My first story in AGES, sorry, I’ve been ill.
This story came to me in a drugged dream as a result of over hearing one of my nurses talking to his friend about his sister.
It just evolved from the one discussion and flowed out onto the keyboard as you see it and, when I upload the last bit, there’s something of everything in there.
After a while I started to struggle to think what category it would fit in to; it’s not meant to be a gay story with straight sex or a straight story about a gay man. It’s just about people and sex.
I did try and see if I could fit in some romantic alien Lesbian werewolves that were into bondage but somehow the story wouldn’t go that way. Em
My name is Bill and I’m a gay man; like many gay men I seem resolutely and self-destructively unable to maintain a relationship with another gay man that isn’t a total fuckwit or have serious character flaws that I (as a gay man) am duty bound to point out to him the second we get into any kind of argument.
I live at home in South London, until very recently with my mother. Mum bless her, has dementia and has almost no short term memory. She can remember what I did thirty years ago, and give me a list of all the lovely girls I went out with until I finally ‘came out’ and admitted to the world — me especially — that I was a gay man, but not what I gave her for breakfast that morning.
When I left school for want of something to study at college I opted for a pre-nursing course. It was great and I took to the work naturally. I was one of only two men on the course, and with about half a dozen other students from my course, at the end I enrolled with the Royal Navy and spent a really happy fifteen years working across the world in bases and on ships as a medic, finishing my time as a chief, and walking straight from the Navy and taking my experience and my medals from Iraq and Afghanistan into that fantastic institution the British NHS.
It isn’t perfect and some people hate it but I love it and would cheerfully man the barricades against the Nazis that would do away with it based on their complete faith in, not say love of, the free market. Sorry, rant over.
The RN wasn’t the best place to be a gay man in the nineties, although it did improve as time went on, and I didn’t really express my sexuality or particularly practise it until I left. I had of course had several undercover relationships at the end of my career with some great men who taught me very well. Sadly we were all way too much alike and we struggled to live together or remain faithful. So I have any number of casual relationships, a few fuck buddies (one of which is my first lover who gets me but can’t live with me or me with him) and I survive from day to day with the support of my family and many good friends and have a good time. No kids, but I have a few nephews and nieces and two godchildren that I dote on.
I like good wine, good company and steak, medium rare with peppercorn and mushroom sauce — no sexual innuendo there, I actually like beef steak.
I still live in Mum’s flat although she is now living in a warden controlled complex that is all on one level; her widow’s pension keeps her there in reasonable style while I pay for the occasional day out or new dress should she need one.
Thank God we can pick our friends though; my eldest sister Sandra is a Bitch.
She went to college to be an architect but somehow managed to find herself as a town planner and worked in several London Boroughs working her way up with hard work and pig ignorance to the higher echelons of local government. She was well set for directorship and chief exec jobs but thanks to some internal political and financial wranglings she found herself at the place where the buck stopped with no one above or below that she dyke responsibility onto. She was given a golden goodbye, and presented with all kinds of other gifts by the smiling, back stabbing assassins that had preserved their place at the trough at her expense.
She was a week over fifty so took her pay-off, her lump sum and her pension and was advised by several colleagues to give it a year or two take a couple of holidays and then start applying for jobs outside the capital.
She took their advice and took ‘outside the capital’ to heart and went first to Canada, where she worked freelance for a while then to an Gulf state where her particular style of management was smiled upon, I mean Saddam Hussein and Colonel Gaddafi had gotten away with it for a long time.
The global economic crisis took its toll though and eventually the massive building projects ran out or were left half-finished and she was again sent on her way.
So it was that she turned up on my doorstep five months ago. She wasn’t poor by any stretch of the imagination, far from it. She had money invested in all sorts of places but couldn’t get her hands on it for the time being and thought she’d kip in Mum’s spare room while she got herself sorted. ‘Sorted’ was to be a job somewhere, and a small house in the Surrey countryside çankaya escort where she could live off of her pension and income from her savings.
She was shocked to see me there at the door bleary eyes and in nightwear as she stood there with her two suitcases at a shade after eleven PM.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, “can I come in, it’s freezing.”
I smiled, “Sandra, how lovely to see you too,” I replied and stepped back.
“Where’s Mum?” she said, looking at the spot where her chair used to be and then looking around at the changed décor.
“She lives in a small retirement community,” I said, “warden controlled, all ground floor, her room her things, lots of other people her age, she loves it.”
“Why wasn’t I told?” she snapped. I fumed; to my knowledge she hadn’t spoken to Mum in almost two years, she certainly hadn’t spoken to me in that time.
“How was I going to get in touch with you,” I said stepping into the kitchen to boil a kettle for tea, for me not her, “Through a fucking medium?”
“Mum had my number!” she snapped back, “She could have given it to you; you just wanted her flat to yourself, this is fucking typical!” she raged flinging her hands around.
“Mum might have HAD your number, but she hasn’t given it to me, I expect she lost it.”
“Or you threw it away; fucking typical,” she snarled, “always the fucking same, typical fucking Poof desire to control everything,” I frowned. Sandra had hated me being gay.
She had never needed a man (or woman) in her life as she was so much in love with herself to make room for anyone else’s love, but every now and again, after a few glasses of wine she would bitch at me and point out that my homosexuality was a character flaw not a lifestyle choice.
“I didn’t throw it away Sandra,” I said breathing deeply, “If you’d done more than send Christmas cards with no forwarding address you’d know that Mum has vascular dementia. She doesn’t know what day of the week it is let alone where you left a piece of paper with an office number on it. She fell down the stairs just before Christmas and broke her hip. She’s taken months to recover and the doctor said that she needed to be in accommodation on one level. The place she is in is sponsored by the lodge.”
Dad had been a freemason, and his particular branch had access to charitable institutions and as soon as they found out that a brother’s wife needed support she was in within days. It was a great place.
“Why weren’t you told? What should I have done pray,” I said, “Checked out the postmark on the envelope? Asked the bank for details of the person that sent the cheque? Fuck off Sandra, you’ve been off doing your own thing, and fuck everyone else. You so much as hint at what you’re thinking then so help me I’ll fucking throw you down the stairs and drop your cases on you. Tea?”
She paused, she couldn’t let me have the last word.
“Coffee,” she said, “do you have ground or is it instant?”
I shook my head, and reached into my cupboard for my cafeteire mug and spooned some in. After an uncomfortable silence of around ten minutes she eventually asked if I was going to let her stay at Mum’s place.
“It’s not Mum’s place anymore,” I said, “I took over a new lease, so it’s mine.” I could see she was desperate to complain about this but she kept her mouth shut seeing as it was getting close to midnight and she had nowhere to sleep. “Of course you can stay, the spare room is where it always was.”
“While you take the master bedroom I suppose.” She couldn’t let it go.
“I pay the rent I get the good room — unless you think I should sleep in the kitchen?”
“Poof,” she snarled under her breath.
“Bitch,” I snarled under mine. We both tried to hold them off but we grinned at each other at that, “welcome back Sandra…”
I was on early turn and was in the bathroom at five o’clock, showering away the four hours sleep I’d had. She was obviously still on Arabic time and came in the bathroom to see what I was doing, with a glass of wine in her hand.
“I’m a nurse Sandra remember?” I said covering my still wet torso with a towel.
“Oh yeah,” she took a gulp of her… no MY wine.
“Still in shape I see,” she said with the faintest slur, “S’pose you have to be for your bum boys.”
“Fuck off Sandra, I’m busy.” I could see she was desperate to see my penis, probably because it would be something else to be shitty to me about.
OK I confess, I’d had masturbated in the shower. I was thinking about contacting one of my fuck buddies and going out for dinner (I hadn’t made love since before Mum had moved out and I felt I was in need, especially with my Bitch of an older sister in town) and I’d been thinking about my old friend Ralph and this had become part of my dream. So in the shower and still sporting the erection I pulled myself off thinking about him in me, me in him and some mutual pre-fuck fellatio.
Ralph and I always did each other; we’d get a little drunk, fool around kissing escort çankaya and stroking, head for the bedroom, strip what was left of our clothing and then sixty nine each other. Sometimes we went all the way, sometimes just enough to get us fully in the mood. Then we’d flip a coin for who went first.
Lubed up, I’d fuck him on his hands and knees. One of the reasons he was still a fuck buddy was that he loved my cock; it was (in my experience) bigger than average — not huge but just big enough to be big and if I was in the mood could be used to great effect. After I’d recovered, Ralph would stand me up and do me against a wall, or stood by the bed or over a table, he was a bit taller than me, and it was great for mind as well as body.
So with this in mind I’d pulled myself off and my cock was just the right side of deflated while still being post erect.
“There,” I said. I pulled my towel away and displayed my cock knowing that she’d find little to criticise about it, “happy now? Or is it too big, or too small, or too fat or too thin?” She stared, shocked for just enough time to realise that I’d noticed.
I flounced out of the bathroom, dried and dressed. Sandra had made herself scarce. I stopped outside her bedroom door and heard some noise I took to be crying.
I’m a nurse OK? It’s a caring profession and I can’t switch it off.
“Sandra,” I said with a light tap on her door, “Sandra, are you OK.”
I heard a slightly muffled ‘fuck off’ in a voice that showed some form of emotion.
I worked my shift, seven and a half hours in accident and emergency, which was quiet. It was a weekday and was a couple of morning rush hour RTA’s, a heart attack and a girl that had burned her head with her hair straighteners.
At lunch I texted Ralph and asked him what he was doing that evening; his response was, I pleased to say, ‘you’.
I’d taken my jeans, shoes and a shirt with me, and showered at the hospital, leaving to meet him at a little after five in the coffee house along from the private practice he worked in. Ralph was a doctor and had been an officer in the Navy. Our activities were totally driven by the need for secrecy while we were still in the service, and always based around weekends away in hotels or guest houses with separate rooms. He was my first and took my virginity quite wonderfully. He was the first man to blow me and swallow my come, and his was the first when I reciprocated. We left the service within days of each other. I had his number and a promise he’d call me.
Once out, we took a three week holiday in Spain, and it was our first indication that the only place we got on was in bed and for no more than three days. We didn’t move in or move up, we remained good friends and fuck buddies, to this day in fact.
We headed up town to one of our favourite restaurants, ate well drank well and grabbed a taxi back to my place. I wanted Bitch Sandra to see this fantastically hot bloke her Poof brother was fucking.
When we got to my place it was to find that Sandra was still there. She’d had a Chinese takeaway and was on her second bottle of wine. I picked it up and looked at the label, it was an expensive one.
“Go easy Sandra,” I said, noticing it was her second bottle.
“I’d have bought you some more,” she said, “but I didn’t have a key to get back in if I’d gone out to buy you some replacements.”
“OK,” I said. I had forgotten this when I’d left for work that morning and showing Ralph through, I took a spare key from the drawer and handed it to her.
“Oh, I’ve got to go out have I?”
“Only if you want too!” I said.
Ralph looked at me with a hidden smile. I’d been telling him about her all evening and what a pain in the arse she was. Right now, the only real thing on our minds was getting into bed.
I took a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and said my goodnights to her. Ralph and I retreated to my room and I locked the door from the inside, telling him why and how to unlock it. It was good that we did because as we lay there both gently sucking on the penis of the other, Ralph stopped (still gently wanking me though) and looked down between his legs at me and nodded at the door. It was obvious my sister was trying to the door handle for whatever reason she had in her nasty mind.
Ralph won the toss of the coin this time and chose to go first.
It wasn’t until we were well into our first fuck that I could hear some scratching noise from the party wall with the room Sandra was sleeping in, or not as it would appear.
I could hear a strange noise coming from the wall so near my head that was bending almost to touch it. Eventually I could make out that it was the sound of her and the glass she must have had pressed against the wall and her gasps which seemed to mirror my own.
Once Ralph had finished I called him to the wall and indicated he should put his head to the wall as I was. I started to moan and call his name, a similar sound although barely audible could be detected from the çankaya escort bayan next room. He joined in and we worked towards a fictitious crescendo every bit as good as what we’d had or were expecting. The more noise we made the louder her responses became and it was evident that she had reached some kind of crisis. I think she came.
Then it was my turn, and I got to make love to Ralph, it was great and the cries were for real.
Five O’clock next morning there was no repeat of the morning before I could see through the crack in the door, my sister collapsed across the bed in a heap with no trousers or panties and her top which indicated some disarray among her bra and breasts. The large tumbler, which she must have got from the cupboard lay by her face.
She was out when I got back from work the next day and I checked her room, there was still that faint odour of pussy that I could still remember from my initial fumblings at college and when I first joined the Navy. She really must have gone for it that night, mind you, we had.
That evening she came home in her suit, and had evidently been out and about getting her life back in order. No, she hadn’t been to visit Mum but would do tomorrow.
I noticed she’d bought a wine box and that it was on the kitchen work top. I took a glass, it was a nice one. Sandra I noticed was working her way through glasses of the stuff. When nine o’clock film started she made some comment about the lead actor and did I want to stick my cock up his bum, giggling.
“No,” I said, “thanks for offering though.”
She stood up with her empty glass and headed for the kitchen slightly unsteadily. On her return she stopped by my seat and wriggled her still pert arse towards my face.
“I never offered you my bum, bum boy,” she giggled. “Do you like lady bums as well as boy bums Poof?”
“Fuck of Sandra,” I said, ignoring her. This seemed only to make her worse and next thing, her trousered buttocks were touching my cheek.
“It’s a bum, bum boy, wassamatter don’t do women’s bums only pretty boy bums!”
“Sandra, FUCK… OFF…” I said, there was no way I was going to walk away.
“Bum boy…” she sang wobbling to the sofa she’d been laying across,
After fifteen minutes I saw the still half full glass slip from her hand and drop on the carpet. I called to her but it was evident she was unconscious. I picked up the glass, used her discarded jacket to mop the wine from the carpet and put them both on the floor so in the morning she’d see.
I watched the end of the film through her rasped breathing. I wasn’t working the next morning having three days off from a long week of earlies and nights before that. So went and used the bathroom cleaning my teeth, put the last of my work clothes in the laundry basket and in just a dressing gown started to switch off the lights and decided I had better check on Sandra before heading for my bed. Taking a blanket from the armchair I went into nurse mode and turned so that if she was sick she wouldn’t choke on it — the vomit would go on the carpet so I lay her jacket to catch any she might produce. I put the back of my hand on her forehead and checked her slight temperature and she moved her head a bit. I moved it back in the classic recovery position mode and her mouth opened.
For that moment it looked exactly the same as Ralph’s had when I saw it descend on to my penis the evening before. I was kneeling on the floor by her head in just a towelling dressing gown anyway? If I needed any more convincing my prick made the decision for me and rose through the gap in the gown pointing directly at her face. I pushed forward and the crown touched her lips, a twist of the hips and the head was in her lifeless unconscious mouth.
Now in Accident and Emergency, I’d seen many people as pissed as her and pretty much knew I’d get away with whatever I wanted to do.
I was angry; ten years older than me, Sandra had been a distant, bullying negative influence on my life as long as I could remember. Nothing I did was ever any good, I had a ‘nothing job’ (saving lives she neglected to mention), only ineffectual push over cowards joined the services because they were too scared to make important life decisions themselves, and she had even melodramatically told me that she wasn’t sure she even wanted to have anything to do with me when I announced that I was gay.
“Oh bloody hell, William” she snorted through her nose, “something else to get you in the limelight, you will go to ANY attempt just to get the attention won’t you.”
“What and steal it all away from you Sandy?” said my younger sister Caroline.
Right now, all of that annoyance was looking for a way out and it had gone straight to my cock. Whether it was to do with hearing her wanking to Ralph and I making love the night before or what I don’t know but I pushed my erection into her mouth and fucked it a few times. It was a bit dry but not all that bad. I had an idea.
I went and got the spare bowl from the cleaning cupboard and put it by her head. With my glass of water I’d been planning to take to bed with my I wet the tip of penis and pushed it back into her mouth, holding her head gently. Every now and again, I drip more water to give me more pleasure. I started to get into what I was doing, I knew it was wrong but revenge so often is.