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I step into the library to return my completed book and replace it with a new one for my beach-side reading. I hear a sigh and walk toward the back of the crisp, modern styled library, seeking the owner of the sound. I find the houseboy back there, glancing forlornly out the window. He doesn’t notice me at first; my leather soled shoes make little noise on the floor. The natural sunlight illuminates his skin, basking his attractive form in a healthy glow. He is a sight – a slender neck emerging from the sharp lines of his collar bone, gently rolling pecs float above the valley of his lined abs. His skin is so taut, his health and vigor so evident, that there is hardly an ounce of fat on him from hard work and I can see grand veins running under his flesh.

His balls are generous and full, and his cock is soft and hidden but the perfect length for his form. He’s as if a painting come to life. I make the usual noises of putting a book away and he twists his head to look at me. He seems a bit surprised to see me. 

“Are you waiting for your Master to return, lad?”
“Yes sir,” he says, his voice wistful. “I miss him.”
“He shall return from visiting his sister within the hour, do not fret.”
The houseboy nods, but not satisfied. “I hope you have enjoyed your stay here, Sir, and weren’t inconvenienced by his sudden departure two days ago.”
“How could I not enjoy my stay here? I got a week off from that stuffy law office to stay with an old, dear friend at his manor by the beach and be attended to by the most beautiful nude boys. There is nary an inconvenience there. Babies come when they want to come, it isn’t your Master’s fault your sister delivered this weekend.”

The houseboy looks a bit relieved. “Thank you Sir for saying so. Yes, the baby was due last week, but they don’t mind anyone’s schedule but their own.”
“Indeed.” I rifle through the bookcases. “Oh Yukio Mishima…an eccentric, but a great author.” I select The Sound of the Sea and flip through it. When I glance up, I see the houseboy has returned to staring out the window once more.

“Lad,” I say gently, “Perhaps you need a distraction? Come to the beach with me.”
“I …” he begins. “I would like to, but if I am not here to greet my Master upon his return he will be cross with me.”
“Mm, well perhaps we can go there after lunch. Would you like me to suck you? Perhaps it’ll help you relax?”
The boy thought a moment. “Master said I am to please his guest while he is gone. It would please you?”
“Yes, you in any fashion would.”
The houseboy lowers his gaze to the bulge in my trousers, then to the floor. “My Master will also been in need of proper release after two days away too Sir, and I want to offer him a hole that has not been spoiled in his absence.”
“Then just a suck then,” I say with a reassuring smile. The houseboy looks content with our compromise.

The boy turns around and put his palms on the windowsill. I set my book on a shelf and kneel between his legs. His cock is soft, but warm and clean-scented. I take him between my lips – a perfect mouthful – and he gasps softly at the sensation of my tongue on him. I make a suction lock and bob my head, encouraging it to stiffen. Through my lips, I feel the throb of his awakened veins as blood rushes to his sex organs. I cup his pouch below and roll them between my fingers. His cock swells, filling my mouth from cheek to cheek and challenging my jaw.

The pink knob soon pushes out of his foreskin and strains, dripping seed against my tongue. Each little taste of the houseboy’s salty fluid makes my own cock ache in my trousers. I reach down with one hand to massage it until I fear I will spend in my pants; I unbutton myself and let the erect thing spring up into the air. I moan and began to stroke myself as I nurse the houseboy’s upright cock. His lids are half-closed, his lower lip quivers. The houseboy’s testicles are full and low. He is in much need of a proper fuck, but that is not part of my role as a guest in this house. I wonder if I would be allowed to watch that.

I sense his body spasming and the boy whimpers. “I feel I will cum soon, you are too skilled with your tongue!”
I answer him by pushing the tip of it into the slit and swirling it about; the houseboy’s knees buckle and I catch him by pushing upwards on his shins. He regains his posture and tosses back his head. I suck deeply and quickly, one hand on myself, the other making a circular path with my fingertips around his shaft, down to his balls, then back around to stroke any skin I can find.

The houseboy keens and his thighs tense; he cries out an ‘Oh sweet fuck!“ and his balls hitch high. I consume all his seed, feasting on his modest cock as he shoots against my throat. He is pent up. I do not fuss that I have spoiled his appetite for when his Master calls; in fact, I am even more sure now that I have taken off the edge and so he will be virile and patient for longer service when taken into bed.

When his organ begins to soften, I suckle and clean it with patience. It is no chore, and it would be disrespectful to leave another man’s property sullied. As he vocalizes and twitches in my grip, I dedicate a moment to pump my own aching organ. The climax swells over me in an instant and my hot seed splashes on the floor and on the house boy’s feet. I groan around his organ, lost in the pinnacle of masturbation. He grows too sensitive and begins to squirm; I nuzzle his balls and tug on myself, allowing the afterglow to settle and evaporate. There is no sound but for the houseboy’s soft panting.

After a moment, I pull away from the houseboy completely. I can almost see the the tension and anticipation melt off his shoulders. I leave my flaccid cock out, then signal for "one moment” before leaving the library to find a bathroom. When I return with a damp cloth, I find the houseboy perched halfway on the windowsill, head titled back against the window glass. His eyes are closed. When he hears my footfalls, he opens his eyes.

He motions to take the cloth away from me, but I give him a “tut” and hold it out of reach. This is my fun. I wrap his genitals in the warm terry cloth and clean them. He seems to enjoy this as much as I do. After I clean my own, I fold the towel anew and gently wipe his feet. It is a bit scandalous to be cleaning a houseboy’s feet, but I find the act a bit erotic. After the task is done, I give him a little kiss, tuck my book under my arm, and hold the towel at a distance. “Thank you for the suck, boy. You are most enjoyable. I hope to see you on the beach later.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hartman. It was immensely pleasurable.” He is still flushed. I must walk away or I will lose my will to resist fucking him. I nod, but as I turn away, the houseboy makes a sharp turn toward the window.

“It’s him! My Master is home! Oh I must go greet him at once. Thank you Mr. Hartman, the distraction did the trick. Please excuse me." 
I nod, dismissing him.
He flashes me a happy smile and jogs off, and I’m momentarily struck still by his bliss. It’s always wonderful and heart-warming to see a boy in service so enamored with his keeper.

I do not bother them. I return to my room and pick up my bag, then go to the beach a short walk from the manor. I lay out a towel and enjoy my book. About an hour later, Master Dunn and his houseboy come and join me, carrying a picnic basket and pale ale. The houseboy has fresh lovebites and there are red marks on his hips. I’m sure if I parted the globes of his ass, I would find a hole pink and wet and open from being fucked. The ocean will wash him clean. 

We dine and snack. Master Dunn discusses in length his new nephew and his status as an uncle. The topic soon changes to more domestic matters. We tidy up the spread and prepare for a swim. Just as I am removing my clothes, Master Dunn speaks up. "Glen, I have an inquiry for you.”
“Yes?” I ask.
“After dinner tonight, would you be interested in coming to my room? My houseboy says you were a wonderful companion while I was gone, and I feel as if I must reward you. I hate to know my boy is lonely. You must join us, or at least watch as I take him. It would be rude other wise.”
Glen felt a stir in his loins. “I did not do anything unique, but make sure the houseboy had a guest to serve and work to do. He is a fine boy and so easy on the eyes. I would hate to insert my horny self between your intimate relationship, but I will certainty watch. Not often does one receive an invitation to watch a houseboy writhe under his Master. I would find it to be most exciting.”
A dark look of lust and satisfaction shows on Master Dunn’s face. “Oh, he excites me a good deal.”
The houseboy blushes.
Master Dunn clears his throat and reveals a bit of a smirk. “That will be for later, though. I must take a swim first or my cock will harden even more.”
I grin. “Oh, I do feel the same way. I want to save my seed for when I can watch. I want to last for hours.”

Text is fictional. Model is Dominick Juneau, photographed by Adam Webster.

===delete below if reblogging====

I hadn’t meant to post this when I did – I never post between 4-5 am PST. However, somehow when I went to reblog this hours ago, I somehow managed to highlight a different frame and the reblog button was inaccessible. I was dicking around with deselect keyboard shortcuts and it magically reblogged! It took me seven hours to fix this, so yaaaay. I was reading this rather bizarrely-worded collection of Victorian-themed short stories involving gay sex, and they inspired this. Nice that it got saved.


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