A New Flame

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Warning: contains raunch.

It was after yet another failed attempt at lovemaking that things really changed between my girlfriend Debbie and me.

Until then, Debbie’s interest in the lower half of my body had been lacklustre to say the least. She complained that I needed sex too often, that I came to bed too sweaty or that the head of my cock stunk like a gents’ urinal when I pulled my foreskin back. Failing that, she’d say my hard-on was too large to slide up inside her, my bollocks were off-putting the way they slapped against her legs or that my hairy arse-crack was making her bedsheets stink as ripe as the back of my day-old briefs.

I knew that her problem was with me rather than the sex. I’d noticed a modestly-proportioned vibrator tucked away in her bedside drawer so it was clear that it was towards my much longer and thicker cock she had developed an aversion.

I don’t remember which excuse it was on this particular evening. I just remember climbing off her, feeling embarrassed that my huge nutsack was straining with a heavy load of semen that wouldn’t see release until I was locked away in her bathroom the following morning.

After numerous apologies about being unable to satisfy me and just as many over-used assurances from me that it didn’t really matter, Debbie chose to confront the elephant in her bedroom that we’d both been avoiding.

“You don’t seem as interested in sex as you used to be,” she said, hooking the straps of her pink passion-killer nightie back over her shoulders.

“Well, you’re not exactly gagging for it,” I joked, pulling on a freshly-laundered pair of pyjama bottoms I’d brought with me. When I stayed over, she insisted I brought clean nightwear to sleep in to avoid tainting her sheets.

“I’ve never been that keen,” she shrugged. “But you used to want intimacy every time we met.”

“I guess I’m slowing down a bit in my old age,” I smiled. I was only forty-two and my sex drive was, in reality, showing no signs of diminishing.

“I wouldn’t blame you, Robert, if you wanted to… you know… start seeing other women.”

I looked over at her, one arm poised halfway into my pyjama top. “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well.

“I cherish our friendship… our companionship,” she explained. “But I would understand fully if you wanted to seek sex from a more… er… responsive woman.”

“That’s never even crossed my mind,” I said, truthfully. “I’m in a relationship with you… it would feel wrong to me to start something with another woman just because you’re not into sex as much as I am.”

“But that’s the crux of it, Robert,” she asserted. She insists on calling me Robert even though I much prefer Rob. “You’re not ‘into sex’ any more… just now when we were… together… you didn’t even develop a full erection.”

That was certainly true, but I’d figured she would be pleased. She seems to find the sight of my hard-on distasteful and perhaps even threatening at times.

“I’m just tired,” I said. “It’s been a busy week at work.”

“It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re not as persistent about sex as you used to be… you’re not so willing to try to different things to get me in the mood…”

I was going to quip, as if only half-serious, that even the most inventive sexual imagination runs out of ideas eventually. But then I decided it might be time to be truthful with her about my sexual appetites. After all, she’d willingly offered for me to take other women as lovers on the side. The reality of what I was doing to relieve my over-active sperm production would surely come as a relief compared with that.

“Okay, Debbie,” I said, fastening the buttons on my pyjamas and preparing to get into bed alongside her for what I assumed was going to be the latest in a long line of celibate stopovers. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you how I keep my sex drive in check. Whatever I say, though – no matter how unconventional it seems – I don’t want you to freak out and make a big deal of it.”

“I told you, Robert,” she shrugged. “I don’t mind if you’re seeing other women… I’d understand. As long it’s just a sexual thing.”

“I’m not seeing other women,” I told her, emphasizing the word ‘women’.

“If it’s something masturbatory… a blow-up doll maybe -“

“I am seeing other people for sex,” I cut in. “It’s just that they’re not women.”

“Not women…? Then… what exactly is it you’re doing?” she asked.

“Look,” I said, sitting down on her bed. “If this comes as a big shock, just promise you won’t throw me out. I’ve had a few drinks and I won’t be able to drive ’til the morning.”

“I’m not going to throw you out, Robert, no matter how weird it seems to me. I just want to understand. I promise you.”

“I’m having sex with other men,” I confessed.

“Other men?” she repeated, her eyes initially unable to understand what I meant. Then it dawned her what her boyfriend might be getting up to and she asked, hesitantly, “What… you mean… er… gay sex?”

“No,” canlı bahis I replied. “It’s not ‘gay’ as such because there’s nothing emotional in it. I don’t form relationships with men the way you and I have something special going on. I just meet up with other like-minded guys on an occasional basis purely for mutual relief.”

I was trying to make it sound ordinary and everyday and not at all a big deal, even though I knew full well it was.

“You have sex with men?” she queried. “Full sex… I mean, your bodies connected?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “but I always use protection.”

“You actually penetrate them?” she persisted, incredulously. “Your penis… having intercourse with them… up their bottoms?”

“Among other things,” I nodded. “But it’s just a way of us both achieving climax… there’s nothing in it more than that, I assure you.”

“Like men in prison?” she asked.

“Exactly!” I said, forcing an uneasy smile. “Or blokes in the navy. Just using the grip of another man’s bum because it feels considerably better than your own hand.”

“And I’ve driven you to that?” she asked, looking more annoyed with herself than angry at me; not at all the way I’d expected her to react. “My unwillingness has driven you to use other men’s behinds as a way of… well… masturbating…?”

“I started doing it a short while before I met you,” I reassured her, even though I was unsure of how the dates coincided exactly. “But I’ve started indulging a lot more recently… since you’ve become more reluctant…”

“Do you… kiss them? The men you’re… er… having relations with.”

“Not usually, no,” I acknowledged, wondering if it was a good sign that she was asking questions. Her face became more settled and her eyes less upset; it was difficult to know how charitably she was viewing my venture into homosexual couplings.

If this was to be the end of things of things for us, I was ready to accept that. I liked her company and it was good to go out on dates with such an attractive woman, but the lack of a sexual flame between us was slowly stifling our relationship.

Eventually she asked, “So you just… well… do your thing and then… er… relieve yourself into a condom up inside them?”

“That’s the top and bottom of it,” I nodded, allowing myself a more genuine smile at the pun I knew she wouldn’t get.

“And is it always different men?” she asked, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed and remaining difficult to read in her lack of emotion.

“I have a few guys who I meet up with from time to time, but a lot of my… er… encounters are just one-offs.”

“How often do you do it?”

“Whenever I feel horny,” I said. “So pretty often.”

“Did you do it today… before you came over? Is that why you weren’t fully aroused?”

“I did, yes.”

I’d had a very pleasant sojourn with a market trader in the gents loos at the town square. He’d given me the eye as I’d passed his stall and then followed me into the toilets where we’d locked ourselves into a cubicle. After rimming what had turned out to be a very flavoursome backside, he’d squatted on the toilet seat facing the cistern so I could stand behind him to silently do my business using the tight clench of his rectum. In return I’d brought him to climax with my mouth and had then bought the most expensive mobile phone cover from his stall for which I had absolutely no use.

“How do you meet these men?”

“It varies,” I shrugged. “Sometimes opportunities just sort of present themselves… some guys are friends of friends. A few I meet through a website for men like me.”

“Men like you?” she asked.

“Men who don’t identify as gay but who enjoy having sex with other males. Sex with no strings attached. No dating, no romantic stuff… just occasional hook-ups for the sake of mutual release.”

She nodded and stared over at the mirror on her dressing table, deep in thought.

“Have I upset you?” I asked her.

“What? No, not at all. As I said at the beginning, Robert, I fully understand your need to seek intimacy elsewhere. I just hadn’t expected it to be with your own gender.”

“Does it disgust you?”

“Disgust me?” she smiled. “Of course not. Quite the reverse, actually. I’m intrigued by how it must look… a big masculine guy like you doing another man up the bum…”

Now I was surprised. In spite of her assurance, part of me had expected to be kicked out of her house in an explosion of name-calling and having to call a taxi on my mobile, wondering how the hell I was going to retrieve my car in the morning without a further confrontation.

“I suppose it looks pretty much as you would imagine,” I smiled back. “Not the prettiest of sights but it gets the job done.”

“Do you mount your male partners in the typical gay position?” she asked. “The other man bending over with you upright behind him?”

“I find that works best,” I nodded, hoping that her interest was indeed genuine. “I don’t think of it as ‘the gay position’, though. It just happens to be the most comfortable bahis siteleri way for two men to have anal sex.”

“Anal sex…” she mused, repeating the term curiously. “I’ve always viewed that as something crude… but now the thought of you ‘indulging’ as you put it… having to gratify yourself in such a seedy way…”

“It’s not especially seedy,” I smiled. “It’s just a somewhat intimate arrangement between two like-minded men.”

“Show me,” she commanded. “Get on the bed and show me how you do it.”

I chuckled. “You don’t really want me to, do you? There’s not a lot to show you – it’s just as I described it to you. Two men having sex and both facing forwards.”

“Let me see how you do it, Robert,” she urged me. “I want to understand why you enjoy it so much.”

“I’d feel silly!” I giggled. “The other bloke just gets on all-fours… I kneel down behind him and… well… do my thing in and out of his bum until I’ve emptied my balls…!”

“It’s important to you, though, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “I suppose it is, as a means of achieving release. I’d prefer sex with you, of course, but since you’re so rarely in the mood -“

“If it’s important to you, Robert, then it’s important that I understand it,” she argued. “I want to know what you like about it… why it turns you on so much…”

“Okay,” I chuckled, climbing on the bed to show her – as if it were necessary – how I kneel down to anally copulate with my regular male hook-ups.

“Oh, come on, Robert!” she laughed. “You’ve got to take off your pyjamas! You can’t tell me that you have sex with other men in your pyjamas!”

I laughed. One guy I’d met insisted we both wore our pyjamas during sex – our erections arching upwards from the gaping flies and the backs of our pyjama bottoms pulled down far enough to allow for penetration – to relive the after-lights-out fun he’d enjoyed at boarding school. But on the whole I enjoyed being naked when about to mate with my own gender.

I stripped back out of my nightwear and got back on the bed as if kneeling behind a willing recipient of my anal attentions. My cock hung down between my legs in a floppy aspect very different from its usual state of flagrant arousal when I was getting into this position for real behind a companion eagerly sticking his arse out for me.

“So the other guy would be in front of you,” Debbie clarified, enjoying seeing how her boyfriend readied himself for male-to-male intercourse far more than she liked to see me preparing for sex with her.

“Yes, he’d be here, facing forwards,” I gestured, grabbing a pair of imaginary hips in front of me.

“So you’d be presented with a manly-looking bum… large and pudgy and with a thick line of hair running down the crack…?”

“Yes,” I smiled. “Some men’s bottoms can be rather big and hairy!”

“And that doesn’t put you off… the fact it’s so different from a woman’s?”

“Not at all… it’s an acquired taste, I admit, but the male rear has its own particular charms in its furry fullness.”

She grinned at me, seeming to like my answer. “So you’re actually excited that it’s a man’s bum you’re about to enter… you don’t try to think of your partner in feminine terms?”

“Oh absolutely,” I affirmed. “I like that I’m about to mount another man and enjoy it all the more when he’s got a big masculine arse. It’s the anticipation of… well… buggering him up it, if I can talk frankly, that drives me to have such encounters.”

“Oh yes, please do talk frankly, Robert,” she beamed. “I want to know everything so don’t feel you need to hold back.”

I smiled back at her, and realised she was starting to get aroused by the scenario we were playing out. All this time I’d tried to be gentle and sensual in my approach to our lovemaking, when perhaps I ought to have been telling her what I get up to with the back-ends of other middle-aged blokes.

“Okay,” she went on, “so your friend is bending forwards in front of you… is that how it works…?”

“Or squatting,” I explained. “Some men prefer to be penetrated in a crouching position. It opens their rectum more fully and makes the entry of the penis much smoother.”

“Wow, that’s fascinating!” Debbie chuckled, her eyes wide and rivetted. “So let’s say he’s bending or squatting… do you just plunge right in?”

I replied, “If I’m being frank, like you asked me to be, I’d have to confess that I’d probably have a sniff of him first.”

I guess it was a case of in for a penny, in for a pound.

“His bottom?” she asked. Her eyebrows raised in surprise but there was no sign of reproof or disgust. “Surely not down… you know… where it’s moist…?”

I nodded with a sheepish grin. “The wetter, the better…”

“Oh God,” she gasped, returning my smile with a more mischievous version. “You men can be so dirty!”

“It’s not dirty,” I countered. “Most guys get turned on by the scent of a woman’s opening before sex. It’s the same with another man – the smell of the entrance you’re about to use for coitus makes an arousing bahis şirketleri precursor to the act itself.”

“But doesn’t it smell of… well…?” she falteringly queried.

“It smells of his bum-stink, of course it does!” I smiled. “But that’s what makes it exciting – it’s the part of him that’s you’re about to connect with him through and the part of him you’re going to smell when you’re inside his body”

She grinned and shook her head. “I’ll never understand male sexuality!”

“It’s no different from me enjoying the sexy smell between your legs. Only the male equivalent is far more intense and pungent!”

She reached forwards and stroked my heavy, drooping member, something she never normally did during our lovemaking. “Does it make your cock grow hard, Robert? Smelling another man’s stinky arsehole before you slide yourself up into it?”

I felt my organ starting to stiffen and thicken against her soft, delicate caress. I was loving that she was enjoying this so much. Perhaps the knowledge that her boyfriend used other men to discharge his seed had taken some of the pressure off her as an unwilling recipient.

“I love the taste of it more,” I told her with a naughty smirk. “While my cock’s rising upwards, I lap my tongue into the hot sticky hole it’s about to push into.”

“Oh my God!” she laughed with delight. “You actually lick other men’s arseholes?”

“Nice and deep,” I grinned. “To get them slippery enough for me to -“

I wanted to say ‘fuck’ but I’d never used that word with Debbie. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to it.

As it was, she finished the sentence for me: “Bugger them hard with that massive cock of yours!”

I smiled at her, thrilled that she was getting so on board with me on this. “Yes, that’s the idea!”

“Oh God – I just love the idea of you getting so horny that you have to use other men’s bums to relieve your big, swollen manhood, Robert! And all the sniffing and licking of their ripe holes to get you in the mood! It’s so… animal… feral, even!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm, amused that it had been the lack of that emotion in the bedroom which had, at least in part, driven her sex-starved boyfriend to seek relief from his own kind.

“So let’s say you’re now indulging yourself deep up inside some stranger’s bowels,” she went on. “How would you hold him while you’re busily fornicating with his bum?”

“By the hips,” I said, grabbing my invisible partner at the waist and thrusting my crotch back and forwards against the air so that my big soft cock and my plump saggy bollocks slapped around against my thighs. “Or later on, when we’re both really enjoying the pace and rhythm of our sex, by the shoulders.”

“Show me,” she commanded.

I grabbed the shoulders of my imaginary male lover and bucked my hips against where his chubby rump would be. Then I made like I was holding him from underneath, hooking my arms underneath his armpits to lever his body against mine as I flexed the muscles of my buttocks pretending to work myself in and out of the tight grip of his anus.

I could feel my big floppy organ growing chunkier at the fantasy I was playing out for Debbie. I could see that she was becoming excited too: the sight of her boyfriend making out like he was butt-fucking some bloke he’d picked up was arousing her far more than the prospect of him making love with her.

“And your cock would be inside him?” she asked. “Right up his bum and sliding in and out of his hole?”

“Right up his arse, yes,” I agreed, feeling my cock starting to rise upwards from my nuts as I kept thrusting back and forth against my invisible lover’s squat manly butt.

“And would he have a hard-on, Robert? Would he be liking it so much that he’d have a big fat bell-end?”

I grinned at her, eager to bolster this new and unsuspected aspect to her sexuality. I wondered if she was being so candid and forthright because she no longer felt anxious that all my sexual expectations were focussed on her.

“Yeah, he’d be rock hard as I fucked him.” She beamed back at me to show that – in a homosexual context at least – she liked my use of the f-word. “He’d be wanking himself off from the feel of me up inside his hot slimy tunnel!”

“And how would it smell?” she asked, touching herself through her nightie. “Would it reek of both your big sweaty bollocks… of his throbbing cock getting wet and shiny…?”

“It would reek, yes… but not from our balls or his cock,” I grinned, now making long upward sweeps with my cock as it hardened to its full, impressive size.

“From where, then, Robert?” she gasped. “Tell me where your sex would stink from?”

“From his arse!” I smirked at her, and her eyes widened with delight. “He’s a brawny bloke with a big brown shitter… the faster I fuck him, the more the thing stinks!”

“Oh my God!” she panted, hitching her nightie up and working a finger into herself. “Show me, Rob! Show me how you slam him hard to make his arse stink!”

I grabbed my pretend lover and made like I was fucking him furiously, my large erection jabbing into the air where his eager rectum would be gaping open to consume me. Debbie grabbed my cock with her free hand and held it tightly so I could thrust it back and forth against her clenched fist.

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