Bootblack

Author's note:

This is a very short period tale of an older gentleman discovering the previously unsampled delights of sex with a handsome young man.

*

Valter Landgrave stumbled over his own feet as he left the tavern, to the tittering and edification of two ladies of the night. He'd fucked them both not long since but had wearied of them and would not bring them to his chambers tonight. Tonight, he was half gone, drunk on ale and too much port wine, and in need of something else to assuage his nameless hunger this bedraggled night.

He squinted into the darkness, lit only with the coal-gas lamps that lined the cobbled lane, and caught a sound on the wet breeze. It was a sound he knew well, a whistle, clean and pure. A lad, whistling as he shined boots in the shoe-shining quarter of the city.

Without thinking, Valter stumbled towards the sound, pausing when the lad paused, staring about in confusion as he forgot his purpose, then wandering forward again as the sound beckoned him.

His meandering took him to a part of the city he wouldn't usually traverse after dark. Here, thieves and vagabonds prowled, seeking out anyone who might be easily parted with their coin.

Eyes watched him from the shadows as he turned into the dark square, off which the bootblack's stall still operated under the dull glow of a gas light standard.

As Valter approached, he recognized the lad's current client, a man by the name of Ingram Cassius. Valter stayed his distance as his good friend, a coin lender in times of financial crisis (usually immediately following a game of cards), stared down at the crown of the bootblack's head.

The boy was late into his teenage years— at least eighteen, Valter was certain—and wore a loose muslin shirt tucked into tight breeches smeared with boot polish. Valter knew the boy's name was Tobey, having had his boots polished by the lad before. He was, without doubt, the best at his craft for miles around.

His dark hair was tied back out of his eyes, and while Valter could not see the lad's face from his vantage, he knew him to be extremely handsome. Many a wench encouraged Tobey to consort with them, but he kept himself to himself, preferring, Valter suspected, the company of other men rather more.

Valter watched the boy run his brush over Ingram's boots, and pressed himself further into the shadows as the man tossed the lad his coin and stepped from the stand. There was a short exchange, during which Ingram shook his head and the lad inclined his in acknowledgement, and the man went on his way.

With no customers to concern himself with for the moment, the lad leaned back against the wall, rubbing his hands together to warm them. In the glow from the standard, the lamplight highlighted his high cheekbones and full mouth. Strands of his hair, come loose from their tie, curled down either side of his face.

How many customers would he have on a frigid, foggy night such as this one? Valter wondered. He watched curiously as the lad undid the drawstring at the front of his shirt and loosened it. Adjusted thus, the cloth fell open, revealing a glimpse of the boy's pale chest. It was clear that he was in fine form under his well-worn clothing, although he must feel the chill.

Valter gazed about, checking, however drunkenly, to see if anyone wandered near, then approached the lad.

"How much?" he asked, slurring his words as he wove in place.

"Sir?" enquired the lad. "How much for...?"

Valter frowned. "Can you not see? I need a polishing rather urgently!"

It was true, his boots were spattered with mud up to the ankles.

"Of course," said the boy, "Please, seat yourself."

Valter fell heavily into the wooden chair on the platform and placed his feet upon the rail. Immediately, the lad dropped to his knees and began to brush the dirt from his boots.

"A cold night to be dressed so," said Valter conversationally.

"Yes, Sir," said the boy shyly. He put a hand to his shirt's strings to draw them tight, but Valter nudged him with his boot.

"Leave it, lad, if it's how you prefer to work, that's up to you now, isn't it?"

The bootblack gave a quick nod and bent his head to his work, leaving Valter with a clear view of his chest, sculpted from his labours.

"A good-looking boy," Valter muttered to himself, unaware that he'd spoken aloud. The lad paused briefly and smiled before he continued his work, his eyes never rising from Valter's boots.

Once the loose mud was brushed away, the lad set aside his brush and stroked his hair back behind his ears. He dipped a cloth in polish and began to rub it across the surface of the leather in small circles. Valter watched, mesmerized by the boy's quick fingers and the grace of his movements.

Once the boots had attained a mirror shine, the lad set aside his cloth.

"All done."

Valter bent his head to inspect his boots and nearly toppled forward. The lad put his hands on the man's shoulders and pushed him upright, and Valter covered the boy's warm hand with his own.

"Thank you, Tobey."

"You're most welcome, Sir."

As Valter got unsteadily to his feet, the boy ventured, "I don't suppose you'd be interested in a little extra service tonight, would you, Sir?"

"Extra service?" said Valter.

The boy smiled his shy smile once more, his eyes flickering down to the contents of Valter's trousers.

"Oh." A dim flame flickered to life in Valter's wine-soaked brain.

The lad nodded towards the shadow of a doorway where no light penetrated, and strode towards the dark, leaving Valter to follow him, his eyes trained on the firm arse that filled out the boy's tight breeches.

The boy reached the darkened doorway and was swallowed up, and after a moment, Valter followed him. He found himself in a gloomy dwelling, the only light a dim glow as the lad opened a door to a second room and beckoned to him.

As if in a dream, Valter followed him into a small bedroom lit with a guttering candle stub. The smell of burning tallow scented the air as the boy shut the door softly behind them both and turned to Valter.

"Will you let me please you, Sir?" he said.

Valter's gaze fell to the full curve of the boy's softly parted lips. He twitched an eyebrow in response and with a swift movement the boy pulled his shirt over his head. As he bundled it in his hands, Valter saw a lush thatch of dark hair at the boy's armpits and mesmerised, raised a finger to test the softness of it.

The boy smiled at his curiosity and caught Valter's hand, guiding it to his mouth to kiss his fingers. Valter cupped the boy's cheek with his palm, and the bootblack's eyes shone at his touch.

"Do you like what you see?" the boy asked.

Valter nodded.

The bootblack caught Valter's hand once more and took two of his fingers into his mouth, caressing them with his tongue, his eyes sparkling with libidinous promise. At the thought of what that action might also be applied to, Valter's cock twitched, roused from its ale-induced slumber.

Catching sight of Valter's growing excitement, the lad pulled Valter's slick fingers from his mouth. He unbuttoned his breeches with one hand and guided Valter's hand down across his taut abdomen until the other man's hand reached his unrestrained manhood.

Valter's eyes grew wide, but he did not move his hand away.

Holding Valter's hand in place, the bootblack pulled the other man close and kissed him.

As the boy's soft lips pressed against his own, Valter felt the cock in his hand grow large and hard. Instinctively, he began to stroke that smooth flesh as he would his own, fondling the boy's swollen crown and teasing at the drops of moisture there. He was rewarded with a hungry moan that excited his lust.

The boy broke the kiss to nuzzle at Valter's neck, pressing their bodies close, his nips at Valter's skin causing shocks of electricity to shoot through his groin. His ardour fully roused, Valter placed an urgent hand on the lad's shoulder, and the bootblack fell to his knees and began to undo Valter's trousers.

Valter let out a grunt as his cock was enveloped in the warmth of a welcoming mouth. The sensation, accompanied by the excitement of sampling the forbidden, was intoxicating. While he had often been serviced by ladies of the night, he had never been so expertly pleasured as he was now.

"Tobey," he sighed, and the lad looked up at him, his lips stretched around Valter's thick manhood. The simple sight of his cock disappearing into the boy's mouth and the soft look in the lad's eyes made Valter swell thicker still.

Consumed with lust, Valter placed a hand atop the boy's head, the lad's hair as soft as that of any wench, encouraging the boy to swallow more of his length with a gentle pressure.

He thought he might lose control of his lust as the bootblack slid his mouth up and down his cock, palming Valter's buttocks, then teasing his fingers against Valter's thickly-furred, tightening bollocks.

"Best pause there," said Valter breathlessly, on the brink of spilling his lust into the boy's mouth, and in that dim, flickering light, Tobey stood. He brushed back the stray strands of hair from his face and then gently guided Valter towards the bed.

However, this was not what Valter wanted. His lust craved that he bury himself deep in the hot reaches of the boy's flesh, so he turned the lad to face the bed and pushed him down.

Tobey let out a soft moan as Valter tugged the boy's breeches down, exposing his round, pale arse. The boy flailed a hand towards a tub of grease on the nightstand and Valter took a generous scoop of it and slathered it down his solid prick. Then, prising those firm, muscular globes apart, he placed himself at the boy's entrance and pushed forward.

The bootblack let out a soft cry and clenched his fists against the bed, but well-used to being well used, he let Valter enter him. Encouraged by the lack of resistance, Valter plunged himself deep inside the boy, and soon set up a rhythm that pleased them both, judging by the bootblack's steady groans of pleasure.

The small room was filled with their grunts and moans of pleasure, as Valter's thrusts shook the narrow cot. Valter had never thought to penetrate a whore's arse, and the sensations of the boy's hot, tight channel massaging his prick drove him into a frenzy.

As the boy's entrance clutched at his greased shaft, Valter knew he would struggle to contain himself for longer than a few minutes and went at the boy as hard and fast as he dared. He knew not what the boy experienced, only that his cock was in heaven.

It seemed this worked for the lad as well, as he buried his face in the blankets, and with a muffled cry came hard against the bed. The sensations created by the boy's orgasm were enough to push Valter over the edge, and he soon experienced his own shuddering climax. He let out a groan as he slammed home and filled the lad's insides with volley after volley of hot spunk.

As his last shudders of seed spilled forth, he came to a standstill lodged deep inside the boy, scarcely believing what had just transpired. Coated with sweat, he withdrew slowly and stood lost, uncertain what to say or do after having spent himself inside a handsome boy.

Sensing the man's confusion, the boy rolled over to ascertain the satisfaction of his client.

"Are you pleased, Sir?"

The sight of him leaning back on his elbows, with his slim body and handsome face, almost brought Valter twitching back to life.

Before he might find himself repeating an act that deeply confused him, Valter scrambled to drop a generous sum of coin into the boy's hands, then wrenched the door open, briefly pausing to do his trousers up, before stumbling back into the night.

As he leaned heavily against a wall in the dark, a vision of the boy's mouth on him rose unbidden.

"Tobey, oh, Tobey," he whispered. "What have you done to me?"

One thing he knew for certain. He would see the bootblack again. And again.