A Holistic Approach

"There was like blood everywhere," he crooned into the handset. "One of the guys is in the toilet and the other's having some sort of panic attack. I think he might be experiencing trauma."

Phillip muttered to me, in that mellifluous deep voice he had, "Have David and Shane gone off to do some one-on-one work?"

I smiled and nodded. "A bit of extra-curricular study, you could call it."

Phillip grinned. He was clearly very interested in watching them and would no doubt be making his own excuse in due course.

As Claude continued to whip up a medical emergency out of a non-event over the phone, Phillip asked me about rimming.

"I've seen guys doing it in porn," he told me quietly. "It's never really appealed to me, though. What's it like?"

"Incredibly intense," I replied. "What you see on screen doesn't do it justice. You have to try it for real -- actually put your face on another guy down there -- if you want to know how amazing it is."

"Isn't it a bit... well... disgusting?" he asked.

"You'd think it would be, but I haven't found that so far. The times I've done it -- and, to be honest, I've only done it twice -- have been extremely erotic."

Phillip nodded and smiled. He had lovely teeth; very white and meticulously well-kept.

"Would you like to do what Shane said and rim me?" he asked. "If we get the chance to, I mean?"

I nodded, pleased at his curiosity. "Very much so."

"I don't know how... you know... clean I am," he admitted, that voice of his as smooth as chocolate. "I can't say it was something I was expecting to happen."

I smiled at him. "That doesn't matter too much. Unless we're talking... I dunno... incontinence or something..."

Phillip laughed. "I wipe very thoroughly, Rob. It's just... well... I might have been to the loo since I last showered... I can't really remember."

He threw me a smile laced with embarrassment which I found very cute, and I assured him that however I was to find him, there would almost certainly not be a problem.

Before Phillip could reply, Claude hung up the phone and said that help was on its way with a body fluid spill kit, whatever one of those was.

"Did you get any blood on you, Rob?"

"Actually, yes," I said, turning my spotless hands over in front of me as if looking for splashes. "Can I just pop out to wash my hands, quickly?"

Claude nodded enthusiastically. "Make sure you use hot water and plenty of soap."

I got up and left the room, amused by his advice. What did he think I was going to use? Spit?

There was a toilet a few doors along the corridor and, given how quiet is was in this part of the building, I wondered if this was where Shane and David would be.

As I opened the door I heard Shane's voice loudly proclaim: "I've never knobbed a bloke's arse before! It's fuckin' well tight!"

Yes, this was the right place.

Hearing me enter, David shushed him.

They were in the cubicle with the door closed and the tumult of activity which was going on behind it, some of it unmistakably rhythmic, ceased at the sound of my footsteps.

"It's alright guys, it's me," I called out and, to my surprise, the red 'engaged' sign on the door catch swivelled to 'vacant' with an obliging click. Clearly they wanted me to see them together.

I pushed the door open and there they were: side onto me, both with their trousers and underpants around their ankles. David, still wearing his jacket, was bending forwards slightly, facing the wall, and Shane was behind him sliding a heftily thick cock in and out of his flabby but impressively accommodating arse. It was a good job David had had plenty of practice widening his hole with an assortment of objects; Shane's prodigious girth would have been a very difficult fit otherwise.

They both grinned at me like a pair of naughty schoolboys and I smiled back, marvelling at how brazenly they were exposing themselves in front of me, some guy they'd just met.

Trying to encourage them to continue, I smiled back and said, "Nice. Very nice."

Shane wrapped his arms around David's chest and bent forwards with him. He quickened his rhythm and his balls started making smacking sounds against David's thighs with each thrust. David grunted and grabbed his own much smaller cock and started wanking his shaft with short, brisk strokes. His foreskin slid quickly back and forth, making the red stubby head appear and disappear in quick succession like a flashing beacon.

"Oh God, that feels amazing," he gasped. "Your cock is so long and thick!"

Shane muttered, "Yeah! I knew you'd like it," as he held onto the other man and rapidly buggered his well-worked arse.

As I stood and watched the two of them, enjoying the grandstand view I was getting of male-to-male butt-fucking in all its undiluted inelegance, they turned to grin at me. I smiled back and David started working his hips back against Shane's pumping cock, eager to meet its thrusts with his voracious hole, and Shane slammed in more roughly and more deeply to further excite him.

They laughed over at me at how wonderfully ill-behaved they were being, and I couldn't help but laugh back with them.

"I was just telling him," Shane said to me, through his quickening breathing, "how I've never done another fella before. All the things I've stuck my prick into over the years -- I can't believe I've never knobbed another bloke's arse!"

His tone was bizarrely casual and conversational, given what he was doing. He spoke like he does this every day: has chats with people while pounding himself in and out of some guy's bared backside in a toilet cubicle.

"How does it feel?" I asked. I felt a bit like Claude, asking Shane to bullet-point his emotional state.

"Fuckin' well hot!" Shane grinned, his thrusting steadily increasing in speed and growing noisier.

"Absolutely incredible!" David agreed in his much more polished accent. "I've never taken anything so big... well, not a cock, anyway."

"There's a nice, juicy arse up for grabs," Shane muttered over to me, glancing back at his own. "Feel free to... you know... partake!"

He laughed as if 'partake' was such a refined word. I chuckled back: he'd said it in such a way that it suggested he was offering me afternoon tea and a muffin rather than a lick between his large, muscular buttocks.

I would have preferred to rim Phillip, if I'd had the choice, but now that Shane was offering me a taste of his most beguiling spot, I found it difficult to resist. This was, after all, quite a safe place: while it was a public building, we were well removed from its more populated areas (I assumed the meeting had been deliberately located so remotely to allow us some privacy, given the topics we were likely to discuss).

"You'll have to turn around," I said. "Face the toilet."

They repositioned themselves, finding it difficult to move with their trousers restricting their feet, but after some toing and froing and an unwelcome fart from David's backside as he tottered forwards, Shane's deep, hairy crack was accessible to me as he started fucking David as he bent over the toilet bowl.

I squatted down behind Shane and sniffed between his flexing cheeks. His arse had the sweaty, heady musk one might expect from a brawny carpenter whose job must involve a lot of physical labour. The whiff from the hairy tangle inside his crack was bracingly intense in its unadulterated potency and made my cock start to stiffen and push itself upwards against my fly. I eased my nose in a little further and was almost knocked back by the sheer ferocity of something far stronger and startlingly cruder lurking deeper inside his hot, moist cleft.

I glanced down at his underwear, hitched down with his jeans around his ankles. They were a loose pair of boxer shorts, stripy and cheap-looking, and a suggestion of discolouration between the legs at the back, while not conspicuous enough to be offensive, told me I might be venturing into murky waters. I noticed that David, in front, had a fashionable pair of white briefs among the folds of his work trousers. The gusset was turned inside-out from where he'd yanked them down and was, in contrast, impeccably clean. It struck me as curious that, of the two of them, the man who might be expected to have the looser arsehole had by far the more sanitary underwear.

Shane grinned down at me, over his shoulder, as his thrusting quickened further. When he saw I was rubbing the crotch of my trousers as I homed in on his bum, he looked surprised. Until then, I don't really think he believed that another man could find it arousing to have his face so close to a part of his body he had probably never thought of as being erotic.

"I can understand this guy liking it up his shitbox," he grunted through his quickening breaths, "and the lad in there getting off on porn, but you... I have no fuckin' clue why this would get you going... not one fuckin' iota!"

I smiled back up at him, feeling my organ slowly lengthening through the front of my trousers. "It's an acquired taste."

For some reason this made them both guffaw, even in the middle of what they were doing.

While they were still laughing and I heard David mutter, bending over the toilet pan with his bum being given a blunt seeing-to, "Horses for courses, eh?" I pushed forwards once more into the breach. I was determined to enjoy this opportunity which sheer chance had presented me with, however strong and overpowering it might turn out to be.

Once my nose was nuzzling into the thick, coarse forest between Shane's buttocks, I felt my cock hardening rapidly at the sheer masculine power of this carpenter's most indecent odour. This was full-on bum-stink: streets ahead of the more subtle scents which Guy and the lad from Asda had been concealing back there. This guy's arse was in a league of its own; not unpleasant or particularly faecal -- just vehemently male and unapologetically anal.

I feasted on it for what it was -- the most fierce and cloying smell it was possible to find on a big, working man's body -- and revelled in how shocking and exciting it was; both at the same time and both in equal measure.

"Fuckin' go for it, mate!" Shane called out, oblivious to how overwhelming I was finding him. "Get your face stuck right in!"

I pushed my tongue out and eased it between his hot, hairy cheeks; his strong round muscles still bucking rhythmically to the beat of his thrusting cock. His taste was wincingly harsh but at the same time intensely sexual -- an order of magnitude above the dank, sweaty pungence that had so captivated me about the other two men I had rimmed.

Shane grunted and called out to David as he fucked him: "He's fuckin' doin' it, mate! He's got his tongue right in there -- lickin' up and down my fuckin' arse crack!"

I pushed further into him and felt his big, heavy balls thumping against my chin. As my tongue searched inwards towards his hole, his taste strengthened still further and acquired a new, more carnal flavour. I was deeply aroused by it -- my cock was aching against my underwear -- but found it frustratingly difficult to appreciate with such an intense and bewildering sensory onslaught overpowering it.

"He's found my ringpiece!" he informed David with a laugh, when I touched it with the tip of my tongue. "He's lickin' my fuckin' bunghole!"

It was small and gnarled, raised upwards like a tight knot, and just running my tongue around it made me wince with the roughness of his assaulting funk.

"Push your tongue up me! Shove it right in there!" the carpenter implored, and ceased pumping into David so he could stick his bum outwards, pushing it hard against my face. I was aroused by his request but uncertain as to whether I could comply: the eye-watering force of his odour was almost too much for me. I could hardly cope with the severity of my having my tongue dancing around his ring -- how much more potent would it be if I were to try and work it up into his rectum?

As I was about to pull back from him and yank out my cock so I could masturbate myself to the unbridled erotic power of his scent, the door of the toilet thudded open abruptly and the three of us jolted in surprise.

A female voice screeched in, "Is everything alright in there?"

She couldn't see in past the partition in front of the doorway, but the shock of her intrusion made me jump up from Shane's splayed spit-sodden arse-cheeks with my erection making a prominent rod in my trousers.

Shane just stood there, his face turned towards me horror-struck, his cock embedded to the hilt between David's butt-cheeks, while David, on the other hand, kept wanking himself; the pleasure of having such a large intrusion filling his favourite spot proving simply too gratifying for him to be able to stop.

I walked over to the door, mainly to stop whoever it was peering around the partition, and found that it was being held open by young-looking girl. She had a bucket with her which had a red cross on it and there was a pair of latex gloves and a medical mask in her hand.

"Is everything okay?" she repeated in her high-pitched voice. "I had a call-out about a nose-bleed."

"We're fine," I said, putting my hand in front of my crotch to try and at least partially conceal the lewd mound of my excitement. "He's... er... sitting on the loo holding his head back to stop the bleeding."

"To stop a nose-bleed, he needs to have his head between his legs," she asserted, before doubting herself. "Or is that for a blackout...? I forget which way round it is..."

"He's fine as he is," I said, leading her out into the corridor and hoping she couldn't smell Shane's odoriferous backside on my face. "Best just to leave him to it, I think."

Disappointed that her collection of assorted medical supplies weren't going to be administered she shuffled off, a little disgruntled, back towards the front desk.

Before I could go back into the toilet for a second sampling of what carpenters keep in the back of their jeans, Claude called out, a tad hysterically, from the classroom along the corridor: "What's going on along there? Is everything okay?"

"They're both fine," I said, as he gestured me frantically back into the room. "Shane's in the cubicle trying to stop the bleeding and David's splashing himself with cold water. They'll be back in... er... good time."

"When, though?" Claude implored, as I sat back down and crossed one leg over the other to conceal my erection. "We need to get on! I have an activity on self-empowerment which we haven't even started."

"Give them a few minutes," I said as calmly and innocently as I could. "These things can take... you know... a bit of time."

Phillip stood up. "Actually, if they're going to be a minute or so, I just need to... er... pop to the front desk. There's some paperwork they said I have to fill in."

Oh, nice one, I thought. You know how to think on your feet.

Claude looked at his watch. "Well, be back in five at the very most," he said. "You really don't want to be late for the breathing exercises."

Phillip threw me a wink and headed off, leaving me alone with Claude.

I sat for a few moments in my chair watching Claude filling in a form which the girl with the medical bucket must have brought him, before I broke the silence and asked him if we could talk about his masturbation issues.

"I'll be happy to answer any questions you have," he said, putting his pen down, "if you think you can relate my experiences to your own interests."

I nodded. "Perhaps I can."

I told him that I enjoy masturbating -- I'm sure that was no surprise to him -- and asked him how a guy knows when a regular habit has become a problem which might require help.

"It's normal for most men to masturbate daily, Rob. Twice or three times daily can form part of a healthy habit. Even a guy who occasionally masturbates, say, half a dozen times, is not doing it compulsively. It's impossible to set a defined limit, but something like twenty times a week, every week, might indicate a problem."

"I'd never find the time to do it that often," I said, "even if I wanted to."

Claude smiled. "Believe me, if you developed a compulsion, you'll make the time. You'd think up excuses for everything to work some solitary time into as much of your day as you can."

"Is it always something you do alone? I'd have thought doing with other people would be more fun."

He nodded. "You're right -- it is fun to get other guys to join in, but I've never met one who can keep up with how frequently I need release."

"But you said you've got it down to once per day...?"

"Once per day is my goal," he clarified, "but I allow myself three times to make it realistic and achievable."

"And how are you doing today?"

He seemed amused at the directness of my question. "Not too well, I'm afraid. To be honest, I've kind of used up all three of my allowances."

I suddenly wondered if he hadn't really needed to make the photocopies he'd claimed to earlier -- there were, after all, only four of us in the group -- but had instead nipped out for a quick pull. Perhaps hearing the four of us divulging our various 'interests' had made him need a moment of solitary time.

He looked at his watch. "Where on earth are Shane and David? I don't think they're giving a single thought to my bonding objectives."

"I'm sure that bonding is at the forefront of their minds," I suggested, not without an element of truth.

Claude didn't seem convinced. "Surely at least one of them should be coming back by now...?"

"They're coming," I assured him, "or will be very soon."

"We need to get on, Rob," he insisted. "We're supposed to be taking a holistic approach."

"Would you like me to go and... er... encourage them?" I asked.

"Well, at the risk of losing my last remaining student, yes, if you could hurry. I'll work on a reappraisal role play while I've got moment to myself."

I wondered if that meant he was going to have another quick tug under his desk; maybe 'reappraisal role play' was his euphemism for it.

I hurried back along to the toilet and, after startling the three of them when I opened the door, found that they were keeping themselves gainfully employed.

Shane was still slamming himself in and out of David's willing arse in the cubicle, but the two of them were now facing outwards so that Phillip could film them from the front on his phone. For his part, Phillip was rubbing his moderately-proportioned erection which was poking out from his fly and seemed more fascinated by what the screen was displaying rather than watching the two men enjoying themselves in the flesh.

David grinned over at me as his backside was plundered, and Shane called over, "This is fuckin' steamin', mate! Best meetin' I've ever been to!"

I considered resuming where I'd left off with his backside, but I didn't want to end up being recorded as I did so and, in any case, it would have been difficult to squeeze past them into the cubicle.

So instead, I walked over to Phillip. "Would you still be happy for me to rim you?"

He smiled, momentarily taking his eyes of his phone. "If you want to."

His face looked strikingly handsome with his smooth, angular cheeks and his warm brown eyes gorgeously accentuated by his thickly-framed glasses.

I nodded. "Very much so."

I stood behind him and undid his black jeans -- in spite of all the years I'd done the same thing to my own trousers, I found it curiously difficult to do it to another man -- and eventually, ineptly, managed to hitch them down to his knees.

Underneath, he was wearing a lovely pair of white boxer briefs with dark blue piping. The way he'd creased them up around the front to yank his cock out through the fly had made them cling tightly to his backside, giving it a beautifully appealing pair of curves, and my mouth watered in anticipation at what I was about to enjoy.