Jake's Christmas Present

After rimming me energetically for a few exquisite minutes as I thrust my arse onto his face and wanked us both off with long, rapid strokes, he pulled out of me and almost threw me back onto the bed.

"Right, come on, mate," he gasped impatiently. "Let's see if I've got something a bit bigger that can stretch you even wider."

I grinned and clambered across the bed for a condom. This time I wouldn't need any lube: I was sopping wet back there.

"You know, that's a secret fantasy of mine," I revealed to him, as I passed him one over. "For my arsehole to be massive -- so stretched and inflamed you'd be able to see through my trousers."

"Yeah?" Guy laughed, rolling the condom down his shaft. "That's pretty weird."

"What would you do if you saw a guy like that -- with a hole so wide and puckered you could see it through his trousers, making a bulging ring between his cheeks, when he bent over?"

Guy laughed again. "I'd think he was a total fucking bum whore. And I'd say 'Hello, mate! Nice to meet you!'"

"Exactly," I laughed back. "Imagine all the attention! I'd love it!"

I got on all fours again -- Guy seemed most familiar and comfortable with that position with men -- and he squatted behind me, still chuckling at the absurdity of my fantasy. "I'll do my best to make you look like a bum whore, then, Rob. I'll stretch your arse as wide as I can."

He pushed himself into me again and we quickly established a nice, steady rhythm together. It was remarkable how well we worked as lovers like this: him enjoying the pleasure from his thrusting cock; me almost squirming from the sheer thrill of having his organ sliding in and out of my arse.

I just wished he'd be more reciprocal about sex: that was my only misgiving. I wanted to have my turn on him, just as Bradley and I had been so versatile together, but Guy had made it disappointingly and categorically clear that such things were currently off-limits. Perhaps in time he I would be able to persuade him, as I had with him with rimming me, that it would be worth broadening his horizons; but not just yet. I didn't want to push things between us too far too soon.

Instead, I asked him over my shoulder, "Do you like fucking a man's arse, Guy?" as we worked against each other; him slowly increasing his pace, like a train heading out of the station, and me pumping his shaft by jabbing my bum back to meet his thrusts.

"I'd go for a hot, wet minge any day, mate," Guy replied with his voice becoming breathless. "But another bloke's arse makes a pretty good stand-in."

"It's totally different, though, isn't it?" I asked, unsure how I felt to have my bum being used masturbatorily as a substitute vagina.

"It's much tighter," he said, gasping a little. "That's the best thing about it."

"Is my arse tight, Guy?"

He laughed as he ploughed on, his hips getting steadily faster. "Yeah, but I could tell straightaway you'd had it up you before. That I wasn't the first bloke to come in through your back door."

I smiled, working my arse back against him. The train was heading into open country, both pistons pumping with quickening force.

"He was a big lad, wasn't he?" Guy asked. "He had a fucking big cock on him."

"He was, Guy, yes. A big, thick cock and a massive pair of nuts."

He started ramming me yet faster and harder, enjoying the image of me losing my anal virginity to such a well-endowed man.

"And you loved it, didn't you?" he grunted. "You loved getting your arse shafted by such a huge donger of a dick!"

I laughed, pushing back harder onto him. "I did, Guy, yes! I fucking loved having him up there... his massive cock... buggering my arse... faster and faster!"

Guy laughed again and I peered over my shoulder at how we looked in the mirror. We were spectacular: me on all fours with my legs widely splayed and Guy behind me, his hands gripping my waist. His big, muscular arse was flexing as he pounded his cock in and out of me, the lower part of his hairy crack still moist with the hair clumped together from my spit.

His hips were making loud slapping noises as they thumped against my bum-cheeks and his balls were whacking against mine, our paired testicles slapping together, with every rough stroke he made.

"And what about me, Rob? Do you like it when I bum you, Rob?" he asked, as if he could be in any doubt of the answer. "Do you having my fat cock screwing the shit out of you?!"

"I fucking love it!" I called back to him.

He pulled me upright so that we were kneeling together and then wrapped his arms around me so that I could feel his hairy chest against my back. His cock was still ramming in and out of me, the smell of our sex -- of my ravaged hole -- becoming stronger in the room.

He worked one hand down to my cock and wrapped his fingers around it.

"Jesus, mate, you're fucking hung!" he told me, gently masturbating my foreskin back and forth across my bloated cock-head.

"Do you like it?" I asked him, panting with excitement.

"Yeah!" he laughed. "It feels hot... fucking a guy who has a big, fat cock..."

He took his hand off my shaft and groped further down at my large, swollen balls stretching my scrotum like a couple of overly-ripe tangerines. With a woman, I'd have been embarrassed that my testicles were of such a large size, but I felt Guy smile against the back of my neck at the feel of them, pumped up with my semen and enlarged still further by my excitement at having him thrusting inside me.

"... fucking a guy with a massive pair of knackers," he grunted, fondling the paired mounds of my bollocks with something approaching admiration.

He returned his hand to my cock and started wanking it, his other hand gently playing with my right nipple.

"It feels manly..." he went on.

"My cock?" I asked.

"No," he grunted. "Fucking you like this... fucking a guy who's so hung..."

I laughed. "Why does it feel manly?"

"You've got this huge shaft of a cock on you," he grunted, "and this rock hard pair of ding-dong bollocks... you're such a fucking horny bloke, Rob... so it figures, doesn't it... I must be even more of a horny bloke to be the one who's porking you..."

I laughed again. It was ridiculous but it kind of made sense.

"Well, I must be pretty manly to be getting fucked by you," I said.

"How do you make that out?" he asked.

"You're a rough, hairy guy with a big, slamming cock... I'd have to be pretty tough to be able to take it like I am..."

He liked that. "Too true, mate," he laughed. "There's many a bloke who couldn't... who had to pull away..."

He pushed me back down and repositioned his knees inside mine, then grabbed my hips hard and started driving his full length in and out of me in long, swift thrusts. His big, meaty balls whacked against my thighs so loudly and so roughly that I was amazed it didn't hurt him.

In spite of his cock being smaller than Bradley's, Guy's rugged technique and his determination to use every inch of his manhood to its full potential, made him a much more exciting and impassioned lover.

I gasped into the duvet, "Oh, yes! Fucking yes! That feels so good!"

I hoped my neighbour across the road could see this.

Guy grunted in his pleasure, raised upright behind me with his large, hairy chest heaving and sweating as he hammered himself in and out of me with all his strength. He was pulling my arse onto his impaling shaft, forcing it as deep into me as he could push it while I writhed in pleasure below him. I wasn't even touching my cock: that was irrelevant now. All of my pleasure was coming from my rectum being filled so deeply by this man's throbbing excitement, only to have it quickly withdrawn and then rammed back into place again, each time with greater and quickening ferocity.

But then he stopped, panting for breath.

He gasped, "I don't suppose you can work a fart out past my cock, can you, mate?"

"What?" I asked into the duvet, thinking I must have misheard.

"Can you fart for me, Rob? A great big manly butt-fuck fart?"

"No," I said, flatly. What the hell was he asking me to do that for?

"Go on, mate," he implored. "I love when a bloke farts when I'm fucking his arse really fast. When he can't stop himself. And I can feel them pushing out of him... right around my cock..."

"No," I repeated. I didn't want to get into doing stuff like that.

Guy repositioned his knees, leaned forwards slightly and I heard a loud rasping noise from behind him.

He laughed triumphantly and then grabbed me more firmly and resumed his buggery.

"There," he panted, his cock hammering even faster in and out. "I let one out for you."

"You dirty fucking sod," I told him, although I couldn't help but smile.

I doubted he allowed himself to be so vulgarly expressive when he was having sex with a woman. And yet I liked the fact that he was treating me as he would one of his mates and that his attitude with me as another man was so relaxed and blokeish. It was almost like we were splayed out together in front of the telly watching a match; him swigging his beer and letting out farts, with few, if any, inhibitions.

He pulled me back upright so that my back was against his hairy chest and stopped his thrusting. He grabbed my cock with both hands -- one up near the head and the other near the base -- and told me to pump his cock with my arse.

I started moving my hips back and forth while he held himself still and I gasped at the exquisite feel of working my chute up and down the shaft of his cock while my foreskin was tugged back and forth by the grip of his fingers.

"Is that nice, Rob?" he panted against the back of my neck. "Is that nice having my big hands wanking you off while you work my cock with your big wide arsehole?"

I grunted in pleasure, my hips bucking faster. "Christ, Guy -- it's so fucking good!"

What was it about sex with guys?! Every time I thought I couldn't feel any more sexually ecstatic, along would come another position to top the last.

I'd thought that straddling Bradley's cock had been the best thing I could ever feel, but now being between Guy's cock and the tunnel he was making with his hands -- thrusting my hips back and forth while I was simultaneously fucked and wanked -- felt even more incredible.

If only sex with Debbie had felt a fraction of this good.

"Oh, that reminds me, Guy," I called back to him breathlessly.

"Yeah?" he panted, squeezing his fingers tight so I could fuck through them like I so wanted to fuck his big, muscular arse.

"I've met a woman... we're dating... kind of."

"Nice one, mate," he gasped, his breath panting hot against the back of my neck. "What's she called?"

"Debbie," I called back, pumping his cock with my rectum as I slammed in and out of his tightly-clenching hands. "She's nice."

"Fucking great news," he grunted. "I'm made up for you."

I increased my rhythm faster, pumping his arse rougher and harder, making full use of his hands as a substitute for his bowels. He gasped, "Does she know how much... you like it up the bum...?"

"No," I panted back. "I think I... kind of... forgot to mention it..."

He chuckled, matching the bucking of my hips with powerful thrusts of his own. I could feel the sweat from his large, hairy chest trickling down my back.

I pounded yet faster and harder, my distended bollocks slapping up against his hand with every powerful thrust of my engorged cock.

"Christ, they feel full, Rob," he gasped, fondling my scrotum as it struggled to contain my semen-straining balls bobbing around inside it. "When did you last empty them?"

"This morning," I panted, chuckling. "Before I woke Jake up."

He laughed against my neck, squeezing my balls between his fingers as if impressed by their quickly-recovered size. "You're a walking spunk factory, mate!"

I craned my head around so I could see his face and we grinned at each other as I drove my arse rapidly back and forth on his cock in time with his hips. I moved my mouth towards his and made to kiss him but his smile immediately vanished and he pulled away: that was clearly a step way too far.

Instead, he muttered, "Don't get funny with me, Rob," and then pushed me roughly back down so that I was on all fours again, my face pointing forwards and my mouth well away from his. He grabbed my hips firmly and started fucking me as fast and hard as he could.

I wondered if this was why he liked the doggy position with men so much: to avoid the intimacy of face-to-face contact and the possibility of his lips touching those of his male lover.

He slammed in and out of me with an almost frenzied energy so that my whole bed was heaving and creaking in a cacophony of squeaking and thumping. I remembered making love to my wife countless times on this self-same bed: it had never once been as rough and as noisy as the way my gaping and swollen arse was being buggered by Guy.

"I'm on the home straight!" he breathlessly informed me. "Feel free to nut whenever you want!"

I grabbed my cock and started wanking myself as quickly as I could.

For some reason I noticed the time on my bedside clock: Jake would be getting home and the bedroom door was wide open. He'd get to see his dad being butt-fucked again; this time from behind by his friend Simon's big, sweaty father.

"Your neighbour bloke's wanking off, Rob," Guy gaspingly informed me. "He's looking over at us... his hand's underneath the window... but you can see what he's doing..."

Before I could reply he let out another loud fart.

"Oh, Jesus, mate, sorry!" he grunted, his hips somehow becoming even faster and more furious, cracking against my buttocks like a gun salute.

Again, before I could reply, he said, "You don't wanna do one for me, mate. Go on... fart for me, Rob!"

Mindful that he'd acceded to my request for him to rim me in spite of his reservations, I let my bowels relax and squeezed some gas out past his cock. It made a low, rasping noise as it vibrated around his thrusting organ before being expelled.

"Oh yeah!" he cried out and then, sniffing the air greedily, "That's fucking well nasty!"

He slammed his chest down onto my back, gripping me as close to him as he could as his cock pistoned frantically in and out of my hole. We were both dripping with sweat and stinking from our sex, our bodies heaving together like a single, thrusting organism as we shuddered towards our mutual approaching climax.

"Do another for me, Rob! Fart around my cock!"

I let another one go, much noisier and moister, and he started whimpering against my neck. His wildly driving cock thickened to its fattest girth, stretching my hole to its widest, and I felt his hot seed filling the condom deep inside me as his hammering balls discharged themselves for only the second time in three months.

"Fucking hell, Guy!" I called out. "This is so hot!"

I pushed myself towards my own climax and within seconds my own load started shooting across my duvet. My arse was munching on his cock the way it does when I orgasm, the muscles squeezing and unclenching around his still-pumping shaft with my anus clamping tight in rapid spasms. He cried out, his own climax intensified by it, as if his cock was being milked for every last drop of its semen by the pulsating contractions my rectum was making.

When we had both spent ourselves, I sat upright with him still inside me and we stayed like that for a minute or so, his wet hairy chest heaving against my back and his cock softening up inside my bum. His arms were around my tummy and his knees were around my thighs and it felt truly wonderful to be together like that: both of us recovering from the pleasure we'd derived from each other; two men catching their breath from being as intensely sexual together as it was possible to be.

I wanted Jake to come in and see us like this: to see how beautiful we looked with our two male bodies still entwined together, basking in the after-glow of our sex. I wanted him to see us so intimately connected with one another; how much I was enjoying the delicious sensation of having this larger, more muscular man's organ slowly softening inside me as it nestled between my cheeks; how fraternal it felt to have our gratified balls nuzzling into each other through our hairy scrotums as they dangled, shrivelled, beneath us. I knew full well that the room would stink of our passions and how crude the thick ribbons of my semen would look flung like yoghurt across the bed, but I still desperately wanted my son to see this moment so he would know how harmonious two spent male lovers could look together.

But instead, Guy pulled his floppy cock out of my bum with a squelch and, as seemed to be his habit immediately post-climax, laughed.

"That was a fucking good session, mate. I never got up to anything like that on the rig."

Wiping up my mess, peeved that I'd let the duvet cover get so stained that it would need washing, I asked him, "What was it like, having sex on the rig with other men?"

"As you'd expect," he replied, pulling off this condom and adding to the first he'd scrunched up in the tissue paper. "Secretive and quick. Hand-jobs being traded in store cupboards; blowjobs behind machinery. And, yeah, the odd bum-job here and there in the dark when no-one was looking."

"And obviously you enjoyed a few 'bum-jobs' yourself?"

He nodded, wiping his cock off as his white juice continued to trickle from its slit. "Only with blokes like you who enjoyed taking it and didn't demand the same in return. If they'd settle for me giving them a hand-job or a blowjob, I'd be in there. That's always a good deal in my book."

"You told me in the hotel you'd never had anal sex with a man," I said.

He smiled, yanking his briefs up. "Come on, Rob, you seemed so uptight about stuff. I would never have guessed you'd end up like this, putting it about like a backstreet tart. Christ, when I met you that first night, you were like some prim and proper maiden aunt, blushing at the sight of my cock in my underwear. Now look at you: you're like... I dunno... the Butt-fuck King, or something."

I smiled. It was always good to have titles to add to the CV.

"If you're trying to charm your way into having a third ride on my back," I quipped, "you're out of time -- Jake's due back any second."

He laughed, pulling on his shirt. There were no blushes from my side of the room now; only the cheeks of my arse were scarlet and that was from being battered by his hips.

"He did us both a favour, setting this up for us," Guy said, sitting on the bed to pull his jeans on over his feet. "Whatever it is you've been getting up to these past few months, he's definitely on your side."

"He's a good lad," I agreed. "He's been brilliant about... well... everything."

"It must be weird for him, though" Guy said, pulling his socks and boots back on. "Finding out your dad's into blokes as well as birds. I don't know what Simon would do -- probably have a stroke or something."

I didn't tell him that I suspected that, after catching me being pleasured by Bradley, Jake had had quite a few strokes of a different kind.

As we were going back downstairs and I was showing him out, I repeated that, while we'd definitely go to a match in January, he was also welcome to pop round at any time. I didn't want him ending up with painful balls and so much sexual tension that he was almost making himself ill; not when he had me a stone's throw away so eager to accommodate him.

He smiled and thanked me. His eyes were warm and his smile genuine. For the second time I felt the urge to kiss him but here in the hallway I managed to suppress it.

"I'll definitely pop in over Christmas," he said. "Bring your Jake a little thank-you prezzie." And then, glancing over at the Christmas tree, "Ooh... nice tinsel and baubles, mate."

I chuckled. "They're here whenever you want them, Guy."