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Related article: Date: Tue, 19 May 2009 09:46:54 -0700 (PDT) From: niftystoryteller Subject: 38 degrees in the shade, chapter 5CHAPTER FIVEWarning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. If you have any feedback or encouragement, or would like links to some of my other stories, feel free to drop me a line at niftystorytelleryahoo.com.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Are you ready to get up?" "Mmmmm," Luc murmurred. I waited for a moment, listening for the sounds of Alastair and Thierry stirring in another part of the house. I heard a toilet flush, suggesting that our hosts were awake. "Did you have sweet dreams?" I whispered in his ear. Luc turned over and faced me. Reaching out, he ran his hand down the side of my face. "You are very handsome this morning," he said. "Even more than in my dream." He placed his mouth on mine and rolled me onto my back. Straddling me, he gripped our erections together while he nibbled around my ear and across my neck. "I want to make you feel good," he said. He knelt between my widespread legs and gripped my shaft. His smiling eyes met mine for an instant, and then he began to lick his way down from the tip of my cock to my balls. His rasping tongue caused my toes to curl and my eyes to roll back, and I began Preteen Sex Pics to think of the previous evening. After dinner Thierry had asked us if we wanted to see his new work, and there had been no reason to decline his offer. Before leading us into his studio, he looked back impishly. "As you will see, Alastair has become my muse, and I think that he likes it." We followed him into the large room, where more than a dozen large canvasses were spread around the perimeter. All of them portrayed a distinctive male nude figure. Despite a certain abstract quality, the red hair and pale skin made him immediately recognizable as Alastair. In some he was alone, but in others he was with one or more other men, in different positions and different states of arousal and ecstasy. Although all of the paintings clearly depicted sexual scenes, they were not pornographic, but rather passionate and beautiful. "These are very nice," Luc said as he walked from one canvass to another. "How long have you been working on them?" "About a year. I have photographed Alastair alone, and with some models, and a few friends, and then I paint from those pictures and my memory and my knowledge of him. I think that this is his favorite work I have done, n'est-ce pas, mon amour?" Alastair laughed. "I have been willing to sacrifice for your art." He pointed to one canvass where he was clearly being penetrated by a muscular black man. "I think that is my favorite so far." He leaned over to kiss his short, squat lover. "You've captured me very well, I think." Involuntarily I glanced down at Alastair's crotch and saw that he had developed an obvious erection, the relase of our earlier encounter notwithstanding. "I think that I am almost done with this series of paintings," Thierry said. "Perhaps just one more." There was a pregnant pause in the conversation as we all contemplated what Thierry had just said. He glanced at Luc, and then at me. "Perhaps it could even be with the two of you. Alastair mentioned that he joined you this afternoon, and that you are very beautiful when making love." Luc glanced my way and arched one eyebrow before he smilingly shook his head. "It is tempting, but think tonight we should not indulge in more hedonism. For now I want Jason to myself." I'm not sure if I was disappointed or relieved, or both. Our earlier romp with Alastair was completely unplanned, completely instinctive, completely free. It was just innocent play. Thierry was proposing something different. Although it might have been fun, it also did not feel right, at least at that time. Luc and I still had so much newness between us. Lying in bed the next morning, greedily accepting the pleasure that Luc offered, my mind drifted to what might have been. Images began to develop, shapes, and colors, and sounds, and tastes, and smells. Scenes began to come into focus, scenes where Luc and Alastair and I are in a shower, hot water spraying over us, lathered bodies slipping and sliding. As they kiss, I sink to my knees and nuzzle their groins, cocks bounce against my cheeks, and I gasp for breath as I suck their heavy balls into my mouth and nip at their foreskins, and water rains down on me, and then I hold their cocks together, head to head, slit to slit, and roll their foreskins back and forth, encasing their dark red bulbs, all swollen and hot, and everything is slippery slickness, and their cocks fuse into one giant prick that my lips grip tight as I slurp from left to right and right to left and then back again and again and again, and fuck they taste good and different in their own way. My hands are full, my mouth is full, and I am hungry for them. Now we are on the bed, rolling around in the clean sheets, and we put Alastair between us, and he faces me, kisses me, his tongue in my mouth as our cocks bounce together, so hard they almost hurt, and I chew on those pale pink nipples, rubbery like pencil erasers, and I wish that they would squirt cum, so that I could drink every drop down, and Luc is reaching around, turning Alastair towards him, sucking on his cock, and I drop down myself and spread his cheeks open, and I kiss his puckered skin, blowing, lapping, and I know that Luc's mouth is inches from mine, and I reach over to his cock and tug on it, lightly slap it, make it bounce around, and then I want to be in the middle, and I slide between them, I feel them against me, strong muscles holding us together, stubble chafing lips, hair tickling against bare skin, then they roll me onto my back, and Alastair is straddling my face, dipping his balls into my mouth as Luc sucks me to the root. I reach around and put my hands on Alastair's buttcheeks, spreading them, dipping in and stroking his hole, poking at it, and then he rotates his hips back so that he can slide his prick between my lips, and his balls drape over my nose, and I feel his wiry pubic hair on my chin, and then his mouth is on my cock, and Luc is behind, sliding into Alastair, and I watch him penetrate deep inside, impaling, stretching, and a groan arises in Alastair's throat that I feel vibrate down my shaft, penetrating deep inside, where neurons fire, and connections are made, and switches are tripped, and my orgasm crashes down on me. And then it all dissolved and once again I was back with Luc, alone with him, just the two of us. We lay there together for a bit, and I felt no need to reciprocate in that instant, because I knew that there would be plenty of time for that later. It always seem like there will be plenty of time, until suddenly there isn't. I probably should have been more mindful of that, as the date of my departure approached. Between breakfast, a leisurely swim, and then Preteen Sex Pics lunch, we ended up not leaving until mid-afternoon. Saying our goodbyes in the foyer, Thierry made me promise that they would see me again before I left, and Alastair patted my behind affectionately, though with a suggestion that there was some unfinished business there. As Luc and Thierry said Preteen Sex Pics their goodbyes in a rapid-fire stream of French that was beyond my high school and college training, I glanced around at the framed photographs that were arranged on a table. My attention was immediately drawn to one that depicted Luc, Thierry, and a young woman in an obviously tropical locale. Palm trees swayed behind them, a profusion of tropical flowers lit up the scene, and the deep blue ocean was visible in the distance. The three of them looked happy and relaxed. Later, pedaling away, I asked Luc who was in the photograph, and where it had been taken. "That is Christine, my sister. We were on vacation in Thailand with Thierry and Alastair's predecessor." "She is very beautiful." "Yes, she was." "She isn't anymore?" "Not in the same way. She has changed since then. Her life has changed her." Luc did not volunteer anything else, and instinctively I knew not to pursue the subject, at least at that time. We rode in complete silence back to the house in town, where Luc found the message summoning him back to Paris. We would leave the next morning.
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