Sausage Party
by Sebastian Wallace

 

I must have been about sixteen or seventeen the night I went over to Andrew Clayton’s house.  I’d been invited around to watch he’d termed “a rather choice film” in his typical posh way of speaking – more accurately, a dodgy VHS porno he’d found hidden at the back of his dad’s wardrobe.  I’d said yes, thinking he’d have invited a few girls around too, hoping we’d all get pissed on his dad’s grog and that there might be the chance of a snog and a grope upstairs in one of the bedrooms.

It turned out, though, there were just three lads in his house that night. Even Clayton admitted once I’d pitched up and was rifling through his dad’s drinks cabinet, that he’d made it “a veritable sausage party.”

There was Clayton himself, of course, a short but athletic-looking lad who lived across the road from me.  In spite of how close we lived, we’d never been that friendly because his parents were really stuck-up and he was a day-boy at a far more prestigious school than mine.  I think the only reason I was invited to his house was that his best mate, Giorgi Ferraz, was as girlie as hell and probably fancied me as the cute blonde boy from the house opposite.

Not that Giorgi would ever have admitted anything like that.  Back then, lads didn’t divulge having anything approaching gay feelings to their friends and indeed Giorgi would claim to fancy this or that girl even though it was blatantly ridiculous for him to do so in such a camp, effeminate voice.

Once we’d got the movie playing and I was dishing out generous measures of vodka courtesy of Clayton’s dad, the two friends on the couch started messing around together.  Not doing gay stuff as such, but more into each other than straight mates generally are, and I’d wondered if maybe Clayton’s friendship with Giorgi had a more physical component than I’d previously assumed.

I should point out that Andrew Clayton had always struck me as very much straight.  I’d seen him with several classy-looking girls getting into his dad’s Merc, while he had a succession of fashionable male friends coming and going from his house, he’d always seemed way too up himself to want to hit on any of them.

Nevertheless, the way the two of them were joking around and play-fighting each other, I started to wonder if maybe just sometimes when he was in the right mood, Clayton might do stuff with delicate, petite Giorgi imagining him to be a girl.

Which wouldn’t be too hard, let’s face it.

I kept watching the pair of them getting all slappy-slappy, thinking it might be kind of interesting to see how things would pan out between these two guys.  At my school (much cheaper than Clayton’s) I was an overnight boarder so I was used to seeing unlikely combinations of lads coupling up together for a bit of give-and-take.  I would even join in sometimes when I was in the right mood.

Anyway, the movie was pretty good – mostly boob and fanny stuff loosely linked by taking place in a car salesroom – and was easily hot enough to get my teenaged prick stiffening up inside my jeans.  Once Clayton and Giorgi had settled down to watch it, I noticed their crotches were already bulging, no doubt helped by the booze and the play-fighting.  One after the other they began fondling the lumps they were growing. which gave me the excuse to start having a discreet squeeze of mine.

We sat there for a few minutes watching the feeble plotline unfold, surreptitiously toying with the stiffies we were developing.  I took my lead from the other two, which seemed to be that it was okay to fiddle with your dick through your trousers as long as your movements weren’t overtly masturbatory.  So the three of us sat alongside each other like that, three hands on the three cocks rising up against the fronts of our jeans, tweaking them but making it look like we were merely adjusting ourselves.

As we kept watching and drinking, I could see that Clayton was getting really turned on by one particular woman who had the biggest pair of tits. Every time she was on screen his hand would move across to the enlarging mound on the left of his fly so he could treat himself to an especially thorough groping.  I wondered if he was imagining her to be one of his high-class girlfriends and had to smirk at how Giorgi’s eyes were glued to what Clayton’s hand was doing far more than they were directed at the movie.

As the movie became hotter and our cocks became harder, Clayton found it more and more difficult to hold back from giving his dick the good seeing-to he so desperately wanted.  He would try to make it look like he was scratching himself and rub the palm of his hand a few times up and down the rod that was by now lifting his jeans like a wigwam.  Then he would shift his position and pretend like he was sorting out his underwear, giving his dick a few sly tweaks as he did so and squeezing the head of it rhythmically between his finger and thumb.

Giorgi turned to grin across at me and I couldn’t help but smirk back.  We both had our own hands firmly attached to the fronts of our trousers, but Clayton was attempting a full scale wank-off while trying to look like he was just putting right a discomfort.

He took a few more swigs from his vodka, and when Ms Buxom came back into view again, his hand went straight for the raised ridge in his jeans and he ran his fingers up and down it.  Then he grabbed it and tugged it a few times, staring at a close-up on the breasts, before cupping it in his palm and squeezing it tightly.

It was like watching a young lad trying to figure out how to start wanking, playing with himself every which way until stumbling on the hand-to-dick fit that made his wrist start frantically pumping up and down.  I’d seen boys in my dorm doing the same thing under their duvets: groping at themselves, shifting about this way and that, until discovering how great it felt if you rubbed your wood in a particular way and then lying awe-struck as their whole bed vibrated to the noisy rhythm of their frantic fist.

It was like that with Clayton, watching his hand try different ways to pleasure himself while his eyes were enrapt, staring at the movie.  First fondling and caressing, then squeezing and rubbing, until in the end he gave up on trying to be discreet and grabbed firmly at his shaft through his jeans and undies, sliding his wrist back and forth so that it made a dull thumping sound.  Giorgi and I glanced at each other, stifling our laughter, as Clayton stared impassively forwards, his eyes fixed on the tits on the telly.  The steady beating of his hand became faster and louder and if he thought his two houseguests were sitting alongside him oblivious to the blatant jerk-off to he was giving himself through his trousers, we both broke his spell by bursting into giggles.

Still pumping away at himself, he peered over at us to see what was so funny.  When he realised we were amused by the way his hand was beating like a drum back and forth along the ridge in his jeans, he surprised me by not blushing but instead laughing back at us.

Then he said, his voice deep and his accent polished, “Come on guys, give me a break!  My dork’s aching… I can’t help it if it needs a bit of wrist love!”

Then he added to our surprise – well, he certainly mine – by unzipping his jeans and groping around inside them to wrestle his hard-on out through the fly of his underwear.

“What’s up with you pair?” he called over to us when he saw we weren’t joining in.  “It’ll be totally cool for the three of us to jerk off over the movie!”

I couldn’t see how it would be since whacking off with other guys quickly loses its appeal when you’ve done it for a few years with five other horny lads in your dorm at school.  But seeing how fascinated Giorgi was by what Clayton was trying to pull out through his zipper and hoping that if I played along I might get to see a bit of action between my neighbour and his friend, I nodded and undid my own button fly to disentangle my erection from where it was it was being strangled by my briefs.

Once I’d managed to pull my dick out and I was stroking it to bring back to full hardness, I glanced over at Clayton to see how my size compared with his.  I’m pretty well-hung in terms of length, although not in thickness, and my chub can reach about eight inches when I’m really turned-on and it’s fully charged.

I quickly saw that Clayton’s trouser bulge had been more impressive than the real thing because when he finally wrenched his cock out, it looked like a short thin twig poking out from his zipper.  I mean, it was nicely shaped and had a cute scarlet head shaped like a cherry, but in both length and girth stakes it was sorely lacking.  He looked over at mine as he wanked the little thing off and then smiled when he saw that mine was easily double the size of his.

“That’s a kosher piece of meat you’ve got there, Seb!” he said with genuine approval, watching my hand stroke slowly up and down it as it swelled stiffer in front of him.  He smirked at it, apparently lacking the envy I’d so often seen on the faces of my schoolmates that mine was so much bigger than the popsicle poking out of his fly.

I slid my foreskin up and down more quickly for him and he grinned as the big purple bell at the top of it bulged firm and shiny as it reached its full glory

“Look at Seb’s prong, Giorgi,” he called over to his mate.  “He’s got a nice chunk of beef on him!”

“Oh yeah,” Giorgi said, smiling over at me as he fumbled around inside his own zipper.  “Good stuff!”

He kept groping around, trying to wrestle his own knob through his fly with Clayton calling over, “Come on, bud!  Yank it out already!  Show Seb what you’ve got packed away in your jeans!”

Giorgi grinned over at me and said apologetically in that camp voice of his, “I’m gonna have to unbutton my trousers and pull my pants down a bit…”

Oh yeah, I thought.  Like to show your bush and bollocks off to the lads, do you?

Giorgi hitched his jeans down a bit and quickly followed suit with the light blue boxer-briefs underneath them.

Now, I’m not sure why, but I was totally expecting a tiny pencil dick to spring upwards when he yanked his shorts down.  Maybe because he was so effeminate and wore such girlie clothes, I’d assumed that his knob would be not much bigger than a clitoris.  Or perhaps it was because he was so small and scrawny, I’d thought his dick would be in proportion to the rest of his short-arsed body.

It sounds stupid now, but I really was expecting a little inch-long stalk poking upwards through a few wisps of fluff, and two baby balls barely denting his scrotum underneath it.  I figured he’d flick the thing off for us as much as he could between his finger and thumb, squatting on the couch with his trousers yanked down and his pea-sized knackers jiggling up and down.

All the time he’d be gasping, “Oh God yeah!” in that grating, nancy-boy voice and all the time me and Clayton would be staring between his legs at how well-fucked his bloated arsehole looked, stretched open and gaping from taking the countless cocks of all the lads who’d shagged him.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

His erection, when he eventually managed to grapple it out, was one of the biggest I ever saw.  The thing was like ten or twelve inches long and far, far thicker than his own limp wrist.  The head of it alone was bigger than Clayton’s entire dick, looking like a deep purple version of an old-fashioned policeman’s helmet.

He yanked his boxer-briefs down and tucked the waistband underneath his huge pair of nuts and then he peered over at me to see my reaction to his monster set of junk.

All I could manage was a drawn out, “Fu-uck!”

For some reason, I thought he was going to be embarrassed about having such a huge dong and a set of gorilla knackers.  I thought he’d be like, “Oh God, don’t look at how gross my dick is!  And my balls… I really wish there was something I could do to make them smaller!”

I don’t know why I thought that but I fully expected he’d be desperately self-conscious about his size.  Maybe because when he was tarting around with the straight boys, hoping to get one of their cocks up his arse, having a huge schlong of his own and a pair of nuts the size of cue balls might be something of a turn-off for them and very much at odds with his girlie act.

But Giorgi loved his cock and balls and made that obvious very quickly.  He stroked his thickened shaft, peeling his foreskin all the way back as he smiled across at me, and kneaded his large, heavy bull-balls affectionately, moving them around in circles inside his loose baggy nut-sack.  The pubic hair which for some reason I’d thought would be sparse and insubstantial was thick and black like a wiry forest of dense fur.

“Isn’t that totally the biggest donger and most colossal pair of plums you’ve ever seen?” Clayton chortled over at me in his well-clipped accent.

“Is it a Portuguese thing?” I managed to splutter.  I knew Giorgi’s parents had moved across from Portugal when he’d been a kid.

“I don’t think so,” he said in a camp voice completely at odds with the sheer scale of his nads.  “I think what it is, is that I’m just totally fucking hot!”

Clayton laughed but I was too awe-struck to find it funny.  How could some petite sissy girl-boy like him who couldn’t even walk without prancing have the most incredible dick and pair of nuts I’d ever set eyes on?

He massaged his cock towards me, obviously loving showing it off.  He treated it with deference, smoothly caressing the thickened tube of its shaft as if polishing a fine piece of wood and teasing the sticky dome of his over-sized bell-end with the outstretched finger of his other hand.

Even the way he played with his cock was effeminate, if that was possible.

Being of Mediterranean descent, Giorgi’s skin was naturally a more olive brown than mine or Clayton’s, but his huge phallus and especially his large, bulging balls were a much darker shade than the rest of his body. They had a beauty all of their own and if I saw them now I would take great pleasure in fondling and licking them, but back then all I could keep thinking of was why the hell can’t Giorgi act more butch when he’s packing the sort of toolbox that would have even the hottest girl frothing at the gash.

“Show him your trick, bud,” Clayton said to him.

“Oh yeah,” Giorgi laughed, “watch this, Seb!”

He swivelled to face me and then, wanking himself off quite quickly, bent his neck downwards and extended his tongue towards the purple tip of his slippery bell-end.  To my amazement, he managed to lick at his own dick ooze and then lowered his face down further so he could kiss his own dribbly slit.

“Doesn’t it feel a bit gay, licking your own dick?” I asked him.

“I dunno, Seb,” he grinned back, his mouth just an inch or so above his pulsating mushroom head.  “I dunno what it feels like to be gay… do you?”

I chuckled at his wit and looked back over at the movie.  The first sex scene had finished and there was now a bit of filler to develop the plot, such as it was.  Some wide-boy was smarming it in the office of the car salesroom and a couple of blonde girls were leaning over his desk with their tits spilling out.

“Show him how you can get your mouth over the end of it and suck it,” Clayton urged him.

“I dunno…” Giorgi wavered.  “I’ve gotta really bend over for it…”

“You get to see his butthole,” Clayton laughed over at me.  “Believe me, Seb – it’s totally heinous!”

Now I was intrigued.  “Come on, Giorgi… let’s see you suck yourself off!”

Giorgi didn’t need any further persuasion, and yanked his jeans and undies down further.  Then he lay down on the carpet and did a sort of half backward roll so that his cock was pointing stiffly down towards his face.

He quickly got to work giving himself what looked like a shambles of a blowjob, but my focus was mainly on what he had between his splayed open arse-cheeks.  Instead of some huge boy-cunt, yawning wide and over-loosened from a succession of butt-hungry cocks, the thing was as tightly clamped shut as a well-tied balloon knot.  He wasn’t too careful about wiping it thoroughly and I guess that’s what Clayton had meant when he’d said it was ‘heinous’, but as far as looking like a well-worked pussy went, Giorgi’s scrunched up little tush certainly didn’t.

As the muscles of his legs flexed and his ball-sack heaved jabbing his great cock in and out of his mouth, I wondered why a bum-boy like Giorgi wouldn’t keep his exhaust pipe squeaky clean.  Especially on a night like this, with the blonde-haired neighbour coming round and possibly (for all he knew) up for a quick ride on his back, I would have thought that he’d have wanted to make the thing as inviting as possible.

Clayton interrupted my musings by grabbing one of the empty bottles from his dad’s drinks shelf and saying, “See if you can fellate yourself with this plugged up your bunghole!”

Under different circumstances, I’d have tittered to hear something so coarse said with such cut-glass intonation.

Giorgi released his cock with a wet slurp and said back, “I’m not shoving anything up my bunghole, mate… my arse is totally out of bounds!”

Out of bounds?  How could that be?

So then Clayton turned to me and grinned, “Bet you can’t slide the top of the bottle up your rear-fender, Seb…”

“No way!” I laughed.  “If you’re so keen on it, shove the thing up yours!”

That was enough to get Clayton started and he yanked his jeans and boxers down and gobbed a heavy wad of slimy spit around the neck of the bottle.

Giorgi got back up with his anaconda sticking out at ninety degrees like some weird third limb and smirked over at me, keen to see how I would react to watching what his mate was doing.  Clayton needed no further encouragement and was soon splayed out on all-fours with the spout of the bottle poised against his anus.  The skin around it was pink and puffy, and the circle of his ringpiece was slack and withered.

His was more like the worn out flange I’d expected to slurp open between Giorgi’s tanned butt-cheeks and for a moment I was confused about what the hell was going on with these two guys.

Giorgi knelt down behind Clayton and grabbed the base of the bottle and then, grinning over at me again, worked the narrow neck of it in and out of Clayton’s accommodating sphincter.

“It’s like I’m fucking him with it,” he said to me, perhaps hoping to shock me.

I just shrugged, trying not to look as weirded-out as I was feeling.  “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘like’ you’re fucking him with it… you’re really doing it.”

“What else can we shove up there?” Giorgi asked, glancing around the room.

I wasn’t forthcoming with a suggestion, but instead was trying to figure out if there was some peculiar sexual thing going on between them, or if they were just two mates joking around in a bizarre way.

Clayton chipped in, “Push the Statue of Liberty up it!”

Before I could ask how the fuck they were going to do that, I spotted the ornament he must be referring to sitting on the window sill.

Clayton went on, “You know, my grandfather brought that back from New York during the Depression… I rather think it will fit if you get the angle right!”

“Aw yeah!” Giorgi grinned, his eyes landing on the same green trinket that I was looking at, and pulled the bottle out of his mate’s backdoor with a grim-sounding slurp.

As they squeezed what was probably a cherished family treasure up the son-and-heir’s butt, I watched them giggling together and wondered how many times they’d done this before.  Clayton clearly had a serious fascination with getting his fudgehole filled and Giorgi was eager to help him to fulfil his unusual desire.  Their dicks might be a league apart in size but they were both equally stiff and excited as they knelt on the floor together, trying to work the statue through Clayton’s sphincter right down to the scroll.

It suddenly dawned on me, and forgive me if I was a bit on the slow side: the relationship between these two guys was pretty much the opposite of what I’d assumed up until then.

I’d been assuming that Giorgi would find butts too icky for his fussy tastes and that there’d be no way he would gross himself out by going anywhere near another dude’s dirty brown chute.  Seeing how fascinated he was by what was lurking between Clayton’s squat cheeks, though, I realised that this clearly wasn’t true and that Giorgi got hugely turned-on playing around with other boys’ bums.

More than that, though, I realised that just because Giorgi was the camp one of the pair didn’t necessarily equate to him being the one who took the dick.  Even the most girlie of guys might prefer to go on top during gay sex and maybe Clayton, for all he looked like just your everyday over-privileged bore, liked the feel of his mate’s big Portuguese porker ramming in and out of his heirloom-stretched arse.

After that, I found I was quite interested in watching the two of them messing around together, and I went over to the drinks cabinet to fill my glass up from Clayton’s dad’s vodka bottle wanting to see how things developed between them.

I wondered if this was why I’d been invited to his house: to be a fresh audience for the two of them to ogle at their chuffhole-related antics. Perhaps they’d hoped I would join in with them working random objects through Clayton’s backdoor, grabbing ornaments from the shelves to really put the posh-boy pooper through its paces.

“Do you think all this is really nasty, Seb?” Giorgi asked me in his camp sissy voice.

“Not really,” I said, having decided I wasn’t going to play the part of the easily-shocked rookie.  “It’s just his arsehole… we’ve all got one!”

Giorgi liked that answer and grinned at me in approval.  “What other sort of stuff do you reckon we could fit up there?”

He peered at me, waiting for an answer with his big cock pointing expectantly towards Clayton’s statue-stuffed sphincter.

I realised what he wanted me to suggest at this point but I wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.  If he wanted to get his knob up his mate’s shitter he had to suggest that for himself: I wasn’t going to have it spread all around Northwood that I’d asked two lads I hardly knew to butt-fuck in front of me.

So I said, “No idea on that score, mate… I reckon the Statue of Liberty would take some beating!”

“Watch this, then,” Clayton laughed as if I’d just set him a challenge.

He yanked his jeans down right down to his ankles and grabbed a wide cylindrical pillar from the mantlepiece showing the Charamel coloured sands from Mauritius.  He grinned at me as he squatted over it, intent on easing his already swollen fudge-hole down onto the broad girth of the ornament.

His squat little dick stood upright and was bobbing around stiffly with the head of it now a much darker shade of purple.

“You reckon you could get something like that up your bum, Seb?” Giorgi asked, looking hopefully over at me.  “I’d love to see you try…”

“Naah,” I said, not wanting to show my dooky-hole off to these two weirdos. “I’m not into pushing stuff up my arse.”

I wondered if Giorgi had had an idea of fucking the pair of us, lining us up side-by-side to hump our two arses one after the other.  As drunk as I was starting to feel from all the vodka I’d quaffed, I decided that if things seemed to be heading anywhere near that as a possibility, I’d be out the door before Nancy Drew over there had the Vaseline pot out.

Clayton hunched down over the big ornament and laughed over at me as he managed to slide the thick shaft of it up through the straining muscle of his arsehole.  Whoever had filled up the broad vessel in Mauritius could never have guessed where the sands would end up.

“Jesus, this is the biggest one I’ve taken!” he grinned at Giorgi.

“Bigger than mine?” Giorgi whispered at him.

“No, not as big as that,” Clayton quietly chuckled back.

He really is getting his arse fucked by the fairy-boy’s cock, I thought, now really hoping I might actually get to see them at it.  I was starting to regret not suggesting that Giorgi’s great python should slither its way up the exhaust pipe when I’d been given the chance after the Statue of Liberty had finished cleaving it open.

They kept whispering and giggling, and I suddenly noticed that a threesome was underway on the TV screen behind them.  The two blondes were undressing and the salesman was pouring the cheap champagne.

“We’re missing the movie,” I called over to them, wondering how the plot could possibly have moved things on from the car salesroom to a jacuzzi that couldn’t possibly be part of the showroom.

Clayton rotated himself around on the Charamel sands to see what was playing on the screen.  “Oh yes, this is a good bit… I really want to masturbate to this.”

I liked how he was so well-to-do that he couldn’t bring himself to use a vulgar word like ‘wank’.

He pulled himself up off the wide ornament and left it covered in his butt sludge.  Then he asked me, “Have you ever masturbated with something pushed up your bum, Seb?  There’s a G-spot up your rectum that really intensifies the pleasure!”

I shrugged.  “I’m not really into that sort of stuff…”

He pushed the slimy ornament to one side – the colours of the sands now just different shades of brown – and got back on all fours in front of the telly.  He pushed his arse out so that his hairy crack gaped open and so that his large purple pucker dilated outwards.

“I enjoy masturbating like this but I want something pushed up my choochie while I’m doing it…”

He turned his head round to look at me and Giorgi peered at me to.  His huge dick was poking longingly towards his friend’s loose fun-hole again, not quite as stiff as it had been but looking just as hopeful.

Clayton appealed for my help.  “Can you think of anything else for me to slide up there, Seb?  Something wide and solid and quite generous in length…”

“I dunno… maybe the leaning tower of Pisa off the top of the telly?”

“It’s the Basilica of San Vitale,” he corrected me, “and the clock tower can prove quite painful, actually…”

“If he’s wazzing off,” Giorgi cut in, “he won’t have a free hand to work something in and out of his butt, will he?”

“Exactly,” Clayton agreed.  “I’ll be bending forwards so I’ll have to support myself with my other hand.”

Giorgi looked at me expectantly.  He muttered, “It’ll need to be something really big… something maybe I could move in and out and that might feel good for me…”

I decided to seize the moment and make the suggestion they were clearly waiting for.  If I kept dodging the bullet they seemed reluctant to suggest it for themselves and I might not get to see something that would probably look pretty awesome.

I mean, I’d seen guys butt-fucking before – which boarding school lad hasn’t?  This dude Wilson in my dorm had a friend who’d sometimes share his bed (just for company you understand!) and occasionally when they thought the rest of us were asleep, I’d see them writhing together and hear Wilson grunting as his cock enjoyed a taste of mud pie.  I’d also once walked in on the head boy roughly porking some fifth-former’s bum in the photography dark room and had watched them, enthralled, going at it in the red light, before being curtly told to either ‘join in or fuck off!’.

But seeing Clayton and Giorgi would be different from those times.  For a start, I’d get to see gay sex in full lighting and as up close as I liked. But more interesting than that, the part that would really fascinate me was to see such a femme-boy like mincing Giorgi shagging a lad who was so boringly straight.  Every rational fibre in my head would be screaming out that it should be Giorgi on all fours panting and gasping as another boy humped away at his rear, and yet Giorgi as far as I could tell had absolutely no interest in assuming that position.

So I said, “I tell you what, Clayton… and tell me if this sounds as dippy as fuck…”

They both stared at me keenly, Clayton’s eyes wide and Giorgi mouth hanging open.

I went on, “Maybe Giorgi could work his dick up your arse… that way you could wank off while he stimulates that G-spot thing by rubbing his dick in and out through your hole…”

“Aw, that’s an awesome idea!” Giorgi called out.  “We have so got to try that!” he said to Clayton.

Clayton stared at me momentarily, still bent over on all fours, and I suddenly worried that I’d badly misjudged things.  I had this flash that he was going to have serious go at me, telling me how screwed up I was and order me the fuck out of his house.

But of course he didn’t do that – I think the lingering look was for him to make sure I really was on board with the plan and that I wasn’t going to spread it about that he let fag boys like Giorgi Ferraz bum him up the arse.

“Do you really think that would work?” he asked.  “If he pushes it in as deep as he can… then sort of slides it in and out…”

I smiled at him.  Were we really doing this?  I replied, “I reckon it might be worth a try…”

“And you’d be okay with seeing us do something like that?  You wouldn’t… you know… go mouthing off about it?”

I smiled back at him.  “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before… I’m a boarder at a boys’ school… how to shove a dick up a butt is on the core curriculum, dude!”

He chuckled at that and said, “It’s not a gay thing, you know…”

“Most of the lads in my dorm are shagging each other’s arses,” I grossly exaggerated (as far as I knew, only Wilson liked to brown-dick).  “They have girlfriends like you do so I’m well aware it’s not a gay thing!”

He smiled, satisfied that my suggestion was for real and probably resolving to say it was my idea if word got out about the sort of activities our sausage party had descended into.

He nodded at Giorgi who quickly shuffled up behind him and levelled the elongated purple helmet at the head of his cock against the similarly-coloured bloat of Clayton’s over-fucked arsehole.  They made a nice fit and Giorgi’s polished plum slid snugly inside it, like a plug slotting comfortably into the socket it was meant to.

Still looking at me, Clayton gasped and grinned broadly at my interest in watching the hole that he shat through ease open to receive the first inch of another boy’s penis.  “It takes it to a new level, Seb, having something sliding against your prostate inside you…”

I smiled back at him, watching the wide ridge at the base of Giorgi’s fat helmet pop through his stretched muscle ring so that the thinner shaft of his cock – still about twice as broad as mine – could start its steady ascent to follow.

I wondered how Clayton’s schoolmates or the guys in the showers after sport could possibly miss spotting the huge inflamed hoop poking outwards between his dinky butt-cheeks.  There was a lad in my gym class whose backside boasted similar evidence of a serious dick addition and we were always teasing him about it every time he bent to pick up the soap in the showers (something he seemed to have to do a lot!).  But then I remembered Clayton was a day-boy at his school and that his sport, if you can call it that, began and ended with golf.  So maybe his other swanky friends had never had the chance to see the cock-wreck going on under the tight seat of his expensive trousers.

Clayton’s eyes locked onto mine and, in a slightly unnerving way, he kept staring at me as he had his anus and rectum slowly penetrated by the thick brown hose of Giorgi’s long phallus.

The gay thing was still bothering him.  I could see it in his face as he watched me watching him being smoothly sodomised.

He said, “I don’t kiss him or anything like that… you know that don’t you?”

I nodded – not really caring if they were engaged to be married – and he went on, “I mean, I know what it looks like… how can I not?… but I just love the sensation regardless of the connotations…”

I smiled back at him.  “Whatever floats your boat, mate…”

“The very first time I masturbated I used a finger on myself…”

Oh nice, I thought.  Lovely image there of my snooty neighbour’s fist wank in the front bedroom right opposite mine; his right hand slamming up and down his stubby prick while his left rammed a sticky brown middle finger in and out of his over-privileged virgin arsehole.

“A few years later I discovered how good it felt to have another boy help me out with his… er… penis…”

I couldn’t help but smirk.  I’d never heard it described like that, and had to admit it sounded a lot less troubling than, “to have my finger-slackened arse roughly butt-fucked by some dude with a foot-long schlong.”

“Turns out Giorgi likes the feel of having my rectal muscles squeezing his cock… so it’s a veritable win-win situation…”

“Yeah, we’re not like boyfriends,” Giorgi camply chimed in, now embarking on squeezing the second half of his cock up through Clayton’s crudbox.  “I mean, we’re both looking at the women in the movie so we’re obviously straight!”

“Absolutely!” I agreed, fascinated at how inch after inch of Giorgi’s big glossy tube of flesh were being steadily consumed by Clayton’s apparently endless innards.  “It’s just a way of getting off and let’s face it, all of us need that from time to time!”

Giorgi grinned and nodded, turning around to show me his appreciation at helping him get what clearly enjoyed so much.  “It’s just a sort of mutual arrangement… he likes the feel of what I’m doing and I like the feel of doing it!”

I couldn’t believe how much of his big dick he managed to get up his mate’s hungry butt.  By the time the fat head of it met with resistance there was just an inch or two of his thick girth sticking out through the taut ring of Clayton’s anus.  His balls were pressing against the back of his friend’s smaller nutsack and his tangled pubic bush looked was tickling the splayed apart bum-cheeks.

He told his friend, “I think that’s as far as it’s gonna go!”

“It’s deep enough!” Clayton gasped.  “It’s making me tingle inside!”

Giorgi turned back to me and said, “I can usually get it all the way up him… his bum inside is about the same length as my cock.”

He indicated against Clayton’s back how deep he reckoned the knob-sized chute inside his arse extended in from his two round cheeks, as if trying to teach me how to fuck butt with his huge hard-on impaling the subject of the lesson.

“He must have a turd up there, stopping me getting right up,” he went on. “Sometimes if he’s really full inside I can only get like half my dick up him.”

I nodded, pleased he was telling me this even though it was crude.  I’d always been very interested in how butt-sex worked between boys and I had the sneaky feeling that one day – perhaps quite soon – I’d give in to the urge to slide my own cock up a willing recipient like Clayton.

“Does he enjoy it even if he’s a bit fudged up?” I asked.

“It’s the best!” Clayton called back.  “All the gunk up there really cranks up the pressure!”

“Not so nice for me though,” Giorgi grinned.  “My dick needs a really good scrub down afterwards!”

He affected a silly laugh and made it look like he found this oh-so-icky by stretching out his mouth with his tongue sticking through his teeth.  But it was too contrived to be completely convincing and the thought suddenly occurred to me: he deliberately exaggerated the whole effeminate act!  It made him less threatening to his would-be butt-buddies and helped them justify to themselves that letting someone so girlie do them up the butt couldn’t possibly be ‘proper’ gay sex.

After all, would Clayton really have let Giorgi fuck him if he’d been some macho European stud making him feel like he was his bitch while he was slamming against his buttocks?

I smiled at Giorgi as if to say, “Nice style, mate!”

And he beamed back, perhaps hoping that if he kept playing it so camp and inoffensive for a few more sausage parties it might be me on all-fours with the big brown bratwurst poised against my chump.

“Come on, bud, let’s do it before this scene in the movie finishes!” Clayton urged him.  “Start off slow with just small gentle strokes, then get steadily faster and move more of it in and out.”

He sure knows how he likes to take dick, I thought to myself.

Clayton stared at the movie as Giorgi did as he’d instructed, making slow tentative thrusts with just a couple of inches of his cock and then gradually starting to speed up and use more of his length to slide back and forth.

And he sure knows how to give it, I smirked.

Clayton kept saying which girl he liked more and how hot the different stuff they were doing looked, but Giorgi – not surprisingly – showed little interest in what was playing on screen.  Instead, he stared at his cock sliding harder and more quickly in and out of Clayton’s wide-open bum, clearly loving how it looked to be fucking another guy between the two round cheeks he sat on and making his balls smack more roughly and loudly against the smaller pair dangling between his friend’s legs.

Giorgi turned to me and, seeing me wanking off as I watched him pumping his big chub through Clayton’s tautly straining anus, smiled and said, “This is so fucking hot!”

“Does it feel dead good, then?” I asked.  “Doing another boy up his butt…?”

I had in mind once again that in the not too distant future if the right opportunity arose, I might be in Giorgi’s place looking down at the back of another dude’s head, feeling his crudbox squeeze around my dick.

Giorgi chuckled, “It feels awesome, Seb!”  But then, not wanting to over-sell it if other possibilities might soon be on the cards, added, “But I bet having a cock up inside you – especially a big chub like mine – would feel way, way better… I mean, if ever you wanna try it…”

I grinned back.  “If I ever do get it on with another guy, I reckon I’d probably choose to do it the way that you’re doing it.”

He shrugged and looked a little disappointed so I added, “So come on, Giorgi mate… teach the new kid how to butt-fuck!”

He laughed at my eagerness to be shown the ropes, then grabbed his mate by both hips and started really pounding at his bum.  “This is how you do it!” he chortled over at me.  “They don’t call it fudge-packing for nothing!”

Clayton gasped again and called out, “Oh yeah, dude!  Really go for it… hard as you like!”

And Clayton’s elbow started jerking as he rubbed his cock up and down with rough, yanking strokes, while Giorgi fucked his arse fast and hard, the two of them panting like dogs in the hot sun.

Giorgi turned to me again and explained, “If they’re not wanking off… you’re doing something wrong…”

He sounded so like a girl the way he said it, I wouldn’t have believed that he was the one slamming his hips against the other guy’s buttocks if I hadn’t been squatting there seeing it for myself.

I smiled at him.  “You sure like fucking a butt!”

“Fuck yeah!” he grinned back, sweat pouring down his forehead.  But then remembering himself, added, “But… you know… not in a gay way…”

I had to laugh at that.  “Of course not in a gay way!  You like fucking lads’ arses in a totally straight way!”

Giorgi scowled at me and looked hurt that I was taking the piss out of him. He was showing me something that was very special and intimate; letting me see up close how he and Clayton had discovered a way to have sex together and both enjoy it equally.

His rhythm slowed and while he didn’t stop demonstrating for me this male form of intercourse for me, his expression was wary and it seemed he wasn’t so confident about enjoying himself in front of me.

I realised I’d over-stepped the mark.

If this was how he liked getting cozy with another person, who was I to make fun of him just because it was another guy he liked to be with and just because he was camp but happened to like being the one whose dick went up the butt?

Whatever Giorgi thought – however he dressed it up for himself – it was obvious to me that this was always going to be how he best liked sex.  He might enjoy having girls fuss over his big cock, he might even grow to enjoy having his dirty little arsehole seeded by other boys; but kneeling down like he was and holding another guy by the hips as he pounded the wobbly cheeks – this, for him, was always going to be what making love meant.

Clayton was the first but many others would follow.  Different men, same big brown cock filling their butt-holes.

I got up and walked over to him and whispered, “I didn’t mean that, Giorgi… I think it’s awesome how you guys can enjoy sex together as two friends.”

He threw me a half-smile, skeptical, and asked, “Yeah?”

I grinned back at him, “Yeah, you make me wanna have the same thing going on with one of my mates…”

Now he smiled properly and grabbed Clayton more firmly again and started ramming his cock really quickly in and out, using the full incredible length of his thick shiny girth.

“Ah yeah!” he cried out, sounding just like one of the women in the porn film that Clayton was wanking off to.

“Stand over me with your erection in front of his face,” Clayton panted, still staring at the film with his elbow a blur at his side.  “He’s quite willing to use his mouth on dicks other than his own…”

I now understood the basis of their friendship and I kind of liked it. What better friend could a young lad ask for than one who serviced both sides of him whenever he felt horny?

I swung a leg over Clayton’s back and stood in front of Giorgi with my cock, fully hard, curving upwards towards his face.

“Pull your jeans and pants down a bit,” he breathlessly instructed me.  “I like to lick balls too…”

“In a totally straight way…” I suggested with a grin.

“You got it,” he smirked back as I yanked my jeans and briefs down for him.

He started slobbering over my dick and taking each of my nuts in his mouth, but I have to admit he was crap at it.  He might be good at nibbling his lips around his own cock and know how to make his big knackers tingle by fondling them, but pleasuring another guy’s junk really wasn’t his thing.

And believe me, back at school I’d had enough boys slurping away at my cock in the toilets after lights-out to know a good gob-job when I felt one.

I looked at him, trying to elicit pleasure from my organ by licking it all over rather like a cat grooming itself, and I thought, don’t even try mate. You clearly give, you don’t take – just accept that in yourself.

But what I actually said was, “You know… I think I wanna see the movie. I can’t see what’s happening on the telly the way I’m standing.”

He pulled off my cock, looking almost relieved, and smiled up at me, “Well turn around then, Seb… I don’t mind having your bum in front of my face.”

Yeah, hides all the tits and pussies on the screen, I thought.  Having to stare at my tight round buns would be a lot better for you than having to look at that.

Clayton seemed eager to encourage me and called up, his whole body shuddering as his fist jacked at his meat, “Go on, turn around, Seb… present your backside to his face!”

Still loving the tally-ho way Clayton spoke, even making gay sex between three lads sound so jolly-hockey-sticks, I clumsily swivelled myself around, hampered by having my jeans and briefs pulled down around my thighs.  I wanted to see what the girls were doing on the TV and intended to join Clayton for what he’d probably call a spot of hearty masturbation.

I assumed that Giorgi behind me would just keep banging away at Clayton’s fudge factory while he took a good look at my two muscly arse-cheeks, maybe imagining what it would be like to push his dick through the blonde butt hair sprouting out of my crack.

On screen, the sales guy was enjoying his jacuzzi, screwing one girl from behind while he was eating the other one out.  I liked the position and hoped that maybe one day I could get into a three-way like that and started sliding my hand up and down my spit-smeared cock.  It felt surprisingly horny to wank off knowing that another guy right behind me had his face just inches from my butt-crack, probably imagining his Portuguese Man of War pumping in and out between the cheeks, and I made a mental note not to relax so much when I started spunking that I might accidentally fart in his face.

I looked down at Clayton’s elbow and saw that it was beating at full-pelt. He was jerking his short stubby cock off as fast as he could, enjoying watching the girls on-screen getting serviced by the guy and loving the feel of having something sliding in and out of his arse.  I sped my own wrist up on my schlong to match his, pumping my foreskin quickly back and forth across my glistening purple helmet and making my balls slap up against my fingers from the way I was bucking my hips.

Just then I felt Giorgi’s breath against my arse-crack and realised he was leaning forwards to sniff between my cheeks.

I pulled away, embarrassed as to the stink he might find, but he reached up with one hand to grab my hip and realigned my bum back towards his face.

Before I could ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, Clayton, who was looking up over his shoulder expectantly, called up, “Give him a sniff of your rump, Seb!  He really loves a noseful of butt!”

I stared down at his grinning face, incredulous.  “What… for real?  He actually likes the smell of a dude’s arse?”

“Veritably revels in it!” Clayton laughed back, and I could now feel Giorgi’s nose wedging in between my butt-cheeks.

“I dunno how clean I am though,” I blushed, remembering how Giorgi’s own pooper hadn’t exactly had a shimmering rim.

“He doesn’t care about that!  The more stinky it is the more excited he gets!”

“Really?”  I couldn’t believe this: so much for other boys’ arses being too icky for delicate Giorgi’s pernickety tastes.

“Hell yes!” Clayton chortled.  “He’ll even lick your clacker if it’s not too unsightly!”

I grinned back at him and he threw me a naughty smirk with a mischievous flick of his eyebrows before turning back to watch the threesome unfold.

Even the dirtiest boys at school wouldn’t stoop to lick each other’s buttholes.  The lowest anyone had gone was an over-spunked sixth-former everyone called ‘sex pest’ who had licked down underneath my nuts in the middle of noshing me off.  I’d figured from how quick he’d been to come back up for air that my dunk-hole had been too whiffy for even a horndog like him.

I grabbed Giorgi’s head and ground his face into my arse-crack.  He started snorting and gasping into my hairy trench and for a moment I worried that he was protesting that I was being too rough with him.  But the speed and ferocity with which he started fucking Clayton’s arse as he nuzzled into my odorous gulley quickly persuaded me that he was actually enjoying it so much that his cock needed an especially rough battering.

I felt the heat of his tongue against my tight brown ring and bent forwards, still holding firm onto the back of his head, to open my arse crack wider for him.

“Oh yeah!” Clayton gasped, peering up at how I was stooped over his back. “Make him feed on your hole!  Make him stick his tongue right up it!”

Giorgi grunted and guzzled between my two ripe cheeks like a pig feasting with its snout in the trough.  If he did find my arsehole too unsightly – as Clayton had described it – he didn’t let that curb his enthusiasm as he started tonguing at my tight puckered entrance as if drinking down the gunge smeared around it.

Had Andrew Clayton’s pompous parents chosen that moment to return for the evening, I dread to imagine their reaction to the sight that would have greeted them.  Their son being roughly buggered on all fours while he panted with excitement and committed an especially vigorous act of self-abuse.  The blonde butter-wouldn’t-melt type from across the road bent over him and holding the butt-fucker’s face tight between his arse-cheeks. The lovely Portuguese boy who had always seemed so polite hammering his preposterously large cock in and out of their son’s gaping pucker while frantically munching at another boy’s hairy arse-crack.

Fortunately they stayed out for a while longer!

Perhaps more predictably, Giorgi came first.  He climaxed at the same time as one of the women in the porn film and it was difficult to tell from their high-pitched squeals and girlish gasps which of them was real and which was on the TV speaker.  Even as my own pleasure mounted, it amused me to hear such a feminine orgasm from someone who was so brutishly and ferociously releasing the seed from his huge heavy bollocks.

Clayton loved the feel of having his bowels filled up by surge after surge of Mediterranean manblast, and immediately started grunting – though in a much more masculine and decorous way – as his own smaller cock discharged itself across his mother’s plush Axminster carpet.

When Giorgi’s big cock had finally ceased injecting its spooge up Clayton’s grateful butt, he pulled his face out of mine and laughed, “Oh my God, Seb! Your minge tastes of dookie!”

For some reason that was enough – even though what he’d said was kind of obvious really – to get my own cock firing off all over Clayton’s back.

I wondered how Giorgi would behave after the three of us had nutted off, especially as he’d had his tongue pushing up into my rectum when his cock had started firing.

But he was just pretty much the same as Clayton and I were, laughing at how much cock-cream there was to clean up and at how different our dicks looked as they softened and shrunk.

Eventually I felt I had to say something about the unusual connection we’d had at the point of his climax, but Giorgi just shrugged and smiled like it was just a regular kind of thing for one guy to do to another.

“I prefer girl pussy,” he told me with a casual indifference, “I mean who doesn’t?  But… you know… but eating boy-muff can be pretty hot too!”

I found it interesting that he called my pooper words like ‘boy-muff’ and ‘minge’ as if trying to draw a heterosexual veil over something that had been uncompromisingly homosexual.

I laughed, “How can eating my butt-hole be hot… I mean, I don’t know how well I wiped the thing this morning!”

Clayton laughed at that too.  “He likes a bit of spice back there… don’t you, Giorgi boy!”

Giorgi just smirked.  “It’s okay to taste a bit of dude-crud… as long as you keep trying to imagine it’s a nice juicy snatch you’ve got your face in!”

I couldn’t see how that could work – how the fuck could you stick your face between another guy’s butt-cheeks and tell yourself you were licking a vag? – but he seemed able to convince himself so I pretended like I got it too.

“You really must come across again, Seb,” Clayton gushed when we’d finished washing his parents’ ornaments in disinfectant.  “The three of us could try some other stuff if you like…”

I shook my head.  “It was fun, but kinda prefer it when there’s a few girls at a party… you know?”

He persevered, in a lower voice, “I’m sure Giorgi wouldn’t mind demonstrating to you how amazing it is to masturbate with something up your rear end…”

I chuckled at the suggestion.  “I’m sure he’d like that… but I think a tongue is gonna be about as much I want to try…”

He smiled and shrugged.  “Fair enough, I suppose.  But if you change your mind, my parents attend functions most Saturday evenings…”

I never did go back but I must admit I sometimes wondered, when I was at home on Saturday nights, whether Clayton would be on all-fours watching one of his dad’s pornos with Giorgi right behind him, going at it full-whack.

If they did, I’m kind of sad to say their little arrangement didn’t endure.

Andrew Clayton turned out to really not be gay – I’ve just Facebooked him to check.  He’s married to a dull-looking woman who must, I would assume, be quite happy to get creative with the family ornaments as part of their lovemaking.  He obviously likes sliding something up her too as there’s a couple of kids in his profile photo.

Giorgi is well and truly gay though, so no surprises there.  He has a balding bloke sitting with him in his own profile pic, and I hope the guy is as keen on continuing the sausage parties that he and Clayton once enjoyed so much.

 

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