Gap Year

The guy fucking me is going in hard. It's hurting, but I'm on my back, always preferable when I'm bottoming. No energy spent balancing on your knees or holding him up off the bed. Just lie back, open your legs and think of....

My gap year is rapidly turning into two. After finishing my freshman year, I only meant to defer college for 12 months, intending to hitchhike round Australia, spend some time in Sydney, and then see if I could crew on a yacht.

The money ran out six months ago. Who knew Sydney would be so expensive? Yeah. So I'm naive. Not that a perception of naivete is a drawback when you're selling your body. Jesus, I've even said 'please don't fuck me Mister' as I've waved my bare ass at them, like I'm so naive.

And who knew so many long distance truck drivers are gay? Or maybe just lonely. Not that there was much anal penetration. Mostly kissing and cocksucking and ass play, in those cramped little beds behind the cabin. Big guys. Blue singlets. Tattooed. Smelling of sweat and beer. It surprised me how much I enjoyed it.

Greybeard is cut like most older guys. Circumcision must have still been a thing in the 60s and 70s. I'm circumcised, but that's a Jewish thing. None of my gentile mates are cut. I love an uncut cock. The mystery, I guess. Peeling back the surprise. But a cut cock is easier and sweeter to suck. And Greybeard seems to like it.

The guy fucking me I call Greybeard. He is sixty maybe. Unshaven. Grey hair. Big, but not much overweight. Nice grandad bod, I guess. I know his name is Ray. It's what Blackbeard calls him. His mate who is watching us fuck. Taking photos on his mobile. Smaller, wiry, hollow chest, neat black beard underlining his face. Ray hasn't given Blackbeard a name so they are Greybeard and Blackbeard.

Whoever thought I'd fuck for money? Everyone, probably, back at my Catholic college dorm in Perth. That's the thing about all male college dorms. So much straight acting, so much cocksucking. Some penetration for sure, but mostly cocksucking. Every straight college guy likes to have his cock sucked. By a girl, for sure, but if there are no girls around, then a mouth is a mouth.

This Jewish guy sucked a lot of Catholic cock at college. Why a Catholic college? There wasn't a Jewish one, I guess. And we all have to be good at something. I graduated to university. Academic achievement came easily enough. I didn't have to work too hard. But I wanted to be popular as well. I was good at cocksucking.

I met Greybeard and Blackbeard at the Speedo Club here in Noumea. Well, le Speedo Club to be precise. So many lonely guys, singles and couples, sailing the Pacific. The guy who sailed me across from Sydney was typical. Dave. Recently made redundant and divorced, not sure in which order. A life spent slaving in a suit for some financial institution, handing the money over to his wife and his mortgagee, only to have it all taken away. Well not all of it. There was still the yacht.

I didn't have to hang about in Rushcutters Bay for long to find an older guy willing to sail me to New Caledonia in return for personal services. Sailing with Dave was a bit like the truck drivers. Mostly kissing and cuddling and cocksucking, in the cramped cabin in the bow of his yacht. He penetrated me once. His first time. Been waiting all his life to fuck a young guy, he said. After I penetrated him first. So gentle and shy. He cried. Fifty something and he cried. I told him it was my first time too. We kissed and hugged all night, and in the morning he cooked me a special breakfast. With love. Maybe I should have stayed with Dave.

Greybeard is pounding me, standing with his shins against the bed, feet apart, holding my legs up and open at forty five degrees, swinging into me. We started the other way round, me on my knees. Well, we really started with me sucking his cock. Greybeard was already hard. He pulled my face onto him a few times, but it was my ass he really wanted. So onto my knees, some brief finger work and then he climbed up onto his haunches, lubed me up which was thoughtful, and entered me. I love crouching over a bottom and pile driving as much as the next top, but it's no fun on the receiving end. Blackbeard filmed us the whole time as I screwed up my face and grimaced into the lens. Thank Christ Greybeard withdrew, rolling me onto my back.

Blackbeard is cut too. Long and thin and cut. He's standing at my head as I lie across the bed and seems to just like filming his mate fucking me. At this angle it must be just his torso and mine in shot. I don't think he's seeing much cock, and certainly not well placed to capture any penetration. Maybe that's what they like; pics of their cum faces.

I can reach up with my tongue and flick Blackbeard's cockhead. I've done it a few times, thinking he might want to fuck my mouth, but he's not buying it. He's three quarters hard and dribbling precum like a faucet, but his cock has barely brushed my lips. Maybe Greybeard has to cum first and then films Blackbeard doing the same thing. I'm here all night so I guess I'll find out.

Most likely to fuck for a living. That was the gag in the college dorm. I laughed too. Why not? We were all bound for dark suited jobs in industry and commerce, mortgages and country club memberships, a sweet, chaste little wife from one of the Catholic girls' colleges, two-point-four children and fucking the babysitter and the secretary until....until what? Dave's divorce and redundancy and a yacht?

I was never going to have a wife. Be a wife maybe....

The local guys in New Caledonia are beautiful. Just like the Islanders back at college. They came over on rugby scholarships, black and big and built like concrete blocks. I hated rugby. Brutal. And they never wanted their cocks sucked, much as I was willing and able. Too busy praying when they weren't on the rugby field. And they went home to the army or the police. I might look up a few ex-college boys if I get to Suva.

Greybeard is huffing and puffing like a steam engine now. I don't know if it's a sign he's about to cum or just stepping it up a notch. Le Speedo Club is just like it sounds. A gay bar where everyone wears speedos. The older guys don't always go shirtless, not on the dance floor at least, but the twenty somethings like me are told speedos only. Shirts off or no entry. It's the rules. I'm fine with that.

I've always known I was gay. It's never troubled me, except when fucking hurt my ass. Like now. But pain is fleeting and sometimes I'm on top. Not that I will be tonight.

Greybeard is about to cum. Thank Christ. He's holding my legs too tight, not to mention how deep he's going. But he withdraws and we make eye contact for the first time in a while. So if he's not cumming up my ass then where? Christ. The face. Really? What is it with cumming on the face? He jumps onto the bed so heavily I bounce wildly on the mattress, then straddles my torso, all the while yelling 'Ray's gonna cum, Ray's gonna cum'. I can sense Blackbeard positioning to film the cum shot, on my fucking face too. I hate cum in my eyes, so I'm shutting them, OK guys? Mouth open, tongue out, eyes shut. They're paying so they can have what they want. Except my eyes open. OK?

I had boyfriends in my first year at college. Some were gay. Some were lonely. Some were risk takers. Some were curious. I was all those things. I don't have a boyfriend now, but that's OK. He would only be a problem, working out between us where we are going and with whom. And who was going to fuck for money to fund the trip. Insisting on condoms. No, solo is the only way to travel. I can fuck a truck driver and walk away next morning. I can let Dave kiss and fondle me, and say I love him and hear him say it back, bobbing about on the high seas. I can come back to a cheap hotel room with Greybeard and Blackbeard and let them pretty much do anything they want, so long as they pay. So long as.....

'Ray's gonna cum!' And he does. Groaning and spluttering, the goo raining onto my face and tongue. I know the drill. Lick and suck and coo. Yum. And when he's spent, reach out, grab his rapidly deflating cock and clean up the mess. Sucking cock, swallowing cum is fine. Beats receiving an anal fuck every time. But then Greybeard's had my ass too, and I'm all the sorer for it. I guess it's Blackbeard's turn now.

So what next? A week in Noumea practising school-book French by day, keeping the vocabulary limited at night. Dave cried when I said goodbye. I could have stayed longer, but his dependency was already crippling. I had visions of civil marriage and a bouquet, making house together. I told him he was a great fuck (untrue) and would make some twink very happy (probably untrue). We parted dockside. I didn't see him at le Speedo Club or anywhere else. He's probably still below deck ruing lost opportunities. Am I a heartless bastard?

I want to make Suva. Greybeard and Blackbeard don't have a boat. I'm not sure why they're here. Sex tourists? That would be Thailand, not Noumea. Anyway, I don't care. I've seen their money. Two hundred US for the night. Maybe I should have asked for payment in advance. Not that it makes much difference. If they screw me then screw me over, what can I do about it. Call the gendarmes?

Tomorrow I'll go back to the docks and find some nice, clean rich guy sailing to Suva. Or a cargo ship. Might make for interesting times. Fucking my way to Suva as cabin boy. Hmmm...

Greybeard is done. He spins me round as if I'm weightless, pulls me onto my knees, and there is Blackbeard leering at me. Funny how they're taking turns. I was sure this would be a spit roasting. But maybe that's what they get off on. Watching the other one fuck. It's more of the same. Blackbeard jerks his cock into my face and wordlessly invites me with his eyes to suck him. Sure thing. I open wide and lick my lips.

After Suva? Who knows? Tahiti? America? I used to have this fantasy about flying into San Francisco, catching a cab directly to Castro Street and taking up residence. Eating, drinking, sleeping and fucking. Mostly fucking. It was that crazy twink fantasy about getting into porn. Someone must have done it. Lots of guys, if the myriad choices on the web are anything to go by. They must rock up, young and clean and fresh-faced, find a studio, answer an ad, fuck the right guys, and make it big in porn. Until they get hurt or die. I'm not oblivious to the risks and anyway I haven't done it yet.

Or is it back to Western Australia to finish college, then work, marriage and a mortgage. Christ no!

Blackbeard is mirroring Greybeard. Pulling me onto his cock. He's longer but not as big as Greybeard. I pretend to gag. The punters always like that. Gag, spit, disengage, smile gratefully at them, then back on like an animal sucking a teat.

So it will be suck his cock, kneel while he pile drives me, then onto my back until he cums on my face. And Greybeard is filming now. Two hundred US....

Next morning I wake up naked between them. We were all tired. My face and mouth are dry and caked with their semen. My ass is raw. How many times have I woken like this? The money is on the table. I slide down the bed and onto the floor. One of them stirs behind me. My clothes are back at the hostel. Just my speedos and trainers on the floor. I pull the tiny swimming briefs on, snapping the elastic. Nice fit. We are by the beach so I can just walk outside onto the sand. No one cares how guys dress here. I put the money into my wallet, slip on my shoes and leave. Hope I was worth it. Halyards clank in the morning breeze. There'll be a boat leaving. And I'm gonna catch it.