The Low Road Read Free Page A

When the feelings receded, and I lay spent and panting over the straw bale, he rubbed my back and arse with one hand, gently squeezing the last few tremors of sensation through my cock with the other.
    â€˜Charlie,’ he whispered. I looked round.
    His brow was furrowed; he looked worried. ‘Are you... all right, boy?’
    I turned over; he never let go of my cock. I sat in front of him
as he squatted at my feet, and smiled. I couldn’t find any words, but felt a great need to reassure him. He hung his head - at first in shame, I thought, until I realised that one hand had returned to the mighty bulge at the front of his trousers. His face was flushed, his lips swollen. He looked up at me. ‘Please, let me...’
    For answer, I knelt beside him, put an arm round his shoulder and eased him back until he was lying across my lap. I undid the tie at the top of his trousers and eased them down. His cock, now that he was lying back, extended as far as his belly button. Where mine was pale and thick, with a bright pink head when exposed, his was long and dark, lying on a bed of thick, soft black hair, the same as the fur on his stomach. I took it in my hand; it kicked appreciatively, and Alexander growled. ‘Now, Charlie, wank me off,’ he said, looking up into my eyes. I did as I was told. Slowly at first - my hand could barely encircle its girth - but then, as I got the feel of another man’s cock in my grasp, I increased the speed of my strokes. Before long Alexander’s narrow brown hips were bucking up and down as jets of white, sticky sperm splashed across his hard belly, matting the hair there, reaching as far as his neck and shoulders.
    We lay for a while in silence as I weighed the softening cock in my hand. Alexander lay with his eyes closed, breathing regularly, the sun shining down on us both. I could have stayed there all day.
    Suddenly we both leapt to our feet; a horn had sounded nearby. The mail coach was approaching. How long had we lain there? It must be nearly nine o’clock. I was due back at the house for breakfast, and Alexander was behindhand with his duties. Barely looking at each other, we struggled into our clothes; I brushed the now-dry mud from my breeches and ran out of the stable. I stopped, looked back, hoping to exchange one final smile with the groom, but he was bent over the saddle rack, furiously rearranging the bridles and bits that hung there in sorry neglect.

    I ran back across the field and reached the house just as the wheels of the mail coach crunched across the courtyard. I hurried up to my room, planning a quick change of clothes and then to breeze down to breakfast as if I had been studying quietly upstairs, should anyone comment on my absence. I stripped and stood for a moment naked in front of the mirror. My buttocks were still pink from Alexander’s ministrations, and there was a splash of dried sperm on my stomach. I picked at it idly, and my cock, although so recently drained, started stirring into life again. I felt the phantom of Alexander’s hot, insistent tongue at my arsehole. No, there was no time for this. I struggled into my clothes, hoping that my erection would subside by the time I got downstairs.
    When I descended into the hall with my excuses at the ready, I found that my absence had not even been noticed. My mother greeted me with a distracted frown and a dismissive gesture, and returned to reading the letter in front of her on the table. I enquired after her health, as was our morning custom, and she replied with an inarticulate ‘Oh...’. After repeated attempts to get marmalade, butter or cream passed to me, I served myself. I had never seen her like this: dark-browed, troubled, almost tearful. But, selfish and hungry youth as I was, I soon forgot my mother’s worries and concentrated on consuming a hearty breakfast, my appetite sharper than ever after the morning’s exercise.
    The rest of the day passed