After the Conference

"As I said," Desmond replied, "I have nothing against it in principle. I just can't see myself getting involved."

Richard groaned quietly and turned his head away to roll his eyes.

"It's not a question of getting involved," he said. "It's just doing something as maybe a one-off, just because it's a good thing to do at the time."

"'Seemed like a good idea at the time' is a common expression," Desmond retorted.

"So is 'Nothing ventured nothing gained," said his new friend patiently. "The spirit of adventure is what makes people great."

"Some people," Desmond said flatly.

"Anyway," Richard continued. "I'm not trying to persuade you to do anything you don't want to. I'm just pointing out that millions of people have done this and enjoyed it."

It was 10:35 in the hotel bar at the conference the two men were attending. One of the waiters had stood very close to Desmond while refilling his wine glass during dinner and the subject of the man's sexuality had come up. The waiter was tall, well-built and black, with a resentful attitude that came across in spite of his textbook polite manner and his singsong Birmingham accent. So when Desmond had put his hand on the edge of the table and the waiter had rested his trouser package against it, Desmond had had an initial reaction like that of a prim woman to whom physical intimacy was a well-hidden secret. Richard had been quite excited about the homosexual vibrations that had suddenly filled the atmosphere, while Desmond found it troubling. That had been 30 minutes earlier and the dinner had reverted to the combination of formality and enforced jollity that, Richard noted, characterized interaction between middle-aged men thrown together by business.

A deep silence fell, which Desmond found the strength to break.

"It's the... the issue of masculinity," he said. "All men have an innate sense of masculinity, at least I used to think so until the PC, LGBT, F.A.G. crowd became so vocal."

"And you're worried about a potential loss of masculinity," Richard said encouragingly.

"There can only be one masculine presence in a sexual encounter," Desmond said thoughtfully. "It's about unspoken power. That's why we use terms like dominance and submission. When you're in bed with a woman you're in the driving seat, aren't you?"

"Conventionally, probably," Richard granted him.

"Exactly," Desmond said in triumph. "So if two men are... at it, one of them has to surrender his... has to surrender."

"Have you ever read 50 Shades of Grey?" Richard asked.

"Glanced through it," Desmond replied. "My wife gets swept up in all this populist stuff."

"And it's all about this woman who chooses to play this submissive role," Richard went on. "She's an intelligent woman. She's not weak. She has this submissive streak that she decides to indulge."

"And you think a man has this streak too," Desmond objected.

"Of course," Richard asserted.

"Do you have one?" Desmond asked accusingly.

"Sure," Richard replied, trying to remain calm and strong when the conversation had wriggled out of his grasp.

"So you've had sex with a man..." Desmond pursued.

Richard felt himself blushing. "Uh huh," he conceded.

"And you played the feminine role," Desmond probed.

"I did," Richard said breathlessly.

"What, you sucked his dick? Let him suck your nipples? Details, my friend. You didn't let him fuck you?"

"All of those things," Richard said, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. At the same time, he recalled the feeling of being physically vulnerable and exposed which had been so exciting that first time, only six months earlier, when he had been seduced by a much older man in a situation very much like this one.

"It doesn't make you a screaming jessie," Richard said, sitting up in his chair. "It's a conscious decision. It doesn't change who you are."

"I'm sorry," Desmond said. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to understand. Perhaps we should go upstairs where it's private." The remark didn't sound like a proposition. Just a sensible move in the circumstances, Richard thought. Things could get embarrassing in public.

"Your room," Desmond said firmly. "Your territory."

Five minutes later the two men were sitting in the semi-comfortable hotel room chairs, flicking glances at each other. Richard saw a stocky, overweight, middle-aged man who was used to being in control. But the description could equally be applied to himself, even the "in control" bit. That's what he should do: stay in control.

"You think a submissive man -- a man who chooses for a period of time to be submissive - is less of a man?" He dangled the question provocatively.

"In Ancient Greece," Desmond said, "it was considered okay for a man to have sex with another man as long as he was the dominant one. It was the other one, the one being dominated, who was less of a man. How do you feel about that?"

"I've got something on my laptop you might find interesting," Richard said. "Let's sit on the settee." They relocated side by side and he put the laptop on the coffee table.

"See, this guy," he explained as the video started. "He's a masculine man isn't he? Could be a footballer or a gym instructor. Tall, solid, fit. Tattoo around his bicep."

"And he's wearing a dress," Desmond observed.

"Precisely," Richard said, quickly trying to find something to be precise about. "He has chosen to play that role and he's in costume."

"Do you think he feels like a woman?" Desmond asked seriously.

"He wants to be treated like a woman in the circumstances," Richard said. "He's sitting like a woman, with his legs together."

"Thighs on display," Desmond said.

"Demure," Richard insisted. "He's wearing a short dress but he's not exposing anything."

"Except yards of leg," Desmond said.

The video continued and a large, shaven-headed, strong-looking man appeared, muttering unbelievable scripted words about what a turn-up for the books this was, proffering a glass of whisky. Then he took the glass back and put it with his on a table. The two men kissed and the man one put a hand on the woman one's leg. In return the woman one put a hand on the trousered package. Richard felt the need to say something.

"Off the record," he began, "You're in a hotel room with a man, watching a gay video."

Unexpectedly for both of them, Desmond put a hand on Richard's leg. Richard paused the video.

"Are you going to dress as a woman?" Desmond asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

"Would you like me to?"

"Maybe."

"I do have a pair of knickers in my suitcase," Richard said. "But that's all. Okay?" Desmond nodded, stood up and turned the lights off while Richard located his thong, slipped his trousers and underpants off and donned the female underwear. He removed his socks but opted to keep his shirt on. He sat down again, acutely aware of his altered status.

This was a major point in the proceedings and again Richard felt vulnerable and exposed, but happily so. He sat next to Desmond and blood invaded his penis, but slowly and bashfully. He restarted the video and it reached the part where the woman one was placed on her knees and shown the man one's large, hard cock, curled back at the top by what Richard saw as a huge amount of testosterone and desire. Desmond watched and Richard could hear him wondering whether this was his cue to expose his own cock, which was beginning to swell whether he liked it or not. He stood up abruptly and let his loose suit trousers fall to the floor, then pulled his baggy y-fronts down and stepped out of them. His shirt tented a little with his erection and he shyly pulled it through the gap below the bottom button. He was about to be sucked by a man for the first time and although he wanted it desperately, he knew it would be the point of no return.

Richard reached out instinctively and held the other man's cock, then got on his knees like the sub in the video and took the available cock in his mouth. Desmond's tool was long and thin, uncircumcised and with a nice shiny knob to suck on. He liked the feel of it in his mouth, as if it were a thin piece of leather stretched tight over some stuffing material, which in this case was blood. Whatever the physiological reality, it was a penis, erect and wanting to be sucked offered to him by a man who didn't really know what he was doing. Richard sucked it gently and lovingly. He licked the length of the shaft and sucked Desmond's scrotum, letting his balls float away in the knowledge that they would be involved later when he conjured semen out of them. Desmond might be a rank amateur, but all he had to do was appreciate Richard's ministrations and, later, behave as if he were fucking a vagina when in fact it was an anus.

As the video moved on to the man one pushing his huge cock into the woman one's tight but grateful anus, Desmond sat down and Richard adjusted his position so he could continue sucking, but Desmond pulled him up and they sat together again to watch the screen and discuss something.

"So show how you look in knickers," Desmond said with a smile, pausing the video. "Stand up."

Richard complied and lifted his shirt to expose himself, which he now realized was something he enjoyed very much.

"You can suck me or lick my arse," he ventured. "But I suppose that might contravene your Greek thing. I can lick your arse if you like."

"Hmm, has to be my idea I think," Desmond replied, before kneeling on the settee sideways. "There, lick my arse. You're my slave boy and you'll do what I say."

"Of course," Richard said, applying his face to the other man's fat, hairy buttocks. He pulled them apart and inhaled a thrilling little shot of clean, slightly sweaty arse aroma. As he licked Desmond's anus and spread the joy to all parts of his inner buttocks, the other man groaned with ecstasy.

"Fuck," said Desmond. "I never get that at home. Keep licking my arse, Richard. Keep your tongue between my buttocks." Richard had no intention of relinquishing a position which he considered a privilege. He had access to this man's most intimate area and he loved not just the taste and smell, but the thought of how rude it was, how crude and primeval. And he knew he was driving this man quietly crazy with pleasure which redoubled into increased lust.

"I'm going to want to fuck you soon," Desmond said in a kind of warning. "Looks like a tight fit. Got any lubrication?"

"Not actual lube, Richard said. "But I've got some moisturizer my girlfriend likes me to put on my face. That'll do."

"On the bed," Desmond said, suddenly clicking into gear as if he were with an actual woman. Richard got on the big, firm bed on his hands and knees.

"Like that?" Desmond asked.

"I like to be buggered," Richard found himself explaining. "When we get to know each other, we can do it face to face, but for now you are going to bugger me, as men have buggered people since before they knew there were other ways."

"God," said Desmond. "You've really thought about this, haven't you?" As he pulled off his shirt he was very aware that he was being watched by a man. For his part, Richard was excited to see his friend completely naked, with his manly hairy chest and arms and that big stomach that most men of their age had. Richard was relatively slim but he loved an overweight man-next-door type. The belly made Desmond's cock look quite small, but it was stout and blunt. It reminded him of a hammer rather than a screw. The type of tool that made its entry through brute force rather than subtelty. Richard handed him the cream, and Desmond slathered it over his knob. Richard took it back and lubed his arsehole.

Huffing and puffing, Desmond climbed board and slid his cock up and down over the hole as he had seen the bald man do in the video, then located the dent and pushed. Whether it was natural skill or beginner's luck, his knob found just the right angle and he slid steadily into Richard's hole. He had never had anal sex, even with a woman, because those he had tried it on with had stopped him in his tracks and you couldn't really feel aggrieved because he was given the wonderful consolation prize of a beautiful vagina. But this was different. He wasn't making love: he was, as Richard had made clear, buggering someone, and it was altogether different. All these thoughts brought him to a standstill.

"Fuck me," Richard said, which thrilled Desmond and spurred him into action, suddenly aware of a responsibility to this man, a duty to give him a good seeing-to. He wrapped his big hairy arms around Richard and it felt lovely but wasn't good for mobility, so he straightened up, put his hands in the small of Richard's back and began to pound him.

"Is that okay?" Desmond asked.

"That is fucking amazing," Richard replied. "Bugger me, Desmond. Cum inside me."

"You sure?"

"I want you to."

Desmond had never been so excited and the fact that Richard wanted his semen injected into his deep, dark hole drove Desmond over the edge. Helplessly he convulsed and pumped his stuff into his friend. Richard tensed as he felt it; it was the first time anyone had ejaculated inside him and he loved it. He slumped forwards and his body relaxed totally as he received this man's spunk. He could feel Desmond's cock twitching as it expelled the last oozes of his load. Then he became aware of the bulk of this male body, this fat, hairy man who had fucked him. Richard extricated himself from the wrestling hold and pulled Desmond on top of him, face to face.

"You buggered me, mate," he said, stroking the man's back. "Let's lie here for a while and then do it again."

"I need a drink," Desmond said. "I'll phone down to the bar for a bottle of wine."

READER: you've read mine, now please tell me your dirty little secrets.