Bruce walked along the tow path with his arm round Rosie’s waist and her head leaning on his shoulder. It had been a good winter: after he became captain the rugby team had not lost a single match, and indeed had won several with spectacular victories. He was thinking about turning his attention to cricket now summer was here, but had no wish to serve under another captain. On the basis of his exceptionally fine bass voice, he had been asked by the conductor of the Choral Society to sing Christus in their annual performance of Bach’s Matthew Passion and he had charmingly declined on the basis of his poor German. He was the most popular man in college with both the jocks and the staff.
He had a beautiful and presentable girlfriend who looked good with him on formal occasions, whether he was in dinner jacket for the end of term formal dinner, or blazer at the garden party. He knew he was overwhelmingly hot in either costume and Rosie completed the picture nicely.
He stopped from time to time to give Rosie a deep, deep kiss and she raised herself on her toes to respond, with one foot in the air behind her. She couldn’t think how she could have stayed on with Mike now she had Bruce as her lover. With Mike it could all be over in five minutes leaving her frustrated. Bruce’s stamina seemed inexhaustible and he made every part of her body feel on fire whenever they made love.
She was aware that he regularly had sex with other women, and indeed he took good care to know that she should, although with sufficient good taste to ensure she was never aware he was responsible for the knowledge. Far from making her jealous, this merely increased his fascination for her: the man who could and did have sex with any woman he chose, still found her the one special woman in his life. Rosie overlooked the social and domestic advantages to Bruce (he never had to arrange any laundry now with Rosie on hand) and was also unaware that he told every woman he fucked as a matter of routine that Rosie didn’t understand him and he only stayed with her out of pity.
While Rosie was feeling superior to her rivals, they felt smug with regard to her, as although Bruce had to stay with that stuck-up cow, they were the one he would REALLY like to be with. They were also, did they but know it, spared the complete domination of their private life Bruce imposed on Rosie.
Behind the pair of lovers came Mike struggling with the picnic hamper, the cushions and the punt pole. He stumbled from time to time, but was inspired by the sight of Bruce’s back. Furthermore that morning, he had received his reward.
Mike had made himself useful to Bruce in all sorts of ways to support Bruce’s leadership of the team, success with women and general popularity. Bruce was sufficiently confident of his personal sexuality to feel no resentment against Mike’s passion for him and thought of his as “that poor wanker.”
He summoned Mike to his room that morning and asked “Have you been a good boy, then?” Mike didn’t quite now what to say. Bruce repeated the question and added “Why don’t you call me “Sir” when we are alone? I expect you’ll like it.”
“I hope I’ve been a good boy, er, Sir,” said Mike, aware of an erection even harder than he usually experienced in Bruce’s presence.
“I think you have too. Do you like calling me like that, boy?”
Mike blushed with pleasure. “O yes, Sir.”
“Every good boy deserves favours,” said Bruce unzipping his flies and taking out his beautiful, hard, red gold, uncut, twelve inch tool, “Come and kneel down and get it.”
Mike knelt in front of his hero and began, slowly at first but with increasing passion, to give him a blowjob. The sunshine fell through the windows and the birds sang in the trees outside, and no tropical beach, mountain pass or Tuscan landscape could be anything like as beautiful to Mike as that room was to him at that moment.
Bruce looked down with amused tolerance. Mike did not excite him sexually, but he thoroughly enjoyed the experience of domination. He managed to visualise one of his lastest girls before unleashing on Mike’s willing throat his cum. Mike swallowed it down eagerly, and after being briefly but affably dismissed from his master’s presence, had tears of joy running down his cheeks. Since first tasting Bruce’s cum after the initiation, he would no more have thought of using any hypnotic powers on Bruce, than he would have tried to stop the sun shining.
In order to divert suspicion from the rest of the team, Bruce had provided Mike with another girlfriend after Rosie. He had personally road tested her himself, and she was quite the dimmest but randiest bimbo Bruce had known. When she and Mike came together, they both fantasised about Bruce and were able to reach an effective and energetic climax enough to satisfy their respective amour propre, although hardly the basis of a mature and stable relationship.
Now Mike was acting as carrier to the young lovers on their outing. Bruce was wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, enough to reveal his sinewy forearms, his smooth rock like biceps and a V of golden wire below his neck down to his chest. Rosie was wearing an old fashioned print dress, with a very low neck to reveal the top of her ample breasts. They reached the mooring place, and stood in a deep embrace on the bank. Mike tactfully, but excitedly, ignored them and arranged the cushions and things in the punt.
When Mike had finished, he looked up at the lovers and told them the boat was ready.
“Thanks, mate,” said Bruce, “we’ll see you around six.”
Mike got on to the bank, and Bruce got into the punt and helped Rosie in. Bruce lifted up the punt pole, and plunged it into the water. He pushed the boat into the mid stream, with his arms flexing, and his glutes tightening as he pushed forward. Mike watched in admiration from the bank until they had glided out of sight.
Rosie lay flat on her back on the cushions, a position she frequently adopted in Bruce’s presence. She looked up at him facing her, with a ten foot pole in his hands which he thrust into the water in a regular, unstoppable rhythm and with effortless strength. Rosie looked up at him and thought he had never looked so stern and handsome. Her nipples began to stiffen and her knees to tremble.
Just a typical idyllic English summer scene.
Unless you have a moderately dirty mind.