Quote:Escaped from movie mogul James Rosen's depraved clutches in Rome, American Gil Graham and his boyfriend Mike Smith head for London to set up home together. Mike introduces Gil to the hectic joys of giant disco Paradise. Hot backroom action, cruising Hampstead Heath, gladiatorial combat, and a *****-movie shoot are all part of Gil and Mike's adventures. But can the idyll last once Rosen turns up, bent on revenge?

   

Quote:Cruelly split to escape a deadly threat from Hollywood tycoon James Rosen, Gil and Mike are forced to rebuild their lives, continents apart. Only work - and plenty of exciting but vicarious sex - keeps them going. While Mike endures Rosen's vicious attentions in London, Gil finds solace in fleeting encounters in Los Angeles. Then fate intervenes - and Mike is free to pursue the dream of reuniting with his wronged buddy.

   

Quote:Mike wriggled around and forced Illias’s legs wide apart so he could kneel between them. Youssef leaned hard over Illias, all the while watching intensely what Mike’s hands were doing. His little tongue flickered over his full lips. Oh ho, he wants a taste of Illias as well.
Mike hefted Illias’s butt up off the bed onto his thighs, which arched the Morrocan’s middle high up and at the apex jutted his cock like a tower on a hill, which gave Mike so much more to swallow. He slid it across his flattened tongue until the flaring crown slipped into his throat and Mike’s squeezing lips reached down to the root. And here, at last, Youssef pushed in, sticking his tongue out as far as it would go to lick with panting excitement at the saliva-slicked join of Mike’s lips on Illias’s shaft. This intrusion went straight to Mike’s dick.
By forcing his tongue out between his lower lip and Illias’s smooth but rigid cock, Mike managed to lap at the top of the boy’s balls. As he pulled back, Youssef took over like a frantic puppy with a doggie-treat. Illias jigged up and down on the bed in almost perfect rhythm with Hassan across the gap, whose head was forced back so far into Kamal’s lap his Adam’s apple stuck up and jerked with every stertorous breath as Gil brought him to the edge of the sexual precipice.
Gil’s head jackhammered up and down and his saliva glistened on Hassan’s slight pubic hair. Illias had hardly any, but it was also wet from Mike and Youssef’s busy mouths.
Illias began to moan and squeeze out words in incomprehensible Arabic as Mike heard Hassan jerk out, “Suce-moi … plus fort …”
Kamal gasped a laugh. “S–suck his thing harder, he ask … ahh …”
Mike saw Kamal lift Hassan’s head so he would see himself unload inside Gil.
The race was on. Gil was going at it furiously. Mike gave Illias all his tongue at the sensitive slit of his cock and hard lip squeezes down and back up, as fast as he could, while Youssef tongued as furiously at every glistening inch of Illias’s dick revealed by Mike’s parting lips. The boy bucked against every move, his hands scrabbled in Mike’s hair. And then Mike heard Hassan’s long strangled groan and Gil’s gulping.
Damn! He’s won. By a second.
Illias shuddered convulsively on the bed and a jet of hot cream filled Mike’s mouth. He gripped the root hard and kept the cock head in his mouth to lash his tongue tip over the flooding cum slot as Illias thrashed about helplessly, his upper torso strained up. Illias met every greedy swallow with another powerful jet of cum, sweet and with an exotic cinnamon flavor. Mike took pity on poor, frantic Youssef and allowed a trickle of hot, white sperm out from between his lips. The boy was on it in a trice, blowing hard through his nose as he sucked up what he could.
Illias slowed. A last hard jerk and then the soft outflow of aftermath. He relaxed his hold on Mike’s hair, and Mike matched the rhythm and gently polished him off. Kamal got out from under Hassan, who collapsed back, exhausted, with a faint, “Oh, merci.”
Mike licked his lips and sat back on aching haunches. He turned and smiled at Gil. “You look like the cat that got the cream, ol’ ballin buddy.”
Gil grinned happily, licked his lips as well. “I did. Oh, I did.”
“Lie back!” Kamal commanded, indicating that they should roll over. Now it was Illias holding up Mike and Hassan doing the same for Gil. Kamal knelt between the beds and reached out with both hands to grip their erections. After the burning excitement of the past few minutes it didn’t take long for him to jerk them off. This time Mike won by a hair’s breadth. As his spunk flew, Youssef dipped his head down eagerly and greedily licked at the stuff as it pooled on Mike’s chest and belly.

   

Quote:Mike’s protest was still-born as Jez knelt up and, taking hold of himself around the base, efficiently pushed the head of his cock against Mike’s hole, and then, incredibly, eased it in. His free hand pressed Mike’s right leg back down against his chest, so he was now bent almost double. The sensation of a hard cock pulsing inside him was unique, uncomfortable, amazing, horrifying—in fact he had no fucking clue what to feel. It hurt but even as he gasped at the pain, he relaxed the ring of muscle and sensed Jez push all the way in with a happy grunt. But as he pulled the length back out, Mike thought he was about to take a dump and panicked. Jez paused and pushed in again and the fear receded as rapidly as it had reared up. Mike gasped. Then it began, in and out, a vigorous fucking accompanied by the regular slapping of upper thighs against bared buttocks.
Mike started violently at the loud knocking on the door and a mumbled Scottish imprecation.
Jez reared up and spat out an answer without once losing his rhythm. Mike was beginning to wish it would just end. He felt sore, and yet knew himself to be painfully erect. “I’ll be out in five,” Jez yelled out breathlessly. He glared down at Mike. “Och, but ye’re a beautiful screw, that y’are.
“When our time is truly come…”
The breathy words almost made the tune, but Jez was far too sexed up to really sing.

       

Quote:There were plenty of fights in the refectory and they often had to do with the cutting of the loaf of yang. Each loaf had to be cut into four pieces. To cut the bread a boy would spin the knife in front of the lads and whoever the knife pointed at when it stopped spinning, that boy would cut the loaf in four and take his share and he would have first pick of the jam or margarine. Boys would often fight over the size of the piece of loaf they got.
A fight would start if a boy’s bread was stolen. Sometimes a boy would distract another boy by pushing his knife on to the floor, and while the latter was picking it up someone would steal his bread or margarine and a fight would develop because more often than not he’d pick on the wrong lad for taking it. The tricks were plentiful. One favourite one was telling a boy at supper that the lad behind him wanted to talk to him and when the boy looked around again, there would be nothing left on his plate.
Fighting in the refectory was a most serious offence and The Bucko would just not tolerate anyone taking sides.
After breakfast the 900 boys filed out and marched to the playground. Boys from the age of fourteen to sixteen went to attend to their trades. Boys from twelve to fourteen had jobs to do like cleaning, dusting and polishing floors in the dormitories. Those who worked on the farms were up at 5am every morning.
School started at 9.15am. I dreaded Hellfire. I found it very hard to learn from him. Sometimes he would make you stand out at the wall in the classroom with your hands held straight up above your head and if and when you dropped them he would take you over his knee and beat the bottom off you. Sometimes he’d pull your trousers down or just pull up the trousers over your bum (we all wore baggy shorts), and beat the arse off you. Other times he would make you sit on your hunkers, without your bottom touching the floor, with your hands out straight in front of you. Hellfire would roast the arse off you for damn all.
Morning class would end at 11.30 and we marched up to the refectory for a slice of yang and jam and back to the parade ground to play. There were names for everything and the boys reported by the monitors for stepping out of line were put on charge, meaning they were forbidden to play for about a week and were put standing guard in different locations. Sometimes it was at West Gate, which led into the playing fields and out into Whitehall. Another charge was ‘the six counties’ which was the North Gate beside the toilets. A third charge was called Glacamarra at the back of the handball alleys. There were over two dozen charges a boy could be posted to for being in trouble.
The games we played really went according to age. When I was eight and nine I played ring-a-ring-a-rosie, tip and tag and relieve-e-i-o. Other games played were spinning top, tinnies (flattened bottle tops, which we threw to a line to see who would get closest), marbles, hopscotch, hide and seek. There were about five huge handball alleys and we played handball with a cocker (a small hard ball). There was Gaelic football and hurling. Soccer was strictly forbidden and anyone caught heading a ball was reported, given a hiding and put on charge for a month. It was a real crime!
At one o’clock we had dinner and afterwards, boys under the age of fourteen returned to their classrooms for a short while. Boys from the age of fourteen to sixteen went back to work, in the workshops, at their various trades. Under the age of fourteen you attended school three times a day, morning, afternoon and evening. Evening class was called night school and boys from the age of fourteen to sixteen, who were called traders, attended night school too. This began at 5pm and ended at 6.45pm.
And so the routine went on, each day the same as the previous one, a rigid system of discipline and order. In Artane the rules were made to be enforced, and fear was the key to keeping strict order. At the first sign of disorder The Dude moved in swiftly, with fist and boot, on the older boys who wanted to fight it out with him. He was known for his trademark phrases. Raising his fist, he would say, ‘Would you like to see tomorrow? … Beat it or I’ll knock you into Gloccamorra …