AWAKE WITH JAKE PART 1 by Robert Furlong robert.furlong@rocketmail.com robertfurlong.tumblr.com
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"So, tell me about you and Marcus," my dad said after he'd sat himself down opposite me with his glass of white wine.
"What's there to tell?" I asked with a shrug after taking a deep gulp from the beer he'd handed me. I was more used to being passed a glass of coke or Sprite but now that I'd spent my first term at university and was seen as 'all growed up', he was finally letting me join him for a proper father and son drink.
"How did the two of you... well... 'get together' I suppose you'd call it?"
I smiled. He could be such a gumby sometimes.
"I told you," I said. "We were playing Jenga – a whole group of us lads, pissed – and I chose the block that said I had to lick the butt of the guy sitting next to me. Which happened to be Marcus."
"I suppose it's your classic boy-meets-boy story," my dad observed dryly. He thought he was so funny.
"There's not much more to tell," I said, putting the glass down on the table. "I licked his bum with them filming me on their phones, and I found I actually liked it. I didn't show how I felt to the others, though. I made out like I was about to ralph. After that, though –"
"About to 'ralph'?" my dad cut in.
"Yeah, you know... vomit. I was retching like it was the most manky thing in the world, but all the time I was really enjoying it."
"You got aroused?"
I laughed. "Of course I did!"
My dad smiled back. "Didn't you find, though, like I often do, that your excitement was difficult to conceal? I know that we're... er... similarly built out front, you and I."
I chuckled at his fuckward way of saying things. If he felt the need to point out that we both have big dicks, why didn't he just say it?
"I was crouching behind him," I explained. "And in any case, the other lads' eyes were on how far I was pushing my tongue between Marcus's butt-cheeks. I could have had my knob out and been stroking it and they probably wouldn't have figured."
My dad smiled but I could see he was embarrassed that I'd referred to masturbation. I couldn't understand why as we both knew how often we both did it – Jeez, it was just something that was going to happen when you have two over-sexed males living together.
Just that morning, when he'd sleepily shuffled towards the bathroom, a quick glance through the half-open door of my bedroom had told him how his son's day was starting. And ten minutes later, when I was clumping downstairs for a coffee, the rapid thumping of his duvet from his bedroom door had confirmed that he too had woke up horny.
Guys wank. Get over it.
"So what happened after that?" dad asked. "You said that Marcus had stayed over with you and that the two of you had... well... experimented together."
"I dunno if you wanna hear it, dad!" I laughed, reaching over to pick up my beer again. "I mean if you're gonna blush at the mere mention of me rubbing my dick, you'll have a heart attack at the sort of stuff we got up to!"
"I'm sorry," my dad said. "You know what I'm like about masturbation... I'm just a bit old fashioned, I guess. Blame your grandma."
"It's okay," I grinned, and then took another long swig from my glass.
"I'm actually not so hung up about sexual stuff as I once was," he went on. "A year ago I'd have curled up and died with embarrassment at the thought of having a conversation like this with you, but... you know... things have moved on a lot for me since then."
"Are you sure you wanna hear about the two of us guys though?"
He smiled. "You know what happened during my first time with a member of my own gender. I'd very much appreciate hearing about yours; for comparison purposes only, of course."
'For comparison purposes only'? Who was he trying to kid?! We both knew why he wanted to hear this and how much his dick would be growing in his trousers as I told him. Why does he always try to dress things up?
I glanced over at the TV which was still on, though the sound was on mute. It looked like some American show was on but it wasn't one I knew.
I decided to exploit my dad's interest for my own gain.
"You know, I actually don't know much about what went on in that hotel," I pointed out with a smirk. I knew vaguely what had happened between him and Guy Leeson – that it had involved a lot of whiskey and a certain amount of uncharacteristic spontaneity on the part of my dad – but not the details. Now was the perfect opportunity to find out.
"Well, to cut a long story short," my dad began, "Guy hadn't had a woman in a while. He was quite flagrantly aroused and asked me to... you know... help him out. Eventually I agreed that he could... er... make use of my mouth."
"You gave him a blowjob," I said, cutting to the chase.
Dad smiled over at me, his cheeks flushing pink. "That's a less elegant way of putting it, yes."
My dad, with all his prim and proper ways, had ended up going down on my friend's dad's cock! Him on his knees sucking off a horny plumber!
I suppressed a smile and asked, "And then what?"
He took a drink from his wine. I could see this was difficult for him but as he clearly wanted to know about my own first time (for comparison purposes only, of course), it was only fair that he dished the dirt on his own.
"Well, in spite of the fact that my only sexual experiences up until that point had been with women – your mother, mainly – I found that I really liked the smell and taste of Guys' testicles."
He blushed a little redder at how personal that revelation was and I smiled with as much encouragement as I could to compel him to continue.
"I kept sniffing them and licking them, and I found my face moving lower between his legs, working my way behind his balls into the rather wonderfully odorous crevice right behind them."
I chuckled at his language: I too loved licking other guys down there but I would never have thought of saying that any of them had a 'wonderfully odorous crevice' lurking just behind their nads.
"I kept pushing deeper between his legs," my dad went on, "until I had my nose and mouth level with his... well..."
"Arsehole?" I suggested.
"Yes, that's the one," he agreed with a slight look of disapproval. "And to my amazement, I was fascinated by it – the smell, the taste, the whole sensation of having my face back there on another man's most private, and alluringly hairy, place."
"So you enjoyed it?" I asked.
"Let's just say that within a very short space of time, Guy had an arc of stickiness reaching from the back of his head all the way down to his bum."
"And I'm guessing the headboard of the bed ended up similarly covered by him?"
He chuckled. "No, not really. To be brutally honest, most of his ended up down my throat."
"Oh, nice one!" I laughed. "Waste not, want not, eh?"
He smiled back at me. "I've taught you well."
"You have indeed!"
My old man gulping down my mate's dad's jizm! Now that was something you didn't hear about every day.
He took another sip of his wine, now more amused than embarrassed, before going on, "Come on, then, Jake. Let's hear about your first time. I've told you mine so it's only fair..."
I nodded. "Okay." And I thought back to what had happened that night.
Except that wasn't my first time: well, not really.
It was my first time at going the whole way with another lad, granted, but it wasn't my first gay experience: that had happened a year or so earlier.
My very first gay experience – proper gay experience – was when I'd wanked off with a mate of mine called Craig in his bedroom on the way home from college and things had gone a bit further than I'd expected. To be totally honest, I'd wanked off with a few other lads before then but it had never been anything serious and most of the time we hadn't even touched each other. It was pretty much like taking a piss at the urinals standing next to a mate – we were both just relieving ourselves and happened to be doing it at the same time.
With Craig it had been different: I'd known that it would be when he'd invited me to his house when we'd been walking home that afternoon. He was as camp as fuck – I mean, everyone called him 'Queer Craig' – and I'd pretty much figured out what the score was when he'd suggested we could "listen to some music" and had added, with a funny sort of smile that I'd figured must be a gay thing, that his mum was having to work late.
He was out to get up to some crump with me – that much seemed smack-in-the-face obvious – but I went along with him, partly because he'd been a friend since primary school but mainly because, well, I was a bit curious, I suppose.
I'd always felt slightly protective towards Craig, the two of us went so far back. Other lads would always be dicking with him for being different from the rest of the sheep, but that would make Craig just play up to his image all the more. I once had words with him about something he was wearing – a stripy yellow vest and three-quarter length jeans which made him look, at least to me, like a screaming queen. I'd said, "Come on, mate, you can't wear those. Everyone'll take the piss and stuff," and he'd turned to me with a smirk and said with total sincerity, "You know what, Jake – I couldn't give a fuck."
Anyway, when we'd gone up to his bedroom, he closed the door and I'd sat on his bed, scrolling through the tracks on his MP3 player while he farted about with his computer. Pretty soon he was showing me some porn he'd downloaded – all straight, but it was kind of noticeable that the dudes were all majorly well-hung – and when I'd made it clear how much I was enjoying it – the chicks, that is – he suggested that we get our knobs out beat ourselves off together over it. It struck me as a bit unusual for him to propose we should wank off together but not so far out of the ordinary as to seem outright gay. I'd made out like I was reluctantly agreeing to whack my dick off with him just because it was something to do and – you know, let's face it – I was so fucking bored.
In truth, I enjoyed showing myself off to other guys. I liked to flash my big fuck-stick to the rest of the team after football training and would quite often get a hard-on just to show them how massive it is. Once, while I was really laying it on and some of them filming me on their phones, I'd proven that I could lean forwards enough to get my mouth around my own humongous bell-end. I couldn't believe how hot it felt to suck my own dick with them all laughing and cheering and pointing their phones at me. I'd got so well into it, thrusting my cock in and out of my mouth and showing them how I was feeding on my own precum, that I'd realised way too late that my balls were about to let loose. So, yeah, there's these videos which do the rounds from time to time, with me nutting off as I suck my own cock; my face suddenly turning serious and my cheeks going bright red as I had to swallow really fast to keep up with the torrent of spunk that I was so not expecting.
As Craig's taste in porn showed that he enjoyed the sight of a massive bone-on, I wanted to give him a look of mine in all its twelve-inch glory to see how horny I could make him. My cock wasn't just long, it was really thick as well: the shaft was about seven inches around according to my well-used ruler. As soon as I yanked my boxers down, I could tell from his face that I didn't disappoint: his eyes almost popped out of his head when my gigantic horse-dick sprang forwards like some weird third limb.
A teacher at school had once jokingly called me 'Jake the Peg with the Extra Leg' in the changing rooms after football. I think it was from an old TV show but I've never been arsed enough to look it up.
We'd climbed on his bed, face-to-face, with our trousers hitched down and our underwear around our knees. Craig's cock had poked upwards, small and thin, with a bright red mushroom on the end of it which looked almost nastily slimy. His bollocks hung down between his hairless thighs, his scrotum sagging and wrinkled and reminding me of an old lady's neck.
As you can probably tell, I wasn't really into other dudes' junk back then.
Anyway, we'd grinned at each other and started wanking ourselves off to one of the movies he had on his computer. It was actually quite cool cracking one off with a mate I'd known since we'd been kids: we'd played Hide and Seek and stuff as little boys and now we were playing far more enjoyable games as much bigger boys.
It turned out that the movie was a lot tamer than I was used to but I found myself becoming increasingly turned on by the way Craig was focussing on me all the time instead of looking at the screen. He seemed fascinated by my huge pair of knackers: he kept laughing at how much bigger they were than his and the way they jiggled around between my legs to the rhythm of my fist. I made a play of parading them for him – they were like an over-ripe pair of plums in comparison with his grape-sized nuts – and thrust my hips back and forth to make them swing around like a pendulum as I swept my hand up and down my stiffening dick.
As he wanked his tiny cock, still staring at my much larger version, he reached underneath himself with his left hand and rubbed behind his own bobbing ball-sack.
"What are you doing?" I asked and he smiled at my question.
"Don't you do this too?" he asked back. "It feels really good. It's called your 'taint' and it's nice to rub your fingers up and down it while you're wanking off."
"Why's it called your taint?" I asked, not really believing him. He'd always just make stuff up like that, ever since we'd been kids.
"Cos 't ain't your balls and 't ain't your arsehole!" he laughed.
I laughed back and reached underneath myself with my left hand. I rubbed the hairy ridge between the back of my jiggling bollocks and the puckered entrance behind it, and found that, as Craig had said, the sensation was extremely pleasant.
I beamed at him, enjoying being coached; it seemed I could learn some useful stuff from this guy. If he was gay – and I was, by now, becoming certain that he was – he'd clearly found out things about the male body that I had no idea of. Gay guys had their uses – I'd made a mental note to remember that.
We kept wanking together, my eyes half on his computer screen but his firmly fixed on my cock as I pumped it. I soon realised that he was reaching even further under himself and that both his hands were moving rhythmically; one on his cock, the other between his legs.
He gapsed, "Oh God, yeah!" – the way he said it sounded so effeminate that I nearly laughed – and I asked him, again, what he was doing.
"I'm fingering myself," he declared with a mischievous smirk.
I must have just looked at him blankly because he grinned more broadly and explained: "I'm fingering my butt-hole, Jake! Pushing my middle finger in and out of my arse!"
I think I must have grinned back at him. "Really?"
"Yeah, and it feels really hot!"
I looked down at his hand, pushing deep between his legs. He was working it in and out of himself in time with the pumping of his right hand on his cock. It was like watching a girl frig herself, but the cock out front made it weirdly clear that this was another lad and I could already smell that it wasn't a pussy he had his finger knuckle-deep in.
"Don't you ever do this when you wank?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I've never really thought about it. Isn't it a bit... you know... skanky?"
"Kind of... yeah... but it feels amazing!" he revealed, before adding, "Your finger needs to be wet though, otherwise it hurts a bit."
He pulled his hand out from between his legs, raised his bum-streaked finger up to be copiously spat on and then returned it back underneath his balls to resume pleasuring himself.
I sniffed the air as his finger took up its rhythm again, now with a much louder slurping noise, between his legs.
"It smells a bit whiffy, Craig," I told him. "Is it always like that?"
"Yeah," he grinned. "I think you kind of come to like it, though. It's a raunchy smell... it can be quite sexy sometimes."
I threw him a disbelieving look, continuing to wank myself, as I sniffed the air again. "How can a smell like that be sexy, Craig? What sort of sex can produce a smell like that?"
"I dunno," he shrugged. Then he added, as if the thought had just occurred to him: "Maybe it's the smell you'd get if two guys were... you know... doing it together..."
"Doing what together?" I asked, still wanking myself.
"I dunno," he repeated. "Maybe... butt-fucking!"
He said 'butt-fucking' with a deliberate emphasis: in spite of him feigning inexperience, this was something he'd thought intently about.
I smiled at him. "You reckon?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Stands to reason. Same cause and effect."
We kept wanking together – my hand was starting to slide more quickly up and down my long, thick shaft – as I sniffed at the air inquisitively, starting to enjoy the intensifying odour of what Craig was doing to himself behind his nut-sack. The smell he was making was quite pungent but had an undeniably erotic component; knowing the orifice that it came from seemed, absurdly, to fuel rather than stifle the growing intrigue I was feeling.
Craig stared at me, a slight smile on his face, as his left hand pumped back and forth more vigorously between his legs. The sounds from his hole had grown much louder and moister: they sounded nasty but I liked them – as he'd pointed out, they were the fascinating sounds of a fellow male being fucked.
I was wondering if he was imagining that it was my cock inside him; whether he was using the feel of his finger to fantasize about having me work my much wider girth in and out of his hot, slimy bum. For some reason, the idea of that was making my boner get fully hard and I jacked myself as fast as I could, sniffing the air again to enjoy how it would smell if I really were fucking my friend's arse.
"Okay... so it is quite a horny smell," I admitted at length, my rapidly pounding fist making any other claim seem futile. "I'm starting to see why you like it."
"The smell's only part of it," he said. "It's the feel of it that's the best. Having a finger sliding in and out of you while you're wanking... it's fucking immense, Jake! You gotta try it!"
I shook my head and pulled a face. "It sounds heinous, man! I'm not shoving my finger up my butt! I don't wanna feel that!"
We wanked together for a little longer, with Craig's left hand driving back and forth underneath his balls to finger himself more quickly, noisily and – and to my rising interest – odorously.
At length, he plucked up the nerve to ask me: "Do you want me to do it for you?"
"Do what?" I asked, staring at his hand as it worked away between his thighs.
"Finger your butt."
Before I could reply he quickly added, "I mean, I totally get that you wouldn't want to do it to yourself."
He stared at my face, as if scanning for a sign that I might be about to go bat-shit at his suggestion. He seemed relieved when my only reaction was to laugh.
"You'd actually do that, Craig? Wouldn't it be, like, really grim to shove your finger up another guy's arse?"
He smiled conspiratorially. "To be honest, mate, I think I'd quite like it."
Yeah I bet you fucking would, I thought. I knew you were gay; I've thought it for years.
Craig's sexuality didn't bother me – just because he was gay didn't mean I was, even if we were messing around together like this. I felt turned on that I was turning him on, if that makes sense, and I liked it that he was probably fantasising about bending over for me to shove my cock up his butt. I didn't want to fuck him, but it excited me to think that he might want me to.
"So do you want me to finger to you?" he persisted. "Show you what it's like?"
I smirked at him naughtily. I thought I did.
I lifted my large, heavy scrotum upwards to give him access to the hot, dank crack behind them and pushed my hips out towards him. I chuckled at the eagerness of his expression and said, "Go on, then, Craig, wank my arse off!"
He pulled his finger out of himself and lifted it back to his mouth for him to spit on again. It looked pretty rank: I couldn't believe I was about to let him push it into me.
I was too intrigued to stop him, though: I knew full well that this was the sort of thing which the PSHE teacher at school would call "highly inappropriate behaviour" but that only made it more fun.
He pushed his hand between my legs and I stopped jerking my dick while he located my arsehole. Why was I letting another lad do this to me? My cock was straining with excitement, its head almost bursting from how hard it was throbbing: that, I suppose, was my answer, if one were needed.
When he found my hole, his eyebrows arched upwards in amused surprise. "You're well slimy back here, mate!"
"Easier for you to slide in!" I suggested.
"Yeah, but this is probably gonna make a massive stink! A lot stronger than mine."
"Is that a problem?" I asked, rather thinking I knew what his response would be.
"Of course not," he laughed, confirming what I'd suspected. "It'll be red hot, Jake! Fucking well toasty!"
He pushed into me with a wet-sounding squelch and I gasped at the sensation of being penetrated for the first time.
He grinned at me expectantly. "How's it feel?"
"So far so good," I replied with a nod. "How's it feel for you? Like a big, wet pussy, I suppose?"
He recoiled and looked almost disgusted by the comparison. "It feels like what it is. Another lad's arsehole!"
"Does it feel okay, though?"
"It feels proper horny," he smiled. "Nice and ripe!"
"Just how you like it?" I chuckled.
"Exactly how I like it!" he smirked.
I suddenly realised that I'd always been wrong about Craig. I had always assumed him to be gay – and it was now abundantly clear that he was – but I'd thought that, as a sensitive and effeminate young guy, his fantasies would be centred around being dominated by tougher, more masculine males. I suppose I'd assumed that, if Craig were to fantasize about having sex with me, he'd be the one eagerly bending over to receive me, wanking himself off at the feel of my cock pounding in and out of him.
Now it dawned on me that I'd got it the wrong way around. In spite of his campness and his girlish manner, Craig was very much into other boys' bums and if there was any fucking to be done, he'd want to be the one to have his cock buried up to its hilt. I now realise, although I'd have had no idea back then that such a term existed, that Craig was an effeminate top.
In spite of the fact that there was no way I was going to let him bugger me, I was suddenly fascinated by the idea that he might want to. For some reason the contrast between his delicate manner and his obvious preference to be sexually dominant appealed to me and I grinned at him as he pushed his finger deeply into my hole.
"You like that," I said. It wasn't a question.
He smirked back at me and I saw that he'd been waiting for this for some time.
"It's good for starters," he said with a chuckle.
Once his finger had pushed up as far as it could inside me, he told me to masturbate quickly. "It'll feel awesome having something up your butt when you're wanking off," he explained. "When you cum, you won't believe it!"
I started pumping my organ again and he worked his finger in and out of my backside. He was right again: it did feel really good.
"You're nice and hairy back there, Jake, I like that," he said and I laughed.
"You like my butt," I said, again as a statement rather than an inquiry.
"I fucking love it," he revealed, as his finger took up a steady rhythm inside me, working my hole as confidently as might finger the more silken and folded opening of a girl.
Craig was, I realised, a lad just like me. For all he was gay, his sexual needs were the equivalent of mine: he wanted someone else's hole squeezing around his cock, but in his case the object of his interest was other guys' arseholes.
He started frigging me more quickly, the ball of his hand thumping back and forth against my hefty balls. We smiled at each other and I sniffed at the air, surprised at how much stronger my bum smelt as he fingered me compared to his.
"Smells good, doesn't it," he muttered, as his right hand started pounding at his own erection. "That's the smell of me fucking you. The smell of you bending over and me screwing your arse while I wank you off, Jake!"
"Is that what you want, Craig?" I asked him, surprised by how excited I was growing at what he was saying.
He didn't reply but instead leaned towards me, his lips reaching outwards as he homed in on mine.
I turned my neck to one side, repelled by the thought of having another boy kiss me, and he pushed his face against my cheek, his breath hot against my ear.
Our bodies pressed together as we wanked ourselves as quickly as we could. Craig's finger was jabbing roughly in and out of my rectum, filling the air around us with their rough, earthy odour. Whereas his own scent had been indistinct and musky, mine was much coarser and uncompromisingly anal. His whole bedroom seemed to be reeking of this pungent declaration that I was having my first taste of anal pleasure, and the more I enjoyed it, the more it seemed to stink.
"God, I want to bone you, Jake!" Craig grunted into my ear. "I really want my cock up your arse!"
"Yeah?" I gasped, finding the idea inexplicably electrifying. The thought of this gentle, camp young guy, grabbing my shoulders from behind as he pounded at my hairy butt-crack, was, for some reason, an incredible turn-on.
"Let's do it, Jake," he panted, his voice sounding like a woman over-doing it in a crappy porn film. "Come on, it'll feel so good... I promise! Let me fuck you... right now!"
His girlishness contrasted heavily with what he was saying but it no longer seemed funny. I was by now finding it surprisingly erotic: to hear such a lust to use me sexually expressed in such unlikely tones.
He nibbled at my earlobe and I felt nervous energy coursing down my spine. I hadn't even realised my earlobes were erogenous: it had taken Craig as a fellow male to show me how exciting it could feel to have them teased during sex.
"Jesus, it smells so fucking rough!" I grunted. I was thinking of his mother coming home from work to find the house stinking of our sex.
"Your arse is beautiful," Craig gasped in my ear. His finger was a blur in and out of my hole. "Just think, though... it'll be even better with my cock inside it!"
I called out with surprise as a powerful orgasm overwhelmed me. I fell into Craig, who supported me, as the finger up my bum made my balls tingle in a way that reminded me of my first ever solitary climax many years earlier and sent surge after surge of my spunk shooting out from them.
Craig seemed initially disappointed that I'd spent myself – I think he really thought he might be about to wangle a fuck out of me – but once my orgasm had subsided and my cock had stopped soaking us with the thick, white cargo from my bollocks, he pounded at his own, determined to follow my example.
"What I said when you were cumming," he panted, his fist beating up and down his small, stiff cock. "All that stuff about wanting to fuck you... it was all just talk, you know. None of it was real."
"I know that, mate," I smiled, knowing precisely the opposite.
"I mean, I don't really wanna do anything like that," he gasped.
"It was just what guys say, Craig... I get that."
I reached out and, suppressing my disgust, fondled his wrinkled scrotum while his hand thrashed away on his dick.
"Come on, mate," I urged him. "Shoot your wad! Imagine you've got your knob up my arse!"
He threw his head back and started gasping at the ceiling. White strings shot from his deep red cock-head, covering his shirt in a gloopy mess.
Having never talked a guy into a climax before, I was surprised at how easy it was to get him to cum. If only girls could be so predictable: the world, I felt, would be a far more harmonious place.
As he was coming down from his excitement and was panting against me, his head on my shoulder, we heard the door slam below us as his mother came home.
"Shit!" Craig said, pulling his finger out of my bum with a revolting squelch. "She's early! We better clean up... fuck! She'll be coming upstairs in a minute."
We clambered off the bed and Craig reached for a box of tissues, desperate to clean up not only our cum-splattered shirts and trousers, but also his finger which reeked of where it had been.
And so ended, somewhat indelicately as my dad might say, my first real gay experience.
Talking of my dad, I looked over at him from my armchair and saw that he was waiting for my story to begin. He took another sip from his wine and then placed it back on its coaster with a small cough. I noticed him glance disapprovingly over at my beer: I'd totally ignored the matching coaster he'd laid out for it and had placed my glass on the bare wood of the coffee table.
I didn't correct my mistake. There seemed no point; if the beer was going to stain the wood, it would have done so by now.
"After the other lads had gone back to their rooms," I began, "it was pretty obvious that Marcus was in no state to go anywhere. He was used to sleeping over with me when he was too pissed to make the journey across campus, so by the time I'd brushed my teeth he was flat-out, face-down on my bed."
I'd pulled his boots off for him, laughing that I was undressing him like he was a kid even though he was unconscious, and then had reached underneath him to undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans. It was when I'd been pulling his jeans down, exposing his arse-cheeks looking tight and round in his orange boxer trunks, that I'd become aware again of how attractive his scent back there was.
I'd checked that he was definitely passed-out and then had leant over to sniff the back of his underpants. At first I'd been pretty careful – keeping my nose well back from him and sniffing around both cheeks rather than what was between them. When his only response was to start snoring gently, my confidence grew and I pushed my nose right into what my dad had just termed the "wonderfully odorous crevice". Behind the soapy smell of laundry powder, or whatever it was on the material of his shorts, there was that same distinctive pungent scent that had aroused me so much when I'd been carrying out my dare in front of the guys an hour or so earlier.
It had an equivalent effect on me this time that it had on me previously: my cock quickly swelled to full size and I felt a strong compulsion to work it with my hand while I had my nose pressed into my mate's butt-crack.
Why the hell was I getting so boned-up with my face in Marcus' arse? What was it about the smell of this guy's butt that was making me want to jerk off?
"So what happened next?" dad asked with a certain amount of impatience.
"I stripped down to my t-shirt and briefs, and got into bed with him. That was pretty normal for us – I mean, just because we sometimes crashed out together in the same bed, it didn't mean anything more than that."
"Yeah, I know how it works," dad smiled. "It wasn't that long ago that I was young enough to have mates sleeping over with me."
"You have mates staying over with you now – only not the sort of mates you keep your underwear on for," I pointed out. "I'm just making it clear that for me and Marcus it was totally non-sexual."
"At least until then," dad observed.
"Well, yeah..." I smirked. "Things were about to change pretty drastically."
I'd snuggled into Marcus' back, still running a serious hard-on which was poking into his butt. All the time I kept thinking over and over of that amazing smell lurking right there between his cheeks and wishing my cock was able to sniff the place it was nuzzling into. I put my arms around him, hoping I could manage to get to sleep with us spooning like that, but he abruptly regained consciousness and muttered, his voice sounding gravelly, "You've got a stalk-on, Jake! You're just about knobbing my arse, mate!"
I'd muttered some quip like, "You wish I was, you fucking gay boy!" and then had gripped him more firmly, enjoying the way he was pushing his butt back against my raging dick.
He'd muttered, still sounding half out of it, "Why've you got a hard-on, anyway? You're such a fucking jerk-wad sometimes, Jake..."
I'd said, "It was having my face in your arse, mate. I've been running a woody since then." I'd sniggered like it was such a great joke; that it was so ridiculous it couldn't possibly be true.
Then he'd surprised me by admitting, his voice sounding slurred by the amount of alcohol he'd drank, "I actually really liked the feel of you licking my butt when we were playing that game. I mean, I probably wouldn't say that if I was sober, but I only stopped you because I was getting a stiffie myself."
I'd laughed into the back of his head. Whatever shampoo he used smelt really nice; much better than my Head & Shoulders stuff.
Then he said, "Jesus, mate! Your dick feels fucking massive! Pity I'm not gay – I'd be loving having your knob rubbing against my arse!"
Strictly speaking it was his arse rubbing against my knob: I wasn't sure if he was aware of it, but he was gently working himself back and forth against my erection.
I'd gripped him more firmly and had whispered, "You say you're not gay, but you just admitted you were getting a boner with my face in your butt."
"That's different," he giggled. "It was just a reflex. My brain didn't register if you were a girl or a boy."
"So you were in bed together," dad prompted me, eager to move things on. "What happened next?"
"Well, Marcus kind of half woke up and told me, still pretty drunk, that he'd like having my face in his butt. Then I ended up admitting that I'd liked having it there."
"So I assume it ended up back there?" dad suggested with his wine glass poised at his lips.
"You actually liked licking my arse?" Marcus asked, incredulously. He was sounding a lot more awake now.
"Since you're admitting enjoying having me do it, then... yeah... I'll admit I enjoyed having my face there."
"But you liked the taste of it?" he persisted. "You liked having your tongue licking between my arse-cheeks?"
"A bit," I conceded. "Yeah... it was kind of... well... intriguing, I guess."
"Your knob's fucking throbbing!" he chuckled. "It's grinding into me, man!"
It didn't stop him working his arse against me even more. For a guy who kept saying he wasn't gay, he sure enjoyed having a stiff dick poking into his butt.
"It's the thought of your bum, mate," I grinned. "It's making me get as horny as fuck!"
I'd meant it sarcastically but Marcus took it as straight-up. Which was fortunate, really, because it moved things on nicely.
"Well, if you enjoyed it when you did it first time," he said, "I wouldn't complain if you wanted to try it for a second."
"Yes, my face ended up back there," I told my dad. "He pulled his orange shorts down and I burrowed my way down underneath my duvet to continue what I'd started doing earlier."
My dad threw me a broad grin. I could tell what he was thinking: 'a chip off the old block'. A chip off the old block! I kid you not: that really was just the sort of old school phrase that would pop into his head.
"And obviously you liked it?" he asked.
I smiled back at him.
I worked my way between Marcus' cheeks, loving the way I could now smell him properly without having to worry about how I might look in front of our mates' eager faces. I pushed my tongue into his crack and got to feel again the amazing sensation of having another lad's arse sending countless electrical impulses surging from my taste buds.
Why had I never thought of doing this before? Surely it was obvious how incredible this would be? So many lads I'd been friends with all these years; so many arses I could have had my tongue burrowed into!
I knew from stuff my dad had told me that what I was doing to my friend was called 'rimming'. Marcus was having his butt rimmed, no doubt for the first time, and, as I was the one who had his tongue licking back there, it was me who was rimming another lad's arse.
It sounded weird to apply that verb to what the two of us were doing. Rimming had always seemed like a weird fetish of my dad's – I'd always thought how horrible it must be to push your mouth and nose between another guys' butt-cheeks – but what I was doing to Marcus felt exciting and sexy, so much so that my cock was throbbing with the big brother of all hard-ons.
Was this really 'rimming'? I figured it was. It seemed that I'd just have to accept that I was a guy who liked rimming other dudes' butts now!
I pushed deeper into him, the tip of my tongue making circles around his hole. Marcus groaned and his little throbbing ring opened for me. He was inviting me in; he wanted me to lick him inside.
"When you rim a guy," I asked my dad, "do you just lick his arse – you know, around the hole – or do you actually stick your tongue inside?"
He took a sip from his wine, staring into the middle distance and mulling over the question as if it were some deep philosophical conundrum.
"I suppose," he began, putting his glass back on the coaster, "rimming could be argued to be the most intimate thing you and another male can do together. Even more so than... well..."
"Screwing each other's bums?" I asked him with a grin.
"Indeed," he agreed. "I take it, from what you said in the car on the way back from uni, that you and Marcus have experimented with anal penetration?"
"Experimented?" I chuckled. "We've become pretty accomplished actually."
"Really?" he smirked back. "So it's a pretty regular thing?"
"Every night," I exaggerated with a laugh. "Or at least as often as you'd expect from a couple of lads who've discovered that sex can still be fun even when it doesn't come with strings attached in the form of girlfriends."
He grinned broadly at me. He liked that answer.
"Anyway," he went on, resuming his reply, "it seems to me that, as much as I enjoy experiencing full anal intimacy with other men –"
"You mean shagging blokes' arses?" I sought to clarify.
"That's right, Jake," he said with a patient smile. "Well, as much as I enjoy that – and believe me, I really do enjoy that –"
He allowed himself an indulgent chuckle and I couldn't help but do the same.
"It seems to me," he continued, "that anal sex is really just a way for the two of us men to achieve release. The real pleasure for me, and the part which I savour, is the mutual rimming we indulge in beforehand. That's the moment of intense togetherness; that's the part where I feel there's a powerful fraternal bond between me and the other man."
He looked smug at how eloquently he considered he'd phrased his response. He looked so self-satisfied that it was like he thought he should be up to receive the Booker Prize for poetry or something.
"So what's the answer to my question?" I asked him.
"Oh... er..." he stumbled, his smugness quickly replaced by puzzlement. "What was the question again?"
"When you rim a guy, do you stick your tongue up his butt?"
He lifted his glass and rolled his eyes a little. There were to be no prizes for poetry coming his son's way any time soon.
After taking another drink, he said, "The point I was coming to, Jake, before I managed to distract myself, was that, penetration with the tongue lifts the male-to-male sexual experience to its highest form – at least for me it does."
"So that's a 'yes', then?" I confirmed.
"That's a 'very much so'," he clarified before asking, "So did you do that to Marcus?"
"What do you think?" I grinned.
I pushed into him tentatively at first, unsure as to what I was going to find, but then, enjoying the richness of his taste and the darker pungent bite once my tongue was inside him, I worked myself gently into him, flicking the tip of it in and out like Craig had done with his finger.
Marcus had enjoyed that and had muttered, "Ah yeah!" in his appreciation. I'd felt his hand on the back of my head, urging me to tongue him more deeply, and his other took up a gentle rhythm on his dick, not really wanking it properly but just squeezing it and sliding his foreskin back and forth over his bell-end to intensify his pleasure.
"Stick your tongue into me," he'd whispered. "Lick me out, man!"
I was already onto it, working my tongue as far into him as I could push it. His taste was amazing: I'd never experienced anything like it. It was a bit on the rough side, that much I'll grant you – I mean, it was blatantly clear what I pushing my tongue into – but at the same time, on some weird base level, it was off-the-scale exciting. My own cock was throbbing in my briefs – literally aching for me to beat it off like it sometimes gets when I'm looking at some really steaming lesbian porn. How the hell could sticking my tongue up another lad's arse do that to me? What was it about doing this that was just so fucking horny?
"You've thought about this a lot since, haven't you?" dad asked, draining his wine glass.
"Sometimes, yeah," I nodded. "At... er... certain times."
Dad grinned at me: we both knew exactly which times I meant.
I wondered at that moment how often my dad thinks about other men when he masturbates. Whether, like me, he mainly thinks of females but just occasionally – when he's in the right mood – he lets his thoughts turn to his own gender and have a good tug at the thought of how much fun a guy's butt can be. Or whether he's cranked it up a few notches and now mainly thinks of getting balls-deep with other blokes when he tosses off.
Needless to say, I wasn't about to ask him. If I did, he'd just spin me some crap about "moments of togetherness" and "fraternal bonds" or whatever.
"I actually meant," he explained, "that you have, perhaps, relived the moment over and over to try and work out what was so exciting about it."
"Is that what happened with you? After the night you and Guy first did it?"
He nodded. "Yes. I couldn't understand how something that should, in the cold light of day, be so utterly revolting could elicit such a... well... dramatic state of arousal. I even did some research on it in the town library... not that I found much, aside from a particularly hostile librarian."
"I wasn't that freaked out," I told him. "But then I suppose I'd seen you go through everything you did, and the way you started meeting guys for sex and stuff. I'd kind of come to terms with it for you, so I guess that made it easier to accept in myself."
Dad nodded and smiled. At times like this he looked almost proud. Can a guy feel proud at seeing his own bisexuality expressed in his son?
Then he asked, "So what happened after you'd rimmed him, or is the answer to that too obvious for us to dwell on?"
I chuckled. "We didn't cum together, if that's what you mean. Well, not while I was under my duvet with my face stuck in his butt. We had a bit more fun that first night... and a lot more the next morning."
I looked at his empty wine glass and my beer which had barely a couple of swigs left in it. "You probably don't want to hear it, though. It's getting a bit late... maybe we should get to bed."
"I'd very much like to hear it, but only if you're willing to share such personal moments with me."
"Yeah, I don't mind," I shrugged. "Do you want me to top us both up?"
"It couldn't hurt to have a little drop of scotch as a nightcap," he smiled, and passed me his empty glass to put in the sink.
I pulled away from Marcus' arse and pushed the duvet to one side. The air in the room smelt clean and fresh compared to where my nose had just been.
"You gotta fucking try this, mate," I told him. "You gotta rim me, see what it's like!"
"Is that what it's called?" he laughed, still sounding drunk. "Like that guy from 'Red Dwarf'?"
I pulled my t-shirt off, I was feeling so hot. I knew it couldn't be the university heating – they were always kept it at the bare minimum to save money.
"Come on, Marcus," I insisted. "Rim my arse!"
He laughed again. "Is it called that because it was in an episode of the show? Did Rimmer lick someone's butt or something?"
"I don't know, mate," I said. "I don't watch it. Maybe it was called that before 'Red Dwarf' even went out. I don't know."
I yanked off my briefs and repeated, "Come on, mate, do it to me! I wanna know what it feels like."
I was going to be naked on my bed with another lad, which felt kind of momentous as far as my view of my sexuality went, but I no longer cared. I wanted to feel his tongue up my arse: nothing else really mattered at that moment.
He giggled again. "I don't know if I want to, Jake. I mean it's your bum, mate. You shit through it and stuff."
And stuff? What the fuck else did he think I did through it?
"I know that, dude, but it's nothing like you expect it to be. Trust me, mate, it feels amazing to get your face stuck in there. I would never have believed it, but it really fucking did!"
He laughed again but agreed that he'd try. "I'm so gonna chuck up. If I do, it's your fault, okay?"
"Yeah, whatever," I snapped, and climbed up onto my bed, facing away from his head.
"Lie flat," I told him, positioning my feet on either side of his body and squatting over him. He giggled again, unsure of what I was doing in the near-darkness of the room, and said that something felt ticklish when he felt my bollocks nuzzle against his chin. Then called out in horror when he realised what I was doing, struggling underneath me as I lowered my splayed, hairy arse-crack down onto his upturned face.
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To be continued
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