Anton - gay sex story

Archive-title: Anton

Chapter One
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After going to bed, showered and, of course, naked, Anton had lain
awake for some time. Then he got up again and fetched the hand towel from the wash-station. He placed this by his hips when he lay down.

His intention was obvious. He was lying on his back, with his left
hand caressing the inside of his thigh, and nuzzling up against his
balls. His forefinger began stroking the adjacent testicle. His other
hand was flat on his stomach. His penis lay where it had flopped, the
glans between the other ball and his thigh. It was clearly stirring.

The upper hand began to migrate south, stroking the sensitive skin
of the smooth area between the navel and the pubic hair. He had a
thick forest, but low down and with a clean upper line. When they
reached the root of his phallus, he parted his forefinger and second
finger, and ran this vee down to embrace the thickening shank. A few pushes, with the fingers curving down to engage with the upper scrotum, and the glans looked distinctly heavy.

He transferred his forefinger to the other side of the shaft, and
hooked it below it, supporting it so that the glans, by now doubled in
size, was raised up. His thumb rubbed the upper surface of the shank, and more fingers joined in the support. He took the hand away, to reassure himself of the presence of the towel, to catch the sperm and perhaps to cover himself in case of an intrusion. When he removed his hand, the shaft supported itself.

He switched on the bed light, and lay admiring the growing weapon.
By now it was no mere stiffy, but a tree in full flare. He watched the
taut skin pulling slowly back across the glistening plum-surface of
his close textured glans. There was no quick flick of the fingers this
time: he was taking his time. When the skin finally caught up on the
flaring corona, the upturned rim of his glorious helmet, he pressed
down with both hands on his pubic lawn, stretching the skin on the
shaft enough to clear the rim.

The first stage of erection was complete, the ridge of skin below
the corona disappearing into smoothness as the penis filled to its
last inch. He used the towel to remove some of the stickiness from his plum, wincing a little at the touch of the rough cloth.

Still Anton just lay there, admiring what was certainly very much
to be admired. Then he reached up for a picture book, the stiff member wobbling in its weak rooting as his upper body arched. He brought the picture of one beauty to the surface of the bed beside his loins. He held the open book above his midriff for a long time, look at it, but making no attempt to stimulate his organ. Apart from the occasionally pulsing which is natural in an unattended erection, there was no obvious reaction in his tool.

He closed the book, laid it flat on his stomach, and passed a hand
down to grasp his shaft, then he began the work of the hand on the rod of iron. His technique was obviously practiced, but unsophisticated. Writhing; delicious: he was a toe wiggler. The thigh muscles filled... full buns with deep side hollows and a clean division between the curve of the bun and the straighter convexity of the under-thigh. As the knees came up, the deep top grooves were clear, and most inviting.

Relaxed - pumping not stopped, but much slowed, and the hand pressure minimal. The he slipped the hand up higher, and began to caress the point below the glans with the side of his finger. Some fluid had formed at the eye of his shaft and he slicked it down over the point as a lubricant.

He began to pump once more in this higher position. His sweat-
dewed face, mouth wide open in rictus of excitement; between the tunnel of his legs, the balls, now pulled high and close as orgasm
neared. His shaft was indeed now bending back over his belly as he
left the plateau for the summit.

Then again he relaxed. He reached a hand up to move the book,
placing it upright on the bed, propped against the side mirror wall of
the alcove and turned the upper part of his body so that he could
stare at it.

And his eyes thus engaged, he resumed the pumping action. A looser grip at first, his hand sliding farther up and down the shaft, then a tighter grip at the top, the side of his finger digging into the sensitive point. He meant to complete the job this time.

His other hand was cupped to his bollocks, the forefinger digging
into the root of the shaft beneath the taut skin. Did he mean to halt
the flowing? His hips and thigh reared up once more, his toes and feet twisting the sheet into knots beneath them. The sheen on his glans was lost as the pores open up with the climactic blood flow. He would come! He would come!

Too late did his ball hand clutch for the towel, for the first wad
was already airborne, flying to land above his navel. The twist of his
body sent the second jetting to a splatter on the side mirror. He was
obviously very full, for the third spasm also sent a glob into the
air, landing on his still pumping wrist. He spasm again and again, but this time producing floods of more liquid spunk which flowed warmly down onto the top of his hand. He spasmed a six and seventh time too, but this time nearly dry - just a wide working of the glistening eye of his dick. Then the pent-up breath was released.

Completely still, with his eyes closed, for about a minute, then
wiping the spunk from his stomach and hand. He began to milk the remaining juices from his dying cock, pulling upwards with the tip of
his forefinger pressed hard into the underside of his organ. He wiped the gland carefully, so that the foreskin, now beginning to bunch below his glans, wouldn't stick too painfully when it had return to the protection position. Finally he cleaned the mirror, before folding the towel under his prick's tip to mop up any last weeping.

Then he closed his eyes, flicked the light switch, and rolled over
on his side to sleep.

Chapter Two
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Anton looked towards the door at the sound, then dropped a hand
quickly to his crotch, to flatten his erection and to conceal it? His
hand gripped his weapon. Feverishly he pulled at the unfamiliar zip,
but by the time Klaudio had entered, his penis was still exposed. Anton froze.

Klaudio stood facing the bed, and smiled. With an exaggerated expression of delight, he started to point to the various parts of the
prick, repeating their names. His pointing finger got closer and
closer, but still he did not touch it. As he got very close, Anton's
hands clutched at the surface of the bed. How long would he bear this language lesson, before grabbing his tool and stuffing it hastily away inside his trousers?

But Klaudio knew what he was doing. He had become a doctor with a friendly but detached beside manner. He looked at Anton's face more than his organ, obviously concentrating hard on his pronunciation.

Then he decided to go for it. With one hand he made the unmistakable gesture on the forefinger of his other of frigging, and repeated the word for wank three times. He looked expectantly at Anton. "Do you want me to wank you." It was a neutral request - still the friendly doctor offering treatment. Anton froze. Klaudio looked at him patiently, and was just at the point of asking again, when Anton grabbed at his hand and pulled it into the general vicinity of his groin. He closed his eyes, flung his head back and gripped the sheets. The patient was tensed for the cut of the knife!

But Klaudio gave the merest touch with the side of his bent fore-
finger to the underside of the glans. The corona of the penis flared.
He moved his other hand to cup above the shaft, as if warming himself at its heat. Then slowly he began a two hand movement - the lower hand a gentle fist the lower joints of whose fingers formed a knobbly flat platform moving along the underside of the penis, while the other hand formed a coving arched over the fist, gently trapping the shaft between them. Slowly it moved up and down the tool, sometimes gripping enough to move the skin over the hard shaft, sometimes barely grazing it. Sometimes the hands would move at different speeds, chafing the surface; sometimes the knuckles or the joints of the fist would be brought into play, their harder knobbles kneading the surface.

Anton's eyes were still firmly clenched, as if he were gripping
his courage with the lids. His lips were pulled into a rictus, like a
smile but clearly not one. He needed to relax if he were to enjoy it.
Klaudio quietly changed his grip, and moved up the bed to kneel beside his loins. Then with his free hand he gently stroked Anton's forehead.

At the unexpected contact, his eyes sprang open. Klaudio cupped his hand beneath his neck, casually grazing the erogenous zone behind his ear, and raised his head so that they could look at each other. Klaudio raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly: a clear gesture meaning, "Am I doing it right? Are you enjoying it?"

Klaudio changed hands, so that he had a one free to stimulate his
balls and upper inside thighs. He knew how far he could go with this
at this stage. There must be no hint of a movement towards the anus; even the sensitive point at the root of the scrotum was out of bounds at this stage. It must be purely penile, this orgasm.

Slowly Klaudio worked. This had to be a good one - a better one
than a quick hand job - but he could use only limited resources for
fear of spooking his charge. A short burst of speed had Anton groaning, and the feet started working. His hands, which had released the grip on the sheets now clutched them again, but from ecstasy not fear.

His body began to arch up, but Klaudio knew how to change his grip at the right moment, holding him there for a full minute before reducing the stimulation to allow him to get his breath. Anton's face now looked very different. The strain that showed there now was from a different stable, and the open mouthed smile was real.

Five times did Klaudio make his loins rear up and hold him there,
until he was crying out to be allowed to come. Then he came - shooting high to land on his taut, flat belly. Klaudio risked trapping the later spurts with his lips pressed to the eye of Anton's glans: he was too far gone to notice even if he had bitten the end off. He reeled back, practically in a faint. By the time he was taking notice again, Klaudio had cleaned him up and zipped his flaccid weapon back into his fly, and began the language lesson as if nothing had happened.

Chapter Three
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As Anton entered, the lithe figure that had been lying on one of
the bunks arose to a relaxed position of attention to greet him. He
was about a year older than Anton, though he looked perhaps a little
younger than him. In many ways he was similar, a little lighter in
build, but clearly athletic. He was black haired, with a light olive
skin - the hair thick on his head and brows, but his body clear, except for the inevitable dusting on his legs and lower arms. The perfect tan of him was the product of hours under the sun, with due care to the arrangement of lighter and darker shadings to emphasize his good looks. He had chosen to keep his sexual midriff white, always wearing briefs, because he liked the bright contrast of the darker stomach and thighs and the dramatic shock of thick black pubic hair. He answered to Jag, or `Lightning Loins'. His voice was as smooth as his skin and as dark as his hair.

Jag had then taken his clothes off and had lain on his bed reading. After a while he expressed surprise that Anton was still dressed
and asked him if he were feeling cold. He explained that the heating
in the rooms was automatically increased in the later evenings. Anton had then removed all but his underpants.

It was fairly obvious that Anton had been observing Jag's body,
and Jag had been trying his best to show his best features without
making it too obvious that he know he was been examined. Clearly Anton was too virginal to make any overtures, so Jag took the initiative. He asked Anton if he had had sexual release that day. He stated that he would be obtaining relief himself with a friend later, but stated that he would be happy to assist Anton if he required it, and that he would try to have the another friend fetched so that Anton could have someone to sleep with himself if he desired.

Anton was indignant at first, but the idea had been planted in his
mind, and soon spread to his loins. Though his mouth refused, his penis showed a different opinion. It soon became clear that he would have to allow Jag to help him for there was to be no privacy for self relief. And the painful hardness showed relief was necessary. Anton submitted to Jag's hands. Jag expressed a wish to help him enjoy himself as much as possible. When the act was thoroughly underway, and his hands were controlling Anton to a near climax, he had suggested that Anton allow him to use his mouth to make the act even more pleasurable. Anton, who if in a less excited state who most certainly have recoiled from the suggestion, gave a silent acquiescence to Jag, whose warm mouth soon enclosed his shaft.

Jag's hands, freed from duty ion the cock, slid easily over An-
ton's body, massaging, pressing, brushing, tickling. He knew all of
the right spots to give attention to. When his mouth had carried Anton beyond any chance of refusing, his fingers explored his anus - tickling the puckered hole till it relaxed. Then an exploring finger entered, searching for the walnut shape that was the prostate gland
the seat of orgasm. When the shattering, shuddering climax came, that gland was stimulated from inside and outside. The other hand wrested the last ounce from the balls as the flood of seminal fluid exploded from the spunk store, crashing through the prostate, to fly in spasmodic wads up through the straining, surging shaft, filling Jag's mouth and throat faster than he could cope with it, and flooding out down the sides of the pulsing, dying rod. Later Jag licked him completely clean - ready for the companion whom Anton would certainly now accept to share his bed for the night...
 

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