As we undressed for bed, Alex said to me, "I feel kind of sorry for Danny."
"Sorry for him? You're kidding me!"
It was hard to believe he would feel anything but mistrust for my ex. He hadn't been keen on Danny visiting us, and sure as hell hadn't been comfortable with him staying over with us for the night.
"No I do," he insisted. "Being holed up in that tiny Cornish village without any cute guys to help him pass the time."
"It was his choice to take the job down there," I reminded him. Danny worked as a lab technician; there must be jobs all over the place without him having to move to the wilds of Cornwall.
"He seems pretty desperate, Matt," Alex said, pulling his jeans off and revealing his dark blue boxer shorts. My husband, as ever, looked stunning in his underwear: standing tall and lean and with a dusting of hair across his prominent pecs.
Danny certainly did seem desperate; I couldn't deny that. Over the meal we'd cooked for him he'd talked at length and in surprising detail about how long it had been since he'd had sex with a guy. Or, rather, as he'd so vividly put it, how long since he'd had "a nice hairy arse clamped around his cock".
"Talk about havin' blue balls," he'd spelled out as if elaboration were needed. "Mine are just about ready to burst!"
I couldn't see why Danny hadn't had a relationship in so long. He was a good-looking bloke -- he'd been the hunky lab technician when I'd done my environmental science degree -- and he's packing a cock in his boxers that would put a horse to shame.
That's why Alex holds him in such suspicion, you see. He knows I'm a size queen (let's face it, I have a whole collection of dildos to prove it!) and in that one department, and that department alone, my husband really is no match for Danny.
I mean, Alex has lovely cock; don't get me wrong on that score. At five and a half inches it would be easily big enough to satisfy most gay guys, and many would regard its slim girth as a bonus when it comes to anal.
But Danny and I were together three years when I was at uni, and when you've grown used to having a ten inch tallywacker servicing you every chance it gets, anything smaller comes as something of a disappointment. Not that I've ever let Alex know that, of course -- I'm not a total bitch -- but the night he lost his virginity to my behind, it was obvious from the great chasm of my hole that I was used to something pretty massive filling me up back there.
When he eventually saw my holiday snaps complete with Danny straining to fit into his Speedo trunks, it was pretty clear whose giant chopper had stretched my pooper to kingdom cum.
So when Danny first e-mailed me about coming to visit on a weekend away from Cornwall, Alex's first reaction was: "Absolutely not. I'm not having donkey-dong coming here and bulging all over the place."
I'd snapped back at that: how could I not when he was making it so clear that he didn't trust me? We'd talked about it at length and soon he'd agreed to three of us meeting up. It turned out, though, that Danny's train times made a fleeting visit impossible so, after a certain amount of persuasion and a succession of assurances from me, I was making up the spare room for our well-hung house guest.
And so far I'd acted as the doting husband to Alex and model host to our visitor. Indeed, the whole time Danny had been here, I hadn't so much at glanced at the massive mound that was making his zipper strain so alluringly, nor peek at the obvious semi-stiffened rod that was forming such an attractive swelling just to the left of his pocket.
The 'blue balls' conversation had started up when Alex -- and I repeat Alex -- had asked Danny about what sort of opportunities were to be had where he was staying in Cornwall.
I want to emphasize that it hadn't been me because I'd made a rule to myself I wasn't going to raise any kind of sexual stuff with my ex and that if he mentioned anything intimate about the years we'd been a couple, I'd change the conversation onto less controversial areas as quickly as I could.
I'm completely trustworthy, you see, and what Alex and I have together is seriously important to me.
Anyway, Danny had said, "Opportunities, mate? Bugger all... zilch. The nearest nightclub is in Plymouth which is fuckin' miles away and the gay nights hardly ever fit with the early shifts I work."
But Alex hadn't left it there like I would have done. He'd gone on, "What about cruising... local toilets... parks and stuff...?"
"Absolutely nothin' going on, mate. Believe me I've tried!"
"Surely local lads... married guys who are curious... there has to be something going on somewhere?"
"If there is, I can't find it and I've looked everywhere I can think of! I haven't fucked an arse for... well... pretty much since I moved down there."
Before I could manoeuvre the conversation away from my ex's sex life, he'd turned to me with a smirk, "And Matty here knows how much I like to fuck an arse... how I'm an every night kinda guy when I have a nice cute butt waitin' to be seen to..."
I thought Alex would be appalled by such talk, especially as I was the target, but he seemed genuinely intrigued by Danny's high sex-drive.
He said, "Every night? What... really... every single night?"
Danny grinned at Alex's disbelief. Alex was making it obvious that his stamina was no match for the larger man's.
"Your hubby here used to like it up him every night too," he grinned. "Every fuckin' night he'd be gaggin' for cock! I guess these days he has to make do with whatever he can get!"
Alex made out like he was amused by that, but I could see from his glance across at me that he was feeling uncomfortable.
He knows that I like sex a lot more often than he does, but whereas Danny certainly is an 'every night kind of guy', my husband has always gone for once a week at most. Even when we'd first met, I'd be lucky to get him in the sack much more often than that. Once I'd even resorted to flipping him over and greasing him up to give him some butt-love of my own, but he'd made it clear there and then that his backdoor was strictly for exit only.
Danny went on, "My cock ends up achin' and my bollocks get so full. It's fuckin' agony mate -- you have no idea!"
"Don't you toss yourself off?" Alex asked, a question which surprised me. He likes to talk about sex stuff with me -- he can get really into it if he's in the right mood -- but I'd never heard him talk to other men about masturbation.
"I've never really liked doin' that," Danny said, which I knew to be true. "I mean I used to wazz off all the time when I was a kid -- which lad doesn't? -- but once I got a taste for knobbin' your hubby's hairy little brownie when he was at uni, me right hand never felt the same after that!"
I'd noticed that being down in Cornwall hadn't softened Danny's broad Brummie accent.
"Does it get really painful then?" Alex asked with genuine concern.
"Yeah it does," Danny nodded. "I mean, I do wank off... enough to stop me spunkin' up in me sleep. But it's no substitute for havin' a good honest fuck!"
He looked at the two of us and his mouth broke into a smirk. He went on, "I mean, you can't beat havin' a nice tight arsehole squeezin' round your cock, can you? Some bloke's slimy backdoor to ram yourself in and out of..."
He chuckled at our two faces, staring back at him gobsmacked. "Sorry... fellas... you'll have to make allowances for me! I haven't shagged in so long I think my gob's just runnin' away with itself!"
"It's understandable," Alex muttered.
"It's just..." Danny continued, "I dunno if he's told you, but I'm pretty well-hung."
Alex just nodded, still staring at Danny in astonishment.
