Sharing

After Adrian's right hand found what it was looking for, he drove the fingers of his right hand into Powell's arse cleft, right up to the knuckles.

Powell gasped, "Yeah... ah..." and Adrian started fucking the older guy's arse with his fingers.

I noticed that Adrian's cock curved upwards, unattended, between his legs. Its red head was throbbing and the skin of the stem was now looking pink from Powell's earlier ministrations. 

Suddenly, Powell pulled away. "That's good... too good... but I'm not ready to cum just yet..."

Adrian's fingers slipped out of his arsehole with a slurp.

Powell went back over to his bag and pulled out a packet of condoms. He took one out and went over to Adrian.

He asked, "Which way round do you prefer?"

Adrian shrugged. "I don't mind..."

Powell tore the condom wrapper open and removed the rubber sheath. "What about going on top...?"

Adrian said, "However you want it..."

He moved forward like he was going to unfurl it down Adrian's cock but then, at the last minute, applied it to his own. He laughed at Adrian's surprise. Adrian smiled and shrugged.

I was incredulous to find the two of them so flexible about who was going to penetrate the other. No matter how many times I'd heard that a lot of gay guys like both to give and to receive, I still hung onto the notion that some guys prefer to give, and some to receive.

I guess I'd assumed here that, because he was the older of them, the automatic way of things would be that Powell would penetrate Adrian. But now I saw that it might just as easily have been the other way around; Powell would have willingly let Adrian fuck him if that had been the lad's preference.

Adrian got on the bed, kneeling on all fours with his arse sticking out. Powell jumped up behind him.

He smiled over at me, still wanking myself. He said, "And if ever you get the chance to do this, either way, it's something else I'd recommend..."

I grinned. "I did it already... with a girl..." I suppose I don't need to add that it wasn't Rachel.

He said, squirting lube onto his rubbered-up cock, "Oh yeah? And did she pull herself off your cock, get behind you, and give you the same back? And then turn you over and fuck you like a girl? And then did the two of you take turns on each other half the night?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Er... not really..."

He rubbed the lube onto the condom, sweeping his hand up and down his length to cover it completely. "I like women, Sebastian. Don't get me wrong. I just also like sex in all its many, many varieties. In my experience, sex with another guy offers just about as much variety as you can get..."

He squirted some more of the lube onto his finger and worked it into Adrian's anus.

I said, "Doesn't it affect your relationship with your wife?"

He shook his head and grinned at me. "No matter how much you like women... how straight you regard yourself... and I regard myself as pretty high up on both counts... sharing sex with a member of the same gender is... well... something totally different..."

So that's how he justified it to himself: 'sharing sex'. As innocuous as 'sharing a chat over a pint' or 'sharing a game of darts'.

I was getting really turned on by the noises his fingers were making inside Adrian's arse. And the sight of his cock, hard and swollen just inches from the lad's opening, was almost too tantalizing to take my eyes off.

I said, "I think I might like that better view you mentioned..."

He chuckled and gestured for me to sit on the pillows at the head of the bed, swirling two fingers inside Adrian's rectum to make it as slippery as he could.

I got up and pulled my briefs off.

Then I went to their bed, climbed onto the pillows with my back against the wooden headboard. Adrian was kneeling with his face in front of me. He smiled slightly at me as Powell prepared his backside to be fucked.

I began wanking slowly and Adrian stared at my cock, no doubt pleased to have found himself in the company of two men with pretty generously proportioned cocks.

Powell said, "Would you be really disgusted, Sebastian... would it put you off... if I rimmed him?"

I shrugged. "No. Not really..."

Powell smiled. "I just remember the first time I saw it, or someone suggested it or whatever." He laughed. "I was appalled!"

I smiled back. "I don't mind. It's not something I'd ever do myself, but seeing someone else do it doesn't bother me..."

Powell threw me a sceptical look like he was thinking, "Oh yeah - you'll have your face in some guy's arse by Christmas". Then he knelt forwards and applied his mouth between Adrian's buttocks, level with his anus.

Adrian gasped and his face contorted in intense pleasure. He pushed his upper body upward slightly and began masturbating his cock with fast, hard strokes. He was grunting again.

Powell's mouth made chewing, slurping noises as he pushed his tongue deep into Adrian's rectum. It sounded like he was eating the younger man's insides.

I began wanking myself rapidly: seeing this was turning me on in ways I would never - not in a million years - have expected. If you'd have said, "You're gonna be watching one man eating out another man's arse, Seb," earlier that evening, I'd have thought it disgusting, but now it was happening - well - let's just say that if I hadn't have been wanking, my cock would have been so desperate it would have demanded my balls to leap up and play with it!

Adrian was loving it too. His hand was a blur against his cock and sweat was pouring in rivulets down his chest and arms. His eyes were closed tightly.

After a minute or so, perhaps sensing Adrian's climax nearing, Powell withdrew his face from the boy's arse suddenly. He pushed himself upright, grabbed Adrian by the chest, and slid his cock quickly and deeply into the younger guy.

Adrian's eyes flashed open and, staring at me and with his mouth in a kind of snarl, he let out a long, panting sigh as he was penetrated by the older man's large cock.

Then, maintaining eye contact with me and with his mouth still in that pained grimace, he started gasping, "Uh uh uh..." as Powell started fucking him.

I desperately wanted to join in. I understood what Powell meant about this being so different - so incomparable - with the sex I'd experienced with women. This was something else.

I wanted to walk around behind Powell, kneel down at the foot of the bed, and to stick my tongue between his ripe, round buttocks just like he'd done to Adrian. To fuck him with my tongue while he fucked the younger guy with his cock. To have his hot, sweaty anus on my lips as he pleasured himself inside the other man.

Then, maybe to stand up behind him and ease myself into him. Feel the three of us fucking together in a way that men and women never can.

My hand was frantic at the thought of it; I was ready to discard my hang-ups and my cautions and to give Dr Powell a surprise he'd probably never forget.

Adrian fell forward, propelled by Powell who was grunting and panting as he thrust into him, and I - without thinking - grabbed his head and pushed it onto my cock.

He sucked at it eagerly and energetically; perhaps he'd wanted this all along.

Powell grinned at me as he towered over Adrian's back, His cock made squelching sounds inside the boy's anus and his hips made slapping noises against his buttocks.

I let out a loud gasp, rapidly pushing Adrian's head up and down on my cock as though I were using it to wank myself. "Oh fuck... yeah!"

His mouth felt fantastic, his tongue doing things against my swollen bell-end that I wouldn't have thought possible.

Powell laughed, "I told you it was good..."

I smiled up at him, hearing myself panting and feeling sweat dripping down my forehead.

I realised Powell was soaked with sweat: his hairy chest looked sodden with it and beads of trickled down his sides from his hot, hairy armpits.

And Adrian was pretty sticky too.

I realised the three of us must stink: the room must literally hum with the stench of our exertions.

Adrian's hand crept underneath my balls, through my wide-open thighs and into the hot, murky forest between my buttocks. I think he just managed to touch the ring of my anus with the tip of his finger when he felt his throat filling with warm jets of liquid from my cock.

I almost doubled over, grabbing onto his head as I breathlessly climaxed, and his finger forced its way into me, filling my arsehole as far as the knuckle.

He was gulping down what he could of the eruption of semen that I was pumping into him.

I felt his hot breath from his nose against the stem of my cock, coming in quick short pants, and realised he was cumming too. The duvet bore the brunt of his explosion.

And then Powell withdrew from him, yanked off the condom, and masturbated himself onto the younger guy's back, spraying semen so powerfully it hit the wall behind my head.

After we'd all caught our breaths, I expected - perhaps naively - a little tenderness and affection between us. In my experiences of sex up until then, I was used to having to supply hugs, kisses and caresses after climaxing. Girls generally demanded it: whispers of how good it had felt; how much I loved them.

It wasn't like that with men, if Dr Powell and Adrian were anything to go by.

Powell stood up, scratched his wet armpits, and declared: "I bet it stinks like a shit-house in here..."

Adrian got up and grabbed his boxer-shorts to wipe his arse and back. He said, "You should have cum inside me... I'd have liked that..."

Powell shrugged, picking up the discarded condom and its wrapper from the floor. "Most guys go tight after they've cum... I didn't want you to be crapping blood..."

Adrian opened his legs to wipe further into his arse. "I'd have told you if it had hurt..."

I got up, wondering if I should join in with the talk about smells and shit and stuff; whether this was the normal conclusion to all-male sexual encounters. The conversation would have seemed more at home in the changing rooms of a rugby game than it would in a post-coital bedroom. I figured that when men get together purely for sex, with no pretence of anything more than that coming from it, they felt able to be brutally honest with one another about less pleasant aspects of the aftermath.

I got back into my own bed, feeling like I needed a shower but noticing that I had little over three hours to get some sleep before the alarm would go off

Powell got back into his; Adrian got dressed and returned to his own room, thanking us both in his stuffy, formal way for what he called 'a pleasant evening'.

Before we put the light out, Dr Powell looked over at me, smiled and said, "I suppose now you're wondering what the hell you just did?"

I shrugged, suppressing a yawn. "I'm not having any regrets, if that's what you mean..."

He looked a little surprised. "No? I remember I was so screwed up the first time I did anything with another guy, I couldn't sleep for two nights..."

I smiled, feeling my eyes starting to grow narrow at the brightness of the light. "There's not much chance of that..."

He chuckled. "Is it something you'd do again?"

"I dunno... maybe... if the opportunity arose, I guess... I mean, I wouldn't go looking for it..."

"Maybe by the time you're thirty-four you might."

I smiled. "Maybe... I dunno..."

The next morning he made it clear that from then on, back at Southampton, it would be as if this had never happened.

He said something like, "I've never done anything like that with a straight guy before, Sebastian. I've always been afraid they'd get screwed up and mess things up for me."

I tried to reassure him that I wasn't like that; that if I had any issues about what we'd done, they were born more of curiosity than of self-recrimination.

He went on, clearly unconvinced, "I trusted you enough to show you something I enjoy last night... something I thought you might enjoy too... don't forget you were the one who - voluntarily - joined in with us..."

I kept trying to tell him that I was thankful, not upset, that he'd left the light on and that I was under no allusions that I'd been the one to involve myself in it.

But he kept interrupting me. "Just don't shit on me for it, that's all I'm saying... if you get screwed up, that's your own fault. Don't come trying to draw me into it..."

We left it at that. I think I thanked him again for letting me stay in his room, but that was all.

I suppose he intended to sever the emotional tie between us, so that I didn't complicate the fairly cushy life he'd set up for himself, working his way through a succession of brief encounters with some of the attractive young men he was lecturing. I wondered if he ended all his liaisons this way, claiming to be distancing himself for the sake of his career or marriage or whatever he'd been implying, but really wanting to clear the way for his next encounter.

Like I said at the start, I didn't see much of Dr Richard Powell after that night. I handed him the odd assigment, which was marked fairly and annotated neutrally, and shadowed him on a couple of ops as part of my training, but we didn't say another word socially to one another.

I'm glad that I did it, though: like I'd told him, even as early as the following morning I had no regrets about it.

One day, maybe I'll walk up to him, grin broadly and say, "Hey, Dr Powell. You know that night we shared a room... well... thanks so much! I owe you one... I owe you a big one!" Smile at him so he'd know I was being genuine.

Just so he knows I'm pleased he opened a door for me; helped me understand that sex shouldn't just be experienced within the confines and conventions of a boy-girl relationship; that men have their own pleasures to discover with one another.

I haven't plucked up the courage to do it yet. Maybe I will soon...