by Robert Furlong
My fuck-buddy Rob has always been fascinated to hear about my time in prison. I told him early on in our hook-ups that life inside hadn’t actually been that interesting – that it was mostly mind-splittingly dull and that the sex, such as it was, was brief and infrequent – but he keeps asking about it as if he thinks I’m holding back on telling him all the juicy bits.
“There must have been more to it than that, Edward,” he’d insisted one of the first times we met up.
Edward isn’t my name, by the way. It’s just the name I gave him when I was a bit paranoid about who knew what about me and I’ve never had the guts to tell him I’m actually called Steve.
“Maybe more goes on in the rougher slammers,” I’d shrugged, “but mine was low-security, remember. I wasn’t surrounded by violent criminals or sex pests or whatever – just blokes like me who were doing time for fraud – mostly business theft and forgery, that kind of stuff.”
“But all you men crammed into those tiny cells,” he prevailed, “it must have been a right den of iniquity after lights-out.”
I know it turns him on to think it might have been like that – the cells writhing with sweaty naked male bodies every night after lock-down – but it just wasn’t true.
“I’ve told you before, mate,” I sighed, “we weren’t all crammed into the cells – it was a modern place with only two blokes sharing each cell. I mean, there was sex going on, yeah – it was still a prison for Christ’s sake! – but it was done on the sly and not really talked about.”
Every time we met up, Rob had kept going on about it, the way he does. He can be really annoying like that and is as stuck-up as hell, but he has a really nice arse and, although there’s no way he’d admit it, he’s totally sex-mad. So whenever I feel like going in through the backdoor with another fella, which is pretty often, I can give him a call and guarantee he’ll be up for it too.
“So what happened on the very first day?” Rob had asked one afternoon at my place after I’d finished banging one out up his tush. “I mean, after the end of the court case and once you’d been… er… checked in?”
“Checked in?” I’d laughed. “It wasn’t a fucking hotel reception desk!”
He’d chuckled back, sprawled out on my bed with his dick still looking thick and heavy even though he’d lost his wood. “What would you call it then?”
“‘Processed’, I think is the term they use.”
“Okay, so what happened after you’d been processed?”
“It wasn’t half as bad as I’d thought it would be,” I told him, wondering if he’d up for bending over a second time before he had to leave. “In fact, it was a bit of a let-down after the build-up I’d given it and all the warnings I’d had about what to expect. The other men seemed generally okay – just normal, run-of-the-mill blokes more or less – and the common room on our floor had a sort of pub atmosphere to it, with fellas sitting round chatting and others playing pool.
“There were no knifings or glassings going on all over the place, like they tell you about, and mostly the guys looked out for each other and warned you about who it was best to leave alone. Even the showers weren’t that scary – you could drop your soap all you like and no-one was going to jump you – but, like I say, I dunno what goes on in other nicks. Maybe I just had it easy.”
“Okay,” Rob nodded, “but what happened that night when you met your cellmate – Derek, wasn’t it?”
I shrugged. There wasn’t a lot to say.
“He was a decent sort of bloke – pretty ordinary and boring, to be honest. He’d been an accountant with some big firm and had got caught siphoning money off into his own accounts. Ended up doing two years for it, which seems pretty rough when you hear about young lads getting let off with cautions for robbing old ladies in the street.”
“But what about the sex?” Rob had persisted.
I’d laughed at that. Like the men end up shagging each other as soon as the cell doors get locked.
“It took time, mate. Neither of us were gay, remember. It took days and weeks for the desperation to set in.”
“How long had Derek been in for?” he asked.
“A few weeks. He’d been banged up with some kid on remand before I got ‘checked-in’. Nothing had happened between the pair of them, as far as I know.”
“So how did it start between you guys? Who… er… instigated it?”
I chuckled again. He could be a nosey bastard. Most people get embarrassed when you mention your time inside. Not Rob, here – no way! He has a fascination for prison life; seems to think of it as one big dick-fest.
“The very first night, when me and Derek were getting ready for bed, I noticed that his floppy dick was just as big and thick as mine, and I thought, ‘There’s no way that fucking thing is going anywhere near my arsehole’.”
“Had he suggested he might want that?” Rob asked.
I mean, Jesus Christ! He really has no idea!
“Rob, mate – the way it was between me and him that night was more like two guys sharing a room on a business trip or something. We were making awkward small-talk, knowing we could well be bunking up together for the next year and a half – trying to suss each other out without seeming too pushy too quickly.”
“So why did you think that when you saw his prick?”
“Because I know what goes on, mate. Everyone does. And while he was being all meek and mild with us standing there pulling on our skuffs, for all I knew he might be a total fucking loony and I might wake up in the night with a knife on my throat and his hard-on grinding into the back of my shorts.”
“But obviously it wasn’t like that?”
“No, he was as boring as fuck,” I grinned. “The most he did over the next few nights was to pull off his porker under his blanket when I was jerking away at mine.”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s what you do, isn’t it? First couple of days you keep putting it off until you can wangle some time on your own, but then you realise there’s next to no privacy in there so you end up running a boner after lights-out.”
“So it was purely masturbation at that stage?” he asked.
I chuckled again. He could be such a muppet.
“Yes, it was purely masturbation. Except… actually no… I tell a lie…”
I suddenly remembered some comment Derek had thrown me. Something I’d forgotten about all this time.
“It was on maybe the third or fourth night and we were quietly whacking ourselves off in our separate bunks. We could both hear the sounds of other men doing stuff together in their cells further down our corridor. Maybe they were trying to be discreet about it but those metal bedframes squeak like you don’t believe. And we could hear one of the screws looking in on them and taking the piss. Hear the stuff he was saying to them, letting the whole corridor know whose arse was being fucked.”
Rob glanced over at me and I noticed his prick was getting longer. “Was it like that every night?”
“Pretty much,” I laughed. “But it’s what you expect in a men’s prison, isn’t it? I mean, you don’t expect to hear lullabies after lights-out!”
He nodded, intrigued.
“So Derek calls over from his bunk – dead quietly so I could hardly hear him – ‘You into any of that sort o’ stuff, mate?’
“‘What sort of stuff?’ I asked back, knowing full well.
“‘Sex stuff’, he said after a hesitation. ‘Doing it with… you know… with other fellas.’
“‘Absolutely not,’ I said back, as plainly as I could. Which was ironic really given that just a week or so later, I was banging away at his arse like I was gagging for it!
“Anyway, I said, ‘Are you?’
“And he said, ‘Am I what?’
“‘Are you into doing stuff with other fellas?’
“‘Er… no’, he said back in a way that didn’t sound convincing. ‘But two years in here is a long time…’
“‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
“‘It just means,’ he said before pausing to find the right words. ‘It just means I’m not ruling anything out.’
“‘Well I am,’ I called over to him. ‘My arse is strictly just for shitting through’.
“‘Message understood loud and clear,’ he said back.
“But then, after we’d both resumed our quiet rhythms on our dicks, he added, ‘I’m just sayin’ that maybe mine isn’t.’
“That was when I’d first realised Derek might be up for having his bum poked. Until then I suppose I’d assumed sex behind bars to be a two-way thing – you sow your oats in another fella’s furrow, and then you bend over and think of England while he has his turn going to brown town.
“It was only when Derek said what he did, that it occurred to me that some guys might be willing to take without wanting to give back. And that got me thinking about what it would be like to use another bloke’s arse for sex while I was inside.”
“Did you like the idea?” Rob asked.
“Of course not – I was disgusted by it. I found it horrific, actually – the thought of Derek bending over for me to use his big flabby rump as a sort of jerk-off aid.”
“So what changed over the following week?”
“I can’t say that I dwelt on what he’d said because until today, I’d pretty much forgotten we’d had the conversation. But once he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t necessarily say no if I were to be up for some bum loving, that obviously planted the seed of an idea which then steadily grew.
“I think it was hearing other men on our corridor having sex each night while feeling horny myself that gradually got me used to the idea. I got to thinking that maybe doing it with another fella might not be so awful and that maybe in the darkness and with him facing away from me, the feel of having something warm and wet around my cock might be better than using my hand.”
“It’s strange that the idea was so unpleasant to you,” Robert commented, shifting his position so that his cock, now semi-hard, curved upwards against his thigh. “Even before I discovered I enjoyed sex with other men, I would have assumed that if I ever ended up in prison, I would end up having homosexual encounters of one form or another.”
I thought about his question before answering him, pleased that my talk about prison was making him horny and that I might get my leg over for the second time this afternoon.
“I think I’d always thought of bum sex between straight males as a bit of an adolescent thing,” I tried to explain.
“An adolescent thing?”
“Yeah, something that horny lads get up to when they’re messing around together before they get proper girlfriends… doing each other up the arse to see what it feels like before moving onto the real thing…”
“I’ve never really thought about it like that,” he mused. “Did you think like that because you used to experiment with other boys when you were that age?”
“Me?” I laughed. “No way, mate! I never liked the idea. But everyone knew that some lads did bum stuff ’cause they had permanent hard-ons, and I once saw two mates going at it in the park for a laugh.”
“You saw two lads having anal sex together?”
“We never called it that. We used to call it ‘scuttling’ back then – like it was just a game or something. But yeah, when I was like fourteen or something I saw Lee Finlay doing Paul Tucker’s arse. All their mates were gathered round them, laughing and pointing and saying how disgusting it looked.”
“But you never fancied having a go yourself?”
“No fucking way! After seeing Lee Finlay’s cock scuttling Tucker’s arse – literally smeared in shit as he slid it in and out – there wasn’t a chance in hell I was gonna try anything like that!
“The point is, though,” I went on, “that I saw bum stuff as being for kids – for lads who were too horny to wait for a pussy or for knobheads who were trying to gross their mates out by bumming each other as a joke.”
“Until you got to prison,” Rob added.
“Yeah, until I heard the other fellas on my corridor doing it and how much they were enjoying it, while I was lying on my bunk with my hand down my shorts feeling like a total numbnut.”
I saw Rob’s dick was now fully on the boil again so I got him to roll over onto his front and stick his arse up while I jerked my own drooping semi back up to full size.
There’s two great things about having Rob as a bum-chum. First, like I told you, he’s always up for a shag. Morning, noon and night, he’s horny for it and give him half an hour after shooting his jizz and he’s ready for more. Second – and this is better as far as I’m concerned – he never asks to climb aboard the good ship Edward. I made it clear online before we even met up that sex with me would be totally one-sided, and he’s always accepted that, even though I know how much he’d love to have his turn porking a big hairy tush like mine.
Once I was ready and I was working myself into him, he asked, “Did Derek say anything else about sex? After the ‘not ruling anything out’ conversation?”
“No,” I grunted, enjoying the warm feel of his innards swallowing the thick girth of my cock. “But no prison talk while we’re shagging, mate. I know it turns you on, but it doesn’t do much for me.”
The next time we talked about it, I was over at Rob’s place. We were in his front room, having just done the deed very energetically in front of his fireplace, and were sitting around having a beer waiting for my chub to go hard again and his arse to stop throbbing.
“You know how you said all the men on your prison corridor were bonking after lights-out?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that,” I retorted. “I don’t think they all were.”
“Okay, well some of them were. How did you know they were doing anal?”
“What else would they be doing?” I asked, perhaps a bit naively now I think about it.
“Wanking each other off… sucking each other’s cocks…”
“It wasn’t a fucking gay orgy, Rob,” I hit back. “We were all banged up without our wives or any women… we just wanted something that could pass as a half-decent fuck, not a full-on sausage party.”
“I know that,” he said, “but guys like having their dicks sucked too. You might not, but a lot of men love it.”
“Yeah, well that was probably going on too, but it wasn’t something I was interested in and it wasn’t on my radar. I heard the screws calling some guys cocksuckers and pole-lickers and stuff, but I figured that to be just name-calling. As far as I know, it was mainly butt humping going on – at least on my corridor it was.”
“What do you think changed your mind about giving it a go?”
“Frustration,” I laughed. “Boredom, maybe.”
“There wasn’t a particular moment when you thought, ‘This might not be so bad’?”
I looked across at the mantelpiece and of a photo of Rob’s son on his eighteenth birthday, trying to work my way back through my thought processes at the time. It was difficult to filter out all the rest of what I’d been going through – the sheer terror of finding myself in prison, surrounded by so many unknown men from all walks of life – but I tried to remember what had finally made my mind up.
“There was this bloke called Miles,” I told him eventually. “A nice fella with a clever sense of humour – the sort of guy I’d probably be friends with if I knew him on the outside. He looked totally clean-cut with his thinning curly hair and his little wire-frame glasses and he shared a cell with a fat bloke called Phil two along from mine.
“One night maybe a week in or so, one of the screws – one of the nastier gits – was having a go at someone for being ‘a dirty fucking shit-stabber’. They’d look through the peepholes on the cell doors after lights-out – see who they could catch trying to have a sly poke.”
“Was that a regular thing?” Rob asked, looking surprised.
“They found it funny,” I nodded. “It was a way of demeaning us by letting us know they were watching us using each other for sex… having to bum our cellmates as a form of release while they looked on and laughed.”
“How could they see what the men were doing?” he asked. “I mean, wasn’t it after lights-out?”
“There were dim night-lights in the cells which were on all the time so it was never fully dark. And if the blokes were doing it up next to the door where the screw couldn’t see them, he’d just let himself in so he could sneer at them as they did it standing up. One screw – a total nutter called Fletcher – would whack himself off while he spied on the fellas who were bonking.”
“He actually masturbated watching them? How do you know that?”
I had to chuckle at Rob’s face, he looked so shocked.
“He would pound his wrist against the cell door – he wanted the blokes who were butt-fucking to know he was jerking off watching them. He’d call out stuff… kinda like, ‘Do his arse faster! Come on, fuck him harder! Make me cum!’… that sort of stuff, to let the men who were at it know he had his dick out through his fly and was bashing himself off.”
“He was that turned on by watching them?” Rob asked.
“I don’t think it had anything to do with being turned on,” I said back. “It was a power thing: he used to shout out stuff like, ‘I’ve got my wife’s pussy to screw when I knock off in the morning. Look at you dirty fuckers – having to shag each other’s shitters!’ That was what got his prick on full bone – the feeling of superiority.”
Rob nodded, wide-eyed and I had to laugh again.
“How’s your arse?” I asked him when the surprise wore off.
He ran his finger around the swollen ringpiece I’d left him with. “A bit sore,” came the verdict, “but should be usable again soon if you’re up for it.”
“Like I wouldn’t be,” I grinned. “How about you bend over the coffee table?”
“Give me a couple of minutes,” he said. “Let it recover a bit more. While we’re waiting, tell me where your friend Miles fits into things.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, having lost my own thread. “Well on this particular night, Fletcher was making a hell of a racket about two men going at it. He was jeering stuff like, ‘Did they teach ya how to do this in that posh boys’ school you went to?! How to shove yer little pinkie dick into a stinky brown poop-hole?!’
“He was wanking himself off – making it obvious he was – shouting stuff about what the guy’s wife would think if she saw her straight-laced hubby going at it behind a fat hairy bloke who was bending over. ‘Havin’ to watch your tiny nuts bobbing up and down while you’re bummin’ his big flabby arse! Havin’ to see you like I am with your titchy little cock goin’ at it, covered in his crud!’
“And I realised he was watching Miles buggering Phil.”
“Did that disgust you?” Rob asked, running a finger around his arsehole again to check its subsiding puffiness.
“Maybe not so much as it had when Derek had said that his bum might not just be for shitting through. But it did make me think that if even softly spoken Miles was up for getting his dick dirty, maybe I was being too prissy in ruling it out.
“After all, to paraphrase what Derek had said: eighteen months is a long time without a shag.”
Rob nodded and grabbed the lube off the coffee table: always a good sign.
“The next day,” I went on, “I tried to find out from Miles what he’d been doing with Phil when Fletcher had been peering in on them. I mentioned it to him over breakfast when it was just the two of us.
“I don’t know what I expected him to say. Maybe just laugh and come back with something like, ‘Do you really think I’d do something like that, mate?’ Or maybe, ‘Fletcher was just making it up – we were in our own bunks and he was just mouthing off.’
“As it was, though, he just glared at me – all his humour totally gone – and said quietly, ‘It’s what goes on, mate. Welcome to prison.’
“I said something back, something along the lines of asking if he actually liked it.
“And he muttered, with a sort of defensive snarl, ‘It’s better than nothing. Now just shut the fuck up about it.’
“Which I did, because Miles wasn’t really one for swearing. He was embarrassed – maybe ashamed even – that the whole corridor knew he was playing piggy-backs with Phil on his bunk after lights-out and it became obvious the following night that it was very much a two-way arrangement.”
“Phil was having his turn to?”
I nodded. “I guess that was the deal they’d come to after both getting bored of jazzing themselves off. It made me wonder if maybe I was lucky to be sharing with Derek who’d made it clear he was willing to bend over even though I’d said that my arse was out of bounds.”
Rob bent down over the coffee table and I shuffled up behind him, my cock lengthening quickly at the offer of sliding back up his arse.
He laughed, “I can’t believe you were so reluctant to take Derek up on his offer and yet now you’ve got a taste for it, you can’t get enough of it.”
“It’s funny, yeah,” I chuckled back. “Once I started I couldn’t believe how quickly I got into it. I just found I instantly loved it – it felt so totally horny shagging another bloke up his arse! I didn’t even care that the screws spied in on us and let the whole corridor know I’d joined the brown dick club. It felt so good that I couldn’t give a fuck!”
“Did the other guys treat you any differently afterwards?” Rob asked as I slowly eased my stiffening organ up his rear. “Maybe look at you weirdly at breakfast or say any wisecracks about you and Derek?”
“No,” I said back, “there was nothing like that. Everyone knew the score – that we weren’t lovers or boyfriends, just two blokes who’d started having bum sex after lights-out on account of mutual desperation. So there wasn’t any great fanfare or any smartarse jokes. Just the two of us doing our separate things with the whole corridor knowing but nobody saying that we’d spent part of the previous evening with my dick buried up his butt.”
Rob chuckled as I started developing a smooth, slow rhythm working in and out of him.
“Now no more fucking questions,” I snapped. “Let’s just enjoy the fuck!”
A few days later he was back at my place and this time, for added variety, I did him in the garage. I’d been showing him how to use a tile cutter because he had some repair job to do in his bathroom and is totally clueless, and we’d both ended up getting turned on by the smell of sweat and sealant, so I bent him over the sink and did him standing up with our trousers yanked down around our knees.
We’d both loved it – he’d shot a huge wad of cum all over the little jars of nails and screws – and had been well up for a second showing once we’d given ourselves time to recover.
While we did, I was letting him see how to use a hacksaw to cut a tile to the right shape and that was when he asked me what had happened next in the prison.
“Where did we get up to?” I said, using a pair of plyers to pull the broken blade from the saw after it had snapped halfway through the tile.
“You’d heard Miles getting his oats two doors along from you, and that set you wondering about what it would be like to try it for yourself.”
“Yeah, it did,” I agreed. “That and a visit from Brian.”
“My brother,” I replied. I thought it was quite funny how he now knew the name of my brother but keeps calling me Edward because I haven’t been able to tell him I’m actually Steve. “We weren’t that close before the whole fraud thing kicked off, but he stood by me when all the shit was flinging and even coughed up some of the legal bill.”
“So what did he say when he visited you?” Rob asked.
I managed to yank the blade off and reached for another. Rob didn’t seem remotely interested in what I was trying to show him. In spite of his claim to want to start doing more DIY, I thought it unlikely that he had any intention of doing the job himself.
“Brian had been a naughty boy in his late teens and had spent time in some young offender’s shithole, so he knew the drill as far as having a bunk buddy went.”
Rob chuckled at the term ‘bunk buddy’, but that was pretty much how I’d come to think of Derek. I’d kept meaning to get back in contact with him now that his sentence was up and he’d have had his release. Maybe one day I’ll bite the bullet and track him down for real. You never know, he might be up for the two of us buddying up again.
“He was pretty frank about it,” I went on, “or at least as frank as he could be. We were able to talk in our own booth but you never know who’s within earshot. He basically told me the ropes – what to do and what not to do – the way an older lad had told him when he’d been inside.”
“What did he say?” Rob asked as I put the new blade on the hacksaw.
“Are you actually interested in watching me do this?” I asked him, holding up the half-cut tile.
“Of course I am,” he quickly agreed. “It’ll save me having to get someone out.”
“Have you any idea what I’ve done so far?”
“Kind of,” he smirked. “But you might have to come over and show me again. I can always make it worth your while…”
I chuckled and got back on sawing the tile. “Seriously, mate, it’s a twenty minute job. You could do it tonight when you get home if I loan you the kit.”
“Okay, but what did Brian say?” he repeated, far more interested in hearing about my time in prison.
“He started off in a roundabout sort of way by saying how important it was to relieve the boredom. Kept going on about how it was necessary, that no-one likes having to do it but it stops a guy going cuckoo on a long stretch. I didn’t know what the fuck he was on about. I thought he meant stuff like playing chess or whatever.”
“Okay,” Rob grinned.
“I only cottoned on when he said, ‘Just don’t think about it, mate. Just do it, finish off and don’t dwell on it afterwards. It don’t mean anything – it’s just like scratchin’ an itch after it’s been gettin’ really annoying.’
“That’s when I realised he was on about sex. So I said, ‘Brian, mate, I’m not into doing that kind of stuff.’
“And he came back with, ‘You think I was into it before I was banged up? Beggars can’t be choosers, kiddo. You’ve got to take what you can get if you wanna stay sane.’
“I couldn’t believe that my older brother was telling me I had to shag other blokes while I was doing time. That’s what he was saying, to cut to the chase: that I basically had to use the brown tunnel to get my kicks for the next eighteen months.”
Rob nodded at me, his face a picture of intrigue. He always enjoyed conversations like this.
“I said to Brian, ‘I’ve never done anything like that. The thought of it disgusts me.’
“He said, ‘It did me too. You get used to it though… it’s better than trying to hold out and ending up going wacko.’
“‘You used to do it when you were inside?’ I asked him, struggling to grasp what he was telling me.
“‘Of course I fuckin’ did, mate!’ he laughed. ‘I mean not like every night, but sometimes you’ve just got to.’
“I lowered my voice, needing to clarify what I thought he was saying. ‘Are you telling me you used to bum other lads… in that young offenders’ place?’
“‘Yeah,’ he said, blushing a bit at how direct I’d been. ‘I thought you’d have figured that out – all us horny lads walkin’ round wi’ bones on all day… I mean what else were we gonna do?’
“‘What else were you gonna do?’ I asked him. ‘There was plenty you could’ve done without sticking your prick up other lads’ arses!’
“‘Like what?’ he’d asked back.
“‘Given yourself a good whacking off every night like I’m having to!’
“He’d shrugged at that and looked unconvinced. ‘Maybe you don’t know what it’s like yet… how the boredom starts getting to you…’
“‘So you knobbed other lads up the bum?’ I asked. ‘To relieve the boredom?’
“‘Those who were up for it, yeah,’ he said. ‘It’s like… I dunno… a biological necessity or something. You might think it’s gross and disgusting now, after just a week, but soon you’re gonna start craving something more than your hand…’
I didn’t say anything for a minute, struggling to take in what he’d just told me. It had never occurred to me that my big brother would have been going at it like an arse-bandit with the sort of skinheads and delinquents that place had been home to, but I suppose it was pretty obvious really.
“‘Come on, mate,’ he laughed, seeing my stunned expression. ‘I was in there nearly two years. Did you think I’d just been tossin’ off all that time?’
“‘I didn’t really think about it, to be honest.’
“‘I started out tryin’ to get by just by whackin’ off,’ he went on, ‘but when you hear other lads doin’ it and how much they was enjoyin’ it, you get to thinkin’ about what it would be like to get a bit of it yoursel’.’
“‘That’s how it worked with you was it?’
“‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘Me and my roommate started doin’ it. He used to get into my bunk for a snuggle – I think a lot of lads coupled up like that out of loneliness – and this one night we were spoonin’ against each other, his back against my chest, and we both started gettin’ horny. To cut a long story short, we were sort of rubbing against each other and pulled our pants down, then I got on top of him and did something that felt really nice. It wasn’t until after he’d gone back to his bunk and I could smell the stink of my dick from under my blanket, that I realised I’d just… well… basically I’d just bummed him.”
“I nodded, still reeling from all these revelations but grateful that he was being so frank with me.
“‘And you started doing it regularly?’ I asked.
“‘Not every night, like I said, but enough to stop my balls turning blue.’
“‘And did you enjoy it?’
“He nodded and smiled, a little apologetically. ‘I did once I’d got used to it. It’s not like doin’ a girl, but it feels pretty good. It makes a hell of a stink as well – while you’re doin’ it, I mean – but you get used to that too.’
“‘Did you bend over for it too?’ I blurted out, giving in to my curiosity.
“‘Sometimes, yeah,’ he admitted, blushing again. ‘I mean, you ‘ave to, mate. You can’t expect it to be all one-sided. Havin’ it up you isn’t as bad as you think it’s gonna be. It doesn’t hurt that much once you’ve figured out how to take it.’
“I couldn’t respond to him, I was so shocked at what he’d said. I had a vision of some thick-dicked tattooed thug slamming away at my brother’s arse with all his mates cheering him on. I’m sure it wasn’t like that at all – I’m sure his furtive encounters in the borstal were much like what went on between the men in my prison – but the image was hard to shake off.
“He went on, ‘Anyway, that’s why I wanted to talk to you about it… tell you what I learned…’
“‘Okay…’ I managed.
“‘Rule number one,’ he began, ‘always do the other guy from behind. Stops it gettin’ all kissy and cuddly and keeps it different from the way you mostly do it with a woman. Makes you think of it as something totally different.’
“‘This is what that older lad taught you?’ I asked.
“‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘And it worked for me… I’ve never wanted it since I got my release.’
“‘Do some guys keep craving it with other fellas on the outside?’ I asked.
“‘Apparently, yeah,’ he whispered, almost conspiratorially. ‘But if you do what I’m tellin’ you, you’ll go straight back to doin’ it with a woman without missin’ it at all.'”
Rob brayed with laughter and called out, “Well, that didn’t work, did it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh back. “I reckon I didn’t follow the rules properly!”
I finished cutting a pipe-sized chunk out of the tile and the stray piece fell to the floor and smashed.
“Easy, huh?” I said, holding up the finished precision-cut tile but he just threw me a vacant look like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to be watching.
“So what was rule number two?” he asked and I continued with my story as I put the hacksaw and pliers away.
“Rule number two was about doing it with different blokes. Stops you getting attached to one man and the two of you starting to feel possessive of each other.
“‘There’s no way that would happen,’ I’d told my brother. ‘I mean it’s just like using his bum as a sex aid… it’s not like there’s any emotional stuff going on.’
“‘I’m only tellin’ you what worked for me,’ Brian said. ‘Might be different for you.’
“‘You mean you were shagging different lads?’
“‘I had a few on the go, yeah,’ he said, his cheeks colouring again. ‘But that meant I never saw one lad as a sort of boyfriend or anything. Keepin’ it varied stops all that.’
“Jesus – he’d been a right little butt pirate when he’d been banged up! He’d been doing the rounds, getting his dick dirty wherever he had chance to – round the back of the kitchens, in the greenhouses, anywhere he could! He’d been at his mates’ arses like a fucking rabbit in spring!”
Rob had chuckled, probably drawing comparisons with his own son who was a bit of a goer at university on that score, from what Rob had told me.
I went on, “Anyway, I just nodded and asked, “Okay, what’s rule number three?’
“‘Wash your dick straight after, wi’ hot water and plenty of soap.’
“‘That goes without saying,’ I said flatly, showing my revulsion. ‘What’s rule number four?’
“‘If you’re bendin’ over for another bloke, don’t wank yoursel’ off while he’s doin’ your arse.’
“‘There’s no way I’m taking it, Brian,’ I told him. ‘If I do anything while I’m in here, it’ll be a strictly one-way trip.’
“‘Yeah, well good luck with that, mate,’ he chuckled. ‘But if you do end up with your face in a pillow, just don’t jazz your dick off. It’ll make you grow to like it.’
“‘Okay,’ I shrugged. ‘And the fifth rule?’
“‘It’s the last one. You can ask for pile ointment from the duty medic. Use it as lube – it’s got anaesthetic in it so it’ll hurt less.’
“‘I told you, I’m not bending over for no-one,’ I reminded him.
“‘Well use it on your knob then. It’ll make it less painful for the fella who’s lettin’ you baste him.’
“I’d nodded, ‘Okay,’ and then I had found myself laughing. ‘I can’t believe you’re giving me tips on how to butt-fuck in prison.’
“‘Just lookin’ out for my little bro,’ he’d laughed back.”
Rob chuckled as I put away my toolbox before observing, “The bit he said about not masturbating while being anally penetrated is interesting. I’ve always stimulated myself when I’ve been in that position – ever since the first time I let another man use me like that – and I think your brother is right: it really does make it pleasurable.”
I smiled over at him. “Maybe you wouldn’t have become such an addict if you hadn’t tossed yourself off while your arse was being shagged.”
“Quite so,” he smiled back. “Anyway, your conversation might have been awkward but I think it’s rather sweet that your brother wanted to share what he knew about institutional sex with you.”
I started undoing the clamps on the Black and Decker Workmate I’d been using to hold the tile, but Rob stopped me.
“Whoa! Come on, Edward. Surely we can think up some additional uses for that, er, contraption…”
I looked over at him, initially confused, but when saw his cheeky smirk and the bulge that had developed to one side of his fly, I grinned back and said, “Yeah, I reckon we can.”
He looked over at the toolbelt hanging up on the wall behind me and suggested I put it on.
As I did so as he hitched his trousers back down and bent over the Workmate to expose his round, inviting arse. His butt crack gaped open so I could see his big puffy arse ring protruding from thick forest of hair in his crack. I loved how it was still oozing a white trickle of the spunk I’d earlier shot up it and I pulled my cock out through the fly of my jeans, now fully hard and with the exposed purple head looking bulbous and shiny.
Before I entered him I remembered that I had a hard hat somewhere and said I could fish it out for him to wear.
“Oh yeah! Go for it, mate!” he called over his shoulder enthusiastically. “You can be the horny workman and I can be your eager apprentice, keen to satisfy in every way I can.”
So that was how I rogered him for the second time that afternoon: the two of us pretending we were a builder and his boy.
And as I fucked him rough and hard and he was wanking himself as fast as he could, I realised that Brian had been right: bashing at your dick as you’re having your bum shagged really must it make it feel so good that you want it more. Which had been a good thing for me in the cell, because once I’d started banging Derek his hand had gone straight to his prick and that had sure as fuck made him come to enjoy it.
“So what happened the first night you and Derek got together?” Rob asked as he watched me picking out the pieces of broken tile from behind his bathroom sink.
In the end it had been easier for me just to agree to do the job for him. I’m not an odd-job man – I’m a fucking project manager for Christ’s sake – but there was no way he was going to be able to do it himself and it meant I got a ride on his arse before and after doing the job.
I’d done him bending over the bathtub as a nice little warm-up; if all went well I planned to shag him in the shower once I’d finished the grouting.
“There’s not much to say,” I told him. “It was over pretty quickly.”
“Oh come on,” he insisted. “It must have been quite a significant moment.”
“Not really,” I laughed. “It wasn’t like some romantic gay wedding night with rose petals scattered about and those little Ikea candles flickering around us. I just got on his bunk behind him, buggered him roughly for about two minutes and then shot off up his arse. Asked him if he was okay, which he said he was, and then went back to my bunk to get some sleep.”
“Aw, it’s like a fairy-tale,” Rob crooned ironically.
I chuckled, using my screwdriver to clear the last bits of debris from the hole, and he asked, “But why then? What happened to make you do it on that particular night?”
“I’d been rock hard in my bunk for about four nights before we did the deed,” I explained. “After Brian’s visit, I’d thought a lot about what he’d said and I kind of knew that as far as having sex with Derek, it was a case of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’.
“I didn’t know how to broach the subject, though. It’s not like you can say to a guy when the two of you are stripping down for bed, ‘Are you up for having your butt fucked tonight?’ I just had no idea how to go about asking for it.
“I thought of talking about it with Miles – asking him how him and Phil had come to their arrangement – but he’d made it clear that it wasn’t a subject for discussion and to be honest that would have been even worse than just coming out with it with Derek.”
“So how did you let him know you were up for it?” Rob asked, watching from the doorway as I started cutting the new tile to fit into place.
“I didn’t have to say anything,” I replied over the noise of the hacksaw. “He could see I had the mother of all hard-ons and it was obvious that, like Brian had said, rubbing it after lights-out just wasn’t doing it for me. I was trying to whack myself off when I could but in spite of how horny I felt, my hand was no substitute for what I wanted to feel.
“I was lying there in my bunk that night, listening to other men on our corridor using each other for sex, trying to rub one out under my blanket but having zero success.
“I glanced over at Derek and saw him watching me. Like mine, his fist was pounding away under his blanket – it looked like he was struggling to jazz off too.
“It was just so distracting trying to do it in the cell. The noises from the other blokes who were at it that night seemed amplified somehow. All the bedframes squeaking, the sounds of hips against arses, all the panting and the grunting seemed really loud. And then there was a screw shouting stuff in at them, laughing at what they looked like humping like dirty pigs.
“I was so horny it was painful but I just couldn’t get relief.
“I looked back over at Derek’s bunk and saw he’d got on top of it, bending down all fours in his underwear. He saw me looking at him and pulled the back of his Y-fronts down, baring for me his white, flabby arse. I could use it if I wanted to, that’s what he was letting me know; I could try to think of it as a pussy if that’s what I needed.
“I got up from my bunk with my aching hard-on poking through the fly of my shorts. I went over to his bunk and got on it behind him. I didn’t say a word to him – neither of us did until it was over – but just yanked my shorts down like his skanky pants were, the waistband around the tops of my thighs.
“I could smell his arse even at that point. He might have been some high-up accountant before he got nicked, but – Jesus Christ, mate – his backdoor stunk to high fuck!”
I looked over at Rob, half-expecting him to be shocked, but he was grinning broadly, enjoying the description.
“I don’t suppose that put you off,” he suggested.
“I was too boned-up to be put off by anything,” I chuckled. “In any case, I knew there’d be a stink – not just ’cause Brian had told me but because… well… it was obvious really.”
“Did you like the stink?” Rob asked with a smirk, knowing full well how much I like the smell of his arse being fucked.
“In a way, yeah,” I admitted. “It made what I was about to do totally different from what I was used to, and like my brother had said, that was probably a good thing. I mean, I love that sexy smell you get from a woman when her minge is dripping wet and she’s crying out for you to fill it, but Derek’s arse-crack… well… let’s just say it had its own appeal.”
“Was it a sort of sweaty male bum smell?” Rob queried, adding unnecessarily: “I love that smell!”
“I think it was a good few notches higher than that, mate,” I chuckled. “I dunno if you know, but prison bogs don’t have any doors on them so when you’re in there you tend to rush what you’re doing, if you know what I mean!”
“Oh I see,” he nodded.
“Anyway, Derek had obviously rushed ’cause his butt-crack stunk like a squaddie’s, but when you’re kneeling behind a bloke levelling your dick up to bugger his arse on a prison bunk, you don’t expect to be met with the sweet smell of roses!”
“Quite,” Rob laughed as I held the cut tile up to the gap and found it a good fit.
“It took us a bit of grunting and heaving to work my chub up him,” I went on, squirting some adhesive onto the back of the tile. “As you know, I’m a bit on the big side down there.”
Rob nodded and chuckled enthusiastically.
“Once it was up there, though, and I’d worked it in and out a few times, I found that I loved doing it with another fella like that. It just felt so fucking amazing – I couldn’t think why I’d put it off so long. I started screwing him up the butt really fast and hard, loving the feel of my over-filled nutsack whacking against his!
“The stink was fucking atrocious, mind! He must have been able to smell it himself – I mean, Jesus, it must have been filling the whole cell! Imagine men who have to share a cell with loads of other fellas –having to lie there trying to get to sleep among the stink of other blokes having their arses bonked!”
“Did Derek enjoy it?” Rob asked as I stuck the tile into place.
“I wasn’t sure at the time. He was panting and gasping which was why I asked him if he was okay when I’d finished rutting him. It was only after I’d gone back to my bunk and saw him get up to go over to wash his dick off, that I realised he’d cum from having his bum shagged.
“Later on, right near the time of my release, he admitted that he’d lied when he’d said he’d never done it before. He used to let one of his mates bum him at school and had always liked the feel of having something shoved up there.
“One Valentine’s Day, he’d bought a vibrator for his wife and it had lived in her bedside drawer, totally unused as far as she was concerned. Anyway, one day for some reason she’d taken it out to take a look at it and had been surprised to find that it had a bit of shitty whiff about it. When she’d confronted Derek about it, he’d denied ever touching the thing, but he told me – totally confidentially of course – that he’d fucking loved the thing and had actually intended it more as a present to himself.”
Rob chuckled at that. “You were very lucky to have got him as a cellmate.”
I smiled. “Yeah, I was. He was always up for having his arse nobbled was Derek! Never once asked for anything back in return.”
“So you said you took about two minutes to… er… do your thing?” Rob asked as I took the lid off the tub of ready-mixed grout.
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “When I saw him pull his Y-fronts down I thought there was no way in hell that I’d be able to nut off up that big hairy duff. I thought I’d try it and find that I really didn’t like it and would end up wanking myself off onto his back.
“Once I’d got my dick inside him, though, and discovered how great it was to hump another fella, I grabbed him by the shoulders and started banging his hot, tight arse as fast I could. Everything about it felt incredible: the position we were in with my knees between his, the feel of his bowels gripping my thrusting cock and even the stink we were making were all as hot as fuck! Within seconds, the two of us were slamming against each other, heaving and grunting, like a couple of over-sexed sailors.
“I could see why my brother had liked it so much!”
Rob nodded and grinned at me with his eyes wide; the way he gets when he’s getting turned on and might be up for pulling the back of his jeans down for me.
I finished off my story as I filled around the tile with grout.
“About halfway through, some screw – maybe it was Fletcher but I think it was one of the younger ones – opened the slider on the cell door and cackled in at us. He spat some dorkish comment about me joining the rest of the lowlifes in there and made the point loud and clear that I’d finally succumbed to the allure of my cellmate’s brown hole, just in case anyone on the corridor had been in any doubt that I was frantically enjoying my first taste of bum sex.
“He couldn’t think of much to insult me with. My cock’s long and thick and my bollocks are pretty big and my technique for a first timer was pretty energetic and agile. He said the usual stuff about us looking disgusting and asked what my wife would think if she could see me sodomising another bloke, but none of it really bothered me because I actually thought we would look as sexy as fuck and I’d split up with my wife five years earlier so it was unlikely that she’d give a toss what I was getting up to now.
“He must have got a whiff of our stink because he started going on about that: ‘Your fuckin’ sex stinks of shit! I can smell his fuckin’ arse from out here you dirty bastards!’
“But I didn’t even care about that. I just turned to him and sneered, actually quite liking it that the stink of our sex was so offensive to him, and I held his gaze through the bars on the door as I kept smirking at him even though I was cumming a huge outpouring of hot white spunk which Derek’s bum was struggling to contain.
“The screw was revolted that I’d shot off up Derek’s arse while I was looking at him and banged the slider on the door shut with some half-arsed insult.
“That’s when I asked Derek if he was okay, as he was sort of whimpering and shuddering into his pillow.”
“How were the two of you the next day?” Rob asked.
I wiped the around the tile with a wet sponge, getting the stray gobs of grout off the surfaces.
“No different to usual. We never mentioned it at all, all the times I shagged him, until that afternoon just before my release when he confessed his lie.”
I stood back from my workmanship, admiring the neatness of the job.
“Now look, Rob – just think how proud you would be if you had done that.”
He shook his head, unconvinced. “I think I’ll enjoy thanking you more than I’d enjoy the satisfaction of doing it myself.”
I smiled at his unrelenting high sex-drive. “And how do you propose to thank me?”
He grinned back. “I bet your bum’s grown hot and sweaty from all that exertion – maybe I could lick it clean for you?”
“Sounds good,” I chuckled, putting my stuff back into my toolbox. He always loved to get his face in my butt, and I would always play along even if it didn’t do much for me.
“But what about the rest of me?” I asked. “That’s sweaty too.”
“Maybe I could lather you down in the shower,” he suggested, “and we can see what happens when I accidentally drop the soap!”
As we undressed, he asked if I’d ever had sex in the prison showers.
“No, I only did it with Derek, always on his bunk in our cell,” I told him. “Unlike my brother when he’d been banged up, I was very much a one guy man, but I can’t say it made me think of him as anything more than a friend. I mean, the thought of him getting a new cellmate and the two of them going at it after my release doesn’t bother me at all.”
As we waited for the shower to warm up, I bent over the bathtub so he could get his face stuck between my firm, hairy cheeks.
While he was snorting into my crack and bashing away at his big bone-on, probably imagining the thing pounding away inside the arsehole he was licking out, I wondered how this was supposed to be a thank you to me as he was the one enjoying it.
“Come on, Rob,” I urged him, pulling away from him. “This is supposed to be about me, mate.”
I threw the soap onto the shower floor and told him to pick it up. He laughed and got under the water, bending over as low as he could and sticking his bum invitingly outwards. My cock rose up to full hardness, keen to connect with its accommodating friend once again.
I got in behind him and grabbed him by the bollocks, using them as leverage as I worked my stiffened shaft up his hot, tight bum.
“Is this what you learned in prison?” he giggled.
“Yeah,” I grinned back. “And I learned something else too.”
He supported himself against the shower wall and started pumping his arse up and down my bucking cock.
“What’s that?” he asked, his voice becoming breathless.
“That gay sex is way too much fun for just the gays to enjoy it.”
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