This is a story about man on man sex. If this offends you please do not read further. Otherwise please enjoy this story which is the third chapter of a longer piece outlining how I learnt about gay sex whilst an undergraduate in the 1970s. I'd be very interested to receive your feedback and suggestions for future chapters. My email is zlatyblbec@yahoo.com

If you enjoy this story you may enjoy the other offering I have on Nifty – The Widowers Club which is in the `Adult Friends' section.

"What if I come over and pick you up before you're too wasted, and bring you back here. You can stay the night and we can go to the swim on Sunday together?"

"Do you really mean that? Me stay here? Overnight?"

"If you want." He gave me that cheeky teenager grin again. "We could continue your education..."

o-O-o

When we showered after the game on Saturday I found it more difficult than I'd ever done to stop myself from popping a boner. In communal showers I'd always been torn between wanting to get an eyeful of the candy on open display while being at pains to sublimate my feelings so that my enjoyment wasn't picked up by anyone else. That afternoon we'd played against the local borstal, and as I looked around the naked hard cases who we'd narrowly beaten in a very physical game I couldn't help recalling what Warren had said about all-male environments. In my mind imagined these young guys having sex with each other in their cells. Or would it have been dormitories? Luckily I wasn't well enough acquainted with such institutions to know. Being locked up with such companions would have been a nightmare, I thought, but nonetheless I found the scenario quite exciting from an erotic point of view.

It was usual for our opponents to join us for a meal and a few drinks after the game, but obviously that wasn't allowed for these lads. They'd been watched over carefully for the whole time since they'd got off their bus and as soon as they'd dried off and changed back into the government issue track suits and tee-shirts that made up the institution's uniform they were escorted to their transport and onwards back to the borstal. This meant that at the post-match refreshments that week there was no expectation of `looking after' your opposite number, which worked well for me as I was able to slip away much earlier than would normally have been possible.

It was ironic that as I left to make my rendezvous with Warren I received a couple of comments from teammates clearly assuming that as I was nipping off so soon I must have some female to meet! One even told me to "Give her one for me"! That sent a thrill through me as I imagined that within the next couple of hours I'd be in the position to "give one" to Warren. And for him to "give one" to me.

I'd arranged to meet with Warren outside some shops on the main road into town, about a quarter of a mile from the University. I'd suggested that particular spot so it was unlikely anyone would see me getting into his car and end up asking awkward questions. He was already there when I reached the agreed location.

"Sorry I'm late" I said as I opened the back door of his car and threw my sports bag on the seat, then climbed in the front beside him.

"You're early, actually," Warren said. "It's just that I was even earlier." He placed his hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze.

All the way back to his place my heart was racing. It'd only been a few days since he'd welcomed me into his bed and since that time images of our afternoon of pleasure had kept returning to my mind. His lovely tanned body. Sucking his cock. Lying spreadeagled on the top of his bed as he sucked mine. Cuddling up to him after we'd both ejaculated into each other's mouths, chatting about nothing at all. Jeez - I'd got a real crush on him!

As soon as we were in his house and the door closed behind us I felt his hand on my shoulder. "So you didn't have second thoughts, then?"

I turned to face Warren and smiled. "No. Not once." I leant into him gave him a peck on the lips.

I took off my duffle coat. "You can hang it there", Warren told me, pointing at the hooks on the mirrored coat stand that was fairly old-fashioned even back in those days. "Is there anything in that that needs washing? Or drying?" He pointed at my sports bag.

"It's ok. I can look after that tomorrow when I get home."

"Nonsense! Can't have your wet towel mouldering away in there. I'm assuming you did have a shower after the game..." He grinned. In our conversation on Thursday afternoon, as we lay naked on his bed, I'd spoken of the bittersweetness of regularly showering with teammates I'd love to have sex with.

"Of course." I felt myself blush ever so slightly.

"So come on, we can wash it along with the rest of your dirty kit. I've got a fancy new automatic washing machine – it'll save you the trouble." He picked up the bag and unzipped it, then took out the wet towel, and my muddy rugby kit, and threw the lot onto the floor. Then he pulled out my jockstrap. He examined it closely and then looked at me quizzically.

I gave a half smile in return and felt my blush deepen. The jock hadn't been washed all season, not even at Christmas when I'd gone home and taken all my washing with me. It had been used at least every other day, in fairly strenuous exercise, without ever seeing any washing powder. Approaching the end of the season it was pretty stained from sweat. And also from semen...

"It's one of the team protocols," I said somewhat sheepishly. "At the start of the playing year all the team agreed not to wash their jock for the whole season. None of us do."

"Ok then, we'll leave that, but let's get the rest in..." Warren stuffed everything back into my sports bag apart from the stained jockstrap, then gave a mischievous smile and hung it on the coat rack next to my duffle coat. "The machine's in the scullery,' he said, leading the way.

I had to smile – I'd never heard the word scullery used in normal conversation before. I didn't come from that sort of family! We had a room at the back of our council house which served that sort of purpose but which people on the estate generally just referred to as "out the back".

"Anything else to go in?" he asked when he'd put in the few bits of my sports kit. Then he gave another grin and began stripping off. "I'll just put my shirt and socks and pants in with them," he continued. "Waste of money to put it on half empty."

Within seconds Warren was standing naked next to the washing machine, had tidied his shoes onto a rack, and had folded his trousers neatly and placed them on an empty drying frame. He then reached up onto a high shelf for the washing powder. As he did this I noted two things – first how hot his body looked and second how unselfconscious he was at going about this task totally naked with me pretty much fully clothed next to him. But he had told me how he spent most of his time naked, so I suppose it was no big deal for him. I really hoped that one day I'd be able to live a life in that way.

Warren stripping off gave me all the encouragement I needed, so I quickly pulled my jumper over my head, kicked off my trainers and pulled off my jeans. "I've not got a change of clothes," I said, "but if you don't mind me being..."

Warren laughed. "I don't think that'll be an issue".

So I pulled my tee-shirt over my head, reached down and removed my socks (which, to be honest I'd been wearing for a few days and really did need a wash), and then tugged my pants off. The feeling as I became naked was surprisingly electric. I was frequently nude in the company of others, but this felt totally different. I shuddered as a frision of excitement pulsed through me. I immediately understood what was happening. There was sex in the air – Warren wasn't just eye-candy like most of the other lads with whom I shared communal nudity. I knew that Warren was very soon going to be suck-candy and wank-candy and Lord knows what else-candy. And so I reacted, and popped the quickest and most incredible full-on boner you can imagine. It just grew from nowhere to totally on in a matter of seconds.

"The joys of youth," laughed Warren who was watching as my erection appeared out of nothing. He gave my bum a quick rub then picked my clothes up off the floor and put them in the machine, loaded it with power and set it going. "Come on, young man! I think it's going to be an interesting evening!"

We were both totally naked as he led the way out of the scullery. It was an odd feeling for me walking around with a boner, but a very pleasant one. Although I thought I was already fully erect it somehow felt that my prick was trying to surpass itself and kept becoming yet bigger and more engorged.

As we passed the coat rack Warren grabbed my dirty jockstrap, brought it up to his nose and sniffed deeply. "More than just the delicious aroma of your crotch there, I'd say". He glanced at me. "There's another scent I recognise." He smiled. "Now, whatever could that be?" He gave me a puzzled look and led on into his lounge, taking the jockstrap with him.

I grinned and followed him. "If you score in an away game, you have to wank off into your jock on the coach on the way back." It felt really exciting to be talking so nonchalantly about stuff like this, especially with someone as old as Warren. Especially as he used to be a deputy headmaster! Less than 12 months ago I'd still been a schoolboy myself.

He offered me a drink, and we ended up sitting beside each other on his sofa, each with a glass of malt whisky to which he'd added a little water. He sat with the jockstrap and examined it very closely. He sniffed at it again. "And who suggested the wanking?"

"One of the third years. Said it was all about bonding as brothers." I looked down and noticed that he was becoming hard himself.

Warren's smile filled his face. He pulled me towards him and gave me a long kiss. "That's one of the most homoerotic things I've heard for ages! Keep an eye on the lad who suggested it – he'll either be gay or have very strong leanings that way."

"Do you really think so?" It'd been Gerard – two years older than me, but a couple of inches shorter in height. A fast winger, very fit, very slim. With, as I'd noted many times, a totally amazing body – a decent sized cut dick which seemed very long and thick, possibly, I'd reflected when I'd thought about it (which I'd done often), as a result of his relative shortness of stature. Fuck! Was he really gay?

"Guaranteed. You don't suggest something as erotic as that unless you want to see your mates shooting off regularly. And you don't want to see them shoot off unless you're not turned on by it. Do you always go along with it?"

"Yeah, course I do. We all do. I'm a front-rower, though, so I don't score that often. There's only three lots in there." I nodded towards the pouch of the jockstrap. My thoughts floated back to the coach on the way back from earlier fixtures. "Those wingers, though!" I closed my eyes momentarily and brought into my mind recent images of Gerard whacking off his huge dick and shooting a pouch full of cum. "They have to do it at least once most games." It was when they'd scored more than once that really turned me on – trying to come twice, or even occasionally three or more times, on the journey home meant that some of the wanking had gone on for a long time before some drunken team member had shouted `Semen Detected!' to confirm the ejactulation.

Warren took another long sniff of the jockstrap. "What a wonderful idea. I thought I'd come across pretty much everything in my time, but I've never heard of that one before!" He looked thoughtful. "It smells delightful – a real turn on for an old man like me! Tell you what – at the end of the season let me buy you a new one, and give that to me. As is. Unwashed."

"You serious?"

"Definitely, young man. Don't you find the scent of the crotch of another man's underwear a turn on?"

I immediately felt myself blush again.

Warren smiled. "Or your own, even?"

I thought for a while, then realised that for the first time ever I was with someone from whom I had no need to hide any of my hitherto secret erotic feelings. And in fact I was rapidly realising that the more honest I was with him as to what turned me on the more enjoyable it might become. "I sniff William's undies sometimes", I admitted. To be honest it was a bit more than sometimes. I'd started within days of arriving at University, and I'd have a good sniff every night after he'd stripped off and then nipped naked across the corridor to the bathroom opposite to clean his teeth. His pants were always still warm, and the smell of Williams cock and balls and the top of his legs so strong and fresh. And occasionally I'd be rewarded with a little wet patch where he'd leaked a bit of precum or piss. I sighed at the thought and looked down at my dick that was still rock hard. The foreskin had now retracted over the head so I looked almost circumcised, and a dribble of seminal fluid had oozed out of the slit and was making its way across my cockhead.

"I bet he sniffs yours, as well," suggested Warren.

"D'you think so?" I asked dubiously.

"I reckon there's a good chance. Why don't you check?"

"How d'you mean?"

"Well, do the same as he does – strip off and then go to the bathroom or loo. But make sure you place your pants in a way that you can tell if they've been touched while you're out. I think you might be surprised!"

I thought about it. Something else to turn me on and make my dick stiffen even more. "And I sniff my own as well," I admitted. I'd been doing that for so long I'm not sure when it actually started. When I was little I used to sniff the crotch of my underpants when I got undressed at night to see if they'd last another day. I suppose over time it became a habit, and that in the end I got turned on by the scent.

"It's all part of life's erotic richness," Warren said. He reached over, wiped his thumb across the slit in my cock then licked off the precum from it. The feel of his thumb on my cockhead sent a shudder through me. He licked his lips and gave an evil smile. "I'll let you into one of my secrets. For years I generally only wore other men's underwear. Hardly ever my own. Pants I'd found in the lost property box at the gym I used. I'd go there every day, and always have a good rummage in the box after I'd showered – there was usually several pairs of pants in there that had been left behind." He gave a gentle smile as he reminisced. "Imagine the pants of a bloke who'd been working hard all day who'd then left them behind when he'd changed into a clean pair after his workout! Absolute heaven!"

I don't know why I was shocked. I got very turned on by sniffing William's undies. And the idea of what Warren was telling me was so amazingly erotic that I could imagine wanking over the idea. But it was the way that this man was admitting it. So freely.

"I know I've shocked you," he said, noting my expression. "But let me give you a few words of wisdom gleaned from a long and enjoyable life. Part of your gay education, if you like. The whole sex thing – even vanilla missionary-position heterosexual copulation between man and wife – is absolutely bizarre when you think about it, isn't it? Just consider the mechanics of it all. A small part of a man's anatomy gets very hard based on a variety of different stimuli. A small part of a woman's becomes wet for the same sort of reasons. Hard penis goes into wet vagina. Lots of (or perhaps not so much if what I hear is accurate!) thrusting in and out leads to the man convulsing in spasms of painful pleasure while something shoots out of the end of his dick depositing itself inside the woman. If the woman's lucky she might experience something similar too. And the urge to do this is so strong that people will invest so much of themselves in achieving that fleeting moment of pleasure – sometimes even destroying the careers or their families for it. And almost everyone in the world engages in that sort of nonsense at some time or other – even the most puritan, po-faced couples. Look at anyone who's had children – photographs of stern Victorian parents. They've all done that time and time again. And they've mostly enjoyed what they've been doing as well."

I nodded.

"So why is anything that you personally find enjoyable any more odd? So long as it doesn't involve others in a way that hurts them without their consent, of course. So number one thing to remember throughout life – don't be ashamed of your peccadilloes. If you are then your days will be guilt-ridden and full of sadness. You don't need to broadcast them, but if you feel you have a kindred spirit it's kind of liberating to share them every now and again."

He reached out and rubbed off some more of the precum which was now flooding out of me, and again licked it off his thumb. "I must say, that is delicious!"

I noticed that he was now fully hard and he had a long stream of transparent fluid working its way down his sun-browned cock. I did the same as he'd done, and once I'd licked my fingers I just flashed him a contented smile.

"The other thing is to understand that everyone has sexual fetishes and urges they can do nothing about. Whatever yours are they're probably much more common in the population at large than you think. Undie sniffing? I bet loads of men – and women – get a kick from that. And why not? Smell is one of the senses that heighten our sexual stimulus, so it's entirely natural that smelling where someone's sexual organs have been all day, and have been secreting, is a turn on."

I hadn't really looked at it like that, but I suppose he was right. I grabbed my glass and took a drink of whiskey. As soon as I put the glass down Warren leant down and engulfed my cock with his mouth. It wasn't entirely unexpected – we were sitting next to each other naked, both totally erect, pumping out precum as if it were going out of fashion, and we were going to spend the night in the same bed – so I suppose there was the expectation that eventually I'd get my dick sucked. But this was all the more pleasurable as it came from out of the blue.

As Warren sucked his hand explored my body, moving over my belly and up to my nipples which he began to circle with his fingertips. I reached over his back and began to caress his skin. Warren was a very skilful sucker of cocks – he had had many decades of experience after all – and knew how to give intense pleasure without taking me to the edge too quickly. At one point he broke off for air a little breather, took a mouthful of whiskey from his glass and then returned to sucking me again. He'd kept a little of the scotch in his mouth, and there was a not unpleasant tingling feeling as the alcohol coated the tip of my cock and was washed around it by his tongue.

I gasped.

Warren grasped the side of my body hard and increased the speed with which he was sucking me, working his cheeks inwards to massage the sides of my cock while his tongue played with the slit. It wasn't long before I sensed that I was reaching the point of no return and I began to stiffen. Warren read the signs perfectly and opened his mouth wide to remove all the contact he had with my penis and withdrew.

"Bedtime, I think" was all he said. "Grab your toothbrush..."

I took my washbag from my sports holdall and followed Warren up the stairs. I don't think I'd ever been more erect in my whole life – my dick, still moist from his mouth, was almost flush against my belly as I followed him, just a step behind. I couldn't take my eyes of his muscular backside as he moved up the stairs. I so much wanted to kiss those buttocks, to lick all around his bum and back. I couldn't believe that in a few short days our relationship had gone from mere friends to this. And with someone as old as Warren.

I went into the bathroom and started to clean my teeth. Warren made his way into the bedroom and I heard the sound of curtains drawing.

"You have a simply stunning arse!" Warren's voice was gently as he joined me in the bathroom, and I felt his hand softly rubbing my buttocks. "But I bet you've had lots of people tell you that over the years."

I spat the toothpaste into the washbasin. "No. No one. Ever."

"I bet there's loads who've thought it."

"D'you really think so?"

"Trust me, David. As an army officer, and a schoolmaster, and a nudist, I've seen lots and lots of backsides of boys of around your age. And I think yours is one of the cutest yet. Honest."

I reached behind and felt the roundness of my buttock, then flexed my muscles a little and grabbed at the firmness. Perhaps...

"I'd put money on the fact that there's a least half a dozen guys in your Rubgy team who've wanked over the image of your arse."

"As many as that, d'you think?"

"When someone's jacking into their jock. On the coach. Is there much interest? Does he get an audience?"

I thought back to a few recent away games. "Yeah. There's always a crowd around those who have to do it."

"And do you watch?"

I felt myself blush. I was always there. To be honest there wasn't anyone in the team I didn't like to watch shooting into the pouch of their jock. And whenever it was possible I engineered things that I ended up sitting next to someone who'd scored, so I'd literally have a ringside seat. "Yes, I do. Every time."

"Now, think hard. Try to remember. Are there any others who always seem to be there. Who come down to watch the action regardless of where they're sitting. Because if there are I'd pretty much guarantee those guys are getting as much a hit from the performance as you are." He rubbed my bum again. "Those are the chaps you should engineer some sort of encounter with."

I watched closely as Warren cleaned his teeth, my erection now becoming almost painful and in dire need of being relieved. When he'd finished he led me to the bedroom where he'd lit a couple of candles which gave the room an exotic atmosphere. The sound of the curtains being drawn which I'd heard from the bathroom were of them being drawn open rather than closed, and through the window I could see into a sky that was absolutely full of stars. That, combined with the flickering light of the candles, was so dreamy. I went to the window and looked out.

"I'm not overlooked at all from the back, so no one can see in," Warren said, joining me. "I always sleep with the curtains open. At this time of year I draw them closed in the afternoon to keep whatever heat's been generated by the spring sun, but I still open them when I come to bed."

He stood behind me, put his arms around my waist and pulled me close. It was so fucking romantic!

After a short while he let go of me, turned and pulled back the covers and called me into his bed. Into. Which in my memory was far, far more significant than saying that he took me onto his bed. Many years on from the events I'm recounting I can say I've been into many men's bedrooms and had erotic sessions with them. But more often than not the action has taken place on top of the bed. Less often have I ended up between the sheets with someone and to me that signals true intimacy – it says you're going to have sex, but then you're going to sleep together.

So we got inside. Beneath the sheets and the blankets. And turned to face each other, our stiff pricks touching, and started a long session of snogging and caressing. This wasn't just sex – it was genuine affection being expressed in a deeply sexual manner. Warren was taking the lead, of course, but I was his very willing follower. As a teenage wanker I would've given in to the urge to shoot far well before now, but Warren was helping me to understand the power of delayed gratification. I was almost shaking with desire as we pulled closer together, him moving his hips almost imperceptibly to rub the tip of his cock against mine. His fingertips traced a line up and down my back, down the crease between my butt cheeks, exploring a little deeper towards my anus. Every action, every tiny move he made increased the intensity of the pleasure I was feeling. All the time our mouths were locked together, our tongues gently battling against each other. I moved my right leg over the top of his and began to rub it slowly up and down. The feeling of pleasure generated as my inner thigh brushed against his skin was intense. I began to gasp once more.

And at that sign Warren broke his kiss, disentangled himself from me and lay on his back. I moved onto my side, facing him, and just looked at him. My eyes were getting used to the dim candle light and the shadows it threw did nothing but enhance Warren's rugged handsomeness. In that face I saw someone who'd experienced so much in his life but who still was stunningly attractive, beautifully uninhibited, and who was doing me the honour of acting as my sexual mentor. I was in heaven.

"Do you want to ejaculate?"

I was a bit confused. Didn't we both want to cum? Our rock hard dicks suggested it. The precum leaking from the ends of them suggested it. The fluttering deep inside my tummy certainly confirmed it. As I've admitted already, if I'd been on my own I'd have shot off long ago and would probably have been fast asleep by now.

Which was when I got it! The longer we delayed, the more we caressed and bided our time, the more worked up I was becoming. And the more I knew that this would end very well!

Warren smiled and turned to me once more, and embraced me very tightly. I was amazed to feel how strong his grip around my body was, and I reciprocated and grasped him as tightly as I could. The feeling was amazing. Two strong men, embracing each other with as much gentle strength as they could muster. It literally took my breath away. In that moment I learnt a lot about sex with another man. I don't know what are the key things that straight people like about being with members of the other sex, but sharing a man's strength is certainly a real turn on for me.

We continued our embrace for a while, and expanded it to include a passionate kissing session. Both of us were oozing precum by the gallon now, and Warren began to gyrate his crotch, rubbing the tip of his dick against mine and against the whole of my pubic region. I felt his rhythm and got into time with it and did the same.

As Warren was hairless the tip of my cock just slipped up and down his body on the wetness I was creating. Our breathings intensified, and through our embrace I could feel Warren's heart pounding away. Warren broke our kiss and began a soft moan. He moved his hand from caressing my back on the back of my head and groaned louder.

I pushed the rhythm faster and faster and we were now producing so much precum our joined middles were soaked. When the point of no return arrived it arrived very quickly.

"Arrrrrrgh!" I almost screamed as I was overcome by orgasm and I felt the spunk shoot out of the end of my cock. I began to buck backwards and forwards, the semen now coating Warren's lower torso now making an even slippier surface against which to slide which in turn made the feeling at the end of my penis even more exquisite which then just resulted in more spunk being thrown onto him.

Then he gave an almighty, almost primal, yell and his hips began to convulse quickly. As my own orgasm subsided I felt my belly becoming covered with his warm stickiness. Warren shuddered four or five times, each with a long thrust into me, and then gave out a huge sigh and stopped.

For a short while we just lay there, staring into each other's eyes, then Warren pulled me closer and gave me a long kiss. Then we let go of each other and, exhausted, both moved onto our backs.

After a couple of seconds of me staring at the ceiling and marvelling at the experience I'd just had I felt Warren's palm on my belly, rubbing the mess we'd created between us around it, down between my legs, into my belly button, onto my cock.

"How was that?"

"Amazing," I panted. I couldn't believe that we'd managed to achieve such huge orgasms just by rubbing against each other.

"It's called frottage."

"What is?"

"That. Rubbing yourself against something or someone until you come. Or some just say `frotting'."

"Frotting." I savoured my new vocabulary. "Frottage." I put my hand out to Warren's stomach and began to rub the mess around him the way that he'd done to me. There was a lot of it. When my hand was coated in it I moved it onto his cock and began to wank him. Lubricated by the semen my palm moved up and down slickly. It felt interesting to be wanking a cock without a foreskin – no hood to move back and forth over the tip, just my own sticky palm. I wondered if most circumcised guys used lube of one sort or another.

As our orgasmic state receded we lay there talking about everyday things. We'd still touch each other from time to time, gently playing with one another's cocks, but in the nonchalant, unconscious way that little boys do. Because it feels nice, rather than because it's overtly sexual.

"Early start in the morning," said Warren. "I've set the alarm for half past sex."

I was a student – I couldn't believe that I was going to get up that early on a Sunday morning. But I didn't mind, because Warren was going to take me to the nude swimming session and I was so looking forward to my first experience of skinny dipping.