Silas in the Library

And not just the computer's, I thought.

"That was very... er... inventive of you."

"No problem," he smirked. "Once you get going, such things just sort of roll off the tongue, don't you find?"

I smiled. This guy really was out to get me.

"I can't say I've had a lot of experience..."

He raised his eyebrows before suggesting, "Well, perhaps you're about to make a few discoveries..."

How far was I prepared to go along with this? Was I really interested in this guy? I realised that there was a distinct possibility that my visit to the library could give my research a far more – how should I put it – participative direction.

I glanced down at the book, playing along with his banter. "Perhaps I am," I smiled. "Let's see if I can come across an interesting passage..."

He beamed at me. "Well, if you need any more help... you know, a hand with something, or whatever... I'll be over at the desk." And then he walked back over to the reception area, his arse flexing most invitingly in the back of his trousers as he did so.

He was making it quite clear that he was interested in me sexually, and I wondered again what would happen if I were to be more direct in my reciprocation. Might this really be an opportunity for me to see how it would feel to get sexual with another man? Might he let me rim him so that I could see if I was as excited by doing it to him as I had been with Guy? Not here, of course, but maybe we could meet up later, after he finished work...?

It might be risky to approach a gay man for such a thing: he'd be far more practised than me and might expect me to do things with him that I wasn't comfortable with. Even worse, he might seek commitment from me that I wouldn't be prepared to give.

On the other hand, though, his experience and knowledge could prove invaluable in helping to answer the questions that were currently troubling me. Better still, he'd almost certainly be no stranger to the pleasures of rimming and would probably enjoy having a novice experimenting on him. And with the arse he was showing off, it looked like I'd be in for rather a treat.

While I mulled it over, I looked through the book he'd given me. It was by a female author called Carolyn Ashbrook and purported to cover all aspects of sexuality.

Finding both 'rimming' and 'analingus' absent from the index, I instead took up the trail leading from 'anal sex' and turned to the relevant pages.

Ms Ashbrook explained that, in her view, we find other people's buttocks attractive because they provide an indication that they will make worthwhile partners if we're in the mood for baby-making.

"In humans, fat on the breasts advertises reproductive health," she wrote, "and available resources for pregnancy and nursing. In other primates, the buttocks have also been recruited as billboards for this advertising function with males as well as females attracting mates by displaying their rears as indicators of their fertility."

Tell me something I don't know, I thought. Jake and I had watched a Robert Winston documentary about this very subject a few years ago. (I'd found it painfully embarrassing to have so many nude bodies paraded on TV in front of my son. Jake, however, had insisted I didn't change channels; it wasn't every night he got the chance to ogle a succession of breasts under the pretence of it being for educational reasons.)

I glanced further on through the chapter.

"Some men enjoy not only anal penetration but facial contact with the buttock area and sometimes with the anus itself."

Ah, here we go.

"The pleasure in such activities, like enjoyment of exhibitionism discussed earlier, is derived entirely from its negative connotations. As humans we have been taught to be ashamed or embarrassed about our anuses and so the act of having intimate contact with that area of another person challenges this psychological taboo. Doing something which society has condemned as disgusting and humiliating brings its own titillating appeal. The added fact that putting one's face close to another person's bottom has a bestial connotation – dogs, to name just one example, sniff each other's backsides – no doubt serves to enhance the excitement of participants."

It seemed I had finally unearthed a plausible explanation as to why rimming might appeal to me. I liked it because, in effect, I wasn't supposed to like it. I was – quite simply – being contrary.

It was an attractive suggestion, but it seemed over-simplistic and too convenient. Had such thoughts passed through my mind when I nuzzling into Guy's undercarriage? Had I been thinking about how... well... 'naughty' I was being? Was that what had excited me?

I didn't think it was that straightforward.

I put the book down and looked over at the reception area. Silas the Chief Librarian was behind the desk, bending over a chair to look at something on the computer and showing off that very attractive backside of his.

As if drawn towards him like a wasp towards a pot of jam, I wandered over to the desk.

He glanced up at me as if he had expected me to appear and smiled.

"Was that one any good?"

"It was interesting," I conceded, "and had a few ideas in it I hadn't really thought of. It's given me a few suggestions to... er... give my son."

"Ah... your son... that's right," he smirked, his voice laden with sarcasm.

He stood up and walked over to me.

"I've... er... a few more books out back," he quietly informed me. "In the storage area... maybe you'd be interested...?"

I nodded. I knew where this was headed, but hadn't expected him to be so up-front.

"Sounds good. Do you want me to watch the desk while you fetch them for me?" I asked with a look of affected innocence.

"I thought you might like to come out back and look for them with me...?" he smiled. "I'm sure the desk will survive being unmanned for a while."

I smiled back. Things might be the on verge of getting very interesting.

Did I really want this, I asked myself. What might I be getting myself into?

Before I could dissuade myself, I hastily replied, "Sounds good to me."

I followed him through a door behind the reception desk and down a short corridor. This opened out into a long narrow room tightly packed with storage shelves piled high with a disarray of books. It was much colder in here and the lighting was weak and cast long shadows.

He turned to face me, his back against the end of one of the shelves.

"We might not have long," he said. "Some old biddy is going to be calling down the corridor any minute now for me to check a Danielle Steel back in."

"So where should we start?" I asked.

"What exactly is it that you're after?"

"Whatever it is you have in mind," I offered.

He walked over to me and put his hand on the front of my trousers, found my flaccid penis through the material and raised his eyebrows, probably surprised by my generous size. Gently massaging it between his finger and thumb, he whispered, "Something like this?"

"Maybe..."

He continued rubbing at my organ, feeling it slowly stirring to life through my trousers, and smiled at me. "I knew you'd be up for it... the second I saw you!"

"I'm not sure that I am... I'm pretty new to this..."

He threw me a sceptical look and then smiled. "How about I show you the ropes, then?"

He grabbed my right hand and put it against the front of his own trousers. His cock, unlike mine, was already stiff but felt much smaller than mine was even in its softened state.

He held onto my wrist and worked my hand against his excitement, making slow masturbatory movements back and forth along his length.

"There," he whispered appreciatively, his breath hot against my face and smelling of stale coffee. "That's how you do it."

I wasn't sure I was enjoying this – it felt awkward to be so close to another man and touching his crotch like this – but I went along with it, enticed by the possibility that he might at some point turn around.

I worked up a steady rhythm on his organ, rubbing and squeezing it through his clothing, as he vainly tried to awaken mine by doing the same.

After a minute or so, he pushed my hand away and undid his belt and fly. Yanking down the front of his baggy boxer shorts, he pulled out his cock which arched upwards with its deep red head fully exposed. It was perfectly formed, but much smaller than those I was used to seeing. Perhaps I'd looked at too much porn and now had unrealistic expectations about what men kept in their underwear.

He put my hand back onto his cock and I wrapped my fingers around it. He directed me to make a jerking motion up and down it and muttered, "Yeah, that's it..."

On my side, my cock continued to refuse to co-operate. I quite liked the sensation of his fingers playing with me through my trousers, but not enough for me to become aroused by it.

Perhaps to try and stir my interest, or more likely for his own enjoyment, he pushed my head down towards his erection and commanded me to suck him.

Anticipating that this might give me a route towards his backside, just as it had with Guy, I complied and knelt down in front of him. I took him into my mouth and gentle tongued the head of his cock. It had a sharp, curious taste and oozed a warm dribble of salty liquid into my mouth.

He groaned in gratitude and grabbed my head, working himself in and out of my mouth as I sucked him.

I reached around and felt his backside. It was large and round: very inviting. That was where I wanted to be: right between his firm, meaty buttocks; not slurping away at his dick like some backstreet whore.

I hitched my thumbs over his belt and pulled the seat of his trousers down. He muttered something, perhaps in encouragement, and I went back up to do the same with his boxer shorts.

Now his backside was exposed, the skin silky smooth and the cheeks flexing in time with gentle thrusting of his cock into my mouth. I worked my fingertips into his cleft, feeling the coarse hairiness inside, and swept them up and down, becoming more excited by the alluring warmth of his crack and promise of what lay in store just out of reach.

He started jabbing himself more forcefully into my mouth, his breathing quickening, as I tried to pleasure him as best as I could.

I was more focussed on his bum: pushing my fingers deeper towards the prize I was yearning for and feeling myself slowly stiffen at the slight wetness I was finding as I closed in on it.

He pulled back from me and announced, "I want to suck your cock."

I stood up. "I don't know..." I was flattered that he'd ask but I'd never really enjoyed the sensation of a mouth around my organ.

"Come on," he asserted. "Pull down your trousers."

Jesus. For a camp guy he was surprisingly dominant.

"I don't want to do that," I said. "Like I said, I'm kind of new to this."

"Bullshit!" he snapped. "You're well up for it!"

He lunged towards me and I pushed him away. Was this really turning nasty? We were in a pretty isolated part of the library – if it came to it, could I take this guy? He was younger than me and quite well worked out, but with his trousers halfway down his thighs, I'd have the advantage of being more lithe.

He came back at me and tried to grab my waist. I slammed the palm of my hand into his sternum and forced him away from me.

This was getting far too physical for my liking. How on earth would I explain it if I were to emerge from my visit to the library with a black eye?

"I don't want you to suck me," I insisted, more firmly.

This time he held back. His cock was still erect; more or less undiscouraged.

"Okay," he said. "What do you want to do?"

I felt like I didn't really want to do anything now, other than make a bid for the doorway, but the prospect of him turning around and letting me taste him was still too potent for me to easily dismiss.

"I want to rim you."

"What?"

"I want to rim you," I repeated.

Having never said the word 'rim' out-loud before, at least not in this context, I half-expected him to laugh in scorn and tell me nobody called it that or that I was pronouncing it completely wrong.

But he didn't. He just stared at me in surprise.

After a second or so, with his cock starting to droop, he asked, "Is that what this has all been about? You've had your eye on my arse?"

He seemed disgusted; as if I was asking him to participate in something obscene.

"I wouldn't say it's 'what this has all been about'... I mean, I was actually looking for a book... but yes, I'm only really interested in rimming."

"Oh God," he almost spat. "I know how to pick them."

"I thought you'd like the idea," I argued. "With you being... you know... gay..."

"Oh right – so you assume all gay men are into each other's arseholes?" he sneered, pulling up his shorts and then his trousers. "What you see in internet porn isn't necessarily an accurate depiction of what gay men really enjoy, you know..."

He did have rather a point.

"I just thought..." I stammered.

"There's a line to be drawn," he cut in, zipping himself up. "And I draw it a long way short of the brown hole. Sorry but what you're asking... ugh... there's no way I could ever do that."

I was going to point out that I was asking to do it to him but, as he seemed determined to draw our encounter to a close, I headed for the doorway which led back out to the corridor.

"Yeah," he said with satisfaction, as if he was propelling me from the library himself. "Get the hell out of here, you dirty sod."

"I'm going!" I snapped back. "There's no need to get abusive."

He finished doing up his belt and followed me back out in the reception area. An old woman was standing at the desk looking around for service but, as far as I could tell, she didn't have a Danielle Steel book with her.

As I was leaving through the double doors, I heard Silas the Chief Librarian greet the woman as if nothing had happened. "Good afternoon, Mrs Padbury! Isn't the weather awful! And what can we do for you today?"

I got outside and spent a few seconds recovering myself under a bus shelter which offered some protection from the cold October drizzle.

"Well, that went well," I thought to myself sardonically.

Clearly, I mused on the way home, rimming isn't as prolific among gay men as I'd assumed it to be. Hooking up with a gay guy wasn't necessarily going to give me a taste of what I was fantasising about; it might not, in fact, deliver anything more than a humiliating expulsion from a public building.

However, I'd learned a few snippets from the books Silas the Chief Librarian had shown me and so at least had come away with some clue as to the appeal of what had transpired to be a decidedly minority interest. I realised I had probably also come away with a lifelong ban from the town library, but... well... such is life.

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Next story: Adam and Steve

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