Anal Awakenings

Author: wilde_sort@ntlworld.com Story: Anal Awakenings Part Three

(c) wilde sort m/m, m/f

Usual stuff about safer sex applies - this isn't an endorsement of abdicating responsibility, it's fiction. If you're going to get fucked please do so in a way which meets your own emotional and health needs, not anybody else's.

I want to thank all those guys who've written to me about the earlier parts of this story. I can't tell you how much it means. I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to get on with part 3. Life stuff. Part 4, which will probably be the last part of this story, is already underway. As ever, I love getting your emails. This is a few thousand words of stuff that does it for me... Let me know what works for you.

Eventually I realised that I had to do something. I still loved Emma as much as ever but our sex life had really dried up and we were barely communicating. The house felt tense and awkward all the time and we didn't seem to know how to talk to each other. It was all very well facing up to the fact that I was bisexual when I was having sex with Jude and Tom, but when I was home with Emma I realised that there were ways I was changing and developing that I didn't know how to negotiate with her. God knows how I was going to tell her that I'd cheated on her. With two men. And that one of them was my best friend. And that the other was rapidly becoming one of her best friends. But I guess things had to get a lot worse before they were going to get better.

Tom, Jude and I had got together several times since I'd come out to myself. I hadn't ever imagined that my sex life could so strongly articulate the images and sensations that had lurked behind my masturbatory fantasies. On one occasion when I arrived at Tom's place he hadn't even allowed me to get undressed. He had ordered me to sit in the leather chair in their bedroom while he stuck his fist up Jude's arse. Watching them push their bodies to such extremes; hearing the scary animal noises Jude made as his sphincter clenched around Tom's wrist, felt like I'd landed in a porn movie, except that the players were men I was growing to love intimately. Another time, I'd had to stop at a service station on the way home to clean myself because so much cum was oozing out of my arse. That time, Tom had cum up my arse three times and Jude once, them both glorying in the sloppy, looseness of my hole. That my fantasies about submission and domination could be so thrillingly played out in front of me; that I was allowed to participate, to inhabit such a sexually adventurous place and not mediate my identity, was an amazing liberation.

Tom and I both knew it was wrong, that we were breaking the rules, but several times we'd had sex without Jude. My feelings for Tom's boyfriend had grown to an extent that fucking behind his back made me feel like a shit, but from time to time there was an energy between Tom and me that exploded, silently consuming us, reducing me to witlessness. He had a power over me that made my legs shake and my cock hard. I loved being serviced by him, being used. I guess I loved feeling like his bitch. I was driving him home after a rugby match one evening when he told me to pull the car off the road into a wooded lane. The tone of his voice as he issued his instructions had instantly given me a hard on, and made my arsehole contract. Jammed back against the reclined seat it had been such a turn on to beg him to put his fat cock inside me, there in my own car, the black, shiny turbo-charged expression of my manhood. He hadn't even taken my pants off, just pulled them down to my knees and used them to lever my legs up, exposing my hairy bottom. In the dim light inside the car his penis, wedged against the elastic of his joggers, had looked simultaneously frightening and thrilling. As ever, I couldn't believe how all that cock could fit inside me, yet couldn't wait to get it in there. He'd held me tightly back against the seat, his hard eyes glittering. I knew how much of a turn on it was for him to dominate me. In all the time we'd known each other I'd been so cocky, such a stud. I'd fucked more women than I could remember, had lived it up with the lads, enjoyed my masculinity, been aware of its allure to women and men alike. And here I was being fucked up the arse in my own car, humping myself violently against my gay lover, clenching my sphincter around his thick meaty shaft.

Another time Tom came to my workplace one afternoon. He didn't say anything as he shut the door to my office. He'd stripped off completely whilst I sat mute behind my desk, ranks of expensive gadgets and mahogany no defence against my desire for him. He'd held my gaze as he removed his clothes, carefully, and with an almost precise control. My heart had pounded as his hairy, tattooed torso was revealed. By the time he was stood there in his briefs, his outsized erect cock not even barely concealed by the cotton, my face was flushed and I was finding it difficult to breathe. He knew the effect he was having on me, totally at ease with his own nakedness, whilst I sat in my huge leather chair, fully clad in my Prada suit, feeling shy and passive. My secretary, Marie, was at her desk on the other side of the plywood as Tom dicked me against the door. I bit my lip as he whispered sweet abuse in my ear, roughly holding my arms up over my head. I felt dangerously compromised, angry even, that he'd exposed me here at work, and yet I couldn't stop myself from grinding my buttocks into his crotch, swallowing my groans as I felt his stiffness moving inside me. Afterwards I'd felt a pang of shame as I tried to blot cum off my shirttails and suit pants. Then I'd caught Tom's eye and we'd shared an intimate grin that made my sore sphincter spasm, forcing out a blob of his warm spunk.

That night I'd come home late, tired and guilty. I hadn't fucked Emma in a couple of weeks - the longest we'd gone since she'd moved in six months earlier. We'd been seeing each other for about eight months, and until I'd had sex with Tom not a day had gone past that she and I hadn't had some kind of sexual contact. She hadn't always wanted me to fuck her. Sometimes she was just content to know that she could turn me on in any situation - that she could transform a dull party, or supermarket shopping, into a thrilling intimate game. She constantly liked to prove to me that she could keep pace with any sexual experience I'd had before I met her. It was one of the positive side effects of being older than her.

I knew things weren't going to be okay as soon as I dumped my briefcase by the front door. The house was silent. No music playing in the kitchen as she clanged saucepans. No TV news in the living room. No shower running upstairs. No chattering on the phone.

She was sat on the couch reading a magazine.

'Hello darling'

'Hello.' She didn't even look up properly.

'Have a good day?' I was determined not to give in to the mood.

'Okay.'

'Is everything alright darling?'

'Fine.'

I took her at her word and went upstairs for a shower. Much later, after I'd defrosted some lasagne and opened a bottle of Shiraz, we got to it. She whined about me not having taken out the rubbish for a couple of weeks. She whined about me not having left any cash out for the cleaner. She whined about how difficult it was going to be for her to get to a meeting next week that coincided with her car getting serviced until I offered her the Saab. Being the boss I knew I'd have time to get in later on the train. And all the time she whined I felt a growing sense of frustration with her passivity, with her concealed aggression. She never confronted me about such matters directly, but always pecked away, little acidic comments, underplayed with her eyes cast down, taking a bite of food, sipping her wine, flicking back her hair. Never direct. Never controlled. Never confrontational. Never taking responsibility for herself, always expecting me to be the grown up.

I responded to her passive aggression with sweetness and humility, accepting my role as uncivilised Neanderthal, irredeemable bloke. Eventually she managed to squeeze out little smiles, especially as I complemented her on her hair, her clothes, her make up. When she got up from the table to get the bottle from the counter I pulled her to me and kissed her, roughly, sexually, pushing my tongue into her mouth.

'Tim - ' She tried to pull away. 'Not now.'

I pulled her firmly down into my lap and she knocked a plate off the table, and cursed impatiently. Her hands were on my chest, trying to push herself off me, but she was unbalanced, trying not to cause further damage to the crockery. My tongue became more insistent as my hands found the bottom of her skirt and slipped up to her buttocks. She was still resisting but my fingers had pushed aside her panties and found her arsehole. She gasped into my mouth and I pulled back slightly as I lodged a finger just inside her anus. I teased her lip with my tongue as I wiggled my finger. She gasped more sharply and I stuck my tongue roughly back in her mouth. My cock was very hard. I really wanted to give her a good fucking. I wanted to see an honest, unmediated response from her. And, if I was honest, I knew that I wanted to shut her up, show her who was boss, fuck her into a submission I wasn't going to even try to pull over some bullshit row about emptying the bin. I needed to get my pants off but knew that if I let go of her she'd withdraw, even though she'd started kissing me back. I pulled my finger from out of her arse. She groaned in frustration. I pushed her down onto the table as I fumbled with my pants, freeing my cock with one hand as I pushed her skirt up onto her back. My cock was drooling, angry red. Holding the lacy strap of her panties to one side I shoved my erection against the slit of her cunt and pushed hard. My thumb was strumming the hood of her clit through the wet lace.

She cried out, her desire rising to discharge her anger. She gasped in relief at the intimacy of our contact, and I moaned with her, relishing the release of tension. I felt her urgently pushing back against me as my cock filled her cunt. I grabbed her left tit, gripping it firmly, enjoying the weight of it in my hand. Her internal muscles relaxed around my shaft and I felt movement as I penetrated her more deeply. I held my cock still, enjoying the warmth, the closeness, the pulsing of our bodies. Her whining, carping, my emotional distance, were momentarily forgotten. I started fucking her and she moved with me, making comfortable sighs in time with my thrusts. She got into it and her movements became stronger than mine. I slowed, letting her do the fucking. It felt blissful for her to express herself so uncomplicatedly.

'Oh yeah. Baby. Fuck it.' I groaned as she ground her fleshy buttocks onto to dick. I was pushing my thumb against her clit very hard as she came, panting and yelping. The speed with which she'd reached her climax took me by surprise. Her cunt clamped down on my girth in tight spasms and I made several hard thrusts up her to get me over the edge. I felt her legs shaking as I pumped her full of sperm.

She looked small, but resolute, as later she padded into the bedroom, damply wrapped in her robe. I was lying on top of the covers, plucking at the hairs on my belly. We seemed to be finding it difficult to look each other in the eye.

'Tim. I can't do this.' She sat in the chair in the corner. I felt a surge of affection for her, but knew it was too late.

'I know. Neither can I.' I heard her sigh.

'I thought it was the not having sex, but actually we're still good at that,' She looked up and we smiled at one another, 'it's everything else, isn't it? I can feel myself nagging like an old woman, but I don't know how else to talk to you. You're emotionally unavailable; I don't feel taken care of.' Her voice had developed an edge, and I felt my anger rising.

'And you're too damn passive, always bloody well abdicating responsibility.' I spoke quickly and the harshness of my words shocked me. She looked like I'd slapped her and I knew that something was broken between us.

I'd changed the rules, no longer enjoyed just being her man, being in charge. I'd withdrawn something profound from her, and I remembered our first days together, how excited she was by my manliness, by my bold expressions of possession; cradling her in bed, holding her hand in the street, cupping her gorgeous arse as I held open doors for her. I knew that I'd always been excited by how attracted she was to my size, my hairiness, my professional status and all its trappings. I loved introducing her to new social and cultural experiences, ordering food for her, buying bottles of wine that cost more than a new dress. And she had always loved my penis, liked looking at it, holding it; cupping it whenever she could get away with it, in the car, in restaurants. Loved getting fucked by it. She'd had three lovers before we'd met, and had always found my cock to be really big. I know I'm well above average, but jesus, what man wouldn't find it the biggest turn on to have a gorgeous woman tell you that she found your dick to be huge?

We agreed that she'd move out, back into her old flat in Docklands. We promised we'd not give up on each other, that we'd meet up each week for dinner. I was sceptical, but I also knew how much I cared about her, how much I had once enjoyed sharing my thoughts with her. It took us a week or so to get ourselves sorted out and then she was gone.

My first night alone was fucking miserable. I drank far too many beers and passed out on the sofa, after listening to Randy Newman over and over on the Linn.

I hadn't spoken to Tom since he'd fucked me in my office, just needed to nurse my hurt self-indulgently. I was vaguely aware of how unhealthy my behaviour was, but I also knew I wasn't ready to acknowledge what had happened and why.

By the third night the beer just tasted like bitterness and the Newman, Cohen and the rest just sounded like sad twats. On the way home from work, after having spoken to Emma, as I had every night, us both trying for affection and compromising on vague pleasantry, I'd stopped at Waitrose and spent a fortune on organic veg and decent ready meals. At home I set some foil trays in the oven and some pans simmering before I went upstairs and luxuriated under the shower, anticipating my virtue and that night's episode of 'ER'. I'd always enjoyed my own company; the cleaner had been that day and the house felt warm and comforting. I could feel my mood lifting.

I was standing with my arms braced against the tiles, water scalding my shoulders and back, when I heard the door bell.

I opened the front door, dripping, towel slung round my waist, to find Jude grinning at me, bottle of bubbly in one hand, and a huge bunch of flowers in the other.

'Have you wallowed enough, handsome?' His grin sparkled, his charm was, as ever, irresistible.

I shut the front door behind him. 'How the hell did you know?'

'Babes, me and Emma have become proper girlfriends. I've had her on the phone every night for the last fortnight. She, unlike you, is not ashamed of her feelings.'

'Yeah yeah. And I sure she'd been regaling you with stories of my irredeemable blokishness?'

'Tim.' His voice was more serious. 'She's really worried about you. And so am I.'

He took me in his arms and held me tight. It felt oddly familiar to be held by someone smaller, slighter than me, but his strength and firmness were reassuring. I felt supported, trusting, and suddenly I was sobbing into his shoulder. My pain felt incoherent, yet its release was blissful. Jude stroked my hair and made affirming noises as I sobbed out all my confusion and anguish.

I don't know how long we stood there, but I was vaguely aware of being cold as he cupped by face and kissed away my tears. Then we were kissing, wet, deep, sensuous explorations that had our mingled saliva dripping off our chins. I breathed in Jude's smell, immaculately groomed scents laid over the musky, sweaty maleness that became more prominent as our passion rose. At some point I'd lost my towel and now I found myself rubbing my bare skin against Jude's clothed body.

'I've got something to show you, Tim.' He pushed down on my shoulders and I dropped to my knees, my face in his crotch, breathing him in through the fabric of his trousers. I could feel his hardness jumping inside. I opened his flies and pulled down his pants. He'd had his cock pierced.

Jude's penis tapers towards the head, and his foreskin fully retracts behind the corona. Compared to Tom's cock I had always thought it to be rather modest, but now, hot and hard in my hands, I realised that it was only slightly shorter than my own, and almost as thick, except for the end which was slender, almost pointed. There, passing through his urethra and then out underneath his glans was a fairly thick ring with a ball on it. I'd heard about cock piercings before, but I'd never seen one, certainly not on a hard cock thrust in my face. It was beautiful. I took his salty penis in my mouth and rolled it around my tongue. The ring felt large in my mouth and banged against my teeth. Jude's groans were strong as the ring moved through the end of his cock. The contrast between warm, yielding, but firm, skin and smooth, cool steel was delicious. I tugged off his pants and threw his shoes behind me until he was as naked as me.

I knew that my cock-sucking technique was fairly crude, but my enthusiasm more than made up for my lack of co-ordination. Jude gasped from time to time as my teeth caught his shaft, but his groans as he fucked my face were deep. I looked up and saw that he'd removed his shirt and was flicking his big dark nipples. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. The ring moved smoothly in my throat. It felt kinky, and I was aware that it had helped to change the way I felt about Jude. Although he'd fucked me before Tom had, I'd never really responded to Jude in the knee-weakening way that I did with his boyfriend. Jude was appealing to look at, and we'd shared a lot of fun, but it had always been mediated through Tom's sexuality. It was my need to be subject to Tom, to his authority, that turned me on; I'd never found Jude's sexual energy arousing. But here he was with his pierced dick in my throat fucking my face. I was very aware of his cock, of his will, his demand to be pleasured, and it felt arousing. I could tell he wasn't far from cumming and I wanted to feel his sperm pumping into my mouth; I wanted to taste its bitter saltiness, its warmth. The physicality of Jude's maleness and the sense of driven ego with which he was seeking his satisfaction made a thrilling contrast to my existing impressions of him. Jude was boyish, almost puppyish in his big-eyed, floppy-haired prettiness. Yet I'd seen him pursuing sexual extremities, demonstrating a potent kind of abandon with Tom. I remembered how we'd bonded over how much we enjoyed being fucked by Tom. I loved the idea that this horny, gymn bunny thrusting his cock down my throat, grunting in passion above me loved getting fucked as I did. Loved the obscenity of being stuffed with hard knob, begged for it.

I nearly choked when Jude came in my mouth. There was so much cum it overflowed onto my chin, sticky and warm. I kept moving my tongue over his cock and its ring as he softened in my mouth. His hands felt heavy yet gentle in my hair. I revelled in my filth, face smeared with cum, spit, tongue tasting saltiness of sperm, piss, sweat, cock cheese. My nose was full of his pubes, musky and prickly. I felt my own cock softening and continued to suck on Jude's. There was something child-like and primal about it, milking his softening penis.

I heard him sigh loudly above me as my mouth filled with warm, bitter piss. I groaned deeply as I swallowed, not enough, enjoying the grossness of it running over my chin onto my chest and the kitchen floor around me. I felt the strength of his stream on the back of my throat and understood the maleness of him, probably for the first time.

When he'd finished using my mouth as a toilet, he pulled me to my feet and kissed me with such passion it was like he wanted to taste himself on me. His hand was in my crotch, cupping my cock and balls. He moaned into my mouth.

'Tim. Let go. Let go.' His whisper was full of longing and curiosity.

I felt so trusting, so safe in our mutual understanding, that I did let go. Only a few drops at first, and then, as I felt the warmth of the piss on my legs I fully relaxed and Jude was smearing it over my belly and balls, all the time sucking on my tongue, wetly probing and breathing heavily into my mouth. As the stream dried up his hand was massaging back between my legs, up into my buttocks. I parted my legs, feet wet in the puddle of our piss.

'Oh yeah.' He breathed into my mouth as his fingers found my hole. I pushed myself onto his hand and felt my cock rising. I could smell piss and cum enveloping us in a cloud of dirty, kinky, maleness. Jude turned to the counter behind him and gouged a dollop of butter out of the dish with his pissy hands and then smeared it around my hole. The inner contact felt wonderful. He pushed me down with one hand as he smeared butter on his hard cock with the other, breathing hard. I knelt in the cold, smelly piss as Jude guided his pierced cock between my asslips. When he'd got the position right he slid his hard dick fully inside in one rough, slick, movement. His greasy, piss-damp hands dug painfully into my shoulders as he rabbit-fucked me, his speed and ferocity were overwhelming. His feet were by my knees, whilst he crouched over me with his knees bent round my torso. I had to brace myself hard against his body weight and the violence of his pumping. I was dimly aware of the guttural noises we were making, my pleadings, his cursing, but mainly all I knew was the friction of his penis inside me.

I hadn't cum earlier, despite the excitement of sucking him and swallowing his spunk and piss. Jude moved his hands down to the tops of my thighs and pulled them back towards him until I was fully lying in the piss, my face pressed into it, my hard cock rubbing the tiles as my body jerked against his movement. He curled his arms under my shoulders and I felt the sticky probing of his tongue and the roaring of his breath in my ear. Jude cried out as he felt my arse clamping around his cock as I started to cum. My sperm mingled with our piss as I ground my loins into the floor. I felt a savage thrust inside me and then Jude was coming too. I twisted my head in the piss and we managed to kiss as my orgasm ebbed, and then we were laughing.

We stank of piss, which was matting the hairs on my legs and chest, and dripping down my jaw. Our bodies were shaking with the violence of our laugher, and when his softening penis slipped out of me we howled, entwined together in our filth. I could feel tears coursing down my cheeks, and my ribs ached, but I couldn't stop. Every time I looked up and saw Jude's handsome face, smeared with butter, piss and cum, his usually immaculately manicured hair matted with our filth, a new spasm of laughter gripped me. He held me tight towards him as we sat on the floor, and I felt his fingers possessively pushing into my hole. I put my head on his shoulder, and as the last waves of giggles eased, I sighed, contentedly.

The following week Tom and I had sex several times, and each time I felt a bigger shit. After my time with Jude I felt more loving and responsible towards him. Fucking his boyfriend behind his back made me feel lousy, and in the end things came to a head. But in the meantime, I couldn't help myself. With Jude's encouragement I'd finally found the nerve to tell Emma about coming to terms with my bisexuality. I told her that I'd fooled around with Tom and Jude and that I was confused. I think Jude had already told her something, because she was more supportive, and less outraged that I'd imagined she'd be. I almost got the impression she was curious about what had happened.

It was only two days after I'd seen Jude that Tom came to my office again. Thankfully Marie had the afternoon off, although this meant that I was busier than ever, as I had no buffer between me and the endless incoming queries that always distract me from what I really need to be getting on with. When Tom closed my office door behind him and I saw the look on his face, I couldn't help feel a burst of excitement, but I also felt frustrated. I didn't have the time or inclination today to indulge either of us by playing at being his bitch.

'Hi Tom. Look I'm really busy today. Can we take a rain check?' I was trying for a sense of assertiveness, but I couldn't help but keep the conciliatory tone out of my voice. I really didn't have time then, but I also couldn't help myself. I wanted him too badly and the idea that he wouldn't come and play with me any more terrified me.

He didn't say anything, but walked round to my side of the desk and leaned over me. I could feel his breath on my cheek as he put one of his big meaty hands in my crotch and grabbed my balls through my suit.

'You're being a very naughty boy.' His voice was soft, but there was steel underneath. I may have been in my forties, but being called a boy made my dick pulse, despite having my balls grabbed and twisted. He wasn't hurting me, but he wasn't fooling around either.

I started to tell him how much work I had to do but he cut me off by twisting my nuts firmly. I cried out and tried to pull away from him but he twisted harder. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I could sense that my resistance was turning him on, if only because he knew that it was meaningless, that I would inevitably capitulate.

'You're going to have to be punished. I can see I've not been taking proper care of you.' If his words were turning me on, it was the slight grin that played at the corners of his broad, sensual mouth that brought me, willingly, into the game. I relaxed and he softened his grip on my scrotum.

'That's better - ' He started to smile, but I pushed him firmly away, twisting in my seat to get from behind the desk. I shuddered with a thrill of pleasure as I felt his weight fall on top of me and we rolled to the ground. I was winded and his arms were tightly around me. I tried to kick him off, but he'd got his hand down the front of my pants and I could feel the warmth of his skin against my cock and balls. He got a firm grip on my limp cock and pulled firmly; he didn't hurt me but I immediately stopped struggling against him. His hard, large body was pressed tightly against me. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck and it made me shiver. My face felt flushed and the stillness of our bodies was charged with tension. Involuntarily I felt my cock hardening in his hand; he was still squeezing my member roughly, but his other hand had relaxed - I was just pinned by his body weight. I could feel his hardness on my hip.

'What have you got to say for yourself?' His voice was thick with lust, but his tone was firm. I wanted him very badly.

'Please.' I turned from my side onto my belly, grinding my cock into his hand, wriggling my bottom in his crotch.

'Please, what? What do you want?' His tone was intimate, coaxing, but determined.

'Please. Use me.'

'Use you how?' His voice was rough, and he tugged hard on my stiff dick, causing me to gasp in shock and pain.

'Oh god, Tom. Please. Fuck me.'

'So. Straight boy needs a good shag?' He was coaxing again.

'Yes. I need your dick in me.'

'You dirty bastard. But, I think you've been a bit too naughty for that.' I felt his weight withdrawing, and he pulled me up with him by my cock. He sat in my chair, still grabbing me, hard.

'Take off your pants and lie across my lap and ask me to spank you like a naughty boy.'

Part of me may have felt self-conscious and foolish, but I was too turned on to care. I dropped my pants, easing them over his hand and my hard-on. I knelt down, and he let go of my cock as I lay my torso across his lap and lifted my bottom to meet his left hand. His touch was warm and dry as he moved his hand across my hairy skin.

'Say it.'

'Please.'

'Please, what?'

'Spank me.'

I could feel him watching as he lifted his hand and brought it down hard on my buttock. I cried out, more surprised than hurt; the warmth felt good, and even better when he smacked me again. The third time stung but the warmth was making me writhe. My dick was very hard. By the sixth smack I was really in pain and was trying to move away from his remorseless hand. He stopped and caressed me, feeling the warmth of his hand and my arse.

'Do you want me to stop? Do you think you've had enough? Have you earned my cock yet?'

I knew what he wanted me to say, and I wanted to say it just to please him. I wanted to earn his desire. But I also felt naughty, like a wicked schoolboy, willingly debased by my powerlessness. My head was spinning, loving being subjugated by a fully clothed, self-confessed faggot, here in my own office, the centre of my status. I didn't want to ask him to stop, I wanted to be able to take what he was giving out, wanted to lose myself in his authority. I wanted him to take me, to take care of me, to hurt me and possess me and use me. I wanted his maleness, his big, hairy, firm body pressing against me, making me hot, making me cry out and beg.

'Hit me.'

He did. His blows were hard, getting harder. I knew that this was new territory for him too. The three of us had got into tussles before, but they'd always been cut short by our need to get on with the fucking. Now we were in a different game. Tom was discovering how much he liked hitting me as much as I was discovering how much I needed it. I felt erased, possessed, bruised.

I became aware that he was panting, gasping as he rained down smacks on my bare arse. I started to get a little alarmed as I realised he was getting out of control, that his blows were harder, more erratic, less controlled. Still I didn't move away from him, but my writhing was so energetic that he put his other hand on my neck to hold me in place.

Eventually my gasps and cries turned to sobs and then suddenly he stopped.

I could feel his body shuddering beneath me. With a cry of grief he pulled me up towards his chest and I knelt between his legs with my head on his shoulder. His hand cradled my throbbing buttock, fingers curling into my crack. His other hand moved up to smooth my hair.

'Oh baby. I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I hurt you... Got carried away. You just looked so fucking amazing' He was still out of breath, and I knew that although he had shocked himself, he was very aroused.

'Did I?' My voice, normally deep and commanding, sounded small.

'Oh god.' He put his hands on either side of my head and looked into my eyes. His own were glittering with excitement. 'Sweetheart, you've got the most incredible arse I've ever seen. Watching you beg to be smacked was one of the most exciting things... I love - '

I started in his hands.

' - your maleness.' He saw the look on my face and smiled, gently, and with his eyes. 'And I love you, man.'

He kissed me and my sobs turned to groans into his open mouth as his hand found my crack again and he fingered me, gently but purposefully. My cock, which had shrivelled pitifully between my legs, starting lengthening and involuntarily I spread my legs to let him stick his fingers further up my arsehole.

In the past couple of months I'd had a lot of Tom's penis inside me (and a fair bit of Jude's too), but when he fucked me on the floor of my office that day, I'd never been taken by him so gently, with such love and care. We lay on our sides, with his top knee inside mine, his arms wrapped tightly round my chest, thumbs slowly flicking my nipples. Tom's penis was deeply embedded in my rectum, it's thickness pushing against my prostate as he slowly shagged me. I felt so peaceful impaled on his meat; my cock, which was bobbing against my belly was drooling pre-cum onto the floor. The carpet was chafing my hip painfully as I rocked against Tom's long slow thrusts.

I didn't know where my life was going but the man who knew me best in the world, who'd stuck by me and loved me and understood me, was here making love to me and it felt like home. I was moaning constantly, and Tom was making soft, slack sounds into my neck. I knew he was feeling as overwhelmed by our fucking as I was. There was a gentle, soft care between us that made my chest feel tight and full.

Tom lifted my leg high and ducked under it, keeping the end of his donkey-sized member inside me. Neither of us could have tolerated having that internal contact broken, and we moved together gently, protecting that precious intimacy. I wriggled my bottom into his lap, humping myself down onto him, and wrapped my legs round his waist. He bent his legs, pushing me further up onto my back, and leaned his face down into mine. As he pushed his awesome penis fully up my arse our tongues met and I sucked him greedily into my mouth. He was watching my face intently, measuring the pleasure he found there. His gaze made me feel deliciously possessed. He withdrew his cock slowly, and shoved it back up me strongly. I cried out at the intensity of the force, the gross friction, and he responded to my pleasure with a groan of deep satisfaction. My cock jumped on my slack belly; I loved how excited he was by my pleasure in his taking of me.

We fucked like that for a long time, moving together in a thrilling harmony, our sweat matting together on each other's hairy bodies, our saliva mingling in each other's soft mouths and on our stubbly chins. My arsehole felt wide and slack around his fat, slick cock, and let out a wet fart from time to time. He was holding my right hand in his over my head, our fingers were entwined, gripping each other in time to the ecstatic rhythm of our loins.

When my orgasm hit me I tossed my head from side to side as Tom urged me onward, speeding his thrusts up my arse. Neither of us was touching my cock, which shot spunk over my shoulder.

'Oh yeah baby. Ride that fucker. Cum for me, Tim. Oh yes.' I was intensely aware of Tom's attention, of his almost voyeuristic enjoyment of my pleasure. I wriggled and humped on his thickness as my cock pumped the last drops onto my rounded tummy.

The clamping of my sphincter did it for him. As my orgasm ebbed, his eyes closed and he clenched his face tightly. He pushed his cock hard inside me, tensed on the brink. Then he exhaled, and his whole body was released from its tautness, he flooded my rectum with his warm sperm. He clutched me to him tightly, almost as if he wanted to tuck me inside his broad, hairy chest.

We lay together for a long time afterwards. He was still inside me, and I could feel his stickiness oozing in my crack as his huge cock softened. We didn't say anything, but he was still gazing deeply into my eyes as he absently stroked my arms, my thighs, and the side of my face.

We couldn't see each other the following day, but the day after that I couldn't stand missing him any longer, and Tom and I met at his flat. We both managed to get away from work a bit early, and Jude wasn't due for another hour. We didn't have long, there wasn't time for talk. It'd been hard not to see each other since the session in my office. My feelings for Tom were stronger than ever, but I also knew how much I cared for Jude and needed us to sort it all out. I felt guilty, excited, and scared. I didn't want to lose them.

Tom was frantic to get inside me. We'd barely got through the front door before he'd got his cock out. It was already enormously erect, and bobbed obscenely as he turned me round in the hallway and pulled my pants down to my thighs. He bent me over towards the wall and starting probing my crack with the end of his knob. Thankfully he'd got a sachet of lube in his pocket - he was in such a hurry I'm sure he'd have tried to dick me dry. His cock felt as delicious as ever inside me, but he was rushing and I felt confused and taken for granted. I grunted as he jerked his penis inside too roughly. My cock was soft. This wasn't how I wanted it to be. After our tender love making of two days ago I felt violated, and not in an exciting way.

He came quickly and pulled out. He was wiping off his sticky dick with a Kleenex when I turned round, looking for a cuddle. He didn't look up from his ministrations as he absently asked me if I'd cum.

'Tom, I really think we need to talk. Something happened between us the other day. Jesus! Something amazing's happening between us, and I feel awful about Jude. We need to think about what to do.'

'What the hell are you talking about? We're not going to do anything.'

'For god's sake, Tom, I can't keep doing this behind Jude's back. I love you.' I reached towards him, making to touch his cheek. He stepped back as though I was about to slap him.

'Love me? Like you loved Emma? Look Tim, don't get carried away. I'm with Jude. I've asked him to give up his flat and move in with me full time. I was going to say that I think we need to pull back on the extra-curricular activity for a while. We've had fun, but I think I need to concentrate on Jude for a while.'

I didn't recognise the man in front of me who looked like my best friend. He wouldn't meet my eye. He shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting as he straightened his clothing, rubbed his hands to get the lube smell off them. I'd never seen him look shifty. He was always so calm and centred, modestly self-assured. Now he looked like a frantically procrastinating used car salesman. I felt like he'd punched me in the stomach. A tide of disgust and anger passed through me, and I felt humiliated and abused with my trousers round my knees and his spunk and the lube he'd fucked me with running down my legs.

I couldn't look at him as I pulled up my trousers and underwear, uncomfortably squirming against their wetness as they smeared the fluids matting in my body hair. I moved towards the door.

'Tim. I'm sorry - ' He stepped forwards, putting himself in front of me. I didn't want to hear it. I was too distraught to know what to say. I shoved him hard, catching him off balance. He lost his footing and banged into the wall beside the front door. He recovered and stepped forward again.

'Tim!' he was addressing an unreasonable child.

I punched him in the face and felt a pang of satisfaction as his nose gave way under my fist. Blood was spurting down his face as I opened the door and left him.

By the time I got to my car I was shaking so badly I felt ill. My stomach heaved, but nothing came up and I was wracked by spasms of dry retching beside the car.

I was bereft. In the last few weeks I'd lost my girlfriend, realised I was in love, probably with two different men - who just happened to be in love with each other - and now I probably had no hope of finding happiness with either of them. Worst of all I had been rejected by my best friend. Tom had known me longer than anyone other than my parents. He had held my head countless times as I threw up. He'd stood at my back in bar brawls. He was the man who had put his arm round my shoulder at my father's funeral and soothed me as I sobbed. He had made love to me on my office floor.

I needed comfort. I couldn't be alone right now. I needed uncomplicated warmth, and I didn't want to ask for it. I needed to be with someone to whom I mattered. I pointed the Saab towards Docklands and Emma's flat.

I'd still got a key to her place from our early days together before she'd moved in with me. I'd offered to give it back to her recently, but she'd asked me to keep it. It was a symbolic gesture in keeping with our attempts to maintain contact and closeness, and I think it made her feel safe to know that we still had a domestic connection.

She wasn't there when I arrived, so I let myself in. Her flat was small, with a reasonable sized living room overlooking the water. A small vestibule at the back led to the two small bedrooms and the bathroom. Emma's immaculate taste was evident everywhere, and the flat felt cosy. I knew I'd come to the right place. I sloshed a generous measure of scotch into a glass and headed towards the back of the flat. I didn't feel comfortable making myself at home in her bedroom - somehow it would have been an invasion of her privacy. Thankfully the spare room was made up. I dumped my clothes on the floor and snuggled under the duvet. I couldn't even face drinking the scotch. I turned over, and hugging my knees to my chest, I abandoned myself to oblivion.

Part 4 - the final part? To come soon...