A lovers waltz

Chapter one

 As I walked up the large central stairs to change and dress I reflected on the days events. It was my 22nd birthday. For breakfast we had, for a treat mind you birthday cake for all and the staff sang happy birthday as they brought it up from the kitchen. Presents were handed to me by my family and the staff. From Annalen, my sister a book on the complete history of ballet, father gave a bottle of Royal Lochnagar that was later tried with his help in case of poison. From the staff a superb frock coat that was much needed as my old one was scuffed. I, however leave the best till last, mothers. She handed me with a quiet smile a thin, gold edged envelope and was sealed with her initials in gold wax. Braking the seal I opened it and five slips of paper slipped out. I could already guess what it was.

"Ballat tickets!"

Smiling mother told us the details. "It is for this evening at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. We will have a small supper and at eight travel by the hearse. We will be in one of the boxes."

After breakfast we traveled to Hyde Park to meet up with some friends who had traveled down from Cambridge. We then headed on to Aunt Elizabeth for elevenses were there was an abundance of pastries and cake and presents. I slipped out with Philip her eldest into the garden. There we discussed ballets and, quietly so to be unheard we spoke of the handsome dancers. Philip liked the danseuses while I enjoyed the sight of the danseurs with their arrogant strut. Without either having to say a thing we new not to share to anyone about this; for him his mother, Elizabeth disdained any thing 'vulgar as the discussion of the unmentionable' as she had put it once.

Philip gave me solace as for much of my youth I found my affliction a grate burden, isolating me from those around. For all of societies disgust for what I had Philip was a consolation as he had early on come to realise of what I had and had helped me find sanctuaries in London. I had once asked him how and why he helped with him replying that having come across it through friends at boarding school and later with his bohemian friends he saw nothing unnatural about it. He is several years my senior at age twenty-six.

He afterwards took me up to his room where he had worked further on his paintings and sketches. Aunt, the frumpy uptight bitch she is, found it all below her station however his father enjoyed them.

At twelve twenty we left and headed back home for our luncheon that was to be our dinner. Several of our family friends from up north. This was hectic and crowded; with large amounts of rapping paper stone round the front parlour. After three and a half hours of all this me and father fled the house and went to his gentleman's club for tea. There we discussed business and the estate in Northumberland. I said I hoped we could head north again this week, with him agreeing, wishing to take a brake from London. After an hour of this we headed back for super that was at six thirty.

Mother gave us a reprimand in jest. "All the guests left half an hour ago. Lady Sophia Shiply seemed a bit put out after finding you gone and I had to put up with her. If only she just took a breath between her words".

"If she wasn't so shrill we would feel more inclined to stay, as it is it takes all I have to stay near her." This earned me a clip from father and a laugh from mother who winked as he turned from us. Father headed to his study, mother to the garden to drag Annalen in leaving me to head up stairs.

Thinking the days past events and what was to come I remembered the upcoming event, the ballet. I felt that tension, that pressure that builds up in the bace of your crotch. I went straight over to my desk by the window and opened the hidden draw.

Slightly dog-eared but still just as valuable as gold to me. They were images of athletic men, some of which were ballet dancers. They were obscene and yet more dear to me than anything in the room. The itch only grow on seeing them. On locking the door I striped off my trousers and draws leaving the rest on.

I sat upright on my bed legs spread and slightly bent. Looking down one could see smooth milky skin upon thighs of solid proportions with downy, black hair. the hair lead up to a thick, curly bush of pubes; growing up in an all boys boarding school one grows use to seeing others bush and gentleman's sausage. Mine was thick, arcing gracefully up and to the left its head poking out of its hood, it all being intact. At this very moment it throbbed, red and engorged. After a pause my hand pounced, slender fingers rapping round. My other slid down first to my groin then down to my balls and on to its prise, my tight pink hole.

I looked up at the images close to my spread feet as if somehow, someway the men would pull their way out of the photograph and between my legs. After circling and rubbing my sphincter i retracted my finger back, up past my groin to my waiting lips. My tongue quickly rapping itself round it tasting the bitter, salty sweetness of sweet and something else, man. It was the scent of man that my tongue craved, it is a smell like no other it being able to send one into a frenzy in lust. Oh how I ache for a man of my own. My right hand beating my throbbing prick the other sliding between my legs to hit upon the bullseye; on reaching it I rubbed it round the outside lubricating it. I leant forward pushing my posterior out and down, opening my hole for my digit which slid in with ease. My eye closed and viewed through my mind an image of a man, muscles taut, eyes burning and teeth clenched thrusting his member into me.

I longed for so long to have a man, a man I could love and call my own. I hungered for the life that so many straight men had. I loved the smell of men, their muscled, sinewed bodies and raw power. Just imaging him now made my flesh prickle, my pulse race and my bulbous gland turn a raging purple. Oh how I wished to have one, a man that could caress, kiss, lick and fuck me with out reservations. My room filled with the laboured pants and the wet caress of my rod. As I felt my impending climax build I imagined my index as being a pulsating prick exposing and probing. My body became taut, my hips locked pulling me forward and my head rolled back, my eye closing. I let out a guttural sound, my right hand quickened for a second before the orgasm broke. My body shook, skin turning mottled, my hole tensed and a ribbon of pearls shot forth across my chest.

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So this is my first time writing on here and I'm hoping it does well. If there are any problems e.g. grammar or spelling etc please comment though doe it with respect. This is mainly to help me get some practice but I would love to hear from you and yes please vote if you wish.