Clue

Clue Ch 03

Cam and Dec really enjoy Ireland--and fly home inspired

All characters described in this story, whether game "pieces" or players, are over 18. Parts of the story attempt to duplicate the stream-of-consciousness, freedom from the rigors of sentence and punctuation grammatical rules-- popularized by the Irish novelists of the post-war period, like James Joyce. Cam and Dec met in Clue 01, and vacationed in Ireland in Clue 02, but this story is more or less standalone. Copyright ©2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.

Cam and Dec are near the end of a two week vacation in Ireland before moving to California to take up a challenge grant to produce a marketable AI-enhanced game for GAI Enterprises. Until yesterday, they had been enjoying the sights, exploring the young permissive culture of Eire and fucking up a storm--with each other, while teasing and being teased by a variety of sexually attractive acquaintances and wannabes.

At the end of the last chapter, Cam had spent a night with Peter Blake--a giant Viking-like 30-something, the owner of the castle B&B in which they were visiting for their last two nights before departure. Peter had apparently observed at least some of the action when Cam and Dec had joined the Mile High Club on the Aer Lingus outbound flight--and invited the boys to join him and his mate at the castle.

Neither gave it a second thought. The invitation was too casual to be real. But, their money had run out a few days before they were due to return. So, Cam and Dec had accepted the invitation, knowing that they would probably be paying for their stay with their bodies. Last night (see Clue 02) Cam had paid the "rack rate" for their room with a night of non-stop sex with Peter. Five times as bottom; once as top. Probably one of the most expensive rooms he'd ever book.

He and Dec had parted after "tea" (cocktails), an early dinner and a spectacular sunset viewing--Cam with Peter, Dec with Liam. Peter was definitely a power top--able to fuck without end, but he had given Cam a taste of his ass as morning dawned. And he had the enormous powerful fucking weapon of a Viking to attest to his ancestry. He had "worked" Cam as he had never been worked before. Then, he had proven to be as welcoming and vocal a bottom as he had been all night as the top.

Rainbow Castle had indeed lived up to its hype--as a sybaritic resort and spa for gays--with benefits.

The story (Clue 01 and Clue 02), previously told in Cam's voice, now moves for the next section, to Dec's voice.....

When we left the dining hall, I knew that Peter was going to top Cam. Sizing them up, there was no other conclusion. Peter towered over by at least six inches, but his personality was the clincher. He was definitely Viking-CEO-Dom-Top material. Cam was definitely going to submit--and I suspected that would not be a problem. It's fortunate that Cam is vers and typically pretty open for something new.

Liam had led me to a special guest room in the basement--just to get my reaction, I think, before we would rejoin the others for the requisite sunset viewing. I think Peter wanted some privacy to reach a deal with Cam, and he and Liam had set us up quickly. He need not have worried. Cam was ready, almost anxious to feel what it was like to be totally dominated. And I had concluded that a night with Liam wasn't going to be so bad.

Liam's destination was a luxurious room, on the lowest level--and in a building which had once housed the stables. It was uber-masculine with lots of leather, polished wood and dark colored fabrics. Some of the stable paraphernalia had been restored or replaced--but with a twist. Riding crops decorated one wall. Stirrups were built into a recliner. A saddle, perched on two saw-horses had a curious cut out in the seat. A sling (perhaps originally used in birthing mares) hung in one corner. Crossed timbers with lash rings stood sentinel on another wall. And freestanding in the center, a huge bed with posts, again equipped with rings. "This is the last room that Peter has asked me to create. You know that he's rescued this castle from ruin--and that he's allowed me almost free hand to turn it into our home--and a sybaritic spa for people like us. I've decided to create an S&M room for guests of a certain persuasion. What do you think?"

I was surprised to say the least. Did he expect that our time together would be spent here? "It's interesting." I paused, not wanting to be a bad guest. He smiled in resignation, anticipating my next words. "But not really my style."

"I wondered. Incidentally, I was hoping you'd be the dungeon master. Does that change your mind? No? That's okay, however. Some of our guests eat this stuff up. If it's not for you, let's go to my room. I was hoping you might find some use for this stuff, but...."

He was unusually willing to meet my expectations--but I still didn't know where this was going. I had talked with Cam. And we both were ready to go along as good guests. But S&M and bondage were not my things. Either as dom or sub.

Liam was somewhat taller than I, but I think I was probably stronger. He was slim, cut, well-groomed, but maybe a little fey. His brogue was accompanied by a troubadour's lilt. Definitely poet material. Like me. His manicured, long-fingered hands, which fluttered about the air as he spoke, had already tasted my butt cheeks--but he hadn't pushed too hard. The codpiece he was wearing was pretty obvious and seemed to be pretty full. Maybe he wanted me to take the initiative. Surely his time with Peter would have conditioned him to respond rather than attack. I simply could not imagine him topping Peter.

His next words broke the suspense. "I guess we both know where we are going tonight. Peter is going to have fun with Cam. And so we need to amuse ourselves. I want you to do me the honor--and pleasure--of fucking me, Dec. Remember "Warrior Too" where the young Viking invader manhandles and ultimately rapes the Mayor's youngest son after slaying the Mayor and his oldest? Well, it's one of my favorite fantasies. You're the Viking. You look just like him--strong, ginger, vocal, take-charge. I'm the lad. I'm sure you remember the plot. Let's see how closely we can make it come alive after sunset. I've got the costumes, you've got the body, and we'll have the time."

When he finished, he reached around and sucked my tongue into his mouth as his hands again dropped under the waist. He was a great kisser. An active tongue. Thick lips. Firm suction. Nice soft massage on my cheeks. Not a twink, but probably a natural bottom. I reached around and pulled him close, giving him a denim-hidden foretaste of my equipment. His hand went to my crotch. "Wow, that's a nice one. I'm already picturing it in my mind's eye. But, that's for later. Peter expects all of his guests to say goodnight to the sun. It's a Celtic cultic thing. Galway Bay is really quite beautiful at this time of night. Let's go back up. Then, we'll return and we can get ready."

We emerged onto the balcony, and it was obvious that Peter and Cam had come to an agreement of sorts. Peter seemed even larger--and Cam seemed to have shrunk. And Peter's beefy arms were holding Cam's back tight to his chest as they both gazed out at the setting sun. Peter's hands were under Cam's tee, cupping his pecs and Peter's cock was lodged in Cam's butt.

Liam and I moved to the edge, maybe twenty feet away. He positioned himself in front of me. So it was natural. I planted myself against his body, and I reached around and pulled him in, planting my hands on his pecs to permit a squeeze of his nipples and my ever-ready cock firmly in his ass. His cod-piece trousers were light in weight--and he was obviously commando. He shivered into me and went liquid. Fuck, he was going to be easy--and fun.

The sun set spectacularly, sending waves of color over the choppy bay and lighting the cliffs on either side as if to say good night. Dusk was immediately upon us. Peter and Cam left without a word. We stayed a few more minutes as my hands drifted down to open the buttons on the codpiece. There was no artifice. Liam was big--long, very long, and thin, with an out-sized head, shaved, cut and with egg-sized balls. Too bad he was gay--he could have sired a nation. That thought must have been from the poet-historian in me. If he weren't gay, we wouldn't be here--and I wasn't about to enjoy an evening tableaux where I got to be the vanquishing hero. He had narrow, boy-like hips and soft mounds with deep hip indentations. A very nice boy's ass, conditioned with exercise, but not too much. His slimness emphasized his cut abs.

We went downstairs--not to the dungeon, but to another guest room in yet another out-building. Liam had taken seriously my vocal accompaniment to sex--or maybe he himself was a singer. It too had been fitted out for pleasure.

The bed was soft and huge. The fabrics were luxurious. He had set up a desk by the window, and a wardrobe of ancient costumes had been rolled into the space.

"I can imagine you nude--but I don't want to actually see you in that condition now. Go behind the screen and don whatever you think is appropriate for a victorious young Viking, hungry for sex and capable of taking whatever he wants." Liam went to another corner and donned simpler garb--cotton trousers with a tied waist, no underwear and a loose blousy shirt, open at the throat, but tight at the wrists. He tied his long hair with a deep green ribbon, matching his eyes. Then he took his position at the desk, facing the window--even though it was dark. He lit a candle. Then, he drew out a quill pen and pretended to be writing some trivia for his father--even though he knew Da had been slain the adjoining room only minutes before.

I found mostly leather in the costume barrel and on the rack--tight leather britches that laced at the front, boots, a linen-y shirt buttoned up the front, a leather vest, studded gloves with extended wrists (gauntlets), a belt, a bright silver sword and a bandana. The stuff looked more pirate than authentic Celt Viking--but who am I to complain? I wasn't there, after all. I stripped and pulled on the costume. It was tight, but I think I looked pretty good. Then I jumped out from behind the screen, brandishing the sword overhead and shouted, "Aha. A pretty boy. Just the right size for dessert. Maybe if you're good, really good, I'll take you on as a personal slave. After you've proven your worth, of course. Get up boy, now. You are in the presence of your master. You will be on your feet--or your knees before me--always."

Liam stood warily and silently, refusing to look me directly in the eye. Acting the part of a frightened young lad, eyes to the floor. I stepped up close, extended my gloved fist and drew his head up to face me as I used the tip of the blade to slice through the ties at his neck and waist. I pulled the blouse off as the britches fell to the floor. He stood naked before me, trembling, but hardening. "You'll be naked in my presence unless I give you other instructions. Now, turn around slowly, boy, and let me get a good look at my prize."

Liam froze in place, but as I raised the sword, began to turn slowly around. He was indeed a beauty. Slim, defined muscles. Completely shaved, except his head. Thin hips.

An upright bubble ass. And, I was pleased to see, a cock that was long, but somewhat smaller than my own.

"Bend over the table and pull those cheeks apart. I want to examine the target."

He smiled and visibly trembled. "Please don't hurt me sir. I'm but a boy. And I've never slept with man or woman."

He moved slowly and reluctantly, but did as he was told ultimately. He had a clean, quivering rosebud, obviously not virginal, but nevertheless small and inviting. I touched it with a finger, rimmed and pushed the tip inside as he gasped, but swallowed his protest. "Nice, lad. Very nice. Remember that you are mine now. That boy cunt is mine alone. Before long you will be yearning for my member to fill you--and if you're good, I might even oblige you."

I pulled off the heavy gloves. I wanted to feel that tender flesh. "Now, come over here and wash my cock with your tongue. On your knees, boy."

Liam smiled at my rough commands. I was playing the game he wanted. He shuffled over and using his teeth, he undid the laces holding my leather codpiece in place. It fell forward releasing my stiffening cock into his face. He backed off for a second, surprised, I think at its size. Then he smiled, the tongue came out and he licked, up, down and around the hood, using the tip to roll it down, getting inside with his tongue. I hilted the sword and my hands went behind his head to pull him into my warmth. He opened and swallowed, taking more than half before choking a bit. Then he took nearly all of the rest. He was a terrific and practiced cock-sucker. An athletic and active tongue, good suction and lots of saliva. A tentative hand came up to fondle my balls. "Not bad, boy."

"Thank you, master. You are endowed like a god." His fingers caressed my sacks and weighed the contents. "And I can feel your seed roiling about in your low-hanging balls. You taste briny and delicious."

"I don't need your compliments, boy. I know what I taste like. And how big I am. And how talented my meaty sword is. Just suck." (Liam was eating up the debasement--and coincidentally eating me quite nicely.) I reached down and drew him up. He bent in for a kiss. "You haven't earned that yet, boy."

(The fact that he was probably ten years my senior made the verbal foreplay ever richer.)

I decided to try one more move that had been often used in the game. "Bend over the table, boy. I'm going to show you what you will come to love." He obeyed--and I stood behind him, not even removing my britches. My arm stretched out to hold him to the leather blotter by the neck. My cock was dripping with his saliva and my precum. So I decided not to lube. I positioned, used the other hand to stiffen the shaft, and plunged with one stroke, bottoming immediately.

"Fuck, Dec. Did you really need to do that?"

"Quiet boy. I told you that ass is mine. How dare you question my technique. OR TRY TO CHANGE THE SCRIPT." I laughed loudly. Then, I swatted both ass cheeks a few times, hard enough to leave hand prints.

"Yes, master. Another please."

I knew the evening was young and that I was boiling with spunk. So I drew out almost completely and plunged again. And again. And again. I could tell he was at the edge. So I reached around and grabbed his shaft with one fist, squeezed tightly and drew the balls away from his body with the other. He hissed again, but his erection softened. "You will release at my command, boy. Not before."

I plunged hard again and felt my shaft enlarge as it filled and shot deep into his gut. Then I backed up and manhandled him back to his knees. "Now clean me up, boy."

Liam knelt before me, his rigid dick crying for relief. But, he smiled as his tongue emerged to lick me clean. I was playing the role to the hilt, and he, apparently was loving it. "I am now fatigued. But, I cannot trust you yet. You would slit my throat in a thrice if it secured your escape. Lie on the bed and stretch your arms to the bedpost."

He did as he was told, trying hard to hide the smile. The storyline was continuing. I untied the belt from my waist and used it to bind his wrists together and to the post. Then I stretched him out, and tied each leg, spread-eagle to the bottom posts. I stripped (as his eyes widened in appreciation of my young body), and positioned myself mostly on top. My cock rested in his cleft; my chest on his back. He was securely imprisoned beneath me in the bed.

My eyes closed and I may have dozed for a few minutes. But Liam was anxious to continue our adventure. Soon I felt his glutes squeezing my cock repeatedly, stimulating it to rigidity. He wanted more, and I was ready. I reached down between his legs, pulled down his cock and arranged his balls on either side. My fingers entered his moist and cum-lubed anus, found his hard nut, and began to tease it. He sighed loudly, and I felt his smile--even if he was turned away. He opened readily. I positioned and entered, and soon was pounding my way to another orgasm. He pushed his ass hard up into my gut, enjoying the depths I was touching, moaning in pleasure. "Dec, you've played this game before, haven't you? I'm loving this." It was not long. I shot again and felt his response. Then I collapsed on top.

An hour or so later, I awakened. "My arms are useless, Dec. You have cut the circulation. I think I've had enough of the game. You are indeed a master edger. Please release me."

"Of course, if you've had enough."

"Oh, no. But, I wish to use my hands to feel the strength of the body which is covering me, which has so completely taken my own under control."

I untied the leather thong-belt. He rubbed the wrists to return the flow, and then he embraced me and took my shaft in hand. "Dec, that was terrific. This is really a very talented sword. Can you do it again?"

"Give me a few hours, and then, yes, we can go at it again."

"After all the strenuous activity are you hungry? We can raid the kitchen if you wish. I have influence with the cook."

"No, I'm not. But, I could use a rest. Can I trust you to leave me alone if I sleep?"

"Not at all, dear boy. But, you can spoon me if that will make you feel more relaxed." And so we slept for several hours, Liam deep into my spoon. Later I took him missionary and permitted him to orgasm. He loved every second.

Early the next morning, we awoke, both with startling hard wood, given the strenuous activity of the previous hours. I rose from the bed to use the WC and to rinse the cobwebs from my mouth. Walking to and back, I could feel his eyes on my ass. Somehow, I assumed he might want to reciprocate. And yes, he did. "I'd like to fuck you, Dec. Will you let me? That ass is the nicest, tightest that I've seen in a long time. My cock longs to be inside."

"This is your castle and your bed, Liam. I am at your command."

"Oh, we are not going to play any games this morning. I want a vanilla missionary." He patted the space beside him and rose to his knees. I positioned, spread my legs and drew them up in a wide vee. Liam moved into position and pushed a large downy pillow under the small of my back. He opened me with his tongue and then several lubed fingers before placing his cock at my entrance. He pushed. I breathed deeply and relaxed, and he popped in. "The perfect moment. It's always the same. When you enter a willing hole that welcomes and squeezes. You are really beautiful, Dec. Really beautiful."

In the next minutes, he deepened and quickened his thrusts. He was indeed an expert cocksman. He varied his strokes like a music conductor, tapped my prostate enough to keep me rigidly aroused--but not enough to push me over. His cock had an unusual and very useful attribute, however: although long and thin, the head swelled disproportionately, providing him with a very useful stimulating knob. And I couldn't help it. I began to utter a non-stop string of commentary, praising his equipment and how he used it, describing what it was doing to me, calling him to go harder and faster. He seemed to love it. (Later I learned that Peter was a near-silent lover--so my literary commentary on our coupling was new and exotic for him--apparently just like his own inclinations.)

Liam was nearing the end. I could feel it. I reached up and drew him hard into my chest and wrapped my legs around his loins, pounding my heels into his cheeks. Then he exploded, taking me with him. We were both then silent for several minutes as we savored the togetherness as our arousal softened, and our heartbeats quieted. Then, as suddenly as he had begun, he rose. "Time to shower. Breakfast will be in about 30 minutes. It's time for me to give you back to your lover--and thank him for lending such a lad to me for the night. I enjoyed our time together."