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Friends are there for friends
It was a most curious end to a disappointing night of cruising the bars and pubs looking for pussy. ‘Disappointing’ is a mild term given the state of our arousal, but there just wasn’t a lot about, despite the searing temperatures that began defining an above average English summer.
My friend Lyndon was studying in the northern industrial town of Leeds about an hour from where I lived. He had just completed his final exams of a three-year engineering degree, and his roommates had already departed the city, so he asked if I wanted to drive over for the weekend. I had one more week at uni before the summer holiday officially began and that week was crammed with exams that I should have used the weekend for studying. My time at Sheffield Uni had been a drab, dreary and sexually dry experience. The previous Easter, I spent a weekend in Leeds with Lyndon and pussy was both plentiful and willing.
Lyndon is two years older than me, and we had been friends since childhood as our respective fathers worked for the same company. He was like an elder brother to me, but as we matured, we grew apart, and I always resented his success with the ladies. Lyndon had confidence with them that I did not. During our secondary school years, he was usually shacked up with one squeeze after another and would boast to me about the sexual conquests knowing that it annoyed me because of my inexperience.
When I turned 18, Lyndon, to his credit, put in a word for me at the local leisure centre where he worked. It was my first real job that paid well and gave me access to a pool of pussy – co-workers – that helped overcome my shyness. Over time, I graduated from lifeguard, to swim instructor, badminton trainer (and local champion) and centre administrator. It was the best job ever and needless to say, my sexual experience gathered pace.
Lyndon was first to go to Uni, and I followed two years later. We frequently caught up during the holidays and cruised for English pussy any chance we got. Success was mixed, and that measure depended on our ability to restrain our alcohol intake. Leeds was a far better hunting ground than Sheffield for reasons that still don’t make sense to me. One reason might be its massive urban regeneration in the 1990s that swept away the last vestiges of Victorian architecture. As a result, the cityscape was modern and vibrant. Pubs and bars were lively places to hang out on the weekends, and Leeds developed a unique character which appealed to young men whose testosterone levels couldn’t be tamed. Needless to say, when Lyndon’s invite was received, the choice between potential pussy or exam studying was easy one to make.
When the unending cloud cover disappears, and the sun shows itself, English summer evenings are glorious as the sun doesn’t set till after 11pm and rises again several hours later. It’s possible to go pubbing and clubbing and never see darkness. This weekend of Lyndon’s invite was one of those times.
I arrived into Leeds around 7pm and went over to Lyndon’s place to drop off my gear and freshen up. We ordered Chinese and listened to some music. His taste tended towards Motley Crüe and Poison, whereas I was Iron Maiden and Megadeth, but that didn’t matter so much. After dinner, Lyndon reached into the drawer and pulled out a large box of condoms.”Grab yourself a handful of these if you don’t want to end up like last time!”
He was referring to last Easter when I scored with this frumpy brunette who was all over me at a pub. She had the biggest mouth, and I had trouble keeping up with her furious kissing. Shortly, she invited me outside and took me to the back of some foetid alley where she was prepared to fuck me. After some wonderfully drunken four play, I was instructed to fuck her. As I was about to mount the slag until she turned around and said, “Got a condom?”
There was this almighty scream of frustration as she stood up, pulled up her knickers and jeans, pushed me into the stinking bins and marched off. I was left humiliated with my pants around my ankles and a rapidly deflating cock. Shortly after regaining my composure, I walked back into the pub and purchased a condom from the gents. I searched around for this unnamed plumper, but she was nowhere to be found
And neither was Lyndon. I found out the next day that he had been more successful than me. And he had thought ahead. It was a stinging lesson for me to learn. Always be prepared!
I grabbed a handful of ribbed prophylactics and stuffed them into the back pocket of my jeans. We drained our beers, took back a handful of vodka shots and hit the streets. The bus trip into town was an uneventful ten minutes and, as I stared out of the window, I noticed the city streets to be quieter than usual. Lyndon told me not to worry as it was still early. Nine in the evening didn’t seem all that early to me, but there was a distinct lack of pussy in the city centre.
The situation failed to improve over the next three hours. Sure, there were the usual groups of hen canlı bahis şirketleri parties that had enough wingmen to stop us penetrating their shields. There were groups of old boilers that we kept on standby but nothing of real quality that was worth investing in. This unexpected turn of events became frustrating for us.
“Shall we try a club?” I asked after the witching hour commenced.
“Can’t see it getting any better than this.” Replied Lyndon, gloomily.
True, on our past attempts, a club was never a requirement because success had been achieved at the pub level.
“Options?” I asked.
“Curry and beers at home?” Came an unenthusiastic response.
We continued trying the pubs till 1am, even going over old ground but it was the same depressing tale. Shortly after that, we gave up the task and headed back to Lyndon’s place.
“Maybe Saturday night will be better?” He offered, rather optimistically.
I wasn’t sure I could afford another assault as barren as Friday night had been.
Presently, we found ourselves back at Lyndon’s where the options weren’t appealing.
We sat back with a couple of beers on the couch and channel surfed for a while. I was having trouble staying awake.
“My roommates got German pornos. Fancy watching them?” Came an alternative offer.
“Yeah, go on then,” I replied in a flat tone. I wasn’t sure watching French actresses dubbed into German getting fucked silly was going to change our situation.
Lyndon took off upstairs and came back with a bag full of original pornos that his mate had picked up on a recent trip to Hamburg. Flicking through the selection, I was astounded by the price of these videos. Lyndon picked a Carol Lynn flick directed by the legendary Harry S. Morgan. Seconds later, European filth burst forth in pristine CRT clarity.
Fuck it was good and despite the alcohol, I was instantly roused to the hardness of a diamond as scene after scene remorselessly flickered by. How was I going to be able to escape to the toilet for hand-driven relief? Lyndon would know, and he would tease me mercilessly for my lack of self-control.
Three videos down and I was at breaking point. I didn’t dare remove my eyes from the screen nor did I place my hands anywhere near my straining bulge.
The tension had the tautness of piano wire that was instantly shattered.
“Get your cock out if you want. I’m going to.”
My body reacted as if I’d just been shot, but I kept frozen still, half in fear. From the corner of my eye, I could see Lyndon raise himself up and pull down his jeans towards his knees. He repeated that action with his underwear. It was then that I saw the silhouette of his meaty pole reflect against the CRT light.
Of course, Lyndon and I had been naked in front of each other numerous times when we worked together, but this was different. He had his hard cock out in front of me and he was stroking it.
His voice pierced the tension. “It’s ok. This doesn’t make us fags or anything.”
Two blokes masturbating to porn? I suppose not, but this development had come as a complete shock me. Still, I was overly horny and desperately needed release, so I followed Lyndon’s actions but at no time diverting my gaze from the screen.
When I touched my engorged member, I found that I was covered in pre-cum and the hardness was of a magnitude previously reserved for sex which, up to this point, had been with women.
Where was this leading, I thought to myself. Was Lyndon gay? I couldn’t conceive it given his easy success with women. I knew very little about gay sex other than it involved anal penetration as a substitute for a wonderfully wet woman pussy. However, as these three video Eupoean porn binge was demonstrating, anal sex was not confined to the gay community. If truth be told, watching these sexy french girls that speak in overdubbed German and were happily accepting man meat up their shit chutes was the stimulus that was making me lose my reason. I grabbed my shaft and squeezed it tight, and let out an involuntary gasp.
“Fucking hell, look at that!” Exclaimed Lyndon.
I opened my eyes and saw a pretty blond insert her whole hand up the arsehole of a big-titted brunette. My head was spinning, and I felt sweat drops on my brow.
Lyndon leant forward towards the screen to watch in more details something I never thought possible but watching it was making me even more light headed. He was now furiously discarding his jeans and when done were kicked aside. His legs were spread far, and he was pumping his shaft rhythmically in sync with the blond’s fist pumps. This went on for maybe ten minutes. I couldn’t keep up. Otherwise, I would have blown my stack easily.
That lesbian scene was the last of that video. Lyndon seemed frustrated, but he turned to me and asked if I wanted to watch another. Doing my best to remain calm and measured, I acquiesced. The next cassette inserted into the VCR was exclusively heterosexual anal scenes. This wasn’t going canlı kaçak iddaa to end well for me.
“Beer?” Lyndon asked. Given the situation, his question was almost Pythonesque.
“Sure!” I replied still trying to keep it together.
Seconds later, he came back and handed me a can. His penis was centimetres away from my face, and it looked grand, erect, and majestic like. I could easily have reached out and taken it in my mouth, but I was frozen in fear. Lyndon wasn’t inviting me anyway as his eyes were glued to the vision of some strumpet getting DPd. I grabbed the proffered beer and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as Lyndon resumed his seat on the couch next to me but at a respectable and safe distance.
Getting through the rest of the scenes of that video was tough going, but I was impressed by the action. I made a mental note to ask Lyndon to pirate it for me that if I survived the night.
Lyndon, for his part, seemed to get frustrated as if he was looking for something specific from these videos to get him off. The frustrated frequency with which he chopped and changed cassettes was bewildering. He’d settle down to a scene only for it to not give him the visual feast he needed. I wasn’t fussed as whatever fucking action I caught a glimpse of got me more excited. I was looking forward to getting to bed and blowing my load.
Lyndon’s preoccupation with selecting the perfect scene had seen me drain my cam ahead of schedule. Despite my diamond cutter and the pre-cum oozing from the tip, my bladder told me that I needed a toilet visit but for a different purpose. I got up off the couch and attempted to pull up my jeans.
“Too much for you?” Asked a frustrated Lyndon without taking his eye off the screen.
“I really need to piss!”
“Sure, you do. Hold off till I get to the scene I’m after. It’s fucking awesome!”
Perhaps that was the point where we were supposed to climax together? After all, I’d witnessed, I couldn’t imagine another scene that could be better. Taking him at his word, I decided to discard my jeans and went to the toilet anyway.
Pissing with an incurable hardon was next to impossible, and pressure on my bladder was becoming uncomfortable. In the end, I managed to drain the vein by thinking about my upcoming exams, and this tactic reduced the strength of my tumescence.
Upon returning to the lounge room, I found Lyndon sitting back on the couch, legs spread and with one hand stroking his cock. This image made me feel funny, and I felt my cock regain some of its hardness. On the screen was this flat-chested, short-haired women fisting the cunt of an older, massive-titted woman while this long-haired bloke arse fucked her.
“Beer?” I asked.
“Sure.” Came an automatic reply.
I cracked two cans and wandered over to Lyndon to offer him the beer. Onscreen had reached a crescendo with the old woman with thoroughly abused holes had semen dripping from her face. The no-titted, short-haired brunette had her pussy poised above the old woman’s face.
Mesmerised at this pure filth unfolding on screen, I was suddenly jolted out of my trance by a warm feeling enveloping my hard cock. I tore my eyes away from the screen to see Lyndon with his lips on my shaft but eyes glued to the screen watching the action. His smooth, sucking action was in contrast to some of the clumsy female equivalents I had experienced. It seemed to me that watching pornos had rubbed off on Lyndon.
The sucking motion came to a sudden end as soon as it began. While my bellend was still in his mouth, his attention was focussed on the tv. I turned around to look at what caught his attention. The short-haired, titless lady was pissing into the mouth of the old woman. The guttural grunts from both parties indicated a mutual enjoyment, but I had never seen anything like it. I don’t think my maturing brain could conjure up a scenario so fantastical. Instead of being repulsed by this scene of debauchery I was fucking inspired by it. At the first onscreen swallow of woman piss, my cock jumped in Lyndon’s mouth, and he resumed sucking my shaft.
“Oh, fuck that is amazing!” Exclaimed Lyndon’s he disengaged his mouth from my cock to get a better look at two women sharing piss.
“Yeah. I’ve never seen anything like it.” I said, truthfully but now I was intrigued by the sexual possibilities open to me.
In the hear and now, I was receiving the best blowjob of my young life, by a man! Onscreen I was watching men fucking women’s arses, something that I was to experience later and golden showers! Every nerve in my body was jumping with adrenaline-fuelled excitement.
Alas, the pissing scene came to an end, and Lyndon seemed to lose interest in the rest of the video. He laid down lengthways on the couch with his magnificent cock standing erect and took a swing of beer.
“You know, we can do some of those things on the videos if you want.”
Oh, I want to but what would that make us?
Lyndon seemed to read my mind.
“It won’t canlı kaçak bahis change anything about us. Doing this won’t make us bent.”
“How do you know?” I asked, hesitatingly.
“I still like girls and you’ll still like girls after tonight.”
Tonight? I was morning, and the sun was coming up at 3am.
“You’ve done this before?” I asked, suddenly sussing on to the situation.
“Yeah. With the guys here.”
Figures. Go on.
“If we’ve been unsuccessful, we watch some vids and help each other out. None of us is gay, and if you want to do it with me, it won’t make you gay either.” Came a smooth response, as he wanked his still-hard cock.
“One rule though?”
“No. Kissing is not allowed.”
I hadn’t thought about kissing Lyndon tonight or on any other occasion.
“We just fuck each other, and we come. That’s it.”
This seemed a pretty good proposition, given the dire straits we found ourselves in, pussy-wise.
“Fuck each other?” I asked with some trepidation.
“Oral and anal sex.”
“Two men doing anal sex makes them gay!” I spluttered out, naively.
“No kissing.” Lyndon reminded me, before adding reassuringly, “I thought the same until I tried it. Done right, it’s amazing!”
“Being arse fucked!”
Lyndon came across as so confident that my fears of being arse raped were abated
“Ok,” I said, with a bold enthusiasm, “What do we do?”
“Let’s suck each other’s cocks.”
“Sounds good to me.” His mouth on my shaft felt better than any girl so I was keen to see what a dick in my mouth would be like.
With consent given, Lyndon pulled out the bed from the couch to provide us with the room we needed. He laid on his side with his back to the backrest of the sofa and instructed me to do the opposite.
I tell you, with Lyndon’s massive cock just millimetres from my mouth, I felt an exhilaration that is never felt before (or since). I tentatively grabbed hold of his pulsating shaft and breathed in his manly scent. I’m sure I smelt to same to Lyndon.
I felt petrified about what I was going to do but then Dutch courage came to my aid, and I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and reached forward.
The first sensation I felt was how big he felt in my mouth. I thought his girth was going to split my mouth open and I suddenly tensed but with the fear of taking this monster cock up my virgin arsehole.
Almost simultaneously, I heard the muffled choke between my legs as Lyndon was grappling with the same issue. I remembered that Lyndon was much more sexually experienced than me, and if he had overcome his fears in a similar circumstance, then I should be able to overcome mine as well.
I made a superhuman effort to open my mouth as wide as it would go and took Lyndon’s meat as deep into my mouth as I could. The task was easier than I expected and his length slid right down my throat, quickly each time without any gag reflex. I surprised even myself at how much I was enjoying throating Lyndon’s massive length and girth. For his part, my cock was receiving a beautiful reception, and I was surprised that my self-control held given the last three hours of European filth I had been exposed to. Pissing earlier probably helped.
Then the game suddenly changed.
For the better.
As we settled into the practice of taking each other’s man meat down our throats, I felt Lyndon reach around my arse and make digital contact with my balloon knot. I tensed up, in fear of a perceived pain that might follow if he stuck his fingers inside. He sensed my resistance but persisted by adding more lube to his penetrating fingers. With my mouth full of throbbing meat and fingers seemingly about to enter my dirt locker, I needed to find a way to relax, and then I remembered that a few years earlier I was able to finger my own arse in the shower and that I could make it pleasurable. This memory enabled me to relax, a signal Lyndon quickly exploited. First one finger, then two and before long, his fingers began sliding in and out with ease. This new sensation seemed to divert more blood to my engorged member that made Lyndon gag slightly.
For my part, my first ever cock throating technique was too enthusiastic for Lyndon, who frequently told me to slow down. Slow down for what, I asked? I was told, through muffled breathing, that if I didn’t slow down, he would release something in my mouth. Ah, cum – a substance I’d only released into the wombs of a handful of women. Did Lyndon want to cum in my mouth as I would have been happy for him to give me what he had? I didn’t pose the question but allowed myself to be directed by his experienced hand.
That hand of experience wasn’t long in administering another lesson.
A hand of his reached around and directed my fingers to his arsehole. Lyndon’s arse was hairy, and as I attempted to copy his technique on my baby buttocks, I tentatively began exploring my way to his rusty sheriff’s badge that was hot and greasy. As the cheeks parted, I could smell his musky arse, an aroma I was unfamiliar with, but its dirtiness turned me on all the more. His O-ring was dry, so I copied my mentor’s technique and wet my fingers, temporarily expelling Lyndon’s meat from my mouth.
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