Reconnecting with the Past

The year before the covid madness, I went to the UK to attend a family funeral. My older brother had died suddenly, and I volunteered on behalf of the family to sort out his affairs.

My elderly father had planned a wake, and the beers began flowing at 11 AM at the local pub. The guest list included the parents of a dear friend with whom I happened to have enjoyed a secret bisexual relationship and his university friends.

Lyndon, it turned out, lived about sixty miles from me, was married and with several children. I had not spoken to him since 2005, and we had not enjoyed sex for maybe a decade.

He was going through some personal pain, but his parents asked me for my UK number and vowed to pass it on so that I could share my condolences. Our friendship transcended our sexual antics, and Lyndon was a dear friend despite some elapsed time in which we had not been in contact with each other.

Lyndon was not a Facebook or Twitter guy, so staying connected took a lot of work. However, his parents' offer of reconnecting with each other via text messaging was welcomed, and I gladly handed my number over.

Sure enough, Lyndon made contact the next day, and we exchanged a few pleasantries. He asked me how long I was in the UK for one more week following the funeral and what my plans were.

Those plans included a catchup with another ex-lover in Manchester before I departed the fair shores of the UK. Can I stop by Leeds and meet up with Lyndon for a drink?

If anybody knows the UK train network, they know how difficult and expensive it is to take impromptu rail journeys. However, since Leeds is on the way to Manchester, and I had the time to spare, I decided to spend the money and reconnect with an old dear friend. I also booked a room at the Hilton for the night.

Lyndon and I made the requisite plans, and I arranged to meet him at a tavern in the city centre on Friday afternoon.

The weather was dreary for the time of year, with a lingering mist of water vapour that clung to one's clothing, making you feel constantly damp as you walked the streets.

I found the pub easily and was about half an hour early. My nerves began to play on me as I wondered what Lyndon looked like. Would I feel any lust towards him? I banished those thoughts as I reminded myself he was married with children. Despite being single then, I had to remember that our sexual antics occurred twenty-something years earlier.

Lyndon sent a text to say that he was on his way. I downed my drink and waited. He recognised me before I did him. Still a hulk of a man, he had lost all his hair and the cares of distressed parenthood was visible on his still handsome features.

"You haven't changed a bit," He gushed as he hugged.

"Good to see you too, my friend," I replied, "Please sit."

I handed him a drink, and we simply stared at each other for several minutes, sizing the other up. I wondered what was going through his mind as a million memories shot through mine.

Small talk ensued. We each expressed condolences for our enduring pain, but neither of us was sad. It was a joy to reconnect with an old friend during adversity.

"You in touch with the uni crowd?" I asked after consuming several beers.

"No, for about twenty years," Lyndon replied, "They moved down south. Last I heard, they became respectable family guys."

"Nothing wrong with that, I guess."

"What about you?"

"I dabbled on both sides of the fence since uni but have tended to preference the feminine," I replied.

"Yeah, same," Lyndon said, "Those times were wild, though."

"Yep, pretty insane," I agreed, "I learned a lot about sex."

I was surprised that Lyndon mentioned our past sexual history so soon. The deal with his university housemates and me was clear-cut. We went on the town to pick up pussy, but if we were unsuccessful, we had the option of engaging in gay sex together.

At no point did we consider ourselves gay, bisexual at best, straight at worst. That time was a sexual exploratory phase that we seemed to grow out of. I had never discussed those experiences with anybody, and I was taken back at Lyndon raising them so soon after meeting up after fourteen years.

"You done anything with a man since?" Lyndon asked.

"It's been a while," I replied after looking deeply into his navy-blue eyes, "Probably six, seven years ago."

"How was it?"

"Very familiar to when we hooked up," I said candidly, "The no kissing rule applied."

Lyndon laughed. Of all the absurd rationalisations we produced during our uni days, the no-kissing rule was the one rule that determined we were not gay. No one kissed another man. Sure, they would have sucked cock, taken cock anally, swallowed sperm and other nasty activities, but because we did not kiss each other, we were not gay. Thinking back on it, I simply shake my head in incredulity.

"I've been there a handful of times," Lyndon confessed, "But it was not the same."

"How so?"

"I don't know," He shook his head, "Lack of connection, I suppose."

"Meaningless sex?"

"Yeah, those guys weren't into our interests."

"Well, they were advanced for the time," I joked.

"For sure," Lyndon agreed, "I haven't found a woman that shares those interests."

"I came close, once or twice," I said, "But I agree for the most part."

Lyndon raised a questioning eyebrow and glossed over some detail that filled him in. He then quizzed me about some of the bisexual experiences I had enjoyed in the last twenty-plus years. Retelling those tales raised the hardness of my cock, and I quickly realised that Lyndon was angling for a last hurrah.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked with a serious face.

"I'd love for us to have one more time together," Lyndon stuttered, thrown off balance by my directness, "I wank off to our memories all the time."

"Even when fucking your wife?"

Lyndon's cheeks flushed bright red, and a scowl of anger swept across his face at my temerity, but he quickly gathered his equanimity.

"Especially then."

"I haven't been a bottom since that time in the woods," I confessed, "And your cock is massive."

"You remember that time that we watched pornos together?" He asked, "I worked your arse with fingers and tongue that you took me easily."

"I remember," I acknowledged, "It was about the only time I enjoyed receiving anal, period."

"I would love to do that again," Lyndon said, "And I'm more than happy for you to fuck me."

"When was the last time?"

"Being arse fucked?" Lyndon asked, "A few years ago, I did not enjoy it."

"How come?"

"Fucking too small to even feel it," He said before adding, "He did come a lot in my mouth, though, which I enjoyed."

"Nice," I agreed.

We sat across from each other on a small round table. The pub was busy, given its proximity to the train station. Still, despite the patronage, Lyndon was clearly rubbing his crotch. I was semi-hard, too but refrained from being so overt about my arousal.

"When was the last time you fucked a man in the arse?" I asked.

"Well, I have a regular bottom buddy," Grinned Lyndon conspiratorially, "We hook up a couple of times a month."

"Oh, do tell," I pressed for more information.

"His name is Shafique," Lyndon gushed, "He sucks cock and takes it up the butt like a champ."

I was shown photos of the man Lyndon was cheating on his wife. Not my type, but not without crucial skills. Shafique's gapes were impressive. The cum spray on his face particularly caught my attention.

"Man, he takes that monster cock of yours with ease."

Lyndon was easily ten inches and fat! I remember him sodomising me in my early twenties and feeling holed. It took me days to recover despite the massive amount of lubrication he applied. After all this time, I could not imagine being invaded in such a way.

"You want to fuck him?" Asked Lyndon after I returned the phone, "He's primed and ready."

I took a few moments to consider what Lyndon suggested. Here was an old dear friend that wanted to reconnect sexually one-on-one. A threesome with a talented stranger was very appealing.

"Yeah, I'm up for that," I said, fully committed to some action, "What do you have in mind?"

"I know a place not far from here," Lyndon said, "Where we won't be disturbed."

"And your wife and family?"

Another flash of anger flashed across Lyndon's face before he recovered his poise. He smiled and told me he was out with workmates and only home at 8 or 9 PM. I glanced at my watch; the time was 4 PM, and given the time of year, outside was darkening fast.

We exited the pub, and Lyndon led me through a tangle of ancient streets to a bridge that spanned the canal. The place was dark and smelled of stale piss but had no streetlights or foot traffic.

"This is where Shafique and I meet up," Lyndon said nervously, looking around to ensure no one was around.

"I can see why," I said, "Where's Shafique?"

"On his way, "Lyndon said after checking a text message, "About fifteen minutes."

"So, how does this work?" I asked nervously, "After all this time, who goes first?"

"I'd love to feel your mouth on my cock," Breathed Lyndon as he undid his belt and zipper to produce a monster cock that twitched in the chilly winter air.

"That's way bigger than I remember," I gushed as his massive member was presented.

"No bigger than our uni days."

That statement I doubted. Nevertheless, Lyndon's member was impressive. Before meeting up, I stretched my hole in the shower using two then three fingers to relax the muscle. I also applied a dabble of lubrication on the off chance that I would end up in a place like this, and I am glad that I planned ahead.

Remembering our uni days and beyond, anal sex never hurt. Lyndon took great pains to gently ease his cock inside my tight hole, and by that time, I was super turned on. Still, I would require much more lubrication before accepting that slab of meat at the tradesman's entrance.

His quivering meat made me instinctively drop to my knees in front of Lyndon. I grabbed his cock at the base and opened my mouth, and accepted his length.

Lyndon's length and girth remained impressive and stretched my mouth to breaking point, but I remembered how easily it was to make him come into my mouth. It was a technique he taught me back in the day that I had refined with other male lovers since.

Essentially, I throated Lyndon's cock as best I could, going balls deep without choking before tonguing his balls and taint while working the shaft. He told me repeatedly that I was working wonders until, perhaps ten minutes later and with, my jaw aching.

Lyndon sensed my discomfort, saying I was getting him close to climax. He helped me to my feet and turned me around.

"Bend over," He breathed, "I want to fuck your arse until I come."

"Sounds good," I said, "Do you have lubrication?"

"Of course," He replied before dropping to his knees, spreading my cheeks, and tonguing my twitching hole.

"Fuck, that feels good," I sighed as Lyndon lapped away.

At this point, my cock was as hard as a rock, and I gently teased my shaft in anticipation of being filled with Lyndon monster length.

"You like that?" Lyndon asked rhetorically as he spat more saliva onto my wrinkle.

"Yeah, I love being rimmed."

"You ready?"

"Puts lots of lube over your cock."

"Already done so, look!"

I looked over my shoulder and saw his shaft glistening in the fading light. Reaching around, I wrapped my fingers around his girth and guided him inside my dirty hole.

"Easy," I cautioned, "You're fucking huge."

Lyndon was eager but abided by my warning, leaving entry to my guiding hand. When his head touched my bung, I gasped. When I reassured Lyndon that I was fine, I told him to press firmly. At the same time, I simultaneously pushed my muscle, forcing it to accept the intrusion.

Remarkably, Lyndon entered me easily. There was no irritation or pain, just an incredibly filling sensation. It was a tight fit, to be sure, and there was no room left as I felt his full-length press against my bladder.

I knew from previous experiences that Lyndon does not wait for me to get comfortable with the intrusion; instead, he begins gently pumping when he gets balls deep. Tonight was no exception.

After placing his hands on my hips, Lyndon quickly reached a natural rhythm with his strokes. The pressure was intense but very pleasurable. I was in no danger of orgasm from these filthy sex acts between old friends, but there was something nostalgic about what we were doing.

"Fuck, that arse is tight," He hissed.

"That's because it hasn't been fucked by your monster cock since uni," I chuckled.

"Feels good, though, yeah?" He asked.

"No complaints from me."

"Good,"

Suddenly, I heard footsteps and a voice.

"Aye up, lad," A young man said with a thick West Yorkshire accent.

"Aye," Lyndon responded.

Shafique.

"It looks like I'm late."

"Nah, mate," Lyndon panted, keeping me firmly implanted on his cock, "Perfect timing."

With cursory introductions made, Shafique started watching the action. He was young, mid-twenties at best, clean-shaven with tightly cropped black hair smothered in product. He was short, olive-skinned with high cheekbones, an angular nose and brown eyes.

He disappeared behind Lyndon, and I was unsure what he was doing until I felt a tongue on my rapidly tightening balls sack. I gathered from Lyndon's comments that Shafique's tongue slid across his balls and O-ring.

Next, Shafique sat on the ground and shuffled underneath me to gain access to his cock. Being buggered and throated simultaneously was a fantastic sensation. Too good, in fact, and I had to beg Shafique to stop his oral assault else I come too soon.

Disappointed, Shafique stood and massaged his cock through his loose-fitting pants. I reached over, undid the rip cord, and took hold of his cock. He was utterly hair free, and I felt the faint residue of soap, so at least he showered before the meeting.

I jerked his cock to Shafique's evident satisfaction and felt pre-cum oozing from the tip. Lyndon continued pounding my hole, and I sensed that he was getting pretty close to climaxing, and the thought of him filling me up with one of his super loads made my dick twitch.

"Does...does he suck cock?" Shafique stammered to Lyndon.

"Why don't you ask him," He laughed.

Shafique never got to pose the question because I motioned him to lean against the wall. I placed a hand on his hip and took hold of his more modestly sized cock with the other. Lyndon's pounding motion compliment my cock sucking.

"That's amazing," Shafique repeated as his full length slid in and out of my mouth.

Moments later, my throat was flooded with hot semen as Shafique could not hold back. With little warning, I managed to control the gag reflex and swallow his hot, salty deposit. His flesh deflated in my mouth, and the expression on his face was priceless as I throated his meat.

Suddenly, Lyndon stiffened and began swearing. He was close, and I still waited to experience a sensation absent from my sex life since our uni days.

"I'm going to come!" He hissed, "Fuck!"

He rammed his cock deep inside me just as it began jerking furiously. Quickly, I felt a warm flooding feeling as Lyndon's balls shot out ropes of hot man sludge deep into my bowels.

"Oh, yeah," Moaned as my entire body sizzled with pleasure darts, "That's what I'm talking about."

"Big load?" Asked Shafique rhetorically.

"Massive," I confirmed, enjoying Lyndon's deflating but endlessly spasming cock.

"Man, that was good," He said repeatedly.

Lyndon slowly eased his meat from my expanded hole and, in doing so, motioned for Shafique to stand beside him. The head exited with a satisfying pop, and I felt so open and empty.

"What a gape," Crowed Lyndon triumphantly, "Quick, get on your knees."

Almost immediately after he exited, my gaping hole began spewing hot sperm. Shafique has there immediately, his tongue catching everything. Lyndon encouraged me to push, forcing more white ropes of gooey come into Shafique's mouth. After he swallowed the lot, Shafique cleaned me up with an extensive rim job.

"Impressive," I said, standing up and fingering my greasy bung, "Both of you."

"I want you to give Jason here one of your signal 'special' blow jobs," Lyndon said to Shafique.

"With pleasure," He smiled in return.

"You're going to love this," Lyndon grinned at me.

Shafique dropped to his knees and began sucking me in what started off as a regulation blowie. Still, as the seconds ticked by, I noticed the intensity creep up to the point that was becoming unbearable. I had experienced a similar sensation years ago. If I did not stop it, I would be discharging something other than semen. Lyndon sensed my mounting fear but told me to relax and let the inevitable happen.

It was the most unbearable combination of pleasure and pain baked into a blowjob. I held back for as long as I could, but in the end, I lost control and released into Shafique's mouth. He chuckled as he intensely sucked on my helmet and immediately swallowed before releasing me with a smack of the lips.

"Fuck, man!" I exclaimed as the pressure receded, "You trying to kill me?"

"Isn't it great?" Lyndon asked, stroking his flaccid meat, "It gets better."

"Really? I do not see how."

"Show him, Shafique."

Shafique began with a regular blowie and intimated that I part my legs. He worked a couple of fingers to my distended and slick hole as I did so. They snaked their way inside and searched for a specific location.

When he did so, Shafique returned to sucking on the tip of my engorged cock, recreating that intolerable phenomenon causing me to squirm uncomfortably. This time, his fingers curved forwards, and he pressed them against the anal membrane. This action was like turning on a tap, and I gushed hard into Shafique's waiting mouth.

He released my cock head from its vice-like grip, tilted his head back and let the fluid pool into his mouth before it spilt onto the ground.

"How does that feel?" Lyndon asked, eyes wide.

Shafique's fingers pressing against me, followed by the uncontrollable release while maintaining a stonking erection, felt pleasurable if different and somewhat awkward.

"Actually, it feels pretty good," I confessed.

Shafique swallowed the last trickle before gently withdrawing his fingers from my dirt box and standing up, smiling from ear to ear.

"Another satisfied customer," Lyndon chuckled.

"Me or Shafique?" I asked with a smile.

"Both," Lyndon replied, "But I see you have something we need to take care of."

He was referring to my raging boner, which had been sorely abused by Shafique's unusual talent.

"What do you want to do?"

"I need to stick this somewhere right fucking now," I replied, "My balls have turned blue."

"You have your choice of holes."

"Okay, I want yours," I said to Lyndon.

He dropped to his knees and sucked my dick while Shafique used the lubricant and his fingers to prepare Lyndon's arsehole.

In contrast to Shafique, Lyndon's oral technique was straightforward, using his lips, mouth, throat, and hand to build up pleasure and increase anticipation.

When I was ready, Lyndon stood against the wall with his arse pointing towards me. Shafique pressed both hands on his cheeks and pulled them apart to reveal a greasy and inviting void. I pointed the raging purple head against the aperture and pushed. Lyndon pushed back, and I was inside. Soon I was balls deep. Like mine, Lyndon's O-ring was incredibly tight and volcanically hot. I allowed him several moments to adjust to the intrusion before gently pumping his arse.

"Feels good," He hissed as I rocked his hips, "Can't wait to receive your load."

It took less than five minutes of fucking Lyndon's gaping shitter before unloading in a blind fit of orgasmic rage, releasing round after round of boiling sperm from my long-suffering and entirely shrivelled balls.