Title: Life after Virginity

Author: Lobelia; [email protected]

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John heard the taxi before he saw it. He couldn't suppress a grin. He couldn't even suppress a little whoop as he raced down the front steps. He opened the taxi door and helped Bernard out. Not that Bernard needed any help; it was just an excuse to touch him. And he kept holding onto him, to his elbow at least, once he was out on the kerb.

They stood on the footpath, beaming at each other, shaking hands, clapping each other on the back. John couldn't stop grinning. If he continued to grin any more, he'd end up with grin lines engraved into his cheeks.

"That'll be thirty dollars fifty," said the cab driver.

"Let me get that," said John, digging in his pockets.

"And a receipt, please," said Bernard to the driver. "Add a tenner."

"Why, thanks, that's very generous," said the cab driver and started scribbling.

John opened the boot and pulled Bernard's suitcase out. Bernard stood next to him, smiling at him, looking at the house, smiling back at John. They were still grinning at each other when the taxi finally moved off.

"So, have you been taking good care of my house while I've been gone?" asked Bernard.

"Very good care," said John, carrying Bernard's case up the drive. "And I've got a great dinner cooked for us." Climbing up the steps. "Well, not as good as your dinners, of course, Bern, and, ahem, not a hundred per cent organic, either, but nourishing enough. And I've got a wonderful claret to go with it." He pushed through the open door, practically flung the suitcase into the room, turned around and fell into Bernard's open arms.

"Christ, I've missed you, Bern," John mumbled into Bernard's neck.

"Same here, John," muttered Bernard into John's hair. "It's been a long two months."

"Yeah, well, what's two months out of a man's life, eh, Bern? Let me have a good look at you."

John held Bernard at arm's length.

"You're looking great, Bern. You're looking marvellous."

"And you're looking handsomer with every passing month," replied Bernard.

They fell into each other's arms again, and into each other's mouths. They kissed and kissed, and then they kissed some more, just standing in the living room, next to the front door. Bernard moaned, and John groaned, and they both swayed slightly, and John's hands were all over Bernard's back and hips and head.

"Christ, I'm so glad to have you back, Bern," John said finally.

"It's good to be back, John. It really is." Bernard licked his lips, took a deep breath and looked around the room. "What's that?" he said, pointing.

"Oh," said John, blushing slightly. "That's just an old photo of yours I found."

"You framed it. You put it on the mantelpiece."

"Yeah, well, thought the place needed a bit of cheering up," said John. "But we can put it away now, if you'd prefer. Don't need it now that you're back."

"That's nice music, too, John. What is it? Schubert?"

"Yeah, it's some of the Lieder. Listen, Bern..."

"And what's that?" said Bernard, pointing again. "White tablecloth? Candles?"

"Yeah, well, Bern, it is your welcome-back dinner."

"You're such an old romantic, John. And that claret: that looks fiendishly expensive."

"Yeah, cost a bloody fortune. But still, not as much as you're worth, Bern."

"You'll get me all tongue-tied if you continue with the compliments, John."

"Oh, I don't believe I'll ever get you tongue-tied, Bern," mumbled John and started kissing Bernard again.

"Ah," said Bernard, "shall we have dinner first? Or just go straight to the bedroom?"

John gave Bernard a fond look. "Well," he said, "the claret does need to air for another half an hour."

"Ah yes, mustn't spoil the claret," said Bernard as John took his hand and pulled him through the bedroom door. "Oh, fresh sheets on the bed; that's nice. Are these new?"

"Hmm," mumbled John, pulling Bernard's jacket off his shoulders, and then tugging Bernard's jumper over his head, and rubbing his hands up and down Bernard's chest under his T-shirt. "Have you grown more muscular while you've been away? Or am I just not..." -- pressing a kiss to Bernard's skin -- "... remembering this right?"

"Must be all that Helm's Deep battle action," muttered Bernard, unbuttoning John's shirt. "All that endless training and having at each other with swords."

"Hmm, I want to hear all about it," mumbled John, biting Bernard's nipple. "Later."

"You've heard all about it already," muttered Bernard, tugging John's shirt out of his waistband and sliding his hands onto John's belly. "We were on the phone every single day, remember?"

"Well, there must be some things you didn't tell me over the phone," mumbled John, sliding his tongue from one nipple to the other.

"Ah, John, how did you guess?" muttered Bernard, unbuckling John's belt and pulling the zip down. "Don't tell me that you, too, have things to tell me?"

"Well, yeah, Bern, it was lonely here without you," mumbled John, tugging Bernard's T-shirt over his head. "And I knew you had Karl there with you, to cheer you up."

"Ah, and not only Karl," muttered Bernard, slipping his hand around John's erection. "I'm dying to find out who cheered you up, though."

"Hmm, Bern, later," groaned John.

He pulled Bernard down onto the fresh sheets with him, pulled him into a kiss. He had missed Bernard's kisses, he had missed the comfortably solid weight of Bernard's torso between his arms, he had missed the slow sure way in which Bernard moved against him. Hell, he had missed all of Bernard. All of Bernard had been gone for far too long.

He was just settling into a nice rhythm, hand around Bernard, tongue in Bernard's mouth, leg hooked around Bernard's hip, when Bernard said, "Hang on a moment. I've got something I want to show you. A little surprise."

"What?"mumbled John. "Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't, " said Bernard and chuckled. "Wait till you see what it is. I am, ah, I'm actually quite a bit, ah, excited about this."

Bernard did seem rather excited as he pushed himself up off the bed and disappeared into the living room, not before giving John a saucy smirk over his shoulder. John lay back, idly fondling his erection. After a short while, Bernard re-emerged, brandishing his little surprises. John's eyes widened and he sat up.

"Christ, Bern, what's that? KY-Jelly? And condoms? Fucking hell, Bern."

"Thought you'd like these," grinned Bernard.

"Like them? Shit, Bern." John passed a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say."

"I just thought," said Bernard, making the mattress shake with his weight as he settled back down next to John, "that it was time that a pair of old buggers like us should try out some actual buggery."

"Did you? Did you think that?" said John. He couldn't help laughing. Then he turned to Bernard's items. He read the label on the lube. He emptied the condom packet and shuffled through the rubbers in their assorted coloured wrappers. They weren't of a brand that John had ever used. And the packet had a soft-focus photo of two men on it, not of a man and a woman.

"You don't want to?" muttered Bernard.

"No, Bern, that's not... This is... Well, teach an old dog new tricks and all that. I've never done this before, you know, Bern."

"Well, do you think I have, John? I didn't get up to that much monkey business at Helm's Deep."

John grinned. "So we're both virgins, is that it?"

"Afraid so," said Bernard and actually giggled in quite a virgin-like manner. "That's about the long and the short of it."

John laughed. "You mean, just like Romeo and bloody Juliet?"

"Yes, John, just like Romeo and Juliet." Bernard looked saucier than ever.

"Christ, Bern, never thought I'd be a virgin again," grinned John. "Right. Well, try anything once, eh? So." He cleared his throat. "How do we go about doing this?"

"I don't know. These things didn't come with a manual."

"I don't think we need, hmm, a manual, do we, Bern?" mumbled John, kissing his way down Bernard's chest, down Bernard's belly, down Bernard's pubic thatch, down to the root of Bernard's penis.

"No, ah, yes, that's good..."

"Well, you're nice and ready to go, anyway, Bern." John reached across Bernard and picked up one of the wrapped condoms. "How shall we do this then? Do you want to, ahem, go on top?"

"No, John, please, you go."

"I wouldn't know what to do. No, Bern, you, please."

"Come on, John, this isn't about being polite when going through a door."

John threw his head back and laughed. "Christ, I've missed you, Bern," he said. "But why don't you go, ahem, on top? I'd... like that. I think. Well, to tell you the truth..." John looked up at Bernard. "I don't yet know if I'll like it. Not ever having experienced it before. But... "

Bernard had already unscrewed the KY-Jelly.

"Permit me," said John, applied some to his hands and coated Bernard with it, breathing on Bernard's cock as he stroked him. Bernard hissed with pleasure, and John loved that hiss. It was only now that he realised how much he had missed even that simple hiss. Perhaps especially that simple hiss.

"How shall I..." he said, his voice thick with desire and anticipation.

"I don't know, John. If you lift up your legs, maybe..." suggested Bernard, sounding a tiny bit breathless.

"All right. Just... No, that's no good. I'll do my back in like this."

"Or if you turn around? Lean over? Ah, no, hang on, I'll do my back in if you're leaning over like that."

"Christ, Bern, we're getting too old for this."

"Rubbish, John. Millions of men our age are doing this all the time. As we speak."

This comment caused John to dissolve in more gales of laughter. "As we speak, eh, Bern? Millions? Well, let's see..." He looked around the room. "What about that armchair, Bern? I could sort of brace myself against it, couldn't I, and you could..."

"All right. Quick, then."

They moved to the armchair. John braced himself.

"Hmm, that's better."

"Ah, John, are you..." Bernard said, peering at John exposing himself. "You are, you do seem... It does seem awfully tight. I'm not sure..."

"Aren't you meant to, you know... stretch it a bit."

"Ah, yes, of course. Good thinking, John." Bernard covered his fingers in lube and gingerly applied them to John's small opening.

"You've got to... No, a bit more, Bern... Ahh, that's it, Bern..."

"Hold on, don't slip."

"I'm not. Christ."

Bernard was swirling his fingers around quite fast now, probing, digging deeper with each swirl while pressing his thumb against John's perineum. John tried to enjoy it but couldn't help feeling that the whole thing was kind of clinical.

"Do you think that's enough now, John?"

"How the fuck would I know, Bern? Feels good, though. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well, you know."

"Haven't you ever done this before, either?"

"What, being fingered? No, Bern, to tell you the truth, I haven't. Have you?"

"Well, not as such..."

"Not as such? Shit, Bern, you old bugger, you've been getting up to more than I gave you credit for with that young Karl."

"Wasn't with Karl, John. But now..."

"What, not with Karl? You've got me all curious now. But let's talk about that later."

"Yes, we'll have some tales to tell, won't we?"

"But now, let's get going. Let's do this properly. Pull your fingers out, Bern."

John laughed at his own joke, and Bernard chuckled and did pull his fingers out. John watched as Bernard positioned himself against John. He observed Bernard's intent expression, eyebrows in a V-shape, mouth turned down at the edges, and he felt the head of Bernard's cock push against him, push harder, push into him. John gasped. It was an entirely new sensation, to have something pushing into him there. Bernard didn't push far, just past the first ring of muscles, then he stopped, breathing hard. John breathed, too; he tried to make his breathing regular and even but it was difficult, it was much too fast and shallow. Then Bernard started to push again.

"Christ!" John cried out.

"What?" asked Bernard. "Is that all right?"

"It's fucking painful, that's what it is. Jesus."

"All right. I'm stopping, John. I'll come out now."

"No, no, fuck, Bern." John clutched Bernard's arm. "Can't stop now. We've come this far. Let's go through with it. Christ, there must be something to this. Right? Otherwise, why would all those millions of men bother, eh?" He laughed, and winced as Bernard slid in a bit further.

"Well, I can see why," gasped Bernard.

"Can you, Bern? What does it feel like? Tell me, Bern."

"It feels incredible, John. It feels fantastically erotic. You feel... just..."

"Show me, Bern. Put your hand round me and show me what it feels like for you. Hmm... mmm... that tight, eh? And only up to there? Aren't you in any more than that?"

"No. I can't seem to... I can't get any further in. Things seem to be blocked. I'm stuck."

"How can you be stuck? This is, what, this is my bloody intestine, isn't it? That's miles long, right? It doesn't just stop!"

"I know, John. Actually, if you don't mind, I'd rather not think too much about your intestine right now, John."

"Yeah, right. I see what you mean. There's got to be some way... Shit, ow." John flinched.

"Sorry, John. Maybe if you shift a bit? That's it. That's a bit better."

John flinched again as Bernard worked himself in further. He felt his muscles tensing around Bernard's cock. Bernard felt impossibly huge. The whole enterprise seemed impossibly difficult. John tried breathing deeply again; he tried to let himself go. After a few deep breaths, it felt as if there was another ring of muscles giving way. Bernard was nudging past it and was moving around deep, deep inside John. John felt full, fuller than he would have believed probable. He tried to relax into the fullness but it was hard.

"Are you in, Bern?" he gasped. "Christ, you feel as if you're in."

"God, ah, John, yes, yes," Bernard moaned. "This isn't nice for you at all?"

"It's all right, Bern," said John through clenched teeth.

"What, just all right?" said Bernard, catching his breath. "That's no good, is it? Look, we can't go on. This feels wonderful to me but it's no good if you're not enjoying it."

"No, Bern. I told you, we're not stopping. There must be something... Isn't there supposed to be some sort of gland or something?"

"Yes, I've heard of that. I've got no idea where it is, though. Really, John, we're grown adults; you'd have thought we could do better than this."

"Ow, don't make me laugh. Come on, just give us a kiss, Bern."

The truth was, John simply loved kissing Bernard. John loved the way that Bernard stroked his tongue in long, wet caresses, and the way Bernard's beard rasped against his lips, and the way Bernard idly leant into a kiss, the way he kissed almost absentmindedly, mocking John's own intensity with lazy swirling movements. All of Bernard was in those kisses, Bernard's essence, and John loved Bernard's essence.

So they kissed, deeply, lazily, intensely. John felt himself relax somewhat under the kissing, and Bernard started to move around inside him, in and out, finding his bearings. After a while, Bernard whispered, "Why don't you shift a bit upwards?" So John moved his body down into the armchair but swivelled his hips upwards, and Bernard adjusted his position, and then something happened.

"Hmmm. God, Christ, fuck, Bern. What was that?" John cried out. But it wasn't a cry of pain this time.

"What? What was what?"

"That! That! Oh, Bern, do that again."

"That?"

"Oh, God, Bern, that's heavenly. Again..." John gasped and clutched Bernard's shoulder.

"Ah, John, this is... I'm really fucking you now."

"Hmmm... Jesus. God, don't stop, Bern."

"I'm fucking you, John. And I'm going to fuck you till you come... ahh..."

They stopped talking. They were just moving now. Moving and kissing, then gasping, gasping into each other's open mouths. Bernard's fingers around John's cock, John's eyes glazing over, hair damp on foreheads, hair damp on chests, thrusting against the armchair. Bernard moaning, long and deep. John's mouth opening in breathless, helpless gasps, John clutching onto Bernard's hips, and then closing his eyes because a sharp sensation was building up inside his guts. A bright, sharp sensation, blindingly intense, as bright and sharp as the tiny, bright point of a needle, sharpening up into unbearable light and heat, piercing him, piercing his groin and his brain and a place behind his forehead, between his eyes. John couldn't even groan, he couldn't moan, he couldn't hear or see, he just floated in this nowhere space as the bright, sharp needlepoint took hold of him, took hold of all of his body. And when the brightness got unbearable, when it got too sharp and small and keen, it suddenly lurched and dissolved and spread through his entire body in one long wave. And now he could groan, now he couldn't stop groaning, or trembling, as the waves coursed through his limbs and veins, made his fingertips tingle and his toes sting, made the hair on his head stand up and made him throw back his head and let out groan after groan.

He was still clutching Bernard's hips, and his rectum was clutching Bernard's cock, and there was come all over his belly, slithering against Bernard's skin. John looked at Bernard, heard Bernard moaning. Bernard was shuddering against John, shuddering into John, Bernard's eyebrows pulling downwards, Bernard's lips pursing in that familiar way. God, how John had missed those lips, pursing at the very height of orgasm. Still trembling, John reached for Bernard's mouth, sought out his tongue, whimpered into Bernard's mouth, pulled Bernard to him, his hand pressed against Bernard's nape, Bernard's sweat-slick nape. They were kissing, brokenly and not fully focussed, minds too blurry, tongues too weak, they were sliding off the chair, on the floor now, kissing, gasping.

"Christ almighty," John finally managed to get out. "God, Bern, that was..."

"It was," gasped Bernard. "God, it was. Why have we never..."

"Beyond me, Bern. Can't believe I waited to be over fifty to discover..."

"Men, John? To discover men?"

"No, not men," murmured John. "You, Bern. Just you."

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26 May 2002

All original parts of this story: © Lobelia

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