Chapter 10 - Boogie Woogie

It was still a little early for dinner when Brian and Justin finally made it back to the hotel. Brian proposed they go ahead and get cleaned up and head down to the hotel bar for drinks. Justin, who was rather enjoying being so spoiled, readily agreed to this plan. Brian asked if he needed to run back to his rooms and get something else to wear for the evening, but Justin reluctantly admitted that his uniform was the nicest outfit he owned.

“I’m afraid that, after my father kicked me out, I only had enough money on me to pay for the boat fare to get over here to London and not much else. As far as civvies, I only have the few items of clothing that I had with me when I left home. And since clothing rations here in London are pretty meager, I haven’t really had much of a chance to get anything nicer,” he explained, looking uncomfortable at the revelation.

“No problem,” Brian tried to reassure him. “I’m sure you won’t be the only guy in uniform at dinner. Besides, you look dashing in that,” he teased, with a small kiss to Justin’s cheek to take the sting out of it. “I’m going to get washed up though and put on a different shirt - I stink.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a bit of a wash myself,” Justin asserted. “May I borrow a towel and some soap from you?”

Brian got them both set up with toiletries and then ushered the boy down the hall to the communal bath facilities. They spent a companionable fifteen minutes or so getting themselves spiffed up and then, with Justin looking trim and neat in his military outfit and Brian looking like his usual runway-model self in one of his Savile Row suits, they headed downstairs to the hotel bar. The clerk standing guard at the desk in the foyer greeted Mr. Kinney and his guest with deference as soon as they appeared. Brian couldn’t object to the service. The young clerk advised them that he’d make sure to come get them as soon as seating for dinner began and directed them to the drawing room.

Once seated in the ostentatiously ornamented Drawing Room, they were almost instantly attended to by a waiter dressed in a crisp black and white uniform bearing a drinks menu. Brian, who was feeling a little whimsical, ordered a Sidecar - something he’d always heard about when watching classic movies of the time, but which he’d never actually tried. Justin, after dithering over the menu for several minutes, ordered a Pimm’s Cup. And then, since they were in an age long before public health concerns had become vogue and everyone else was indulging, Brian also asked that the waiter bring them two cigarellos to enjoy with their drinks.

“Holy Mackerel! This place sure is swanky,” Justin commented, sounding so young. “Will you get a load of all the posh geezers in here? I bet they even smell like money. And that dame over there,” Justin tried to point surreptitiously to a woman seated a few tables over who was adorned with quite a lot of jewelry. “There’s more ice around her neck than in the drinks.”

Brian chuckled quietly, enjoying the way the younger man was goggling at all the society elites around them. Brian, who had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks as the son of a working-class Irish family, felt almost as awestruck - he was just hiding it better. But it was clear that the people who frequented The Strand Palace Hotel bar and restaurant were the cream of London society. The only reason Brian and Justin were being given this small glimpse of their inner circles was because Brian was a seemingly wealthy American, and in wartime Britain money bought you a lot of clout.

To relieve the tension and get Justin to relax a little bit, Brian resorted to a game he and his friends had played many times over the years. “See that old fart sitting in the corner with the older lady?” Brian leaned conspiratorially close to his boy and pointed to a particularly rotund gentleman sitting stiffly in his chair next to a frail-looking woman wearing a severe expression. “He’s actually a closet fag and the reason he’s sitting there like that, so stiff and frowning, is because he’s got horrible hemorrhoids from taking it up the ass one time too many from his butler, Jeeves,” Brian posited, earning him a snort of laughter from Justin. “And his wife, she’s secretly a dominatrix who likes to tie the young stable boys up and spank them.”

“Brian!” the scandalized pilot hissed at him, laughing all the time.

“It’s true, Blue Eyes,” Brian kidded while picking out his next victim. “And that woman in the blue dress,” he pointed with his cigarillo to a bored-looking woman in her thirties who wasn’t paying any attention at all to the conversation of the two men she was sitting with. “She’s a lesbian. You can tell by the way she’s been following the cigarette girl around with her eyes for the last five minutes. She’s hoping to get her fat, older husband so drunk that he passes out as soon as they get back to their room and then she’s going to sneak out and find Betty Boop over there and spend the night eating pussy to her heart’s content.”

“Oh my word . . . Brian,” Justin was now laughing so hard tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes. “You’re terrible. You know that, right? Just terrible!”

“I know. It’s a gift,” Brian accepted the compliment and carried on with his game of making up naughty life stories about all their neighbors for the rest of the hour or so till they were called to dinner.

Justin had finally relaxed, seeming much less intimidated by all the high society types after Brian had started in on them, which had been the plan all along. By the time they were seated at a table in the dining room, the boy was back to his usual ebullient self. Of course, as soon as their waiter handed them the dinner menus – printed out on crisp, heavy cardstock and displayed in satin-lined, leather binders – Justin lost it again. He was just sitting there, staring at the list with his mouth slightly agape, five minutes after Brian had decided on his own selection.

“Is there a problem, Blue Eyes?” Brian finally asked.

“I-I-I don’t know what to order,” Justin confessed with another of those adorable blushes that turned Brian into jelly. “There’s just so much, and it all sounds so delicious . . .”

“Well, then, why don’t you just order whatever’s at the top of the menu and you can work your way down the list the next time,” Brian suggested with all due logic.

“The NEXT time?” Justin laughed out loud at that. “Like I’ll ever be able to afford to come back to a ritzy place like this. Applesauce, Brian! The fanciest place I ever ate at before meeting you was the lunch counter at the Woolworth’s back home in Pittsburgh.”

Brian joined the boy in his laughter while marvelling silently about the provinciality of the times. Even though his parents hadn’t had much money back when Brian was growing up, he’d at least eaten out at restaurants often enough as a child that he was comfortable in them by the time he was an adult. He and Justin really had come from two very different worlds. Although he figured that was part of why he found the younger man so utterly fascinating.

“If I have anything to say about it, Justin, this won’t be your last time in a restaurant like this,” Brian promised. “So don’t let it get you all flustered. Just order whatever you like THIS time and we’ll take care of NEXT time when it happens.”

“A guy could get used to this . . .” Justin mumbled, his grin so huge that Brian thought it might blind folks that weren’t prepared for it.

In the end, Justin ordered the Grenadine of Beef Filet. Brian ordered the Prime Rib as well as an appetizer of Oysters Rockefeller and a Waldorf salad for Justin with a plain green salad for himself. He also commandeered a bottle of nice house white wine for starters. Justin was so impressed that he was pretty much speechless until the ordering process was over.

When the food arrived, Justin’s eyes almost bugged out. He told Brian he hadn’t seen that much food at one sitting since the last Thanksgiving he’d spent back home. He also admitted he’d never actually had oysters before, and was a little leery about trying them, but after watching Brian slurp his first one up with an erotic moan of approval, Justin manned up and tried one himself. His verdict was that they tasted okay, but he wasn’t sure about the texture. The oysters were kinda slimy underneath the yummy stuff they’d been cooked with. Brian told him that they were an aphrodisiac, though, so with a bashful smile, he consented to have two more. The salad course and the main course were less problematic, although they were both feeling very little pain by that point, as they’d already finished off the white wine and moved on to a second bottle of red.

For dessert, Brian opted to stick with a coffee - he couldn’t be expected to eat like someone from the 1940s and stay in any kind of shape - but he encouraged Justin ‘Bottomless-Pit’ Taylor to indulge however the youth wanted. After a lot more dithering, the boy ordered a Sweet Currant Tart that even Brian had to admit looked delicious when it arrived. It took Justin less than ten minutes, moaning with every single bite, to devour it.

After they’d stuffed themselves silly, Brian signed off on the bill and asked the waiter what the evening’s entertainment was. They were informed that there was a dance that night in the hotel’s ballroom and that the band was rumored to be quite good. Justin seemed to be game for the idea, so they both headed off in the direction the waiter had indicated looking for the Grand Ballroom.

And grand it certainly was. The art deco decor of the hotel had been carried on through this room as well. Brian conceded that it was a beautiful space. And for the time, it was quite modernistic. There was a lot of gold leaf and chrome, bold geometric accents, and dramatic lighting throughout.

It was also quite packed, which was surprising since here in 1941 it was a Thursday night. But, along with the society folks that had also populated the restaurant, the ballroom contained a number of younger folk, including a large contingent of young men in various military uniforms and a whole cadre of pretty young women wearing unfortunately stuffy-looking black wool uniforms, ties, and little pillbox caps. Brian, who wasn’t familiar with all the different uniforms of the military branches of the time, had to ask Justin who these women were. The younger man quickly explained they were all Wrens: Women’s Royal Naval Service members. Altogether it was quite a lively crowd and many were already up and dancing to the big band music blasting from the small band set up at the far end of the hall.

Justin, of course, fit right in with all the other men in military garb, but Brian, as usual, stood out, being one of the only men under forty who wasn’t in a uniform and a good looking one to boot. The Wrens, in particular, seemed very attentive upon his arrival. Their eyes followed him as a group as soon as he entered the room, offering up smiles in his direction, and tittering away to each other behind their hands just like real wrens. Never one to pass up free adulation, Brian graced the group with a charming Kinney smile as he and Justin passed by looking for an open table. Justin followed meekly in his wake, secretly smiling at how far off base these hordes of giggling women were.

They eventually made it to one of the few empty tables left in the room. As soon as they’d seated themselves, one of the ever efficient wait staff appeared at Brian‘s elbow asking for their drink orders. Brian decided to move on to his usual after dinner whiskey and Justin, a little at sea in this environment, simply asked for the same. As soon as the waiter left, though, Justin turned to Brian with a concerned expression.

“Are you sure you’re okay paying for all this, Brian?” The boy asked in a hushed voice. “Everything here is so expensive. I feel bad that I haven’t even offered to help out. But . . .”

“Don’t worry about it, Blue Eyes,” Brian immediately responded, shaking his head and waving off even the appearance of an offer of assistance. “It was my invitation, so of course I’m going to pay. Besides, this is nothing. Trust me, I’m used to this.”

Justin looked like he might have protested further, but right at that moment the waiter returned with their drinks. Brian again signed off on the bill without even looking at it, and handed the waiter a full shilling tip. The waiter was more than pleased with this amount of generosity, and thanked Brian profusely as he backed away wearing an obsequious grin.

“You do realize that you just tipped that man almost as much as the cost of the drink itself, right?” Justin asked as soon as they were alone again.

Brian merely shrugged.

Justin fell silent after that, sipping contemplatively at his drink, his eyes unfocused even though, to all appearances, he seemed caught up in the whirl of people out on the dance floor. Brian soon became aware that he’d lost his companion's attention. Sliding his hand over so he could tap at the back of Justin‘s wrist without being noticed, he tried to pull his Blue Eyes back to him.

“What’s eating you, Twat?”

Justin hesitated for several seconds before he finally sighed, set his drink down, and turned to look directly at Brian. “I hope you don’t think that the only reason I’m interested in . . . this . . . is because of your money. Because I’m not.” Justin’s voice got even quieter then, prompting Brian to lean forward in order to hear him clearly. “I don’t need a sugar daddy, Brian. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. So, if you’re trying to impress me by throwing your money around, don’t bother.”

Brian could see from the stubborn set of his blond’s jaw how offended Justin was, and he rushed to dispel that impression.

“Justin . . . that’s not what I’m trying to do. I would never insult you by trying to buy your approval like that. And I can tell just from the short time I’ve known you, that you’re more than capable of supporting yourself. Look how far you’ve come already, despite all of the obstacles you had to deal with. That’s not what this is about,” Brian insisted. “It’s just that, this,” and he held out a handful of coins, “doesn’t mean that much to me. I make a really good living, Justin. Money is not an issue for me at this stage of my life. Especially here . . .” Brian stopped himself before he finished that sentence, not sure how he would’ve finished it anyway. “Believe me when I tell you that the cost of tonight‘s entertainment, will not be a problem.”

Justin nodded, accepting Brian’s assertions, but from the way his mouth was still screwed up in a sort of half frown, Brian could tell that there was still something bothering his intelligent little Blue Eyes. Brian waited, slowly sipping his whiskey and watching as a series of apparently complicated thoughts flittered across his companion’s face. Eventually, Justin seemed to come to some conclusion or other, and he again looked up at Brian with concern.

“Fine. I suppose I can accept your word that you’re not simply trying to buy my affections.” The boy offered up a small conciliatory smile there. “But that only brings up the even bigger question of how, exactly, a ‘war correspondent’ can afford something like this.” He swept his hand outward, gesturing at the room full of well dressed strangers. “I may not be as experienced as you are in some matters, but I know enough to know that your average newspaper reporter doesn’t make enough money to be able to afford The Strand Palace. So what is it that you really do for a living, Brian?”

Brian knew he’d been caught, and he didn’t really have a good answer to the boy’s question. He frowned, sitting back in his chair, and avoiding Justin’s gaze. A million different stories ran through his mind, each more fanciful than the last. But Brian really didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to start off in this, whatever, with Justin by lying. He’d always prided himself on being honest, except when he was left with no other choice, and even though this was a tough situation, he didn’t think it merited outright dishonesty. On the other hand, he couldn’t tell Justin the truth either.

“I can’t tell you that, Justin,” Brian finally admitted. “It’s . . . complicated.”

Justin took a deep breath, nodded his head, and then leaned forward, his forearms braced against the edge of the table, his hands clasped, and his eyes intently scrutinizing Brian‘s face as he asked, “is it something illegal? Because if that’s the case, I’m not interested in pursuing this any further.”

“No! Fuck no.” When Justin still looked unconvinced, Brian leaned forward again, pleading with his eyes, asking Justin to believe him. “I swear, Justin, it’s nothing like that. I just can’t explain it to you right now. And even if I could, you probably wouldn’t believe me . . .”

Maybe it was the sincerity in Brian‘s voice, or maybe it was the resignation of that final sentence, but something in Brian’s response must have struck a genuine note because, after a moment or two of thinking it through, Justin finally smiled again.

“Okay. If you can’t tell me, then you can’t. I suppose I can accept that. For now. I don’t like it, but I can accept it. After all, it is war time, and if I’ve learned anything at all since I’ve been here, it’s that everything isn’t always the way it seems,” Justin stated, sounding much older and wiser than he looked. “But if I find out you’re some gangster or something, and that you’ve been lying to me, it won’t end pretty, Mr. Kinney.”

“I’m not a fucking gangster, Justin,” Brian insisted, his voice becoming a little louder with his protestation.

Unfortunately, that happened to be the moment when the band finished its current number and, as the applause died, the room fell substantially quieter. Brian’s words carried to quite a few of the nearby tables, turning heads all around. And, while the well off party-goers might not have cared a fig if Brian was a gangster or not, they certainly didn’t approve of cursing in mixed company.

“I say, young man,” the fat older gentleman they’d surmised earlier in the evening to have hemorrhoids leaned over from his table and addressed Brian directly. “We’ll have none of that language here. There are ladies present, you know!”

“Won’t happen again,” Brian replied, and this time it was Brian who was blushing.

Justin, who was trying not to laugh, turned his attention to his drink for the next few minutes, letting Brian cool down in peace. Brian grumbled into his own glass for most of the rest of the next song. The only good thing about the experience was that it had curtailed further discussion with his blond about the source of his income.

However, before Brian was ready to take up a new topic of conversation, the band leader announced that the next song they would be playing was ‘Lady Be Good’ and it was going to be a ‘Ladies Choice’ dance. There was a loud commotion from all the ladies assembled in the hall and many of them vaulted to their feet, intent on finding their man. It soon appeared that no male of the species was safe. Not even Brian or Justin.

“Hi there, I’m Elsie and this here’s Phoebe,” a rosy-cheeked young Wren announced after bouncing over to their table with her friend in tow. “Would you two gents like to dance?”

Brian snuck a quick look over at Justin, who was smiling politely at the girls, and figured they were pretty much caught. He got up from his chair, smiled at the girls and accepted their invitation. Brian then crooked his arm, offering his elbow to the taller of the two girls, and then escorted his dance partner onto the floor just as the band was starting in on the first few notes. This wasn’t exactly Brian’s preferred kind of dancing, and he hadn’t really done any swing dancing before, so he probably wasn’t the most graceful of partners. Elsie was a good sport though and didn’t even complain the one time he stepped on her toes. He did note, however that she didn’t ask him for a second dance, which was fine because he was more than happy to retreat to his table.

Justin, on the other hand, was apparently another Fred Astaire, because no sooner had that song finished than he was swarmed by more women asking for a twirl around the floor. Brian sat back in his chair, sipping at his drink contentedly, watching with a hint of pride as his agile little Blue Eyes spun and strutted around the dance floor. Damn, he was hot, the way he moved around so surely and even the way he swivelled his hips like that, Brian thought. Then, when the band took up a faster paced song, and Justin and his then partner started to show off some more complicated moves, the crowd actually parted for them, giving the pair the entire floor to strut their stuff. The song ended with Justin actually tossing his girl up into the air and catching her in both arms then spinning around to leave her standing alone in the center of the floor just as the song ended. The watching audience erupted with boisterous applause and catcalls, and Justin was ushered off the floor to several rowdy claps on his back and both men and women shaking his hand as he passed by.

Brian got up to greet him, pulling out the chair for his returning dance master. “You weren’t kidding when you said you could dance, were you, Blue Eyes?”

“Nope,” Justin replied, his blue eyes glittering with fun as he sank into the chair and used his napkin to dab at his sweaty forehead. “Like I said, I can sing, I can dance, and I can fly a plane. Those are my three talents. Everything else, not so much. But those three things I can do like the bees knees.”

Brian leaned in so he could whisper the next words in the younger man’s ear. “Well, based on the way you kiss, not to mention that thing you did out there with your hips, I can think of a few more things you’re probably equally talented at. Care to come back upstairs to my room with me and we can give them a whirl - see just how TALENTED you really are?”

If Justin hadn’t already been flushed from the exercise, Brian was sure that the boy’s blushing would have been epic. The pilot didn’t argue though - Justin simply smiled bashfully, nodded his head and then followed Brian when the older man got up and started to head out of the ballroom. There was a bit of a crowd in the elevator, so they didn’t say a word to each other as the operator moved them up from floor to floor, finally stopping on the top floor to let out Mr. Kinney and his guest. They still didn’t say anything as they made their way down the hall and into the suite. In fact, it wasn’t till Brian closed the door behind them, turned the lock securely and then faced his now shy companion that they even looked directly at each other.

“Okay, Swivel Hips,” Brian purred, crooking a finger at his little dance machine. “Come here and show me again that thing you do with your hips . . .”

Justin stepped forward, almost as if drawn against his will by the magnetism of Brian’s personality. As soon as the boy was within arm’s length, Brian reached out and pulled Justin flush against him, wrapping one arm tightly around the slim waist, ensuring there wasn’t even a millimeter of space between their lower halves. Justin gasped at the force of the contact, but he didn’t try to pull away. Then Brian held up his left arm as if in a dance pose, tilting his own hips forward provocatively as he stepped to the side.

“So, I think it went something like this . . .” Brian began to swivel his own hips, although what he did wouldn’t qualify as a dance move, per se. “Come on, Tiny Dancer, show me your moves,” he teased.

“You . . . you can’t swing like . . . like this,” Justin stammered, almost speechless as he tried to keep step with Brian’s fumbling dance steps.

“Oh, I can assure you, Justin, I definitely swing like THIS,” Brian teased, emphasizing his point by swinging his own lower parts hard against Justin’s stomach right on cue. “But I thought you wanted to dance?”

Justin laughed, dropping his head onto Brian’s shoulder and giving in, eventually reaching up to place his hand in Brian’s in a closed dance position. Brian proceeded to slowly tool them around the room in a shuffling slow step, dancing to the music in his head. It was nice and intimate and very romantic.

And it didn’t even occur to the one-time stud that he was behaving like a ridiculous lesbian until after they’d made a few circuits around the room and he suddenly realized what he was doing. Then Brian almost immediately started to feel uncomfortable. What the fuck was he doing here? What the hell was Brian Fucking Kinney doing slow dancing with a twink in his hotel room without there even being any music? His behavior seemed even more out of character when he thought back over all the events of that long and rather memorable day. Had he really snuggled with the kid in bed, then taken him out to a movie and even done something as inane as getting photo booth pictures with him. Or, worse still, taken the boy out for dinner and dancing? What the hell was he thinking? If his friends could see him now, they’d be laughing their fucking heads off. Was he seriously going through with this whole ‘wooing’ thing? This was fucking insane! This wasn’t him, was it?

But even as Brian was silently having a total mental breakdown, he felt Justin sigh, and melt even more into his embrace. “This is so nice. I’ve never danced with someone I actually wanted to dance with, you know? It makes me sad to think we can never do this for real. That I’ll never be allowed to dance in public with the man I want to dance with.”

And all of a sudden it didn’t matter to Brian that he was behaving like a sentimental twat. All that mattered right then was that he too found this little dance nice. He had actually enjoyed the whole fucking day, to be honest. In fact, he hadn’t had a day that he’d enjoyed that much in a long fucking time. Maybe not ever. And, yes, his friends would laugh themselves silly if they ever saw him like this. They’d mock him the same way he’d mocked their past attempts at romance. But it didn’t change the way he felt just then. It didn’t change the fact that he WANTED to be slow dancing with this intriguing young man who was such a confusing blend of innocence and strength. Brian liked that he could make Justin happy with something as simple as a musicless, slow dance in a hotel room. He liked doing stupid things like wasting an afternoon going to a movie and taking silly photos with this young man. He had enjoyed talking with him over dinner, sharing the nonsense stories they’d made up about the other guests, watching as Justin experienced the wonders of a grand meal in a fancy restaurant. Brian had enjoyed showing Justin around and showing him off in a way. So what if his future self wouldn’t have been caught dead in a similar situation. He wasn’t in 2016 right then and he was glad of it for the moment because he didn’t think he wanted to be that person anymore. At least not while he was here, with Justin. Here, in this time, he liked being the silly romantic person he had been all day. It just felt right.

“It won’t be ‘never’, Blue Eyes,” Brian whispered into the mop of blond hair under his chin. “Someday there will be gay bars and clubs all over the world where we can dance together just like straight people. The world WILL get there eventually. It won’t be easy, but we’ll claw our way out of the darkness and make people take us seriously. I promise you that, Justin. It will happen. Someday.”

Justin chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter tickling the skin at Brian’s collarbone. “I hope you’re right, Brian. I’d really love to see a place like that someday. It would be so amazing to dance with you like this, just once, out there in the world . . . I doubt I’ll live long enough to ever see a miracle like that though. But it’s a nice dream, isn’t it?” Then, in an attempt to lighten the somber mood, he added, “plus, if we danced together more often, maybe I’d be able to teach you how.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brian took the joke for what it was worth and returned the fun by digging his fingers into the boy’s side, eliciting a snort of laughter. “You’ll teach ME, huh? I don’t think so. If anyone’s got something to learn around here, it’s you, little boy.”

“Me? I already know how to dance, Brian.”

“Yeah? But do you know how to do THIS?” Brian asked, smirking lustily as he slowly sank to his knees in front of the surprised boy and very deliberately began to undo Justin’s belt.

Justin stood there, frozen in place, while Brian took his time with first the belt then the buttons of the boy’s fly. Since Justin didn’t do anything to stop him, he continued what he’d started until the trousers were hanging loosely from the boy’s slim hips. A little tug is all it took and then they were puddling around the kid’s knees, revealing a pair of thin, light blue cotton boxer shorts, also buttoned around the waist. Before going any further, Brian looked up at the young man who was standing there so stiffly.

“Is this okay, Blue Eyes?” he asked, fingers poised on the top button of the shorts.

Justin only nodded, looking a little scared and a lot excited. Brian took his time on the remaining buttons, not wanting to spook the kid by moving too fast, even though every nerve in his own body was telling him to move, go faster, get on with it. When there were no more buttons left, Brian gripped the waistband and very slowly tugged them down over the boy’s slim hips, revealing one of the most beautiful cocks the experienced Stud had ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was remarkably large for such a small-framed boy, thick and had a lovely, long curve upwards to where the pretty pink head was already poking through the thin foreskin. Just looking at it, with that one bead of cum glistening at the tip, had Brian’s mouth watering. He wasn’t usually this eager to go down on a guy - he was more likely to be on the receiving end of most blowjobs - but this was one time he wouldn’t mind reversing things.

Brian ignored the way Justin was simply standing there acting like he was afraid to move, and went straight to work. He licked up the length of that prodigious member, letting the taste of the boy’s sweet jizz rest on his tongue for a minute while he savored the treat. Justin’s gasp slowly turned into a moan, and then turned back into a gasp again, as Brian returned to his work and took the entire large, fleshy head into his warm mouth. After that, all the youth could think to do was hold on, both hands threaded through Brian’s fine auburn hair, as the accomplished master cocksucker went to town. Of course, the little greenhorn was no match for Brian’s superbly honed skills and he was coming gangbusters in only minutes, shooting out such copious quantities of jism that even Brian had trouble swallowing it all.

“Ap . . . Ap . . . Apple . . . Applesauce, B-Brian . . . That was . . . That was . . . That was . . .” Justin couldn’t quite get his brain to work through the process of forming words.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Brian answered smugly, wiping the corner of his dripping mouth against the hem of the boy’s shirt as he got back up to his feet.

“You’re . . . you’re really good at that,” Justin commented, still sounding a bit stunned as Brian guided the boy back to the bed and helped him sit. “Have you . . .” he paused, thinking through what he wanted to say and then changing course. “You’ve had a lot of practice I suppose.”

“I’ve had my fair share of blow jobs,” Brian answered honestly. “Although I’m not typically the one doing the blowing. Most of the time, I’m the one on the receiving side. What did you think?”

“I think that was the most amazing thing that I’ve ever experienced,” Justin answered, just as honestly, and without sounding like he was at all exaggerating. “Can I . . .”

“Can you what, Blue Eyes?”

“Can I do that . . . to you? I mean, I know I probably won’t do it right the first time, of course, but I . . . I’d really like to . . . you know, feel it . . . from the other end, so to speak,” the adorable kid stumbled through his plea, so innocent and yet eager, his lusty enthusiasm so fucking charming in such a sweet way, that Brian wanted to laugh and hug him and fuck the bejesus out of him all at the same time.

“I’d like that too, Justin. Like I said, I’m happy to teach you whatever you want to learn,” Brian replied with a grin, sitting down next to the boy on the end of the bed and then flopping backwards, his arms splayed to the sides. “Consider my body at your disposal, Blue Eyes. Do with me as you will.”

“Stop it, Brian. Be serious,” Justin ordered, laughing at the older man’s antics.

“I am serious, Justin,” he rejoined. “Consider me your willing sexual experimentation blow up doll. Have at it!”

“What’s a ‘blow up doll’?”

That got an even bigger laugh from Brian, but he still didn’t budge. “I just mean that you can do whatever you want to me.” Then he noted the impish gleam in the kid’s eyes and added, “within reason, of course.”

“But I don’t know what to do, Brian. What if I do it all wrong?”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. You seem like a natural to me. Just do what I did to you and if you think you’d like something, chances are I’ll enjoy it too,” Brian directed. “The only real rule is to cover your teeth.” Justin still sat there looking uncertain. “Come on, Blue Eyes. You’ve got this.”

With very tentative fingers, Justin reached over and lightly ran his hand down the length of Brian’s chest, over his stomach and down to the waistband of his slacks. He hesitated there, chewing at his bottom lip through a timid smile. Brian jerked his chin up in a hastening gesture that seemed to work, getting Justin to finally move.

The boy shifted his body, twisting a bit so that he was facing Brian’s supine form, and then resolutely applied himself to loosening Brian’s tie, undoing each of the many buttons on his shirt, and then spreading the fabric apart so that he could see all of Brian’s now bare torso. The smile that bloomed on his face at the sight proved how much he liked what he was seeing. Then, with his fingers returning southward, this time leaving a tingling trail over the warm skin of his subject, Justin focused on the fly of Brian’s pants, carefully undoing the button, lowering the zipper and pulling open the fly. He seemed a bit surprised by the skimpy, black, thong underwear Brian was wearing, but even so, he couldn’t resist letting his hand slide into the front of the man’s pants so he could cup his hand around the generous package. Brian tried to hurry things a long just a little by lifting his hips up suggestively, thus allowing Justin to slip the trousers the rest of the way over his hips. But then the boy stopped, seeming unsure of whether or not he wanted to proceed.

Brian didn’t want to push, but he really couldn’t take this painfully slow, halting, progress much longer. So, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of the briefs, shoving them downwards along with his pants, and then kicked all the useless clothing off with one flick of his long legs. And, while he was at it, he also shrugged off his jacket, shirt and the remains of his tie, leaving him lying there, bare as an egg, on full display for Justin’s viewing pleasure.

“Your body is so beautiful, Brian. Perfect. Like a sculpture,” Justin said, his tone full of awe, as he ran his palms over the expanse of firm, warm skin.

Brian didn’t bother to respond to this rhetorical comment. He just hoped that Justin’s admiration would move him to more substantial forms of appreciation. And soon. Because if he didn’t, Brian was probably going to explode with the anticipation.

Luckily for the both of them, it didn’t take much longer before the younger man was mobilized to act. With the grace of an awkward newborn colt, Justin crawled over Brian, positioning himself in the vee of his legs. He paused for a moment, appearing to analyze the situation’s logistics, and then reached out with one hand to take hold of Brian’s proudly straining cock. Once he had a firm grip on the situation, he seemed bolstered and, with a little more confidence than before, he leaned forward, tongue out, and licked a broad swipe up the drippy popsicle of Brian’s dick.

Okay, so it wasn’t the BEST blow job that Brian had ever received. At least not from a technical standpoint. But it was one of the most enthusiastic attempts he’d ever experienced. Justin pounced on that man meat with gusto, kissing, licking, slurping, nibbling with his lips and just generally going crazy, as if trying to taste all of Brian as many ways as possible. It was slightly ticklish and a tiny bit annoying and altogether tantalizing. When Brian could take it no longer and reached down to press slightly on the back of the blond head, Justin easily acquiesced, opening wide and taking the whole of Brian as deep as he could before gagging slightly. Brian pulled out a little and warned the kid to take his time, but Justin was too intent on his purpose for that. He kept working at it, little by little, his wicked tongue swirling around naughtily as he gradually took Brian deeper and deeper until he managed to swallow the whole fucking thing. Brian was impressed. Not many could take all of him like that and nobody had done it on their first time out of the gate either. Like he’d expected, Justin was a natural at this. And once the boy had mastered the basic technique, it didn’t take long at all before Brian was lost to the tendrils of pleasurable fire that erupted as his climax washed over him.

When Brian was able to see anything other than the tiny sparks of fireworks that had danced in front of his eyes, he noticed the boy kneeling over him, a gigantic smile spread across his face and little trickles of cum dribbling down his cheeks and chin. Justin looked thoroughly pleased with himself. Brian was actually pretty fucking proud of him too and showed it with his own smile as he pulled the boy down so that they were lying side by side. But when he rolled over to kiss that gorgeous smiling boy, Justin hesitated and turned his head aside.

“Shouldn’t I go wash my mouth out . . .” he asked in a small voice.

“Fuck, no.” Brian refused to let him go. “I want to share. Taste myself on your tongue,” he explained before demonstrating with a deep, tongue-filled kiss that had them both gasping for breath by the time it was done. “Good work, Blue Eyes,” Brian added, just in case the boy needed to hear it.

Justin beamed up at him proudly, all sparkling, gemstone bright, blue eyes, white teeth and blushing cheeks.

Brian chuckled, pulled his blond even closer, wrapped the boy in his arms, and held on for dear life.