Boyish Fun

I hadn't always been like this. During all my 38 years I had considered myself hetero-sexual, "normal"; I'd had sex with around 20 women, counting quickies as well as relationships; when I masturbated it was to images of sexy women or fantasies involving women.

So what had happened to make me so obsessive about John? How had this intern, 15 years my junior, started to appear in my darkest thoughts, sparking images of wanton sex, leading me to imagine all kinds of things I had barely even read about?

Was it really just from that afternoon at the lake, when a few colleagues from work had met up for a picnic, sharing cold food, cold wine and a lot of laughs? John, who had been sent to us for a month from our corporate HQ, was just getting to be accepted by our team of accountants. He was making a good impression - he could be funny, was clearly bright and had good potential at work, but wasn't pushy and too obviously trying to get himself noticed.

I noticed him particularly when - several bottles later - someone suggested a skinny dip. We were in a secluded area and it didn't seem to be a bad idea. Anyway, it had happened before and some of us at least had seen each other naked. I was actually looking forward to seeing Jean, a new staff member in her mid-twenties, get her gear off.

I hadn't expected to be so interested in seeing John - his slim body, almost hairless apart from a little bush at his groin, stayed etched in my memory after I got home. I couldn't stop him from coming into my thoughts as I lay in bed stroking my cock and thinking of Jean's perky breasts. John reminded me of the Michelangelo statue of David, even down to the rather small, uncircumcised penis. He looked more 18 than 23, and that alone worried me.

Just as I was getting close to cumming from thinking of Jean, John would appear, his smile, his hairless chest, his... penis. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined touching him, and him touching me... very quickly I climaxed in a breathless, hard spasm that left great blobs of cum on my chest and tummy.

It was all very well feeling embarrassed, even guilty about it the next day; just that was enough to make me think of him all over again, resulting in strong arousal under the shower. I resisted the urge to masturbate, instead putting the shower on cold. That may have been my big mistake...

At this time John was working in my section so it was natural for us to spend time together - I was taking him under my wing, after all. I was especially sensitive to his mood that Monday morning, wondering if he had noticed me looking at him as he dived and cavorted naked in the lake. However, he greeted me in his usual, slightly timid way, and we got on with our work.

From time to time I found my mind wandering and images of him came and went, leading me to get aroused. Try as I might not to let it happen, it did - and when he came over to ask me a question, standing beside me to see the computer screen, there was no way of hiding the outline of my erection. He blushed - just a little but unmistakably, enough to make it clear he hadn't missed it. We went on with out working session but I sensed that a line had been crossed.

At midday I was still so aroused that I went to the men's loo and masturbated, deliberately thinking of John and letting my imagination run riot around his body... I came heavily into folds of loo paper and spent a long time cleaning myself up afterwards. In the afternoon I was able to concentrate on work and not on him.

That evening I was not troubled by any raunchy thoughts at all and went off to sleep without needing to masturbate. In the morning, though, I was once again horny and this time let myself go under the shower, figuring that this would stop me thinking about John at work. In fact, as I travelled to the office, I made up my mind to put some space between us and so end this haunting obsession.

I had a word with a colleague who agreed to take over my coaching sessions with John, on the pretext that I had some urgent work to catch up with. That way I didn't have much contact with him at all. I still found myself, once or twice, looking over to him, and noticing his hands, small-boned and rather fine: how often, I mused, did they touch his own penis, and get sticky with his own cum?

This was entirely the wrong tack, for it had me back in the loo in the afternoon, masturbating almost viciously to get shot of my arousal, my sperm, my desire for John. For that was what it had become: desire, to touch him, stroke him, kiss him... it was unbelievable and I knew I had to take every possible step to avoid him.

Later in the week he passed me in the corridor and stopped, calling after me: "Mike?" I stopped and turned, feeling a knot in my throat. "Mike," he went on, "Is there anything wrong with my work? You seem to have been avoiding me lately. I'd prefer you to tell me directly if I've messed up on something."

I went over to him, trying to keep my emotions under wrap. "Hell no, John," I said, "Your work is fine. You're doing very well. It's just that..." I had to cough, "Just that I've had quite a lot of work to finish this week."

"Really?" he replied, looking almost childishly relieved (which started to spark off more unwelcome thoughts in my mind). "If there's anything I can help with, just say, I don't mind staying late to help you. You're very inspirational, Mike... I wanted to tell you that. Whatever I can do, you only have to ask."

He didn't blush saying it, but I certainly did hearing it. For a moment I was lost for words. Then some inspiration - diabolical rather than divine I suppose - came to me: "Thanks John, but it's just about finished. Sorry I've been remote. Maybe we could go out on Friday evening, have a couple of beers, whatever?"

"I'd really like that Mike. Thanks so much. See you later!" And he walked away beaming, while I had to take a hard decision not to go to the men's room.

Friday came and I had only the vaguest idea of what we could do. Start with a couple of beers, maybe at a mildly adult bar, just to make John feel more grown up (I hoped he carried ID with him). I'd play the rest by ear.

At Zoë's Place the bar stools were starting to fill up with fellow TGIF believers. The music was not too deafening and a couple of girls were limbering up at the poles - the delicious dark-haired beauty I'd noticed the last time was there and I gave her a big smile. She looked straight through me as she wrapped her legs round the pole.

John seemed slightly edgy and I asked him if the place was OK. "Sure," he said, with a shy smile, "but I've not been to this sort of bar for real. Seen it in films but... wow!" He was looking at the girl who had so pointedly not greeted me, and who was now massaging her breasts.

We squeezed onto the only remaining stools and ordered up beer. John seemed quite at home with beer, at any rate - he drank down half in one go. He caught me looking at him in my quizzical way and smiled, saying "Sorry, I just need to get myself to relax a bit!"

One of the things I like about Zoë's is that the music is not so loud that you can't have a conversation. I asked John whether he had a girlfriend. He paused, looking into his beer, before replying: "No-one special right now." I sensed he didn't want to talk about it but was intrigued - the thought flashed through my mind, could he actually be gay? The idea prompted my cock to twitch and the beer - we were on our third now - gave me enough Dutch courage not to worry about it. I was beginning to have some very lurid thoughts and they weren't to do with the woman on the pole.

"How about we get something to eat?" I asked him. He agreed and as we stepped down from our stools he bumped into me, his thigh directly on my groin where my arousal was beginning to grow (fortunately not to show). The feeling was sublime, and that was when I decided that I would follow this feeling to wherever it might lead.

We found a restaurant which I like because it has booths that give you some degree of privacy. John seemed to be enjoying himself too, and had opened up a lot, to the point where he was asking me questions about my personal life. I told him I was divorced, had no relationship at present, but was always open to suggestions... this last comment might have sounded too obvious to be true, but he laughed and said "I have a sister who's 25 - you'd like her but she's engaged." I didn't comment.

Towards midnight, when we'd eaten and drunk as much as we could, it was time to go home. In the men's loo we stood at adjacent stalls to pee and I couldn't help glancing over at him - to be astonished at the sight of his cock, no longer the flaccid boy-penis I had seen at the lake, but a thick, half-hard shaft that he was holding out as if for me to see. The sight gave my own semi-erection a twitch, and I realised that he was looking quite overtly at me.

We stood like that for a moment, a long moment in which I tried to search for some words that would take us out of the impasse. But it was John who broke the silence: "I have some scotch in my hotel room, Mike; do you like scotch?" And he smiled his boyish smile.

I don't remember how we got to his modest hotel, it seemed to take ages. But upstairs, in his room, he produced a bottle of first class single malt and poured two shots. "Cheers," he said, smiling and appearing strangely relaxed. He went into the bathroom leaving me to try to work it out: had I misjudged everything? Was he giving me a come-on or simply being the relaxed worker, glad to have the company of a senior colleague?

Any doubts I had on the issue were compounded when he returned from the bathroom, dressed - apparently - in only a white bathrobe. "Hope you don't mind," he said, smiling, "I needed to get shot of my day clothes. I'd offer you a gown too but I only have one." He paused, then added: "But there are plenty of towels..."

The hint was clear, and I didn't need him to repeat it. A few minutes later I was back in the room with a towel knotted at my waist. John had dimmed the lights and had topped up our glasses. We stood facing each other, and raised our glasses in a silent toast. After sipping the strong whisky John said "I saw you looking at me the other day at the lake; I was surprised you hadn't let me know before."

Suddenly embarrassed I said "Well, I... I... was surprised myself, John. I'm not usually... um..." He broke in: "You're not usually interested in guys? Well well....!" And with that he moved closer to me, closed his eyes and murmured "In that case I'm just very flattered that you made me the exception, Mike," and in so saying, kissed me lightly on the lips. As he did so his robe opened and I sensed, rather than immediately saw, that he was indeed naked under it. I felt his penis rise and push against the front of my towel where my own cock was pushing out. John kissed me again and said "Isn't it time to introduce our two friends...?"

He reached out and untied my towel, letting it drop to the floor. I could feel the warmth from his body invading the foggy arousal of my mind; unbidden, my cock thickened and lifted, pushing out against John's. I couldn't believe this was happening but I felt so happy that it was.

"Come to bed, lover," I heard John say. "You have a lot of catching up to do..."