Joy to the World 2

Copyright for this story belongs to and remains with the author. I don't have any major objection to my work being re-distributed, but ASK FIRST!!!

This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy, but you proceed at your own risk.

This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may inspire new work, please feel free to contact me -- all emails will be answered to the best of my ability. [email protected].

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I had watched with a mixture of jealousy and fascination as Joy cut through the waves on his board and sailed up and down the face of the big swells which had come in that morning. I wished I had taken up surfing when I was his age, but figured it was probably a bit too late to try it now. I knew that there were a number of operators around Bondi who offered `surf-schools' for the tourists during the summer months, but that wasn't me at all. Besides, I found just as much enjoyment, if not more, from standing comfortably on the shore and watching the graceful figure of my blond hunk doing his thing with nature.

He brought a huge grin to my face as he finished one of his rides and turned toward shore, waving. I was certain it was directed at me, and I glowed with pleasure. But that happy feeling was short-lived. Almost immediately, a large wave rolled over him, and I saw another surfer lose his footing only metres away from Joy, the board shooting out and straight at my friend's head. Suddenly Joy was gone. I could see his board floating on the surface, but no blond hair anywhere nearby.

For a few seconds I stood, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and then it was as though whatever had been holding me in place was suddenly released. I threw my shirt onto the sand and raced into the water, completely unheedful of the cold temperature. Quickly I swam out through the white foam to the point where Joy had disappeared, his board still floating lifeless on the surface. When I got there, by instinct I grabbed at the surfboard, running my hands over the rough wax covered face, then underneath, finding the fins -- and something else. A legrope! Thank god, I thought, gripping the long length of rubber covered string and hauling on it, pulling myself down and raising Joy's now limp form to the air. His ankle came first to my hands, where the leg-rope was fastened around his leg. I pulled at his leg and my fingers felt his body as I reached and grabbed at his arm and shoulder to lift his face out of the water.

Struggling against the dead weight of his seemingly lifeless body, and battered by the regular wash of waves breaking over the two of us, I slowly managed to manoeuvre him around so that his shoulders were supported by the surf-board and kept above the bubbling water. It was impossible to tell whether he was breathing at that point, and I called his name several times but got no response.

I prayed that I remembered my first aid from school as I tried my best to lift myself up and onto the fibre-glass plank with him, placing my mouth over his and blowing, then letting the air escape him and blowing again. Still there was no movement from him and I called again,

"Joy, Joy, are you okay?"

His head rolled a little, and although his eyes remained shut he said something, but I couldn't make it out. A few scrambled words: "Wha ... th ... who ... you" was all I could hear, but I was so happy. He was alive!

"Joy, it's me, Iain!" I shouted, but his head lolled again, and there were no more sounds. I knew I couldn't stay here with him, I had to get him onto the beach, had to get help. I swung him around, and half crawled up onto him so that both of us were precariously lying partially on the surf-board, and with one hand holding him in place, I used my other hand to start paddling us toward the beach. Again, I thought he had stopped breathing, and without shifting my angle, I leaned up and over him, pressing my chest to his and covered his lips with my own, breathing into his mouth, trying to give him the `kiss of life'. I had no idea if I were doing it right, but I had to do something.

I felt his body tense up beneath me, and I cursed the way the board was so graceful when he stood on it, and so cumbersome as I tried to guide it landwards.

"Come on, Joy, just relax!" I said to him, as I kept paddling. I heard him grunt, his body trembling underneath me, and then he spoke again.

"I can't, I can't..." he said softly but distinctly.

"Yes you can, Joy, you can do it. Please, for me?" I urged him, silently begging him to hold on until I could get help. He mumbled something more that I could not catch, and then went silent again.

Slowly but surely I could see the sand getting closer as I nudged the board in. Once more I sensed that his breathing had stopped, and I leaned up to him, blowing into his airway again. And then I was almost there. I stopped my attempts briefly as I reached water shallow enough to stand, and pulled him from the surf-board, dragging him through the last of the wavelets and almost throwing him onto the welcoming solidity of the sand.

Immediately I swung around and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation the way I had been taught, watching his chest as I blew into his mouth, letting the air escape and blowing again. Suddenly there was a gurgling sound, and then a spasm rocked his body and he coughed water up from his lungs. His eyes opened as slits, and he peered vacantly up at me.

"Joy? Joy? Speak to me. Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Nothing in words from him, but another round of spasming coughs as more sea water was expelled from his body.

"Somebody call an ambulance, quickly!" I shouted to the group of people who had started gathering around us. I held his head in my hands, trying to make him comfortable, and saw that he was trying to speak. I leaned down to him, our eyes only inches apart, and heard him whisper.

"Hey there," his voice was barely audible. "That was one hell of a fuck! Thank you. We'll have to do it again some time."

I looked at him in bewilderment. What on earth was he talking about? Must be hallucinating, I guessed. But he was alive! I grinned at the realisation, as I saw his eyes close again.

Suddenly there was commotion all around us. The life-savers who were not yet officially on duty had come racing across the sand when they saw me dragging him from the water, and quickly took over, expertly checking and tending to him. One checked his pulse, another administered a few more breaths, using almost the same technique I had done. So I was doing it right!

Another one helped me to my feet and away from Joy's prostrate body. "There's an ambulance on the way," he assured me. "We'll get him up to the first aid room, and they'll look after him from there."

I looked at him in confusion, not knowing what I should do, but wanting to do something, anything, to help.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking more closely at me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I said wearily, the exertion of swimming out to him and getting him back in catching up.

"I think you should come up to the first aid as well," he said, taking my arm and leading me away, as three of his colleagues hoisted Joy onto their shoulders and quick-marched across the sand.

We followed in a strange procession to the first-aid room. Joy was carried by three large men, his body horizontal and face down. I stumbled as quickly as I could behind them, another man helping me along with his hand at my back. When we got inside, they wrapped me in a warm blanket, and lay Joy on a vinyl covered bench before beginning to unzip and remove his wetsuit. Once the rubberised suit was off his body, they wrapped him in a blanket as well.

In what seemed like no more than minutes, the scream of sirens filled the place, and then Joy was being lifted onto a gurney and wheeled out to a waiting ambulance. One of the officers approached me as I sat watching the activity swirl around me.

"Are you okay, mate?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Is the young fellow ..." he indicated Joy, "... a friend of yours?"

"Kinda. I gave him a lift down here."

"What's his name?"

I looked blankly at him. "I don't know! His nickname is `Joy', but that's all I know," I stammered.

"Okay, well he should be okay. He's regained consciousness, but he's still groggy. We can get the details from him later."

"Where are you taking him?" I asked quickly.

"Prince of Wales." I knew that hospital. It was the closest to the beach, so it made sense. "You're sure you are okay?"

"Yes, thanks. I'll follow you over to the hospital."

"Alright then, he'll probably want a familiar face around once he wakes up completely."

As the ambulance drove off, I quickly thanked the life-savers for their help, and made my way to my car, jumping in and racing in the direction of the hospital. I was still worried about Joy, and a thousand things went through my mind. `What do I say when I get there? I don't even know his real name. I don't know his address, just that it's somewhere in a building I've only ever stopped out the front of. What if he dies? Who do I notify? And what will I do if I can never see him again?' I barely concentrated on driving as I fought with the morning commuter traffic, and parked illegally about a block from the Emergency Department.

At reception, a pleasant looking but officious woman couldn't help. I tried explaining that I was there about the boy who had been brought in from Bondi Beach, but all she wanted to know was whether or not I was `family'? when I told her I wasn't, but that I had just dragged him from the surf, and that he was a friend, she raised her eyebrows.


"I don't know. His nickname is `Joy'," I offered hopefully. Another raised eyebrow.

"Take a seat over there, please, and I'll see what the doctors say."

I sat and waited. She came back to her station but didn't look at me. Time went by and I watched the slow-moving hands of a large clock above her head anxiously. I tried to catch her eye several times, but got nowhere as I sat fidgeting on the plastic chairs near the entrance.

Finally, a young doctor appeared and spoke quietly with the woman behind the desk, who seemed to look at the doctor with surprise before she motioned her head in my direction. The doctor walked away from her and approached me hesitantly.

"Excuse me, sir, are you `Iain'?" he asked.


"You're a friend of the young man brought in from the beach, calls himself `Joy'?"

Again, "Yes."

"Would you mind coming with me?"

"Is he alright? What's the matter?" I asked, beginning to panic, a rising sense of nausea in my stomach.

"Yes, yes, he's fine. Just needs a little rest. No permanent damage at all. Just a fairly large bump on his head. But he is quite upset that you're not with him -- keeps asking for you."

He led me down a corridor and into a tiny cubicle. Joy was there, sitting up on a hospital bed, dressed only in one of those flimsy tie-up gowns hospitals use. He looked agitated, until he saw me and his face lit up.


"Hey there," I said, smiling back. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. A little tired but okay. They won't let me go without a `responsible person' to take me home, but they wouldn't let me come out to look for you. I knew you'd be here, I just knew it! You saved my life! Thank you, thank you!"

The young doctor spoke up. "It's hospital policy, I'm afraid. We can't discharge him without someone signing for him. Are you prepared to do that?"

"Of course!" I answered.

As quickly as we could, the paperwork was completed, and the hospital allowed Joy to leave with me. they lent him a blanket, since the only clothing he had of his own were the Speedos he had been wearing under his wetsuit which had been cut from him back at the beach.

"Thank you, Iain," Joy said as I started the car. "I really mean it. I owe you my life!"

"Rubbish! I just happened to be the first one there. If it wasn't me, someone else would have grabbed you."

"Well, thank you anyway. If you drop me back at the beach, I'll get my clothes and head home."

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" I snorted at him. "Your clothes can wait. You, young man, are coming home with me, where you are going to have a hot shower and then rest!"

"But I can't ask you to take time off, waste your day, just because I made a stupid mistake in the surf!"

"You didn't ask, I'm offering, but it's an offer you WON'T refuse!" I smiled at him, but making it understood that I would take no argument on the issue. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but I silenced him with my eyes, and he grinned, then settled back into the seat as I drove. But his eyes stayed on me the whole trip.

Once we arrived at my home, I bundled him quickly into the house and fetched some fresh towels. He was just standing in the living room, looking around with a lost look on his face. "Your choice, bath or shower?" I asked, and he snapped around to look at me.

"Shower," he smiled, and his face began to take on that dazzling beauty I remembered.

"Okay, shower it is. Take these towels, the bathroom is this way. I'll find you some clothes while you clean up."

As Joy showered, I quickly found an old T-shirt and windcheater and a pair of pants -- they were too tight for me now, but should fit him well enough, if a little short. I opened the bathroom door and called to him,

"Joy, I'm leaving some clothes for you here. They're not high fashion, but they should be comfortable."

He called out a `thanks', and despite my will-power and my resolve, I sneaked a look toward the shower stall. I couldn't see much through the steam, but I did see that he was standing still, letting the hot water cascade over him, and the hinted shape of his body caused a predictable reaction in my groin, which I fought as I backed out of the room.

I called my office, telling them I had a personal crisis and wouldn't be in, then started making coffee and some toast. I sensed rather than heard him behind me, and turned around to find him grinning, the clothes baggy and unflattering but warm.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"I'm fine, honestly!"

"So you say. But you're still going to stay here for the day, and you're going to rest!" I handed him the coffee and toast, and indicated the stools by the breakfast bar where he sat while I watched him drink. "Is there anyone you want to call? Anyone who should know what's happened to you?" I asked.

"No, I wasn't working today, so no-one will miss me at all." He looked a little sad as he said it.

"Then that settles it! You're staying." He grinned again, and I watched as he finished his breakfast, then marched him into my only bedroom. "Okay, my man," I said, then noticed my slip. I reddened, and hoped he hadn't heard it. "Hop into bed, and try to get some sleep. I'll be in the next room if you need me."

He tried to protest, then gave up and did as he was told. I pulled the door almost closed behind me, and sat down at the dining table, intending to catch up on some things around the house I'd been putting off for a while. But my mind wouldn't let me do anything except dwell on the stunning young body currently in my bed. I thought long and hard about Joy, wondered if it might be possible that he would find an old fart like me attractive. I sat there day-dreaming about running my hands all over his body, kissing those full lips, staring long into his deep blue eyes. Would he see me as a genuine lover, or just a dirty old man? Would he, could he, want to spend his time with me?

I must have fallen asleep sitting up at the table, because the next thing I knew, I was slumped forward, my head on my arms, and the most wonderful feeling in my shoulders as hands caressed and massaged my tired muscles, and a soothing voice drifted into my head.

"Hey there, Iain, why don't you lie down instead of sleeping like this?"


When I opened my eyes in the first aid room at the beach, all I could see were strange faces leaning over me, telling me everything was going to be alright. I looked around for Iain but I couldn't spot him anywhere. I tried to sit up and an ambulance paramedic pushed me back down again.

"You've had a bump on the head. You almost drowned, but you're okay now. Just relax. We're taking you to hospital!"

It all came back to me, the board racing toward my head, the sinking into the surf, Iain leaning over me on the sand. He had saved my life! I remembered the dream too, but I recognised it for what it was -- a dream. I must have slipped in and out of sleep for a while. I know at one stage I was in the back of the ambulance and we were moving. Then I was in a small room and a doctor was shining a light in my eyes and asking me questions.

Finally, I was able to focus and to know what was happening. I kept asking for Iain, but when they asked me who `Iain' was, all I could tell them was that he was a friend from the beach, that he had saved me, and that I was sure he would be waiting for me.

The doctor kept telling me that I could go home if I had someone to take care of me, but I insisted that Iain would be there, could help me get home, until eventually they gave up and sent someone out to look for him. It was only a few minutes later that he was there, and I knew everything was going to be okay.

Iain, my hero, took control, signed their papers, and got me out. He told me I was going back to his place, that he was going to look after me! I couldn't think of a better idea. I tried to tell him no, but he was determined, so I happily agreed, and sat in the car while he drove me home. All the way, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He had grown to be superhuman in my estimation, and I just wanted to look at him and admire him.

When we got to Iain's home, he made me take a shower, and found me some warm clothes. He gave me something to eat and drink, and then sent me to bed -- in HIS bed! I wished he was there with me, but I tried to do as he told me and sleep. Yet sleep wouldn't come. I kept re-living the nightmare of the water all around me, and at the same time remembering the wonderful, erotic dream I had had while it all happened. How wonderful it would be if Iain were really that powerful sexual beast, with an armour of scales on his flesh and a massive, breath-taking cock, who would carry me to safety and make love to me, protect me and drive me wild with desire.

As I lay there on his bed, I let my imagination run wild as I dreamed of the things we could do together, but in the back of my mind was the niggling doubt. What if he was only doing this from a sense of duty? Or worse, what if he thought of me as some silly kid who couldn't take care of himself? If I made any moves, suggested anything physical, would he laugh at me? Would he accept, but see me as just a quick fuck, with no interest in anything more? Would he treat me as an equal, or want to `own' me? All of these questions rattled around inside my head, preventing me from falling into any kind of sleep.

After an hour or so, I knew there was no way I was going to rest like this, so I carefully slipped out of bed and pulled the loose pants back on that he had given me. I tip-toed out into the main living area, and spotted him slumped over at the table, his head on his arms. I walked up close to him, and could hear his breathing. He was asleep where he sat. I felt so attracted to him, at that moment, a combination of gratitude and something else, and on an impulse, I stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders with my fingers, massaging the knots of muscle with my hands.

He started to stir, and I leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Hey there, Iain, why don't you lie down instead of sleeping like this?"

The strong man beneath my fingers, the man who had saved me from the surf, simply murmured, rolling his head as he enjoyed the touch of my hands on his neck. There was a thrill, a spark of electricity as I felt his skin against mine. Slowly I kneaded his flesh, loosening the tension and feeling him relax.

"Hey, Joy, I should be doing that for you!" he said softly.

"I'm fine," I replied. "Just relax and let me do this to say `thank you'." I kept on rubbing his shoulders, massaging his neck as I spoke, and I could sense him letting go.

"Mmmm," came the contented response as I worked on his back, still standing behind him, he still sitting in the chair. Apart from feeling happy that I was pleasing him, I could also feel my dick starting to thicken. I knew this was arousing me, but I didn't want to stop. Something deep down inside told me this was right, this was good. And that same something kept niggling at me that I wanted more!

"Iain?" I said in a voice which croaked a little with nervous excitement. "Will you let me give you a proper massage? I mean, lying down, with oil?"

He sat up straighter at that, and I felt his muscles stiffening again. "Joy, do you think that's a good idea? I mean, you're supposed to be recovering, resting after the bump on your head."

"The bump on my head isn't so bad," I said, trying to sound firm. "And I have done a course in massage. I find that it actually helps me to relax when I'm massaging someone else. Sort of lets me work off all my own stress while I ease the tension in the other person."

"Are you sure?" I could hear the tone in his voice that said he wanted it, but wasn't certain he should.

"Of course I'm sure," I promised him.

"Well, ... it does feel good, really good ..."

"Do you have any oil I can use?" I asked, enthusiastic now, my cock still half hard as I tried to cover it.

"Yeah, I think there's some in the bathroom."

"Okay, you get some towels and spread them out on the bed, and I'll find the oil. Then strip off and lie on your stomach for me!" I ordered him around, wondering if I was being too pushy. I headed for his bathroom, figuring he would soon let me know if I was reading this whole situation wrongly, but hoping that I was right.

When I went back into the bedroom, he was lying face down as I had told him to, several towels layered beneath him. His shirt, shoes and shorts were gone, but he was still wearing a pair of jocks! I stared for a moment at the magnificence of his shoulders and the muscles in his legs, and felt a little pang of disappointment that he wasn't naked. I hesitated for a second, then made up my mind -- it was all or nothing!

"Hey," I said to him. "I said a `proper' massage. That means nude. You'll have to lose the underwear. I don't want to get oil all over your jocks."

He turned his head quickly to look up at where I stood beside him. Was that concern on his features, or something else? Finally, after a few seconds of thought, he responded.

"I will if you will."

That threw me. if I had to strip, he would surely see my erection, would know how aroused I was. I looked at him again, this time my courage ebbing from me.

"It's only fair!" he added. "If you don't want to get oil all over my jocks, then I'm sure you don't want to get oil all over the track pants you're wearing either!"

I stood there mute, and in answer to my silence, he swung around and sat up. His eyes bored into mine, and without letting his gaze slip he stood up and pushed his underwear away from his hips, letting them slide down his legs before stepping out of them. He stepped forward a little and his hands fell to my hips, lowering the loose pants, which fell and puddled around my ankles. I lifted one foot and then another from the crumpled heap. The whole time our eyes were locked together, staring into one another, and not a sound could be heard.

Finally, I broke the hold he had on me and let my eyes fall along his body, drinking in the golden circles through his nipples, the flat stomach. And then I saw his cock. It was magnificent, long and uncut, standing to attention and poking out from his groin proudly. I took a deep, quick breath, and looked back to his face. His eyes were also looking down and he was taking in my body, all of it, including my erection. I felt just like I did that first day, as though he were undressing me, except that I was already naked. My prick throbbed and became even harder. When his gaze came back to my face we stood there, silent and unmoving, just looking at each other. It was probably only for a few seconds, but I felt as though that moment lasted for an eternity.

"I believe you were offering me a massage?" Iain said. His voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet it sounded like a clarion in the silence that had enveloped us.

"Uh, ... mmm ... yes," I agreed.

Still staring into my eyes, without a grin or a frown, he sat again, then looked away as he swung around to lie face down on the bed. It was as if I had been released from some trance. Suddenly I could move again, and I did. My heart was pounding, but I moved to collect the bottle of oil and pour some onto my hands. Something had just happened, but I wasn't sure what. It felt like we had both realised there was more to this than just a massage, without actually saying it.

My enthusiasm returned, now tinged with excitement, and more than a little lust. I looked hungrily at his naked body lying there, and climbed onto the bed, straddling him with my knees either side of his torso. As I rubbed my hands together to warm the oil now covering them, I leaned forward and the flesh of my hard, aching cock came into contact with his skin. A shudder raced through me, a mixture of delight and nervousness, and it was all I could do to hold back from cumming right there.

Overcoming my urges for the moment, I started again on the massage, rubbing the sweet scented oil into his skin in long smooth strokes, then using my palms and the heels of my hands to roll the muscles in his shoulders and upper back around beneath his skin. I became engrossed in the contact between us as I concentrated again on what I was doing, kneading his bunched and knotted body with my fingers, smoothing away the tension and sliding my greased hands across his shoulder blades and down along his spine in sensuous strokes. My penis was in almost permanent contact with his lower back as I leaned into him, then sat up again. When I looked down at myself I could see dribblings of pre-cum escaping my prick, a trail of slime already deposited on his flesh. But he made no comment, and I tried my best to ignore it.


I must have been almost asleep when I felt the touch of Joy's hands on my neck. I was half dreaming -- of him! -- and there he was, rubbing my shoulders. When he offered me a proper massage I started to object, but I wasn't serious, and deep down I knew I wanted it, and wanted him. What could a massage hurt? I thought. And what if it turns into something more? I wanted that to happen too, but I wanted him to make the moves, to feel that I wasn't pushing him into something he didn't want.

As he went off to the bathroom in search of massage oil, and I quickly laid some towels on the bed in my room and began to strip, I debated with myself. Should I strip completely or leave my underwear in place? I wanted him, my throbbing cock was evidence of that. But did he want me, or was he just offering to relax me? I decided to play it safe, and lay down in my jocks, hiding my bulging erection beneath my body as he re-entered the bedroom.

I heard him come in, and there was a drawn out silence, while I sensed that he was examining my body. I trembled in anticipation but said nothing.

"Hey," he called to me. "I said a `proper' massage. That means nude. You'll have to lose the underwear. I don't want to get oil all over your jocks."

`Here it comes!' I thought, the moment of truth. Either he would go along with my lead, and we could enjoy each other in the most wonderful way, or I was about to be rejected as a foolish older man, desperate for the pleasure of his young body. I looked to him, trying to read the signals, but all I could see was confusion.

"I will if you will."

He stopped dead and stared at me. Oh shit! I thought. Was he disgusted by the thought? Why did he hesitate? I tried to save the moment.

"It's only fair!" I stammered out. "If you don't want to get oil all over my jocks, then I'm sure you don't want to get oil all over the track pants you're wearing either!"

His eyes were locked on mine, but I still couldn't read his face. I looked quickly to the rest of his body, and there was a definite tenting in the pants he wore, even though they were baggy and overlarge. I had come this far, and I wasn't going to back off now. I sat up on the bed, fixing my gaze on those glorious blue eyes of his and stood up, pulling my jocks from my hips and dropping them to my feet. His eyes stayed on mine as I felt the cool air on my throbbing heated cock. I stepped forward, moving to be face to face with him, inches apart. Without looking, without letting his stare escape my own, I reached for his hips and lifted the loose fitting pants out and pushed them down. I heard them slide to the floor and saw his body move as he stepped from the pile of cotton around his ankles.

His eyes fell from my face and suddenly I felt self-conscious again. I looked down, saw the expanse of his chest, the flat ridged six-pack of his abs, and the beautiful, perfectly formed arrow that was his penis, standing up at an angle, pointing toward me and rock-solid. I wanted to touch it, hold it, I wanted to bend down and suckle on it, but for now I was more than content to just look. With an effort, I raised my eyes back to his face to find him staring at me again. For an age we stood there, centimetres apart, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body, but not touching. In that moment I knew that I wanted him, and knew that he knew.

"I believe you were offering me a massage?" I said, trying to ease the tension which was thick in the air. He nodded agreement, and holding his eyes with my own, I sat back onto the bed, then turned and lay face down again, trying to relax.

I felt him climb over me, felt the pressure from his thighs on either side of my body, and then the feathery touch of his fingers on my shoulders and neck, sliding easily over my skin with the help of the oil. I was so hard it almost hurt as my prick pressed into the bed below me, and when he leaned forward and I felt the satiny skin of his penis against my back, I moaned softly in a haze of pleasure and anticipation. Tingles of excitement shot through my body and I silently begged him to make love to me.


I became engrossed in the contact between us as I concentrated again on what I was doing, kneading his bunched and knotted body with my fingers, smoothing away the tension and sliding my greased hands across his shoulder blades and down along his spine in sensuous strokes. My penis was in almost permanent contact with his lower back as I leaned into him, then sat up again. When I looked down at myself I could see dribblings of pre-cum escaping my prick, a trail of slime already deposited on his flesh.

He moaned softly, and my heart pounded again, my arousal building. Slowly, firmly I ran my palms across his flesh, rubbing the hard muscle and stroking the warm skin as it glistened with the oil. I covered his shoulders and his ribs, pressing and squeezing. I probed at his lower back with my fingers and pummeled his butt cheeks with my fists before moving backward myself and beginning work on his long, long legs. Gradually, insistently, I rubbed and massaged, gripped and caressed him, coating his entire body in a thin sheen of fragrant slipperiness as I attempted to ease the tension in his thighs and his calves, his ankles and feet. And the whole time, I could not take my eyes from him. He was truly magnificent and I felt I was enhancing his appearance with my fingers as I made his body glimmer in the soft light of the morning.

As I began to retrace my steps, working slowly back up his lower limbs, he shifted his weight and spread his legs, so that I was now kneeling between them. My eyes were drawn to the crack of his arse and the soft, twitching pinkness of his hole as my fingers worked their magic on his inner thighs. I could see his nuts pressed firmly against the towels, and imagined the firm thickness of his cock sandwiched between his body and the linen as I nervously worked my way higher and higher. My body was trembling, my cock aching and a constant flow of pre-cum leaked from me as I continued to run my hands, unfettered, all over him.

When I reached back to his glutes, I began to knead the firm semi-circles of his arse cheeks, and to trail my fingers gently into the crack between those melons, drifting lower and lower with each pass. My forefinger touched lightly at his ring of muscle, and he groaned again, louder, and spread his legs even wider to allow me access. I resisted temptation at first, my finger falling instead to play feathery lines on the skin of his perinaeum, eliciting more than one gasp from him as he began to writhe to my touch, murmuring in wordless pleasure. But his rosebud was so inviting, so close and so available, and my eyes were drawn to that special, sacred spot. I could actually see the muscles of his sphincter flexing as he twitched beneath me, and my slicked fingers made their way slowly, irresistibly, to his target.

I nudged gently at him with the tip of my finger, and without a sound, his hole opened to me, like the petals of a beautiful flower opening to the sun. My nervous, trembling digit entered him, easily and gently as I slid through his rectum and buried my finger to the second knuckle within him. He gasped then, his voice a whisper in my ears.

"Oh yessss! Fuck, yeah!"

Encouraged, and shaking, I introduced a second finger, stretching him wider, opening him more. I felt the resistance this time as his ring of muscle closed around me, and slowed, but he pushed back and urged me to keep going. With two digits inside him, I slowly bent my fingers and began to caress the inner lining of his arse, pulling softly at him and exploring him as I did. The sensations running through me were so intense, the sight of his entrance breached by my fingers so erotic that I thought I was going to explode just kneeling there. Slowly, gently as possible, I eased back out of him as his hole closed evenly behind my fingertip.

Then there was movement. He lifted his arms from the bed and slid sideways a little, reaching to a chest of drawers beside the bed where he was lying. He turned to look at me, but there was no smile on his face, yet it radiated contentment. With his eyes boring into my soul, he whispered to me, "Don't stop, Joy, this is fantastic!"

I smiled at him as my cock throbbed again and my heart pounded. As he spoke, he pulled a condom from the drawer, tore away the foil seal and dropped it on the floor, handing me the opened, rolled up rubber.

"Just in case ..." he said so quietly I could almost believe I heard it in my head. But his eyes told me he wanted what I wanted, and I took the prophylactic from him and rolled it carefully over myself, all the way down until the edge was tight against the root of my cock. Funny, but I actually stopped to admire it. My dick was wrapped in clear latex, and shone in the light, looking both magnificent, and incomplete, patiently awaiting the chance to fulfil its destiny.

I leaned forward again, resuming my massage, pushing upward at his butt cheeks and sliding my hands along the side of his abdomen, over his ribs and toward his shoulders.

"Lie on top of me," Iain hissed and I shivered as I obeyed. I lowered myself to him, my chest against his shoulder blades, my shins on his calves, my thighs pressed into his. And my cock nestling into the crevice between his mounds. The sheen of oil on his back now coated my body as I let the whole of my weight press down on him, and the slick, slippery grease formed a lubricant between us which allowed me to slide easily over him. All over him. Electric shocks raced through my nerves as I came into contact with him from head to toe, and he sighed a long loud breath, whispering "yeah!"

Iain's body felt incredible below me. His skin was like heated satin, radiating an intense warmth which transferred itself into my very core. The slickness between us made for an almost frictionless connection as I slowly, sensuously slid myself up and down in gentle motions against him. My nipples, hard and erect, pressed against his shoulder blades, my knees dug into the backs of his legs and my prick rode up and down his crack, stimulated almost to the point of being unbearable. But it was bearable, more than that; it was unbelievably erotic and I had never felt myself so hard as I did then. He made a deep, rumbling sound of pleasure, the noise almost like a purr, originating in his chest and slowly seeping up through his back so that I felt it in my own chest rather than heard it aloud. I moaned in response, the enjoyment incredible.

My hands slid down and over his biceps, my arms wrapping around him as he lifted his upper body slightly, and me with it. My fingers traced the hard, chiselled edge of his pectoral muscles and found his nipples, touching tentatively at the metal rings piercing his nubs. Another, louder groan emanated from him and together we shook as one. Again I slid myself up along his entire body, feeling every single, vibrantly alive centimetre of his flesh against my own tingling skin, then back again as he moved once more, my throbbing, aching tool returning to its designated resting place between his cheeks before being pushed even lower so that the sheathed knob of my weapon now nudged at the sensitive, nerve filled skin between his scrotum and his arse.

He wriggled, just a little, but enough to send waves of delight through both of us as my cockhead caressed his nuts, and involuntarily, I flexed my dick, bringing it back up so that the very tip rested against the outer limits of his sphincter.

"Ohhhhh, yeahhhh!!!" he rumbled, a sound so deep and so full of need that it absorbed us both until I was unsure if it was Iain or myself who had actually made it. I moaned in reply, a soft but deep throated "mmmmmmmmmm..." as my body shook with anticipation.

I shuddered, but did not press forward. My cockhead rested against him, and I swore I could feel the layers of muscle at his hole slowly unfolding, opening themselves gradually, sensuously against me. With an almost imperceptible movement, Iain slid backwards, just a touch, and I was inside him! It wasn't so much that I had penetrated him or even entered him, but more as though our bodies had simply merged together.

I gasped with the delight, and fought desperately against the urge to explode, making myself think of something, anything, to break the concentration of intense pleasure enveloping my dick. Somehow, I succeeded in holding back, and as the urgency passed, I relaxed again, able once more to relish and explore the amazing sensations overwhelming me. My cock may have been covered with latex, but it was now drowning in a sea of blissful warmth which soaked into my very being. As Iain's skin caressed my flesh from chest to feet, his rectum massaged my shaft and his bowel held and cradled my cock with a tenderness I did not think possible. I felt his body grip at me, but rather than his muscles clenching around me, it was his sphincter massaging my prong as it swallowed me into the moist heat of his gut.

Iain began to mumble and groan almost continually now, the sounds shuddering through both of us as we remained joined body to body. It was he who started the movement between us, not me. Slowly, gently, his body slid under me, my cock riding in and out of him, passing through his firmly gripping ring and pressing against his knot of nerves which sent him into ecstatic hisses with each pass. I felt myself sink further and further into him, the head of my rock hard pole nudging deep into his gut and probing at his innards. My hands stayed at his chest, continually pulling and plucking at the golden rings in his tits as my body ground slowly, slippery over him.

We didn't fuck, we didn't screw -- his body made love to my cock, his sphincter milking my fleshy sword as his very core absorbed and cradled my masculinity. Their was no sense of urgency to this joining. We were locked together, slicked and sweating, but coupled in a timeless union of sensuous connection. Minutes, hours, days could have gone by, and I would not have noticed. My entire mind and body were concentrated on the gurgling wet heat of his innards and the slick satin of his flesh as we coupled. It was as if my cock had been designed for the sole purpose of filling his body, and his suctioning, moist gut had no reason for being except to hold and massage my manhood. Again and again, I felt the trembling onset of ejaculation, and each time I gasped, only to have Iain expertly slow and still himself, waiting patiently until the urge passed. I have no idea how long we stayed like this, but I am certain it was hours.

Finally, my senses could take no more. After one particularly stimulating caress in which Iain had squirmed around beneath me so that my cock probed and pushed from side to side within him and we both became louder and more appreciative in our moaning and gasping, I sensed my peak approach. I tried to hold back, but there was nothing I could do to stem the tide of passion which washed over me with irresistible force. I hissed a warning to him, and he responded by holding my arms even more tightly around him, making sure every part of our bodies were in contact. With a muffled cry, I lost control and my whole frame was rocked by spasms as I found my long awaited orgasm. I did not pound myself into him, I didn't explode or crash against him, but I lay there, my entire being concentrated into the tube of flesh attached to my groin which was buried deep within his body, and I emptied myself, poured my very essence into him as I held my breath and shuddered against his inflamed flesh and his greedy, drinking arse.

It must have been several minutes before I recovered enough to remember to breathe again, and when I did I sucked huge lungfuls of air in a rushing, aching attempt to revive my protesting heart. When I could finally speak again, all I could do was whisper in a hissed voice into his ear, "Holy Fuck!"

He laughed then, and again our bodies shook together, still joined as we were.

"Ditto!" he murmured back at me. "That's one hell of a `joystick' you have there! Now I know where you got your name from!"

I grinned at his back, and lowered my face to his neck, raining heated kisses on his skin, my flesh tingling and my body shivered with the aftershocks of my climax. Still I did not want to break the connection with him. I wanted to stay there, pressed against him and into him, for the rest of eternity, but I felt my still hard erection beginning to flag. Keeping the feel of his flesh against my own, I slid back slowly, gently. I didn't withdraw from him so much as he released me, the muscles of his sphincter surrendering their hold on my prong in a way that was just as erotic as when I had first entered him. Still I clung to his back, unwilling to relinquish my position against his powerful frame.

"Joy?" A whisper floated somewhere above me. "Joy?" There it was again. Slowly I focussed on the sound. It was my name.


"Mmmmm ...?" I responded slowly, contentedly.

"Thank you!" The voice was soft but clear, and full of absolute sincerity.

"Iain, I can't describe how incredible that was!" I said softly, running my body one more time over his before I slid off and rolled to one side. Absently, I removed the condom from myself and let it drop to the floor. As I did, he turned as well so that we lay there facing each other. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"What for?"

"I took all the pleasure, and you missed out ... you know ..."

He smiled at me, and took my hand in his, guiding it down to the hot dark place between his legs. I gasped a little as he placed my fingers on his still swollen cock, then held his masculinity in my hand before closing my palm around his cockhead. There was a sticky oozing wetness there and he pushed my hand again to the towel below him. It was soaked with his essence, a pool of his jism seeping into the material. "If you mean I didn't cum, think again!" he said. "That was the hottest, most wonderful `massage' I've ever had!"

His eyes captured mine, and I felt as if I could drown in those green pools of water. Our faces were but centimetres apart and as I leaned forward so did he. So close that I could feel the warmth of his skin, could hear the whisper of his breathing. I began to tremble yet again as he stared into my soul, and then our lips met. My mouth opened and his tongue found my teeth. Instantly, I copied him, my tongue brushing against his as I tasted him and we kissed, long and slow and tender, drinking of each other. For a moment I had a fleeting reminder of my dream, when he had kissed me like this and breathed for me, and on impulse my hand went to his neck. But there were no gills there this time, and eventually we broke apart, each gasping for air.

He spun me around, so my back was against his body, and spooned into me, his arms around me. I could feel the semi-hard length of him against my butt and the movement of his chest against my shoulders as I lay there. A sense of safety, of protection and of having come home settled upon me, and I drifted into sleep, totally at ease and unbelievably happy.

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This story is a fantasy, it is not real and only happened in my imagination. YOU MUST REMEMBER that in the real world, you can DIE from having unsafe sex. It is your right and your duty to make sure that condoms are always used, whether you are giving or receiving. It doesn't matter how good looking or how ugly he is, and it doesn't matter whether you are top or bottom, USE A CONDOM!