All Male Fiction: Car Wash Blows

By: Peter Puller

 

 

 

I was taking my El Dorado to the car wash, the one where the buffing is still done with a personal touch.

As a middle-aged man, married CEI, I realized that watching men in tight 501s and torn t-shirts was about as close as I was going to get to any of them.

Even though it was all the way across town, I loved this particular car wash the best, because of Julio. He was a new kid, just barely eighteen. I noticed him the first time about a month ago. And since that time I've had the cleanest Caddy in the state.

Julio must have noticed me too because he always managed to work it so he got my car. My favorite part was when he'd fly that little rag up in the air - signaling he was done - and I'd trot over and slip a fiver into his sweaty, callused palm, lingering for just a minute longer than I should.

I took my car in last week, the second time in three days, and, as usual, Julio was standing at the entrance with the vacuum hose. I pulled my car up to the white line and got out so he could vacuum the inside, front, and back. Then I got back in and pulled around the corner to the entrance of the wash. I rolled up the windows and retracted the antenna just as my front tires caught the mechanical tracks that would pull my car through the soap and suds.

Just as the first brush hit the roof of my car, Julio ran over and jumped in next to me, slamming the door behind him. He didn't speak any English, but I could see in his eyes why he'd come. According to my calculations, we had only about two minutes to get down to it. And we wasted no time.

All Male Fiction: Bob and the Lacrosse Team (Part 2)

By: amtibbs

 

 

Note: This chapter contains bisexual sex, however, being that the main theme of this multi-part story is all-male, I have listed this as such to keep all parts in the same category.

 

Read Part 1 

 

Spring was a tricky time for Bob. Many sports schedules overlapped, and the soccer and lacrosse teams shared the same locker room. Between practice times and games the locker room was very busy. Some days the ventilation system couldn't keep up and the smell of ripe athletes permeated the room. Bob scheduled his classes so he could work the locker room on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He'd also worked either Saturday or Sunday or both if really needed.

Bob liked the lacrosse team and the lacrosse team liked Bob. They were a bunch of fun-loving guys. Bob still likes to refer to them as the "Double-A J's" (All-American Jocks). Even when faced with do-or-die situations they managed to stay loose.

The lacrosse team players were not shy dudes in the locker room. They would come in early before a game and strip naked or pull on just a jockstrap and sit around and bullshit and share the latest music they'd discovered and talk about the girls they'd fucked. They'd grab and hold or push and shove each other around with a surprising amount of body contact for hetero guys. As the season progressed there would be more and more flashes from cameras as some of the players took photos to document the experience, or perhaps, if I was a cynic, for blackmail at a later date.

The players, or at least most of them, didn't seem to mind being photographed naked. Bob thought that it actually emboldened them to behave sillier. After all, they could brush it off as just acting for the camera. A number of times guys would bring in sets of photos and pass them around the locker room and the team would gather and laugh and razz their teammates shown in each photo.

More than once, some of these photos were left behind in the locker room - photos that could cause problems for the lacrosse players, photos that Bob carefully picked up and kept safe. After all, unlike the soccer team, who as Bob felt, got what they deserved, he liked these guys, thought of them as his friends, and would never let those photos be seen all over the Internet.

Never during the season did Bob let the team's actions in the locker room come back to embarrass them, and they knew it. They liked Bob. Sure they'd mess up the locker room when upset or raging, but they knew they caused extra work for Bob – and they tried to make up for it. They invited Bob to a number of their off-campus private parties during the season. We've all heard about the Duke Lacrosse team and their infamous party and that was mild compared to Bob's stories.

The lacrosse team parties were always wild with the music loud, the alcohol flowing and the women very, very hot and loose. It was at one of those parties that Bob's eyes were opened to possibilities he had not imagined.

The party that night was held at a house rented by four of the lacrosse team players. It was a four-bedroom house so each guy could have his own room. The party was winding down and the girl that Bob had hoped to take home that night had disappeared. Bob thought she might have gone to the bathroom and headed off in that direction.

 

As he approached, the bathroom door opened and Nick, a midfielder on the team, walked out wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. Bob rated Nick in the top third of the team in terms of looks. He was 6'2", lean and muscular. Bob's most vivid memory was that he had a naturally smooth body with a light brown happy trail that led to an above-average size cock and low hanging nuts.

When Nick saw Bob, he said, "Bob! I need your help! Get in here." The somewhat inebriated Nick didn't give him time to move and grabbed, then pushed the smaller Bob through his slightly ajar bedroom door.

Bisexual Fiction: All Tied Up

By: Abberation & Ryan Michaels

 

 

 

"Time for a little fun," she said with a clever smile. Pulling a pair of leather cuffs out from the bottom dresser drawer, she turned, looked at me appraisingly, as if to say, "Are you ready."

It had been a long time since they had come out. It had always been her wearing them, but I wasn't too into it, so they just never really got used again. Now it seemed that it was going to be my turn.

I smiled back, wondering where this was going, but ready for a change from our normal routine. I slid back against the black steel bars of our headboard, holding my hands against it.

She quickly straddled me, buckling the cuffs tightly and clipping them to the headboard above my head. The buckles were tighter than I ever put them on her. I was pretty trapped. I got a bit of a chill, but it was followed by a strange quiver in my stomach, and I could feel my cock quickly hardening.

Her smile was even larger as she began to kiss my stomach, leading down to my jeans. Reaching up, she slid her hands under my shirt and ran her nails down my side, bringing them all the way down to the button on my pants, opening it and pulling down the zipper in one smooth movement. Grabbing them by my hips, she pulled my jeans and boxers off at the same time, dragging them across my hard cock, letting it flip out like a spring.

Finally, after they were all the way off, she walked across the room, dropping them carelessly on the floor, and opened a drawer on her dresser. Reaching in, she pulled out two long cotton scarves and slowly turned around; her appraising looks suddenly a bit more serious.

The feeling of being tied down kept that quiver of excitement running through me. This was completely new. I hadn't seen her like this before. Reaching across the footboard, she softly touched my right ankle. I extended it out for her, offering it with a smile. She tied it pretty tight, a bit more than I expected, but not enough to hurt. She tied the other just as tight. Pulling them even tighter against the corners of the footboard, I was left spread-eagle on the bed, tightly tied. I could hardly struggle. As she stripped off her clothes, doing a bit of a striptease, I waited in anticipation.

Crawling up on the bed, she reached for my cock, holding it tight as she kissed and licked my waist and inner thighs. Slowly, she brought her tongue up the side of my cock and then, in one smooth motion, engulfed it, bringing her lips all the way to the base, the head flowing right past the back of her mouth and all the way down her throat. Grabbing my balls with one hand and supporting herself with her other, her head bobbed up and down on my cock. Faster and faster, stroking with her fist, running her hand under my balls and stroking up and down my inner cheeks, pulling her face to the base of my cock, slamming her lips to my body.

I slammed back, trying to keep up, until I felt myself ready to cum, and then I pulled back. I told her to stop, that I couldn't hold back any longer and didn't want to cum yet. But she didn't stop. Instead she sucked faster, harder, my cock passing into her throat over and over, until I convulsed, and then came, jerking in my restraints as she continued to suck it hard as she swallowed it all down.

Slowly, she allowed my cock to slide out of her mouth, falling off of her extended tongue. I felt both wonderfully good and quite guilty; all of this preparation and she didn't even get my cock in her. Then again, it isn't my fault she couldn't stop sucking my cock like that, I thought as I leaned back and shut my eyes, my cock falling to the side, shrinking back to its normal size as I drifted into an exhausted, post orgasmic sleep.

I had no idea how long I'd been asleep when I awoke to the feel of a mouth on my cock. I smiled, not opening my eyes. I soon felt kisses on my neck, but the blowjob didn't stop. My gut did a quick flip as I opened my eyes, startled. My wife was kissing my neck, blocking my view. Who the hell was sucking my cock?

She pulled back, a huge grin on her face, and moved to show me. It was her best friend, Lisa, naked, slowly sucking up and down my cock. Fuck! That was a hell of a surprise. She was so hot it was just crazy. My semi-hard cock got a sudden burst of energy. My wife leaned over and dangled her tit over my mouth. I sucked furiously, bucking my hips into Lisa's mouth.

Pulling her tit from my sucking mouth, my wife rolled over onto the side of the bed and slid under Lisa's chest, pulled her tits down to her, sucking like crazy. That was a first! She then reached between her legs and began kneading her mound at the same time. Lisa lifted one knee onto the bed, the other foot on the floor, and I watched as my wife slid a finger into her, then two. Lisa began to fuck her fingers, sucking and fucking. I struggled, arching my back as I took in the sexual fantasy, wishing I could feel Lisa's tits, wishing I had a better view.

What seemed only a moment later, my wife suddenly got off the bed and went into the en suite, Lisa continuing to suck my cock.

My eyes shifted to my wife as she re-entered the room. I couldn't believe my eyes! She was wearing a strap-on. I got worried for a second, until I saw her climb on the bed behind Lisa, then my worries were gone, replaced by pure sexual excitement as my wife positioned the artificial cock at Lisa's pussy.

Lisa shifted back, not stopping her blowjob, pushing the dildo into her. My wife leaned forward, put her hands on Lisa's hips, and began thrusting the dildo into her with... with a practiced deftness. This wasn't a first. This wasn't new. Oh god, I was so fucking turned on!

My wrists were straining against the cuffs, desperately wanting to touch my wife, touch Lisa, when Lisa suddenly pulled of my cock and, pressing both hands against the bed, pushed against my wife as she pounded against her, both moaning like animals.

Pulling apart, Lisa swung her legs over me, dropping herself directly onto my cock. Oh my god she was soaking wet! Her pussy was like a pool of hot liquid, squeezing me, pulsing with her convulsions and thrusts. My wife pulled herself up onto me as well, straddling me, her back to Lisa, the dildo wavering ominously in front of me, slapping against my chest as Lisa bounced up and down on me.

Lisa reached her hands around my wife and grabbed her tits, kneading them, pinging and twisting her nipples, my wife's cunt oozing across my chest. Lisa leaned farther and farther forward, pushing my wife forward as well, the dildo sliding up, too, now pressing itself against my neck. I struggled at my bonds as their slamming rhythm gyrated on top of me.

My wife reached forward, grabbing the headboard, the dildo now hitting my cheek, my eyes looking down on it apprehensively. Somehow it was turning me on. This dildo, sliding against me, the wet coating from Lisa's pussy coating my face.

My wife looked down at me, "Suck it."

I paused, barely being able to keep up with Lisa.

"Suck it!" she repeated more sternly and reached down and pressed the cock against my lips.

It was hot, soft, wet. I opened my mouth and let it slide on my tongue, the taste of pussy overwhelming.

She pressed it in and out of my mouth. It was so real. I knew it was just rubber, but I could feel the veins, the head, the heat, the firm softness as she pushed harder.

My eyes were tearing as it hit the back of my throat. I gagged, but she kept pushing. "Swallow it! Swallow that cock!"

I don't know how, but I managed to start to swallow. She pushed it right down my throat. I gagged again, but no sound came out. The cock was filling my throat. She pulled back, but pressed it right back in. Over and over. My eyes were tearing so much I couldn't see. The gagging had stopped. I began to push into it. I began to suck, pounding right back.

She pulled back. "Did you like that? Did you like sucking cock?"

I stared up, my eyes streaming, unfocused, "Y-yes."

"Say it, tell me what you like," she said firmly.

"I-I like it..."

She reached down, grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head off the headboard. "SAY IT! Say, 'I like to suck COCK.'"

"I like it! I liked sucking cock," I stammered.

My wife then sidled back, and moved down to the end of the bed and began to untie my leg bonds.

"Oh god, I'm getting close!" I moaned, and Lisa immediately climbed off my cock. I figured she didn't want me to cum inside her and expected she would finish me off with her mouth, or maybe her hand, but she did neither. Instead she just lay back and started playing with her pussy.

With my legs free, my wife moved between them and lifted one in the air, and then leaned forward and pressed the head of that strap-on against my ass.

Holy shit... no, that wasn't gonna happen!

All Male Fiction: The Work Boots

By: Tommyhawk1

 

 

I was glad when my next-door neighbors moved out. Noisy, drunken, abusive, and screaming at each other every Saturday night at 2am. (Sunday morning, that is).

The apartment was vacant for a month, and then suddenly it was occupied. I knew this when I walked by and saw that the windows, which had been shut with blinds closed, now stood with blinds open and things piled inside. Our two apartments shared an alcove and our doors faced each other. As I walked by, I craned my neck to look in the window when I nearly tripped over a pair of work boots.

My new neighbor had left his work boots on the mat at his front door. Large, round-toed, size-13 work boots, dark brown, badly scuffed, with a yellow rectangle that said "Caterpillar" on their outsides at the tops. I lurched, caught myself, put them back into their original side-by-side position, and went into my apartment. At the time I saw those boots, I was mostly annoyed. The alcove was small enough, and now I was in constant danger of tripping over his work boots. But they were gone in the morning when I got up to go to work, and so I figured I could live with it.

For days my neighbor was an enigma to me. I knew nothing about him besides the fact that he wore work boots to work. I could look out my window beside the door right into the window of his apartment (the usual scatter-brained design of such cheap buildings) but for the fact that the drawn blinds stayed drawn. I saw nothing of him other than an occasional shadow against the blinds at night; not that I was especially looking back then, mind you.

But the weather grew warmer rapidly, and the apartments had no air-conditioning. I knew he would eventually be forced to do what I had done, open the blinds and the window. First during the day only, but in the heat of July and August, you had to leave every window open at night or roast inside your own apartment.

It happened, first the window was opened, then after a few days of that, the blinds went up and I could, at night with both our lights on, see him just fine - god, it was the really hot guy that I had seen at the pool a couple of times. I thought he lived up on the second floor. I could see the shapeless masses that were his furniture, some sort of mattress, a beanbag chair, and a television set seeming to be his only possessions; my own weren't much more than that.

I had seen him at the pool, hair glistening from the recent dip, and him lying on the patio chair, his black hair lying neatly in place, his well-defined chest formed of his strong pecs, ovals topped by two off-centered brown nipples, then the lines of his abs down to his narrow waist, and the nice package that formed below. His legs were nicely shaped without bulging, with widened areas showing the muscles. His toes were...

"Like what you see, faggot?" was his sardonic comment when he spotted me looking at him. I turned and walked away, muttering, "jerk" under my breath, and after that, when he was at the pool, I stayed indoors, and vice versa.

Shit, now the guy was right next door to me. I thought about it and snapped off the lights in my apartment. If I hadn't known he was next door to me, odds were he didn't know the same about me. Hidden in the darkness of my apartment, I stood and watched him.

He was in that beanbag chair - I suppose it was - he had a Western-style throw over it, making it an undefined mass, but it let him slouch low and watch his television. I couldn't see all of him, but I saw he was bare above the waist, and that he was watching television, which was his only light source. It was spewing that off-brown color all over him in rippling movements that made it clear he was watching porn of some kind. His arms were down in such a way that I wondered if he was playing with himself! I leaned forward, but I couldn't tell; it seemed like it. Would he do that, whack off with the blinds open?

I thought about it and stealthily opened my door and went over to peek inside. Just a quick look to tell me if he was whacking off or not, and I would dart back inside before I could be spotted.

That was my plan, anyway. I tripped over those damned work boots of his again and darned near fell down. I cursed under my breath and went back indoors, and back to my window again. His arm was moving kind of funny. If only I could see just a little lower down. I got my old steamer trunk I had picked up at a garage sale and pulled it over to the window and got up on that; I could see.

Yes, he was whacking it! God, that hard cock of his was a monster! He was making long strokes up and down that shaft, which must have easily been ten inches! Watching the screen, whacking his meat, wearing only a pair of black baggy shorts that he had lowered to mid-thigh, stretched out, his window absent of its coverings, feeling secure enough to whack off like that, he was watching and he was stroking.

I reached into my own shorts and pulled out my dick and pumped it, intending to shoot when he did, if I could. But I had no more than gotten it out when, without any sort of movement from him, no thrashing or groaning I could spot, he suddenly shot his wad onto his stomach. It took me a moment to even spot the quick small jets as they arced over. And he was done and wiping his stomach with a corner of that Western-style throw. I wondered if it was thick and stiff with his loads; it seemed to be. He finished cleaning off, turned off the television with the remote, and was in darkness. Show over!

But I was left with a hard-on and nothing but a few brief memories. Damn, if those work boots hadn't been out there I would have gotten a good look at him! Those fucking boots had ruined my fun... or had they?

I pulled up my shorts over my hard dick and opened the door. They were out there, alright. I grabbed the right one and took it back to my place.

He must use the outdoors to air them out because they were pretty funky-smelling. I got a whiff of it - which was partly old leather but a lot of male sweat - and grinned evilly. Call me a faggot just for looking, who the fuck did he think he was? I'd show him, even if I hoped he'd never catch on.

I pumped my cock, turned on by the brief glimpses of the worked-out, big-dicked stud and the thought of what I was going to do to him. Turned on by the furtiveness, too, I got to the edge pretty quickly and I grabbed that boot in my free hand and I pumped my wad right inside that grungy work boot. Thick clumps of my jizz made it inside, along with a couple that only hit the outside of it, but when I caught my breath and looked, I had plenty of it inside there like I wanted, clustered around the heel.

I lifted it up and let the sperm flow down into the toe, and it did, like syrup, a clump on the outside falling in a splat on my floor. Then I carefully opened the door and set it back beside its mate. The sperm would dry before morning, and my nasty, hunky neighbor would go to work while walking on my dried cum. And he'd never even know it! Revenge is sweeter (and safer) when you take it anonymously.

But I decided the next day after I was sure he hadn't suspected a thing, that one load of jizz wasn't enough. I needed to put another load in that boot's mate. That would be it - he would know before much longer who his neighbor was and any suspicion about the stains in or on his boots would be a dead giveaway. Safety lay in knowing when to stop. A load in his other work boot and I would stop entirely.

I was confirmed in this decision when I arrived home from work that evening to see him just getting home as well, taking off his boots by his front door. He gave me a look – more of a snarl actually - as if he was wondering what the hell I was doing there, and then I heard the word "Shit!" and his door slam as he watched me enter my apartment. I peered through my window and saw the blinds had been drawn and the window closed.

I had never heard him go out in the evenings, not during the week anyway, so I decided to go ahead and get the rest of my revenge for his one-word insult at the pool, and put an end to it. I waited until it got dark and then I stepped out and grabbed his work boot, making sure this time I grabbed the left one and darted back inside.

This time, it was harder for me, without the stimulation of the recent sights and the lesser fear of danger. I beat my meat for a good long time before I managed to get off. Only the realization that if my neighbor noticed his boot was missing I'd be stuck with it and have to toss it someplace discreetly, gave me the impetus I needed to finish the job. This time I held the boot up to my crotch and shot the entire wad right inside it. I got a few globs on the inside of the tongue, but the rest spewed inside. I think I coated its insides thoroughly, from the drainage of the last slow spurts onto the tongue where it oozed down inside.

I was done and slipped the work boot back outside, leaving my own door open. No more reason to hide, my neighbor knew I was here.

His door opened about five minutes later and my heart jumped. He grabbed his work boots and I saw to my horror that he was about to put them on, bare-footed! Some quick trip to the store or something, I guessed. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Leather tends to soak stuff up in a hurry. Maybe...

"Ah, god damn it!" my neighbor yelled. "Shit! What is that? God damn!"

I settled myself in my chair and grabbed a book. He muttered some more and then I heard him walk over to my door - clomp, pat, clomp, pat, clomp, pat. One foot shod, one foot bare.

I looked up with what I hoped was innocence, seeing him standing there red-faced and angry, wearing those black shorts and a red pullover, wielding the left work boot.

"What the fuck did you do to my boot?" he demanded.

Straight Fiction: The Wrestling Match

By: Unknown Author

 

 

 

"What a joke," Dean yelled derisively at the screen. "If he was trying he'd kick her fuckin' ass!"

"Oh really, Mr. Smarty Pants," Shelby snapped. "I'll bet she could whip your wimpy ass any day of the week!"

"Give me a break, Shel," he replied while rolling his eyes. "I don't care how bulked up she is, no female wrestling freak could beat me up!"

Shelby and Dean had been going together for about six months now, and while she was a workout-aholic, he was much more the couch potato of the two, so watching pro wrestling on television was about as much exercise as he normally got, but he was convinced that he could whip any woman in a wrestling match and nothing Shelby said could change his mind.

While Shelby normally didn't let much get under her skin, Dean's constant needling about the lack of prowess of the female of the species was starting to nag at her, and in a fit of anger she spat, "I'll bet I could pin your butt, big mouth. The heaviest thing you can curl is a can of beer!"

"You're serious, aren't you?" he replied incredulously.

"Damn right I am!" she shot back quickly. "Are you afraid of me?"

"You gotta be kidding," he said with a laugh. "Shel, you wouldn't have a prayer!"

"You are afraid, aren't you?" she replied. "I can tell, you're a fraidy cat!"

"Let it go, Shel," he said irritably, "I'm not in the mood."

"Dean is a fraidy cat! Dean is a fraidy cat!" she sang teasingly.

"You know what," he said evenly, "you're asking for it, babe!"

"Ohhhhhhh noooooooo," she replied in a mocking tone, "I'm soooooooooooo scared. Please kind sir, don't hurt little ole' me, I'm just a woman!"

"You really want some of this?" he asked while flexing his bicep muscle to impress her.

She was about to make another wise crack at him, but seeing him flexing his pitiful arm muscle made her burst out with a laugh that left no doubt what she thought of him.

"Okay, baby," he snapped while hopping out of his easy chair, "that's it, let's get it on!"

Both protagonists helped in sliding the sofa, chairs, and end table to the edge of the carpeting, leaving a large matt like surface suitable for their battle.

"This is gonna hurt me more than it is you," Dean said with a little smirk before finishing off his beer with one long swig.

"In your dreams," she replied evenly while pulling off her jeans and t-shirt, leaving her in just her bra and panties.

"Why are you taking off your clothes?" he asked warily.

"Ha, if you think I'm gonna let you grab a handful of clothing, you're nuts. Now get ready to get your ass whipped, jerko!"

That did it. She knew exactly how much he hated it when she called him jerko, so in a fit of temper he raced across the carpet at her, diving for her ankles.

All Male Fiction: The Butthole Patrol

By: Ben G.

 

 

My buddies Mac and Jerry got started on this little kick as a lark one Saturday night after we'd had a few beers. We were feeling pretty raunchy, so when the driver of a little red sports car cut us off on the highway just out of town, we punched the pedal to the metal and took off after him, figuring on passing out a little vigilante justice on lousy drivers.

We chased the fucker for about ten miles before we finally cut him off on a curve and forced him into a freshly plowed field. Jerry cut off the engine and the three of us jumped out of the pickup and ambled over to the car. The driver was sitting behind the wheel, cussing a blue streak when we got there, glowering at us like he'd just as soon shoot us as look at us.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he shrieked, pounding on the steering wheel in a fury. "You could've killed me!"

"Well," Jerry drawled, leaning on the top of the car, "me and my buddies was thinking pretty much the same thing when you cut us off back there on the highway. We don't like havin' to pick our teeth out of the dashboard any better'n you do."

"When I get back to town, I'm going to have you goddamned pricks arrested!" the guy blustered, the veins in his forehead swelling up like little cables. "I don't need some ignorant rednecks telling me how to drive my car!"

"I figure you need somebody to teach you some manners," I said, opening the guy's door and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you just step out here and we'll continue this conversation."

"Fuck you!" he snapped.

I tightened my grip on him and jerked him out of the car. He came up to about my shoulder and he was a cute little piece, even if he was steaming mad. He was wearing stylish slacks that showed off his narrow waist and bubble butt, and a pullover shirt that clung to his tight torso like wet paint. The little fucker hauled off and pasted me one in the gut while I was looking him over. I just grunted and shook him 'till his teeth rattled.

"This one really needs to be taken down a peg or two," Mac opined, shaking his head and spitting at the dude's feet. "When I cut up like this as a kid, I always got my ass whipped by my old man."

"Not a bad idea," Jerry seconded. "From what I can see, there's a pretty nice target for us to aim at." He reached out and grabbed a handful of the dude's tight ass, making him squirm in my grip. "Real nice."

"Let's take him over there in the woods and teach him a little lesson," Mac said. "Come on, boys. Let's go."

Straight Fiction: 53 Days

By: Tom Allen

 

 

 

"So, how many days has it been, now?"

"Fifty-three days so far," I answered. She had one leg over my shoulder, and I planted several small kisses along her warm thigh, my other hand idly caressing her belly and waist.

I felt her hesitation.

"I, uh, have some bad news," she said after pausing for a few seconds. "I have to go to Kansas again."

"Oh, dammit! Don't even tell me…"

"Yeah, it's going to be late next week," she replied, almost sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I just didn't have any control over when Marketing was going to ask for new staff training."

I knew that there was nobody else available to go, but I was still disappointed. "You know, you promised only sixty days this time," I said reproachfully, hoping to rub in a little guilt. "By the time the weekend rolls around it's going to be sixty-four days."

"Oh, come on," she replied, "That's only five percent extra. After two whole months, what's another half a week?"

"Yeah, well, I don't see you not cumming for two months. Let's see how you'd react if I told you you'd have to go for four days, let alone sixty-four."

She disentangled herself to get off of the bed and padded toward the bathroom. "Maybe I could mail you the key at the beginning of the week."

I snorted. "Yeah, right, and have it get lost like that other time? No thanks."

The sound of water tinkled around the door. "Hey, maybe you could leave it with somebody," I called out. "Preferably somebody cute, kinky, or both."

"You son of a bitch," she sputtered, "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Walking back into the room she threw a towel at me. "I think you're missing the point of having your cock locked up."

"Yeah, somebody cute and kinky," I mused aloud. "How about that cute blonde that works with you? You know, with the big rack. What's her name? Chris?"

I didn't hear my wife's answer because she was beating me over the head with a pillow. All I was able to make out sounded like, "You bastard! I'll get you for that!"

The conversation seemed to go downhill after that.

It wasn't until Thursday that she brought it up again.

"So, I gave it some thought," she said between bites of salad and grilled salmon, "and I thought that maybe it was a bit unfair to ask you to wait an extra four days, especially since I'm not going to be around."

"No, don't be silly," I responded, sprinkling a little more balsamic vinegar on my salad, "Not having you around might actually make it easier for me. And what the hell, it is only four days."

She shrugged. "Okay, whatever. I'll tell Chris not to bother."

The clink of my fork falling to the plate made her look up with a sly smile. "This wine is good. Have we had it before?"

"What did you say?" I asked slowly.

"The wine, have we had this before?"

"No, about Chris! What the hell did you do?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just asked Chris about holding the key."

Oh hell, I hope that she didn't tell Chris what the key was for. She wouldn't do that. Would she? Damn, yes she would! "Oh my God, you told somebody you've got me locked up? Are you out of your mind?"

"It was your idea, you big jerk. I told Chris that I had a key for a lock that you would be interested in opening, only for one day. You'd have to give it back the next day. Now stop hogging that wine and pour me another glass."

I put my head in my hands. Oh my God, one of her girlfriends knows. By next week all of her girlfriends would know. Hell, her whole fuckin' office was probably going to know that she keeps my cock locked away, only letting me out once in a great while.

"Oh, and by the way, I mentioned that part of the deal was that you had to be especially nice to Chris if you wanted the key."

I looked up. "Especially nice? As in, if I weren't nice I might not get the key?"

My wife nodded, smirking.

I groaned.

"I'll get the dishes tonight, honey," she said to me in mock sympathy. "Go take a shower and lie down. You look a little pale."

All Male True Experience: My First Big Cock

By: Unknown Author

I'm nineteen and haven't sucked a lot of cocks yet. Of the cocks I have sucked, the biggest was six and a half inches, and I was dying to suck a really big cock. I'm not a size queen or anything, I mean a cock's a cock to me, and I'll willingly play with any dick I get the chance to, no matter its size, but I just wanted to see and try sucking a really big one.

So I decided to go to a gay chat site I knew about, and I posted the following ad:

Looking to suck my first big cock. Looking for guys between the ages of 18 and 30 that live in my area - see profile for my location. If you have a big cock and are interested in having it sucked by a hot 19-year-old, and live near me, send me a message. Please don't tell me how big your cock is though, I want to find out for myself when I suck it. Just make sure it's a big one if you plan to reply, otherwise don't bother.

The ads get posted to the board instantly and I couldn't believe it when I got a reply from a guy just a few minutes later: "Hi, I'd love to get my cock sucked. It's seven inches, is that big enough for you?"

Unfortunately, it wasn't what I had in mind when I said 'big', plus I asked anyone who replied not to tell me how big they were, so I replied back and told him no. He replied back and said, "Fuck you!" I laughed at that. If the guy had read my ad and was smart, he would have known not to tell me how big his cock was and I probably would have met with him and sucked him off, even if, when seeing his hard cock, it turned out not to be quite as big as I was looking for.

I got a few more replies, saying things like: "I'd rather suck yours," "I'm not huge but I'm not small either and I'd love a blowjob! Let me know," and "Another fuckin' size queen!"

A few days later I got the perfect reply to my ad: "I'm 28, have a huge dick, and I'm interested in giving you your first big cock to play with. Think you're a good enough cocksucker to handle it?" It was everything I was looking to read in a reply and nothing I didn't want to hear.

I started to get hard just reading his words, and I messaged him back to tell him I was definitely interested and wanted to know when and where. I was so excited by the prospect of sucking my first big cock that I kept checking for a reply constantly, like every five or ten minutes for hours. It wasn't until the next day that he replied, and he included his phone number, telling me to call him any time after seven o'clock at night to set things up instead of sending messages back and forth and waiting for replies.

It was around half past five when I got his message, and as soon as the clock struck seven I grabbed my phone and called him up. After telling him who I was, I asked when I could come over to suck his cock, adding that I could come over right then. His reply was that he had a straight roommate, so his place was out, and asked if I could host.

Disappointment set in. Here I'd finally found a big cock to suck and neither of us had a place where we could do it. But my disappointment was short-lived, for after I replied that I didn't have a place either, he said we could do it in his backyard, which he said was very private if I was cool with that. I quickly agreed, and we arranged that I would come over around nine when it would be dark out, and then he gave me his address.

As I hung up the phone I was nervous as hell, but also so excited about sucking my first big cock! Those two hours dragged by, and, with constant thoughts of what was going to happen when nine o'clock finally did roll around, it took everything I had in me not to pull my dick out and jerk off.

When I arrived, he was already outside, waiting for me on the front porch. After saying hello to each other he led me around to the back of the house. As we stood on the concrete patio right near the back of the house, he immediately took my hand and put it on his crotch. "I want you to rub it with your hand first so that it will be nice and hard when I pull it out for you."

I massaged his cock through his pants and could feel it getting hard from my touch. Fuck, it felt so big and I was really excited. He reached for the button on his jeans and I moved my hand away. "Get down on your knees so you can get a nice close-up view of your first big cock," he said, and I instantly dropped to my knees.

All Male True Experience: Subway Cruising

By: Unknown Author

 

 

Yesterday I was on the last car of the L train in Manhattan when a rather studly Latino guy, about thirty-five, got on the train and stood near me inside the train door. I was checking out his package and he caught me. I just nodded discreetly, but his expression didn't change and he just gave me a quick once over, then looked away, either uninterested or straight.

Imagine my luck when we both got out at the same stop. Once we got to street level, I was ahead of him but he was close behind. I looked over my shoulder and gave him another glance before heading down the street. As I was stopped at the light waiting to cross, I looked around for him and saw him grabbing a newspaper from a paper box. When he turned he caught me looking at him again, but this time he casually nodded.

The light changed and I started to cross. I looked behind and he was still behind me, reading his paper as he walked. Soon he had caught up to me and was walking right beside me.

"Hey man, why do you keep staring at me? You a fag?" he said quietly as he skimmed through his paper, not looking at me.

His words took me by surprise and I was now worried that I might be in some kind of danger. "I-I wasn't."

"I don't care if you were," was his response. "I'm not gonna pound you in the face or anything. I just want to know if you suck dick, because I saw you staring and I need a blowjob," he said, the boldness of his statement causing me to stare right at him now.

He looked away from his paper and looked right back at me.

"So are you a fag or what?"

I nodded.

"You live around here?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a few blocks away," I answered without stopping to really think about what I might be getting myself into.

"Great, let's go."