I shivered, pushing my hands deeper into the front pocket of the black hoody that hid my skinny frame and mentally cursing my decision not to bring a coat. Jeans and a jumper just weren’t enough for nine o’clock on a mid-October morning in the Midlands.

At least Derby train station was busy on a weekday, unlike the isolated rural platform where I’d last stood waiting for a man I’d never met. That had been the previous summer, and while a year studying abroad had matured me in other ways, it had not cured my nerves around trysts with strangers from the Internet. Neither had skipping breakfast to avoid my housemates in the kitchen, nor fantasising during the hour-long journey from Birmingham.

Impatiently, I checked my Nokia for the umpteenth time since stepping off the train. Nothing. Maybe he was a no-show and all those explicit texts had just been posturing. The knot in my stomach couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing, so I found a quiet corner to chew my lip and check train times for the return trip, when my pocket buzzed. My hand trembling slightly, I pulled out my phone.

I’m outside. Silver Clio.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside before my legs could betray me and take me home. Yep, a small silver car waited directly opposite in the queue to enter the carpark. When I hurried over and looked through the front passenger window, a friendly grin greeted me as the driver reached over to open the door. I slipped inside as quickly as my awkwardness would allow just as the car in front moved.

“Good timing,” he said while I fastened my seatbelt. He glanced over at my continued silence. “First time?”

“Not quite,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “But it’s been a while.”

“Daniel,” he said, squeezing my rather limp hand in a firm grip. “Or Dan, if you prefer.”

“Robin. Just Robin — ‘Rob’ never feels right.” A little shiver of excitement ran down my back at the realisation that he hadn’t even known my name before I’d got in his car. In my twenty-one-year-old’s naivety, I didn’t even consider that someone with the dating handle of “DerbyDan” might not really be called Daniel.

“Nice to meet you, finally. It’s been what, about a month we've been planning this?”

“About that, I think.”

“Well, relax. This will be fun.” His smile was genuine, so, in spite of myself, I started to do just that. “How was the trip up?”

“Good. Not too crowded. I slept a bit.”

I checked him out as he navigated the morning traffic. In the warmth of the car, he wore no jumper, the blue cotton of his t-shirt hugging the contours of his firm pecs and drawing my eyes down to the bulge in his tight designer jeans — the photos he’d sent had not lied. He exuded confidence, as if he knew he was good-looking but not in an intimidating, Viggo Mortensen kind of way. Catching me checking him out, he grinned again, but said nothing, so I hoped that meant my frayed jeans and scuffed skate shoes weren’t too scruffy for his tastes. Maybe being nine years younger than his thirty made up for it.

“It turns out one of my housemates is having a day off,” he said once we were through the worst of the traffic, “so we’ll go to my Mum’s.”

“Oh, OK,” I replied, not really sure what else to say.

The next fifteen minutes passed in silence. I gazed out of the window, but my mind wandered elsewhere, so my memory of Derby itself has since blended in with that of dozens of other English towns. Only the click of the handbrake woke me from my reverie.

“We’re here,” Dan announced, looking furtively out each window before opening the door. “There's no one about, is there?”

“Here” was one of those bland, mass-produced, semi-detached houses found throughout the UK in some new outer suburb of Derby — blonde brick, white window frames, standardised dimensions — and I understood his paranoia about curtain-twitchers. I could sense the cream carpet even before he opened the door, punched in the code for the alarm, and let us inside. Instinctively kicking off my trainers, I had flashbacks to visiting friends’ houses in high school when I saw the door leading to a sitting room immediately to the right and the wood panelling of the kitchen straight ahead.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Some water would be fine, thanks.”

I hadn’t realised how dry my mouth was until his offer, nor that I had been shaking until I reached for the glass. If he didn’t notice the trickle that escaped my lips when I gulped down the first mouthful, he must have noticed my face reddening in embarrassment, but he didn’t let on, just pouring a glass for himself.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Ice slipped down my chest into my stomach. This was exactly what I didn't want him to ask. I was fine telling people my desires anonymously online, but saying them out loud? I took another sip of water before replying with a stuttered, “I th-think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” He laughed. “Should we start down here or go upstairs?”

“Probably best to go upstairs, I think.”

He nodded and took my glass. “We can use the spare room.”

Following his directions, I climbed the stairs, feeling him close behind me. Our destination reminded me of rented houses I’d stayed in on family holidays — pale blue walls, white door and window frames, neatly made bed, gauze privacy curtains, and, of course, the ubiquitous cream carpet. Having taken all that in, I turned and found myself facing the top of Dan’s chest inches from my face. His cologne filled my nostrils and I could taste mints on his breath as I met his questioning gaze, freezing momentarily.

My hesitation melted under his kiss, opening my mouth to meet his tongue with mine. His strong arms pulled us together, and I mimicked him, clawing at his back and squeezing his buttocks, the rustle of our hands over each other’s clothing becoming the only sounds in the room other than the occasional wet smack of our lips. He began pressing his groin into mine, and then cupped the front of my jeans. Grinding into his hand in response, I tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt. He took the hint and broke the kiss to pull it off, revealing his smooth, tanned, and deliciously toned torso. With much less grace, I peeled off my hoodie and the t-shirt beneath in one, miraculously not getting my head stuck in them. Silently thanking the gods of fuck for sparing me that particular embarrassment, I moved back in for another kiss, now with his bare skin against mine.

Some of his confidence flowed into me, so instead of asking him what he wanted me to do next, I followed my desire and sank slowly to my knees before him, dragging my fingertips over his abs. Unfortunately, my brief rush of confidence ran straight up against the wall of his belt buckle. Rather than a standard pin buckle going through a hole, it was a big embossed oval of metal, and I had no idea how to undo it. After watching me fumble for a moment, he took pity and reached down to just pull it open.

“Oh, right!” I said, feeling stupid at how easy it was.

A reassuring pat of my hair eased my embarrassment, and it faded when I undid the button of his fly on the first go. My heart beat faster as I pulled his jeans down and my fingers brushed his briefs, his warm flesh stretching the fabric. A smile tugged at my lips as I brought my hands back up his legs to trace the shape of his bulge, before gripping the waistband and releasing it from its cotton prison.

My breath caught a little when his cock sprang free and drooped invitingly towards me. It was neither the length of my forearm nor fully hard yet, but it was beautiful. Plus, he’d shaved like a porn star, exposing every tantalising square millimetre of skin — I made a mental note to do the same. Lifting it like a fragile bird, I brought my lips to his smooth balls. After gently sucking on each in turn, I moved my attentions to his shaft and ran my tongue along the underside from the base to tip. He tasted slightly salty, with a hint of soap.

As much as I always imagined giving a long teasing session, my will proved weak, and after circling the head a few times, I opened wide and took it into my mouth. Fitting it in without my teeth touching his skin proved a challenge, but I began sucking and pushing forwards, trying to use my tongue at the same time. For a while, I lost myself in his girth sliding rhythmically between my lips and rolling my tongue around his pulsing flesh.

Dan put his hand on the back of my head and began pushing me down harder, the air escaping my mouth causing increasingly ridiculous sound effects. I looked up at him and smiled with my eyes, proud to see his lips parted in undisguised pleasure. He began thrusting harder, pushing further into my throat until I could no longer suck and just kept my jaw slack, trying not to choke.

When it became too much, I pushed myself away and stood up, only to be captured in another kiss. While I’d had other plans, they failed to reach my vocal cords as he sank to his knees before me, taking my jeans and boxers down with him. As he began licking my shaft with the hunger of a connoisseur, I stupidly wondered whether he would be offended if I messed up the stylish gelled spikes of his hair. Just in case, I rested my fingers lightly on his tanned shoulders and closed my eyes, forcing myself to just enjoy his expert blow job. His hands pulled at my hips, getting me to thrust deeper into his mouth, and pressure began building in my balls. This was not what I had been looking forward to since he’d sent me his first dick pic a month ago, though, so I pushed him gently away.

“Do you want to fuck me?” I asked, blushing at my directness, but my boiling hormones had somehow bypassed my usual shyness.

“Definitely!”

While I bent to rummage in my clothes, he produced a towel from the cupboard and spread it out on the bed, then sat on the edge, stroking his hardness. With the condom I'd been searching for at the ready, I crouched before him and seized his cock, tearing the packet open with my teeth in one smooth motion. That brief burst of confidence fizzled when I tried to put it on him, however, my fingertips failing to unroll the damn thing and my mouth refusing to ask for help, until I realised I had it on upside down.

Dan came to my rescue before my embarrassment got the better of me, steadying his shaft without a word so I could correct my mistake. In an effort to forget my blunder, I focused on the next step, popping open the cap of the tube of KY jelly I’d brought and then squeezing a dollop onto each palm. Meeting his eyes, I spread lube over his latex-encased length with one hand and started smearing more around my hole with the other, then pushed a single finger inside. Although the temptation of his firm flesh sliding through my fist and the increasing lust in his gaze tried to persuade me otherwise, experience playing alone told me I shouldn’t rush this part, so I waited until three digits fitted comfortably before deciding I was ready. Continuing to slowly slide those fingers in and out and stroking his rigid length, I stood and kissed him.

“Turn around,” he instructed, gently, when I seemed unsure about the next step. I obeyed, steadying myself on his parted knees and backing over his lap. Reaching between my legs, I guided his tip to my entrance while he gripped the base of his shaft, and I slowly pushed down. At first, it stung, so I came up again but kept trying, admitting more of him inside each time. A moan escaped my lips when my cheeks reached his thighs for the first time, his cock hitting the perfect depth.

Tentatively, I raised myself up, trying to judge it right so he wouldn’t slip out, and then sank down again. His hands moved to cup my cheeks, guiding my developing rhythm. My cock swung forgotten as the intense pleasure of his glans sliding back and forth over my prostate dominated my world. Soon, though, my thigh muscles began to burn, so it came as something of a relief when Dan slipped out after one particularly enthusiastic bounce.

“Need a rest?”

“Yeah,” I replied, gratefully. “My legs aren’t really used to this.”

He laughed and stood, giving me a kiss before guiding me to the bed. Instinctively, I turned away from him and climbed up with my knees on the towel and my hands on the floral duvet cover. Behind me, I heard the snap of a plastic lid followed by the cool sensation of more lube being squeezed onto my arse. I wiggled my buttocks impatiently while he spread the gel around.

“Oh, fuck yes!” I sighed when he re-entered me. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me back to meet his thrusts, slowly at first as I adjusted to the new angle, and then steadily increasing in pace. My arms began to tremble, so I slumped forwards onto my elbows, gripping the sheets.

“You’re so tight,” he gasped when he noticed me looking back at him over my shoulder. I squeezed my muscles around him in response and grinned at his reaction.

Guessing he might be close, I reached for my cock, soft now but sticky with precum, and began stroking myself furiously. A sudden, extra hard thrust shifted me forwards, and I thought he had come, but he remained inside me, using the extra space to kneel on the bed and lean over me. We kissed awkwardly as he reached around and gently but insistently replaced my hand with his around my dick, and then resumed thrusting, not quite as fast but in longer, more powerful strokes.

Everything disappeared for me shortly after as my orgasm boiled up through me and flooded my brain. The animal-like moans I heard turned out to be me, then they became gasps as the climax passed, but the orgasm lingered as he gave a last few shuddering thrusts before falling still. I lay panting on my side with Dan spooning me, his breath on my neck and fingers idly stroking the hypersensitive tip of my cock.

Once he’d caught his breath, he released me, wiping his hand on my bottom before pinching the base of the condom and withdrawing from me. I needed a moment longer to regain control of my body, and even then only managing to roll onto my back and stare at the tacky swirls of the Artex ceiling.

“You OK?” There was a note of concern in his voice. I nodded and smiled weakly, my powers of speech still eluding me.

“Thank you,” I managed finally, when he pulled the spunk-laden condom from his dick. “That was incredible.”

He snorted. “It was. You should probably get cleaned up, though. Mum will be home soon.”

“Oh, right.”

Sitting up, I looked down at my sticky stomach and the streaks on the towel. I really had made quite a mess. Hastily, my post-orgasmic haze receding to make way for my usual awkwardness, I stood on shaky legs and used the towel to wipe myself as best I could.

“Here, I’ll take that,” he said, somehow already dressed. He left me to pull my clothes back on in peace, waiting just outside the room when I was done.

“Got everything?” he asked, poking his head in for a final look around despite my nod. “Oops, better not leave this!” He grinned as he held up the tube of lube.

My mind was in wordless turmoil as I followed him silently out to his car. The orgasm had been incredible, that was no empty compliment, and I preferred the abrupt switch to mundane practicality over some artificial romance that I wouldn’t know what to do with, but I still felt a weird, shapeless shame about it. Dan was certainly not to blame, as I couldn’t have wished for a more considerate lover from start to finish, so I suppressed those thoughts and forced myself to talk to him rather than settle into my habitual moody silence.

“So, what do you do that leaves you free on a weekday morning?” I asked, both to hide my unease and out of genuine curiosity to know more about the man who’d just fucked me.

“I’m a flight attendant.”

“Really?” I don’t know why, but it somehow seemed weird to think of flight attendants driving around Derby in a little Renault Clio on their days off. “You must get to see quite a bit of the world, then.”

“Probably not as much as you think, unless you count airports and hotels. You’re a student, yeah?”

“Yep. Final year. No lectures on a Tuesday, though.”

“Ooh, well that’s handy! Maybe this could become a regular thing, then.”

“I would like that.” I blushed, while he carried on the conversation as if arranging casual fucking was as normal for him as going to the supermarket. Maybe it came with practice.

“Can you jump out here?” he asked suddenly, breaking me out of my internal monologue. “The queue into the station looks mad.”

“Sure,” I said, realising it was just beyond the traffic lights we’d stopped at and fumbled with the door.

“Sorry to rush you,” he said as I got out. “See you next time?”

“Yeah, thanks, bye!” I stepped back to the pavement as the lights changed and the car drove off, leaving me kicking myself for my less-than-enthusiastic farewell.

Twenty minutes later, while I dozed in the warm carriage heading back to Birmingham, my pocket buzzed.

Cheers m8 that was fantastic, well horny! Hope u enjoyed it 2? read the message on my phone. I cringed at the textspeak and looked around guiltily to make sure no one nearby could read it, but a wave of relief washed through me knowing I hadn’t ruined it with the abrupt parting. My thumb couldn’t move fast enough to send the reply.

Definitely. I hesitated, biting my lip, then added, Mind if I bring my camera next time?

No response.

Fuck, I hope I haven’t overstepped some mark, I thought. Maybe it’s too kinky a request for a second date.

My phone buzzed again as the train pulled into New Street Station, but I had to wait until I was through to the platform for my connecting service before I could check it.

Hot! Yes, bring it!