I'm an out of work jazz musician with a lot of time on my hands. I live in a loft at the top of a disused factory overlooking a lumber yard. It can be pretty noisy sometimes but then again so can I when I'm rehearsing for a gig. That's why I live in a loft. Anyway, I like the smell of fresh wood and I also get a kick out of watching some of those guys putting their backs into it and sawing so energetically away, especially in the summer when they're hyper hot and peel off their T-shirts and you get to see each taut muscle working overtime and the sweat trickling down that happy valley between pecs, navel and scrotum or watch their buttocks tightening as they bend over and cut through that stuff. I tell you, man, it's better than a home video. Nothing like a bit of manual labor to get you hot and horny. In fact I had to saw away at my own hunk of timber many a time as I peered down through the shutters at some beautiful specimen or other, trying to imagine his hand jerking me off with the same rhythm he used to sever the wood.

As you can imagine I'm a great one for rhythm. Lately though, I've only been playing solo and don't seem to have been able to strike the right chord with that mythical Mr. Right, so after two weeks of wishful thinking and frustrated feelings, I decided to do something about it. I spoke to the works manager and asked if any of his men needed an inexpensive place to stay. I told him I had a lot of room in my loft and that I could do with a little extra dough. The work was seasonal, and there was generally quite a turnover as the men were from Hungary, Rumania or some other East European country, and were badly paid since they were working illegally. He said he'd let me know.

It didn't take long. By the end of the week Pavel and Jacek had moved in. They were both really cute and also very polite and considerate. They built a partition and some bunk beds with left over wood and were more than happy to have a roof over their heads, instead of bedding down in an outhouse with two smelly dogs and a cat. Of course, we all had to share the kitchen and bathroom and I was looking forward to getting glorious glimpses of them as they passed through my room in various states of undress. However, even though Jacek came muscularly by with his bathrobe half open from time to time, modest Pavel was always in his tracksuit or pajamas and of course he was the one I was interested in. So my erotic fantasies about sharing showers and seeing naked bodies - not to mention getting laid regularly - all came to nought. Jacek was the friendly one and went out a lot leaving me alone with Pavel. Not that it did me much good as he stayed very firmly on his side of the partition doing crossword puzzles and drinking beer. I even divided the fridge into partitions and while the three of us occasionally ate together it was obvious from the start that my two house guests very much valued their independence.

We only ran into each other early in the morning or late at night when the bathroom was in full use, but practical Jacek soon worked out a rota. I liked Jacek a lot and was sorry when he had to go back to Hungary. His foreman acted as interpreter and explained that there was some family problem. I forgot to mention before that there were also a few 'partitions' in our conversation as neither Pavel nor Jacek spoke English. Their boss said that he had no replacement for Jacek and was doubtful that Pavel would be able to pay the rent just by himself. I said I was sure we could work something out and that he was welcome to stay for the time being.

That night Pavel was more communicative and tried in his own way to tell me he was grateful for my kindness. I felt guilty as hell as I knew that all I wanted was to get my hands on him. He wasn't muscular like Jacek but he was lithe. To save money he had cut his hair himself and had made a bad job of it. It ended up as an unruly crew cut which I wanted so much to tame. He was tall too but always kept his head well down as if he was being respectful and looked up at me like a doleful spaniel -- only the expression in his eyes was hot as well as languid. It was strangely sexy. What's more his mouth was full-lipped and fleshy. A real turn on. I used to watch him sucking his pencil as he tried to work out the clues to his crossword puzzle and wondered what it would feel like to be that pencil. I sure was hot as hell for him.

That evening he told me he was going to make some Hungarian goulash. We shared a beer as he put the meat on a cutting board and divided it neatly into pieces. He had fine, slender hands. Almost like those of a musician, I thought, as I watched him 'slaving over a hot stove' for me. I felt strangely content in this unexpected domestic environment. I liked the intimacy of it. At one point he rolled up the front of his T- shirt and used it to wipe his brow. I saw his firm flat stomach and beautifully moulded chest which till then had been hidden by the overlarge shirt. His nipples stood out like ripe cherries. I grew hard at the sight of him. We drank a lot of beer during dinner as the goulash was great but really spicy and I began to sweat. I wanted to roll up my T-shirt too but thought better of it and used a table napkin. There was a lot of sour cream which I loved. A dollop fell onto Pavel's lap and I instinctively used my napkin to wipe his jeans clean. I felt something hard beneath the material and knew that he was hot too but not, I thought, on account of the goulash. He opened the top of his jeans and rolled them down. He was wearing a really cute pair of grey underpants with a little envelope in front. It reminded me of a kangaroo pouch. 'High Emotion' was written on the elastic waistband. And 'high emotion' was the order of the day. We were both pretty drunk by now but not too drunk to know what we were doing. I put my hand playfully in the pouch and said, 'Show me your kangaroo,' and to my surprise he did.

He rolled down the front of his briefs and there it was in all its glory. My mouth fell open. He picked up the spoon, put a great big dollop of cream on the delectable beast and pulled my head down towards him. Before I knew what was happening my open mouth was full and I was half-way to Australia. His 'kangaroo' grew big and strong in its new habitat and just as I was about to savour the last of the sour cream I got a mouthful of some other nectar which seemed to pour forth in torrents so I had three or four helpings of that too. It was wonderful. And it wasn't over yet. He lifted my head to meet his mouth and soon I was heady with the beer he had just swigged from the bottle. I let the cool beer and his hot thirsty tongue swish about in my mouth and finally knew just how that pencil must have felt as my lips met his and his tongue intertwined with mine. To attempt to describe the indescribable would be useless. All I can really say is that I was aware of a fantastic physical fusion between us as we kissed as one and later fucked as one. It was difficult to figure out who was the singer and who was the song. I only know that suddenly a vibrant, virile and vital Hungarian Rhapsody swept over me, filling my body with its sensuous strains and drawing me closer to him on waves of harmony.

It was almost as if this moment had been pre-destined. The score had been written long ago. It needed only to be played. My mind went racing back to when I was studying Shakespeare in school and hadn't understood the lines, 'If music be the food of love, play on.' In one instant the whole thing became crystal clear to me, and we certainly did play on, encore after encore. His versatile 'kangaroo' kept us humping and thumping and exploring new positions and filling my 'pouch' with untold pleasure as he sent me sailing from one giddy sensation to another. His jizz turned to jazz inside me and I came in spasms of quivering quavers.

Afterwards, I watched him stretched out in all his naked beauty on one of my natty Moroccan rugs, next to a bowl of fruit, and knew all the waiting had been worth it. I wanted to say many things to him but it all seemed strangely superfluous. Our bodies had already said it all for us. I thought of how I had longed for this moment and how afraid I'd been to approach him. I remembered the strangeness and the shyness between us and knew he had made the goulash as a kind of peace offering to bridge the language gap and show me how grateful he was for my hospitality. I returned the compliment by asking him to stay on indefinitely and we're still making sweet music together. I'm also teaching him to play the flute with those slender fingers of his. I think sometimes if things hadn't turned out quite as they did I might just have wondered if he'd had an ulterior motive for seducing me. Indeed if his English had been a little better I might well have quipped, 'Was that your way of paying the rent?'

Thank goodness it wasn't and thank goodness I didn't.