Like many authors, I am taking part in this event, contributing a free fun short sexy story as my gift for you one day in December.
To read the stories by the many authors as they appear through December please visit the Rainbow Advent Calendar facebook Group.
And this is where the links to the stories will appear throughout the season: The Rainbow Advent Calendar 2018.
MY STORY for the CALENDAR is a sweet and sexy story called Christmas in Wonderland.
Over the next few days, it will appear on all the major ebook stores priced at FREE but you can read it here first, or download it in any format from here at Smashwords, Kobo and other bookstores.
First, you can find info. about all of my books here on this blog site and on my website: HelenJPerry.com
If you enjoy this free short story and haven’t read any of my books before I suggest you check out the book 1 in my Sky High Scaffolders series, which is FREE at most bookstores. It is called: Our Secret Wedding.
If you read in Kindle Unlimited you might want to read my latest book: The Prince and the Bodyguard. It is my only book in KU and will only be there for 90 days.
H J Perry
Christmas in Wonderland © H J Perry 2018
Depending on how you looked at it, my first night in the caravan was either exciting and horny or cold and lonely. I prefer to put a positive spin on my situation whenever I can.
For a start, it was not, strictly, a caravan. The three-bedroomed, static old mobile home had been used by a constant turnover of temporary farm workers. The walls were badly scuffed, and the place smelled of damp. The indoor temperature seemed colder than outside. I preferred to calling it a caravan because I was focused on the adventure of living in it for two weeks, and it sounded a little bohemian.
And I’m the sort of person who likes to focus on the silver lining rather than the cloud.
The cloud? I was supposed to be there with my mate, Lee Sharples. At the very last minute, he couldn’t make it. He had chicken pox. It explained why he was so tired lately. He’d put his lethargy down to end of term exhaustion and the pressure of school work. A new explanation emerged when the spots appeared on the final day of school.
Enough about Lee; back to my silver lining.
As I’d arrived at the Kentishford farm without Lee, I got free choice of choice of where to sleep in the mobile home allocated to us. One other lad who was due to arrive the next day was expected to stay as well. There was never any doubt I was going to choose the biggest bed in the only so-called double bedroom. It can’t have been more than four foot wide, the bed not the room, although that wasn’t much bigger. I wouldn’t have fitted in the child-sized beds that they apparently classed as singles in the other two bedrooms.
Thankfully, Lee hadn’t come along, or we’d have had to do rock paper scissors for the least undesirable sleeping space.
Needless to say, at first, I couldn’t relax. Strange bed. Strange place. Strange noises outside.
I’m a teenager.
When I’m alone, of course, I have a sure way of passing the time and relaxing—a method that sends me to sleep with a smile on my face.
Call it a hobby of mine.
Something I like to do once, or twice, a day.
Masturbation and teenagers inevitably go together like mistletoe and holly, like Christmas pudding and cream, like turkey and cranberry sauce, like pigs in blankets.
As I live at home with my parents, the opportunity to watch porn in my bed with the volume up loud, and for an extended time without fear of being overheard is rare. Fortunately, I like reading erotica too. I imagine the guys to be exactly how I want them to be. Word porn makes no sound, except for the movement of my wrist and my heavy breathing.
I hadn’t figured on watching porn while staying in a caravan with Lee. The risk of getting caught was too high. He’d have no problem with porn, he watches it too, but there’d be some explaining to do if he discovered my taste in viewing material because I wasn’t out to him or anyone else.
So I’d stocked up my book app with gay erotica for reading in bed. I thought it highly unlikely any of my mates would pick up my phone and work their way into my reading App.
When it comes to erotica, I love the whole lot: gay for you, straight to gay, jock and geek, and gay-first-time. Stories like what I hoped will happen to me one day. You know, stories I can relate to being a virgin and still looking forward to my first kiss.
At home, the opportunity never arises for extended sessions of self-pleasure in my own bed at night without a fear of being discovered, overheard or interrupted due to…, well, parents, of course.
I only had the tiny screen of my mobile phone available, but I had a paid-up subscription to a Hung Young Brit’s website and I fully intended to make the most of the night by getting off with some gay chav porn.
“Franklin? Are you Franklin?”
Two men who strode toward me both appeared as well bundled as myself. We were all dressed in warm coats, hats, and gloves. All of our winter outfits were topped by the unmissable high-visibility Wonderland vests that all the staff wore. That was where the similarity ended between the two.
If it weren’t for the work vest, the taller of the two men would have blended into the countryside. He wore a mix of khaki green and bark brown with a splash of bog black. His trousers were tucked into sensible green wellington boots with thick socks bunching out over the top. “I’m here to take over from you now,” he said.
Thank you, Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. I’d just lived through the longest one hour and forty-five minutes of my life. Unfortunately, it was also the first hour and forty-five minutes in my new job, which didn’t bode well for the weeks ahead.
One of the things I learned about myself that morning was that I’m not cut out to be a car-park attendant or any role that involves directing traffic for that matter.
Since the start of the day, I’d been standing a few feet from the main gate of a farm in the middle of nowhere, aka deepest Kentfordshire. My sole task, waving cars onward toward the far end of the field where they’d disappear from view beyond a hedge and into the next area to park.
Not one driver stopped to wind down their window and ask a question. They all filed passed slowly, barely acknowledging me. Inside their vehicles, they looked warm, cozy, and excited about the day they were about to enjoy at Wonderland. I should have thought to bring ear buds for my phone, so I could have listened to something to pass the time.
My camouflaged replacement jumped into his new hand-waving role without further ado.
His companion and I both watched him for a few seconds.
“I’ve been sent to collect you and take you to empty all the rubbish bins.”
“Oh, great joy.” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic. It just slipped out that way. I was cold and bored, but they were poor excuses for rudeness.
If I wanted to be rude, it would be using a very different meaning of the word, at least with this guy.
My very first impression of him was that he had to be fun. There was nothing about him that would blend into the rural background. He’d stand out in any crowd.
For a start, he wore a red and white bobble hat with a polar bear and snowflake motif and coordinating scarf. His coat was a dazzling shade of bright blue. I could imagine my English teacher at school telling me it was sapphire blue. I’d say it was an I-demand-you-look-at-me bright blue.
And boy did I want to look at him.
What I could see of him was quite beautiful.
The blue coat made the most of his eyes. As for the red scarf, do I need to tell you about his full lips? His whole face looked kissable. Even the chin stubble looked soft and begged me to stoke it.
With. My. Face.
He shrugged. “I’ve heard this is your first day, so I’ve been asked to show you the ropes. By which I mean bags of waste. You’ll be doing it on your own next time.”
“Can this day get any better?” The day had apparently taken a turn for the better as I was on a task with Mr. Beautiful Bobble Hat. But to him, it may have sounded as if I was voicing negative thoughts with the undertone of a lousy attitude. I would’ve tried kicking myself right then for letting my mouth run away with itself; however, I’d probably fall over and make a bigger fool of myself.
The conversation over, he turned away and began to walk in the direction of the Wonderland village.
If I’d have dawdled, I could have followed behind and checked out his rear. Instead, I hurried along to walk beside him.
“I mean, after the mind and body-numbing torture of standing in that cold field, anything would be better. At least I’m moving about and doing something if I’m emptying smelly old trash.”
“I don’t allocate the tasks, but they’ve all got to be done.” His mouth was set straight.
I’d like to see him smile. I’d like to be the one who made him laugh.
We walked alongside each other across the field. I didn’t take my eyes off him, but he never glanced at me—no surprise. I’d not done anything to make a good impression. I tried to sort through my mind for something sensible to say, but my brain was half frozen. The best I could come up with was, “Good to know you’re not in charge. Sorry if I came across a bit snarky. Did I mention that I’m cold?”
Mr. Beautiful Bobble Hat’s mouth curved upwards into a hint of a smile. “I know what it’s like standing out there in the cold. Let’s go get hot drinks before we tackle the rubbish.”
Just the idea of something hot and sweet passing my lips made me feel warm inside. “I’m starting to like you already.”
“Good thing you do. I’m Brett, by the way. And I’m sharing your mobile home.”
THE WINTER WONDERLAND
“Oh,” I said aloud, while in my head thinking, oh, my god. Sleeping with wafer-thin caravan walls between bobble-hat-wearer, Beautiful Brett and I, how would that work out?
“I arrived this morning, and Sharon let me in to dump my bags before sending me to find you for rubbish duty,” he continued.
Sharon was one half of the enterprising couple who ran their festive business on this farmland. She lived in the main farmhouse a couple of hundred yards from the temporary workers’ accommodation.
Brett and I were part of the temporary hired workforce. I was down to work every waking hour for two weeks right up until Christmas. Working all the hours and being on-call for any middle of the night emergencies required living on site.
“I hope you don’t snore,” I said as we near the end of the staff-only slipway from the outside world into Wonderland.
“It doesn’t wake me up.” He chuckled. “If I do, don’t worry, I sleep through it.”
“Stop a minute.” I put my hand on his arm to bring him to a halt. “Just look at that.”
We were just a few yards from the Winter Wonderland village, and it looked magical.
We’d been walking down a gradual slope into a valley, and we were slightly elevated when were stepped forward from the boundary bushes that had surrounded us and obscured the wondrous view of the site. I hadn’t previously seen it from this vantage point.
“It’s quite cool, isn’t it?” Brett said.
Twinkling lights of various colors hung in the trees all about, both near and far. Set in the heart of the Kentfordshire countryside, the aim was to let people imagine they’d been magically transported to the real Santa’s Village at the North Pole. I could see it.
Wonderland had all the things you associate with Christmas. People in Victorian costumes gathering around a Christmas tree three times a day to sing carols. An olde-worlde themed marketplace. Why the Victorian theme, I don’t know. Nostalgia, for sure as we wouldn’t want to return to those times, before the welfare state when poor people lived in workhouses, and if you couldn’t afford a doctor, you’d be left to die.
Already the smell of chestnuts roasting over an open fire wafted up to us on the breeze, it was simply delicious.
The Wonderland village was primarily a fancy arts and crafts market, with additional stalls selling food and drinks. There were also traditional fairground amusements such hoopla, hook-a-duck, and a fortune teller worked from an old-fashioned gypsy wagon mixed in between craft stalls.
The stalls weren’t just laid out like a modern market. Every booth and every building was clad to make it look old and magical.
Stallholders and many of the staff were dressed up in either Victorian costumes or Christmas themed outfits. They were supposed to be elves and other magic creatures or someone from a Dickensian Christmas.
From the marketplace, the public would catch a little train to the star attraction.
People came from far around to take their little ones to see Santa in the Wonderland Grotto. The mini narrow-gauge railway ran around the perimeter of the nearby lake taking the passengers to Santa’s grotto even though it was close enough to walk. The train journey added to the experience making it more of an extraordinary adventure. Of course, the driver was one of Santa’s elves.
Once they arrived at what appeared to be Santa’s home, the excitement continued. There followed a walk through a lengthy and beautifully decorated grotto. I hadn’t been inside, but I’d seen an online trailer advertising Wonderland.
“This is my first day,” I told him. “I only arrived yesterday, well, last night, so I haven’t had a chance to see it all yet. It looks special you can see why people come here.”
We stood together watching people milling about the picturesque scene for a minute or two in silence.
“Franklin, you look frozen stiff. Come on; hot drinks await us.”
THE HOT DRINKS
Elves staffed the self-service cafe. People paid elves. At the cash desk, we flashed our staff ID cards to elves, in case they were color-blind, and the high-vis vests weren’t bright enough. An elf discounted our drinks to free.
Our staff identity badges entitled us to free food and drink in the main catering marquee. It wasn’t entirely benevolent of our employer. The marque provided budget mass catering so that visitors would have plenty of money to spend at the commercial concessions. And while the bosses fed and watered us, it was easier to keep us at work as we had no reason to leave the farm to go shopping or do our own cooking.
I liked the fact that even though I was working for the minimum wage, I’d feel better off at the end of the two weeks because there was minimal opportunity for me to spend money unless I wanted to buy mince pie flavored fudge and have my palm read.
“Why do you think we aren’t we dressed as elves?” I asked Brett as we made our way to an empty table in the far corner.
“Do you want to dress up as an elf?”
“No. Not really. They look good in Lord of the Rings.” I hadn’t given it any thought, and I didn’t know where I was going with my answer.
“Legolas looked stunning.” A dreamy expression came over Brett’s face. No. It couldn’t have. I must have been projecting my own impure thoughts about elf version of Orlando.
“I think you’d look good in an elf costume. It would go with your eyes.” And, I did kick myself.
Commenting on his eyes was the gayest thing I’d ever done in public with another bloke. It was the Orlando Bloom effect. Think of the gorgeous sexy actor and common sense leaves the building.
Without behaving as if I’d said something odd, which I had, he smiled.
I’d made him smile.
“Well, thank you, Franklin. The mere fact we’re going on rubbish patrol should be enough of an explanation. We not employed to interact with the public, we’re backstage.”
“That’s us, Brett and Frank, making it work behind the scenes.” I’d gotten a smile and felt sure I was close to getting a laugh. It was time I made sure he knew I wasn’t a prat. “And, by the way, I really am sorry if I sounded like a dick earlier.”
“No worries. I know how you feel after standing in a cold field on your own for an hour. I’ve been there. Wait until you do it in the rain and the dark.”
“And hour? It’s been more like two. Anyway, that’s history. This isn’t your first day here then?” The park had already been open a couple of weeks, since late November, but they increased the staff numbers as it got closer to Christmas. I couldn’t have come sooner due to school, so I was pleased that had this later influx of workers.
He shrugged, and his smile got broader. “That’s history. This is my first day this season, but it’s my fourth year. It ties in well with the Christmas break from Uni.”
So, Brett was older than me. I was supposed to start university next year, assuming my grades were good enough.
“I’ve turned up and stayed in one of those mobile homes every year. I guess you’ve taken the big bedroom?” Brett asked. “I just dumped my bags in the lounge. Sharon was on my back wanting to get me out to work.”
“Big bedroom. You’re having a laugh. You’ve seen inside those tin cans. There isn’t a big bedroom. There are various sizes of small rooms with tiny beds.
“Fair point.” He eyed me. “And you are bigger than me.”
“Easy on the big, comments. I’m not overweight, I’ve just got my winter padding to keep me warm, not that it’s working too well. And I’m big boned.”
He raised an arched eyebrow. Meanwhile, his gaze skated over my torso to linger briefly on my crotch.
Oh, my god. I wasn’t talking about that big bone. But his mind went there, and my mind followed.
Having begun with a bad start, the rest of the day’s work wasn’t too bad. We emptied the waste bins, we shifted boxes of who knows what from one end of the site to another, and we wheelbarrowed hardcore and smaller stones to fill a hole that was forming in the pathways. We found time to mop toilet too. It was quite okay. Fun, even. And no task was too awful.
Brett and I stuck together, and it was much better working as a team than standing around on my lonesome. Even the dullest task can be pleasurable if you have a mate to do it with. We had a laugh and frequent breaks for hot food and drinks.
After thinking about what he said about Legolas and other stuff, there were moments when I wondered if Brett were into blokes too, but I dismissed those thoughts as wishful thinking.
Then, there were some of our interactions that got me wondering, too. The way he’d look me up and down or wink—I wondered if he might be flirting with me, but that was definitely my imagination working overtime and producing too much to wish for.
At times I wondered how things might work out after work when we were alone in the caravan.
Things could get difficult.
Me lying in bed awake and restless and fantasizing about sleeping with Brett (or any other gorgeous man, for that matter) while Brett slept in a bed that was way too close to mine with just that slither of a wall between us.
As it turned out, by the time we finally entered the caravan that night I was too exhausted to function. After the long hours at a new job, followed by a late supper for residential staff held in the main farmhouse, I was ready to crash out. I didn’t wonder about how Brett was going to manage in one of those tiny beds partly because thinking about Brett in bed was not a good idea.
The caravan was freezing, literally, it might have been down at about two degrees, the same as the outdoors. There had been no heating on all day. The only heating in the place was the gas fire in the living area and an electric wall heater in the hall outside our bedrooms. We agreed to switch on both heaters for the night and leave our doors open in the hope that we didn’t die of hypothermia in our sleep.
In the future, we’d have to slope back to put the gas fire on an hour or two before we planned to come back for the night.
I put all the spare covers on my bed, and I didn’t wash, it was too cold. I just put on clean clothes (including sock) over my dirty body, got into bed, and was asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow.
Days panned out in much the same way as the first.
After that, we left the heating on in the caravan twenty-four seven.
The caravan warmed up, but it never got sweltering in there. It just maintained a survivable mild temperature. We were able to shower and function in the mornings, but we didn’t linger. Late night hot supper and an early breakfast were on offer at the farmhouse, and we started work early because there was plenty to do before the gates opened. In particular, everything had to be opened up and turned on. Things had to be checked for weather and animal disturbances in the night.
Brett and I stuck together every day as we worked well together as a team.
I hoped I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, but I had a horrible feeling I was going to throw myself at him at some point, and that would make things awkward. However, by the time we made it to the evening meal each night we were exhausted. Eating and cleaning up was about all we could manage. I was too tired to look at anything on my phone: no ebook App, no hardcore porn.
After eight days of twelve-hour days, I was more than happy to get a new set of work instructions for the day.
“You two,” Sharon said to Brett and me as soon as we appeared at the farmhouse for our six thirty breakfast. “I want you to knock off at ten, take a break, catch up on some sleep and be back here for four.”
“A day off?” I said in amazement.
“Half a day,” she corrected. “Do laundry and get some rest. You look tired. You should make sure you take a nap as we’ll be starting earlier tomorrow. High winds are predicted for tonight, so we need to make doubly sure everything is secure so you might have to work a little later tonight to do that and be ready to rectify any damage first thing in the morning.”
So, not really time off at all.
We were on our way back to the caravan by ten with nothing to do. “What shall we do? Shall we see if we can get tickets to visit Santa?” I asked It didn’t need pointing out that the caravan was bleak and cold. It wasn’t the place anyone would want to hang out on a half-day off work.
“What would you say you wanted for Christmas when you sat on his knee?” Brett nudged me.
“I don’t know, the chance to lie in a warm, comfortable bed for a month.”
“Well, you heard the lady, you know what we gotta do,” Brett replied.
“We can’t do laundry; we did it yesterday.” With years of experience at this, Brett had introduced me to his plan for clean pants and socks when you work all hours.
Adjacent to the farmhouse, there was an outbuilding that functioned as a laundry. In addition to the machines, there were also places to hang clothes, but it was cold, damp and dusty in there so hanging cleanly washed laundry made no sense at all. We’d bundle our things into a washing machine before breakfast, and at the first opportunity between chores, we’d return to move the wet items into the driers.
“No, not laundry.” Brett winked. “She told us to go to bed. Not quite for a month, so you can’t say Christmas is coming early.”
Oh, sweet Joseph of Arimathea, save me. I gulped. Christmas might not be coming early, but there was every danger I would if Brett mentioned US going to BED in the DAYTIME in one sentence, again.
I’d quite possibly started to walk funny in the last few days with my full balls as big badgers. The work rest balance hadn’t allowed any time for those normal functions.
We arrived at our mobile home, and Brett pulled out his key to unlock the door. “I’m not sure I can sleep, though. Not when it is only ten in the morning.”
“What will we do in bed if we aren’t sleeping?” I tried to sound as normal as possible but I damn near ejaculated in my pants as I crossed the threshold to our tin-can home. My cock was as hard as space would allow and wedged into an uncomfortable position.
“I’ve got a number of answers to that question, but I’ll go with the clean one,” Brett teased.
I want to hear the dirty one.
“I’ve got my iPad. We could watch a film together if you like. Or separate if you prefer. We’ve been together all day every day, so I’d understand if you’d like your own space.”
I don’t mind if we have no space between us at all. In fact, we could even fill in each other’s spaces, was something I didn’t say. “Watching a film together sounds good.”
“Great. I thought in your bed; obviously two people don’t fit in mine.”
“Frankly, I don’t think two grown men will fit in mine either; it’s big enough for one person.”
If I told anyone about this, it might sound strange that we were discussing watching a film in bed in the daytime instead of in the sitting area. It’s one of those things where you had to be there. We’d not sat in the living area at all. We hadn’t used the kitchen facilities either.
If you saw it, you’d understand.
“I don’t mind getting close, Frank. We’ll share body heat and keep warm.”
This plan was all very well, but I could foresee embarrassment on the horizon. We weren’t Abbott and Costello or Laurel and Hardy. Sharing a bed in the daytime wasn’t going to end well, and I wondered how I’d gotten myself into this mess.
Brett went into his room to get into his PJs and fetch his iPad. Meanwhile, I stripped off and into my thermal sleepwear and slipped under the duvet. I did this super fast because my dick only subsided to half mast and was like to rise again at any moment.
We settled down to watch Shrek. Soon I completely relaxed. We laughed at the jokes and repeated the best lines. By the time the film was ending, I could barely keep my eyes open. Brett was also slumped and, so he set the alarm for later, and we went to sleep.
Three hours is precisely the wrong amount of sleep to have.
I must have been in deep when that alarm sounded. I was vaguely aware of Brett mentioning snooze, and I was out again. Five or ten minutes later the alarm was blaring again. And then Brett was shaking me awake. We really did have to get back out there. I had time to shower, which I needed to wake me up. Brett took one too. And while I he was in there, I absolutely didn’t imagine white foam being rubbed all over this glistening wet body. No, that image didn’t enter my mind.
The wind was getting up outside, though nowhere near storm level. Brett and I joined the crew, taking things down as a precaution and preparing for severe weather. It was the usual routine. Work. Evening meal at the farmhouse. And back to the caravan for bedtime.
Except, of course, I wasn’t tired.
“I’m not really tired,” I said to Brett. This was his chance to suggest Shrek Two. And that would be how I seduced a man into my bed for the night, for the first time in my entire life, using an animated ogre.
What he actually said was, “You should try to get some sleep because if there is a storm, we might not be able to sleep later and tomorrow will be a long day.”
Once in bed and wide awake, I had a choice. I could plug in my earphones if I wanted to listen to the sound too, but I decided to go for the other option and tapped open the ebook App.
I was about ten or fifteen minutes into the book, and it was a slow burn none of us were aroused, not the characters nor me, when thought I heard a noise.
I put the book down, raised myself up from the pillow, and tilted my head to listen.
It was a soft, barely audible scraping sound. It could have been anything, inside or outside this flimsy building. At least I knew there was a smoke alarm in case of fire and a carbon monoxide detector in case of trouble with the gas fire. But I didn’t want trouble at all.
The soft scratching sounded like an animal, and I was concerned it might be a rodent gnawing away at the frail fabric of the building.
Quietly, I climbed out of bed to investigate. I didn’t want to alert the creature before checking it out. I was half convinced a small animal was making a nest in the spare bedroom that should have been Lee’s.
I was chiefly concerned it might be the sound of trouble. A rodent sneaking in and or worse, a problem with the only two sources of heating. The gas fire worked well enough, but the electric heater in the hallways only ever got warm, never hot. It was like trying to warm up a kitchen using the heat from the light in the fridge.
The disturbance was so faint, it was barely audible.
Only when I stood right by my door did I discover the sound actually came from another direction, from Brett’s room. There was also a faint glow of light too.
I froze. Not from cold. Froze with the fear of being caught hovering near his open bedroom door like a peeping Tom. I realized the source of the sound—Brett’s wrist action resulting in fiction against the sheets.
It wasn’t the frantic, fast-paced knock one out; I might have identified that sooner. This was the sound of slow sensual movements—a man who wasn’t in a hurry but taking his time. The faint glow of light was probably from his iPad. I guessed he was watching porn.
Sweet baby Moses in a basket. Basically, he’d passed over the chance of watching a film with me in my bed so he could watch other people fuck. Not that I’d invited him into my bed, not unless he was telepathic.
There was something wrong with him being alone right then instead of sharing it all with me. Not that I wanted to watch straight porn, I assumed he was straight. But I could have watched him. I could have given him a hand with things.
I understood the need for alone time. I hadn’t jerked off since my first night in the caravan.
And, of course, while all these random ridiculous thoughts raced through my mind, my dick pinged to attention again.
If I stood really still perhaps he wouldn’t call me again.
“Franklin, is that your shadow I can see moving out in the hallway or do we have a ghost?”
Shit. I’d been so quiet. “Yep. Got up to go to the loo.” I placed a hand over my erection, it wouldn’t do for him to see that shadow or silhouette, and I stepped forward into the bathroom without looking in his direction. I didn’t want to see his dick. Lie. Well, obviously I did, but not like this.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t know I’d heard him, and we could carry on as usual.
I didn’t need the bathroom at all, and there was no pointing Percy at the porcelain in my current condition, so I ran the tap and splashed water about instead.
When I’d been in there too long, I placed my hand back over my hard rod and stepped out hoping Brett would be doing the decent thing, pretending to be asleep. He wasn’t. He was sitting on the end of his bed, apparently waiting for me.
“Alright?” I said because it seemed like one of us had to say something.
“Yeah. Good. I was just watching porn.”
“Do you want to watch it with me?”
Is it Christmas already? “Yeah, alright.” I didn’t move. I just stood there with my hand on my dick, which wanted to dance.
“Yeah, alright.” Because I’d become a great conversationalist. I led the way, and we took up the same positions we were in earlier. Side by side in my bed.
“I was just browsing porn hub,” he said. “You got any preferences?”
Don’t ask me that question. “Whatever, anything really. What were you watching?”
“You probably should have asked me that before you invited me into your bed.”
“I didn’t invite you. You invited yourself.”
“Okay, as you asked, there was a guy getting a blow job.”
“I’m good with blow jobs.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Brett sounded playful as his elbow rolled into me.
“I mean watching them. I’ve not had any experience actually giving them.”
“No? Oh, you surprise me.” His tone had changed to something more serious. “I wasn’t sure, but I thought you might have been into guys.”
Oh, no. So not fair. You don’t get to ask me outright without telling me whether you are. Except you do. Because you just have. “Um…”
“I don’t mind you-you want to watch girls together or guys together, or mixing them up. I should have told you before, certainly before I got in your bed, I’m bisexual.”
“I thought you might be too. I can go if it’s a problem.”
“No.” I put a hand on his thigh, over the top of the cover. It was his thigh. Much too think to be anything else. “It fine. I’m gay, but how could you tell?”
He turned to look straight at me. We were uncomfortably close, but I felt compelled to look him in the eye.
“I couldn’t tell. I just hoped. After all, you’re cute, and we get on well. I guess my imagination ran away with me.”
He said I’m cute and I’ve been in his imaginings. I just stared at him.
Brett turned to face forward, and so I followed his gaze to his iPad. “Gay blow jobs it is then.”
I wasn’t sure I could do this.
When Brett tapped his iPad, it brought up whatever he’d been watching, which he’d put on pause. It was a blow job all right. Several blow jobs, in fact, all in the one room. The gay group scene was precisely the sort of thing I might have chosen to watch.
“What?” he asked.
I’d never watched porn with someone else before and after all that had already gone before, I wasn’t sure how I’d survive it.
“Would you like to do something else, instead?” Fuck in hell, Frank, what’s wrong with you?. That sounded so lame, so I decided to pull up my big boy panties and get the job done. “I was going to say can we kiss, but what I’m thinking is why watch it, when we could do it?”
There, done it.
Without looking at me, Brett put the iPad to sleep and then placed it on the bedside locker. After, he turned to me and put a hand on my cheek.
At this point, I was already in danger of dying from lack of oxygen. He didn’t help matters by sealing his lips against mine. Our mouths opened and our tongues automatically sought out each other. He had a taste and smell that was so divine I wanted to dive in and drink him.
The chill in the room seemed to drop away with the bed covers as our hands found each other.
His worked down from my face to my biceps my hands went to his chest.
I realized it might have seemed I was pushing him away when I wanted him so much closer.
Something inside of me marveled at how right this felt as if we were made for each other. Our personalities brought us together as ideal teammates at work and as friends. It was safe to say we’d become friends in the short time we’d known each other.
Chemistry brought us together in the bedroom.
A physical chemistry that I didn’t understand, but it was there. Everything about him pleased my senses. The sound of his voice when he spoke. The things he said that raised my spirits. I don’t need to mention how great he looked. And up close in the bedroom, I could add the taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin, and the feel of his body next to mine.
His arms wrapped around me and he pulled me down the bed a little before I realized that was his plan so that we were laying side by side. The kiss only briefly interrupted before his lips found mine again. Perhaps it was a predictable move that I didn’t know. I was so inexperienced, as in, zero experience. It crossed my mind I should tell him. And I dismissed the thought in favor of just seeing how things developed.
In this new position, we were able to get much closer. Our chests touched, and it took my breath away. Our arms wrapped around each other and I found my legs wanted to wrap around him too. My legs automatically knew where they wanted to go, but I didn’t let them. It seemed too forward, and too fast for me.
Perhaps I didn’t need to tell him I wasn’t ready to move through all the bases at great speed.
He hadn’t so much as tried to go any further than kissing, just as I’d mentioned.
Maybe I’d already told him about my inexperience in some subtle way because he seemed to understand me as if we were in tune and he knew me by intuition.
And kissing was enough to make my head and body feel ready to explode with fireworks and probably an orgasm too. My cock was so hard, and I just knew it was obscenely tenting my sleepwear. When it nudge against him, I gasped. That contact alone felt terrific. As we continued to kiss we somehow slithered closer together until our dicks rubbed against each other, and they were pushed up close together.
It took my breath away as I experienced an overload of sensory pleasure.
“Franklin,” he whispered against my cheek when we broke our mouth to mouth contact. “Is it okay if I touch you?”
“Um, you are touching me.”
“No, I mean, your skin, under your clothes.” Even though he was asking, his hands were already working their way up under my T-shirt.
“Yeah, definitely,” I replied, and added, “Why don’t we just take everything off.”
So I know I’m a human bundle of contradictions. I was frightened of going too fast only because I’d never been there before, but at the same time there was a danger I was going to come in my pants if I didn’t get them off soon, and I really wanted to see him naked.
Brett must have felt the same way as he sat up instantly and pulled his top off and then continued to push down his PJ bottoms. I couldn’t move as my gaze was transfixed by the sight of so much manly skin up close to me and available to me to touch.
“Jeeeeez,” I said before removing my sleepwear at the speed of light.
And then it was as if someone fired the starting pistol and we were off with no restraint.
The porn I’d watch had always been very dick, and ass-focused mixed with lots of kissing. What happened on that bed with Brett was something entirely different and awesome. It was like a carefully choreographed complicated dance, and yet we knew all the moves and were able to do them in time.
We locked together exploring each other’s bodies with our hands and mouths and tongues. Rolling about taking it in turns on top or below, to straddle each other.
Slowly and carefully he trailed his fingers over my chest, my stomach, moving closer to my dick, teasing but not quite reaching it before he diverted his attention to my hands. Our fingers weaved, he held my hands, and they gently parted once again if it were part of the dance. He pulled my fingers to his mouth. He licked them. He sucked them. I watched.
The sensation made my dick bounce and dribble.
I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was happening that finger sucking seemed so sensual. Were fingers major erogenous zones or was my mind playing tricks on me?
The thing was, we didn’t touch each other’s cocks, directly, they bounced eagerly between us like excited little puppies jumping up for attention. But we lavished that attention on the regions above each other’s belt area, and it felt more amazing than I ever would have imagined.
“Is this okay for you?” Brett asked.
“Fuck, yeah. Amazing.”
“I wasn’t sure. You know. I’m just doing what I want to. What feels right.”
I wasn’t sure what the fuck he was talking about. But I didn’t care if he wanted to babble. I wasn’t up to meaningful conversations right then either. “Brett, can I suck your cock?” I could be direct when I the moment required it.
His expression and lack of words suggested he was struggling to hold it together too.
He got off me, and I shimmied into a better position, and finally wrapped a hand around his dick.
He groaned. “Oh god. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Believe it, Brett.” Were my final last words before losing my cocksucking virginity. The end of his dick was soaking wet with precum, and I licked it all up with a flat tongue before opening my mouth wide to take him.
I’d watched enough porn to know deep throat was a thing, but I didn’t know if I’d be able. His cock didn’t hit the back of my throat, but I was proud of what I achieved for a first attempt. I worked my mouth up and down, using my tongue as well and the moans and expletives coming from Brett suggested he like it as much as I did.
I certainly liked doing it.
No two ways about it, cock is wonderful. I like looking at them, and now I’d confirmed I loved giving blow jobs too.
“Franklin,” his hands tightened on my head.
I liked the sound of my name coming from his mouth while my mouth tasted his sweet precum that flowed like a dripping tap.
“You need to stop.”
I wasn’t so keen to hear that.
“Or I’m going to come.”
Well, come then. That doesn’t sound bad. Having already established he was not telepathic, I reluctantly let his cock fall from my mouth. “Come. Now, Brett. Come in my mouth.”
“Oh god, You have to let me do the same to you.”
He said it as if there was some chance I’d say no. It was a question so stupid I didn’t grace it with an answer before resuming my newest hobby of dick sucking. This time I lavished my attention on the head and around its sensitive, wrinkled ridge. I worked that area with my tongue and lips. When he came, I didn’t want it hitting the back of my throat and gone. I wanted to taste him.
His cock pumped into me great quantities, and the great force took me by surprise. It tasted hot and dirty and nice and I damn well almost came myself. I wasn’t expecting so much on the tip of my tongue. And it started to dribble out down my chin. Something told me Brett might like to see that so I straddled him, rubbing my throbbing dick against his as I did so.
Brett opened his eyes and looked at me with a smile.
“You look pleased with yourself,” he said. “Like the cat that got the cream.”
I grinned and opened my mouth just a little so he could get a sense of just how much white cream I had.
There was a glint of kinky mischief in Brett’s eyes. “Come here and kiss me.” I bent forward and made sure his mouth opened before mine as we locked into an open-mouthed, cum-sharing kiss. Using his tongue he pushed his jizz back up into my mouth, but gravity kept drawing it back into his. It was the best kiss ever.
“Come and give me yours, Franklin.” He licked his lips, and I knew he was eager for it. “Over my face, in my mouth, however you want. Come, sit over me.”
Did I say we were perfect together? He was perfectly made for me. I moved up his body until my knees were either side of his head and I was almost sitting on his chest. I tangled my dick so that he could lick the end, which he did with great enthusiasm. His strong hands held my arse and guided me forward.
He licked the length of my knob, dick tip to root and on to my balls. He gave them enthusiastic attention. Licking and sucking and touching. And his hands urged me a little further forward.
I moaned loudly when his tongue made intimate contact with my hole. You can read online guides about sex for gay men, but until you do it, with someone else, you have no fucking idea how great it is going to be. At least I didn’t. It was even better than I expect and I decided there, and then I was an ardent enthusiast of rimming, and I had to do it to him as soon as possible.
I couldn’t take it for long before I had to jerk away from him. “That’s too good,” I said.
“Come if you want to,” he replied.
I couldn’t argue with his logic, so I relaxed the mental control that had been holding back. He wrapped one hand around my dick and started licking the end while wanking me. Meanwhile, he slipped a finger inside me at the rear. “Fuck, fuck. Yes. That’s good.” I wasn’t holding back I wanted him to know what I thought. Within seconds I was coating his tongue and face in white ribbons of my spunk.
Brett looked quite debauched and beautiful like that.
I sort of spent a while in orgasmic euphoria before I came to my senses and thought about getting off him and wiping him clean.
When I slipped off him, he jumped up and out of bed at surprising speed. I’ll be back he mumbled. And he went into the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure whether to pull my clothes on, so I snuggled down under the duvet. It seemed much colder now the bed was a man down. It was then that I noticed the noise outside. It had been quiet earlier when I thought I heard a rodent invader. Now, the wind was kicking up a storm. It made angry noises as it hit the trees.
After a few tense minutes, Brett returned with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face. He climbed into bed beside me and reached out to cuddle.
“I was really scared I was going to mess up, but that was okay wasn’t it?”
“It was better than okay. Why be scared?” Okay, I was scared, but I didn’t need to tell him that.
“I’ve fancied the pants off you since we met so there was pressure there And I’ve never even kissed a guy before tonight. So I was worried about doing the wrong thing.”
“Are you taking the piss?” I felt confused.
“No. Why?” he looked confused.
“How can you be a virgin? You’re twenty-one.”
He frowned. “I’m not a virgin, Frank, I’ve been with girls. Just never blokes.”
“Oh. I see. Well, I was scared too, because I am a virgin. Well, does this count as sex?”
Brett kissed my forehead. “It was fucking awesome for me. We touched each other, and we both came. That counts as sex for me.”
My eyes were shutting. It was far later than my usual sleep time since arriving at the farm.
Brett kissed me again. It was light and gentle. “Sleep now. And we’ll try to find time to do it again tomorrow.”
I couldn’t focus any longer. Sleep claimed me.
The next day, something felt different.
When the alarm sounded, it seemed unusually bright inside the caravan. I rushed straight to the window to check where the light was coming from.
“Brett, was snow forecast?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, it snowed. It might not stay. And it’s not a thick layer. But it’s white snow and it’s drifted.”
“A bit like me drifting into your bed. Look, Franklin, I need you to get back in bed with me while we can and tell me whether we’ve got time for snogging and stuff before we go to work.”
“So last night wasn’t a one off for you, Brett?”
“Snow doubt about it, I’ve never met anyone like you before in my life. We go together perfectly. I’m hoping we’ll get to know each other better and date as well.”
“Do you want to go out with me?”
“Yes, Franklin, thank you for asking. I do want to go out with you. From what I know of you, we’ll make terrific boyfriends.”
FYI, Hung Young Brit is a real person and maker of erotic films, and gay chav porn is a real British thing. https://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcthree/article/a347bf9f-138c-4163-862f-4daab329ee37
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