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He awakes with a wooly mouth; too much Champagne the night before. Nowadays even half-a-bottle is too much. The bed is empty, but he hears a rustling noise. Robert sits at the dining table, flipping through a Spanish newspaper, a pot of coffee in front of him. His lips move as he imagines pronouncing the words. His Spanish is terrible, but he’s trying to learn.
Jimmy wants to say Good morning, darling, but all that comes out is mmmph.
“Good morning, darling,” Robert sings out cheerfully. He pours out a cup of coffee for Jimmy, adds two sugars, brings it over to him. Jimmy sits up and sips gratefully. He is not usually himself till noon, whereas Robert is very much the early bird.
Robert climbs back into bed with him and lies propped up on the headboard as Jimmy drinks his coffee. “Should I order us some waffles for breakfast?” he asks with a smile.
He thinks of their excesses last night. “Maybe I should have a grapefruit. I’m getting too fat.”
“You do have a bit of a tum,” Robert agrees, sliding a warm hand down to his round belly and resting it there possessively. “It’s sexy.”
“What a charming liar you are.”
“I mean it,” Robert says. “You’ve been on good pasture, as we farmers say. Nothing wrong with that.” To further his point, he leans down and kisses Jimmy’s belly, kisses each of his hips, and then his kisses began to creep lower. His golden hair tickles Jimmy’s thighs. Jimmy’s cock twitches with interest. He is always half-hard in the mornings anyway, and when Robert plants a few kisses on his bollocks, he draws a ragged breath.
“Since you’re down there anyway….” he says, and Robert gets the hint, because his pink tongue daintily licks his whole length, up and down, and then pauses to tickle the head, tonguing the slit and sensitive underside.
“Oooh,” Jimmy groans, with the intensity peculiar to the mornings. Robert’s soft mouth gently encircles the head, licking and sucking and teasing him, and Jimmy feels the pleasure radiating outward from his stiffening cock, making his thighs tremble. His heart is now thumping in his chest, his pulse skittering madly. The warm, wet, tickling tongue on his most sensitive part is exquisite; no one is better at sucking him off than Robert, who savors his luscious task. He begins to bob his head to make his cock thrust in and out of his mouth, and Jimmy bucks his hips, and they find a rhythm.
He rakes his fingers through Robert’s curls, holds the back of his head, gently urging him to suck faster. He moans loudly and there is an answering moan from Robert, who loves to suck his cock, who gets hard from doing it, and cannot help but moan in sympathy, even with his mouth full, and that makes it even hotter for Jimmy. The tremulous blissful feeling rises within him, the sweet, hot ache between his legs. He looks down, and Robert is looking at him, his eyes sparkling in what would be a smile if not for his pretty mouth all stuffed full of his deliciously throbbing dick.
Jimmy always thinks he will make this naughty treat last and last, he will lie back, swooning, while Robert gives him the longest, wettest, sexiest blow job ever, as only Robert can, but as always, he overestimates his staying power. Every time, every damned time, Robert gets him in his mouth, he gets impossibly hard and stiff from all that lovely tongue-lashing, and comes within minutes. And this morning is no different. His cock throbs deliciously, his moans become louder and more wanton, he feels his sap rising, and then it’s too much. With a gasp of delight he floods Robert’s mouth, thrusting his hips, arching his back, filling his lovely mouth with his hot jets of cream until it runs down his pretty lips.
Because he knows Jimmy is still watching him, Robert releases the tight clamp of his lips, rests the swollen head of Jimmy’s cock on his hot little tongue, and teases the underside to coax out every last drop. Jimmy moans blissfully as he pumps out the last jets all over Robert’s lashing tongue, their eyes locked, their souls mingled in erotic communion. Robert encloses his cock in his soft mouth, does not let up, keeps sucking until Jimmy feels his toes curl. It’s too much, he’s quivering, and he steers Robert’s head away from his softening cock.
Robert slides up and kisses him. “You always come so quickly in the mornings,” he murmurs fondly.
Jimmy is going to reciprocate; he is dying to make Robert come in his mouth, just as soon as he catches his breath. The problem is that his limbs are filled with a sweet laziness, the melty, liquid, post-orgasmic glow. Robert’s name is on his lips; he can practically taste him. He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, but it becomes impossible to open them again, and he drifts off into a deep and blissfully relaxed sleep.
When he awakes for the second time, Robert is again sitting at the table, looking through the colorful tourist brochures that were stuck in with the room service menu. There is a fresh pot of coffee and a pitcher of orange juice in front of him.
His mouth is like sandpaper. “Hello,” he croaks. Robert pours out a glass of juice and brings it to him. Jimmy drinks down the whole glass. “Sorry I fell asleep again.”
“Apparently I give such good head that I knocked you out cold,” Robert says smugly. He takes the empty glass and comes back to bed with a cup of sweet, dark coffee and Jimmy’s cigarettes. He gets one lit, puffs, passes it to Jimmy who, between the caffeine and the nicotine, starts to feel human again.
“I guess I was tired from yesterday’s show. And, you know….” he trails off. In the heat of the moment he will say the filthiest things in Robert’s ear, but at other times, he’s delicate about bedroom matters.
“All that fucking,” Robert, who is never so reserved, finishes for him. “Yes, we did have quite an orgy yesterday. I also recall that we stuffed ourselves with steak and cream cakes, drank a whole bottle of Champagne, and smoked a huge joint.”
“You and I, we have some unfinished business,” Jimmy says. He gives him a meaningful look as he exhales smoke.
“Here I am, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Robert says as he slips out of the hotel robe and back into bed.
Jimmy reaches over, rests his hand possessively on Robert’s bare thigh, Robert leans in for a kiss and Jimmy raises his hand to stop him. ”Ah. Just as soon as I finish my cig. And the coffee.” His hand is heavy on Robert’s thigh, feeling it quiver in anticipation. Leisurely, he smokes and sips, enjoying the delay, making Robert wait, teasing him in his own way.
Robert has already been waiting, nowhere to go with his hard-on while Jimmy slept. Now his cock is definitely interested as Jimmy’s hand creeps a little higher. With a moan of impatience he takes the cigarette from Jimmy’s hand and to his surprise, crushes it out in the ashtray. “What a wicked little cocktease you are,” he growls as he kisses him.
Jimmy loves when he talks this way, calls him scandalous names. He kisses back, and feels his sleepy limbs responding to the magical elixir that is Robert in his bed, all sweet mouth and muscled thighs and golden curls. He opens his mouth to Robert’s questing tongue and they share a hot soul kiss. Robert, too long denied, straddles him, so that Jimmy can feel he is already rock-hard. Propped up against the headboard, Robert has him pinned in a tight and delicious embrace. His arms clasp Robert’s strongly muscled back. His cock, pressed against Robert’s, stiffens, and it feels so nice that he starts to thrust upward, to grind against his golden boy.
“Oh, yes, love. How good you feel,” Robert sighs. His kiss is hot and messy, plundering Jimmy’s mouth, and then he kisses his jaw, and his neck, and collarbone, and the hollow of his throat, then back to his mouth again, searing hot tongue-kisses that make him feel weak in the knees. And all the while Robert is thrusting, grinding their cocks together, until they are both deliciously stiff and throbbing.
Then Robert does not stop at his collarbone, his lips keep moving down, and he tongues his nipples, first one, then the other, while Jimmy sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair. It is Robert who first showed him this luscious game: the kiss, lick, suck, and eventually, when he is moaning and practically begging, the exquisite bite of his nipples that sends shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through his body.
“Oh, honey,” he sighs, as Robert licks and sucks his nipples into sweetly aching little points, so hypersensitive that the slightest touch sends an answering throb to his groin. And then Robert bites, gentle enough not to leave any marks, but hard enough to send a hot flush of pain that washes over him, mingling deliciously with a wave of lust. Robert bites the other nipple, and now Jimmy moans freely. His darling knows so well what gets him off. The delicate knife-edge between pain and pleasure makes his breath come short, his heart thump in his chest.
He slides down off the headboard, and Robert settles over him, pinning him down to the bed, and Jimmy loves this more than anything: the press of Robert’s body, his tongue plunging into his mouth, his sweet moan when their hips find a rhythm. He could come like this, from the grinding friction, the mad pleasure of being trapped and teased and held down. But he wants more. “Do it to me,” he whispers to Robert. “Do it to me now.”
Robert sits up, reaches for the bottle on the nightstand; it’s the sweet oil Jimmy uses on his hands. He thinks, not for the first time, that for two men who have been fucking on and off for decades, neither ever has anything approximating proper lube. Sunscreen, hair oil, hand cream, bath lotion, you name it, they had used it all to make sex pleasantly slippery.
Robert unscrews the cap, but Jimmy takes it from him. “Let me,” he says, and he grasps Robert’s big stiff cock. He loves to handle it, such a beauty, long and thick, rising from the golden thatch of curls. He and pours the oil over it, catching it in his hand, slicking it in, making Robert close his eyes and thrust into his tight grasp.
“Oooh,” groans Robert, bucking his hips, making Jimmy stroke him faster. “Oh, it feels so good.”
As tempting as it is to keep going, make Robert come with his hand, spill all over his body, he has other, grander plans. “Come on, now,” he says, and Robert snugs up close to him, fits his cock to his tight hole, and starts to push himself in, slowly and gently.
This is always the moment when Jimmy thinks that wonderfully large cock he had just been admiring is perhaps a mite too big, and it will never fit inside him. There is a burning, stretching, slightly uncomfortable feeling as he accommodates Robert, reminding himself to breathe and relax.
“Oh, God, I’m too big for you,” Robert moans, but he always says that, so Jimmy just ignores it and lifts his hips to force another few inches inside himself, and this is the point at which he starts to feel delicious, shivery, deep-down pleasure.
“You’re fine. Come on, now,” he tells Robert, and he wraps his arms around his back, pulls him tight, forces his hips upwards, thrusting, and Robert with a groan sinks himself down until he is all the way in, as deep as he can go, and Jimmy with a soft grunt takes him, he takes him all.
Robert pants, moans softly, oh….oh….oh as he thrusts gently and slowly. He knows he’s big, he’s being cautious, but his cock is nudging right up against that deep and tender spot that turns Jimmy’s insides to liquid, makes him shudder with want.
“Come on, now,” he says again, pumping his hips, urging him. His hands slide down to grip Robert’s finely-muscled bottom. The full contact is delicious: Robert’s broad chest covering him, his strong thighs driving into him, hands pinning his wrists, tongue plundering his mouth with deep, wet kisses. He is deliciously invaded, surrendered to the golden stud ravishing him.
“You feel so good, honey,” Robert whispers, breath hot in his ear. “So tight.” He fucks him just a tiny bit faster, and it’s luscious, but Jimmy wants more. There is a dizzying current of electric pleasure possessing him, his cock throbs against his belly, his insides jangle with anticipation.
Robert knows just how to work him over. He kisses him deeply, then moves his lips to brush lightly over all the delicate points of his neck, and then he bites him tenderly, just hard enough to have the desired effect, and Jimmy moans. He bends down to lick and bite his nipples, making him squirm. The slight lash of pain makes his cock throb wetly. And Robert is drilling him, thrusting into him so precisely that he feels that familiar, tingling, deep-down sensation, the sweet pressure building.
“Baby,” he moans out, as Robert with a deep-drawn sigh begins to piston his hips, making the bedsprings squeak, filling him, making him shudder and pant and beg him to fuck me hard and do it now. Molten, fiery pleasure sears him from within. With a shudder and a cry he starts to come, and Robert bends down and covers his lips, so that he moans around their kiss as he coats their bellies with the creamy jets, as Robert pumps into him, bites his lip as he fucks the come out of him.
“I meant to go for hours,” he says when he can finally breathe again. Robert has stopped moving; his big cock still, though his spent arse is still twitching around it.
“Mmm,” Robert says, kissing his neck. “You’ll come again.”
“I don’t think so, babe. I’m not so young anymore.”
“You will,” Robert assures him. He rests his lips against Jimmy’s neck, his body still.
Jimmy does not think it’s possible to wring another spend from his sexually-exhausted, middle-aged body, but never let it be said that he’s not up to the erotic challenge. Robert doesn’t budge, but he does not mind the weight. He is floating in the post-orgasmic miasma of utter relaxation mingled with pleasurable aftershocks. Long minutes go by; he would suspect Robert has fallen asleep except his hard cock still throbs inside of him, and then, his hips move ever-so-slowly, nudging the secret place deep inside of him, and there is a little spark, a little tremble. Robert’s lips are soft and sweet; he kisses him as if for the first time, as if he hadn’t had his tongue buried in his mouth just moments before.
“Oh, God,” Jimmy moans helplessly, Robert drugging him with slow, intimate, dreamy soft kisses, making his poor tired cock stiffen up. Before he knows it, he is moving his hips again, urging him to go faster, deeper. His face is flushed hot, his heartbeat skyrocketing again. He opens his mouth for Robert’s tongue, but he can’t kiss for moaning. It’s hot and sloppy and delicious, and he buries his fingers in Robert’s hair as he kisses. “Fuck me… Rob… honey.”
Robert’s face is flushed red, his lips all puffy from kissing, and the look in his eye is wild. “Hot little tart. You can’t get enough of my cock,” he growls, and if Jimmy thought he was getting it good before, it’s nothing compared to the way Robert is now ravishing him, pounding into him, kissing, thrusting his tongue, thrusting his dick, grinding into him, until with a sob of sweet joy he spurts again, his whole body shuddering and shaking as the bliss sweeps over him and the creamy spend spills from his delighted prick.
“Told you so,” Robert groans out, and he sits up slightly and then, with his hands pressing down on Jimmy’s shoulders, fucks him wildly for only a few seconds before his lovely mouth twists, he throws his head back, tosses his gilded curls, and with a cry of joy he pumps Jimmy so full of his cream that it runs out of him.
They are both blissful, tensing and trembling, milking out the last of their pleasure. Robert reaches down, strokes Jimmy’s softening cock with a slippery hand, making him groan, half in protest, as Robert finishes him off. It takes them several long minutes to come down, and when they finally separate, sticky and satisfied, Robert nestles his head into Jimmy’s shoulder.
“What a mess we’ve made,” Jimmy says, kissing Robert’s hair. “The sheets are drenched.”
“Love is messy,” Robert replies. “That’s why we tip the chambermaid.”
Jimmy feels a deep-down satisfaction, the appeasement of an urgent craving that he did not realize was quite so desperate. But Robert did. Robert in some ways knows him better than he knows himself. He knew, he could feel, that he would come again. But ah, God, three times in as many hours is enough for any man his age.
“I desperately need a shower. Last time I bathed was four orgasms ago,” he tells Robert.
“What about those waffles?”
“Those, too. I guess I’ve earned them.” Jimmy pads over to the big bathroom and turns the shower on, filling it with steam. He hears Robert calling room service, ordering waffles and bacon and coffee and tea, before joining him in the shower.
They wash together when they are feeling frisky, as a kind of prelude to their bedroom frolic, but they also wash together when they are feeling tender. He likes to shampoo Robert’s hair, raking his fingers through the thick wet curls. Robert likes to give him a sudsy massage, working out the kinks in his fret arm, under the hot spray. Afterwards, he shaves in the bathroom mirror, towel wrapped around his waist, while Robert lets in the room service.
His eyes light up when he sees the uncovered dishes of golden waffles dripping with butter, the piles of bacon, pitcher of warm maple syrup, and the steaming pots of coffee for himself, tea for Robert. Oh, he knows he’s greedy; the same tendency that had made him enjoy Robert’s charms so thoroughly and exhaustively has him digging into the huge American-style breakfast with zeal.
Robert watches him eat approvingly. He hadn’t always taken care of himself; during The Troubles he was rail-thin, and that is why Robert genuinely doesn’t mind the extra padding Jimmy has acquired since he went clean.
“Have that last piece of bacon,” Robert urges him, and Jimmy obligingly polishes it off. Robert, for his part, mops a last bite of waffle into the puddle of maple syrup on his plate and eats it with relish, licking the syrup from his pretty lips.
Afterwards they sit on the balcony smoking and drinking their coffee and tea. In the distance, the white sand and turquoise water of the Leblon beach sparkle. The weather is perfect, as it is every day in Rio. Jimmy does not look forward to returning to wintry London.
“I suppose we should go out today. If we stay here in the hotel room, I’m afraid we’ll eat and fuck ourselves to death,” Jimmy says with a laugh. “I’m not sure the old ticker can take much more of this. We should take a walk or something.”
“We could go to the Botanical Gardens, look at the flowers. It’s a nice place for a stroll,” Robert suggests. Since he had been perusing all the tourism brochures, Jimmy defers to him. He calls for a car and driver and they dress, Robert in a white linen kurta, Jimmy in a pink guayabera.
Robert tries out his elementary Spanish on the uniformed driver, who corrects him, smiling hugely at his gringo efforts. He knows the Jardim Botânico and tells them it is muy linda as he holds the car door for them.
Nothing prepares them for the splendor of the gardens. They walk along colonnades of towering palm trees, wander into formal gardens with majestic fountains, over wooden bridges spanning ponds filled with Victoria lilies, into sunken gardens with moss-covered statuary, and steamy glass hot-houses filled with rare orchids and carnivorous plants. The air is perfumed with flowers, the gardens and paths spotlessly maintained.
Jimmy threads his arm through Robert’s as they stroll. Men walk arm-in-arm with each other here, the custom of the country for friends. Jimmy and Robert have seen this in other places: India, Morocco, Italy. It’s a foreign concept to a couple of Britishers, but Jimmy likes it; he’s proud to walk with his handsome golden prince on his arm.
Robert stops to exclaim over a hedge of huge pink hibiscus. “What a flower! Big as dinner plates. It’s like a giant slap in the face to all the normal-sized flowers.” Jimmy touches the inside petal of the flower lightly. It’s rougher than he expected, not as velvety as it looks.
“Look with your eyes, not with your hands,” Robert teases him. They meander through the gardens, crossing little streams, walking through miniature forests of cherry and dogwood trees and tiny fairy gardens of rocks and moss.
When they find the paved path again, they come upon a lady selling mangoes on a stick, carved into intricate flowers with curving petals. Robert buys two and they sit a bench in front of a wall of climbing roses, enjoying their refreshing treat.
“I don’t want to go back to London,” Jimmy admits, nibbling a petal of his mango. “It’s so cold and grey in January.”
“Come back to the country with me.”
“It’s the same weather! You might as well come back to London with me.”
“I have a nine-bedroom farmhouse.”
“I live in a castle.”
They’d had this conversation many times before, and as always it goes nowhere. Robert is a country mouse and Jimmy a city mouse. They visit, drive a few hours to see each other, even stay a week or two, but neither is going to relocate.
Robert says, “We could just stay here awhile. Maybe rent a beach cabin. The weather is good, the people are nice. We haven’t been bothered or even recognized.”
This idea has a lot of appeal for Jimmy. The tour doesn’t start until March; he has no other commitments. Being alone with Robert in a foreign country, maybe on some private beach somewhere, lying in the sun, is an enticing notion. He thinks of the tiny red bathing suit Robert used to wear that left nothing to the imagination. No doubt he is more restrained now; he’d yet to see him sporting the cock bulge in tight trousers like the old days. But still, he thinks of Robert in his red bathing trunks, half naked on some white-sand beach, while Jimmy rubs suntan lotion into his strong back. Oh, yes, the idea has a lot of appeal.
Robert waits patiently for Jimmy’s answer. He is accustomed to his daydreaming lover taking a long time to reply, but sometimes he has to be pulled out of his wool-gathering. “What do you say, darling?” he asks, nudging him with his shoulder.
“Yes!” Jimmy says, coming out of his reverie. “Let’s just stay here awhile, find a cabana to rent on a private beach. Very private,” he says meaningfully. “I’ll ask my secretary to find us a rental.”
“No,” says Robert forcefully. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t want anyone else involved. I’m stealing you away from everyone else. Even your secretary.”
Jimmy smiles, because Robert says the corniest and most romantic things that somehow make his heart leap anyway. He sucks the last of his mango and stands up, and together they walk through the fragrant gardens, in this foreign country where Jimmy can steal away and be alone with his secret treasure, down by the seaside.