An American Muscleman in London 15
The Second Full Moon - Continued
My Saturday was exactly as I planned it. I went to the open-air market and bought some fresh food, took a long run, spent some time at the National Portrait Gallery, and ended the evening at Halfway to Heaven. No one I knew was at the pub. I was hoping that Martin would drop by, but he didn’t. I had a few pints of Stella and then went home. I was getting very excited about my excursion to Oxford with Roger. At home I watched some television, ate a late dinner, and went to bed early. I wanted to be wide-awake in the morning when Roger arrived at 8:30.
As I drifted between the last moments of awareness and sleep I found myself fantasizing about Roger. When we had been together the night before a strange force shot through my body each time he touched me. It was hard to explain. It was something more than lust. It was almost like an addiction. There was something like an animal magnetism exploding from every part of his being – and it had a strange effect on me. It was like my body was being drawn to his by some unknown connection. This strong bond definitely included a need for sex, but it also involved something deeper – and even in my drowsy state, my mind tried desperately to figure out what special power this man had over me. My body recalled the strength of his arms as they held me. I knew there was a fantastic body underneath those tailor-made clothes. I also knew that my body longed to match the intensity of his. The closest I could come to naming the feeling that surrounded me was comparing it to the intense awareness two wrestlers must feel as they engage in the sport. I had never wrestled, but I was sure that you became very aware of your opponent’s every move as your body entwines with his. I am sure that many wrestlers found it difficult to not get an erection from the close masculine contact – especially when strong arms wrapped around each other and tried to out-power the opponent. There must be a thin line between wrestling and sex. This was my last thought before I drifted into sleep.
That night there were no dreams. My subconscious was aware of the void in my mind. When I woke I had the strange feeling that something had wanted to drift into my mind as I slept – but a stronger force blocked it. It was as if an outside force was controlling everything I thought. I did, however, awake refreshed and energized. I could feel the excitement and anticipation building in my body - as the time of Roger’s arrival got closer. I chose a tight fitting shirt that showed off my eyes and a pair of slacks that hopefully emphasized my butt. I looked in the mirror and actually liked what I saw – no, I really liked what I saw. I could tell that my body reacted strongly to the running and the exercising – or was Roger’s interest in me fueling this upward surge in self-esteem? Either way – I didn’t care. I liked what I saw and I knew Roger would too.
At eight thirty my doorbell rang – not the buzzer at the front of the building, but the bell right outside my door. It surprised me. I immediately wondered how Roger had gotten into the building. I opened the door - trying hard to contain the excitement welling up inside of me.
Roger stood there – looking more handsome than ever. He held a bouquet of roses and had that devilish smile that made crazy with desire.
“Good morning, handsome,” he said handing me the flowers and then leaning in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. The same electricity as from Friday night shot through my entire body – and I knew he felt the same thing. “Are you ready to go explore the wonderful city of Oxford?”
“Yes, Mr. Wexford, I am. Thank you for the roses. I’ll put them in some water and then we should be on our way – or we might never leave this flat,” I said walking to the kitchen and reaching down to adjust my hard cock.
“That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, Mr. Lance – would it?” Roger’s voice was light and full of mirth. He was walking around the place looking at the decor.
“No, it wouldn’t, but I really want to see Oxford. I hope you are ready to play tour guide. Please know that I will ask a million questions. You’ll probably get bored of me in the first hour.” I had joined him in the dining area by this time and placed the flowers on the table between us.
“I see you have a replica of Lancelot’s glove,” he said glancing at my mantel.
“Yes, I got it last week. But the guy said it wasn’t a replica. Wait a minute – how did you know it’s Lancelot’s glove? And while I’m asking questions – how did you get into the building?” I turned from the mantel and looked at him.
“Anthony – you don’t grow up in England without knowing the Camelot story intimately. You should also know that my family has an ancient connection with the King Arthur legacy. If you were from England you would know that the emblem on the side of the glove represents ‘Lancelot du Lac.’ It’s quite an impressive looking glove. And, in answer to your second question, there was a nice elderly woman leaving as I walked up and she politely held the door open for me. That is how tight the security is in your building.” Roger laughed slightly and I noticed, again, how handsome he was. His black hair was not slicked back with gel today – it was full and fell into his face as he moved. I had not realized how long his hair was the other night. And his eyes sparkled more today than ever – like some dark jewel that was brown and, yet, appeared almost pitch black.
I found myself being drawn into an uncontrollable lust – which would only lead to trouble this morning – so I grabbed the glove and walked toward Roger, “Here, do you want to see it closer or, better yet, try it on?”
Roger immediately said, “No,” and almost tripped over a chair as he moved quickly backwards. It was a glimpse of Roger that I was seeing for the first time – it was almost like he was scared of the glove. He seemed to let his guard down for just a moment and then regained his usual cockiness. “Thank you, Anthony. But I think we should get going so we don’t miss our train.”
“Sure – let me just get my jacket. I thought it might get cool later on tonight,” I said placing the glove back in its place and walking to the bedroom. I forgot about Roger’s reaction because of my excitement about going to Oxford. That giddy mood also made me miss the fact that Roger followed me into the bedroom. When I grabbed the jacket off the bed and turned around I was surprised that Roger was right there. I jumped slightly and began to lose my balance. Roger reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. His strong grip steadied me immediately. I could see in his eyes he had something more on his mind than catching me. He pushed me gently onto the bed – coming slowly down on top of me. I let go of the jacket and it fall to the floor. Roger let the full weight of his body rest on top of me. He brought his mouth to mine and kissed me hard. I noticed for the first time that Roger had, what felt like, a two-day beard – God, it was sexy. The kiss was deep and passionate. As much as I enjoyed the kiss – it was the feeling of his body pressed against mine that got my attention. Everywhere his body touched mine I felt only hardness. His chest pressed into mine and I could tell it was well muscled – in that lean, not beefy, sort of way. His legs even felt hard as rock as they wrapped around mine. I could tell he possessed great power in those two pillars of muscle. He was able to slide his arms under my upper body and I could feel super tight biceps and forearms squeezing me hard. And speaking of hard – I felt his rigid cock twitching with excitement between us. I could tell he was controlling the movements of his cock – just to make me notice. I am sure he could feel the hard response coming from my crotch, as well. When he started slowly and intentionally moving his own crotch up and down – forcing shivers to shoot from my toes to the tip of my head – I knew we needed to stop now or we’d be cleaning up my “response” in a few seconds.
I turned my mouth from his and whispered in his ear, “Oxford is calling Mr. Wexford!”
“Couldn’t we just stay like this the rest of the day?” he asked – as he, thankfully, stopped pressing his hard dick into mine.
“We could – but I’m not sure I would be learning any cultural facts about this great country,” I said teasingly.
“While that is true, Mr. Lance, I do believe we could learn many things right here in this bed – many, of which, might be considered somewhat cultural. Don’t you agree? Maybe we do some things differently here – differently than how you do them in the States,” Roger whispered as he lightly bit my left earlobe.
“I believe there are some things that are universal, sir,” I said carrying on the banter. “No matter where a person lives – there are some things that are just instinctive and already known - because our body reacts automatically. I think every human on earth would know what to do with a beautiful man with long sexy black hair, dark eyes, a wicked smile, and a body that could melt icebergs. But right now I think that beautiful man should stand up or his nice linen pants could become wet and stained - because of the man beneath him.”
Roger laughed, kissed me hard one more time, and then stood up. I immediately glanced to his crotch to see the perfect outline of his lovely piece of manhood. He saw where I was looking and teasingly ran his hand up and down the outline of his shaft. I shut my eyes to prevent myself from going over the edge. I felt his strong hands, again, grab me by the shoulders and pull me from the bed. When I opened my eyes I saw him walking from the room with my jacket in hand. “Come along Mr. Lance – it is time for your lessons to begin.”
I had to stand still for a second. I knew, at that moment, any movement would cause my cock to shoot with pleasure. I made my mind think about things that I didn’t like – turnips, eating dinner at Hooters, the way my mother nagged about my manners – anything to take me away from the feeling, the smell, and the memory of that incredibly sexy man. I worried about how I would make it through the day. I began to walk only after I knew my body was safe – safe from exploding.
Oxford is almost like a secret city tucked away in the countryside of Middle England. It lies about fifty miles west-northwest of London. It seems to have been established in Saxon times – around the 8th century. Oxford University is really what the city is known for now – and it is made up of 36 colleges. The city is a quiet place - full of tradition, education, and a vitality that comes from so many young people. The train ride was wonderful – Roger told me we could have driven, but he wanted me to experience the train – since most people traveled to Oxford that way. It was also great to be able to look at the countryside together. Once we got there, we walked the streets of the city and Roger showed me a lot of the well-known colleges. We stopped at a pub called the “Eagle and Child” – nicknamed the Bird and the Baby – for lunch and a couple of pints. This place was well known because of a literary group that met in the back room many years ago – including C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. The pub even had napkins and papers framed around the place that were handwritten notes from these writers and more. It was a place of much history. We visited the Ashmoleon Museum and caught an afternoon matinee of a play downtown. The day was capped off with a wonderful dinner at the Old Parsonage Hotel – a beautifully renovated building. This completed a fantastic day. Sitting in the small dining room – that was pretty vacant - Roger became a little quiet.
He finally said, “I am afraid I must go out of town on business, Anthony.”
I had not picked up on his apparent sadness and said, “Well that’s the life of a big businessman – when do you leave?”
“Tonight, I am afraid,” he said looking directly at me. I am sure he saw the disappointment in my face. “I know it is terrible timing, my good friend – but the trip cannot be avoided. I am leaving for the States at midnight. Atol will be here soon to take me to the airport. I am sorry that I waited to tell you now – but I did not want to ruin our day together. I have found all of it truly wonderful – I hope you know that.”
I quickly decided to not let my disappointment ruin the evening – or to let Roger know how sad I was that we would not be sleeping together. I said, “Well, Roger, my boy, you certainly remember how much I like foreplay – so we will just chalk this up to building the excitement even more between us.” I smiled too broadly, I’m sure – I bet Roger saw through my facade of casualness. I added, “How long will you be gone?”
“It is hard to say – I am acquiring a new company based in New York and might need to be there for three to four weeks – it really depends on how smooth the acquisition goes,” he answered searching my face for a reaction.
This time I hid nothing – I became quite selfish and said, “So, you won’t even be here as I begin work at your company?”
“No, I am afraid not,” was all he said. There was a moment of silence and I regained some of my composure. He finally continued, “I do not know if this helps or not – but I do believe the bond between us is becoming stronger and stronger. I hope you feel the same way, Anthony.”
The word “bond” stung in a strange way – or did I just find it odd. My emotions were on overload so I couldn’t sort anything out at the moment. I looked Roger straight in the eye and said, “I am deeply attracted to you, Roger. You know that. I’m disappointed you’re leaving – I can’t deny that – but I am positive that we will be able to pick up from this moment when you return. What is that famous saying? Absence makes the dick grow harder. Do I have it correct?”
Roger laughed out loud and said, “I am not sure that is the way it was originally said. You know, of course, that the real phrase was used as the title of an anonymously written English poem back in the early 1600s. You might have to write a new poem using your version as its title.”
I was happy that I made Roger laugh. A silence surrounded us as he insisted on paying the bill and we walked outside. I could see a black limo parked down the lane. We walked slowly in its direction and I could make out a huge figure in the driver’s seat – Atol. Roger motioned to Atol to stay in the car as we moved down the length of the giant limo. Roger maneuvered my body between him and the back end of the car – he bent his legs slightly and pressed his crotch into my mine. We were both hard instantly – it was becoming a familiar feeling. Roger reached down and grabbed my ass with both of his large hands. He easily lifted my body slowly – and my crotch pressed hard against his giant cock. He moaned lightly. He moved my ass onto the back of the car – and slid his hands up my back – resting them on my shoulder blades. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his body tightly into mine. I could tell he was impressed by the strength in my thighs and calves.
He smiled at me and said, “I meant to tell you that this shirt highlights your upper body very well. You seem different – almost bigger in some way.” He knew the compliment turned me on.
“Let’s just say that I’ve been working out,” I said smiling back and running my hands up and down his sides beneath his arms.
“Oh, a growing boy, I see,” he said trying to tickle my stomach. I could see the disappointment when he realized I wasn’t ticklish – well not in that spot, at least.
I grabbed his right hand and slid it down to my hardened cock saying, “Boy? I think you better check again Mr. Wexford. I believe you will see that what you are holding is all man.” He squeezed softly - but firmly – and it was my turn to moan. People were walking by on the sidewalk but neither of us cared. I reached up and pulled Roger’s face into mine and kissed him. I let my tongue explore every part of his mouth and a lot of his throat. He easily accepted my probing and it made me look forward to the moment something else would be in his throat. Even though he tried to hide it, I could tell he glanced at his watch as we kissed. The mood that had been set by our wonderful foreplay was immediately destroyed. I pulled my body back, but he grabbed me and embraced me one last time. The intensity of his hug caused all the air to rush out of my body. His display of strength turned me on – and he knew it. Right before we almost released what had been building inside of us all day, Roger let go and stepped back. He was such a tease – he knew exactly how much our bodies could take – and he danced us both up to the edge and then backed away. He was surely the master of foreplay.
“Shall I drop you off at the train station?” He asked opening the door.
I slid off he car and said, “No, I don’t think so. I plan on going back into the hotel here and taking my sexual frustration out on our cute little waiter. What do you think of that?”
Roger smiled and said, “I don’t think you will, Mr. Lance.”
I hated and loved his cockiness - at the same time. “Oh, and why is that Mr. Wexford?” I asked as he slid into the back seat of the car.
“Because we were waited on by a fifty year old woman with bad teeth,” he said looking up at me and laughing. “Are you sure you are okay to get back to London?”
He was right, of course. Throughout the meal I had focused only on him – but now I did remember our waitress. “I’ll be fine,” I said, “I might even end up staying in Oxford for the night.”
“Well, when you do decide to leave there will be a ticket waiting for you at the station. All you have to do is show them your identification. Good night sweet prince – I will call from New York and we will see each other very soon. I promise. I ask only one thing while I am away,” he said as he rolled down the window, tapped on the glass barrier between him and Atol, and shut his door.
“What’s that,” I asked.
“That you promise me you will not sleep with Manfred,” he said loudly as the car drove away. He watched me with that huge devilish smile and kept his gaze on me until the car disappeared into the traffic.
I said out loud – and to no one, “Manfred! What makes you think I would ever sleep with him?” I then noticed a couple on the street staring at me. I quickly walked away – and went back to the station catching the 9:00pm train to London. My body was so wasted from the sexual tension of the day that I slept most of the trip. When I arrived home I went straight to bed – even though I still had the same raging hard on.