I met my friend Ivan because I bought my car from him.
I liked him because he was so unlike the younger, cockier salesmen I'd encountered in all the other dealerships. I'd been trawling showrooms most of the weekend and had long since grown bored of being pestered by smarmy wide-boys in flashy tailored suits reeking of the latest after-shave.
From the outset, Ivan seemed far more authentic and I got the feeling there was a good deal more to him than he would ordinarily like to reveal. His hair was thinning on top and he was getting a bit chubby around his middle, and once we started chatting I figured he was maybe just a couple of years younger than me. I found I immediately warmed to him - maybe it was his self-deprecating humour or maybe his endearing air of amicable weariness - so, instead of giving him the brush-off when he came over to ask me if he could help me pick a car, we walked the forecourt together, chatting affably and getting to know each other.
He told me which cars he thought were the best deals and which he wouldn't touch with a barge-pole. When I found one that I thought might suit me, he advised me which extras were worth the money and which he thought were just gimmicks.
I asked him how long he'd worked selling cars and he threw me a tired smile. "Man and boy, mate, just like my dad. Going on for... what'll it be now... just over twenty years."
So that put him in his late thirties, making my guess pretty close.
"You've sold one or two cars, then," I smiled.
He smirked back at me. "Let's just say enough to be able to cut through all the bullshit."
We went into his office and I sat down behind his desk on which was perched a picture of him with his arm around an attractive woman, the two of them holidaying on some far-flung beach. Before we sorted out the paperwork, he offered me a cup of tea and as he bent over to get the box of teabags out of the cupboard, I noticed he had a the most breath-taking arse amply filling the seat of his fawn-coloured trousers. It was just the sort of big, blokeish backside I love to get my face stuck into and the sort of butt which, once I'd lubed it up with my spit, I would greatly enjoy watching quiver and ripple as my hips slapped fast and hard against it.
I guess he saw the way I was looking at his rump and licking my lips because when the time came for the car to be delivered to the showroom, Ivan offered to drive it over to my house after he'd finished work. I'd asked him how he'd get home and he'd said, "You can give me a lift back to the dealership if that's okay. I'll pick up my car and drive back from here."
I'd nodded and he'd added, with a delightfully cheeky smirk, "That is, after we've finished doing everything we need to do at your place..."
"Okay," I'd grinned and he'd beamed back at me.
We both knew the score and it was obvious what he intended.
When the day came and he'd dropped off the car, I invited him in and offered him a beer. After a bit of chit-chat about the new car, I asked him if he'd like to take a look upstairs.
He said, "Sure, that'd be great," and followed me up to my bedroom.
We kept talking about the car and I thought I'd get things started by casually undoing my tie. Ivan followed my lead and took off his, and then we both started unbuttoning our shirts. Neither of us made any reference to why we were undressing in front of each other, but just talked about the expected fuel economy and how often, with the miles I drive, I'd be likely to have to fill the tank up.
"You won't see anything like the efficiency quoted in the handbook," he said, sitting down on my bed to pull off his shoes and socks.
"If I can get close to fifty I'd be quite happy," I told him, doing the same alongside him.
He kept talking about the variation I could expect with different driving conditions, standing back up to unclip his belt and unzip his fly. We really were going to do this: we were about to get naked and have sex together on my bed.
He pulled his trousers down revealing an old-fashioned pair of blue Y-fronts, probably the sort of godawful underwear his wife bought for him in packs of five. His cock and balls made a promising bulge in the front of them and I pulled down my trousers so he could see that mine was equally prominent in my DKNY boxer-briefs.
"You'll find it struggles to accelerate away from uphill junctions at first," he said chattily, "but once the engine has been properly run-in, that'll sort itself out."
He took his shirt off, revealing a thin growth of hair across his chest and below it a distinctly flabby beer-gut.
"You expect little teething problems for the first five-hundred miles or so," I replied, removing my shirt to show him that, while not exactly being a contender for Mr Universe, I was in considerably better shape than he was.
"I'd give it a thousand," he said, pulling down his underpants. His cock was still floppy but nicely thick and chunky with a pale pink helmet poking out from his gaping foreskin. It hung solidly over his plump hairy nuts, giving the impression of just beginning to get aroused at the prospect of having intercourse with another male.
I pulled my boxers down so he could see that I was running a semi. He smiled at its broad girth and long, developing shaft and I was pleased that he wasn't intimated by my endowment like some men who identify as predominantly straight.
Having seen what I had to offer he got on the bed on all fours, sticking that wonderful big, meaty butt out at me with his hairy nuts hanging down between his legs.
I wondered we were going to continue chatting nonchalantly about the car, even as I mounted him, grabbed him by the hips and proceeded to anally copulate with him. Talk about the air-con and how often the oil would need changing as I squatted behind him, rogering his big flabby arse with my bollocks slapping noisily against the backs of his legs.
But instead Ivan brought the car-talk to an end by saying, "I assume you have condoms stashed away somewhere...?"
"Of course," I chuckled, "but I was rather hoping I could rim you first."
He laughed back, peering across at me over his shoulder. "I thought you'd want to eat me out. I saw the way you were licking your lips when I was bending over behind my desk!"
"It looks a good deal better without your trousers on," I told him. It did look incredible with him bending over like this. The cheeks were so deliciously round and pudgy, and the crack was filled to overflowing with an inviting tangle of thick, wiry hair.
"My missus doesn't share your enthusiasm," he said. "That's why I take the occasional... er... opportunity like this. I like it to get a bit of attention every once in a while!"
I chuckled and got on the bed behind him. My cock was now almost fully engorged from the knowledge that this exquisite rump really was going to mine for the taking.
I gently caressed both of his round, succulent buttocks and then ran my fingers up and down his moist, wiry crack. The smell of his butt hair, ripe and pungent, made my cock head swell up like a big, shiny plum and I had to swallow a couple of times my mouth was watering so much.
"So you like getting your butt fucked?" I asked, working my fingers more deeply into his humid trench, rubbing them past the hot, sticky pucker of his bloated entrance.
"Always ever have done," he replied. "I have a good sex life with my wife - very enjoyable, actually - but I've always liked getting on all fours like this and taking a nice big dick up my arse!"
"Well, I'll be happy to oblige, Ivan," I chuckled, working a couple of fingers into the slimy grip of his well-used hole. "Your bum is simply stunning!"
"Yeah, it's funny how fellas always like my big hairy arse," he grinned back at me over his shoulder, "but my wife won't go anywhere near it!"
"She doesn't know what she's missing," I smiled back, sliding my fingers in and out of his cock-stretched opening and revelling in the delicious stink that my exertions were producing. "Now you know my address, feel free to drop by whenever it feels neglected!"
"I'll take you up on that, Rob," he laughed.
I leaned forwards and kissed his big chubby buttocks: first the left and then across to the right. They smelt enticing - a little sweaty from the moisture that had gathered in the back of his Y-fronts during his day at the dealership, but more strongly of that exquisite earthy pungence that his gaping hole was kicking out as I gently fingered it.
"I'd like to fuck you as well," he said, pushing his hefty butt against my hand. "I'd like us to both have our turn if you'd be up for that."
"Oh, absolutely, Ivan!" I told him. "I love taking turns - it's the best part of doing it with another guy!"
I withdrew my fingers from his slippery chute and applied instead my mouth to his sumptuously furry butt-crack. I reached my tongue out to lick at his puffy anal ring, relishing the thick acrid taste that oozed out from inside. I lapped at it, flicking my tongue against his wide opening, while I sniffed hungrily at the strong heady fug that had spent the day lurking in the deep bristling crack underneath the back of his trousers.
"Ah yeah," he called out, "lick my big fat arse!"
He grabbed my head and ground my face roughly into his rear, commanding, "Come on, eat me out! Shove your tongue right up my arsehole!"
I murmured appreciatively and drove my tongue into his clammy tunnel, coaxing out the strongest of his odours and reaching down to squeeze my cock as I savoured his richest, most vulgar taste.
How could Ivan's wife ignore such a scrumptious backside, bulging enticingly inside the well-filled seat of her big husband's straining underwear? How could she resist plunging her face between his hefty cheeks, to impatiently inhale the wonderfully whiffy thicket bristling inside and to feast so fervently on her man's filthiest flavours?
