by Robert Furlong
Part 27: Getting Together
“This is why I don’t come to office Christmas parties,” I thought to myself as I stood near the photocopier feeling awkwardly self-conscious and uncomfortable.
I was trying to look as casual I could, exchanging half-hearted pleasantries with guys from different departments who I barely knew, and trying desperately to spot Cameron through the throngs of tedious people.
There was an air of forced joviality about the event, almost like one would imagine Christmas day at a concentration camp. Someone had set up a portable CD player to play a tinny compilation of god-awful Christmas hits from years ago; the sort of painful songs that would have been mercifully long-forgotten if they hadn’t referenced Christmas and weren’t churned out on the radio year after year.
I noticed quite quickly that Matt Strickson was nowhere to be seen. He probably wouldn’t be seen dead at something like this, with its paper cups full of cheap fizzy wine and hastily arranged bowls of multipack crisps and nuts.
Somebody tapped me on my shoulder.
I turned around and saw Cameron smirking at me. Thank God.
“You made it, then,” he observed.
“Yes… and I’m having so much fun.” My sarcasm was blatant enough for him to laugh.
“Give it time, it soon warms up.”
My expression probably told him I was far from convinced.
“I’ve got someone to introduce to you,” he went on, “although I think you already know him.”
He grabbed my arm and guided me through the crowds of people across the room and out into the corridor.
He tapped another guy on the shoulder and Bradley Russell, the IT technician, turned around. He grinned at me in that slightly geeky way he had and whoever he had been talking to, perhaps about he and his girlfriend’s imminent baby, took the opportunity to make a bid for freedom.
At first I thought Cameron must just be offering me a familiar face talk to, but it quickly became clear that our introduction was rather more significant.
“You already know Bradley, of course,” Cameron smiled. I hoped to God he hadn’t told him about the time he’d caught me with my nose pressing into his backside when he’d been on all fours under my desk fixing my printer.
Bradley winked at me, and that was the first clue I had that this wasn’t a purely social introduction. “I know Rob… yeah, I know Rob well.”
“Well, you guys have no idea how much you have in common,” Cameron said with a grin.
We looked at each other, and recognition probably slowly dawned on my face.
“But I can see that now you do,” Cameron chuckled. “I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy yourselves… and… well… let me know how it goes!”
He wandered back into the busy room where the music was playing, and Bradley and I just gawped at each other. He had a half-grin on his face and maybe I did too.
I didn’t know what to say: I had no idea. This bloke was a lot younger than me – would I be attractive to him? Would he want to be sexual with me?
Bradley broke the silence. “D’you wanna go outside? I could murder a fag, and… you know… it’ll give us a bit of space…”
I nodded and followed him downstairs and out through reception into the little courtyard outside the front of the building. We sat on the edge of one of the concrete planters, with overgrown shrubs jabbing into our backs.
Bradley took his cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one up. Before putting them away he asked, more through politeness, “You don’t smoke, do you?”
I shook my head.
After inhaling a long drag and blowing it out slowly, he said, “Cameron said he was going to introduce me to someone, but I had no idea it would be you.”
I nodded, smiling over at him. “Same here.”
“I’m guessing that the fact he introduced the two of us means we’re into the same things?”
“I would assume so.”
He looked over at me, taking another draw on his cigarette. “Well, I’d better make something clear…”
I thought he was going to tell me that I wasn’t his type or that I was too old for him or something, but he surprised me by continuing, “Whatever happens has to be completely for fun. No strings, no nothing. Just a one-off get-together with nothing more to it.”
I nodded again. “That’s fine with me, Bradley. That’s exactly what I want too.”
“I mean,” he said quietly, “me and Stacey have a baby on the way and we’re talking about getting married soon after that. So anything on the side has to be… you know… totally low-key and strictly on the quiet.”
I smiled over at him. “I fully understand, Bradley. And I’m in exactly the same boat… I mean, I haven’t got a baby on the way… well, I hope not… but I’m seeing a woman and I wouldn’t want her to know that sometimes I get together with other guys.”
He nodded and took another long, deep drag from his cigarette. The packet had said they were lights; from the way he was smoking them, he seemed determined to extract every speck of nicotine from them.
“So, do you want to hook up, then?” he asked. “With me, I mean?”
I smiled at him getting straight to the point. If only he could be so brisk with his IT work: the computer network would run far more smoothly.
“I didn’t want to assume,” I replied. “I mean, I’m a bit older than you and –”
“I’m not interested in that,” he cut in. “Like I said, it’d be just for fun. It doesn’t really matter how physically similar we are, or whether we make a good couple, does it?”
I shrugged. “Not to me.”
“It’ll have to be at your place, though,” he said. “I’ve got a flat, but… well… you know… it could be a bit tricky.”
“That’s fine,” I agreed, mindful of the perils of girlfriends with their own keys. “I’d kind of assumed as much.”
He stood up. “Well, if we’re gonna do this… we might as well get going. No point going back in there, is there?”
Christ – he was quick! I wondered if he already had a hard-on he needed me to attend to.
“You mean, you want to come over to mine tonight?” I asked.
He nodded. “Would that be okay?”
I smiled. “Yes, of course. It’s just that… well… this is actually my first time at having a guy come back to my place, actually. My first time in having sex – I mean, full sex – with another man, to be honest. It just seems a bit quick, but I’m guess I’m more used to having to jump through all the courtship hoops with women before they’re willing to come home with me.”
Bradley laughed. “Yeah, it doesn’t quite work like that between blokes, Rob. That’s part of the appeal.”
I smiled, pleased that we could dispense with so much unnecessariness, and then he queried, “So it’s your first time… you know… going the full way?”
I nodded. “I’ve rimmed a guy and been rimmed myself, but no – so far, I haven’t gone further. Is that a problem?”
He shrugged. “Not to me, no. I guess you’ll be wanting to give some other stuff a go, though, will you?”
Christ, he was well up for it! His cock must be rock hard in those trousers of his!
I smiled again. “Yeah. Very much so.”
“Well, that sounds fine with me, then,” he said with a grin.
I thought back to the time he’d been under my desk. He’d had a nice arse – a little bit feminine for my tastes, perhaps – and the suggestion of a nice, big pair of balls hanging down between his legs.
I rather liked the fact he might have an erection at the prospect of coming back to my place. If he was desperate for sex, that was something I could relate to. He was a bloke, after all: that kind of thing happens to us.
After the shenanigans that I’d gone through with Debbie the previous night, the prospect of tending to a younger guy’s hard-on was attractive in its simplicity. I could suck him, he could wank himself while I was rimming him, he could take me from behind or I could let him rim me… the possibilities were refreshingly straightforward and practically endless.
The best part was that it was going to be purely sex between the two of us without any emotional baggage being attached to it.
“I left my jacket in my office,” I said. “If you give me a minute, I’ll meet you in the car park. You can drive behind me… follow me home.”
“Actually, could I have a lift? I cycle into work but I’ll leave the bike here.”
I nodded, feeling pleased he was a cyclist: his arse was likely to be nicely muscular. “No problem.”
I left him waiting for me outside the front door and darted back into the building. This was going to be a good night.
Thank you, Cameron! I owe you big.
As we were pulling out of the car park, I asked Bradley how his interest in other men had developed.
“Me and my brother used to wrestle and fun fight together when we were kids,” he explained. “It started out innocently – just boys being boys – but when we were in our mid-teens, after puberty had kicked in, it kind of developed into something more…”
Bradley seemed to want to leave the story there, the outcome just hanging in mid-air, but I wasn’t going to let him tease me like that.
“Come on, you’ve got to elaborate a little,” I encouraged him, as I waited for a gap in the evening traffic on Rockingham Road.
He smiled. “It’s a bit weird, though… you know… with the two of us being brothers…”
I shook my head, pulling out onto the main road. “I don’t think it’s weird at all. I think it’s very sweet and very natural, actually. I only wish my relationship with my brother had been closer.”
Bradley nodded. “It started out completely accidentally, if you can believe that. We would wrestle on the floor of my bedroom and we used to try and get our bums in each other’s faces. Just joking around, like lads do.
“I wouldn’t say I deliberately chose to lose, but I used to love having Garth’s bum in my face… for some reason I really liked his smell back there.”
He glanced over at me a little sheepishly, as if his confession might shock me, but I just smiled and nodded.
We both knew that Cameron had introduced us for a reason. And now it was clear what that reason was.
“Bradley,” I said, as reassuringly as I could muster, “I only wish I’d discovered how amazing guys ‘smell back there’ in my teens. For me, the discovery came way too late. But go on, what happened next?”
“I’d set it up so he’d think he was getting the better of me and would let him pin me down and rub his backside up and down against my nose”
“What were you guys wearing when you did this?” I asked, slowing the car as the lights ahead changed from green to amber.
“We mainly did it around bedtime, so we’d be in our underwear or in our pyjamas. I really loved the smell of his underwear – the briefs he’d worn all day – and it really excited me to have my face pressed into them, right between the cheeks.”
He paused and I smiled. Sensing he needed some encouragement to continue, I said, “You don’t know how lucky you are to have been so physical together.”
Bradley nodded and went on. “Well, we started getting hard-ons – it was kind of funny to both have stickie-out dicks when we were rolling around together – and I suppose then I realised that Garth was enjoying what we were doing just as much as I was. That he actually liked having my face down there and that we were both getting hugely turned on by it.
“One evening, when we were messing around, Garth took our game a step further by pulling the back of his pyjamas down when he was straddling me, and then pushed his naked arse into my face. He was already quite hairy and I was completely overwhelmed by his smell – excited way beyond what I might have expected.
“I started licking him – I couldn’t help myself – and all the time he was laughing and grinding his butt-crack into my face. I pushed my tongue between his cheeks and he sort of yelped and grabbed my head and shoved my face more firmly into his splayed bum. Before I knew it, I was pushing my tongue into him… deeply… so desperate to taste him. Pushing it right up inside him… you know?”
I nodded, pulling away as the lights changed back to green. “The first time I did it had a similar effect on me.”
“I was so turned on,” he said, “that my cock must have been poking out from my pyjama fly, probably harder than it had ever been and sopping wet.”
“Did you need to masturbate?” I asked. “I found I had to… I was compelled to.”
“It didn’t occur to me to masturbate,” Bradley went on. “Garth’s smell… the taste of his arse… completely blew me away. I wasn’t really in control. Which maybe explains what I did next…”
He hesitated, again needing encouragement, so I nodded across at him, keeping my eye on the road through the fine drizzle that had started up.
“I wriggled away from him but I guess Garth thought we were going to keep wrestling. We struggled against each other and I must have ended up behind him… with him bending over. The back of his pyjamas were still pulled down… his arse was slippery from my mouth… my cock was still rock hard and poking out of my fly, dripping with precum. Well… you can probably do the math…”
He stared across at me as I drove through the town, perhaps searching in my expression some sign that I might be shocked or disgusted by his implicit admission.
I just nodded my understanding and conveyed, I hope, my belief that what he’d done had in no way been sordid or unnatural. I wanted to smile, to show him my acceptance and encouragement, but I thought it could be misconstrued so I kept my face impassive.
“Was Garth upset?” I asked eventually.
Bradley chuckled. “No, he was loving it. He was pushing his bum against me… kind of riding me… laughing and gasping. If he’d have been have upset, I’d have stopped.”
“So what happened next?”
“Well, we didn’t last long… I just grabbed his shoulders and bucked my hips back and forth as fast as I could. I knew what I was doing – we both did – but we couldn’t stop ourselves. We were like a couple of rabbits… a few frantic seconds… a frenzy of thrusts… and it was all over.”
“It might have been brief but it sounds pretty intense,” I ventured.
“It was. It was one of the most erotic moments of my life. The smell of his arse as I went for it… that incredible smell of sex between guys the first time I experienced it… it just blew me away. I didn’t even care that my bedroom door was wide open. I mean, if my dad had happened to look in… well, it would have been pretty obvious that we weren’t just wrestling.”
I chuckled, although I wouldn’t have liked being in the father’s shoes on catching his two sons in such an indecorous position. It was bad enough walking in on Jake enjoying his solitary pleasures.
“What happened afterwards?” I asked.
“We needed to get cleaned up as quietly as we could. Garth desperately needed the toilet after what I’d left inside him, and I fished around for some fresh pyjamas for him.”
“The front of his was soaking wet and sticky. Like I said, he’d enjoyed what we’d done just as much as I had.”
“Later that night, after bedtime, Garth sneaked into my room and got into bed with me. He didn’t say anything but I knew what he wanted. I rolled over onto my front and let him do his thing.”
“And what was ‘his thing’?”
“The same as I’d done to him, pretty much. He licked me ’til he got really horny, and then got on top of me and pushed himself into me. Within a few dozen frantic creaks of my bed – the two of us grunting and gasping like a couple of tennis players – he’d finished off. We both had, actually.”
“More hunting around for fresh pyjamas?”
Bradley smiled. “After a couple of nights, supplies were running pretty short.”
“A couple of nights? It continued?”
“Of course it did! We were a couple of horny lads who’d discovered something that felt amazing to us both. We didn’t know we were doing anything wrong.”
“How could it be ‘wrong’ if it wasn’t doing anyone any harm?” I insisted.
“I’ve realised over the last few months that what’s ‘wrong’ and what’s ‘right’ isn’t always so clear-cut.”
He nodded. “We discussed what we both thought of it, years after we started and we were still doing it… not every night but pretty regularly. We talked about the whole ‘incest’ thing, the rights and wrongs of it. And we decided that since it felt so natural to us and that it wasn’t affecting our relationship as brothers, we’d keep doing it.”
“You guys are so lucky to have such a closeness,” I commented as I pulled onto the dual carriageway.
I wondered how many other pairs of men who are similarly close to one another enjoy a secret sexual dimension to their relationship. I felt it must be far more common than one would suspect.
“These days we don’t see each other so much. Garth moved to London and neither of us gets the time to meet up like we used to. I guess that’s why I sometimes hook up with other men: if Garth was around maybe I would have just continued doing stuff with him.”
“Obviously your girlfriend doesn’t know about any of this?” I asked.
“Of course not!” he chuckled. “It’s not like it’s any kind of threat to what we have together… it’s just an occasional thing I do… me and other straight men who share whatever weird sexual quirk I happen to have.”
“Weird sexual quirk?”
“Well, I’d count myself as straight – one hundred percent so, actually – and I love my girlfriend to bits, but I can’t help the fact that I love the smell and the taste of a guy’s arse. I can’t explain why, but I do. It’s got nothing to do with shit, though; I should make that clear… I’m not into that at all.”
Bradley looked over at me, no doubt wanting to make sure that the line he’d drawn was in no danger of being crossed.
I smiled over at him. “Don’t worry, Bradley. I know exactly what you mean, and it goes for me too.”
“It’s a bit strange that the smell of shit disgusts me… I mean, public toilets can make me retch… and yet I get so turned on by having my face down there… sniffing and licking a guy’s arse-crack. And the smell of having sex with another guy – that really distinct, totally unique, whiff of a cock pumping another bloke’s arse – well… it’s right off the scale!”
I nodded. “I love the earthy whiff from the back of a man’s underwear and the stronger, seedier scent from inside his arse crack and around his hole – and, to be honest, I can’t wait to have sex with another man – I mean… you know… full-on sex – to find out how amazing it smells when we do it.”
He beamed back at me, as if pleased to have found a fellow connoisseur of the male rear.
“Believe me, mate,” he asserted, “from what you’ve said, you’ll fucking love it! The whole buzz you get from connecting with another bloke like that…”
Pulling onto my estate, I smiled back at him. “I must admit, the idea of that excites me a lot. Four months ago I wouldn’t have dreamed I’d be having this conversation, letting alone contemplating actually having… you know… penetrative sex with another man.”
“It really is amazing, Rob!” he extolled. “Totally fucking hot! You’ll have never done anything like it!”
I smiled more broadly. “It sounds like we’re pretty compatible.”
“Yeah, I think we’re a pretty good match. Cameron’s usually pretty astute about this kind of stuff.”
I turned right onto my cul-de-sac and, pleased to have established that anal sex was on the cards for one or both of us, asked him, “Did you ever try rimming your girlfriend?”
He shook his head. “That’s another weird part of it. It has to be with another guy. The idea of doing it with a woman just doesn’t do anything for me. There’s something about the male smell, I guess.”
I nodded. “Yeah… I’ve never been attracted to doing it to a woman, either. I’d be curious about a woman doing it to me, but I don’t think it’s something I’d feel able to ask for.”
“It’s not just another guy’s arse smells,” he went on. “His cock and balls can smell really good… his sweatiness… his armpits… his feet… the smell of us both when we’re having sex, whichever way round we do it… it’s all really intense and erotic.”
“It sounds very different from making love with a woman,” I commented, pulling the car into my drive.
“You can’t compare it,” Bradley agreed. “It’s sex on a totally different level… not necessarily better… just completely different.”
I nodded, thinking back to how I’d sustained an erection after making love to Debbie; some part of me needing additional stimulation.
I stopped the car and glanced over at him. “Are you ready for this?”
He smiled. “Absolutely!”
As we got out of the car he asked me if I was ready.
“I think so,” I said, flicking the remote control to lock the doors. “It feels a bit weird, but I think I’ll be okay.”
I glanced over at the house opposite, and saw my neighbour Paul in his window watching me. I nodded over at him and he threw me a thumbs-up, which struck me as slightly odd.
To him, it would just look like I was having a mate to stay over with me: a few drinks together in front of the telly and then a few hours’ kip on the sofa-bed for Bradley. He would have no idea that Bradley was my ‘date’ for the night; that, when my own bedroom light clicked on, it would be the two of us men getting undressed together in the room, preparing to couple up for homosexual sex on the bed I’d once shared with my wife.
I let Bradley into the house and we went through to the kitchen. As I was fishing him a beer out of the fridge, I asked him “Do you guys still get together? You and Garth?”
“Yeah… sometimes. Not often, but it happens. The last time was a couple of years ago – the night before his wedding, actually.”
I opened his beer and fetched a glass from the cupboard. The cat was glaring over at me from his bed near the back door, no doubt infuriated that I’d had the cheek to bring a stranger into the house without prior notice.
“Three of us were sharing a room: me, him and his best man – a bloke he was friendly with at work. We were all pretty rat-arsed when we turned in for the night and at like two or three o’clock in the morning, I woke up to find Garth in my bed with me.
“We started messing around together – I figured Garth wanted one last night of fun while he was still a bachelor or something – and took turns sucking each other’s cocks under the duvet. Brad – the mate of Garth’s who was his best man – was out for the count and snoring.”
He took a long, grateful drink from the glass I had given him, and I could see that it would, very soon, need refilling. It was a good job I’d bought in a couple of boxes of beer.
“It wasn’t until we were actually at it,” he went on after wiping the froth from his top lip, “that the other guy woke up and I realised we were being watched.”
“‘At it’?” I asked, pouring myself a glass of wine.
“Yeah,” Bradley said. “Garth was on all fours on the bed and I was behind him, rimming him. We were both really into it, working up a nice rhythm together with his hips and my tongue, and it was probably the noise of the bed frame creaking that woke him up.”
I smiled, taking a drink from my wine. Christ, it was sharp; must have been a cheapie.
“How did you know he was watching you?”
Bradley grinned. “I heard Garth say, ‘It’s alright, mate. You’re just dreaming,’ and I looked up from his backside and saw the other guy staring at us.”
I chuckled. “What did you do?”
“I thought Garth might want me to stop – we’d never done it in front of an audience – but he just smirked and said, ‘Come on, climb on board, mate! Show him what brotherly love looks like!'”
I smiled at him, intrigued by the scenario. Imagine waking up, half-drunk, the night before a wedding to find the groom and his brother going at it on the bed next to yours. Before a few months ago, I’d have probably been shocked. Now I would want to join in.
“So did you? Climb aboard, I mean…”
Bradley laughed. “Of course I did. There was something really hot about doing it in front of another guy. Performing for him, showing off…”
“Weren’t you worried he’d tell people?”
Bradley shook his head, downing the rest of the beer. “I knew Garth wouldn’t have been so up for it if he’d have had any worries about that. And, besides, who would have believed him? The groom getting his arse licked by his own brother, and then being shagged by him…? They’d have thought it was some sort of pre-wedding piss-take by the two of us.”
I passed him another bottle from the fridge. I hoped he wasn’t going to get so pissed he wouldn’t be able to perform. He was, like me, quite a thin guy: the alcohol would go straight to his head.
“In any case,” Bradley went on as he poured the beer into his glass, “he wasn’t going to tell anyone, because, as he was watching us, his duvet started thumping up and down. So he wasn’t exactly innocent himself.”
He picked up his glass and took it out into the hallway. He stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for me to lead the way for us to go up to my bedroom. It seemed like he’d had enough of the preliminaries and was eager to get started.
I walked out after him and pretended I hadn’t noticed what he was waiting for and, instead, gestured for him to go into the living room. I didn’t feel ready for this yet: maybe I needed a couple more glasses of wine to loosen me up.
He looked mildly dissatisfied that I was stalling things, but went into the room and sat down on the couch. I followed him in and sat in the armchair that Jake normally sits in. If Bradley had been a woman I’d have probably sat alongside him, hoping the two of us would soon be snuggling up together and our hands would start exploring each other, but as he was a man it wouldn’t have seemed right.
“How do you meet other men to hook up with?” I asked him after we’d both taken a drink from our glasses; me more of a sip, the wine was so sour.
“What have you tried so far?” he asked. His legs were wide open and I wondered if he always sat like that with them splayed – a lot of men do – or whether he was trying to let me know that he was available. There the suggestion of a raised mound in the front of them which could have been his wallet but could equally have been his hard-on: perhaps he was showing me that he was ready for my services.
“I’ve found it quite difficult,” I told him as my gaze drifted upwards from his crotch to make contact with his piercing stare. “You’re the first guy I’ve actually had back with me, although there’s a couple who’ve… well… expressed an interest, shall we say.”
“Well, in my case I meet guys through friends of friends, mainly,” he revealed, leaning forwards to take another drink from his glass. “Once you get to know a few guys who are into this, you get introduced to others. Because it’s just sex, you try different guys to find out who does the stuff you most enjoy. It’s not like any of us have to be loyal or faithful to each other.”
I nodded. “So if you find a guy who you’re compatible with – sexually, I mean – do you get together more regularly with him?”
“Sometimes, I guess,” he nodded, holding his glass with one hand and using his other to adjust the mound his crotch was making. He did it the same way that I would if I was developing an uncomfortable hard-on, except that I would usually be more discreet about it. He watched me as he fiddled with himself: he wanted me to know that he was aroused down there.
For some reason I remembered sitting in this exact spot the night my ex-wife and I moved into this house and we’d come downstairs from putting Jake to bed. Back then, I was hoping that Linda would want us to christen the house by letting me have sex with her before we slept: it seemed bizarre that the man sitting opposite me right now was having similar thoughts about me.
“I’ve got together a few times with a bloke called Pete from over near Rothwell,” Bradley told me. “He’s into the same stuff as me and what we do together works for both of us. But it’s not like we’re big mates or anything. I mean, we’re not actually that friendly and if it wasn’t for the sex, I’d have absolutely nothing in common with him.”
“It makes sense, but it’s still pretty new to me,” I said, watching him gently toying with his erection through his trousers. “I like the idea of getting together with a guy regularly, but I think I’ll need to get on with him. I’ll need to enjoy spending time with him.”
Bradley shrugged, and took his fingers away from the obvious rod of his cock. “You say that now, but once you’ve been around a bit, you’ll probably grow to feel – like I do – that it’s a purely sexual release and all the rest of it doesn’t really matter.”
He shifted his position slightly on the sofa as if to make it blatantly clear, if it hadn’t been already, that his cock was hard. I could almost see the outline of it – and it looked to be of a similarly generous stature to my own – throbbing through the material of his trousers.
“I mean,” he went on. “If you enjoy a guy’s company, you do stuff together like… you know… having a drink around each other’s houses. But if it’s sex you’re after – and that’s definitely what I’m after – then why fanny around? Why not just get down to it?”
He held my gaze with his blue, steely eyes. He wanted to use me for sex: that was, as far as he was concerned, all there was to our get-together. It was sex he’d come round for and he was clearly impatient for me to start serving it up.
All this getting-to-know-each-other crap – that was just a means to an end. The only thing that mattered was that his cock was aching for some attention and it was me he was expecting to provide it.
So this is what it’s like to have a horny bloke in the house, I thought. I wondered if I had been so unashamedly demanding towards my ex-wife and other women when I’d been a similar state of arousal.
He put his hand back on the mound he was making in his trousers and stroked it, as if wanting to make unequivocally sure that I’d understood his meaning.
“I mean, if you’ve brought a guy round for sex,” he said, holding my gaze, “why not do just that?”
He wanted to fuck me. He was hard, he was horny, and I happened to sitting on the thing he saw as his reason for being here.
It suddenly seemed to me that we had reached this point far too quickly. I had the abrupt sensation that I was being hurried into something I wasn’t yet completely ready for: I wasn’t sure I would be able to give him what he so overtly wanted from me.
At work, Bradley had always seemed so guilelessly affable when he’d come to fix my computer. Now he was staring at me with an intent that seemed almost aggressively lustful; fondling an erection that could well be expecting a lot more than I could deliver.
I took a sip from my drink – Jesus, where the hell had I bought this crap from? – and said, with a timorous smile, “Look, Bradley – remember this is my first time bringing a guy home with me. I’ve never had a bloke expressing himself so… well… sexually towards me.”
Bradley took his hand off his cock and seemed to realise that his blunt approach, which he might be used to adopting with other men (but not, I dare say, his girlfriend), was proving too alarming for me. In male-to-male coupling, such frank and forceful posturing might be the norm, but it didn’t sit at all comfortably with me. Not just yet, anyway.
He took a long drink from his beer, finishing it off, and I went to fetch him another, as well as a different bottle of wine for myself, from the fridge.
I was starting to think that I wanted to get out of this; wondering whether it would it would be totally implausible if I were to make an excuse about needing to pick Jake up or something. If I backed out so transparently, how would I be able to face Bradley at work? At the very least, I’d never be able to phone for IT support again.
As I handed him his drink, I noticed he was sitting in a rather more respectable position and his well-built bulge had been concealed among the folds of his trousers.
I thought he might be about to ask me if he could call a taxi; had perhaps decided I wasn’t worth the effort and was giving up the chase.
Instead, though, he asked, “So who are these men who’ve ‘expressed an interest’ in you, as you put it?”
Pouring myself some wine from the new bottle, I told him, very briefly, about what had happened with the AA man and my informative chat with the Assistant Principal from Jake’s college.
“Do you think they’ll call you and arrange to come round?” he asked.
“I don’t see why not,” I replied, sitting back down. “They both seemed quite keen.”
“It’s a huge step, though, to actually phone a guy for sex – especially if they’re both new to it. I think the teacher might, but the AA guy… I’d be surprised if he did.”
“He was kind of cute,” I said, taking a sip of the new wine, which was far more palatable. “If he doesn’t contact me, I’ve got his number somewhere so I’ll probably give him a call.”
“I don’t really think of guys as cute,” Bradley mused. “I mean, if a bloke is into having sex with other blokes, that’s pretty much all I’m interested in.”
“I think other men can be cute,” I said, wondering if I might be a few notches closer to the gay end of the male sexual spectrum than Bradley evidently was. “Don’t you find some things about men attractive?”
Bradley smiled. “Of course. But it’s the physical part of a man that I like, not the man himself. I mean, in your case, I mentioned to Cameron – once we knew the score with each other – that I thought you’d have a big cock. I guess that’s why he fixed us up.”
“You like big cocks?” I asked.
“Very much so,” he grinned. “Me and my brother were both pretty well-endowed. I think that’s why I like a guy who’s big down there. You know, what you get used to…”
I smiled back at him, pleased that he might like what I had between my legs. “Well, I don’t think you’ll be too disappointed on that score.”
“I could see the way you fill your trousers,” he chuckled. “I knew the two of us could have a good time.”
We smirked at each other and I felt rather titillated by the thought that he’d been checking me out at work. After what I had endured with Debbie the previous evening, it seemed wonderfully refreshing to have my genitals admired, especially by a similarly-endowed younger man.
“So what was it about me that caught your eye?” he asked. “I assume Cameron must have spotted you checking me out in some way.”
“That day you were on the floor in my office and Cameron walked in on us, I had my nose rather close to your bum,” I revealed. “Very close, actually. Very, very close.”
He laughed. “And did you like what you smelled?”
“Not really,” I conceded, enjoying how his eyebrows darted upwards in surprise. “It was early on a Monday morning and I guess your trousers had been fresh on. I mean, I’ve nothing against the smell of Persil, but it wasn’t what I’d been hoping for.”
He took another long swig from his beer and then stood up and walked over to me.
He must have figured that I might be a man who was more easily seduced by a physical approach, because he turned around and showed me the back of his trousers. His bum looked nice, making two pert mounds against the black material, and my cock stirred a little, as if it had suddenly remembered why Bradley had been invited round.
“It’s late Friday now,” he informed me. “They’ve been on all week. Do you want to have another sniff… same place as last time?”
I smiled, sensing that this approach might well yield more fruit. “It would make an interesting comparison.”
He stepped back towards me so that his arse was close to my face and I leaned forwards, pressed my nose into his crack, right where I’d sniffed him when he’d been on all fours on my office floor.
He said, “You want to be a bit lower down, mate,” and I pushed deeper between the tops of his legs so that my chin was touching his thighs.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “just about there.” He leaned forwards slightly so I could inhale from the hemline that had spent the week nestling between his bum-cheeks, wondering how many times it had been pulled upwards with his underwear to rub against his hole.
Unlike when I’d taken a furtive sniff of him in my office, the material of this most concealed part of his trousers was now alive with his own expression: infused heavily with his strongest, most animal of odours and almost seeping with its sheer, unembellished potency. I pushed in lower, snorting at the material to draw out the full force of his flavour. I could feel the raised pucker of his anus against my lips through his trousers and underwear: this was a man who had the hole I fantasized about having myself – large and well-used; bloated and inviting. The scent around the circular mound of his protruding ring was base and fascinating and I felt my spine tingling with excitement as my nerve endings crackled.
He pressed his arse into my face and I gasped as I worked myself forwards between his firm buttocks, desperate to take in more of him and to get my nose as close as I could to the enticing mound of his well-worked entrance.
He called out, “Maybe this’ll help, mate,” and I heard his belt unclasp and his fly unzip before he yanked his trousers down. His undershorts were tight and garishly-coloured, a rainbow of stripes in lycra, but they clung to the paired cheeks of his buttocks stunningly.
I nuzzled my face into them, wetting the thin material with my tongue, as I struggled to experience as much of his indelicate scent as I could.
Like the other men before him, he had his own distinctive flavour: sharper and cruder at first, deeper and infinitely more interesting on prolonged exposure. His scent wasn’t bitter or acrid; it was far more sexual and uncompromisingly masculine.
I was becoming extremely excited, rubbing my cock in my trousers, as I burrowed my face into him.
He hitched his underwear down, saying that would make it even better, and I reached up with both hands to prize his cheeks apart as he opened his legs and bent over fully for me.
As I pushed my face towards the tangle of sweaty hair bristling from his splayed crack, I saw his plump, commodious hole nestling deep inside: a thick red ring, puffed outwards and gaping open. Unlike some of the tight, pink, barely visible, anuses I had rimmed, this was, as I’d suspected, an arsehole that had clearly been regularly stretched open by some pretty big cocks. I hoped mine would soon be joining them and that my hole would, in good time, look equally accommodating.
I pushed my tongue ravenously between his cheeks, tasting in full, uninhibited glory the well-used and swollen ring of his hole, with my nose wedged as deeply as I could push it to enjoy the full force of his crack. My tongue slid into him easily, his anus offering little resistance, and I lapped at him as it widened further to eagerly take it from me. I rimmed him like that, feeling his body shudder as he masturbated, before he pulled away from me, turned around and heaved me up by the shoulders so we were face-to-face.
“Let me taste my own arsehole, Rob,” he gasped, his breath hot against my face and smelling of alcohol. “Come on, give it to me.”
Without understanding what he meant, I looked down at his cock, arching upwards from his pulled down underwear and looking similar in length and girth to mine as it jabbed towards my stomach. His balls flopped over the waistband of his shorts, heavy and swollen as if pumped full with the seed that was about to make him a father.
He grabbed me around the tops of my arms and lunged at me, planting a hot, wet kiss on my lips.
Instinctively, I pulled back: this was a guy who was trying to kiss me!
But he went in for second attempt, holding me more firmly, and pushed his lips onto mine.
At first I was repulsed and tried to pull away again, but as his lips worked against mine and his tongue entered my mouth, I felt a sudden surge of intrigue to have a fellow male do this to me and yielded to him.
He grabbed me more tightly, wrapping one around my shoulders and working the other down my back. His tongue explored my mouth like he was eager to taste himself inside me; he drove it forwards with a confidence I had never felt from any woman I’d kissed. As our lips were locked together, his cock was urgently grinding into my stomach; his hand found my arse and his middle finger pushed my trousers into my crack.
Just as I was starting to enjoy it – to feel myself becoming excited by the sensation of being kissed with such dominance and passion by a member of my own gender – he pulled back, his mouth spattered with our spit and muttered, breathlessly: “Let’s fucking do this, Rob! Let’s stop messing around!”
He made to unbutton my shirt but I stopped him.
“Upstairs,” I commanded. “In my bedroom.”
It would have seemed wrong to have done it right there, next to where my son sits when he’s watching TV. Where the two of us spend time together, just as we have since he was little.
Bradley looked a little disappointed, like he would have preferred the spontaneity of us doing it together there and then, but he nodded and yanked his underwear and trousers up and we grabbed our glasses and made for the stairs.
Before we climbed up them he leaned forwards as if he wanted kiss me again, but teased me this time by pulling away just as I leaned forwards to receive him.
I smiled at him, wanting more, but he gestured up the stairs.
“Come on, then,” he said with an expectant smirk. “Let’s get started!”
Next story: A Man in My Bed
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