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."

All Male True Experience: Sucking My First Cock

By: Sean R.

Several months ago, I had an experience I will never forget. It started as a normal day, however, things would deviate from the norm after I had finished work and made my way to the gym.

I had plans to play racquetball with my usual partner at 7:30 pm. He wasn't there yet, so I went to the locker room to change. I love locker rooms; being able to catch glimpses of all those hanging, swinging cocks. This locker room was a very nice, large one with plenty of mirrors.

Just the sight and smell of a locker room could get me feeling horny, and this time was no different; my dick was semi-hard by the time I took down my pants and underwear. I was just contemplating giving it a couple of tugs when I heard some voices, and then two guys, older businessmen types in suits, came around the corner and went to lockers a few doors down from mine.

I quickly pulled on my jock to cover my semi, then got the rest of my gym clothes on and headed off for the juice bar to wait for my friend.

After arriving at the juice bar and taking a seat, the woman behind the counter asked if I was Sean. I told her that I was, and she then passed along a phone message to me saying that my friend had called and would be unable to make it.

I thanked her, sounding rather disappointed, and asked if she knew of anyone else who was perhaps looking for a racquetball partner. She didn't but said if I was planning to stay, she would let people know that I was looking. I thanked her again, bought a drink, and sat at the juice bar for a bit.

It was now 8:30, and so far, no one had been available or interested in playing a game of racquetball with me. I decided I had wasted enough time and didn't want to just leave and go home, so I decided to head to the court, open a can of balls and get some practice time in.

I batted those balls over and over and had long since worked up a sweat. I decided to step out and get some water and check the time. I was surprised to find that it was after 9:30. I was so preoccupied I didn't realize that I had been batting balls for a little over an hour; it certainly hadn't felt like that much time had gone by.

I looked around and there was no one else around now. It didn't matter anyway, though; it wasn't like I was going to get a game in before the club closed. However, I decided I'd get in a few more practice shots before calling it quits; I was plenty steamed from being stood up and having had no luck in finding a partner and had decided this was the best way to burn it off.

As I approached the court, I saw through the windows that someone else was now in there, swatting their balls. I sort of recognized him; he was a regular at the gym, but not the courts. He was about 6'2", which is about my height, and had dark hair, green eyes, and being shirtless, I could see that he was in really great shape, too.

I tapped the window before entering, to get his attention; if you just walk in when someone doesn't see you, they will turn and the ball is likely to come back and hit either you or them.

He moved over and let the ball fly past him and I stepped into the room. "Hi, you must be Sean," he said.

"Uh, yeah. How do you know my name?" I asked him.

"Oh, Melissa told me there was a guy named Sean in court 7 looking for a partner."

"Melissa?"

"The girl at the juice bar."

"Ah," I nodded.

"I'm Josh," he said extending his hand. "So, you wanna get a game or two in?"

I told him I'd love to as I shook his hand, but pointed out that the place would be closing soon and we didn't have enough time to do so.

He then told me that Melissa was his girlfriend and was going to be there until 11:00 or so, locking up and stuff and that we could stay until she was ready to leave. After explaining that, I agreed to a game and we started playing.

We played to 15 at first and it was a great game. I just barely won and I was completely out of breath, and very thirsty. I went out to get another drink of water from the fountain and noticed that most of the lights were now off. I looked at the clock and it said 10:30. I figured Melissa was almost ready to leave, a little earlier than her boyfriend had anticipated, and that we would have to leave now, too.

However, after telling Josh this, he explained that most of the lights in the main gym area got turned off after hours and that his girlfriend had left our light on so we could play a little longer.

Game two started the same, and we were in the middle of the point when the lights went out, and being in the middle of a dive for the ball at the time, Josh slammed into me in the dark. We both went crashing to the floor. He was on top of me and his sweaty arms and legs were all over me. I could also feel a soft cock quickly stiffening and pushing into my stomach. This was the strangest thing I had ever felt.

I didn't want to seem awkward or pushy so I asked him if he was alright. He said he was fine, and that he was sorry. He rolled off me and I could hear him breathing next to me. He said he guessed that was his girlfriend's way of saying that she wouldn't be much longer and that it was time for us to call it a night, and go and get showered and changed. I told him that I agreed and that my fiancé would be wondering where I was.

We both got up and felt our way toward the door, and with the small amount of light shining through the windows from outside of the racquetball court, I could see his shorts being pushed forward by a hard-on. I tried not to make it look like I noticed, but this turned me on a lot.

As we entered the locker room, we each went to our locker areas and undressed. Towel wrapped around my waist, I headed to the showers. Josh was just stepping in as I arrived and had his back to me. I took the shower across from him and took in his naked body from behind as he began to wet himself down.

He turned and I quickly averted my eyes. His cock appeared to be semi-erect and I noticed him taking in my nakedness as well. His cock began to rise even more and he turned away from me to hide his erection. I decided that an opportunity like this would not present itself again.

"Hey, great game," I started.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I had a great time," I continued.

"Yeah me too," he replied, and then there was a moment of silence.

I decided to use his embarrassment against him to bring up the subject of his cock. "It's ok, happens to all of us at some point," I said.

"What does?"

"Getting a hard-on in the showers."

"Shit!" he said under his breath, realizing I had seen it. "Uh, yeah," he said with a nervous laugh, "It has a mind of its own. Just thinking about my girlfriend, you know. I'm not gay or anything, so don't worry or get nervous that it means anything."

But I knew it did mean something, I just had a feeling. Probably because he got hard when his sweat-soaked, bare-chested body landed on top of mine, and he started to get hard when he saw me naked in the showers. "I'm not worried, I'm not gay either. It happens to the best of us." I wasn't lying; I considered myself straight and simply bi-curious.

He didn't reply but I couldn't stop now and, after mustering up all my nerve, I went for it, "So, um, do you need a hand with that?" I asked.

"Uh, hand with what?"

"With that boner you can't get to go down," I chuckled.

"Uh, I told you, I'm not gay; I have a girlfriend. Um, what did you have in mind anyway?"