Hayle

So I orgasmed with the thought of me and my dad sitting alongside one another masturbating, both getting aroused by the sight of four men's arses and the excitement of seeing their bumcheeks part as they bent forwards.

As my climax subsided and my cock stopped spurting semen over my chest, I realised that my dad had already come. The smell of us both was thick in the air; his juice smelled almost identical to mine and served only to intensify my already cloying odour.

While I lay there recovering my breath and felt my chest grow cold from the pools of semen splattered across it, dad climbed down from his bunk and fumbled in his rucksack. Another man coughed lightly, clearly wide awake: one person, at least, had witnessed our joint pleasure.

Then dad threw me one of his teeshirts to clean myself off. He climbed back up to his bunk with, I presume, his discarded briefs to wipe himself down.

Within minutes he was snoring, leaving me to worry about what the hell we'd just done.

Next morning he woke me with a poke and a grin. "Sweet dreams, Ol?"

Before I could croak a response he said, "When I was your age, I'd have wanted to stay in bed until everyone else was up... at least give all the other guys time to get dressed..."

I nodded, smiling slightly, and he grinned broadly at me.

Then he said, "I'll leave you to it, then. I'm going for a shower..."

And I chuckled, appreciating the verbal thumbs-up he'd just given me.

Clearly, my understanding of him had been right: he did enjoy the sight of other guys' arses and he'd done so since he'd been at least my age.

Perhaps there really was something in the idea of a Jennings gene.

I don't know which of the other men in the room had heard dad and I wanking the previous evening: I watched them all get ready with more than my usual interest, but none of them did so much as throw me an unusual glance. Maybe whoever it had been just assumed he'd had a surreal dream!

In the months afterward, dad and I never spoke again, directly or indirectly, of what had happened that night nor of our shared interest in guys' arses. For me there was no need to: the anxiety that I might be the only person to feel attracted to girls but to fantasize about other guys' arses had been lifted from me. There seemed to be no reason to compromise my relationship with my dad by bringing each other's clandestine fantasies out into the open.

So I got on with dating girls, working my way to third and then fourth base, all the while having a recurrent idea presenting itself to me. It started out as an occasional, intermittent fantasy but it grew by the following summer into an almost overwhelming obsession. It got to the point at which every time I found myself looking at a guy's arse - whether clothed, in underwear or naked - I began wondering what it might be like to push my cock into it.

My mate Harry would bend over during a Chemistry practical, picking up a dropped pair of tongs, and his arse - round and tight in his trousers - would be level with my crotch. Right away I'd be mentally fucking him, sliding my cock in out of his arse, and the two of us would be gasping and writhing, oblivious to the liquid boiling over from the beaker on our workbench. Or my mate Jonathon and I would be getting dressed after sport and he'd bend over in his underwear to pull on a sock. His bumcheeks would open a little, prizing apart the white cotton of his briefs, and straight away I'd be in there: yanking down his underpants, pushing his vest up to his shoulders and slamming my cock into his eager arsehole. We'd be fucking like animals right there in the changing room outside of the coach's office.

I coped with this developing fixation in a way you might find rather vulgar. Anyone who went to a school like mine knows how bad the boys' toilets can smell, especially at the end of the day. To put it crudely, you walk in and the smell of other lads' shit overwhelms you.

Well, I guess it was that stench that helped me keep thoughts of me fucking other guys at bay (by now my mates were making jokes about lads fucking other lads; no-one of my age said 'bumming' any more). I'd say to myself, "That's what guys' arses smell like, Ollie... do you really find that attractive?" And the memory of that base, enveloping stench would drive all arousal away. The bulge in my school trousers or the rod in the front of my briefs would quickly wither away. Within a matter of seconds, I'd feel like my thoughts were my own again!

But then came Kai and Franziskus.

Charlie and I were staying at Hayle and ended up sharing a room with the two of them about six months after the incident with my dad. They were a couple of pretty rough-and-ready German lads with deep guttural voices and strong unaffected laughs. Unlike us, they weren't at Hayle for the rugby - they confessed to knowing very little about the game - they were just passing through the town on a whistle-stop tour of England.

That evening before we all turned in, Charlie and I had a few pints of Cornish ale with them in the hostel bar. The conversation was lively and humourous, but a few comments they made struck me as a little odd.

First, Kai asked about which towns in the South West had good clubs. Nothing strange in that, but when Charlie asked what kind of stuff they were looking for - good DJs or live music, for example - Kai smiled and said, "Just places where guys in couples like us can hang out, you know?"

Charlie took that to mean groups of mates looking to pull. He suggested a couple of places in Exeter.

Franziskus asked if there we'd ever seen any "action" in any of the hostels we'd stayed in and which ones were best. This time Charlie looked confused so I shrugged and answered that generally things were pretty dull. They looked disappointed and the conversation moved on.

Then, just before we went up to bed, Kai made a joke about inviting the barman up with us and Franziskus pretended he was offended. My German isn't too good but I'm sure Kai said something like, "Hey, you know I don't mean it," and Franziskus laughed and replied, "No - I meant he was already mine!"

I shared my observations with Charlie as we were undressing in the bedroom after the German lads had gone off to shower. Charlie dismissed my suspicions as conjecture and mistranslation. "Their English isn't perfect," he insisted. "And your German's not exactly fluent... it's not exactly a water-tight case..."

"Hey, I'm not wanting to put them on trial, mate. All I'm saying is that it's kind of weird finding two guys so straight-acting turning out to be gay, that's all..."

"But we don't know that they are. And if they are... well, you know... who gives a fuck?"

I smiled, picked up my toothpaste and towel and went off to the bathroom.

To my surprise, Kai and Franziskus were showering together in there. I don't just mean they were chatting while one of them showered and the other was waiting outside the cubicle: I mean they were in the shower together. There didn't seem to be anything sexual in it - they were just messing around together, squirting water at each other and laughing in that loud natural way that they had - but it wasn't the sort of thing straight guys, even very close straight guys, do together.

Maybe it was a German thing.

I smiled over at them and they said a couple of things in German together that I didn't understand.

As I started brushing my teeth, Kai called over, "We won't be long... if you two guys want to get in here..."

I looked towards him and saw that he was gesturing at the shower while blatantly checking out the package inside my boxers. I smiled again and shook my head. "You're okay... take as long as you like..."

Then Franziskus joked, "Actually, there's room for the four of us, if we all squeeze up together..." and Kai burst out laughing.

It now seemed pretty obvious that they were gay and that they assumed Charlie and I were too. I smiled and waited for their laughter to die down so I could point out that Charlie and I are so close because we're brothers rather than lovers. But by the time it had I'd decided against that - it might make them embarrassed and self-conscious to have been so openly affectionate together in front of me. So I just said, "We're pretty tired... it's been a long day..."

Kai nodded and then Franziskus, standing behind him, goosed him and the two of them laughed explosively.

While I got in with brushing my teeth, I glanced at them through them mirror, recalling to myself the time I'd peered over at Martin in this same bathroom five or six years earlier.

I was fascinated, just as I always was, by their arses, but this time my interest was heightened by the fact I was almost certain they were gay. For the first time I was looking at arses that I were very likely to have been fucked. Maybe not both of them, but more probably Franziskus's - he seemed to be the less forthright and assertive of the two of them and so would be the one, I assumed, who'd be more likely to receive the other guy's cock during gay sex.

Every time Franziskus turned his arse towards me, I imagined Kai's cock sliding into it right there as the two of them showered together. Franziskus's cheeks were firm and round and it was easy to envisage Kai's engorged organ pushing its way between them as Franziskus bent forwards to receive him. I could almost see Kai's own muscular arse flexing as he pushed his cock into his friend's; could almost hear the them whispering of their fondness for each other in German as they did so.

I realised that my own cock was starting to develop, in contrast to theirs which remained surprisingly unaffected by the fun they were having together, and I tried conjure up the stench of the school toilets. It seemed to be having some effect, although admittedly a much smaller one than usual, but then I glanced back into the mirror and saw Franziskus bending over to pick up the soap, giving me a pretty candid view of his puckered pink hole. My cock lurched upwards inside my boxers and there was no alternative but to quickly rinse my mouth and get out of there.

As I was leaving the bathroom, Kai called over to me, "Hey, Oliver... if you guys are so tired and we're keeping you awake, let us know..."

I wasn't sure what he was he was talking about but I smiled and nodded.

Franziskus added, "We'll try to be quiet, but it's been two weeks since we could be together in a bed..."

I grinned, "Oh, right... yeah, no problem..."

And I got the hell out of their before my boxers burst open in my excitement.

I couldn't believe it - this was really it! I was finally going to get to see the thing I'd been obsessing about for nearly a year!

As I headed back to the bedroom, my mind was racing as to how I could stop Charlie saying anything to them when he visited to the bathroom which might let them know the two of us were brothers and would scupper the whole thing. They had to keep thinking we were a couple, otherwise my plans would be fucked. And Franziskus wouldn't be...

But Charlie was already asleep. He'd obviously lay down on his bed in his briefs while he was waiting for me to return and had nodded off. I gently rolled him over and got him under the duvet. I didn't even glance at his arse: right then, just like dad-butts, brother-butts were out-of-bounds.