All Male Fiction: The Abduction (Part 2)

By: Rob & Ryan Michaels

Read Part 1

I came to my senses quite suddenly as I felt something cold brush against my neck. I blinked my eyes, trying to see. It dawned on me again that I was still blindfolded, but something felt different, something about my body. My throat was dry, my body ached, and I still couldn't move freely. My arms and legs were securely fastened, but not in the same position as before. Before! 'Before' suddenly came to my mind as I realized that it must be the next day.

I concentrated on feeling anything on me, but all I could feel were the ropes on my arms, the unmoving bonds on my feet, and something under me that I was now lying on. I tried to call out, seeing if anyone was within earshot. I managed a hoarse yell that hurt as it came out. "Ah, you're awake," came the same voice as the night before. "I hope that wasn't too much of a shock to waken you, but I didn't want to scare you."

I was already scared. Here I was, still in the captivity of this madman. What was next?

"I want you to know that I was able to get four more loads out of you before you passed out," he began to gloat. "At that point I decided to show some mercy and turn off the milking machine. I mean, you had no more cum stored up and, if I had left it running all night with your balls empty, well, the only thing that would have accomplished was causing irreparable damage to your penis. It would have been chewed raw and would no longer function. The doctors would have had no choice but to simply remove it. Oh, don't think I didn't consider doing that to you, I did, but like I said, I decided to show you some mercy, at least in that regard," he laughed evilly.

"Hlet mgh gho," I managed from behind the gag in my mouth.

"Let you go?" he mocked back at me. "Well, I thought about it last night after I got you in here, but I've decided that since you did so well, why not see how much fun we could have the entire weekend?"

"Gno! Gno!" I pleaded.

"I must, you see," he sank down to the bed and began to speak into my ear. "I was doing a favor for a friend, someone who wanted you to suffer for what you've done, but I don't think the one night of suffering you endured was anywhere near the embarrassment and suffering you have caused for her. No, the only way I can be sure you never treat any other girl in that way again, is by keeping you until Sunday."

All Male Fiction: My Best Friend (Part 6)

By: Lucas Miller

Read Part 5 | Read Part 1

"So, what did you think?" Russell asked when I returned to our dorm room.

I assumed he was referring to his performance in the showers. "You are a new man, Russell. I don't think anyone knew what to say." The image of Russell strutting through the shower room with his large dick swaying back in forth brought a smile to my face. "You definitely left some of those guys with something to think about."

"Really?" He tried to mask his enthusiasm by reading something at his desk.

"Let's just say, a few guys in particular had problems looking away."

"Well, I don't want them to attack me," he said continuing to read. "It's not like I want to have sex with them."

I knew what he wanted. He wanted others to take notice of him and to treat him respectfully. Russell thought the size of his dick would help him with that. It was possible that he was right. It was also possible that there were some jealous guys who watched his dramatic display. It was possible that these guys may attack him in other ways.

He changed the subject. "I think Mr. Morgan is the English prof." He didn't look up, but continued to read from the stack of papers on the desk.

The name sounded familiar. "Who's Mr. Morgan?" I walked over to him and realized he was reading from Marc's journal. I hadn't even realized that it was sitting on the very top of the pile of papers I had earlier pulled out of my knapsack.

"This guy." He pointed to the journal. "I think he's my English professor. I mean, it may just be a coincidence, but this Mr. Morgan is an English teacher and my teacher is also named Mr. Morgan."

"That would be too crazy if they were the same person," I replied, thinking the odds of Marc's Mr. Morgan being the same guy were preposterous.

All Male Fiction: I Spy (Part 3)

By: Unknown Author

Read Part 2 | Read Part 1

Several weeks later, Eric found himself in another predicament. Shortly after his steamy encounter with Andy in the coach's office, Coach Anson had been suspended by the school board on unspecified grounds. Everyone knew the reason though. Rumors had spread that school employees and students were fucking in the men's locker room. Charges were not laid, as there was no proof found, but even so, parents didn't want Coach Anson around their kids after that, and he was not expected to return to Southfield High.

Eric felt bad about the coach's situation and, given that Alex Diego, Andy Garner, the coach, and Eric were the only ones who knew what had been going on in the coach's office, he wanted to make sure the coach understood that he hadn't told anyone or started the rumor. He didn't think Coach Anson would agree to meet with him, though, so he decided he'd just drop by the coach's house and pay him a surprise visit instead.

The coach lived in a small ranch-style house on the far edge of town. Friday night, after Eric's parents were asleep, he rode his bike out to Coach Anson's house. Eric knocked on the front door, but no one answered. As he went to leave, he saw that there was a light on in a room on the side of the house. He wondered if that was Coach Anson's bedroom and if he might be undressing. He couldn't help himself and, after hiding his bike behind some bushes, crept around to the side of the building.

The small window was a couple of feet above Eric's eye level, but he stood on the air-conditioning unit and stared inside. Eric saw a bachelor's bedroom - a few pieces of furniture, a king-size bed with white sheets, and a closet with athletic clothes stuffed in at all angles. The light came from a lamp next to the bed. No one was in the room.

Just then, Eric saw Coach Anson strut into the bedroom from the hallway, and he was fully naked, with a towel slung over his shoulder. He was dry, so Eric figured he was only just about to take a shower. He watched the coach's big cock sway between his muscular thighs, as he walked over and took something from the dresser drawer. Eric couldn't see what, as the coach's back was now to him, but he could see the coach's broad, muscular shoulders, his rippling back, and his tight, muscular ass. He took in the sight until Coach Anson walked back out of the bedroom.

Eric's curiosity to see Coach Anson in the shower overwhelmed him. He pushed up on the double-hung window and happily found that it wasn't latched. He quietly slid it open and stepped cautiously through. He quietly pushed the window closed again, before tiptoeing across the room to the open bedroom door.

The sound of Coach Anson's shower filled the hallway; wisps of steam escaped through the bathroom door that was slightly ajar. Eric crept over to the door, pushed it slowly, and peered in. Steam fogged up the bathroom mirror that ran the length of the room. The coach had various bathroom items along the wall near his sink – aftershave, shaving cream, cologne, workout supplements, and... What the fuck was that? Right next to the shower was an eight-inch, flesh-colored dildo standing on its base. Eric had never seen anything like it; he took in a quick breath to regain his composure.

Coach Anson stood in the shower, behind a clear, slightly opaque shower curtain. Due to the bathroom ceiling lights, Eric could make out the coach's silhouette - his meaty shoulders, his bulging pecs, his powerful back, his thick glutes, and his bulging prick. Eric watched in awe as Coach Anson soaped up his cock and massaged it in his soapy hands.

Eric's attention quickly returned to the eight-inch dildo standing erect outside the shower. As he nervously and boldly opened the door wider and took a few steps into the bathroom to get a better look at it, he slid on the bathroom tile floor. He caught himself, but not before his right foot smacked the underside of the sink with a loud slap.

Coach Anson was startled by the unexpected noise and dropped his soap on the tub floor. His hand brushed back the shower curtain to see his intruder standing in his bathroom. He stared at Eric, while Eric's eyes absorbed the sight of Coach Anson standing naked and wet. The coach's muscular 5'10", 190-pound frame glistened from the steamy hot shower, and his nipples became erect from the cold breeze of the bathroom. The coach's cock stood semi-erect below a dense bush of wet pubic hair, and was all covered in soap suds; his balls were shaved smooth.

Eric tried to turn and bolt, but Coach Anson stepped out of the shower and tackled him, knocking Eric to the floor, just outside the bathroom door. He then roughly flipped Eric over onto his back. "Eric Anderson! I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing here, breaking into my house in the middle of the night, but you're not going anywhere just yet!" Coach Anson bellowed with authority.

All Male Fiction: The J.O.C.K. Club (Part 7)

By: MrCreamJeans

Read Part 6 | Read Part 1

Kenny had really been thinking about what the jocks had said to him. He also had another reason not to go to the meeting. "I don't know, man," he said to Jon. "I think I might lay low for a while with the jeans creaming thing."

The disappointment on Jon's face was obvious. The Tuesday morning meetings were his favorites, because he had a perfect view of Kenny's desk in the class right before the meeting.

Kenny continued, "Besides, I got nothin' saved up, you know?"

"You been beating off again?" Jon asked teasingly. His hand went into his pocket.

"Not exactly," Kenny replied. "You know Suzie, the blond cheerleader?"

"Yeah?"

Kenny looked his friend in the eye, barely able to contain his glee. "She sucked me off yesterday after school!"

"No way!" Jon shouted as his cock began to stiffen at the thought. "Oh, man! Details, details!"

"Well, she was at the dance, you know?" Kenny said. He noticed Jon's hand already busy in his pocket and decided to make the story as arousing as he could. "And she saw me walking around all hard and everything."

"Everybody saw that, dude," Jon kidded.

"Yeah, but it gets her all hot, you know? So yesterday at school, she comes up to me and says what Michelle did was really awful, and how she wanted me to come to her house after school."

"Oh, fuck!" Jon exclaimed.

"So I go over there, and she, like, doesn't waste any time at all. The next thing I know, we're on the couch makin' out like crazy." Kenny's voice took on a different tone as he remembered the events. "Oh man, her lips were so soft, and she totally wanted to French and everything."

"Yeah? Yeah? Get to the good stuff!" Kenny's impatient friend insisted, his loose jeans tented and wiggling.

"Ok, so she starts rubbing my cock through my pants... and she's even better at it than Michelle! Pretty soon I'm thinking, 'Fuck, this was all a setup. She just wants to make me cream my pants like Michelle!' But just then, she reaches for my belt and starts undoing it. I'm like, 'Whoa!'"

"I bet!" Jon said, his breathing becoming erratic.

"And so she opens my pants, and she sees my boxers..." Kenny said, suddenly remembering Jon's "thing" for his boxers, "...the real faded ones, you know?"

"Oh fuck," Jon murmured.

Kenny smiled as he continued, "And she goes, 'Oooooh, I like your boxers!'" Kenny was embellishing the truth a little for Jon's benefit. Jon was so easy to mess with. "Then she starts rubbing my cock through my boxers! Aww, man that felt soooo good!" Jon was quiet, so Kenny continued. "And then, man, and then I could feel some pre-cum coming out, and like all of a sudden there's this wet spot on my boxers."

"Wow," Jon sighed.

"And I couldn't believe it, man. She leaned over and stuck her tongue out, and licked the wet spot!"

Jon couldn't do anything but whimper. He was stroking his cock like crazy through his pocket picturing Suzie licking Kenny's hot boxers.

"Well, my cock really jumped when she did that. She looked up at me and grinned, and then... well, you're not gonna believe this, man."

"What? What?" Jon rasped.

"She grabbed my boner in my boxers and put her lips all the way around it," Kenny said. It was actually a lie – Suzie had taken his cock out of his boxers before she sucked on it, but he knew this would send Jon into a frenzy.

It was working. Jon was blatantly jacking off inside his pants. Anyone who even glanced their way would have seen Jon's fly rhythmically jumping and his face bright red with arousal.

"Then she started licking the head right through my boxers, and pretty soon she was moving her lips up and down, giving me a blowjob right through my fuckin' shorts!" Kenny said. "Aww man, I couldn't hold back. I totally creamed in her mouth right through my favorite boxers."

Kenny hadn't really been watching Jon very closely. He knew Jon was masturbating in his jeans, but didn't realize how far things had gone. With only one block before they got to school, Kenny turned to his shaking, panting buddy.

"Dude! Don't shoot now! You got the contest second period. Don't waste it!" Kenny urged.

"Mmmphh!" Jon grunted, using all his will power to hold back his load. Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "Can't... hold... it! Gotta... gotta... oh fuck!" Abandoning all hope of holding back his load, Jon grasped his cock through his pocket and boxer shorts and started milking his hot, slippery juice into his jeans. Streams of cum shot out and began soaking through the fabric and running down his leg.

"Aww, mannnn!" Kenny taunted. "You got noooo self-control! What a dude!" He knew this humiliating talk would arouse Jon even more. "You're totally jizzing your jeans, man. Right out in front of everyone!" There were actually only a handful of students in range, and none looking in their direction, but it added to the embarrassing picture. "Look at that wet spot! What a fucking mess!"

Jon stroked his trapped cock furiously as Kenny put him down for his lack of control. It was embarrassing. He knew he didn't have any control over his dick. He knew he was making a big mess of his jeans even before school started, and he'd have to walk around all morning with a big sperm stain. But it was worth it. His cool buddy Kenny was the one who made him do it, and now he was the one who was making fun of him, this cool kid teasing him about wetting his pants in public; wetting them with cum.

Finally, Jon sighed deeply and took his hand out of his pocket. Kenny just grinned and shook his head.

"That's gonna dry before the contest, man," Kenny said. "Are you gonna be able to get off again by second period?"

"I will if you will," Jon said, grinning.

Straight True Experience: Poor Little Me

By: Unknown Author

I'm twenty four years old, considered good-looking, I work out regularly, and have a nice athletic build. I also have a small penis. Tiny would be the more appropriate word. In clinical terms, my penis is referred to as a micro penis. Erect I am only two inches long… or I guess I should say, two inches short.

I've always been quite shy in general, but especially around girls, and I never get laid. I've never even had my tiny dick in a pussy, yet. If I had a bigger dick, I'm sure I would have more confidence in trying to get girls into bed, despite my shyness. Don't misunderstand, I've been with a few girls, three to be exact, but I only got a hand job from two of them, and a blowjob from the third (and I came as soon as she started mouthing my tiny member.)

Those three encounters happened a while ago now, the last one taking place when I was nineteen. Needless to say, the only 'action' I've had since has been from my own hand, and, being a horny young guy, I jerk off a lot.

Jerking off to porn can get pretty boring after a while, when masturbation is your only sexual outlet, so what I liked to do on Friday and Saturday nights, was to go to a particular downtown bar that was always busy. I would hang out inside the bar and check out attractive women, and then go out to my car and play with myself as I imagined myself getting to have sex with any one of them. This was how I spent pretty much every weekend evening.

I know what you're probably thinking, and yeah, you're right, it is pretty pathetic. I told someone online once about what I do, and they called me a small-dicked loser. I don't care though. Jerking off is all I have, and so I love to play with myself in the dark parking lot as I fantasize about the attractive women, watch babes coming and going, and, sometimes, even seeing some lucky guy getting head in his car. It's certainly more fun than sitting at home jerking off over and over to porn videos.

Last weekend, though, something different happened, something that was quite exciting, something that I will always remember. That experience is what I'd like to share with you now.

All Male Fiction: The Nude Beach (Part 2)

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Read Part 1

"What do you mean?" asked Mark, a slight tone of panic in his voice.

"You said you were going to walk around checking out the naked chicks," Jeff said to Mark.

"I was."

"And you said you were going to take a piss," he said to me.

"I did."

"Yeah, maybe you did, but you were gone way too long just to take a piss. You two hooked up! I know you did!"

Both Mark and I stared at Jeff in disbelief. How could he know that? There was no way that he could. No one else came into the washroom while we were there.

"I… we… how…" Mark stuttered, the color once again draining from his face.

"I can't believe you two snuck off together to scope out the naked chicks. Especially after you said I couldn't come with you, because it would be too obvious," Jeff said, directing the last part at Mark.

Now all of his statements had become clear. "You've got it all wrong," I spoke up. "After I took a leak, I wandered around a bit and ran into Mark on my way back," I covered.

"Yeah, I just hooked up with Ryan… on the beach… that's all."

Oh," Jeff replied, and then his tone immediately changed as he asked, "So, did you see any hot naked chicks or what?"

"Yeah!" Mark replied enthusiastically. "Not only did I see one, but she asked for my number!"

"No shit?"

"Yeah, and the entire time we were talking she kept looking at my dick. I know she's gonna call, and you can bet that when she does I'll be getting some pussy for sure! Man, I can't wait to get between her legs and eat her smooth, shaved pussy!"

Mark caught my smile and, probably remembering what I had said about guys who talk eagerly and constantly about pussy around other guys, added, "I mean, maybe. Who knows? Whatever happens, happens."

Jeff got up to his feet and put on his flip-flops.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Mark asked.

"Hey if you can find some hot naked chick that's hot for your dick, then so can I!" he answered, and then bounded off on his quest.

Mark and I sat on our towels in silence, and after a few minutes, Mark lay down on his back.

I remained sitting and took advantage of the fact that Mark was lying down with his eyes closed, my eyes focused on the hot guy ahead of us. He was sunning himself on his stomach and I could see the curve of his ass cheeks, and then he turned over. I saw his cock flop as he turned, and got a good view of it before he propped himself up on his elbow, leaned over to his girlfriend, and began to kiss her, his hand moving over her stomach, coming very near to her snatch, and then moving up to quickly graze over her tits.

After just a few moments, he leaned into his girlfriend and said something to her, and then seconds later he stood up. Turning so that he was now facing in my direction, I could see that his cock had lengthened a bit as he stepped into his shoes. It was still pointed down, but it was definitely hanging a bit longer than it had looked when he first flipped over. I was overjoyed at seeing his cock on full display… and more so that my own dick didn't even get the slightest tingle.

The hot guy started to walk towards us. He caught my stare, smiled and nodded, and then walked on by.

I turned my body and lay down on my stomach, my chin resting on my crossed arms, and stared at the hot guy's ass as he walked off. And as I watched, I suddenly realized that he was heading in the direction of the washroom.

I continued to stare until he disappeared from view and then said, "I'll be right back," and stood up.

"What? Where are you going?" Mark asked, lifting his head and shielding his eyes.

"I gotta take a leak; for real this time."

"Ok," Mark said and put his head back down.

It was true, I really did need to take a leak, but I was also hoping to get a good look at that hot guy's cock at the urinal. I wasn't foolish enough to think that anything was going to happen between the two of us. I mean, just because he had smiled and nodded at me didn't mean he was giving me some sort of signal. I was staring at him after all, and he was just being polite, nodding a hello. Besides, he was there with his girlfriend, right? He was obviously straight.

Having waited a few minutes before getting up to head to the washroom myself, so it wouldn't look too obvious that I was following him, I entered the washroom to find it empty except for one stall that was occupied.

Of course, I thought. He hadn't come in here to piss. He had just made the excuse of needing to use the men's room for the same reason I had earlier – to take care of his rising dick by beating off in one of the stalls!

My own dick was definitely tingling now, and starting to rise, and I made my way over and entered the stall next to his.

Sitting down on the toilet, I immediately began to casually fondle my cock as I listened for any sounds of meat beating in the next stall. There was nothing; complete silence. I was disappointed, to say the least, but then I started to get even more aroused by the idea of beating my own meat with a hot, straight stud sitting naked in the next stall, hearing me.

I began to pump my cock, slowly and quietly at first, but then I started stroking it a bit faster, and faster still, that unmistakable wap-wap-wap sound now clearly audible throughout the entire washroom.

I listened as I beat off noisily, but there was still nothing but silence coming from the next stall. So, I dared to let out a quiet moan. There was a slight shuffling from next door, so I let out another moan, a bit louder this time.

I leaned my head over and placed my ear against the divider. I still heard nothing, but then there was a sudden movement. I pulled my ear away and bent my head slightly to look down and under the space between the stalls. My eyes were immediately met with a pair of feet, facing my stall; that sight was quickly followed by a pair of knees contacting the floor, and then, a hard cock came into view.

I couldn't fucking believe it! Not only had I come in there just a short while ago to take a piss, and ended up getting a blowjob – from someone I never expected to get one from – but now here was this hot straight guy presenting me with his cock to suck!

My dick got so hard it hurt, and I literally leaped up from the toilet and got down on my knees on the washroom floor. Moving back, I started to lean down so I could get his dick into my mouth, but just as I put my head down, I almost got poked in the eye as he stuck his finger under the stall and wiggled it at me.

No fucking way! I thought. This hot stud is actually looking to suck dick?  I felt I must be dreaming, but obviously, I wasn't, and I very quickly repositioned myself to get my achingly stiff cock underneath the divider.

All Male Fiction: Head in the Clouds

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

It had been a long, horny five weeks. It was the summer of '95, and I had just toured twenty European cities with two of my straight college buddies. My two friends knew that I was gay, and didn't give a shit, but on this trip, I had promised that I would not drift off by myself looking for some hot European cock. They didn't want me wandering through bars or streets by myself, for safety reasons, being a foreign visitor in a foreign land. Plus, we had a pretty strict itinerary, and if I spent the night with a guy and didn't get back on time in the morning, I could mess up our whole trip.

Of course, it was ok for them to go out and look for some pussy together, the difference being that they were both together, and, if they got lucky, they could bring the girl (or girls) back to our hotel room for a bit of fun. Naturally, my two straight buddies didn't want to go to a gay bar with me and definitely didn't want to see me having sex with another guy in our room. It wasn't really fair, but I kinda understood.

I was hoping that I might at least bump into and be able to hook up with one good-looking gay tourist who happened to be staying at any of the motels we used during our travels, but Lady Luck hadn't seen fit to shine her luck down on me at all.

I did of course masturbate during those five weeks, in the shower, and I guessed that my buddies did as well - they hadn't actually scored with any women during our trip - but I didn't get to do it every day like I got to do back home. The reason I didn't get to do it every day was that I had always had a problem getting off quickly in the shower. I think it might have something to do with the heat and steam. All I knew was that it took me a lot longer to 'get there' in the shower, and with my buddies always rushing me in the mornings so we wouldn't miss out on what was on our itinerary, our busy schedule didn't always allow me to take the time I needed.

In fact, I hadn't had the chance to jerk off even once over the past week! I was way past due to shoot a load and was very seriously contemplating making a trip to the restroom on the plane ride home to pump a load out of my cock. But needing to shoot my load was only half of it. While jerking off always felt good, it didn't give me the same feeling or level of satisfaction as sex; that was what I had a more desperate need for, even more than simply cumming, and I hadn't had any on this trip.

So, needless to say, by the end of these five weeks I was extremely horny and anxious to get back to my familiar gay Chicago scene. Never did I think that I would get the sexual relief I so desperately needed while flying through the clouds!

It all started when our plane landed at Washington D.C.'s Dulles Airport from Brussels, and we had to switch planes to connect us to O'Hare. Our new plane was one of United's new 777s. These 777s were the first fully computerized commercial planes and had been designed with the passengers' comfort in mind - roomier seating, personal TV screens at every seat, three or four movie channels, dozens of other TV channels (sports, news, sitcoms, etc.), twenty channels of CD-quality audio selections; all at the control of a few buttons located on the armrest. This was the first week that United had these 777s in the air, and the flight attendants informed us that they had a special technician on board to troubleshoot any problems we may have with our entertainment systems.

A few minutes after takeoff, the entertainment systems were turned on. My buddies by the window were watching sports, the attractive girl in front of them was watching a gymnastics competition, and the little boy behind them was singing Disney songs from one of the audio channels. But when I switched mine on, all I could get was the music channels; my TV screen was not working. Just my luck!

As one of the flight attendants passed by, I informed her of the situation, and she made a mental note of my row and seat number and told me she would let the technician on board know so that he could look into it.

Several minutes went by, and still, my screen wasn't working. I glanced up the aisle, getting impatient, and noticed a man in a United Airlines uniform walking along the aisle looking at the row numbers.

When he got to my row, he stopped, asking, "Are you having problems with your screen, sir?"

"Yes, I am. I can get music, but I can't get any TV channels at all," I answered, casually drinking him in. He was really good-looking, young, maybe twenty-four, about six-foot tall, with stylish short brown hair, and in great shape. Normally, I would have enjoyed the eye candy, but right now, the sight of a hot man was the last thing I needed to see in my condition!

"Ok, let me have a look," he said, and then his right arm stretched out, resting on the storage cabin above. Then he leaned forward and moved his left hand to the armrest buttons to see if he could turn on my screen.

As he did so, his fingertips ever so slightly grazed my leg. His light touch on my vulnerable, I-haven't-had-it-in-five-weeks body felt so good, and a tingling sensation went right through me, and straight to my neglected dick.

 
In his position, his crotch was perfectly aligned with my field of sight, and I casually looked at it as I pretended to be watching him fiddle with the armrest buttons. His uniform pants tapered in at his crotch, leaving the fabric to hug and accentuate his package, and it was a very nice-looking bulge, one that I just wanted to reach out and grab.

"Hmm," he said after a few moments of trying to fix my TV, unable to get it turned on, either. The same could not be said for me! My dick was slowly on the rise, but uncomfortably so, as it lay bent in half inside my briefs.

"Well, after taking a good look, it's obvious you're at least partially turned on. I'm sure if I play around with something up front, I can get you fully turned on, though," he said.

My heart started racing. Did he just say what I think he said? Or could I just be misinterpreting what he actually said for what I wanted it to mean? I've never been very good about picking up hints like this. I decided that five weeks of pent-up desire was just fucking with my mind.

"I'll be back shortly to see if you are or not," he said with a friendly smile, and I was pretty sure I caught him taking a look at my ever-expanding crotch before he turned and walked away.

I couldn't help but stare at his nice ass as he walked up the aisle. Fuck! I felt like my dick was going to rip through my jeans at any moment and erupt like a volcano!

A few moments later I heard his voice again. He announced over everyone's headsets that they were experiencing a few problems with the new entertainment system and that everything should be fixed in no time. With that, everyone's screens went blank. However, in a few minutes, as promised all screens flickered on again, even mine.

I tuned into a rerun of "Roseanne", but my mind was not on the show. Instead, it was on the sexy technician, and I started daydreaming that he was again by my side, trying to fix my TV, only this time he was completely naked.

In my daydream, just as the technician's hand fell to my shoulder to pull my head to his now hard cock, a real hand on my shoulder awoke me from my fantasy. I looked up and saw the technician standing next to me. It was kind of freaky.

"Sir?

"Uh, yeah... I'm turned on now," I blurted as he jolted me from my daydream.

"I can see that," he smiled, and again, I was pretty sure I saw his eyes dart to my noticeably throbbing package as he spoke the words. "My name is Derek," he continued. "Let me know if I can be of any more service to you."

"Thanks," I said, shifting a bit in my seat, my dick now rock hard and just aching to get out. This time my eyes remained on his, and there was no doubt where his eyes went, as he stood there for a moment longer, smiled, and then walked away.

My dick was telling me that he had looked at my bulge because he was gay and was interested, but my brain told me that I was reading too much into it, that his smile was one of silent laughter over the fact that some young guy on the flight had sprung one of those spontaneous boners that young guys often get at the most inopportune times.

I wasn't embarrassed, though. Even if he was straight, it turned me on knowing that such a hot-looking guy was aware that I had gotten a hard-on in my pants. But that wasn't helping me at all, and so I decided it would be best to do my damnedest to focus my attention and thoughts on the TV show in front of me, and off of my needy dick.

I had only just managed to relax a bit and start to enjoy the TV show when I started to doze off. "Hey stud," a voice suddenly said over the headset. It was the technician's voice. "I know you want me! Meet me in the middle restroom if you wanna have a bit of fun!"

Shocked, I looked around to see that everyone else was just sitting there watching their screens or listening to their audio channels. Was I dreaming or did I really just hear what I heard. Did the technician somehow rig the headset and send me a private invitation… for sex… with him?

It had to be all in my imagination; just something I dreamt during my brief nap, I thought, but then I started to question whether it had all just been a dream or not when I saw Derek coming down the aisle.

All Male Fiction: The Right Words

By: Unknown Author

For quite a few years now, I have been making a pretty good living as a writer of porn. A few months ago, though, all of my stories were being rejected for publication. For the life of me, I could not figure out what the hell was wrong. I was on a first-name basis with the editor I sold to the most. We would call each other from time to time and talk business. Now I hadn't heard from him for a while, and I was beginning to think I had bad breath. To say I was getting nervous was some kind of understatement. If I wasn't ready to push the panic button yet, I was sure getting close.

From the sales I had made before the rejections started, I figured I could hold out for another couple of months or so, but if I couldn't figure out what was causing my stories to be rejected, I was going to be forced into working for a living again. Now, there was a thought that scared the shit out of me!

The worst part of all this was, the worrying was starting to have an adverse effect on my writing. I was having trouble concentrating, and for the first time in my life I discovered what it was like to have writer's block. Days would go by when I would just sit and stare at the blank document page on my computer screen. My muse had deserted me. When a small spider took up residence behind my backspace key, I knew I was in real trouble.

So I did what every other normal, red-blooded, depressed American would do; I decided to go and have a talk with my bartender. Now, Sam was a good guy, and if he could help you he was damn sure going to try. He kept a small humorous sign behind the bar that said "Psychiatric help: $5." What could I lose? I would order a beer and look as forlorn as possible, hoping to get some sympathy, and maybe some good advice.

"Well now, if it isn't the Ernest Hemingway of smut! How you doin'?" Sam said, as I walked into the cool interior of the bar.

"Not so good Sam. I don't know what's happening to me, but all of a sudden nobody wants my stuff. So I came here for a beer and some good advice."

"Beer I can give you," he said as he lay a tall cool one down in front of me. "Advice costs extra, ya know."

"Sam, right now I'd give just about anything to know what the hell I'm doing wrong. My stories used to sell like hot cakes, and now I can't give them away. It doesn't make any sense."

"What have you been writing about?"

"Well, for the last few months, I've been writing stories for a gay magazine one of my regular editors started working on. All the stories were rejected. I don't know what I did wrong. I wrote them just like I write all my other stuff, you know, real hot."

"How can you write about the sex life of gay men when you're straight?" he asked.

"Easy. You take out all of the 'she' and 'her' words, and put in 'he' and 'him' words, and substitute the words ass and butt for pussy and cunt," I replied.

"Oh really? Aren't you the guy that once told me a good writer only writes what he knows about, because that's the only way to get the words right?"

"Sure, but..."

"Sure but nothing. There is no possible way that you can write about the sex life of gay men without experiencing life as a gay man, the sex life of a gay man; in other words, having sex with another man. Maybe you better stick with what you know," he said, and then walked away to serve a man who had just come in.

As much as I hated to say it, he was right. I had taken on these gay story assignments out of loyalty to that particular editor, and had convinced myself that I could do it, with the thought that my own experiences with women was the same thing. I mean sex is sex right? But, I guess it is different when it comes to writing about it in a believable way, expressing the feelings and emotions in words. I had no idea what two men experienced by having sex together, and was simply describing what I knew it to be like with women. Obviously it wasn't the same with gay sex, since my stories were just as hot as all the straight stories I had sold, but no one wanted to buy the gay ones I wrote. See, I told you Sam knows his stuff, and based on his good advice, there was only one thing to do… research!

Now all I had to do was find a man with whom I could learn the things that go on between two men, through observation, so I could stop faking my way through my writing.

I live in a large Midwestern city, so I decided to go to a gay bar and take some notes, maybe talk to a few guys, get to know them a bit. I left Sam a bigger than average tip and headed uptown.

After buying a gay newspaper to find out where the joints were, I made a list and started out. I observed the gay guys interacting, but it didn't really feel any different than being in a sports bar full of men; well, other than seeing some guys kissing each other. I wasn't really learning anything, though, so, in the third bar on my list, when I was propositioned, although I'm straight, I decided to accept.

The way I looked at it was, at worst I would get a blowjob, and maybe he would want to be fucked in the ass. Big deal! I was open-minded, and although I had no sexual desires towards men, I could do those things in the name of research and know that I was still straight. I mean a blowjob's a blowjob, and I've fucked girls in the ass before, so what's the difference, right? Now if he wanted me to suck his dick or stick it up my butt that was a whole different story. That was where I drew the line!