Hi there, this is Joncy just back from Spain. I've been spreading my wings seeking - and finding - foreign parts. And a few coals from Newcastle too. I left England in order to get over an unrequited love affair. Jason had been keeping me on a string for far too long and had me at the end of my rope. I either had to tear myself away from him or snap. Anyway, I'm back again now re-invented and re-invigorated which just goes to prove you can't keep a good Joncy down.

I began in Barcelona where I set out on my search for something really exotic. I thought I wanted to be impaled by a toreador or enflamed by a flamenco dancer or something but what I really needed was to be fucked senseless so I could stop thinking about Jason. He was a ballet dancer who lived across the hall from me and often used to drop in for a chat or a glass of wine. As he was a dancer, I naturally thought he was gay or at least up for grabs. I mean I didn't want all that adrenalin to go to waste and he certainly seemed to have plenty of that. Besides being in and out of my flat, day and night, he was also in and out of the shower all the time. My place or his, it didn't seem to matter. So I saw a lot of his body including his Diagelev dick. But that's as far as it went. Or Jason would go.

I couldn't work out if he was just uninhibited or a real cock-teaser. He led me a not so merry dance of the seven veils leaving his tights and other intimate articles of pungent clothing lying about. Many a time I went to bed sniffing his jock strap or wearing one of his sweaty t-shirts.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a normal kind of gay guy. I mean I'm not into fetishes and all that but I do like the smell of a male body especially after physical exertion. You might even call me Mr Sweaty Clean. And Jason's body, and body smell, really turned me on. I jerked off in his jock strap, slept with his tights under my pillow and spent my nights --- and days sometimes --- having wet dreams about him. But it all had a very debilitating and depressing effect on me. He was always polite and cordial but kept pirouetting up in the air or sidestepping me when it came to touch and clutch. He drove me completely crazy. For me, the sun shone out of his ass and I wanted to bask in its beams.

I finally got him though. When he was on a high after a successful show of his. We drank nearly two bottles of champagne to celebrate. The bubbly went to his head and he let me go down on his dick and fondle his bubble butt. I sucked him and then fucked him. It was an intense experience but it lasted all of one night. Then I was back to stage one again mooning and glooming about him and wishing he was mine. So I got the hell out of there and left for Spain.

I whored around a bit visiting the clubs and bars but not doing very much to improve my Spanish or being turned on by anybody unless they reminded me of Jason. Then I met my butcher. He had big brown eyes, thick lips and black silky hair. He was a perfect combination of contrasts: soft-spoken and rock hard, gentle in manner and hot in the hay. And he had plenty of meat to take to my market.

I spent a few wild days with him and then moved on to other things. I went to Sitges which is a 20 minute drive from Barcelona and a gay mecca. There I was fucked rigid by three sailors. More or less simultaneously. That made me forget Jason for a bit but not for very long.

Nevertheless, I didn't want to leave Spain. I was determined to stick it out, as they say, and looked in the paper to see if there were any part-time jobs. I found one under the heading 'Services.' From my experience, this is just a euphemism for 'Servicing' as, more often than not, you end up at the beck and call of some rich bitch whose husband has either lost interest in her or lost his hard-on. It amounts to the same thing anyway. Or else you find yourself with some hen-pecked bastard finally tugging himself free of his wife's apron strings and looking for a bit of push and shove on the side. Some of these guys have dicks swinging both ways, so this can be either male or female. Or both.

Believe you me, most so-called straights aren't too fussy and pass easily from pussy to Joncy.

Anyway, the job I found was for a caretaker-cum-gardener who spoke English and it required 'discretion.' This sounded like a complete come-on to me and I wondered what kind of discretion would be built into the job. I mean I was brought up and nourished on tales about window cleaners who put a shine on your penis as well as your window pane, fire-fighters who sent sparks up your ass, gardeners always ready to prune your rosebush and gamekeepers who were generally game.

I thought I knew enough about helping little things grow, not to mention taking good care of them as they bloomed and blossomed, so I applied for the job. And got it. Mainly because of my interest in football and other sports. Both outdoor and indoor. But I didn't mention all of those during the interview. It turned out I would be working for a very famous English soccer player who wished to remain anonymous. I suppose for tax reasons or some such thing as he had a villa in Spain.

For obvious reasons, I can't tell you his name or even where his villa was, but I can tell you that his body was a hymn to aerodynamics. I suppose that's only what you'd expect in a toned up football player but when I eventually saw him naked - which I'm glad to say I did - he reminded me of the shot of a porn star I once googled up on the internet. I found it under the title "Mister Lotta Body: Everyone enjoys a piece of hardcore candy man." Nicholas Cox, let's call him that for the moment, was also a hard jaw candy man. By that I mean you needed a very strong jaw to chomp away at his candy which once again I'm glad to say I eventually did. But you probably guessed that already.

When I first arrived the villa had been closed for the winter and the Spanish housekeeper, who came once a day, put me to work getting rid of the weeds that grew between the flagstones of the terraces leading down to the swimming pool. She told me I also had to clean that. There was no live-in staff except for me and I was lodged in a self-contained flat above the garage. I soon discovered that in my official capacity of caretaker I was expected to take care of myself although the housekeeper did fix me lunch and went shopping for me. I wasn't allowed in the house which she religiously locked up at five o'clock and I was usually asleep when she arrived again at seven the next day.

Still, it wasn't difficult to imagine that the place was my own and that I was living it up in Spain. It was a bit lonely though. I swam about in the nude as soon as Luisa had gone and basked in the sun after lunch when she was busy having her nap. She didn't bother me much except to show me what to do and I almost forgot about the famous football player and my reason for being there especially as there wasn't much of a garden so I didn't have a lot to do with my green fingers. I soon found myself with very sticky thumbs though. All there was to do at night was watch videos and jerk off.

Almost a week went by. I was swimming around late one afternoon dressed just as my mother had made me when I had a funny feeling I was being watched. Rather an embarrassing feeling actually as it turned out to be the master of the house. He was sitting, his legs stretched out in front of him, on one of the marble benches beside the pool. His elbows were resting on the one behind him. I'd had a good look at those benches the day I arrived. They were arc-shaped and faced each other like two half moons about to copulate. From above, they also looked like a white, smiling vagina. There was something so sexy about them. And there was something even sexier about the super-stud spread out on their surfaces.

I saw his thick footballer thighs before I saw the rest of him and had an instant woody. He was wearing extremely brief briefs. They were fairly bursting at their seamless seams at the sight of me so I suppose the feeling was mutual. He didn't move his body but something most definitely moved inside those briefs. And the ripples on his abs rolled down to meet it as I climbed out of the pool to introduce myself.

"Hi, I'm Joncy," I said. "Hope you don't mind me using your swimming pool."

I should have said 'my using your pool' I suppose but what's the point of being grammatically correct when your dick is anything but politically correct and is literally nine inches ahead of you showing just how pleased you are to meet somebody, without giving two hoots about protocol.

"Not at all. Be my guest," he said, not batting an eyelid. I mean what else could he say in the circumstances and having just set eyes on my extra-large uncircumcised dick.

I didn't say anything. I learned long ago if you get too much into words instead of putting his dick where your mouth is - or vice versa - you can louse up the moment. But, as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words and his body language told me to get down on my knees, nuzzle my nose in his briefs and seek out his fat sausage. He shivered in anticipation, sending those horny ripples up to meet his pecs, and I knew he was ready for my hunk-hungry mouth. I wondered mid-munch how long he'd been looking at me and just how long his dick had been leaking at the thought of me.

The heady combination of his Musk For Males body lotion and his salty pre-cum was intoxicating and soon had my head spinning. His mushroom head speared its way to the top of his briefs and made a brief appearance to meet my lips only to immediately disappear again as I engulfed it in one fell swoop of a swallow. My nose was now buried in his pubic hairs like a dog seeking out truffles. Those pubes had their own particular perfume and turned me on even more. I soon had him shaking all over like a jeep going over the ruts in a mountain road, tearing at my hair to make me stop and urging me on at the same time. I think you'll agree with me that life is made up of little moments. And big ones too. This was definitely a big moment. Some football fans are beer guzzlers. Yours truly, on the other hand, is what you might call a dick guzzler. Although, come to think of it, beer and sausage isn't such a bad combination and, believe you me, Nicholas Cox had me fairly frothing at the mouth. Globs of his rich cum filled me to the brim and overflowed down my chin.

After stepping out of his soiled briefs, my new lord and master first wiped his dick with them and then handed them over to me to wipe my chin with. It may sound gross but it's one of the horniest moments in Joncy history.

Selfish to the core as a lot of stag-studs are, he left me there with the most gigantic hard-on and dived into the swimming pool. I used his underwear to jerk off with, hoping this whole affair wasn't going to be a repeat performance of my time with Jason. Somewhat to my surprise, he swam quite a few laps although, after his long hot suction session with me, I'd have thought he would have been exhausted. He'd certainly taken my mouth to the cleaners. Even if, as I said, I had to clean it myself.

I won't go into endless detail telling you about the many things we did together. Some of them are better not written down. Anyway his wife was there part of the time. And even then he managed to sneak into my bed and screw me when she wasn't looking. Although I was looking all the time.

I couldn't get enough of him. And he made me do things I've never done with anybody and doubt very much I'll ever do again. It makes them rather special. Rita Hayworth reportedly said that men wanted to go to bed with Gilda but were disappointed because they woke up next day with her. I tell you man, I went to bed with Gilda, spent all night with Gilda, and woke up with Gilda, still hungry for more. It was mind and butt boggling. In fact it didn't take me long to work out that the discretion referred to in the ad was not letting tales of Nick's constantly leaking dick leak out to the press.

Of course I could spice up this story and spin it out by telling you that we made love in a threesome together with his wife but that wouldn't ring true.

Mind you, he did make my balls jangle one time as he mangled my dick with his mouth.

But I always think truth is stranger, and also more interesting, than fiction.

One of the horny high spots for me was when he got me to wear a pair of his wife's silk stockings when she was away one weekend. I was naked except for those long black stockings. And a garter belt. And we made love between the silk sheets of the marital bed.

I started off by saying "No way, no way. Leave me alone you pervert," but I gradually got turned on by the idea. Especially when Nick started to roll the black silk up my legs. And more especially when he rolled it down. Never having been in a pair of silk stockings before, I could never have imagined in a thousand years how sexy they felt. And how sexy I felt too. And looked. I'm pretty tall and slim with a great masculine torso. There's nothing feminine or effeminate about me at all and I have long legs. I tell you man, those black stockings sure showed them off a treat.

Nick lifted one leg in the air at a time until I felt like Catherine Zeta-Jones doing the high kick in 'Chicago.' Then he ran his hands and lips up my thighs in slow progression to the exposed fleshy bit at the top. I opened my legs wide and said "Ahhh" as he tore my garter belt and stockings off. He jerked my flailing limbs higher into the air and, after licking the base of my balls with the tip of his tongue, stabbed my butt with the rest of it. Now it was my dick's turn to leak. In fact it gushed like a fucking Yellowstone Park geyser.

It was at this point that the ball jangling and dick mangling entered into the scenario. My delirious dick dripped homemade lubrication first into Nick's mouth and then onto the palm of his hand. To this, he added his own pre-cum and massaged some on his dick and the rest into my love channel which opened like a pair of well-oiled sluice gates waiting for his big manly barge to sail right up them. Or should that be through them? Anyway, once again, I was past caring about grammatical and political correctness and was absolutely apeshit with desire for him. I roared like a two-bit whore, locked my long legs tightly round his neck, tucked my balls almost under my chin, dug my nails deep into his butt and happily let my hunky half-back fuck me to distraction and score a series of championship goals in my ass.

Needless to say the whole glorious experience sent thoughts of Jason right out of my head. They were replaced by others more immediate. How I could keep Nick in my life and his dick in my ass. After all, he was only in Spain on vacation and had to go back to England some time or other. Of course, I'd have to be discreet. I mean I couldn't be seen going around with him everywhere unless I could be his driver or something.

It turned out he had similar thoughts in his head and set me up in a little mews flat in Chelsea.

I'm moving in today. There's a garage attached. Just like in Spain.

Looks like I'm always going to find myself attached to a garage some place.

And to Nick's dick of course.