Troy Story

"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."