Candid Cameron

CANDID CAMERON

Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong

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Cameron and I met at The Fawcett Inn, an off-the-beaten-track pub some distance from where we work as we were both obviously keen that our chat should be spared the curious gazes of our co-workers.

He ordered a pint but I thought it best for me to stick to soft drinks as I was driving. The place was pretty quiet and we chose a secluded table well away from the other handful of other drinkers.

Cameron was a big guy: tall and with a sturdy, muscular build. He'd been chaining his bike to some railings outside of the pub when we'd met and his physique exhibited the prominent chest and powerful legs of a regular cyclist.

I marvelled at his hairline which seemed to start just above his eyebrows with an enviably luxuriant growth of jet black hair. He wore his hair cropped short with the fringe spiked up with gel. It put my own receding tangle rather to shame.

After a few minutes of slightly stilted small-talk, during which I let him know that most people call me Rob rather than Robert, I asked him how he'd recognised me as "a fellow butt-monkey" as he'd so neatly put it.

He chuckled. "You mean apart from finding you with your nose firmly wedged in Bradley Russell's arse-crack?"

I chuckled, remembering back to when I'd been taking what I'd thought was a sneaky sniff of the IT technician's splayed backside when he'd been on all fours under my desk fixing my printer. "Well, that could have been an accident."

"Quite so," he agreed. "But the way you cupped your crotch to hide the bone-on you'd grown in the front of your trousers... that kind of swung it!"

I smiled, in part from the memory of what had been a particularly awkward moment and in part from the term 'bone-on' which I'd never heard.

"Okay, okay," I laughed. "Well, apart from all that..."

Cameron smiled and then took a long thirsty drink from his pint, downing more or less the top third of it.

"I saw the way you look at other guys' bums," he said, after he'd wiped the froth of it from his upper lip. "The way you drool over them when you think people aren't watching you... the way you have to fiddle with yourself to try and disguise how turned-on you get."

Although I was a little surprised by how perceptive he had been, I was grateful that he was speaking frankly rather than beating around the bush with euphemisms and intimation. I felt that our shared interest gave us licence to dispense with such niceties and speak with honesty to one another.

"And I thought I was being so inconspicuous," I grinned, sipping at my J20.

"To most people, you probably were. I guess I recognised that look because I do it too... in fact you notice a lot of guys doing it in and around the office once you start looking for it."

"There are others... like us... working in our company? Guys into rimming?"

He laughed. "There are legions of us! Well, maybe not legions, but it's a lot more common than you probably realise."

"And do you think we enjoy it because of some primitive evolutionary thing, like it described in that article you sent me?"

He shrugged, in the middle of taking another large drink from his pint. "I haven't a clue," he said when he'd replaced it on the table. "I just sent you that stuff so you'd know you weren't alone and maybe to answer a few questions you were asking yourself."

"Well, there have been plenty of those," I agreed.

"How did you discover that you enjoy it?" he asked. "I'm guessing that time with Bradley wasn't your first encounter with another guy's arse?"

I told him about my night with Guy -- without mentioning his name, of course -- and how a reluctant drunken blowjob had progressed into a frenzied and enthusiastic bout of butt-licking. Even though I had been unable to tell my doctor the story of what had happened, I felt Cameron's direct approach with me deserved my honesty in return. I was therefore as candid in my use of language as he was had been with me, and was frank about how excited I'd been by the smells and tastes of Guy's cock, balls and between his legs when he was straddling over me.

Cameron smiled as I told my story and I could tell that he was rather enjoying it.

"How did you get into a situation where you started sucking him off? I mean, you were both straight, weren't you?" Cameron asked when I'd finished describing how confused I'd felt the day after I'd rimmed Guy.

"Well, like I said, we were both a bit pissed from drinking the best part of a bottle of whisky," I explained. "He was telling me about stuff that went on between the men he'd worked with on an oil-rig, and that kind of led to --"

"An oil-rig?" Cameron cut in. "You're not talking about Guy Leeson, are you? The plumber?"

Surprised that he somehow knew Guy, I stammered, "Well... I... er... don't want to get into naming and shaming. This... er... person hadn't actually had sex with anyone on the rig himself..."

Cameron went on, "Well, we can't be talking about the same person, then. Guy Leeson liked to put it about a bit on the rig from stuff I've heard."

This was interesting: Guy's claim to have kept himself to himself on the oil-rig had always struck me as inconsistent with his eagerness to become sexual with me.

"Was he into rimming?" I asked.

Cameron shook his head. "No, just getting his knob sucked and the occasional fuck. But it was always a one-way thing for him -- no reciprocation -- which didn't go down too well with the lads on the rig from what I gather."

I felt I couldn't ask any more questions about Guy without making it obvious that he was the person I'd had sex with in the hotel, so instead I turned the focus back onto Cameron.

"So how did you get into rimming?" I asked.

Cameron chuckled, replacing his drink on the table after taking another swig. "It was in my student days. Me and Beth -- my girlfriend at the time -- had gone off in a camper van with my mate Ian and his girlfriend. Driving around Scotland... just mucking about and parking up each night wherever we ended up.

"Anyway, one afternoon, Ian and Paula, his girlfriend, were up front driving, and me and Beth were in the back. We were a bit bored and pretty horny, so we got into our bunk for a quickie. While I was screwing Beth -- she's my wife now, actually -- I felt someone's tongue licking my nuts and then work their way up into my arse-crack. I looked behind me, expecting to see Paula, but at the same time kind of surprised that she'd want to do that to me. Anyway -- you've guessed it -- it was Ian who was licking my backside. Paula was driving the van."

"What did you do when you realised it was another guy licking you?" I asked.

Cameron shrugged. "Well I guess I must've looked a bit surprised, but Ian just gave me a grin and a thumbs-up and then stuck his face back into my butt-crack as I pumped away at Beth."

"And how did you feel?"

"I think at first I was a bit self-conscious... you know, having another guy -- a mate -- with his face back there, wondering what he might find. But then I noticed he had his dick out and was beating himself off as he licked me, so I figured whatever he'd found he obviously liked. I shifted my position on Beth to open my legs wider -- opened my arse up so he could get stuck in if that's what he wanted -- and he started licking around my hole and breathing heavily against it. Pretty soon he was pushing the tip of his tongue really hard against my opening and then, when I yielded to him, to my amazement he worked it right up inside me."

"And did you enjoy it?" I asked, feeling my own cock starting to respond in its appreciation of the story.

He laughed. "Enjoy it? I was as turned on as fuck! I really got into shagging Beth and he really got into licking my arsehole -- matching my rhythm with his tongue as he fucked me with it. I could feel his shoulder pounding against my thigh as he wanked himself; so fast and so hard."

"Did Beth know what he was doing?"

He took another drink from his pint before replying, "No... and she still doesn't know I'm into it."

"You think she wouldn't understand?"

He shook his head. "That her husband's into other guys' arses? Literally! Not very likely. Anyway, why take the risk? It's only harmless fun... a purely sexual release."

I nodded. I was going to tell him about Debbie and my own dilemma about whether to tell or not to tell, but he went on with his story.

"A couple of days later, me and Ian were alone in the van -- the girls must've gone shopping or something -- and I asked him why he'd licked my bum. He said that the smell and taste of a guy's bum really turned him on. At first I was like, 'Oh my God, how can you even say that?' but he kept on about how horny it made you feel -- how he'd bone up whenever he put his mouth on another guy's backside and how he always needed to urgently wank himself when he did it.

"I guess he could see me starting to get curious because he suggested that I try it on him. I said there was no way I could do that -- the smell alone would really repulse me. But he kept on about it not smelling or tasting like I thought it would; how it was a really erotic and intimate thing to do to another man. So eventually he got me so interested that I said I'd give it a try.

"He pulled his shorts and underwear down and sort of bent down in front of me. When I saw his bare arse right there in front of me, looking a bit spotty and with a really hairy crevice, I was like, 'Whoa! There's no way I can do this without throwing up!' But he said, just put your face near me and see how it feels. So I did and it turned out that I liked the smell of him back there... I found it kind of interesting in a weird, raunchy way. I kissed his arse and we sort of laughed awkwardly about that -- we were both pretty nervous, I guess -- and then, after a bit more sniffing and licking, I pushed my tongue into his butt-crack to see how it would taste.

"Well, needless to say, I found I liked it... loved it, in fact. I went from just sort of tentatively licking at his crack to out-and-out feasting on his hole, holding his cheeks wide apart so I could get right in there. Ian bent down low and released my boned-up knob from my shorts which must have been making them stick outward I was so aroused. He started beating me off as I fed on him, working my tongue up into him like he had with me. I couldn't believe how good it tasted -- a really sexy, carnal flavour which was incredibly manly but somehow exciting in spite of that. He was laughing as he pumped my dick, saying 'I told you so!'

"After I came -- and fuck did I shoot! -- he had me take off my shorts and underpants so he could get to work rimming my arse. It was amazing watching his knob grow so big -- it's length and thickness kind of doubling in just seconds -- as soon as he put his mouth on my butt. As soon as he'd jerked one out for himself I was ready for another go on him. By the times the girls got back to the van, I'd whacked myself off five or six times, each time with my tongue a little bit deeper up Ian's arse!

"Pretty soon the two of us were sixty-nining together -- you know, licking each other's backsides at the same time -- and from there sucking each other was an obvious next step. After a while we tried butt-fucking each other and found that we both really liked it once we'd got used to the size of each other's knobs.

"All through university, we'd be taking turns on each other behind our girlfriends' backs. To our friends we just really good mates; two straight guys who were really close. I guess it looked like we enjoyed getting pissed together and crashing out on each other's floors. But -- Jesus -- once the bedroom doors were closed we'd be at each other, eating and bellending each other's arses like a couple of horny dogs.

I took a drink from my glass, hoping that I wouldn't have to get up to buy a second round of drinks while my own 'boned-up knob' was making an aching lump underneath my right trouser pocket.

"So did you just get up to stuff with Ian?" I asked.

"Hell, no!" Cameron laughed, after taking another drink from own. "I mean, we're still pretty regular fuck-buddies, in spite of us both getting married and having kids.

"But you get an eye for spotting other guys who might be up for some fun. Ian met a few other guys at uni -- started playing around -- and then I met a few of my own. I'd have the odd threesome, then I moved onto bigger groups and it continued from there."

"And are all these other guys into rimming?"

"Not all are into rimming other men," he replied, swallowing a mouthful from his pint. "There are quite a few guys who are just into getting blow jobs because anything else would be too 'serious' (he made a speech marks symbols with his fingers). But even a guy like that loves having a bloke's face in his arse while he's being sucked, and if that can work for him, it can also work for me."

I smiled.

"With all the guys I've played around with," he went on, "it hasn't been about love or seduction or anything like that. I mean, there's never been any romance between any of us. We've just had a mutual need for sex over and above what our wives or girlfriends are willing to supply. No commitments, no strings."

I nodded in recognition of what he was saying. "That's exactly how I feel," I said. "I'm not gay -- I don't want to get into a homosexual relationship with another man. I've just been attracted, over the last couple of months, to the idea of having sex with another man... I thought there must be something a bit weird about me."

"It's not weird," Cameron countered. "I'm sure quite a lot of guys enjoy sex together even though they'd be loath to identify themselves as being gay, or even bisexual. It's just a way of expressing our sexual needs and exploring sexual fantasies without the restrictions most women impose. I, for one, don't see anything wrong with that."

I nodded and he went on, "A lot of the guys I know who are into it have been in the military, in prison or -- like your mate -- confined with other men for long periods because of their work. What starts out as an act of guilty desperation in the middle of the night for two men can, for an occasional one of them at least, develop into a regular pleasure -- something he enjoys as well as, rather than instead of, his heterosexual love life."

"You mean there are soldiers into this?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink.

He smiled. "Soldiers, sailors, tinkers, tailors... you name it. But, yeah, quite a few guys in the services -- especially the navy for some reason -- find that life in the barracks or at sea or whatever gives them a taste for a bit of fun with other men from time to time. And why not? Isn't it just a natural expression of our sex drives?"

I said, nodding in agreement, "I can see where you're coming from, and I guess it's kind of a relief to hear you express what I've been feeling myself. Like you, I definitely want a woman in my life -- I really miss the intimacy of that, actually -- but I'm incredibly turned on by the idea of rimming another man and maybe doing some other stuff with him too."

Cameron gulped down the rest of his pint and then glanced at his watch. Before I could apologise for holding up his journey home, he said, "I'm gonna squeeze in another half, if it's all the same with you, Rob."

As I made to get up, he gestured for me to sit back down. "No, I'll get it. You've hardly touched your juice -- it wouldn't be fair."

He got up and walked over to the bar as I enjoyed the view of his firm, curvaceous backside which was hugging the seat of his light grey work trousers. I wondered if perhaps I should take up cycling to improve my own rear view; it would certainly be feasible for me to cycle in to work each day. Or at least on sunny days.

While Cameron waited for the barman to pour his drink -- which I noticed was another pint rather than the half he'd mentioned -- he nodded over at a scrawny-looking young man sitting over near the door of the pub. The guy was in his late-teens or early-twenties and was dressed the kind of cheap suit that comes free with a shirt and tie. The girl he was with was giggling at everything he said and appeared, from their closeness and their body language, to be his girlfriend. The guy nodded back in acknowledgement and threw Cameron a small smile. Then he peered over at me with an interest which he made no effort to conceal. I threw him a reserved nod in what I hoped was a friend-of-a-friend sort of way. He didn't reciprocate but just stared at me with the same flagrant curiosity, and then turned back to his girlfriend, saying something to her.

As Cameron paid for his second pint, I studied the couple, primarily for want of anything more interesting to do. The girl looked quite cute -- she was blonde and had a nice, round pair of breasts which she showed off with a very uplifting bra and a low-cut top -- and was no doubt capable of finding a guy far better than the smarmy-looking rat-faced one she was with. No doubt the guy held an appeal that wasn't outwardly obvious.

When Cameron got back to his seat and had taken the head off his second pint ("Seemed a bit of a waste of a journey just to get a half"), he continued the conversation from where I'd left off.

"You say you might be interested in doing 'some other stuff' with a guy, Rob. What do you mean by that? What sort of things are you into?"

I shrugged, feeling rather like an inexperienced novice. "Well, I haven't really done anything yet... apart from that one night in the hotel."

I thought it best not to mention my brief but eventful sojourns with strangers; it might make me seem rather sleazy, especially if it slipped out that I actually paid one of the guys for what we did.

"Okay, so what sort of stuff have you read about?" Cameron asked. "What do you fantasize about?"

"I think I'm ready to have sex with another man... you know, the whole way. I'd like to try that."

He nodded, gulping back another swig from his second pint. "Sucking, rimming, fucking -- that kind of stuff?"

I nodded back. "I've never really liked receiving blowjobs, but apart from that... yeah... I'd be up for doing all of those things."

He went on, "Would you let yourself be fucked?"

I shrugged. "I dunno... probably."

He said, quite coldly, "I've got to say that most men would expect to have full penetrative sex with you, especially if you've already done that to them."

"You mean we take turns?"

He considered this for a moment before explaining, "I think with gay sex -- where there's an emotional connection between the men -- each man is attracted to certain things about the other and so each has a particular role that he favours. But with straight men it's different -- you and the other guy both have the same motivations, the same drive and desires, and so, yeah, there'd usually be certain amount of turn taking between the two of you. It's kind of inevitable."

The prospect of taking turns on each other appealed to me and I smiled. "I guess that's fair. Yeah... I'm pretty sure I could get into being fucked."

He didn't smile back but instead went on with his questions, as though compiling a dossier of how far I would go.

"What about by two guys?"

I didn't understand the question. "What do you mean?"

"Would you let two guys fuck you at the same time?"

"At the same time? How?"

He gestured with his hands on the table. "One guy lies this way, the other kind of lies like this. They push their knobs together and you climb aboard..."

I shook my head. "I've never thought about that. I think it would hurt too much."

"So I'm guessing fisting wouldn't be your thing?"

I shook my head more resolutely. "Definitely not. I don't want to get split in two."

"What about being fucked by a guy who was well-hung? I mean, some men have pretty big knobs."