All Male Fiction: RV Rocking

By: Unknown Author

 

 

It was not my intention to go looking for cock. My periodic camping trips have traditionally been nothing more than a much-needed respite from the stresses of my job.

There's one particular state park that I like to go to for long weekends. It's heavily wooded, blissfully serene, and has not yet been "discovered" by the weekend campers. Pulling my RV into the park, I selected a beautifully secluded site.

It was already a long weekend, but I had made it even longer by calling in sick a day early so that I could have four complete days in the woods to hike, rest, read, commune with nature, and practice my campsite culinary skills. I'd been looking forward to the weekend for a long time.

Work deadlines and job stresses were obliterated from my mind as I set up camp. I'd hooked up the generator to my RV and gathered jugs of water from a nearby natural spring all by about noon on Thursday, and then went for a long, leisurely walk through the dense woods, savoring the natural smells that were so refreshingly different from the city smog. By the time I got back to my RV, other campers were beginning to roll into the park.

Thankfully no one had parked their RVs too close to where I was, so I was still isolated, and I took off my shirt and sat in the camp chair in only my shorts, reading a novel I bought three weeks earlier but had not had the time to start. It was an idyllic setting with the birds chirping and a nearby stream flowing. The weather was phenomenal, and I felt like a new man, no longer stressed or feeling hunted or harried.

Midway through the second chapter of my book, I saw another RV pull into a spot near to me. The young man who drove it was alone, as I was. My eyes kept wandering from my book to my new neighbor, cursing him for invading my private spot, but, even so, I couldn't help but notice that he was indeed a hot-looking guy. I judged him to be in his early twenties. He had semi-long blond hair and a muscular physique. He was exactly the type of guy I'd try to hit on if we were in a gay bar. But we were not in a gay bar, so I cooled my simmering libido and tried to focus on my novel.

I wasn't much good at shutting out the delightful distraction of my new neighbor, though, especially when he peeled off his shirt to reveal a v-shaped torso with wonderfully rippling muscles. He had a pair of exquisite buns stuffed tightly into a pair of ultra-short silk jogging shorts. They were so short that the bottoms of those buns were provocatively exposed, making me wonder if he was wearing underwear.

I found myself fantasizing about him, wondering if he had a big cock or not, wondering if he was gay. And the more I fantasized, the more I became aware of the swelling in my cock and of the fact that I hadn't been with another man in nearly a month. My book no longer could hold my interest. It didn't have the fascination for me that my new neighbor did.

I set the book aside and watched him move. He had a certain grace and agility that turned me on. So, soon, I decided to be neighborly and go over and pay a visit to that young stud, trying to subtly discern if he might be gay and if he'd be available for a long weekend of fun.

Trent was twenty-six, an accountant, and lived just a few miles away from me. And before long, he was talking about how lonely he had become since his lover, Ashley, had moved out two months ago.

My hopes were high, but I was also cautious. After all, one of my female friends was named Ashley, it was a unisex name. So, I casually mentioned the name of an obscure gay bar. My heart fluttered when Trent smiled, nodded his head, and said, "I haven't been there for a long time. That's where I met Ashley, in fact."

Bingo! Trent was gay and available. He was also quite convenient.

It took damn little coaxing to get Trent out of those skimpy jogging shorts. Just as I had figured, he wore no underwear underneath. The hunky-looking man stood totally naked in the great outdoors, and, just as I had hoped, his cock was a fucking whopper!

All Male Fiction: Spokes & Strokes

By: Unknown Author

 

 

 

One by one, my four buddies dropped out. Other commitments, they claimed. One couldn't get time off from work. One had a family emergency, one just wimped out, and one decided he'd rather spend Saturday night judging a drag competition.

So, that left me alone with four thousand other bikers, facing a two-day, one hundred and fifty-mile cycling trip, not knowing a soul. But hell, I'd paid my registration fee and looked forward to this outing all summer. With or without my buddies, I was going.

They let us through the starting gate in groups of one hundred at 6:30am. I was in the third group. The sun was just creeping over the horizon as we lined up our bikes. I ran a quick, last-minute check over my new black Fuji and made sure my pair of water bottles were full, and then scanned my fellow bikers.

Let me tell you, there was some prime meat there, and all of it stuffed into tight Spandex. It's hard to hide your equipment in biker shorts. Serious cyclists are almost always in such great shape, too; great leg muscles, hard rounded asses and flat bellies. I felt my cock begin to stiffen as I looked around.

Down boy, I thought as I looked down at my crotch. It's probably all straight meat.

I was waiting impatiently for the go flag when I spied him. He was about three bikes further back in the pack, standing with a big silver Cannondale between his legs, looking really relaxed. He hadn't put his helmet on yet, and the wind stirred his thick black hair. There was a hard, handsome angle to his sun-bronzed face, and he had the kind of piercing blue eyes you only read about in books. His short-sleeved jersey was zipped to the neck, but I could see the clear outline of his well-developed pectorals underneath and the clean definition of his biceps and forearms.

Suddenly, he looked my way, and I turned around quickly and pretended to adjust the strap on the back of one of my gloves. I didn't want him to think I was staring. Slowly, though, I turned around again. He was drinking from his water bottle with his head tipped back, his throat muscles working as he swallowed.

The flag came down. The pack surged forward, a rippling sea of colorful helmets and jerseys and bikes as the riders stepped onto their pedals and took off. There was a big archway of bright balloons to pass under, and the families and friends of all the riders stood at the sides applauding and yelling.

My heart hammered with excitement. I'd done these rides before, though never without at least one partner. We turned out onto Highway 50, one lane of which had been marked and set aside for the tour riders. I shifted up onto the big wheel immediately and tore down the pavement. Riding in a pack can be dangerous if a lot of bikes are too close together, so I always like to get up front and away from the others as fast as possible.

Cars whisked by in the left-hand lane. Little kids pressed their faces to windows, wide-eyed and excited by all the bikes. Drivers waved to us out of rolled-down windows, just as excited, but with a more adult demeanor. Some cars pulled off onto the shoulder and parked to watch us go by.

One had a sign taped to the back bumper that said, "Go all the way, Becky!"

Yeah, there were a few women on this ride, too. Becky's friends stood by their car with cameras and camcorders, screaming and yelling.

I'd had a new aero-bar installed on my handlebars. That's a kind of sharply bent, U-shaped bar that extends out in front of your normal bars. You can lie down almost flat, reach out, and really pedal like hell. It cuts down on wind drag, too, so I was going all out.

Ten miles down the highway, I braked and pulled into the first rest stop. Depending on the terrain, there were rest stops positioned every six to ten miles on the tour. I parked my Fuji, took off my gloves, walked over to several tables under a big tent, and helped myself to an orange wedge.

There were lots of bikers gathered around from the first two packs, riders who hadn't pushed on yet. From this point on, the packs would begin to string out and mingle into one long line of bikers.

As I swallowed a bite of orange, he pulled in. His face gleamed with sweat. Beads of it rolled off the tip of his nose as he unstrapped his helmet and leaned back on his bike seat. Slowly, he got off, peeled off his jersey, stuffed it into a tiny ball, and shoved it into the small pack under his seat.

I just about choked on my orange. His nipples were brown and erect, large as half-dollars. His chest was absolutely smooth, his belly ridged with hard muscle. A tiny patch of black hair extended from just below his navel down into the top of his black biker shorts.

He pulled his water bottle from its rack and poured it over his head. The water ran in streams through his hair, down his face, in beads over that chest and into his shorts. Then he carried the empty bottle over to one of several tanks and proceeded to refill it.

"Good ride isn't it?" he said to me as he passed by on his way back to his Cannondale.

I was too startled to answer immediately.

"It gets harder from here on out," I answered, but he was already gone, astride his bike, where he busied himself over his cyclometer.

The sun was moving higher into the sky now, and the morning was getting warm. With two water bottles on my bike, I had enough to get me to the next rest stop, so I hopped back into the saddle and took off.

We were on country roads now, and the pavement rolled along through farm country over gentle, sloping hills. Volunteers with orange flags waved us in the proper direction at intersections, and farmers and their families sat out on their porches to watch us go by.

I glanced over my shoulder to measure my progress against the other riders. My bare-chested friend was right behind me, pedaling with efficient, relaxed energy. I bent down on my aero-bar again and rushed ahead. Though I loved passing people, I hated to be passed, even by bare-chested, dark-haired hunks like the one who was riding my ass.

I reached the second rest stop about four minutes before he did, and took the time to down a full bottle of water. There was cherry yogurt to eat this time, as well as orange wedges and peanut butter sandwiches. I scooped the yogurt down, refilled my water bottle, and headed back to my bike. Before I took off, I looked around.

He was leaning against a tree, enjoying some shade while he ate his own cup of yogurt. Our gazes met briefly, and I swallowed. In his Spandex shorts, I could see the outline of his thick, soft cock.

I shot off like a rocket down the highway, putting that image out of my mind. This was a bike tour, not a cruise.

Concentrate on your time and speed, and on the distance. There's a long way to go, I silently told myself.

My jersey was soaked with sweat by now. Without slowing, I grabbed one of my water bottles and took a drink. Then I gave myself a squirt in the face to cool myself off. As I pushed the bottle back into its rack, I glanced back. My dark-haired friend was just coming over the summit of a hill about an eighth of a mile back, coming hard.

Well, he wasn't going to catch me. No way. I bent low and settled in for some serious pedaling. The road swept by in a blur beneath my wheels. The wind sang in my ears. I laughed a little because I loved it so much. My body felt like a perfectly functioning machine. I'd trained hard for this ride, honed my muscles, and this was the payoff. This thrill! So what if my buddies had chickened out, who needed them?

I was closing on a pair of riders ahead of me. One of them had a really nice ass wrapped in bright blue Spandex and all stuck up in the air as he worked his pedals. One thing you had to say about these country rides: the scenery was always fantastic. He was obviously in the wrong gear, though, not getting the most reward for his effort, as I surged past, my eye on another string of riders ahead.

Looking down at the cyclometer on my handlebars, I saw I'd come twenty-three miles in well under an hour, which made me feel pretty good.

Then disaster struck. The last rider in the string ahead lost control of his bike and slid sideways. He rolled into the left lane while his fallen bike blocked the right. There was no way I could slow down in time, so I steered desperately for the narrow grassy shoulder. There was about a four-inch drop-off between the pavement and the grass and then a steep ditch. My Fuji pitched forward, and I flew over the handlebars.

A sharp pain exploded in the front of my left shin, and then I hit the ground, the wind knocked out of me, stars bursting inside my skull. The Fuji skidded around and fell beside me in the ditch. Instead of biker gear, the kid who had fallen off his bike wore cutoffs and tennis shoes. A damned beginner and he didn't even seem to be scratched. He stood above me on the pavement, hands on his knees as he stared down at me wide-eyed.

"Hey, you all right, man?" he called. "I hit some gravel and just lost it."

I couldn't answer right away. The wind was still knocked out of me. A lot of bikers were slowing down or pulling over to see what had happened. Then my dark-haired friend pulled up. He parked his Cannondale, whipped off his helmet, threw it down by his bike, and then scrambled down the grassy embankment.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a concerned voice. "I'm a doctor."

All Male Fiction: The Last Campfire

By: Tommyhawk1

 

 

 

"It doesn't get any better than this," Troy said as he handed around the beers.

I caught the one he tossed my way and looked into the fire. There's something about a campfire in the early fall, when the weather is just cool enough to make the fire welcome, but not so frigid as to make the camping experience miserable. There would be few more days of this to come. We all knew full well the turn of the seasons. So, when Troy's cousin Mark had suggested this weekend away, we all agreed just to have one last camping trip before winter set in.

For me, it was the last in more ways than one. I was transferring to Leeds Academy in the spring, and so this semester was going to be my last with my old college friends. Oh, we had promised to keep in touch, but we also all knew how poorly people kept such promises.

We've been through a lot together, I thought as I lifted the cool can to my lips and imbibed the tepid beer. You can get a beer cool with an ice cooler, but not the actual cold of a refrigerator. The beer being only slightly below the temperature of the air was a part of its charm on these trips.

When we'd come up to the lake, we'd spend the days doing a little fishing, a little card playing and a lot of drinking and talking. No women, no books, no hassles, just the guys, hanging together and being buddies. We talked a little football, a little basketball, a little fishing, and a little about women, but not as much as women would think. It was just... being with your buddies. This trip was no different.

And now it was Sunday night, and we'd have to head back tomorrow morning, and the weekend would be over.

"Yeah, this place is great," Lucas was saying. "You know, guys, we should come back up here on spring break."

I wouldn't be around next spring. I'd be at Leeds Academy. I'd made my life's plans, and they were good plans... only they cut me off from every friend I had.

"Yeah, next spring; let's plan on having a real week up here, not this piddling couple of days," Troy agreed.

"And the lake will probably be warm enough then to get in some swimming. Not like this weekend," Mark put in.

He was nuts about swimming, even though it ruined our fishing as often as not. I thought about him wearing only a pair of ragged cut-off jeans as he dove into the water, his body shining and throwing off sparks of water in the warm summer sun. My friends joining him, the sun-bronzed bodies gleaming in the innocent joy of exuberant young manhood, their bodies moving around and beside and against each other, flesh touching flesh, hand upon shoulder, leg against arm... and I'd never see it again, never be a part of it again.

"I gotta go take a leak," I said feeling depressed and wanting a bit of time to myself. "See yah!" I said as I stood and staggered out into the trees outside the warm circle of the fire, the warm circle of my friends. Making their plans that would never, never again include me.

It just wasn't fair! I should have been able to have both my dreams and my friends! Why did I have to choose! It just wasn't fair!

After pissing, I hunkered down behind a bush, suddenly second guessing my decision to leave.

"Hey, John," came the voice. It was Gregory. "Are you all right?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, yeah," I said. "I'm sorry. I just realized that this was the last camping trip for me."

Gregory put an arm around my shoulder. "Hey, we're going to miss you, too," he said. "It was kind of why we all came on this trip. Troy mentioned it was our last chance to camp out with you before you took off for Leeds."

"Really?" I turned and looked at Gregory, so close to me. So very close. "That's great."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Gregory smiled.

"Yeah," I said softly.

"Friends," Gregory said, "are for being together."

I watched his lips as he spoke. Gregory's lips had always enticed me, such full, soft-looking lips that curved like a pair of archer's bows. In my hunkered position, I almost fell on my ass from surprise and shock, when Gregory suddenly leaned in and those lips touched mine.

I enjoyed it for only a brief moment and then pulled my mouth from his and said, "Oh, God, Gregory, I can't believe what you're doing!"

"I'm... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, John." Gregory said and began to stand, embarrassed, likely worried that I might tell the others what he did.

"You just took me by surprise, that's all. I never knew that you were... well, gay," I said.

"I'm not. I'm just drunk. Don't know why I did that."

"It's ok, Gregory. I'm not going to tell the others. I won't because… I am gay."

"You are?" Gregory said looking surprised. "I always thought you were straight."

"Well, I always thought you were too, but you're not... are you?"

"N-no. But, but I'm not gay... I'm bi. I like pussy, too. Like it a lot. A hell of a lot. More than dick to tell the truth."

"That's fine," I said as I reached up, grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to the ground. "You can love pussy, and love it a lot, as long as you like dick at least a little bit, because I like dick and I want us to have some fun with our dicks... if you do, too, that is?"

All Male Fiction: A Hard Time in the Woods

By: Lucas Miller

 

 

 

Luke and I said very little that day. We just tried to keep up. Frank and Mark were the experienced hikers, and after the long hike, Luke and I were only too happy to help quickly set up the tents so we could just sit down and relax for a bit.

Frank and Mark were older. They were both thirty-one, making them seem "old" to a couple of teenagers like Luke and me. Frank worked with my Uncle, and it was he who suggested that Frank take me along on his hiking trip; my dad had died last year, and he thought it would be good for me. Mark was Frank's friend, and Luke was Mark's cousin. He decided to invite him along, too, so I would have another guy my own age to hang out with on the week-long hiking and camping trip.

After a bite to eat Luke and I retired to our two-man tent. Despite being the same age and having attended the same high school, we had never known each other. That didn't stop us from stripping down to our underwear, though; it was too hot not to.

Luke rummaged through his backpack and removed a bottle of whisky. He put his finger to his lips to make sure I wouldn't let on that he had the bottle. "I stole it from my parent's liquor cabinet before we left," he grinned mischievously.

Whisky wasn't my favorite beverage, but I was up for getting drunk. He took a long drink from the bottle and handed it to me. I took the burning liquid into my mouth and down my throat, instantly feeling the effects of the alcohol. We continued to drink in silence for several minutes.

Without warning, Luke lifted his ass and farted. We laughed like kids, and this seemed to encourage him even more. He raised his legs again and struggled to pass more gas. I pushed him back, accidentally touching his crotch.

"Hey!" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "You want to play that game, huh?" He pushed me back and grabbed my crotch. I copied this, and then pulled at his briefs. He reached for my underwear and pulled them down below my balls. The game had suddenly turned into something else.

Luke backed away and I inched backward assessing the situation. I didn't know what to say. Part of me wanted to yank my underwear back up and leave the tent, while the other wanted to grab my dick and jerk off.

The minute of silence seemed an eternity but was finally broken when Luke said, "Nice cock," and laughed.

Was this the game still? I decided to play along.

"Wish I could say the same for you." I pointed at his crotch. "You look rather small." It was a lie; he did look pretty big, and it was growing.

"Small!" He was immediately offended. "I am definitely bigger than you!"

"Yeah, right," I grinned. "Prove it."

Luke's macho side took over and he dropped his briefs. His cock wasn't erect but did appear to be about the same length as mine, perhaps a little thicker. "See, it's much bigger."

I was the one doubting his word now. "No way! I can barely see that little thing." A tinge of excitement rushed through me. My cock started to quickly stiffen, but I wasn't embarrassed at all by my display. Instead, all I wanted to do was grab it and jerk it, but I wasn't sure how Luke would react to that. It took all I had in me not to.

"You're hard," Luke laughed and pointed. "I bet my hard-on is bigger than yours." He rubbed his growing dick feverishly and soon it was at full length. It still looked to be about the size of my six-incher.

"I still think I am bigger than you," I said taunting him.

"Bullshit!" He moved closer to me. "Let's look at them side by side."

I moved next to him, but we still couldn't get an accurate idea of who was longest. "Let's face each other instead," I suggested, "and put them right up against each other." I didn't wait for him to reply. I moved in front of him, inched as close as I could to him.

Our erect cocks touched one another and the mood in the tent became very serious. I reached down and grabbed both of our cocks and held them together. I lined them up as carefully as I could. The tip of his cock was just slightly past mine.

With the results evident to both of us, I removed my hands and was about to move away. Luke, however, replaced my hands with his.

"What are you doing?" I asked, but not caring for an answer.

He cocked his head to the side a little and moved in to kiss me. While slowly jerking both of us off, he parted my lips with his tongue and began kissing me deeply. I began moving my hips, feeling his grip on our cocks loosen and tighten with absolute perfection. I pulled my mouth away from his to tell him I was going to cum, but he held on tight. My cum shot out of my dick with tremendous force. Some of my juices ran down the length of our cocks and he used them for lubrication. I moaned with pleasure as I felt his body stiffen and felt the jerks of his cock as he came. I felt some of it hit my stomach, but most of it continued to coat our cocks.

We continued to kiss long after we had gone soft, and then we fell onto our sides, still entwined. Both of us began to quickly get hard again as we ground our cocks together. But then we heard the footsteps of Mark and Frank outside the tent and we broke free from each other, quickly and quietly slipping our underwear back on and pretending to be asleep.

**********

I woke up in the middle of the night. Luke was snoring softly beside me. It was still very hot in the tent even at the late hour, but it wasn't the heat that woke me up. The whisky from earlier in the night had reached my bladder and I had to pee.

Still in my underwear, I made my way out of the tent into the night air. There was a light breeze that caressed my body, hardening my nipples. It felt good to be out in the open-air, nearly naked. It was not only freeing, but also erotic. My cock grew a little in my underwear.

I walked far enough away from the camp, the moon lighting my way. Lowering the front of my underwear, I pulled my semi-erect dick out and began pissing on a tall maple tree. As I did so I played with my hard nipple.

It had been an exciting night. The hike had been good, but the activities in the tent with Luke had been even better. I considered going back and waking him up, but I wasn't sure if this was just a one-time thing or if he wanted to continue our sexual games. The thought of his warm cock against mine made me want to at least try to see if he wanted more.

The stream of piss came to an end just as my cock was growing to its fullest. I was about to take it in my hand when I heard someone clear their voice behind me. My first thought was that it was Luke. It was the perfect time to see if he wanted to continue. I turned around smiling, with my swollen dick pointing straight out. To my horror it was Frank.