Justin Cook, Juz or Juzza to his mates, shook his long blond hair off his face, left his red dual-cab Holden ute in a No Parking area, and walked into the hotel. He marched straight up to the chick in the snazzy suit behind the teak reception counter and said, “I’m here to pick up Quentin Wood. Can you tell him to get his ass into gear? I’m in a no parking zone.”
He headed back outside, relieved that no interfering sod had given him a parking ticket, and leaned his butt on the front grill of his truck. It was a sunny day, although bloody cold of course. July was midwinter and the coldest month of the year here in Sydney, but it was also relatively dry, so good for sightseeing.
Juz stared back into the hotel, but there was no sign of his client appearing yet. A bunch of twittering females emerged, all teetering along in ultra-high heels. He didn’t understand how women could balance on those things. He looked down at the thongs on his feet and smiled. There was nothing more comfortable to walk in than a nice pair of rubber thongs, although he would wear boots when they were in some places in the desert. Mostly snakes and spiders would run away if he made a noise, but he wasn’t paid enough to risk a snakebite.
Ah, this’d be his client now. The man was around his own height, six foot even, with a baseball cap covering most of his brown hair, and wearing a plain white T-shirt over his jeans. He carried a small backpack and a blue windcheater.
Juz straightened up and called, “Hey, Woody, over here.”
The man just stared at him, and then took a few hesitant steps in his direction.
“Come on, mate. This’s a no-parking zone. I don’t want a flaming ticket. Shift your ass.”
The man walked closer and asked, “Are you Mr. Cook, my guide?”
“Correct. Let’s go.” Juz walked to the car door and went to get in, only to find his client standing right behind him. “Other side, mate. This is Australia. We drive on the left.”
The man looked confused, blushed, and hurried around the ute to climb in. Juz turned the ignition on and pointed to the seat belt. “It’s the law here. You have to wear a seat belt.”
“Yes, front seat passengers and drivers have to wear a seat belt at home.”
“Backseat as well here, although they’re pretty laid back in the Northern Territory. It’s only been the law there for a couple of years, and they’ve only recently started enforcing it. Here, the cops’ll fine you as soon as look at you. I’ll take you over the coat hanger first, and then around to the Opera House, okay?”
“Sydney Harbor Bridge.”
“Oh, yes, thank you, sir.”
Juz shook his head. These Yanks were all mad. “We don’t use sir or ma’am here except for the military, okay?”
“What do you call people? And what did you call me before?”
“Woody. Isn’t that what your mates at school called you?” Juz slid through a nice little gap in the traffic and across to the correct lane to go over the bridge.
“No, si—so what should I call you?”
“Only me mum calls me Justin. Everyone uses Juz or Juzza sometimes. Here’s your first really good look at the bridge. When we get to the Opera House you’ll get some much better pictures of it, though.”
“My name’s Quentin. Part of my job is to take a lot of pictures. I can just delete any that are unsatisfactory. Did Tyler mention anything to you about the purpose of this journey?”
“You’re supposed to advertise a romantic holiday down under for gays. Not a problem. I’m gay and can take you to all the best bars and nightclubs even though I hate them. Meanwhile I’ll drive you around Sydney today and tomorrow and then we’ll head outback. You want to see the rock, right?”
“Uluru, Ayers Rock, Yulara.”
“Oh, yes please.”
“About three thousand ks—kilometers—say thirty hours give or take. Leave here bright and early Friday, be there Sunday arvo, no sweat.”
“Wait. What? We’re driving? Three thousand kilometers in thirty hours? That’s um, getting up toward two thousand miles in thirty hours? You’re insane.”
“Once we get past Port Augusta there won’t be much traffic apart from the occasional road train.”
Quentin had been watching out the window, taking pictures of the harbor. Now he turned and looked at Juz. Juz could see his movements out of the corner of his eye even while paying attention to the traffic, which wasn’t too bad anyway.
“We can sit down and plan the next few days later when I can look at maps instead of taking pictures. And have some coffee.”
The last sentence was softer, almost muttered. Juz got the idea his client was struggling to cope with everything.
“Still feeling a tad jetlagged are you, mate?’”
Juz rolled Woody over his knee, facedown, and slapped his tight, tautly muscled, delicious ass. He pushed the box across to Woody and said, “Why don’t you choose one while I get you ready.”
Woody had wiggled a little as he slapped his ass. Juz determined to remember that for another night. One when they didn’t have to get up early the next morning. He wouldn’t mind playing a game where Woody was tied up and spanked. Maybe bent over the sink in the kitchen section of the tent. It was sturdy metal, more than strong enough to take the weight of an adult leaning on it.
But for now he had an ass to prepare and a bloody attractive ass it was, too. Woody’s butt cheeks were firm with muscle and just a little rounded, making them ideal to grip as they fucked. Well, he expected they would be. He hadn’t actually tested that out yet.
Juz held his breath as he dripped lube all around Woody’s puckered red rosette. “Bloody oath you’re hot,” he whispered.
“If you’d hurry up and touch me properly I’d be even hotter.”
For a moment Juz wondered if Woody was cross with him, but then he understood it was simply that the man was as aroused as him and eager to move on to the fucking. Bloody hell yes. That was what he wanted as well. But preparation came first. Just like a good tour guide he needed to take his time, prepare the route properly, enjoy the journey, and then the outcome would be better for both of them.
But having said that, he did speed up a little and worked hard to concentrate on what he was doing, not on Woody’s groans, whimpers, and wiggling that was almost enough to distract the most dedicated of tour guides.
Finally he had three fingers deep inside Woody’s ass. The tissues were soft and stretched and ready for him, but he still rubbed one last layer of lube around the entrance to Woody’s channel to ensure it would be as good for Woody as he knew it was going to be for himself. The challenge would be not to explode the moment he entered him but to get in a decent length of fucking before either of them came.
“You’re done,” he said, slapping that delicious ass one more time.
“I know I’m done. I’m so done you’re lucky your bed isn’t an inch deep in cum from me exploding while I waited for you to get ready.”
Woody turned over, a condom in his hand. He faced Juz and rolled a lurid yellow-green rubber down Juz’s cock.
Juz just stared at it. “That is the most bloody awful color. Why did you choose it?”
“It’s a glow-in-the-dark one. I’ll know where you are now.”
Juz laughed and pulled Woody back into his arms. “You drongo. I don’t plan to leave you alone anytime soon.” As soon as he said the words, Juz knew they were true. Woody was only here for two weeks and half the first week had already passed. But Juz wanted him to stay longer. They had so much more to learn about each other. So much more to share. Well, he’d just have to make the most of every day and every night. Starting now.
Grabbing Woody’s arms tightly, he pulled them up until Woody’s soft brown hair was resting on the pillow. He lifted the Yank’s feet up and placed them on his shoulders, wiggling closer to him until his cock was poised at Woody’s back door. Then he grasped his lover’s hips and pressed his cockhead against the entry. His cock slid inside quite easily and both he and Woody hissed with relief. Juz pushed in deeper and relished the tight heat of Woody’s channel.
“You’re gripping me so tightly. Fuck, it feels good.”
“It feels damn good from my end, too.”
“Just as well. I aim to please.” But Juz couldn’t really talk anymore, or think. Well, unless he was thinking about the amazing ass his cock occupied right now. Slowly he pulled out and then powered back in again.
Bloody oath. The second time was almost better than the first.
He withdrew and powered in again and then again. And again. Every time was just as mind boggling as the first time. Woody was amazing. He was also wiggling back onto Juz’s dick, rubbing his hands over Juz’s chest, and patting his arms and thighs and shoulders, basically anything within reach. All of that was so much added stimulation Juz’s mind was fading fast and so was his ability to control his dick.
He kept hold of one of Woody’s hips and used his other hand to grab Woody’s cock. Now he tugged on it in time with his strokes into Woody’s ass. At the same time he swirled his hips around, wanting to ping Woody’s prostate gland, but not able to focus his brain on so many things at once right now.
Woody pinched Juz’s nipples and he groaned. “Not going to last,” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“That makes two of us.”
“Good to know.” He gave a twist to the hand stroking Woody’s cock right when he finally found his lover’s magic button with his cock.
To Juz’s surprise, Woody ripped the pillow out from under his head and covered his face with it as his cock spurted cum over Juz’s hand and both their bellies. The sight of his lover coming unloosed the last of Juz’s restraint and he spurted his seed into the condom, again and again and again, while gently stroking Woody’s cock.
Juz used his clean hand to pull the pillow off Woody’s face. He stared intently into Woody’s gray eyes. “What the fuck did you do that for?”