Men In Short Skirts 4

Men In Short Skirts

Part 4 - Wings Of A Love God

Posted: May 2005
Title: Men In Short Skirts
Author: Haleth, with Miranda Bell

*****

Cupid. Not with the wings, but with the leather and the straps and the muscle. But it wasn't Cupid, really. It was Karl and he was even better than Cupid.

Because he was real.

And he had his tongue halfway down Eric's throat and the man really knew how to kiss.

Eric had never been naked with someone who was mostly clothed before, outside a comedy sketch. He was used to parading around in the nuddy in front of the camera, getting a laugh, but in personal situations he was used to mutual disrobing, or he'd get her clothes off first. But being naked under Karl wasn't freaking him out at all. It just made him want more and more.

And more. He took his hand off Karl's back, which wasn't easy, as it had been perfectly happy exploring the muscle there, and dropped it to Karl's arse.

What do you know? Male arse feel completely different from female arse. Eric gripped Karl's arse and pulled them close together, groin to groin.

Karl was biting his neck, licking, then biting again. Not enough to mark. Just enough to make Eric's cock twitch like it had fleas.

Karl's hands made regular detours down, to grab Eric's hips and, when Eric thrust his hips up, Eric's arse. Then Karl reached back and fumbled with his skirt. Eric was all for that. He liked the leather, but there were too many layers between his skin and Karl's skin.

Being a regular bloke, Eric couldn't help thinking that the penis was the key to everything. It felt so good when his cock ground up into the warm leather. If only their cocks could touch each other...

Karl was groaning and Eric suspected it had as much to do with the confines of the cozzie as with anything else. Must free Karl's cock.

The skirt fell to the floor and Eric put both hands on Karl's arse. The flex of the muscles as Karl humped Eric was spectacular. Eric wanted his hands on that arse when they fucked.

Where the fuck did that come from? Eric didn't fancy blokes and he didn't fancy getting fucked up the arse. But what had he expected? A couple of mutual handjobs? The way Karl rotated his hips when he thrust forward had him convinced the man knew what he was doing. Maybe....

They were both fumbling with Karl's fly, fingers tangling in desperation. Karl was holding himself up with one arm, and with the way his forearm bulged next to Eric's mouth Eric could be forgiven for taking a little nip and a lick. The force of his legs pressing into the arm of the couch kept Karl airborne. Every muscle in his torso was held rigid.

Eric stopped helping with the fly so he could touch all those ridges.

Apparently, the lack of Eric's help was exactly what Karl needed to be able to get the fly open. His cock sprang out onto Eric's belly with a loud slap.

Fuck. Karl was big. That might be an issue. But Eric was even bigger and there was no way, no matter how much his cock wanted it, he was going to shove it up another bloke's arse; that would just be mean. So Karl was going to have to fuck Eric. There was no other option.

* * *

Karl slammed his hips down so their cocks lined up beside each other and were crushed between their bellies. Eric was huge, and Karl was sure his own cock was behaving in an extraordinarily competitive manner, because it had never felt this big before. Karl wasn't sure what Eric had in mind. He was sure that neither of them had thought this far. In fact, thinking had not entered the equation at all.

What was in the equation was the mountain of muscle stretched out under him, and the thick cock pressing into his belly, and the huge hands splayed across his leather-covered arse, and Eric's tongue in his ear exactly the way he liked it. How the hell did Eric know that?

A tiny, practical part of his brain was busy being thankful that the couch was quite long, long enough that even Eric could lie on it with some comfort. That same part of his brain was also alarmed at the loud creaking noises the couch was making beneath their combined weight. Shit. It would be really bad form to break the couch.

Eric squeezed his arse and Karl completely forgot about the couch. Huge hands and very, very... manly. The feel of a man's hands on his body. Christ, it was good.

Karl wriggled backwards. He got his knees on the arm of the couch and couldn't go any further back, since his feet were against the wall. He bent at the hips and knees and brought his mouth down to Eric's cock.

No way all that was fitting in his mouth, but he'd take a fair bash at it. The sharp taste of sweat and maleness reminded him of a lot of things, but the way Eric was panting and making those low sort of groans was enough to help Karl forget anything that might be distractingly negative. He swirled his tongue around the head and opened wide, gripping the base with one fist while the other hand roamed over Eric's belly and chest.

So good to have a cock in his mouth. Especially this cock. The noises Eric made, the feel of all those muscles tensing and straining under his hand, the taste, everything was ideal. Karl shifted his hips and leather creaked. He'd really love to drop all his gear, but Eric wanted the costume. Who knew? Maybe he had some kind of leather fetish. More likely a Cupid fetish.

The hands on Karl's head were huge, and they were guiding him up and down, but not in an overbearing way. They were polite, just like Eric, just like you would expect from a nice guy like Eric. Karl's voice rumbled around his mouthful of cock, and Eric's hands got a little more demanding.

That was better.

* * *

Karl seemed to want Eric to move his head, show him what he wanted. Shit. Eric didn't do that sort of thing.

But then, he'd never been naked under another man, and he'd never had his cock sucked by another man, and even though he'd fooled around with buddies, jerking off and the like, he'd never even kissed another guy like that. Today was a day of firsts.

And he was going to get fucked up the arse too.

Caution to the wind. Flat out like a lizard drinking. What did he have to lose?

He moved Karl's head for a bit, until he got scared he would come, and then he reached over his head. He was hoping for at least one condom and one pack of lube. He had no way of telling what he had until he dropped the handful on his own belly. Two condoms, four packs of lube. Was that some kind of a sign?

Karl grunted and snatched one of the lube packets without breaking the rhythm of his sucking. Talented man. Eric groaned and spread his legs as best he could. The right one dropped off the side of the couch easily. The left one he had to lift up. He rested his calf on the back of the couch. Not the most comfy position in the world, but it would do.

He forgot all about the discomfort when Karl's slick fingers probed below his balls. Careful, but a bit frantic at the same time, they slid down and touched him.

Tickled.

No. He felt pressure.

No. It stung a bit.

But fuck, that was great, a finger pressing inside him, stretching him. Yeah, that was good. Better than good. It was bloody terrific. When it twisted the sting was back, but it was good, like the pleasure you get from ripping off a bandage. Or ripping a pair of feathered wings off your back. Eric had never had feathered wings on his back, but he'd worn enough prosthetics to know how good it felt to take them off.

Why was his thinking about his arsehole being filled like it was a prosthetic? Or was that his arsehole's virginity that was the prosthetic? Ridiculous thing to think of, but he had to. If he thought about Karl's finger in his arse and Karl's mouth on his cock, it would all be over.

"Fuck!" he grunted.

There was something close to a noise of agreement, and a second finger slid into his arse.

* * *

Jesus, but he was opening up beautifully. Maybe Karl shouldn't be so quick to judge. Just because Eric didn't shag blokes didn't mean he didn't like it in the arse. He seemed so surprised, though. Maybe it was his first time. Karl would have to be careful. He would be careful to use lots of lube, and stretch him out really well and do all the things that should be done, just in case.

Then he was going to fuck him like there was no tomorrow, because a guy built like this could handle it.

He scissored the two fingers and Eric's groans got louder. He hoped the studio door was locked. He prayed Harvey and the photographer really would be gone a few hours, because he didn't want to get caught doing this, and at the same time he didn't want to rush it.

The couch screeched beneath them and Eric jerked away from his hand a bit. Karl pulled his mouth off Eric's cock.

"Bugger," Karl said. "Not strong enough for two blokes like us." He got off the couch, kneeling on the floor beside it, and eased his fingers out of Eric's arsehole.

Eric growled.

Karl could not believe how ideal that sounded.

Eric was spread out on the couch like a banquet. And there was so much of him to taste. But not if the couch was going to fall apart beneath them. Karl trailed his fingers down the inner part of the thigh that was slung up on the back of the couch. He leaned over and nipped at the skin. Delicious.

But he had to move Eric, as much as he'd like to take him like that. He pulled Eric's leg down, and rolled him toward the edge and Eric responded under his hands perfectly, like someone who's done improv and responds to physical cues naturally, and maybe who isn't the most experienced person in the room but who wants to get fucked so he's willing to do whatever is necessary.

Power surged through Karl. He was in charge here, he was the one calling the shots.

But he wasn't going to take advantage.

Well, maybe a little.

Because he'd managed to get Eric's knees on the floor, and Eric's upper body bent over the couch, and Eric's arse was on display in a way that made Karl want to take advantage very, very much indeed.

* * *

Eric couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to be manoeuvred into this position. He was acting like such a bottom. But when Karl's fingers circled his arse, Eric spread his legs and arched his back and all but begged for it.

Amazing, how your body knows what it wants even if it's never done it before.

Karl pushed in two, then three fingers and watched Eric squirm and spread and open up and melt under him. And Eric didn't mind one bit. He knew Karl was getting off on having Eric under him, the size thing, the power of it. The mutuality of it was mind boggling.

Eric felt under his body for the condoms, which had tipped off when Karl rolled him off the couch. There they were. Perfect. His hand emerged with a condom and a lube. Perfect symmetry. Couldn't argue with that.

He handed them back to Karl.

"You sure?" Karl asked.

Eric could tell Karl hadn't really wanted to ask. Karl just wanted to take. But he'd asked, and that made Eric want even more.

"Fuck, yeah," Eric said. "Put it on, mate, get it in."

Karl did as he was told. He grabbed another pack of lube while he was at it. Couldn't be too careful.

Eric was grateful for the cushion on the couch. They gave him something to lean over, something to grab onto, and something to bite onto.

He'd been prepped - there really wasn't much more Karl could have done to get him ready - but the burn of it was strong. And good. So fucking good. How could something that hurt that acutely feel so good at the same time? He breathed deep and tried to relax and at the same time he tried to open his whole body and it worked.

Karl slid all the way in, and the pain was still there but now it was accompanied by something else - an electric, frenzied need for movement. His arsehole needed to be rubbed, to ease the burn. That was all he could think of. Like rubbing your elbow when you hit your funny bone. Strangely, perversely satisfying.

Like ripping the wings off a love god.

One hand brushed against the other condom. Not a bad idea. Would keep him from spraying all over the couch. Didn't want to think about how many people might have sprayed all over the couch before.

Besides, putting the condom on gave him something to distract him, and that would keep him from spraying all over the couch immediately, because it felt that fucking good to have Karl inside him.

* * *

Karl had done all he could. Eric was so lubed he was dripping, especially after Karl had slathered the third pack of lube on his sheathed cock. He feared it was still hurting Eric, but Eric didn't seem to mind, and the vice-like grip on his cock meant Karl couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to.

Now Eric was moving his hips, wanting more. Karl obliged. He held onto Eric's hips and thrust and moaned. The way Eric had to spread his legs to get to the correct height was obscene, and the sight of that powerful back, spread above on the couch, was almost enough to send Karl over the edge.

Eric started to swear, nonsense words really, punctuated by "yes" and "more" and "don't stop" and all sorts of "fuck me"s and "bloody hell"s. The words were muffled by the cushions, but Karl could make them out.

Karl was moving faster, and harder. Pounding. Yeah, pounding into Eric. Fucking hard. Fucking fast. Fuck, he was so close to coming. Eric was too. He had his hand under him, between his legs. He shuffled back to make more room for his hand on his cock, and Karl went close to blind. The change in angle put him that much deeper, and Eric made a sound not unlike a howl.

More pounding was the only way to answer a noise like that.

There was a slick noise. Eric must have been using the last packet of lube on his own cock. Rhythmic splatter of lube. Squish of cock going into arse. Hips slapped against arse. Karl made a groan. Eric made another howl. The couch made a loud screech.

Couldn't stop now, not if the couch fell apart, not if the whole room fell in on them. Karl rolled his hips and slammed into Eric and gritted his teeth when Eric rocked back to meet him.

Karl realized he would have to add to his list of things he knew about Eric. The things he knew mainly clustered around the word "good" - good actor, good looks, good bloke. Now there was "bangs like a dunny door in the breeze". But that was good too. Very good indeed.

Too good. Karl's balls pumped so hard it hurt. He knew he was making one of those expressions the porn actors make, pained yet ecstatic, and it wasn't lying. He'd never come this hard before. It wasn't like he could have remembered, even if he had, but he was pretty sure. As sure as you can be when you're incapable of thought.

Eric heaved beneath him and Karl watched his arse muscles clench and relax and clench and relax, and his arsehole clamp around the base of Karl's cock. There was a brief, half-second flash of fear that his cock might fall off from the pressure, but Karl was reassured moments later when the feeling flooded back into it.

Too much feeling, but he couldn't get it out until Eric finished coming, and he was taking his sweet time about it. Finally, the contractions abated and Eric sank forward, his whole upper body resting on the couch, head turned to the side.

Karl let himself fall on Eric's back. He didn't care if the sweat glued them together. He couldn't hold himself up any longer to save his life.

There was a shuddering, creaking groan, then the couch convulsed once and emitted a sharp cracking noise.

It listed to one side as the rear, right leg bent under it.

"Shit," came the muffled complaint from Eric.

"Bugger," Karl muttered, and peeled himself off Eric's back. He grabbed the end of the condom and pulled out slowly, to the accompaniment of several gasps and a deep, deeply sexy moan from Eric.

He didn't want it to be over. He wanted to lie on that broad back all afternoon. Touch all the parts he hadn't had time to touch, and then touch the ones he had touched some more.

Eric was struggling to an upright position. He sat back on his heals and winced.

They both looked at the forlorn, sloping couch.

"Think they'll notice?" Eric asked.

"Think I care?" Karl asked in reply.

* * *

Eric pulled off the condom with a shaking hand. Good thing he'd put it on. If all that come was on the cushions when the they discovered the couch was broken, he'd be done for. He held the end of the condom between two fingers, while the heavy load swayed limply in the air.

Karl held out one of the Dress/Success hand towels. "I'll toss the whole lot out somewhere," he offered.

Eric nodded, dropped the sheath on the towel and pulled himself up to standing.

Naked. Next to KarlfuckingCupidfuckingUrban, whose soft but still substantial cock was still hanging out of his tight, black leather trousers. Eric could still feel the leather sticking to his thighs while Karl fucked him. How the hell had that happened?

"Okay, mate?" Karl asked. He looked genuinely worried.

Eric couldn't help grinning. "Fucking fantastic, mate." But he was more nervous now that he'd been before. How were you supposed to extricate yourself from something like this with dignity?

Karl's smile reassured him. Slightly nervous as well, but warm. Very warm. Hot, even.

Eric grabbed a flannel but Karl took it from him.

"Let me."

An Eric stood, rocking both into and away from the touch as Karl gently cleaned between his legs. He closed his eyes and sighed. That was really nice. Too nice. It made him want to stay here all afternoon, all night, all week.

Karl moved away and handed Eric his jeans. Eric dressed quietly, watching Karl as he peeled the leather trousers off his legs. Damn. Why hadn't he told Karl to strip? Those legs would have felt really good on the backs of his thighs. But the slick, warm leather had felt good too. Can't have everything in one go.

And there wasn't going to be another go.

First, it was too dangerous. Someone was going to come back to the studio, so they had to get out of there.

Second, it was stupid. He was married, Karl had a girlfriend, they both had kids... stupid, stupid stupid.

Third, it might be days before he could get it up again. He was fucking drained.

"We should, um..." Karl said, gathering the soiled flannels and the towel with the spent condoms in it.

"Yeah," Eric agreed half-heartedly. "Look, I don't want to seem like a wombat or anything..."

"Wombat?" Karl repeated.

"Yeah, you know. Eats, roots, and leaves..."

Karl chortled. "Fucking Aussie..."

Eric decided to laughed as well. No harm done. Absolutely no harm. Especially if it made Karl laugh.

"No worries, mate." Karl said.

No worries.

Karl leaned over, giving Eric a stunning view of his arse - too bad he'd put his jeans on already - and propped up the leg of the couch. "There, I jammed it back under. I don't think anyone will notice it was broken, at least not right away."

Eric looked at the couch. Damn. He wished they hadn't broken it. But he was glad they had.

"I'll see you at the Dress/Success party next month, then?" Karl said.

Eric grinned. "Yeah. Are we supposed to come in costume?"

"Fuck, I hope not. I don't think the chairwoman of the board would approve of what happens when I see you in a short skirt."

Eric leaned over and kissed Karl lightly. "Yeah, but I approve."

"Fuck the chairwoman," Karl mumbled and opened his mouth to kiss Eric more fully.

And, of course, Eric found he had no desire to fuck the chairwoman at all.

And, he thought, maybe he should keep the Troy cozzie for a while...

* * *

Harvey was tidying up at the end of the long day. So many shoots in one afternoon. It must be some kind of a record. The chairwoman of the board was very pleased with how the project was progressing.

That was excellent, because Harvey's mother was a very difficult woman to please.

He was exhausted from the running around, working around the hot lights, dealing with all those difficult actors, driving the photographer across the city and back. He sat down heavily on the couch.

The rear, right leg gave way under his slight weight. The corner of the couch crashed to the floor.

How on earth had that happened? And how in hell was he going to explain it to his mother?

*****

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If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Haleth and Miranda Bell