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dogging,rimming wanking I was sat waiting slowly rubbing my soft cock.. There were a lot of trees and bushes next to it just as the web site I found it on had described. A white van stopped in front of me. The driver got out, looked at me and rubbed his crotch before moving to the under growth. I got up and followed him into the tangle of undergrowth next to the layby. We pushed our way into a small clearing behind a broad rhododendron bush with thick evergreen foliage. We would still be visible from the road to someone who was specifically looking, but to casual drivers we would be largely obscured. He walked up to a tree and undid his belt. He glanced over at me, unzipping himself, and then hitched his blue work trousers down enough for me to see his red underwear underneath and the tops of the pale, freckled cheeks of his bum. His underwear had a white pattern on it but was much too folded for me to make out what the shapes were. The waistband read: 'Hello Ladies'. They looked like the leftover of some bawdy night out with his mates; a stag night, maybe. I wasn't sure what to do: should I walk over to him, or should I go over to another of the trees and make out I was also preparing to urinate? I decided to hold fire and just stand there, waiting to see what he did. I clung onto my resolution he had to be one the invite me: was the only way this was going to work. He continued to face the tree but keep peering over me, watching for my next move. I held my distance, unwilling to be the first to show my hand. After a few moments, he asked either "Don't you want a go?" or "Don't you want to go?" I wasn't sure which. Still uncertain as to his motives, I thought I'd better it safe. I asked him, "What do you want me to do?" He looked back over at me and then pulled down the back of his trousers and underwear a bit more, revealing the lower and more interesting half of his arse-crack. "If you want it," he called over, "come and get it." He'd been mustering up the courage to do this: standing there like he was about to piss was his way of giving himself a way of backing out. I realised this was probably his first homosexual experience, barring, perhaps, the sort of laddish drunken gropes between him and his mates which would be more to amuse than to arouse. made me the sort of guy who enticed other men into having their first homosexual experiences. It was a label I wasn't terribly comfortable with. I walked over to him and stood behind him. His bum was quite skinny but very inviting. The cleft, or what I could see of it, looked practically hairless. "Are you sure you want this?" I asked. He nodded. "If you're up for it." I knelt down behind him and pulled his trousers down a little bit lower. His underwear came with them, but the waistband clung to his buttocks, straightening the material out so I could see the white patterned shapes were actually old-fashioned moustaches with their tips curled upwards. I grabbed the waistband and pulled it down as well, obscuring the moustaches among the folds again. "Never had a bloke pull my pants down," he laughed tensely. I could already smell his arse – a familiar, piquant whiff from his crack – and it was making my mouth water. He turned around a little and I saw his cock poking out from the front of his trousers, looking shrivelled and slightly despondent flopping over his open fly in the cold air. Its wrinkled shaft was much browner than the rest of his skin and his foreskin puckered open just short of the dry tip of its pink head. "If anyone comes," he said, "stand up like we're having a piss." He turned back to face the tree, presenting his almost hairless bottom to my face again. I leaned forwards and touched my nose very lightly into his arse-crack. Before I could appreciate the fullness of his scent, he pulled away, making an unnerving giggling sound. "Your nose tickles!" he snorted, looking down at me over his shoulder. I glanced up at him. "Sorry!" I'd have to be less sensual with him; this was going to descend into farce if he got the giggles every time I brushed against him. He turned back towards the tree and bent forwards a little to push his backside out towards me. Whatever else he was feeling, he was certainly keen to know what it was like to be rimmed. I levelled my nose with his backside again and pressed myself more firmly into him. His buttocks were firm and muscular against my face, presumably from hopping in and out of his van all day, and the cleft between them smelled satisfyingly sharp. It was a rough, rather sour scent, far less sweaty than I had anticipated, and it had rich, almost woody, undertones. I extended my tongue and heard him giggle again. It was rather cute to hear him laugh like : quite girlish. He must be very ticklish in this area and had probably never had cause to realise it before. He must have liked the warm, wet feel of my tongue sliding into his crack because he bent a little further forward, grabbing hold of the tree. He pushed his arse outwards, opening his buttocks to give me better access to his lushly-scented cleft. I reached up with both hands and held his hips to steady myself and pushed my tongue deep into his crack, I had assumed a hairy crack would trap a man's odours more than a hairless one, but his taste was just as strong, although conspicuously different. Finding his wrinkled hole with the tip of my tongue and having its raunchy, acrid taste send shivers down my spine, I began to feel my cock hardening in my trousers. Running my tongue around it, relishing its biting tang, I suddenly realised how much I liked this position: squatting behind another man with my face pressed between his buttocks. It was arousing, yes, but it also felt 'right' to be poised like this, with my nose wedged into a fellow 's arse-crack and my tongue lapping his most tender and intimate spot. He muttered, "Yeah, get right in there!" and pushed his bum harder into my face. As he did so, his body started moving rhythmically – I realised he was rubbing his cock. I pressed the tip of my tongue firmly into the middle of his puckered entrance and forced it open. The strong-tasting ooze from within was almost electrifying on my tongue and I urgently probed further, finding it difficult to breathe quickly enough in my mounting excitement. Feeling his rhythm becoming stronger and faster, I reached around to grab his cock from him and take over wanking him. I found, to my astonishment, he was by now fully and impressively<b> erect. </font></b>I had thought he was trying to rouse himself into excitement when I'd felt the rhythm of his hand: I hadn't realised the feel of my tongue on his arsehole had caused him to stiffen so quickly. His cock felt unexpectedly large given how unimposing it had looked in its floppy state. Its surface felt as if it was swathed with veins and its head was sticky and wet; like a fat, oozing plum. I started masturbating it as best as I could, given the awkwardness of the angle I was at. Nevertheless, he appreciated my efforts and ground his backside against my face as if in encouragement. I worked my tongue in and out of his tight opening, delighting in the murky, dirty taste he was exuding and inhaling as deeply as I could the more delicate but irrefutably raunchy scent of his arse-crack. This had to be rimming at its very best and I was so pleased he was enjoying it with me. His cock was throbbing in its swollen hardness as I wanked it and from the dribbles of stickiness it was weeping onto my fingers, I could tell he was getting extremely aroused. I pulled back from licking between his buttocks and stood up behind him. Taking my hand off his cock, I hurriedly unzipped and released my own, arching upwards full size in response to the tastes and smells of his bum. I had a strong desire to fuck him: right there standing behind him with him bending forwards and grabbing onto the tree. I contented myself, though, with sandwiching my cock between his buttocks, grabbing his cheeks and pressing them together with my thumbs, and working myself back and forth along his spit-sodden arse-crack. I liked the feel of being in this position: just like rimming him, it felt 'right' and 'natural' to be behind him like this, thrusting my thick organ up and down between his bared bum-cheeks as he bent over in front of me. In spite of how slippery his crack was, his buttocks had enough friction to grip my foreskin tightly so with every thrust my cock-head would emerge, plump and reddened, from between his cheeks. My balls were thumping against the tops of his legs, feeling heavy and full as I bucked my hips back and forth. He obviously found, perhaps to his own surprise, he liked this position too: his hand returned to his cock and he pumped it quickly, excited to have a man pretending to bugger him and apparently finding easy to disregard any reservations might be gnawing the back of his mind. As he pushed his bum back me in time with my thrusting cock, he looked up me, over his shoulder, his mouth a grinning snarl, and said, "Yeah! This is so fucking hot!" I slid my cock up and down his crack, masturbating myself between his buttocks. I grinned back at him, the two of us smirking at each other as if we were amused at being so delightfully naughty together. He probably thought I do this often: I was well-practised picking men up and of having them bend over for me. He was obviously unaware , like him, I was experiencing and greatly enjoying my first time in such a homosexual position for many years. He pulled away from me and stood up. Turning to face me, he cheerfully blurted out, "I wanna do it to you! Let's change places!" I hoped he was going to rim me and took up my place in front of the tree, yanking down the back of my trousers and underwear to expose my arse to him. Instead of squatting down behind me, though, he pushed his cock between my butt-cheeks and rubbed himself up and down inside my arse-crack as I had been doing to him. He grabbed my hips and made like he was fucking me, the tops of his thighs making rhythmic smacking sounds against my buttocks. His balls were slapping against the bottom of my arse and I bent lower to open my cheeks wider, hoping they would rub against my hole when he thrust himself back and forth. I bent over to give him better access and then looked over my shoulder at him grinning down at me as he worked his cock quickly up and down between the cheeks of my arse. I smiled back up at him and he said, "Yeah! Take it!" This was clearly far more arousing than he might have expected it to be, had he ever imagined doing such a thing with another man. He liked the position of being behind me just as much as he had enjoyed being in front. He was panting as he worked himself inside the forested cleft of my arse; staring down at his erection with fascination as his shiny helmet repeatedly thrust upwards from between my buttocks before quickly disappearing back between them. He grabbed my hips tighter, pulling my arse further towards him, and muttered, "This must be like fucking a bloke's arse!" as if it had only just dawned on him were simulating -on- anal sex. He kept pounding my backside and I found , like he had, I enjoyed it hugely. Once again the position felt very natural to me: it felt right to be offering another man my arse by bending down in front of him and for him to be using me to pleasure himself. The rhythm of his organ between my cheeks and the beating of his balls against my anus were turning me on hugely. I grabbed my cock and jerked it roughly, grinning up at him over my shoulder. He smiled down and then made another snarling face, pumping his cock more aggressively in my arse-crack. I worked back against him, pushing my bum into him with every upward thrust of his cock, and he said, "You fuckin' want it? Don't you? You fuckin' want it right up you!" Before I had time to answer – assuming, of course, he wanted an answer – he pulled back from me and started masturbating himself furiously. I turned around to face him and pulled at my own organ. "I'm getting close!" he informed me as his hand pounded violently up and down the length of his organ. His foreskin was sliding back and forth across the fattened head of his cock so fast the action looked almost mechanical. He muttered, almost breathlessly, "D'you give blow jobs?" Like I was a . I didn't reply but reached between his legs and ran my middle finger from the base of his balls, back along the ridge between his legs to find his wet, sticky opening just behind. "Ah, yeah!" he mouthed and smirked at me. "'ll do!" I worked my finger into him, being very gentle, and took up a slow rhythm moving in and out of his hole. " is fucking hot!" he said and pushed his backside down onto my hand, desperate to take more of my finger. I pushed more of it into him – up to the second knuckle – and his rhythm on his cock quickened to an even more frantic speed. He kept pushing back against my finger until he had its entire length inside him. Wondering if I should suggest fucking him – from the way his arsehole was eating my finger, he might well be up for it – I quickened the wrist of my other hand, pumping away at my own organ. Suddenly he gasped, "I'm there! I'm fucking cumming!" Without thinking about it, I squatted down in front of him and opened my mouth wide in front of his cock I had an urge to drink his seed; to swallow it in gulps as it erupted from his cock. "Ah, yeah!" he exclaimed and directed its head between my lips as the first squirts of his hot semen were ejected from the swollen slit. I eagerly took each spurt of his cum, drinking down the copious flow of it as he wanked himself into my mouth. It tasted salty and acrid but I loved the sensation I was feeding from him; consuming every drop of the exploding climax surged in thick pulses out of it. "Fucking eat it!" he cried out and kept working himself with his hand, milking his veiny erection to drain as completely as he could the paired nuts dangled below it. I guzzled hungrily his fountain, feeling his rectum spasming tightly on my finger which was still buried deep inside of him. As his orgasm subsided and the squirts from his slit were weakening, I reached forwards and took the plump red head of his organ into my mouth, sucking the last dregs of his cum up through his cock from his gratified balls. I swallowed down the last of the ooze, wanking myself quickly and feeling my own orgasm drawing near. He pulled back from me and my finger slid out of his arse with a low, rasping fart. I stood up and masturbated myself as quickly as I could, which was a good deal slower than the rhythm he had been able to sustain on himself I thought he might back away and pull up his trousers, disgusted with himself for going so far with me, but he didn't. Instead, he grinned at me and said, "I know what'll get you off!" He reached between his legs, putting his hand beneath his softening cock and squatting down slightly to grope behind the almost hairless bag of his scrotum. After rubbing himself down there, he surprised me by bringing his hand up to my face and outstretching his index finger in front of my nostrils. "Sniff it," he commanded. "Sniff my arse." I leaned forward and sniffed at his finger, getting a mere whiff of the scent of his anus but finding myself hugely excited by the act of him doing this to me. He grinned at me inhaling his dirtiest scent from his finger and then said, "Lick it." I obeyed his instruction and licked at his outstretched digit, tasting a slight tang of the strong flavour I'd enjoyed earlier. "You dirty bastard," he laughed and pushed his finger into my mouth. "Like my arse! Go on, mate! Feed on it!" I found myself salivating as he worked his outstretched finger back and forth into my mouth. I sucked at it like it was his cock, tasting the odorous sleaze of his backside on it; faint but distinct on his skin. He grinned at me again and kept urging me on. "Eat my shitter! Go on! Lick it! Taste my hole!" As I sucked at his finger – the taste all but gone – I began to climax, squirting thick strings of my seed over the deadened leaves and twigs on the ground. He pulled his finger out of my mouth and, even while my release was in full flow, laughed, "Jesus, mate! I can't believe you swallowed my spunk!" "All part of the service," I managed to gasp, still pumping my jizz over the ground, and he laughed again. We cleaned ourselves up as best we could and then hitched up our underwear and trousers. He seemed remarkably good-natured, given what we'd just done, and the issues I had expected him to have to face post-orgasm didn't show any signs of manifesting themselves. . As we traipsed back towards the road, he asked me: "So how do you get to meet other guys who like doing... er... thing you did?" "Rimming?" "Yeah. 's it." "You enjoyed it?" I asked. He chortled. "Couldn't you tell, mate? I thought I... you know... threw in a few clues." I smiled over at him. "Okay. So obviously you're thinking about how you might get to do it again?" "Yeah," he nodded. "I think so." |
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