say, you are one of the sexiest guys.”
He laughed all low in his chest and he leaned down and kissed me. “Thank you, Michael. But it's you two who are the sexiest. I rarely find other men as sexy as I find you two. I am so turned on by watching you fuck. I'm happily surprised.”
He kissed Chris as if he wanted to make sure each of us got something. But Chris fucked me a little faster. Still deep, still intense, but faster and given how close I was, riding the edge of orgasm, I knew he must be as well. He fucked more and his eyes shut and then he started to groan and Tomasso said, “Give it to him, Chris.”
And he did, he fucking did. He drove really deep and I knew he was giving it to me. I took my cock in my hand and without even one stroke, rockets of cum shot across my chest, splashing my chin and running down, pooling on my chest. Chris was still thrusting. Tomasso leaned very close to me face and said, “Can I taste?”
I had to laugh. “At this point, Tomasso, you can do anything you want.”
He gave me a little grin like a kid and he licked a little cum off my bottom lip and sat back, savouring it, and suddenly, with a little moan, he pushed his hips forward and his cock spurted all over my stomach, joining the long streaks of mine. Chris had finally stopped moving and he pulled his cock out of me and slowly leaned down and slid his tongue in my hole, collecting some of his cum, then he moved up and we had our ritual cum kiss, enjoying his seed between us.
Tomasso seemed interested in this and he leaned down and joined us for a moment, so we shared some of Chris' cum, letting it drip from our tongues to his. For a mostly straight guy, he was sure open to whatever was happening. He leaned back again and surprised us both. He reached down and licked my cock and tasted the end. Just once, but again, if felt like he wanted to experience everything he could. Then he did the same to Chris.
He looked at us with a big smile. “You two have given me a gift.” He leaned in and kissed us both. I got up and found a towel and wiped myself off. Then I refilled our wine glasses and we sat down at the table again. This time, however, we were naked.
Tomasso stayed for three days and we spent the afternoons on the rooftop deck, and went out for dinners at night. The experience from the first night wasn't repeated and Chris and I were happy it happened at all.
Goran was jealous when Chris told him, since he had been lusting after him for a while and assumed he wasn't into guys at all. And I suppose for the most part, he wasn't. So we were pretty happy he made an exception for us.
But it was clear that Tomasso would be in our inner circle. He just fit. So we were sad to see him go back to Italy but we knew we would see him in a couple of weeks in London. And Chris or Goran or both would be playing him.
--
After our weekend with Tomasso, Chris went back into training and I barely saw him. Well, we slept in the same bed up in our rooftop retreat, but we really just slept. He held us to the no sex rule and I had a lot of respect for that given how successful he had been. But I could tell he wanted Wimbledon. He was hungry for it.
During these the time before going to England, I was still learning how to work with wood from Marco. Our house was virtually finished, except for part of the big kitchen and a couple of bathrooms, so he was there a lot with a couple of the other tradesmen.
We had a nice connection and he had cooled down from his little crush on me which was a relief. But he patiently taught me how to use an electric saw properly, how to create a wooden joint, how to sand and stain and choose wood for various kinds of projects. He was born teacher. I decided to make a table as my first real project and he gracefully watched over me, correcting me and helping me tear things apart when I fucked them up. I wish my dad had been so patient.
--
Brad met us in London and we had rented a house again, and we found a nice place in West Hampstead with three bedrooms and a nice little yard and a big living room. It was comfy and quiet, just what we all needed, especially Chris. Goran found a place closer to the City where he and Ravi – when he arrived after teaching and marking papers - and his coach could live.
Brad was in a similar mode to Chris – all business, so I was left on my own during the day, at least. I connected with Seamus who was at home with their daughter – Maggie – and I got to meet her, at least electronically. She was just a baby, so she had no idea what was going on, but it was so nice to see Seamus as the doting parent.
Anika came to London just as the Open started and we spent several days hanging out. We went to movies and bookstores and drank too much coffee. I really liked her. I wished I had had a friend like that when I was younger.
Sexually, I was a little crazed because of Chris' - and Goran's - tournament rules. I wondered if Ravi or Brad would want to play, but neither seemed interested. On the Saturday before the first day of the Open, I whatsapped with Jack who was just waking up. Stuart was in Boston so I suggested we jerk off together, which was fun and I got to watch that massive cock of his in action, but in a way it didn't quite cut it. I half-seriously asked Jack if he wanted to come to London, but unfortunately, he had too many cases on the go.
So I was forced to do something I almost never do. I fired up the app. Fuck. I felt like I was twenty again. I went to the Goran's first match – which of course he won - and since Chris was training, I wandered off into the afternoon, staring at my phone. London is a big fucking city and there was a ton of people of both sexes on these apps. It was hard to know where to start.
Did I want just one person? A couple? And if it was a couple, both men? A bi couple? Too many options. I decided I was still more interested in guys, so I narrowed it down by half. It felt awkward when I got a bunch of pings from guys I wouldn't give a second look to. I felt mean, but these apps make you behave like you're in a grocery store. Ridiculous.
I shut the damn thing off and wandered around South Kensington and Chelsea feeling a bit lost. I found a little pub and nursed a pint of dark ale and ate potato chips. Sorry, crisps. I knew I probably looked glum and I was sad that Anika had to go to her conference and then was getting a plane back to South Africa.
The pub was quiet, but then I became aware of two voices behind me. I turned and there were two guys staring at their phones and arguing about the British Museum or going to a drag show. Now we were talking. I got up with my beer and walked over to them. They stopped talking and looked up at me almost suspiciously.
I smiled my best smile and said, “Where are you from?”
One turned to the other then back to me. “Toronto.”
“My cousin lives there. Nice place. How long are you here?”
“Just a few days. What about you? You sound American.”
I laughed. “I guess it's pretty obvious.”
The one talking to me was really cute. He had short brown hair and a light tan skin and these big brown eyes. His lips were nice and kissable. He gave me a smile and said, “A little. Let me guess...Philadelphia?”
“Not too far off. Boston.”
He nodded and said, “Why don't you join us. We're trying to figure out what to do this afternoon.”
“Me, too. I'm a bit bored.”
The other guy was just staring at us. He was clearly pissed about something. He was blond and I could tell he did all the things that I wonder about the point of: he sculpted his eyebrows, he tinted his hair, he was wearing this really tight shirt that was this shiny shade of green. I said to them both, “I'm...Michael.” Not Mike. I wanted to get used to being Michael, and so did Chris. I'm sure part of it was wanting to get into Tomasso's pants again, because he started it, but a bigger part was the fact that it felt right. Like I had grown up or something. Mike was for a teenager.
The brown-haired guy stuck out his hand and said, “Peter, nice to meet you.” I turned to the other guy who I swear rolled his eyes a little and he finally said, “Adam. Same.” What was his deal? I thought. If they were a couple then they had had a really good argument.
I got confirmation because Peter turned to Adam with an annoyed look on his face. Adam glared at him like a little kid.
Trying to be nosy and light at the same time, I said, “How long have you two been together?”
Adam looked startled and turned away as if he didn't want to talk about it. Peter chuckled. “About a year. We met in London but realized we were both from Toronto so...”
“So you became a thing. I get it.”
Adam got up. “I'm going to the washroom.”
It sounded like an announcement. When he had walked away I decided to be a bit pushy. “You two have a spat?”
Peter looked embarrassed and I felt bad for asking. But he gamely said, “Yeah. The whole time we've been here....sorry, you don't need to hear about this.”
“No worries. It happens. My boyfriend and I have our moments.” That was a lie, really. We had yet to have a moment. Sure, one of us got annoyed sometimes by stupid things, but we always talked it out and/or fucked it out or both.
Peter looked almost sad so I changed the subject. I told him about this museum that I thought they should check out that was the house of this nutty nineteenth-century architect, but was full of drawings and painting by him and his friends. Very cool. Peter seemed really interested and he looked it up on his phone. “That sounds awesome! And its not too far from here. Want to come?”
I was hoping he would ask and I had the sense that maybe I had made some friends. Or at least one, since his boyfriend was clearly unimpressed. In fact when he came back from the washroom he said, “We need to go, Peter.”
Peter looked at him, annoyed. “Why? Michael just told me about this cool little museum that's not far from here.”
Adam glared at him and said, “Let's go.”
At that moment I could tell that whatever was pissing these two off had just reached its limit in Peter. He cleared his throat and said, through tight lips, “Go, then. I don't care what you do. I'm going to this museum.”
Adam was speechless, his eyes wide, but then he just turned and left the pub. I felt really awkward. I said, “Should you go after him?”
After taking a big swig of his beer, he said, still angry, “No. I'm not. I'm fucking done with him. He's been a pain in the ass for a week now. He won't tell me why but he says no to everything I suggest. I don't care if he gets on a plane and goes back to Toronto. Fuck him.”
That really surprised me. This relationship sounded over to me. “You two aren't doing very well, I guess?”
“No. Not at all. Not for a while. I think we came here to see if something would change. But it didn't. It got worse.” He drained his glass and summoned up a nice smile. A really nice smile. “Let's go check out this museum.”
So we walked through Westminster and Soho until we got to the house that was now a museum. Very cool place. Stuffed to the rafters with interesting things. Peter was fascinated and we were there for a couple of hours. He was easy to talk to and, when he wasn't looking, easy to look at: all sinewy and lithe with the most amazing ass I'd seen in a while. He was wearing shorts and his tan-coloured legs had all this curly black hair on them that seemed very lickable. Most of him seemed lickable.
By the time we emerged, it was late afternoon, and I had to go back to West Hampstead to be there when Chris got back and do all my tournament rituals on him: baths and meals, and massages. I got Peter's contact details and asked how long he was in London which was for another three days. We agreed to meet the next afternoon – after Chris' first match. Part of me wondered if Peter would be alone or not. I hoped for the latter. Plans, and all, right?
I spent the evening with my guy, caring for him like he deserved. I knew he had already had rub downs and whatnot, but I know he liked it when I did it because it felt different. It was more about touch and love rather than making sure his muscles were in topnotch form. We went to bed and he seemed pretty peaceful and focused. “You feel ok about tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Michael, I do. I think things are going to be fine.” He kissed me and fell asleep really fast.
Chris, of course, won his match and he had to go to do some press shit after and then meet with his coach and go over strategies for his next match. I took transit back to the City and I met Peter just after two at Tower Bridge and we decided to walk around and just look at the city.
He was really easy to talk to and I wondered what Adam's problem was. In fact, after a while, I asked him. Peter gave me a look as if to say: do you really want to hear this? But then he said, “Fuck. Um. Adam is pissed because I slept with this guy we know after a party. It was stupid and I didn't really enjoy it, but the point is, Adam has never wanted an open relationship and I kind of do. I don't think he's wrong, it's just what he wants and this is what I want. So we're kind of stuck. He won't budge and the problem is he thinks I'm wrong. That somehow it makes me a bad person. Does that make sense?”
I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Yeah, it does. Adam isn't wrong, but he's not helping by telling you that you are. I'm sorry.”
He seemed relived that I got it. “Thanks, Michael. I don't talk about this very much...and you're easy to talk to.” That made me feel nice.
We were walking north toward Camden Town and Peter said, “Our hotel is just up here. Let me see if Adam is there...or what.” He seemed stressed and I could understand why. I think he was wondering if his boyfriend had ditched him and left for Toronto.”
“Was he there last night?”
He looked surprised that I understood what he was doing. “Yeah, but we didn't talk. He gave me the silent treatment. That's so shitty, right?”
I nodded. We went up to his room in the little hotel. Nice place, I thought. One or both of them had money. Peter opened the door and it was immediately obvious Adam wasn't there. Peter walked over to the side table and picked up a note. He laughed, but not in a good way. “Fucking idiot. He left for the airport and is probably on a plane right now. He says our relationship is over and that it's all my fault. Fucking hell!”
He sat on the bed. I was surprised he wasn't crying. He seemed more angry than anything. I sat down, deciding this was not the time to make any kind of move. I said, “I'm really sorry, Peter. To be ditched in another country...that's shitty.”
He turned to me and said, “It is shitty. But you know I'm kind of relieved. I've been trying to figure out how to end this for a while.” Now I understood why he wasn't that upset.
And then he totally took my by surprise. He leaned over and kissed me. Just like that.
“Uh...is this a good time for you to be necking with some other guy?”
“Come on, Michael. I've seen you checking me out. It was pretty obvious. And I want to fuck you. For myself. On my terms. How about it?”
I laughed and took him by the neck and pulled him close so we could really get our mouths to get to know each other. His tongue was long and it snaked around my mouth in very cool ways. He kept looking at me with those big brown eyes as if making sure I wasn't going to disappear. I could feel myself getting into it and Tomasso's way of fucking went out the window and I wanted this to be fast and hot.
I tore my clothes off and so did he. He threw me backward on the bed and started to grind his cock – a big thick piece of meat – into mine. I took it in my hand and stroked it. It was a bit shorter than Chris but almost as thick as Marco. Nice. I wanted that thing in my mouth and my ass. I got down and swallowed it, feeling my mouth stretch. He gave a choking gasp and grabbed my head, pushing me deeper. He flipped us over and started to fuck my head right into the bed. This guy had some catching up to do and I felt he was catching up by using me.
He fucked down a bunch of times but then pulled out and smiled at me. “Fucking hot, Michael.”
Then he slid down and went for my cock, wrapping his lips around it and jacking me fast. I almost came in his mouth and pushed his head back. “Slow down! I want that cock in me, then you can take my cum!”
Laughing more, he poured lube all over us, stuffing his fingers in my hole. He pushed me on my stomach and attached my ass, driving that thick prick deep. The bed was bouncing and and creaking and I hoped no one was trying to sleep below us. But as with all fucks like this, it didn't last long, and with an loud kind of groan, he came in my ass, pounding me even harder as he did.
I pushed him off and feeling a little aggressive, I decided to return the favour and I pushed his legs out of the way and drove my cock deep. He actually laughed when I did it, but then made some other noises as I fucked my way to a really short, sharp orgasm that made my whole body buzz.
We cooled down and kissed a bunch and I asked what he was going to do now. He laughed and said, “I'm going to enjoy London, then get on a plane and sort my life out. Adam getter not be there when I get back, that's all I can say.”
I kissed his shoulder and said, “I hope it goes all right.” We rested for a while, then did it again, but more leisurely. He fucked me slowly, letting me really experience his thick, muscular prick. He surprised me by pulling his cock out just when I thought I would get a load and he came all over my cock. He said, “Now fuck me.”
That sounded really hot, so I did, fucking him with his own cum which made me cum even harder. We lay around in bed until I had to leave for West Hampstead. He was sweet and gave me a big hug, then I left, feeling I had done a good deed.
--
Chris won the next three matches. No surprise there and he beat the homophobic asshole in the fourth round. Clearly he had been told to stop being an asshole, so he was quietly furious when he lost. Maybe, I thought, he might want to try actually improving his game, rather than blaming his losses on people's sexuality. Idiot.
Goran won all his matches and he met Chris in the quarters. I hated it when they met at that point since it meant that one of them would be done, while the other got to continue. But that's how it goes. Neither of them was first or second seed yet, so they could show up anywhere on the draws. So as usual they had one of their epic marathons. They both made mistakes. Chris tripped at one point and lost a set. Goran returned a serve a bit wildly which went out and he lost a set. Chris won the thing almost by default because Goran, very unusually for him, double faulted his last serve. Fuck. He looked really annoyed, but he was clearly mad at himself, not Chris.
They had a nice hug on the court. They had become famous for their hugs. Goran made a show of kissing Chris and people cheered.
In the semi's Chris met the Russian dude and Tomasso, who had beat the American with the jet-propelled serve in the quarters, played the French kid who was rising fast. They were both tough matches and the Russian guy seemed angry from beginning to end. Especially when he lost in the fourth set. Tomasso had a tough time chasing the French kid around, but his experience finally bested the kid's energy. So Chris and Tomasso were playing the final. In a weird sort of way it was a turn-on, as if I got to watch them fuck in Centre Court.
But it was tense for all of us. Especially for Chris.
