Anal Awakenings Part 3

Usual stuff about safer sex applies - this isn't an endorsement of
abdicating responsibility, it's fiction. If you're going to get fucked
please do so in a way which meets your own emotional and health needs, not
anybody else's.

I want to thank all those guys who've written to me about the earlier parts
of this story. I can't tell you how much it means. I'm sorry that it's
taken me so long to get on with part 3. Life stuff. Part 4, which will
probably be the last part of this story, is already underway. As ever, I
love getting your emails. This is a few thousand words of stuff that does
it for me... Let me know what works for you.


Eventually I realised that I had to do something. I still loved Emma as
much as ever but our sex life had really dried up and we were barely
communicating. The house felt tense and awkward all the time and we didn't
seem to know how to talk to each other. It was all very well facing up to
the fact that I was bisexual when I was having sex with Jude and Tom, but
when I was home with Emma I realised that there were ways I was changing
and developing that I didn't know how to negotiate with her. God knows how
I was going to tell her that I'd cheated on her. With two men. And that one
of them was my best friend. And that the other was rapidly becoming one of
her best friends. But I guess things had to get a lot worse before they
were going to get better.

Tom, Jude and I had got together several times since I'd come out to
myself. I hadn't ever imagined that my sex life could so strongly
articulate the images and sensations that had lurked behind my masturbatory
fantasies. On one occasion when I arrived at Tom's place he hadn't even
allowed me to get undressed. He had ordered me to sit in the leather chair
in their bedroom while he stuck his fist up Jude's arse. Watching them push
their bodies to such extremes; hearing the scary animal noises Jude made as
his sphincter clenched around Tom's wrist, felt like I'd landed in a porn
movie, except that the players were men I was growing to love
intimately. Another time, I'd had to stop at a service station on the way
home to clean myself because so much cum was oozing out of my arse. That
time, Tom had cum up my arse three times and Jude once, them both glorying
in the sloppy, looseness of my hole. That my fantasies about submission and
domination could be so thrillingly played out in front of me; that I was
allowed to participate, to inhabit such a sexually adventurous place and
not mediate my identity, was an amazing liberation.

Tom and I both knew it was wrong, that we were breaking the rules, but
several times we'd had sex without Jude. My feelings for Tom's boyfriend
had grown to an extent that fucking behind his back made me feel like a
shit, but from time to time there was an energy between Tom and me that
exploded, silently consuming us, reducing me to witlessness. He had a power
over me that made my legs shake and my cock hard. I loved being serviced by
him, being used. I guess I loved feeling like his bitch. I was driving him
home after a rugby match one evening when he told me to pull the car off
the road into a wooded lane. The tone of his voice as he issued his
instructions had instantly given me a hard on, and made my arsehole
contract. Jammed back against the reclined seat it had been such a turn on
to beg him to put his fat cock inside me, there in my own car, the black,
shiny turbo-charged expression of my manhood. He hadn't even taken my pants
off, just pulled them down to my knees and used them to lever my legs up,
exposing my hairy bottom. In the dim light inside the car his penis, wedged
against the elastic of his joggers, had looked simultaneously frightening
and thrilling. As ever, I couldn't believe how all that cock could fit
inside me, yet couldn't wait to get it in there. He'd held me tightly back
against the seat, his hard eyes glittering. I knew how much of a turn on it
was for him to dominate me. In all the time we'd known each other I'd been
so cocky, such a stud. I'd fucked more women than I could remember, had
lived it up with the lads, enjoyed my masculinity, been aware of its allure
to women and men alike. And here I was being fucked up the arse in my own
car, humping myself violently against my gay lover, clenching my sphincter
around his thick meaty shaft.

Another time Tom came to my workplace one afternoon. He didn't say anything
as he shut the door to my office. He'd stripped off completely whilst I sat
mute behind my desk, ranks of expensive gadgets and mahogany no defence
against my desire for him. He'd held my gaze as he removed his clothes,
carefully, and with an almost precise control. My heart had pounded as his
hairy, tattooed torso was revealed. By the time he was stood there in his
briefs, his outsized erect cock not even barely concealed by the cotton, my
face was flushed and I was finding it difficult to breathe. He knew the
effect he was having on me, totally at ease with his own nakedness, whilst
I sat in my huge leather chair, fully clad in my Prada suit, feeling shy
and passive. My secretary, Marie, was at her desk on the other side of the
plywood as Tom dicked me against the door. I bit my lip as he whispered
sweet abuse in my ear, roughly holding my arms up over my head. I felt
dangerously compromised, angry even, that he'd exposed me here at work, and
yet I couldn't stop myself from grinding my buttocks into his crotch,
swallowing my groans as I felt his stiffness moving inside me. Afterwards
I'd felt a pang of shame as I tried to blot cum off my shirttails and suit
pants. Then I'd caught Tom's eye and we'd shared an intimate grin that made
my sore sphincter spasm, forcing out a blob of his warm spunk.

That night I'd come home late, tired and guilty. I hadn't fucked Emma in a
couple of weeks - the longest we'd gone since she'd moved in six months
earlier. We'd been seeing each other for about eight months, and until I'd
had sex with Tom not a day had gone past that she and I hadn't had some
kind of sexual contact. She hadn't always wanted me to fuck her. Sometimes
she was just content to know that she could turn me on in any situation -
that she could transform a dull party, or supermarket shopping, into a
thrilling intimate game. She constantly liked to prove to me that she could
keep pace with any sexual experience I'd had before I met her. It was one
of the positive side effects of being older than her.

I knew things weren't going to be okay as soon as I dumped my briefcase by
the front door. The house was silent. No music playing in the kitchen as
she clanged saucepans. No TV news in the living room. No shower running
upstairs. No chattering on the phone.

She was sat on the couch reading a magazine.

'Hello darling'

'Hello.' She didn't even look up properly.

'Have a good day?' I was determined not to give in to the mood.

'Okay.'

'Is everything alright darling?'

'Fine.'

I took her at her word and went upstairs for a shower. Much later, after
I'd defrosted some lasagne and opened a bottle of Shiraz, we got to it. She
whined about me not having taken out the rubbish for a couple of weeks. She
whined about me not having left any cash out for the cleaner. She whined
about how difficult it was going to be for her to get to a meeting next
week that coincided with her car getting serviced until I offered her the
Saab. Being the boss I knew I'd have time to get in later on the train. And
all the time she whined I felt a growing sense of frustration with her
passivity, with her concealed aggression. She never confronted me about
such matters directly, but always pecked away, little acidic comments,
underplayed with her eyes cast down, taking a bite of food, sipping her
wine, flicking back her hair. Never direct. Never controlled. Never
confrontational. Never taking responsibility for herself, always expecting
me to be the grown up.

I responded to her passive aggression with sweetness and humility,
accepting my role as uncivilised Neanderthal, irredeemable
bloke. Eventually she managed to squeeze out little smiles, especially as I
complemented her on her hair, her clothes, her make up. When she got up
from the table to get the bottle from the counter I pulled her to me and
kissed her, roughly, sexually, pushing my tongue into her mouth.

'Tim - ' She tried to pull away. 'Not now.'

I pulled her firmly down into my lap and she knocked a plate off the table,
and cursed impatiently. Her hands were on my chest, trying to push herself
off me, but she was unbalanced, trying not to cause further damage to the
crockery. My tongue became more insistent as my hands found the bottom of
her skirt and slipped up to her buttocks. She was still resisting but my
fingers had pushed aside her panties and found her arsehole. She gasped
into my mouth and I pulled back slightly as I lodged a finger just inside
her anus. I teased her lip with my tongue as I wiggled my finger. She
gasped more sharply and I stuck my tongue roughly back in her mouth. My
cock was very hard. I really wanted to give her a good fucking. I wanted to
see an honest, unmediated response from her. And, if I was honest, I knew
that I wanted to shut her up, show her who was boss, fuck her into a
submission I wasn't going to even try to pull over some bullshit row about
emptying the bin. I needed to get my pants off but knew that if I let go of
her she'd withdraw, even though she'd started kissing me back. I pulled my
finger from out of her arse. She groaned in frustration. I pushed her down
onto the table as I fumbled with my pants, freeing my cock with one hand as
I pushed her skirt up onto her back. My cock was drooling, angry
red. Holding the lacy strap of her panties to one side I shoved my erection
against the slit of her cunt and pushed hard. My thumb was strumming the
hood of her clit through the wet lace.

She cried out, her desire rising to discharge her anger. She gasped in
relief at the intimacy of our contact, and I moaned with her, relishing the
release of tension. I felt her urgently pushing back against me as my cock
filled her cunt. I grabbed her left tit, gripping it firmly, enjoying the
weight of it in my hand. Her internal muscles relaxed around my shaft and I
felt movement as I penetrated her more deeply. I held my cock still,
enjoying the warmth, the closeness, the pulsing of our bodies. Her whining,
carping, my emotional distance, were momentarily forgotten. I started
fucking her and she moved with me, making comfortable sighs in time with my
thrusts. She got into it and her movements became stronger than mine. I
slowed, letting her do the fucking. It felt blissful for her to express
herself so uncomplicatedly.

'Oh yeah. Baby. Fuck it.' I groaned as she ground her fleshy buttocks onto
to dick. I was pushing my thumb against her clit very hard as she came,
panting and yelping. The speed with which she'd reached her climax took me
by surprise. Her cunt clamped down on my girth in tight spasms and I made
several hard thrusts up her to get me over the edge. I felt her legs
shaking as I pumped her full of sperm.

She looked small, but resolute, as later she padded into the bedroom,
damply wrapped in her robe. I was lying on top of the covers, plucking at
the hairs on my belly. We seemed to be finding it difficult to look each
other in the eye.

'Tim. I can't do this.' She sat in the chair in the corner. I felt a surge
of affection for her, but knew it was too late.

'I know. Neither can I.' I heard her sigh.

'I thought it was the not having sex, but actually we're still good at
that,' She looked up and we smiled at one another, 'it's everything else,
isn't it? I can feel myself nagging like an old woman, but I don't know how
else to talk to you. You're emotionally unavailable; I don't feel taken
care of.' Her voice had developed an edge, and I felt my anger rising.

'And you're too damn passive, always bloody well abdicating
responsibility.' I spoke quickly and the harshness of my words shocked
me. She looked like I'd slapped her and I knew that something was broken
between us.

I'd changed the rules, no longer enjoyed just being her man, being in
charge. I'd withdrawn something profound from her, and I remembered our
first days together, how excited she was by my manliness, by my bold
expressions of possession; cradling her in bed, holding her hand in the
street, cupping her gorgeous arse as I held open doors for her. I knew that
I'd always been excited by how attracted she was to my size, my hairiness,
my professional status and all its trappings. I loved introducing her to
new social and cultural experiences, ordering food for her, buying bottles
of wine that cost more than a new dress. And she had always loved my penis,
liked looking at it, holding it; cupping it whenever she could get away
with it, in the car, in restaurants. Loved getting fucked by it. She'd had
three lovers before we'd met, and had always found my cock to be really
big. I know I'm well above average, but jesus, what man wouldn't find it
the biggest turn on to have a gorgeous woman tell you that she found your
dick to be huge?

We agreed that she'd move out, back into her old flat in Docklands. We
promised we'd not give up on each other, that we'd meet up each week for
dinner. I was sceptical, but I also knew how much I cared about her, how
much I had once enjoyed sharing my thoughts with her. It took us a week or
so to get ourselves sorted out and then she was gone.

My first night alone was fucking miserable. I drank far too many beers and
passed out on the sofa, after listening to Randy Newman over and over on
the Linn.

I hadn't spoken to Tom since he'd fucked me in my office, just needed to
nurse my hurt self-indulgently. I was vaguely aware of how unhealthy my
behaviour was, but I also knew I wasn't ready to acknowledge what had
happened and why.

By the third night the beer just tasted like bitterness and the Newman,
Cohen and the rest just sounded like sad twats. On the way home from work,
after having spoken to Emma, as I had every night, us both trying for
affection and compromising on vague pleasantry, I'd stopped at Waitrose and
spent a fortune on organic veg and decent ready meals. At home I set some
foil trays in the oven and some pans simmering before I went upstairs and
luxuriated under the shower, anticipating my virtue and that night's
episode of 'ER'. I'd always enjoyed my own company; the cleaner had been
that day and the house felt warm and comforting. I could feel my mood
lifting.

I was standing with my arms braced against the tiles, water scalding my
shoulders and back, when I heard the door bell.

I opened the front door, dripping, towel slung round my waist, to find Jude
grinning at me, bottle of bubbly in one hand, and a huge bunch of flowers
in the other.

'Have you wallowed enough, handsome?' His grin sparkled, his charm was, as
ever, irresistible.

I shut the front door behind him. 'How the hell did you know?'

'Babes, me and Emma have become proper girlfriends. I've had her on the
phone every night for the last fortnight. She, unlike you, is not ashamed
of her feelings.'

'Yeah yeah. And I sure she'd been regaling you with stories of my
irredeemable blokishness?'

'Tim.' His voice was more serious. 'She's really worried about you. And so
am I.'

He took me in his arms and held me tight. It felt oddly familiar to be held
by someone smaller, slighter than me, but his strength and firmness were
reassuring. I felt supported, trusting, and suddenly I was sobbing into his
shoulder. My pain felt incoherent, yet its release was blissful. Jude
stroked my hair and made affirming noises as I sobbed out all my confusion
and anguish.

I don't know how long we stood there, but I was vaguely aware of being cold
as he cupped by face and kissed away my tears. Then we were kissing, wet,
deep, sensuous explorations that had our mingled saliva dripping off our
chins. I breathed in Jude's smell, immaculately groomed scents laid over
the musky, sweaty maleness that became more prominent as our passion
rose. At some point I'd lost my towel and now I found myself rubbing my
bare skin against Jude's clothed body.

'I've got something to show you, Tim.' He pushed down on my shoulders and I
dropped to my knees, my face in his crotch, breathing him in through the
fabric of his trousers. I could feel his hardness jumping inside. I opened
his flies and pulled down his pants. He'd had his cock pierced.

Jude's penis tapers towards the head, and his foreskin fully retracts
behind the corona. Compared to Tom's cock I had always thought it to be
rather modest, but now, hot and hard in my hands, I realised that it was
only slightly shorter than my own, and almost as thick, except for the end
which was slender, almost pointed. There, passing through his urethra and
then out underneath his glans was a fairly thick ring with a ball on
it. I'd heard about cock piercings before, but I'd never seen one,
certainly not on a hard cock thrust in my face. It was beautiful. I took
his salty penis in my mouth and rolled it around my tongue. The ring felt
large in my mouth and banged against my teeth. Jude's groans were strong as
the ring moved through the end of his cock. The contrast between warm,
yielding, but firm, skin and smooth, cool steel was delicious. I tugged off
his pants and threw his shoes behind me until he was as naked as me.

I knew that my cock-sucking technique was fairly crude, but my enthusiasm
more than made up for my lack of co-ordination. Jude gasped from time to
time as my teeth caught his shaft, but his groans as he fucked my face were
deep. I looked up and saw that he'd removed his shirt and was flicking his
big dark nipples. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. The
ring moved smoothly in my throat. It felt kinky, and I was aware that it
had helped to change the way I felt about Jude. Although he'd fucked me
before Tom had, I'd never really responded to Jude in the knee-weakening
way that I did with his boyfriend. Jude was appealing to look at, and we'd
shared a lot of fun, but it had always been mediated through Tom's
sexuality. It was my need to be subject to Tom, to his authority, that
turned me on; I'd never found Jude's sexual energy arousing. But here he
was with his pierced dick in my throat fucking my face. I was very aware of
his cock, of his will, his demand to be pleasured, and it felt arousing. I
could tell he wasn't far from cumming and I wanted to feel his sperm
pumping into my mouth; I wanted to taste its bitter saltiness, its
warmth. The physicality of Jude's maleness and the sense of driven ego with
which he was seeking his satisfaction made a thrilling contrast to my
existing impressions of him. Jude was boyish, almost puppyish in his
big-eyed, floppy-haired prettiness. Yet I'd seen him pursuing sexual
extremities, demonstrating a potent kind of abandon with Tom. I remembered
how we'd bonded over how much we enjoyed being fucked by Tom. I loved the
idea that this horny, gymn bunny thrusting his cock down my throat,
grunting in passion above me loved getting fucked as I did. Loved the
obscenity of being stuffed with hard knob, begged for it.

I nearly choked when Jude came in my mouth. There was so much cum it
overflowed onto my chin, sticky and warm. I kept moving my tongue over his
cock and its ring as he softened in my mouth. His hands felt heavy yet
gentle in my hair. I revelled in my filth, face smeared with cum, spit,
tongue tasting saltiness of sperm, piss, sweat, cock cheese. My nose was
full of his pubes, musky and prickly. I felt my own cock softening and
continued to suck on Jude's. There was something child-like and primal
about it, milking his softening penis.

I heard him sigh loudly above me as my mouth filled with warm, bitter
piss. I groaned deeply as I swallowed, not enough, enjoying the grossness
of it running over my chin onto my chest and the kitchen floor around me. I
felt the strength of his stream on the back of my throat and understood the
maleness of him, probably for the first time.

When he'd finished using my mouth as a toilet, he pulled me to my feet and
kissed me with such passion it was like he wanted to taste himself on
me. His hand was in my crotch, cupping my cock and balls. He moaned into my
mouth.

'Tim. Let go. Let go.' His whisper was full of longing and curiosity.

I felt so trusting, so safe in our mutual understanding, that I did let
go. Only a few drops at first, and then, as I felt the warmth of the piss
on my legs I fully relaxed and Jude was smearing it over my belly and
balls, all the time sucking on my tongue, wetly probing and breathing
heavily into my mouth. As the stream dried up his hand was massaging back
between my legs, up into my buttocks. I parted my legs, feet wet in the
puddle of our piss.

'Oh yeah.' He breathed into my mouth as his fingers found my hole. I pushed
myself onto his hand and felt my cock rising. I could smell piss and cum
enveloping us in a cloud of dirty, kinky, maleness. Jude turned to the
counter behind him and gouged a dollop of butter out of the dish with his
pissy hands and then smeared it around my hole. The inner contact felt
wonderful. He pushed me down with one hand as he smeared butter on his hard
cock with the other, breathing hard. I knelt in the cold, smelly piss as
Jude guided his pierced cock between my asslips. When he'd got the position
right he slid his hard dick fully inside in one rough, slick, movement. His
greasy, piss-damp hands dug painfully into my shoulders as he rabbit-fucked
me, his speed and ferocity were overwhelming. His feet were by my knees,
whilst he crouched over me with his knees bent round my torso. I had to
brace myself hard against his body weight and the violence of his
pumping. I was dimly aware of the guttural noises we were making, my
pleadings, his cursing, but mainly all I knew was the friction of his penis
inside me.

I hadn't cum earlier, despite the excitement of sucking him and swallowing
his spunk and piss. Jude moved his hands down to the tops of my thighs and
pulled them back towards him until I was fully lying in the piss, my face
pressed into it, my hard cock rubbing the tiles as my body jerked against
his movement. He curled his arms under my shoulders and I felt the sticky
probing of his tongue and the roaring of his breath in my ear. Jude cried
out as he felt my arse clamping around his cock as I started to cum. My
sperm mingled with our piss as I ground my loins into the floor. I felt a
savage thrust inside me and then Jude was coming too. I twisted my head in
the piss and we managed to kiss as my orgasm ebbed, and then we were
laughing.

We stank of piss, which was matting the hairs on my legs and chest, and
dripping down my jaw. Our bodies were shaking with the violence of our
laugher, and when his softening penis slipped out of me we howled, entwined
together in our filth. I could feel tears coursing down my cheeks, and my
ribs ached, but I couldn't stop. Every time I looked up and saw Jude's
handsome face, smeared with butter, piss and cum, his usually immaculately
manicured hair matted with our filth, a new spasm of laughter gripped
me. He held me tight towards him as we sat on the floor, and I felt his
fingers possessively pushing into my hole. I put my head on his shoulder,
and as the last waves of giggles eased, I sighed, contentedly.

The following week Tom and I had sex several times, and each time I felt a
bigger shit. After my time with Jude I felt more loving and responsible
towards him. Fucking his boyfriend behind his back made me feel lousy, and
in the end things came to a head. But in the meantime, I couldn't help
myself. With Jude's encouragement I'd finally found the nerve to tell Emma
about coming to terms with my bisexuality. I told her that I'd fooled
around with Tom and Jude and that I was confused. I think Jude had already
told her something, because she was more supportive, and less outraged that
I'd imagined she'd be. I almost got the impression she was curious about
what had happened.


It was only two days after I'd seen Jude that Tom came to my office
again. Thankfully Marie had the afternoon off, although this meant that I
was busier than ever, as I had no buffer between me and the endless
incoming queries that always distract me from what I really need to be
getting on with. When Tom closed my office door behind him and I saw the
look on his face, I couldn't help feel a burst of excitement, but I also
felt frustrated. I didn't have the time or inclination today to indulge
either of us by playing at being his bitch.

'Hi Tom. Look I'm really busy today. Can we take a rain check?' I was
trying for a sense of assertiveness, but I couldn't help but keep the
conciliatory tone out of my voice. I really didn't have time then, but I
also couldn't help myself. I wanted him too badly and the idea that he
wouldn't come and play with me any more terrified me.

He didn't say anything, but walked round to my side of the desk and leaned
over me. I could feel his breath on my cheek as he put one of his big meaty
hands in my crotch and grabbed my balls through my suit.

'You're being a very naughty boy.' His voice was soft, but there was steel
underneath. I may have been in my forties, but being called a boy made my
dick pulse, despite having my balls grabbed and twisted. He wasn't hurting
me, but he wasn't fooling around either.

I started to tell him how much work I had to do but he cut me off by
twisting my nuts firmly. I cried out and tried to pull away from him but he
twisted harder. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I could
sense that my resistance was turning him on, if only because he knew that
it was meaningless, that I would inevitably capitulate.

'You're going to have to be punished. I can see I've not been taking proper
care of you.' If his words were turning me on, it was the slight grin that
played at the corners of his broad, sensual mouth that brought me,
willingly, into the game. I relaxed and he softened his grip on my scrotum.

'That's better - ' He started to smile, but I pushed him firmly away,
twisting in my seat to get from behind the desk. I shuddered with a thrill
of pleasure as I felt his weight fall on top of me and we rolled to the
ground. I was winded and his arms were tightly around me. I tried to kick
him off, but he'd got his hand down the front of my pants and I could feel
the warmth of his skin against my cock and balls. He got a firm grip on my
limp cock and pulled firmly; he didn't hurt me but I immediately stopped
struggling against him. His hard, large body was pressed tightly against
me. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck and it made me
shiver. My face felt flushed and the stillness of our bodies was charged
with tension. Involuntarily I felt my cock hardening in his hand; he was
still squeezing my member roughly, but his other hand had relaxed - I was
just pinned by his body weight. I could feel his hardness on my hip.

'What have you got to say for yourself?' His voice was thick with lust, but
his tone was firm. I wanted him very badly.

'Please.' I turned from my side onto my belly, grinding my cock into his
hand, wriggling my bottom in his crotch.

'Please, what? What do you want?' His tone was intimate, coaxing, but
determined.

'Please. Use me.'

'Use you how?' His voice was rough, and he tugged hard on my stiff dick,
causing me to gasp in shock and pain.

'Oh god, Tom. Please. Fuck me.'

'So. Straight boy needs a good shag?' He was coaxing again.

'Yes. I need your dick in me.'

'You dirty bastard. But, I think you've been a bit too naughty for that.' I
felt his weight withdrawing, and he pulled me up with him by my cock. He
sat in my chair, still grabbing me, hard.

'Take off your pants and lie across my lap and ask me to spank you like a
naughty boy.'

Part of me may have felt self-conscious and foolish, but I was too turned
on to care. I dropped my pants, easing them over his hand and my hard-on. I
knelt down, and he let go of my cock as I lay my torso across his lap and
lifted my bottom to meet his left hand. His touch was warm and dry as he
moved his hand across my hairy skin.

'Say it.'

'Please.'

'Please, what?'

'Spank me.'

I could feel him watching as he lifted his hand and brought it down hard on
my buttock. I cried out, more surprised than hurt; the warmth felt good,
and even better when he smacked me again. The third time stung but the
warmth was making me writhe. My dick was very hard. By the sixth smack I
was really in pain and was trying to move away from his remorseless
hand. He stopped and caressed me, feeling the warmth of his hand and my
arse.

'Do you want me to stop? Do you think you've had enough? Have you earned my
cock yet?'

I knew what he wanted me to say, and I wanted to say it just to please
him. I wanted to earn his desire. But I also felt naughty, like a wicked
schoolboy, willingly debased by my powerlessness. My head was spinning,
loving being subjugated by a fully clothed, self-confessed faggot, here in
my own office, the centre of my status. I didn't want to ask him to stop, I
wanted to be able to take what he was giving out, wanted to lose myself in
his authority. I wanted him to take me, to take care of me, to hurt me and
possess me and use me. I wanted his maleness, his big, hairy, firm body
pressing against me, making me hot, making me cry out and beg.

'Hit me.'

He did. His blows were hard, getting harder. I knew that this was new
territory for him too. The three of us had got into tussles before, but
they'd always been cut short by our need to get on with the fucking. Now we
were in a different game. Tom was discovering how much he liked hitting me
as much as I was discovering how much I needed it. I felt erased,
possessed, bruised.

I became aware that he was panting, gasping as he rained down smacks on my
bare arse. I started to get a little alarmed as I realised he was getting
out of control, that his blows were harder, more erratic, less
controlled. Still I didn't move away from him, but my writhing was so
energetic that he put his other hand on my neck to hold me in place.

Eventually my gasps and cries turned to sobs and then suddenly he stopped.

I could feel his body shuddering beneath me. With a cry of grief he pulled
me up towards his chest and I knelt between his legs with my head on his
shoulder. His hand cradled my throbbing buttock, fingers curling into my
crack. His other hand moved up to smooth my hair.

'Oh baby. I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I hurt you... Got carried away. You
just looked so fucking amazing' He was still out of breath, and I knew that
although he had shocked himself, he was very aroused.

'Did I?' My voice, normally deep and commanding, sounded small.

'Oh god.' He put his hands on either side of my head and looked into my
eyes. His own were glittering with excitement. 'Sweetheart, you've got the
most incredible arse I've ever seen. Watching you beg to be smacked was one
of the most exciting things... I love - '

I started in his hands.

' - your maleness.' He saw the look on my face and smiled, gently, and with
his eyes. 'And I love you, man.'

He kissed me and my sobs turned to groans into his open mouth as his hand
found my crack again and he fingered me, gently but purposefully. My cock,
which had shrivelled pitifully between my legs, starting lengthening and
involuntarily I spread my legs to let him stick his fingers further up my
arsehole.

In the past couple of months I'd had a lot of Tom's penis inside me (and a
fair bit of Jude's too), but when he fucked me on the floor of my office
that day, I'd never been taken by him so gently, with such love and
care. We lay on our sides, with his top knee inside mine, his arms wrapped
tightly round my chest, thumbs slowly flicking my nipples. Tom's penis was
deeply embedded in my rectum, it's thickness pushing against my prostate as
he slowly shagged me. I felt so peaceful impaled on his meat; my cock,
which was bobbing against my belly was drooling pre-cum onto the floor. The
carpet was chafing my hip painfully as I rocked against Tom's long slow
thrusts.

I didn't know where my life was going but the man who knew me best in the
world, who'd stuck by me and loved me and understood me, was here making
love to me and it felt like home. I was moaning constantly, and Tom was
making soft, slack sounds into my neck. I knew he was feeling as
overwhelmed by our fucking as I was. There was a gentle, soft care between
us that made my chest feel tight and full.

Tom lifted my leg high and ducked under it, keeping the end of his
donkey-sized member inside me. Neither of us could have tolerated having
that internal contact broken, and we moved together gently, protecting that
precious intimacy. I wriggled my bottom into his lap, humping myself down
onto him, and wrapped my legs round his waist. He bent his legs, pushing me
further up onto my back, and leaned his face down into mine. As he pushed
his awesome penis fully up my arse our tongues met and I sucked him
greedily into my mouth. He was watching my face intently, measuring the
pleasure he found there. His gaze made me feel deliciously possessed. He
withdrew his cock slowly, and shoved it back up me strongly. I cried out at
the intensity of the force, the gross friction, and he responded to my
pleasure with a groan of deep satisfaction. My cock jumped on my slack
belly; I loved how excited he was by my pleasure in his taking of me.

We fucked like that for a long time, moving together in a thrilling
harmony, our sweat matting together on each other's hairy bodies, our
saliva mingling in each other's soft mouths and on our stubbly chins. My
arsehole felt wide and slack around his fat, slick cock, and let out a wet
fart from time to time. He was holding my right hand in his over my head,
our fingers were entwined, gripping each other in time to the ecstatic
rhythm of our loins.

When my orgasm hit me I tossed my head from side to side as Tom urged me
onward, speeding his thrusts up my arse. Neither of us was touching my
cock, which shot spunk over my shoulder.

'Oh yeah baby. Ride that fucker. Cum for me, Tim. Oh yes.' I was intensely
aware of Tom's attention, of his almost voyeuristic enjoyment of my
pleasure. I wriggled and humped on his thickness as my cock pumped the last
drops onto my rounded tummy.

The clamping of my sphincter did it for him. As my orgasm ebbed, his eyes
closed and he clenched his face tightly. He pushed his cock hard inside me,
tensed on the brink. Then he exhaled, and his whole body was released from
its tautness, he flooded my rectum with his warm sperm. He clutched me to
him tightly, almost as if he wanted to tuck me inside his broad, hairy
chest.

We lay together for a long time afterwards. He was still inside me, and I
could feel his stickiness oozing in my crack as his huge cock softened. We
didn't say anything, but he was still gazing deeply into my eyes as he
absently stroked my arms, my thighs, and the side of my face.

We couldn't see each other the following day, but the day after that I
couldn't stand missing him any longer, and Tom and I met at his flat. We
both managed to get away from work a bit early, and Jude wasn't due for
another hour. We didn't have long, there wasn't time for talk. It'd been
hard not to see each other since the session in my office. My feelings for
Tom were stronger than ever, but I also knew how much I cared for Jude and
needed us to sort it all out. I felt guilty, excited, and scared. I didn't
want to lose them.

Tom was frantic to get inside me. We'd barely got through the front door
before he'd got his cock out. It was already enormously erect, and bobbed
obscenely as he turned me round in the hallway and pulled my pants down to
my thighs. He bent me over towards the wall and starting probing my crack
with the end of his knob. Thankfully he'd got a sachet of lube in his
pocket - he was in such a hurry I'm sure he'd have tried to dick me
dry. His cock felt as delicious as ever inside me, but he was rushing and I
felt confused and taken for granted. I grunted as he jerked his penis
inside too roughly. My cock was soft. This wasn't how I wanted it to
be. After our tender love making of two days ago I felt violated, and not
in an exciting way.

He came quickly and pulled out. He was wiping off his sticky dick with a
Kleenex when I turned round, looking for a cuddle. He didn't look up from
his ministrations as he absently asked me if I'd cum.

'Tom, I really think we need to talk. Something happened between us the
other day. Jesus! Something amazing's happening between us, and I feel
awful about Jude. We need to think about what to do.'

'What the hell are you talking about? We're not going to do anything.'

'For god's sake, Tom, I can't keep doing this behind Jude's back. I love
you.' I reached towards him, making to touch his cheek. He stepped back as
though I was about to slap him.

'Love me? Like you loved Emma? Look Tim, don't get carried away. I'm with
Jude. I've asked him to give up his flat and move in with me full time. I
was going to say that I think we need to pull back on the extra-curricular
activity for a while. We've had fun, but I think I need to concentrate on
Jude for a while.'

I didn't recognise the man in front of me who looked like my best
friend. He wouldn't meet my eye. He shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting as
he straightened his clothing, rubbed his hands to get the lube smell off
them. I'd never seen him look shifty. He was always so calm and centred,
modestly self-assured. Now he looked like a frantically procrastinating
used car salesman. I felt like he'd punched me in the stomach. A tide of
disgust and anger passed through me, and I felt humiliated and abused with
my trousers round my knees and his spunk and the lube he'd fucked me with
running down my legs.

I couldn't look at him as I pulled up my trousers and underwear,
uncomfortably squirming against their wetness as they smeared the fluids
matting in my body hair. I moved towards the door.

'Tim. I'm sorry - ' He stepped forwards, putting himself in front of me. I
didn't want to hear it. I was too distraught to know what to say. I shoved
him hard, catching him off balance. He lost his footing and banged into the
wall beside the front door. He recovered and stepped forward again.

'Tim!' he was addressing an unreasonable child.

I punched him in the face and felt a pang of satisfaction as his nose gave
way under my fist. Blood was spurting down his face as I opened the door
and left him.

By the time I got to my car I was shaking so badly I felt ill. My stomach
heaved, but nothing came up and I was wracked by spasms of dry retching
beside the car.

I was bereft. In the last few weeks I'd lost my girlfriend, realised I was
in love, probably with two different men - who just happened to be in love
with each other - and now I probably had no hope of finding happiness with
either of them. Worst of all I had been rejected by my best friend. Tom had
known me longer than anyone other than my parents. He had held my head
countless times as I threw up. He'd stood at my back in bar brawls. He was
the man who had put his arm round my shoulder at my father's funeral and
soothed me as I sobbed. He had made love to me on my office floor.

I needed comfort. I couldn't be alone right now. I needed uncomplicated
warmth, and I didn't want to ask for it. I needed to be with someone to
whom I mattered. I pointed the Saab towards Docklands and Emma's flat.

I'd still got a key to her place from our early days together before she'd
moved in with me. I'd offered to give it back to her recently, but she'd
asked me to keep it. It was a symbolic gesture in keeping with our attempts
to maintain contact and closeness, and I think it made her feel safe to
know that we still had a domestic connection.

She wasn't there when I arrived, so I let myself in. Her flat was small,
with a reasonable sized living room overlooking the water. A small
vestibule at the back led to the two small bedrooms and the
bathroom. Emma's immaculate taste was evident everywhere, and the flat felt
cosy. I knew I'd come to the right place. I sloshed a generous measure of
scotch into a glass and headed towards the back of the flat. I didn't feel
comfortable making myself at home in her bedroom - somehow it would have
been an invasion of her privacy. Thankfully the spare room was made up. I
dumped my clothes on the floor and snuggled under the duvet. I couldn't
even face drinking the scotch. I turned over, and hugging my knees to my
chest, I abandoned myself to oblivion.