Awake with Jake

AWAKE WITH JAKE PART 4 by Robert Furlong robert.furlong@rocketmail.com robertfurlong.tumblr.com

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I looked at the clock. It was going on for three. At this rate, I was going to need half a jar of coffee to get me going in the morning.

I'd been enjoying having horny thoughts about the first time I'd hooked up with Marcus, and it had been nice to lie here snuggling into his back and rubbing my dick against his bum while I'd played through it in my head. I'd thought that sleep would gradually take me, but as it hadn't and all those thoughts had left me with a hard-on that wouldn't quit, I realised I was going to need to get rid of it before I was going to be able to doze off.

Since Marcus was too out of it by now for me to risk waking him, I decided I'd have to nip off for a quick wank.

I got out of bed quietly and headed off to the bathroom.

If only Bradley or Guy was staying over with my dad and there was a nice raunchy pair of briefs lying in there for me to have some fun with.

But no, when I switched the light on and closed the door, the only pair that I found there were a pair of my dad's Calvins. Pretty well-worn too, by the look of them. I suspected he'd left them there hoping Marcus would take a sly sniff of them. He could be such a sleaze-ball sometimes.

I pulled my own briefs down and sat on the loo. This would have to be an imagination-only wank. It had been a while since I'd had one of those. Normally I'd switch on some porn to help me out when I was jerking off alone, but this time I'd just have to think nice thoughts.

I took up a steady rhythm – Jesus this bathroom was cold – and thought about what had happened that same morning after Marcus had cum up my butt.

After he'd pulled out of me and wiped himself off – I've got to admit that the mess was a lot worse than you get with a girl – he'd surprised me by immediately suggesting that we change positions.

I'd asked, "Don't you want to... you know... calm down a bit first? Recover, maybe?"

"No," he replied. "I wanna know what it feels like. You enjoyed having me inside you, so I probably will too."

He grabbed the Vaseline and worked a gob of it into his arsehole, and then got on the bed on all fours like I had.

"Come on then, mate," he quipped impatiently. "Do me like I did you."

I smeared some of the Vaseline all over my cock and got on the bed behind him. It felt oddly exciting to be with another lad like this: him bent over with his arse sticking out and me kneeling behind him with my hard-on level with his butt-crack. I knew it was the gayest of all gay positions and yet I kind of liked how it felt for us to be together like this.

"This is going to be a squeeze," I warned him, pushing my huge cock head between his cheeks, right where his tightly clenched hole would be lurking. I was pleased I was running a full boner: getting my cock into another guy's butt would be almost impossible if I was even slightly floppy.

I found his puckered hole with the tip of my dick and pushed my bell-end firmly against it. Even after several attempts, it steadfastly refused to let me in.

"Relax your butt like you're taking a shit," I told him.

"Aw, you say the cutest things, mate," he chuckled.

He made a deliberate effort to relax his hole and I managed to work the an inch or so of my massive purple helmet into him.

"Is it going in?" he asked.

"A bit, yeah," I grunted, surprised at how much effort this was.

"How does it look?"

"Like my dick going into your arse. How do you think?"

He laughed and explained, "When mine was going into you, I thought it looked pretty cool. Having my cock slowly disappearing between another guy's arse-cheeks, and the way your butt-hole was sort of consuming it... I dunno... it looked kind of hot to me."

"It probably will when it's a bit further in," I conceded. "Now it just looks like one mis-timed fart would push it back out."

"I'll be careful, then," he chuckled and relaxed his hole further so I could ease a bit more of my bell-end into him. The widest part was yet to come – the base of my dick head where there's a thick ridge like at the bottom of a helmet. Getting that through his butt-hole was going to be a strain but once I'd worked it inside him, the rest of my cock would – I hoped – slide into him a bit easier.

"Actually, farting must be pretty common during bum sex," he observed. I couldn't believe how he was just chatting away while he was slowly receiving a dick up his arse. It was like we were just sitting have a coffee in Costa, talking bullshit together, rather than having our first butt-fuck together. He was just so bizarrely relaxed about it.

I wondered again if he'd done this before. For all he reckoned that the boys' school he went to "wasn't like that", he seemed too at ease with what we were doing for this to be his first time. Surely, in even the most virtuous of boys' schools, a few pillows would get bitten in the dorms after lights-out? In spite of his claims of absolute innocence, I wondered how many bite-marks Marcus' pillow had had on it.

"Maybe," I replied. "Girls get a bit funny about farting during sex, but I don't suppose guys are too bothered."

"It's gonna happen, mate," he said. "It's pretty inevitable."

I pushed forwards as he tried to relax further and the base of my cock head pushed through his stretched anal ring. It contracted behind it, squeezing around the top of my shaft. It looked, as Marcus had observed, quite appealing: munching on the girth of my dick as if it was slowly feeding on it.

"Oh... fuck me!" Marcus called out in pain.

"I'm trying to, mate – give me a minute!"

"Surely it's in by now!" he implored.

I laughed. "Not even close. The head of it's in but there's about eight inches of stalk left."

"Jesus," he winced. "I've never felt anything like this."

If he had spent his school nights having his butt poked in the dorm, the lads who had sneakily pleasured themselves must have had dicks considerably smaller and thinner than mine.

"Do you want me to take it out?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "Keep going. Once it's in, you kind of start getting used to it."

"Are you sure you haven't done this before?" I asked. I could well imagine him being the pass-around-pussy of his boarding house.

"Of course not," he chuckled. "It's just that when you put your fingers up there last night, I soon got used to the feel of them, so it'll be the same with your dick... I hope!"

I pushed another inch of my cock into him with his arsehole struggling to take it.

If he had been the fuck-bunny for his school, all that practice hadn't widened his butt very much. Maybe he was telling the truth: maybe this was his first time.

I eased a little more of my shaft through his straining hole. The bloated head of my dick bored upwards through his hot, wet bowels, pushing everything aside like a huge battering ram. I knew full well what it was encountering up there but the thought didn't bother me as much as I might have thought it would.

"Ah Jesus!" he called out. "That's actually starting to feel quite good!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "I mean, it feels like my ring is on fire and I need to take the mother of all dumps, but the sensation of feeling your cock up there is actually quite nice."

"You're a natural butt-boy, mate!" I joked.

"You enjoyed it too, Jake," he quipped, a touch defensively. "When I did it to you, it made your dick get hard."

I smiled down at him. My first male lover.

Lover? Fuck! Where the hell had that word come from?

I moved one hand up to hold his shoulder steady and eased some more of my cock into his backside.

"Oh, fucking Jesus!" he cried out. "Tell me it's fucking in already!"

There was a good few inches that weren't inside him, but I figured this was as far as I was going to get. It was pretty impressive, really: he'd taken quite a lot more of my shaft than Ellie was able to and, lets' face it, nature had intended hers to receive dicks.

"It's in," I told him. "Well, as far in as it's gonna get."

"Thank fuck!" he called out. "It feels like I've got a fucking bollard wedged up my arse!"

"Do you think you will get used to having me up there?" I asked. "I mean, if we're gonna start doing this regularly..."

"We'll find out, I guess," he muttered while trying to manage his pain by controlling his breathing. "Maybe it'll stretch a bit with practice."

As it happened, it did. Within just a week or so, he was taking me with ease.

I looked down at my first taste of anal penetration, marvelling at my persistence and his determination. It was actually quite obscene the way his butt-hole was so splayed open by the massive girth of my cock. His cheeks were being pushed to each side, their natural roundedness distorted into a pair of crescents, while my humungous dick was rammed in slap bang in the middle, stretching the rim of his anus into a thin, tender-looking sheath.

"I don't think you'll feel yourself shit for a few weeks, mate," I told him bluntly.

"Is it really that hideous?" he asked.

"Your entire butt is now basically a huge, gaping hole with my dick filling it up," I replied with only a little exaggeration. "You could just about give birth to a baby through it, put it like that."

"Oh Jesus, really?" he asked. He sounded a bit worried but there was a heavy dose of amusement with it. That pretty much sums up why I like him so much: he's always up for a laugh even when things aren't going his way.

"Yeah, my cock looks like a tree-trunk and your butt is sort of stretched around it," I went on. "Your ring-piece looks as if it's about to snap. It's, like, totally scandalous."

He reached forwards and grabbed his phone from my desk. "Get a photo of it, mate! Let me see it!"

I started up his camera app and angled the phone down to where my gratuitously swollen shaft was stretching his arsehole open. It looked pretty appalling but kind of funny in a way.

I took a few snaps and passed him his phone back.

He chortled at the pictures. "Oh Jesus fucking Christ! That is, like, shocking, mate!"

"You wanna see it in the flesh. It's like a third leg sticking out of your butt!"

He laughed, "You must be that guy... Jake the Peg with the extra leg, or whatever he was called!"

"Jake the Peg?" I asked, remembering the teacher who had long ago made the joke. "Where's that from?"

"Come on, mate! Don't expect me to start remembering the names of old TV shows when I've got a dick the size of a fucking limb sticking out of my arse!"

I laughed back, enjoying the distinctly pungent smell of our sex which was starting to waft up from his well-stuffed butt.

Marcus studied the photos from various angles muttering, "I can't believe this is my poor fucking arsehole!" Then he giggled, "I'm gonna be walking like I've crapped myself for weeks after this... I'm gonna be farting like a donkey!"

"It's a pretty bitchin' photo, though," I chuckled. "If I was you, I'd set it as my wallpaper."

"Yeah, right!" he laughed. "'Oh, what's your background pic, Marcus?' 'It's my anus being destroyed by Jake Furlong's knob when he was shit-stabbing me.' That's really gonna get me a second date with a girl, isn't it?"

I laughed back and he fiddled with his phone. "No, I think I'll just delete those, mate, before anyone else ends up looking at them."

"Aw, come on! I wanted a copy of those. Here – pass me the phone again."

He handed it over to me and held it out at arms-length as far away from us as I could, eager to take a selfie of us fucking.

"Right, say cheese, mate!"

We both grinned at the phone as it clicked, like we were just messing around the way mates always do instead of having actual butt-sex on my bed.

After taking a snap, I took a look at it and laughed. There we were, him bending over and me behind him. The two of us grinning while we were joined together, my pubes tickling his arse-cheeks and my balls nuzzling into the backs of his thighs.

I was amazed at the sight of us; how incredible we looked together as two guys getting it on.

"What's it like?" he asked.

"As hot as fuck," I grinned.

I handed the phone to him and he laughed too.

"Don't delete it," I told him. "I want a copy of that."

He handed the phone back to me. "Pull out of my arse a bit, so it's obvious you've actually got your beef-pole up there. The way you've taken that one, it looks like we could just be pissing about."

I withdrew from him a little further and positioned the phone to make it clear that the thick shaft of my cock was genuinely buried up his butt, and then I took another shot of us.

This one looked way better: there was no way that we could have staged it somehow to make it look like we were fucking. My cock was quite obviously embedded halfway up his arse; there was no way it could be anything but.

And we were grinning together again, like a couple of naughty schoolboys. That's what made it even better.

I chortled and passed the phone to him. He laughed at the photo and said he liked it a lot.

"Pass it back to me," I requested. "I've got another idea!"

I slowly worked my dick out of him – the farting he'd mentioned helped to propel me on my way – and then took a photo of my face tonguing the cavernous butt-hole I'd just vacated. I took quite a few, actually. Partly because it was fun to have some selfies of me licking out another lad's arse, but mainly because his massive, dick-cleaved hole looked so amazing next to my face. It was so red and sore-looking and splayed so far open from having my cock inside it that it made the photos look really lewd and shameless.

I was grinning next to the butt-hole I'd just had my dick buried in; that much was obvious.

"Let me see them," he said, after I'd looked through them and giggled.

"This one's the best one," I told him, showing him one in which I was smirking and my tongue was undisputedly inside his inflamed and gaping opening.

He laughed, "I'm gonna keep that one and wank off to it. That is so fucking horny!"

"I reckon I'll use it as my Facebook profile pic."

He laughed louder. "I'd like to see that, mate! Your dad would have a heart attack or something!"

He would, I thought, but not for the reason you would think.

Once we'd put his phone back on my desk and he'd applied a load more Vaseline to his bum, I grabbed his hips again and worked my dick back into him.

It was so much easier second time – from that day on, actually, it became progressively more straightforward – and soon I was able to fuck him properly. I quickly got into a nice, rapid rhythm and found that using another lad's arse for sex was far more pleasant than I could have expected. I was surprised by how quickly Marcus got into the feel of my cock sliding in and out him and was able to grip his stretched butt muscles tighter to make it even better for me.

I sat there on our toilet, with my hand getting faster up and down my cock. This was a really good memory to fuel a wank; it never failed to get me off when I wasn't able to look at porn to help me out.

The first time with a girl was probably the worst sex I'll ever have; the first time with a guy was among the very best.

The second time with a guy, since we're on the subject, was with a lad called Nathan. He lived in the next flat to mine and he'd only recently become a mate of ours as his girlfriend was on Marcus' course. One afternoon, he'd walked in on me and Marcus in the middle of a standing-up fuck, but instead of getting freaked out or making a stupid joke or something, he'd just grinned and pulled his dick out – it was already hard – and had walked up behind me. With only the briefest grope of my arsehole to check that I was loose enough to take him, he spat on his cock and then slowly worked it up into me. After a few tentative thrusts and a backwards smirk from me over my shoulder, he reached past me to hold Marcus steady so that I could fuck and get fucked at the same time. None of us said anything the whole time: even when he'd cum, Nathan just pulled his cock out of me, zipped himself up and just threw us a thumbs-up as he left the room.

That was a good memory too; always reliable to hurry along a quick candle bashing when I needed it to.

My third time? To be honest, I'm not totally sure of the order things happened in after that. I really should keep a diary or something.

It could have been a mature student I hooked up with in the library loos when I was bored one evening trying to finish an assignment. It had been brilliant screwing him in a cubicle while he bent over the toilet. It had seemed seedy and kind of sordid, and that had really turned me on.

Or it could have been another of my flatmates, Michael, who got pissed one night and told me, amongst spouting other religious stuff, that he thought it was "sinful" the way Marcus and I made my bedsprings creak at night and how disgusting my room smelt after our "acts of sodomy". We'd chatted about what was so wrong with what I was doing and after we'd had a few more beers, he'd made a clumsy lunge at my lips with his, and we'd ended up committing several other acts of very smelly sodomy ourselves on his own bed which had creaked just as loudly as mine. That was a good memory too, although it had turned a bit weird between us afterwards. We either didn't speak at all – he wouldn't even look at me – or we were banging away at each other like a pair of boned-up dogs. There was no middle ground with Michael: it was either zero contact or he was all over me trying to kiss me and with his dick digging into me.

Guys can be even weirder than girls sometimes.

After those times... well, I guess I sound like a bit of a tart, but it all pretty much blurs into one once you've copped off with more than three or four guys. It's just too easy at university to meet other young lads who might not call themselves gay or even bi but who are still up for some sex. You go to the union disco and all the guys are horny as fuck, but there aren't enough girls for everyone to pull so a few of the less picky lads discreetly nip off together. It's just how it goes here and if you've got a high sex-drive (which you might just possibly have noticed that I have) it's almost inevitable that some nights you're going to end your evening with some dude who has a not-too-choosy prick rather than the girl you might have preferred.

If you don't mind taking a dick up your butt – which I don't – and you like the feel of your own pushing its way into some random lad's arse-crack, then there are so many opportunities for sex at uni that it would almost be a waste not to take advantage of a few of them. Some of the guys are so fucking fit – I might not be gay, but I can tell when another lad is hot – and so if they're up for shag in return for letting you have your turn on them, what's the problem?

I've talked about it with Marcus and we both agree about this. Although we're totally into screwing each other, since there's no emotional thing going on between us – well, no more so than if we were just good mates – we don't have an issue with either of us dicking around with other guys when the occasions arise.

Our rule is that we use condoms when we're shafting other dudes. My cock goes commando on Ellie's pussy and Marcus' butt, but on all its other outings, I promised him that it would wear its raincoat.

On his side, I'm pretty sure he's got a thing going on with one of his flatmates, an Italian guy called Paulo. I don't know exactly what's the two of them are up to, but there's always a familiar smell in his room after Paulo's paid him a visit.

I'd once asked him and he'd just said, "Come on, Jake. He's got a scorching hot girlfriend and the way she looks at him, you can see she's always up for a bit."

"Yeah, and the way he looks at you," I'd remarked, "I reckon he's up for a bit of the other."

Marcus had just grinned but I noticed he wasn't denying it.

And I'm pretty sure he was fucking a lad he shared a tent with on an archaeological dig he went on: someone called Darren from Liverpool. He's your real, stereotypical scally and you wouldn't have thought he'd do stuff with other guys except for glassing them or nicking their wallets, but Marcus took a whole wodge of condoms on that trip with him and, as far as I know, he got through the whole lot of them. So someone's arse was getting a good seeing-to, and if it wasn't Darren's spotty scouse hole it must have been Marcus' more polished equivalent.

Still, it's just what lads do these days. 'Heteroflexible' some guys call it. I prefer to say that I'm 'straight but open to offers' – that pretty much sums it up for me.

My dick was going soft: time to refocus, Jake. I thought back to that morning, with me pounding away at Marcus' butt for the first time. My very first anal sex – either with a guy or a girl – and how amazing it had felt.

And how amazing it had smelt – let's not forget that. The smell was near enough as exciting as the sensation of it.

I was wishing I had a pair of Marcus' boxers with me so I could stick my nose into them and sniff, to some small extent, the scent of his sex. I had a pair in my room at uni – stashed away at the back of a drawer. I'd nicked them out of his laundry bag when he'd been out of his room and had used them on many occasions to stoke up a good wank when their former owner hadn't been available.

I glanced at my dad's briefs and momentarily considered using them for the same purpose. I could see some stains on them and they looked like they'd provide plenty of 'inspiration'. But no – that would be way too weird. Not even my dad would consider doing something like that with my dirty keks, or so I hoped.

Instead, I thought back to how it felt that morning on the bed and felt my cock immediately twitching back to life.

I'd grabbed Marcus' hips and started driving long, spearing thrusts in and out of his arse. In spite of his orgasm and how stretched open his butt was, he was gasping and laughing at the sensation of being fucked, pushing himself back against me and urging me to plough into him quicker and deeper.

His bowels felt hot and wet; his arsehole tight and firm. I quickly developed a fast, forceful rhythm against him, pulling at his hips every time I plunged my cock into him, holding him steady as I rapidly withdrew.

I threw my head back and closed my eyes, revelling in how good it felt, with my heavy bollocks pounding against his smaller pair and making rapid slapping sounds with every thrust. The sensation seemed to get better and better as he honed his skills at using his arse muscles, just as I had done, to squeeze and massage my cock as it slammed it back and forth inside him.

He was fucking me back as I fucked his butt: the two of us working together as fellow males to maximise each other's pleasure.

I got so carried away that I accidentally let out a fart. Before I could apologise, I felt the dregs of Marcus' semen trickling down the back of my thighs. It had been inside me all that time, sloshing around my innards.

I cried out, "Oh Jesus!"

The feel of his jizz spilling out from my butt while I fucked him was so exciting. My dad was right: screwing a guy with his freshly-deposited cum dribbling out of your tush really was the cherry on the cake.

Marcus called back to me, "I'm getting a boner again, mate!"

I laughed at him, still slamming in and out of him, and the word I'd thought of earlier suddenly came back to me. The two of us were lovers, plain and simple. Even as I banged away at him getting steadily faster, I sounded that out in my head: I had a female lover in Ellie and now a male lover in Marcus. I was a lad who took male lovers on the side.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I knew my dad would be over the moon!

I reached under my newly-labelled lover and groped for his hardening cock, wrapping my hand around it and clumsily jerking his foreskin.

"Ah yeah! Wank me, Jake!" he called out, his whole body moving with mine to maximise the pleasure he was getting from his bum.

I knew for a fact that my flatmates would be listening to this. They had probably gathered around my door when it had been my turn to get fucked, grinning at each other and wondering what we were going to do next.

"Come on, mate, fuck me harder!" Marcus implored as his cock reached its full stiffness and I was able to start jerking it properly.

They'd probably started out thinking we were just messing around and were going to swing the door open and say the joke was on them, but now this had gone on for so long and our sounds were getting more and more intimate they'd probably be looking at each other, their smiles turning to curiosity as they realised they were hearing two of their friends losing their anal virginity.

And losing my anal virginity – if I can call it that – was like nothing I could have imagined. It felt absolutely amazing, to be honest. Not just the sensation of his arse ring clamped around my dick which was so much tighter than a pussy, nor the muscles inside him which would squeeze around the shaft, kneading my full length as I slid in and out of him. But the thrill of being with him like that – of kneeling behind him and slamming in and out of his splayed butt-crack while he bent over for me – felt so hot and sexy. I was getting more turned-on from the way we were joined together in that position; as intimate with each other as two male lovers can be.

That word again: lovers. Was Marcus really my lover? Was I really the kind of guy who had male lovers now?

I'd always recoiled from applying the word lover to someone of my own gender because I figured it was something a bit sissy and girlie.

But what the two of us were doing now was anything but that.

I moved my arms up to hold Marcus' shoulders, pulling his body tight against mine as my hips hammered back and forth against his quivering buttocks. He took his own rhythm on his cock, beating himself off with his usual impatience, still calling out about how good it felt and how I should fuck his arse as roughly as I could.

This type of sex was something that I found I liked; having a male lover like this was something I could really get into.

The smell of our sex grew heavy in the air: the cloying odour of the sweat which was pouring off us and of Marcus' gobs of cum trickling down my legs; the cruder and more offensive reek of his slimy arse being shafted by my relentless cock. I inhaled deeply, loving how rough the two of us were making my room stink.

There was nothing remotely sissy about this. Our bodies were male, the position was male and the sheer power of the stink we were making was like in-your-fucking-face masculine. Nothing I'd experienced with a girl had even vaguely approached the off-the-scale hotness I was feeling while the two of us made my bed creak so loud and so fast that it was like we were taking a hacksaw to its legs.

Yeah, I could really get into having another dude as my lover if this was what it involved.

"Jake Furlong: the lad who has a girlfriend but dicks around with a male lover on the side!"

Yeah, I'd like that. That sounded pretty cool.

In the bathroom, I was jerking off pretty fast now. That had been a damn good session: out there with the best.

It was a pity that Marcus hadn't filmed us on his phone. He often did that: film himself having sex. Usually he did it when he was being fucked – for some reason, watching himself getting shagged up the arse really got him going when he was having a wank afterwards. He very occasionally got his phone out when he was the one on top, but he far preferred to position it on something to the side of himself when he was the one getting his butt stoked.

As far as I know, he never filmed himself with girls. I think that was way too tame for him – he liked to look at hardcore stuff when he was jerking himself off.

I was once looking for something on his phone – something he'd asked me to find for him – and I came across a movie of him getting boned in what looked like a cloakroom among jackets and coats. It was a bit blurry and there was constant vibration as if the phone had been placed on something mechanical so you couldn't really make out what was going on. I could see that the guy fucking him looked about my dad's age – forty at least – and the two of them were fully clothed except that their trousers were hitched down around their thighs. They were kind of squatting together, both bending forwards, with the older bloke's arms around Marcus' chest and his hips banging away against the bare buttocks which were being eagerly offered.

"What's this?" I'd said.

He'd grabbed the phone off me. "Don't look at that! It's private!"

"I wasn't snooping around. I just opened it by mistake."

He closed the movie huffily and made a show of deleting it. "I forgot I even had it."

"It's okay, Marcus," I went on, confused as to why he was suddenly being so whack-jack. "What you get up to is your own look-out. You know that."

"I know – it was just a mistake, that's all. He's one of my old teachers – we shouldn't have done it."

"Your teacher... really?" I'd said, even more interested. "Wow!"

"It wasn't like that," he countered. "He's married and he obviously immediately regretted it. It kind of fucked things up for us and I used to get on really well with him."

"I thought you said you didn't get up to stuff like that when you were at school," I reminded him. "I thought I was your first."

The way I said that sounded a bit clingy, but I hadn't meant it to. I was just pulling him up on what he seemed to have revealed to be a lie: I couldn't really care if I'd been his first, second or ninety-ninth, to be honest.

"You were my first!" he laughed. "Well as far as dudes go. The movie was filmed just a few weeks ago, after the two of us hooked--up. He had a party at his place for some of our year-group who he used to teach. I told you about it – I went back home for the weekend for it."

"Oh yeah," I'd nodded. That had been a weekend when his stolen boxers had come in very handy.

"I'd had a few drinks and we were chatting on our own in the kitchen. I told him that I was seeing a girl on and off but that I was also... well... kind of messing around with guys too. He was really interested in that and admitted that he'd played around a bit too in his youth.

"Anyway, long story short, he starts flirting with me. I'd always liked him so I guess I kind of played up to it. Next thing, we're sneaking into his downstairs loo and right there – with my old mates in his lounge and his wife fussing about topping up drinks and stuff – he screwed my butt and said that, when he'd finished, we'd change positions so I could do his."

"Nice," I'd laughed. "Sounds like fun, actually!"

"Not really," Marcus had said, shaking his head. "After he'd cum he made out like he'd caught me in there going through people's coats seeing what I could steal. Threw me out of the house – literally – in front of all my friends. I couldn't believe he'd be such a cunt-job."

"Jesus," I said. "You should have told me about it."

"I felt totally fucking cheated, to be honest, Jake. I e-mailed him, apologising for leading him on – even though it was him who'd come on strong – and I just got a curt note back saying he didn't expect any further contact from me."

"What a fucking douche!"

"Tell me about it, mate."

"You shouldn't have deleted that video," I said. "You could have told him you had it... turned the tables on him..."

He'd shrugged indifferently. "I don't want to get into stuff like that, mate. He's obviously got problems – I don't want to add to them."

Which was pretty nice of him; nicer than I would have been in his wrongly-disgraced shoes.

But anyway, what I was saying was that if he'd filmed us that morning I could have watched it back now. That would have really sped things up for me and my dick: seeing how the two of our arses had left their virginity behind them.

Not that I'd had the sense to pick my phone up on my way into the bathroom, though.

I have a dozen or so movies on my phone that he's filmed and then sent over to me: him sucking my dick, me rimming his arse but mostly him bending over with me burying my schlong up his massive hole. There's a really scorching one with me and Nathan in it, taking it in turns to go at his arse and mouth. Nathan on one end, me on the other and then the two of us changing places while Marcus stays in the middle, on all fours like he's our cum dumpster. That one's a firm favourite among all three of us, and I wouldn't be surprised if it's been seen by quite a few other guys too.

That's something Marcus keeps asking about from time to time: whether I'd be okay with him sharing a few of the videos he's taken in exchange for seeing what other guys get up to. So far I've said no, but I've been kind of tempted. There was this nice one of a mate of his called Ollie he showed me, where he'd positioned his phone so you could see him fingering some other's guy's butt. You could see from his face that it was his first time, and you could see from his hand on his dick how much he was enjoying it.

So I've often come close to saying yes and seeing what other dudes get up to, but so far I've held out in case Ellie gets see the kind of stuff I do when she's not around.

I sat back against the toilet and stroked my with a nice, fast rhythm. My balls were slapping against my fist so loud that both the other guys in the house would be able to hear me if they were awake. I didn't care, though; it was too late for niceties. My orgasm was getting nearer: that was all that mattered.

I'd always struggled to climax in toilets. Screwing in a toilet, as I told you, had turned out to be a lot of fun, but trying to wank off in one has never been that easy. I've had a lot of practice at it – the amount of juice my bollocks churn out has made masturbation in random toilets into a regular necessity over the years – but it never gets any easier.

Even when I was at school, I used to have to do it at break and lunchtimes – sometimes even between lessons when my nuts were really active. I had a favourite cubicle in the boys' loos – right at one end where it was a bit more private.

Once, when I'd had to use a different cubicle with a dodgy catch on the door, I had some kid walk in on me, right in the middle of going full-pelt on my dick. I was sprawled out on the toilet – just like I am now – hoping I could make myself shoot before the end of break, when the door swings open and there's this short, specky lad standing there looking in. He must have been two or three years younger than me and he just stood there looking gormless, staring at my hand bashing up and down my knob and watching my bollocks slapping up against my fist just like they are now. I peered back at him, shocked at being caught wanking off in the school loos but unable to stop my hand pumping at my dick as fast as it could.

He kept looking at me and at first I thought maybe he hadn't seen another guy jerking off before, but then his eyes caught mine and – to my utter amazement – he smirked at me. He'd just caught an older lad sitting on the bog whacking off, and I swear to God he smirked at me as if he liked what he saw.

So – what else could I do – I smirked right back. If he liked what he saw, then I guess I liked showing him it just as much.

He looked up at my face and we grinned naughtily together and then he turned his gaze back down to my huge cock which was now so hard it was shiny as my hand pounded away at it.

Then he laughed and said, in a voice that was surprisingly deep for his height, "Fuckin' yeah!"

He might just have been a gozzy-eyed kid but it was pretty clear he was no stranger to guys wazzing off in the school loos.

He kept staring at my knob as I worked my hand as fast as I could for him, slamming it up and down the shaft until my bell-end was puffed-up like a big, ripe plum.

Then he said, "Let's see you spunk up!"

"Yeah?" I'd grinned back, my hand pumping so fast on my cock.

"Yeah, I wanna see you nuttin' off," he'd said. "Shootin' your jizz... come on, mate, make it spurt!"

And – needless to say – I had. All over my trousers and shirt with that kid grinning and gawping at me and sticking his tongue out as my bollocks were emptied. You'd think from his face that a fountain of spunk being jerked out of an older lad's dick was the coolest thing he'd ever seen.

So yeah – apart from that one time – I've always found jacking off in loos difficult.

I thought back to me and Marcus, screwing on the bed. That would help to finish me off.

I pulled him upright with me so that I was staring into the back of his head. I wrapped my left arm around him and kept wanking him off with my right as my cock battered in and out of him, my hips a blur against his flexing buttocks. He seemed to like being masturbated by me: he seemed to appreciate the differences of my hand and my technique as a change from his own.

"Are you getting close?" he whispered as my hand swept up and down his cock. In spite of how much smaller it was than mine, I found it surprisingly easy to stimulate it to his liking.

"Yeah," I grunted. "Are you?"

"Really close," he whispered. "I'm gonna go any second."

"Do you want me to cum up your butt?" I asked him, already knowing what the answer would be.

"Fuck yeah!" he laughed. "Make me shit your spunk, Jake!"

If my flatmates really were listening outside of the door, I knew what they'd just heard would really floor them. Well-spoken Marcus Cunningham, the soft boy from Surrey, telling another lad that he wanted to shit his spunk! I almost laughed at how their faces would look: I could imagine the one we called Saint Michael would be blushing scarlet and probably crossing himself.

"You're a dirty fuck, do you know that?" I told him, my cock driving even faster in and out of his massively stretched arse.

"Come on," he urged me, "shoot your muck up my arse!"

I chuckled at that and grabbed him more tightly. I was so close – both back then and now, sitting in the cold bathroom at home.

"You'd like that wouldn't you," I grunted into his ear. "You'd fucking love it!"

Finding himself warming to talking crude during our sex, something he would get steadily better at each time we did it, he added, "I wanna shit white cream for the rest of the day, mate! That's what I'm gonna fucking love!"

"It won't be fucking white, mate!" I whispered into his ear. "Not where it'll have been!"

I gently bit his ear and then tongued his lobe. As I'd expected from having had Craig do that to me, Marcus' cock started shooting its second load all over my bedding.

I kept banging away at him, egging my own orgasm on, when he surprised me by reaching under himself and yanking roughly at my heaving balls. As if on cue, my cock started spurting, filling his bowels up with their hot, sticky load. Just as the jets of cum were subsiding, he surprised me again by reaching further back and sliding a finger up my butt. Spurred on by the intrusion, I found I suddenly hit another, equally powerful, climax and started pumping with renewed vigour a fresh outpouring of cum into him.

How the fuck had he known to do that? The thought he might have been less innocent at school than he liked to make out popped back into my head as my second orgasm subsided.

On the toilet in the bathroom, I tried the same trick on myself as I beat myself off: yanked my balls roughly and then pushed my hand underneath me and drove a finger into my butt. It had the same effect now as it had back then. My cock started spurting but this time, in the absence of a convenient butt to fill, I had to grab a wodge of loo roll to catch my mess.

After filling his butt up with an even bigger volume of cum than I usually produce, we fell forwards together and we panted together, me on top of his back. We stayed like that for what seemed like an age, with me still holding him by the chest as we caught our breath together.

"That was fucking awesome, mate," he eventually managed to say underneath me.

"It's been ages since I came like that," I muttered between his shoulder blades.

He struggled upwards, and I pushed myself off him to give him some space.

"Bloody hell, Jake, I hope today's laundry day, mate," he laughed, looking down at my soiled bedding.

A sudden, uncontrolled dribble of my spent seed slopped out of his arse, soaking both the duvet and under-sheet and making them even less palatable.

I chuckled. "Naah... a few wet-wipes will bring the worst of it off, mate. Laundry day's when I go home to my dad's."

After I'd scrambled up from the bed, I offered to make us both another coffee while he showered and cleaned up. He nodded gratefully and sat up himself, letting out another stream of semen from his butt with a heinous-sounding fart.

"Sorry, mate," he offered, looking embarrassed but amused. "I can't seem to stop myself – you've totally fucking shot my sphincter control!"

The bedding was now beyond salvation. I was going to have to make a trip to the laundrette: there was no alternative. My dad used to witter on about having to boil-wash really skanky things: I'd have to figure out how to set the machine up to do one of those.

"It better not be like this every time I shag you, Marcus," I said, my tone only half-serious. "I can't be pissing around washing my fucking bedding every few days."

He chuckled, groping under himself, "I think I can feel my ringpiece again!"

"Well that's a good sign!" I suggested brightly.

"Yeah, the feeling's defo coming back, mate. I'm back in control." At which point he let a third and even more dispersive fart and, suppressing his giggles, blushingly apologised.

I left the bathroom room in our house far more scrupulously clean than we'd left the bed-sheets that morning. Glancing at my dad's discarded briefs, I thought I'd leave them for Marcus to find the next morning. I wondered if he'd take a sniff of them: I would if I was in his place and it was me finding his old man's dirty shorts in the bathroom. I'd be unable to stop myself from having a little poke around to see how Mr Cunningham Senior compared with his nineteen-year-old son. Whether the pouch that had held his cock and bollocks for a day had the same musky odour that I loved to nuzzle my face into; whether the much cruder smell on the back reminded me of the many times that my university room had been left with the same pungent stink.

I dare say I'd probably even set the shower going to drown out the noise of a quick wank while I moved them around on my nose, hunting out the most interesting spots.

I wondered if Marcus would do the same: jerk himself off with my dad's briefs pressed to his face. I smiled at the thought: the image of him squatting like that, sniffing my old fella's skanky keks while he yanked away at his dick, was actually pretty funny.

Which part would he have his nose in when he came, I wondered. The front, where he could compare the smell of my cock – which he always says has a pissy whiff to it no matter much I wash it – with my dad's? Or the back, where he could see how similar we'd be if he were to give us both a rim-job? From the state of my dad's briefs, I could see he'd find him the more... how should I put it... 'flavoursome' partner.

From what I knew of my friend, I was sure he'd have a quick whiffter at the very least. More likely he'd have his face buried into them, snorting at them like poppers, while his hand pumped at his cock so fast that his precum would froth up into a white lather.

He'd once told me that at school he used to sniff his dorm buddies' underwear. "On the front," he'd said. "It wouldn't have occurred to me that the back could be fun too!"

"And did you wank off at the smell of their dicks?" I'd asked.

"Of course I did," he'd laughed.

"And didn't that make you think, 'Okay, so I might be gay'?"

He'd shrugged. "Not really. I just figured I had... well... an 'appreciation' for other guys' dick smells. Whenever we had discos and stuff with the nearby girls' school, I'd be in their like a shot. I never actually wanted to you... you know... 'do' anything with the guys whose briefs I was jerking off with."

"Did the other lads do the same thing – sniff each other's dirty keks?"

"I dunno," he'd said. "But you know how boys' rooms get. There were dirty pants lying all over the place with all the other mess we used to make. If anyone had wanted to borrow the odd pair of briefs to speed up a quick wank in the toilet, no-one would have noticed."

I carefully got back into bed with him and snuggled up behind him. I felt far more sleepy now from the brief upper body work-out I'd had in the bathroom and my cock was finally soft as it pressed gently against his bum. It would be rock hard in the morning again, by then pushing more insistently between his cheeks and intent on claiming the prize that had been denied to it tonight, but for now it was slumbering just as I hoped its owner soon would be.

I thought back for one last time to that morning, hoping that sleep would take me before I got to the boring part of lugging my dirty cum-soaked bedding down to the launderette.

After I'd pulled on some fresh briefs and a t-shirt, I went out into the flat. My flatmates were in the kitchen and they went quite when I walked in.

I made our coffee like nothing was up, even nonchalantly asking who was playing in the snooker match that was on TV.

Eventually Evan, the Welsh guy, came out with what everyone was wondering. "Were you two guys doing what it sounded like, mate?"

"What did it sound like?" I asked, pretending like I was the crown prince of sweetness and innocence.

"Well... I mean," he went on, clearly uncomfortable. "We thought the two of you were just joking around and stuff... but then... you know... it started sounding pretty... well... convincing..."

"What sounded convincing?" I asked with the same look of angelic virtue.

Toby from Lancashire cut in: "He means were the two of you fucking each other's arses, Jake. 'Cause if you weren't, I don't know what the fuck else you could have been doing."

I laughed over at them, sitting around in front of the TV and staring at up at me to see my reaction.

"We were trying some stuff out, yeah," I admitted with a sly smirk.

"What? Butt sex?" Michael asked, almost grasping at his crucifix for strength.

"Among other things, yeah," I chuckled.

"It's not like it's a problem, Jake," Evan cut in over whatever it was that Michael had been about to add. "We just didn't know you were gay."

I laughed again. "I'm not gay. Well, I don't think I am."

"So why the fuck are you having sex with other dudes, then?" Toby asked, maybe not unreasonably.

"I might not be gay, but... you know.... sometimes shit happens."

Evan laughed at that. "I suppose it's a case of when the girls are away, the boys are gonna play."

"Something like that, yeah," I agreed, filling our cups with the hot water.

"So you and Ellie are still...?" Michael began.

"Of course we are," I was keen to stress. "It's not like I want Marcus as my boyfriend or some crap. We're just friends."

"Friends with benefits," Evan embellished.

"Exactly," I grinned.

Even Toby had to smile at that. "I guess it's the best of both worlds, isn't it? You've got Ellie when she's up for it, and a sub waiting on the benches for when she's not."

I grabbed our coffees and walked to the door. "I wouldn't say Marcus is just a sub, guys. In some matches, he'll easily be first choice."

They all laughed at that, even Michael.

"Kinda makes sense," Evan was saying as I left the room. "I mean, if you don't mind a bit of give and take..."

I could see that he and I might be having a bit of fun in the not too distant future.

When Marcus got back from showering he asked me if the other guys knew what we'd been doing.

"What do you think, mate?" I replied. "I mean, the noise we were making..."

"Michael just looked at me in the corridor like I was the devil incarnate."

"Screw him," I said, not realising that within just a few weeks I'd be doing that myself.

"What are we gonna say to them?" Marcus asked. He looked genuinely worried as he dried himself off. I couldn't help but notice how cute his cock looked soft.

"I've already said it," I answered him. "I told them how things were."

He nodded. "And did they get it? I mean, I don't want word getting around that we're, like, a gay couple or something. Jesus, I have a hard enough time with girls as it is..."

I smiled. "I think they got the picture, mate. Evan described us as friends with benefits."

Marcus chuckled at that as I pulled off my t-shirt and briefs, intending to shower myself.

"Yeah, I can accept that," he said. "That sounds pretty cool."

I stood in front of him, as naked as he was, except that I stunk of our sex while he smelt of my Lynx shower gel.

I moved forwards so we were right in front of each other, my much larger cock gently rubbing against his smaller and cuter version.

"I think we're a bit more than that, though, aren't we, mate?" I said in a low voice.

He smiled. "How would you describe us, then, Jake?"

I nuzzled our cocks together, enjoying feeling him harden a little against me. "I'd say we're male lovers, you and me."

"Lovers?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "That's a bit heavy, isn't it?"

I put both my arms around him, working my hands down his back until I was cupping his butt-cheeks with my fingers pushing into his crack.

"We just made love, mate, as intimately as two guys can. I'd say lovers was a pretty accurate word for the two of us."

He smiled as I worked my fingers between his cheeks. His arsehole was now huge: compared to the previous night I could now easily work three fingers into him. I could have probably managed a whole hand if I'd felt like it.

"Well, I'm happy for you to be my lover, Jake," he chuckled, pushing his bum back against the gentle rhythm of my fingers. "If that's what I am to you."

His cock was now hardening quickly; mine was staring to rise upwards and push against his balls. It seemed like after just half an hour since a heavy climax he was up for having his butt poked again. Ellie could take a whole week to similarly recover.

"Okay, so we're lovers," I confirmed, enjoying how the smell of his butt was becoming recharged in the air. "No lovey-dovey stuff or commitment or whatever – just good mates, like we were, but a bit... you know... special..."

He smiled and moved slightly to allow his cock to spring upwards. "Sounds good to me," he said. "We're not boyfriends, we're just lovers."

I smiled back at him as my own cock rose upwards against him. We both knew how we wanted to clinch the new terms of our friendship and it was going to mean that my bedding got even messier before it was washed.

"So what do you want to do today, then, my male lover?" I asked him with a grin. "After we've finished up here, I mean..."

He started working his cock against mine, the two of us gently sparring with our dicks like we had the previous night.

"I thought maybe we could go back to my place," he suggested. "Let my housemates know how things are between us, the same way that we let yours know..."

I laughed how horny he was. I realised that, like me, he could be a total fucking slut.

"Sounds like a plan," I said, working my cock against his. "But maybe we could do some different stuff. I mean, I'm always up for a fuck but I reckon there's another few dozen positions we haven't tried."

I had in mind the idea of having him feed me with his spunk. Of lying flat on my back and having his squatting over me, jerking his dick into my mouth as his cum was pumping out of it in surges. With me sucking it from his bell-end and gulping it down like I was suckling on his dick juice. That was the image that was making my cock wet his with its precum right then.

He chuckled. "Okay. But I reckon your flatmates haven't quite got the idea that we're lovers now, you and me, mate."

"Do you reckon?" I asked, my mouth a broad grin.

"Yeah, I think we need to give them another demo. Both ways, this time – you going first."

"Both ways?" I asked with amused surprise. I'd figured from the way he was munching my fingers with his butt that he just wanted me to fuck him.

"If you're up for it," he posed.

"I'm always fucking up for it, mate!"

"And with me on my back this time, my legs over your shoulders like they do in gay porn. You know what I mean, don't you?"

I grinned. I liked the sound of that. "I know exactly what you mean, mate."

"Come on, then, lover boy," he laughed, pulling me back onto the bed. "Let's make sure they know the score this time! That we might not be gay but we make fucking good lovers!"

And by the time I'd finally gone back out to take the shower I'd intended, I was in no doubt, from the stink of our sex throughout the flat and the looks of astonishment on my flatmates' faces, that they'd got the message loud and clear.

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