Chapter 0 - Big Penis in Little China

First I must admit there is very little actual China or Chinese in this story. It's the back drop, and a funny title. There is penis though, and it was big.
 
Cast your mind back. It's 2006. Times are interesting; the Eurozone is surprisingly stable, in Greece there is the sound of thousands of smashing plates, Pluto has it's planetary status revoked, Avian flu hits Scotland (one swan is killed), Windows Vista is launched prompting widespread riots, I was 18, and living in Xinjiang, China.
 
It was December 31st, 10pm Beijing Time. I had just left work at a Cafe near People's Square in Urumqi (capital of Xinjiang Autonomous Region, and with a population of only eight million, a small town by Chinese standards). It being new years I took a cab across town to the favoured bar of the crowd of westerners I had gotten to know in the five months I'd lived in the city. The place was FUBAR (what a crazy sense of humour these ex-pats have), and the party was already in full swing.
 
I moved along the bar, trying to get lucky. Sadly, here was no gum on any of the seats. Shortly however I spotted the gang. Most of them were ex-pat Brits, like myself. They were all English teachers, as I had been before my resignation shortly before Christmas. I'd like to say they were a cool bunch of decent folk, and in a loose sense they were. Though they were also absolutely mad. Of course, so was I. You had to be, to decide to live in Xinjiang.; it's so far from Beijing it's practically in Kazakhstan (but don't let the CCP hear you say that).
 
I could describe them all, but since all bar one of them will hardly appear in this story, there seems little point. The important point was that we were getting drunk. Time passed, beer flowed. I got talking to two of the guys about sex. As you do. When average rainfall is two millimetres per year, you can only talk about the weather for so long. One, a dashing and tanned Italian was recounting how this one time a girl had followed through after some heavy anal and had followed through again by rolling around in it. On his bed as well.
 
Needless to say myself (the skinny, long haired, beardless teenager that I was) and Phil (the well built and rather older Yorkshire man that made the final part of our trio) were duly appalled. Entering into the spirit we engaged in a few rounds of "Tell a better tale" (a popular male past time). When it came round to me for the third time I was drunk enough to tell, in detail how a guy I once slept with who asked me to suck the shit off his dick. Forgetting of course that the two men before me were completely unaware of my orientation (namely oriented on all fours).
 
The Italian, whose name my posterity fails to recall, seemed cool with it, but shortly went off to find his girlfriend (as I discovered later, to spread the news, it's a small community and gossip is like gold). Phil stayed, however, and I noticed, even through the beer goggles that there was a glimmer in his eye. We kept talking, not overtly about sex or gayness for a bit, until he, perhaps unable to stand it any more asked.
"So are you gay or bi or what?"
"Bi." I answered, coyly, sipping my drink, "And you?" I know, a bit rude but what the hell I was drunk and hadn't had any in months.
He stammered slightly, muttering that he'd called himself Bi for a year or so but hadn't really done anything with a man.
Letting the booze do the thinking I said, "So if I kissed you, what would you do?"
He shrugged and grinned, he had a really nice grin. Toothy, and always with slightly watery looking eyes, but a very genuine one never the less. So what the hell? I kissed him right there by the bar. Again, later, I realised just how many of my friends found out about me in that moment. Course, like I said, they were all mad and really didn't care. Well, care beyond using it as ammo in the playful game of "You insult, I insult" that was as close to close conversation we ever came.
 
Frankly drink being what it was I'm pretty sure it was a sub-par kiss. With much slobbering and whatnot. Never the less, his face practically glowed with glee when we broke apart. He had a hand on my knee.
"Get your coat. You've pulled" I quipped. I was a teenager, of course I talked shite, come on!
"Well," he said holding his drink thoughtfully, "What would we do?"
I told him I give great head. I know, I cringe too.
He grinned and finished his pint.
 
We took a cab back to his flat. It was on the grounds of the school he worked at; fortunately he had a key to the main gate. He stroked my hand in the car, but the Chinese are (or at least in Urumqi, were) not very cool about gays, so I asked him to wait.
We arrived in his flat shortly after. It was a nice place, bachelor pad. At least defiantly single man pad. There was more beer, and we sat down on the bed that doubled for a sofa in the small apartment. Drink and sexual appetite at the fore as ever, I took the lead, kissing him again and slipping his shirt off his shirt off his shoulders, staying close to his face as I undid the buttons. My head descended as my hands reached his waist line. He lent back into the ruffled blankets as I stroked the bulge in his trousers.
 
Phil stroked my back, running a hand under my t-shirt as I nuzzled his soft groin, fingers busy on the buttons. Suddenly there was a ping and a clink as one of his fly-buttons flew off the straining trousers and hit the far wall. He got embarrassed, his round, puppy face working as he stammered something like an apology, it had been his ample belly that had put the strain on the flies. In what I am ashamed to say was in those days what I thought a rare display of smoothness I made a comment about the size of his cock. Something like ‘goodness, you’re so hard it’s bursting out’, only funnier. He smiled, self-consciously as the now slack trousers allowed me to cup his still only semi-erect penis.
 
I don’t remember much about its texture or appearance. I rarely do to be honest; I get very caught up in sex, possibly because it doesn’t happen very often. I tend to recall feelings or quick stills of images. Never the less, passing time and nostalgia have allowed me to more or less fully reconstruct this particular event. I hope. Anyway, I bent down to it eagerly. It was a good size, I remember that because even then only half-hard it filled my mouth and slid a little way into my throat as I pressed my head down, one hand cupping his balls, the other working the trousers and pants down his leg.
 
The thing responded quickly under my ministrations. I usually suck the head while working the shaft, then go deep while doing some ball rubbing, some slow, long sucks then rinse and repeat. That works more or less like a charm, especially on men who aren’t entirely sure what to expect from me. He held my head while I swallowed his cock, putting just that little touch of pressure on it as I descended.
 
Before long he grew impatient. “Let’s see what you have,” I’m sorry to say, “Under the hood.” were his exact words. Not that I minded, I was running on pure horny by this point. So I stood up, taking position in front of him, his bare legs and hard cock pointing at me, and slipped my shirt off. Then I dropped my comfy, baggy jeans to the floor. I habitually go ‘commando’, even in the winter. The reason for this is quite personal, even given the contents of this story, so I won’t go into that now. I had gotten a little hard, as he pressed my head down and his cock into my throat. I’m a skinny guy, but back then I was a scrawny kid. 18, but not really bloke-shaped yet, I was more or less hairless apart from legs and groin. Not very muscle-y, mostly just thin, I was not a picture of masculinity. I did however speak to that little part of the male libido that likes young skin and a petite frame. Not always a bonus, but I always took the rough with the smooth.
 
He stared at me, his hand now stroking his hard-on, a look that I’d like to think was wonderment on his face, though of course it was probably just drunken lust. It didn’t bother me then, and it still doesn’t. After a moment he lent forward, pressing his lips against my chest, his free hand wrapped around my waist. I rested a hand on his shaved head, stepping in slightly to present myself more insistently. He worked his way down, tracing the contours of my abdomen with his lips, tongue and cheeks, his hand on my hip cupped and caressed my buttocks. By the time he reached my own cock I was getting hard, his grouping hand had into my crack, to tease my ass. His broad, rough finger pressed and worked over and against my puckered hole, making my legs tingle and the blood in by cock throb with force.
I’ve never been one for receiving oral. I’m not claiming I don’t enjoy it that would be ridiculous; it’s just not a thing for me. For that reason I’m not very inclined to wax lyrical about how he sucked me. Honestly I was more interested in the continued probing of my ass. While he sucked the tip of his wide middle finger pressed inside me. I moaned, my legs giving ever so slightly to sink my weight onto his hand. As his finger went deeper my cock stiffened, and my ass contracted. My torso cured up and I lay my face on his head, the breaths coming raggedly as he wriggled and worked a second finger into my clenching hole. Just by the by, even at that early age I had trained my ass for easy penetration; it’s all about muscle control really.
 
Anyway the continued, the pressure and friction grinding against my anus, making it burn and send tingles up my spine. It was driving me wild; my legs were visibly shaking and I gasped every time the pair of heavy finger buried themselves to the knuckle, and worked around inside. I couldn’t take it anymore; I cupped Phil’s head in my hands, drawing his face up towards mine, making him let my flaring cock slide from his mouth as I moved.
“Fuck me.” I told him. I’m good at imploring.
 
Well, he didn’t need me to draw him a map. Well, actually he very nearly did. First I told him we’d need lube. There was some faffing around trying to find some; I admit I shrank a little during the search, as did he. We finally found something that would do, and we found our way back to the bed. He was almost wilting when we sat down, him holding the lube almost confused. I smiled at him and reached for the lube with one hand and his cock with the other. It perked up a little as I massaged it, deftly opening the tub one handed. Keeping my hand wrapped round his shaft I rolled over onto my knees. He was sitting slightly off to one side, but could still get a good view of me as I applied the lube to my exposed ass. I reached up/down, depending on if you’re looking at it from my perspective or not, between my legs with a few fingers liberally covered in the makeshift lubricant. I smeared it on around my hole, letting it cover the area and gently working around the rim and insides of myself.
 
Honestly I’m a little embarrassed to be going on at such length about my own ass… Should I just cut to the chase? Fair enough so.
 
I’d worked a good deal of the stuff around by the time the sight and my ministrations got him up to full sail again. He was drunk, I hasten to remember. At which point I lead him round to the rear, my rear even, and wiggled and grinded my ass against his crotch, spreading the lube around. I let go of him then, when his hands took hold of my waist. The hardness in his cock kept it pointing at me and I arched my back to present a bigger target. He ground his hips forward, rubbing his head over me. I moaned and wiggled some more. His hands held tighter as his cock caught on my slippery but slightly open hole. He wedged himself against it, pressing down hard. I relaxed and it slithered in. The first movement planted his head inside me. It throbbed and stretched out my insides in a way that made me yelp in sudden pleasure. He pushed again, driving the next inch in. Then again, and again. Slowly, raggedly he buried his not insubstantial length in me. I moaned and cried and writhed and did all the things one does when getting fucked. There are noises that go with fucking, and there are noises that go with being fucked. Seriously, have a go on the other bus and you’ll see what I mean.
 
When at last I felt his pubic hair on my cheeks, and felt the presence of his balls not far from mine, giving out waves of heat, he lent forward, his belly pressed against my lower back, driving him a little further in and is chest landed on my upper back, pinning my chest to the bed, my arms out to the sides at odd angles. Fully inside me now he at last started moving, he bucked his hips, which felt like he slid back a millimetre only to manage, against all physical laws, to get another centimetre deeper in on the way back. I would have cried out but his weight on my body made it come out as a breathy gasp. I dragged my ill-assorted arms back down to my legs and hooked them under my body. With one hand I took my own erection, with the other I stroked his balls gently, really only catching them as the jiggled back and forth as the started to thrust more vigorously.
 
I’m sorry to say he didn’t last long, which I recon is fair enough, since I think I’ve just about milked this ‘comedic recollection’ thing to its limit.
Which was exactly what MY ASS was doing to Phil’s cock at that moment! Boom! Back in the game.
He powered away, my ass opened out like a shirt sleeve by his ceaseless pummelling. Normally, when they get going long and hard I work my muscles to egg them on, but Phil was buried in me so deeply, and lying on me so heavily that I couldn’t move, let alone clench anything. I just had to lie there and take it. He did eventually straighten up, when he was getting close, so he could rocket in and out faster. He had both hands on my buttocks, dragging them back as he pushed forward. This would be when I’d start working things, but man my ass was ra-a-avaged by this point. I’d not put anything up there for… Oh, maybe six months, not since I’d been in China certainly…
 
I held on to his balls a little tighter, letting them ease through my fingers as they shot back and forth, my own member was raging. I had to stop touching it for fear of cumming too soon. When he went he collapsed forward again, squashing me flat and driving his cock all the way back inside as it pulsed and gushed and shot me full of cum. Pinned also between my flushed skin and the warm, soft sheets I cam too. Squirting a load into the tiny gap between bed and body. I rubbed his balls feverishly, teasing as much as I could from them. I’m not sorry to admit it, not here anyway, that I really love the cum. Really do. Not exactly fetish-y, though in all honesty my sexuality is probably best described as “what-the-hell-I’ll-give-it-a-go”. Anyway, I was on cloud nine as I felt him carnally pump me full of himself. There’s a whole thing, I’ll write it up one day…
 
He stopped gradually. His cock twitched as it shrank, I like to the very last drops were being sucked out of him by my body. Ok, I’ll stop. Nah, just kidding! When he finally did exit, as it were, it was accompanied by a slick of lube and cum that ran down my… What’s the name of that bit between the… Yeah you know what I mean. Anyway it ran down over my balls and I twitched, my cock I mean, and my ass suddenly contracted, squeezing out another little clot of fluid. Phil’s cock landed limply in my hand, soaked and hot, I held it gently, imagining steam pouring off it.
 
In the end he did not so much dismount as fall off. He rolled to one side end came to a rest on his back next to me. I took a few minutes to move, letting everything settle before I flexed any major muscles. I gingerly turned my head to look at him. He was panting a little and grinning so broadly that I wondered if I’d killed him. After a few moments he moved though, saying he needed a shower. I stayed where I was, the feeling of cum in one’s ass is a sensation deserving of being savoured. I lay there and felt the mass of it slowly move around my lower parts as bits returned to where they ought to be. I held a finger over my ravaged hole, it was still half lax, unable to tighten properly, and beads of cum were forming at the centre. I pressed in very gently, holding things in, cum goes cold so very quickly it’s never a nice thing to find a hidden pool of it somewhere in amongst the sheets, especially when in a post-coital cuddle.
 
Anyway, there I lay, holding Phil’s load inside me. Eventually he returned from the bathroom and I went through. Like I said, finding a pool of cold cum is very much a pet peeve of mine, I only like it hot, it seems. I let it go, and washed the dried stuff off my cock and chest. Ok, that was an oversight on my part, I can’t blame Phil for making me cum can I? Slightly cleaner, in body at least, I padded naked back to the bedroom where I found him already under the covers and waiting for me. I moved round the bed and occupied the other side, he stayed with his back to me and clearly expected me to be big spoon. I snuggled up to his back and had just closed my eyes when he wiggled his ass. Now, try to imagine clearly this situation. I, a skinny, still very much adolescent, and very quite drunk kid was trying, and failing, to big spoon a fully grown bloke with maybe two inches on my height and… Ooooh, one or two orders of magnitude my weight. Not that I’m calling him fat, I’m calling myself emaciated.
 
So that was us; he had wiggled his ass and my exhausted member couldn’t even cough. It just lay their all angry and red the way they go when they get worked over by something other than someone’s insides. I put an arm around him and whispered, well, I don’t really have the guts to say what I actually said. May I leave it with ‘something like “you’ve tired me out, big boy”?’ Really the important thing is what he said back;
“Aww, I was hoping to get fucked tonight.”
This time I actually managed suave;
“You have to turn it down in the first round, if you want to get a second one.”
He chuckled drowsily, and wiggled one last time, and I put a hand on his ass. Kneading it a little, tenderly, as the pair of us drifted off into a boozy sleep.
 
In the morning, I fucked his ass good.
 