Date: Sat, 9 Nov 2013 17:38:42 +0000 (GMT)
From: Robert Furlong <robert.furlong@rocketmail.com>
Subject: Troy Story

TROY STORY
Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong
robert.furlong@rocketmail.com
Find my older stories at screeve.org

===

"We were on a hiking trip up in the Pennines," Troy began quietly after the
waitress had taken our order.  The coffee shop, which was hidden away among
a few takeaways and convenience stores across the road from the college,
was deserted in spite of the time of day.

He asked, "I don't suppose you've been camping up there, have you?"

I shook my head, more interested in why the waitress was faffing around
with the till instead of pouring our drinks.  I'd been gagging for a coffee
since before I'd been pulled out of Matt Strickson's godawful presentation.

"It's spectacular," the teacher went on.  "An ideal place to take a
beginner's group under normal circumstances.  Unfortunately, these weren't
normal circumstances."

I turned towards him.  "How do you mean?"

"It was February half term and the weather caught us out.  The forecast had
been for light snow and so we'd headed out over open country, two of us
instructors and a group of lads – very remote and exposed.  What we
didn't know was that a storm had changed course unexpectedly and by
late-afternoon we had to put the tents up as best we could in blizzards and
battering winds.

"It was impossible to get our bearings and would have been extremely unwise
to have tried to move away from our spot, so we just dug in and held on
tight, waiting for the storm to subside.  For three days and nights, the
weather was ferocious and we were stuck fast – even our mobiles couldn't
get a signal the snow was so heavy.

"It was on one of those nights – very late, long after the lads had
turned in – that it happened."

I nodded before turning again to see what the waitress was up to.  She
seemed to be trying to change the till roll.  We were her only customers
and that was her priority, was it?  Changing the till roll; completely
ignoring the pot of coffee sitting on the machine waiting to be poured.

"I'd hiked with Justin many times – we were pretty good mates.  We
weren't too worried about what to do – we knew the drill inside out.  We
had enough gas and we knew the storm would blow itself out long before the
food ran out.  The trouble was that we were bored as hell being stuck
together for so long with only the wind howling round our tents and the
empty, disorientating whiteness beyond.

"He and I had played around a bit together before that trip.  It's not
uncommon for guys to couple up from time to time when they're sleeping
together in such close confines each night.  Did you know that?"

I shook my head.  "No.  No, I didn't, actually."

She was making a complete pig's ear of changing the till roll.  Now she was
hunting around under the desk for something – probably the instruction
manual for the till.  The coffee was just sitting there, stewing.

"Well, it's not like it's widespread or anything.  But at the same time,
it's not unusual.  It's certainly not something that gets spoken about –
it's usually, at most, just a discreet fondling of each other's hard-ons
under the cover of the sleeping bags after lights out."

I nodded, appreciating his openness.  He obviously felt that, since I'd
described my own intimate experience with Guy so frankly to him, he was
able to speak to me with the same familiarity.

"I've never really thought about it," I admitted, "but I suppose it's not
unexpected.  I mean, the two of you have the same needs, and it would get
pretty frustrating on long trips otherwise."

He smiled.  "Exactly."

Then he looked around, "Where the hell is that coffee?"

"I think she was punching our order into the till and managed to break it."
Now she had the back off it and was poking around in its electronic innards
as if she had the slightest idea of what she was doing.

"Excuse me!" he called over to her.  "Do you think we could have our
coffee?"

She looked over at us and giggled.  "Ooh, I'd forgotten all about that!"

She grabbed two cups from the shelf and proceeded to fill them.  I was
pleased that Troy was more forthright in such situations than me.  I was so
polite we would still have been sitting waiting come closing time.

He turned back to me, lowering the volume of his voice to prevent her from
overhearing him.  "Well, Justin and I had fooled around a bit together like
that for a few years.  Mainly just jacking each other off when we both felt
horny."

I nodded, seeing for the first time something appealing about camping.

"How does that work?" I asked.  "I mean, how do you let each other know
that you want to... well... 'fool around a bit', as you put it?"

"Guys need to masturbate," he shrugged.  "No matter who you're hiking with,
some nights you're gonna hear your mate's hand thumping against his
sleeping bag or feel the rhythm of him next to you when you're trying to
get to sleep.  Some men try to be discreet about it; others just lie there
and whack themselves off without making any bones about what they're doing.

"It's pretty much bound to happen when you're with another bloke day and
night.  Sometimes you'll see each other taking a dump; at others you'll
hear each other tossing off.  It's not pleasant, but it's going to happen."

"I get that," I cut in.  "I just don't get how you end up rubbing each
other."

It seemed to me quite a big leap from overhearing each other jerking off
privately to unzipping both your sleeping bags and pumping away at each
other's erections like a couple of horny adolescents.

"Well, it just kind of happens.  In Justin's case, he was very upfront
about his need for regular release.  He needed to masturbate pretty much
every night – no matter what circumstances we were in and how precarious
things might be.  We could be perched halfway up a cliff in the middle of a
hurricane and Justin would end the day with a wank!  I guess he had a high
sex drive and, when he was away from his missus, beating himself off was
his only way of controlling it."

I chuckled.  "I can relate to that."

"Obviously I needed relief too from time to time," he went on, "so some
nights I'd join him.  It wasn't like it was prearranged or anything –
neither of us said a word about it... in my experience, guys never do.  But
some nights, while his fist was making little thud-thud noises under his
sleeping bag, I'd join in.  And we'd lie there doing it together, faster
and faster, until we both came... gasping... one after the other."

Yeah, I thought.  I kind of know how it works.

"Then one night – I forget where we were – we were jerking off
together like that in the darkness when Justin unzipped his bag a bit,
reached into mine to grab my free wrist and moved my hand across right onto
his hard-on.  I was pretty surprised but I wrapped my fingers around him
and did my best to wank him, just like I was doing to myself."

"Weren't you a bit disgusted?" I asked, remembering how I had felt many
years earlier when my ex-wife's friend's husband had grabbed my own hand
and put it on his wrinkled scrotum.  "You know, to have your hand on
another man like that?"

"No, not at all," he laughed.  "I just figured he needed a bit of extra
help that night and I didn't mind providing it.  As I said, it's not that
unusual for guys to want a bit of company from each other on a long hike,
so it didn't seem weird that he'd want me to do that for him."

"But it must have felt odd, masturbating another man?"

"I suppose so – a bit.  But jerking two dicks isn't so different from
jerking one – you kind of get into the same rhythm on the two of you.
I'll admit that Justin's erection felt very different to mine.  Kind of
shorter but much thicker – quite a handful, actually.  I think, because
of our differences, I probably wasn't doing it very well – it was my
left hand too, remember – but he seemed glad to have a different hand
down there for a change and was groaning his gratification as I rubbed
him."

He stopped talking as the waitress brought our coffees over on a little
tray with a jug of milk and some sachets of sugar.

"Oh God, I can't remember – did you order food?" she asked and then
giggled, "Sorry, I'm just having one of those days.  It's been like
Picadilly Circus in here."

I glanced around, wondering if there were perhaps customers I hadn't seen
lurking among the furniture, but the place was empty and showed no signs
that it had been otherwise in some considerable time.

We optimistically repeated our food order, although I felt it was unlikely
that anything remotely edible would ever materialise, and she trundled back
off to the counter.  Suddenly she turned back to us and asked, with another
giggle, "I don't suppose either of you happen to know anything about how to
fix tills, do you?"

We both shook our heads, and Troy muttered apologetically to me that
perhaps this place had changed owners since he'd last been in.

After adding milk to our coffees, Troy went on with his story.

"It felt weird to feel him cum on my wrist – to have his warm wetness
pumping all over my hand.  But apart from that – and the yuckiness of
cleaning up afterwards – I didn't think much of it, to be honest.  I
certainly didn't think of it as being in any way 'gay'."

"I don't see that it was," I agreed, taking a sip of my drink which tasted
unexpectedly pleasant.  "It was just one friend helping out another.
What's wrong with that?"

"Well, the next night," Troy went on with a nod, "or whenever it was that I
next felt too horny to sleep, Justin unzipped my sleeping back and returned
the favour.  I hadn't asked him to – as I said, we never spoke about it
at all – but he must have heard me quietly stroking myself and felt
obliged to pay me back for what I'd done to him."

"He wanked you both off together?" I asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, "just like I had with him.  And it felt good –
surprisingly good, actually.  Having someone else masturbating you – a
different hand, touching you and squeezing you in ways you don't expect it
to – feels infinitely better than your own.  I could almost imagine it
was a woman stroking me... my wife.  Of course, the sound of Justin's hand
thumping away at himself under his own sleeping bag made it impossible to
completely forget that it was another bloke right there next to me.

"I don't know if he felt disgusted by having my stuff squirting all over
his hand, but if he did he didn't let it spoil what he was doing to
himself.  Within seconds, he was... well –"

"On the home straight?" I suggested.

"And over the finishing line," he grinned.

"So did that become a regular thing?"  I asked.

"Was it chips or salad you wanted with your baked potato?" the waitress
shrieked over.

Chips with a baked potato?  I almost winced.

"Definitely salad," Troy called back.

Then he went on, quieting his voice a little, "It became regular for us to
help each other out, yes.  It felt so much better to have someone else's
hand down there... usually we'd do each other at the same time.  Apart from
anything, there was a practical advantage to it – it made it quicker for
us both to finish off so we could get to sleep.  The more sleep you manage
to get when you're on a hike, the better things tend to go."

I nodded, imagining the two of them in the tent, lying side by side with
their arms reaching across one another to wank each other's cock.  I
thought back to the night Guy and I had masturbated together at the hotel,
before he'd come over to my bed.  What had most appealed to me as we'd
stroked ourselves was the wonderfully sexual smell which had gradually
filled the air of the room: an intensifying odour from our cocks as we
jerked them – sharp and acrid; sweat laced with testosterone.  I had all
but forgotten how arousing it had been until that moment but I now
remembered how I had eagerly sniffed it as it had gathered in the air.

I asked Troy if he had been aroused by the same masturbatory odour when he
and Justin had stroked each other's cocks in the dark.

He nodded.  "A tent is pretty confined, so of course you get to smell each
other up close and personal... just about as personal as it gets, to be
honest.  But yeah... I know what you mean about the sexy smell of two guys
masturbating.  It's strongly male and there's kind of a sourness to it, but
there's something about which turns you on and gets your mouth watering.
Justin must have found that too, because I... well... how can I put this?
Let's just say I soon became aware of just how wet his mouth could feel."

I smiled and nodded at what he was alluding to.  "I suppose that was rather
inevitable."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "Not to me.  I was quite shocked when
he first did it.  It was black dark – God knows where we'd pitched up –
and we were in the middle of tugging each other before we slept.  Suddenly
I felt this warm wetness on me, sliding up and down.  At first I thought
Justin must have spat on his hand, but then I felt his tongue licking at me
and his teeth just lightly scraping me as he moved up and down.

"I jumped up and cried out, 'Whoa, mate!  What the fuck?' but he pushed me
back down and whispered that I should just enjoy it, it would be better
like this."

"And I'm guessing it was?" I asked.

He grinned.  "Very much so."

"Is this also pretty common between guys who climb together regularly?  I
mean, you said guys sometimes give each other hand jobs to help each other
out – is it normal for them to trade blow jobs too?"

He shook his head.  "Some probably do, but I don't think it's 'normal', as
you put it.  Like I said before, such things aren't spoken about so it's
difficult to know."

"Were you on hikes with other men when any of this was going on?  I mean,
were other guys in the tents around yours?"

He nodded and I asked, "So weren't you concerned someone would hear you?  I
mean a blowjob can be quite a noisy thing... all the sucking and slurping."

He chuckled and replied, "It's possible to be quite discreet about it... to
work your mouth under the other guy's sleeping bag without it being too
obvious what you're doing.  We'd be very quiet.  And if we heard someone
getting out of their tents for a piss or whatever, we'd just tuck ourselves
away and pretend we were sleeping."

"I assume – when he'd finished – that you had to return the favour?"

He nodded.  "Yeah – he didn't ask, of course, but it was kind of good
manners, if you know what I mean."

I smiled, sipping at my drink.

"It wasn't actually that bad," he went on.  "Have you ever given a guy a
blow job?"

I nodded back, feeling inexplicably uncouth to be admitting that I was –
or at least had been – a bloke who sucked off other men's cocks.
Rimming, to me, seemed a rather noble pursuit, but it felt almost cheap to
admit I was also a common cocksucker.

"Well, in that case, you know what it's like," he declared.  "It doesn't
taste as strong as you expect it to, and there's not a great deal of skill
involved.  It can be quite erotic, actually, once you get into a rhythm
with your lips and tongue.  The feel of it... kind of pulsating in your
mouth... and oozing onto your tongue... I was surprised how arousing I
found it."

"It has a certain appeal," I conceded, "but it wouldn't be something I
would seek out."

"Treat the head of the penis like you would the clitoris on a woman," he
advised.  "It's the male equivalent so it responds in the same way.  Don't
be afraid to be quite rough with it and really pummel the back of the head
with your tongue – right in the fold where it splits into two."

The kitchen door swung open with a thud.

"When I said 'salad'," the waitress called through it, "I've only actually
got a tomato.  Is that okay?"

Troy looked irritated but nodded.

She added, as if she was offering a rare culinary treat, "I can slice it up
for you, if you like?"

"Sounds delightful," he said curtly and the door swung closed again.

"So is that how you discovered rimming?" I asked.  "Did your mouth head a
little too far south in the dark?"

"Actually, no," he replied.  "In any case, we didn't trade blowjobs that
often.  It would only happen occasionally when Justin was struggling to get
aroused from just my hand.  I'd notice that he'd be kind of semi-hard when
I was masturbating him and I'd anticipate he was likely to want something
more that night.  On such occasions, he'd lean over and take me in his
mouth – finish me off that way – and then I'd repay him by doing the
same to him, which is obviously what he wanted."

"Did you swallow each other's semen?" I asked.

I saw him recoil a little and wondered if the question was a step too
personal.  But he recovered himself and leaned forward, taking a drink of
his coffee before obliging me with an answer.

"We did, yes.  Mainly, I think, because it was less messy.  Tissues are a
bit of a luxury on a hike or climb, so it seemed easier just to swallow
whatever he produced.  Which wasn't very much, to be honest – I
sometimes wondered how he'd managed to have so many kids.  He did the same
to me, sucking and swallowing everything I discharged."

I nodded, smiling a little to show him my appreciation at his frankness.

"I gather it's high in protein," I observed.

He smiled and took another drink of his coffee.

When he'd replaced his cup on the table, I asked him, "So how did you end
up rimming Justin?"

"That happened on the trip up to the Pennines.  The one where we ended up
holed up our tents for three nights.  It was boring being cooped up
together, but at the same time it was hugely stressful.  The tension of not
knowing when the storm was going to break, of trying to think of things we
could do to keep the lads from getting on each other's nerves... of just
being trapped like that in the middle of nowhere barely able to get from
tent to tent without getting disorientated by the blizzards.

"I think it was the building sense of uncertainly that did it.  One night I
found, like Justin had before me, that a hand job wasn't enough.  I don't
know what it was – maybe I was feeling lonely, scared, isolated – I
don't know.  I just knew I needed more than a hand down there.  I needed
something a bit more intense... passionate, even."

"So you started sucking him?"

"No.  I didn't want that.  It was black dark and snowing and as windy as
hell and, for some reason, I just wanted to feel a body next to me, to wrap
my arms around someone.  I wanted... well... I wanted to make love, I
suppose.

"I lay there in the dark, desperate for my wife... for the feel of a woman.
But all I had was Justin, so – perhaps inevitably my feelings of longing
became directed towards him.  What I was contemplating wouldn't be like
making love, I knew that, but we'd be joined together... I could hold
him... and it might just make a passable substitute.  It would be dirty and
messy, and I didn't know how we'd behave around each other afterwards, but
he was all I had available..."

I nodded.  "So you asked him if you could use his backside?"

He nodded back.  "Not in such terms, of course.  I can't remember how I
phrased it, to be honest.  But I must have whispered that I wanted more
than just foreplay and asked if he'd mind turning over for me... if he'd
pull his underwear down at the back.  Whatever I said, my meaning was
pretty clear."

I took a sip from my coffee, enrapt by the thought of them holed up
together: two instructors slyly coupling up with so many other guys in the
tents around them; brought to such a state of desperation by sheer boredom
and apprehension.

After putting my cup back down, I asked, "And he agreed?"

Troy smiled.  "Readily.  I was surprised at how readily, actually.  I
wondered if maybe it had been something he had been wanting too... not to
have me on top of him, of course, but for me to ask for it so he could then
have his turn on me."

"Okay," I acknowledged, struggling to see how a secretive bout of buggery
between two men in a dark tent could end up with one of them licking the
other's arse.  "So how did you end up rimming him?"

"Well, it's down to something which I do – which I've always done –
and I'd always assumed that all men do, until I started reading up about
stuff like this."

He paused and I shook my head and shrugged, intrigued.

"Before I have sex with a woman," he explained quietly, "I always lick her
vagina.  I always ever have, pretty much since the first time I had sex
with my first proper girlfriend.  It prepares her for sex, lubricates her
entrance, and gets us both excited.  It's something I thought all men do."

"It seems reasonable," I conceded.  I'd always enjoyed oral intimacy with a
woman, but purely in foreplay rather than to accomplish anything so
specific.

"So before I mounted Justin," he went on, "When he was on all fours and had
hitched his thermal leggings down his thighs to expose his backside, I did
the same thing to him."

"You licked the place you were about to push yourself into?"

"Exactly," he nodded with a somewhat satisfied smirk.

I smiled back.  "Weren't you put off by the... er... dissimilarity between
the two openings?"

He chuckled.  "To be honest, I wasn't really thinking about it.  It was
something I'd always done with women, so through force of habit, I suppose,
I just went ahead and did it to him."

"Okay... so what happened?"

"He stuck his bum out and prepared for me to mount him.  There was enough
light from my watch for me to see that he clearly knew the drill – maybe
he'd let other guys use him that way on other climbs, I don't know.  I got
behind him and hitched my own underwear down at the front.  I was rock
hard... desperate for a hole – any hole which was warm and wet – to
slide myself into."

"Again, though," I interrupted, "weren't you worried you'd be heard?  I
mean, there were guys all around in the tents next to yours and it must be
a lot more difficult to be discreet when you're... how should I put
it?... two men having backdoor relations..."

He shook his head.  "Like I said, there were blizzard conditions outside
–the noise of snow hammering against the canvas would pretty much drown
everything out.  I did wonder beforehand – while I was contemplating
asking Justin if I could do it to him – whether one of the lads might
come over to our tent to ask for something and catch us... well... in
flagrante... but I figured I would see the light from their torch long
before they managed to open the tent flap.

"And, in any case, even if they saw what was going on in our tent... what
we were doing... it wasn't like it was obscene or anything.  Everyone needs
a bit of company sometimes... for all I know they might all have been doing
the same thing in their tents.  I wouldn't judge them if they had been."

"You were the adults in the party, though... two married men... you might
have had some explaining to do," I remarked.

"I'd have thanked whoever caught us to keep it to themselves but I wouldn't
have been apologetic that I was... well..."

"Buggering your fellow instructor up his arse after lights out...?" I
suggested.

"'Seeking a bit of fraternal companionship,' would be how I would prefer to
express it," he grinned.

The waitress tottered out of the kitchen with Troy's baked potato complete
with a hastily positioned slices of tomato alongside it.  She put it in
front of him and then turned to me quizzically.

"You didn't want food, did you?"

I smiled.  "I asked for a prawn mayo sandwich, but I can get one from the
petrol station on the way back to work, so don't worry about it."

"Oh no," she replied brightly.  "I can make one for you, don't you worry
yourself," as if she was very generously doing me a favour by belatedly
fulfilling my order.

She bustled off back through the swing doors.

Troy smiled over at me, "I'm really sorry about this place.  Last time I
was here it was really nice... they could even get your orders right first
time."

I chuckled.  "It's okay – it's not like I'm starving, or anything."

He glanced around for cutlery.  "Do you think I'm supposed to eat this with
my hands?"

"Maybe you're supposed to just burrow in?"

He pushed his meal to one side.  "Nice idea, but I think I'll just wait
until she brings your sandwich and ask her for a knife and fork."

Then he asked, taking another swig from his coffee, "So where was I?"

"Justin had just pulled down the back of his thermals," I reminded him,
suddenly starting to feel hungry from the smell of his food.  "On that
occasion you weren't so reticent about burrowing in..."

He smiled.  "I wouldn't say that.  It wasn't like I was keen.  I mean, we'd
been out for a good week or so, so he was pretty whiffy back there –
very smelly, actually – but I really needed to have sex.  I felt
overwrought, actually – I was literally aching for it – so I just
stuck my tongue in between his cheeks and started licking."

"Were you trying to think of it as a vagina?" I asked.

He laughed at that.  "Are you sure you've actually smelled a guy's bum up
close?" he joked.  "Come on, Rob, you know as well as I do that in no way,
shape or form can you try to think of another guy's arse as a
vagina... especially after a week without a shower."

I smiled.  "Okay, silly question.  But if it was so... well... odorous,
weren't you repulsed?"

"At first, yeah – of course I was.  This was another bloke's arse I was
putting my mouth on – he had hair bristling out from his crack and it
was far from squeaky clean – so it obviously brought with it a strong
helping of disgust.  But I just focussed one-hundred-percent on making him
slippery enough for me to push myself in – that's what I wanted, and
sheer habit dictated that this was what I needed to do to get it."

"If he was so... er... ripe, didn't you need to gag?  Didn't it make you
pull back?"

"He was rough... yeah, ripe... whatever you want to call it.  But sharing a
tent with other men can get a lot worse.  I've had guys' cruddy arses and
sweaty bollocks pushed right in my face countless times when we were
falling all over each other getting dressed.  And when it's too cold or
hazardous for the two of you to take a crap outside... well... you just
don't want to know.

"So I wasn't that horrified about the smell.  I was as horny as hell –
throbbing painfully between my legs – and all I could think was that
this was my ticket to... well... to getting my arms around another person
and getting my dick inside them, I suppose.  My whole brain was crying out
for sex and this was the nearest I was going to get to it out here in the
middle of nowhere with Justin's backside as the closest approximation to a
vagina."

"So you pushed your tongue between his cheeks," I recapped, enjoying the
image he was conjuring up but eager to move the story on.  "What happened
then?"

"Well, like you, I found the more I did it, the more I liked it.  What
started out as a few necessary flicks of my tongue into his hairy – kind
of, sticky – crack, became more and more arousing and I started getting
into it.  I pushed my tongue deep between his cheeks and the strong, biting
taste of his hole really started to excite me.  Soon I was devouring him –
feeding on his bum like I was hungry for it, snorting his smell and
nuzzling as deep between his cheeks as I could."

"What made it change from being disgusting to arousing?"

"I've no idea," he shrugged.  "At first it was yucky... I could hardly
believe this was another bloke on all fours in front of me and I was
working my tongue into his hairy arse.  I was desperately trying to push
out of my mind the fact he hadn't washed for nearly a week.  I must have
gone pretty soft... you know... my penis.  Next thing, once I got deep
inside and was licking around his anus, I was rock hard and throbbing
again.  That was when the excitement started driving me on... that was when
I started prizing his cheeks apart and pushed myself forwards to start
eating him out.  I was so aroused I was probably leaking all over his
sleeping bag."

I smiled and nodded.  "How did Justin respond?"

"He loved it," Troy chuckled.  "Absolutely loved it!  He called out
something like, 'Ah, yeah, man!' and pushed his bum towards me, rubbing it
into my face.  He was well up for it!

"He reached back and grabbed my head and ground my nose and mouth more
deeply into him.  I was panting and drooling, inhaling the full force of
his stink and frantically trying to work my tongue into his hole."

"You might be surprised how natural that reaction is," I cut in, and
outlined some of the information which Cameron had given me: the so-called
Baltimore study in which men became excited – straight men – when
asked to rim each other, and the evolutionary theories which explained why
such a sexual attraction might have arisen between men.

Troy nodded.  "I've read some of that stuff on the internet.  Some of it
sounds plausible; some of it just seems like pure fantasy.  At the time,
though, when I was licking him and sniffing him, I had no idea why I was so
aroused by it.  I hadn't expected it at all."

"So what happened next?" I asked.  "Did you get on top of him?"

"Not immediately.  I was enjoying rimming him far too much to stop doing
it.  There was something about his taste that I found absolutely
enthralling.  I daren't touch myself when I was doing it because I knew it
would be too much for me and I didn't want it to end so quickly."

I smiled and nodded, remembering finding myself in the same predicament
with Guy.

"It wasn't a dirty smell," he seemed eager to clarify.  "I mean, he was
rough back there, like I said, but it wasn't that which I found so
arousing.  It was something more basic, more primitive.  Like the smell of
our cocks when we were wanking but so much richer, so much more powerful.
A seedy sexual musk, thick and rank, deep between his cheeks and around his
arsehole."

I nodded and was going to recount my own take on it, when he went on.

"But it wasn't just that.  It was also the act of being connected to Justin
like that – of having my face pressed cheek-deep into another man's
butt-crack – that was so intensely, so scarily exciting.  Maybe it was
because it was so wrong for two men to behave this way... maybe it was
because it was so unlike anything sexual I'd ever encountered."

I smiled, nodding again to show how strongly my own experiences accorded
with his own.

"I had to have him," he continued.  "He tried to hold my head back there,
wanking himself as he pushed his bum into my face, but I needed release too
urgently.  I pulled my face away and scrabbled up behind him through the
folds of his sleeping bag, pushing his knees open with mine.  The tent was
so low that I had to bend over on top him and guide my erection into his
bum with my hand.  I'm quite well-endowed and had expected it to be a
struggle; fortunately, he was so slick from my spit, I managed to enter him
quickly.

"I wrapped my arms tightly around his chest and literally pounded myself in
and out of him.  The smell was extreme – I don't know if it was the
strong reek of his bum on my face or the intense stink from arse being
buggered, but our sex had a really rough, almost animalistic, odour which
seemed to fill the tent as I humped him.  I was hugely turned-on by it and
in little more than two or three rough thrusts deep up inside him, I was
climaxing – very powerfully.

"It was such a violent rush, so much warm wetness surging through my penis,
that I actually felt – I don't know if this has ever happened to you –
like I was peeing myself."

I smiled at his interesting choice of metaphor just as the waitress
reappeared from the kitchen and brought me my food.  It was a chicken tikka
baguette rather than a prawn mayo sandwich but it would have ti do.

Troy asked for his cutlery which made her whoop as if he'd cracked some
saucy joke.  She disappeared back into the kitchen and we looked at each
other, incredulous at her reaction and fearing she wouldn't return.  Before
we had time to comment, she re-emerged with a knife and fork wrapped in a
napkin.

As we were getting on with our food and she had disappeared once more, I
asked him, "When it was his turn, did Justin rim you?"

Troy smiled over a mouthful of baked potato on his fork.

"That's the thing – he never did.  By that I mean, he had his turn on me
– did what he needed to, panting and grunting as I bent over for him and
filling the tent with my own stink.  But he never put his face anywhere
near me back there."

I nodded, wiping the crumbs off my mouth with my napkin.  "That's strange,
given how much he enjoyed it."

Troy shrugged.  "Strange but true," he smiled.

"You said in your office that the first time you did it, you thought you
were going mad...?"

He nodded.  "I lay awake afterwards – after we'd taken turns on top of
each other – incredulous, stunned even, at what we'd just done.  At what
I'd just done.  I couldn't believe I'd licked another man's backside and,
more confusing than that, that I'd actually enjoyed it.  It took me quite a
while – a few months, maybe – to come to terms with what I'd
discovered lurking inside myself."

After another bite of my baguette, which was generously filled and very
tasty, I asked him if he'd rimmed Justin again.

"A few times, but not so much that he'd think it was odd.  If he was into
it himself, we'd have probably done it more, I guess, but as he isn't –
or at least has shown no interest in being the... er... active participant
himself – I try and hold back as much as I can."

"Have you done it with other men?"

He shook his head.  "You're the first guy I've met who is also turned-on by
it.  I've looked at specialist personal ads on sex sites on the internet,
but well..."

Personal ads for guys into rimming?  I hadn't known such things existed.  I
suppose now that I did it was rather obvious that they would.

"The only time I actually bit the bullet and replied to someone," he went
on, "things got a bit too... er... heavy for me."

"What happened?" I asked, taking another bite from my baguette.

He smiled.  "It's not the sort of thing you want to hear over lunch,
believe me."

I was intrigued.  "Come on," I persisted.  "You know where my face has been
on several occasions, so you must realise that I'm not exactly
squeamish..."

Troy munched at another mouthful from his plate, mulling over whether or
not he should tell me his story.

After swallowing his food, he nodded.  "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn
you.

"He was called Warren and he was from over near Uppingham.  I told him that
my interest was centred around other guys' backsides – that I wasn't so
interested in what's out front – and he was immediately keen for us to
meet up.  He said he was really pleased that he'd found someone with the
same attraction living so close, and that we could have some fun together."

"Was he gay?" I asked, wondering if that's how things might have turned
'heavy' as he put it, but Troy shook his head.

"It wasn't quite that straightforward."

"When we got to his place, he asked me something about glass-bottomed boats
and I suppose I must have misunderstood the question.  Have you heard of
that?"

"A glass-bottomed boat?  For looking at fish, you mean?"

He smiled.  "Yeah, that's what I thought.  I suppose I was being stupidly
naive because I was thinking of when I was in the Caribbean with my wife
and kids, so I agreed it could be fun.  He asked if I liked to watch and
again, thinking of the angelfish swimming past, I nodded."

He trailed off and I hesitated, my baguette poised at my mouth.  "I'm
guessing he wasn't asking about the watching the angelfish?" I suggested
uneasily.

He shook his head.  "We talked about a load of other things," he went on.
"Maybe he was asking me all sorts of sexual stuff in coded language and I
was imprudently agreeing to it, but when we got down to business and
undressed together, he surprised me by asking me to lie down on my back
underneath his coffee table."

"His coffee table?" I asked, still contemplating the baguette.

"Yes," he nodded.  "It had a glass top."

"Oh?"

"He got on top of it and squatted over me.  I was thinking, 'Well, how am I
supposed to rim the guy with a plate of glass between us?' but I just
thought I better bide my time and wait for something to happen.  It was
pretty clear that I was the novice between us, so I thought I'd just go
with the flow."

"Oh."

"And flow it did.  In thick, brown gobs."

"Oh!"

He smiled apologetically at my drooping baguette, hanging in front of my
mouth.  "I did warn you..."

I glanced at it and then returned it to the plate.  The chicken tikka
filling oozing out from between the sliced opening in the bread didn't seem
quite so appetising now.

I asked, "So did it get you going, or did you get going?"

He chuckled.  "I jumped up as quickly as I could and got the hell out of
there.  I was still pulling my trousers up as I hurtled out of his front
door."

I drained the bottom of my coffee cup.  The coffee was tasting a lot less
palatable than it had when I had first poured it.  Having taken the edge
off my caffeine craving, I must be becoming more fussy.

"I suppose it could have been worse," I said, after putting my empty cup
back on the saucer.  "He could have done it without the table between you."

He nodded.  "That has occurred to me since.  Something like that could have
put me off rimming for life.  Which may not have been a bad thing, I
suppose."

"You wouldn't want that," I refuted.  "When you're with the right guy, like
your mate Justin, it's far too enjoyable to want to be turned off it."

He finished off his baked potato and the last of his sliced tomato but
didn't express an opinion one way or the other.  He was clearly more
troubled about his fetish than I was.

"So this guy – Warren – was he the only one you've met?" I asked.

He nodded.  "After that, I suppose I felt like I'd had my fingers burnt.  I
played it safe and didn't contact anyone else on that site."

I smiled.  "I can see why..."

"That's why I wanted to talk to you in private like this," he went on.  "I
couldn't believe it back there in the college it when you said you had the
same interest as me."

I looked back at the baguette wondering whether to have another attempt at
it.  His use of the word 'gobs' had been the problem.  The chicken tikka
was full of them.

He asked, "Have you done it with anyone apart from that guy?"

I looked back up to face him in surprise.

"Guy?"

Bugger – had I used his name?

"The guy in the hotel room..." he explained.

"Oh, right.  That guy.  Well, apart from him... I've had a couple
more... shall we say... brief encounters."

"The bloke who gave you the information you mentioned?" he asked, draining
the last of his coffee.  "I'm guessing you hooked up with him?"

"Actually, no.  We just met for a drink – a bit like this.  Exchanged
experiences, shared a few stories."

I didn't mention that I'd had significantly fewer stories to share than
Cameron had.

The waitress came out of the kitchen again and collected our plates and
cups.

Picking up the plate with my half-eaten baguette, she asked, a touch
despondently.  "Didn't you like it, love?"

I smiled.  "I kind of lost my appetite."

"If we could have the bill please – quite quickly," Troy said to the
waitress, rather pointedly.

She took our things away on her tray and disappeared into the kitchen.

When the door had closed, he asked me, matter-of-factly, "So do you want to
get together with me?"

I looked up and stared at him, astonished by his directness.

Perhaps thinking I didn't understand him, he clarified: "For sex, I mean.
Maybe a bit of chat, the odd drink here and there... but primarily for
sex... man-to-man stuff... the sort of things we've been talking about."

I continued to stare at him, at a loss for words by how little preamble
he'd felt it necessary to employ.

He misinterpreted my surprise and threw me a cold smile.  "Feel free to say
no, of course.  I won't be offended."

I smiled back, hopefully rather more warmly.  "Sorry, mate.  I was just
caught out by how frank your... er... invitation was."

He shrugged.  "What's the problem?  It's not like I need to dress it up
romantically.  I'm just asking if you want to meet up so we can have sex
together – nothing more significant than that.  To me, it's as
straightforward as asking if you'd like to join me for a round of golf or
something equally innocuous."

I nodded.  "Yeah – it's the same for me, I suppose.  I was just caught
off-guard."

The waitress came back out from the kitchen and peered over at us, perhaps
aware that one of us had asked for something but unable to remember what it
was.  Troy was probably wondering if I'd take the opportunity of the break
in the conversation to evade his question.

After she had given up and gone back into the kitchen, I offered my reply.

"To answer your question: yes, I would.  It'll be fun."

He nodded and said, "Good."  He looked quite pleased.

Then he went on, "My preferred position would be for you to squat down over
my face – naked, of course – so I can rim you from underneath and
then for us to change places and for me to squat over you.  Would that be
okay?"

I nodded, trying to hide my continuing surprise at how direct he was being.
To him, it really did seem that this was like discussing how we'd tackle a
particularly challenging golf course rather than how he would prefer to
lick my arse.

"I also need to make it clear from the outset that I'll expect you to
orally pleasure my erection," he added.  "Quite... er... extensively."

I shrugged.  "I don't mind either way."

"You didn't seem too keen on it when we talked about," he went on, "but I
think it's best that I'm upfront.  With Justin, it seemed to me that
another man instinctively knows what to do to another with his
mouth... much more so than my wife or any other woman ever has."

"If you enjoy it, I'll be happy to... you know... open wide for you."

He nodded, satisfied by my answer.  I'd clearly have to prepare for a
fairly lengthy bout of cocksucking.  He'd mentioned that he was 'quite
well-endowed': I wondered how large his cock actually was and how forceful
he'd be.  He might be like the guy in the gents and would want to hold my
head steady while he used my mouth as a masturbatory aid, frantically
driving himself in and out of me.  If he was built as generously as I was
in the front of his trousers, I would have a job not to gag.

"What will you want me to do in return?" he asked as I took a sip from my
drink.  "I'd be happy to give you oral stimulation too, of course.  I
developed quite a knack for it in the tent."

I smiled.  It was like we were finalising a business agreement.  I wondered
if he'd be pulling a couple of contracts out of his jacket pocket next.

"I don't really like the feel of a mouth down there," I explained.
"Perhaps you could do something else for me?"

He nodded.  "As long as it doesn't involve kissing – I don't like the
thought of doing that with another man.  Justin never made any attempt to
do it, and I was quite relieved."

I smiled again.  "It won't involve kissing.  I can promise you that."

A thought occurred to me and I ventured, "Maybe I could fuck you?"

He stared at me, hesitant, and I wondered if he didn't follow me.

"You know... up your bum?" I clarified, although I couldn't see how else
we'd do it.

"I'm not averse to you penetrating me," he cut in, "I just have issues with
you using the f-word to describe it.  'Fucking' is something I do with my
wife.  You're welcome to mount me anally if that's what you want – I
never found it especially painful when Justin did it – but could we call
it 'buggery' or 'sodomy' or something else?"

"Whatever... er... I mean, that's fine by me," I replied.  I had been going
to say, 'Whatever floats your boat,' but in view of Warren's glass-bottomed
variety, it seemed in poor taste.

"With Justin," he went on, "I always saw it that we were using each other's
backsides to pleasure ourselves.  I never thought of it as fucking.  We
were, after all, two men who were doing it."

I nodded, happy to modify my language to suit him, although I'd never
thought of the work 'fuck' as having either romantic or heterosexual
connotations.

"In that case," I said, "I'll suck you off as long as you like, as long as
I can use your bum for... you know... my own needs afterwards."

He smiled.  "That sounds like a pretty good deal."

He glanced at his watch and wondered why she hadn't brought us the bill.

"Afternoon lessons start at two o'clock," he muttered.  "I'm not teaching
but I need to be back by then."

He called the waitress back and she had to ask us again what we'd food we'd
eaten as she'd managed to lose our order.  "I can't keep track of
everything that's going on," she explained.

While she was using a calculator to work out how much we owed as the till
wasn't working, Troy muttered quietly, "Is it okay if we meet up at your
place?  At mine, I'd be too concerned about my wife catching us."

I nodded my agreement.  I could see how walking in on your husband lying
naked on the marital bed licking up at another man's squatting arsehole
might not be conducive to wedded bliss.

Troy explained that he had a free afternoon every couple of weeks and I
thought I could probably engineer things at work to be able to meet him at
around three as long as he gave me a few days' notice.  I'd get Jake to
have tea at his mum's that night so that he didn't get home to hear us
noisily enjoying ourselves upstairs.

Troy seemed happy with that arrangement.

"Do you want me to shower before we perform?" he asked.  "I only ask so
that I can bring a towel and some deodorant with me."

Again I found myself marvelling at his business-like manner.  I wondered if
he was like this with his wife when they were planning out the next month's
sex by synchronising their diaries.

"I'll be happy to take you as I find you," I said.

"Same goes for me.  Don't feel that you need to match Justin's level
of... er... indelicate hygiene, though," he smiled.

The waitress finally called over her best estimation of how much we owed
and Troy got up to go and pay.  I offered to go halves, but he told me to
put my wallet away.  "I'll be imposing upon your hospitality when we meet
up.  This is the least I can do."

While he was standing at the cash desk paying for our meal, I looked at his
backside from behind.  It was nicely round and filled the seat of his
trousers rather pleasingly.  I could see, vaguely, the line made by his
underwear against his buttocks – it looked very much like he wore briefs
and I looked forwards to pressing my face into the back of them.

What would it be like to have him squatting over me so I could rim him, I
wondered?  He hadn't expressed surprise that Justin's arse had been hairy,
which probably meant he might be abundantly hairy back there himself.  That
would be nice: the AA guy's arse crack had been a little smooth for my
preference.

I wondered how he would taste.  From the meal he'd ordered, he could well
be vegetarian which might give his backside its own idiosyncratic flavour.
I was certainly looking forwards to getting stuck in – I could already
feel my cock thickening up just from looking at him!

He dropped something out of his wallet and bent down to pick it up.  His
arse cheeks opened wide as his bum pushed out towards me, almost like he
was inviting me to enter him.  The hemline of his briefs pressed
prominently against the material of his trousers, drawing the eye
alluringly inwards towards the bottom of his arse-crack.  Right where his
tightly clenched hole would be... right where my tongue would soon be
probing...

He groped around on the floor and his buttocks opened more widely.  If only
I could inhale his scent back there, I thought; if only I could kneel down
behind him right now and press my face between those gorgeous cheeks.  My
cock hardened further and I adjusted it to a less conspicuous position in
my trousers.

I stared at the hemline dividing the seat of his trousers; low down his
scent would be strongest.  'I'll be fucking him there, soon,' I found
myself thinking and then, remembering the issues he had with the f-word,
corrected myself to, 'I'll be penetrating him there, soon'.

I wondered how he'd choose to take it: on all fours, like he'd received his
mate's fraught attentions in the tent, or lying on his back with his bum
pushed up by pillows.  Would he call out as I slammed in and out of him, or
would he just take it silently, being used to having to be discreet
surrounded by other hikers close by in their tents?  I could hardly believe
that I'd soon be finding out...

As we left the coffee shop and walked back into the college so I could
return to my car, Troy shared another of his sexual quirks with me, perhaps
feeling that he ought to prepare me for our next meeting.

"I like very much the idea of climaxing over other men," he informed me as
we reached the car park.  "I fantasize about standing over a man and
spraying my semen all over him.  Do you enjoy doing that?"

I shook my head, not really understanding the appeal of doing such a thing.
"I suppose I rather soaked the first man I had sex with... the one in the
hotel.  But that was by accident and I can't say I've really thought about
it since."

"Which part of him did you climax over?" he asked.

"His back," I said.  "But, like I said, it just sort of happened.  Which
parts of a man do you think you'd like to... well... spray yourself over?"

"I don't really mind," he shrugged.  "His chest, his face, his back, his
bum... I just get very excited at the thought of standing over someone and
covering them in my seed."

I smiled, imagining if I had such a fetish.  My ex-wife had always said my
orgasms were disgustingly messy when I climaxed inside her – it seemed
she didn't know how easy she'd had it.

"I'm just telling you because if I find myself approaching climax, I'd like
to stand over you and direct my penis towards you so I can release the bulk
of my discharge over you."

"Is there anything you'd like me to do while I'm... er... getting covered?"

He considered the question before musing, "Well, I suppose you could smear
it over yourself, like you would lather soap against your skin.  Yes, I
think I'd like to see you doing that.  And, if you'd be willing, you could
use it to lubricate your own masturbation."

I smiled, thinking of my old granny's adage that it takes all sorts.  How
right she had been.

Having located my car, I pulled out my briefcase from the passenger seat
and fished around in it for the wodge of papers Cameron had given me.  They
were still there, in one of the more concealed pockets.

I handed them to Troy with advice to be careful with them.

He read the envelope.  "'From a fellow butt monkey'?"

"I think it was supposed to be a joke."

He nodded.  "I think it's quite apt.  I rather like it."

Troy leaned forward to shake hands – I wasn't sure why he felt the need
for such formality – and he said he'd call me next time he knew which
afternoon he could take off.

"It might be next term," he said.  "In January."

"That suits me fine."

As he walked off, it occurred to me that the next time we met, we'd have
sex together.  I'd get to see him naked and aroused, and he'd get to see me
in the same state.  I'd stick my face into his arse and taste his hole and
then he'd turn around so I could fellate him and drink down his seed.
After that I'd have my turn and bugger him on what was once my marital bed.
As I did so, I'd smell his scent again – strong and pungent – and it
would soon have me climaxing deep into his bowels.

It was an interesting prospect that I'd soon be experiencing intimacy with
a guy I barely knew – Jake's Assistant Principal who I'd just met for
lunch – and I felt my cock responding again at the thought of what was
in store.

After getting into my car, I pulled out of the college to head back to
work.

It occurred to me that I was going to be quite a busy boy come January.
There'd be Guy to arrange a night away with, Duncan the AA man calling me
up when he was in the area and now Troy to pencil in for the odd afternoon.
That's not even mentioning the man Cameron was going to fix me up with at
the end of that week: he and I might want some further time together.

I'd need one of those ticket systems they have at supermarket delis, I
thought dryly.  I'd have to set up a "We are now serving..." sign outside
my bedroom door with a row of chairs, a selection of magazines and a few
pot plants.

Oh and of course there'd be Debbie as well.  I was almost forgetting her.
I reminded myself that I'd need to make some time for her too.

===

Next story: How Do You Like It?

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