Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong
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I followed Bradley up the stairs, hardly able to believe that I was about to do this: I was finally going to find out what it was like to have a man in my bed.
It seemed as if I had waited for this for so long, but in reality it had just been a matter of months. Looking back, I felt as if I had had the prospect of what I was about to do lurking somewhere in my mind, whether consciously or subconsciously, since soon after the night I'd spent with Guy before the football match.
Up until that night with Guy, I'd always regarded myself as a fairly average, happily-divorced man. I had always enjoyed fantasizing about women but had never had a great deal of luck with them in the flesh – and that, of course, went double for my ex-wife Linda. I wasn't a great romantic and my performance in the bedroom, if I'm being honest, could most charitably be described as middling. However, my sexual interests, such as they were, had been unquestionably and exclusively directed towards the opposite sex.
But then, out of nowhere, I'd clumsily discovered that I had an attraction towards my own gender that I hadn't previously even suspected I might harbour. Since that night, I'd questioned just about everything which I'd previously assumed I knew about myself and had fundamentally changed my whole view of my sexuality.
But even as I followed Bradley up to my bedroom, I didn't feel that what I've been through these past few months had somehow miraculously made me become gay: that simply hadn't happened. Even though we'd unexpectedly kissed and I'd found that I'd even more unexpectedly enjoyed it, I still didn't feel any kind of urge to get into a romantic relationship with him or any other man. I still cherished the hope that things would turn out well between Debbie and me or otherwise that one day the right woman would come along.
Looking back, as I did right then, it seemed that my moment of fumbling sex with Guy had awakened within me a natural and deep-rooted need for intimacy with my own gender. It had caused me to gradually, and at times painfully, accept that sharing my bed with another man can be exciting and erotic in a totally different way from sharing it with a woman.
And now I was about to find out how.
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"What sort of stuff do you like, then, Rob?" Bradley asked when I got to the top of the stairs.
It occurred to me that we could, at this point, find out we were totally unsuited. That, perhaps, this question should have been asked when we'd first chatted outside the entrance of reception.
I smiled at him, gesturing him through to my bedroom and followed him in.
"I'd like to rim you," I said. "And maybe fuck you, if you'd like that."
"Sounds good to me," he replied, putting his glass down on the drawers and starting to unbutton his shirt. "That's the great thing about hooking up with a guy – while he's hard, he's horny, and if he's not it's time to try something different. All pretty simple, really."
I nodded, remembering that Cameron had told me something similar. Then I realised I shouldn't just be standing there staring at him, but ought to be undressing too.
"What do you want to do?" I asked him in return, undoing my own shirt buttons.
"The same, pretty much. But I'd like you to suck me off. I'll do the same for you, of course." He took off his shirt and put it onto the chair. Underneath he was wearing an olive green t-shirt with a caption on it: 'It's not a bug, it's a feature'. His chest hair bristled out from the neckline; evidently he was a very hairy man.
"I'm not too keen on it," I said, a touch apologetically. "But you can lick it, if you like."
He grinned, untying his shoelaces. "I'm happy to go with the flow, mate. Whatever you like and don't like, just let me know."
He took off his socks and I noticed the tops of his feet were surprisingly hairy; rather like a hobbit's.
"While we're on the subject, actually," he went on, pulling down his trousers and revealing the rod of his still half-erect cock bulging outwards his shorts underneath. "Which way do you think you'd prefer to be fucked? From behind, or face-to-face?"
"I'm not really sure," I said, taking off my shirt. It felt distinctly odd to be undressing with another guy like this, casually discussing the mechanics of how we were going to have sex together. "Like I said, I've never done it."
He glanced over at me after pulling off his t-shirt. "But you must have fantasized about it?"
I smiled as I unbuttoned my own trousers, marvelling at how wonderfully hairy his chest was. "I've spent about three months doing little else, actually."
He hitched his underwear down, still wet around the arsehole from where I'd licked them, and tossed them onto the pile with the rest of his clothes. Now fully naked, pale and scrawny and swathed in dense black hair, he looked magnificently blokeish. He smiled at me with his cock drooping downwards, still prominently thick but only partially-erect, and I smiled back at how plump his balls looked, straining against his hairy scrotum. He was impressively well-endowed – almost as generously equipped as I am in a similar state – and it was nice to feel that I was with someone who wouldn't be concerned about how disproportionately large I am between my legs.
He grabbed his beer from the top of the drawers, took a swig, and positioned it more conveniently on the bedside table. Then, he got onto my bed and knelt there with his back to the headboard, waiting for me. His cock flopped down between his hairy thighs, the head of it covered by his foreskin, puckered forwards like a tiny mouth
I took off my own briefs and my own cock, now largely flaccid, flopped out so he could see for the first time how well-built I am. Unlike Debbie, he didn't remark on what I had down there; he just accepted that we were similarly hung.
I took a drink from my wine, walked around to put it on the opposite bedside table, and then got onto my bed with him.
Two men naked together, readying themselves for intimacy.
I knelt in front of him, feeling distinctly self-conscious and realised I was unsure about what to do. Unlike him, I was conspicuously floppy and, in spite of the raging excitement I'd felt downstairs when I was rimming him, the unfamiliarity of the situation I was now in had all but smothered my passions. I was feeling a little cold, actually, and wished I'd had the sense to turn up the heating.
"So this is all pretty new to you, Rob?" he asked, reaching forwards to fondle me.
"Is that a problem?" I asked, as he gently stroked my cock and played with my heavy, dangling balls.
