Smoking Hot Ch. 09

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You probably want to read at least Chapter 6 for Adrian and Laura’s backstory here, or the whole series for all their background if you also appreciate Gay Male content. If you haven’t, don’t complain this doesn’t make sense!


Two months.

My life is about to change forever, and I’m not talking about getting Laura naked tonight. I’ve wangled Max having a last lads’ night upstairs with Dan, just the two of them, so I won’t have to worry about him wandering in when me and her are getting it on. Though, fair play, couldn’t really complain if he did.

I never thought waiting for Laura would make me this nervous, yet here I am again, pacing. I’ve dug out the wee patches and put one on me arm for first time in ages.

It’s not just the agreement that has me on edge, but I had a chat with her last week which descended rapidly into the gutter.

I’d told her, “You know, they say if a woman gets fucked by two men, even if the first is wearing a condom, it increases her chances of getting pregnant by the second one. The route becomes easier, or something.”

“I’m still not fucking you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant! Not unless you ask me to. Just, if you were interested, there’s objects that could be used, might have the same effect, or just make you a happy wee bunny…”

She changed the subject after that, which brought on my nerves, but then she sent me a fascinating message this morning, which I can’t stop thinking about.

I give up and go do some more work while I’m waiting. I don’t mind telling you, I’m cacking myself over this project. Either it’ll make my name, but if the clients don’t like what I give them in two weeks, the firm is going to be in a right hole…


I’m looking forward to this evening. Especially since a chat last week where he suggested applying things to my fanny that might have a side effect of assisting Dave’s swimmers.

I’ve been considering Adrian’s hands. He does have remarkably small hands for a man. No-one’s fisted me since Becky left the country.

I went to have a little chat with Dave.

Dave’s take on it is, if it’s not a cock in my cunt, eat my heart out. He’s never really understood the attraction of sex toys for such purposes, and winces at the very idea of whole hands, but then his hands are massive and he very much believes penetration is something that should only happen to other people. He says goodnight, with a typical, “you’re weird, you are, but I love you.”

I texted Ade this morning, to perk him up. ‘If it’s not a live dick inside me, anything goes. Bring it on.’

I follow up with, ‘Same for you?’

Not that I was planning on pegging him or anything, but I’d love to see him all open for anything. The sight of him dropping to his knees in front of Dan, like it was the most natural thing in the world, sweeping his hair back behind his ear and sinking that whole cock into his mouth, has featured in a fair few fantasies of mine. I’ll let him think on it.

I get a message back at lunchtime. ‘Whatever. Hadn’t thought much beyond your mouth over my cock. I’m a bear of little brain.’

I can’t see Ade as Winnie-the-Pooh himself. Maybe, when he’s happy, being the good host. Kanga, more like. Bit of Tigger, bit of Eeyore…

Anyway, this time I go for comfortable jeans, top and warm jumper, trainers, just some underwear I think he’ll like and I know Dave will, later. Slightly dressy, but not at all dressed up.

Ade raises an eyebrow that promises the world, while surprised I’m not wearing anything fancier, and comes over to give me a big hug.

“I know, pet, but I didn’t want you to think I mightn’t deliver on my promise.” Why dress up if you’re only taking the clothes off?

I return his hug. He’s looking well. Like he’s been eating properly, as well as not smoking. Possibly a bit agitated, but not surprising in the circs. I point at his little wire glasses.

“Nice specs. Thought you only used them for work?”

“Eh, just catching up a bit, I was. It’s been mental this last couple weeks, new big client we couldn’t say no to. I’ve got a new minion starting soon, though. Wait til I tell ye, though! She knows Gareth!”

“What? How?”

“He’s been mentoring students – sixth-formers online, then once she got to uni, they invited him to the LGBT soc to do one of those inspiring talks, y’know?”

Britain’s most eligible gay barrister. Guess he wouldn’t mention that bit. “Good for him. So when does she start?”

“Two more weeks, and not before time! Everyone’s pitching in, but most of it, it’s got to be me and Naz, though Sam does what he can. Working til nine, ten, most nights.” That’s what he used to say at college, so I add an extra few hours a day onto that. This had better be a short-term workload.

“You’re looking remarkably well in the circs. illegal bahis That desk wasn’t there before, was it?”

“Been moving stuff about.”

“Uh-huh. S’pose you want a good setup in your office, if you’re working all hours.”

“Aye,” he says, sounding a bit guilty. “Look, there’s pie and veg and stuff ready in the fridge – could ye get dinner going while I finish what I was doing? Be about ten minutes?”

“No worries. See you in a bit.”

He disappears into his office, closing the door like he’s right stressed. I figure out his oven and put the dishes in it, Borough Market and M he’s been shopping. Some nice new steel saucepans out on the counter. Perhaps he has been splashing out with the dosh he’s saved by not smoking, after all?

I connect to his WiFi, with details he’s handily stuck up on the fridge – the network’s called Fuckoffyoucheapskatebastard, password yesyouatnumbertwelve, suggesting history with the upstairs neighbour. Adrian emerges a moment before the oven timer goes off.

“Really sorry. Anyway, that’s me for the weekend, I hope.”

He looks like he’s lying, probably going to work half of the next two days, but at least he’s got a new assistant to look forward to. “Hope you like roast veg. There’s a good mixture there if you want to pick any out.

“No problem. Love the lot,” I assure him.

“Grand. Pie’s steak and mushroom, d’you want half or a third?”

“A quarter’ll be plenty!”

“Sorry, forget dainty women’s appetites. Here you go, cheers for that,” as I flick two fingers vigorously at him. “You want the grape or the grain tonight?”

“I’ll have water now, whisky later, unless you have something that would enhance the meal?”

“Of course.” He rolls his eyes and bustles over to the dresser, which has a couple new additions. The top tier’s been moved around and dusted, too. What’s he been celebrating? “Try this Talisker – it’s often served with haggis on Burns Night, all a bit peppery, so should work…”

It does. I pace myself though, two glasses of iced water as well, and so does he. Good sign, not rushing the booze.

He eats faster than me, as usual. “So,” he says. “Interesting texts you sent me this morning.”

I know I’m blushing. And that that was his intent.

“Not that this night wouldn’t have been fun anyway. So show us. What’s under all those clothes?”

“Oi, let me finish eating! Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing how your cute little arse has weathered the years.” Two can play the embarrassment game.

While he clears his plate to the sink, I sneakily slide my jeans down to the floor. He won’t notice unless he looks under the table. Adrian returns to the table via acquiring a second dram, sits back down opposite.

“You want to see my body? It’s no’ really worth looking at, an’ all.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Get that shirt off.”

He co-operates, adding “you, too,” once the third button is undone. Once the shirt is hanging open, showing flashes of a perfectly nice chest, I pull off my jumper and let my top come away with it. I did put on the snazzy scarlet camisole bra for him to see, after all.

“Nice.” He lets his shirt slide off his arms. He’s got perfectly good shoulders and chest, too.

I wriggle my feet out of my trouser legs and walk round to him, careful my stockinged feet don’t slip on the marble floor.

He pushes his chair back from the table and I set myself down on his lap.

That giant smile is wider than Winnie-the-Pooh ever grinned at a honeypot. As he puts his arm round me, I feel his sudden erection pressing against my leg. Played for and got1

“You’ve dressed for the occasion after all, so you have.”

“I wouldn’t like to disappoint. Besides, it’s not like this lingerie gets seen much. It’s nice to have it appreciated.”

“I’m appreciatin’ it, all right. Thon’s real pretty.”

“I can tell.”

He laughs. “Come on, woman, get a drink and let me take you to bed.”

I try the eighteen-year-old Highland Park in a fresh tumbler, and follow him to the bedroom. He’s peeled off his trousers and is lying back with his glass.

He has the great legs you’d expect from a cyclist, with a few scars – a couple look more like knife wounds than traffic accidents, but I’m not going to ask. Open legs show off lovely thighs I have to get my hands on, soon as my drink is safe on the bedside table.

Oh yes, great thigh muscles… I leave my right hand clawed in his sartorius while I lie back next to him. He’s got briefs on as usual, also from the to-be-seen section of the underwear drawer; snug, black and slightly silky.

They prove he’s got the cute little arse he had as a student, still. The cycling must help.

On his back, sweeping his hair off his face – it needs a trim or it’ll look like a bob, soon – other leg bent. It’s a glorious sight, with his come-hither illegal bahis siteleri smile glowing at me.

“Hallo, gorgeous,” I tell him.

“And yourself, darlin’. Like what you see? Not too girly?”

“I like girls. And you’re not. Though, let’s check…” I slide those slinky pants down, over his cock and over his legs.

His cock is standing to greet me. It looks curiously featureless, until I tentatively reach to touch and it explodes out like a jack-in-the-box.

Adrian laughs at my shock. “You never seen a tight foreskin before?”

“Not like that! Usually when I meet cocks, they’re already like this, ready and waiting.” I put my hand on his shaft and can’t really tell that the foreskin is snugger than most. It looks normal, now, nice brownish head in proportion, whole thing in proportion to the rest of him. Not huge, but if he’s taking me up the rear next time, that’s probably good.

“Got taken to the doc when I was a teenager. Two options – get the cut, or promise to take it out a couple times a day and wash carefully. I saw it as a big fuck-you to the Church, then – playing with myself upon doctors orders! No regrets.” He pauses. “Do I get my reward for not smoking, now?”

“You mean, please suck my cock?”

“Aye.” He pauses. “Please.”

Given I’m quite happy to oblige, I get between his legs and kneel down to bring my face to his crotch. He’ll get a good view of my cleavage, too. Time to enjoy this new cock, nibbling

up the sides, licking round the head, managing to take the whole head in my mouth, playing with the ridge underneath it. He’s an appreciative recipient, gasping and moaning when he particularly likes what I’m doing, getting increasingly vocal.

The words die into inarticulate sounds, which I take as warning to grip the base of his cock so it can’t choke me. The flood in my mouth has less of a whisky flavour than I’d hoped for – smoke does make both cock and come taste better, but I’d best not tell him that – so I swallow, followed by a quick swig from my glass. Great improvement.

Adrian clinks his glass against mine. “Cheers.” He sets the empty tumbler down. “Lovely as your get-up is – those stretchy scarlet knickers over the black, especially – you’re overdressed, love.”

“Aw. Clothed female, naked male not your thing, then? That’s not what Diane said…”

“You’re not Diane. Nothing like. Just as well, that’d be too much of a mindfuck… Let’s be straight here, if anyone’s being submissive out of the two of us, it ain’t me.”

“Fair enough. Help with the catches, would you?” I roll over to let him reach. I wonder if he’s been with other women since Diane, and ask.

“Not in my bed, no.”

I’d hazard that meant some in clubs or elsewhere, but either way, this is something a bit novel for him. I’m not going to joke about that. Or get him thinking about Diane. We’re on the same page here – I’m not trying to be her.

I stand up to peel off the stockings, knickers, and bra, and turn to him to let him admire what he’s earned.

“Gorgeous. And majestic.” I think majestic means tall with big tits, which I can’t really argue with. “And nice…” He strokes over my pubes, trimmed neatly but still in existence. I took the advice of the unanimous lads at college – anyone who gets as far as finding out whether you have pubic hair isn’t going to complain unless they’re a total tosser.

If you’re in a relationship, you can express an opinion, but not a demand. The only opinions I’ve ever heard are “don’t give a toss, it’s your hair, just prefer not scratchy.”

And then Ade curls his fingers round towards my wet cunt.

“Ah, man! You’re magic! We really should have done this ten, fifteen years ago.”

“No, we shouldn’t! You were still a complete pisshead, fucked up beyond mere amateur intervention.” Fifteen years ago was the height of my receiving drunken phone calls in the middle of the night. There’s no way an offer of sex would have fixed him. Months of expensive psychotherapy was needed, then.

“I was a quare eejit, an’ all.”

“Yup. Totally. Come on, make up for it now.”

“Oh? What did ye have in mind?”

“You’re a bright lad. I’m sure you can think of something.”

He flexes his fingers inside me. “I know I can, sweetheart, but I want to be hearing the filthy words out of your sweet posh mouth…”

“You bastard.”

He’s not the first to like hearing my voice talking dirty. Luckily I’m quite happy doing it, in the right circumstances. “Go on, get that pretty Irish face of yours buried in my cunt. Get your tongue on my clit and show me what you can do with your talented wee mouth… yeah, that’s a good start… lie on my leg so I don’t kick you…”

There’s nothing like receiving good oral sex from someone enthusiastic about doing it, and Ade for sure is happily getting his tongue in there, canlı bahis siteleri showing off, while he explores all my folds and creases and sensitive spots. It’s a great way to spend half an hour, lying back and letting him get stuck in, letting my body twitch and quiver as it will. He soon realises I wasn’t joking about my legs jerking uncontrollably, and shifts my ankles so he can settle his bodyweight above them.

“Oh, yeah… love you holding me down…”

He raises his head momentarily. “I could tie your arms down, too, if you like.”

“That won’t be necessary. Another time, maybe. Don’t let me distract you…”

He’s using his fingers now, carefully pulling the hood away from my clit to get his lips in there, sloshing saliva round where it’s extra sensitive, sucking that hypersensitive nub delicately so that I’m not quite screaming, just gasping with every tongue-stroke.

Ade speaks again. “The sound-proofing in this place is first-class. This room only backs onto the stairs, with double-skin fire-proof walls. So, y’know, feel free to make a noise…”

He returns to his fine work, adding a couple fingers inside me, pressing systematically in different spots to see what has greatest effect. As I’ve often told Dave, engineers make the best lovers! He finds a place to rub which has me moaning, then shifts up to hold my thighs in place while he intensifies what’s happening to my clit.

I feel it. That vibration all through my arsehole and pelvis as my muscles give in and relax. I have to yell out. No words, just emotion. I know I’m bucking up against his face.

“Steady on,” he mumbles as his nose gets bruised. He grabs my wrists to help hold me more still as I’m frantically moving against him, shrieking as his face remains buried between my legs. That extra constraint triggers a total loss of control, me screaming breathlessly, panting, shaking, and finally collapsing, covered in sweat and my own gushing juices.

Ade wipes his chin on my leg. He lies beside me in the knowledge of a job well done.


“You know it was. Stop fishing for compliments, you crafty bugger.”

“Men have delicate wee egos, you know.”

“It was most satisfactory.”

“Better than Will?”

I crack up laughing. “A lady does not divulge such information – shut it! I imagine he’s improved since he was twenty – you’d be best off asking Lindsey!”

“What? ‘Come on Linz, gimme a chance to prove I’m better at cunnilingus than your hubby?’ I can see that! She’d be at me with a frying pan, sooner than you can say Bob’s your uncle!”

“You’ll just have to die in ignorance, then. Poor you.”

“Fuck off. You give impressive reactions, you do. You want more?”

“Course. Easy on the poor old clit for now, though.”

“OK. No flicking the bean this minute.” He puts his fingers back in my vagina, adds a third, watching my face. “You really might be fistable, mightn’t you?”

“Mm. Never had a man do it.”

“A woman? S’pose that would be easier.”

“You’ve got fairly small hands. D’you have lube?”

“Is the Pope fuckin’ Catholic?” He pulls open a bedside drawer. There’s two large pump bottles of Liquid Silk, one near empty. Suggests he’s getting some regular action, but I don’t comment. “D’you want me to wear a glove?”

“Nah. Every mil counts.”

“Fair enough. You trot off the bathroom, have a wee piss, I’ll trim me nails… What? Off you go, I don’t want any UTIs on my watch, thank you. Just because I’m mainly fucking men nowadays doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything about female anatomy! Sheesh!”

I’ll humour him. I could do with a wee, anyway.

I return to find he’s not only clipped his nails but is buffing them to perfect curves. What a gent!

“A’right? Have a bit more of your wee drink. You lay back there nice, and we’ll see what we can do for you, eh?”

It’s rather like feeling all cared for at the hairdresser’s. Only without that fear of looking silly for weeks, afterward.

I prop pillows behind my back and get into the most relaxed position I can. He’s slicking up his hand generously, making clear it’s usually been a different orifice when he’s done this, then slides three fingers deep inside me, stretching my cunt round his knuckles.

He raises an eyebrow at me, cheekily. “Good so far?”

“Oh yeah – wriggle round – now that’s good.. Yeah, I like how you’re pushing there – gentle – yeah – oh yeah…”

My feedback dwindles into tiny nods and clenches of my lips, as slowly, slowly, he slides the width of his palm forward. He gestures to the side of the bed.

“Poured you another. You want to be relaxed as you can get.”

“No shit. I have done this before, you know.”

“Not with a man’s hand, you said.”

“Yours are narrow enough, I’m sure.” Not really bigger than Becky’s.

“Aye, well, if you’ve never had something wider than a cock in you in the last couple years, I’m being careful, all right doll?”

I can’t help sniggering. He takes advantage to slide slightly forward as my pelvis relaxes. “What?”

“Some toys are quite large… Inflatable, even.”

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