Hamilton stretched his legs and wriggled his buttocks; the sun lounger wasn’t very comfortable. The heat was oppressive, but it wasn’t yet midday and it would get hotter still. The hotel pool was crammed, fit young men everywhere. Two lithe men (Spaniards, he reckoned, judging by the sheen on their skin) played imaginary football. One playing goalie, diving into the water to save a penalty. His wet trunks clung to his buttocks and groin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Hamilton spread open the pages of the latest Lee Childs. Lay it across his crotch. Hiding his growing erection. Hands shaking, he reached for his glass, licked his lips and took a long slurp. That was when he noticed him. Not that he was hard to spot. He was the only one in the pool with ginger hair. Hamilton put down his glass and struggled to a more upright position, trying for a better view.
The man swam through a crowd of bodies to the pool’s side. His shoulders were powerful, his arms strong. Effortlessly, it seemed to Hamilton, the young man gripped a rail and lifted himself from the pool. He stood by its edge, water dripping from his muscular torso. Hamilton’s eyesight wasn’t what it had once been. He peered through smoked sunglasses. The young man’s trunks seemed to be two pieces of cloth clipped together at the side. Was this a new fashion? What would Hamilton know? Blood rushed to his crotch.
The man looked around him as if searching for something. His towel probably. Hamilton craned forward, the young man’s trunks fascinated him. What a cock the man had. What an arse. Suddenly, the young man looked towards Hamilton, still searching. Their eyes met. Hamilton felt his face and neck burn and it had nothing to do with the sun. The young man stared.
Another young man, taller than the first, but no less muscular, approached the ginger one. Dark haired. He smiled and lent forward. The ginger haired one whispered in his ear. They giggled. Hamilton’s heart pounded with fear. They were talking about him. He just knew it. The new arrival looked over his shoulder, directly at the old man. Was that a look of contempt? There would be trouble ahead.
The dark haired young man seemed to frown. The other one looked intense. Then, from nowhere, the dark haired one clipped his thumb into the waistband of his swimming trunks and tugged them down. Just enough to give Hamilton a flash of a naked buttock cheek. Then the trunks were returned in their rightful place. Hamilton smelt an air of menace. He fidgeted with his book. His cock raged. He should get out of there. Fast.
Too late. The dark haired young man was approaching. The ginger one stood to observe proceedings. Hamilton shuddered. They wouldn’t start trouble here. Would they? Could they? The pool area was crowded with people. Too many witnesses. But what about later? Hamilton was staying at the hotel. Were the two young men? They could get him alone later. Quietly. Then what? Hamilton did not fancy his chances.
The dark haired man stood over Hamilton. Blocking the sun. He cast a huge shadow, emphasising his power.
“Hello.” Softly spoken. The young man squatted on his haunches, getting closer to Hamilton’s eye level. “We saw you watching us.” Hamilton gulped. Were his worse fears about to be realised?
“We saw you watching us,” the young man repeated himself, as if unsure what he should say.
“Sorry,” Hamilton blustered. “I …” he trailed off, humiliated.
“You see,” the young man faltered himself. Hamilton couldn’t breathe. His heart pounded and his blood pressure soared.
“Well it’s like this,” the young man was clearly English. Well spoken, Hamilton noticed. The young man’s pale face shone crimson. More silence. Hamilton waited. His fear intensified. The young man tried again. “It’s like this. My boyfriend,” he started uncertainly and nodded towards the ginger-haired boy who smiled back, “my boyfriend likes me to spank him,” he said in a rush, words tangling, “and even more, he loves it when somebody else is watching.” He halted and let the silence once more envelope them.
Hamilton bit his lip. Had he heard correctly?
“And,” the young man had found his voice once more, “we wondered if you would care to come to our room.”
It was a small room; a double bed, two plastic chairs and a rail and shelf for their clothes. Sandy, the ginger-haired one, was already naked. Toby, his friend, bounced his buttocks on the springy mattress of his bed. He gripped a small wooden brush in his right hand. It looked to Hamilton like a clothes brush. He had something similar in his room. It was maybe a foot long and four inches wide.
“Come here,” Toby crooked his finger and gestured to Sandy. Without fuss, the smaller young man stepped forward, stood close to his pal, and then lowered his naked body across his lap. He stretched his arms and torso across the mattress so that his legs dangled in mid-air behind him.
Hamilton shuffled across the small room, seeking the best advantage to see the show. He settled for a spot by the door. It gave him a perfect view of Sandy’s smooth round bottom. He guessed the pair hadn’t been in Spain for long, neither was particularly sun-tanned. Sandy hardly had a tan line at all.
Hamilton stood, the paperback novel strategically held against his throbbing erection.
Sandy’s bum was round and hard, rather like a rubber ball. Toby lifted the brush a foot or so above Sandy’s unblemished flesh and with great power brought it crashing down across the left cheek. An oval-shaped red blotch instantly appeared. Sandy gave no reaction. A matching blotch quickly appeared on his right cheek. Toby kept up a steady rhythm. Smack, smack, smack. The wooden brush rose and fell once every ten seconds. After a couple of minutes the whole of Sandy’s bum was crimson. From the top of the globes where they meet the spine, over the hills themselves, and into the under-curves (the most sensitive part of the bum). Satisfied that no part of the posterior was un-battered, he turned to the backs of the thighs.
Sandy’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, but he made no sound. Once or twice his body wriggled across his pal’s knees, rather like he was doing the crawl stroke in the swimming pool. Hamilton (no stranger to the sting of the hairbrush himself) reckoned Sandy’s bum should be hot and sore by now. A rivulet of sweat ran down the young man’s spine.
Toby pounded Sandy’s red-raw flesh until it felt like leather. Dark blue welts were everywhere. Still Sandy remained quiet, the noise of the pounding on his bum echoing around the room.
Then, it was over. Toby rested the brush on the mattress and with his now free hand with circular motions he gently caressed his pal’s arse. Sandy purred with pleasure.
Hamilton’s cock was fit to burst. He needed to rip down his cargo shorts and free it from his underwear. He touched it through the outside of the shorts, contemplating; could he jerk off here in front of the boys?
Suddenly, Sandy was on his feet, but only long enough to give Toby time to rise from the bed. In a second Sandy was kneeling on the mattress, legs splayed, head low, arse high. Toby had his own trunks off, his uncut cock poking at the ceiling. He climbed on the bed and then on Sandy whose squeal of ecstasy as the member entered inside him could probably be heard back down by the poolside.
Hamilton watched transfixed as the two young men rutted. Was now the time for him to make his exit, return to his own room and pleasure himself?
Toby shot a load and the pals lay on the soiled bed; spent. Hamilton’s head ached. His blood pressure was off the roof, he needed air. If he wasn’t careful, he might have a stroke. He really should get out of there.
Sandy raised his head from the bed, stared deep into Hamilton’s eyes. It was as if he had just seen him for the first time. Sandy’s tongue poked from his mouth. Hamilton watched transfixed as the tongue ran round the young man’s lips. Then Sandy broke into a bright smile. His eyes shone. His teeth gleamed. It broke Hamilton’s heart.
No word was spoken. Sandy pulled himself from the bed and still smiling approached Hamilton. The old man backed away, but in such a small room there was nowhere to retreat to. He was up against the door. Sandy fell to his knees, unclasped the buckle on Hamilton’s belt. Experienced fingers soon had the shorts open and at Hamilton’s feet. His M&S boxers quickly followed. Sandy took Hamilton’s bursting cock in his hand and gently inserted the glistening tip into his mouth.
Hamilton gasped with pleasure and as the beautiful young man worked his magic the old man had a strange intuition. Nobody will ever believe me when I tell them about this.
Picture credit: Joe Phillips
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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
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