Be Careful What You Wish For - 8. Chapter 8 'The Age of Miracles'

Kris’s night was ultimately a success. Roberto’s plan had been to relieve the tension of their earlier falling out by indulging in a bout of Anger Sex, little realising that his bed mate could take all the ‘anger’ he had to give, and some! At half time the Hispanic had visited the bathroom, grabbed one of his extra large condoms, and spitefully smeared its outer surface with jalapeño, but even that misfired! For Kris was an avid fan of Indian curries. He’d experienced many rings of fire in his time, though nearly always as a consequence of what was leaving his anus, rather than what was entering it. So, despite everything that had gone before, the ill starred couple parted on surprisingly amicable terms.

It was Dr Kris Karton’s habit to rise, shower, and leave the house by seven at the latest, taking a modest breakfast at work. Thus when Gordon and Justin rose, sometime later, they were privileged to enjoy a relaxed breakfast together without the feisty, little martinet present.

Gordon chomped on toast and coffee, camouflaged behind his newspaper, until,

‘Gord’

‘Yes, what is it Justin?’

‘Who do you think has more fun, tops or bottoms?’

‘We’re not doing this’

Gordon was, by now, convinced that the sum total of Justin’s sexual experience amounted to no more than five years incessant power-wanking. But the boy’s capacity to talk crap was endless.

‘Oh come on, I need to know these things. Gary told me it’s normal for young guys to start out as bottoms, and get to be tops later’

‘That’s nonsense’

‘So tell me’

Gordon put down his newspaper in irritation,

‘What’s important is to develop as a person. Some day you’ll meet a guy and form a relationship with him, then you’ll know automatically what feels right for you both, and you’ll give and take’

‘Oh, so you mean we’ll both be versatile?’

‘I didn’t say that.

The boy fell silent, and Gordon resumed his reading; but not for long,

‘Gord, my friend Gary works at the auto insurance call centre, answering the phone. Guess what? He puts this orange under his balls, sits on it all day, and squeezes it’

‘Where are we going with this, Justin?’

‘There’s this muscle near your ring piece, and it can be trained, just like any muscle’

‘The PuboCoccygeus’ suggested Gordon,

‘It’s the same one you use to stop pissing. Well, he spends all day squeezing down on this orange. No-one can see what he’s doing’

‘The hours must just fly by; I guess call centres can be dull at times’

‘He says this muscle’s rock hard now’

Gordon didn’t respond, but involuntarily twitched his own PC muscle.

‘And do you know what?’

‘I dread to think’

‘When Gary cums he can hit the bedroom wall from six feet away’

‘And is that your goal?’

‘Just saying’

Long silence.

‘Gord’

‘WHAT!’

The big man looked over at Justin, the boyish sparkle had gone from his eyes, and his mouth was set in a totally different expression.

‘Who was the guy in the garden with you yesterday?’

‘Greene, Greene Carter. Alison’s brother’

‘Your fag hag at work, her brother?’

‘Yes, but she’s not my fag hag, as you put it, she’s a colleague’

Another long silence.

‘Why was he holding you like that?’

‘We’d had a bit of bad news’

‘What?’

‘I’d rather not say, it’s personal’

‘I’m here for you too, I’m not a kid’

Justin looked sincere and Gordon softened. Then the big man saw a perfect, failsafe opportunity; should he take it?

‘OK Justin, Say I need a hug. I am down right now and I need comforting. Show me that you could give me that support’

Without a word, the boy got up, as Gordon rose from his chair, and put his arms around him. He rested his head on Gordon’s shoulder and the big man could feel the boy’s breath on his neck. Then Justin squeezed him. It was electrifying. The strength of pure, young limbs, as yet uncorrupted by anything life had in store for them, took Gordon’s breath away. There was no embarrassment, no insincerity, no gaucheness. Justin held on like he meant it. And he spoke quietly into the older man’s ear,

‘I’m here every day, if you need somebody to listen. You don’t need to invite people round. I’m here!’

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Miss Haggard breezed into Kris’s office without knocking, enough normally to secure a severe tongue lashing at least, but not today. Kris’s smile was oily,

‘Tea, is it that time already?’

‘Yes Sir. What will it be today? We have Earl and Lady Grey, or Darjeeling. I can recommend the Lapsang Souchong, smoky, with a hint of kerosene’

Kris beamed,

‘Oh I’ll stick with the regular tea, and a few cream puffs’

‘Very well, I’ll see to it’

She turned to go,

‘Dr Karton, can you hear something, a strange buzzing sound?’

‘NO, I can’t. Now be about your business, woman!’

Once the simpering spinster had withdrawn, Kris locked the door behind her and logged on.

Within moments he’d located yet another of Roberto’s profiles, Huge-Hard-Hot-Hispanic. The profile was light on biographical detail, but it did feature an impressive shot of the Latino’s nine inch love muscle. Kris sighed in admiration. ‘Just think, that tasty chorizo was splitting me in half less than 24 hours ago’

He hardly needed reminding. A small pump, thieved from the Poisoned Fish Projects Lab was busily whirring away, maintaining pressure in Kris’s inflatable ring cushion. But none of that mattered, the senior pathologist was in love, and love does crazy things. Soon, his fingers were as busy as the pump, as they messaged the object of his affections!

‘Mi Amor, Guapo Roberto, what I can I say? Last night will live in my memory forever. The wine I brought you, the meal you ordered in, the ambience by the canal, all was perfection, but as always you saved the best till last. I’m sorry about the little mishap in your bed. I’d eaten curry for lunch, but I’ll pay for the dry cleaning. And I did tell you I was practically a virgin, you naughty boy. I was so touched at the way you had spray lube ready when you got stuck half way in. And now for my surprise, I’ve booked us on flights for a short break to my holiday villa in Spain, treat on me! Please say you’ll come (Oops, I’m forever saying that!) Your adoring fan,

Krissy XXXX’

Yes indeed, love does do the strangest things!

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The chapel of the Little Sisters of the Divine D’ île d’eau is located down a narrow alleyway, close to Deans gate, in the centre of Manchester. There, despite the passage of time – or possibly even because of it - the nuns still show great reverence to their founder, the French abbess Bigue. Born in the C13th, she grew up in the tiny Provençale village of île d’eau (watery isle), which place possessed a magic spring that caused all the men who bathed therein to acquire huge hardons. Sacrificing her life to the church, she determined to found an order of nuns to evangelise the heathen English. So it was, that in 1296, her ass weighted down with several pitchers of the magic spring water, Bigue D’île d’eau came to northern England, where she soon attracted a cult following.

Nowadays, seven hundred years later, there are few who know or care about the holy nun’slegend. But there was one! Kneeling contritely in the midst of the tiny congregation was a man who could give any D’île d’eau a run for its money! Yes, it was Roberto. Ever since his childhood, when the padre used to bounce him on his knee, he’d heard of the wondrous holy water, and he’d vowed that one day he’d plunge his manhood into it.

The Latino had wakened that very morning with a burning sensation on his cock. Fearing that some of the deadly jalapeño he’d used on Kris had made its way through the sheath, he’d given his tackle a good scrubbing in the shower. Had that been a sign, a holy portent? Could the Madonna be blessing his tool with yet more inches?

He clasped his hands in prayer and focused intently on the altar; his eyes began to glaze over in rapture, and he could feel a profound buzzing in his depths,

‘Madre de Dios, es un miraglo!’ he whispered.

Roberto fumbled with his crotch, some of the elderly Irish ladies in the congregation gasping in disbelief. The buzzing came again, this time more insistently. The Hispanic’s trouser area, packed solid at the best of times, was now a frenzy of vibration. He stood up, frisking his groin in demented fashion.

Religion provides its adherents with many aids to self delusion, but sadly Roberto had to admit the ghastly truth, this was his mobile phone; it was a message, and the sender, none other than Jezebel Roth.Had the journalist known just where her erstwhile partner was at that moment, and what he was up to, she might have had a word with the God of Abraham, to see if he couldn’t add an inch or two.

But her communication had nothing to do with cock size. ‘Arriving Manchester train station at two. Pick me up’

Roberto made the sign of the cross, leapt to his feet and tried to leave the chapel. But his way was barred by a young nun standing at the door. She had a collecting tin which she thrust in his direction.

‘Would you like to make a contribution to our holy work?’

He flashed his most dazzling smile,

‘To whom am I speaking?’

‘I’m Sister Impregnata’ she replied,

The lothario looked penetratingly into the nun’s deep brown eyes, so like his own, and spoke confidentially,

‘Since my youth, I have been fascinated by the legend of the magic spring. Tell me Sister, have there been any wondrous occurrences in recent times, concerning the water?’

Sister Impregnata looked crestfallen,

‘Alas no, many centuries ago our blessed founder, the Abbess Bigue arrived in England, at the port of Dover. Her Holy mission was impeded by a corrupt customs official, who seized a pitcher of the magic water and drank it on the spot. Immediately, his penis swelled to the size of an ox cart, and he fell into the sea and drowned. Pope Duplicitus III pronounced the whole affair a miracle, since when, sadly, no other comparable wonders have occurred’

Roberto held the nun’s hand, making her shudder with excitement. He dripped insincerity,

‘I should so like to help your worthy cause. But tell me child, where do the relics of the holy water now reside?’

She hesitated, blushing. Her inquisitor correctly guessed she wasn’t permitted to say. But he reasoned that such of the penis-stiffening water as remained would reside in a land of macho men, who’d sell their mothers in exchange for a huge cock.

Where could that be? – might it be the land of your birth, Sister, he mused? He looked her in the eye,

‘Su païs?’

‘Tengo que mantenerlo....

She stopped, awkwardly,

‘.... en secreto’ Roberto helpfully completed.

She stopped, but it was too late. Her refined Galician tones ensnared her; she’d been caught in his trap. He leered at the innocent child,

‘Now, I’ll happilyput as much as I can in your collecting tin’

How many women had dreamed they’d hear that?

Roberto walked away from the chapel with a spring in his step. What a day this was turning out to be! It had started out with a message telling him he was invited to spend time in Spain with Kris Karton. Then came the confirmation he’d spent his whole life awaiting: the magic water that would give him the schlong of death was just one short flight away, and some mug had already ordered and paid for the tickets.

He walked the short distance to Piccadilly Railway Station where he browsed a copy of El Païs, until his visitor’s train arrived. Jezebel Roth’s facial expression did not bode well. Roberto feigned gallant,

‘So how was your flight?’

‘Shitty’

‘I’m sorry to hear that’

‘I can’t believe I’ve just spent half a day travelling to this third world shit hole. I could get to say, Puerto Rico in about four hours if that’s what I wanted’

She looked provocatively at Roberto. Within seconds of arriving she’d insulted the entire population of Great Britain and much of Central America, but she was just warming up.

‘So this Barton guy, how’s it going?’

‘I’m making progress’

‘But have you pumped him yet, I mean hard?’

‘Yes, till I was breathless’

‘And did you go in deep?’

‘So deep I could hardly find my way out again’

‘And?’

‘I’m still working on it’

‘Yeah, well, it’s results that count, and from where I’m sitting you got none’

‘If you could only shut your mouth for five minutes, I’ll explain what I’ve got; when we get to the hotel.

‘Have it your way. But I want a story out of this and I’m gonna see you deliver’

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