4: Deep At Both Ends

Charlotte broke out the baggie with a little pipe inside it, and another baggie. The second one had something that looked like an OXO cube in it - but darker and looking somewhat oily. She took a few crumbs off it, rolled a couple of small balls in her fingers and put one of them on the gauze in the pipe. Alex took it eagerly and inhaled as Charlotte held a lighter over it.

She gave it up, trying to hold it in, but spluttered with barely-suppressed coughs. She hit it again until it was all gone and she was reeling with the buzz. Charlotte had me hold the lighter for her hit, and must have finished the little ball of sweet-smelling putty in one massive, hard drag because I couldn't see any left when she'd finished. She held it and exhaled after about thirty seconds. It came out clear.

They giggled together while I just ogled the two naked stoners. Alex had a soft, typical body. Her titties were small and cute, with puffy nipples, while Charlotte's boobs were bigger and had more developed nips - that looked more like those of the girls in the titty-mags. I couldn't decide who was more gorgeously fuckable. They were both lovely, and if the world made me choose, I'd have been delighted with either one of them.

Alex had a wide smile and an average looks, but she was still very pretty to me. I loved her dark hair, her naughty wide smile, and lively blue eyes. Her locks were straight and shoulder-length, and she had a centre parting that let her hair drape across the side of her face, allowing her to play peekaboo behind it. It was very wholesome and sweet, and she had freckles to accentuate the down-to-earth / ready to roll-in-the-hay look. But all that cute was only there to hide the hard, belly-laughing, boisterous tomboy that I knew her to be. She was complex, smart, and funny. I was proud to have her as my sister and sexual partner.

Charlotte, though, was more of a classic beauty. She had lovely cheekbones and a facial shape that caught the eyes. Her sculpted lips had a very classy cupid's-bow shape and her nose turned up just a little at the end. She was very attractive, very pale, very blonde and had everything going for her - except all the unpleasant allergies and gut-issues that kept her miserable, at home, and sick a lot of the time. That was sad, because when she was out, she turned heads - although mostly because she had alarmingly-long hair she could (and often did) sit on. That drew attention, but not always the kind sort.

She was a china doll - beautiful and lean, but delicate. She needed a rich man to put her on a pedestal and only take her down on occasions to gently, lovingly, and expensively fuck her. Nic was perfect for that. I just hoped he wasn't stupid or too proud to get back with her.

Alex was right, though: Charlotte really did need a haircut.

"Do you have to make appointments for this beauty-place you're going to tomorrow?"

"Don't be an asshole, bro," Alex drawled, high as shit. "It's Sunday tomorrow. They're not... OH FUCK!"

Charlotte laughed her adorable arse off. "Wha-a-at, Alex?" She said, exceedingly giggly.

"The place isn't open tomorrow! We've got to get... in the... hair done TODAY. Now, in fact! What's... the time is it?" She slurred, grabbing my wrist. "Quarter to six - no, seven! Is that a. m. or p. m.?"

"Neither - you're looking at it upside down. Quarter past twelve," I corrected her.

"Ohshit, ohshit, ohshit. We can do it. Quick Chartle... -lotte. Get the fuck'n clothes dressed - I mean ON!" She scrambled for her togs and I helped dress Charlotte, who was in a giggle-stupor. She was easy to clothe - arms up, dress down, pull - pull - pull the hair out, and then zip the back.

"I'll be right back - I'm going to run and get that money for you!" I said, then threw my own clothes on. I pulled my shoes on and left - dodging the doggy and belting out of the house. I made it back and hurtled upstairs. I didn't know how much they needed so I grabbed what I had stashed in by bedside table, then ran back. It took them ages to answer the door, but eventually Charlotte opened it, looking pretty spacy. In her hand she had the underwear I'd skipped putting on in my rush.

"What do you have those for?" I asked.

"Alex said grab them, so we could get them the right size for you, but... I just like the smell of them." She took a whiff. "Mmmm - boyish." She grinned, high-as-a-kite.

I took them out of her hand and showed her the label. "There - size 'L'. That's all you need to know."

She smiled. "Is that cos your bum's big, or your knobby?"

"Hips, I think. If someone needs to know, I'm six-foot and eleven-stone," I said. "Where's Alex?"

"Here!" She said, appearing on the landing. "Had to straighten up the room - put all the shit and dildos and dope and pipe away." She giggled. "Oh yeah - ass pipe!" She stumbled precariously then caught herself. "S'OK! M'fine. Coming!" She took the stairs very carefully while Charlotte giggled about her 'cumming'.

I walked them to the bus stop and saw them safely onto the three-oh-six, making sure Alex knew where the money was. I hoped the dope wore off before they got wherever they were going, or they might end up making some very poor decisions.

I was a little narked that I'd not got a lungful of what they'd been smoking, so I decided to wander into the village and have a pint instead. Halfway there, I realised I still had underpants in my pocket so I stuffed them in a litter bin. They weren't exactly my favourites anyway.

I fancied something to eat, so I stopped into the chippy on Front Street and got sausages-'n' chips. I was never a huge fan of fish, because of the little bones. I preferred food I didn't have to think about. I walked down to the end of the street, with a view of the castle and sat on a bench to eat. There were people about - families, sightseers, folks walking dogs. It was a Saturday, the weather was nice, and we were at the coast... with beaches, pubs, and a fucking thirteenth-century castle. I took it all for granted, having lived there my whole life, so I forgot that it was a bit of a touristy place.

Saturday afternoon in July - at least there wouldn't be any football matches on TV in the pubs, unless... I remembered that the Olympics were having their opening ceremonies that night, so there'd undoubtedly be some rubbish on the tube about it. I turned and looked down the street, thinking which pub would be least likely to have anything on. Probably the Turk's Head, I figured. I'd been in there once with my dad, and it had seemed pretty traditional and quiet. I got up and headed that way. I dropped my rubbish in a bin and decided to go down to wash my hands and have a piss in the gents.

The public conveniences at the end of Front Street were probably Victorian, originally - all tile and tall, separate urinals inside - and they were built down below the ground so as not to spoil the view of the headland and castle. They were lit with skylights, but were always pretty dingy and seedy, never mind smelly - despite the best efforts of urinal cakes.

I went in and was surprised to see half a dozen blokes in there. They were all standing, pointing-Percy-at-porcelain. I thought that was a bit odd. I'd been sitting, eating my lunch for about ten minutes - with a clear view of the stairs down to the bogs - and I hadn't noticed anyone go in. Granted, I wasn't really paying attention, but I thought I'd have remembered that many fellas going down and not emerging again.

Unless... they'd been there a while.

I tried not to look spooked, so I went to a stall and unzipped to have a slash. I was waiting for the fluids to flow and saw, out of the corner of my eye, the bloke in the next-stall-but-one moving to the stall right next to me.

A shiver ran down the back of my neck. What the fuck was he doing?

It occurred to me that he hadn't zipped, moved, then unzipped again. He'd just stepped sideways... tackle-out! I became extremely nervous. There was no real reason to be... except that some guy in a coat, on a warm day, had just sidled up to me in the gents.

The man smelled of cigarettes. I didn't dare look at him, though. I was frozen in fear.

He cleared his throat. "Twenty," he said.

I was startled. "Are... you talking to me?" I said, with a quaver in my voice.

"Twenty," he repeated. That was all. Just... 'twenty'. I didn't get it.

I took a breath. "Excuse me," I said, putting it away and zipping up. This was too fucking weird for me! I didn't know what the fuck was going on. I still needed to piss, though. I left the stall and went to a toilet instead, closing the door behind me. I was shaking with nerves. Had that guy just propositioned me for... something? I couldn't even guess what he was saying cost twenty. Was it drugs? OK, I could splurge for some of those, because there was a party to prep for, but... I'd just given Alex all my money. I probably only had less than ten left.

I sat down, pulling my jeans down to think and piss at the same time. That was when I saw the hole in the side of the toilet stall. One wall was brick and tile, but the other was metal, and someone had cut a hole in it at some point.

Just then, I heard someone go into the stall next to me. Could they see through the hole? That would be creepy and uncomfortable! No, I reasoned, it was at about waist-height. Too low to peep through, too high to see anything, and too close to the door to see me in any case.

A knob poked through the hole!

I jumped where I sat. It was like something out of a horror movie! The victim thinks they're safe, and then a monster appears out of nowhere!

Except... it wasn't exactly a monster. It was just a dick. It wasn't that hard, not huge, and only sticking about three inches out from the wall. A pound note got poked through the hole as well. I got up and looked: a twenty! Suddenly, everything made sense.

I was at an important juncture. I could walk away, go to a pub, get a pint, and have a piss there instead; or I could suck a dick and make twenty quid... then have a pint and a piss.

I took off my shirt, got on my knees and accepted the money. I put it in my jeans, which were around my ankles, and took the cock in my hand. I heard the bloke moan on the other side of the wall, but not too loudly. Probably loud enough for his associates outside to know that he'd been successful, however. I thought about that as I tugged him. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I wondered if the toilets were always full of blokes looking to score - either money or a bit of fun? Well, if they were... now I knew.

The knob was getting hard and I could smell the scent of him in my nostrils. He wasn't exactly aromatic, but then... this wasn't a date - this was sex-for-money. Was I willing to suck a stinky dick for twenty quid? I wasn't sure what twenty actually bought at going rates, whether a hand-job or a blow was in order, but that was the nature of a transaction like this: no specific offer had been made. I remembered a business class I'd watched on an Open University programme on Beeb-Two not that long ago. The knob-'n'-note had been an 'invitation to treat'. Now... we were negotiating.

I continued wanking him, but as a teaser I got my mouth wet with saliva and lifted up a little, and pulled back his foreskin to drool on his glans. I covered it with spit and then rubbed it in and knelt back down to settle into a faster, slipperier wank. That did the trick. He knew I was willing to get him wet, and my mouth was right beside his cock. I bet the wheels were turning in his mind. I'd been so close! What would it take to have me get closer?

Twenty, of course.

Another note poked through the hole. A pleasure doing business, sir! I accepted it and got my mouth on his knob. I held him with thumb and forefinger at the base of his dick and began sucking on his bell-end. The spit had diluted the stale piss on his cock, but not by much. He tasted bitter and salty, somewhat pungent, and a little like tobacco - which was probably because he'd been smoking and holding his cock out all morning. It was a nasty mix of olfactory sensations, but... I was sucking cock for money, in a public loo, underground: 'nice' was never going to be an option.

I started fondling myself, since I had no pants on and I did have a bit of a cockstand going. I sucked this stranger's dick and stroked the tip of my cock as I felt his penis between my lips. I licked under his glans, where his foreskin joined, and moved my hand-position to better wank him into my mouth. I had to decide what to do with his climax - spit or swallow - because I knew I was going to let him cum in my mouth. I thought that was fair for forty quid. If I was paying forty for a blowjob, I'd expect a warm place for my spunk. But what happened after... that was up to me.

I didn't have long to make up my mind, though. I felt him ooze, and the cum flowed out onto my tongue. It wasn't a massive spurt, but he wasn't a young guy and he'd probably been beating it all day. It wasn't terrible. It tasted like cum, and I'd grown intrigued by the taste. It was a little different than Nic's and I knew that had a lot to do with diet, so I didn't get rid of it. I savoured the taste and slowed my suck, because I knew he'd be getting sensitive. I remained on him long enough to know that I wasn't shy, then I made an exaggerated swallow, pushing my tongue up to the roof of my mouth to telegraph that I'd indeed gulped him down.

It wasn't just a service, it was also advertising. Sure, I could have just hocked him out on the floor, but by letting him know his seed was now in my gut was something he'd remember and think about... and maybe tell his friends.

The knob withdrew from the hole and was replaced - just briefly - with part of a fist, showing a thumbs-up. A satisfied customer. OK, then. I went and sat on the toilet and had the piss I'd been holding. I hadn't needed to take my shirt off, because Mr. Twenty hadn't exactly showered me with unguents. I flushed and turned to get my shirt.

I heard the door again and - sure, enough - another knob poked through the hole. This one caught my attention - it was significantly longer, and circumcised. There was no foreskin, plus... it was a rich, mahogany brown. Except for the tip - that was still predominantly pinkish. A pair of twenties poked through with it.

Oh, good - my menu pricing had been shared while I'd been pissing. I accepted the donation and proceeded to skip the formalities, since he was already quite erect. I put my mouth on him and tasted. This was a man who liked spicy foods - I could tell that just from the scent of his skin. I'd heard that garlic and some other spices tended to be sweated out - at least in part - and that you could taste and smell them on someone.

I have to admit, I liked the taste of his cock. I moaned as I sucked, making sure he knew that I appreciated him. The hole wasn't big enough to allow ball-access, unfortunately, or I'd have given them a lick, too. Still, there was plenty to be going on with. He had to be out seven inches past the wall. Here was an opportunity to practice throating if I ever saw one.

Such a colossal dick was a challenge. I tried to muster the right mindset: drink of water, drink of water... just swallow. It didn't work, though. I kept gagging. I tried getting more spit in my mouth - not hard, since I was already salivating - and moved it back, then with a zen-mastery detachment from my circumstances, I just casually pushed myself onto it and gulped.

It went into my throat! What's more... my reflexes accepted it, unquestioningly. I started shuttling back and forth on it, and I heard a groan from the other side of the wall. I kept it up as long as I could, then backed off it, took a few breaths, stilled my hammering heart and went again. Like a simple sausage, it entered my gullet and I was able to repeat the procedure. I'd managed it! I didn't know how, but something in me was eager enough to throat some monster cock in a seedy public toilets that everything came together in a moment of clarity. Gulp-and-fuck. That was it!

I continued applying my newfound skill, alternating between lip-the-tip, wrap-the-tongue, and gulping him down. I was so impressed with my fellatio prowess that I started wanking and thinking about how awesome I must have looked - not that I had any audience. I was in the middle of a gulp when suddenly he came!

It wasn't just a gentle drizzle like Mr. Twenty, but a fantastic gush of cum. If my trachea had been open, I would have choked on it - which would have looked awfully embarrassing on a Post Mortem report: died inhaling sperm - but fortunately, I was in swallow-mode, so it was closed. I flinched with the force of the cum in my throat and let out a cough, by reflex.

Spunk gushed out of my nose like a whole ton of snot! He kept cumming and - well - what else could I do? I swallowed as he blew it into me. It was so far in the back of my mouth that I couldn't even taste it, initially, but as I pulled off him he came again as I took a breath through my mouth. I didn't get any in my windpipe, but it was close. I made sure to keep him at the front of my mouth in case he squirted again and... he did. I stayed there, licking the underside of his cock as the last few dribbles came out. I swallowed several more times and let him go at last.

My eyes were streaming, my nose was streaming with cum, I had saliva and spunk dribbling out of my mouth, and I was trying not to inhale any of it as I panted for breath. I got some toilet paper and cleaned off my mouth and upper lip, then blew my nose into it. I needed more, because there was still more jism in my nose. I had to settle for snorting it back and swallowing it down.

I didn't want anything more to do with the hole-in-the-wall club. I'd had enough. I dressed and left the stall, then calmly walked out, not bothering to wash my hands. I passed the urinals under the eyes of the guys who were still there. I glanced back as I walked to the exit door and saw a tall, black guy come out of the door of the stall next to mine. He looked to be in his twenties or thirties, maybe.

I didn't want to know. I left by the steps and hurried off up Front Street. I crossed over to the left side of the road and ducked into the Sal. Their toilets were at the back, so I went there first. I washed my hands and face, then rinsed my mouth out. It wasn't that I was disgusted with myself, or anything like that, I just didn't want to have cock-breath.

I stopped at the bar and got a pint and a double vodka. I slammed the vodka then sipped the pint while finding a place to sit down and have a smoke. I was shaking with nerves. I was thrilled at what I'd done, but also nervous in case the guy followed me or something.

I was just stubbing out my cigarette and thinking about another one when I saw a looming figure standing just behind me to my right. I picked up my pint glass and looked for the reflection. It was a man. He was tall. SHIT!

I took a drink with a sigh. Better that he'd followed me there than followed me home, I reasoned. He sat down opposite me. Even sitting, he was still tall. He smiled.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked, smoothly. His accent sounded odd. I couldn't place it. Irish, maybe? He was dressed like anyone else going into the pub for a Saturday afternoon pint: jeans, a soft-collared shirt, and a light jacket - something like an Adidas tracksuit top that was black with white stripes down the arms - wery NUFC. He had very short hair and an imposing face.

"You just did," I said, fishing out a cig and lighting it.

"Then lemme get you another." That was it - the way he overpronounced his 'r' made me realise he sounded American. "What'll you have? Beer?"

"Please - bitter." The guy got up and went to the bar. It was surreal, looking at him and thinking 'I just sucked his cock'. I looked at his arse. I waited to think it was hot... but there was nothing. OK, so I wasn't simply attracted to ALL butts. Still, his jeans weren't tight. Of course they weren't - he'd been able to get his dick out of and back into them without a major operation... and I knew he had a massive dick.

He came back with two pints and sat down. He drank some and I finished off my old one. He seemed to be stalling, not knowing what to say. "This is a nice little town," he said. "They told me the castle was worth a look. I'm glad I came."

I chuckled. "You certainly did."

He got it and laughed. "Yeah... for good reason."

"On holiday?" I asked.

"Holiday?" He said, confused. "Oh... vacation. Yeah. Going up to Scotland for the golf. Thought I'd see a few places on the way and I had to stop here to mix in a bit of business as well." I nodded, not having anything to say. "You golf?" He asked.

"No," I laughed. "I'm not into sports." I drank some of my beer, just to think. "Why'd you follow me?"

He glanced around carefully. "I'm at the Park Hotel. You want to... talk somewhere else?"

I wasn't feeling the need to drink the rest of the beer. I got up. "Yeah, OK." He got up as well and we sauntered out. The bar staff would get the unfinished beers eventually, but it was rude to leave them. I picked them up and put them on the bar. I told the bartender, "Thanks," and we left.

Outside, we walked down the road and then turned toward the sea front. "Why'd you thank the barman?"

"Huh? Oh... I dunno. Just telling him thanks for the beer, I suppose. I didn't want him to think it was off or something."

He laughed. "You Brits are always so polite." It was a cliché, and one that Americans seemed to think was complimentary.

"No," I said. "We're arseholes, like everyone else. You just think we're polite because most people are probably nice to you."

He looked at me, interestedly. "Why would you think that?"

I shrugged. I didn't want to say that it was because it was weird having a black guy with an American accent around, so people would be cautiously nice. I thought of a better way to put it. "Because you're a foreigner and people find you intriguing, so you don't get treated the way we treat each other."

He seemed to accept that. We walked to the seaside and then turned along the beach. "Do you often have sex for money?" He asked, when nobody else was in earshot. There weren't many people around, anyway. It was a nice day, but those who made it to the road, usually went straight on down to the beach. We weren't close enough to be amidst the throngs of baechgoers. I noticed his shoes - fancy trainers. Not beachwear.

"No. That was just... a lark. I didn't even know that was what they did down there. I went in for a piss, then ended up sucking dick."

"So, if I asked you to have sex with me... what would you charge?"

I looked him up and down. He wasn't unattractive and wasn't over thirty - best guess. I had no illusions about why he'd followed me or why I was walking to a hotel room with him, and money hadn't entered into my mind.

"Nothing," I shrugged. "I'd have probably sucked dick for free, but you and the other guy shoved twenties at me. What was I gonna do? Wipe me arse on them?"

He raised his eyebrows. I tried to think who he looked like, but I couldn't. I just didn't know any black guys. It wasn't that I didn't befriend any, it was just that there weren't any around. That wasn't completely true, though. I had one friend who was half West-Indian, but he had to TELL me he was for me to even realise. I tried to think of American actors who were black, but he didn't look like any of them - they were older.

Then I got who he looked like: not an actor - a sports figure. Not a particular one, but a kind of pastiche of black American basketball players. He was tall, athletic, neat haired, clean-shaven, and kind of intense in the way he looked at me, like he was concentrating very hard. If I'd put a ball in his hands and dropped him on a court, he'd have looked right at home.

"You're not a pro?" He asked me as we passed the park that the hotel was named for. I shook my head. "Then why are you coming to a hotel room with me?"

I laughed. "I kinda want your dick up me arse. Never had a real one, and if I can handle yours then I'm good to go."

We made it to his room without saying any more. Neither of us was there for conversation. We had our minds on something else. He closed and locked the door behind us. It was a good-sized room with bed, couch, chair, TV, bathroom, and a suitcase open on a sideboard. I glanced at his clothes - not noticeably expensive, but business-casual as opposed to slouchy.

"What do you do?" I asked, just curious.

"I'm a porn movie talent scout," he said with a grin.

I was shocked. "Are you really?"

"Nah, man. I'm jus' fuckin' with you," he laughed. "I work for a engineering company that prototypes components for the auto industry, but that's no fun. Brackets, seat frames, pedals, door locks, handles... shit like that. I was at the Nissan factory across the river yesterday, just making contacts. I'd rather pretend I'm in porn. Much more exciting."

His laugh was infectious and I joined in, quite relieved actually. "Yeah, OK. I can do some roleplay. I play Dungeons and Dragons, so I'm all about roleplaying games." He found that amusing. He didn't know much about it, except it was a 'white-boy game', but he knew what magic was and promised plenty of that.

He went to the cupboard and pulled out a camera bag - it had a video camera in it. He took it out and set it up on the cabinet facing the bed. "I came prepared for this game," he said.

I understood. He was on his hols, but he wanted to record all his best sexual encounters. I was up for it. He was going home to America anyway, so what did I care who he showed his home movies to? "Can I see it after?"

"No, it only plays back through a cradle, and I wasn't gonna drag that all over the place."

I looked around for other bags. "Where are your golf clubs?" I wondered.

"In the car. No chance I was gonna need them up here... unless you got a thing for really deep anal insertions."

"I do actually, but your cock'll work for that," I said with a smirk. I went over and stroked the front of his jeans. He turned to me and moved in for a kiss. I let him, and we snogged. He had soft, full lips and used them well. His tongue was forceful and adventurous, as were his hands. He had one on my butt, inside my jeans, and the other on my knob, stroking it down my pants' leg.

"Show me," he said. "I want to see how deep you took me in your mouth." Right - he'd not been able to see my finest moments. I thought back and noticed that my throat wasn't raw at all - not like it had been after Alex's dildo. His knob, despite being bigger, had been softer on my larynx.

I unfastened his pants and he dropped them, kicking off his shoes, then he got onto the large bed. I pulled my clothes off and joined him. He laid sideways-on to the camera, so I got between his knees. I was glad to see he'd shaved himself. I needed to start doing that. I licked his balls and the tip of his knob, since he was only slightly hard, then took him in my hand and started to gently suck his glans. He laid his head back and sighed. "Where'd you learn to suck dick, man?"

"A private school for cocksucking and assfucking," I said, using a term he'd recognise. He lifted his head and stared at me. "Nah - I'm just fucking with you." I laughed. "I sucked my friend's cock the other day and liked it, then my sister showed me how to swallow a dildo."

"Your sister? Aw, man. I missed out! I only had brothers," he said.

"Sisters are great to fuck, and they introduce you to all their desperate little friends," I stated, like it was a general rule.

"So are brothers, man," he laughed.

"Fuck! Maybe I missed out, too," I said, shaking my head. He was hard now, so I licked his balls again without the salami in the way. I got between his legs and licked under them. He lifted his knees and I got down to his arse, licking and getting it wet, then came back up to his dick and let it fill my mouth. I had a vested interest in it being juicy and slippery, so I drooled as much as I could. I pushed myself down on his cock, pushing my tongue flat with an effort of will and allowed him to slide into my throat where I swallowed and accepted his gentle sausage into my neck.

I sank down. I had an objective in mind. I wanted to lick his balls! I focused on the task to the exclusion of all else and forced myself down, down, and onwards to his sack. My eyes and nose started running again, and I could feel the resistance in his cock to such a bend as my neck required. I strained and finally my tongue touched scrotum. I tickled him as proof that I'd made it.

"Oh, my fucking God!" He exclaimed. "You did my whole cock, man! Jesus!" That was sufficient. I maintained my composure and controlled the little mini-gags that threatened to become more aggressive if I let them, then slipped him out of my mouth. I drooled more on him, getting him wet for the task ahead.

I smiled at him. "That was what I did," I said. "Rinse, repeat. Then you shot your whack and... most of it went down, but some spurted out of my nose. That was pretty extreme!"

"Out your nose? Shit, bro - I'm sorry."

"No! It was awesome!" I assured him. "But now, I want you in the other end. See if your cum can meet in the middle," I joked.

He was ready. There was lube hiding in the bedside table. He juiced up and slathered it on my ring for me. I had in mind to sit on him, rather than let him mount me. I explained that. "I want to lie down while you fuck me from behind. See if we can hit my prostate."

"Your what?"

"Prostate - it's a gland that feels good when you massage it. My friend cums that way, so I want to give it a shot."

"Wait... I've heard of that. Doesn't it get cancer?" He asked.

"From arsefucking? I doubt it. But... anything can get cancer, I suppose. Not from exercise, though. That's all we're doing."

He laughed. "I like the way you think, man. Just exercise! Yeah... we're doing aerobics."

I lowered myself onto his knob. I felt his mighty magic staff press against my ring - to use a D&D metaphor. I softened and pushed, but nothing was happening. I lifted up and worked the lube inside me with a couple of fingers, as he added some more for me, then I got back into place and tried again. With another push, I lowered myself a bit more. The problem was, I'd only tried a dildo and they were actually fairly rigid. A real dick, pushed up against my arsehole, tended to flatten and mushroom at the tip, which wasn't ideal for entry. I knew he'd go in eventually, but that it'd take some effort.

With a deep breath, I tried a third time and - POW - it burst into my anus. The pressure had to be high enough, so - like a pop can - it released all in one go. He pounded into my rectum with a bright flash of pain in my mind.

"FUCK!" I yelled, through gritted teeth.

"It's good, man! It's in. Don't pull off. I ain't had it in my ass, but I've been in a few tight boys. The hardest part's over. Now just sink and let it all in." I felt him applying more lubricant, working it around my ring. The cool fluid felt soothing on my aching anus. He was right, though. The tricky part was over. Now, it just had to slide. I relaxed and sat down more. It passed through another tightness and then I felt it slither into my rectum. I lowerd myself further, feeling his cock gradually take the place that was normally only reserved for poo, and because of that, it started feeling like I had a big shit brewing.

I knew I didn't, but I also liked the feel of a burgeoning turd. I'd always looked forward to Saturday mornings when I could play with legos or toy soldiers, or drawings on my bed as I relaxed - kneeling down - and started to feel the need to shit. I never understood why I liked the sensation, but with this guy's cock in my arse it all came back to me. It must have been the pressure on my prostate, because it was feeling that way again.

I leaned and lowered my back to his chest, feeling the pressure on my rectal walls increase. When I was fully against him, he put his hands over my abdomen and felt my cock. He started to thrust up into me. With each push, his dick went deeper into my anus. I could feel him filling me up with his flesh.

Now, I'd seen plenty of enormous things in the toilet bowl that had previously been in my arse, and I knew that there was plenty of space in there for anything as big as his penis, but... shit could go round corners. I knew from high school biology that there were plenty of changes of direction in the large intestine, especially toward the end - the final staging point for a good, chunky poo. Dicks didn't bend that readily, and he had completely filled my rectum, so there was a curve ahead and he was trying to take it driving a big-rig. I knew that I was approaching a limit, so the 'in' had to stop, but the 'in-and-out' could begin.

"That's about as far as I can get you, man," I said. "I'm full. Just fuck me there."

"Right-on, man," he said and started shuttling at that point.

Oh, fuck, it felt good! Every movement was deliciously tantalising. I could have lain there for ages and just let him fuck me all day. He played with my balls and stroked my cock as he shagged me.

"I loved your dick in my mouth, but this is even better!" I drawled lazily. I didn't have to do anything, either. I just lay there as he did all the work. "Ah, man - this must be what it's like to be a girl. Now every time I fuck my sister or her girlfriend, I'll be thinking about your cock in my arse."

"Holy shit!" He gasped. "That's crazy, man. You really doing your sis and her friend? That's pretty fucking hot, I gotta tell ya! What they like?"

"My sister's a brunette. Tiny titties and a hairless little cunt. She's my age, but you'd think she was younger. Pretty as fuck, with freckles and puffy pink nips that make her gasp when you nibble them. She cums quietly, like she's too shy to let you know she's having an orgasm, but her pussy squeezes so hard when she climaxes."

As I described her, I felt him fucking harder. He was panting as he wanked me and making approving noises in my ear.

"Her girlfriend's beautiful," I said. "I guess she's her girlfriend. They just started eating each other out this morning, when we were over there, but I guess they've been fucking each other with strapons for a while. She cums loud, though you'd never expect her to. She's introverted, anxious, shy as heck, and just gagging for cock, man. Pale, blonde, with hair down to her arse, and a face as beautiful as a fucking Disney princess."

"Oh, my God!" He gasped.

"So skinny, you can see her ribs under her delicious tits. I'm tellin' ya, man - you couldn't get her whole tit in your hand, but she's got these tiny, hard nipples you could see from across the room if she just wore a tight top. Pussy like fucking Christmas - like rose-petals in the snow. If you think I'm white, you'd think she was made of marble. I bet she could take you in the arse any day of the week, and both of us together on Sundays. She wields a strapon like fucking weapon, though! Opened my eyes with it, and I'm not even fucking joking. She's got a mean streak like you wouldn't believe. Put her in spiky leather and she'd be a dominatrix to die for."

I heard him grunting as he fucked me. He liked stories about hot, little white girls, it seemed. Hell - so did I.

"She and my sis are getting ready for an orgy we're having tomorrow night. She wants to get back with her ex-boyfriend, who left her because he wanted to suck cock. Well, I'm fucking all three of them and the girls are doing each other, so we just thought we'd all get it on together. Y'know - let the hotties watch me and my guy suck each other's dicks, then we'd watch them do each other, and finish off with a couple of double-fucks with a bit of girl-on-girl face-sitting. My sis is taking her to get her minge waxed so my buddy will eat her out again. Two smooth pussies, eager for cock, and a guy who cums when I fuck his ass. Doesn't get better'n that!"

He groaned and I felt a tickly spurt of warmth in my guts. He was cumming in me! I felt his cock pulse, engorged with blood as he orgasmed. He thrust and held it as he swelled and relaxed several times.

"Oh shit, bro! I just came in your ass," he sighed. "Fu-u-uck! That story... whew! That true or you just jerkin' me along?"

"Yeah, man, every word. I felt you cum, too. That was good! I never knew." I lifted myself off him. I knew that bouncing on his dick would only be uncomfortable for him. The feel of him sliding out of me was like having a shit, and while it was weird, it certainly wasn't unpleasant. Quite enjoyable, actually.

When he was out, he said, "Come here. I wanna suck the cum out of your ass."

I was up for that! I backed up and felt his mouth on my ring. He licked me, probably eating mostly lube, so I pushed and felt the cum ooze out of my anus. He lapped it up, moaning as he did so.

But if it was cum he wanted, I was ready for him.

I turned when he was done and knelt over him. He got his arm up and started wanking me into his mouth. He sucked the tip, then gradually took me into his mouth. He didn't try to go for the throat, and I got the impression that sucking it wasn't really his normal go-to for sex with another guy. He preferred to be on the receiving end of oral sex, I imagined.

"You not suck dick much?"

He stopped, but continued wanking me. "No. Sorry. Am I shit at it?"

"No, you're good. I just had the sense that this was new for you - which is cool."

"You're not my first cock, but... it's been a long while." He resumed sucking. I was quite tickled that I'd attracted him to the idea of sucking cock again. I leaned back and got a hand on his dick to stroke him as he sucked me. He liked that. I smiled into the camera for him.

I leaned back, propping myself up with one arm and wanking him behind my back with the other hand. He had my tip in his mouth and wanked me while he licked under my glans. When I came he let it pour into his open mouth for me to see. I'd lost a lot of volume and power, having been blowing my load pretty steadily for the past couple of days, but I made up for it in duration. I just kept cumming a little more each time.

He sat up and held it in his mouth as I got off him and beckoned me to share it with him. I kissed him for the camera - light touches of the lips and a lot of tongue. We rolled my cum around, back and forth, then licked it off each other's faces. I wasn't totally spent, though.

I laid down on the bed. "Fuck my throat," I told him. I opened my mouth and gave him a clear shot all the way in. He grinned and lined up. His cock entered my face - both still wet with spunk, spit, lube, and probably shit - and he thrust into my neck. I felt filthy and used, like his cock - which tasted bitter and sweet at the same time - shit and lube together. I wanked as he fucked me, plunging in and holding it, then pulling out for me to suck and breathe, before surging down my throat once more. We kept it up for a while and my reflexes started to get the message - I wasn't choking or suffocating... this was just normal activity.

This time, when I came it spurted fast and thin and I got a few eager spits on my tummy and chest. He groaned as he came in my throat again, and by then we were done.

We showered together, washed each other, and tasted one another's penises again, but only for fun. He helped me shave my pubes like his and got the hard bits that were tricky to reach, like under my nuts. Then, with soap as our lube, he encouraged me to fuck him in the arse. He'd not received, but wanted to try it today because I'd made it look easy. It wasn't for him - he needed to try some bum-plugs and a girl with a strapon first.

That was fine, though. I didn't need more. He let me light up in his room as I dressed, and he put his camera back in his case. Then he handed me money.

I looked at it. "That wasn't the deal," I said.

"No, but I got my souvenir - the tape. You deserve something. Consider it a tip or a fee for being in my private porn movie."

"OK," I shrugged and took it. I fanned the notes. "Fucking hell! Three hundred?" That was way more than I would have thought. A suck-off in the bogs might have been worth forty because it was a public place, but three hundred for a bonk in private was mad. Though, I supposed that the home movie aspect probably made it fair.

"Don't worry about it. It was worth it, man." I thanked him and said it had been great. We weren't going to do a goodbye thing, so I just left. We never even exchanged names.

I walked up Beach Road, taking a lengthy detour. I wanted to process it, think about what had gone on, and... not have him follow me home. I walked all the way to my old high school, then turned toward North Shields. I still had some of my own money - not that what I'd been paid for sex wasn't mine, but it didn't feel like spending cash - so I got another pack of cigs from a newsagents. I decided to but something fancier than my usual ones, so I got some Dunhills. They were slightly smoother. I had three hundred and eighty quid. I wanted to turn it into something that would remind me where it had come from - something notable... not just cigs, beer, and Indian curries.

As I was turning in Shields, by the church yard, I noticed the car lot opposite. They only had about half a dozen vehicles at any time, but I often glanced at them when I was passing. They usually had cheap, old, shitty cars that the repair shop it was attached to fixed up and tried to sell as a little side-business. I turned that way instead and saw something that immediately grabbed my attention. A big, old Volvo saloon. I loved those things: square, ugly-as-fuck, but they had a nice line from bonnet-to-boot and... headrests! They might not have been fancy ones, like I saw in Mercs or BMWs, but they were there! Dad's Fiat 131 didn't have them. I walked up and looked at it.

In the window was a sign that said £400. Fuck! One more handjob and I could have had it! I went and looked. Of the spendy-cash I had in my pocket, I only had about five quid left. If only Alex hadn't taken all my dosh. I checked my other pockets. No luck. I sighed and peered through the window. Leather seats? What the fuck? This was a fucking JEWEL! The interior was black and clean, and looked fucking mint! On the front, someone had put an AA badge and added an extra decorative Volvo logo - the circle with arrow: the symbol for male - and a couple of fog lamps... probably because the regular ones were terrible.

"Like it?" A bloke said. I hadn't noticed him walk up.

"Yeah. How old is it?"

"It's a K-reg, seventy-two, so... twelve years old. That's not bad for a Volvo. Average age for a Volvo on the roads in this country is eighteen years. That's the average!"

I didn't believe his stats for one second, but I'd seen something similar in ads that the company ran. What he'd meant to say was the average LIFESPAN was eighteen years - meaning that was the average age they died at. I chuckled. "Your maths is off," I said. "What you're saying is that for every new one sold today, there's one that's been sitting around for thirty-six years? That would be since nineteen-forty-eight. I don't think they even made them back then." I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. I don't have four hundred."

The guy looked a little sheepish for a second, then regained his composure. "Maths wasn't my strong suit. You're probably right. How much do you have?"

I pulled out my wad of twenties and fifties. "Three-eighty, cash."

That was close enough. Another half-an-hour signing papers, and I was driving home in a long, smooth car: sleek and shiny, like it was coated with saliva or lube...

... And it was black.