The Stash in the Woods

Note: I've deliberately withheld the names of the housemates in this story for two reasons: firstly, we are still friends, and secondly, they are authors on this website, like me. Sure, I could make up names for them, but why bother? Anyway, this story contains depictions of gay sex and water sports. For those that are squeamish about such topics, feel free to move along. Otherwise, enjoy!

*****

I arrived back at the student house about forty minutes after kissing goodbye to Samantha, the stunning T-girl I met two nights before in a shitty Leeds nightclub, fully expecting a roasting from Lyndon and his study buddies. To my surprise, nothing of the sort happened. They knew I scored but not with whom, and I so I was able to obscure some details, but there was no need to embellish the quality of the sex I experienced nor the character of her personality. The high fives flew thick and fast because all of us were successful either on Friday or Saturday night, so the resort to gay sex wasn't required.

The lads were planning an afternoon ramble in the countryside followed by a drinking session at a country inn. I was invited, but I had class next day, and, since the end-of-year exams were fast approaching, it seemed folly to skive off. Still, the weather was just right for drinking. We had some time to wait before the bus was due and I found my thoughts drifting back to the sultry Samantha. Was there any way I could engineer a way to spend a few hours together after our drinking session? Remember, communication channels in the early nineties were limited to pay phones and letters with email still in its infancy.

Sam gave me her telephone number before we parted, and there was a pay phone on the next street by the convenience store. So, under the guise of buying some beers, I decided to call her and see if there was any interest. Still, it would be rude to bail on my friends that were considerate enough to invite out for an afternoon in the country, and, by extension, put me up for another night.

I announced my intention of buying some beers and no-one seemed suspicious. Minutes later, I was outside Patel's 24-Hour Convenience. The pay phone was free and, once inside, I dialled Sam's number but felt very nervous with sweat prickling my brow as I waited for her to pick up the receiver.

Shit! The call went to her answer phone.

"Erm," I began, trying to construct some sort of message, "It's Jason. Erm. Just letting you know...that..I...erm, really enjoyed spending time with you, and...erm."

At the moment, Sam interrupted the answer phone.

"Hi, Jason. Nice surprise."

"Oh, hi." I reacted with a mixture of shock and surprise, "Screening your calls?"

"Always. I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon. It's nice."

The silence from my end appeared to drag on for eternity.

"Erm, yeah," I stammered, eventually, "What you up to?"

"Getting ready to catch up with some friends. You'll be at the train station by now?"

"Well...erm," This was becoming awkward for me, "The lads invited me out for an afternoon ramble in the country."

Silence.

Come on, hurry up and say something.

The guys nursed an intense dislike for Sam who they called Teresa for some reason, and regularly piled on unwarranted and bigoted abuse whenever they mt socially. I was baffled by their attitude towards her, and it took real effort on my part to convince Sam that I wasn't like them. After that, we spent a wonderful weekend together. However, I knew she wasn't sanguine about my choice of friends.

"I was actually calling to see if we might spend some more time together?" I prompted.

Silence.

I could hear her breath down the phone line but little else.

"What did you tell them about me?"

"I told them I met a wonderful person called Sam who showed me a great time," I replied with confidence and truth, "End of story."

I heard a sigh of relief and an easing of tension.

"You told them that, for real?"

"I did." She heard the pride in my voice.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that."

"Expecting what?"

"Expecting you to say nice things about me to your friends, expecting you to stay in town and expecting you to call me so soon."

"I'm not like them." I remined her, "I wasn't expecting to stay here either, but now that I am, I wondered if there was a chance to catch up?"

"I've made plans for this afternoon, but maybe later. Can't guarantee it though."

"It's fine. I realise that this was last minute decision on my part, so please don't make any changes to your plans," I said, "If you can't squeeze me in today, we can do something another time."

I sensed Sam smile at the suggestion of something ongoing developing between us.

"I'd like that."

With it being unlikely that we would see each other today, we ended the phone call on an optimistic and upbeat note before I made my way back to the student house where I wasn't missed.

After a beer or two, we departed the house and made our way to the bus stop. Passing Patel's 24-Hour Convenience again allowed us to stock up on some additional beers for the hour-long trip.

The four of us alighted from the bus in a small, picturesque village, nestled in a valley. One of the guys had the map, and off we trod, out into the countryside. None of us had been here previously, so we didn't know what to expect, but the weather was great and the scenery fantastic.

Not too long into our exploration, the path led into a wooded area, and off to one side, we saw a steep rock face with a rope swing attached to a tall tree at the top. Obviously, the locals made their own fun around here, so we decided to investigate. Scrambling up the steep, stony incline and gazing back to where we have just come from, revealed the swing to be quite the adrenaline sport. With some difficulty, we managed to snag the swing and get it up the rock face so that we could experience this local entertainment, and hair raising it was!

A little while later, I wandered off into the bush to take a piss and came upon a crude shelter constructed of broken branches and covered in leaves. Curious, I made my way over to it and looked inside. The was nothing of value in there except a black bin liner in the corner which I opened revealing a bonanza.

There were stacks and stacks of soft-core porno magazines: Club, Escort, Razzle, Readers Wives, even a couple of Playboys. You name it, they were there! There were also some hardcore German mags as well. All looked to be in decent condition with no wank stains and sticky pages. Any thoughts of needing a piss vanished in my zeal to get back to my mates and report my discovery.

Back at the rock face, Lyndon was stood at the edge with his cock out pissing over the side. A completion was in progress with who could piss the furthest.

"Hey guys," I said, out of breath, "Guess what I found?"

"Two Swedish hikers rubbing lotion into each other's naked bodies?"

More laughter as the three of them unleashed their bladders over the edge.

"Not quite," I replied, joining in the laughter, "A massive pile of porno mags!"

"What? Where?"

"Back there, in this shelter I found."

"Take your turn and then we'll have a look." Came a sceptical reply.

I took my position, pulled down my shorts and extracted my semi-hard cock.

"Had a cheeky wank back there, did ya?"

Chuckles from all three.

With difficulty, I closed my eyes, thought of my pending exams, and unleashed my stream. Since I'd drunk a lot more beer than the other three, my flow fully pressurised and lasted a lot longer. As a result, I just pipped Lyndon and "won" the competition to raucous applause.

"Follow me."

Seconds later, I blazed a trail through the bush back to the shelter and my discovery with my three friends in tow. I popped inside, grabbed the bin liner and drop it by the feet of my companions.

At that moment, it was a free for all when those three dropped to the ground. They almost tore the package to pieces in their eagerness to bask in this discovered bounty. In short order, everyone settled on a magazine and ogled the beauties splayed across the pages. I also noticed that the four of us were stealing glances at everyone else and judging their reactions to the printed material in front of them. For my part, I was rock hard staring at these beauties and, shamefully, all thoughts of Sam, the alluring T-girl that received cream pies, were banished from my mind.

Such easy access to pornography acted like a drug on the four of us. We simply sat there on the sun-baked earth and flicked through mag after mag, occasionally making a lewd comment about a beauty we happened to come across, all the while massaging our bulging crotches.

In my mind, I was wondering who would be first to whip their cocks out and start openly wanking. Once that happened, the next bet was who was going to suggest engaging in gay sex acts. Since I was a casual participant, I never led the pack. I simply held back until others initiated the action at which point, I became an enthusiastic partaker, with a few caveats. Over the last year, my first at university, gay sex expanded from Lyndon and I to include the other two. Similarly, Lyndon and his two house mates engaged in such acts many times during the weeks I wasn't present, as well as indulging in M2F action when opportunities presented themselves.

It was a neat arrangement that had its advantages, but none of us were really gay since we actively chased pussy and when unsuccessful would relieve the sexual frustration fucking to hetero porn videos. We got pretty nasty too. Unprotected anal sex, facials, swallowing, oral and golden showers were staple activities, depending upon the level of drunkenness and horniness. Lyndon even hinted that scat was something the three of them either indulged in or at least experimented with. That was a bridge too far for me. The one golden rule between us was no kissing, because kissing made you gay, apparently. Strange, how people rationalise and justify their actions.

So, there we were. Flicking through porno mags and grabbing our cocks through our shorts. I noticed the level of discussion between us had dropped off as one publication was swapped for another. I felt like a cat on a hot tin roof and would have jumped all three of them, but I kept my powder dry for now, conscious of the nervous sweat that was falling off my brow. The tension within the group was palpable and was suddenly shattered by House Mate #2 who flicked through one of the hardcore European publications.

"Fucking look at this!"

He reversed the mag to reveal the image of one latex-cladded woman's fist deep inside the bottom of another latex-cladded slut while she was receiving a stream of yellow liquid from a spent stunt cock, also latex-clad. It was, indeed, a striking sight, and I wondered how anyone's arsehole could accept another's hand. Whatever these actresses were paid, I hoped it was enough!

I tolerated receiving anal sex rather than enjoy it to the point, unlike the others, of making me spaff. And I could take some punishment too. During one session with the three of them, I let them smash my arsehole to orgasm and then had them lay down on the floor with their heads together, straddled them and expelled the contents over their faces before wanking my straining cock all over their faces. Saying that, when Sam fucked me with her T-girl penis yesterday, I experienced mild pleasure but that was more emotional than physical.

For whatever reason, I was also considered the best cocksucker in the group and had no trouble getting the three of them off and swallowing all they gave me without complaint. I wasn't a great connoisseur of man milk, but I tolerated swallowing sperm since everyone else did with more enthusiasm than me. However, I was no submissive and really enjoyed being rimmed, having my cock sucked and coming inside a mouth or arse. In modern parlance, we would be considered "switches" in as much as we all actively participated in top and bottom sex acts.

So, who was going to crack first?

Apprehensively, I continued scanning the reaction of my chums. They were sweating like I was, but their eyes were glued to the pages.

"I'm just...er...going for a piss." Said House Mate #1, as he struggled to stand up straight with a massive hardon protruding from his shorts.

"Yeah right," said House Mate #2, laughing, "You're off for a wank, admit it."

"No, I really need to go."

"Then go here, right now." Said Lyndon.

Silence for what seemed like an age.

"Ok, I will."

At that, House Mate #1 pulled his shorts off and chucked them by the shelter, his cock was rock hard and pointing at ninety degrees to his stomach. I noticed the tip of his circumcised pole was glistening from the pornographic stimulation. Within seconds, he was releasing an impressive stream of urine onto the parched ground. The rest of us let out a pent-up gasp that someone, anyone, made the first move.

It was always like this. Everyone's nerves were as taught as piano wire until someone made the first move then the group dynamic kicked in, and we got down to business. In this case, the other house mate who, after the stream finished, shuffled over and took a hard, pissy cock down his throat.

Lyndon got up and removed his clothes, revealing his meaty cock. Since him and I were childhood friends, in any group situation, we would start on each other first before becoming enmeshed with the others. I quickly disrobed and motioned him to come to me. I grabbed his meaty pole hard and squeezed the head, which elicited some clear fluid. Lyndon gasped in desire. I stuck my tongue out and licked it up. No taste.

Then I throated him hard. I had no trouble taking big cock down my throat. I wasn't one of those that let the bell end nudge against their cheeks. No, it was meat down my throat until I could tongue his hairy balls. When I gagged, I spat the saliva over his shaft and massaged it in. Lyndon always had to curb my enthusiasm because my technique would make him blow his stack too soon. Unlike me, he wasn't quick to recharge and go again. As a result, he would make his one and only session last a long time.

When Lyndon reached the point where my oral attention had to end lest he fill my belly with swimmers, he unceremoniously pulled out of my throat and wandered over to his House Mate #2 who was on his knees with cock in his mouth. Lyndon knelt beside him, spat on his hand, rubbed it onto his arsehole and positioned his cock accordingly. As Lyndon's length penetrated House Mate #2's, I heard a long guttural groan of approval.

Before my eyes, was Lyndon arse banging his house mate who, in turn, was blowing House Mate #1. What a captivating sight it was. I walked over to House Mate #1, getting blown and he signalled a need to receive meat in his tradesman's entrance, and I was happy to oblige. I spat on my pecker and massaged some across his funky O-ring, positioned accordingly and applied pressure.

Seconds later, I was balls deep with my hands firmly on House Mate #1's hips and enjoying the sensation of his pulsing bung on my shaft. House Mate #2, on his knees, had cock down his throat and another up his arse but whose own cock wasn't getting serviced, and he wasn't complaining about it.

Minutes later, my 'bottom' recipient signalled his impending orgasm down the throat of House Mate #2. As his orgasm approached, I felt his arse muscle tighten around the base of my cock and his body shudder as those big balls released their contents down the throat of his mate. I looked around and saw the recipient's eyes bulge and the cock in his mouth spasm, splutter and fill his mouth up with hot man cream. Meantime, Lyndon was smashing his arsehole without regard for consideration.

House Mate #1, with the drained balls, entered the recovery mode, lying down on his back, signalling a pause in the action for the three of us. House Mate #2, with sperm in his gut, expelled Lyndon's cock, stood up and stretched, his own cock was partially hard and needed reviving. Like me, he was a frequent orgasmer and liked to cum often. Lyndon and I dropped to our knees and began working his cock and balls, being very careful not to cross tongues or lips. There was no cause for alarm, we were very practiced in this routine, as were the others, when orally double-teaming man meat.

A few minutes of this expert attention brought upon us the second orgasm of the day. House Mate #2 grabbed his shaft and finished off by emptying his balls into our mouths as equally as he could. This load was massive since he, like me, scored on the Friday night rather than yesterday, but had no follow up last night (unlike me), and so he had time to rejuvenate. Lyndon and I efficiently cleaned up his deflating member before taking swigs from a water bottle we brought with us.

Of the four of us, two had shot their bolt, only two were left cocked and loaded, but a break in the action occurred. House Mates #1 and #2 were anything but selfish lovers, they lacked our self-control, and we had patience. In the meantime, Lyndon and I resumed browsing the stash of porno mags, thus ensuring we remained hard till the next round commenced. It never crossed our minds that the original owner of the stash and/creator of the shelter might suddenly appear. Instead, the four of us were stark bollock naked in the woods of a village we had no familiarity with. Things you do when you're young.

My mouth was so dry after swallowing that load of cum that I unconsciously drank my full quota of water. All that was left were a few cans of rapidly warming lager. We rationed the cans out, and slowly Lyndon's house mates came back to life. The increased fluid intake made its presence felt in my bladder, and I was going to have to sacrifice my wood to ease the pressure.

Instead of announcing I needed a piss, which kick started this gay sex foursome, I dropped the mag, stood up and let it go on the ground by my feet.

"Nice," Observed Lyndon, who stood up holding his cock, "Think I'll join you."

He positioned himself in front of me, and the two of us began pissing on each other's stomachs and chests. This action, natural aroused the curiosity of our house mates who propped themselves up to see what was happening.

"Over here." One of them said.

The two house mates scooted up to one and other. Lyndon and I held our streams, walked over to them, straddled them and resumed our flows. That golden fluid splashed across their rapidly inflating penises, their stomachs, chest and even into their mouths. Lyndon told me that these two guys introduced him to water sports, and it was Lyndon that opened the door for me. These two dudes were, however, the real aficionados of golden showers and would readily take piss in their mouths and stink holes at the drop of a hat.

After our streams exhausted themselves, the house mates were hard as diamonds again, as were we. Round two was about to begin. The house mates got up onto their knees and took our cocks in their mouths. Both were expert at blowing cocks, and, depending on my level of arousal, could easily get me off. The stash of porno mags had turned me on mightily and, because of my ability to recharge quickly, I was happy to release my load knowing I'd be participating in additional action in no time at all.

"I'm going to come!" I announced.

Lyndon and the other house mate broke off their oral activity and dropped to their knees in front of me to receive my seed. All three had their mouths wide open and tongues out expectantly. I grabbed my saliva-lubed cock and stroked it hard to reach my climax.peak. Given my orgasm earlier in the day with Sam, I wasn't as primed or full, but my come shot out furiously over the faces of my friends.

Subsequent spurts crash landed on their tongues.