Samesex/butt
                                  Tripp Venderford
                           In Search of Buried Butt-Holes 
                                  I confess: I am a closet voyeur.
                                       So what? you may ask.
           In an age when cocktail conversations among casual acquaintances often unveil 
               a not-so-secret predilection toward fist-fucking, and piss-drinking, 
                 a yearning to view naked men man seems terribly tame, perhaps old-
          fashioned. Granted, my confession may hardly warrant a single brow to raise. I 
            am not, however, your run-of-the-mill Peeping Tom. I am a minority within, 
          captive of an obsession within an obsession. For it is not simple the sight of 
          a hefty lovetool or a firm set of buns that sets my cock athrob. The source of 
            my most heated passion is far more specific. It is the sight of an exposed 
                            butt-hole that solicits my ultimate thrill.
               Now, bung-hole gazing is not a pastime that is presented with frequent
            opportunities. The typical gay voyeur may easily quench his lustful desires
              by sauntering into the shower room or the local gym or by purchasing any
                     number of erotic magazines. My task is far more difficult.
                I must patiently wait for the proverbial drop of the soap that may 
          cause the subject of my attention to stoop, and in doing so, spread his cheeks 
              to reveal a blossoming bud. And rare is the centerfold photographer who 
           positions his beefcake model is such a pose as to expose that alluring third 
                                                eye.
           Nestled betwixt the buttocks, the asshole bears the distinction of being the 
           unique structure of the male anatomy that does not readily display itself for 
          the world to behold. Indeed, the eighteenth century French novelist, Marquis de
              Sade, wrote that the butt-hole is the body's most private part. Herein, 
          perhaps, lies my intrigue with this exceptional gem. The history of my unusual 
          fixation is readily traced to my college days spent at a conser-vative southern
          university. Like all good southern gentlemen, I pledged a fraternity during my 
           freshman year. Quite naively, I endured an initiation that seethed of sexual 
          overtones. The eroticism or these sanctioned rites re-mained unrecognized until
            the following Spring Q that semester that I realized my carnal interest if 
                                       members of my own sex.
          At the beginning of the term, a half-dozen new pledges were invited to join our
          house. RHell WeekS began the following Friday evening, and I joined my brothers
          in the social room to witness the preliminary ceremony. One at a time, the new 
               recruits were summoned to the room and were told to stand before the 
           brotherhood. The constitution and bylaws of the fraternity were read aloud by 
          the chapter president. Emphasis was placed on the house's stride toward unity, 
          an ideal which precluded the harboring of any secrets from the brotherhood. As 
          a demonstration of our intentions to uphold these mandates, the pledge was then
                                 ordered to strip butt-bare naked.
          Ted Graves was the first to undergo this ritual. The tall blond youth began by 
           pulling the tight knit polo shirt over his head. Globe-like pectoral muscles 
              and straining biceps bore witness the the junior-varsity crew mem-ber's 
          athletic prowess. Topsiders kicked aside, the initiate dropped his khakis. And 
            with a good-natured laugh, this Adonis-like delight shucked down his white 
          jockey shorts. A rather spectacular appendage dangled be-tween the boy's beefy 
             thighs. His cock was incredibly long, thick at the base and tapering to a 
           pointed snout of overhanging foreskin. The pledge trainer stepped toward the 
                       bare-assed youth and surveyed the displayed equipment.
            "You're hiding something from the brotherhood!" he barked. "Let's see that 
                        cockhead you've got stashed behind those curtains!"
             Ted chuckled and obediently peeled back his foreskin. A glistening, plumb-
                         colored knob poked from the dong's fleshy sheath.
                  "That's better!" the pledge trainer smirked. "Now turn around!"
          A minute of awkward silence followed as the initiate stood with his back to the
                                             audience.
          "You're slow to catch on, aren't you, Pledge?" the pledge trainer's harsh voice
           shattered the quiet. "We mean to inspect every damned inch of your worthless 
             body! Bend over and spread your cheeks! We wanna see where the sun don't 
                                              shine."
            Ted hesitated, then dutifully bent over. His large tanned hands grasped the 
                lily-white crescents which parted to reveal a pink, puckering chute.
           "Give us a wink!" one of the brothers yelled from the audience. At that, the 
             assembly broke into a cacophony of jeering laughter and taunting catcalls.
          "That's enough!" the pledge trainer finally hushed the uproar. "Now cover your 
            sorry ass and take a seat 'til you're called for," he instructed the pledge.
              Ted forced an embarrassed grin as he stepped back into his trousers. I 
             consequently, shot an uncontrollable wad into my shorts. This blatant dis-
             play of the Adonis' most secret parts had excited me beyond belief.

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 To be 
              certain, I did delight in seeing this handsome stud's nude body in its 
          entire-ty. Gazing at the naked male-flesh, however, was nothing novel to me. I 
           had certainly viewed plenty of naked cocks and asses parading through locker 
            rooms and dormitory gang showers. But a fully agape asshole flaunted within 
             inches of my face! That was truly a marvel to behold. I waited with bated 
           breath as the remaining pledges were forced to strip and, ultimately, expose 
          the voluptuous morsel that hid between their flanks. The pledges' re-action to 
          this ritual was almost (but not quite) as interesting as the spectacle itself. 
          While most of all of the initiates took great pride in showing off their family
             jewels, each of them showed some shock or humiliation upon uncovering his 
                                          buried treasure.
            It was not until the Fall semester of my se-nior year that I encoun-tered a 
             brother who delighted in displaying his shit-chute. Mark had pledged the 
          fraternity the previous year and had proven to be quite and exhibition-ist. The
           raven-haired youth frequently strutted about the house in the raw, boasting a 
           smooth, lithe frame carved by swim-team practice, and bran-dishing an awesome 
            dagger that jutted from his groin. Like many swim-mers, Mark kept his body 
            (including his crotch) cleanly shavenQsupposedly to better his time scores. 
            Stripped of both clothes and body hair, the swim-mer was truly as naked as 
            naked can be. I was busy working on a term paper late one evening when Mark 
          stopped by my room. He was wearing only a tight pair of jeans, which was a lot 
                for him. He spotted the beer on my desk and asked if I had another.
          "Sure," I replied as I pulled one out of my small room refrigerator and popped 
                                              the tab.
            We sat and talked mostly idle chit-chat. After about three beers, Mark was 
              feeling his oats. He began to giggle, then broke out in uncontrollable 
                                             laughter.
                                    "What's so funny?" I asked.
                              "Nothing," the boy continued to bellow.
           "Come on," I prodded. "There must be something hysterically funny for you to 
                                          laugh so hard."
          Mark clutched his sides as he heaved from laughter. "Ever see a bald clam?" he 
                                        managed to eke out.
                                "Can't say that I have," I chuckled.
           "Now you have!" and with that the handsome youth dropped his jeans and hiked 
                his leg. A cleanly shaven, perfect blossom unfolded before my eyes.
                                  "Kind of wild, huh?" he laughed.
                    My dallywhacker rose to attention as I nodded in agreement.
              "It's so soft and smooth down there. It's almost like never wearing any 
                  underwear," Mark fingered the rosy spot. "Feel it!" he offered.
           I couldn't resist. Nervously, I guided my finger to the forbidden fruit. Its 
            pouting lips quivered at my touch. I watched the puckering slit unfurl and 
                       nibble at my finger as I continued my steady strokes.
            "Rosy has a life of her own, just like Peter," Mark laughed as he took his 
                                      rock-hard cock in hand.
                            "I bet I can make Rosy dance," I challenged.
                                      "How's that?" he asked.
                 "Spread your legs a little wider, and I'll show you," I retorted.
                Mark straddled my desk and propped his tiny butt into the air. Glut-
           tonously, I skirted my tongue across the tasty delicacy and began lapping the 
            swimmer's crevice. Mark's manpussy tasted moist and sweet. Its musky aroma 
           perfumed my breath. Tender folds of flesh trembled beneath my tongue-lashing. 
            The satin-like doorway stood agape, beckoning my entrance. I hit the bull's 
           eye. Unfastening my pants, I pulled out my own dick and began beating my meat 
                                            as I tongue-
          fucked Mark's hungry tunnel. My fra-ternity brother, was moaning with pleasure.
            Each thrust of my tongue sent him squirming tortuously. He reached back and 
                                 pulled his buns even wider apart.
                      "Now! Now, stick your cock in me!" he squealed hoarsely.
             I needed no second invitation. I pressed the head of my dick to his spit-
           slicked anus. With very slight pressure, it opened and I sled all the way in.
                      "Fuck me! I want your man-seed deep in me!" he screamed.
           I also was now wild with passion. I humped him with all abandon. I nestled my 
           face between his shoulders and reached around and grasped his hot pecker. It 
           was slimy with pre-cum. I could feel the tension building in my balls. It was 
           rising up like a wave, up into my dick. Then it happened. I almost felt faint 
            as my cum spewed forth into him. His butt seemed to come alive. His velvety 
          rectum clamped down on my now super sensitive penis and convulsed as he blasted
                                     his own load into my hand.
          We collapsed onto the floor breathing heavily. We just lay in each other's arms
                                         for a long while.
                                  Thus began a new era in my life.
                             to More Bi-Sexual Sex Stories 
                                                  

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