Night-Time Rendezvous

"Meet me in the Pavilion," Carlo whispered.

"But . . ." I responded, annoyed.

"Wait for me in the pavilion," Carlo whispered again, turning my body away from him, but pulling me into his belly so I could feel his erection pressing up behind me. "See how much I am interested in fucking you?" he added in that deep husky amused voice of his.

"Ugh," I grunted, rubbing my butt against his rod, more than ready for the fucking he said he was interested in. "Then why can't I come into the house?" I asked grumpily.

I'd had a two-hour drive getting to the mountainside mansion he was apparently staying at and now we were standing outside, behind a hedge that ran from the side of the house and along the parking area on the top end of the circular drive. Carlo had been waiting for me and had dragged me behind it as soon as I had arrived.

"My car is just back up the drive," I suggested, "We could fuck in that."

"No. No. The pavilion. I will meet you there, Andrew, as soon as I can," he said persuasively, "Oh, caro mio. Caro mio," he crooned kissing the back of my neck as I melted and groaned. "You will go through the hedge into. . . onto, the side garden and there you will see the pavilion at the end of the lawn, by the pond. You cannot miss it. But there is a gate in the hedge that runs along that side, and you will have to find that to get through to the lawn," he explained, all the time running his hands around my body, up under my windcheater, and feeling for and squeezing my nipples and pecs.

Then he ran a hand down and cupped my growing dick and tight balls and briefly played with them murmuring, "Caro mio, oh, you are so beautiful."

"Ohhh, yes," I moaned, reaching back to his butt, "You won't be long?"

"As soon as I can get away," Carlo promised, then released me and I turned and we fell into a brief kiss before he pushed me away. "You will wait for me in the pavilion-promise." He added, sounding a bit worried.

"Of course," I promised, reassuring him, "But don't be long."

Why we couldn't fuck right then, somewhere closer, I had no idea. But Carlo obviously knew what he wanted, and his dark Latin good looks, hard fitness model's body, and long, thick cock had me under his spell. And that "Caro Mio" spoken in his husky voice, with its incredibly sexy accent, melted me completely.

He pushed me away, and I headed off in the direction he had pointed me towards. It took me some time to find the gate he had mentioned, and I was getting a bit cold and very fed up with whatever game he was playing by the time I passed through it and onto the lawn on the other side. And my enthusiasm wasn't helped by the weather. It had been still and cold, but just as I passed through the gate, snow began to fall.

"Great-snow," I grumbled and wondered what I was doing there.

But I knew, of course. Carlo, with his black curly hair, big dark bedroom eyes, and seductive voice, was irresistible. Add to that a long, thick cock to die for, and a wild abandoned "try anything" love of fucking, and I was his. I knew I was his slave. And so did he. He had been playing with me for a couple of months now, leading me on and then disappearing, keeping me hanging around. I knew he was doing it. But I still couldn't give him up.

We had met at the ski resort of Perisher Blue. I'd tagged along with friends and decided snow wasn't for me, already having decided skiing wasn't for me twenty years before. Carlo was staying in an apartment at Smiggin Holes, but also seemed to be staying at a private lodge.

We'd met in Smiggins Hotel, at the bar. Well more at the entrance. He had arrived about the same time my friends and I had. Somehow I left with him not long after. We walked to the nearby apartments, and as soon as we were in the door, I was panting and he had his hands, they seemed to be everywhere, and his body, rubbing places that I was moaning for him to keep rubbing and I was groping parts of him I wanted to feel skin to skin.

His cock seemed to magically jump out of his pants and run across my belly as he unzipped me and flipped my package free. His other hand was on my neck, pulling me in for a long, deep kiss. I was usually a top but could go either way, and he was making the moves and I knew he was going to be fucking me. It was a vague thought that was irrelevant. He was in charge, but I was liking it.

Somehow we covered a few metres of floor, and he had pushed me back onto the solid timber coffee table sitting between the two tan suede-covered sofas. And he had stripped my pants and shoes and socks off as he gracefully settled onto his haunches between my now-spread thighs.

"Mmmm," he hummed. "Caro mio, I am going to fuck you better than you have ever been fucked before," he crooned, with an incredibly sexy Latin accent.

And I believed him. And I wanted him to.

"Prove it," I said huskily.

His mouth closed over the head of my cock, and he sucked and probed into my tiny opening with his tongue, teasing it like an expert. Then his tongue was everywhere, caressing and probing, as his lips tightened and slid, up and down, loosened, and ran around my pole.

"More, yes," I cried, ready to shoot my load and pulling his head in with my hands, my fingers tangling and tugging in his black, glossy curls.

But Carlo backed off instead and in a minute released me. I was begging to come as he held my cock in one hand and began to probe my ass with the fingers of the other. He must have used some lube, but I can't recall when. I just knew when he had a finger up my passage and had landed the tip on my prostrate. He wriggled his finger and rubbed till I was moaning, dribbling precum and throbbing and had my legs wrapped around his shoulders. Then finally I came. Carlo's mouth descended onto the head of my cock to catch the cum he was extracting from me as I moaned and writhed.

I was spent as he released my dick and moved up between my legs, and I just looked down at him groggily and in awe, as he began to drive that huge tool of his into my ass. I moaned a lot. And if I didn't know it was going to feel good eventually, I would have yelped and been yelping and flailing about and shouting at him to stop-and meaning it. But instead I whimpered as he slowly entered me, and I relaxed, willing it to start feeling good. And it did. By the time his thick, black pubic hair was tickling my butt, I was lying there, rolling my head and moaning, "Yes, yes."

The next night we had wound up on a thick white rug on the polished timber floor in front of an open fire in some private lodge. Me on my knees, and him pounding my ass doggy style.

Then he had been gone. But he'd said we could get together again at Coal Point on Lake Macquaire, where he was going to be in a couple of weeks. He'd called me, and I had driven up to the lake from Sydney and found the ochre-coloured house on the waterfront, and we had fucked in the horizon lap pool that ran down one side of the patio to end with an unbroken view across the lake. I'd gazed across the water to Belmont for a long time as he fucked me up against the end wall. He'd made sure I left very early the next morning and was grumpily tidying up as I said bye, and I knew I should say "no" next time he called.

But of course I hadn't. And here I was trudging through the snow. Once I was through the gate and on the lawn I found the pavilion easily, and the fancy Victorian-inspired fantasy of a roof was nearly white with snow and standing out vividly against the night sky by the time I reached it.

I was relieved to discover that the pavilion's sides weren't open, as I had been fearing. It was fully enclosed, with narrow double glass doors opening on several sides of it. The French doors I tried first weren't locked, and I entered the building and closed them behind me, glad to be out of the increasing cold. It was dark inside, but I could see the darker shapes of furniture, and as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I made out what I was sure was a table lamp. I crept carefully over to it and searched for a switch, and finding one, I was briefly blinded by sudden brightness, but relaxed with relief at the light it gave. However much I lusted for Carlo, I wasn't going to have waited very long for him in a dark, freezing-cold pavilion on a snowy night.

Now that I could see, I found the pavilion was not large but held a comfortable cane sofa and two chairs and a small coffee table piled with magazines. And looking about, I discovered there was an electric heater. I turned that on as soon as I saw it and moved it in front of one of the chairs and sat down, with no idea how long Carlo would take to arrive, but wanting myself and the pavilion both warm when he did.

Then I must have fallen asleep. Because the next thing I knew someone was tapping the top of my thigh, and I was groggily coming too and saying, "Carlo. At last . . ." as I opened my eyes.

But instead of Carlo, I discovered a tall, older stranger standing in front of me. He was looking down at me, and the light was dim, but I had no trouble seeing the shotgun he held loosely in his hands. It was pointing my way, but it's holder had dropped the barrel so that it was hanging between my spread thighs. It must have been that he had tapped my thigh with it to waken me, I knew, as I sat there very still, stunned, and a bit afraid.

"I'm afraid I'm not Carlo, and I have no idea who you are," he said casually, but not moving.

The temperature was dropping rapidly as the cold air rushed in through an open door, and I shivered. But that cold also brought me out of my shock.

"It's dangerous to point that thing at someone," I said angrily, grabbing the barrel and moving it aside, away from my body. "And you've left the door open."

Unfortunately, there was no way I could get up out of the big deep, chair I was in quickly and neatly with the stranger standing almost between my legs, so I stayed there. For a moment I had thought the man standing in front of me might be a security guard patrolling the grounds, but security guards don't carry shotguns, and they normally wear uniforms with badges. He was in his fifties, but a rugged, muscular fifty with a full head of neat, grizzled hair, a long body, and solid legs. And he was attractive with his tanned skin, full lips and dark piercing eyes. Somehow I knew he would laugh easily. He didn't look like a security guard in any way. He was just too polished, too well groomed, and too well spoken. I worried if he was Carlo's current sugar daddy.

My visitor looked momentarily surprised and almost pleased, then stepped back to the open door, "I'm sorry. I'm letting out the heat."

Having closed the door, he returned and broke the shotgun open and showed me the breach, "Not loaded," he said, smiling and jiggling the shells in his pocket. "I was going to head out after foxes. They got one of our house cats a few days ago, but then I saw the light in here. But I did once break an intruder's arm with it," he explained, as he opened a tall cupboard I had not noticed, set in the wall between two of the pavilion's doors, and put the shotgun away with two others.

"And who are you?" he asked.

I had no idea what to say or do. I had a vague idea that Carlo lived wherever he found an obliging and generous lover, and I didn't want to spoil his present situation. One reason our affair had been occasional was that I wasn't poor. But I couldn't offer him the sort of lifestyle he obviously enjoyed from the places he had fucked me in. Of course, I had no idea what Carlo's connection to my visitor was.

"My name's Andrew. And it's cold and late and I'd better go," I said, standing up at last and smiling as if I was just some harmless vagrant, and not too bright.

I moved towards the door that the stranger had just closed, but he stepped in front of me.

"You know you are trespassing don't you?" He said.

"I am trying to leave," I replied, "I'm sorry, I was passing by and it started snowing, so I came in here," I continued, knowing it sounded weak, and he just stood there looking at me, waiting.

"I was asked to come here by a friend," I said eventually, annoyed at the way the man was trying to intimidate me. "Obviously, he's forgotten I'm here, so I'll leave."

The stranger didn't move, and I stepped around him, trying not to show I was still a bit nervous.

"Carlo?" he said. "Tall Latin, with black curly hair, and a fitness model's body?" he asked.

I hesitated guiltily, before I replied, "Yes."

"What's he wearing?" he snapped.

"When I saw him he was wearing a pale blue cashmere sweater and washed-out jeans."

"I know him as Hernando," he replied, as he walked over and opened another cabinet built into a wall of the pavilion. It appeared there was a disguised cupboard built between each of the sets of double doors. "Drink?" he asked as he opened this cabinet to reveal a small but well-stocked bar.

I was caught by politeness, and a bit of curiosity, I confess, so instead of leaving, I said, "A scotch."

"And my name is Grant," the man informed me, stepping over with my drink and then shaking my hand. "And welcome to my pavilion," he added with a smile.

Grant turned on a couple more lamps, and the small pavilion became an oasis of light and warmth, where we sat down opposite each other in the big-cushioned cane chairs and sipped our drinks. Grant was smiling now and looking even better than he had in the dim light. Not usual for a man his age. And I was feeling mildly turned on by him, caused partly by having been ready for Carlo/Hernando, whoever he was, partly by the rush of adrenalin I'd had when I'd first seen Grant with his shotgun, and by the odd situation.

"So have you known Hernando long?" he asked casually.

"I wouldn't say that I know him," I answered equally casually, "We've met a few times, that's all."

"For Hernando, I think that meeting a few times is a pretty serious relationship," Grant responded, smiling widely at his own joke.

I shrugged and decided things were getting complicated and I had better leave when I had finished my drink. I downed the last of it.

"Thanks for the drink," I said, getting up. "Now I had best be off," I added, and I moved towards the door.

But by the time I reached it, Grant was standing behind me, reaching around me to hold the door handle so I couldn't open the door. His other hand was pressed on my belly, just below my rib cage, pulling me back into his body.

"You're a very sexy man," he was saying, his voice low and husky and his mouth right by my ear. "I can understand why Hernando picked you."

I could feel his warm breath on my neck and smelt the brandy on his breath.

"I want you, Andrew," he told me, his mouth meeting my skin.

And I shivered as Grant's lips ran over my neck, giving me little sucking kisses. The hand on my belly stayed there, but his other hand released the doorknob and stroked my rising cock through the fabric of my pants. I'd come out primed for sex. And I knew immediately his hand touched my dick that I was going to get it, but just not the way I'd expected.

I grunted my consent as his mouth moved up to my ear.

"I'm a talker, Andrew," Grant said in my ear, his hot breath tickling, "I like to say just what I am going to do when I fuck. Is that OK with you? Are you happy to hear what I'm going to do to your body?"

"Um, I suppose so," I mumbled, not really knowing what he was talking about.

"So, my hand is on your belly, and the other is on your dick. And I am going to run my tongue around inside your ear and see if your cock jumps." He chuckled and I moaned as he swished wetness in my ear, tickling, and, yes, it jumped.

"Hmmm. Nice. Now I think its time to unzip you and let that nice sausage free, and let me see if it looks as good as it feels, and see how nice your balls are. Have you got nice loose balls, Andrew? I like low-hanging balls on a man I'm going to fuck."

"Oh, yes, a nice big meaty piece and-ummmm, heavy balls, full of seed. Do you shoot a big load, Andrew? I bet you do. I can't wait to see the loud you spout for me."

"Hum, do you like that baby, my thumb on your cap rubbing you while my pinkie is trying to poke into your piss hole? Hmmm, nice and hard, and just a few drops of juice leaking out of you."

I gasped, "Yes, yes," as Grant's hands squeezed my rod and he tugged at my balls. I wanted him to make me come and see how much seed I could shoot for him. Christ. The talk was driving me wilder than his hands and the feel of his thick rod pressing on my lower back were.

"I'm hard, Andrew. You feel that? Feel what you are doing to me? Hmmm, and I am going to stir your insides up with my thick piece when I have you nice and open and ready for me. Mmm. Lets get these pants off you and get you naked. How about we both get naked now? It's plenty warm enough in here now."

Grant let me turn around then, and as he stripped me off, I unbuttoned and unzipped him and he shed the heavy jacket and a jumper and his shirt as I pushed his corduroy pants down, and his briefs. Grey springy curls spread across his still-muscular chest and surrounded his nipples, then tapered in to run down his belly and into a darker, still-heavy bush. His thick cock was standing out stiffly and heavily veined, and for a few moments we stood belly to belly, and he held our pieces docked and ran his thumb over both heads, slicking the precum about.

"Nice," he said, "But I'm a believer in safe sex, so . . ." he reached for his jacket and his hand emerged with a condom, and he passed it to me so I could tear the pack open. "Now roll it on me," he said, his hands massaging my arms now and stroking up from my belly to my chest, playing over my nipples before a hand returned to his jacket for a tube of lube.

"Now that's done, you are going to turn around and I am going to part those cute arse cheeks of your's and take a look at your hole," he said, and I was turning and leaning out along the back of the sofa and spreading my legs for him, panting and reaching for my cock and stroking it, as he continued his sexy monologue.

"Nice butt," he said, "Sweet. I like cheeks I can grab hold of, and yours are big and muscular, and now I have them spread I can see your brown eye winking at me." He chuckled, "You are going to swallow my finger as soon as I get it in you, aren't you, Andrew?"

All I could do was moan, as I felt a thick finger press in past my rim and probe.

"You like getting fucked, I can see, one finger hardly stretches you at all. Nice, so now I'll give you two fingers and stroke up your channel a couple of times and find your prostrate with them. Oh yes, that's it, isn't it?" Grant crooned, as I lurched and moaned.

"Yes, yes, there. Fuck," I grunted.

"Mmmm, now three fingers, mm, now we are starting to make your arse open up, aren't we, oh yes. Do you want to come now, Andrew? I want you to come. I want to feel you shoot that load out, and I want to see your cream."

"Fuck me," I gulped. "Fuck me."

"You want to feel my cock inside you? Filling you up, before you come? Stuffing you good? I like that. Because I want to feel my cock in your arse too, Andrew. My cock has been wanting to feel that since I walked in here. You have a beautiful arse, and tight, not too tight, just right. So here comes my cock. Feel it rimming your hole? Mmm, that feels so good, and, oh baby, I'm going in," Grant moaned.

"I'm in now, Andrew. God, that looks beautiful, my cock sliding in and out of your pucker. Oh, baby, yes I could work myself in your sweet channel all night. Now come up to me, lift up, here," he reached around and placed a palm on my belly, and I arched back, and up to him.

"Yes. Now kiss me, while I stroke your dick and make you cum," he whispered in my ear.

Our mouths locked and there was a strange, almost silence, for a while, as he fisted my throbbing erection and worked his own cock in shallow strokes inside my channel, until I came. Christ, I spouted cum like there was gallons of it built up, leaning back to him, and he milked it out of me, two, three shots, emptying me as our mouths parted and he began to fuck me deeper and harder, but still holding my belly, and me still arched back. Feeling his cock head rubbing across my spot until he tightened up, "I'm coming. I'm going to fill you with my seed, baby. Oh yes, fuck."