lucky

Doston yeh wakaya mere sath kuch mahino pahale hi> ghatit hua hai. Aaj thoda samay mil paane par mai iss> puri ghatana ko apne shabd pradan kar raha hoon aur> asha karta hoon aap bhi ise padh kar utejit ho jayenge> aur kam se kam ek baar apna lund hilane ke liye> mazboor ho jayenge. Toh puri ghatana dil tham kar> padhe jo ki iss prakar hai......... ...> > Dopahar ka waqt tha aur chutti ka din yani sunday, mai> metro train se apne ghar ki aur jaa raha tha. Mera> stoppage aane hi waala tha iss liye mai darwaje ki> taraph badh gaya. mere samne ek bhare pure gathile> badan ka gora sa ek mast ladka khada tha. Uske> pichwade ko dekh kar mera mann machal gaya. Abb mai> kya bataun uske gool gool mast gadraye hue chutad the> aur un par ek tight pant jiski silayi gaand ki> gahariyon mai kahin kho rahi thi. Mai iss yuvak ke> thik piche khada tha aur mann hi mann chaha raha tha> ki kash ek baar isse mai bahoon mai bhar loon aur iske> rasile hoonth chus loon, ek baar kewal ek baar iske> lund ko apni muthi mai bhar kar dabaoon, dheere dheere> meri chahat badhti jaa rahi thi aur aab mai iske lund> ko chisana aur gaand chodana chahata tha. kuch aisi> hi mast mast kalpanayen mai kar raha tha ki thodi> hulchul se hui aur mera lund uski gaand se takraya aur> aisa hote hi woh piche mud kar dekha aur bola ki aap> ko kya yahan utarna hai ? Mai uske gulabi hoonth,> tamatar jaise phoole phoole gore gore gaal dekh kar> stabdh rah gaya aur ekdum se muh se kuch bol nahi> paya, hadbada gaya aur bas itna hi kah paya nahi agle> sto...... , aur woh phir se saamne mud gaya. Mujhe> uske iss rukhe se bartav se bahut bura laga par mann> hi mann khus bhi tha ki itna sexy aur mast londa mere> lund ke samne apni gaand liye khada hai. Uske chehre> ke didar hone ke baad toh jaise mere sabra kaa bandh> toot gaya aur maine nischay kar liya ki aur kuch nahi> toh sparsh sukh toh mai zaroor lunga chahe kuch bhi ho> jaye. Sparsh Anand hasil karne ki aur mera pehla step:> Upar ceiling se jo rod lagi thi hum sab support ke> liye use hi pakde the. Uska mansal mast gora gora> haath bhi mere haath se bas kuch hi duri par tha.> Maine dheere dheere apne haath ko uske haath ki aur> badhaya aur apne anguthe ko uske haath se touch karne> ke liye badhaya hi tha ki yeh kya ??? Maine uski gaand> ko apne lund pe mahsos kiya. Mai ekdum alert ho gaya> yeh dekhne ke liye ki kya yeh accidental tha yaa kuch> aur ? Itne mai uski gaand phir mere lund se takrai.> Iss baar maine bhi apne lund ka dabav uski gaand pe> badha diya aur halke se apne haaton ko uske haatoon se> touch kiya. Usne iss baar kuch pressure se apni gaand> mere lund se takrai aur maine bhi apna pura zoor> lagaya. Abb yeh sure ho gaya ki londa mere lund ki> masti pana chahata tha so maine apna agla kadam> badhaya aur apne dusare haath se uske gaand ki> goolaiyan naap daali. Usne kuch nahi kaha balki apne> gaand ka dabav mere lund pe aur badha diya. Abb toh> mai puri tarah se sure ho gaya ki mere mann ki murad> puri ho gayi londa mastiya gaya hai. Mai ek haath se> uske mansal mardane haath ko masal raha tha aur dusare> haath se uske mast chutadon pe muthi bhar raha tha.> Mera lund pure josh mai tha aur lohe ke rod ki tarah> sakth ho kar merai chaddi phadne ke bahar aane ko> machal raha tha. Mere lund ko napane ke liye usne apna> haath piche kiya aur use dabane laga. Woh apna haath> upar niche kar ke mere lund ki lambai napne laga aur> zor zor se dabane laga. Itne me mera stoppage aa gaya,> maine dekha ki woh bhi mere saath hi saath utar raha> hai. Meri khushi ka thikana naa raha.> > Hum saath saath chalne lage. Woh mujhe aur mai use> dekh kar muskura raha tha. Iss chuppi ko todte hue> maine hi kaha HAI I M RAJESH. > Woh bola I M VICKY. > Mai: Kya yahi rahate ho ?> Vicky: Haan bus agle xing ke paas> Mai: OK, Milne ka mood hai ???> Vicky: why not yaar tera lund pakad ke maza aa gaya by> god.> Mai: Accha , place hai> Vicky: no yaar yahi problem hai> Mai: phir baat kaise aage badhegi> Vicky: Mera ek friend hai, agar tu chahe toh waha aa> sakta hai> Mai: OK no problem bol kab> Vicky: Apna cell number share kar mai programm bana ke> bata dunga> Mai: Thik hai note kar ..........> Vicky: Ok mai zaldi tujhe call karta hun> Mai: Aaj kya meri payas badha kar payasa hi chod> jayega ???> Vicky: Naa yaar, jaane ka mann toh nahin par tuhi bata> kya karen ???> Mai: Kam se kum ek kiss toh de de > Vicky: Yahan aise open public place me ???> Mai: Haan yaar tu mere saath aa yahan ek kona hai> wahan bus ek chumma tere hoonthon ka> Vicky: OK chal kahan hai> > Mai vicky ko wahan le gaya aur uske rasile hoonthon ka> ek mast kiss uska lund aur gaand sahalate hue le liya.> Uske hoonthon ka ras nujhe madhos kiye jaa raha tha> aur woh mere lund ko pakad ke mast hua jaa raha tha.> Abb hum bichadne waale the. Ek dusare ko bye kar ki> jaldi hi milne ka vada kar hum apni apni rah chale> pade.> > > To be continued... ......... ......> > Doston apne comments zaroor send karen

chest

It's a scene. It's a blast. London town 2000. Guys are out and proud strutting their stuff. Everyone has a niche ... on the scene. The bars and clubs you go to ... and the ones you don't. Inevitably ...if you go to the same places often enough you get to know the other punters. And that's what it's all about. Isn't it? The validation that you're out ... looking and feeling good ... ready to get sexy, horny and physical with another guy. By mutual consent of course.
Malcolm was 23 years old. 5'11" wavered around 165lbs. He was lean and fit. You could see he was a young ... man ... good looking, wide smile on a fresh, eager face. His green eyes shinning with the excitement of whatever they were looking at. He had light brown hair. But it was so cropped (No 1) it didn't signify. His chest was 40" and his fit body about 30" round the waist. He worked out in the gym and worked his body's youthful propensity to be defined and hard. He was employed as the controller of dispatch riders. It was all verbal ... but it was a rough old business. Malcolm relished the safe distance, but highly testosterone and CC fuelled interactions that made up his working day. Out of work he was a young stud on his manor. He had a bachelor apartment and bachelor ways. He had his mates ... and then he had his fucks. For him the high point of his week was to go out at the weekend and find a guy to fuck. Oh yeah, I failed to mention he had a 6" uncut cock. Not a huge dick but he thought he knew how to use it. He liked to fuck guys. Drive them wild with his internal dick to ass stimulation. Most often while they looked up at him. Smiling or grimacing ... satisfaction.
Then there was Pete. 27 years old. 6'tall. 180lbs. This guy was what's called 'built'. He wasn't pumped up ... but he was all there in the sexy body stakes. 44" chest and 33" waist. His arms and pecs so defined they could have been implants. His six pack stomach ... decorated by a trail of black hair that led to his 8" uc cock. Not to focus too much on the body ... hhhmmm ... Pete had a handsome masculine face ... his jaw square and his brow furrowed. He had black hair ... slightly longer than fashionable ... but not what one would call long. He had piercing dark brown eyes ... the whites of his eyes as white as his gorgeous teeth. He could have been a model ... or a porn star ... can't dudes like him just do what the fuck they want? Anyhow ... Pete was a security guard ... at a government building. He didn't have high goals. He liked the safety of the government contract. He liked his life.
These two studs seemed to frequent the same venues. Over time they noticed that they both did the same kind of thing. Hung out with a few guys ... danced some ... picked up and left with a date ... score. If there is such a definition ... Malcolm and Pete were the hunters ... not the eager prey. So they clocked each other ... doing their thing in the bars and clubs. They never clashed over lays ... they were introduced at some point and thereafter nodded politely if they crossed paths. And so it was.
Then at some point ... Pete couldn't actually put his finger on when ... he noticed that Malcolm was looking at him in a different way. Pete caught him watching. Not cruising ... but watching him. Like he was real fascinated. At first it kind of creeped Pete out. Then he remembered that Malcolm had a reputation as a cool, non-freak guy. Pete shrugged it off. Tried not to give it too much mental energy. Then he noticed they were getting closer. I mean ... in the bars and clubs ... most times Pete saw Malcolm across some space. Recently and regularly he had noticed that Malcolm seemed to be, 'not too far away'. It made the eye contact more intense. Pete was now getting a feeling that Malcolm was interested ... in something. It was the 'what'that he couldn't figure out. On the grand scale of things, Pete had surmised that Malcolm was kind of at the other end of the scale from him. He knew Malcolm was 23. So he was just getting into his stride. Just coming up on his wave of abundant sexual opportunities ... about to ride high for a few years on the Young Stud fuck train. That's if he didn't burn out. Pete thought of himself as 'over 25'. He'd worked his looks and pulling power for the last four or five years. He'd done them ... and in plenty. He'd made sure he had his turn and made the most of it. In the sometimes skewed analysis of early manhood ... he thought he was now on a managed and dignified decline. He would be 30 and fabulous. He had no regrets about moving on and making way for the 'new young studs'. Man this youthful rationalisation!
'What does he think we'd get up to?'It was a Friday night ... or early Saturday morning ... both studs were in a club. Pete was talking to himself. He had noticed Malcolm checking him out ... again. 'Unless he's decided he'd like to get fucked? Try it with an expert?'As he looked at Malcolm ... that didn't seem too plausible. He was acting just the same ... he looked just the same. As Pete now took his turn to study Malcolm ... he wondered about the kind of sex two studs would have. Two 'tops'...like equals ... neither wanting to be sub ... so two studs. Pete was getting a hardon. His body was ahead of his mind. He still didn't have a clear idea about how such a sexual encounter would pan out. 'Suppose we'd show off our cocks and bodies then wank one another off.'He was still thinking to himself and looking over at Malcolm. Malcolm suddenly looked back and they made eye contact. Pete nodded and smiled. Then Malcolm and a couple of guys hit the dance floor.
Seeing Malcolm moving decidedly upped the ante for Pete. Watching the guy dance around. His masculine young body flexing and gyrating to the music. Pete noticed that Malcolm had a cute, awesome ass ... but he gathered that was just scenery ... he focused on the bulge in the front of the guy's jeans. Yeah looked like he was packing something ... with sizeable balls too. Pete's cock was now making a clear shaft outline in his jeans. He was caught up in his train of thought. Work shopping the sexual possibilities of getting up close and personal with Malcolm engrossed him completely. As he watched that bulge move and swivel around with the beat ... he wanted to feel his body ... his crotch ... his hard cock up against Malcolm's. He wanted to find out what kind of energy there was between two stud bodies and two stud cocks. 'Wow ... shit ... damn ... why wasn't this horny before? ...This is so fucking horny! !'Pete was still in his cocktocock revelation when he felt a hand on his half hard dick. A definite squeeze. One of his mates had seen him daydreaming. "I can see you're up for it! !"His mate spoke loudly over the music. "Who's the lucky asshole?" Pete made no reply. His eyes went back to looking at Malcolm on the dance floor. His head made no movement to give away who he was looking at. He shrugged his shoulders and his mate laughed and walked away.
On the dance floor Malcolm was pleased and yet not pleased that Pete was obviously ... finally ... giving him some attention. He was instantly conscious that he would feel far more comfortable if this fellow stud was contemplating him standing at the bar ... or standing anywhere ... just not dancing. Malcolm felt that every move was 'camp' 'girlie'...he soon stopped dancing and walked back to where his drink was located. His mates didn't follow. He was then kind of standing alone. He saw Pete's eyes follow him. 'This feels better. Somewhat better.' He thought.
The way the two studs kept looking at each other ... you would have thought they were sizing one another up for a tussle. Their facial expressions slightly tense. Their bodies on full ... 'I'm being scanned' mode. Neither felt really comfortable. They were both used to doing the cruising. In this situation it was hard to suss out who was cruising who.
Nothing happened that night ... except they both went home alone for a change ... and they both jacked off visualising man2man sex ... with each other. A cliche I know. But it's all part of the build up of anticipation. How that anticipation of new sexual delights manifests in reality ... that's the motivation ... the urge to make it happen. They had great wanks.
Just a few days later Pete had gone to a bar on Old Compton Street after work ... about 6pm. It was a Tuesday I think, anyhow, there were just a few people in there. Pete got his drink and found a spot to stand near the window when Malcolm walked in. Pete kind of stood up straight when he saw him. It was an unconscious response. The man of his current wank fantasies had just walked into the bar. He got a twinge in his cock to boot.
Malcolm did not see Pete at first. He ordered a drink and took a couple of tastes of it before he turned round. When he did he see Pete, it was Malcolm's turn to pull himself up, instantly. Pete saw him do it ... recognised that he had done the same. It had looked as if Malcolm was going to take a step forward as he turned around. He'd not only pulled up fast ... but it now seemed that he was unsure where he might move to. The guys had made eye contact. Neither of them knew anyone else in the bar. Neither would be cramping any style at 6. 10pm on a Tuesday night. Why wouldn't they talk? ...Then again why should they talk?
They were both thinking this same thought as Malcolm turned around to face the bar again. He had to regroup. Pete pondered walking right over and saying 'Hi'. Malcolm pulled himself together, turned around and nodded and smiled at Pete. There was nothing else for it. Pete smiled and nodded. Malcolm walked right over to him. He didn't want to wait for any 'come on' flick of the head. That was what he did to potential fucks. There was no way Pete was ever going to get to fuck him. He was just intrigued that's all. See what two studs can get up to. If he was going to pick a stud ... Pete was the one for him.

shabash

Jiski Jawani taze taze jawan, mast galiyan dete huye machal na jaye wo sachcha gay nahin hai. Main har jagah, din ho ya raat ladkon ka jism zaroor niharta hoon aur unhien paaney ki chahat hamesha dil mein rakhta hoon. Ye kuch incidents hain jo mere saath chudayi karne walon ne mujhe bataye aur maine unhien reconstruct kiya, kuch sachchi ghatnaaon pe (jo maine newspapers mein padhien aadharit hain). Asif apne aap ko gay nahin samajhta tha, bas chudayi ka rasiya manta tha, halanki uske man mein ladki ki choot lene ki bahut chah thi magar 24 saal tak usey ladki nahin mil payi thi, uske ander ki kaamagni dehak dehak ke roz subah nahaney ke time nali mein beh jati thi, wo ussi mein santusht tha, iske alava uske saath job hi bachpan mein huya usko wo sirf ek straight ladke ke jeevan ke growing years ka hissa manta, wo sab ladkey jinke saath usne baith ke muth mari, yaw o jinki usne maari aur wo mohalley ke badey ladkey jo aksar khel khel mein us jaise chikne ko kissi andhere konay mein lejakar nanga kartey aur uski gaand mein lund daal daal ke mast letey. Usne to wo sab apni memory se nikal diya tha. Magar jab lund ki pyaas bhadki to Asif apne aap ko aur zyada straight honay ka jhaansa nahin de paya. Usne jism ki aag ke saamne ghutne tek diye. Wo in dinon East Delhi ke Laxmi Nagar ke ek sarkari school mein part time music instructor tha, 15-20 ladkon ke group ko music sikhata aur khush rehta. Magar ander jalti aag zyada din dab nahin paayi aur uske sholay usko jhulsaaney lagey. Phir chah kar aur na chah ker uski nazar apne students pe padhne hi lagi, sabhi aaspaas ki galiyon ke gabru chorey thay, ek se ek shaatir aur ek se ek harami, school ki kasi huyi terricot ki green pant aur white shirt sabki jawani ko aur nikhar deti thi, aadhi aasteen ki shirts unki jawani ke achchay darshan karwati, Asif unki taraf khinchney laga. Ek din school mein kaand pakda gaya, ek teacher ne kuch ladko ko toilet ke ander pantien utaar k eek doosrey ka lund masaltey huye pakad liya. Waise ye sab to wahan ke toilet mein hamesha hota rehta tha magar ye pehli baar kissi teacher ne principal ko report kiya tha, is ke pehle do teacher to mast hokar unhien ladkon ke saath lag liye thay magar ye waley ko shauq nahin tha. Principal ne Asif ko bhi bulaya 'Asif sir dekhiye inmien do aapke bhi students hain' Ladke sar jhukaye khadey thay 'kya kiya jaye' 'inki aisi pitaai lagoonga ki algli baar ye sab nahin karengey' usne apne students ko dekha aur anayas hi uski nazar unke poorey badan pe padi. Shaurya Chawla, Bhanu Pratap Chauhan, Mudassir Ali, Anupam Tyaagi. Shoorveer Tomar aur Kashif Ateeq.Sabhi wahan apne apne haath aagey kiye khadey thay. 'aapko so saza deni hai de ke chorr diye' principal bhi jaantey thay ki shayad ladkey aapas mein expertiment kar rahe hongey. Asif ke haath mein steel ki bansuri thi 'chalo sab ke sab jhuk jao' usne unko beech kamrey mein jhuka diya, achanak 6 gadraye kamsin ladkon ko jhuka dekh uska maata ek anjani si pyaas se tharak gaya. 'yahan nahin bahar ground mein jakar dhoop mein' usne unko wahan dhoop mein jhuka ke khada kar diya aur unke peechay chaltey chaltey unki gaand niharne laga, kuch ek ki to aisi gadrayi thi ki lagta tha pant phaad ke phaankien lablaba ke bahar aa jayeingi. Jab jhukey jhuke pair dukhne lagey to ek ladka ronay laga. Usne bansuri li aur usko phir jhukaya 'achcha ab dard ho raha hai badtameez ladkey' kehker usne sataak se uski gadrayi phaank pe ek bansuri maari, ladka uchla aur uchalne mein jab uski gaand bhinchi to Asif ka mood phir ghooma. Usko wo nazara achaha laga, usne phir mara aur uske baad phir. Wo ladka dard se chatpataya. Kabhi khada honay ki koshihs karta kabhi bansuri ko pakadne ki, kabhi sirf apni gaand pe haath rakhker usko bachaney ki koshish karta. Wo ladka Kashif Tha. 9th mein padhta tha, baap ki grocery ki dukaan thi. Jawani bhari padi thi. Bansuri ki maar se ander uski gaand laal ho gayi thi aur ched har parahar pe chihuk jata tha. Uska lund uski chadhdhi mein murjha ker zara se reh gaya tha. Phir asif ne usko janey diya aur jatey jatey bhi usko dekhta raha. 'Sir please mujhe bhi janey dijiye ab nahin karunga' is baar Shaurya gidgidaney laga 'tum log pata nahin kaise gandey ladke ho ab tumhien sharam bhi nahin aa rahi hai' usne ek tez tamtamata huya tamacha shaurya ki gaal pe lagaya to uska sar jhanjhana gaya aur gaal laal ho gaya, phir usne uske doosrey gaal pe mara to uska haath uske honthon tak pada aur wahan halka sa kat gaya. Shaurya ne jhatt apna haath apne gaal pe rakha, Asif ne is baat pe uske haath aagey karwaye aur unpe bansuri se maara. Usne haath jhatak ke sehlaney ki koshish kari magar Asif ne phir bansuri chala di. Usne uske haath pe bhi 8-10 baar mara, phir usko kuch thappad aur lagaye. Uske baad usko bhi janey diya. Ab school ki chutti ho gayi thi, baki sab ghanti ke baad apne gharon ko chaley gaye thay. Is liye baki bachey chaaron ladke apne apne ghar janey ko btetaab honey lagey thay. Asif ne phir unki gaandon ka jhukey huye jimson ka muayena kiya. Sabhi gadraye huye thay. Namkeen, kamsin, gulabi, harami. 'kyun tera bahut khada ho raha hai aaj kal' usne Anupam ki peeth pe ek haath kasker maartey huye kaha 'raat mein ghar pe khada kiya kar yahan school mein nahin' asif ne phir mara 'aaah' anupam uchla 'kya karta hai tera baap' asif ki tone change honay lagi thi 'ji Tv mechanic hain' 'achcha aur tu lund ka mechanic ban gaya' Asif ne Shoorveer ko bulaya 'ye lo bansuri is baar tum iski pitaai karo aur sahi se nahin akri to main tumhari issey dugni kar doonga samjhe' Shoorveer ne Anupam ki taangon pe kas ke bansuri maari to usne ek pair jerk se utha liya aur apni jagah uchal gaya 'aur maro' shoorveer ka agla prahar Anupam ki jaangh pet ha, wo uchla aur Asif uski uchalti huyi gaand dekhne laga. Tabhi Bhanu khada ho gaya 'kya huya tumhien khadey honay ke liye kisne kaha hai' 'sorry sir ji pant phat gayi' usne kaha 'ab tumahri phatne lagi' baki ladke muskuraye 'muskurayo mat besharmon' 'jhuk jao Bhanu waise bhi yahan phatey ja na phatey koi dekhega nahin' Bhanu phir jhuk gaya. 'Thappad maro isko' Asif ne shoorveer se kaha to usne anupam ke gaalon pe thapapd maar maar ke lala karma shuru akr diya. Shoorveer un sab mein sabse sunder piece tha. Gazab ka harami aur gadraya huya. Uska baap ek sarkari daftar mein chaprasi tha aur us aldkey mein na janey kaise dehati baankpan aur namak koot koot ke bhara tha jo shayd usne Laxmi Nagar ki gandi patli galiyon mein khoob nikhar liya tha. Anupam ki pitaayi ke baad uski chutthi ho gayi wo bhi apni gaand aur gaal sehlata huya bag utha ke chala gaya.Ab Asif Bhanu ke peechay gaya, uski pant ki silayi waqai mein gaand se poori udhar gayi thi aur pehli baar bahut salon ke baad Asif ne kissi ladkey ki chikni gadrayi namkeen gaand phir dekhi to na reh saka, Bhanu ne apna haath peechay rakha to Asif ne bansuri se uske knuckle pe maar ke uska haath hataya 'jo na bolun mat karo warna gussa aa jayega to buri halat kar doonga' usne kaha aur zataak se ek bansuri uski gaand pe maari 'uyiiiii' wo uchla 'jhuk ke khadey raho' is baar usne bansuri se uski gaand ko halke se sehlaya to Bhanu ne gaand bheench li usne uski phati huyi pant mein bansuri phansa ke uski daraar ko bansuri se sehlaya, bhanu ko laga shayad wo phir marega is liye usne darr ke gaand bheench li. Bansuri se gudgudi ke karan bhanu ki gaand chihuk jati thi, wo apna ched sikod ke apni phaankien bheench leta tha. 'tu kyun khada hai jhuk ja phir se' asif ne shoorveer ko bhi jhuka diya. 'sir please maaf kar do ab hum nahin karengey' ab uski pasand ke bachey teenon ladkey haath jod ke maafi maangne lagey. Usne un teenon ko dekha 'kya nahin karogey' 'yehi sir yehi nahin karengey' 'acchha sohta hoon chalo music room mein chalo yahan mujhe garmi lag rahi hai' wo teenon ko music room mein gaya. Music room chatt k eek konay mein bana tha. Teenon saamne kkhadey ho gaye. 'idhar aao' usne Muddasir ko bulaya 'ab batao kya kar rahey thay tum log kiska idea tha sach sach bata do to shayad janey doon' 'sir meri ghalti nahin thi Mudassir bola, ye anupam wagarah to daily kartey hain main to bas kuch din se hi' 'achcha kya kartey ho''ji matlab…mera kehne ka matlab hai wo cheez''dekho saaf saaf baat karo warna pitai lagegi aur raat tak yahain rakhunga aur subah assembly mein sabke saamne beizzati hogi'Wo thoda darrey. 'idhar aao tum batao kya hota hai wahan' maine Bhanu ko aagey karwaya 'ji ladkey nangey hotey hai' 'mujhe ladko ka nahin tum logon ka sunna hai batao tum kya kar rahaye thay wahan' asif bola'ji nangey hokar muth maar rahey thay' 'aur baki kya kar rahey thay' 'ji wo bhi sab muth maar rahey thay' 'mutth maarna kahan se seekha' 'ji asie hi aa gaya''aur kya hota hai wahan' ab Bhanu jaise sarkari gawaah ban gaya tha'ji ye mudassir to gaand bhi maarta hai' Ab asif garam honey laga aur Mudassir sharam se bhauchakka reh gaya 'ji nahhin ye jhoot bol raha hai''kiski maari isne' usne pyar se bhanu se poocha'ji kayi ladko ki maarta hai ye aaj bhi maar raha tha'Shoorveer giggle karne laga 'huya kya rey' 'ji kuch nahin''hans kyun raha hai bata warna teri aisi ki taisi kar doonga jo jhooth bola ya baat nahin batayi wo aaj ghar nahin jayega aur unke maa baap ko bula ke sab bata doonga''ji nahiin sory matlab' shoorveer bola 'bata kyun hans raha hai''ji wo aaj to Mudassir isi hi gaand maar raha thaBhanu sharma gaya 'nahin sir ye jhooth….' Asif ne ek tez tamacha uske gaal pe maara 'agar jhooth bola to teri maa chod doonga saley gandu' ab sab thoda darrey. Meri galiyon ka asar huya. 'chal pant utaar ke bata kaise jhuka tha' ab sama rangeen huya 'bhanu jhijhka magar usko pata tha koi chara bhi nahin tha 'chalo teenon nangey ho jao' teenon jhijhkey to asif ki dhamkiyan kaam aaney lagien, unmein se koi nahin chahta tha ki wo baat unke ghar tak pahunchay. Is liye finally wo apni shirts utaarne lagey 'baniyan bhi utaaro' aur dekhtey dekhtey wo teenon poorey nanagey ho gaye, ab asif tharak gaya tha aur un teenon ko bhi tharak chadne lagi thi. Usne pehle Mudassir ko bulaya 'kyun bahut jawani hai tere ander' 'nahin sir' 'tu gaand kyun maar raha tha' is baar asif ne usko mara nahin balki uska badan sehlaney laga 'saley itne se lund pe itna ghamand hai' 'sorry sir' 'sorry se kaam nahin chalega bata kahan seekha' 'ji gaanv mein iski kyun maari' 'ji pasand hai muhe''kya pasand aaya ismien' 'ji chikna hai' 'matlab jo chikna hoga tu agand maar lega' 'nahin sir ye khud bola maar lo' 'idhar aa rey tuney bola isko maarne ko''nahin sir' Shoorveeer bhi bola 'isne bola tha sir ye hamesha kissi na kisis se marwata hai jhooth bol raha hai'Asif ne Bhanu ko kayi thapapd lagaye 'jhooth bolne ko mana kiya tha na' Asif ne usko mez pe jhuka ke litaya ab uski gaand ki gadrayi phaankien mere saamne thien, maine is baar uske ched pe bansuri rakhi 'uuh sir' 'awaaz aayi to bansuri gaand mein ghused doonga' 'chalo re tum dono apne lund khadey karo'Asif ne apni belt kholtey huye kaha, to un harami ladkon ko samajhtey der na lagi ki wo kya chah raha tha, wo apne lund masalne lagey, usne apni pant aur chadhdi sarka di aur unke saamne apna pyara sa lohey ka hathyar nikal ke dikah diya, ladkey ab thoda aur tharak gaye 'itna bada dekha hai pehle' 'ji nahiin''idhar aa sahi se khada karwa' usne Shoorveer ko bulaya aur uske haath mein lund de diya, wo jhijhak ke usko sehlaney laga, 'tu aa iski gaand sehla de' usne Mudassir se kaha to wo turant Jhukey huye bhanu ki gaand sehlaney laga, ab sabhi ke lund khadey ho gaye thay. Usne Bhanu ki gaand pe supada teka'unnhuuu sir pleaseeee' 'chup bey'Asif ne kaha aur thook laga ker lund uski gaand mein ghuseda 'aaayyyi' wo uchla to uska sar kas ke aise mara ki wo mez pe takraya 'natak mat kar gandu..idjar aa rey iski gaand ko sahi se phaila chuttad pakad ke chiir de' Usne shoorveer se kaha to wo uske liye volunteer ban gaya. Uske baad usne kafi der Bhanu ki gaand mari, wo dard se roney laga. 'ab tu jhuk' usne jab Mudassir se kaha to wo jhijhkha'nahin main nahin marwata hoon' Asif ne uske thapapd maarna shuru ker diye ‚wo ab uska hatah pakadne ki kohsish akrne laga magar usko pata tha ki usko jhukna hi padega, jab asif ne uski garadan pakad ke mez pe jhukaya to wo jhuk gaya. Asif uske chuttad ki phaankon ko masalney laga, uski aankhien apne aap band honay lagien , usko kuch pal aisa laga ki wo kisis aurat ki chuchiyan daba raha ho, magar agle pal haqeeqat mein wapas aa gaya, wo muddassir ki gaand dabaney laga, wo jhuka aur usne uski ek phaank pe chumma liya, phir usne doosri ko pakad ke apne daanthon se pakda aur chusne laga, uska haath aur ugliyan Mudassir ki darr mein daudne lagey. Usne uski ched pe ungli rkahi aur dabaney laga ‚unnhuuuu' mudassir ne protest kiya to usne chapaat se do chaantey uski gaand pe laagye ‚phir bansuri uthayi aur is baar uske nangey chuttadon pe hi bansuri se maarne laga to usko maza aaney laga, muddassir ki gaand lal ho gayi, usne uki phaankienphailayien aur uski gaand mein lund daal diya ‚aaaahhhh aayyye' wo chillaya magar asif ne ek haath uski peeth pe rakh ker usko daba ke rakha aur doosrey se lund pakad ke ander pelta raha. Muddassir bhi uske mardaney powerful dhakkon se uchalta raha, kabhi cheekh deta kabhi saans roke deta kabhi passt ho jata. Asif ko uski kasi huyi gaand se bahut maza aaraha tha, uski gaand ki chunnatien uske lund ko ragad rahien thien, wo khaskhasa khaskhasaker usmien de raha tha, muddassir ki gaand chiir ke phat gayi thi, wo mez ka konay pakdey tha aur dard rokne ke liye daant bheench leta tha. Tabhi asif roke na paya aur uska maal Muddasir ki gaand mein jhad gaya. Magar uski nazar abhi shoorveer pe thi. Usne apna lund kheench ker apni chadhdhi se pocha ‚idhar aa rey zara chus kar khada ker' normally uska itni jaldi phir se khada nahin hota tha, magar us samay wo bahut excited tha aur tharak mein tha, usne ek hesyant se Bhanu ko garadan se paakd ke jhukaya aur uske muh mein apna ganda lund thela to wo majboori mein chusne laga, magar usmien asif ko maza nahin aaya, usne Muddassir ko bulaya aur phir susey chuswanaey laga aur shoorveer ko wahin mez pe jhuka diya.. Muddassir ke chusne se usko rahat mili aur lund kahda honey laga to usne ek taraf usko neechay bitha ke doosri taraf shoorveer ki gaand sehlana shuru ker diya. Un sab mein shoorveer ki agand mast thi. Muscular gole, gadrayi huyi aur mulayam aur chikni to teenon ki thi. Magar shoorveer ki gaand mein ek mardana sa ladakpan tha jo asif ko pasand aaya. Usne uske ched pe muh rakh ker chumna shuru kiya to shoorveer bhi mast honay laga, wo gaand utha ke maza lene laga, usne apne aap gaand phaila di. Asif 'haan haan shabash' karke uski agand mein muh ghusaye raha aur mudassir uska lund chusta raha, phir usne shoorveer ki gaand mein ungli dena shuru kiya aur jab nahin raha gaya to uspe thooka aur usko thook apne bheegey supadey se ched ke aaspaas masla aur phir wo utha utha ke shoorveer ki gaand maarne laga. Jab pehli baar supada dabaya to usne gaand bheench li, magar Asif ke powerfully khadey gabru lund ne apna raasta bana hi liya, ek do dhakkon mein Shoorveer ki gaand ka suraakh dheela pada, uski silwatien khulne lagien aur jab wo thoda mast huya aur eelaxed huya to uski gaand ki chunnatien poori phail gayien aur asif ka supada unke beecah suraakh ko chauda akrtey huye ander ghus gaya 'aaaaahhh unnnhhhh' Shoorveer ne supada jatey hi saan roki aur daant bheench liye magar asif ruka nahin ‚aayyyiii' usne aadha lund de diya 'unnuu aahhhhhh sirrrrrr' shoorveeer bhi auron ki tarah uchala magar daba diya gaya aur phir uski gaand asif ke lund ke hisaab se adjust ho gayi aur wo uski lene laga' Mudassir harami nikla usne ab apna lund peechay se asif ki gaand pe ragda ‚achcha harami''sir please, sorry sir magar please'Asif ne jab mana nahin kiya to muddassir apna lund wahan uske ched pe ragadne laga aur dekhtey dekhtey mudassir ka lund uski gaand mein ghus gaya, ab uska maza doguna ho gaya, aagey shoorveer ki gaand aur peechay Mudassir ka lund aur paas khada bhanu. Kuch der baad shoorveer ko tharak lagi aur unhoney position badal li aur shoorveer asif ki gaand maarne laga aur mudaddasir ussey marwaney laga.Uske baad sabne apna apna lund jhada, Muddassir ne bhanu ka lund chus ke jhadwa diya. Uske baad wo sab ghar chaley gaye aur uske abad ab wo teneon aksar infact almost daily Asif ka shikaar banney lagey aur tab tak bantey rahey jab tak wo wahan se paas out na kar gaye.

vicky

Vicky mere dil o dimaag pe bas gaya tha. Sote jagtekewal usi ke khayal aate the. Aaj vicky se mile pure 3din beet gaye the. Yeh teen din mano teen saal jaiselag rahe the. Inn teen dino mai uske naam ki maine dobaar muth mari thi par zara bhi maza nahi aaya. Meralund uski gaand ki sair karne ko betaab tha par uskakoi call nahi aaya. Yuhin dekhte dekhte kuch aur dinbeet gaye aur aaj phir sunday tha. Iss asha mai kisayad aaj woh phir mujhe milega mai usi time par usistation se metro train mai chada par woh mujhe naamila. mera lund bechain ho raha tha. Iss aur se dhyanhatane ke liye mai ek mall me chala gaya aur windowshoping karne laga.Abhi mujhe mall mai kuch hi samay hua tha ki mainedekha koi mujhme interest le raha hai. Maine bhi baditabiyat se use sar se paav tak nihara. Ladka mast tha.Isske dil daul ko dekhte hue mujhe vicky phir yaad aagaya aur mai vicky ke saath iss ka comparision karnelaga. Vicky gora chitta tha aur yeh thoda saavla(wheatish) tha, vicky meri tarah pura lamba choda thaaur yeh thoda naata par choda accha khasa tha.jaanghein aur chutad bhari puri mast thi. Chehara golaur mardana tha. Hoonthon par ghari kali muchein thiaur hoonth dhanushakar halke gulabi the. Usne apnihalf sleeve wali shirt pahan rakhi thi aur upar ke doteen button khule the, jahan se uskei chodi chatijhank rahi thi. Chati pe kaale kaale baal the aur uskimansalta se andaja lagaya jaa sakta tha ki donochuchiyan kaphi mast aur bhari hui hoongi. Maine uskiaankho mai ek ajeb sa nasha dekha. Jab hamari aankhen mili to hum ek dusare ke aakarshanmai phanste chale gaye. Woh meri aor badha aur lagbagmujhe chute hue nikal gaya. Mai bhi uske piche chalpada, woh ruk ruk kar mujhe ghum kar dekhta jata auraage badhta jata. Maine dekha ki woh toilet ki taraphchala gaya hai, mai bhi toilet mai chala gaya aur uskebagal wale shelf me apni zip khol kar khada ho gaya.Peshaap karate hue hum ek susare ko nihar rahe the.Woh mere lund ko aur maiuske lund ko dekhane kikoshish kar raha tha. Usne apne aap ko thoda adjustkiya aur apne pant ki belt - button khol kar chaddipuri niche karke apne unduye aur lund dono pura baharkar liye taki mujhe thik se pura view uske lund kamile. Uski taangon ke beech kaphi royeein the aurunduyen bhi bade bade the. Lund kaphi mota lag rahatha par mere se jyada lumba nahi tha. Uska 5 yaa 5.5ka hoga par wakai bada mota aur purple color ka tha.Mujhe apna lund dikhate hue woh hilane laga taki purakhada ho jaye. Maine bhi apna lund pura bahar kar liyaaur uski aor thoda ghum kar use dikhane laga. Woh meremote lumbe lund ko dekhte hue apne hoothon pe jeebhphirane laga. Maine aage badh kar uska lund tham liyaaur masalne laga. Woh bhi mera lund pakad ke hianelaga. uske garam naraam aur thode se sakht haaton kesparsh se mera lund pura kada ho gaya aur hullad marnelaga. Mai uska aur woh mera lund hila raha tha. Beechbeech mai hum ek dusare ke hoonthon ko bhi chus rahethe. Woh yeh bhool gaya tha ki hum ek toilet mai khadehain aur koi bhi kabhi bhi yahan aa sakta hai. Is darrke bawajood sach much bada maza aa raha tha. Ek jhatkeke saath woh niche jhuka aur mera lund muh me lekarchusane laga. Karib 10-15 sec usne mera lund chusahoga ki maine uske muh se apna lund nikal liya aur maikhud niche ho kar uska lund chusane laga. Kisi ke aajane ka darr aur lund chusane ka maza dono saath saathaa raha tha. itne me kuch aahat si hui aur mai satarkho kar wapas apni purani position me aa gaya. Ek aadmiander aaya aur jaldi jaldi peshaab kar ke chala gaya.maine use isara kiya ki laterine cabin me chalen wohekdum se chal pada. maine idhar udhar dekha koi nahitha aur mai bhi uske piche piche ander ghus gaya.Ander jaate hi usne apne shirt ke saare button kholdale aur apni pant bhi khol kar niche sarka di,ghutnon ke paas, maine bhi aisa hi kiya. Iss tarahardhnagan ho kar hum ek dusare ko bahoon me bhar kechuchi se chuchi, lund se lund aur hoonth se hoonthladane lage. Ek dusare ke hoonth chusane se hamaripayas aur bhi badh gayi aur abb bari bari se ek dusareka hum lund chusane lage. Kabhi woh niche baith karmera chusata kabhi mai uska lund chusata. Phir wohmeri gaand ragadte hue mujh se ghum jaane ko bola maiek dum se ghum gaya. Woh apna lund mere gaand ke chedpar ragadne laga, bada maza aaya. Abb woh mera chedphela ke apna lund meri gaand me dalna chahata tha parmaine use rok diya aur kaha ki mai gaand nahi marata, tum chaho toh upari maza lesakte ho. Iss par woh bola gaand marate nahi toh kya maar tohsakte ho. Maine kaha haan chod to dunga par condom nahi hai abhichus ke maze lo phir kabhi chodunga tumhe itminan se.Aur hum phir ek dusare ke lund ko chatane aur chusanelage. Usne meri gaand bhi chati. Issi tarah hum mazekar rahe the ki tabhi mere cell ki ghanti baz uthi.Mai ekdum se hadbada gaya. Cell par koi anjaana sanumber tha. Dheere se hello bola dusari taraph vickytha. Mera din khushi se uchalne laga. Maine use kaha10 min bad call kare mai toilet kar raha hoon aur celldisconnect kar diya. Maine use kaha aab bahar chaltehain yahan itni der rahana thik nahi hai. Aur hum donoapne kapde thik thak karke ek ek karke bahar aa gaye.Thank god bahar koi nahi tha aur toilet se bahar aagaye.Toilet se bahar aa kar hum idhar udhar ghumne lage.Woh bola Kya yahan aksar aate ho kya ?Mai: nahin yaar kabhi kabhi, roz roz aane ka timekiske paas haiwoh bola : sahi kahate ho life bahut busy hai sabki.Maine kaha: mera naame Manoj hai aur tum ( maine naajane kyun jhoot bola)Woh bola: Manish Mai: yaar mera badab jaal raha hai koi jagah hai tohbol chale aur apni aag bujhayenManish: jagah toh hai par abhi nahi 2-3 ghante baad.Mai bola : 2-3 ghante baad matlab ?Manish: woh kya hai mere ek relative hain jo 2-3ghante baad koi party mai jaane waale hain toh ussamay agar aa sako toh khul kar masti karenge.Mai: abhi 4:30 (pm) hain yani ki 7 - 7:30 ke baadManish: haan bol aayegaMai: kahan aana hoga ?Manish: jyada dur nahin bas yahan se 15-20 min ka walkhai.Mai: toh phir thik hai 2-3 ghante hum yun hi ek dusareke saath paas karte hain.Manish: nahi yaar mujhe jaana hoga ek urgent kaam haiwoh to kuch samay mere paas tha iss liye mai yahan aagaya.Mai: 2-3 ghante mai akele kaise paas karunga yaar.Accha tu apna cell number de mai aa paunga yaa nahinmai tujhe bata dunga taki tujhe wait nahi karna padeyaa phir kabhi milenge.Manish: Tu apna number bata mai miss call karta hun tusave kar le.Maish ne mujhe miss call diya maine save kar liya aurhum dono ek dusare ko bye karte hue alag ho gaye. To be continued... ......... ......Doston apne comments zaroor send karen

imran chacha

Us raat ke baad mujhe Imran chacha badey hi mardaney aur sexy lagnelagey thay main jab unko dekhta mujhe us raat ka manzar dikhne lagta,us raat ki awaazien sunayi dene lagtien aur mere ander kulbuli simachne lagti, wohi haal jab main Shanker Jija ko dekhta to machti. Usdarmiyan meri dosti mohalley k eek aur ladke Humair se honay lagi thijo khud bada sunder sa gadraya huya gora, lamba aur mast jism walaladka tha, jiske honth gulabi thay, gaal bhare bharey gaand gol aurjism sudaul. Wo us smay 10th mein padhta tha, magar bada honay kebawajood wo mujhse frank tha. Mujhe to uski aggressive body languagebadi zalim lagti thi. Na wo kabhi hamarey age difference ko kabhibeech mein lata, dheere dheere wo mujhse sex wagarah ki baat karnelaga.Usne mujhe mardon wali terms sikhayien. Lund. Lauda. Choot. Chudayi.Bhosda. Anduye. Gaand. Jhaant. Gaand ka Baal. Behan ka lund. Gaandmarauwwal. Chhot ki chudayi. Bhosde mein lauda. Wagarah wagarh bahutsi baatien mujhe batayien to main to usey apna guru maaney laga auruske kaafi kareeb ho gaya.4-5 din baad phir us kamrey mein raat rangeen huyi...bilkul waisejaise pehle huyi thi, is baar shaknker jija pehle chacha pe chad keunki chod rahey thay, abhi unki chudayi jari hi thi ki bahar ekmotorcycle ki awaaz aayi aur uske baad kuch aahat huyi aur chacha nekaha ‚aa gaya shayad''haan aaj saley ko bol diya tha''sahi kiya iski lene mein bada maza aata hai''aur kya ab sala hamarey kaam nahin aayega to kya hoga''abey is gandu ka dhyaan hai na kahin sala jaag ke sab dekhta ho''Dekhta ho to dekhne de kahin kaha to nahin behan ke laudey ne''kaha to kaat ke phenk dengey saley ki laash bhi nahin milegi'Unki baaton se main darr gaya aur saham ke aur chupchap leta raha.'chal darwaza khol ke usko to ander le le''chacha utha aur kamrey mein ek teesra ladka aaya''aaja yaar jaldi aaja badi der kar di hum to shuru ho gaye thay kapdeyutaar de taang de aur bister pe aaja''oye ye yahin soya hai'Ús aldke ne shayad apne kapdey utaartey huye kaha'haan yahin sota hai ye sala utha ko iski seal tode dengey'Teenon halka sa hanse.Kuch der to main aankh band kiye raha magar is baat ki utsukta jaggayi ki dekhun ki wo teesra kaun tha, waise aawaz to mujhe janipehchani lag rahi thi.Maine finally apni aankh halke se kholi aur us raat ke naye raaz kopata kiya. Wo teesra ladka Shanker Jija ka saga sala 12th mein padhnewala hamarey mohalley ka ladka Gyaan tha. Usko dekhtey hi main danggreh gaya. Mujhe wo saara maajra samajh nahin aaya. Ek taraf merachacha, doosri taraf nayi nayi shadi wala Shaker jija aur teesri tarafunko wo kamsin sa chikna gora maadak sa saga sala Gyaan.Kuch der mein wo phir apne kaam mein mashgool ho gaye. Imran chacha neGyaan ko apni chaati pe bithaya huya tha, uski peeth chacha ke muh ketaraf thi, aur wo unke ooper waise hi baitha huya jhuk ker usnka lundchus raha tha, uske saath shaker jija bhi chacha ke lund aur anduye kochus rahey thay.'shabash jeeja sala milke laudey ki masti lo' chacha keh rahey thayaur saath gyaan ki peeth aur badan sehla rahey thay, Jija chacha kijaanghien bhi sehla rahay thay, wo reh reh ker Gyaan ka muh chus keuska chumban lene lagtey. Unhoney kuch der mein kheench ke gyaan kigaand apne muh pe rakhwa li aur shayd wo uske ched ko chaatne lageykyunki Gyaan ne siskariyan bharna shuru ker diya. Chacha ke muscularbahon mein Gyaan jaisa chikna bada mast lag raha tha, wo ab unke muhpe baith ja raha tha aur baith baith ke apni gaand chatwa raha tha,phir shanker jija bhi ussi taraf aaye aur unhoney bhi chacha ke saathmilker gyaan ki gaand chaatna shuru kar diya, phir wo log uski gaandmein ungli dene lagey.'aaah' gyaan shayad chihuk gaya'uchal kyun raha hai''ekdum se de di na is liye'Aise hi suhag raat mein teri behan ki choot mein bhi ek dum se di thiSali chilla ke uchal padi thi' shanker jija boley'ab saley ki gaand maarunga' chacha boleyDono uske baad bari bari Gyaan ki gaand maarne lagey.Is baar mujhe gyaan ki takiya mein dabi cheekhien sunayi dene lagien,shaayd usko takleef ho rahi thi.'ye bahan ka lauda aise hi lund lene mein chillata hai jab ki itnibaar le chuka hai' shaker jija bolay'haan shayad saley ki gaand sahi se dheeli nahin huyi hai' chacha bolay'ab itne motay motay hathodey lekar bhi nahin dheeli huyi to kya saleyki gaand mein palang ka paaya daal doon'Dono hasne, magar thodi der mein Gyaan shayad maza lene laga aurkamrey mein khoob chudayi ki awaazien aane lagien.Shanker Jija phir boley 'yaaar hogi iski bhi badi kasi huyi boss''kisski?' chacha ne poocha'abey tere bhatije ki...bol to uthaaoon saley ko''arrey abchcha hai jhel nahin payega yaar'Main khush bhi ho raha tha ki Shanker Jija lagatar mujhe attentiondiye ja rahey thay magar darr lag raha tha ki kahin wo log mujhe bhina shamil kar lein.Chacha ke baad, shaker Jija aur gyaan aapas mein guth gaye, donochipak chipak ke chumma le rahey thay aur ek doosrey ke badan sehlarahey thay, phir jija ne usko palatwa diya aur wo uski gaand maarnelagey, is baar Gyaan araam se unka lund lene laga'sala ek lund le leta hai to doosra araam se le leta hai' unhoney kaha'haan saley mein chiknaayi bhar di hai na thanda thanda lag raha hoga...kyun bey''ji haan ab araam hai''sahi hai uthwa uthwa ke chudwa aise hi poora maza diya akr bey' chacha ne kaha.Kareeb 2.30 baje tak un logon ka karyakaram chala'yaar ab subah to nahin ja paoonga''arrey chalna yaar tu batting achchi karta hai na''ab saley raat bhar bister mein batting karwa di saley subah thakarahunga tu chaley jana is gandu ko le jana ye bhi to badiya open karleta hai''yaar laundey gali dengey' chacha bolay'bhai samjha kar ab laundon ko ye baat to nahin maloom hai na tujhemaloom hai samjha kar thak gaya hoon aaj bhi subah jaldi utha tha'jija bolayUn logon ko subah paas ke ek gaanv mein cricket match khelne jana thaaur wo ussi ki baatien thien.'yaar 4 baje nikalna tha 2.30 to baj gaye hain' chacha bolay'ab tu randiyon ki tarah ro mat so ja main utha doonga'Kuch der shayad wo sab kapdey pehanney mein lagey rahey magar phir awaazien aayi'ek palang pe teenon kaise soyengey' chacha bolay'is gandu ko tere bhatije ke saath sula dete hain ek ghantey mein uthadena' Jija bolay'ja re aur sharafat se sona laundey pe haath mat dharr dena ronay lagega sala'Gyaan mere bagal mein aaker leta to usne meri chadar utha ke meresaath hi odhe li, mujhe apne bagal mein uske badan ki garmi achchilagi, kuch der to wo thoda faasla banaker leta raha, magar gandu gyaankahan baaz aaney wala tha, jaise hi thodi shaanti huyi, wo mere sechipake laga. Main peit ke bal leta tha. Thodi der mein uska haathmeri kamar pe aa gaya aur jab wo meri kamar sehlaney laga to mereander bijli kaundh gayi, uska haath garam aur gadraya tha aur merakurta utha huya tha jis karan uska haath seedha mere jism pe aaya aurmujhe uske baad kaan mein Gyaan ki saansien sunayi dene lagien. Bakidonon shayd uski gaand maarne ke baad so gaye thay.Gyaan ne meri taraf karwat li aur apni jaangh meri jaangh pe chad di,aur hatah se meri gaand ki phaankon ko halke halke sehlaney laga, uskahaath reh reh ke meri phaankon ki dhalaan ke beech ched ke paas jataaur wahan der der tak wo apni ungliyon se mera gulabi ched sehlata,phir uska muh mere gaalon ke paas aaya aur usne apne honth mere gaalonpe ragadna shuru ker diye. Wo ye sab bahut ahista ahista kar raha tha,shayd kissiko jagana nahin chahta tha. Mujhe uski ek ek harkat bahutdilkash lag rahi thi, wo mere pajamey ki naadey wali bely se khelnelaga, sonay mein naada dheela sa ho gaya tha is liye pehle uskiungliyan aur phir kalaayi tak uska hath bahut araam se mere pajameymein ghus gaya aur uska garam garam haath meri gaand ki phaankon komasalne laga.Uski badey pyaar se mere ched ko dhoondti huyi wahan tak aayi aur usnemere ched pe pyaar se apni ungli se sehlaya, phir jab usne uspe zordiya to maine gaand sikode li, magar wo jab apni hatheli ko meridaraar mein ragadne laga to meri gaand masti ke marey halke halkeooper neechay honay lagi aur emir saansien bhi tez chalne lagienjissey shayd usko ye confirm ho gaya ki main jaga huya hoon. Usne meraek haath pakad ke apne sakth se lund pe rakh diya jo uske gamchey sebahar tha aur jo lag raha tha jaise paththar ki koi chattan ho, uskalauda pre-cum se almost bheenga huya tha, usne mujhe haathon se isharakarke muth maarne ko kaha to main uske lund ki muth maarne laga.Uska muh mere gaal ke paas tha aur wo apne honth mere gaal pe rakh kerwahin saans lene laga to uski garam saansien seedha mere chehrey petakraney lagien. Main mast ho chukka tha. Wo mere hothon pe apne hotnhrakh ke apna jism mere jism se betahasha ragadne laga aur apna lundmeri kamar pe ragadne laga jo uske veerya se bheegne lagi. Uske haathmeri gaand ke ched ko mastiya ke kured rahey thay, kuch der mein usneapna lund meri pichli andurooni jaanghon ke beech phansa ke jab uskomere ched ke ird gird ragadna shuru kiya to mujhe maza aa aaney laga,wo shayas meri gaand maarne ke mood mein aa chuka tha usko Abhi mazaaana hi shuru huya tha ki Chacha ki awaaz aayi'abey gyaan uth chalna nahin hai kya'Halanki sala jaga huya mere saath gulcharrey udha raha tha magar phirbhi kuch bola nahin, to is baar chacha ne thoda zor se uthaya 'abeyuth chal time ho gaya hai''unhuu haan uthta hoon' usne neend se jag ke kehne ka natak karteyhuye kaha aur uske baad apna lund mere hatah se alag kartey huye uthgaya. Phir dono ke taiyyar honay ki awaazien aaney lagien. ShayadShanker Jija bhi uth gaye.'bol chalega' chacha ne poocha to wo bolay 'nahin yaar tum log jao'Theek hai wapas aaker miltey hain tu yahan kitne baje tak hai '8 bajenikal jaoonga''chal theek hai'Kehker wo dono chale gaye.

real story

I am 26 years Indian guy working in Kuwait. I came here when I was 21. Today I want to share my 100% real story, hope u ppl will like it.Mai kuwait aaya tab 21 saal ka tha, normal built-weight- height, clean smooth face, tanned color, 21 saal ka hone ke bawjood puri body n armpits (axcept legs) naturally smooth tthe legs per thode thode hallke baal tthe, brown eyes-black hair- chest bilkul smooth, nipples light brown color n thoda sa chubby hone ke kaaran boobs thode bahar nikle hue tthe, butts to aise ki bathroom mai glass ke saamne aa ke dekhu to khud ki nazar lag jaye tight n big I can say in a very good shape, mujhe shuru se hi chalne ki bahut aadat thi India mai bhi bahut chalta tha jiske karan meri body fit thi.Gay feelings to start se hii thi jab se sochna samajhna shuru kiya tab se. well kuwait aane ke baad job ki talaash shuru ki, ek company se interview ke liye call aaya, mai formal paint shirt n tie laga kar gaya mujhe tights pasand hai shirt aur paint dono tight feeting ke tthe, low waist ki paint hone ke kaaran butts ka shape mast lag raha tha. maine dekha puri office Arab handsome mardo se bhari padi this ek se badh kar ek Arab studs. secretry ne kaha manager under bula rahe hai, mai door knock karke under gaya32 saal ka ek bharpur Arab handsome mard black color ka suit pehne alishaan bade se room mai bettha ttha, Lebanony ttha, gora rang, saaf suthra chehra trimmed frech cut beard, rang gora hone ki wajah se usake chehre ki daadhi ka ek ek baal geene ja sakte the bikul set ki hue french cut beard, baalo mai GEL laga ke lambe baalo ko pecche feka hua tha cchepke hue wet look baal, aankho ka color blue aur eyelashes bilkul clear n ek ek baal khula hua nasheelii aankhe tthi usaki, choda seena muscular fit gym body , haatho ke baal dekhne se pata chalta tha ki usake seene per kaise baal honge I can say he was looking like the God of greece 100% male, uper wale ne kuch kami nahi chodii tthi usame usake jism aur chehre ki ek ek ccheez ko cchun cchun ke liya ttha kahi koi defect nahi koi minus point nahi , itna zabardast perfume lagay tha ki poora room mehak raha tha maine jab usase haath milaya to oh my god kadak or mazboot haath bilkul tight usako dekha to bus deemag mai ek hi baat aayi ki kash aj isake jism ki khushboo lene ka mauka mil jaye, kher jab thodi bahut formality ke baad woh meri CV dekh raha tha to meri nazar bus usake haatho per thi cot ki aastin thodi uper khisak kar usake hairy gore haatho ki numaeesh kar rahe tthe mazboot moti kalaii per usane mehangee bade model ki watch pehnii thi silver color ki jisase usake gore hairy haath aur handsome lag rahe tthe, lebanony log itne hi handsome hote hai, usake bethe rehne ke karan usake pet ke necche ka hissa dekh nahi saka tha lekin sure ttha ki perfect hi hoga, tabhi jaise uper wale ne meri sun lee thi usake room ke dusre corner per FAX machine bajne laga woh mujhe "Excuse me there is a urgent FAX" keh kar uth gaya jaise hi uttha meri nazar usake baki hisse per gayi jaha abhi tak mai nahi dekh paya tha, tight healthy jhaango ke becch ubhara hua hissa bayan kar raha tha ki yeh ek lebanony hunk hai, jab woh fax ke paas khada tha maine kuch hi palo mai usako pura scan kar diya, lamba cchoda mard fit body I can say perfect fit body muscular baahe, V shape seena jhaango per muscles ki duniya woh meri taraf peeth karke khada tha butts dekh kar mera gurur khatam hua, muscle se bharpoor usane meri tarah tight paint low waist ki pehni thi jisase usake underwear ke V shape cuts saaf dikh rahe the actually he was a GYM CRAZ MEN. Waise bhi kuwait mai arab logo mai gym ka fashion bana hua hai. pehli baar aise jawan handsome arab ko dekh kar to mai jaise paagal hi ho gaya isiliye jab woh mud kar apne chair ki taraf aaya meri nazar usake paint ke ubhare hisse per hi tthi, maine jaise taise khud ko sambhala aur interview per dhyaan diya kuch sawaal jawaab ke baad usane mujhe kaha ki mujhe ek final interviw ke liye phir aana padega agar usake chairmen ne mujhe select kiya to. Maine usase phir haath mila ke ok thank you bye bye keh kar us mast mard ko akela room mai chod kar nikal aya.ghar per bus usee ka khayaal pura din aise hi nikla next day phir se job ki talaash shuru, aise hi teen din guzar gaye wednesday ko ek unknown number ka call aaya ek arabi ladki sheran ne kaha ki mujhe thursday ko phir se manager se milna hai final interview ke liye, mai khushi se jhoom uttha job se zayada to us lebanony ko dekhne ki khushi,next day phir se saj dhaj k formal kapado ke saath tie laga kar pahunch gaya on time. it was thursday - half day in kuwait sabhi log waha casual kapdo mai tthe jeans t-shirt, mai hi ek akela unse alag lag raha tha, secretry ne waiting room mai bithaya boli manager abhi aaye nahi hai thursday ko woh late hi aate hai.. mera dil jor jor se dhadak raha ttha soch raha ttha aaj mere mann ki haalat kya hogi kya pata. mai waha 12 baje gaya ttha intezaar karte karte dopahar ke 1:30 baj gaye mai baar baar apni ghadi dekh raha tha mujhse us Arab mard ko dekhne ka intezaar bardasht nahi ho raha tha, tabhi darwaze per manager ki entry huee yaaro kaise bayan karu maine jo dekha woh, kehte hai "First Impession is Last Impression" lekin us din yeh galat saabit hua bcoz usaka to second Impression aisa tha ki bas, usane tight blue color ki low waist jeans pehni thi or us per white color ki sleevless skin tight t-shirt , ab to usaka aadhe se zyaada zism dikh raha ttha, usake jism ki ek ek muscle apna interview khud b khud de rahii tthi lund ke jagah per accha khaasa ubhaar dikh raha ttha, gora mard white t shirt mai zism halke kaali color ke baalo se bhara, aur uper se sleevless jisase usake pure ke pure gore hairy muscle tight haath dikh rahe the, wohee saaf suthra trimmed frech cut chehra gel laga ke baalo ko chhepka ke pecche kiya hua tha usake kandho se haatho ka joint aise lag raha tha jaise kisi ne cchoti cchoti bol rakhi ho ek tight line dikh rahi thi jaise zabardasti kandho se haatho ko mazbooti se cchipkaya hua ho, coler less t-shirt hone se gori aur bhari bhari healthy gardan se halke halke short seene ke baal bahar aate dikh rahe tthe jisase mujhe yakeen ho gaya ki he is a hairy chested guy, jab use pehli baar dekha tha to wo official kapdo mai lipta hua tha is baar usake jism ka ek ek hissa dikh raha ttha usaki cchodi cchati do hisso mai bati huee tthi usake dono nipples ke neecche ke dono U cuts saaf saaf dikh rahe the usake haath gardan chehra sub ek color ka bikul gora kahi pe koi nishaan nahii koi streches nahimujhe hi hello keh kar apne room mai le gaya, under jaate hi ek masti bhari perfunme ki khushboo ne mujhe behaal kar diya , usako dekh dekh kar ek hi baat dimaag mai aa rahi ki bhaad mai jaaye naukri aj to isaka lund choos hi leta hoo baad mai jo hoga dekha jayega, usane mujhe batay ki chairmen ne mera resume accept kiya aur aaj mujhe thoda practical karke usako batana hai taki woh mujhe final remarks dekar appoint kar le maine sehmati jatayee tabhi darwaze per knock karke secretry under aaye aur boli ki aaj half day hai sub log ja rahe hai , farrash (teaboy) yahii per hai aur manager ki permission lekar chali gaye maine ghadi mai dekha 2 baj rahe the maine soccha kaash aaj isake sath kuch aisa ho jaye jo mujhe zindagi bhar yaad rahe, ek pal mere deemag mai bahut saari shetaniyat aaye, bahut ideas aaye lekin darr gaya arab country hai arab mard hai yaha to pata nahi kya ho jaaye, ek pal mai kahi badnaami ka kalank lekar waapas apne desh aana pada to apne logo se kya kahunga aisee baate to aag ki tarah failati hai isliye maine in sub khayalo ko apne deemag se niklana hi ucchit samjha, usaka naam mohammed swidan tha, usane mujhe apni seat per bethne ko bola aur kuch accounts ki files open ki aur test lene laga, mushkeel se 20 minute hue the ki farrash under aaya or bola ki kuch chahiye to ruke warna jaye, swidan ne mujhe kuch lene ko bola maine sirf paani manga budha farrash pani dekar woh bhi manager ki permission lekar chala gaya, manager ne usake peeche peeche jakar main darwaze ka lock kar diya, ab pure office mai sirf hum dono tthe mujhe aisa lag raha tha jaise step by step sub kuch mai jaisa chahta hu waisa hi ho raha hai kya aaj mai cchud jaunga? kya woh pehal karega? ya mujhe hi use ishara karna padega? isii tarah ke kaee bebuniyaad sawaal mere mann mai chal rahe the. swidan lock karke wapas aya aur usakii coffee ka mug utha ke room ke under chakkar laga raha tha maine usako bula kar kaha ki ek file password maang rahi hai woh mere nazdeek jaise hi aaya maine thoda side hone ki koshish ki jisase woh barabar dekh sake lekin is chakkar mai use kursii ki halki si tthokar lagi aur usake hath se coffee cchalak kar mere shirt or keyboeard ke uper gir gaye,mai hadbada ker jaldi se uttha usane coffee ka mug side per rakha aur hum dono ek dusare ko sorry bolte hue table per padi cchezo ko side karne lage mere shirt ki taraf dekh kar usane mujhe phir se sorry kaha aur washroom ki taraf ishara karte hue kaha main use kar sakta huu usake room mai hi usaka personnal bathroom tha mai fauran gaya dekha ki pure shirt per coffee tthi white shirt bilkul ganda ho gaya ttha maine thode se paani se saaf kiya tabhi dimaag mai ek harqat huee ek zabardast plan sujhaato be continued... ......

uncle

Hi dosto,i m pankaj from punjab,i want to share a experience with u abt my sex with my uncle.my hindi is not to good,but i try to write it in hindi. Aaj se karib teen month pahale me apne ek dost ke ghar gaya tha uske ghar me uske papa mummy aur vo teen log rah rahe the uske papa ki umar karib 45 sal ki hogi uska ghar bahut chhota tha aur garmi karn sab log terries par hi sote the rat ko khana khane ke baad anty ne hamara bister terries par lagaya mera bister middle me tha ek aur mere dost ka bister tha aur dusri aur uske papa ka. Rat ke karib 1 baje meri nind khuli toh uncle mere feets par apna foot ragad rahe the usne sirf lungi pahani thi aur maine barmuda pahan rakha tha vo dhire dhire apna foot upar ki aur la rahe the, fir usne apna ek hath meri jangh ke upar raha aur sahelane lage, fir usne barmude ke upar se mere lund par hath firane lage muje bhi maja aa raha tha mera lund pura 8inch lamba ho gaya tha jab usne mere lund par hath rakha to use pata chal gaya ki muje bhi maja aa raha he. Fir usne mere barmude ke undar hath dalkar mere lund ko apne hath me le kar sahelane lage aur mera hath pakadkar apne lund par rakh diya aur me bhi uske lund ko sahelane laga.Fir vo apni lungi puri uthakar meri taraf apni gand rakhkar ulta let gaye aur pichhe se mera lund pakad kar uski gand par rakh diya maine bahut koshish ki lekin mera lund uski gand me nahi ghus raha tha fir maine thoda thuk lagaya to thoda sahi andar gaya fir vo sidhe ho gaye aur apna t-shirt nikal di, uski puri body par ek bhi bal nahi tha aur uske boobs bhi ladakiyo jaise the fir usne mera muh uske boobs par rakh diya aur me uski nipple chusne laga karib 10 minut ke bad usne mera muh dusre boobs par rakh diya aur me usko bhi chusne laga, fir usne mera lund apne muh me rakh kar chusne lage mere pure lund par thuk lagakar chikna kar diya aur pura lund muh me dalkar undar bahar karne lage aur me uske lund ko hath me rakh kar muth marne laga thodi der bad maine apna pura pani uske muh me nikal diya aur thodi der bad usne bhi apna pani nikal diya fir hum dono so gaye. Dusre din subah mera dost aur uski mummy sabji lene market chale gaye aur usne kaha "hame do khante lag jayege ".mein subah brush karke hall me baith kar tv dekhne laga vaha par uncle bhi tv dekh rahe the fir uncle khade huve aur door par stopper laga diya. Fir apni lungi nikal di aur muje apne pas bulaya aur muje bhi pura nanga kar diya aur mere pure badan par kiss karne lage fir muje bathroom me le gaye aur mere pure badan par sabun lagakar muje nahelane lage mera lund hath me lekar uspar sabun lagane lage fir usne mere lund ka supara nikal kar achchhi tarah sabun se saf kiya fir maine bhi uske pure badan par sabun lagaya uske lund par fir uski gand par uski gand bahut badi aur gori thi jis par ek bhi bal nahi tha.Fir uncle ne shower chalu kiya aur hum dono shower ke niche nahane lage uncle ne mera lund muh me liya muje to bahut maja aa raha tha shower chalu tha aur mera lund uske muh me tha. Fir hum bathroom se bahar aa gaye aur uncle ne mere lund par oil lagaya mere pure lund ko oil me nahela diya fir usne muje uski gand par oil lagane ko kaha maine uski gand ke hole par oil lagaya aur meri ek ungli oil vali karke uski gand me ghusa di aur andar bahar karne laga fir dusri ungli bhi ghusa di fir uncle ne kaha ab lund bhi ghusade to maine apna 8inch lumba lund uski gand me ghusa diya lund par oil laga hone se turant under ghus gaya ab me lund andar bahar karne laga aur ek hath aage karke uncle ke lund ko muth marne laga thodi der bad maine apna pura pani uski gand me nikal diya tabhi uncle ne bhi apna pani nikal diya. Kyo dosto kaisi lagi meri story?meri hindi itni nice nahi hai, bot i hope u like it. thanx,wait for ur rply.

be naam

"I love you, Peter," I whispered into the back of a head with a mass of black curls lying on the pillow next to me.
I thought he was asleep but his head turned, eyelids fluttered open revealing grey/blue eyes. His mouth moved.
"That's easy to say," he said.
"On the contrary," I said. "It's very difficult to say – and mean it."
He turned over so that we were pressed together, lips. chest, loins, thighs. I could feel the sudden hardening of his prick against mine. I wanted him to come, to watch his head thrown back, exposing his beautiful, beautiful throat, to see his mouth open, his face suddenly become ugly as the orgasm took him and then, afterwards, grow beautiful again as he smiled at me and murmur my name, 'Kevin'.
But I knew we couldn't. As he moved the bed creaked. Anything rhythmic would make a corresponding complaint – and Peter wasn't exactly a quiet cummer.
And next door, in the living room, sleeping probably not very comfortably on the sofa, I'd had to do it myself once, so I knew, was our guest. Our straight guest, Peter's cousin, Douglas.
Of course he knew we were gay, knew we were lovers. Why else would we live together, share the same double bed? But knowing the fact and hearing the rhythmic pounding of our bed springs, the jarring of our bed frame, and moreover the cry of orgasmic release as Peter came was not the same thing as 'knowing',
That was rubbing his face in it, almost forcing him to participate, and that neither of us really wanted. Thank Heavens Douglas was only staying until the weekend. He'd have a job by then. He'd have a room, of sorts, of his own by then. Or so he said.
Trouble was, Peter was too generous with our flat. No that wasn't fair. We'd discussed it together and I'd agreed that it was the least we could do. Gently I held Peter's cock, hard in my hand, gently I rubbed it. The bed squeaked in protest. I stopped, groaned and whispered, "We'll find some other time."
Peter kissed me, pushing his tongue and I opened to his intrusion. Our tongues entwined. Juices exchanged. We forced our groins together, as close as possible without being actually inside each other, though that's where I'd have liked to be. The bed, traitor, groaned.
We gave up and I got up.
To get to the kitchen we have to walk through the living room. Wearing a T-shirt and Y-fronts (I normally don't wear anything but after all we did have a visitor) I opened the door and peered in. The curtains were drawn but in the half light, I could make out the shape on the sofa wrapped in a blanket which covered most of him except for the top of his head. Tight, dark curls, but as unlike my Peter's as possible.
"Wakey, wakey, Doug," I said cruelly. "Your morning call. Do you want tea or coffee?"
There was no response and for a moment I pondered the thought that Peter and I could probably have had our morning love-fest without disturbing our visitor. Still it was too late for regret now. I went through towards the door to the kitchen. Half way there I paused. There was something unnaturally still about Doug's position on the couch.
"Douglas," I said.
Again there was no movement. I went closer. Some sort of stain was on the blanket, dark against the light material. A feeling of dread grabbed hold of me, like a hand clutching my chest. I lifted the corner of the blanket, revealing his naked body. Blood seeped out from a wound in his chest. I thought he was dead but saw that there was slight up and down movement of the chest, each one pumping out another pulse of blood. Somewhere I had read that after death the body doesn't bleed any more.
"Peter," I shouted. "Come here."
His voice came back from our room. "You come here. I've got something for you."
"Don't arse about. Douglas is hurt."
The telephone was on the coffee table, a step from the couch. I picked up the receiver and pressed the buttons, 999.
Almost immediately a woman's voice answered. "Emergency service. Which service do you require."
"Ambulance. There's a guy bleeding to death here."
Everything seemed to go slowly, so slowly. Our address given, she repeating it and getting it wrong. Probably my fault as I was gabbling almost hysterically. Peter joined me, staring down.
"Jesus," he said. He looked at me with frightened eyes.
"What shall I do?" I asked the woman on the phone.
"Try to stop the bleeding," she said. "Put a pad over the wound. Something clean."
I ran into the bedroom and opened one of the drawers. Handkerchiefs and underwear. Nothing big enough to make a pad. I pulled open another, spilling the contents on the floor. Shirts. That would make one. I grabbed a white one and hurried back. Peter was still standing there, looking down.
"Put some clothes on," I said.
"You're not dressed."
"At least I'm not naked."
I folded the shirt into a wad and placed it on the wound, pressing down. Douglas groaned but his eyes didn't open.
"Get dressed," I said. "And bring me a pair of jeans."
Peter scuttled back into the bedroom.
Time passed slowly. I didn't know how hard to press. I didn't know how long the ambulance would be. Peter came back in wearing a jumper, jeans and a pair of trainers. I noticed he wasn't wearing socks.
"Where's my jeans?" I asked.
"Sorry," he said and went back. I heard him mutter, "Christ."
At last in the distance I heard the siren. Coming closer and eventually stopping in the road outside. "Quick, Open the front door."
Peter seemed in a complete daze but he did as I asked. There was a brief conversation and then two paramedics came in. I was still pressing down on the wound and still hadn't managed to put on my jeans.
It was a relief giving way to the professionals who put on a real pad, tutted a bit, did things with blood pressure and took him towards the door on a stretcher. "Are you all right?" asked one to me, pointing to the blood on my T-shirt.
"It's his," I said.
"You realise we'll have to inform the police."
"Of course, though we've no idea what happened."
They left, the siren starting again as soon as the ambulance moved off.
Much too late I pulled on my jeans. We went into the kitchen and I made coffee, hot and strong and sweet.
"What do we tell the police?" asked Peter, his face still pale, his curls forming a dark aureole around his long face.
"Tell them? Why the truth. We don't know what happened. He wasn't home when we went to bed. We didn't hear him come in."
"But us. In the same bed."
"It's not breaking the law. We're both of age."
"But he's only eighteen."
"We haven't done anything wrong." I touched his neck then, feeling him shiver, took hold of him, wrapping him in my arms, kissing him.
"What happened to Douglas?" he asked
"I don't know. The police will find out."
Mentioning the police didn't make it any easier, so I repeated "We've done nothing wrong."
Nevertheless when the doorbell suddenly rang, strident and insistent, we both jumped.
"I'll let them in," I said. "They'll sort it out."
But there was only one police constable on the doorstep in uniform. He looked young and had an embryonic moustache as if he was trying to make himself appear more mature.
"Good morning, sir," he said. "We had a call from the hospital paramedics, about a man who's been wounded. Can you let me have some details?"
I asked him in, introduced myself, Kevin Clarke, and my friend, Peter Curtis.
"And the man?"
"He's my cousin," said Peter. "Douglas Patterson. But we don't know anything about it, the wounding I mean."
I explained why he was living – staying with us – because he was looking for a job in London. His parents, Peter's aunt and uncle, lived in the West Country, in Cheltenham and Douglas had decided on journalism as his chosen profession. He'd spent a year working on a local paper but decided that he wanted more – a real newspaper, he called it. He'd got some interviews, sent examples of his work to various publications and was hoping to be offered a job. In fact he said he'd been more or less promised one.
"And last night?" asked the policeman.
"He went out," said Peter. "Didn't say where he was going. We didn't even hear him come back."
"I found him this morning, bleeding," I said. "Phoned for an ambulance."
"Where was he?"
"On the sofa," I said pointing. "He was covered by a blanket. I noticed the stain. The paramedics took it away."
"And you two? Where were you?"
"In there," I said, indicating our bedroom.
The constable looked in, took in the fact there was just one bed, and nodded. The covers had been thrown back when Peter had come out to see what I was calling about. Thank Heaven there were no incriminatory stains on the sheets. His expression didn't change. It was impossible to know what he felt, whether he approved or disapproved, but I could hear him reporting to his superiors. 'A couple of shirt-lifters, sir. Fucking each other while the cousin, a boy of eighteen was murdered in the next room'.
"If you wouldn't mind," he said. "I'd like you to come down to the station and make a statement. It's a formality, that's all, just routine."
They'd sent the office boy. Now he wanted to hand it over to the boss. But we could hardly object without appearing suspicious. I kept telling myself, 'We have nothing to hide'.
"Just let me change my T-shirt," I said "I got some of Douglas' blood on me when I was staunching the wound."
"That's all right, sir. Just leave the old one here. I expect the CID will want to have a look-around later."
I could see his point. Until Douglas could say what had happened, if he ever did, this was an unexplained attack and of course the only people who had been around were Peter and me. It didn't make me feel any better of course and Peter looked really rather ill.
On the way out I touched his arm. "There'll be no problem," I said. "It'll all be sorted out soon." I hope I sounded optimistic and reassuring though I didn't feel particularly so.
I'd been to the police station before, of course. When Peter had been kidnapped in the great Canaletto mystery. Entering it again didn't give me much of a good feeling. The entrance lobby was just as unwelcoming. The constable asked us to wait for a while and we sat on the benches in silence for what seemed a long time.
When he returned he asked us to come with him. It almost seemed like déjà vu as we followed the constable through the door beside the counter, along the corridor and towards the office that I knew belonged to Detective Inspector Simpson. I remembered the name plate on the door, black paint on a piece of brown wood. The only difference was that, this time, Peter was with me,
D.I. Simpson was, as I remembered him, in his forties, hair greying and his chin a trifle jowelly. He was dressed in the same dark blue suit with a brighter blue tie fastening his white shirt, or perhaps he had more than one similar suit and tie for his 'office wear'. He looked very serious though his tone when he spoke was polite.
"Mr Clarke and Mr Curtis," he said as we entered, "this is a strange affair. It seems that you are destined to be connected with crimes."
I wasn't sure whether he was making a joke or not so I said nothing.
"Now," he continued,"You won't object if the constable takes notes, I assume. He says that you didn't hear Douglas Patterson come in last night. Nor – and this seems most odd – did you hear any sounds even though he was stabbed in the chest."
"That's right," said Peter.
"Perhaps you can tell me the exact sequence of events from the last time you saw Douglas alive."
"He was going out yesterday evening," I said. "He said he didn't want any food, as he'd be eating out. He didn't say where he was going or with whom."
"What time was this?" asked Simpson.
I had no real idea but Peter said, "About seven o'clock."
"Was this usual?"
"Him going out on his own? Of course. We didn't do much together. He was just staying with us until he got his job and somewhere permanent to live."
"So he went out at seven. What did you do?"
"Had something to eat. Cleaned up a bit – Douglas wasn't exactly a tidy person. Watched the telly. I think that's all."
"Made love," I added, more out of an urge to shock than of real necessity. Simpson was treating us as suspects, as I supposed he had to, though I didn't like the idea. "Then went to bed."
"In that order?" he asked, obviously not shocked at all. "Most people do it the other way round."
"We tend to do it whenever the spirit moves us," said Peter, "or perhaps I should say, the flesh moves us. Last night it was on the sofa, or at least it started on the sofa and ended up on the rug in front of the fire."
"Quite so. This would be the sofa where Douglas slept and where you found him this morning? Could you just tell me what happened."
"I got up," I said. "Was going to the kitchen to make us some tea, but of course I had to go through the living room. I spoke to Douglas,can' t remember what I said, probably asked him if he wanted a cup. He didn't reply. Then I noticed he seemed unnaturally still and saw the stain. Uncovered him and saw the wound. Phoned for an ambulance."
"What did you do while you were waiting?"
"The woman on the emergency line told me to cover the wound and try to stop the bleeding, which I did. The ambulance arrived an they took him off to the hospital. Then your policeman arrived."
"What do you think could have happened?" asked Simpson.
I didn't say anything. I didn't want Peter to speak either but he did. "He could have been stabbed outside, staggered in and collapsed on the sofa."
"Without calling for help? Anyway he was stabbed in the room," I said. "For one thing he was naked. He'd hardly take off his clothes if he'd been stabbed. And then I noticed the cut was through the blanket. He'd been stabbed on the sofa. What I don't understand is why he didn't cry out. Surely we'd have heard him if he had."
"There's another thing to be explained," said Simpson. "I spoke to the hospital before you came along. He's . . ."
"How is he?" interrupted Peter.
"Luckily the blade or whatever was used, missed his heart by a fraction. He's lost a lot of blood but they're pumping that into him and they think he'll make a good recovery. But he's still unconscious which is worrying and there's another thing . . ." He paused.
We waited.
"He's had anal sex. The semen is there."
"That can't be right," Peter said. "Douglas is straight. Straighter than straight. He wouldn't have allowed anyone to . . ." He paused and then finished, "to fuck him."
"I'm sure you realise that we have to eliminate both of you from this. After all two gays and a straight and then the straight has anal sex, before – I assume it was before – being stabbed."
Peter looked at me.
"We've nothing to hide," I said.
They took swabs from inside our mouths for DNA analysis. And then we were driven home.
Outside the flat was a blue Cortina. As we arrived a familiar figure got out from the other car. It was my old 'friend' Detective Sergeant Wallace. Or rather he was my friend, Ross's, friend. Ross is an incredible guy. He seems to know everything, know everyone and get news before anyone else. He also has an extreme proclivity for 'rough' trade with which he is incredibly successful. I knew from previous experience that Sergeant Wallace, a burly man who looked anything but gay, was one of these. He had another younger man with him, Detective Constable Hunter, dark and morose looking.
D.S. Wallace was, however, with his 'official' hat on, though actually in civvies and hatless. He nodded to me and said he'd been delegated to look over the flat. There wasn't much to see in fact. He took my bloody T-shirt and bagged it. He inspected the living room, examining the sofa, noticing, as he did so, that a chair had been pushed out of place as the sitting side was against the bookcase and the wrong way round. The rug in front of the fire was also rumpled.
I explained the struggle which Peter and I had had in our lovemaking and he nodded, though I noticed the D.C. made an entry in his notebook.
Douglas's discarded clothes, designer stuff mostly lay in a pile on the floor beside the sofa. They included jeans, underwear, a sweater, socks and trainers. Wallace instructed his D.C. to bag these also. "Is there anything else?" he asked.
Peter pointed to a suitcase in the corner of the room. Here were more of Douglas's clothes, mostly dirty and awaiting a visit to the launderette. They took those as well.
At last we were left alone.
And were able to discuss the situation.
The only thing we could think of was that Douglas had brought someone home, someone who had raped him then stuck a knife into him.
The only thing that didn't make sense was that we had heard nothing. Surely Douglas wouldn't have remained silent while an alien cock had been forced up his arse – and then a knife stuck into him. People just didn't not make a noise in such circumstances. The whole thing made no sense.
Then the awful truth struck us. To people like D.I. Simpson it would have made perfect sense for us, if we had wished to, to hold him down, rape him, perhaps gagging him beforehand and then stab him to stop him telling.
On the other hand, as I pointed out, if that had been the scenario, why would I have phoned for an ambulance in the morning.
"Unless," suggested Peter, not very helpfully, "we had thought he was already dead."
"It's a nightmare," I said.
The telephone rang.
It was Ross.
"Heard you've got a bit of a problem," he said.
I knew there'd be no point in asking but I said it anyway. "How did you know?"
"The word goes round," he said vaguely and I knew I'd get no more on that account.
"I think we're suspects, both for raping him and also for plunging a knife into his chest." My words were meant to be jocular but underneath was a certain anxiety which Ross no doubt realised.
"How is he?" asked Ross. At least there were some things he didn't know.
"D.I. Simpson said he was still unconscious but they thought he'd be all right. They've given him lots of transfusions. "
There was a pause from the other end. Peter brought me a cup of coffee and I kissed him on the neck as he put it down.
"I wonder . . ." said Ross.
"What?"
"I'll have a word with my friend, Wallace."
"You've just missed him. He was here taking samples and making notes."
"The number of samples he's given me."
"I don't wish to know that," I said.
"OK. I'll be in touch. Stay loose."
"What's that meant to mean?" I asked but he'd rung off.
The day had started traumatically but life, as they say, has to go on. Peter went to the art shop he owns in the High Street and no doubt fiddled with hopeful artists' daubs and fooled the public into thinking they were masterpieces. Peter has great charm and a supreme power of persuasion. He can talk me into doing practically anything.
I went to work, librarian in the local library, and excused myself saying there'd been a sudden accident in the family, which was almost true.
Peter and I had arranged to meet after my day was over. The hospital, a huge Palladian style building with pillared portico and a clutter of other buildings of more modern design, behind with signs saying things like Orthotics, Neutropaenic Unit, Maxillofacial and other incomprehensible medical conditions.
I have always hated the smell, the look of hospitals. Outsides were bad enough, rows of windows behind which people were sick and probably dying. Inside, all antiseptic and white paint. Staff moving around purposely on errands of dire horror or carrying vessels which probably contained body parts or worse.
The receptionist, though, who saw us was plump and sympathetic. She looked Douglas up on a computer screen. "You won't be able to see him," she said. "He's under constant supervision and you're not close relatives. The last report on him was that he's stable."
"He's my cousin," explained Peter.
The woman nodded sympathetically. "You can go and see the ward sister," she said, "though I doubt she'll be able to tell you much more at the moment. De Montfort ward." She pointed to a sign which showed the way. "Just follow the green arrows."
We ran along corridors. It seemed a long, long way but eventually we came to a pair of swing doors and a sign over them which read, 'De Montfort Ward'. In a little room to the right there was a card which could be slipped in and out. It read: Sister Yvonne Grant.
I knocked and a woman in nurse's uniform, brisk, efficient-looking asked us what we wanted.
"Douglas Patterson is my cousin," said Peter.
"His parents are with him at the moment," she said. She pointed across the ward where there was another room and a window in the wall. We peered through the window. Douglas lay in the bed, his chest enveloped in a bandage. His face looked much younger than his eighteen years. His eyes were closed and around the right one spread an ugly dark bruise. Tubes came from his nose and arm and a drip stand stood beside him. A green blip on a VDU screen traced out the spidery green evidence of Douglas' life. As each one progressed across there was a 'ping' audible even to us outside.
The two adults sitting beside the bed were of course Peter's aunt and uncle, she white, he black. I could see how Douglas had taken more after his father though there was something of his mother – perhaps around the mouth.
"Can we go in, sister?" asked Peter.
"I don't think he needs any more visitors at the moment," she said.
Peter knocked on the window and the two adults looked up. The woman said something to the man and he got up and came out. He looked if anything angry and his first words confirmed this.
"What have you two bastards done to him?" he said.
The sister looked anxious. "Mr Patterson," she said. "Please."
He paid her no attention. "My son's a good boy, a straight boy. He comes up and stays with you two and look at him now."
Peter tried to say something. "We've done nothing. We don't know – " but was cut off.
"If he dies, I'll kill you, both of you. Fucking queers."
Sister Grant said, "Douglas is not going to die. We've replaced the blood he's lost. Soon he'll come round, I'm sure. You must talk to the doctor, and please don't make a scene." She turned to us. "Perhaps it would be better if you left."
Mr Patterson, growled something which sounded like, 'Bloody poufs' but was interrupted by a call from inside the ward. His wife was bending over the bed.
Mr Patterson and the sister went in hurriedly while we stayed looking on from the doorway. It seemed that Douglas' eyes had fluttered open, that he had said something, was trying to sit up. The sister tried to restrain him but when he was insistent, propped him up with the pillows. From the door we could see he looked bewildered but recognised his parents.
"Mum, Dad," he said. "What are you doing here?" His voice was weak but quite clear. "Where am I?" Then, as if suddenly realising, "My chest hurts."
"It's all right, darling," said Mrs Patterson. "You've had an accident. You're in hospital, but everything is going to be all right."
"Can you tell us what happened, son," said his father.
"What's happened?" asked Douglas.
"Who did it?"
"Who did what?"
Mr Patterson pointed to us at the door. "Did they do it?"
Douglas' eyes peered, focused and recognised. "Hi," he said. "Do what? They haven't done anything to me."
I could see things were becoming complicated. "Let's go," I suggested. Peter agreed.
Once out of he hospital, I phoned Ross. I could hear his phone ringing but he didn't answer. Usually if he was out he'd switch on his answer phone but I assumed he must have forgotten. Then, just as I was about to ring off, the receiver was lifted – or at least it sounded as if it was knocked off.
"Ross," I said. "Kevin here."
There was a noise from the other end – a sort of rhythmic grunting,
"Ross?" I said doubtfully.
"Ugh . . . busy . . .ugh . . . at . . . ugh . . . moment." A pause, then, in a rush. "I'll get back. . . ugh . . . to you . . . ugh." The receiver was replaced.
"He's occupied," I told Peter.
"Perhaps we could do the same," said Peter.
"Finish what we hardly started this morning."
But it was not to be. And that was mainly our fault.
There was food enough at the flat but no wine, so we called into the Fag and Fishmonger, our local pub, to buy a bottle. Expensive way of buying wine but who cares. The Fag and Fishmonger wasn't gay, in spite of its name, but it was crowded. Some people we knew by sight, and others by name. Some offered us drinks but we said we weren't stopping.
Then a short, rather plump guy with the unlikely name of Curtis Pigg came up. "Pigg by name and pig by looks," Peter had once unkindly remarked but the poor chap had certain porcine characteristics, his skin had a pink quality and his nose was snub so that the nostrils appeared pronouncedly. I believe he was some sort of writer though I didn't know what sort of things he wrote.
"Douglas not with you?" he asked. The question was superfluous as it was obvious he was not.
We didn't explain his absence.
"Saw him last night," he said. Now that was interesting. "I promised to try to get him a contact with one of the major dailies." He reached into his wallet and found a scrap of paper. "And this guy wants him to get in touch. Give this to him when you see him," he said. on it were scrawled a name and a phone number. I put it in my jacket pocket.
"Was he here long last night? "I asked casually.
"No," said Pigg. ""He went off to a club with someone. Older guy. Bit shifty looking but that's what you find with reporters. I think he was a reporter."
"Douglas would go anywhere with a journalist," said Peter. "Did he say where they were going?"
"Checking up on him?" asked Pigg.
"Well, we feel vaguely responsible. "
"'Scribblers' , I think they said. Noted hangout for hacks. It's just off Old Compton Street, I think."
Clutching our bottle, we went out.
The evening was drawing in. Already the sky was more grey than blue and the streetlights were popping on one by one, or suddenly whole streets of them. Our nearest tube station was Chalk Farm and that was only seven stops on the West End branch of the Northern Line to Leicester Square, the nearest stop for Old Compton Street.
"What do you think?" I asked Peter. "Home or see what we can find out about 'Scribblers' ?" Personally I was drawn to 'home' but thought I ought to leave the decision to Peter. After all Douglas was his cousin.
I could see, from the pensive frown on his forehead, that Peter was similarly divided but when he said "Shall we try to contact Ross again?" that decided me.
"Let's do something on our own for once," I said and we bought tickets for the West End.
Old Compton Street is probably the centre of the Soho gay community. Prince Edward Theatre is located on the street. Until 2004, the long-running production of Mamma Mia!, a musical based upon the songs of ABBA, which has a cult status amongst gay men, was showing at the theatre. When Mamma Mia! moved to larger premises in another part of the west end, a production of Mary Poppins moved in, which has an even more camp following.
One notable pub on the street is the Admiral Duncan pub, which in 1999 was the site of a nail bomb attack which killed three people (ironically they were all straight) and injured over a hundred.
"You don't think 'Scribblers' is a gay club," I said on the journey.
"Douglas is straight."
"I know, but considering what happened, the rape and everything . . ."
"Douglas wouldn't know that it's such a gay area," said Peter.
The West End was bouncing, but then it would be at the start of the weekend. Crowds in Leicester Square, laughing, queuing up for cinemas or just walking around looking at the lights. Up Charing Cross Road, across Shaftsbury Avenue to Cambridge Circus, left into Old Compton Street. And here we were reminded of our separate gay single existences before we settled down to married bliss together. Gays, single, in couples or in raucous groups greeted each other. Nostalgia personified.
We had no idea where the 'Scribbles' club was so we stopped a pair of guys and asked. We must have been obvious because we were immediately warned that 'Scribbles' wasn't gay. I muttered something about journalism and we were pointed in the right direction. "If you don't find anything interesting there," one of them said. "See us at 'Brownies', on the corner over there. We'll be there until midnight. Bye, dolls."
"Could be the best offer we have all night," said Peter.
"You haven't heard mine yet," I said.
We found 'Scribbles' identified by a small brass plate against a door in an unprepossessing brick-built building with nothing special to distinguish it. It certainly didn't look very exciting. We looked at each other, shrugged and I pushed at the door. It didn't open. There was a bell push and a speaking grid.
"Nothing ventured," I said, and pressed the bell.
A growly voice which sounded as if it belonged to a muscle-bound bouncer said, "Members only. What is your membership number?"
"We're not members but we'd like to be."
"This is for journalists only," said the voice. "Do you have your NUJ cards?"
"NUJ?" I whispered to Peter.
"National Union of Journalists, " said Peter. "Say we've left them at home."
I did but it was no use. Politely but firmly we were told that no NUJ card, no entry.
"What a waste of time and effort," said Peter as we tramped back, "when we could have been . . ." He was interrupted by my mobile going off.
It was Ross, recovered, apparently, from whatever energetic activity he had been indulging in previously.
"Where are you?" he asked. "I phoned home but you're either in bed fornicating or out. Anyway you're not answering."
I explained about 'Scribbles', and about Douglas coming round in hospital but being unable to remember anything of what happened.
"That confirms it. Date rape. I'll explain when I see you."
"Complete waste of time coming here," I said.
"Just hang on. I'm sure I've got a card for 'Scribbles'. I'll meet you there."
"Are you sure you can manage it?" I knew how sometimes Ross's 'encounters' left him a trifle immobile. "Was it Wallace?"
"That was earlier when I suggested he get the hospital to check for toxins. The last one was a little electrician with the most huge todger you've ever seen. I'm surprised he doesn't fall over when he has an erection. Anyway hang around somewhere. There's clubs you can go to to wait."
I marvelled at his stamina. "Find us in 'Brownies'. We've already made a contact there."
"Hm. You want to watch yourself in that club. Young lads can get themselves into serious trouble in a place like that."
"Young lads! We're twenty-seven and twenty-nine, for God's sake. And you're a fine one to talk about getting into trouble. The risks you take."
I got no answer; he'd rung off.
"'Brownies', " I said to Peter.
The club was one of those multicoloured lights places, host to a mix of young and old, beauties and beasts, males and females with a couple of straight people thrown in just to confuse us! The music tended to be recent popular type stuff with some old classics included now and again. It cost us a couple of quid each to get in.
The club had two bars and we found our 'friends' propping up one of them. They squealed when they saw us, out of excitement I assumed, though it might have been from horror. They bought us a couple of beers, the prices weren't as outrageous as I expected, this being London and the West End. Brian and Eddie, they were called (the guys, not the beers), or it might have been Eddie and Brian. They were almost interchangeable, both bleached blond with pouting mouths lightly touched with lipstick. But they were friendly enough.
Gossip came quickly. Robbie Williams was expected here that evening, but then he'd been expected every Friday for the last however many weeks and had never turned up. Once Kylie Minogue appeared; that was true – everyone said so though no one had actually personally seen her, but they knew a friend who had.
Eventually the conversation turned to us. What did we want to go to 'Scribblers' for, apparently a deadly dull, straight sort of place only frequented by straight trolls.
We explained about Douglas being attacked and that we were trying to follow the apparent route he had taken the night before. They found that interesting. Who was Douglas?
"My cousin," said Peter.
"There was a Duggie in here last night," said Eddie (or possibly Brian), "But it couldn't have been your cousin. He was black."
"And gorgeous," added the other.
"My cousin's black," said Peter. "My uncle's from Kenya. But Douglas wouldn't have been here. He's straight."
"This one certainly wasn't," said Brian (or Eddie). "To my certain knowledge as he proved in the restroom. What a dick! Delicious." He sighed in remembrance and licked his lips.
"Slut," said his companion. "You'd suck off anyone."
"I have my standards."
"Length being all of them."
"And width."
This didn't seem to be getting us anywhere so I asked one if he wanted to dance. Peter took the other. As we ground our pelvises together more or less in time to the music, my partner asked if Peter and I were a couple.
"Yes," I said. "For three years – and faithful."
My partner sighed gustily into my ear. "Still," he said, "at least I've got some reaction." It was true; our gyrations had produced a pretty hard erection in my trousers. "I suppose you don't fancy a trip to the boys' room."
"Sorry," I said.
As the music ended we went back to the bar and I bought a round of drinks. We were about to get on the dance floor again, having swapped partners when Ross arrived.
I saw his tall, thin figure making its way through the crowd, his long, thin face topped with short blond hair. His lips, which were wide and full, were smiling.
"Hi, Brian. Hi, Eddie," he said, probably to the right ones. How did he know them? They weren't his type at all. "I hope you haven't been corrupting my boys."
"No such luck," said the one who had danced with me.
"Right," said Ross to us. "Time to go to 'Scribbles'. "
"You won't face much temptation there."
"It's information we're after."
This time there was no problem about getting in. Ross just announced a rather complicated number and was immediately greeted by a welcome. "Mr Ross, Haven't seen you for a long time."
"I have two guests," said Ross.
"That will be perfectly all right, sir." The man who met us looked exactly what we expected from the sound of his voice, big, broad-shouldered and muscled. "If you wouldn't mind signing your guests in," he said indicating a leather-bound book on the counter.
Ross scribbled his name in the 'Members' column and then stood back to allow Peter and me to write out names in the 'Guests', together with our address. "Check yesterday and see if Douglas's name is there and who signed him in," said Ross to me while he took the bouncer aside and seemed to be chatting pleasantly to him, as if they were old friends. Perhaps they were. He looked big and butch enough to be on Ross's list of preferred sex partners.
I shuddered at the thought but did as he said, turning the page back to the day before. There it was. Douglas Patterson and the member's name, Max Verhoest
"And look," said Peter, "Verhoest is in tonight as well."
We went in. This club couldn't have been more different from 'Brownies', It was rather like my idea of one of the old-fashioned men only clubs, with leather armchairs scattered around the floor, a snooker table at one end and a bar at the other. Several men were lined up at the bar, others dozed in armchairs. There was no music and the heavy smell of cigar smoke filled the air. Perhaps younger journalists came in later; at the moment the club looked positively geriatric. Dressed as we were casually, I felt a little ill at ease. Peter looked uncomfortable though it didn't seem to bother Ross at all. We told him about what we had found in the Members' book.
Ross ordered drinks at the bar – twice the price at 'Brownies' and less than half the fun. "Is Max Verhoest in tonight?" he asked the barman casually.
"I'm not sure, sir," said the barman diplomatically but one of the members sitting alongside us obviously overheard and called out, "Max, You've got some visitors."
A hand appeared from the back of one of the chairs and waved itself. "Here," said a voice.
We moved towards the chair clutching our drinks.
Max Verhoest was middle-aged, red-faced, grey hair in a fringe round his bald spot. He was clutching a glass of whisky. He didn't seem alarmed at the arrival of three strangers, just interested – perhaps the result of a journalist's enquiring mind.
Ross introduced himself and us and Max indicated we sit down in some adjacent leather chairs. They grasped us comfortably.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
We let Ross take the initiative. "You were with a young man, named Douglas Patterson, last night." I was a statement rather than a question.
Max nodded. "That's true. Why?"
"The lad was attacked last night, stabbed. We're trying to trace his movements."
Max gave us a shrewd look. "You're not the police. You don't look like the police."
Peter shook his head. "He's my cousin," he said. "I want to find out what happened. The police don't seem all that interested. Perhaps because he's not that badly hurt."
This was a bit unfair on the police who, after all, were doing their best, but it did give an excuse for our own investigations.
Max sipped his whisky. "He contacted me to see if there was a place on the newspaper. I'm news editor for the Daily Press. I wanted to see him informally so I invited him here. I thought him a nice boy, enthusiastic, possibly with talent but at the moment there were no vacancies."
"How did he take that?" asked Ross.
For a moment Max looked a bit uncomfortable. "Not very well, but then suddenly he changed and I realised that Douglas was coming on to me. You know, half glances, almost flirtatious. "
"Can't be," said Peter. "Douglas is straight."
"You've got it wrong," says Max. "Straight like a corkscrew. He was trying to seduce me into giving him a job."
"I don't believe it," said Peter, but it seemed to me that Max was telling the truth, at least as he saw it.
"When he realised that he'd got the wrong kind of man, he changed again, and was back to his first polite character. Thanked me for trying to help. Asked if I'd keep him in mind if a vacancy occurred."
"So what did you do?"
"Do? I didn't do anything. You can't blame a guy for trying. I'll maybe get in touch if a vacancy turns up. I think he's got talent."
"And that was it?" I said.
"Sure. He finished his drink, said 'thank you' and left."
"What time was this, Mr Verhoest?" asked Ross.
"About ten thirty I guess."
"And what did you do?"
"I stayed on, had a game of snooker with some of the blokes and left when they chucked me out around midnight."
"What do we do now?" I asked, once we were outside.
"If Max is right about Douglas . . ."
"I don't believe him," said Peter.
"It sounded as if he was telling the truth," I said. "And there's what we were told about the guy in 'Brownies'."
Ross looked interested, so I told him what Brian (or Eddie) had said about a black guy called Duggie.
"It could be our Duggie has hidden depths. Perhaps a return visit to 'Brownies' is indicated."
In and out of clubs like yo-yos. There was only one of our friends at the bar and he gave a squeal as we went in.
"Where's Brian?" asked Ross. So this one must be Eddie.
"The slut's off sucking cock somewhere."
"Tell us a bit more about the Duggie you 'met' last night. Or was that Brian?"
Eddie at least had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "That was me, though Brian would have obliged if given the chance."
"I'm sure," said Ross. "What time did this Duggie come in?"
"Just after we arrived and that was about half past ten." Soon after Max had told us 'Douglas' left Scribbles.
"Can you describe him?" asked Peter.
"Black, handsome, lovely cock."
"Anything else?"
His forehead creased in concentration, then it suddenly cleared. He smiled. "Uncut."
Ross sighed. "That's hardly distinctive. Anything that doesn't apply to probably more than half the guys in this club?"
"I haven't got that far yet."
"We're wasting our time here."
We turned to go but as we did so Eddie said," Wait a moment. There was one thing. He had this gap in his eyebrow."
We looked back. Eddie was touching his right eyebrow, in the middle.
"That's Douglas," said Peter.
It was. I remembered it now.
"What was it?" asked Ross. "A fashion statement?"
"No," said Peter. "He got cut fooling around with a knife when we were young. There was so much blood. We thought he'd lost his eye."
"Without an actual photo," said Ross, "that about confirms it." He went back to Eddie. "What happened to Duggie last night, after you . . .?"
". . . gave him a blow job in the bog," said Peter bitterly. It was as if he felt let down by Douglas's turning out to be gay, perhaps because he had lied to him.
"He was a real goer. Half an hour later and he was looking for more. I saw him with some other guys but I didn't see him leave."
"What about Brian? Did he see him go?"
"What about me?" said a voice and Brian appeared at out elbows looking slightly dishevelled, though somewhat smug.
"Ah, you're back," said his friend. "Had a nice time?" There was a tinge of envy in his question.
"Tell you later."
"They wanted to know if you saw that black guy leave. You remember, Duggie."
"Oh yes. But you remember him better."
"Very tasty," said Eddie.
"He was a bit of a tart, so no doubt you got on well. Yes, I did see him go. He went off with some guy, I didn't know."
"That must be an unusual event," said Brian caustically. Clearly these two had a friendly – or perhaps not too friendly – rivalry as regards their sexual partners.
"Could you describe the guy he went off with?" asked Ross.
"Bit taller than Duggie, black hair cut short, nice bum."
"Nothing more about his face?" Peter asked.
"I only saw him from the back."
"But you are sure they went out together?"
"Quite sure. He had his arm round Duggie's shoulders."
Night time now though plenty of people still around and of course the lights making it bright. I turned wearily towards the Underground station.
"I've brought the car," said Ross, which was a great relief.
We picked it up. Peter sat in the back and I wanted to join him but Ross told me to sit in the passenger seat in the front.
Ross put the car into gear and we drove off, overtaking a bus in a rather desperate manoeuvre round Cambridge Circus. I remembered something Ross had said. "What about this date rape thing you mentioned."
"It's what you said about Douglas not making any noise. It sounded as if he could have been unconscious or at least drugged. The fact that, when he came round, he couldn't remember what had happened, almost confirmed this. Trouble with these drugs is that they disappear quite quickly from the body, some within forty-eight hours, so I thought Douglas ought to be checked."
"How did you manage that?" I asked, not expecting a real explanation, but I was wrong.
"I suggested to Wallace that the police ask for forensic toxicology to test Douglas, and he thought it was a good idea."
Not for the first time I realised how good it was that Ross was on our side. He seemed to have influence everywhere.
"What are these drugs?" asked Peter from the back seat.
"There are three main ones which can be used, mixed with drinks and they are. Rohypnol, sometimes called Ruffles, though they all have plenty of street names, GHB, known as Easy Lay, and Ketamine, otherwise Special K."
I nearly asked Ross how he knew all this but I knew it wouldn't be much use so instead I asked, "Are they easily obtainable?"
"Legally? Well, Rohypnol can be prescribed as a sleeping pill, GHB can be made by anyone competent in chemistry and Ketamine is used to sedate horses."
"So," I said, "we're looking for a doctor, a chemist or a vet."
"No," said Peter, "we're looking for a tall bloke with short black hair and a nice arse."
It had been a long, long, wearisome day and we were pleased to get back to the flat. I was still promising myself a little dalliance with Peter as I brushed my teeth and prepared for bed.
Peter lay on his side, right hand under his cheek, lashes dark against his skin. His lips were pressed together as if his dreams needed concentration. A curl of his hair reached round to his mouth and when I brushed it off, he stirred but didn't wake. Sometimes he said he was going to have it all cut off but I told him that, if he did, I would leave him immediately. "I have other accomplishments, " he had said – which I knew only too well. But if he cut his hair short, his ears stuck out which he said made him look like a dork.
"Peter," I said gently, but he didn't stir. I climbed in beside him and realised how tired I was. Tomorrow morning would do just as well and this time there wouldn't be an audience in the next room.
* * * * * *
The days passed. We were cleared through our DNA typing of being Douglas' abuser, as of course we must be. Douglas recovered from his wound, but without regaining his memory of what had happened. His parents wanted him to go back to stay with them for some R & R but he refused and was still on our sofa. We'd offered him our double bed, saying we were quite happy to camp out on makeshift beds in the living room, but he'd refused.
We'd also delayed our suspicions (certainty) that he was as queer as a chocolate teapot though it was obvious that we'd have to talk about it to him soon.
Peter and I hadn't chosen our Chalk Farm flat for its space and number of rooms – it was mainly because it was all we could afford – and therefore there were only two rooms we could use – bedroom and living room – if we wanted 'to be alone'. With another person around, we could either crouch over the cooker or squat on the loo to get away from everyone. Not I hasten to say that Peter and I were going through any kind of crisis, but we'd got used to living as a twosome. The arrival, and now seemingly indeterminate stay of a third, added to pressures. To be honest I would be glad when Douglas had gone.
Douglas was good; he knew he was the outsider, but the job he had been promised had fallen through, the one-room bedsit had also disappeared. He wanted to move but was still rather weak and, to be honest, we'd told him he wasn't to think of moving until he was perfectly fit again and things were more settled. And that included the discovery of whoever had tried to kill him – for that was obviously what it was.
One afternoon, when Ross was round, we decided that it was the right time to pursue enquiries. The police didn't seem to have made any more progress. Douglas hadn't remembered anything more about that fatal evening and the doctors seemed to think it was unlikely that he would. That's the way these date rape drugs work – and it had been confirmed that he had been given a dose of gamma hydroxybutyric acid (GHB).
We'd had a good meal, cooked by Peter who had excelled himself with a heavily red wine-laced beef bourguignon, followed by chocolate pudding. Either he was hiding his light very much under a bushel or he'd bought it already prepared from the French restaurant round the corner and heated it in the microwave.
We sat round afterwards, comfortably full, drinking wine, while Ross regaled us with some anecdotes of his adventures with blue-collar workers of his acquaintance.
"I don't believe half of your stories," said Peter.
"Well, tell us some of yours," said Ross.
"Certainly not. Mine are all to do with Kevin here, and I wouldn't want to embarrass him."
I wanted to tell Peter how much I loved him but it was neither the time nor the place.
Ross turned to Douglas. "What about you?"
"Mine are scarcely up to your standard," said Douglas. "Anyway my mother always says that it's wrong to tell tales about my girlfriends. "
"So, what about your boyfriends?"
I could tell that that had struck home. Though Douglas was too dark to show the redness of a blush, his face did darken and he looked extremely uncomfortable.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Come on, Duggie. We know of your adventures in 'Brownies', how you came on to Max Verhoest to get a job. There's nothing wrong in admitting you're gay. To us at least."
Conflicting emotions battled in Douglas' head. His fists clenched in his lap, the one round his wine glass I was afraid might break the stem.
Ross went on. "We've got to know everything if we're going to catch the bastard who attacked you. Surely you can see that."
"I don't want my father to know. You know how he hates queers. If it comes out, I don't know what he'll do, what it'll do to him."
"We're not going to tell him," said Peter, and I nodded in agreement.
"Just tell us who you left 'Brownies' with on that Friday night."
Douglas had obviously made his decision because he said, "That's what I can't remember. I can remember the 'Scribbles' club and Max, then going to 'Brownies' and a blond guy I met."
"That was Eddie," I said. Saving Douglas' embarrassment I didn't mention what the two of them had done. "His friend, Brian, saw you leaving the club with another guy."
Douglas shook his head. "I can't remember."
"Think. Think. Brian described him as a bit taller than you, with short dark hair."
"And a . . ." started Peter but I stopped him with a look.
Douglas shook his head. "I can almost see someone, but it's not clear, and I don't remember anything more until waking up in the hospital."
I sighed.
Ross said, "We've got to think what he did to you, what his motivation was. First he drugged you, then presumably he took you back here, Did you have a key?"
Douglas looked nonplussed but Peter said, "Of course you did. You always had a key."
"Right," continued Ross. "Somewhere along the way he gives you a drink. It couldn't have been at the club or you'd have been unconscious when you got back and carrying you in would have made a hell of a noise. So, in the car, I guess there was a car, he gives you another drink, from a bottle or something, spiked of course. You're whoosy, so he gets you in. Perhaps he didn't even know there wee two other guys in the next room. He strips you, fucks you and then stabs you. What does that tell us?"
"He fancies you or he'd hardly fuck you, but then he hates you, so he tries to kill you," said Peter. "That doesn't make sense."
"It does if you're someone who was rejected by Douglas, someone who lusts after him but knows he'll never be accepted voluntarily. So he drugs him, fucks him and then stabs him. If I can't have you, then no one else will."
I stared at Ross. It sounded unbelievable that someone could behave in this way but there was a certain logic. Clearly Douglas, from his behaviour in 'Brownies' wasn't on the look out for any permanent relationship. He'd take his pick and if someone didn't appeal, he'd say 'No'. "Can you think of anyone like that?" I asked him.
He looked a bit shifty. "Well. there have been guys I'd said 'No' to. Most just accepted it but there were others who made a bit of a scene."
"To the extent of threatening you?" asked Ross.
"One or two. But I never took them seriously."
'One or two'! Douglas was a bit of a dark horse indeed. And we'd thought he was such an innocent, straight guy who might have been upset if our bed springs creaked a little.
"I can't remember their names."
"That guy we meet in the pub sometimes, Curtis Pigg," said Peter. "He seemed interested in your whereabouts. Could he have been one of those?
"He's not tall and dark," I said, "he's short and pink and fat."
"Ah, but we don't know for sure that the guy whom Brain saw going out with Douglas is the one?"
Suddenly I remembered something. The mention of Curtis Pigg had reminded me of something I'd failed to do. I went into the bedroom, found the jacket I'd been wearing on that evening and rummaged in the pockets. The piece of paper with a name and telephone number was still there, crumpled but readable.
I took it back. Peter was pouring more vino. "Do you know someone called Clive Parker?" I asked Douglas.
He thought for a while, then nodded. "The name's familiar. Guy I met some time back probably," he said.
"What does he look like?"
"I don't know. Tall, dark, a bit of a pest."
"A pest?" Ross said sharply.
"Yes. If this was the guy, he kept on following me about, but I wasn't interested – not after the first time. Too clingy, if you know what I mean."
"Sounds the ideal candidate. See he still wants you to get in touch. He'd written his telephone number."
"But," I said, "that's not right. By the time Pigg gave me this, Douglas had already been attacked."
"And how long had Pigg been carrying it round with him?"
I shrugged.
"Say it was a week before, or even a couple of days. Then this Clive meets Douglas in 'Brownies' by chance, gives him a dose of GHB in the club and takes him out."
"Wouldn't he have been unconscious long before they got back here?"
"Not if he just gave him a small dose in the club, then a larger one in the car."
"Do you remember any of this?" I asked Douglas.
He shook his head.
"Still we've got his number," said Peter.
"We need his address," I said. "If we phone him, and he is the guy we'll just warn him off."
"What about a trap?" said Ross suddenly. "Does he know Douglas isn't dead? Well perhaps, but if Douglas could convince him that his memory is coming back. He could mention things like the club, and being given a drink, and even someone attacking him. What would Clive do, if he was the man?"
"Try to finish what he didn't do before," I suggested.
"Exactly. And if we keep you under our protection all the time, and this Clive makes a move, we've got him."
"If . . . If . . . If . . ."
"Have you got a better plan?"
"Yes, tell Wallace and get him to find out the address, search his house and see if there are any clues – like a chemist's laboratory."
"There's lots of things Wallace will do for me," said Ross, "but he has to keep within the law. He wouldn't be able to get a search warrant on the sort of evidence we've got. We'll have to play it on our own."
I looked at Douglas. He was sitting in an armchair, his legs tucked under him. Not surprisingly he wasn't all that enthusiastic using the sofa. His face was still drawn and had a slightly grey tinge to it; he had after all been very ill. He looked older than his eighteen years.
"What do you think, Doug? It's really up to you to decide."
"I'm up for it," said Douglas without hesitation. "What shall I say to him?"
"Play innocent. You mustn't give the impression that we suspect him of anything. Obviously you can tell him you've been attacked but you don't know who did it. You're just ringing because he asked you to."
"Wait a minute," said Peter, rummaging on the shelf under the table. He found and pulled out the telephone directory. "Just a chance," he said and searched through the pages. "Yes, here it is, Parker C. Check the number." He read it out. "Is it the same one?"
Douglas looked at the paper and nodded.
"We know his address."
"Shall I ring now?"
Looking a bit strained, Douglas punched the numbers into the phone. He waited and we waited. We could hear the ringing tones, muted and distant from where we sat around him. Then they cut off and a voice answered, the words indistinguishable.
"Hi, Clive. Douglas here – Douglas Patterson. Sorry I haven't been in touch but I've had a bit of an accident. Been in hospital for a while." A pause. "Actually I was attacked, no, not mugged. It was in the flat where I live." Another pause. "Yes, much better. Thing is I can't remember what happened though bits do keep coming back." Another pause. "Yes, of course I'd like to see you again." A pause. "This evening. You come here. We'll think of something."
He was sweating slightly as he put down the receiver, beads of perspiration along his hairline. "He's coming here," he said. "What do I do when he arrives?"
"We'll all be here," I said. "There's no need to worry. We'll find out what really happened."
"In the meantime," said Ross. "I'd like to go to his house. Look it over. We may be able to find out something."
"All of us?" asked Peter.
"No, we don't want him recognising Douglas. You stay here and Peter can stay with you. Kevin and I will go."
It seemed that Ross was taking charge but I was prepared to put up with this. After all he knew things that I didn't, even if sometimes – no, make that most times – I didn't know how he did it.
The address was somewhere at the back of Camden Town, slightly away from the markets which now sprawl everywhere, no longer just food and vegetables but offering any possible article which could take your fancy. Clive's road was a side road off the main highway but even here we could still hear the muted roar of vendors shouting their wares and prospective buyers arguing for bargains. His flat was in one of those tall Victorian buildings which still exist in many parts of London, once tall and elegant but now looking slightly run down. There was a vertical row of bell pushes each with a slip giving a name. On the ground floor was one which indicated clearly Clive Parker.
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"Ring the bell," said Ross.
"And when he answers?"
"I'll think of something." And I knew he would. Ross had an incredible talent of merging chameleon like into some sort of persona or other, whatever was called for, and I'd just have to follow his example. He'd probably say that we were Jehovah Witnesses, though how anyone would believe that when we weren't even wearing suits I don't know.
I pressed the button and heard the bell shrill inside. Something about the hollowness of the noise made me think there was no one in which was stupid really but I did feel a twinge of apprehension. There was no sound from inside and Ross motioned me to try again. Still no answer.
"Let's try round the back," he said.
I'd noticed an arched entrance over a narrow alleyway to the side of the house which, we found, led to the back gardens. There was a small gate which gave entrance to Parker's garden which was weedy and overgrown with nettles and docks. The only flowers seemed to be the ubiquitous dandelions which pushed their bright yellow heads towards the sunlight. The garden was of course overlooked by neighbouring houses and the two floors above Parker's flat but, as far as we could see, there were no alarmed faces peering out preparatory to an anxious call to the police.
There were two windows on the ground floor and we were able to look into what was obviously a living room which looked as ordinary as possible, sofa, armchair, a TV, some pictures on the wall. The other one was obviously a kitchen and again I could see nothing other than what you'd expect, but Ross was a more acute spotter.
"Look over there," he said.
On the work surface beside a gas cooker were objects which scarcely belonged to a normal kitchen. There were racks of test tubes, a bunsen burner, some vials of liquid and an oddly shaped glass object which the word 'pipette' inexplicably came into my head.
"I wish we could get a sample of those," Ross said but even he wasn't brazen enough to break in and steal.
"Come on," I said, "Let's not push our luck. Let's get out before we're discovered."
"I wonder why he's not at home," said Ross. "How long ago was it since Douglas phoned him?"
"Half an hour, three-quarters. "
Ross nodded. "Why would he rush out?"
"Might have been anything. Went to the market," I said. "Bought some flowers to take round to Douglas this evening," I added facetiously.
I looked at his face, uncharacteristicall y serious. "What's the matter?"
"What a bloody fool I am," he said. "If he was suspicious, he could have gone round early to catch Douglas unawares. And we're not bloody there."
"Peter is."
"But we're not," Ross repeated. "Got your mobile?"
I nodded.
"Give them a ring."
We were back in the alley now and I punched in the number of the house phone. It rang and rang but no one answered. I tried Peter's mobile. Again it rang and then suddenly went quiet. It had been switched off. "Something's wrong." I said.
"Too bloody right," said Ross and ran into the street.
Though it was only one stop on the tube, Ross hailed a taxi which, mirabile dictu, stopped. Ross gave the address, and then added, "Quick as you like, mate."
He'd obviously struck just the right note as, instead of the driver complaining, 'I always go as quick as I can' and then taking the long way round the back streets and via Cornwall, he said "Righto, guv," and set off through the traffic at what I found was an alarming rate.
We squealed to a halt outside our block of flats and Ross leapt out leaving me to settle up with the driver – and give him a substantial tip, which was obviously more than he expected because he said, "Thank you, guv," without a trace of sarcasm.
We debated what to do. I was all for rushing in wielding shillelaghs and knobkerries and rescue our friends smiting CP hip and thigh but Ross advised caution. We climbed the steps as quietly as stairs, which creak and groan at every step, allow and listened outside the door. We could hear nothing.
Coming from Camden Town, it had seemed an adventure, a rescue attempt but the very lack of sound from behind that door now seemed very menacing. Had Clive Parker actually got in? Had he managed to catch Peter and Douglas unawares? What could he have done to them? I thought of the way Douglas had been callously stabbed. This was no 'adventure'. My lover might have been . . . I pushed the thought away before I'd actually thought it.
Ross gestured to the door. "Open it," he whispered, "as quietly as you can."
Sounds magnify when you're tense. The tiny scrape of key against lock sounded loud, the turning and the way the tumblers moved a deafening roar. I prayed that the door itself wouldn't squeak as it opened. We stood on the threshold looking up the tiny entrance hall with doors to the left, the kitchen, and to the right, the living room and further on the bedroom. Both were shut.
From behind the living room door, though, a voice was speaking quietly. As we crept closer, though we could not make out the words, the tone was splenetic and menacing. Then, suddenly, the voice was raised and to me it was oddly familiar though I knew I'd never met the man before.
"Not so high and mighty are we now, Duggie boy?" A pause and then, "I'm sorry, Peter, you were the wrong person in the wrong place."
At the sound of my lover's name, I knew I had to go in, whatever the cost. I glanced back at Ross standing just behind me and then grabbed at the door knob.
I felt rather than heard Ross say, "No. Wait!" But I was past waiting. I threw open the door. In the instant before anyone moved, I took in Peter and Douglas, sitting still and quiet on the sofa and a figure standing in front of them, his back to me. I noticed that it wasn't a tall, dark-haired man but one that was short and fat with fair, rather lank hair, long at the back.
He turned and I recognised him. "Curtis Pigg," I said. I nearly took a step forward but stopped when I saw he had a knife in his hand. He waved it menacingly. But, of course, he was at a disadvantage. He had Ross and me in front of him and Peter and Douglas behind.
I saw Peter stand, pick up the coffee table by one of its legs, turn it over, raise it high above him and bring it down hard on the back of Curtis' head.
Curtis fell like a felled ox – or rather like a stuck pig.
"Jesus," said Douglas, "you arrived just in time."
"Have I killed him?" asked Peter.
"I hope so," said Douglas.
"I don't understand," I said. "We thought it would be Clive Parker."
"It is," said Peter. "That's his other name, the one he writes under."
I looked at Douglas. "But, you said he was tall and dark."
"I mixed him up with someone else."
"Hadn't we better get him an ambulance?" asked Ross, "or at least phone the police?"
So, all was revealed, mostly through Curtis' own admission, as he had boasted to Douglas and Peter before we'd arrived. There had never been the tall, dark haired man that Douglas had left 'Brownies' with, or at least he wasn't the man who had come home with him to fuck and stab him.
Douglas had gone to the Fag and Fishmonger and there met Curtis. There, he had been drugged and brought home. The DNA was to prove that Curtis Pigg/Clive Parker was the assailant. He even had the same knife he had used before.
And the motive? Just as we had expected – at least we got something right – Douglas had rejected him and it had been a sort of revenge. If I can't have you, then no one else will. I found it almost too difficult to comprehend such depth of feeling but then I thought of Peter and what I would feel if he ever rejected me and chose someone else.
I shuddered at the thought.
So, to sum up, Douglas found his job – Max Verhoest turned up trumps and got himself somewhere to live. Ross of course pursued his old life of picking up unsuitable sex partners and regaling us with his adventures. Peter and I were at last left alone. And we were happy.
As they say, 'Two's Company'.

THE END