Stephan

Greg is a brilliant cook -- I tell you athletic, six pack, wealthy, the best lover and he can cook. One Saturday (after a week of late nights!) I had to go in to work and coming home had felt totally cheesed off. The door was unlocked - Greg was in. He shouted from the kitchen area to go straight and have my customary bath -- he was cooking and would be about an hour.

After 45 minutes he came in gave me one of those long kisses we all die for. Told me dinner was ready and so it was! Venison consommé, Thai duck and chocolate something or other. Greg had closed the apartment curtains and opened the atrium blinds; set the table in black white and gold, candles the lot -- one red carnation (not into opera but Greg said it meant something if I knew Carmen?) Champagne was opened and poured on to Cassis and blueberries; I had instantly forgotten my day.

Dessert had been this chocolate flan type concoction that Greg does so well; really light but accompanied by hot chocolate sauce which he keeps warm at the table with a type of glass jug with a tea-light under it. My only part in the evening so far was to suggest the obvious for the remaining sauce. Greg cleared the remaining clutter. I removed the sheets from the bed. The bed was as if floodlit from the revealed electric blue sky and the sun shining perfectly, albeit obliquely onto the bed. It has a square central mattress which is plastic (the bed itself is round) but has a rubber feel/finish, it's great and easy to clean (for the married -- chocolate stains). By the time I had folded the sheets away Greg was on the bed in the nude in a Leonardo dV pose. I was rock hard but didn't want to play the tart so I walked quietly to the kitchen took off my CK jeans and t-shirt and grabbed the sauce trying to think of anything but sex. Failed miserably and by the time I got back Greg was pointing directly at his navel anyway (and not with his fingers).

My sex education as a child from my parents was 'When your daddy loved your mummy very much he put his hard penis (the thing he wees with) into mummy's vagina (where she wees from -- my parents not being biologists) and that was the beginning of you' -- ironic with what I now know of my father. Anyway tonight was to be just one of those occasions (without the procreation bit).

Greg lay still while I poured the hot chocolate starting at his Adam's apple round his nipples and down to his dick and shaved balls. I then stood behind his head and started to lick it all off. Leaning over to start at his throat and getting lower and lower as I neared the shrine. I had made sure that the chocolate had got stuck in his pubic hair and by the time I reached this my tackle was just in the right spot for '69'-ing. I love the feel of his rasping tongue on my balls. I'm close to shooting just recalling it.

Needless to say it took sometime to clean his hair perfectly and then I had to move on to his golden spheres. Just slipping them into my mouth and letting them slide around as they worked themselves out. Greg was dripping now if he hadn't been all through. The way Greg was swallowing I must have been too. I certainly wasn't far off pumping his face.

The next move is perhaps normal for you but we always keep it for our special love-ins. I got off Greg and helped him raise his legs over his head. Greg cannot self-fellate but he gets very close and can catch his own cum. I worked the rest of the chocolate into his arse. I fondled his dick and balls and stretched them as near as I could to his mouth. When we were both nearly there I straddled his legs and bent my dick down to fit his arse. I could hear the floor knocking as I entered him, this is the intense bit which slightly hurts both of us but makes the cum unbelievably weird and mind-blowing. Greg's hole seems to drag on my shaft heavily one way making the sensation fucking fantastic. I could see Greg was dripping. Greg was shouting Ryan fill me quick! I was fucking so ready to and yelled Greg 'I'm there'! I ploughed deep and came into Greg the moment I saw his come fire into his face. O could feel my cum oozing in and back out of Greg, sort of meeting but not mixing with the wax-like chocolate and I reached down to retrieve some of the cum Greg had missed above his eyes. Holding Greg tight with my dick in has arse and other hand round his thigh, I closed my eyes leant back and rubbed his cum into my face. When I eventually opened my eyes...

Bloody, bloody, bloody fuck some geezer was standing on the fucking inside of our door. There was nowhere to hide, everything on show and, well fucking hell what do you do?! I couldn't say anything. I must have been staring and scarlet. The guy had definitely been staring at us and as far as my trained eyes go had definitely got an awkward and probably extremely uncomfortable hard-on lying horizontally in his black leathers. He calmly winked but the damage was done my dick instantly soft in Greg had lost its deep warm home and we sheepishly separated. Greg, always composed, started talking to the guy whilst going towards the kitchen to grab his clothes. I thought the bathroom was nearer and was already making tracks to pick up a dressing gown. I dreaded going back -- I had quickly realised it was my fault for just closing the door and not putting it on latch. But I could hear Greg continuing to chat to the guy and seemingly making light of it?! And by the time I was back Greg was pushing his tackle back into his jeans and pulling his fly up in front of the bloke!

This was our landlord; he had come to see who was paying the rent, as he knew Greg's dad had died many months earlier. This was Stephan. This was to be our master for eight years, like he had been to Greg's dad. This was the middle photo. ...but fuck what an introduction!