Hayle

He looked at my face and I smiled.

He laughed. "Hey - it's natural, mate! And I'm not the only one. I reckon half the guys on the team, half of those you met tonight, have done this. And probably a lot of your mates too..."

"Half of your team?"

"Yeah - I dunno for sure. I've only messed around with one of them - but I reckon, from stories I've heard, that five or six of them have played around together..."

I got into the shower with him and he turned his back to me. My cock was throbbing, feeling painful from being so hard.

I said, "I don't think I'm gonna last long. I'm really fuckin' close..."

"Don't worry about it... if you cum quickly I'll take it as a compliment!"

He bent forwards against the wall and stuck his arse outwards. The fact he was offering it to me for penetration - the first guy to do so - made me almost cum right there.

I gasped, "Oh Jesus!"

He laughed, "Try and actually get it in, mate..."

I tried to think of other things, tried to calm my breathing, but I found it so difficult.

I felt my climax well up again when I pushed the tip of my cock against his arsehole.

I grabbed his hips, muttering, "Christ... I am sooo... fuckin'... close..."

He laughed, "Looks like you need a bit of practice at this... maybe I should give you my phone number..."

I laughed back, wondering how serious he was. I said, "Yeah... that'd be a good idea..."

He didn't say anything so I pushed my cock a little way into his arse. It swallowed first couple of inches eagerly like a warm, soft mouth. I could feel his anal ring gripping my stem tightly. 

He gasped, "Aah... yeah!"

I pushed further in and he bent forwards a little more to take me. The deep interior of his arse felt hot and tight and I began to pant with the pleasure of finally feeling my cock reach a place I'd fantasized about for so long. 

He whispered, "Fuck me, Ollie... come on!"

I just held my cock inside him, relishing the pleasure of feeling myself - at last - connected to another man through my favourite part of him. Finally feeling what it was like to 'bum' another guy, like my cousin Martin had teased me about all those years earlier.

I muttered, "I don't know if I can... I'm gonna cum any second!"

He whispered, more urgently, "Well cum when you're fucking me! Find out what it's like..."

I gasped, "Yeah... okay..." And I began to work my cock slowly out of him, withdrawing it almost fully, and then pushing it home again. The waves of pleasure I felt as my cock slid back into his insides almost overwhelmed me.

I gripped his hips more firmly and did it again. And then again. Gradually I developed a slow, deliberate rhythm, gently working my cock in and out of Steven's arse.

My mistake was to look down at what I was doing; until then I'd been facing the tiles on the wall in front of us and looking at his wet hair plastered to the back of his neck. I moved my eyes downward, across the broad sweep of his muscular back, to peer down at his arse. His cheeks were full and firm, looking ripe and round like a pair of peaches, and my cock was moving slowly in and out between them.

I realised my mistake too late as the pleasure overtook me and semen began shooting from my balls. I held onto his hips and felt the hot squirts filling the head of the condom deep inside him, aware that I was moaning like I was in pain.

It didn't seem like it would ever stop: I thought the condom would burst inside his arse.

But eventually, as I came to my senses and heard him laughing as he still bent forwards against the tiles, it subsided and I managed to recover a little of my breath.

He was saying, "Christ - mate! Looks like you needed that!"

And I was unable to respond.

He stood up and pulled his arse away from me and my cock slid out of him with a loud slurp. I looked down at it and saw that, although it was still fully erect, the head drooped downwards with the weight of the liquid inside the condom.

He turned towards me and looked down at it too. The light brown streaks along the length of the condom didn't seem to bother him; they didn't really bother me either. He just laughed, "Wow - big fuckin' load!"

I managed to mutter, "Fuckin' hell - sorry it was so short!"

He laughed again, "I told you, mate - don't worry about it!"

He pulled the condom off me, throwing it over to plop into the toilet, and asked, "Can I fuck you?"

I guess he saw the look of horror that crossed my face when I looked down at his cock and saw that it had recovered to full size. It really hadn't occurred to me that he might want me to reciprocate. He slapped my shoulder, smiled and said, "Hey - it doesn't matter..."

I looked at his face. "I just never did it before..."

He shrugged. "No worries. I'll have a wank or something..."

As I showered and he was drying off, I asked him which of his team he'd "messed around with".

He said, guardedly, "This goes no further...?"

"Of course..."

"That guy Adam. The one from over near St. Ives."

I nodded.

He went on, "It started one afternoon after a practice match. We both hit the showers late and... well... one thing led to another..." He grinned.

I was surprised: Adam had seemed so straight. But then, so did Steven and so did I, but it hadn't stopped us.

He added, "There's this kind of sub-culture of guys having sex with other guys everywhere, once you start looking for it. It's not really a gay thing - just sheer opportunism. When you're tuned into it, Ollie... well..."

I looked over at him and he grinned broadly. I smiled back but felt guilty for the umpteenth time about the fact he was still erect and I was unable to help him out with it.

My period of 'tuning in', as he'd put it, took a long while and happened well beyond the confines of the youth hostel at Hayle. So I guess that's where this story ends, but there was a long way to go and a hell of a lot more to learn. I had to do something, very quickly, that had never occurred to me: to take a look at my own arse and realise that a good number of other ostensibly straight guys might be as interested in that as I was in theirs; that I might have to start getting used to the idea of reciprocating if I was to take that wonderfully warm, soft plunge again.

But all that's another story.

And it started off the next afternoon, after the rugby match, when Steven, muddy and sweating and grinning from ear-to-ear, walked up to me at the sidelines of the pitch and handed me a piece of paper with his phone number scrawled across it.