Long Load

I'd better tell you about my third encounter with a long-loaded guy from Long Load because that's what this story is supposed to be about. This one happened just a couple of years ago, making me twenty-five.

The guy's name was Richard and he came to the house I was sharing with my girlfriend to install satellite television. Nicola was out at work and I'd arranged with my boss to stay at home for the morning, writing up a few reports while I waited for the Sky TV van to pull up outside.

Richard was about my age, maybe a little younger, and, while he was polite and pleasant, he seemed unwilling to indulge in anything more than vague, general small-talk. I offered him a cup of tea which he gratefully drank down in almost a single gulp, but his main priority was obviously to get on with the matter of fixing up the dish and wiring the cables through the wall into the house. He had a lot of jobs on that day, he said, and it was clear that he was eager to get through them as quickly as he could.

I felt a little disappointed: not just because his body, like mine, was nicely built and his manner was rough and natural (always enormously attractive to me), but because I detected the slight possibility that he might be gay, or more likely bi, and I was interested to see if he fancied postponing his next house call by an hour or so.

Things didn't go too well at first, though. He just wasn't interested in conversation and my offer of more tea "or maybe something more" was flatly rejected. He went to use the bathroom but he shut and locked the door, and my question, when he emerged, about whether he wore jeans beneath his overalls or whether he found them too inconvenient was answered with a curt, "I wear jeans, mate."

The morning brightened up, though, when he was testing that the receiver was working properly, with me sitting next to him.

It seemed to be doing everything it should and he flicked through a few of the myriad of channels to show me, briefly, how it worked.

"...Channels starting three hundred - those are your movies. Then from four hundred: that's sport and music. Five hundred is news and documentaries. Sciencey kind of stuff... Then six hundred..."

I rapidly lost interest as his voice droned on.

But my attention was recaptured when he reached the nine hundreds.He said, "That's adult stuff... Playboy Channel. That kind of stuff..."

He flicked through a few, giving a brief flash of naked flesh - invariably attached to female bodies - before switching up to the next channel.

I was surprised. "I can watch adult stuff?"

He smiled. "With your subscription, no. But I put my viewing card in to test the system and everything's unblocked on it. If you wanna see channels like this with your card, you'll have to subscribe to them..."

He continued flicking up through the broad array of girlie channels, the extent of which I hadn't suspected existed.

I asked, "How much is a subscription?"

He laughed. "I've got you interested now, haven't I? I should be on commission!"

He kept his thumb pressing the button, grinning at me, giving me a little longer to glimpse at each of the channels on offer.

He went on, "I dunno... it varies... some are a tenner for a night's viewing..."

"What... for a single channel?"

He nodded.

"For a single night?! I'd want a month for that..."

He laughed again. "It don't come cheap! At least not the quality stuff..."

Suddenly he flicked onto a channel which had two naked men on it. Almost instantly he changed it to the next, once again heterosexual, channel.

I called out, "Whoa... go back... was that a gay channel?"

He flicked back. "I dunno... yeah... it looks like it..."

He kept it on that channel. I mentally noted the number. 967. The men were fondling each other's cocks which were semi-erect. One was kissing the other's neck.

I said, "Wow! I had no idea that kind of stuff was on here..."

He turned to me, "You interested in gay stuff then?"

I shrugged. I wasn't sure how to answer. His eyes were warm and friendly but he might be intimidated by the idea of a guy finding sex with other men attractive. He might even turn violent. He looked like he could get the better of me in a physical fight, although I'm fit enough to look after myself, but he could hardly do that to a customer, could he? One phonecall from me to Sky TV and he'd be suspended immediately. We both knew that.

He stared at me, waiting for a response.

I shrugged again. "Yeah. Kind of..."

He said, "But what about the woman you live with... your wife or girlfriend?"

Even though I hadn't mentioned Nicola, it was obvious I lived with a woman because her stuff was all over. Her shoes stacked on the rack in the hall; her clothes were out drying on the line in the garden.

I smiled. "Yeah... she's important. But... well... I guess, variety's the spice of life..."

He smiled back, nodding. "Yeah... I can go with that..."

We both turned back to the television, watching as one man worked his way down the other's body, clearly heading for giving him a blow job.