Hayle

There was this Italian guy called Dianno from North London who seemed reluctant to get dressed. He had an animated conversation with my brother Charlie, standing with his back towards me and his legs wide open, while I lay in my bed and gazed in awe at his incredible muscular arse and his cock and balls dangling between his thighs beneath it. When Charlie stood up from his bed, Dianno took a step backward to give him space and those magnificent bumcheeks were literally inches from my face. I could actually smell the soap he'd washed himself with when he'd showered a few minutes earlier. My cock was pounding against the tight grip of my fist.

Then there was this guy called Ian from Reigate who had one of the roundest arses I've ever seen. He made small-talk with my mates and I while we all undressed to turn in for the night and, when he pulled off his jeans to reveal the paired spherical mounds of his straining cheeks inside his tight dark red briefs, I became mesmerised. Thank God I wasn't involved in the conversation at that moment: I'd have been totally lost for words. Then, when he peeled off his briefs, unfurling them down those tight, round buttocks chatting away obliviously, I was reduced to grunting something like, "I need the loo..." and slunk out.

By the time I'd finished my rapid and silent bout of masturbation, he'd got into bed. I've always been pissed off with myself that I slept through his alarm the next morning and that by the time I'd awoken he was already dressed.

Throughout the time these brief encounters were happening at Hayle, I was dating girls and working my way through first and second base just like all the other lads in my year. I wasn't gay - I still don't think I am - I just had this fascination for guys' behinds that didn't seem to fit with any of the other, more traditional, attractions I was developing.

During some of my many moments of anxiety about what I was feeling, I'd visit the town library and leaf through encyclopoedias and medical textbooks to see if this was one of those "normal part of growing up" things. I quickly realised that none of them said anything that was relevant to me. This wasn't a phase I was going through - it had been going on for three years now. Nor was it a teenage crush - how can someone have a crush on a part of the every other guy's body?

I even tried making tentative, joking references to "bumming" or to the shape of other lads' backsides to my mates, but they seemed to lack my interest and would just throw me odd, uneasy glances.

So I figured I must be pretty unique in this and, at sixteen or seventeen, decided that it might be time to stop worrying about it or trying to justify it: why not just see what it would be like to enjoy it?

One of the defining moments that eased my guilt happened during a trip to Hayle with my dad. It was just him and I that weekend: I think Charlie was away on some hiking expedition with the scouts and my older brother Tom was at University.

The hostel was pretty full, as it always is before a rugby match, and my dad and I had to share a three-bunk room with four other men. He offered to take the top bunk of our bed, which was fine by me as it meant I got a better view of what was going on at waist-level among the other guys in the room.

I don't remember much about three of the men we were sharing a room with - I don't think my dad or I really spoke to any of them - but I do remember that all six of us turned in together at about half past eleven when the hostel bar had closed. It must have been pissing down with rain outside or something, because normally most of the men would head off into town to wander around the pubs, but for some reason everyone seemed to hang around indoors that night.

I got undressed quickly while the others were still coming upstairs, my erection already making a wigwam of the front of my boxers in anticipation of the strip show I was about to get. I got into bed and positioned myself like was just idly reading a magazine, giving myself the broadest view of the room that I could. My cock was literally throbbing beneath my duvet.

The first three guys undressed uneventfully, wandering in and out of the room making trips to the bathroom and gradually stripping down to their underwear. I lay there squeezing my cock underneath my magazine as they slowly revealed the curves and contours of their brief- or boxer-clad arses. Standard fare and, like I said, not terribly memorable.

Then my dad came in and hurriedly stripped down to his briefs, making occasional glances towards my magazine, as though he knew what was going on beneath it. I just pretended to be immersed in an article about The Eels and tried to ignore him.

While the other three guys got into their beds, dad said something like, "Is that the magazine with Martin Clunes on the cover?"

I shrugged. "I dunno."

He said, "Let's have a look..." and snatched the magazine away from me.

I grabbed it back almost immediately, replacing it over the bulge in the duvet. He smiled at me knowingly.

I muttered, "You can have a look when I've finished this article..."

He chuckled, "I've seen enough, Ollie..." He looked back down at my crotch. "I kind of got an eyeful..."

I went a little pink but shrugged it off. I thought, "Jesus - can't a guy even lie in bed with a hard-on these days?"

Then our fourth roommate came into the room and started stripping. Dad turned to face him, making a few bland pleasantries, with his brief-clad arse in front of my face.

I expected dad to climb up onto his bunk as the guy took off his shoes and socks, but instead he just stood there with his back to me, eclipsing my view almost completely with his arse. The other guy began asking about how often the two of us had stayed in the hostel and dad made idle chit-chat in reply. 

I kept trying to peer round the side of dad's arse to see what was going on - the fourth guy was already hitching down his jeans - but every time I changed position, dad would move across to block my view again. I'd shuffle around a little as if trying to my myself more comfortable, and dad would take a step in the same direction. I'd pretend to yawn and move over to the other side of my pillow and dad would follow me.

I was thinking, "Oh come on, dad - give me a break! He's pulling off his teeshirt!" But my dad's arse would remain firmly in front of my face.

That's not to say my dad's arse wasn't pleasant to look at - for a guy his age, he had a pretty athletic pair of buttocks which filled the back of his white briefs pretty well - but I guess the fact it belonged to my dad made me a little uncomfortable about staring too hard at it. Interest in that direction would have seemed a bit too weird even for me!

When the fourth guy had stripped down to all but his briefs, dad finally stepped to one side to let me see what I'd been waiting for. It was worth the wait! The man was a builder or something and had a muscular, well-built body with a chiselled pair of buttcheeks at the back of him that looked like they would be strong enough to crack nuts. His briefs were white and so tight that they rode up into his crack, and when he turned around to face us, his cock and balls were so clearly defined inside the taut material that they looked like they must be painful to wear.

Dad coughed gently and I looked up at his face. He was looking down at me, smiling knowingly again.

I blushed for a second time and his grin broadened.

I wondered whether he was smiling at the fact he'd playing a game by pushing his arse in front of me or whether he realised I'd been trying to spy on the other guy. Before I could work him out, dad turned and said to the guy, "Jesus, mate. Looks like you could have done with a bigger size..."

The man laughed. "Yeah... my wife always buys them like this. Two sizes too small. She kind of... er... likes them like that...!"

Dad chuckled. "Not too comfortable for you, though..."

The guy smiled. "A permanent wedgie is a small price to pay to keep her happy..."

"Yeah? Must be true love..."

The guy laughed again and said, "Nice to get them off though..." And he quickly yanked them down. I think he'd been pleased that someone had given him the opportunity to take them off so that he didn't have to risk looking weird by being the only one to sleep in the nude. His cock and balls burst out from them like they were relieved to get a some air after their day of captivity. I noticed that the guy's pubes were trimmed, emphasizing the length of his cock and the drop of his balls. Obviously another preference of his girlfriend's...

Then he turned to stuff his briefs into his rucksack, revealing his spectacular arse in all its naked glory. Apart from the pink lines where the hems of his briefs had dug into him, his buttocks were perfect: full, firm and as round as melons.