What Lurks Beneath

I took his right ball into my mouth, rolling it around on my tongue, and pushed my nose into the mass of hair at the base of his cock. The taste of it was sharp and bitter: the sweat from a day of being confined inside his briefs and an occasional dribble of piss from his cock as he tucked it away after urinating. Guy started masturbating again, and his rhythm shook the bed we were on and made the headboard thud against the wall.

I relished the sensation of having his testicle in my mouth -- the seat of his maleness -- and of sniffing the sweaty, sexual odour at the base of his thick shaft. I released and it took his left into my mouth. It felt larger and, hanging lower in his scrotum than his right, I could take it further into me. It tasted more strongly of piss and I wondered if this was the testicle his cock-head was more liable to rest against when it was inside his underwear.

I spat it back out and pulled back from him, gasping. He stopped masturbating, and looked down at me through the gloom, as though waiting for me to deliver my next command.

I started licking at the base of his cock and he with withdrew his hand from himself completely, allowing my mouth to progress upwards along his shaft. I worked my way up the thick ridge which ran down the underside of his cock -- I'd never noticed anything so prominent on my own -- enjoying how he'd keep saying "Yeah!" to encourage me, no doubt hoping I would continue sucking him when I reached the top.

I was absurdly aroused -- one touch to my aching, throbbing cock and I was certain it would explode in orgasm -- but I wanted still more from him. But what?

I reached the top of his cock with my mouth and, pleaded by him to take it back into me, I sucked it again, feeling amused by how easy it was to excite him and how quickly he began grunting and thrusting into me.

Sex like this seemed straightforward, and perhaps more enjoyable for being so. I had always found lovemaking with women to be fraught with the danger of misinterpretation -- subtle signs I was supposed to notice but hadn't; certain rituals I was supposed to perform but didn't. And yet sex with a fellow man seemed free from these shackles: we were simply doing what gave us pleasure without concern for some hidden, unstated subtext. It made me feel, for the first time, quite liberated in the bedroom.

I grabbed Guy's buttocks with my hands and kneaded them through the fuzz of hair which covered them. They felt muscular and firm and I was impressed by the manliness of his arse. I massaged their hard roundness as I sucked his oozing, pounding cock, feeling deep into the moist hairy crevice between his buttocks and working my fingers lower and deeper towards... towards... the place I realised I wanted to be.

I pulled back from his cock.

I wanted to say something to him but I was afraid of how it would sound; how he would take it. The sober part of my brain was screaming at me to stop: what the hell was I thinking of to even consider asking another man to do this?

But, as Guy looked down at me, impatient to know why I'd taken my mouth off his cock for a third time, I realised that, no matter how shameful it might sound, I had to say it. The compulsion was simply too powerful to resist.

"I want you to sit on my face, Guy."

Again, a stupid-sounding, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sit on my face."

He misunderstood me and pushed his balls back into my face but I moved down on the bed, going lower, sniffing the hair at the base of them and licking the acrid, salty sweat from it. He struggled to move with me, trying to keep my face on his scrotum and away from his most concealed, most intimate area. I moved still lower, though, licking the ridge behind his balls and relishing how his odour became cruder and more pungent as I worked backwards, my face plunging still deeper between his thighs.

He muttered some warning and kept trying to match my movements: "Careful, mate!" Like I didn't know where I was headed; what I might find.

I was intoxicated with excitement at what I was smelling and tasting and at the prospect of what might be ahead.

He gave another warning: "You don't wanna go back there!"

And now I called out to him: "Squat your arse over my face, Guy."

He finally seemed to realise that my descent through his legs, along the sweaty, sticky ridge behind his balls and towards his anus had not been an over-enthusiastic accident on my part. He seemed to understand that, if he allowed me to go deeper between his legs than I was already, I was not going to emerge spluttering in revulsion from what I might taste or smell between his cheeks. He recognised that this was something I wanted and, perhaps for the first time, that this most secretive area held its own undefinable sexual appeal.

He made one last check, though, perhaps still suspecting that there had been a misunderstanding between us.

"You sure you want this?"

I said, with as much command as I could muster: "Squat over me, Guy. With your arsehole level with my nose and mouth. That's what I want."

He gave a cautious half-smile and said, uncertainly, "Okay..."

And he lowered his backside down onto my face as I'd ordered him to.

At first he was careful. He held himself above me, slightly out of reach so that whatever it was I wanted I had to work for. He was, I assumed, giving me a chance to change my mind and to withdraw. Take a few sniffs and then pull out from under him; both of us feeling embarrassed but especially him.

But I went in undeterred. I pushed my face between his firm, round buttocks and inhaled his most private and delicious scent. The smell was funky, I'll concede, but it was at the same time spine-tingling at a basic, animal level. I pressed forward into the tangle of wiry hair in his hot moist crack, feeling them chafe at my nose and tickle my lips. I extended my tongue and licked deep between his cheeks, warily at first and then, finding myself further aroused by the taste of his sweat mixed with something more raunchy, with a mouth-watering eagerness verging on hunger.

Gaining in confidence, Guy began to lower himself down onto my face. He opened his legs further to give me better access to his arse cleft and I felt the rhythm of his masturbation resume as he started to enjoy the sensation of another man's tongue sliding between his buttocks. His heavy nut-sack started slapping against my forehead as his hand worked at his cock.

I heard him say, his voice gasping, "Yeah! Jesus, yeah!" The sound was muffled from his thighs which pressed into either side of my head.

I pushed my tongue deeper between his coarse, hairy arse cheeks and found, with the tip, the puckered ring of his anus. It felt much bigger than I expected it and I licked around it, making broad circular motions. Its taste was intense -- base and filthy -- and yet my cock throbbed painfully in its extreme state of hardness at what I was experiencing.

I heard Guy call out, "Fuck yeah!" and I kept licking at him, circling his hot, slimy hole with my tongue like a dog would.

He pushed his arse down further, opening his legs to expose more of his crack to my face, and I forced my tongue upwards against the ring of his anus. It opened -- ever so slightly -- to allow me to enter. Guy grunted and called out, "Keep going, mate! Yeah, that's it!" He was trying to part his legs still further, grinding his backside down onto my face.

I forced my tongue into his hole, tasting the hot, muggy gunge inside, and started darting it in and out of him.

I had always enjoyed lapping at a woman's vagina with my tongue, but this male variation was incomparably different. The smells and the tastes were obscene and exhilarating in equal measure, and the simple fact of where I had my face -- wedged between the buttocks of this big, excited man -- was, for some reason, powerfully arousing.

Guy began slamming his arse down onto my face. I rolled my tongue into a hard rod and fucked him with it, going deeper with each thrust and tasting the powerful stink of his rectum more strongly. The rough, heady odour between his buttocks was almost overwhelming in its strength but I inhaled it still more eagerly.

I had never felt such sexual ecstasy. I didn't question why I was so aroused by having my face pressed into another man's rear, by having my tongue licking in and out of a part of him I would ordinarily consider vile and repulsive. That could come later. Now was the time just to accept and enjoy it.

The whole bed was shaking by now from the exertions of Guy's hand up and down his cock and from the rhythm of him banging his backside down onto my eager face. The mattress springs were squeaking in time and the headboard was hammering against the wall. He was calling out, "Give it to me! Put it in me!"

I could take no more: I needed release.

My hand quickly found my desperate cock urgently throbbing from the fly of my boxer shorts. I jerked it two or three times before it exploded in a spray of semen up Guy's back, soaking his t-shirt in a splattered white arc all the way up to his neck.

Guy felt it and quickly pulled away from me, raising his arse from my face. The air of the room seemed cool and deliciously sweet after the rank, bawdy heat of his arse-crack.

He moved back a bit and directed his cock towards my face, still wanking it furiously. I reached up and licked at its now red and angry-looking head, my desire still strong in spite of my climax. Guy started cumming and I enjoyed the taste of his semen, hot and salty on my tongue as I lapped it up. His climax seemed to last an absurd amount of time: he continued to stroke his cock, like he was milking it, and semen kept squirting from it and I kept feeding on it for maybe half a minute. Eventually, though, his balls became drained of their pent-up load and his eruption subsided.

He climbed off me and, to my surprise, laughed energetically.

"You just about soaked my t-shirt!"

He started pulling it off and then laughed again. "Jesus -- you even got it in my hair! I haven't been able to shoot so high since I was about fifteen!"

I was amazed he could be so jovial after what we'd just done.

He took a sniff of his cum-spattered t-shirt and said, "Phwoar! Your spunk doesn't half stink!" Then he threw it into his rucksack and turned to me, naked and smiling. His chest was covered by a luxuriant growth of thick dark hair. I had always admired a hairy chest and had been disappointed that my own was virtually smooth save for a patch of short wispy fuzz between my pecs.

He said, chuckling, "For a quiet guy you sure have few surprises in you. Most women won't even lick my balls, never mind go back as far as you did."

Stumbling over my words, I started saying, "Look... I..."

But he interrupted me with another laugh and said, in a silly-sounding voice which I assumed to be from some TV show or a film, "Rob likes it nasty!"

He started pulling on his discarded blue briefs. His cock was still mostly hard and a small pearl of white liquid was hanging from the slit.

I started again, "Guy, I'm sorry. Things got out of hand there. I mean..."

But he interrupted me again, tucking his cock into his briefs with difficulty and smearing the semen onto the material of them: "I told you before, mate. We did it, we enjoyed it." He smirked over at me: "I don't know about you but I really enjoyed it! Nice to try something new!"

His cock now back in place in his underwear, he got back into his bed. "But like I said earlier, now we forget it."

Glancing over at me, he added, "Thanks, mate. I needed that."

I didn't reply. I was feeling too shocked at my conduct to know what to say. I'd been licking his arsehole, for God's sake! I'd had my tongue up his bum! What the hell had come over me?

I got up and walked over to the bathroom. As I switched the light on, Guy switched his off and settled down to get some sleep.

As I was washing the smell of his backside off my face, I heard him snoring. The combination of the drink and the sexual release had evidently knocked him out. Good for him.

I stared at myself in the mirror while I cleaned up the solidifying semen from my softening cock. Sucking him off would have been bad enough, but to go as far as I had... what had I been thinking of?

I rinsed my mouth to try and get rid of the lingering, acrid taste of his anus and then, turning the light off, went back to bed.

I tossed and turned for a while, mulling over what I'd done and, perhaps more significantly, wondering why I had enjoyed it so much, and managed to nod off sometime in the small hours.

===

Guy was just getting out of the shower when I awoke in the morning.

He emerged from the steamy room towelling his hair, naked and clean and with his chest hair making swirling patterns on his wet skin. His soft cock flopped around between his legs, now rather pathetic looking in spite of its substantial size, and his balls looked even more asymmetrical with the left hanging considerably lower than the right.

He said, brightly, "Good morning!"

I muttered, my voice deep and grating, "Morning, Guy."

"You want some coffee? They've left us some sachets and stuff."

He walked over to switch on the little kettle and prepare our drinks and I looked at his backside, still wet from the shower and with the hairs between his buttocks sticking to his skin. I thought: "I had my face pressed into that last night. I was actually licking his hole. Licking inside it. How could I have done that?"

And yet, beneath that, I could feel that the desire I had felt so strongly the previous night was still there, on some primitive, carnal level. I wanted to be disgusted with myself -- was perhaps willing myself into self-revulsion -- and yet the sight of Guy's backside, so firm and round, caused this hitherto unknown attraction to reveal itself again.

Might I want to do it again? I imagined getting up from the bed and walking over to Guy, kneeling down behind and applying my face, my mouth, to the damp hairy cleft between his two round cheeks. Licking around the wet puckered ring of his anus as he tore open sachets of coffee and sprinkled them into the chipped hotel mugs. I wanted to feel appalled at the thought but instead I felt... what did I feel?

He would taste of shower gel, of the shampoo which had foamed down his back and into his arse cleft as he washed his hair. He wouldn't taste of himself as he had last night and I knew that would disappoint me.

Now I really was appalled, but at myself.

He turned to me. "How do you take it?"

"Uh?" I grunted.

"Your coffee."

"Oh right. Milk but no sugar, please."

I got out of bed and pulled off my t-shirt and shorts, planning to hit the shower while Guy made the drinks.

Guy turned to me and looked at me naked. I felt a little skinny, perhaps even lanky, in front of his large, toned body, and all the more naked for being practically hairless. Our cocks were both floppy but mine was much thicker and hung a couple of inches lower than his, my foreskin barely able to cover the fat mushroom of my cock-head. I was uncomfortable to be naked in front of him, even after what we'd done together, but our differences in shape and size were, in their way, quite appealing.

He said, "About last night..."

Walking over to my holdall to pick up my shampoo and shaving kit, I said, "I thought we were going to forget about it, Guy."

"We will," he nodded. "I just wanted to say that, if you ever fancy doing it again..."

I looked up at him. "Again?"

He smiled. "Yeah. We both did what we needed to do and it was... you know... pretty good. So if you fancy having another session... maybe take it a bit further..."

I was surprised. Was he suggesting what I thought he was?

"How do you mean," I asked, "'Take it a bit further'?"

He laughed, "Well I don't mean long walks in the sunset and candlelit suppers, mate! I just mean... you know... like last night. We do stuff we both enjoy and see where it leads. We might not have a pair of tits or a pussy between us, but we've already found out that we can have a lot of fun with the bits we have got."

Pulling my toiletries out of my bag, I glanced at him and saw that he was gawping over at my bare backside, making no attempt to disguise his interest. I suddenly felt as if my bum was very exposed in its nudeness and was very self-conscious that he was checking it out in such a sexual way.

Was he actually suggesting that I might let him bugger me? An image of us naked on the bed together sprang into my mind: me on all fours with him squatting behind me; his knees around my abdomen and his bollocks slapping against my thighs; the two of us panting and sweating as he held onto my shoulders; the sounds of his hips against my bum splitting the air like a slow applause. The idea that I might actually concede to such a thing with another man was abhorrent on every level.

He smirked as I stood up to face him, adding, "We just need to... you know... experiment a bit... find a few positions we both like, just like we did last night..."

I shook my head. "Sorry, Guy, but I don't think so."

He shrugged and turned back to fill the cups up with steaming water from the kettle. He went on, "Well never say never, as my old gran used to say. Give it some thought and if ever you feel like you need a... you know... give me a shout."

"It's really not likely..." I said firmly, making it clear that this was an end to it as far as I was concerned.

Still reeling from his proposition, I walked into the bathroom and closed the door, immediately becoming aware that behind the light floral scents of Guy's shower gel and deodorant was a leftover odour from when he must have used the toilet. Unlike the alluring smells and tastes of his backside which had excited me so much, this odour, though faint, held no erotic appeal. Whatever sensual qualities his arse possessed which had turned me on so intensely, I was relieved to discover that the smell of what came out of it wasn't one of them.

As I was taking my razor and foam out of my shaving kit, Guy called out, "I'll probably be next door when you get out of the shower. Trying to wake the dead."

I hesitated, shaken by the sudden realisation that my son and his friend had been in the adjoining room when Guy and I had been in the full, noisy throes of our sex. The sounds of their two fathers getting roughly physical together would have been unmistakable. The rhythmic creaking from the bed, the gasping and grunting from the two of us, as well as the explicit masturbatory pounding of our fists would have awoken even the deepest of teenaged sleepers.

I opened that bathroom door again and said to Guy anxiously, "What if they heard us? We were making a fair bit of noise..."

He smiled. "I'll say it was just a joke we were having... I mean, it's exactly the sort of prank we were talking about playing on them. I'll say I can't believe they were stupid enough to fall for it. Turn the tables on them."

I nodded, pleased that he had a story up his sleeve but doubtful that they'd buy it.

I said, "Tell them I wasn't too comfortable with it, but you were very persuasive." That way Jake would be more likely to believe him.

Guy grinned and said, "One part of me seemed extremely persuasive... not the part I expected, but there you go..."

I felt my cheeks flush a little and then closed the door to take my shower.

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Next story: Guilty Pleasures

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