This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!

Walking the Wild Side

by Nigel Gordon

Chapter 4

The last few days we had been having a bit of a mini-heatwave. Saturday it decided to turn into a full-blown heatwave with the temperature touching twenty-eight degrees by midday. It was in the thirties by time I got to the address in Little Hamford. Even on the bike with the wind it was hot.

I arrived at the address with only a couple of minutes to spare. Had a bit of a problem finding it, having driven past it twice. To be more exact I had driven past the entrance to the driveway twice. In the end I had to phone Master James and ask him how to get there. Turned out I was only about ten metres from the driveway but had not realised that was the way to the house.

The house itself was set well back from the road, a good two hundred metres through woods. Then it was surrounded by a high Victorian wall, complete massive gates and metal spikes on top of the wall. The house itself was a massive Victorian place of over four floors. It seemed totally out of place in its location, just outside a quiet market town. As I rode through the gates and into the forecourt I saw six large motorbikes parked, and a group of men who were standing around them talking. As I drew level with them to park my bike, Master James walked over to me.

"Peter, glad you could make it" he stated.

"Yes. Sorry I'm late."

"No problem," he stated. Smiling at me. He was an impressive man, over one eighty-five and quite muscular. He had jet black hair and a small goatee beard.

He was dressed in black. Black jeans, with a black studded belt. He was wearing a black tank top that displayed the tribal patterns tattooed on his arms. By the look of things the tattoos extend from his arms onto his back and chest.

He turned and looked at my bike. It seemed small compared with the other bikes parked in the forecourt.

"I think," he stated, "you might have a bit of a problem keeping up with us on this."

"It can do seventy," I responded.

"No doubt, but it's not the top speed that is the issue, it's the acceleration. The moment we accelerate away we will leave you standing and there is no way I can ask the boys to slow down for you. That would not be right, would it? We can't make an exception just for one, can we?" I nodded my head in agreement. He had a good point but why had he not thought of that before? I had told him what model I had when we had messaged each other.

"No," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder and grasping it firmly, at the same time turning me to face the other riders. They were all dressed similar to Master James, except they were wearing normal blue jeans. "Guys, this is Peter, I'd invited him to come on the ride today, but his machine won't be able to keep up. Would anyone object if he came pillion?"

There was a chorus of "No, Master", in reply.

"Right then, you better come inside and I will sort you with a helmet," Master James instructed. I pointed out to him I had a helmet. "Peter, you are going to be riding pillion, you need a helmet with an intercom built in, we keep a few spare. You have to do what your rider tells you to do whilst riding. You understand that, don't you."

"Yes, sir."

"It's yes, Master, Peter. You always address me as Master. Do you understand."

"Yes, Master."

"Good, I have a lot to teach you and it will take time but obedience is the first lesson you must learn. Do what you are told and you will quickly learn what you need to know. Now follow me and we will sort out a helmet for you."

I followed Master James into the house. Inside it was quite modern with trendy decoration. I commented on it. Master James informed me that it used to be the offices and a superintendent's house for a private asylum that stood in the woods. The asylum had closed down in the nineteen thirties and was demolished after the war. The house, though, had been used as offices by the local council till a few years ago when he had bought the place and refurbished it.

At the side of the main hall, just in from the front door, was a small side room. No doubt at one time it had served as a door keeper's room. It now contained shelves holding a range of biker wear including helmets. Master James went and took one off the middle shelf and told me to try it on. It was a lot heavier than the one I owned but it did fit quite well. I said so.

"Good, you can use that one. Leave yours here." He indicated a small side table in the hall. I put my helmet on it. Then took the helmet that Master James was holding for me. We then went back outside.

The other guys were now mounted up on their bikes. Master James led me to a large BMW motorcycle and got on, telling me to mount up behind him and put my helmet on. As I did he edged himself back against me, which pushed me back against the top box mounted at the back of the bike. He turned his head and told me to switch on the Bluetooth intercom in the helmet, indicating a small switch at the side of the visor. I did as directed.

"All right, Peter, now just remember to do exactly as I tell you," his voice came through the speaker in the helmet.

"Yes, Master."

"Now put your arms round me and hold on." I did. The machine beneath us burst into life. Suddenly we jumped forward with an acceleration far beyond anything my bike could manage. As we shot forward the other bikes around us started to move off. Master James led the formation of bikes down the drive and onto the road, then changed up through the gears with the bike accelerating rapidly far beyond the speed limit. He had been right — there was no way I could have kept up on my one-two-five.

The speed at which he was taking the corners was far beyond anything I would have attempted on my bike. It was scary, also thrilling. I found myself holding on tighter, my body pressed hard against Master James' body. Embarrassingly the contact brought about an erection which I felt pressed between me and Master James body.

"Ah," Master James' voice sounded over the intercom, "you find something exciting?" I was embarrassed and started to loosen my grip of him. "No, hold on tight," he said and accelerated into a bend. I held on tighter. "Now slide your hands down. That's it, slide them down."

I did. They came to the bare skin between the bottom of Master James' tank top and the top of his jeans. "That's good Peter, now slide them down into my jeans." I did not move, not understanding what he had said. "PETER!" he emphasised, "to learn you must obey. Slide your hands into my jeans." I did. Immediately I contacted his hard cock. "You see Peter you excite me as well, now take hold of it. Just hold it, don't do anything else."

I wanted to pull my hand away but that would have upset Master James. Anyway, there was part of me that wanted to keep it there, to feel his cock. It was long and thin, a lot bigger than mine but I didn't think it was quite as thick as mine was.

For the rest of the journey to Langford Bridge, Master James kept giving me instructions on what to do with his cock. Sometimes he wanted me just to hold it, other times he told me to wank him slowly, then to feel his balls. All the time he was telling me what to do and then congratulating me when I did it. That made me feel good. It was nice to be told I was doing something well.

The journey to Langford Bridge according to Google maps should have taken about an hour and ten minutes. There was no direct route and most of the way was through country lanes. However, Master James got us there in just under fifty minutes. Even I could work out that we had to have done most of the journey well over the speed limit. I was a bit surprised that when we got to the town we carried straight on, over the sixteenth-century bridge and then turned right onto a very small side road that went up the hill. Soon we crested the top of the hill and started down the other side. Again, we turned right onto a track which had notices saying strictly private.

"Don't worry, Peter, this land belongs to a friend of ours. He will be waiting for us down by the river. Shortly after that we turned left and came out into a clearing at the side of the river. A large bare chested man with long blond hair hanging down his back was standing there behind a table with a couple of coolers on it.

"About time you lot turned up," he shouted as the machines were switched off. "What kept you?"

"Sorry, Master Francis," Master James said, indicating for me to get off the bike, "we've got a newbie with us and I was delayed sorting him out before we could set off." Once I was off the bike, Master James got off and then pushed me forward towards Master Francis. "This is Peter."

"His first time out with you?"

"Yes, Master."

"Nice, I suppose you are having a party this evening?" Master Francis asked.

"Of course, would you like to join us?" Master James responded.

"Wish I could. I'm taking a couple of subs down to Gloucester for a gangbang. First time for both so they need tight supervision."

"Of course, Master," Master James replied. He turned to me, and as he did he pulled his tank top off over his head. "Come on Peter, get your gear off."


"Peter, Master James gave you an instruction, obey," Master Francis stated. It was not quite a shout but clearly an order.

"This is a nudist bathing beach, we're here to swim," Master James explained. As he did so Master Francis came round from behind the coolers and I saw he was naked. Like Master James he had tribal tattoos on his arms, but I could also see that they spread across his body and down his legs. I started to undress. I felt very uncomfortable at first, but soon it did not seem to matter as everybody was naked and running down to the river.

We were splashing around in the water, which was not that deep, only about one thirty at its deepest though most of it was under a metre, but it was fairly fast flowing. If you were not careful it could knock you off your feet.

Somebody produced a ball and we started to play a game which seemed to be a cross between volley ball and water polo. I could not understand the rules, not certain that there were any. Every time I got hold of the ball they piled onto me, pushing me down in the water. At the same time I was getting felt all over. It was a bit disconcerting the first couple of times but there was also something nice about it and after the first few times I started to look forward to the experience of having all those hands moving over my body. I also took the opportunity to have a feel when somebody else got the ball and we jumped on them.

We were playing around in the water for the better part of an hour. Then, apparently in accordance with some signal that I was not aware of, everybody made their way out of the river and lay down on the grass bank to take in the afternoon sun. I was one of the last out. A younger guy in the group, who I had gathered was called Phil, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the bank. "Come on, it's time to have an afternoon nap and catch some sun."

The idea of 'catching some sun' worried me. I am fair haired and my skin burns easily. For that reason, I generally wear long sleeved shirts or smother on high factor sun cream. Well, everybody was lying down on the grass naked, so the shirt was out and I had no sun screen. I had put some on earlier, before I came out, just in case, but was fairly certain the waters of the river would have washed most of it off.

It was, therefore, with some trepidation that I found a spot on the bank to lie down to dry off. As it was I choose a spot with some dappled shade, which I thought might help. I had to admit a short nap would feel good, was a bit tired after all the horsing around in the river and the warm afternoon sun made the idea of dozing off for a few minutes very appealing.

I had just closed my eyes when I became aware that someone had walked up to me. I opened them to see Phil standing next to me, his shadow falling across my face. He was holding a bottle of sun screen.

"Master James thought you might need to put some of this on," he said, extending the bottle to me. I reached up to take it. He pulled it back. "No, turn over; I'll do it for you."

I turned over and felt the trickle of liquid down my spine as he poured some of the sunscreen onto me. Then he straddled my back and I felt his cock against the small of my back as his hands started to work the sunscreen into my shoulders and upper arms. He pressed the heels of his hands into my back, pushing my muscles out as he spread the sun screen. It felt far more like a massage than just spreading the block over me. As he worked his way down my back I became aware that his cock was getting erect along my back. It was almost as if he was rubbing it on my back as part of the massage. I was also aware that I was also getting very erect from the effects of the massage.

Phil told me to spread my legs, so I did. He moved off the small of my back and down between my legs. I felt another trickle of sun block onto my buttocks and down the back of my legs, then another trickle into my arse crack. Phil's knees pushed my legs further apart as he started to knead my buttocks. Slowly he worked his way across my buttocks onto my thighs, then he worked his way down the back of each of my legs individually. Finally, he ran both his hands up my legs at the same time, until his thumbs touched my perineum just where my ball sac starts. His thumbs traced the line of my perineum up, forcing my buttocks apart, then his fingers swept down over the exposed arsehole, lightly touching it. Again my buttocks were pulled apart and the fingers moved down, this time slowly, gently playing over the surface of my arse hole.

There was a sudden stinging slap on my buttocks and the demand that I turn over. I felt embarrassed, knowing that I was painfully erect.

"Don't worry, I know you are hard," Phil stated, "I'm also; feel this." I felt his cock slide down the line of my arse crack, briefly pausing as it touched my arse hole. I turned over. I turned over and looked up at Phil. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, black hair closely cropped to his skull, brown eyes. His face was not anything special, but his body was. It was well-toned and showed highly defined muscle with a clearly defined six-pack. Looking down, there was a short, thick cock, rampantly erect, pressed against my balls. Like the rest of the group, he was tattooed but in his case there was just a tribal tattoo across his left shoulder and the outline of one on his upper arm.

Phil took the bottle of sun-screen and held it over me. A trickle of it poured out onto my chest and ran down to my abdomen.

"Lie back and let me do this," he instructed. I lay back. He moved up seating himself across my hips. His arse trapping my cock. As he leaned forward to massage my shoulders and upper arms, my cock slipped up his arse crack. His cock rubbed on my belly as he rocked back and forward working on my upper arms, shoulders and pecs. Phil then moved back, pushing my legs apart so he could kneel between them as he worked on my abdomen. Slowly he worked down my body, spreading the sun block and massaging me at the same time. Eventually he got down to my pubes. I thought he was going to take hold of my cock.

He didn't, he took my leg, picked it up and rested it on my shoulder. Then worked his hands down the length of it, the heel of his hands massaging the sides of my calf and thigh as his fingers worked on the front. As he came down his inside hand moved across and down, sweeping under the ball sack, his thumb pressing down onto the arse-hole as it passed over. As he completed the second leg he pushed both legs back, pushing my buttocks up with the flat of his hands, his thumbs rubbing up and down my crack, playing with my arsehole, pulling it open.

He then bent down and took my cock into his mouth, at the same time a finger was gently pushed into my arse. I felt it slide back and forth a few times, then it touched something within me. I was ready to explode and drew in a deep breath, my arse clenching on the finger. Phil withdrew his finger and removed his mouth from my cock. I reached out to take hold of it, to bring myself to the climax I so needed. Phil knocked my hands away.

"Don't touch. We are not allowed to cum until the Master says so." I looked at him puzzled. He smiled. "It's the rule, you will understand as you learn more. It is so much better when you do what the Master says. Do you want a drink?" Now he mentioned it I was thirsty, and I nodded. Phil stood up and went over to the Master Francis at the cooler. They spoke for a moment, and then Master Francis took out two bottles, uncapped them and handed them to Phil. He said something to Phil who raised the bottle in his right hand. Master Francis nodded. Phil brought the drinks over taking a swig from the bottle in his left hand as he crossed the grass. When he got to me he handed me the bottle in his right hand. It was one of these up market colas. The ones that say they use only whole cola beans and no artificial colour or flavours. It tasted a bit odd, not unpleasant, just different. I mentioned it to Phil.

"It's OK, you'll get used to it. You'll get used to a lot of things." I wondered what he meant by that.

I had just finished the cola when Master James called out it was time to start to get ready to go back. Going over to where the bikes were parked, I went to pick up my pants from the pile of clothes I had placed on the pillion.

"No, Peter, you don't need those," Master James stated, walking up to me and taking them from my hands. "We don't wear any underwear when we are part of the group and you want to be part of the group, don't you."

"Aa.. Yes," I stammered in response.

"Yes what Peter?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good," he put his hand on my neck and pulled me close against his naked body, at the same time pulling my neck back as he lent slightly over me. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. I hoped he was going to kiss me. He didn't. He slid his hand down my back, then slid it round until it cupped my balls, which he squeezed. Not much, not so that it was painful, but enough to be uncomfortable. "You are learning. You have a nice body Peter, and I am going to enjoy teaching you all about it and what it is for. Now dress. You can ride back with Phil, play with his cock as you ride behind him, but don't let him cum. You must not cum either until I tell you to. Do you understand."

I don't know if I did understand — something seemed funny about the whole situation. I was finding it a bit difficult to focus on things, everything seemed a bit fuzzy. I dressed, sans pants, and went over to Phil's bike. When I got there, he took the helmet I had and spent a few minutes fiddling with it. I looked at him puzzled.

"Just, connecting it to my Bluetooth," he informed me, handing me the helmet and getting on his bike. He indicated I should get on behind him. I did. As I did he reached behind and took hold of my hands, pulled them round in front of him and pushed them down the front of his jeans. I could feel his cock there, erect, already very hard.

"Remember Peter, you must feel me on the way back but you must not make me come."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because that is what Master James has instructed," Phil replied.

"But why does he give such instructions?"

"He says that it is to heighten the overall sexual pleasure. The longer you can be kept sexually excited without coming to a climax the greater the sexual pleasure at the end."

"Is that true?" I asked.

"It seems to be," Phil replied. "Now you hold onto me as we need to get off." He started the bike and accelerated away after the group who had already moved off. I held on, enjoying the feel of his cock and balls in my hands. No, that is probably not the right phrase. I can't say I was enjoying it, it just felt, not so much right, just nice. Then everything started to feel nice. Almost as if I was in a dream.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead