Dennis

"Yeah," he replies. "I figure you know something about putting things in guys' assholes."

"Well, that is true, I guess," deciding to take it as a compliment. "Have you ever had anything in your ass before?"

"My doctor poked a finger around in there during my last physical," he says, "which was weird, but it felt okay. And one of my girlfriends tried to shove her finger in there while she was blowing me, but her nails were too sharp." I cringe at the thought of some bimbo's fake fingernails scraping what I'm increasingly imagining is a hot, tight hole.

I'm getting a knot in my stomach, realizing that I'm going to get to see and touch Dennis' asshole after all, something I could only dream about earlier when I was blowing him. I decide to push my luck a little. "You know, I think I can probably do a few things to make the bottle go in easier," I say.

Looking at me a little suspiciously, he asks, "You're not going to fuck me, are you? I mean, I'm not gay and I won't be the girl even if I was."

"No," I say, without launching into a dissertation on my thoughts on the matter the receptive partner being the "girl". "I promise, I won't fuck you." To myself, I add, "Right now, that is."

"Okay, then," Dennis says. He gets down on the floor on hands and knees. "Move your knees apart," I tell him. I am treated to one of the most beautiful sights I've seen in quite a while. His butt spreads to reveal that the hint of hair around the crack continues deep. His taint is nice and hairy, and I can see his balls dangling between his legs. But his hole...my goodness it's a jewel. Pink, puckered, ringed with just the right amount of hair. As I get closer, I'm intoxicated by his masculine scent; a heady mixture of sweat and a bit of musk. My cock starts to stir.

"This won't pinch or hurt at all," I say, hoping to be reassuring. I draw my face closer to his crack, inhaling deeply. My head spins. I very gently press my tongue about an inch away from his hole, and he reacts with surprise but doesn't pull away. It tastes even better than his cock. I gradually start to lick, leaving plenty of spit in my path. Dennis moans, and I haven't even reached the target yet. Finally, I trace the ring of hair around his asshole with my tongue, and the moaning gets louder. I press against the dead center of his pucker with the tip of my tongue, and he gasps loudly. I begin my favorite routine of circling and probing, making sure that my moustache stimulates every part of this very sensitive skin. The groans are getting louder and more intense. I reach between his legs and find his cock very stiff again, with precum starting to drip. I start probing his hole more and more insistently with my tongue. I can feel it pulsing and clamping down on me. His entire anus is soaked with my spit, all in service of making it easier to stick a bottle of beer up there. "What a waste," I think to myself, not that it's a waste of beer but rather of a hot ass that I'd love to explore more deeply.

I reluctantly withdraw my face from Dennis' glorious ass, and once again admire the beauty of the entire tableau. His balls are still hanging low in their hairy sack. The ring of hair is soaked with spit. And his hole is quivering.

"Okay," I say. "I'd better drink some of this." So I slug down about a third of the bottle. My only regret is that it washes away the taste of Dennis' ass. At least I can still smell it in my moustache.

"Good. Now get yourself nearly vertical, kneeling, but keep your legs apart," I direct him. He eventually does as instructed, trying not to giggle. I lie down on the floor so I can observe the process of inserting the tip of the bottle into his asshole. "This WILL pinch a little," I advise him. I gently work the bottle into his ass. Thankfully, both his ass and the bottle have been lubricated with my spit. He grunts as the bottle slowly slips into his hole but does not cry out in pain. When I'm satisfied that the bottle is in far enough, right about at the top of the label on the neck, I tell him to lean forward again, very slowly, until his face is near the floor.

I hold the bottle so that it doesn't slip out of his hole when he moves. I can see the beer emptying into Dennis' rectum. "Is it in?" he asks, with a mixture of nervousness and impatience. "Yeah," I respond, resisting the urge to add, "That's what SHE said!" "You're not going to feel the liquid in there; the nerves aren't like that. All you'll feel is fullness."

The bottle empty, I gently withdraw it from his ass. "I don't think I'm getting particularly drunk," Dennis says, sounding a little disappointed. "But whatever you were doing before felt kinda good."

"That's called 'rimming'," I tell him, once again resisting the urge to wax poetic about the incredible intimacy of the practice.

Five minutes pass in silence, me contemplating Dennis' balls hanging down between his hairy thighs. I don't know what he's thinking about, but figure it's probably not that. Dennis becomes impatient. "Okay, so now what do I do?" he asks, his face against the floor and his ass straight up in the air. "I mean, I can't stay in this position much longer, and I'm sure as hell not feeling any drunker!"

"Hmmm. We didn't plan this part very well," I confess with a stoned giggle. He doesn't seem to get the joke. "Well, under different circumstances I could have you fill my mouth with the beer, but we didn't do any prep for that." Dennis says nothing, which I appreciate. "Okay, let's try this: First, clench your ass and crawl on your hands and knees into the bathroom," I suggest, "then clench your ass even tighter and quickly get on the toilet. Then you can let the beer go."

Dennis does as instructed. I follow close behind. I have to say, it is both stimulating and hilarious to watch him crawling on the floor, trying not to leak beer out of his ass. I barely suppress laughter, and he has to try really hard to not laugh, sending beer spraying out of his rectum. He reaches the bathroom and with the grace of a gymnast, quickly spins himself into position on the toilet. I can hear the beer evacuating. He finally allows himself to breathe.

"You know, that reminds me of the time my grandma gave me an enema when I was real little," Dennis says as the toilet flushes and he walks out of the bathroom. "I hated that. This wasn't much better, and I'm not drunk. At least not much."

"Sure, but at least you tried," I say, thinking about the amount of time I've spent in service of his asshole. "And you got to experience your first rim job!"

"Uh, yeah, that was weird. Kinda freaky," he replies uncertainly, seeming to forget his own moans of pleasure and hard cock dripping with precum.

An awkward silence ensues. "Um, I think I really need a shower now," he says, changing the subject away from having my tongue in his ass. My addled brain wonders whether this is a suggestion that I should leave, or an invitation to join him, or something else. I decide to push my luck a little more. "Need someone to wash your back?" I ask, with what I hope is a sly smile. "Uh," he replies, at a loss. "Um...uh...yeah, sure, why not?"

And so I follow him into the bathroom, relishing his perfectly shaped butt. All I can smell is beer, musk, and sweat.

Dennis turns on the water in his stall shower. He steps in, and I follow. It's a bit tight, but there's still room for each of us to move around with some ease.

Dennis shakes some shampoo out of a bottle and rubbing it in his hair. It lathers quickly, with excess running down his body, eddying around his chest hair, nipples, and his cock. He turns so that we're facing each other. It's a bit awkward due to the closeness and intimacy, and yet neither of us seems too uncomfortable. I scoop some of the lather running down his body and start shampooing his stubble. It's not as bristly as it looks; it's kind of soft, actually. Dennis seems really uncomfortable with me touching his face, so I stop. I apply some shampoo to my hair and beard and wash them with my eyes closed.

I rinse the shampoo from my hair and face, and open my eyes. Dennis looks kind of dazed, absently rubbing the soap on his arms, as if unable to grasp what's happening. But I notice that his soft cock is getting longer as the warm water runs over his body.

"Turn around," I tell him, grabbing the bar of soap. I rub it over his shoulders and neck, then his upper arms. He seems uncomfortable but doesn't pull away. I wash further down his back; he flinches when I touch his flanks ("Must be ticklish,"" I think to myself). I rub the bar of soap over his butt. Finally I push the soap into his butt crack and start washing the spit and beer away.

Dennis jumps when the soap touches his hole. He lets out a small yelp, then reaches around to grab the soap from my hand. Instead of the soap, he grabs my cock, which has gotten a little swollen with the excitement of touching Dennis' finely toned body. To my surprise, his hand stays on my cock, and he strokes it just a little. I feel the blood surge down to my groin, and my dick starts rising to attention. He continues to stroke my cock, and by this point I've forgotten all about washing his ass, my mind focusing on him jacking me off.

I start to get light-headed, and gently push his hand away. With the soap still in my hand, I draw up close behind him, my arms encircling his torso, my chest tight against his shoulder blades, my hardening cock crushed between my belly and his lower back. I begin to wash his hairy chest, paying particular attention to his nipples. He starts to moan, and his guttural sounds are amplified by the tile. I pass the soap lightly under his armpits, which also seem particularly ticklish this evening. I move down and thoroughly wash his pubic hair, and then his stiffening cock, and finally his balls. The close contact with his body and the warm water cascading over us combine to get me increasingly aroused, and judging by Dennis' cock, it's having a similar effect on him.

Without warning, Dennis turns around to face me. His expression is a combination of confusion and lust, as he looks at me almost uncomprehendingly. Our hard dicks are touching, our bodies only inches apart. After what seems like an eternity of confusion, Dennis takes my head in my hands and kisses me on the lips.

Kissing is, for me, an incredibly sensual act. Especially kisses like this. Dennis is like an animal, his lust bursting forth as his kisses become ever more frenetic and passionate. Our bodies have achieved maximum contact, our wet skin clinging together as warm water showers us. It's as if some untamed beast has awakened within him.

I know from experience that fucking in the shower sounds a lot hotter than it actually is, particularly given the danger of slipping and breaking something. Dennis turns off the water and we climb out of the shower into the steamy bathroom. He grabs the single bath towel off the rack and begins drying me off. I do the same for him. In the end, we share the towel and are barely dry when he grabs my hand and leads me to his bedroom.

In true bachelor pad style, the bed is unmade, sheets probably unchanged in a week or two, and there are piles of laundry on the floor. I don't care about any of that. Soon we're on the twisted sheets, wrapped in each others' arms, kissing, biting, licking sniffing each other. I nibble his earlobe, he bites my neck. I chew on his stubble, he does the same with my beard. As we writhe around, our cocks swing back and forth like pendula, slapping each other.

Out of breath, we pause and simply lie next to each other, gazing into each others' eyes. We don't speak. Dennis is still apparently puzzled by his reaction to me. I push him flat on his back and straddle his head. I lean forward, my cock hanging above his face, and take his hard, precum-soaked cock into my mouth. Dennis takes mine into his.

I've always found sixty-nine to be more trouble than it's worth, but this experience may change my mind for once and for all. Dennis is sucking my cock like a pro, and the curve of his dick fits perfectly into my throat. I'm able to get his whole long cock inside my mouth and throat, and my nose is right up against his hairy balls. Even after a shower, I can smell his musk, which arouses me even more.

Meanwhile, his mouth is doing amazing things to my cock. It's rare for me to come from oral sex, but I can feel the beginnings of an orgasm rising in short order. As if on cue, Dennis moans loudly without taking my cock out of his mouth, the sound vibrations adding extra stimulation to my cock. I suddenly feel his dick swell against my lips, and my mouth is filled with six shots of cum. I manage to swallow some of it, but as reach my own orgasm, my mouth opens and cum spills down Dennis' cock and soaks his pubes and hairy balls.

As has become common in my middle age, my second orgasm of the evening is more intense than the first, even though it generates a lot less cum. Still, it's enough to drown Dennis; he wisely pushes my hips up so that much of the cum spills out of his mouth and all over his stubbly cheeks and chin.

I fall to the mattress, and, panting, I get as close as I can to Dennis' twitching, sweat-soaked body. This time, it's Dennis' turn to tuck my shoulder into his armpit. He seems a little uncomfortable, but compared to his reactions to my hand on his thigh when we were dressed and sitting on the couch, this is downright passionate. My ear is against his chest, and I can hear his heartbeat and, eventually, deep, regular breaths.

"I don't know what to think," he says, finally. "You don't have to think. Just experience," is my rather simplistic reply. He turns his face to me and kisses me again. He lies back down and I very gently run my fingertips just a millimeter away from his skin as I trace his treasure trail down to his pubic hair and then back again. He shivers.

Without warning, Dennis bursts into action again. He moves down between my legs, and I'm fully expecting him to suck my cock some more. After all, that was what he was most interested in. To my surprise, he pushes my legs over my shoulders, exposing my asshole. I'm not sure what's about to happen, but I do know that it will be wonderful.

Dennis leans forward and brings his nose right up against my pucker. Seemingly satisfied that it's clean, he very tentatively touches his tongue to a nearby spot. I feel something akin to an electric jolt through my body, very much like the first time I got rimmed in that seedy, isolated campus bathroom when I was a sophomore. I moan. With increasing confidence, Dennis continues to sniff, taste, and lick my entire anal region. I'm in ecstasy, even though my cock has gone soft and I'm not feeling anything close to orgasm. Dennis' stubble feels magnificent against the tender skin of my ass. I feel my hole twitching in response to his ministrations. This boy is a quick study!

After a while, he stops and moves back up so that we're face to face. "Let me taste my ass," I say, kissing him and licking all around his mouth. "Your ass tastes good," Dennis says with a note of surprise. "Yours tastes absolutely terrific," I reply.

I'm still flat on my back, my legs parted, my dick lounging on my thigh. Dennis is leaning on his elbow, looking at me. His flaccid cock hangs nearly all the way to the mattress. He gazes at me. His expression is largely one of overwhelmed confusion. After all, he's had several new experiences in the four or so hours since he invited me back to his place to smoke some weed.

"I never thought I would kiss a man," he says, "well, at least not like that. I would kiss my dad on the cheek when I was a little kid, but he discouraged that once I started kindergarten. Since then, the thought of it has made me physically ill."

"Well, you're a good kisser," I say. "The women you've dated have been very lucky."

"None of them were as much fun to kiss as you are," he says, getting more uncomfortable. All I can say is, "Thanks, Dennis. That means a lot."

"And that butt stuff," he continues. "Ribbing?" "No, 'rimming,'" I correct him. "Yeah, 'rimming.' That freaked me out. I didn't know that people did that kind of stuff. First I couldn't believe you were doing it to me. Now I can't believe I did it back to you!"

"I hear that a lot of women like to have it done to them," I say, "And a lot of them like doing it to their boyfriends."

"Oh, so do you and your 'wife' rim each other?" he teases. I glare at him.

"I could barely get my girlfriends to suck my cock," he says, wistfully. "I don't think any of them would even think about looking at my asshole, much less licking it!"

"Their loss," I say. "I've got to say, I would never have expected that we would be doing that tonight," I continue. "I figured it was going to be a blow-and-go type of situation. Certainly not this!" I laugh gently, but Dennis is silent.

"Can I confide in you?" he asks, a slight tremble in his voice.

Surprised, I reply simply, "I'd be honored." I'm worried that he's going to come out, as if he's discovered that he's gay after a single evening with me. That's simply not realistic or possible. The man is straight. He lusts after women, he fucks women, he loves women. After a lot more experience with guys, maybe--just maybe--he'll come out as bi. But right now, he's just exploring the limits of a curiosity he's had since puberty.

"I don't know how, and I don't know why, but you've made me feel like more of a man than any girl ever has." He's clearly puzzled by this feeling. I'm struck speechless; this is the first time I've heard this particular line! "Almost every girl I've ever dated has told me to shave my chest, or have my back waxed, or trim my pubes until they're practically gone. They hate my beard, which is why I shaved it off," he says a bit wistfully. "But you, a man, seem to like all of that. You chew on my stubble. You lick my pits. You sniff my pubes. You suck my cock. Fuck, you stick your tongue in my asshole!"

The only response I have is to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. For the first time all evening, he doesn't flinch.