Archive-name: Samesex/butt.txt Archive-author: Tripp Venderford Archive-title: 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. 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. --