Here for your perusal is a piece of mindless summer silliness and yes be warned the time line is a bit off. But suspend your disbelief and have some fun.
This is dedicated to Pam who loaned me the zine that inspired said fluff.
I don't own the characters I'm only taking them out to play. Comments would be greatly appreciated

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God, I got hot just looking at him. He walked into the room, waved at a few people, and leaned over and kissed the bird he was with, giving her a good-bye pat on the arse, before moving off to join a few of the boys talking over the day's surfing by the bar. He appeared to be a bit older than most of the crowd, but you never knew looks could be deceiving. The pole that appeared in my trousers did not go unnoticed by Frankie or Ellen, the two friends I was talking with. Fortunately they both thought it was the bird that I was eyeing up. Ellen flounced off in a huff--good riddance, as far as I was concerned, she was only interested in my accent anyways--and Frankie kidded me about not poaching on someone else's territory.

I just smiled and informed him there was no harm in looking before moving off and heading towards the bar. I was hoping to get close enough to cage an intro to the auburn, curly-haired, walking wet dream that had just come in. Hopefully, Frankie would think that I was only trying for an in with his bird. My American friends were laid back, but I doubted they'd be too thrilled to find that I enjoyed men as well as women. Besides, this one looked like he could offer me a bit of a challenge. And I was definitely in the mood for a challenge!

Being an Englishman from Liverpool, hauling in the birds had not been difficult. Not difficult! Hell, that was a bit of an understatement--damn near had to beat 'em off with a club--thankyouverymuch John, Paul, George and Ringo. Their invasion of the colonies two years ago had certainly made an asset of my accent in chatting up the birds over here. I'd left home at fourteen, spent a year on an all male boat, four years as a mercenary over in Africa--where the pickings were slim to none--then a couple of months back, home with me mum after that bastard of a stepdad had died; weren't too many females interested in someone with my 'dark' past. But when me mum heard that I wanted to join the paras, she panicked, called her half brother, and talked him into adding me to his racing crew that he was bringing over to the States. He'd got an American sponsor for a year--wanted to capitalize on the popularity of everything British these days, I imagine--and so off I went. Figured the military would still be there in a year and a trip to America nothing to sneeze at.

Talk about feasting after five years of famine. All I had to do was open my mouth on the flight from New York to LA and the stewardess was introducing me to the mile high club. Never was much for clubs before that, but I've got a whole new appreciation for them now. That's a membership that I don't mind renewing on a regular basis, I can tell you. That was six months ago, and I reckon that I've caught up and passed all the shagging that I missed out on in the previous five years. Hell, after the first couple of months, I went into hiding for a few days. He--you know, the important bit between me legs--was totally worn out and in need of a rest. Been pacing myself since then and trying to limit it to only a couple of different birds a week. By now, though, it had began to pale.

S'alright for a while having 'em falling at your feet, but when you're right in the middle of it--yeah, that it--and she's going, 'talk to me, I want to hear you,' and then for afters she's telling you that you sound just like John and Paul.... Well, it'd be nice just to be wanted for my body after awhile and screw the accent, and it'd be even nicer to be wanted for who I was--you know, have someone actually ask about me and where I was from or what I did. Not that I'd tell them mind, being a mercenary's not the sort of thing you drop on a perfect stranger, but still.... God, I can't believe that I'm actually complaining because the birds are falling at my feet,--me, William Andrew Philip Bodie, complaining about too much sex--but I am. I miss the challenge--that wondering, will she or won't she--the thrill you get when you're using all your charm to talk her between the sheets and you succeed. These days I'm lucky if I can get them to hold off 'til the bedroom. 'S just not any fun anymore. I like a challenge every now and then.... Maybe a little male sex...?

Well, I'd worked my way over to the bar at Big Daddy's and had got near enough to get a good eyeful of Goldilocks. Now he was definitely yummy. Those trousers he wore were indecently tight. Not much to the imagination. I smiled as I studied what was on offer. He was half hard--bet he was on a slow burn most of the time. And unlike Frankie and Dewayne and all the other Yanks who had their shirts buttoned right up, wet dream had the top four of his undone. Could get a nice peak at his furry chest and one nipple. God, I was getting it bad. Shifted my hand casually down to rearrange matters to a more suitable position, hoping no one would notice my discomfort.

About that time I got bumped from behind and I turned to tell the person to back off a bit. Bonehead spoke before I could.

"Sorry, Bodie. Extra crowded tonight. Must be the race at the end of the week."

"Probably. My uncle's driving in it, you know."

"You going to work his crew?"

"Course. That's what I'm supposedly over here for. Not just surfing and shagging every female that wants a British scalp on her belt."

"You complaining?" he asked.

It would never do to admit that, so I said, "'Course not. But I do get a bit tired every now and then. The birds don't want to leave me alone."

"Wish I had that problem. So who are you with tonight?" He looked around to see if any bird was near.

"Was with Ellen, but she's gone off in a huff." I shrugged to show that it didn't matter to me.

The bartender finally got round to us and we placed our orders. I moaned to Boney, "Damn, I want a beer or something a bit harder."

"`S what you get for moving to a state where you're underage. 'Sides, Big Daddy's crowd is mostly under twenty-one so he doesn't serve booze. Thought your uncle would...."

"He does, but not too often. Said me mum made him promise."

"Mothers," we commiserated with sighs. I decided to probe a bit about the new face.

"So, who's the new guy?" I nodded toward Goldilocks.

"That's Ray. He showed up a few days ago. His uncle has something to do with films--don't ask me what--but he just rented the beach house three doors down. Ray's been learning how to surf for the last couple of weeks. Surprised you haven't made his acquaintance as much surfing as you do?"

"With the race coming up I've been too busy helping my uncle to hang ten very often. How's he doing with the surfing?"

"Not bad. Frankie says he has natural talent. You really ought to talk to him, what with you both being--"

"Bonehead, where are those drinks?" You could hear Dewayne's shout clear across the club. Not the shy retiring type, him.

"Sorry, Bodie, got to run." He grabbed a tray with a dozen drinks and headed out. Was better than waiting on the one waitress Big Daddy would spring for to finally get around to you. Her legs were run right off and it was lucky if she'd get to you once an hour.

So wet dream's name was Ray. I smiled. Perhaps it was time to move in a little closer. See if I still had that ol' Bodie charm that could charm just about anyone into bed. I looked over at my target of the night to find him watching me. His gaze was remote and calculating, and I hadn't a clue as to what he was thinking. Felt a shiver run down my spine; ended right up in my groin. Damn, much more of that look and I'd come in my pants. I met his gaze, a challenge in mine.

He smiled, tilted his head a fraction, and his eyebrow rose just the slightest little bit. Fuckin' hell, but that almost did me in. I had to get out of the bar, and fast, or I was going to embarrass myself like I hadn't done since I was thirteen. I finished my coke in one gulp, turned and headed swiftly for the door.

I'd gone off down the beach a bit to get out of the light and was taking deep breaths trying to cool down a bit. For once I was wishing California had cool nights because my hard on was down right painful, and I was sorely tempted to go stand in the cold surf for some relief. The sounds of music from the club down the beach drowned out all but the loudest waves, but my time as a merc was not so far behind me that I didn't get that prickly feeling when I was being watched. I turned swiftly to find Ray watching me from about ten feet away. 'Damn, I was getting sloppy if he could get that close without me spotting him.'

He smiled and nodded towards a house one door down. That's right, Bonehead did say that his uncle had rented it. My erection, which had eased slightly, was back full force; I was glad that the beach was dark, but doubted that I could hide it in a well lit room. My doubt must have shown on my face, for he walked up beside me almost as if he was going to pass me by, but then stopped, only inches separating us; he smiled again and allowed one finger to run from base to tip of my hard cock and nodded again towards the house. Well, there went the challenge, but right then I didn't give a damn. I nodded back and turned and walked beside him to the house, up the beach stairs, and followed him in as he slid open the sliding glass door and went inside.

Taking a few steps into the room, I turned and watched as he locked the door and closed the drapes. There was only a small light on in the corner, so the room was in shadows. I felt myself shudder as he walked towards me. So much for my idea of a bit of rough trade; this one looked like he knew what he was about. And I really wanted him.

Ray came and stood before me, one hand grabbed one of mine, and the other raised to stroke my cheek. I felt it shake as he touched me. So, he wasn't as self assured as he seemed either. That made me feel better, and I relaxed a little, gaining back some of my confidence. My hands went 'round to cup that beautiful arse. The touch set us on fire, and my hands pulled him hard against me as his hand moved to the back of my head and pulled my mouth to his. Our tongues battled and our groins rubbed together. Damn, but it wasn't near enough--not for either of us.

He pulled away and whispered, "Bed."

I nodded, although it hadn't been a question, and, taking my hand, he turned and led us down the hall and up a flight of stairs to a bedroom. It was in darkness, and I was drawn to the large picture window that took up most of one wall. I could see the stars and waves by the light of an almost full moon. It was beautiful. The window was open, and I could hear the distant music of the waves and from Big Daddy's down the beach. There was a slow love song playing, and it sounded like DeeDee was singing. I often wondered why she didn't take it up professionally. She was a looker and her voice was good enough. My idle speculation was interrupted by Ray.

He came up behind me and drew me back into his arms. Holding me close, he nuzzled the side of my neck and I felt a shiver run through both of us. Didn't have a clue as to whose it was, and by now I didn't give a damn. I turned my head so that our lips could meet, and we shared a soul shattering kiss. Turning, we were soon in each other's arms, and I was drunk with the feel, taste, and smell of him. I pulled his shirt out and over his head, and he quickly unbuttoned mine enough to do the same. Then he began to tease. His hand came around to cup me, and he began a gentle stroking of my hardness. I bucked into the hand. Ray slid it down to rub my balls. I groaned.

"You keep this up, sunshine, and I'll never be able to get me trousers off," I said. He smiled at me and I wondered if the accent was a turn on for him, too. I sure hoped not--I was bloody tired of being desired just because I sounded like one of the members of a popular rock group.

His hands got busy then and undid my belt, snap, and ran the zipper down. He ran two fingers up and down my cock, which was straining to get out of my pants. It felt so good. Most birds didn't like to touch it. They preferred to let you do all the running. Don't get me wrong; I liked stroking their tits and feeling them up, but it was nice to have someone touching me for a change. Not treating my cock as if it was something too dirty to touch.

Ray didn't find it dirty at all. And when he dropped to his knees, pulling my trousers and pants down and off as he went, I felt my heart start pounding in my chest. I heeled off my shoes and Ray helped me step out of my clothes. Tossing them aside, he turned and, stroking up my thighs to my sac, he circled my cock with one hand and guided it into his mouth. My legs gave out then. Fortunately, I hadn't noticed that he'd maneuvered me so that I was up against the end of the bed. If there'd been a foot board I'd have been in a lot of pain. As it was, I was out of my head from the pleasure.

I hadn't had this done to me too many times. Nice girls didn't--at least that was what I'd been told, and I normally didn't pay for hookers--and, well, out in the bush cocksuckers were not highly regarded, and, so, while you might share a wank with a friend or a bit of rubbing, very few would suck you off. Hygiene was a bit of a problem out there, as well, so any way you looked at it it wasn't a pleasant experience for the one doing it. But Ray knew what he was doing; I was gone before I knew we'd even started. He pulled back as I squirted and I heard him chuckling. It was a low rumble that seemed to start at his toes and work its way up. Sexy as hell he was.

Pushing my legs farther apart he raised up and whispered, "Like that, did you?"

I just leaned against him and nodded. Wasn't used to letting anyone else take the lead but I was beginning to feel like I'd got on a runaway train and couldn't find the brakes. He stood up and crawled up the bed, motioning for me to follow. I did. Was beginning to get me feet back under me and decided he wasn't going to have it all his way. I'd learned a thing or two out in Africa and thought I'd give it a go. I decided to take over. Ray didn't seem to mind.

I pushed him down on his back and began a slow exploration of his body with my hands and mouth. His nipples were particularly sensitive--much more so than mine--and I swear that I probably could've made him come just by sucking them, but I decided there were a lot more fun things to do and moved on down. I continued to tease his nipples with my right hand while I sucked on a couple of the fingers of my left. Allowing my right hand to trail slowly down his body and grasp his cock, I took the head into my mouth. As I did that, and he was overwhelmed with the sensations, I inserted a moistened finger deep inside him and gently moved it around. One hard suck and he yelled loudly as he came. I hoped no one else was home because they'd come running if they were. My right hand continued to milk him until there was nothing left, and he was moaning in incoherence.

Smiling, I let go and moved myself up to lie beside him on the bed, giving him a brief kiss on the lips. He didn't say anything but merely opened his eyes and smiled. It had been very good, and I hoped for a few repeat performances.

I thought I'd feel him out, see if he was interested in more than a one off, but I didn't want to betray how much I was hoping he wanted more.

"So, mate, you coming to the races this weekend?"

Ray smiled at me and asked in a very soft voice, "Liverpool?"

Bloody hell, another one just interested in me because I was British. I sat up quickly, all thoughts of seeing him again leaving. Before I could get off the bed his hand grabbed my wrist. Turning, I met his questioning look and explained, "I'm bloody tired of being slept with because I sound like a Beatle. There's more to me than a soddin' accent."

Ray didn't react like I'd expected. Instead of protesting, he started to laugh. And the more I glared at him the harder he laughed. I pulled my wrist away and stood up, grabbing my pants from the floor and quickly putting them on.

"You may think it's funny, but I'm damn tired of being a British notch on your Yank belts."

He managed to gain control of himself and said, "I know the feeling, mate, and I assure you that your accent had nothing to do with me wanting you. My uncle and his mates don't do a thing for me. Now that arse of yours is another matter, sunshine. And I'd like to get a lot closer acquainted with it if you're interested."

In the midst of pulling on my trousers, hearing a Manchester accent coming out of Ray's mouth floored me--literally--I lost my balance and ended up flat on the arse he admired so much. He got up from the bed and reached a hand down to help me up. His smile was infectious, and I reached up and let him pull me to my feet and into his arms. We started kissing again, and, well, one thing led to another, and we finally made it to sleep just before daybreak.

Ray and I both walked a bit funny for the next couple of days, but it was worth it. And we both went around with a couple of facetious grins on our faces for the next six months until my uncle's contract ran out and I had to go home. He was going to follow in a few months, but neither of us was ready for a permanent commitment, so we didn't say anything about keeping in touch.

It's five years later now, but I've never forgotten that six months. Ray was my last venture into male sex--couldn't settle for anything less than what I had with him and what we had was special, so I stuck to birds. Thought I was all through with that, 'til yesterday that is.

Yesterday, George Cowley, my new boss, introduced me to my new partner in CI5--one Ray Doyle. So, now I'm walking stiffly around, with a silly grin on my face, all over again. Doyle's none too spry either, and every time he eases himself down somewhere, my grin just gets bigger. He's giving me that look again now, just like that first night. It's going to be one hell of a partnership!

-- THE END --