All Male True Experience: A Walk on the Wild Side

By: ZigZagZonk

 

This experience happened thirty years ago, in the space of about thirty minutes.

I was twenty-one, shy, naïve, and more than a bit curious about life and sex. I was also getting absolutely no interest from the ladies. There was a bar close to my college that had a seedier reputation than it deserved because it was THE gay bar in the area and anybody who was gay, bi, or curious (like me) went there. It was New Year's Eve, and, to quote Lou Reed, I thought, "Why not take a walk on the wild side?"

Later that evening, I put on what I thought was appropriate attire for a gay nightclub and headed off. I may have been new at this, but I was not so naïve as to realize that my twinkish charm would appeal to some of the gay men.

When I got there, the club was packed full of men on the prowl, so many that every square inch was jammed full. The place had the stench of cologne, alcohol, and smoke. Those were the days when you could still smoke in a bar, but how anybody got a lit cigarette in their mouth was beyond me; you could only slip past the door and work yourself past horny men three inches at a time.

The dark nightclub was operating at a deafening roar. People laughed and talked at full volume to be heard over the dance music pounding out of the loudspeakers. Some of the young men seemed exciting and handsome, but bars were not my scene and I did not know how to start a conversation with a stranger in a room where you could hardly talk. I just shuffled past the men until I reached the far end.

When I reached the opposite end, someone was suddenly talking into my ear. "I haven't seen you here before," the voice said.

I turned my head when he pulled his away. He was twice my age and had the look of a man who worked out, with thick solid biceps that intimidated a skinny college kid like me.

"First time here," I shouted back over the hubbub and music.

He smiled knowingly of experience, looked over my body, lingering on my crotch for a moment, then looked back to my face, and said, "Well, welcome!"

As I replied, "Thanks," he looked back at my crotch again, and when he looked back at my face, I smiled. It was more of a nervous smile, but I guess he took it as interest and permission because he just unabashedly reached his hand over and started rubbing my cock through my pants.

All Male Fiction: The Christmas Package

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Warning: Although this story does not involve incest, it does involve a father watching his son having sex. If this type of theme offends you, do not read this story.

I couldn't help but smile as I placed the package in the trunk; I knew my son was going to be so surprised when he opened his Christmas present. It wasn't something he had asked for, but something I knew he was really going to enjoy.

Ben is eighteen years old and is an outgoing and personable individual. He is also athletic, and hard-working. Of course, as his dad, you might think I'm a bit biased, but there are many others who know him who would agree with my assessment 100%.

He is also an exceptional swimmer, and I was so proud when he was accepted to a large Ivy League university and asked to anchor the school's swim team. All of the years of getting up at four-thirty in the morning every day to take Ben to swim practice had paid off.

Still, the house felt so empty without him in it; raising him on my own for his whole life, the two of us have always had a very close relationship, and I have missed having him around.

That however was all about to change, at least in the short-term, as he was coming home for Christmas. He had been unable to get home for the Thanksgiving holiday, so I was looking forward to seeing him even more so.

I smiled as I pulled into the driveway and saw Greg's car. Greg was a friend of Ben's, and he had volunteered to make the trip to pick Ben up from school.

He was spending the holidays with us as well after his parents had decided to spend theirs at a tropical resort. It was Ben who had asked if Greg could spend Christmas with us, and I didn't mind at all; I didn't want anyone to have to spend it alone.

Getting out of the car, I grabbed the package from the trunk and tucked it inside my coat. It was Christmas eve and my boss had let us go home at four o'clock instead of six; this wasn't the norm on Christmas eve, but I wasn't complaining.

I looked at my watch as I made my way up the pathway to the front door. Even after stopping to pick up Ben's Christmas gift, it was still only 4:45.

Ben was always so curious about his Christmas gifts, so I quietly unlocked the front door in an effort to get his gift in the house and hidden away without him seeing me. I could have avoided this had I decided on his gift sooner. As it was, I took too long to make that decision thus ordering it online was not an option if I wanted it to arrive in time. Thankfully there was a specialty store in town that sold the particular item I was interested in.

As I opened the front door, I could hear Ben and Greg talking in the living room which was right to the left of the front entry. So, I quietly closed the door and made my way around to the back door instead.

As I slipped through the back door and into the kitchen, the faint aroma of burning hickory filled my nostrils, and I smiled; Ben knew how I always liked to have a fire on Christmas eve.

After stealthily making my way down the main floor hallway, I felt I would be able to get up the stairs without being noticed, provided the two boys had their backs to the living room doorway. So, I moved close to the wall and peered around it into the living room to check their positions, and my jaw dropped as my eyes took in the sight before me.

All Male Fiction: Halloween Treat

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Based on a premise by CubShaman

 

There was still quite a bit of candy left in the bowl as Kyle locked the front door and shut off the porch light; he was happy the trick-or-treating part of the night was over because he had his own special Halloween celebration planned.

Kyle was an attractive and fit twenty-eight-year-old man who had been married to his high-school sweetheart for seven years. He'd never been able to celebrate Halloween in the way he was about to because his wife had always been home, and he knew she just wouldn't understand.

But this year things were different; his wife had gotten a promotion at work, a promotion which also came with a requirement to attend a yearly company seminar. And, as luck would have it, that annual seminar was scheduled to take place during the last week of October each year, and it was that circumstance that would finally allow Kyle to do what he had waited many a Halloween to do.

At last, the wait was over and Kyle didn't waste any time, excitedly rubbing his hands together before he made a dash for the kitchen.

Once there, he went over to a drawer, grabbed a knife, and then proceeded to carve a round hole into the side of the pumpkin that sat atop the kitchen counter.

Finished, Kyle placed the knife on the counter, took a step back, and grinned at his creation. He then shoved his hand into his pants pocket and withdrew a joint and a lighter. Waiting to smoke up until after he carved the hole in the pumpkin meant Kyle would have to wait just a little bit longer to get started with his special celebration, but he figured it would be a lot safer handling the knife BEFORE he got high.

After moving over to the sink and washing the roach down the drain, Kyle turned back to the counter where the pumpkin sat, and he grinned again as he looked at it once more. However, this time that grin barely had time to creep all the way across his face before he was unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly, and pawing at the button on his jeans.

As gravity took his jeans down around his ankles, Kyle yanked his tighty-whities down to his knees revealing his already hard seven-inch rod that was already leaking clear liquid from its tip. That prick of his was uncut and thick, too, and he had big low-hanging balls to go with it, and he kept those big balls shaved and his bush trimmed short. He also had an ass that many gay men would probably just want to dive right into – with their mouths or cocks… or both! Unfortunately for them, Kyle was about as heterosexual as they come.

Kyle absentmindedly gave his balls a scratch and then his hands were just a blur as they moved to the counter where the pumpkin sat, and he grabbed it, held it in his hands in line with his twitching prick, and he thrust his member deep into its hole. He moaned as his hog was enveloped by the wet, cool insides of the pumpkin, and then he started to gently thrust in and out of it.

Kyle and his wife still had sex regularly – once or twice a week – but despite how much sex he was having, Kyle had always really enjoyed masturbating. However, until this night, he had only ever used his own hand to pleasure himself, and while he'd imagined that using a pumpkin would probably feel pretty good, he never thought it could feel THAT good!

Kyle knew pretty quickly that his slow thrusts just weren't going to cut it, not with the way his cock felt in that tight, wet, and slippery hole he had created for himself. So, he pulled his dick out and lay the pumpkin on the floor instead.

Kyle freed his jeans from around his ankles and then positioned himself above the pumpkin, and with his cock pointed at the hole he lowered himself down until his stiff, slimy dong reentered it. He wrapped the fingers of one hand around the stem and began fucking the pumpkin, hard, as hard as he could, harder than he had ever fucked his wife, filling the room with the sound of his balls slapping loudly against the cool, hard skin of the pumpkin.

Kyle was moaning and panting heavily in no time at all; he wasn't planning on cumming so quickly but with his hard pounding and his prick feeling so incredible going in and out of that slimy hole, he could already feel his load rising. He could have easily delayed his approaching ejaculation by slowing his thrusting down, but he really didn't want to at that moment; he had waited so long to try this, why hold back? After all, he knew, good as it felt, he'd be horny for some more pumpkin-pussy before the night was over, and that he'd be able to make himself cum again, too, so he kept going at it full throttle.

And then the doorbell rang.

Kyle just ignored it, but then it rang again. "Damn kids," he grumbled. "Halloween's over, at least for them," and he kept fucking the pumpkin.

And the doorbell rang a third time.

Kyle stopped thrusting and grumbled some more to himself as he reluctantly pulled his cock out of the pumpkin and slipped his tighty-whities back on. Moving at a quick pace, he made his way to the nearby bathroom and grabbed his bathrobe from the back of the door.

And the doorbell rang a fourth time.

"Hold on! I'm coming!" Kyle shouted as he was tying his robe while on his way to answer the door, the irony of the phrase not escaping him.

Kyle grabbed the candy dish and turned on the porch light; annoyed as he was, he wasn't going to deprive some kids of candy on Halloween. As he flipped the deadbolt and reached for the doorknob, he forced a smiled onto his face and opened the door. "Happy Hallowee-" Kyle stopped. He was expecting to see a kid or kids, but instead, he saw what he could tell was a grown man in a ghost costume.

The man in the ghost costume was holding a pumpkin bucket and held it out. "Trick-or-treat!" he said in a deep voice.

Kyle chuckled, "Aren't you a little old for trick-or-treating?"

"Halloween is for everybody," the stranger replied, his voice slightly muffled by the costume that covered his head and body. "Everyone deserves a treat on Halloween."

Kyle just chuckled and shook his head at the situation, and then went ahead and dropped a few pieces of candy into the man's bucket, if for no other reason than to get rid of the adult trick-or-treater so he could get back to his own Halloween treat.

Kyle wished the guy a happy Halloween and closed the door. He put the candy bowl back on the table, once again locked the front door and turned off the porch light, and then he headed back to the kitchen.  

Kyle returned to the living room moments later, pumpkin in hand; he figured it would be more comfortable being down on the carpeted floor rather than the hard kitchen floor. He was still slightly hard, and after placing the pumpkin down on the floor, Kyle opened his robe, pulled off his underwear, got down, and began to fuck his pumpkin some more. His prick stiffened back up in an instant, and a happy chittering moan escaped him as he pumped it.

Kyle huffed as he built his load back up, he could feel sweat drip down his ass crack as he thrust. And then…

…the doorbell rang again.

Again, Kyle decided to ignore it, and again, the doorbell rang again… and again… and again.

"Son of a -!" Kyle started as he yanked his cock out of the pumpkin again. He stood up and closed his robe, leaving his underwear on the floor this time, and went to the door.

Kyle opened the door to see the ghost man was back. But this time another man was with him; a man in overalls and a paper mâché jack-o-lantern mask. Both men held out pumpkin buckets, "Trick-or-treat!" they said.

"You were just here! And the porch light off means no more candy! What am I saying? You're grown men, for fucks sake! Get out of here," Kyle snapped.

"But I didn't get the treat I wanted," the ghost man said.

"You didn't get the tre… look, both of you leave and don't come back, or I'll call the cops!"

"We didn't get the treat we wanted," the jack-o-lantern man said.

"For fucks sake!" Kyle cursed again and turned to grab the candy bowl. "Here! Take what you want and leave!"

"That's not what we want," the ghost man said pointing at the bowl of Halloween candy.

Kyle was more than annoyed and went to close the door in their faces, but the jack-o-lantern man stopped him from being able to do so. "We want our treat," he said.

"What treat? What the fuck do you want?!"

The ghost man lifted his sheet and the jack-o-lantern man unbuttoned his one still buttoned overall strap and the overalls fell down around his feet. The two men were both naked below their waists and their fully exposed cocks were now staring Kyle in the face.

"What the hell?!" Kyle said as he quickly looked away; he didn't want to see other guys' dicks! "Get the fuck out of here you perverts!"

"We want to join you," the jack-o-lantern man said.

"Join me? Uh, I don't know if this is some sort of prank, but I'm a happily married man… a happily married STRAIGHT man," Kyle informed as he again tried to close the door on them. "Go, now, or I'm calling the cops!"

"We want to join you," the ghost man repeated, and he pointed at the pumpkin Kyle had been fucking before they had interrupted him.

"How did you know I was…" he started as he too pointed over to the pumpkin. He didn't know why he asked that or why he even cared how they knew, but he suddenly felt different somehow and he remained standing there, calmer now waiting for the answer.

"We heard your cries of penis pleasure, brother," the jack-o-lantern man said. "Every year on this Hallows Night we answer the cries of the men who have thrust their phalluses into the sacred pumpkin. We come to them so that they may cum and share their seed treat with us."

"Uh, ok," Kyle chuckled. "What are you guys on?" he laughed.

"We are on a mission. Please, let us come in so that you may share your seed treat with us," the ghost man said.

"And so that we may also share ours with you, brother," the jack-o-lantern man added.

Kyle unwittingly looked down at their cocks, and saw that the men were both now fully erect. He then realized that his own had sprung back to life as well, and then he heard himself inviting the two men to come inside.

All Male Fiction: Relations

By: Marcin904 & Ryan Michaels

I'd known Ed since I was a kid, being that we lived on the same street and I was friends with his daughter growing up. Eventually, I ended up dating his daughter and then, just last year, I married her, so Ed is now my father-in-law.

My wife and I had only been married for just over a year when my in-laws ended up getting divorced. Afterward, Ed up and moved to the edge of nowhere. I never could figure out why; I guess he just needed a fresh start or something.

Ed and I always got along well - I'd always felt we had some kind of connection, although I couldn't quite put a finger on it. I guess I just thought he was a very interesting man's man and I really liked being around him. I missed not having him around anymore, though, and today, finally, I decided to do something about it and pay him a long overdue visit.

Ed lived in a small cabin up near the tree line, and once I saw how beautiful the area was, I understood why he had decided to move to such a remote location.

I arrived a bit earlier than expected and was surprised to find the front door open. I guess I shouldn't have been; when you live out in the middle of nowhere, I suppose you do things like that. I opened the door to call out Ed's name, but he entered the room at the same time. He was wet and wrapped in just a towel. I'd obviously caught him just getting out of the shower.

"Oh, hey, you're early," he said when he saw me there. He told me to make myself at home, and then motioned to his coffee cup on the coffee table and asked if I wanted some. I declined and then he excused himself and left the room.

When he returned, he was clad in a pair of boxer shorts and a wife-beater. He plopped down on the couch, and when he did his cock flopped out the leg of the boxers, which was being strained around its girth.

With a grunt, Ed leaned back, propped one big foot up on the coffee table, and blithely sipped his coffee. He noticed me staring at him, smiled, and raised an eyebrow. It was the same friendly smile I'd seen for years.

But there I was, shrinking in my chair. I crossed my limbs, reversing his open stance. I forced myself to look everywhere else, anywhere but between my father-in-law's legs, but my traitorous eyes kept coming back to him.

Ed reached down to scratch himself, and he froze when his fingers grazed across the exposed flesh of his meaty head. He looked at me and a slow grin spread across his lips. "Whoops. Guess I gave you a little show," he chuckled.

My mouth went dry, but I managed to croak, "Doesn't look so little to me."

We sat there, staring across the living room at each other, in a long, uncertain silence. I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. My face must have been as red as an apple. Ed just kept smirking until he finally nodded and said, "Careful, son, you'll get him going."

My dick was hard in my pants now and my mouth was literally watering, and then I heard myself quietly saying the words, "What if I wouldn't mind that?"

Shit! Did I say that out loud? I thought. Shit! I did! I sat there wondering how my father-in-law would react to such a statement, almost afraid to breathe.

"Then you better get on your knees," he answered

I was relieved that he took it as a joke, and I laughed.

But he didn't.

"You poked the bear, son," he said and his cock jumped, growing down along his thigh. "Only fair he gets to poke you back," he finished, shifting to pop his wrist-thick whopper out through the fly of his boxers. He nodded to the floor at his feet. "Get down there and start sucking, and lose the clothes while you're at it."

Straight Fiction: I am ALPHA!

By: Unknown Author

Girls want to fuck Alpha Males.

Let it piss you off as much as you want, but you know it's true.

That girl you like who is totally sweet and you have the biggest crush on? The one who keeps going back to guys who treat her wrong for reasons you don't understand? The one who calls you up at 1 am to cry about how her boyfriend hasn't called her in three days. The one who will curl up next to you on the couch, hug you close, kiss you on the cheek, and never let you fucking touch her beyond that?

Yeah, I'm fucking her.

The hot girl behind the coffee counter who won't even smile at you? The one who won't even say hi to you? The one who takes your money and shoves your coffee at you? The one who forgets you exist before you've even stepped away from the counter?

Yeah, I'm fucking her too, even harder.

The geeky girl you think might be enough like you that you have a chance with her? The one you think is so incredible? The one you still haven't worked up the courage to tell how you feel about her?

Guess who just sucked me off and told me they'll always love me?

And what's more? I laugh at guys like you. When you cry about how much girls treat you bad and wonder why they can't just see that you're a nice guy who would always treat them right? I nod and tell you to hang in there, you'll find someone right for you someday, don't give up hope man. But inside? I'm laughing my ass off at you, you pathetic fuck.

Every girl you set your sights on, I'm going to fuck six ways from Sunday and cum in their mouths, pussies, and faces before you can even tell her you think she's cute.

And the biggest reason I laugh? Because it's not me doing all this…

Bisexual Fiction: Triple Workout (Part 1)

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

I punched in my security access code at the door to the company gym and pulled the handle as the buzzer signaled the ok to enter.

The gym had been open for a year now, and I started using it regularly about six months ago to try to reduce the stress levels induced by a fast-paced Information Systems career. I had made it a priority to get down there three days a week, and I was really feeling the benefits of a good hard workout at the end of a long - and usually hectic - day.

It was about 6:30 pm and I could hear the music pounding from the big blaster in the corner of the room. I looked around to see who else was there and saw one other guy already on the Stairmaster working up a sweat.

He looked up and gave a nod hello as I headed for a warm-up on the bike. I nodded back and set the timer on the bike for five minutes. Josh Somebody-or-another was his name, I recalled. We had chatted amicably on the few occasions where we had seen one another here in the evening. Most of the employees who used the gym used it in the mornings before work, but he, like me, seemed to prefer to use the stress of the day to keep the ‘edge’ on his workout.

He had brought a great mixtape with him, and I found myself enjoying the music as I relaxed into a rhythm on the bike. The five minutes passed quickly, and I walked over in front of the wall-to-wall mirrors for a nice languid stretch.

Josh had finished his time on the Stairmaster and walked over to the mat area where I was now standing, stretching my quads.

"Ethan, right?" he commented pulling up beside me.

"Yup, and you’re Josh?" I commented.

"Yes. Ready for a good session?" he asked assuming a similar pose with his leg distended behind him.

"Yeah, shitty day today," I lamented. "Lots of crap happening on the system."

"I know! I was bounced on and off the network today for the whole morning," he laughed. "Geez, you guys in I.S. sure make it hard for a guy to stay connected to the internet! How the hell do you expect us guys in the plant to search for porn when you keep bouncing us off?" he joked.

I chuckled at his comment and looked out the corner of my eye as he bent over to touch his toes. "Hmm… nice body. Nice arms. Nice pecs. Hard ass. Strong legs."

Where the hell did THAT come from? I thought. Oh well - I’ve always admired the human form and this guy was a good sample of how I wanted to look by the end of the year.

"Hey! I’d like to use some free weights today instead of the Universal. Seeing as how you’re here, would you spot for me?" he asked as he headed for the rack.

"Sure. No problem."

We took turns spotting and encouraging one another and bantered back and forth a little as we did our thing. We increased the weights each round, and we had both worked up a decent sweat within the half-hour. We then moved on to some dumbbell routines and decided to finish up on the treadmill.

As we got the treadmills going, he reached up and pulled his t-shirt up to wipe his very sweaty face. I couldn’t help but notice a very nicely detailed set of abs, and a totally smooth chest. I set the timer for twenty minutes and got into a good trot. Once again, we chatted about the company, our offices, and careers - the usual idle chat that you get into while you’re jogging on a mechanical device at the office gym.

The timer on the tortuous machine dinged and I staggered off to the mats to stretch out once more before hitting the showers and heading home. Josh pulled up beside me – sopping wet now - and proceeded to do the same. We laughed about the sweat we were dripping all over the mats.

"Wow, you’re a slave driver! My wife is usually the only one who can get me this hot and wet." Then he laughed as he looked over at the locked door and said, "With the two of us in here panting and grunting and groaning, if anyone passed by the door, they'd probably think we were getting it on in here."

The thought of what he was saying had an immediate effect on my crotch, as I chuckled and said, "Yeah, it certainly did sound like it," and then began concentrating my efforts on trying to put my overactive imagination into check when I noticed in the mirror that the front of his shorts had a bit of a tent there as well. I quickly stole another glance, and when I looked up, he was also looking at my reflection in the mirror. Our eyes met for an electric moment, and then we both glanced away.

"Well, I’m hitting the showers," he said as he straightened up.  

"Yeah, me too," I said, and followed him out the door to the shower area.

All Male True Experience: Ball Camp

By: Jeff C.

I was only eighteen and very nervous being at basketball camp with a whole slew of dudes from all over the state. I can’t remember when I wasn’t turned on by looking at a cute guy, and I knew I was in for a long two weeks.

The day we all arrived, we were split into teams of five, and the five of you were to do “everything” together. We all slept in small cabins with one team per cabin. Each team was then assigned a counselor (college athletes to help with camp). Ours was named Chip and he was a stud that would make anyone drool just at the sight of him. Chip stood six-foot-three, blond hair down to his collar, dark, sparkling blue eyes, and a build that would make the best athlete envious. Chip was in charge of seeing to it that we got to the right places at the right time and keeping an upper hand on us at night.

The first night, Chip informed us that, in his opinion, the key to being a star athlete was to keep completely relaxed and always get a good night's sleep. He said he made it a practice to stretch and relieve tension every night. It sounded good to all of us, so we asked what his routine was. He showed us a few stretches and then told us that the best way to be sure we relieved all of our tension was to whack off twice every night before we went to sleep.

There was some apprehension, but finally, one tall black-haired stud named Rick pulled out his cock and started jacking. I soon followed suit, and everyone else did likewise, including Chip. I thought I was having one of my biggest fantasies come true, watching and jacking off beside these jocks.

All Male Fiction: A Dirty Jockstrap and a Dirty Fuck

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

"Suck my dick, Shawn!"

"Why don't you kiss my ass, Billy!"

It had always been that way between Billy and me, goading one another on with sexual taunts. There was always a slightly dirty edge to our bantering - on my part at least. I really would've liked for him to kiss my ass, though not in the pejorative way I said it. And as for wanting to suck his dick...

Billy's parents had moved to the neighborhood when we were both in Junior high. We rode the bus together and quickly became friends. Billy had a swaggering, out-going personality that complimented his staggeringly gorgeous looks.

Billy's hair was the blackest I ever saw, and his eyes were dark and brooding, with a stabbing quality, self-assured.

On the afternoon of the mock insults I just quoted, his parents had gone to the cottage for the weekend and we were alone in his house. The verbal exchange was brought about by an argument over who was the better football team, the New York Giants or the New York Jets. We were also kind of buzzed on beer, which fuelled the insults further.

We weren't old enough to drink, but Billy's dad let him have beer, and we had already downed three each and there was no more left. Billy said that his friend's older brother would buy some for us, and he offered to go over and ask and go with the older brother to get us another six-pack.

After Billy left, I went over and looked at the family pictures that were scattered around his living room. In one photo of him, he was in his football uniform, and it had me drooling in seconds. Though I knew that basket showing at his crotch was mostly all cup, it still bulged enticingly. And his jersey didn't quite cover his flat belly, where I could see the deep V of his groin begin.

I knew he'd be gone at least twenty minutes since we lived pretty far out in the suburbs, so I went up to Billy's bedroom to see if I could find his cup. His room had a good man-smell to it, some sort of musky cologne and a faint odor of sweat. It felt erotic to be in the place where my sexy best friend slept, no doubt jacked off, and stood naked, perhaps admiring himself in that full-length mirror on the wall.

I went to Billy's dresser and opened one of the top two drawers. Seeing his white Calvin's folded and piled so neatly did nothing to get my mind off the subject. Opening the drawer next to it, about a dozen jockstraps were strewn inside, but no cups. I grabbed one of his jocks and put the pouch over my face and deeply inhaled. But, unfortunately, they smelled clean and freshly laundered.

But that gave me an idea…

I opened the closet, and, sure enough, there were Billy's dirty clothes. I found a few piss stains on one of his dirty pair of underwear and what looked like cum on one of his jockstraps. The aroma of man-sweat was intoxicating.

I had been aware of my jock fetish for some time now, ever since I first discovered their existence and had bought my first one. Standing there fondling and caressing the stud's underwear and jocks got me hotter than hell. I decided I had to have a quick jack-off session. It was risky, but I figured I'd have plenty of time to do it before Billy returned.

So, I stood in front of the full-length mirror and opened my shirt, shoved my jeans and underwear to my ankles, and grasped my soft but stiffening cock. I pre-cum a lot when I get horny, and right then the clear stuff was oozing out of my dick like a dripping faucet. I smeared the juicy liquid all over my cockhead. Then I held the cum-stained jock to my nose and inhaled deeply, smelling the masculine odor that remained.

As I breathed heavily through the thin material, I got one of the most intense hard-ons I had ever experienced. I got hard-ons all the time, nothing unusual about that for a guy my age, but this was like an explosion of blood to my crotch, an immediate and intensely gratifying sensation as my dick throbbed in my fist.

I bowed my legs a little and rubbed the entrancing jock up under my balls, and up and down the length of my stiffened dick. I sheathed my rod in the soft, white fabric of the pouch and stroked my meat through it. Then I kicked off my shoes, shucked my clothes completely, and put Billy's jock on. My balls nestled into the dirty pouch where his had been, my cock so hard it jutted out the elastic waistband.

I pushed the pouch of Billy's jock to just below my balls, and the pressure from the elastic drove my package up against my heaving stomach. I stood sideways to the mirror, punched out my hips, and pumped my meat in slow strokes, watching myself beat off.

I jacked my cock like a sex-starved maniac and very quickly felt the ecstatic tremors of a powerful orgasm cresting. I punched my hips out even farther and pumped even harder on my meat. As I gasped hoarsely, cum started streaming out of my cock in ropy strands, arching and spurting in thick, milky gushes. Throwing back my head, I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned so loudly that the neighbors must have heard me.

"Feel good, Shawn?!" I heard Billy exclaim, followed by a giggle.

All Male Fiction: Flip-Flop Flap

By: Tommyhawk1 & Ryan Michaels

 

"Sin and iniquity!" intoned my Grandmother when I came out of my bedroom after changing. Grandma was a relic of another era; well into her eighties. When she was my age, they put on more clothes than they took off to go swimming! That or the men wore those silly orange-and-white-striped union suits, with their handlebar mustaches.

"And those things on your feet," Grandma continued. "Flip-flops! What self-respecting person wears a shoe that only holds on by being stuck between your toes like that?"

"Aw, come on Grandma, they're okay," I said. I'd picked a pair of green flip-flops because I had a t-shirt the exact same shade. Pair those with my lemon-yellow swim trunks and I was ready for a day at the beach. "Everyone on the beach is wearing this stuff."

"If everyone went and jumped off a bridge, would you?" Grandma pointed out with her skewed logic.

"They do, and I did, last year, remember?" I pointed out. I had, with a cord around my legs, naturally. Grandma just humphed her opinion of that.

"Hey, bungee-jumping!" my dad put in; he had come out of his own bedroom. His clothes were a longer version of mine: a short-sleeved shirt and shorts that came down to below his knees, but he had on a pair of orange flip-flops.

"More flip-flops!" Grandma zeroed in on those. "Bunch of foolishness, if you ask me."

"Why don't you go sign up for the bingo games, Mom?" Dad said instead of challenging her opinions anymore.

"Gambling?!" Grandma was scandalized.

"They give away the cards to anyone who shows them a hotel key," Dad pointed out. "And you might win a nice prize. The woman next door won a twenty-dollar gift certificate just yesterday. Tell you what, I’ll take you and get you settled at bingo, and give you some cab fare to get home afterward, and then I’ll meet Joe at the beach. We’ll pick up a tan while you have a fun day playing bingo."

"Hmph," was Grandma’s response. Grandma was always entering those drawings at the grocery store and such. She seems to have figured that if she didn't pay for it directly, it wasn't gambling, and quite enjoyed winning if she did. She agreed to play and grumbled at my dad to hurry up and take her so she didn’t miss the first game.

So, while he did that, I went out to enjoy the day on the beach. From the house on the island, it was a matter of a short walk to two out of three local beaches. The first ended up being loaded with families with little kids, so I made my way to the second one. That one seemed to be even more popular than the first, with a huge crowd. I wasn't really into spending my day tanning on a beach that was packed full of people and little kids, so I ventured on to the third one, and was happy to find that it was practically devoid of people, probably because it was more out of the way than the other two.

I found a spot far away from where the only other people on the beach - about a half dozen or so - were spread out in the sand, and settled on my towel and began to work on applying the suntan lotion.

I cursed under my breath when, a few minutes later, a couple of guys came along and spread their towels only a short distance away from me.

After finishing with the lotion, before lying down to catch some rays, I looked over in their direction again, and the two guys were kissing! More than that, the guy on the far side from me had stuck his hand down the back of the trunks of the guy nearest to me, and unless I missed my guess, he was trying to work one finger up the other guy's butt!

"Shit, is this a gay beach?" I wondered aloud, in a sort-of low tone of voice, well, a conversational tone if anyone had been right beside me.

"It sure is," came a voice not far away from me on the other side.

I looked around to see a cute guy, very blond, nicely muscled, and about five-foot-five inches tall, smiling down at me. I thought all blond guys were tall, but not this one! Like any true blond, his pale skin was more sun-burned than sun-tanned, a reddish tint to his skin. But despite that, he only wore a pair of red swim trunks similar to mine.

Holy fuck, I thought, as the guy gave his crotch a squeeze while I drank in his body, Dad booked us onto an island with a gay beach! And here I thought I'd be stuck holding yarn while Granny wound it up for knitting! This vacation just got a whole lot better!

"Hello?" he said waving his hand at me.

"Huh…" I said looking up at his face. "Oh, sorry… yeah, I didn't know… that it was a gay beach."

"Well, now that you do, are you going to leave?" he smiled at me.

"Um… no, not at all. I came to this beach to work on my tan because it was less crowded than the other two, and I still want to tan, so…" I replied.

"That's good…" he said, "that you're going to stay," his smile broadening, and then, uninvited, he lay his beach towel beside me and sat down on it, his leg touching mine. He looked at me for a minute and then said, "I'm Scott."

"Joe," I said in return, and he extended his hand and I shook it, awkwardly, my arm bent at an irregular angle as we were side-by-side. When he let go, I watched his hand, wondering if he'd try to put it on my thigh… or in my lap, and really kind of hoping that he would.

Instead, he gestured around. "Some of these guys are couples, but most of them are singles, just like you and me," he said. "The cops know we aren't here to make any trouble, and the locals know we all congregate here, and they like the money we pump into their economy year-round, so they give us this place and stay away. The water here is no good for swimming, anyway; full of sandbars and riptides, and sometimes a dangerous undertow. Anyone into the beach for swimming goes to one of the other two… which leaves this beach for guys like you and me, you know, guys who just want to work on their tan," he chuckled.

I chuckled as well, then, pointing over to the two guys who were fooling around, asked, "What about that? I know you said the cops don't bother people on this beach, but having sex on a public beach? That can't be allowed, can it?"

"Yeah, totally. As I said, the cops don't bother us, they know everything that goes on here."

"Wow! So… how do you know if someone is looking for sex, or is just here to get a tan?"

He gestured to my feet. "Guys looking for sex on this beach wear flip-flops."

"Oh, uh, okay," I said. I thought that was an odd code of sorts.

He went on, "Yeah, and if you are looking and a guy approaches who you're not into, just give him a shake of the head and a wave of the hand, you know," he did a shake-and-wave that said, no thanks, I don't want any, "and he'll leave you alone."

"And what if you're not looking?"

"If you're taken or not looking at all, you know, if you really are here to just work on your tan, then you wear some other sort of footgear or go barefoot to show yourself unavailable. So, if you're not looking then just take those off," he said pointing at my flip-flops, "and hide them under your towel until you're ready to leave."

I looked down at the green flip-flops on my feet as he pointed at them, and then at his feet. He wore one blue and one red. "Hey, your flip-flops don't match," I pointed out.

"Another little custom we have here," he said, "Trophies."

"Trophies?"

"You have sex with a guy, you take one of his flip-flops and give him one of yours. Then everyone knows who got with who, and can ask one of the guys if the other was any good if they want to get with him too.” He laughed and then continued, “And when you get home, you can put all the mismatched flip-flops in a box or something and have trophies of all your beach conquests."

"Oh," I said, laughing. "So, you already got lucky once today, then?"

He waggled his foot with the blue flip-flop; it was quite a bit bigger than the other one, which fit him perfectly. "Yeah, that was Gregg. He's a big mother, like six-foot-five, built like a football linebacker, and about as subtle as a chainsaw at five a.m. He got here this morning and I was first on the spot and so I got to siphon off his morning load. Gregg's got a lot of, uh, spunk, and energy, but not a lot of tact. He sort of walks up and grabs you; which, when you're looking for that, can be a lot of fun."

"I guess it can," I said.

"You're still wearing your flip-flops," Scott pointed out after a slight pause in the conversation. "Does that mean you're declaring yourself available?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," I smiled over at him.

"Yeah? I thought you didn't want to be at a gay beach?"

"I didn't say that," I replied. "I just didn't know this was one."

"Oh, so when you said, 'Shit, is this a gay beach?' it was an exclamation of glee, not horror?" he questioned with a smile on his face.

"Exactly!"

The smile on his face turned into a grin and he said, "Well, just remember what I said to do if you are looking but not interested in a guy who comes up to you," and this time his hand did come in for a landing on my leg as he spoke the words.

I just nodded but didn't say a word or make any attempt to stop him, as my cock sprang to life from his touch.

When I didn't rebuff his move, it was clear that I was interested in having some fun with him and he slid his hand up my leg, and then over my swim trunks until he found my cock.

All Male True Experience: Breaking in a Virgin

 By: Unknown Author

 

I nailed a beautiful young guy over the weekend. I saw him out at a gay club, one of those that cater mainly to college guys, twinks, and young gym bunnies - nineteen is the legal drinking age where I live.

At this place (and in general) most of these younger guys will ignore you if you are older; in fact, you may as well be dead as far as they're concerned. However, there was always a handful who were into the older 'daddy' types.

I happened to be older at thirty-eight years old, standing 6-feet-tall, with 180 pounds of hard muscle, a tanned body, and a big, thick cock between my legs. Thankfully, I fit into that 'daddy' category some of these twinks liked, and, wanting a young bottom to plant my load in, I couldn't think of a better place to find one.

The young men in this place usually stick together in small groups. The place was hot and already more than half of them were shirtless. Though the hot young flesh on display was nice to look at, I prefer my bottoms to be a little more inhibited. I knew as soon as I saw him, he was the one I wanted.

He was cute, young, probably twenty years old at most. He had that preppy look, with stylish dark hair, green eyes, and a long lean body that was going to look great stretched out naked under me. You could tell he was shy. He was sitting alone at a small table in the corner, nursing a bottle of beer, eyeing the half-naked men dancing under the lights. He hadn't looked in my direction yet.

I walked over by him and stood against the wall. I looked down at the back of his neck, feeling my own neck tingle as I imagined how delicious his skin would feel against my lips. He must have sensed me looking because his head turned. He looked at my face, and then his eyes dropped to my crotch, back to my face again, and then back to the dance floor. I could see the color flush into his cheeks. I didn't say a word, just crossed my legs and waited for him to look back again.

Thirty seconds later he took another look, this time quicker. I walked over and took the other seat at the table. "See anything you like?" I directed my gaze out onto the throng of dancing twinks but made sure he could see my crotch as my hand gently caressed my bulge. He said something to me, but his voice was so quiet and timid that I couldn't comprehend a word of it.

This was bullshit. I cut to the chase. "Why don't we get out of here and fuck?"

The kid knocked his beer bottle over and looked directly at my bulge. Then his eyes met mine. "How about it? You want to see what I have under here?" I asked as I stood and stroked myself obscenely. He just stared like a scared kid but didn't say anything at all.

"Well, if you decide that you do, I'll be outside having a smoke before I go," I told him, giving my bulge a good squeeze, and then I turned and left.

I stood by my car and lit my smoke, waiting to see if the quiet guy was coming out. I was halfway through my cigarette when the door opened and he slid out. He loitered near the front of the club, repeatedly glancing over at me, working up the courage to walk over to me.

Finally, he ambled over. "Got a place?" I asked him. He was shivering a little and I'm not sure it was entirely from the cold.

"Maybe. What about you?" he replied.

"Mine's over on the other side of town. Not really close at all. It's pretty small. Yours is probably closer." I said. I didn't like taking young twinks to my place. I preferred to go to their place, so I could just get up and leave when I was done with them.

I let him yammer for a bit then tossed my smoldering cigarette butt to the ground and exhaled. "You drive. I'll follow," I said, making the decision to go to his place, for him. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

He walked to the far end of the lot and started up a small car. I hopped in my own and peeled out after him, making sure to stay right on his ass. Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of a small house in a residential area.

"Nice place," I said, checking out the neighborhood. He looked scared shitless, like one of his neighbors might see him returning home late at night with a stranger, a male stranger.

He walked us up the driveway, to the garage. "I don't live in the house. My place is up there." He glanced up and pointed at the upper level of the garage and unlocked the side door.

The place was small, just a studio with a small kitchenette, a sofa in the middle of the room, and a bed protruding from the wall behind it. It was decorated like a teenager's bedroom and he would inform that it was his parents' house and that when he had turned nineteen a few months back, they had allowed him to move out over the garage.

I listened to him babble on but truthfully, I didn't give a shit about what he was saying; I was just there to fuck some twink ass. I did note that he was nineteen and that I had been pretty close in guessing his age.

"Uh-huh," I said when he had finished yapping and then told him to get himself naked and wait for me on the bed while I used the bathroom, which was barely large enough to stand up in.

In the bathroom, I tore off my shirt, dropped my jeans, and eased my sticky briefs down. I sat on the toilet long enough to kick off my shoes and socks.

Totally naked, I went back out into the main room. "Oh my god!" was all he said, gawking at my cock, which stuck out like a club.

All Male Fiction: Contented

By: breeze

His hand trembles. Every part of his body, every square inch of skin has the potential to arouse him. He slowly and deliberately runs his hands over different places allowing himself to feel the sensuousness that resides there. He does not focus on his penis or testicles yet. He delights in his sensual nature, and not in the sexual aspects of his body.

He feels the ripple of his rib cage. He follows his obliques down to his hips. He traces along the hip bones to his upper, then inner thighs. He lifts his legs and continues his journey. He feels the roundness of the cheeks of his ass and the cleft that separates them. First one leg then the other, all the way down to his feet, has his attention.

He works his way back up until he has found his chest and his nipples are hard and sensitive to his touch. He lingers there. He visits his armpits…neck…ears…face. He runs his fingers through his hair.

His ministrations have awakened his senses. He feels the warmth that radiates within his body spreading over him, seducing him. His body gives up its sensual secrets. He is in a heightened state of arousal. It has driven him to an erection.

He reaches for his member with one hand and with the other feels the smoothness of his skin at its base, then the velvety texture of his sack. He takes in a deep breath and slowly begins his exploration there. He feels the blood begin to course its way into his rod, adding fuel to his already burning desire.

Straight Fiction: Silence Is Goldwyn

By: RejectReality

Once I started high school, my parents told me I was responsible for doing my own laundry. I didn't mind doing it, the problem was the laundry room in our building closed pretty early, at least for my liking.

The motel at the edge of town opening the 24-hour laundromat recently was a godsend and suited me perfectly, allowing me the freedom to do my laundry later at night. I preferred to do my laundry on Friday nights since I stayed up late on the weekends anyway, plus doing it later at night also meant I rarely had to deal with anyone and never had to wait for washers and dryers to be free.

It was one of those Friday nights and I was sitting in my parent's car waiting on my laundry. I checked the time on my phone, shut off the car, and headed back into the laundromat. The place was empty, as it usually was.

Once I transferred all my clothes from the washers to the dryers, I headed back out to my car. It was way more comfortable than the plastic seats inside, and I was parked close enough to use the free Wi-Fi.

With about five minutes to go on the dryers, I saw the motel room door just to my left open. Upon seeing my principal, Mr. Maclean, emerge, I covered the light from my phone and shrank back in my seat. He had developed a serious hate-on for me after I dated and then dumped his daughter.

Fortunately, he walked to his car and drove away. I breathed a sigh of relief but had to wonder why he was leaving a motel after midnight. It didn't really matter, so I decided to go ahead and empty the first dryer, which was a couple of minutes ahead of the one for which I had marked the time.

It worked out perfectly; by the time I'd finished with each load, the next dryer was shutting off. I stashed the first two baskets in my car, and then returned for the final one.

I put the last basket in the back seat and shut the door just in time for the same motel door to open. I could barely believe my eyes when I saw my senior English teacher, Ms. Goldwyn, step out of the door.

I couldn't help but stare.

She had her strawberry blonde hair down instead of tied back in a ponytail — though it looked a little mussed. She was wearing a tight black dress that showed off her body in a way that shocked me compared to the way she'd dressed in school. The skirt was short, and the neckline showed cleavage from tits that were way bigger than I'd realized they were.

I saw her stiffen and heard her gasp when she saw me. That was also the moment when I gathered enough of my wits to realize that my principal had exited the door only a few minutes before. I put two and two together, and the next thing I knew, I heard myself mutter, "Ms. Goldwyn?"

"Shit," she said under her breath.

I'd never heard her curse before, so it was yet another shock to the system that kept me from climbing in my car. We stared at each other in stunned silence for a couple of seconds before my face started to burn. I looked away and reached for the door handle.

"Jason, wait...," she said. I heard her heels clicking on the pavement as she quickly walked toward me.

I was too embarrassed to respond, but by the time I'd opened the car door, she was standing next to me. She put her hand on the door to keep me from opening it more.

"Jason, I can... This isn't..." She let out a great sigh, paused for a moment, and then asked, "Is there any chance you can forget what you saw here tonight?"

"I dunno," I muttered, not really meaning I wasn't sure if I could keep it a secret or not; it was just what came out while I was feeling uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact.

"Oh, God, I can't believe this is happening," she said, panicked. She knew I knew Mr. Maclean was married, and I'm sure she was afraid I was going to say something around school about what I'd witnessed.

She took a breath and said, "I can't believe I'm going to do this," then she took a step closer, and spoke quietly into my ear, "If you forget what you saw here tonight, I'll… I'll have sex with you."

Holy fucking shit! my inner voice screamed as I turned to look at her without thinking. Did she really just say that? All I could do was stand there frozen in place. I'm sure my mouth was hanging open, and my cock had gone from soft to rock-solid in almost an instant.

When I didn't immediately answer, she looked down and saw my hardness, then moved my hand that was holding the door and curled her fingers around my wrist. I let go of the door handle, and she pushed the door closed before pulling on my arm.

"Hurry, before anyone sees us," she said, pulling me in the direction of the motel room.

My heart and my thoughts were both racing as she drew me inside the room. The sight of the unmade bed rather forcefully reminded me of what she was supposed to be encouraging me to forget.

She cupped my chin in her hand and forced me to look at her. She was wearing her teacher expression when she said, "I want your word. I do this for you, and you never tell a soul what you saw here tonight."

"I... I..." My brain simply wouldn't work. All I could do was stammer and stare at her.

"Won't tell anyone?" she prompted, and then licked her lips.

"Won't tell," I repeated.

"Good," she said and smiled at me. "On the bed, then."

Ms. Goldwyn put her hand between my shoulder blades and prodded me to do as she had said with a gentle push. I took the couple of steps forward, still moving on autopilot and in complete disbelief that it was actually happening. Another push on my shoulder turned me around, and another prompted me to sit. I felt like a marionette with no control of my own body.

I was stiff as a board when she tried to lift my leg. My eyes homed in on her cleavage of their own accord. My face burned even hotter when I tore my gaze away from her tits.

"Nervous?" she asked while lifting my leg and putting a hand under the heel of my shoe.

I nodded.

"It's your first time, isn't it?"

I was too embarrassed to tell her she was right. I was awkward around girls, especially when it came to trying to get them into bed, and I had only ever dated one girl — Mr. Maclean's daughter — and she wouldn't put out ('I'm saving myself for marriage,' she told me) which is why I ended up dumping her.

"You don't have to say it. I can see it in your face. Just relax," she said while slowly pulling on my shoestring. "I promise that when I'm done, my mouth will be the only thing you'll remember about tonight."