Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Blue Sin	By : limonize Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1112 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Blue Sin
- 1
R-Restricted. Strictly adult themes.

Darren is a hustler who goes home with a stranger.

BLUE SIN

"What are you staring at?" the hustler asked me. His pout was amazing in its depth. It seemed to match the cloudiness and humidity of the sultry evening. You would not have thought we had already struck a deal.

"Your eyes," I replied, as I watched him stroke the side of his hip softly. Almost unconsciously.

"You look sort of bothered," he replied, looking somewhat unhappy, or maybe unnerved that I was still staring at him.

"No, it's not that. It's just the look of them. They're sort of extraordinary, a bit unusual."

"Oh? No one's ever said that before," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his too-loose fitting jeans. Most of the hustlers liked to show off their wares. His sense of wardrobe on the other
hand, almost gave him the look of a passer-by. But I always liked the idea of a bit of mystery.

"Maybe they don't talk about it, because of their power…"

"Power?"

"Yeah. The color of them," caught once again in their commanding contrast to pale eyelashes.

"They're just blue. Nothing unusual about that," he said, getting I guess, a little impatient with me. I was standing pretty close in his intimate space, but wasn't doing the usual intimate things we would have been doing by now. And time was money.

"Relax," I said. "I'm in no hurry. I'll pay extra if it takes longer…" His shoulders seemed to slacken and he seemed to breathe more easily after that. He moved in a little closer. "But you're wrong," I contradicted, "about your eyes not being unusual…they're a special shade of blue."

He just looked at me, blinking, saying nothing, waiting for me to finish. I think he realized there was no percentage in arguing about it.

"They're blue...like sin," I declared somberly. "'Blue sin'," I murmured again as I drew a bit closer to his face, and my fingers accidentally brushed against him.

He watched me for just a moment longer, and then swept his warm hand around the back of my neck, drawing me in toward him. He began kissing me – deeply - with his sweet, wet tongue. There was a hunger to his kissing that took my breath away. Where had all his sexual tension
come from all of a sudden? I had come to him for precisely this and yet, on the brink of what my mind and body had been aching for, for such a long time, now suddently confronted with our passion, I felt somewhat in awe. I was glad he had not taken offense to my comment.

"Maybe I was *born* to sin…" he muttered self-consciously, drawing himself away after a long, tongue calypso, looking at me almost like a frightened calf.

But there was still lust in his eyes.

"Baby...do you want to come home with me?" I asked suddenly on impulse, reaching out and throwing my arm around his shoulder in cameraderie.

He nodded mutely.

"Here's the rules, then," I said. "You can stay as long as you like, but don't bring people home…"

He stared at me for a moment. "What?" As if he were waiting for me to say something else.

I nodded.

That's it?" he asked carefully, to make sure that were no other things he should know about it.

"And always use a condom. And while you're staying with me, don't kiss anyone else."

Something snapped him into conversation then. "I'm not moving in with you, if that's what you're thinking!" he said unhappily, shrugging me off him and pulling back away from me,
distancing himself.

"Okay," I replied. "But if you decide you want to, those are my rules," I repeated.

He looked a little dumbfounded, and I took the opportunity to put my arm back around
him and hold him to me, while we walked in silence back to my car.

"Seriously, I hope you don't think I'm even staying the night," he warned again, hesitating before getting into the car.

"Here…" I pulled my arm back and soon dug out a wad of bills and handed him a thousand. "That's good for keeping you with me until morning, isn't it?"

He nodded in agreement. "That's a lot of money. You have anything special in mind?" he said in a more friendly manner.

"At some point I'd like a BJ – as for the rest...surprise me?"

"I do a good strip," he replied, a lot of the tension subsiding. Apparently now checking to see if that idea appealed to me.

"Strip sounds interesting," I glanced back into those sinful blues, pleased at this new information. I had that nikitty feeling inside me that he was going to stretch my eyeballs and knock my socks off doing it. Wordlessly, we boarded my steed. I'm into old Mustangs that go like snot, and that's what I drove as we roared away from the curb. I wasn't trying to impress him with my driving skills, although I'm a bit of speed demon. I just wanted to see him take his clothes off as soon as possible, if not sooner.

After he'd strapped himself into his seatbelt – he found it surprisingly quickly, well, maybe not so surprising – I caught him loosening his shirt buttons, and pulling his shirt aside and revealing some of his neck and shoulder skin. He wasn't wasting time. My heart skipped a
beat as those `eyes of sin' of his silently followed my glimpses at his little hints of an upcoming strip show. As soon as some of his light coating of body hairs came into view, I started to feel more aroused.

Some gay guys are into `hairless'. Electrocuted skin follicles. Shaved or
waxed everywhere. Lotioned skin - babies bums, for pity's sakes! If I
wanted to make love to a penised woman, I'd go find a smooth-assed
woman wearing a dildo. I was a full-blooded male who wanted to possess
another full-blooded male! For the evening at least, I had one in my car
with me…about to follow me to bed. Life was good.

~ ~ ~

He whistled admiringly at what he saw as I pulled up into the driveway.
The old, souped up Mustang of course, would have given him no clue. I
had a pretty big house: nine bedrooms, modern, fully furnished, three door
garage, and other extras. And would you believe it? I lived there
by myself.

I was a poverty-stricken brat that had acquired a ridiculous inheritance some
five years before, and I was still trying to sort out what to do with it,
including my bizarre and lonely life. I hadn't figured out yet whether to
sell it. The more realtors and financial planners I talked to, the more
confused I got. So I had decided to hire a maid and hang on to it until
I was convinced I knew what next what to do with it.

I'm not complaining and whining that I'm a poor little "poor-rich" kid, but
hey – I'm paying for someone to touch me, aren't I? Even if it's a sex-slick
little piece like the one in my car, it still stings a little.

But that kiss he gave me - stupid little jerk – hasn't anyone ever
told him not to spread himself around like that? But something told
me he didn't make a habit of it, anyway. That kiss was something
else. Man, it tasted sweet.

It sure took some of the sting out.

~ ~ ~.

"So Remmie, can I get you a drink?" He told me his name was Remmie,
but it sounded like a made-up street name. But he probably wasn't
going to tell me his real name. I'd bet I would have liked it
better, though.

"Not thirsty, thanks, mate."

"What's that accent? You from `down under'?"

He pressed his finger to my lips, and walked me over to the couch and
indicated I should sit down.

I sat.

Then he slowly undid my belt. He had a graceful, yet confident way
of moving. It felt like he was moving kind of fast. Maybe even too
fast. But then he uprighted himself liquidly, and stepped back about
five feet. He spun around, spying my sound system, walked over and
soon plinked in a CD. Some bump and grindy type music began to pour
out of it. Not I only had I never personally played the CD – I
didn't even know I owned it I saw him glance over at the coat rack
in the hall where this boler hat that used to belong to my uncle,
was hanging from. Something I'd never got round to getting rid of.
He went and got it and put it on himself, along with one of my double-
breasted raincoats. He put on the coat and hat, and played with the
hat a bit, adjusting it, . Then he began to roll his hips rhythmically
in time with the music, dipping his torso gradually lower each time.

Oh, *yeah* - this was more like it!

I took in a deep breath and threw my legs up onto the coffee table.
Undid the top button of my shirt. Loosened the pants a bit more.

He had my undivided attention.

First he undid the belt to the raincoat, letting the flaps fall apart
to reveal his partially opened shirt as his hips kept swaying. Then he
opened another shirt button. Then he made a coy little tugs on each of
his sleeves to loosen the raincoat, revealing more even more of his
bare chest underneath the open…then a couple more buttons
slowly popped undone, while all the while his pelvis continued to
rhythmically gyrate. I slowly watched the rising and falling of his bare
chest as it came further and further into view. But it was the expression
on his face! Mesmerizing! - haughty, naughty, dismissive, morose, hungry,
vulnerable…

Totally provocative.

And before too long, the coat was long gone, the shirt which he'd
thrown at me, was hanging from my shoulder, and I could see nothing
but his chest hair covering him from the waist up, and soft hair dipping
down below his belly. The word `edible' came to mind.

As the music shifted into the chorus part, he turned himself around
so his back was facing me, and he started to gyrate his still-jeaned
buttocks. His jeans may have been loose-fitting, but there was no
mistaking the firm contours of a very sexy bum covered by that
denim. The slow shifting of his buttocks, as he alternated his
weight from one leg to another, just about made my head spin.
More serious images of plundering him and having him feel me inside
him - and him worshipping my body with his tongue - began to flash
through my mind, as waves of erotic shivers started to assault my
senses.

Almost as if aware of how I was feeling right then, he reached down
to his crotch, hidden from my view, and a couple of second later, his
pants were on the floor and he turned to face me, naked as a jaybird
except for the hat. His skin shone and I could feel his heat and dampness
even from how far away I was. He had a stiff woody, but he didn't stop his
dancing. He turned himself away from me a little, arced himself
backward a little, and began thrusting gently in the direction of the
stereo to my left, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.
Crossing his hands across his chest, he began caressing his pectorals
and then carefully stimulating himself. He threw his head back into
an extreme position, and suddenly threw his arms down and backward
away from his body, submissively. He looked as if he were offering his
nipples to some invisible lover above him, begging for release, now
arcing his back at an extreme angle. His flexibility was awesome.

Aroused enough to no longer sit still, I got up and turned down the
stereo. He eyed me then, a little surprised, unsure what I was about
to do next.

I grabbed his shoulders and nuzzled his cheek. "You're *fucking*
sexy, man!" I growled.

"Don't mess with the hat!" he replied, slipping it back into position.

//Saucy – God, he was provocative!//

He slipped his right hand around my neck, and began rubbing my throat
and chin lightly with his thumb. Then he kissed my jawline. He
continued to pepper me with small kisses, causing me to groan. I
dragged his unoccupied hand into my open pants, and onto my more
sensitive goods. Thankfully, he knew what to do.

It was amazingly wonderful journey of discovery for a first time. I
was glad he wasn't shy with his body.

"Going to have to call you `nimble fingers'," I whispered as he
pumped my stiff up, winding me up tighter than an overwound
guitar string.

"Thought I was "sinful eyes"," he whisperered teasingly, his eyes
glistening a midnight blue, in the dark.

"And `mouth-made-in-heaven", I added. "Those too!".

I think I passed out shortly after my third orgasm.

~ ~ ~

"Gonna stick around?" I asked him in the morning, when we awoke..

"I have to make a living, you know…" he answered, somewhat subdued..
The look was a little less cold than when I'd met him on the street.
But not much less.

"Well, let's at least have breakfast together?" I asked him. The sin
blue eyes looked me over. They weren't so saturated with sin
anymore. The sun had lit the blue up in his eyes in such as way as
to suggest a haunted blue-gray. Almost virginal, like dark fresh
rock on a mountainface.

While we ate, I decided not to talk about sex, even though I wanted
to share with him how great it had all been for me. He had been so
hot and giving and patient with me. And so hot and tight. In fact,
I had come so fucking hard, it was a wonder I had not blown my brains
out with the rest of it. But I had given him a pretty good one too.
Either that, or he is a world-class faker.

I looked him over. He had looked pretty good to me, the night
before. In the daylight, he looked so…innocent. Like a kid. But I
knew it was a man who had moaned filthy words in my ear the night
before, and roared his passion when I had taken him. And if I had my
way, he would be moaning even more filth, this particular evening.

He just needed a little more coaxing.

"Do you mind me asking how old you are?"

"Twenty-two," came the expressionless reply.

He had the aplomb that went with experience, so I didn't doubt he
probably was, even though he wasn't all that whiskery.

"Been doing the streets long?"

"Long enough," came the reply.

"Like a couple of years?" I asked.

He put down his fork, but kept chewing, then took a sip of his
coffee. "I figure four or five years probably…"

"Full-time?" I asked somewhat incredulously.

"No, not really. I got a couple of other jobs for awhile, but they
didn't quite work out".

"No?"

"I got caught lying on my application. Fake job history, you know?
But you don't really want to know all this, do you?" he asked, almost
challengingly.

"Just a bit of conversation. It's a little strange not to talk at
breakfast."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he answered somewhat dourly. He wasn't
the friendliest guy, but then, what did we have in common?"

It was time to talk about the coming evening.

"So Remmie, if I pay you two hundred less than last night, you reckon
you might like to do another night with me?"

"You didn't like what I did last night?" he asked in a soft voice.

"I did – I definitely did - but…"

"But what?"

"My cash supply right now, is like, only eight hundred left."

"Oh…well, why don't I swing by around 10:00 then?" he answered
pragmatically.

"Okay…" I was a little disappointed at his answer. "You can hang
about and use the swimming pool, and get my maid to give you a lunch
before you go, if you like…"

"Really?" He looked kind of interested in that. "I don't have any
swim trunks though…"

"I got a few here…I'm sure one of them will fit…"

"Okay.." Then he looked at me somewhat suspiciously. As if maybe I
had something kinky on my mind.

"Relax…I'm just going to be hanging about in my den. I have a lot of
stuff to get done in there, or my editor will have my head for
breakfast."

He laughed a little then. "You're a writer?" he asked.

"Yeah, when I put my mind to it," I replied.

"You must be pretty good at it, when you do," he commented, sipping
the last of his coffee."

"Want some more?" I asked.

"Sure," he smiled shyly at me a little this time. Wow did he look
gorgeous when he did. Like a whole different person.

But I don't think we'd made it to each other's buddy-buddy list quite
yet.

Even though I knew I wanted him around a lot more than one or two
nights, I figured I would have to make it really good for him
tonight. Show him that I'm worth a steady gig with. You see, I knew
the moment I saw him, that there was something really special about
him that I wasn't going to find in anyone else. Don't ask me how I
knew.

I just knew.

~ ~ ~

A week later:

"Hey, Darren…" I'd finally convinced him to tell me his real name,
after he agreed to move in with me. "Wanna go to the Brisbane Pride
together?"

"Might not be such a good idea," he replied.

"No?'

"Former clients…could be awkward…"

"Hadn't thought of that…" I said, caught off guard. "Well, do you
really think it would be a problem? I mean there would be a lot of
people there…a couple of people I know will be there…"

"Then you definitely wouldn't want me there, would you?" he said,
looking agitated. At the same time, like a lost, lonely and pouty
waif. He looked down towards a newspaper on his left, as if he were
caught up in article, and wouldn't make eye contact with me.

"Don't sell yourself, short, Darren. It's a big world."

"All right…" He still didn't look up at me, keeping his eyes focused
on the newspaper. "So what time do you want to go?"

"Em, why don't we plan on around seven?"

"Okay, well – I better go back to my digs and get something else to
wear," he replied. And maybe move the rest of my gear in this
weekend?

"OKay. You want a lift?"

"No, that's okay. I've earned some bus fare now!" he grinned at me.

I smiled back. "It's no trouble, really," I said.

"Really, it's okay," he said brusquely, in a tone that said "Back
off."

So I did. It bothered me that he didn't seem very comfortable having
me do little things for him. But there was no point in pushing it.

"Look forward to seeing you when you get back, mate!" I smiled.

He left, saying nothing. Maybe he was still a bit nervous about
running into former clients. I don't know. But he agreed to go. I
hoped we could enjoy ourselves together.

~ ~ ~

We got to the Brisbane Pride in good time, the weather was good. I
was looking forward to a good time, and Darren, well, he didn't look
all that comfortable. His shoulders were hunched and he kept staring
at the ground.

"Something wrong, Darren?"

"No, I'm okay," he answered. But he didn't look too okay at all.

"You sure?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" he answered.

"Yes, but you don't look at all comfortable, and we haven't even
spoken to anyone…"

"Can I tell you something private, without you getting upset?"

"I guess so. I suppose it depends on what it is," I smiled a little.

"Never mind, then," he answered, instantly clamming up.

"Go ahead, Darren. You can tell me."

He hesitated a little and then said: "I'm not gay."

"What?" What he said made no sense. "What do you mean, you're not
gay?"

"I'm not gay. I'm basically just into women."

"But that doesn't make sense," I protested. I mean, why would you be
a male hustler if you aren't into men?" I felt deeply too confused
and did not want to believe what he was saying.

"I hustle because I need the money."

"Then why did you agree to come here –"

"Because you wanted me to – "

"And why do you respond to me in bed if you're not gay?" I blurted,
raising my voice without realizing it. Passerbyers stared at us and
I realized that I *was* upset.

"You're different, I guess. I just got turned on with you. But it's
women I think and dream about…never men," he answered.

"Maybe you don't even know," I suggested. "Maybe you're bi…"

"And maybe you're upset. I know who and what I am. I know exactly:
I'm a man you picked up off the street that you paid to have sex with
you."

I felt betrayed. I had tried to share myself.

Or had I? Sex had been my idea. Swimming had been. Moving in had been
my idea and coming to the Pride had been my idea.

"Am I control freak?" I asked.

"No, not really. If I was paying a few hundred a night, I'd expect
things to go my way, too. But you seem to want to know the truth
about things too. So I'm giving you the truth! But maybe you're not
ready for it."

His words had left me speechless. I felt like I'd been knifed.

"So you felt nothing?"

"I didn't say that," he answered, his voice softening somewhat. But
it was just fear, I think.

"You're not saying you did, either…". I felt like crying. All a
charade? I guess he was a "world-class" faker. "How can you do it?"
I finally asked, feeling wounded, but having to let him drive the
final knife in.

"If I didn't…if I thought…if I really wasn't into, I would have been
gone…" he stammered. "I wouldn't have agreed to move in with you…"
He seemed concerned but I didn't trust him anymore.

"No, what you mean is, that if I didn't have *enough* money, you
would have been gone!" I cried, walking away from him. I didn't want
him to see my tears..

"Don't sell yourself short!" he yelled out after me. I didn't know
if he meant it or he was mocking me, but I felt too humiliated to
care. Although I didn't know where I was going, I knew it was
anywhere but where he stood.

~ ~ ~

After getting thoroughly drunk at some bar that had some "Survival"
finale on its TV screen, I made my way home in a taxi. Taking the
Mustang in my condition, I knew, was not a good idea, so I had left
it on the street not too far from Musgrave Park, where they'd had
most of the Pride.

When I walked unsteadily back into my place, I saw Darren sitting
in the front of the TV with the remote in his hand. He'd fallen asleep.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I honestly didn't think he'd be there
after I got home. I went to get a blanket to cover him. He looked
as sexy and appetising as ever, but I didn't want him in my bed.
Not after what had happened. I felt too sick about learning what a
nothing I was to him. I hadn't expected to mean a lot to him, but after the
lovemaking we'd shared – okay, scratch that, maybe it was just
glorfied fucking, although it had not felt just like that - I wanted
to be more than a wallet to him. And hell – he wasn't even "available"
- he wasn't gay!. I sort of knew deep down, I'd been expecting too
much from the situation, so I felt guilty for being so dumb.

Guess that's what happens when you're a rich, spoilt brat, with hardly any
friends.

~ ~ ~

When I brought the blanket back and started to cover him up, he
awoke. He reached out for my hand. But I pulled it away, out of his
reach..

Nervously.

I didn't want him to have his usual effect on me that made my knees
weak. I didn't want to feel like a dumb buggar anymore. If his hand
had connected with mine, I would have become weak, and wanted him
right back up in my bed, knowing he didn't really want any of it.
Right then I didn't want to want any of him. At all.

"Look," he said. "It did mean something! And to prove it, I'm not
going to charge you any more, okay? Just so you know and there's no
doubt though, I'm really not gay. You're a one-off for me."

I stared at him in confusion. "Why me?"

"I don't know…the way you looked at me? You looked so vulnerable and
so full of love to give, and so full of lust - it was like I couldn't
keep you out…"

"Out?"

"Yeah. I just felt all this electricity when you looked at me, like
you could just undress me with your eyes…"

"But I was!" I laughed.

"No, I mean…my needs…you could seem to see through to what I needed."

"You're not talking about your bank account?" I said somewhat harshly.

"I'm talking about -" he frowned, frustratedly.

"It's okay," I cut him off. "I think I know what you mean…I knew you
were special too…" I said more softly

"Just hold me, then?" he asked, communicating something with eyes for
the first time, that was not just suspicion or curiosity.

I hugged and held him to me, trying to trust that this was a real
thing for him. It felt so right. I squeezed his body to me even
more tightly as his body seemed to slowly melt against me. My imagination?
He seemed to mold around me like a sweet, second skin. No, it was not my
imagination.

"Well, maybe we've planted some sort of a seed…" I whispered, hoping
I did not sound silly.

"Yeah, maybe some seed in a *savage* garden," he replied, slowly
releasing me, smiling, and then hugging me gently again.

"I'm ready for bed anytime you are," I said, kissing him when he
finally released me.

"Sleep? Don't you want to watch a dirty movie with me?" he asked
mischievously, jutting his lip out.

"I don't keep het stuff around here, remember?" I needled him.

"Oh, right. Guess we'll just have to make do with the *real* thing
then…" he smirked playfully. Then I felt my hand being grabbed and
dragged gently along his denim covered upper leg, right up to his
very warm crotch, as my mouth dropped open.

"Yeah, I'm all for the "real" thing…" I quipped, fondling his
thickness appreciatively, then sliding my fingers down across his balls.

He began to moan, "Suck me!" he ordered huskily, now turning the tables on me.

Could I resist a moan like his?

Not.

~ ~ ~

THE END
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Blue Sin