Butt Monkey
by Robert Furlong


Part 15: A Holistic Approach

I’d driven up to Leicester after work to attend the ‘Men’s Sexual Health Issues’ meeting which ran at an adult learning centre on Monday evenings.  I suspected the title was really a euphemism to conceal the fact it was aimed at sex addicts and fetishists.  Men like me, in other words.

It took me a while to find the right room (I avoided asking at the front desk for obvious reasons) and eventually stumbled across it at the end of a long corridor of locked doors.  By the time I walked in, things were just getting started.

I was expecting the chairs to be arranged in a circle, like the sort of group therapy session you see on TV shows, but the room was actually set out as a typical classroom, which it presumably was during the day.  There were three rows of chairs which had attachments to lean on if you were writing things down, and our session leader, a bleached-blond young man wearing a tight-fitting checked shirt with the top two buttons undone and a pair of conspicuously expensive jeans, was at the front of the room.

“Oh, hi,” he said as I wandered in.

“Hello,” I greeted him.  “Is this the men’s health group?”

“That’s right – come on in,” he smiled.  He was unashamedly camp and it seemed obvious that he was gay.

I glanced around the room.  Three sullen-looking men were already here and were sitting as far apart from each other as they were able to.  Their ages ranged from early-twenties to mid-forties and it looked like they were from a variety of walks of life: one was wearing a suit as if he’d come straight from his work in an office; another had a scruffy t-shirt and tattered jeans on as if he’d been on a building site all day.

“There’s home-made cookies at the back of the room if you want one,” crooned the leader at the front.  “Otherwise just grab a free seat and we’ll get started.”

I smiled over at him.  This all seemed very civilised.

I sat down in the chair that would leave the biggest space between me and the others.  That seemed to be the established etiquette of the group.

“Okay,” the bleached guy began after he’d closed the door.  “It’s great to see you all here.  I’m Claude and I’ll be your session leader for this evening.”

First he went through a few ground rules, especially about the importance of anonymity and how we had to respect each other’s boundaries.  Then he told us that he would start the session by outlining his own background.

After telling us that he was a trained counsellor and therapist – having studied at London South Bank University, no less – Claude explained why he’d been drawn into the field of men’s health.  To my surprise, and that of the rest of the men from the way they shuffled awkwardly in their seats, he told us that for many years he had been, what he termed, “a serial masturbator”.

Since being a teenager, he’d been bashing the beef more than five times a day, sometimes up to twenty times, without respite.  As an effeminate and rather delicate young man, it was difficult to imagine him doing something so crass as to be continually jerking his dick off all over the place, and I wondered how on earth he found the time.

Claude went on to tell us that the urge to constantly pleasure himself was still a problem, but he had been able to suppress it for over four years using something he called cognitive behaviour therapy.

“Do you still masturbate?” the guy in the suit asked, his accent quite clipped.

“Of course,” Claude smiled.  “Just like most men.  But I set myself goals and try not to exceed them.  At the moment I’m aiming for once per day, but I can allow myself relief up to three times if I need to.”

He looked over at me as if for some kind of reaction and I nodded sagely.  I didn’t really know what else I could do.

“Okay,” he said to the group.  “You’ve heard all about me; now I want to hear about you.  Who’d like to start?”

Again he looked towards me and I felt myself blush as I shrank back.

Fortunately, though, the guy in the suit decided he would be first.  He seemed the type who’d be ready to push himself forwards.

“Hello everyone,” he said, standing up and turning to face us.  “I’m David.  My problem, in a nutshell, is that I love putting things up my bum.”

He was, as I’d noticed, impeccably well-spoken and for some reason that made his declaration seem rather less surprising.

“It started about ten years ago,” he went on, “and now I do it compulsively.  I’m married and my wife is very understanding, but… well… it’s a problem.”

“In what ways is it a problem?” Claude asked.

David shrugged.  “For a start, it’s unhygienic.”

The rest of us chuckled.

Claude pursed his lips in disapproval at our amusement and then asked, “Okay, David.  What sort of things do you put up there?”

“Anything that’ll fit.  Vegetables, ornaments, plastic bottles, torches… you name it.”

“And do you masturbate when you have objects inserted up there?”

David nodded.  “Yes.  It feels a lot more intense that way, especially thrusting them in and out.  That’s what my wife can’t understand – she thinks I must be partly gay.”

“And – if I can ask – do you feel any homosexual attractions?”

“Not really,” David replied.  “I have had a penis up there… I mean, you know… I’ve let a guy have sex with me.  A few guys, actually.  But I don’t feel attracted to men in a sexual way – it’s just nice to have the feeling of being penetrated with someone else doing the hard work.”

Again we chuckled and Claude tutted over at us.  It seemed laughter wasn’t allowed in his sessions.

David grinned at us all as if pleased to have unburdened himself and then sat back down on the backside he had kept so well occupied.

The next man to introduce himself was the guy in the dirty jeans.  His muscles were huge and his biceps heavily tattooed.  He stayed seated and told us – or, rather, told the floor in front of him – that he was called Shane and was a carpenter.  His problem was that he liked penetrating things.

“What sort of things?” Claude asked.

Shane shrugged.  He didn’t seem comfortable about speaking to a group of people.  “It’s like that guy,” he said, gesturing over at David.  “Anything and everything.  As long as it’s got a hole of roughly the right size.”

“Like what, though?” Claude persisted.

“I dunno.  A melon once.  A chicken we bought for Sunday lunch.  A bike.  A lamp post.  A picnic table…”

Claude turned on the rest of us before we could laugh.  We put our hands over our mouths to conceal our smirks.

The youngest guy was next: he looked like he was a student or recent graduate and had spikey hair and narrow, fashionable specs.  He introduced himself rather timidly as Phillip and his particular “health issue”, he told us quietly with a voice which was surprisingly deep for his age, was porn.  He was obsessed with it and felt compelled to look at it many times each day.

“What kind of porn?” Claude asked.

“All sorts,” Phillip said, his cheeks colouring a little.  “Hardcore stuff with women, mainly, but I like variety.  Gay, bondage, milf and bukkake… anything.”

He seemed so shy and respectable, I was surprised at his fascination.  But then he would probably, in a moment or so, have similar thoughts about me.

(What was ‘milf and bukkake’, anyway?  A pornographic version of Mills and Boon?)

“And obviously you masturbate when you look at it?” Claude asked.

Phillip nodded.  “I can go on for hours, edging and pulling back.”


“Holding off from… you know… over and over.  It makes it more intense.”

“So, apart from the sheer amount of time you’re spending,” Claude continued, “why is this a problem for you?”

“It’s like I can’t get turned on unless I’m looking at a screen.  Real girls don’t arouse me the way the ones on the internet do.”

Claude nodded and then turned to me.

Like David had, I felt the need to stand up.  It was as if I was about to admit to being an alcoholic.

“I’m Rob,” I began, “and a short while ago I discovered that I like licking other men’s bums.”

Claude couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows.  I wondered if this was a new one on him.

“Okay, Rob,” he said with evident interest.  “Thank you for sharing.  I assume, then, that you’re gay?”

“No,” I replied.  “Definitely not.  I’m not attracted to anything else about other guys, really.  Just their bums… in fact, more specifically, what they have between their cheeks.”

“How did you discover that you have this… er… interest?” Claude asked.

“During a drunken night when I was sharing a room with another guy,” I abridged.  “Since then I’ve found the idea of putting my face down there… well… very pervasive.  It’s been difficult for me to think about anything else.”

David nodded intently.  Perhaps he’d been feeling the same about vegetables.

I sat back down and Claude thanked us all for being “courageous”.

“To achieve furtherance,” he went on, “I want you all to talk together, as a group, about how you feel after you’ve gratified your particular compulsions.  What emotional states you go through… how you justify what you’ve done in your own minds.”

He told us he was going to pop out momentarily as he needed a few extra copies of one of the hand-outs he’d need later, and closed the door after himself, leaving the four of us to embark on the task.

We turned rather sheepishly to face each other.

I thought I’d show some initiative and started with, “Well, I suppose the first time I did it, I felt very guilty afterwards, but then my guilt gradually turned to –”

“Come on, lads,” Shane, the carpenter, cut in with a smirk.  “We can all see where this is headin’, can’t we?”

I looked around, unsure of what he meant.  Phillip, the student, seemed equally confused and David just looked bored.

Shane chuckled to himself at our blankness.  “Come on!  It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

As we continued to look bewildered, he spelled it out.  “Okay… just think about it… I’ll knob anything that has a hole, he likes taking it up him, you like licking blokes’ arses, and he likes to watch…”

We continued to stare at him, none the wiser.

He laughed again.  “I can’t be the only one thinkin’ we’ve got ourselves a pretty nice foursome, can I?”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of us being here?” I asked, feeling a little prim as soon as I’d said it.

David was staring intently at Shane: he didn’t look at all bored now.

Shane ignored me.  “I reckon that Claude bloke’ll be up for some action too.  I bet he’s taken a few knobs up him in between all that whackin’ off… I bet he’s fuckin’ bangin’ for it!”

“I really don’t think that’s why we’re here,” I repeated.  “In any case, we’re supposed to be discussing –”

“If I’m getting fucked,” David interjected, pronouncing the word ‘fucked’ more like ‘farcked’, “whose arse does he get to lick?”

Shane looked over at me.  “I don’t suppose you really care, do you?  There’ll be three other blokes’ holes for you to get your tongue stuck into…”

“I happen to be rather more discerning –” I began before Phillip cut in.

“I don’t just want to watch,” he said.  “I mean, if you guys are gonna do some stuff together, I want to be part of it… you know… properly part of it.”

“Well, Rob over here can lick your shitter while I’m knobbin’ him,” Shane said, looking over at David.  “You’d be up for that, wouldn’t you?”

David nodded keenly, licking his lips and shifting slightly in his seat as if his well-used bottom was already tingling.

Phillip smiled over at me, evidently quite satisfied with the arrangement.  I suddenly felt quite flattered to have the youngest man in the group showing an interest in enjoying my talent.

Shane turned back towards me.  “How’s that sound, mate?”

“Well… I don’t know…” I muttered, my misgivings being somewhat dissipated by Phillip’s very attractive smile; he was sure to have a lovely pert bum tucked away in the back of his black jeans.  “I suppose, it might be rather nice to… you know… just quickly…”

“Can I film the whole thing on my phone?” Phillip asked.  “To watch later, I mean.”

Before I could reply that I didn’t want to end up on YouTube pushing my face between the butt-cheeks of some guy young enough to be my son, Claude walked back into the room with his photocopies.

“Okay, guys,” he said brightly.  “What emotions have you been able to come up with?”

I looked around at the others, feeling myself blush again.  This was like being in class at school when none of us had done the work we’d been asked to.

Claude looked at me.  “Could you tell me how you felt, Rob?”

“Erm,” I struggled, trying to rid the thought of Phillip’s backside from my mind and to come up with a sensible response.  “I suppose I felt sort of… well –”

“Look, mate,” Shane cut in, looking at Claude.  “We didn’t talk about that.”

“Oh, I see,” Claude said crisply.  “I’d thank you guys to stay on-task if we’re going to meet our advancement targets here tonight.”

Shane waved off the reproach and went on, “We were saying that we’d make a pretty good foursome.  Each of us is interested in stuff which fits well with the others.”

I was amused by his use of “we”.

Claude looked confused.  “I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“David likes to take it, I like to give it.  This guy has the choice of our arses to get his face stuck into.  Phillip over there can film us on his phone to make his own porn and you can watch us and wank yourself off as many times as you like.  How does that sound?”

Claude looked horrified.  His mouth literally gaped open in shock.

“For goodness sake!” he cried out.  “This is completely contrary to everything we’re trying to work through here!”

I looked down to conceal my chuckle.  We were turning out to be his naughty class.

“Clearly I can’t trust you to work on your own,” he said sternly.  “I’ll have to supervise you more closely with the next exercise.”

He clapped his hands together like a primary school teacher trying to restore order.  Maybe he’d been trained that this was how you draw a line and move on.

“Right, guys,” he said, his tone suddenly more jovial; schizophrenically so.  “I want you to pair up for me and get a bit more hands-on together.”

Phillip’s head swivelled towards him quickly, his hand reaching for his phone, and Claude realised that what he’d said was open to misinterpretation.

“What I mean is, I want you to work in twos.  David and Phillip, you guys should change places so you can work together.  Shane and Rob, you do the same.”

Shane came over to where I was sitting, his face a little peeved from the telling-off he’d had, so that we were sitting alongside each other.

“Okay,” Claude said.  “I want you to talk about the sort of things that make each of you want to engage in your particular sexual interest.  Maybe you feel more needy after a stressful day at work, or maybe you indulge more when you’re bored.  However it works for you, talk about it together and I’ll bring you a handout so you can fill in the boxes with each other’s ideas.”

He gave us our sheet and then walked over to David and Phillip, who were just staring at each other glumly, and gave them theirs.

Feeling like I ought to try and show some willing, I said to Shane – more for Claude’s benefit – “Well, I find I notice men’s bums more and more these days, and I suppose that makes me want to put my face near them…”

Claude was clucking over David and Phillip.  “Come on guys, work with me on this.  David, you get things started.  When do you most feel like you need to be penetrated?”

Shane whispered over to me, “That David bloke’s bangin’ for it… you can see it.  He’s probably got a stalk-on just thinkin’ of me porkin’ him up the shitbox!”

I smiled at his language and he asked, “D’you think if I went to the loo, he’d have the sense to follow me?”

I threw a pointed glance over at Claude who was fussing over the other pair.

“I think it would look too obvious,” I said quietly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he nodded.  “What we need is for someone to have a nose-bleed or something.  One guy in the loo and the rest of us taking it in turns to check on him… each of us havin’ a bit of fun while we’re in there.”

“I could pretend to have a nose-bleed,” I offered, eager to get out of doing these pointless exercises.

“Yeah, and what good would that do me?  I mean, you can lick my arse as much as you like, Rob – you know, be my fuckin’ guest – but I want to get my knob stuck into something… that’s what I’m into!”

I nodded.  I didn’t want to offer him that.  I wasn’t sure I was ready to bend over a toilet bowl to be buggered by some brawny workman who I didn’t even know.

Claude peered over at us from where he was poised with the other pair.  “I don’t see any note-taking going on between you two!”

“Oh, yes, yes,” I said.  “We’re just… er… exchanging a few preliminary ideas.”

We pretended to busy ourselves and, when he’d turned back to try and cajole responses from David and Phillip, Shane whispered, gesturing over at our session leader, “I thought Mary Poppins over there would be up for some fun.  He seems the type who might like a bit of cock, but he’s too into his fuckin’ caring and sharing and all that crap.”

I chuckled.

In spite of my earlier reservations, I was now starting hope that I would get an arse to stick my face into this evening.  It hadn’t been the reason I’d come and I wasn’t too bothered about whose it was, but now that the possibility had been mooted, I was, in Shane’s vernacular, “bangin’ for it”.

I pulled out a pack of paper tissues from my jacket pocket and took one out.  “Maybe, then, it should be you who has the nose-bleed,” I said quietly.

I handed the tissue to Shane who unfolded it and applied it to his nose.

“Oh fuck!” he shouted, leaping up strenuously and knocking his chair over.  “Me nose is bleedin’!  Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”

“Oh my gosh!” Claude gasped.

Shane clashed out of the room, swearing profusely.

“I’m a qualified first-aider,” Claude called after him and started getting himself into a flap about whether or not he should follow him down the corridor until I told him, quite emphatically, that I thought he’d be okay.

I caught David’s eye, who smirked and nodded slyly.

Claude seemed flustered and suggested that he should inform the front desk via the phone in the corner of the room.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I said calmly, trying to stop him escalating this into an uproar.  “Shane said something about having nosebleeds regularly.  I’m sure if you give him a few minutes… maybe a little bit longer… he’ll be fine.”

Claude seemed to accept my story and came over to my chair.  “Well, look, while he’s out of the room, Rob, maybe you could you tell me what ideas the two of you came up with?”

“Oh… er, yes,” I muttered, grabbing the pen and trying to appear as if I’d been on the point of writing copious notes.  “We mainly thought that our fetishes –”

“Can we not use that word, please?” Claude cut in.  “Can we call them ‘interests’ or ‘compulsions’?”

“Oh right,” I nodded.  “Well, we thought that maybe we’re driven towards these… er… interests, because of something that might have happened to us in our childhoods.”

Claude beamed at that.  “Oh, that’s super!  That really is!”

David stood up.  “Actually,” he announced.  “I think I need to step outside for a few moments.  The sight of all that blood… I feel a bit faint.”

Claude started fussing again.  “Oh my gosh, David!  I can so connect with that.  Go outside, quickly… get some fresh air!”

David grinned at me as he trundled out of the room.

Claude told Phillip and I to couple up, which made us both titter, and asked us to discuss our ideas together.  He informed us that, with two of the group down, this was now an official ‘Health and Safety Incident’ and went over to use the phone to report it.

“There was like blood everywhere,” he crooned into the handset.  “One of the guys is in the toilet and the other’s having some sort of panic attack.  I think he might be experiencing trauma.”

Phillip muttered to me, in that mellifluous deep voice he had, “Have David and Shane gone off to do some one-on-one work?”

I smiled and nodded.  “A bit of extra-curricular study, you could call it.”

Phillip grinned.  He was clearly very interested in watching them and would no doubt be making his own excuse in due course.

As Claude continued to whip up a medical emergency out of a non-event over the phone, Phillip asked me about rimming.

“I’ve seen guys doing it in porn,” he told me quietly.  “It’s never really appealed to me, though.  What’s it like?”

“Incredibly intense,” I replied.  “What you see on screen doesn’t do it justice.  You have to try it for real – actually put your face on another guy down there – if you want to know how amazing it is.”

“Isn’t it a bit… well… disgusting?” he asked.

“You’d think it would be, but I haven’t found that so far.  The times I’ve done it – and, to be honest, I’ve only done it twice – have been extremely erotic.”

Phillip nodded and smiled.  He had lovely teeth; very white and meticulously well-kept.

“Would you like to do what Shane said and rim me?” he asked.  “If we get the chance to, I mean?”

I nodded, pleased at his curiosity.  “Very much so.”

“I don’t know how… you know… clean I am,” he admitted, that voice of his as smooth as chocolate.  “I can’t say it was something I was expecting to happen.”

I smiled at him.  “That doesn’t matter too much.  Unless we’re talking… I dunno… incontinence or something…”

Phillip laughed.  “I wipe very thoroughly, Rob.  It’s just… well… I might have been to the loo since I last showered… I can’t really remember.”

He threw me a smile laced with embarrassment which I found very cute, and I assured him that however I was to find him, there would almost certainly not be a problem.

Before Phillip could reply, Claude hung up the phone and said that help was on its way with a body fluid spill kit, whatever one of those was.

“Did you get any blood on you, Rob?”

“Actually, yes,” I said, turning my spotless hands over in front of me as if looking for splashes.  “Can I just pop out to wash my hands, quickly?”

Claude nodded enthusiastically.  “Make sure you use hot water and plenty of soap.”

I got up and left the room, amused by his advice.  What did he think I was going to use?  Spit?

There was a toilet a few doors along the corridor and, given how quiet is was in this part of the building, I wondered if this was where Shane and David would be.

As I opened the door I heard Shane’s voice loudly proclaim: “I’ve never knobbed a bloke’s arse before!  It’s fuckin’ well tight!”

Yes, this was the right place.

Hearing me enter, David shushed him.

They were in the cubicle with the door closed and the tumult of activity which was going on behind it, some of it unmistakably rhythmic, ceased at the sound of my footsteps.

“It’s alright guys, it’s me,” I called out and, to my surprise, the red ‘engaged’ sign on the door catch swivelled to ‘vacant’ with an obliging click.  Clearly they wanted me to see them together.

I pushed the door open and there they were: side onto me, both with their trousers and underpants around their ankles.  David, still wearing his jacket, was bending forwards slightly, facing the wall, and Shane was behind him sliding a heftily thick cock in and out of his flabby but impressively accommodating arse.  It was a good job David had had plenty of practice widening his hole with an assortment of objects; Shane’s prodigious girth would have been a very difficult fit otherwise.

They both grinned at me like a pair of naughty schoolboys and I smiled back, marvelling at how brazenly they were exposing themselves in front of me, some guy they’d just met.

Trying to encourage them to continue, I smiled back and said, “Nice.  Very nice.”

Shane wrapped his arms around David’s chest and bent forwards with him.  He quickened his rhythm and his balls started making smacking sounds against David’s thighs with each thrust.  David grunted and grabbed his own much smaller cock and started wanking his shaft with short, brisk strokes.  His foreskin slid quickly back and forth, making the red stubby head appear and disappear in quick succession like a flashing beacon.

“Oh God, that feels amazing,” he gasped.  “Your cock is so long and thick!”

Shane muttered, “Yeah!  I knew you’d like it,” as he held onto the other man and rapidly buggered his well-worked arse.

As I stood and watched the two of them, enjoying the grandstand view I was getting of male-to-male butt-fucking in all its undiluted inelegance, they turned to grin at me.  I smiled back and David started working his hips back against Shane’s pumping cock, eager to meet its thrusts with his voracious hole, and Shane slammed in more roughly and more deeply to further excite him.

They laughed over at me at how wonderfully ill-behaved they were being, and I couldn’t help but laugh back with them.

“I was just telling him,” Shane said to me, through his quickening breathing, “how I’ve never done another fella before.  All the things I’ve stuck my prick into over the years – I can’t believe I’ve never knobbed another bloke’s arse!”

His tone was bizarrely casual and conversational, given what he was doing.  He spoke like he does this every day: has chats with people while pounding himself in and out of some guy’s bared backside in a toilet cubicle.

“How does it feel?” I asked.  I felt a bit like Claude, asking Shane to bullet-point his emotional state.

“Fuckin’ well hot!” Shane grinned, his thrusting steadily increasing in speed and growing noisier.

“Absolutely incredible!” David agreed in his much more polished accent.  “I’ve never taken anything so big… well, not a cock, anyway.”

“There’s a nice, juicy arse up for grabs,” Shane muttered over to me, glancing back at his own.  “Feel free to… you know… partake!”

He laughed as if ‘partake’ was such a refined word.  I chuckled back: he’d said it in such a way that it suggested he was offering me afternoon tea and a muffin rather than a lick between his large, muscular buttocks.

I would have preferred to rim Phillip, if I’d had the choice, but now that Shane was offering me a taste of his most beguiling spot, I found it difficult to resist.  This was, after all, quite a safe place: while it was a public building, we were well removed from its more populated areas (I assumed the meeting had been deliberately located so remotely to allow us some privacy, given the topics we were likely to discuss).

“You’ll have to turn around,” I said.  “Face the toilet.”

They repositioned themselves, finding it difficult to move with their trousers restricting their feet, but after some toing and froing and an unwelcome fart from David’s backside as he tottered forwards, Shane’s deep, hairy crack was accessible to me as he started fucking David as he bent over the toilet bowl.

I squatted down behind Shane and sniffed between his flexing cheeks.  His arse had the sweaty, heady musk one might expect from a brawny carpenter whose job must involve a lot of physical labour.  The whiff from the hairy tangle inside his crack was bracingly intense in its unadulterated potency and made my cock start to stiffen and push itself upwards against my fly.  I eased my nose in a little further and was almost knocked back by the sheer ferocity of something far stronger and startlingly cruder lurking deeper inside his hot, moist cleft.

I glanced down at his underwear, hitched down with his jeans around his ankles.  They were a loose pair of boxer shorts, stripy and cheap-looking, and a suggestion of discolouration between the legs at the back, while not conspicuous enough to be offensive, told me I might be venturing into murky waters.  I noticed that David, in front, had a fashionable pair of white briefs among the folds of his work trousers.  The gusset was turned inside-out from where he’d yanked them down and was, in contrast, impeccably clean.  It struck me as curious that, of the two of them, the man who might be expected to have the looser arsehole had by far the more sanitary underwear.

Shane grinned down at me, over his shoulder, as his thrusting quickened further.  When he saw I was rubbing the crotch of my trousers as I homed in on his bum, he looked surprised.  Until then, I don’t really think he believed that another man could find it arousing to have his face so close to a part of his body he had probably never thought of as being erotic.

“I can understand this guy liking it up his shitbox,” he grunted through his quickening breaths, “and the lad in there getting off on porn, but you… I have no fuckin’ clue why this would get you going… not one fuckin’ iota!”

I smiled back up at him, feeling my organ slowly lengthening through the front of my trousers.  “It’s an acquired taste.”

For some reason this made them both guffaw, even in the middle of what they were doing.

While they were still laughing and I heard David mutter, bending over the toilet pan with his bum being given a blunt seeing-to, “Horses for courses, eh?” I pushed forwards once more into the breach.  I was determined to enjoy this opportunity which sheer chance had presented me with, however strong and overpowering it might turn out to be.

Once my nose was nuzzling into the thick, coarse forest between Shane’s buttocks, I felt my cock hardening rapidly at the sheer masculine power of this carpenter’s most indecent odour.  This was full-on bum-stink: streets ahead of the more subtle scents which Guy and the lad from Asda had been concealing back there.  This guy’s arse was in a league of its own; not unpleasant or particularly faecal – just vehemently male and unapologetically anal.

I feasted on it for what it was – the most fierce and cloying smell it was possible to find on a big, working man’s body – and revelled in how shocking and exciting it was; both at the same time and both in equal measure.

“Fuckin’ go for it, mate!” Shane called out, oblivious to how overwhelming I was finding him.  “Get your face stuck right in!”

I pushed my tongue out and eased it between his hot, hairy cheeks; his strong round muscles still bucking rhythmically to the beat of his thrusting cock.  His taste was wincingly harsh but at the same time intensely sexual – an order of magnitude above the dank, sweaty pungence that had so captivated me about the other two men I had rimmed.

Shane grunted and called out to David as he fucked him: “He’s fuckin’ doin’ it, mate!  He’s got his tongue right in there – lickin’ up and down my fuckin’ arse crack!”

I pushed further into him and felt his big, heavy balls thumping against my chin.  As my tongue searched inwards towards his hole, his taste strengthened still further and acquired a new, more carnal flavour.  I was deeply aroused by it – my cock was aching against my underwear – but found it frustratingly difficult to appreciate with such an intense and bewildering sensory onslaught overpowering it.

“He’s found my ringpiece!” he informed David with a laugh, when I touched it with the tip of my tongue.  “He’s lickin’ my fuckin’ bunghole!”

It was small and gnarled, raised upwards like a tight knot, and just running my tongue around it made me wince with the roughness of his assaulting funk.

“Push your tongue up me!  Shove it right in there!” the carpenter implored, and ceased pumping into David so he could stick his bum outwards, pushing it hard against my face.  I was aroused by his request but uncertain as to whether I could comply: the eye-watering force of his odour was almost too much for me.  I could hardly cope with the severity of my having my tongue dancing around his ring – how much more potent would it be if I were to try and work it up into his rectum?

As I was about to pull back from him and yank out my cock so I could masturbate myself to the unbridled erotic power of his scent, the door of the toilet thudded open abruptly and the three of us jolted in surprise.

A female voice screeched in, “Is everything alright in there?”

She couldn’t see in past the partition in front of the doorway, but the shock of her intrusion made me jump up from Shane’s splayed spit-sodden arse-cheeks with my erection making a prominent rod in my trousers.

Shane just stood there, his face turned towards me horror-struck, his cock embedded to the hilt between David’s butt-cheeks, while David, on the other hand, kept wanking himself; the pleasure of having such a large intrusion filling his favourite spot proving simply too gratifying for him to be able to stop.

I walked over to the door, mainly to stop whoever it was peering around the partition, and found that it was being held open by young-looking girl.  She had a bucket with her which had a red cross on it and there was a pair of latex gloves and a medical mask in her hand.

“Is everything okay?” she repeated in her high-pitched voice.  “I had a call-out about a nose-bleed.”

“We’re fine,” I said, putting my hand in front of my crotch to try and at least partially conceal the lewd mound of my excitement.  “He’s… er… sitting on the loo holding his head back to stop the bleeding.”

“To stop a nose-bleed, he needs to have his head between his legs,” she asserted, before doubting herself.  “Or is that for a blackout…?  I forget which way round it is…”

“He’s fine as he is,” I said, leading her out into the corridor and hoping she couldn’t smell Shane’s odoriferous backside on my face.  “Best just to leave him to it, I think.”

Disappointed that her collection of assorted medical supplies weren’t going to be administered she shuffled off, a little disgruntled, back towards the front desk.

Before I could go back into the toilet for a second sampling of what carpenters keep in the back of their jeans, Claude called out, a tad hysterically, from the classroom along the corridor: “What’s going on along there?  Is everything okay?”

“They’re both fine,” I said, as he gestured me frantically back into the room.  “Shane’s in the cubicle trying to stop the bleeding and David’s splashing himself with cold water.  They’ll be back in… er… good time.”

“When, though?” Claude implored, as I sat back down and crossed one leg over the other to conceal my erection.  “We need to get on!  I have an activity on self-empowerment which we haven’t even started.”

“Give them a few minutes,” I said as calmly and innocently as I could.  “These things can take… you know… a bit of time.”

Phillip stood up.  “Actually, if they’re going to be a minute or so, I just need to… er… pop to the front desk.  There’s some paperwork they said I have to fill in.”

Oh, nice one, I thought.  You know how to think on your feet.

Claude looked at his watch.  “Well, be back in five at the very most,” he said.  “You really don’t want to be late for the breathing exercises.”

Phillip threw me a wink and headed off, leaving me alone with Claude.

I sat for a few moments in my chair watching Claude filling in a form which the girl with the medical bucket must have brought him, before I broke the silence and asked him if we could talk about his masturbation issues.

“I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have,” he said, putting his pen down, “if you think you can relate my experiences to your own interests.”

I nodded.  “Perhaps I can.”

I told him that I enjoy masturbating – I’m sure that was no surprise to him – and asked him how a guy knows when a regular habit has become a problem which might require help.

“It’s normal for most men to masturbate daily, Rob.  Twice or three times daily can form part of a healthy habit.  Even a guy who occasionally masturbates, say, half a dozen times, is not doing it compulsively.  It’s impossible to set a defined limit, but something like twenty times a week, every week, might indicate a problem.”

“I’d never find the time to do it that often,” I said, “even if I wanted to.”

Claude smiled.  “Believe me, if you developed a compulsion, you’ll make the time.  You’d think up excuses for everything to work some solitary time into as much of your day as you can.”

“Is it always something you do alone?  I’d have thought doing with other people would be more fun.”

He nodded.  “You’re right – it is fun to get other guys to join in, but I’ve never met one who can keep up with how frequently I need release.”

“But you said you’ve got it down to once per day…?”

“Once per day is my goal,” he clarified, “but I allow myself three times to make it realistic and achievable.”

“And how are you doing today?”

He seemed amused at the directness of my question.  “Not too well, I’m afraid.  To be honest, I’ve kind of used up all three of my allowances.”

I suddenly wondered if he hadn’t really needed to make the photocopies he’d claimed to earlier – there were, after all, only four of us in the group – but had instead nipped out for a quick pull.  Perhaps hearing the four of us divulging our various ‘interests’ had made him need a moment of solitary time.

He looked at his watch.  “Where on earth are Shane and David?  I don’t think they’re giving a single thought to my bonding objectives.”

“I’m sure that bonding is at the forefront of their minds,” I suggested, not without an element of truth.

Claude didn’t seem convinced.  “Surely at least one of them should be coming back by now…?”

“They’re coming,” I assured him, “or will be very soon.”

“We need to get on, Rob,” he insisted.  “We’re supposed to be taking a holistic approach.”

“Would you like me to go and… er… encourage them?” I asked.

“Well, at the risk of losing my last remaining student, yes, if you could hurry.  I’ll work on a reappraisal role play while I’ve got moment to myself.”

I wondered if that meant he was going to have another quick tug under his desk; maybe ‘reappraisal role play’ was his euphemism for it.

I hurried back along to the toilet and, after startling the three of them when I opened the door, found that they were keeping themselves gainfully employed.

Shane was still slamming himself in and out of David’s willing arse in the cubicle, but the two of them were now facing outwards so that Phillip could film them from the front on his phone.  For his part, Phillip was rubbing his moderately-proportioned erection which was poking out from his fly and seemed more fascinated by what the screen was displaying rather than watching the two men enjoying themselves in the flesh.

David grinned over at me as his backside was plundered, and Shane called over, “This is fuckin’ steamin’, mate!  Best meetin’ I’ve ever been to!”

I considered resuming where I’d left off with his backside, but I didn’t want to end up being recorded as I did so and, in any case, it would have been difficult to squeeze past them into the cubicle.

So instead, I walked over to Phillip.  “Would you still be happy for me to rim you?”

He smiled, momentarily taking his eyes of his phone.  “If you want to.”

His face looked strikingly handsome with his smooth, angular cheeks and his warm brown eyes gorgeously accentuated by his thickly-framed glasses.

I nodded.  “Very much so.”

I stood behind him and undid his black jeans – in spite of all the years I’d done the same thing to my own trousers, I found it curiously difficult to do it to another man – and eventually, ineptly, managed to hitch them down to his knees.

Underneath, he was wearing a lovely pair of white boxer briefs with dark blue piping.  The way he’d creased them up around the front to yank his cock out through the fly had made them cling tightly to his backside, giving it a beautifully appealing pair of curves, and my mouth watered in anticipation at what I was about to enjoy.

He kept filming Shane and David who were both more than happy to perform.  He extended his arms forwards to get a close-up shot of Shane’s thick cock ramming in and out of David’s splayed arse-cheeks.  For a guy who said he preferred straight porn, he was certainly keen on documenting the gay equivalent.

I stopped him masturbating so I could hitch his underwear down and reveal his pale, freckled cheeks.  His cock was pale-skinned and quite pretty, as far as cocks can be so, and it arched upwards with a pronounced curve.  His balls were on the large size and practically hairless.

I knelt down behind him and tentatively sniffed at his bum.  After what I’d found Shane had been hiding back there, I took a slightly more cautious approach.  Phillip’s smell was much more subtle, though; his cheeks had a gentle musky odour which was faintly sweaty, and, as I ventured forwards, I found a stronger, but not offensive, bitterness between them.  My own organ started to stiffen again at his interesting scent and I unzipped myself as I pushed my nose further into his crack, intending to add my shaft to other two in the room that were being masturbated by their owners.

Shane’s thrusting grew faster as he watched for the first time another man’s arse being rimmed.  I quite liked the fact I was being watched by him and David as I did my thing; that of all of our various sexual quirks, mine probably seemed strangest and seediest to them and here I was showing it off.

I extended my tongue between Phillip’s cheeks, tasting the stronger and more biting of his flavours as I probed through the fine, downy hair towards his hole.  I pushed my cheeks further into his, becoming more and more excited by the strength of his scent low down in his crack, and in time my tongue found its prize.  His ring was clenched and hot, deliciously ripe in its moistness and gently puckering from the beating of his wrist on his cock.

I heard him laugh, “This is actually really good, guys!  A bit weird, but very nice,” and I heard Shane enthuse his agreement.

I pushed the tip of my tongue hard against the young man’s anus until it yielded a little and I could taste him at his most salacious.  Pulling my cock out through my fly, now fully hard, I finally had the chance to start beating myself off.  Phillip shifted his position slightly, opening his legs and bending forwards, so he could push his backside more firmly against my face.  He was, to his surprise, enjoying this: growing more excited at the feel of my tongue darting in and out of him, and of having my face pressing into his most private part.

Shane called out, his own rhythm intensifying, “Come on – eat him, mate!  Fuckin’ chow down on that tight brown hole!”

Suddenly, the outer door thudded open and someone barged noisily in.

All four of us abruptly stopped what we were doing, and peered over at the doorway: four shocked pairs of eyes looking straight at –

“Oh my gosh!” Claude cried out, his voice echoing shrilly off the tiled ceramic walls.

His mouth was gaping open in an embodiment of outrage.  If he’d been a cartoon character his eyes would have been out on stalks.

Claude’s first reaction was to gawp over at Shane and David, squatting one behind the other with their trousers around their ankles.  They looked back at him in horror: motionless, like a couple of thieves caught in the act.  Even though Shane’s cock wasn’t visible, it was nevertheless clear that they were doing more than just playing leapfrog.

Then Claude turned his attention to Phillip who was frozen in the combined act of filming the men in front of him and masturbating, and seemingly unable to do anything but stare back at him in astonishment.

But for some reason Claude seemed particularly shocked when he looked over at me: either I’d struck him as the most sensible of the group or he couldn’t believe I was actually squatting behind Phillip, disturbed in the middle of rimming him with my hand around my erection.  I stared back at him, stunned, with my tongue still sticking out of my mouth until it occurred to me how incriminating it looked and quickly sucked it back in.

“What are you doing?  What on earth is this?” Claude exclaimed.

The meeting didn’t seem quite so civilised now.

After a short silence, I answered him: “We’re just… er… taking a holistic approach.”

“You men are behaving completely inappropriately!” he snapped at all four of us.  “I’m not being judgemental, but… oh my gosh… just look at you!  You’re wanton!  Like beasts of the field!”

“Come on, Claude,” Shane called over to him, his hips resuming their rhythm against David’s splayed arse.  “Don’t be such a fuckin’ wuss.  Get your knob out and have a wank… you know you want to.”

Claude looked over at him uncertainly, watching the carpenter grabbing onto David’s hips as he started sliding his impressively thick organ in and out of the other man’s arse again.  His outrage seemed to visibly lessen and his eyes showed a flicker of intrigue.

He looked back towards me and I grinned at him.  I turned back to Phillip’s bared bum, extended my tongue fully and licked slowly and deeply right up his crack.  Then I turned back to Claude, eager to see his reaction.

His cock was already out of his fly and he was quickly pumping it.  It was long and thin as if the many years he’d been repeatedly gripping it had compressed it like a sausage.

“Fucking yeah!” he called out to me, frantically jerking his foreskin up and down his narrow shaft.  “Oh God, yeah.  Do it again!  Lick his arse!”

I saw some of his pubes bristling out from his fly.  For some silly reason I was surprised they weren’t bleached like the hair on his head.

I turned back to Phillip’s gorgeous backside and rhythmically tongued his delicious hole.  He bent forwards again, opening his tight cleft for me, and turned his camera towards me, filming his own arse being fed upon by a stranger’s mouth.  I wasn’t too concerned that I was being recorded: a viewer would only be able to make out the top of a guy’s head and a nose wedged between a pair of conspicuously masculine buttocks.

“Fucking eat him!” Claude called out to me.  “Push your face in!  Ram your tongue right into his stink!”

Shane’s rhythm on David intensified, the cracking of hips against buttocks, growing faster and louder.  “You wanna see this as well mate,” Shane called over.  “This’ll get you fuckin’ spurting!”

Still wanking himself furiously, Claude went over to get a better view of David being fucked, as David jerked himself roughly and quickly.

“Fuck him harder,” he called out to Shane, his hand sliding up and down his own length with especially well-practiced skill.  “God, you’re so hung!  Screw the shit out of him – go on! – plough him with your bull dick!”

I glanced over at Shane grinning broadly, enjoying the praise of his well-built organ.  I smiled at him, amused by how much Claude was getting carried away.

“I never even thought about knobbing another bloke,” he told Claude breathlessly.  “All the guys I know who’d be up for this, and I never tried it!  Not ’til tonight!”

At least one of us has learned something we could take away from the meeting, I pondered, my tongue returning to dart in and out of Phillip’s widening anus.

I was fantasizing about fucking Phillip – of bending him over alongside David and standing next to Shane so we could watch each other’s cocks sliding in and out of the arses in front of us.  Phillip could hold the camera underneath his balls and get a close-up of his own arse being roughly shafted and Claude would no doubt greatly enjoy watching the four of us performing in a row.

The trouble was but I hadn’t brought a condom.  It hadn’t occurred to me for a second how things might turn out when I’d set off to attend this innocuously titled ‘Men’s Sexual Health Issues’ group.

So I made do with just licking Phillip’s most scented opening, pushing my tongue into his as deeply as I could and marvelling at the different tastes he was oozing the further into him I probed.

His flavour was totally different from Shane’s, Guy’s and from that of the lad from Asda.  Shane’s bum had tasted fiercely strong, Guy’s had been cruder and earthier in flavour, while Asda guy’s had proved to be cloying and bitter.  Like the subtle differences between wine vintages, I marvelled, each man’s arse must have its own unique taste; how wonderful it would be to survey them all, one by one.

I beat myself off quite forcefully, pushing myself towards my climax, but it was David who squirted first, grunting and wincing as he flung thick goops of his seed across the tiled floor.  Once David was spent, Shane pulled out of his bum and jerked his unattractively smeared cock silently and unceremoniously into the toilet.  Claude, on the other hand, made more of a song and dance out of his own orgasm – not literally, of course – gasping and crying out as his semen erupted down his otherwise immaculate jeans.

My orgasm kicked in with Phillip bending right over for me, my tongue rolled up and sliding back and forth inside his rectum like a pale imitation of the cock I would have liked to have replaced it with it.  I shot between his outstretched legs, the strings of my juice criss-crossing David’s and combining with them to make offbeat and arguably artistic patterns as they shot across the floor.

And as for Phillip: he muttered that he’d wait until later; until he could get back home and upload his movie onto his computer so he could watch it in HD on his widescreen monitor.  Some old habits were, evidently, just too hard to break.

After we’d wiped up our mess and Shane had nonchalantly washed off his fat, drooping cock in the sink, we returned to the classroom.  As soon as we got into the room, Claude’s mouth was tight and his eyes burned into us.  He quietly insisted that he didn’t have any “anger issues” but told us firmly that the session was over and that he never wanted to see any of us at one of his meetings again.

He went on to say that we’d set our recovery back several steps by what we’d done (until then, I hadn’t actually realised I had anything to be recovering from) and, more reprehensibly, we’d set his own personal progress back by persuading him to masturbate with us.

“You didn’t take much persuading,” Shane remarked with a loud laugh that was totally inappropriate to the mood and made Claude fly off the handle.

“Get out!” he shrieked at Shane.  “Get out!”

I noticed David and Shane exchanging contact details as they left the room chuckling, and hoped this was the beginning of a burgeoning co-operative between them.  From a sexual point of view, they were ideally suited and I had visions of them arranging to meet up in cheap hotel rooms to clamber onto the double bed together and give its springs a vigorous pummelling.

As Phillip packed his things away, I thought about offering to give my phone number to him as he had such a lovely bottom which still tasted very pleasant on my tongue.  In the end, though, I decided against it.  It would have been interesting to meet up with him and see if he would let me go further if I brought some condoms with me, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable about being constantly filmed and uploaded onto his computer for his later pleasures.

On the way out, I threw Claude an apologetic smile and told him that, in spite of his own misgivings, I’d had a very good evening.

He looked dejected.  “I shouldn’t have let you all do that.  I should have stopped you and brought you back here for a collective reappraisal.  And I certainly shouldn’t have joined in so actively and so… well… vocally.”

He blushed at the memory of some of the things he’d called out.

“We were just having a bit of fun,” I insisted.  “We were five horny blokes and we got carried away together.  I was only here to try and gain some answers about why I feel the way I do, and I think the other guys were in the same boat about their fetishes… interests, I mean.  I can’t see that what happened has really set any of us back.”

“The whole point of what I was trying to do with you all,” Claude explained, packing away his Tupperware container of home-made biscuits which nobody had wanted, “was to try and modify your behaviour so you don’t feel so compelled to express yourselves sexually.  And look how it ended up – with a five guy fricking orgy!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I said, suppressing a smile.

“Well, it’s not exactly a case study I’m going to be quoting on my next CV, I can tell you that much.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as we walked out into the corridor.

He switched off the light and locked the classroom.  As we walked down the corridor, I told him that I hoped the next group of men who came to one of his sessions would turn out to be more receptive to his methods.

He stopped outside the toilet.  “Actually, I’m just going to pop to the loo,” he said.  “You know how it is… when you gotta go…”

I nodded.  He was going to have another wank; it was obvious.  He couldn’t resist reliving what he’d just experienced for the first of what would probably prove to be many, many times.

“Goodnight, Claude,” I said.  “Enjoy… er… whatever it is you need to do in there.”

He threw me a look of reproof but, as I was walking away from him down the corridor, he called back, “I hope you guys left me enough tissue!”


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