(no subject)

[lobelia321]

Title: Up Shit Creek
Part: 8/8
Author: Lobelia; lobelia321@aol.com
Other info: See Part 1/8

"No, Karl," rasped Billy. He almost couldn't see Karl properly; he was having that optical problem again. "Just do it. You. Do it."

Fate sealed. Pandora's lid at the bottom of the Sounds, trampled by crabs, clawed by lobsters, poohed on by passing salmon.

And the strangest thing, the very strangest thing of all, was the shaft of disappointment that had shot through Billy's guts when Karl had suggested that it should be Billy doing the fucking. Of course, Billy didn't want to do the fucking, how preposterous. As if he'd want to stick his nice clean dick into Karl's filthy, hairy arsehole. Of course he didn't want to do that. Of course not.

Only, that wasn't the real reason. That didn't even come near being the real reason. He might as well face up to it: Billy just wanted to be fucked. He hadn't even known until five seconds earlier that he wanted to be fucked but he did. He was desperate to be fucked. He wanted Karl's huge, enormous, epically-proportioned cock up his arse. He didn't know why, because it was a revolting idea, it was a repulsive and ridiculous idea, it wasn't at all what Billy liked, Billy who'd never had so much as a Q-tip up his arse, but there it was.

Billy wanted to be fucked by Karl Urban.

At any rate, Billy couldn't have done any fucking himself. Not the way he was at the moment. His dick was still small with terror. And Billy's chest was constricted with breath-stopping fear. But all that terror was shooting adrenaline through Billy's body, shooting adrenaline into Billy's brain and into his arse and making Billy gasp at Karl.

"Do it, Karl. Do it."

"Billy," said Karl, in a voice so deep it was virtually inaudible because it was of the same wavelength as the hoot of a steamboat somewhere miles away. If Billy had been at all *compos mentis*, he might have noticed that Karl was himself nearly out of his mind with adrenaline, that Karl was cross-eyed with lust, that Karl could barely speak and could barely rip the packet open with shaking, quivering, useless fingers and could barely manage to roll the condom over his own cock. Billy was too terrified to help with any of this; he rested on Karl's lap, mouth open, eyes half-closed, atremble with apprehension.

"We need some..." said Karl, and started scrabbling again. Billy had no will left to wonder what other marvels were hidden in that bottomless bag of Karl's, or why Karl had packed all these items in the first place, and with what ulterior hopes and motives Karl had in fact undertaken this boat trip, motives which went way beyond rowing or fishing, unless maybe Billy had been the fish all along. And now Billy was captured and writhing helplessly at the end of Karl's huge, enormous hook.

Karl had found something, some container or other, and Karl was doing something, something to his cock and then something to Billy's arse, something slimy and smeary, something slithery. Karl whispered, "Billy, you're so open, I can't believe how open you are, Billy, Billy..." And then Billy, without having to be asked or told, lifted himself up and onto his knees, knees scrunching into sand, and lifted himself onto Karl's cock. Karl had his hands on Billy's buttocks. He was spreading Billy's buttocks and pulling them apart. Billy, still terrified to the core but unable to stop himself, lowered his body. Karl let go one hand and took hold of his own cock, using his hand to guide his cock into Billy.

And then there was only Karl.

Karl was there. He was really there. He was inside Billy, at first only a bit, then a bit more, then a lot, then all of Karl, all of Karl in his huge, enormous, epic proportions. The whole act was taking on epic proportions. There was nothing else left, no space left for anything else, for any other thought, no space to direct any other part of his body to do anything. Even Billy's brain stem seemed to have been taken over by this one thing, even Billy's vegetative responses. It was all just Karl's cock up Billy's arse.

But then it turned out that Billy did have some responses left. He had muscular responses left in his thighs, they managed to move Billy's body up and down on Karl. And he had vascular responses left in his dick, responses that pumped blood into his dick, making his dick twitch and grow, grow to be huge and enormous and of epic proportions.

Or that's what it felt like.

Karl's hand closed around Billy's dick. Billy's head sank forward onto Karl's shoulder.

It was unbelievable. It was inconceivable. Yet it was happening. Karl fucking Urban fucking Billy.

Karl was pumping Billy's dick, and he was doing it all wrong again. But there was no space left in Billy's brain to stop and tell Karl how to do it. And then that, too, turned out to be a minor inconvenience. Karl's thumb was all wrong, Karl's speed all wrong, Karl's pressure round Billy's shaft all wrong... Didn't matter, because there was nothing wrong with Karl's cock in Billy's arse, absolutely fucking nothing. Karl's cock in his arse felt so right that it made Billy fly away, fly away to outer space. It made him fly to such a far-away space that he didn't even feel Karl's hand around his dick any more, nor did he hear Karl's grunting, nor did he take in Karl's tongue on his face, roving aimlessly in aimless spirals across Billy's cheeks and chin.

Because Billy was transported. Not to an Alpine meadow this time. No, the Alpine meadow was left so fucking far behind it wasn't funny, and its pathetic moo cow now seemed piteously inapt. Billy was somewhere else entirely, somewhere hot and red, could have been Mars, could have been Hell, it was a red-hot place, a heedless place, a place full of subterranean rumbling. It was a vast space, red and hot, with a horizon rimmed in tongues of flame. Something was approaching from that horizon. Billy rode up and down on Karl, he rode up and down on Karl who was a bison again, galloping across that vast red place, and as they were galloping, they were drawing nearer and nearer to the horizon and to that something approaching. Billy didn't know what that something was, some huge beast, or a wall of fire, or a rumbling roaring earthquake, or a swirling whirling dust storm. He didn't care, he just galloped on, faster and faster, and slicker and slicker, until Karl the bison bucked underneath him, reared up and bellowed, and then the something was upon them both.

It crashed about their ears, it blew right through them, hot and dry. It picked them up and flung them about until the breath was knocked out of their lungs, and the moisture squeezed from their eyeballs, and the strength sucked out of their muscles, and the semen shot out of their cocks, out of their hot, hard cocks, hot wet semen, semen everywhere.

Well.

There was a sound in Billy's left ear, not of an approaching dust storm, no, that red-hot place had receded. Billy was back on the New Zealand beach, and Karl was groaning something into his left ear. It sounded like 'Blublublu', and it took Billy a few seconds to figure out what Karl was saying. Karl was saying, "Billy, Billy, Billy." And biting Billy's ear and breathing on Billy's neck and licking Billy's jaw. And then looking at him. Karl looked at Billy, and Billy looked at Karl, and no doubt about it, Karl looked gorgeous.

He looked as if he'd come apart at the edges, all his outlines were slightly smudged and bleeding into the surroundings. His lips were cerise, his hair matted and black, his cheeks blobs of nectarine, his eyes a mess.

"Hmm," Billy said and kissed his bison-Karl.

This was their fourth kiss, and the loveliest one so far. It was neither frenzied nor fighting nor getting-to-know-each-other. This was a kiss of two people who knew each other already, or at least who knew a certain place in each other, a certain red-hot place that they'd never visited before, an intimate red-hot place of their own. And now they could remember that place through their mouths and their tongues. Lazy tongues, spent mouths.

"Billy," breathed Karl.

"Karl," said Billy.

"I've been wanting to do this," Karl said, still breathing hard. "I've been thinking about doing this. You have no idea how often. I thought... From the moment I first saw you, that day in Christchurch... " -- Billy couldn't remember any day in Christchurch but this was not the moment to mention such trivia -- "From the moment I first saw you, I knew you'd be a hot lay. I just knew it. And you are. Billy, Billy, you are."

"How could you know any such thing?" asked Billy, breathlessly. "I didn't know any such thing."

"I don't know. There was just something about you. You were always laughing and being jolly, and I love that, I do, that's why I fell in love with you. But there was something else as well, underneath the other stuff."

"I thought you weren't in love with me any more," Billy said.

"Oh, I didn't really mean that," muttered Karl, sounding almost embarrassed. "I was just annoyed. Billy, will you come to my place after?"

"I don't know," said Billy.

"Will you stay the night?"

"Well," said Billy and squirmed on Karl's lap. "I don't think I'd better."

"Why not?" asked Karl. "Why hadn't you better? What is not better about staying the night at my place?"

Billy didn't know what to answer.

"Is it because you had something planned with Dom?" said Karl.

Dom. The syllable sounded like a word from a foreign language.

"Oh," said Billy. "Yes. That's true. I did have something arranged with Dom tonight."

Billy thought of Dom. He had arranged something with Dom earlier that day. He remembered arranging it and looking forward to it as his reward after this day of trials and tribulations. He had arranged a nice evening meeting, and Billy knew exactly how the evening would go: Dom would appear, with Orli in tow. They'd both be hyped up to the gills. They'd both be talking a mile a minute, explicating, triplicating, pontificating. It would be para-this and para-that and altitudes of planes and velocities of falls and parabolas of flight and opening-times of parachutes, and landing methods, rolling or sliding or somersaulting. There'd be beer, and then more beer, and then more parachuting exploits, and there'd be acting out of incidents on the living room floor. There'd be wrestlings and gropings; there'd be lewd jokes. But there'd be no sex.

In fact, it would be a crashing bore of an evening.

It occurred to Billy that sex was better than no sex, and that no sex was a bore, and that no sex plus parachuting pontificating was even more of a bore, and that an entire evening of no sex and no Karl was the biggest bore of them all.

"On second thoughts," said Billy, "it's a fairly loose arrangement. I can cancel it."

"Really? You can cancel it? Are you sure?"

"Yep, absolutely. Dom and Orli will just want to talk to each other about parachuting. I don't care about parachuting."

"Really? Dom won't mind?"

"No," Billy said. In fact, he was sure of it. Dom wouldn't mind. Dom would, possibly, not even notice. Dom would think, oh Karl, great guy, yes, go and stay with Karl. And possibly, for once, Dom would be right.

"Dom won't mind," Billy said. "Dom won't even care."

Karl beamed.

"But you have to do one thing," said Billy.

"What's that?"

"No, two things," said Billy. He gave Karl a dreamy look and draped his arms around Karl's neck.

"What?" said Karl. "You know I'll do anything."

"One: you have to fuck me again," said Billy.

"Okay," said Karl and beamed.

"And two: you have to tell me all about fishing."

"About fishing?"

"Yes," said Billy and nestled contentedly into Karl's lap. "You have to tell me all about fishing, in the Sounds and in whatever rivers you go to, and all about the tides and the seasons and the fish you've caught, the bass and the salmon and the pooky fish."

"Hapuku."

"Yeah, those, too. Whatever. Will you do that?"

"Of course," said Karl. "I'd love to talk to you about fishing. I didn't know you were that interested."

"I don't yet know if I am," said Billy. "But I'd like to find out."

--------------

The End.

I love short LJ fb but I also love longer email fb, *g*.
lobelia321@aol.com

Comments

::shiver shiver::

[ukcalico.livejournal.com]

Longer email fb will occur.

for now: am sleeeeepy. am very, very tired. am exhausted. yet will I sleep, soon? I doubt it. Am far too swoony and bouncy and adoring for such passtimes.

::swoon::

::bounce::

::adore::

Re: ::shiver shiver::

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you thank you!!! Well, you know the rest... *g*