My condom came off with a little 'snap'. It was smeared with blood, but without a single drop of sperm in it. Like an unwanted spider, I dropped it to the floor. I had fucked Brian dry; good and proper, hard and deep. Tomorrow he will realise just what a doorstep visit from Tristram Spencer really means. I seriously doubt he's ever received a calling card like that before!

“I need to come!” I said to John. I was laying on the bed like a prince, my arms folded behind my head and my penis just as hard as when I'd first slipped out my cricket pants. John reached over, pulled my erection forward then let go. It sprang back with a slap against my stomach.
“Hmm, Ok. Get up on your knees!” he ordered. I done as he demanded, thinking that maybe he would burst forward from his wheelchair and pound me into dog food. He didn't, though he did say: “Brian, I want you to Fuck him!” I looked at John and shook my head. “No, John, I don't want th...”
“Sssshhhh!” he soothed “Shhhuussshh...” Then he reached forward again, this time fingering my arse and opening me up a little. God, it felt so fucking good. I backed further on to his hand, grinding around on his fingers. “Brian, get over here and suck my cock!” I yelled
“No! No cock sucking!” ordered John, “fuck him!” Brian looked confused. His two slave masters were giving him conflicting orders and for the first time he seemed a little out his depth. From his chair John leant in, right over my bottom. Out his mouth he produced a huge dollop of saliva and let it fall down between the crack of my arse. With a couple of fingers her worked it into me. Then he withdrew and with the palms of his hands he pushed my arse cheeks wide apart. “Now fuck him!!” He screamed to Brian. Brian, now kneeling just behind, thrust forward and with barely any resistance pushed up and inside me. I almost choked. It was as if all the air in my body had been forced up into my chest cavity. Brian's cock was hot and wide. It felt too good. I melted away like butter.

Occasionally I would see Johns face, sometimes a pillow, sometimes an arm or wall. It was like a frenzied assault where I came to and had brief moments of clarity. Mostly, though, it was just a blur of pleasure. At one point I saw John's hand go under his Chinese gown. As Brian was thrusting away, John was wanking and I was moaning and eating pillow.
Wank. Thrust. Moan. Pillow. Bite. Thrust. Wank. Thrust. Bite. Moan. Pillow. Thrust. Moan. Wank. Bite. John. Thrust. Moan. Wank. Bite. Scream. Pillow. Thrust. Wank. John. Bang. Pillow. John. Wank. John. Thrust. Slap. John. Bite. Bang. Wank. Urgghh. John. Aaarhhh. John. Slap. Slop. Slap. John. Moan. John. Thrust. John. Slap. John. Bite. John. Wank. John. Thrust. John. Wank. “Johhhhnnnnnn!!!!” And I was on one elbow, spraying cum up along the bedsheets, as Brian the Postboy continued banging away. And then his cock was out and John was almost falling forward out his wheelchair to get to it. Brian ripped his rubber off and the next thing his dick was in John's gob. I could see it spasming and John's cheeks puffing out as Brian came. I made a sudden grab for John's groin but he pushed me away. Still, I managed to disturb his robe and through the opening I caught sight of his balls heaving and falling and then a wet patch break out across his gown. Fuck, John was coming! Just sitting there and ejaculating all over himself. I rolled over on my back and with barely three tugs on my own penis I was spurting again. Brian flopped down alongside me and rubbed my cum into my belly. “Fuuuckk! Fuucck! Fuck!!!”

I heard John's motorized chair start up and then he left the room. I was panting heavily and staring up at the ceiling. I turned towards Brian. He was exhausted and covered in a fine layer of sweat. His eyes were still wide with pleasure. I just lay there looking at him – his fresh young face, ripe lips and little pink tongue. He looked kinda beautiful, and just for a moment, I think the world did too.


  1. Its posts like this Tristram that make me think gay men have all the fun :)

  2. Call that an orgy...

    That little skirmish would have been labeled

    Walls Traditional Vanilla

    In the Dens I used to run

    Before I found The Lord.

    I'm confused.

    I thought Otto Man had run over The Post boy.

    Does that mean those Suicide Notes are not like The Bible - IE they're not to be taken literally?

    Or perhaps you are, like me, an unreliable narrator...

  3. @ Wildernesschic: That was just foreplay... warming up for next monday, brian's second and final visit. X

    @ Mrs Winthrope: Yeah, i've no doubt you've got a story or two that'd shock my grubby cricket trousers white! But as I said to the lady (a real one) up above, this was just the hors d'oeuvre and a sneek peek at the main menu. Next monday comes the feast... Ok, it'll still be PG rating to you, but we're not all so expert at luring the male animal out as you. You old temptress!

    The suicide notes are my means to tell John how much he means to me and the hurt he is causing. The last lines normally give me away. Overrun by emotions I can't help but slip out of character. They're my way of acting hysterical whilt keeping my face. And who knows, maybe one day there might be a real one... X

    @ The Air: It's really interesting to note that whenever there is a detailed sexual post the blog loses followers. There's been three or four since the blog tarted and each time it's the same. Now I know how to get rid of the frauds. X

  4. So Tristy writes the 'suicide notes'.

    I have unfairly maligned John.

    Maybe I cemented my allegiance too hastily.

    No doubt we will hear HIS side of the story

    And judge for ourselves.

    Not that I'm in any way judgemental...

  5. Oh Yes, I write them. As I sayy ou can think of them as my way to get my more desperate pleas across to John. Also, because John has no stomach for such emotional outbursts I need some place where I can say all those soppy things and show my real frustations. It's my way to say I'm on the edge without quite threatening to cut my wrists. X


Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October

Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October
Cheap jam sponge or something a little more exciting? How will Mr Spencer celebrate his 32nd year in hell?

Trolley Dash August 2010

Trolley Dash August 2010
Did Tristram accidently pick up a REAL bargain?

Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'

Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'
Scrap metal or has John been 'tagged'. Is Tristram Spencer really the only fated man in town?

The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland

The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland
Will Tristram finally be brought to account for his love of Babs? And: is 25 years hard labour enough?

An Influx of Pigeons

An Influx of Pigeons
Is there still some hope for the fated Mr Spencer?
Waiting for John. Citrus Pink Blogger Theme Design By LawnyDesignz Powered by Blogger