Paying the rent


Rik hid behind the curtain and gazed into the garden below. His neighbour Ste lifted his shirt over his head; he was about to lay in the sun. Rik’s cock stiffened at the sight. What a body, a six-pack to die for. Not a spare gram of fat anywhere.

Ste was now nearly naked; only a tiny pair of shorts covered his manhood. Rik peered; were they shorts or were they Boxers, he wondered? Ste was probably the type to parade in public in his underwear. God only knew he had the body to carry it off. If they were Boxers, the floral pattern told Rik they hadn’t been bought in Tesco.

Rik unzipped his own shorts and let them full to his ankles, his cock strained against his tight underpants. He tugged them down. His dick was long and hard, a deep blue vein throbbed along its entire length. He had already jerked himself dry once that morning, dreaming he had the gorgeous Ste in his arms. He pulled open the drawer to his dressing table. Damn. He had used the last of the lube. He gobbed spit into the palm of his hand and stretched out on the bed.

Rik had moved into the room a week previously. It was a good set up. A large house converted into four self-contained rooms and there were a couple of communal rooms too. It was like having a house share, but with more privacy. Ste had spotted an ad on the Internet. The landlord didn’t seem much older than Rik. A bit of a hunk too. He took care of himself. The rent was pretty cheap, especially for your own front door. Rik was sure he had landed on his feet, a great room and a sexy neighbour, who wasn’t afraid to let you know.

Ste wasn’t gay, more’s the pity, Rik thought. In the week since he moved in Rik had seen Ste with two different women. A blonde girl with legs up to her chin on Monday morning, and a petite redhead with freckles on Wednesday. Ste could have anyone he wanted, Rik reckoned, and who could blame him?

Rik was no gargoyle. He had piercing blue eyes and fair hair. His boyish grin and tight bottom got him a long way at the clubs. But Rik was cute in a boy-next-door kind of way. Ste was sexy, as in hot-hot-hot, fuck-my-brains-out.

Rik shot a load over his stomach and lay staring at the ceiling. Oh Ste, Ste, why couldn’t you be gay?

Rik cleaned himself down. He should hurry, he was already more than an hour late for his shift at the supermarket. His boss was already on his case; he’d been told one more time and he would lose his job.

“Why so glum, Rik?” It was Ste, naked except for those shorts, standing in the communal hallway. Rik paused, how he wanted to kiss those nipples and then run his tongue all over that hard chest and stomach. Then, he would rip down those shorts – they were Boxers; up close Rik could see the fly. He’d take his balls in his mouth before sucking Ste’s shaft and then …


Rik woke with a start. “Sorry Ste, my mind was somewhere else.”

“Why you so miserable?”

I’ve been sacked.”

“Hard luck. Where’d you work?”


“Oh, not much of a job then.”

“No, but it paid the rent.”

Ste’s dark brown eyes sparkled. He grinned, “There’s more than one way to pay the rent,” and he sashayed his delightfully tight little arse up the stairs to his room.

Rik stared, his cock throbbing once more. Pay the rent. There was no way he could pay the rent. He had no savings, no job prospect. He couldn’t go home, his parents more or less disowned him the moment they found he was gay. He’d be on the streets by the end of the month. Despondently, he trudged up the stairs, his hard-on still raging.

It was four days later when they next met on the stairs. Rik’s mouth gaped, his cock roared, he had never seen anything like it before. Even the boys at the clubs never dressed like this. Ste’s cock and arse was barely covered by the shortest, tightest white cotton shorts imaginable. Rik tried not to stare. He failed. Now, he knew his neighbour had been circumcised. What a pity, he thought. Rik’s chest and torso glistened with lotion.

Ste grinned, “Down boy,” and glanced down at the bulge, now tenting the front of Rik’s shorts. Rik’s mouth opened and closed. What was it he wanted to say.

“Can’t stop to chat, the landlord’s here. I’ve got to pay the rent.” Ste flashed that cheeky grin again and eased past Rik, wriggling his buttocks in an exaggerated walk as he went. Rik watched him enter the communal sitting room. His cock throbbed, he needed a wank. He headed up the stairs but stopped before he reached the top. Masturbation must wait. Something mysterious was going on.

He tiptoed down the stairs and through the hallway. The door to the sitting room was wide open. All was silent. Rik paused. It was an instinct. Something was happening in the room. He couldn’t hear a thing, but he was certain Ste and Mr Cresswell, the landlord, were there. Something immense was happening. Rik had two choices; to creep forward and spy on the pair or flee back to his room. If he left now he might regret never knowing the truth.

Stealthily, he crept forward. He was three metres from the room but through the open door he had a clear view. Mr Cresswell sat on a heavy wooden straight-backed chair. He was a fit man in his early thirties, he had his legs wide apart, army boots planted firmly in the carpet. He wore military camouflaged trousers and a white sleeveless singlet that held in place his gym-honed muscles. His biceps bulged. Ste lay entirely naked face-down across the wide platform that were Cresswell’s legs. The nineteen-year-old’s arms dangled in mid-air to the landlord’s left and his legs and feet to the right. Cresswell sucked his index finger making sure it was covered in spit and then gently he traced it along the length of Ste’s spine from the neck to his arse crack. Rik shivered and his trooper stood to attention once more.

Ste lay motionless, staring blankly at the beige carpet in front of his face. His breathing was regular. His buttocks twitched slightly when Cresswell’s finger reached the top of his crack. Then the landlord cupped the palm of his right hand and make soft circular motions across the tiny hills that were Ste’s buttock cheeks. From his vantage point, Rik could not see his neighbour’s face or his neighbour’s shining eyes.

Cresswell caressed Ste’s arse for a minute or two before directing his palm down the teenager’s thighs. When he was satisfied with that he returned his attention to his tenant’s muscular back. Rik’s cock throbbed raw. Any moment now, without the least encouragement from his right fist it would explode in his pants. He should get away now to the bathroom while he still had a chance.

His willpower was weak. He gaped, the saliva draining from his mouth as Cresswell raised his right palm about a metre from Ste’s naked bum and slapped it down with some force. It made little impact; Ste had buns of steel. Rik wouldn’t be surprised if Cresswell’s hand hurt much more than Ste’s bum. The landlord spanked again and again. They were unhurried spanks. It was no frenzied punishment session. It was an act of devotion. Ste stared down at the carpet, his body still and inviting, as his landlord spanked his bottom to the colour of a good claret wine. Creswell paused his spanking and once again cupped his palm and caressed the submissive buttocks bent across his knees and pointing at the ceiling. The flesh felt hot. Hand spankings often do more damage and cause more pain than the uninitiated might suspect.

He cracked three dozen hand swats at power and speed into the underside of Ste’s bum. The boy felt those alright, his body quivered and squirmed. It was a reflex action as much as anything. His body was being assaulted and this was its way of coping.  Then it was over. Creswell panted and wheezed. Ste opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. Both needed to get their breath back.

“Stand up.” It was a command. Cresswell expected to be obeyed. The only way Ste could get off his landlord’s lap was to roll sideways and fall onto the carpet. He lay face down for a moment and then dragged himself to a kneeling position. Cresswell rose from the chair. Rik stared transfixed. He saw his new landlord unbuckled the wide heavy leather belt from his trousers. Then he released the clasp of his fatigues and tugged the zipper. The weight of the military camouflages sent them slithering to his ankles.

No words were spoken. Ste reached forward and gently took hold of the waist of Creswell’s navy-blue Boxers. It took three tugs to get them to rest on top of the trousers. Creswell’s cock was long thick, uncut ad as hard as steel. Ste’s mouth soon got sore from keeping it wide open for so long. Rik watched as his own cock oozed cum into his pants. Ste held Creswell’s dick by the base and swirled his tongue around it.

Creswell moaned, his eyes tightly closed. He was close to coming. “Slowly, slowly,” he commanded. Ste took the cock from his mouth and gasped for air. He took the throbbing muscle in his right hand and slowly massaged it, stroking along the full length from base to head, then letting go and returning to the base again.

“That’s it. That’s it. Slowly,” Creswell panted. He opened his eyes. Two metres ahead of him stood Rik, blushing profusely, the front of his shorts covered in sticky goo.

“Hello young man,” the landlord gasped. “Have you come to pay your rent as well?”


Other stories you might like

The headmaster and Hutchins

Illicit drinking

My drunken nephew



More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website


Charles Hamilton the Second

Leave a Reply to The boy in the kitchen | Male on male spanking stories Cancel reply


You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo


Twitter picture


Facebook photo


Connecting to %s