Candid Cameron

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I shrugged. "How big are we talking here?"

Cameron spread his palms about to a length a good few inches shorter than my own organ was capable of growing to. He said, "Some guys, fully on bone, can be about eight inches long and be about this thick." He made a ring with his thumb and forefinger which was, again, rather less substantial than my own girth. "Would that sort of size intimidate you?"

I smiled. Jesus -- he had no idea.

"I can't say that size would be that important to me, either big or small. I get more excited about what's round the back rather than what's out front."

He allowed himself a smile in return. "You might come to change your mind about that. Mostly, well-endowed guys are pretty popular. It's like Peter says in that 'Family Guy' episode: 'Brent can't fit in the glory hole; and that's why we all like Brent'!"

He chuckled but I didn't know the reference. I figured a glory hole must be the name for the hole between partitions in a public toilet like the one in the park (how did they get there, I wondered).

It occurred to me that Jake had just about every 'Family Guy' episode on DVD and watched them pretty regularly in his bedroom or with his mates. I'd assumed it was an animated sit-com like 'The Simpsons': I hadn't realised that he was looking at this sort of stuff.

"Would you be into any group fun?" Cameron asked after downing another large swig from his pint. "Three or four men together, say...?"

I thought about the time I'd stumbled into being part of a group at the adult learning centre and how, even though we'd coupled up separately, I'd fantasized about us getting together more actively.

"Yeah... I'd definitely be up for that, but I think I'd prefer to keep it to just one guy to start off with... at least 'til I work out what I like and don't like."

He nodded. "How about toys?"

"Toys?" An image of two naked men playing with action figures sprang to mind.

"Yeah... dildos and anal vibrators and stuff."

I shrugged. "I've never really thought about using stuff like that. I don't think it would be something that would turn me on."

"You said you'd like to fuck a guy. Would you felch him afterwards?"

"Felch him?"

"Yeah. You put your mouth on his anus and suck your own cum out of his arse."

I hesitated, slightly repelled by the idea of doing that. It wasn't something I'd seen anyone do on the internet.

I said, "Well, I suppose if he really wanted me to. Is that something that a lot of guys are into?"

"Not hugely. But some men like to felch the arse they've just fucked and then snowball the cum between the two of them..."

"Snowball?" I was starting to feel as if I looked childishly naive and perhaps a little stupid.

He nodded, matter-of-factly. "Yeah. You pass the wad of cum from mouth to mouth and both guys' spit makes it grow, kind of like a snowball."

I shook my head, rather disgusted by the idea. "No. I don't think I could get into that."

"Have you heard of scat?" he asked.

"Stamford College of Arts and Technology?" I suggested, rather pathetically. Jake had for a short time considered doing his A-Levels there.

Cameron chuckled. "No. Scatological sex. Sex involving shit. Is that something you could see yourself getting into?"

I almost recoiled. "Absolutely not! That'd be horrible... appalling! Are you into that?"

He shrugged. "No, not really. But I don't mind it when arse-fucking gets a bit... you know... messy."

"So why do you ask the question?"

"I'm just trying to get an idea of the stuff you're into and what you don't like. I know quite a big circle of men who are into a huge variety of stuff..."

"Jeez... I wasn't expecting to infiltrate some kind of seedy ring," I muttered.

"Infiltrating a seedy ring?" he repeated with a smirk. "I thought that was exactly what you were hoping for!"

I chuckled, taking a sip from my juice which was still more than half full.

He went on, "I could maybe introduce you to someone with similar interests -- someone who you could have some fun with, without it getting too heavy for either of you."

"That'd be good of you. Thanks."

As if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, he surprised me by asking, "I don't suppose you're coming to the Christmas party at work?"

"I don't normally. I've got my son, Jake, at home." Then, thinking he perhaps saw the party as an opportunity for the two of us to hook up, I added, "But I could make plans for Jake if you want someone to go with..."

Cameron smiled and shook his head. "Sorry -- that wasn't my intention, Rob. I'll be honest with you -- I don't think the two of us would be compatible. I'm into some pretty heavy stuff and I think it would freak you out right now."

"Oh, I didn't mean that," I blurted out, realising how unconvincing I sounded. "I just meant --"

"I asked," Cameron cut in, "because I know a few guys who are pretty new to this, like you, and I might be able to introduce you to someone there."

"Oh, right," I said, more cheerfully. "That'd be great."

He smiled. "It's kind of what I do. I don't know why, but I'm pretty good at spotting men like us and I seem to have become a bit of a matchmaker."

"Well as long as you match me up with another straight bloke, that'd be fine by me. I don't want some gay guy who might get too clingy... you know... emotionally."

"Oh, he'll definitely be straight," Cameron asserted. "All the guys I know who are into this are straight, actually. I mean, gay men must do it too but I guess they couple up together and form relationships. Like you say, that's definitely not what I'm offering."

"I don't suppose Matt Strickson -- on my floor -- is into this kind of stuff, is he?"

Cameron smirked. "Like the look of him, do you?"

I smiled but felt my face flush at the implicit acknowledgment that I harboured sexual desires towards a specific man.

"He's got a rather nice backside..." I ventured.

"He's got an incredible arse," Cameron asserted. "The trouble his head's stuck so far up it that there'd be no room for anything else."

I chuckled. "You could always leave an envelope on his desk..."

"Believe me," Cameron said with smile, "if he showed even a glimmer of interest, I'd be in there like a shot. I mean, the guy must have one of the most fuckable arses in the company and, from the way he fills out those tight trousers he likes to wear, either he's got a King Dong knob stuffed down there or otherwise he has a pair of wrecking-ball knackers."

I nodded. It felt a bit odd to talk about other men like this -- if this had been a woman's sexual attributes we were discussing it would have seemed vulgar and chauvinistic. Nevertheless, I had to agree with him not only about how 'fuckable' Matt's arse was (I'd have to remember that term -- I rather liked it) but also how flagrantly well-packed the front of his trousers were.

"If it's not about furthering his career or adding something to his CV," he went on, "you can forget it."

"Okay, so Matt's not up for grabs. But let's say you hook me up with someone else - what do you get out it?" I asked.

He shrugged and grinned. "Nothing much. The pleasure of welcoming another recruit to my cause. The pleasure knowing I got you started when I meet you at a party in a few months, with your arse up in the air and taking on all-comers!"

I laughed. "Ah... the simple pleasures in life."

He laughed back and picked up his drink again, contemplating it like he might be about to down the remaining half of it as a way of bringing things to a close.

Before he could do so, I ventured: "Actually, if you've got another minute or two, I've got something else I'd like to ask you."

"What about?"

"About... well," I hesitated. I was thinking this might be a good opportunity to find out a few things from someone with his experience. "I've been with enough women to know what I'm doing on that score, but I'm kind of in the dark about what to expect with another guy... you know... the practicalities."

He nodded, "Okay," and put his drink back down on the table.

"Let's say I get a guy back to my bedroom," I began. "What happens then? Do we just undress and get down to it? Surely there are some preliminaries I should know about to avoid it feeling too... well... sterile...?"

"What do you normally do when you're with a woman?"

"You know... kissing and cuddling and stuff. But that wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

I noticed the young guy with the ratty face crossing the bar on the way to the toilet. He looked at us both intently and I waited until he'd gone through the swing-door to the gents before I responded to Cameron's question.

"Well, like I said... I'm not into gay stuff."

He laughed. "Kissing a guy doesn't make you gay any more than screwing him does! It's definitely a good thing to get things going... it helps to break down the natural guardedness which you get between men... gets the two of you bonding... establishes intimacy..."

I shook my head. "I couldn't do that. It'd feel completely wrong to me."

He nodded. "Okay. So what about the cuddling?"

"It still sounds a bit gay."

He laughed again; I wasn't sure that I liked the way he found my opinions and sexual preferences so amusing.

"Cuddling can be sexy without being romantic," he suggested. "The two of you could strip down to your underwear and then get up close together. Like you found with your mate in the hotel room, a man's skin has a sweaty, sexy musk to it. His underwear can smell really arousing too... something to do with the pheromones we produce..."

I smiled. I knew all about that.

"Around his knob and his nuts," he went on, "and round the back where they've been riding into his arse. Just sniffing each other can really get you both going. Imagine a guy's nose wedged into the back of your Y-fronts -- that's guaranteed to get you horny."

I grinned at Cameron's assumption that I was an old-fashioned Y-fronts wearer; he probably also thought I wore a velvet jacket at home and sat in my rocker smoking a calabash pipe. Nevertheless, the thought of having some fun with another guy in our underwear was quite appealing.

Cameron smiled back and then went on: "You've got to play it by ear, Rob. Maybe some of the things which worked for you with women won't work with men. You've just got to try out a few things and find out what sails."

I nodded, somewhat relieved to have at least one idea to help me avoid my fear of limpness and embarrassment, as he downed another large mouthful from his pint.

"I just wanted to check... you know... what kind of stuff it's normal to do."

When he'd put his pint back down he said, "There isn't such a thing as normal. If the two of you are enjoying it, just do it. Don't question it and don't try to live by anyone else's standards, especially not by the preconceptions you have as a hangover from stuff you've done with women. Sex with men is different: it's less constrained... more liberated."

"Why do you think that is?" I asked.

Sipping my juice again and starting to feel a bit sickly from it, I noticed that Cameron's second drink was now emptier than my first: I was being lapped by him, though not in the way I'd fantasized about the previous night.

"Men are more horny, to put it simply. Our bollocks are full of spunk, our brains are full of testosterone and we're out for all we can get. Guys are strong -- we can get intensely physical with each other when we want to -- and we have pretty filthy imaginations. So put two or more horny men together and... well --"

"Fireworks!" I suggested.

"Exactly," he grinned broadly. "You know, Rob... come to think of it, sex between men isn't for nancies!"

I chucked at his joke, suspecting that his tongue was being loosened by his second pint.

"I think there's also the fact," he went on, "that when you're sexual with a woman, it isn't always clear how much she's enjoying it, even if she says she is. That's certainly true of my wife! With another bloke, you can see straightaway whether or not he's turned on -- let's face it, it's blatantly obvious. I think that's why men can be more confident when they're being intimate together... more willing to experiment and to take things further, knowing full well that the other guy is just as into it from just a glance between his legs."

I noticed that rat-face had emerged from the gents and was uncouth enough to still be zipping up his trouser fly as he crossed the bar. Once again, he stared over at Cameron and me, especially me, clearly fascinated by our conversation.

After he'd passed I asked Cameron who he was.

"Just some guy," he replied, taking another swig from his pint and leaving just a mouthful in the bottom. "He's called Wayne... the youngest of the Simm brothers, I think. I only vaguely know him."

"Is that his girlfriend? She seems a bit too nice-looking."

He smiled. "She's probably the latest girl he's managed to knock up. He's very good at sewing his seed, in spite of the fact I don't think he's ever done a day's work."

"So why's he in a suit?"

Cameron grinned. "Probably been up in court. If it's not withholding support payments, it'll be shoplifting from Poundland."

I glanced over at rat-face as he sat back down with the girl and peered over at our table again.

"He seems very interested in us," I observed. "He keeps looking in our direction."

Cameron chuckled. "He probably thinks we're hooking up together. Knowing Wayne, he'll be desperate to get in on any action that's going."

"What, as well as screwing any girl who'll have him?"

"Wayne's one of those guys who loves sex and is into just about everything. His preference would probably be towards girls, but he'll take whatever's going from whoever's offering it."

I looked over at Wayne again, chatting with his girlfriend and still throwing the odd furtive glance in our direction.

"Surely he's not into rimming?" I asked, rather incredulous that such a rough-looking youth could enjoy something which I had come to regard as quite a cultivated taste.

"Like I said, he's up for whatever's going," Cameron said, before downing the last inch of his drink.

"You've seen him at some of your... well..." I fumbled for the right word before settling on, "... soirees?"

He shook his head. "No. He's not into the scene. Maybe he will be in a few years but for now he's still a bit young."

"So how do you know what he's into? Have you seen him... doing stuff with another guy?"

He paused, like he was studying the remnants of froth on his empty beer glass. Then he said, "Like you, I don't like to kiss and tell. But yeah, I've seen him 'doing stuff'. But with two other lads, actually. And with me."

I let my surprise show. "Wow!" The lad was not much older than Jake and yet he was clearly very adept and impressively flexible when it came to matters of sex.

Cameron glanced at his watch. "I should be going, really."

"Come on!" I urged him. "You can't start a story and then not finish it!"

He looked again at his watch -- studying it this time -- torn between letting me in on whatever it was that had happened to him and, I assume, returning home. "Okay," he said at length, throwing me a knowing smirk.

"A few months ago I got talking to a guy in a pub," he began, with the merest trace of a possible Northern accent on the word 'pub' betraying how much he'd drank. "He was called Malcolm and I knew him through a friend of a friend. He seemed a nice enough guy and was reasonably attractive -- tall, like me, but a bit more on the chubby side. Anyway, he was kind of prying a bit into what I do for 'fun' and behaving the way guys do when they're up for it, and after we'd had a few drinks he asked me back to a council flat in Kettering. It was pretty obvious what he had in mind, so I went along."

"How do you know when guys are 'up for it'?" I asked, wondering if I might have had similar conversations with men and been oblivious to the sexual subtext.

Cameron laughed. "Come on, Rob! You just know!"

"That's the point," I laughed back. "I don't think I do!"

"Okay... here's an example. Has a guy in the street ever asked you if you've got a light?" he asked.

"Of course," I shrugged. "Loads of times."

Cameron grinned. "And all those guys were probably looking at you in a certain way when they asked you... checking you out..."

"Well, maybe, but --"

"And you've never wondered why so many guys who smoke would go out without matches or a lighter?"

I smiled. "So you reckon I was being propositioned?"

"Maybe not every time. But on some of those occasions, if you'd have replied you didn't have a lighter but then had asked the guy if he had the time, you'd have found out what his real motives were."

I allowed my face to show surprise, although I was highly sceptical of what he was claiming.

"Those guys were coming onto you, Rob," Cameron laughed. "And you didn't even know it!"

"Well... perhaps." I was interested by the possibility that it might be true and wondered if I could really have turned away so many potential opportunities.

"Anyway, getting back to the flat in Kettering," Cameron went on, with a grin. "That was where I first met Wayne, who turned up there with a couple of his mates soon after we arrived. I couldn't figure the three lads out at first: they were just your average run-of-the-mill scallies -- they were wearing tracksuits and fake Rolex watches and at least two of them had kids -- but there was a closeness between them that made me wonder if maybe they'd sometimes play around together.

"Anyway, the five of us had a few drinks, smoked a few joints, chatting about nothing in particular. I didn't say a lot -- I was holding back a bit to see how things were going to play out. After a while, the conversation turned to sex -- Malcolm kept pushing it that way -- and Wayne and his mates were joking about how horny they were and how long it had been since they'd had a girl."

I smiled at the memory of Guy using a similar technique.

"Well, pretty soon the three of them started messing about -- groping each other, silly stuff -- but it was pretty obvious from the bulges in their tracksuits that they were enjoying it. All the time they were doing it, they were watching me to see how I was reacting. I made it clear, by giving my own crotch the odd tweak, that I liked what I saw and so they got bolder and started pretending to gross each other out by pushing their crotches into each other's faces.

"I was enjoying watching them mucking around together, grabbing each other's heads and trying to push them into the bulges that were getting more and more prominent. I thought, though, that it would be interesting to see if I could push things a bit further and so I suggested that they should up the stakes by trying to rub their arses into each other's faces. They found that idea hilarious and started wrestling around on the floor, trying to pin each other down to press their bums into as many of each other's faces as they could. The three of them were getting really excited by it -- their faces were scarlet and they were sweating buckets. By now their pricks were sticking upwards at full mast in their trackie bottoms -- two of them looked pretty average, but Wayne... well! It was clear he was a big lad -- I mean, bigger than me, and I'm not small."

I smiled, enjoying hearing this immensely. "Wow!"

"Anyway, I told them they were amateurs and that I'd show them how to do it properly on Malcolm -- the guy who'd invited me back with him. I got him to stand up and knelt down behind him -- side on to three of them slumped on the couch so they could see what I was doing. Then I leaned forwards towards his arse in his jeans but, just when they thought I was going to push my face into him, I reached up and undid his belt and yanked his jeans and shorts down.