The Halfway Inn

by Robert Furlong

Part 1     -     Part 2

 

 

Part 1

I glanced across at Pete as I took off my shirt. Perhaps because he was a lot younger than me, he seemed oblivious to any sense of self-consciousness or embarrassment that the two of us were having to share a room and get undressed together.  He looked young enough to have graduated from college in the last couple of years and might have been used to sharing a room when he was there.

     When I'd heard that we had to go on a course in Bristol, the prospect of staying over had sounded like it might be a treat.  I knew that the hotel our company used, The Halfway Inn near Cribbs Causeway, was a fairly basic affair on the edge of an industrial estate, but it's always nice to sleep somewhere different and especially to have a cooked breakfast served up in the morning.

     A few days later, though, finance had told us that the four of us men who were going had to double up in two twin rooms for the sake of economy.  Having in mind two of the guys I was going with – both in their late fifties and both sweatily overweight – I resolved that I would prefer not to stay over and instead would get up at four in the morning to make the drive to Bristol in time for the early start.

     But then I'd been told that I'd be sharing with Pete Lehman, one of the new recruits from planning.  And I'd immediately figured that didn't seem half as bad.

     Pete is a tall guy in his early twenties and, while hardly the best looking bloke I've ever met and dim-witted to the point of notoriety, as soon as I heard his name he struck me as someone I might be able to get drunk and have some late night fun with.  I knew him to be straight – I'd seen his humourless girlfriend drop him off outside reception some mornings – but he seemed pliable enough that, with a bit of gentle persuasion and a few glasses of something rather stronger, he might be coaxed into letting me help him out with the erection that young men always seemed to have.

     And even if I just managed to get a sniff of his discarded underwear while he was in the bathroom, it would be a good deal better than me spending the night alone at home.

     "Does it bother you having to share like this?" I asked him as he was unbuttoning his shirt and I sat down to take off my shoes.

     He shrugged and said, "Not really.  I used to go travelling with my mates before I met Shelley, and we'd usually share to save on costs."

     I nodded, assuming Shelley to be his po-faced girlfriend.

     If he'd been travelling with his mates, that could only be a good sign.  Perhaps a few favours might have been traded among a group of horny lads in the closeness of a shared hostel room.  At the very least, once he was tipsy he'd be up for having a wank with me after lights out – each in our own beds to begin with, of course.

     "Are you sure I can't tempt you to a drink?" I asked.  I'd brought a bottle of Johnnie Walker especially for this moment.

     "Naah," he said.  "I had a glass of wine with the meal.  I don't want to be hungover in the morning.  They might start asking us questions or something."

     He seemed the type of person who would be terrified by directed questions at the best of times.

     I nodded in spite of my disappointment.  There was no point in pouring one for myself; I might end up doing something I'd regret in the morning.

     The plan had been to get him nicely merry and then confide in him – apologetically, of course – that I always needed to masturbate before sleeping.  In his half-drunken state, the likelihood was that he would join in with the noisy fist-pounding I'd give my cock after lights-out and then I'd get up and go over to his bed and confide that I knew a few tricks that could help bring him off.

     But that wasn't to be.  There was no way I could suggest something so uncouth to a colleague who wasn't at least halfway to being drunk.

     I stood up and pulled down my trousers as Pete took off his shirt.  I was wearing a tight white pair of Calvin Klein briefs which I'd worn deliberately to show my bum off at its best.  There didn't seem a lot of point in that now. 

     To my surprise, though, I could feel Pete peering over at me as I stepped out of my trousers.  I folded them up and put them on the back of the chair near to my bed, wearing just my underpants and socks.  All the time, he made no bones about the fact he was checking me out.  He stared over at my bulge as if fascinated by it, smiling and nodding appreciatively.

     "You fill those out pretty nicely, Rob," he remarked after seeing that I had noticed his interest.

     I was pleased at his attention but thought I ought to take a modest line.  Straight men are often intimidated when other men with large genitals: as an especially well-endowed bloke, that's a rule of thumb I've found it useful to work to.

     "I think it's the way they're cut," I said coyly.  "They have a very supportive pouch to emphasize the... er... shape of what's inside."

     He chuckled.  "Oh, right... yeah, I've seen those kinds of briefs in shops.  They have a sort of strap inside them, don't they?"

     "Some of them do."

     Mine didn't: I didn't need any help to be able to make the sort of mound in my underwear you could stand a row of books on.

     "Don't they hurt your balls, though?" he asked.  "Doesn't the strap dig in?"

     "I don't know," I admitted.  "With this type, I think it's all in the stitching."

     I was lying, of course: these were just fairly bog-standard briefs, albeit well-branded ones with a generous fit for guys who were built like me.

     I went into the little bathroom, still wearing my socks, to clean my teeth.

     "Well, they look good on you, Rob," he called over to me, apparently enjoying the view of my crotch from the side.

     This was starting to seem hopeful.  I'd have to be careful how I played things from here.  I really didn't want to mess things up at such a crucial point.

     "Thanks," I smiled, squirting a gob of toothpaste onto my brush.  "It's quite refreshing to be with a guy who can be so open about finding another man attractive – I like that."

     He laughed as I started brushing my teeth.  "I'm not like these guys who pretend they can't see that another blokes is handsome or whatever.  I don't think it's gay to admit stuff like that."

     I nodded over at him, smiling past my toothbrush to let him know I agreed.

     He was pulling down his own trousers to reveal a lime green pair of boxer briefs which had crisp white piping around the fly and along the hems.  His thin, limp penis was clearly defined within their roomy pouch, tucked between the paired bumps of his ample testicles.

     I wondered whether any of his travelling buddies had ever sucked away at that very prick in the quiet darkness of a lonely tent.  Whether the large set of bollocks he was concealing had ever emptied their collective loads down such a companion's gagging throat, before sleeping bags had been zipped back up and backs had been turned against one another.

     He went on, "I mean, I'd rather you were my girlfriend standing there in her panties and bra.  But just because you're another fella, it doesn't mean that I can't admire the view in a different way."

     I took the brush out of my mouth.  "That's exactly how I feel, Pete," I said through a mouthful of foam.  "I love having a woman in my life – Christ, I was married to one for over a decade – but I can appreciate that men can be attractive to."

     He nodded and stepped out of his trousers, turning towards his bed to fold them and prevent creases.  His bum looked very appealing in his underwear: his cheeks were pleasantly round and the material between them had worked up deeply into his crack.

     I'd ogled his bum countless times through his cheap black trousers at work: every time I had cause to go to his office I'd deliberately ask him to fish one of the files out from the bottom drawer for me. I loved watching his arse when he bent over: how the pert, round cheeks pressed outwards against the material and how the hem down the middle rode alluringly between them.  It looked even better now in just his boxer briefs and I was determined to get an even closer look at it before the night was out.

     I finished brushing my teeth as he continued chatting.  "I think all guys must feel like us, but they're just scared to admit it.  They're worried people will think they're gay or something."

     I spat out the foam and rinsed my mouth.  Then I said, "I don't worry about guys thinking I was gay.  It wouldn't bother me at all.  I can see the sexual appeal of men as well as women.  If that makes me partly gay, then so be it."

     He smirked over at me.  "Can you see the sexual appeal in me?"

     I smiled back, feeling even more pleased at the way the conversation was going.  "Of course I can, Pete.  You're a very attractive man.  I'd have to be a fool not to see that."

     He smiled more broadly.  He liked the compliment, and I felt a little guilty that it had mostly been a lie.

     I suddenly realised that with his big, dopey eyes and gormless grin, he reminded me of the large rodent-like creature from the film 'Ice Age'.  Sid, I seemed to remember him being called.

     I walked back into the room, popped my toothpaste and brush back into my toiletries bag and then bent down to pull off my socks.

     "Whoa!" Pete called out.  "What's that thing in the back of your briefs?  Is it another support or something?"

     I stood up and looked over at him, not understanding.  "What do you mean?"

     "There's like a big round ring right between your bum-cheeks.  Rubber or plastic or something.  Doesn't it hurt?"

     I felt myself blush, realising that I had just inadvertently given him a flash of my rear entrance which had recently started taken on a very different appearance from those of most other men.  I'd often fantasized about having someone recognise how plump and stretched – and to my mind, inviting – my anus had become, but now that it was happening for real and with a younger colleague, I suddenly felt acutely embarrassed.

     "It's... er... not part of the underwear..." I muttered.

     "What is it then?" he asked innocently.  "It's like a big, raised circle which stuck out when you bent down..."

     He made an arc shape with his finger and thumb, as if wrapping them around an invisible tube.  I blushed more deeply, realising that the hole he was making was quite blatantly the same girth as some of the large, erect cocks that had recently cleaved me open so blatantly back there.

     I cursed myself for having been so sexually active this last week or so.  In the last four nights alone, I'd been roughly fucked by three different men; one of whom proudly revealed that he had a cock as thick as his forearm.  My arsehole must be as loose as an open manhole and so swollen that it puckered outwards like the distended neck of a very wide bottle.

     Pete just stood and gawped that dopey expression at me as I managed to answer, "I think what you saw, Pete, might have been... well...part of me, actually..."

     "Part of you?" he asked vacantly.

     "Yeah," I said, reluctant to clarify but seeing that I had to.  "I think it was my arsehole.  It gets quite large and inflamed sometimes."

     Now it was his turn to blush, only much more strongly than me.  His cheeks went almost purple in colour.

     "Oh, right," he stammered.  "Sorry, mate.  Fuck – I didn't know.  Is it like some sort of medical condition?"

     I shook my head.  I didn't want him to think that.  I'd rather that he knew the truth than to think that.

     "No, Pete.  It's not like that.  It's something that... well..."

     I thought I'd try another tack.

     "You know when I said I find men attractive...?" I began.

     He nodded stupidly.

     "Well, sometimes – when other men find me attractive too – we express that attraction in a physical way."

     He didn't seem to understand but just continued to stare at me blankly.

     "What I mean is," I went on uncertainly, "while I like having sex with women and I love getting intimate with my girlfriend, with the right guy and the right situation, sometimes I... well... I rather like to play for the other team as well."

     "But your arsehole?" he asked, ignoring my attempt to explain.  "It's so big!"

     I smiled.  In spite of Pete's discomfort, I was starting to feel less self-conscious.  This was, after all, what I had fantasized about countless times and, if I handled it deftly, I thought I might be able to steer things towards the destination I'd had in mind from the beginning. 

     "Given what I've just told you I do with it, it is going to be rather bigger than normal, isn't it?"

     Now I sounded like a primary school teacher trying to get an especially slow kid to understand a simple point.

     And yet he still didn't get it.

     "What do you do with it?" he asked with genuine confusion.

     "I told you," I said, holding my smile.  "I like women but I play around with men sometimes.  It's not a big deal."

     He looked at me blankly.  This wasn't sinking in at all.  I'd known he was thick but I hadn't expected this.

     At length he asked, as if it might help, "Can I see it again?"

     "You're asking to see my arsehole?"

     He shrugged.  "Yeah.  I'm just curious.  I've never seen anything like it, that's all."

     "But it's my arsehole, Pete.  It's kind of private."

     "Well, you can see mine if you want to."

     Nice one, Mr Furlong, I thought.  Very deftly played.

     I nodded.  "Okay then.  In that case – yeah, why not?"

     I turned around and bent over for him, sticking my bum outwards so that my plump and enlarged ring would push outwards against the material of my briefs.

     "Jesus!" he called out.  "Your butt-hole is fucking massive, mate!"

     I smiled, flaunting my large, bloated ring for him and enjoying the fact that it was level with his crotch.  It was pity the slight bulge in the pouch of his shorts was so far unresponsive: if he'd been running a hard-on by now, poking outwards towards my fat, puffy hole, this would have been so much more encouraging.  I might even have allowed myself to 'accidentally' step backwards so that the back of my underwear pushed into the front of his.

     Instead, I asked, "Do you like it, Pete?"

     "It's a bit weird," he chuckled.  "But yeah!  It's pretty cool!"

     I relaxed my anus so I could feel the swollen entrance of it puckering more firmly against my underwear, making a large distended 'O' shape – quite patently stretched to a generous cock size – between my cheeks.

     And then, still none the wiser, he asked, "If it's not a medical thing, how did it get so big, then, Rob?"

     I was going to have to spell it out to him.  The subtle approach just wasn't working for him.

     "Is it as wide as finger?" I asked him, pushing it towards him.

     "No," he replied.  "It's much bigger than that."

     "As big as, say, a carrot?"

     "No, mate.  Even bigger."

     "As wide, then, as the shaft of another bloke's hard-on?"

     "Yeah!" he said triumphantly.  "It's exactly that size!"

     I stood up again and turned to face him.  He was staring at me with an expression that showed he still didn't quite get it.

     "So why do you think it might be that size?" I asked him with a smirk.  "Given my appreciation for the attentions of other men?"

     He looked at me incuriously for a few seconds and then the penny finally dropped and his eyes gaped open.  "Oh!" he exclaimed.  "Oh, right!  You like having blokes bum you up your arse!"

     And, then, with a triumphant grin: "I get it now!"

     I chuckled and nodded.  "So now you know, Pete.  And I'd kind of appreciate it if you didn't gossip too widely about me at work."

     "I won't!" he insisted.  "Definitely not, mate.  I just... wow!  I had no idea!  I thought you were... you know... Mr Straight Laced, I suppose."

     I chuckled again.  "I am straight.  I love women.  I just... well... I like the sensation of having a guy doing that to me too.  Only as a release – nothing more than that."

     "What, like, just for kicks?  No commitment or anything?  No boyfriend stuff?"

     "Exactly," I smiled.  "Just like having a wank together, kind of.  Except I like it when a guy wants to use my backside for his pleasure.  No more than that."

     He nodded thoughtfully.  I let the comparison between what I was admitting I did with my bum and straightforward mutual masturbation filter through to his brain.  If he had played around with any of his travelling companions, even if he'd just had a quick tug with another horny bloke under the cover of their sleeping bags, he might be persuaded that what I was suggesting was just a small step further.

     Eventually he nodded more resolutely and said, "Yeah.... I suppose it sounds like a good deal.  I mean, it's not like cheating, is it?"

     "Of course not," I smiled, growing in confidence at how easy he was to manipulate.  "It's no different from wanking using porn to help you out.  In this case, though, you're just using a friend's behind to achieve the same outcome."

     "It's just like being bum chums," he suggested brightly.

     "That's it exactly!" I laughed.

     He nodded again.  "And that's how your arsehole became so big?  Helping out friends?  Letting your mates stick their cocks up it?"

     I nodded back, smiling casually like this was such an ordinary conversation for two men to be having when they were sharing a room.  "That's right.  Mates who get hard up or whose wives won't serve up the goods often enough.  Or just to help out guys I happen to find myself with and who feel a bit horny... like in this sort of situation."

     He stared into my eyes and I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head.

     He asked, "Can I see it again?  Without your pants on?"

     I considered the request before replying, "Only if I can see yours.  Like you agreed."

     He smiled and nodded.  "Okay.  But mine's not like yours, Rob.  Mine's really small and tight."

     "Just like mine used to be," I explained.  "Before I realised that it's so much more fun when it's not."

     He laughed and I gestured him over to the full length mirror which was on the back of the door to the room.

     We stood with our backs to it, looking over our shoulders at our bums in our underwear.  I bent forwards first, puckering the ring of my anus outwards in my briefs so it made a large gaping opening raised up like a sink hole between my buttocks.

     Pete laughed and said, "Wow!"

     Christ, my hole looked like it had been ploughed by a truckload of squaddies.  The ring was so dilated it was like a full-page advertisement that I liked to be buggered.  It was shameful really!

     Nevertheless, I flaunted it for him, wiggling my hips slightly to show off my unusual attribute as it made a large, proud circle against the back of my underpants.

     Pete seemed impressed with what I was parading for him.  "That is fucking mint, mate!" he laughed.

     "Do you think so?" I asked.

     "Yeah," he laughed.  "If you're into ... you know... taking your mates' knobs up there, it shows you've been having some great fun!"

     I smiled.  "I suppose I have been."

     "Christ, you could reverse a fucking truck up there!" he said and then laughed more loudly.

     I had to laugh back.  "Come on, it's not that big!"

     "Does it stick out between your cheeks when you're wearing your trousers?" he asked.

     "Not yet, I don't think.  But I'm hoping eventually it'll get so big that everyone will be able to see it as a massive, gaping ring against the seat of my trousers when I bend over."

     "But everyone'll know you like getting butt-fucked by other blokes," he queried.

     "That's the whole point," I chuckled.  "That's what appeals to me."

     He laughed like he got it.  "That is so fucking next!"

     "Come on, then, Pete: bend forwards and show me yours."

     He leaned forwards and pushed his bum out towards the mirror.  His lime green boxer briefs eased out from the crack of his arse revealing nothing of the ring of his anus but exposing – quite blatantly – a crude brown skid mark right where his hole would be.

     He blushed a dark shade of purple again as we both stared at it.  There was no point in either of us pretending it was anything other than what it was.

     "Sorry, mate," he muttered.  "Must have been in a hurry in the loo."

     I smiled at him through the mirror.  "Don't worry about it.  I'm showing you something very private, so it makes me a bit less self-conscious to see something so private in return."

     He smiled back at my reassurance and the colour of his cheeks lessened slightly.  "Yeah... I suppose.  That can be my little secret.  You won't tell anyone, will you?"

     "Of course not."

     He looked back at my ringpiece and I relaxed it outwards for him again.  It made a large, cavernous hole against my underwear and, as he gaped at it, grinning, I noticed that the bulge between his legs was now rather more pronounced than it had been earlier.

     All this time that I'd been showing off my swollen hole to him, he'd been steadily developing a swelling of his own.  The lonely nerve cell in his tiny brain had been firing on all cylinders, the possibilities of how he could use such a receptive opening slowly dawning on him, and the insubstantial tube of flesh which had been flopping around in his boxers had found itself becoming altogether more substantial.

     Pete was totally oblivious to the fact that the front of his underwear was starting to betray the changing nature of his interest in my well-used backside.  He just stared at my hole, chuckling at its strangeness, while the growing lump in his boxers told its own story of the way things might be headed.

     "You must have taken some fucking big cocks up your arse, Rob," he quipped.  "I mean, if you don't mind me saying."

     I grinned back at him through the mirror.  "I don't mind at all.  Between you and me, Pete, I once took two at the same time."

     "You had two blokes' dicks up your arse at the same time?!" he laughed with wide-eyed amazement.  "How did you manage that?"

     "They sort of lay together on the bed, one this way, one that way," I explained, gesturing with my hands.  "And I straddled over them, lowering myself down onto their erections as they held them together."

     He guffawed loudly at that.  "Fucking hell, mate!  That's awesome!"

     I smiled back at him.  "Actually it was!"

     As I'd hoped, the bulge in his shorts grew discernibly bigger at the image I'd presented him with: this really was heading my way!

     "Come on, then," he insisted.  "Pull your pants down!  Let's see it for real."

     I hitched down my briefs and then yanked them off over my feet and threw them across to my bed.  My cock was half-erect and starting to rise upwards but Pete was more interested in seeing me reveal my rear opening for him.  I used both hands to prize my buttocks apart, flourishing for him my thickly forested crack with my large, pink anal ring protruding from it.  He gasped at the size of it and I saw the bulge between his legs get a little bit fuller.

     "It's a bit like a minge!" he observed with a laugh.  "Hairy and pink."

     "Well, I suppose it does the same job."

     "The same job?" he asked.  God, he really was thick.

     "Receiving cocks and cum," I explained.

     He grinned over at me.  "Wow!  Yeah!  It's just like a big fat mott!"

     I smiled back at him but I didn't want him to think of it like that.  I didn't want to be his substitute girlfriend – a female stand-in – I wanted him to be growing excited that, for all I was brandishing a blatantly fuckable hole for him, it was most definitely a man who was attached to it.

     I opened my legs wider so that he could see how large my testicles looked hanging down between my thighs.  My balls were so plump that they stretched my hairy scrotum halfway to my knees and I enjoyed parading how copiously full they were for him.  However vaginal my splayed opening looked, he could be under no allusions now that this was another bloke's buggery-loosened arsehole he was peering at.

     "Jesus, mate!" he called out.  "Look at the size of your 'nads!"

     "Do you like them?" I smiled.

     "They just look weird!"

     That didn't sound so good.  "Weird?" I asked.

     "Yeah – you've got that massive hole between your cheeks – gaping like a whore's twat – and then down there, right under it, a fucking huge pair of bollocks.  It looks weird but at the same time really fucking hot!"

     I grinned back at him.  That was more like it.

     I directed my cock downwards with my left hand so that he could see its thickened shaft and engorged head underneath my balls.

     He guffawed again, even more loudly than before.

     "Fucking hell, Rob!  This just gets better, mate!  You've got a knob like a garden hose!"

     "Does my arse still look like a pussy, Pete?"

     "No way, mate!" he laughed again.  "Not with a set of junk like that hanging down right underneath it!"

     I laughed back with him.  "The men who fuck me don't think of me as a woman, Pete.  They don't think of it as a woman's vagina."

     "What do they think of it as?"

     "Another man's willing arsehole.  And I think they like the fact it's another bloke's backside that they're screwing.  It makes them feel more manly to be able to penetrate another man."

     He grinned at me but the stupid expression on his face made me doubt he understood me.

     I thought I'd try a different tactic.

     "Let me show you what I can do with my hole when it gets so big like this."

     I released my cock, letting it spring upwards towards my stomach, and grabbed both cheeks with my hands.  Then I bent further forwards and made my arsehole gape wider for him.  The moist, pink tunnel inside stretched opened temptingly before I clenched it tightly closed a few times to show him how dextrous I was back there.

     "Jesus Christ!" he laughed.  "You could wank a guy off doing that!"

     I pushed my hips back and forth, opening and clamping my anus in rapid spasms.  "I can pump a bloke's cock like a farmer milking a cow's teat!  Usually with a similar result!"

     He laughed again.  The mound of his crotch was starting to look very large and was pulling the material at the back of briefs downwards: he was enjoying this even more than I would have hoped.  The thin brown smear between his cheeks which he was brandishing so flagrantly was edging slowly southwards towards the paired bulges of his scrotum.

     "Doesn't it hurt though?" he asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the front of his shorts was betraying his developing erection.  "Having another bloke shoving his cock in and out of your bum?"

     "Not at all," I replied.  "I'm so used to taking it, your cock would just slide right up there... sorry, I mean someone's cock would just slide right up there!"

     He looked over at my face, curious that I had referred to being penetrated by him but I just smiled innocently back at him, as if it had been a mere slip of the tongue.

     "Come on, then," I said, keen to move things on.  "Show me yours."

     He giggled coyly.  "I don't want to, now... you know... with the stain and stuff."

     I smiled back.  "That sort of thing doesn't bother me, Pete.  When you start getting up close and personal with other men, you have to expect things like that."

     He glanced over at me with interest.  "Really?"

     "Of course!  Compared to some blokes I've... you know... played around with, you're just about Clorox clean, mate!"

     He chuckled naughtily, his eyes twinkling mischievously.  "Okay..."

     He did as I had done – as I hoped he would – and pulled his boxer briefs completely off and threw them over to his bed.  Unlike him, I took an interest in the state of his cock and was pleased to see that it was almost fully aroused and pointing upwards with its dark red head exposed.  Its size was unremarkable – it looked fairly average in length and girth – but its flagrant excitement was very encouraging.

     I found it endearing that Pete seemed blissfully unaware of how the stiffened state of his penis might be interpreted.  He just grinned over at me – and I grinned back – as he repositioned himself in front of the mirror, refreshingly unselfconscious that his pecker was pointing upwards and that I might construe that as evidence of his developing sexual interest in me.

     I was sure he was going to be up for fucking me up the butt.  Now that his cock had grown so hard, he was going to take very little inducement.  I just had to make sure that I got a turn of my own.

     Pete bent down again and flashed his backside at the mirror.  Finding it difficult to expose his hole for my inspection, he bent as far forwards as he could and opened his legs widely.  Even then it was hardly visible and so he grabbed his butt cheeks and yanked them apart.

     Finally I could see his tiny wrinkled anus – a little more tarnished than I would ordinarily prefer – nestling deep inside the thickly matted hair of his abundantly forested arse crack.

     He presented it for my inspection, his face cautious to see my reaction to it, and relaxed a little when he saw me smile with approval.

     "That's a lovely arsehole, Pete.  It's really quite beautiful."

     He beamed with delight, parading his more towards me through the mirror so I could take in its full glory.  My cock thickened and stiffened at the sight of his tight, puckered ring and I felt the large plum-like head of it swell to full size.  The deep valley between his cheeks was tangled with hair – just how I like it – and, while I could see what was making it clump and stick together around his hole, the entrance itself looked ripe for the taking.

     I was determined to have my turn on this tall, dopey guy's inviting rump before the night was out.  The throbbing of my manhood was demanding nothing less.

     But first things first.

     I said, "I don't suppose you can do what I did and make it open and close, can you?"

     "I've never really thought about it," he said.

     I could believe that to be true.  I wondered if he ever really thought about anything.

     "Well, give it a go," I encouraged him.  "You never know when it might... er... prove useful."

     He grinned like he enjoyed the challenge and I saw the flimsy rim of it open slightly as if to beckon me in and then ruckle outwards as he squeezed it tightly shut.

     He laughed at how much control he had over it and immediately did it again.  This time he let his hole open a little wider and I got the first whiff of his alluring anal scent.

     I smiled back over at him and thought I ought to commend his efforts.

     "That's amazing, Pete!" I enthused.  "Is it really your first time doing this?"

     "Yeah," he grinned.  "Honest to god!"

     "Well, it's very impressive," I continued.  "You've got incredible control."

     He opened his rear entrance again – this time so wide so I could see the pinkness inside – and his earthy, anal whiff became a magnitude stronger.  He smelt wonderfully flavoursome – so musky and intense that my mouth started watering.  I was desperate to lean across so I could lick around his furrowed ring – almost ready to jeopardize everything by risking such a surprise – but I held myself back.

     His seduction was going to take a little more coaxing for me to be sure of success.  I was almost certain I could get him to fuck me – I was within a stone's throw of having him tear open a condom and mount me from behind – but I wanted to make sure that he'd be willing to change places and that might take a bit more work.

     So I didn't risk freaking him out by telling him how attractive his bum smelled and how much I wanted to lick it – that could come later – but instead offered to show him a few more "tricks".

     "What do you have in mind, mate?" he asked with a rather charming innocence.

     "Let's get on the bed together," I suggested, with a good deal less of that particular virtue, "and we'll take it from there."

     We stood upright and turned to face each other, our erections arching upwards in front of us.  Pete laughed with surprise when he saw mine and I pretended to do the same towards his.

     "We're both proper horny, we are!" he declared before looking from my hard-on to his own and back again, mentally comparing our genitals for size.  It seemed to slowly dawn on him that my penis was at least twice the size of his – both in length and girth – and that my testicles were also a significantly larger than the pair that were dangling between his legs.

     His eyes widened as he stared at my monster of an organ and his mouth formed a broad, inane grin.

     I muttered, "Perhaps the... er... bulge you noticed earlier wasn't entirely caused by the stitching in my briefs, Pete."

     For some reason that made him chortle raucously and he exclaimed, his eyes looking up at mine, wide with delight, "Fuck me, mate!"

     I laughed back hoping that, once we got on the bed together, he'd be calling out the same words for a different reason.

 

 

Part 2

I got on the bed first, kneeling down on the mattress and splaying my legs wide open.  Seeing me like that, facing him expectantly with my cock arching upwards, made Pete laugh again.

     "Bloody hell, mate," he informed me, "you've got the biggest dick I've ever seen – not that I've seen that many, mind!"

     I beckoned him to get on the bed with me, and, as he positioned himself in front of me, I noticed how large his feet were.  They were a good couple of inches longer than mine; he must have difficulty finding shoes to fit.

     To start out with, we knelt down face-to-face with our hard-ons pointing towards each other.  Pete's balls were quite large and they hung down low, while his cock was much smaller than mine but in no way any less excited.  The head of it had darkened to a deep purple colour and was slick with moisture while the slit was really elongated, splitting the end of it into two distinct lobes.  It was quite oddly shaped but attractive in its own way.

     He grinned at me as he shuffled towards me: he was enjoying our intimacy as two very dissimilar men and was treating it almost like a game.

     When our knees were touching and our erections were reaching forwards to kiss each other, I gently worked the back of my plum-like cock head against the underside of his unusual heart-shaped version.  I stimulated him gently where I knew he was most sensitive, enjoying watching as a dribble of clear ooze seeped from his long slit.

     Pete, however, seemed rather less than impressed.

     "Come on, then, Rob," he urged me, impatiently.  "What do two blokes do with two knobs like this?  Kind of limits things, doesn't it?  Having two cocks, I mean."

     I laughed at the absurdity.  "Of course not, Pete.  The possibilities are almost endless!"

     He laughed back.  "But they don't exactly fit together, do they?  Or is there something I'm missing?"

     Almost certainly, I thought.  And not just the one thing.

     I gripped my own manhood by the shaft and then slowly, giving him ample time to object if he wanted to, put my other hand on Pete's and gently held it.

     I made eye contact with him to make sure he was happy for me to hold his penis but he just gawped at me stupidly.  Then he grinned like a naughty kid and made a few thrusting motions with his hips, comedically fucking my hand and making his foreskin roll back and forth between my fingers and thumb.

     "Is that what you're on about?" he asked.  "I can do the same to you, if you like?"

     "It gets a lot better than that, Pete," I told him, trying to keep my irritation out of my voice.

     I grabbed our cocks more firmly and aligned them together so that their two heads, so different in size and shape, were pressing together.  Then I eased my foreskin forwards, first sweeping across my fattened helmet and then rolled it further, until it covered a couple of inches of Pete's smaller bilobed head.  I pulled it back, exposing the touching tips of our members again, and then rolled it forwards a second time so that they were covered once more.  I did this several times, developing a slow masturbatory action as I used my foreskin to stimulate both our cocks together, easing it backwards and forwards with our organs forming one long, continuous rod.

     Pete laughed at the sensation and worked his hips gently back and forth again, this time matching the rhythm of my fingers, and announced that he liked what I was doing.

     "It's called docking," I told him.  "My foreskin's long enough to wank both our cocks off together."

     He laughed again.  "That's pretty cool, mate!  I had no idea you could do this with two cocks!"

     "Like I said, Pete, there are a lot of possibilities."

     I pulled my foreskin back again, releasing both our cock heads, and this time angled our shafts upwards against each other, so that the shafts were back-to-back.

     "Here's another," I said with a smile.  "I think this one's called frottage."

     I gripped our two cocks in my outstretched hand and gently worked our separate foreskins up and down at the same time, wanking our two organs as if they were really one much thicker shaft.

     He grunted his approval and pushed his crotch as far as he could towards mine, enjoying the sensation of being masturbated alongside another man's larger phallus.

     He muttered, "Ah, yeah!  That's nice, that is," and I worked my hand a little faster up and down our paired erections.

     Then he pushed himself upwards so that, in spite of his cock being much smaller than mine, the tips of our organs were together, back to back with their slits almost touching.  That way, our separate foreskins could work together as one, rolling and unrolling across our paired purple heads, looking like some weird double shafted organ, one stem much larger and thicker than the other.

     He laughed at the sight of our cocks being masturbated in unison.

     "Anyone who says you and me's a couple of wankers, mate – well, they've got a fucking point, haven't they?"

     I chuckled at his lame joke and kept jerking our cocks together with my fingers and thumb making an especially large grip.

     "Are you enjoying this, Pete?" I asked him with more seriousness as my hand beat us both off.

     "Yeah, it's fucking choice," he agreed, working his crotch back and forth with my hand.  For all his cock was much smaller than mine, he was very imaginative at finding ways to stimulate it.

     I kept wanking us together, my rhythm becoming faster and my grip more firm, and we both pushed our cocks upwards to meet the pumping of my wrist.

     "What did you say this is called again, Rob?" he asked, his voice betraying just a hint of breathlessness now that he was getting into having me wank him off.

     "Frottage, I think.  Some gay guys have sex like this.  Those that don't believe in using each other's bums."

     "I thought all gay fellas bummed each other, though?" he asked, gently panting as my hand swept up and down our shafts.

     "Not all," I informed him.  "Some think bums should be just for shitting through.  If you ask me, though, Pete, they don't know what they're missing."

     He chortled at that as the collective rhythm of our hips working back and forth against the pounding of my fist became faster and harder.

     "Me and my brother used to wank off together when I lived at home," he told me through his quickening breaths.  "I wish I'd known about this – it would've been great doing it this way!"

     I smiled at him, enjoying how the bed was creaking with the rhythm of our thrusting hips and my pumping forearm, and hoping that Mike and Anthony, our colleagues in the next room, wouldn't be able to hear us.

     "Have you ever spunked up doing this with another bloke?" he asked.

     "No," I admitted.  "But it's fun to do it with a friend as part of foreplay."

     He nodded and I released us both, quelling his disappointment by telling him I would show him something else.

     I lowered my head down towards his erection, its pale shaft looking sore and pink from where I'd gripped it so firmly, and gently applied my lips to the end of it.

     After a couple of tentative kisses of its odd-shaped head – during which time I felt I was giving him the chance to pull away from me and tell me that I'd overstepped the mark – I gently licked into the deep valley which cleaved its tip into two parts.  Finding it pleasantly flavoursome – having a recessed slit seemed to harbour the rich bite of his precum and testosterone – I took a couple of inches of it into my mouth and gently sucked the steady ooze of juice from its deeply grooved hole.

     Only then did Pete seem to grasp the idea of what I was offering to do for him.  Without further ado, he grabbed my head firmly and started urgently ramming his cock in and out through my lips.  "Ah, yeah, that's more fucking like it!" he growled, thumping his swollen organ back and forth against the back of my mouth.

     "Fucking suck me off, Rob!" he commanded, his thick pubic bush slamming in and out of my eyes and nose and his bollocks whacking me against the chin with every rapid thrust.

     The bed started rocking with the roughness of his thrusts and he held onto my head like a masturbatory aid, holding it steady while he brutally fucked my slobbering mouth.

     I let him pleasure himself for a minute or so, his hard-on slamming in and out of my lips, as I reached behind him and gripped the flexing cheeks of his arse as he bucked his hips frantically back and forth.

     He kept muttering, "Ah, yeah!  That is nice!  That is fucking well nice, mate!" and I hungrily sucked at his organ, swallowing the constant trickle of dribble he was now producing.

     When I suspected he might be building towards a climax, I struggled free of his grip and pulled off his curving shaft with a loud, wet slurp.

     He grinned at me gormlessly, his wet cock pointing upwards, and I grinned back at him like this was all part of the game.

     "I like it best when another bloke does it," he announced.

     "You've been sucked off before?" I asked.  "By another guy, I mean."

     He nodded unashamedly.  "A couple of times, yeah.  Just lads helping each other out, like."

     I wondered if it was as I thought: travelling buddies.  Or whether he'd been more adventurous at university than I might have given him credit for.

     "Did you ever suck anyone off in return?"

     He shook his head.  "Naah.  The blokes I did it with were happy to... you know... just do me.  'Til I was done."

     I smiled and nodded.  Probably gay guys who were happy to assist a tall, young straight lad at his time of need.

     "Well, there's a lot more than that we can do together."

     "Yeah?" he asked brightly.

     I raised myself up on my knees and moved in towards him.  "This is how some guys like to penetrate other men, Pete," I told him.

     I squatted my arsehole over the head of his upright cock and let my own press firmly against his hairy chest.  My fat, hairy bollocks – looking far more full and swollen than they had earlier – hung down in front of his wet cock and largely hid it from view, and I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

     "You don't mind me showing you this?" I asked him, smiling down him.

     He grinned back up at me.  "No – of course not!  It's interesting... I've never done this with another bloke."

     I smiled more broadly at him, and he basked in my approval.

     "In this position," I went on, "I'd just lower myself onto your cock..."

     I deliberately referred to his own cock: I wanted him to get used to the idea that this was now about him that he might be about to penetrate me as a fellow male.

     I pushed myself down so that I could feel the slippery head of his organ pushing against my puffy ring and then lifted myself back up a little.

     "This way I could squeeze your nice, hard erection with my arsehole, Pete.  Or you could move your hips upwards a bit to work yourself inside me."

     He grinned more broadly and jabbed his cock slowly but firmly against my swollen entrance.

     "Like this, you mean...?" he asked.

     "Exactly, mate.  You're a fast learner!"

     His eyes widened with gratification on hearing me say that.  I suspect no-one had ever said such a thing to him before.

     He kept gently pumping himself against me, working himself ever so slightly into my opening, using my spit and the drool from his oozing slit to moisten his way.

     "How would you feel, Pete, about being joined to another man like this?"

     "Joined?" he asked, not understanding.

     "I mean, how would you feel about being connected to another bloke, with your cock pushing up inside his arse?"

     "Would it smell of shit?" he asked with some concern.  "I wouldn't like that, mate.  I hate the smell of shit – it'd make me throw up."

     I smiled down at him, amused by the irony of how worried he was given the state he'd let the back of his underwear get into.  "It has a smell, but not like that.  It's quite an erotic smell once you get you get used to it."

     "What sort of smell?" he asked, still apprehensive.

     "A sexy smell," I offered, vaguely.  "A manly smell.  The smell of male-to-male intimacy."

     He nodded and seemed a little happier.  "In that case, it'd probably be okay.  The way you put it – being joined and stuff – sounds kinda weird but it could be cool to find out what it felt like."

     I nodded as he slid his bilobed cock head past my puffy ring.  He was gently thrusting himself upwards as I eased myself down onto him.

     "It's way more than cool, Pete," I told him.  "It's incredible!"

     He grinned back up at me as his precum-slick organ slid slowly but steadily further up into my rectum.

     "How do you think it would feel?" I asked him.  "To have your cock pushed right up another guy's arse?"

     He grinned more broadly.  "Okay, I guess.  Maybe a bit like fucking a woman."

     "Is that what you'd be thinking of?  Imagining me as a woman?"

     He laughed at that.  "How could I do that, mate, when I've got your big, fat donger poking into my chest!"

     "Yeah, and my massive pair of nuts bouncing up and down on your stomach!"

     He laughed more loudly and looked down, marvelling, at how well-endowed I was.

     Then he had a thought; a rare moment, perhaps, for him.

     "I could suck you off while my cock's up your arse!" he declared.  "Your knob's so big I could get my mouth around it!

     I feigned a gasp of astonishment.  "Fucking hell, Pete, so you could!  I can't believe you just thought of that!  That would be so amazing!"

     He grinned at me again like he was proud of himself.

     This really was as easy as taking candy from a baby, although far more rewarding.

     I grabbed my cock and angled upwards towards his face.  Without taking my backside off the tip of his hard-on, my organ was long enough for him to reach by stooping his neck.

     "I think you're right," I exclaimed.  "I think you really could lick the tip of it."

     He leant forwards and cautiously extended his tongue onto inflamed head of my upright erection.  He licked it warily at first, as if unsure whether he would like it, and then, gaining in confidence and finding that it was far more pleasant than he expected, became more eager to taste it and started feasting on it hungrily like one would consume a melting ice-cream.

     I smiled down at him, directing my large cock upwards into his mouth and enjoying watching him, as a younger man, enthusiastically devouring the ooze from my slit.  It was as if I was feeding him, perhaps even nurturing his own virility, by letting him drink at the seeping fluid from my big, swollen manhood.

     "That's it, Pete," I said soothingly.  "Lick the dribble from my cock.  Drink it down."

     He giggled as he nourished himself, lapping at my precum like a cat luxuriating in a saucer of cream.

     Then he looked up at me, grinning again, and I had the impression, for the second time, that for him this was like a game.  If it was, I was more than willing to play along.

     "Are you sure you've never done this before?" I asked with feigned incredulity.  "You seem such a natural."

     "No," he shrugged.  "When I've done my girlfriend like this, I wouldn't have thought of doing anything like this to her.  I mean, she hasn't got a cock, so I wouldn't have thought of sucking her off."

     "Oh, right," I said flatly.

     How else could one respond to such an observation?

     I pulled myself off his cock with a small slurp from my distended hole and told him I wanted to show him something else.  I asked him to turn around so that his back was facing me and then shuffled up behind him so that my cock was jabbing between his buttocks.

     "This is my favourite position," I told him.

     "When I was at school," he said, bending forwards compliantly to allow me better access to his arse-crack, "when two lads were secretly doing this, we used to say they were pegging each other."

     I smiled at the use of an innocent-sounding term for such an intensely intimate act between males.  It was the sort of word I could imagine my son Jake using in his early teens when he had a mate to stay over; one which sounded innocuous but would niggle afterwards as to its actual meaning.  ("Would you two boys keep the noise down and get some sleep?" "But dad, we're just taking turns at pegging!" "Well do it more quietly!")

     "Did you ever get pegged yourself?" I asked Pete, pushing my hand between the splayed cheeks of his bum and greatly enjoying the coarse, moist hairiness within.

     "No," he answered, pushing his backside further out towards me, apparently intrigued by the sensation of having someone fondling his arse-crack.  "But a lad in my class used to let some of my mates do it to him round the back of the school kitchens.  He'd bend over and they'd peg him one by one through their flies."

     I smiled, wishing that 'pegging' had been so popular in my school.

     "Weren't you ever tempted to join in?" I asked, running my fingers up and down his cleft and appreciating the raised pucker of his opening every time I passed it.

     "Naah," he said.  "I thought it would stink of shit.  I've told you I can't stand that."

     I chuckled.  "Well, I told you it doesn't.  And you can trust me because I'm an expert."

     "My mates said it did and I believed them.  I must have been a bit stupid back then."

     Unable to stop myself from smiling, I extended my middle finger towards his sticky, wrinkled anus and gently circled the tightly clamped muscle with the tip of it.

     "So this is a virgin arse you've got here, then, Pete?  Totally... er... unpegged?"

     He chuckled at that.  "I suppose so.  Wouldn't have ever thought of an arse as being virgin, mind."

     I gently pressed my outstretched finger against his clenched entrance and felt it yield to the pressure.  I slid into him up to the first knuckle, marvelling at how hot and sticky he was up inside his bum. 

     He gasped and then turned to grin at me over his shoulder.  I pushed myself a little further into him and he laughed, "Never had anyone finger me – well, not this way!"

     My cock was really throbbing now and precum was oozing from its fat, purple head.  I wanted to rut with him and feel his tight, wet bowels squeezing at my cock.  I wanted to hear him grunting as I pounded his straining hole and for the room to stink so strongly of our exertions that whoever changed the sheets in the morning would be in no doubt how the two male occupants had been entertaining each other in the small hours of the night.

     "I suppose you want to keep your bum that way?" I asked.  "Virgin, I mean?"

     He shrugged and turned to face forwards again.  "Not especially.  I mean, I never thought of it as being virgin before, so it won't bother me if it isn't any more!"

     I eased my finger a little deeper into him, feeling the muscles of his rectum squeeze around it and smelling his pungent anal scent more strongly than I had earlier.

     "So you wouldn't mind having another guy pegging your bum?"

     He shrugged again.  "I don't think I'd like it, but I wouldn't mind... you know... giving it a go to see what it was like."

     "We could maybe do a little deal with each other," I suggested, choosing my words carefully.

     "Yeah, that's what I was thinking," he said, as my finger teased gently in and out of his opening.  "I thought you might... you know... wanna wank me off with your arse like you said you could.  And then maybe I could try and do the same for you."

     "You'd be up for us doing that?" I asked.

     He shrugged like it was no big deal.  This was easier than I might have ventured even at my most optimistic.

     "Like you said, Rob, it's just sex.  It's just two blokes helping each other out when there's no women around."

     "By taking it turns to bugger each other," I clarified.

     He turned to look at me over his shoulder and threw me a deliciously mischievous smirk.

     "Exactly!"

     I pulled out of him and almost winced as an intense waft of his bracingly sharp bum-stink hit me from what was smeared along my finger.

     Undeterred, though, I shuffled a little closer to him and pressed the large head of my cock against his loosened ring.  I wrapped my arms around him and groped for his erection, taking up a slow, gentle rhythm on it as I pushed my organ against his rump.  With the other I fondled his heavy, dangling bollocks, kneading them between my fingers and enjoying the silky smoothness of his hairy scrotum.

     "You might quite like the feel of it," I suggested, pressing my face against the back of his neck.  "I do."

     "I don't know if you'll be able to get it in, though.  You've got a really big dick."

     I smiled.  "You'll have to relax your bum completely.  Like you do when you take a crap."

     I hadn't expected him to try and comply with my instruction so instanteously, but I suddenly felt his anal ring dilate against my cock head and then abruptly he let out an involuntary fart.

     "Oh fuck!  Sorry, Rob!" he exclaimed, laughing.  "I think I relaxed a bit too much!"

     "It's not a problem," I said, although I felt quite disgusted.  "These things happen, Pete."

     His arsehole opened up enough for me to ease the top of my cock head into him.

     "How does that feel?" I asked.

     "Quite nice, actually," he said with some surprise.  His cock throbbed in my hand, seemingly enjoying the sensation of its friend round the back being slowly penetrated.

     "Maybe you should have let your mates peg you round the back of the school kitchens," I suggested.

     "Maybe I should have!" he laughed.  "I would never have guessed I'd like the feel of it!"

     "If you had, your arse would be like mine.  Big and pink from all the cocks you'd taken."

     He laughed more loudly.  "That'd be well cool!"

     "Really?  Why?"

     "It'd look like a big hairy pussy, just like yours does.  I could look at it in the mirror when I wank off– it'd be as good as porn."

     I laughed at the idea and worked my cock a bit further up into his backside.

     He gasped, "Oh Jesus!" and I squeezed his cock gently, wanking it a little, for fear of it starting to soften.

     Then he chuckled again.  "I'd love to see how this looks from 'round the back!"

     "Why's that then?" I muttered between his shoulder blades, slowly easing in a bit further and feeling the ring of his anus straining to accommodate me.

     "Just think of it!" he tittered.  "There'd be your big fat donger, halfway up my arse, with your nuts hanging down underneath it.  Then there'd be your massive gash right behind those, all pink and wet, looking desperate to get fucked even though you're the one doing the fucking!"

     I chuckled into the back of his neck and he went on, "Talk about being weird and hot at the same time!"

     I liked his description – that I was equipped with both an active penis and a willing vagina – and it occurred to me again that, at least on matters of sex, Pete had an especially lively imagination.

     Suddenly he grunted and winced and called out, "Oh Jesus fuck!" so I took my hand off his cock and pulled away from him.

     "If it's hurting too much," I said, "there's something I can do to make your bum more slippery."

     He looked back at me again over his shoulder.  From this angle he looked even more stupid.  "Yeah?"

     "Yeah," I agreed.  "Stand up, still facing away from me."

     He did as I told him to and stood up on the bed.  He was so tall that he had to squat a little to avoid his head banging on the ceiling.

     I shuffled up behind him again, my face level with his squat, round buttocks.  I loved being in this position – kneeling behind another man with my face level with his bum – on the brink of enjoying a level of intimacy with him that I have never experienced with a woman.  There was something about the juxtaposition between by face and another man's bare behind – be it the curve of his arse-cheeks next to my mouth or having my nose so close to the smooth, deep cleft – which made me shudder with anticipation every time.

     Nevertheless, in spite of my excitement, I thought I ought to make something clear.

     "Whatever you do, don't fart again, Pete," I requested.

     He chuckled.  "Why?  What are you going to do?"

     "You'll find out soon enough.  Just keep... er...  better control of your faculties."

     As Pete threw me a quizzical glance over his shoulder, I peered at the spot, about two thirds down the deep crack between his cheeks, where his two pert, muscular buttocks met and where I was going to apply my mouth.  This was either going to be an especially exciting rim-job, or was otherwise going to be grim.  I instinctively knew there was going to be no middle ground with Pete.  I was going to either love tonguing his backside or be appalled by it.

     I glanced up at him still looking curiously at me and threw him a small smirk.  It was time to find out.

     I pushed my face forwards, nuzzling my nose and mouth between his cheeks and was immediately relieved that the odour I had suspected I might find was, in fact, barely recognisable.  Instead, his backside had a lovely, deep earthy scent: powerful and stimulating while delivering a distinctly masculine punch.  It had the allure and luxuriance of rich, dark chocolate while retaining the carnal and deeply sensual flavour of his own unique pheromones.

     I pushed my tongue against his hole and lapped at it greedily, enjoying the way it gaped open from the fingering it had just received.

     "Fucking hell, mate!" he called out.  "I can't believe you're doing that!  No-one's ever licked my arse before!"

     I pulled back from him and called up, "I think it's very much something that two men do together, Pete.  All the times I've had sex with women, I've never done this."

     He laughed down at me.  "I lick my girlfriend out all the time, but I never even knew you could lick a bloke out!"

     "I don't think it's that common.  But it's something I rather like to do."

     That had to be the understatement of the evening.

     "I better warn you, mate – I can't lick your arse in return," Pete informed me.  "I love licking minges, but... well... a bloke's hairy shitter's a bit different, isn't it?"

     I smiled up at him.  "That's okay.  I wasn't expecting you to.  In any case, mine doesn't need any help in being prepared, does it?"

     He grinned back at me.  "No, mate, yours is fucking well and truly ready!"

     I pushed my face back between Pete's buttocks and licked into his brash, juicy tunnel.  He bent over and squatted his bum towards me to give me better access and I felt his body start to shake as he took up a fast masturbatory rhythm on his cock.  His balls started whacking against the underside of my chin and I heard him gasping between laughing at how novel this position was for him.

     "I wish my girlfriend would do this to me!" he muttered.  "It feels really sexy!"

     Encouraged by how much he enjoyed having another man tonguing his anus, I pushed my tongue deeper up into his bowels.  He grunted his enjoyment and I rolled my tongue into a tube so I could work it in and out of him, marvelling at how much he was getting into being tongue-fucked.

     He was wanking himself good and fast, chuckling and gasping for breath, as I relished the strengthening bitterness of his innards and plunged deeper into his hot, dank tunnel.  I hoped he was soon going to enjoy having something considerably bigger pushed even more deeply up inside him.

     He grabbed my head with his free hand and ground my face up and down his arse cleft.  I loved the sensation of that: of being used like a piece of toilet roll and rubbed up and down his rough and hairy butt crack.

     "Shove your face right in, Rob!" he called out to me.  "Get a good sniff of my arse crack!"

     I pushed as deep as I could between his buttocks as he worked my face up and down inside his splayed-open cleft, panting at the strength of his anal scent and slobbering my tongue around his richly pungent hole.

     Then, to my surprise, he pulled away from me and turned around on the bed.  His erection curved upwards, wavering, in front of my face.  The head of it was wet and dark purple, its long slit splitting it down the middle and making it look from this angle as if it had two distinct tips.

     I had a sudden recollection, unearthed from some long-forgotten David Attenborough series, that kangaroos had forked penises which did not look entirely dissimilar.

     "That was fucking awesome, mate!" he called down to me.  "But I really want to find out what your bum feels like!"

     At the mention of getting a fuck, his cock throbbed upwards so that I could see that its swollen shaft had red rings around it from the tightness of his fingers as he'd wanked himself.  His hairy balls hung down in front of his thighs, his load no doubt amassing in the paired mounds inside his scrotum, preparing for release.

     I grinned up at him.

     "I mean my hand feels nice, Rob," he went on, grabbing his dick and jerking it a couple of times as if I could be in any doubt as to his meaning, "but I bet your big, pink arsehole will feel a lot better."

     I grinned more broadly.  "Only if I get to take my turn on yours..."

     He chuckled.  "'Course you can!  It'll be a tight fit, mind!"

     I nodded, pleased that he was so willing to reciprocate.  This was going far, far better than I'd dared to hope, and the best part was that we were both largely sober and could more fully enjoy what we were doing together.

     He got off the bed and went over to his rucksack.  He bent down to find a condom he must have had stashed away and I took another look at his tightly clenched hole, wet from where I'd rimmed him.

     This was going to be amazing!  I knew he was going to love fucking me – and I'd enjoy receiving him – and then I was going to relish having him bend over for me in return.  I'd take him slowly at first, enjoying feeling his cock stiffen again after it had spent itself inside me, and then work up my pace until I was hammering in and out of him like a buck rabbit, grabbing both his shoulders as firmly as I could and feeling our balls whacking together underneath us.

     Male-on-male sex could be so satisfying and with Pete's hot, tight chute clamping around my cock as I slammed back and forth against his big, meaty buttocks, it was going to be fantastic.

     He stood back up and gawped at me vacuously as he tore open the condom and unfurled it down his cock.

     "What if Mike and Anthony hear what we're doing?" he asked, referring to our two colleagues in the next room from ours.

     I shrugged.  I didn't really care.  What was the worst they could do?  Give us a few odd glances in the morning?  Make a few snide comments?

     I'd just smirk at them if they did.  By then, I'd have had my butt fucked by a guy nearly twenty years younger than me and got to shoot my load up his cute, virgin arse in return.  How's that for a successful business trip?

     "It's what guys do, Pete," I suggested.  "Even if they're not at it themselves, it probably won't surprise them that we are.  It's just how it sometimes works when two blokes share."

     "Is that right?" he asked gullibly.

     "Of course it is!" I said casually, like it really was.  "You know how it works in prisons and army barracks.  This is what happens when men bunk up together and feel horny."

     "Really?  They use each other's arses?" he asked, with his condom-sheathed cock rising upwards in front of him.

     "Of course they do," I smiled.  "Why just make do with a wank when you've both got holes of the right size you can take turns on?"

     He threw the condom wrapper into the bin and nodded believingly.

     I turned around and stuck my hairy buttocks out towards him.

     "I suppose it's obvious, when you say it like that, mate," he muttered, getting onto the bed behind me.  "But I just didn't know.  I've shared with other blokes loads of times and the only times things got a bit... well... friendly, I suppose, were those couple of times I told you about.  And that was all pretty... you know... low-key.  Nothing like this ever happened."

     "Did you and the other guys flash your arses at each other 'til you both got hard?"

     "No," he said, grabbing my by the hips and shuffling up behind me until I could feel the rubber-clad tip of his organ nuzzling between the cheeks of my bum.  For a first-timer, he was impressively accurate in estimating how far down my arse-crack would serve as the best point for entry.

     "Well, there you go, then," I ventured.  "There has to be a few... you know... preliminaries.  It doesn't just happen on its own."

     He nodded and I felt his breath against my shoulder blades as his cock was eased through my bum-cheeks and the teat of the condom pressed gently against my splayed hole.

     "I'll keep that in mind in future, then," he said.  "I'm always up for a fuck, me!"

     I smiled, anticipating awkward situations he'd get himself into during future room shares, and bent further forwards on the bed so that I was better positioned to receive him.  This was the part I liked best: having another man push his cock against my ring so firmly that it yielded to him and feeling him slide upwards past my rectum and into my bowels.

     "I mean, usually I prefer shagging birds," he went on, easing his cock head into my voluminous entrance, "but this is the next best thing, I suppose."

     "Next best thing?" I thought.  If it's done the right way it can be infinitely better than that!  We were about to overcome the constraints of our biology and enjoy sexual intercourse together as two men.  We were going to defy the reality of our similarly-matched genitals and connect our two male bodies together as intimately as was possible.  There was no 'next best thing' about it: this was the sexual equivalent of Beluga caviar!

     Before I could point any of this out, his cock slid into me and he grunted animalistically.  He seemed surprised by how pleasant it felt to be pushing his excitement upwards into another man's bum.

     "Jesus Christ, mate!" he gasped.  "This feels fucking amazing!"

     His plump cock head cleaved its way up through my rectum, pushing upwards into my hot wet passage and finding it just as accommodating as its many predecessors, some with far thicker girths, had.  I gasped at how incredible it felt to receive him into my body and felt my own larger manhood throbbing upwards at the sheer pleasure of having myself filled by this younger man's throbbing excitement.

     "I can't believe I'm pushing my cock up your bum, Rob!" he chuckled, his voice becoming breathless.  "I'm actually shafting another bloke's hairy arse!  Jesus Christ!"

     I gasped again at how good it felt to be impaled by the shaft of another man's erection.  "Just enjoy it, Pete," I panted, "like you would when you're with a woman!"

     "That's exactly what it feels like – a woman's pussy!" he called out with surprise, as if the similarity had only just occurred to him.  I felt his cock throb and harden, the girth of it thickening inside me, as his excitement grew at the thought of the feminine version of the hole I was offering.

     "I guess that's why men do it to each other, Pete," I suggested.  "Even straight blokes like us.  It feels like shagging a woman, even when there are no women around to shag!"

     He chuckled at that, grabbed my hips with more force and then pushed his cock further into me.  It slid deep up into my bowels until I feel the paired bulges of his nuts in his hairy scrotum pressing between my thighs.

     He eased himself out of me and then worked it up me again.  He did it a few more times before declaring: "That feels so nice, mate!  If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was a muff!"

     I bent lower for him and told him to put a hand on each of my shoulders for leverage which he did.  Then he started fucking me properly, driving his cock in and out of my hole as we developed a steady, gentle rhythm together.

     He let out another surprised laugh as we worked our bodies together, pacing ourselves to savour our moment of togetherness.  He called out, "This is fucking amped to the max, mate!" as our back and forth motion gradually intensified and he used his knees to prize my legs further apart so he could push into me more fully and deeply.

     This really was the most exquisite of positions: bending forwards to receive another man's sex between my hungry, splayed buttocks.  My cock was rock-hard and gently oozing with excitement as it was internally stimulated by the swollen girth of its brother, sliding back and forth steadily faster against my grateful prostate.

     I turned back to look at him over my shoulder and saw him looking down at his own cock as it bored in and out between the paired round globes of my butt-cheeks.  He looked serious as he watched his manhood enjoying its first taste of male penetration, but then he glanced up at me and we smiled at each other.

     He gasped, "I can't believe I'm actually pegging another bloke's arse!"

     I laughed and kept working my arse back and forth against him, clamping my muscles tightly closed around his cock as he thrust it back and forth.  "How does it feel?"

     "It's fucking well tasty, mate!  All the times I said no at school... Jesus!  I didn't know what I was missing!"

     "Do you still think it's the 'next best thing' to sex with a woman?"

     He shook his head and then closed his eyes at the waves of pleasure I knew he was experiencing from the squeezing of my rectal muscles.  "No way!  I mean, I know it's your arse and that you shit through it and stuff, but fucking hell, mate!  This is class!  It's fucking immense!"

     "Well, you're doing a fantastic job, Pete!  You're a natural!"

     He grinned broadly at the compliment: perhaps his girlfriend was never so forthcoming in her praise of his sexual endeavours.

     "Does it feel good for you too?" he asked.

     I chuckled.  "Feel my cock, Pete."

     He pressed his chest down against my back so that I could feel his hairy pecs rubbing against the base of my shoulder blades as we worked our bodies together with each other.  He reached underneath me with his right hand and grabbed at the large, hard shaft of my organ as his own kept drilling in and out of me.

     "Whoa!" he giggled.  "That is fucking well hard, mate!  I can feel it throbbing!"

     He groped up and down the thickened rod of it, feeling how prominent the veins were protruding along its length and how tightly my foreskin was being pulled back from the bulbous head.

     Then he declared: "You really have got a massive dong, Rob!  It's about twice as thick as mine!"

     "That's what happens when you have someone's cock rubbing up and down inside you, Pete," I informed him through my quickening breaths.  "It makes your cock grow really big and hard."

     "Yeah?" he asked, still pounding my backside as he ran his fingers up and down my throbbing shaft.

     "Yeah," I asserted.  "Your cock's rubbing against my prostate which is making mine grow to full size."

     The thought that I was aroused by his exertions made his rhythm grow faster so that his balls were thwacking against my thighs.  His breathing quickened against my shoulders and I felt a dribble of his hot saliva land on my spine.

     "This is proper horny, Rob," he gasped.  "With Shelley, I never know if she's really enjoying it... with you... Jesus!  Getting butt-fucked by me is making your knob as hard as a pole!"

     I was pleased that he was now enjoying our sex for what it was and that he no longer needed to imagine my arse as a substitute vagina.  He was aroused that he was penetrating me as another man and that my body was responding to him in its own masculine way.

     He went on, breathlessly, "And the way you're moving with me... working with my cock... I can tell you're well into it!"

     I smiled at the knowledge that his girlfriend probably just lay there underneath him, staring up at the ceiling or maybe texting a friend.

     As if to encourage me further, he wrapped his hand around my cock and started wanking me in earnest.  To show my appreciation, I worked my bum against him more forcefully, meeting his every thrust with a backwards jab of my hips.  He started gasping against my back, his whole body writhing with the same rhythm as mine as we revelled in the fact we were enjoying sex as two men.

     He whispered in my ear, his tone almost conspiratorial, "This doesn't mean we're gay, Rob, does it?"

     I smiled more broadly, panting with my own pleasure at the feel of his persistent hardness thrusting more rapidly back and forth inside me.

     "Of course it doesn't mean that, Pete!  We're just... well... opportunists!"

     He may not have understood the word but he nevertheless grunted his agreement and then, holding me firm underneath him, gyrated his crotch against my buttocks, making circular movements with his cock inside my hole.  I called out in pleasure, urging him to keep going, and he laughed at how much sensation he was able to give me by making corkscrew motions as he worked himself in and out of me.  His large, hairy chest was pressing down onto my back and I gasped with delight as I pushed my bum upwards to meet the twisting motions of his cock between my buttocks.

     "Ah, yeah!" I called out, realising I was breaking out into a sweat.  "That's how you do it!"

     For a newcomer at the pleasures to be had from male buggery, Pete was proving himself to be a very able and willing learner.

     He pleasured me that way for a good few minutes, laughing into the back of my head at how much sensation his swivelling motions were delivering to my appreciative rump.  All the time, his hand kept sliding up and down my straining organ as fast as he could pump it, masturbating me with the same clumsy technique that he'd probably used on his own smaller and thinner shaft since his early teens.

     Then, in need of a more gratifying fuck, he pushed himself upwards from my back, grabbed me tightly by the hips with both hands again and started pounding my splayed opening as roughly and quickly as he could.  He was wanking himself off using my rectal muscles to jerk his foreskin back and forth, the way I might have frantically humped my pillows in my younger years.

     "Go for it, mate!" I called out to him, squeezing my backside as tightly as I could around the battering shaft of his jack-hammer organ.  "Give me what you've got!"

     He grunted his assent and drove into me faster and faster, gripping my hips almost painfully as he held onto me as tightly as he could to better pleasure himself inside my wide and stretched arsehole.  His pelvis was slapping loudly against my buttocks and the whole bed was shaking back and forth from his exertions, the headboard beating in a rapid rhythm against the hollow hotel wall.

     This was man-on-man doggy sex at its most rough and raw: the frantic rutting of our two male bodies joined together hip to hip.

     I could imagine how we'd look from behind: the muscles of his buttocks flexing as he drove himself back and forth; the flabbiness of mine quivering with each hurried thrust of his bucking hips.

     I'd never been banged by a man as young as Pete and now that I was, I could more than vouch that it was indeed all it was cracked up to be.  His strength, vigour and horniness all combined to give me an electrifying experience, a magnitude more exciting than some of the more practised older men who had been in his place.  He was crude and graceless, his thrusting urgent and voracious, and he had all the sensuality of a randy teenager, selfishly enjoying his first frenetic fuck.  I faced forwards, revelling in the youthful abandon of his uncouth technique, and pushed my bum backwards to better receive the full force of his unbridled intrusion.

     "Oh, God, yeah!" I gasped and dimly wondered if our colleagues in the next room really could hear what we were up to.  Whether, while they lounged on their beds, sipping a last nightcap in front of some dull TV show, they were aware that they were listening to young Pete Lehman from planning ending his evening by having his first, noisy homosexual experience.  That the banging on the wall wasn't sound that was carrying or faulty plumbing: that it was that boring old divorcee from project development having his arse roughly shafted by a man young enough to be his son.

     Pete started grunting as he pummelled me and then gasped, "This is what it must be like to have to shag a bloke in prison, Rob!"

     "I suppose it must!" I gasped back and then grabbed my cock to start wanking myself while he so brutally fucked me.  I liked the thought of being buggered in prison: allowing my sex-starved cellmate to use my arse for relief.

     "I've always thought it would be awful," he went on through laboured breaths, "but it's actually pretty good... really good!"

     "Could you get a taste for it?" I asked, smiling at his surprise at how much he enjoyed the same-sex version of the lovemaking he probably took for granted.

     He chuckled as his pounding increased in speed and force.  "Yeah!" he called out.  "Yeah, I reckon I could get well into this!"

     I realised that the bedside light next to us was casting dark shadows against the flimsy curtains at the windows, projecting a blatantly obvious silhouette of our bodies onto them.  Anyone outside would be able to see the outline of one man on all fours and another kneeling behind him, holding him by the hips; every time Pete rapidly withdrew from me, they would get flashes of the thick tube of flesh connecting our bodies; from our rhythm and movement, they would recognise instantly how we had chosen to occupy ourselves.

     Suddenly Pete stopped thrusting, and just held me in front of him, his cock halfway into my stretched and puckered hole, sniffing the air like a terrier.

     At length he asked, "What's that smell?"

     "What smell?"

     "Sort of... I dunno... dirty... raunchy..."

     I resolved to be frank with him: "It's the smell you get when two men are having sex together, Pete.  What we're doing goes hand-in-hand with that smell."

     "You mean this is how it always smells when two blokes are... you know... doing the dirty deed?"

     I nodded, amused by the modesty of his language given the unrestrained intensity of the sex we'd just enjoyed together.  "It's the smell of male-on-male anal sex.  The combination of our hard cocks, sweaty bollocks and hairy arses when they're all pounding away.  You soon get used to it.  You soon get to like it, actually."

     "Yeah, I do like it... kind of.  It's just... you know... I've never smelt it before."

     I inhaled deeply, enjoying the pungent, biting odour of our sexual expression which was starting to fill the room.  "For me, this unique smell is a significant part of what I enjoy about intimacy with other men.  It's deeply masculine but also powerfully erotic."

     He sniffed the air again, this time more appreciatively.

     "Yeah, I think I get it," he announced.  I doubted he did.  "It's the smell of one bloke knobbing another bloke's arse – it's totally different from the smells you get during normal sex.  And that's what makes it special."

     I smiled at his use of the word 'normal'.  I hoped that what we doing now – what we were enjoying together – might in time make him question his idea of what was normal.

     "You only get this smell when it's two men, Pete," I told him, still facing forwards with his cock buried halfway up my bum.  "It must be something about one guy's cock sliding in and out of another's backside.  A mixture of our male pheromones, perhaps: the sweat from your cock mixing with the smell from my arse.  With maybe a few whiffs from my own hard-on giving it that extra bite."

     He laughed at that and started fucking me again.  "When you think about it like that," he said, his breath once again quickening as he recovered his rhythm, "it's pretty hot, actually!"

     "It's as hot as fuck!" I laughed back, enjoying the resumed onslaught against my prostate.

     "It's a smell that only two men can ever smell!" he said, as the headboard started beating against the wall once again.  "The smell of sex that only two blokes can enjoy together!"

     I wasn't sure I followed his logic but I chuckled nonetheless.  I could tell from how fast he was banging me that such ideas had propelled him onto the home straight and I was eager to do all I could to help bring him to his climax.

     "Revel in it, Pete!" I implored him as I worked my hips and buttocks against his frantic thrusts.  "Revel in the smell of our bum sex!"

     Again I thought of the men next door: what if they really could hear everything we were doing?  Or even worse, what we were saying?  I had a sudden foreboding that the language I was using might be sneeringly referenced when we returned to work.

     With surprising strength Pete pulled me upright so that my back was against his chest and then wrapped his arms around me to hold me as firm as he could while he drove rapidly in and out of me with long sweeps of his curving cock.

     The angle proved highly rewarding and once again I found myself impressed by his skill and dexterity in exploiting what was a fairly average-sized organ to maximal effect.  In this position, the slant of his shaft was exquisitely stimulating the ring of my anus and I started panting like an over-heated dog as I pumped my own erection in time with his fast and furious thrusts.

     "Fucking hell, mate!" he gasped into my ear.  His breath was quick and hot and his stubble was grating against the back of my neck.  "I'm bumming your arse!  Do you realise that?  I'm actually bumming another fella's arsehole!"

     "And you're loving it!" I exhorted, wanking my own cock violently.  "You're loving knobbing me up the bum!"

     "I fucking am!" he cried out.  "I'm fucking well horny for it!  Who'd have thought it?!"

     He panted in my ear as he sped towards his climax, muttering that he was "getting ready to nut", as if used to having to warn his girlfriend about the impending fountain she was about to experience.

     I had an irrational vision of us being caught like this: of one of our colleagues entering our room and finding us stark naked together, our bodies writhing together in the heat of Pete's climax, on the creaking hotel bed.  I could easily imagine the picture we'd make: Pete's chest heaving against my back and his knees between mine pushing them apart; his arse-cheeks flexing in the throes of his orgasm, his hips grinding in rapid jerks against my buttocks, and the strong smell of my backside and our sweat combining to betray what we were in the middle of.

     Pete interrupted my reverie to grab me tightly and shudder sporadically as he spent himself inside the condom which was buried deeply in my bowels.

     As if already plagued by the guilt which many men endure after their first homosexual experience, Pete called out during the spasms of what felt like a very powerful outpouring of his seed, "Oh Jesus, mate!  Oh fuck!  I can't believe I'm doing this!  How can I be fucking doing this?!"

     I tried my best to console him as well as I could even as I faced away from him: "Just enjoy it, Pete!  This is a perfectly natural thing we've just done together!"

     He continued gripping my body, still humping me in rough spasms while he grunted his chastisements at what he'd allowed himself to do.  "I'm nutting it with my cock up your arse, mate!  I'm spunking up, right up your bum!  I can't fucking believe it!"

     "And it feels amazing, Pete," I tried to placate him even though I couldn't turn towards him.  "We both really needed this!"

     He kept shuddering and muttering his self-recriminations as his balls emptied themselves into his condom, hugging my body tightly as a fellow male as if for comfort.

     And then, when his orgasm had waned, he pulled away from me and withdrew from my arse with a squelching slurp.

     I expected further pangs of regret – accusations, even, that I'd led him on and corrupted him – but instead he just looked down at himself and called out, "Bloody hell, mate!  I'm glad I was wearing a condom!"  Then he pulled it off and went into the bathroom to dispose of it and clean himself up.

     I followed him in, my erection still bobbing around in front of me, and asked him how he felt.

     As he washed his softening cock in the sink – right next to my toothbrush, I noticed – he grinned over at me.  "I'm alright, mate.  I'm a survivor, me."

     "No regrets?"

     "Naah... we were just messing around, weren't we?" he smiled, glancing down at my stiffened organ.  "Helping each other out..."

     "Exactly," I smiled.  "It was just that when you were climaxing, you seemed to grow a little... well... contrite, perhaps."

     "Yeah... I dunno... it suddenly seemed wrong, what we were doing.  But now it's over, I'm okay again.  It's just something that happens to me."

     "Sex is something to be celebrated," I proposed, "not a cause for shame."

     "Yeah, I know that," he agreed.  "It's just how I am.  I was the same the first time I let another bloke suck me off.  I was the same, even – and I still remember it well, actually – the first night I had a wank at home when I was about twelve!"

     "Really?" I asked.

     "Yeah," he grinned, switching off the tap and shaking the water off his organ like it was a dishcloth.  "While I was spunking up that night for the first time, I was really cursing myself, telling myself it was so wrong for me to play with my dick.  But after it was all over, I just went to sleep accepting that I was now a lad who liked wanking.  I think it just takes me a bit of time to get my head around things."

     I smiled and nodded, wondering if he'd had a religious upbringing along the lines of my own, and then told him I'd be as quick as I could in having my turn on him.

     "I don't really fancy it now, mate," he announced matter-of-factly, drying his cock off on the face towel.  "Once I've cum, that's me pretty much finished."

     "But you said I could have my turn on you," I persisted.  "I even licked your bum to make you ready."

     He shook his head.  "Sorry, Rob, but I'm turning in for the night."

     When he saw how annoyed I looked through the bathroom mirror he shrugged.  "I can't help how it is.  Shelley's always having a go about it too.  As soon as I've shot my wad, that's me bushed, mate."

     He got in front of the toilet pan and directed his cock downwards to take a piss.  "You'll have to toss yourself off or something.  I can't really say more than that.  Not after I've spilled my junk."

     "But I'm still hard, Pete," I said, teasing my foreskin back and forth across my swollen cock head a couple of times as if to stress the fact.  "It's not really fair that I let you use my bum only to have you complain that you don't feel like it when it's my turn."

     He shrugged again as the first jets of his piss noisily hit the water in the toilet bowl.  "I can't help how my body works, mate.  If it helps you out, you can lick my arse again."

     "Sorry?"

     The stream of his piss grew more continuous and he pointed the bilobed tip of his cock downwards at the toilet like one would a garden hose.  "You can lick my arse and wazz yourself off until you spunk up.  That's the best I can do for you, mate – at least until we have to share again.  Then, if you're still up for it, I can repay you properly."

     I liked the fact he was throwing me the possibility of a next time and so I didn't risk scuppering things by getting insistent about what he'd offered me tonight.

     Instead, I decided to accept the titbit I'd been thrown and knelt down behind him while he pissed into the toilet.  I pressed my face back into the crack of his bare arse and took up a rapid rhythm on my cock while I rimmed his hairy hole for the second time that evening.

     Having never rimmed a man while he was relieving his bladder, I have to say it was a surprisingly fascinating experience and one which excited me far more than I might have anticipated.  Every time Pete spurted his diminishing jets of urine into the toilet, the muscles of his anus would relax to allow my tongue to enter him more deeply.  His wonderfully carnal and pungent taste grew stronger with every squirt of his piss and the pace of my hand on my cock grew faster and stronger as his trickles into the bowl grew weaker and slower.

     By the time he'd finished pissing, my tongue was reaching halfway into his intestines and my hand was slamming up and down my organ so quickly my hand must have been a frantic blur.

     Pete laughed at how ridiculous I must look: crouching behind him pumping my cock like an over-sexed adolescent, while I slobbered away with my nose and mouth wedged in his arse crack.

     "You really like eating blokes' arses out, don't you, mate?" he chuckled, shaking the last drops from his cock into the toilet bowl.

     "Mmm!" was all I could managed with my face clamped on his rear.

     I was imagining him at work in his tight, black trousers, bending over to get something from the filing cabinet when I need to get some paperwork from his department.  I reminded myself how often I'd lusted after his arse, standing behind him in his office.  I was tonguing that very arse right now here in the hotel bathroom: I was rimming that self-same hole that I'd fantasized about pressing my face into for so long.

     Pete laughed again and bent over the toilet, opening his bum wider for me to probe it even more deeply.  I couldn't help but marvel, as I was driving myself towards my climax as quickly as I could, how quickly he'd recovered from his earlier misgivings.  This was clearly a guy who lived for the moment: there was no point dwelling on past regrets or trying to anticipate future anxieties.  Just go with the flow and see what happens.  If only I could live my life so free from such worries.

     "Fucking nut it, mate!" he called out to me.  "Go on, Rob!  Fucking shoot your spunk!"

     I thumped away at my cock faster and harder than I had for many years, aware that he primarily wanted to hasten my orgasm so that he could get to bed.  In spite of where my face was and how quickly I was jerking my foreskin, my climax remained frustratingly distant.

     It took a change of approach from Pete to make my balls start tingling.

     "Come on, Rob, shove your tongue right up me!  Right where your cock'll be fucking me next time we stopover, mate!  Right where you'll be screwing my arsehole with that big knob of yours!"

     My semen started spurting through Pete's legs onto the polished enamel of the underside of the toilet bowl.  It hung like white icicles reaching downwards towards the tiled floor.

     He laughed again at the fact he'd managed to bring me off and told me several times that he knew what he'd said would do the trick.

     "You're a bloke who likes bum sex, Rob," he rather needlessly informed me.  "I knew saying you could shag me up the arse would get your white stuff flowing!"

     I smiled as I stood up behind him and used a piece of toilet roll to wipe my seed from my spent cock.

     "You're also a bloke who likes bum sex, Pete," I reminded him, feeling an anal hair on my lip with my tongue as I spoke.  "Birds of a feather and all that!"

     He laughed at that: "Yeah, I am, aren't I?  You and me are butt-buddies, Rob!"

     After I'd wiped my semen from the toilet and we'd both brushed our teeth, we turned in for the night making small-talk as if nothing of any consequence had happened.

     The only mention of what we'd done was elicited by Pete just before he switched his bedside lamp off.

     "Thanks for the... er... you know... the session, Rob," he quipped and then threw me a small grin.  I think he was amused by his choice of the word 'session' to express in neutral terms something which had been quite momentous for him.  Whatever the cause of the smirk, I was again reminded of the ratty creature on 'Ice Age'.

     "The curtailed session," I reminded him.  "The best, as far as I'm concerned, is yet to come."

     He grinned more broadly, his finger on the switch, and nodded.  "Game of two halves, mate.  If you can wangle it so we get another skive off work soon, I'll make sure the stopover's worth the wait for you."

     I smiled, resolving to scour the websites of training companies and conference organisers to find something which would fit both of our job areas.

     "You've got a deal, Pete," I agreed.

     And with an amused wink he turned off the light.