Part of the 'Butt Monkey' series of stories by Robert Furlong
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Jake mentioned over tea that the drama department at his college was looking for someone to help out with the Christmas pantomime. It was still early November but rehearsals were already underway.
"I didn't think you were interested in drama, Jake."
"I'm not actually in it," he replied, through a mouthful of ravioli on toast. "I'm just drawing them a few cartoons for their programme."
Jake had always been very skilled at drawing and had a remarkable talent for capturing expression and movement. For a while, I'd tried to persuade him to take up art as one of his subjects at school but my advice had, like so many of my attempts at paternal guidance, been casually disregarded.
"They're asking for volunteers," he went on, swallowing one mouthful of food and promptly shovelling in another so he could continue to talk through it. "They want a parent to take on one of the roles they can't fill,"
"Come on... you know I'm rubbish at that kind of thing."
"Oh, it's nothing too difficult. They're just looking for someone to be the back end of the cow."
I smiled. "Oh right."
"Mr Barrowman was going to do it but they need him backstage." He gulped some of his juice and then announced, "Anyway, I said you wouldn't do it."
"Probably for the best," I chuckled. "You know what I'm like... I'd end up falling off the stage or something."
He chuckled. "Yeah. And you don't want to have your face in another guy's butt all night, do you?"
I looked over at him, startled. "Is that what it would involve?"
"Yeah, of course. And it gets so hot in the costume, you'd both have to strip down to your underwear. I told Mr Roberts you'd be too weirded-out to do it."
"Well, I dunno, Jake..." I picked up some of the dirty dishes to take them to the sink. "I mean, if they're desperate..."
He shook his head. "Seriously, dad, it'd gross you out. I've seen them during rehearsals... the costume is so cramped that the guy at the back has his nose stuck right in the other guy's butt... and it gets so hot in the costume, they were both sweating like a couple of pigs by the end of the show..."
I turned to look at him, temporarily lost for words at the mental image he'd just painted.
Eventually, I managed, "But... you know... if they're desperate...."
He shrugged. "Anyway, the guy at the front is Mr Purves. Do you really want to have your face in his backside for a whole night? I mean, what if he hadn't wiped himself properly... ugh!"
"Well, no. No. Of course not."
I knew Michael Purves from a couple of parents' evenings; he'd taught Jake Physics since he'd joined the college. He was in his late twenties and played football in one of the amateur leagues. The thought of back-ending him in the cow costume was already making my cock harden and I turned to face the sink so that Jake couldn't see the bulge that was starting to form in my work trousers.
I called over my shoulder to him, turning the hot tap onto the dishes, "I just would feel bad if it means the play can't run without a volunteer..."
Jake didn't seem too interested one way or the other. "Well, I'll let Mr Roberts know. But I'll say you want to be the front end..."
"No!" I was surprised at how urgent my voice suddenly sounded. Smiling in an attempt to appear more casual, I said, "Er... the back end will be fine, Jake... honestly..."
He threw me a quizzical look. "Yeah...?"
"Well... I mean," I muttered, struggling to think of a good reason for preferring the rear end. "The guy at the front has to know where to go and what to do... I'd just have to follow him..."
He shrugged a 'whatever' gesture which made him look like his mother and then brought the rest of the dishes over to the sink.
Although I tried not to let Jake see how excited I was at the prospect of being the back end of his Physics teacher's cow, my mind was racing through the possibilities which the position might present.
Of course, I would have to be very careful not to have too much contact with the teacher's backside, but, as a once happily-married man, he probably wouldn't suspect I was actually enjoying having my nose jammed between his buttocks. He'd probably be apologetic, repeatedly so, about the awkwardness of the situation.
I'd reminded Jake twice that evening to tell Mr Roberts that I was interested in being in the play before his expression told me that I was venturing into uncool territory.
===
Needless to say, I lay for a while in my bed that night pondering about what it would be like to have my face so close to another man's backside for so long, speculating on how brave I would be with my nose and my tongue, wondering if the teacher might start enjoying my attentions like Guy had... and what would happen if he did?
I fondled myself through the fly of my pyjamas, feeling my cock starting to harden as it always did when my thoughts turned to other men's backsides.
What if he, like me, was harbouring a secret yearning for the male rear? What if that had been the reason he'd volunteered to take on the role?
Once he'd recognised my interest in his arse -- once he'd realised that I'd offered to spend the evening cooped up in the costume with him for reasons less respectable than a wish to support performance art -- he'd likely respond by pushing himself back against me. Perhaps even pull the back of his underpants down to give his new-found friend better access.
Would I be brave enough to rim him on stage, hidden from view within our costume but nevertheless in front of an audience? I imagined myself inside the dark, stuffy confines, my face level with his pert, sweaty buttocks. His crack would be hot and ripe after a day of being cooped up in his trousers and underwear in the Physics lab; the tastes and odours around his tight, puckered anus ready and waiting for licking and sniffing.
Without a doubt I'd rim him! I'd have my tongue stuck so far up his arse that his eyes would be watering!
I gently eased my foreskin down the stiffening length of my cock with a couple of fingers and my thumb, and then slowly swept it back up again. Then I did it again, and again, becoming a little bit faster each time as what had started out as idle fondling gradually developed the rhythm and pace of masturbation.
It occurred to me that, if Michael Purves was into guys' arses like I was, he might suggest that we swap places during the half time interval so he could do to me what I'd so enjoyed doing to him.
For the first time, I considered how it would feel to have another man rimming me. Would I enjoy it? I imagined the feel of another man's nose sniffing my most private smells, the sensation of his tongue licking around my most intimate spot.
I wondered if I might be self-conscious. What if I was a bit smelly down there or hadn't prepared myself as thoroughly as I should have? What if he was disgusted by me?
But I figured that if someone was into rimming, part of its attraction had to be towards experiencing the natural smells and tastes of the arse: that had certainly been what I'd found so exciting about Guy's backside. So another guy would be just as likely to enjoy rimming me in the state he found me as I would him.
I imagined Purves behind me in the costume, pulling my underpants down and pushing his face between my buttocks. My cock swelled at the thought and I started masturbating it more quickly, my breathing quickening and a thin film of sweat forming on my forehead in the darkness.
I hitched my pyjama bottoms down so that I could work my free hand between my legs and, pushing underneath my large balls, extended a finger into my hot, hairy arse-crack. I drew circles around my moist ring, imagining it was Purves's tongue, and felt my cock hardening to its full size as I jerked it as quietly as I could.
Grabbing his head, I'd grind my arse into his face, relishing the sensation of him tasting my hole and inhaling my sweaty, pungent odour. I imagined holding his head steady and sliding my arse up and down against his face, just like I'd seen the men in the park toilets doing. I'd feel his nose sweep up and down between my cheeks, and then bend forwards to open my crack to allow him to fully penetrate my hole with his tongue.
Suddenly I had an idea. Remembering how much I had enjoyed, to my horrified surprise, the sensation of Dr Courtney's middle finger entering me during the prostate examination, I clicked my bedside light back on and found in my bedside drawer the tube of KY jelly I'd bought in a chemist's shop. After squirting a generous gob of it onto my middle finger, I smeared the transparent goo up and down from tip to knuckle, the way I'd seen the doctor doing, and then clicked the light back off again.
I pressed my moistened finger back against my hole and marvelled at how smoothly and slickly it slid inside me. The sensation was exquisite: even better than I remembered it had been in the surgery now that I didn't have the doctor's beady eyes staring at me. I pushed deep up into my bowels and gasped at how pleasurable it felt. My cock throbbed and hardened in response, as if pleased that its little brother round the back was finally being invited into the party.
Taking up a gentle rhythm in and out of my anus, I imagined Purves pushing his tongue inside me smiled to think of him enjoying it so much he would push deeper and deeper, hungry for more. How wonderful it would be to feel him frantically wanking himself in his excitement as he fed so passionately on me. Emboldened by how good it felt, I began fingering myself more quickly and eventually worked up to the same rhythm as I was using to masturbate. I was amazed by how incredible just a single finger could feel as it slid quickly in out of my tight, slimy hole and how hard it made my cock throb to imagine it was another man's tongue reaching up inside me.
I lay there marvelling and grinning with glee at the new sensation I was experiencing; pleasuring myself so delectably with two hands rather than one. This was masturbation cranked up to the max: the de-luxe form of the habit I had so enjoyed since boyhood. Why had nobody told me about this? Why had I never had the imagination to discover it for myself?
Increasing my rhythm, I began panting as I realised I was now getting pleasure from two places rather than one. I'd always enjoyed the waves of sensation which rubbing my cock would give me; now I was getting further stimulation -- nearly double the fun -- from my hot, tight backside which had all these years been hungry for me to feed it.
I gasped again in delight; God this felt so good!
My finger was making slurping noises as I thrust it in and out of myself and imagined it to be Purves's mouth, sucking at my backside and giving me his own version of the rim-job I had seen in the park toilets. I opened my legs wider, both hands growing faster in their separate but co-ordinated roles. One expertly circling my cock in its long-established technique; the other less certain and still finding its way as it plunged in and out of my long-neglected hole.
A waft of air was expelled from beneath my duvet and I sniffed greedily at the novel kick my new technique was giving to my masturbatory odour. I'd always revelled in the sharp, biting smell of my cock when I wanked it; now it was joined by a stronger, and deliciously smuttier, smell from between my legs. Both my hands quickened in their excitement: this was a welcome new slant on an old favourite.
I gasped a third time, this time coupled with an urgent grunt. My whole bed was a pulsating mass of movement and rhythm. The manageable to-and-fro vibrating of my mattress under the motion of only one hand had given way to a frenzy of pounding and creaking. In time I'd learn how to restrain such excesses, or at least limit them to more discreet levels, but for now I just enjoyed it. My bedroom door was closed; if Jake could hear what his father was up to, he'd just have to put a pillow over his head.
