A Walk in the Park

But anal sex with a man: that would be a wholly different prospect. Unconstrained by my heterosexual ideal of sex as an act of love, a sexual act with a member of my own gender could be more expressive and uninhibited. There'd be no kissing or caressing, no whispering of affections: I'd just use his arse like a masturbatory aid – grabbing his hips like the guy in the drawing to hold him steady while I pleasured myself.

I was well aware that, unlike women, men did experience pleasure from being anally penetrated. Not just gay men, who probably in part enjoyed being physically connected to another man, but straight men could also become sexually excited from being entered from behind. It was something to do with having a bundle of nerve endings behind the prostate gland and was the reason why it was not uncommon for men to find themselves showing customs officers rather more than they'd bargained for during body cavity searches.

I imagined myself as the guy mounting the other in the drawing, my cock sliding in and out of the other man's backside and the two of us sweating and panting as we worked up a rhythm against each other. We'd both be groaning in pleasure: me from the feel of his tight moist arsehole clamped around my thrusting cock and from the heady, raunchy smell of him being sodomised; him from the excitement of having such a large manhood inside him, stretching him open and driving in long, rapid strokes deep into his innards.

Of course I could do it. And of course I would love it.

I finished pissing, and shook the last drops from my cock into the toilet bowl.

The door of the next cubicle banged closed and there was a fumbling of clothes and zips. I hadn't heard anyone come into the toilet block and so I figured it must be one of the guys who had been at the urinals. Perhaps he'd found he couldn't piss in front of the other man and so had retreated to the cubicle.

But then I heard whispering and realised that both men had gone into the cubicle.

I suddenly felt stupid for not having figured out instantly what the two of them had been doing standing side-by-side in silence at the urinal. They were cruising for sex and now they'd hooked up together.

Intrigued, after zipping myself up I sat down on the toilet, wondering what might happen. I noticed a hole about the diameter of a beer bottle had been carved out in the partition between the cubicles and tentatively peered through it.

In the gloom of the next stall, I saw that one of the men was sucking the other man's cock. Even in the near-darkness, I could see that the cock was large and impressive and curved upwards into the mouth of the bobbing head which was eagerly devouring it. The coldness had certainly not affected his size!

I felt uncomfortably voyeuristic watching the men enjoying what should have been a private act and was about to get up and leave them to it, when the guy's face suddenly pulled away from his friend's cock and turned to face me through the hole.

Panicking at being seen, I ducked down out of view. I had visions of him turning on me for spying on them, dragging me out of the cubicle and beating me up.

But instead I heard him whisper something.

I looked back through the hole at his face peering at me. He was young-looking with stubble. One of his front teeth was chipped. He asked in a gruff whisper, "You wanna come in with us?"

I shook my head. This was way too fast; way too soon.

I whispered, "Sorry... but... I've never done this before."

He smiled like he'd heard that one a few thousand times before and then turned to his friend's cock, still throbbing level with his face. After stroking it a few times, still slick with his spit, he turned back to me and said, "What are you into?"

At first I had no idea how to respond. What was I into? But suddenly an idea flashed into my head.

I said, without foreseeing any serious prospect he would comply: "I want to see you rimming him."

After what had happened in the library, I was anxious to watch what his reaction would be. Part of me expected him to recoil in horror and order me out of the building, much like Silas the Chief Librarian had.

But he didn't. He just threw me a mischievous smile, as if to acknowledge I was rather less innocent than I tried to seem, and then asked, "That's what you're into?"

I nodded. Well I was.

He smiled more broadly, as if what I was asking breached the normal rules of etiquette in such places, and then looked up, his mouth a wicked grin, at his friend.

I wondered if I may have been mistaken as to why references to rimming were so uncommon on the cubicle walls. Perhaps, far from it being viewed with such deference that it was rarely performed between strangers in such places, it was instead scorned as the most base of sexual acts between men. Contrary to being the queen of intimate contact, it was the whore.

The stubbled guy's expression said it all: what I was asking was out of the ordinary and, however decadent he regarded my request, he was also amused and titillated by it.

He stood up and the two men's erections pointed towards one another. The guy with the stubble had a cock which was pretty average in length but the shaft was coursed with a labyrinth of prominent veins. His friend's cock looked much larger in comparison and its bulbous head was like a fat red helmet which glistened from a steady ooze of clear liquid. I was starting to enjoy the wealth of different shapes and sizes of other men's cocks. Whereas once they had been of little interest to me, other than to make me uncomfortable by highlighting my own unusual endowment, now I was beginning to recognise that they were – especially in the erect state – quite fascinating.

The men whispered something together – perhaps checking matters of personal hygiene – and then the stubbled guy's face reappeared at the hole, looking more serious.

He whispered, "Show us your knob!"

I wasn't sure why he wanted me to expose myself to him but I supposed it was a reasonable request given what I was asking them to perform for me.

I stood up and undid my jeans. Hitching the front of them down along with my boxer shorts, I revealed myself to him, feeling a few twangs of my usual self-consciousness. My cock was still mostly flaccid and it looked smaller than usual in the coldness of the toilets – just five or six inches as it hung over my large and heavy balls. I jerked the foreskin back and forth a couple of times, as if trying to arouse it, and then ducked back down to see his response.

He was grinning and gave me the thumbs up. He obviously liked what he saw.

How bitterly ironic it would be if only other men found my cock attractive.

He turned and started eagerly sucking his friend's cock again. His technique was assured and confident and betrayed his obvious experience at servicing other men orally. He swept his mouth up and down the other man's large erection, making occasional slurping noises and glancing over at me to check that my eye was still watching them through the hole.

The other guy grabbed his head and started fucking his mouth with long, deliberate thrusts. The stubbled guy enjoyed being used like this and made a moaning sound to express his approval.

While it was enjoyable to watch these two apparent strangers having oral sex in front of me, what they were doing wasn't quite what I'd asked for. I began to wonder if the definition of 'rimming' was somewhat broader than the internet had led me to believe.

I fondled my cock as I watched what looked like a highly proficient blowjob being performed. It was only semi-erect and still felt a bit sore from the previous night.

The stubbled guy pulled away from the cock and started licking the other man's balls. They were large and hairy and I guessed they would smell quite sweaty. The man being licked started masturbating his cock as his nuts were taken, one at a time, into his friend's mouth.

Then the guy pushed his face underneath the other man's nut-sack and started licking between his legs.

I could now see where this was headed. He'd just been taking the scenic route.

The man being licked yanked his trousers and underwear further down so that he could open his legs wider. He raised one leg, supporting himself on the toilet seat, and held his large scrotum out the way so that his friend had better access to what lay behind it.

Now my own cock started stiffening. This was going to be good.

The stubbled guy pushed his face between the other man's legs and started hungrily licking at the hairy cleft which was being presented to him. I thought I saw him recoil a little – perhaps the other man was more whiffy than he'd expected – but he kept going, chafing his friend's thighs with his stubble as he pushed his face further forwards.

I started masturbating, so excited to see another man doing what I had enjoyed so much; what I was sure I would soon enjoy again.

The stubbled guy pulled away from between the other man's legs and looked through the hole at me again.

He grinned at me, anal hairs on his teeth, and said "Let's see your knob again."

I stood up and showed him the effect that what I'd witnessed had had on my cock. It was much larger than when he'd first seen it, but still not fully erect. I jerked it a few times for him, showing him my foreskin easing back and forth across the fat swollen head, and then knelt back down to look through the hole.

He smiled and showed his surprise at how large it had grown with a flick of his eyebrows. "Nice!"

Then he pulled away from the hole again and gestured to the other guy to turn around. He did so, exposing his pale but quite firm-looking buttocks to the stubbled guy's face, and then bent forwards over the toilet.

My cock hardened and lengthened further in my hand as if to show its approval.

The stubbled guy grinned at me again and then turned back towards the arse in front of him. He extended his tongue, glanced back towards me with another sly smirk, and then pushed it slowly into his friend's hairy crack. At first he licked tentatively between the cheeks, as if exploring the delicious tastes within, but then started jabbing his tongue more deliberately, right where his friend's hole would be lurking.

I so desperately wanted to be in his place, but I was too afraid to go into their cubicle with them.

The guy being rimmed opened his legs wider, then squatted forwards and directed his cock downwards. The stubbled guy reached down to lick the dribble of dangling goo from his cock-head and then swept his tongue slowly up the throbbing shaft, across his plump balls and up inside his arse-cleft, tasting the entire length of his crevice with relish. He did it again, licking in a delicious line from the tip of the guy's cock-head to the tufts of hair at the top of his buttocks, and then for a third time while I wanked my shaft to full size.

Jesus, this was hot!

Abruptly the man being rimmed grabbed his friend's head and pushed his face into his arse-crack. He ground the other man's face between his cheeks, forcing his nose and mouth onto his anus. The stubbled guy seemed to like that and fed enthusiastically on the hot, moist hole he was being pushed into.

It was so arousing to see them like this; I was beating my cock quite quickly by now. It was like when Guy had grabbed my head while I was giving him a blow job so he could fuck my mouth with his cock; only here the guy was grabbing his friend's head so that he could have his arsehole fucked by his tongue.

The guy held his friend's head steady and moved his crack rapidly and roughly up and down against his face like he was wiping his arse against it. The stubbled guy fed hungrily on the crack as it swept up and down his face, the shuddering of his right shoulder betraying how quickly he was beating at his own excitement as he did so. I took my hand away from my own throbbing erection, fearing I was going to climax. I'd never seen such fervent, animalistic rimming. I hadn't known such a thing was possible.

The guy being rimmed bent further forwards, grabbed the cheeks of his arse with both hands, opened his crack as wide as he could and thrust his backside back against the other guy's face. The stubbled guy clamped his mouth against his friend's anus and I could tell from the way his cheeks were moving that he was sucking it as he licked it.

Maybe this was what was meant by giving a guy a 'rim-job'. Kind of like giving him a blow-job but you sucked at his arsehole rather than sucking his cock. Now I decided I liked the term; my cock was aching and yearning to be wanked again as I watched the stubbled guy's cheeks sucking with such passion at the hairy crack between the other man's buttocks.

He drew back and I his tongue emerged extended from the other man's arse. Had he really had his tongue inside the other guy's anus? Had he been fucking him with it?

He turned back to me and smirked at me. He stuck his tongue out, perhaps to show me that it was pierced or perhaps to flaunt the stray anal hairs on its tip.

He whispered, grinning again, "You wanna come in here? You can rim me while I rim him."

I was sorely tempted but too scared to agree.

What they were doing looked so intense and so powerfully erotic and yet what if we were caught having sex in so public a place... how would I explain the trouble I was in?

I shook my head.

The stubbled guy reached round to rub his own arse and whispered to me, "Have a whiff of what you're missing..."

He stuck a couple of fingers through the hole and I sniffed the strong odour of his backside on them. The rough, acrid smell had its usual effect on me, making my head spin and my cock throb, and I reached down to wank myself furiously.

I would go into the cubicle with them. We'd stand in a row, three men lined up with our mouths on each other's arses like a strange, contorting six-legged creature. And we'd beat ourselves off in our collective excitement as our tongues fucked in and out of the hot sweaty holes in front of us.

He withdrew his fingers from the hole and whispered, "You can lick my arse while I fuck him."

Oh my God – how fantastic would that be?

Involuntarily, I leapt up and, my feet wide apart on the dirty floor, making rapid sweeps up and down the length of my engorged cock with my whole hand in front of his peering eye. My large, bulging testicles were sticking forwards from the top of my trousers, like two reddened peaches as my fist beat against them with every stroke.

The mental image of me crouching behind him, licking his sweaty arse, his hairy bollocks and even the thickly veined shaft of his cock as slid in and out of his friend's slick anus was so arousing, so exciting, so –

I grunted as my cum shot forth and splattered across the cubicle wall in front of me.

I continued jerking my cock, releasing in thick ribbons the surprising amount of semen which had built up in my balls during the day.

I heard the guy in the next cubicle whisper, "Yeah! Fucking go for it, dude!" as he enjoyed my display.

Even in the fervour of my climax I registered with amusement that I'd just been called 'dude'.

When my nuts were spent and I'd fully milked the last gobs of ooze from my softening cock, I wiped myself with some of the coarse tissue that such places are too often stocked with. Then I wiped down the copious splashes I'd made on the partition – I wasn't sure if I was supposed to (is there a protocol about such things?) but it felt wrong for me to leave my mess splattered across the wall for someone else to find.

After I'd tucked myself away and zipped myself up, I glanced back through the hole to see what the men were now doing.

As I'd expected, the stubbled guy's cock had now claimed the prize which his tongue had so profusely lubricated. The men were fucking in earnest – getting down to the business they had no doubt intended before I had diverted them with my eccentric request. The stubbled guy's hips were ploughing his condom-clad cock back and forth and the arse in front of him was being pushed rhythmically back against it such was the other man's eagerness to receive it. Their hands were groping at each other – the stubbled guy massaging his lover's stomach and wanking his throbbing erection; the man being fucked reaching back to pull the stubbled guy's arse towards him as if wanting his cock to bore its way even deeper inside him.

They looked extremely erotic together in the gloom of the toilet stall, writhing against each other in their shared carnal pleasure. I felt my own organ starting to harden again as I watched them cavort together, marvelling at how much passion and excitement they could derive from the simple sliding of a cock in and out of a backside. They were panting and sweating, gasping and grunting, and their feet stumbled together beneath the partition, both men's boots facing forwards.

I was tempted to stay and watch them, perhaps masturbate for a second time or even ask to join them so that I could take up the stubbled guy's invitation to rim him while he buggered his friend. It was hugely enticing to know that I could right here and right now experience again sexual intimacy with my own gender, and perhaps even coax one of the men into licking my own backside. And yet, apart from my reluctance to do something so risky, I was aware that the time was getting late and Jake would be already be home from college.

As I left the toilet block and headed back home, I thought about what I had seen and how aroused it had made me feel. I knew I wanted to rim another man – it was now a matter of 'when' rather than 'if' – but now I was starting to feel that I wanted to take it further and have anal intercourse with him. I had to work out how I was going to engineer an encounter between me and the right man. By that I wasn't thinking of the proverbial 'Mr Right' – far from it. I was thinking of someone who would want to have sex with me but who wouldn't want any kind of relationship with me or commitment from me. I didn't want a gay lover but rather someone like Guy had proven to be – straight for the most part but who enjoyed having sex with other men with no strings attached.

But how do you go about finding someone like that? Personal ads on the internet? Graffiti in public toilets?

Perhaps a message to Guy through Jake might still be the easiest way.

I couldn't help but wonder, however, if meeting Guy again would prove to be anticlimactic after so many hours reliving every minute detail of our brief tryst and so long spent fantasizing about what else might have happened between us. I worried that, after such intense anticipation, a second get-together with him might bring with it all the disappointments of a bad movie sequel: one of those which followed a film which had been so enjoyable that it was impossible to foresee how comprehensively they could screw things up.

Would a follow-up encounter between us turn out to be a 'Terminator 2', or end up being more of a 'Speed 2'?

===

When I got home and while tea was cooking, an e-mail from Debbie suggested that we meet up for a drink in a pub one evening. As I'd just been about to suggest the same thing to her, I regarded the coincidence as a good omen. She asked me to suggest somewhere convenient to both of us, so I recommended the pub in Kettering.

Her diary was quite full – far fuller than mine ever gets – and she didn't have a free evening until the week after next.

I'd had too many disappointments from meeting people through the internet to consider our date, if one could call it that, too optimistically, but Debbie looked nice in her photo and sounded funny in her e-mails and so I couldn't help but wonder if maybe there might be hope for the two of us.

After Jake had finished work for college and we were watching television, during one of the commercial breaks I mentioned to him that I was going to meet someone.