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 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.

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: Hot Summer Nights

By: Curt J.

It was the summer between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I didn't hate high school; I had a lot of good memories with my best friend Don. We weren't unpopular, but we were far from part of the "cool" crowd. We rarely got invited to parties, and even worse, we never had girlfriends - at least we weren't the guys who got picked on by the jocks. I was actually a member of the track team, so I earned a certain amount of acceptance with the cool crowd, just not enough to be a full-fledged member.

As I was lazing around one day, the phone rang. It was Don, calling to inform me that his parents had gone away to visit a relative for the weekend, and he wanted to know if I wanted to come over and hang out. No parents? A whole house to ourselves? I was down for that, of course, and told him I'd be over in a little while.

I enjoyed hanging out with Don. He had been my best friend for over seven years. He was laid back, and never cared about his social status in high school. He could have been an excellent athlete, but never played on a team; instead he always had a job after school. As a result, he practically had a mini-bachelor pad in his bedroom: a huge TV, VCR, video games, and a top-notch stereo system – as you can tell, this all took place years ago. Don was fun to hang out with, not only because he had a lot of nice "toys", but also because he was fun to talk to.

When I showed up at Don's place, we went straight up to his room and played video games for a while. At some point we ordered a pizza, and after we had finished it we decided to switch from video games to watching movies.

When it came to what movie we were going to watch first, Don telling me to go ahead and see if there was anything in his videotape cabinet that I wanted to see was the catalyst for what would follow.

I opened up the cabinet and checked out his collection of movies. I was a bit surprised to find an adult video, and pulled it out and looked at the cover, then glanced over at Don and promptly asked him where he got it.

Let me explain: back then there wasn't easy access to porn like there is now; you had to buy girly magazines, and buy or rent porno movies, and you had to be eighteen to do so. Don had just turned eighteen a couple of months ago, and I had just turned eighteen three weeks prior. We could both now legally buy or rent it, the problem was we lived in a small country town and there wasn't any porn available to buy or rent. Don was an only child and I had an older sister, so no older brothers for either of us to get porn from. So basically, the only way for us to get our hands on some would be to buy it online (and neither of us had a credit card) or drive to another place where it was available that was about an hour away.

So, how did Don get a porno?

Well, I couldn't believe it when he told me he'd gotten it from his dad, or more to the point, how he'd gotten it from his dad! Turns out he didn't find his dad's porn stash and steal one of his videos, but his dad actually offered him to borrow his porno movies if he wanted, telling him where he keeps them and that he could feel free to borrow them anytime he wanted, as long as Don's mom wasn't around when he went to his dad's hiding spot to do so.

Fuck, at the time I remember thinking how lucky he was to have a cool dad who provided his teenage son with porn to watch, and I told him so. Then I asked him if the porno I held in my hand was hot, and he said what he'd watched of it had been, then surprised me a bit when he said we could pop it in the VCR and watch it if I wanted to.

I just shrugged as I stretched out my arm to give him the tape, like watching it was no big deal to me. Truth be told I wanted to see it so bad; I had never seen a porno before, or any porn for that matter!

Don had a nice big double bed, and I lay down on it and propped myself up with a pillow. Don put in the tape and stretched out next to me, also propping himself up with a pillow. At first, it felt a little uncomfortable, but I soon started to feel more relaxed, in part because Don was so laid back, you couldn't help but feel at ease around him.

We sat there watching the porno in complete silence for a while but soon began to chat about what we were seeing on the screen. I remember it all, everything I was seeing for the first time, and everything we said and did, just like it was yesterday:

"I'd love to do that to Angie Smith," Don commented on a girl from school as the couple on the screen fucked.

"I'm a bigger fan of Leslie Harris," I replied.

"Well, we can wish all we want; it looks like it will never happen."

"Yeah, our sex lives aren't the greatest," I commented.

"You've had sex?!" Don asked me.

"No, unfortunately."

"Yeah, me neither," Don informed, and I remember him seeming both disappointed that I hadn't, and relieved that I hadn't because he hadn't either. "Fuck, I'd love to try it," he added.

We looked at each other, two horny guys alone watching porn. We could both see we had hard-ons under our shorts.

"Fuck, I want to try it so bad!" Don exclaimed with obvious desperation and frustration in his voice. "Like, right now!"

"Yeah, me too, but we need a girl for that, and not having a girl to do that with is our whole problem," I laughed.

"Not necessarily…"

"Wh-what are you thinking, Don?" I remember thinking we were thinking the same thing, weird as it was for us to be thinking what we were thinking.

"You, um, want to try it, Curt?"

"Um, I'm not gay. But I'm turned on, and I'm desperate to know what it's like, too. I don't know… what do you think?"

"Well, I'm not gay either… but I'll… suck you if you do the same for me."

"I dunno… if-if we do that, you have got to promise me you'll never tell anyone, ever!"

"As long as you never tell," he responded.

I remember we sat there for a minute, not saying anything, unsure if we should go through with it. We were both nervous and turned on, both breathing hard, and both had stiffies that were rock hard and throbbing… at least mine was throbbing. I could also feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Don finally spoke. "I've thought about asking you to try this before, but I was too scared," he told me. "I promise not to tell anyone; it's our secret," and then he rolled off the bed and just started to get undressed. The time for thinking was obviously now over; it was happening.

I hurriedly pulled off my clothes, too, and in a flash, we were both lying on Don's bed, totally naked and displaying our excited cocks to each other, the porno all but forgotten now.

All Male True Experience: Working Stiff

By: Unknown Author

I work in a large, all-glass building in the city, surrounded by other all-glass skyscrapers. In my job, I often have to work late, being at the office all alone most times when I do.

One night a few weeks ago, I was working late again, when something unexpected happened. I was alone by this point, and, sitting at my desk in my private office, tired after an already long day, I decided to take a short break, and went and grabbed myself a coffee.

Once back in my office, sitting in my chair sipping my coffee, my mind began to wander a bit, specifically onto sex with my wife. These thoughts of fucking the wife brought on an unwelcome stirring in my trousers, as my cock, with a mind of its own, responded to the mental images flowing through my head. Without even consciously thinking about it first, I gave my cock a quick rub through my trousers, which only succeeded in encouraging it to journey its way to a full hard-on.

I jack off a lot more than I get to fuck the wife – working late quite often and with my wife wrangling two young children all day, sex didn’t happen as often as we, or at least I, would like - and when I get hard like this, I know that I’m not going to be able to concentrate on whatever else I’m doing at the time unless I take care of it first. So, I knew a quick jack off was in order before getting back to my work.

I’d jacked off in my office quite a few times before when all alone and working late, and, after locking my office door – since there was a cleaning crew somewhere in the building – I made my way back to my desk and proceeded to undo my belt, unbutton and unzip myself, and then eased down my gray suit trousers to my knees.

Underneath my pants I was wearing boxers, and I gave my stiff cock a squeeze through the fabric, feeling it throb underneath, then pushed my boxers down as well, sat down in my chair, turned it sideways to the desk, slouched down, stretched out my legs, wrapped my hand around my prick and started jacking off.

As I sat there beating my meat, something caught my eye and I turned my head to see that a light was now on in an office opposite - Environmental laws where I live require office buildings to turn off all lights at night on any unoccupied floors, so the building across had been mostly dark, and this had never happened before, nor had it ever been a thought or concern when jacking off in my office - and there was a man in that office, a cleaner, obvious by the uniform he was wearing, who was standing right in front of the window, watching me!

All Male Fiction: Prep School Retreat

By: A.J.

It was our final year of prep school, and we were all eighteen-year-olds who were happy, healthy, and — at least some of us — quite horny. Being our final year, it was compulsory to attend the camp retreat. The camp setting was beside a back-beach of sun and surf, and there were tennis and basketball courts at the campsite itself.

Upon arrival, we poured off the bus and rushed for the log cabins. There were about eight cabins on the grounds, each capable of housing about eight guys in the double bunks, as well as a small function hall, kitchen and mess room, and a toilet block with showers. I somehow found myself in the same cabin with Scott, Adam, Brian and Kevin, all of with whom I was good friends. I'd had the hots for all of them for a while. They were all pretty nice looking. The only problem was, none of them, well, no one, in fact, knew I was gay, and I knew it wasn't something I could ever tell my friends.

Even though we were good friends, I'd never seen any of them naked before. We did take gym in school, but after gym class we simply changed and had to get to our next class. There was no time for showers, and no one ever took off their underwear when changing in and out of their gym clothes. The showers were there for the guys who were on the various school sports teams. Now, having the chance to share a cabin with them, as well as a communal shower, I was sure to get to see them naked, and that thought was pure bliss.

As for the other three that made up the eight of us, I knew them well enough, but just in passing; we weren't friends or anything. But, I guess that was precisely why we were assigned to the same cabin. The brothers who ran the school considered the retreat a place where we would all, whether we were already friends or not, get to know one another spiritually.

We had an itinerary to follow, including workshops, talk sessions, discussions, and group gigs over a variety of topics designed to "bring us close to God," as the brothers would say. We were also allotted some free time each day to do with what we wanted.

There was, however, one very strict rule put in place for us boys. An all-male nudist group had decided to use the somewhat secluded beach during our week's stay there, and because of this unfortunate (from the brothers' viewpoint) situation, that area of the beach was off limits to us. However, when Kevin decided, during our first free period on the very first day, that he wanted to go swimming, against all warnings of the brothers to stay away from that area of the beach, the five of us ended up stumbling upon the sights. And what sights they were!

Taking in the sights began to stir feelings in my crotch, and my semi-hard cock was making the moderate bulge in my clingy swim trunks obviously larger.

"Shit, we must have gone the wrong way," Brian cursed when he saw all the naked men lying about in the sand. "Let's get the fuck out of here, quick!"

"Yeah, let's!" Adam agreed as they both started to turn.

"Wait," Kevin said. "Are you afraid of the brothers? How are they even going to know we were ever here? It's not like we came here on purpose."

"I'm not afraid of the brothers," Brian said. "I just don't want to be surrounded by a bunch of naked homos."

"Me neither," Adam chimed in.

"How the fuck do you know they're homos?" Scott asked.

"Because, any guy that would join a nudist group that is for men only has to be a homo, and all of them joined, so they all must be homos," Brian replied.

"Yeah," Adam agreed.

"Yeah? So why don't you go over there and ask them and find out for sure?" Scott laughed.

"Fuck that," Brian replied. "I don't want to be that close to a bunch of naked guys!"

"Hate to break it to you, but you're gonna be that close to a bunch of naked guys every single day… when we all have to shower together in the mornings," I laughed, my cock lengthening a bit as I pictured that.

"Yeah, well, being naked with your buddies in the showers is a lot different than hanging out next to a bunch of naked guys on the beach, who you're pretty sure are fags."

"Yeah, but being naked in a communal shower is also different than being naked outside. Haven't you guys always wondered what it would be like to go skinny-dipping before?" Kevin asked.

"I go skinny-dipping all the time," Scott said.

"You do?" the rest of us all responded at the same time.

"Yeah, every day… in the shower," he laughed.

"I'm serious guys; have any of you ever?" Kevin asked again.

"Hmm, have I ever wondered what it would be like to go skinny-dipping with other guys? Uh, no," Brian replied.

"Okay, but being here, and seeing how private it is, and how you can just get naked, outside, in public, and no one cares, kind of makes you want to do it, doesn't it?" Kevin said staring out at the water.

  

"Uh, nope, not really," Brian said.

"It does me," Kevin said.

"Okay, then do it. Go on, I dare you!" Brian taunted.

"Yeah," Adam said. "Go on… or are you all talk?"

"Okay, I will," Kevin replied.

"Yeah, sure," Brian laughed. "Like you'd actually get naked outside, and in front of all those naked homos."

"I would, I will. I've always wanted to do it," Kevin said, and before any of us could say any more, he walked right over to the shore's edge.

I was having trouble keeping my meat from tenting my swim trunks just thinking about seeing Kevin naked, but just as he was about to take off his swim trunks, he instead jumped into the water. When he was waist-deep, he pulled his trunks off and waved them in the air.

As we walked along, encouraging him on, he swam parallel to us. But unbeknownst to him, Adam had sneaked into the water and scooped up the trunks that Kevin had left floating, brought them ashore, and placed them halfway up the beach. When he got tired of playing around, Kevin looked for his trunks, but couldn't find them.

"Hey! Who pinched my trunks?" he shouted when he realized they were gone.

"They're up there," replied Adam, pointing to them.

"Throw them here, will you?"

"You'll just have to come and get them if you want them," Brian said with a grin. "I just hope none of those guys over there," he said pointing at the nudists, "come running over and try to grab your junk before you can get to them," he laughed.

Kevin gave Brian the finger, and then he swam out of the surf and boldly and unashamedly walked up the beach to retrieve his swim suit. Not only did I get a close look at those well-developed shoulders and powerful pecs, that taut stomach and trim waist, but I also got to see a gorgeous blond bush surrounding a fairly long looking soft cock hanging above two huge orbs, the sight of which I engraved in my mind forever.

So, as it turned out, I didn't have to wait until our first morning shower together to see at least one of my buddies naked. But, if I thought that treat was wonderful enough, then what I was to see that night was even better.

It was well after midnight when we scrambled into the bunks and got all snug in our sleeping bags, and then proceeded to shoot the shit together. I, however, couldn't seem to get my thoughts off the sights from earlier that day, and I wanted to jerk off over it. But everyone else wanted to talk on, so I discreetly fondled my hardened meat in my sleeping bag while everyone else chattered.

As the sensations of my caresses increased, I closed my eyes to relive that skinny-dip and what I had felt like doing to Kevin when he got out of the water, and I was soon completely tuned out of anything else. As I heard my name mentioned in the conversation, I brought my senses back to reality, with eyes still closed.

"Hey, it looks like A.J.'s fallen asleep on us," Scott said.

"Simon's asleep, too. Must be that bunk. He crashed awhile back," replied Brian. Simon was one of the three guys I didn't really know, and he was sharing the bunk bed with me, with him on the top bunk.

"I think A.J.'s just faking it," Scott answered.

"I know how to wake him up," offered Kevin.

Opening my eyes slightly, I had this vision of a red caterpillar walking towards me. Kevin was still in his sleeping bag. Arriving at my bunk, he turned his back to me and leaned forward slightly as he began to lower his sleeping bag, with his ass pointing in the direction of my face.

Knowing he was about to pull the adolescent prank of farting in a sleeping guy's face, I sat up quickly and pulled my head towards the back of the bunk, put my hand out in front of my face and said, "Fuck off, I'm awake."

"Told you it would work," Kevin giggled, but what the other guys didn't know, and Kevin probably didn't either, was that when he had slid his sleeping bag down, his jockey shorts had slid down his ass a bit, revealing to me the upper part of his ass cheeks and a bit of his ass crack. That made my already throbbing cock throb some more.

After some laughter from the other guys, Kevin began waddling back to his bunk, but, in his haste, he slipped on the floor and came down with a thud.

"Are you all right Kevin?" I asked as the other guys laughed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, joining in the laughter.

Picking himself up off the floor, he managed to waddle back to his bunk the rest of the way without falling. Conversation died down, Adam reached out and turned off the light switch located near to his bunk, and sleep settled in.

But I couldn't sleep; my hard-on wouldn't let me. I wanted to jerk off right then and there, but I was afraid that if someone was awake they'd hear me, and I knew if that happened I'd be teased for the rest of the trip.

I waited a bit, but my hard-on wasn't going away, so I quietly crept out of the bunk, having decided to go to the toilet block to take care of my problem. Just as I reached the door, I jumped a bit when Brian whispered out in the darkness, "Where you going, A.J.?"

"I have to take a piss," I whispered over my shoulder. Brian didn't respond and just lay back down. I opened the door, exited the cabin, and headed towards the toilet block.

When I got there, the only light was the one above the doorway that led inside. It was kind of creepy when I stepped inside, and I couldn't find any light switch. But, there was this kind of metal mesh along the top of the walls (for ventilation and to let the shower steam escape, I guessed), and the moonlight was shining through it, illuminating the room in areas just enough to see where I was going. That was probably better anyway, than if all the lights had been on; more private for what I was planning to do.

I made my way through, past the urinals and toilet stalls, back towards the shower area. I wanted to be away from the toilet area in case someone else came along to use the washroom.

There was a long bench along a wall by the shower area where people got changed; it was perfect. Pulling my underwear down, I sighed out loud as my hand was finally able to make contact with my horny cock. After a few minutes, I pulled my t-shirt off, as I liked to be completely naked when I jerked off, whenever possible. I didn't consider it too risky; I mean, I was already naked below the waist pumping my raging hard-on, so did it really matter at this point if I had my t-shirt off, too?

Now totally naked and boned, I lay down on the bench and began pumping away furiously on my own meat, imagining myself walking up to Kevin on that beach as he came out of the water naked, dropping to my knees and giving him a blowjob.

So engrossed was I in my own little fantasy that I failed to hear the toilet door creak open and close. "What's going on here?" a deep, stern sounding voice said in the darkness.

All Male Fiction: The Right Words

By: Unknown Author

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What have you been writing about?"

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

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

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

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

"Sure, but..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: A Roll in the Hay

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com
Based on a premise by unknown author

When my best friend John was sixteen, his dad ran off with another woman, leaving his family to fend for themselves. This resulted in John having to take over the majority of his dad's duties on the family farm. That took up a lot more of his time, with John having to get up very early most mornings and go to bed early most nights. We still hung out, but his work around the farm always came first.

The year his dad left was the first year that I helped John with the annual task of haymaking. He needed as much help as he could get, because all the farmers in the district were doing the same thing, so it was not always easy to find people.

Even though I dreaded haymaking season - I had hay fever, which always caught up with me later on in the night, and it was damn hard work - I have returned to help him every year since then for the past ten years. As John's best friend I felt it was my duty to help him out, so in that respect I didn't really mind.

John, on the other hand, loved haymaking season, despite the fact that he – or I should say we - had to work almost around the clock if the weather was good, trying to finish before it turned to rain and spoiled it all. In fact, he said haymaking season was his favorite time of year.

This year John had hired a part-time farmhand, who helped out on the weekends. His name was Mark, a nineteen-year-old local, whose regular job during the week was at a garage in the nearby small town. John had mentioned this and told me a bit about him before that day, and I was glad he had made the decision to hire him. The extra help with the haymaking would be nice.

The first thing I noticed about Mark was his good looks, and then his body. Dressed in a tight tank top and fairly tight knee-length shorts, it was evident he had a well-defined body. His arms and shoulders were strong from all the physical work he did, and his muscled pecs strained against the fabric of his tank top. Below the waist, his legs had a light covering of hair and were muscular and defined as well. His bulge was nothing to write home about; not really much showing, especially considering the tightness of his shorts. He had one hell of a great ass on him, though! His shorts showed off its shape perfectly.

Prior to my arrival, the weather had been kind and all the fields had been cut and everything was dried nicely. And now, with John having introduced Mark and me, it was time to get to work. The forecast had called for rain in the next few days, so the race was on to get all the hay baled and into the barn before then. But for now, the weather was absolutely perfect, not a cloud in the sky and hardly a breath of wind.

As the three of us worked away on the huge task at hand, there was barely any chatter. I tried a few times, but neither John nor Mark seemed interested in talking. I shouldn't have been surprised. John was always 'on the job' and never stood still long enough to get a sentence out, never mind a conversation. As for Mark's lack of social engagement, according to John, he was having relationships problems, and John had warned me that Mark would probably be in a foul mood and keep to himself all weekend.

After about an hour or so, Mark stopped what he was doing, crossed his arms in front of himself, and peeled his tank top up and over his head. His chest was naturally smooth and absolutely beautiful. His stomach was taught and had what could easily become a nice six-pack just peeking through the skin. I stared at his naked upper body as he tucked his tank top into the back of his shorts and then went about applying the sunscreen that John had provided. As he moved his hands all over his chest and stomach, I felt my dick starting to stir inside my own shorts, and had to force my eyes away and back to my work.

A little while later, John was taking off his shirt and applying sunscreen, and then so was I. With the sun beating down on us, it was just too hot not to take them off.

Although I stole the odd glance at Mark, the work we were doing helped to keep my mind on the task at hand and off his body, and my cock.

At around nine o'clock that evening, the field had almost been cleared of bales. There was one full trailer left to haul to the barn and one more partial load. With only room for one on the tractor and no room on the trailer when it was full, one person had to transport and unload the hay bales. We had taken turns all day long, and it was John's turn now.

John set off with the full tractor at a walking pace, careful with the loaded trailer going down the hill. The round trip would take about forty-five minutes. While he was gone, Mark and I just had to pull the remaining bales to a loading spot, which wouldn't take us long to do at all. After that was done, we could take a good long break while we waited for John to return.

Once we were finished, we both sat down and leaned against the stack of bales. John had provided us with bottles of water, and we both grabbed one and took a few swigs. It was warm by that point, but still an instant thirst quencher.

Mark put his water down and slouched against the bale, staring at the sky, which had taken on a red glow in the twilight. Slouched as he was against the bale, his taught stomach sinking down a bit, the waist of his shorts had enticingly opened away from his body. I couldn't help but look, and actually found myself licking my lips as I imagined what lay nestled inside those shorts. And, once again, I felt my dick starting to awaken.

"So… John mentioned you and you're girlfriend are planning to get engaged soon," I said. John had told me that, too, and then said they'd had a fight, but I didn't just want to blurt out, "Hey John told me you and your girlfriend had a huge fight. What was it about?" The truth was, I was just trying to strike up a conversation with him, any kind of conversation, to keep my mind off his half-naked body and slightly gaping shorts. Plus it was kind of awkward sitting there in the middle of a field not speaking to one another.

"Oh, it was more than just a fight, we're finished… for good this time," he replied.

"So what happened? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind. It was because of her mother."

"Her mother? Oh, you mean she didn't like you or something, didn't want you marrying her daughter?"

"No, I mean it was like it wasn't just my girlfriend I was getting engaged too, it was her mother, too!"

"How so?"

"Her mother was the one who decided everything. I'd say, 'are we going out tonight?' and she would go and ask her fuckin' mother if it was ok! Mother this and mother that, sticking her nose into everything we did! And my girlfriend let her, encouraged her. We had lots of arguments about it, but nothing changed, and I knew it never would. Finally, I just got fed up, had enough, and called it quits!" he explained.

"Wow, sorry to hear that, but it sounds like you made the only choice you could. But what about…"

"What about what?"

"Nothing, it's none of my business."

"It's ok, go ahead."

"Well, I heard that she was pregnant, and that's why you were getting married."

Mark laughed at my gossip. "Fuckin' small towns!" He then leaned over to me and said, "That was another thing that really got me; she didn't let me touch her, said she had to save it for the wedding night."

I was quite surprised by this revelation. Mark was a hot-looking guy with a great body, and being nineteen and having a steady girlfriend, I was amazed he wasn't actually getting any! "No way, really?" I replied.

"Yeah, seriously. I think she'd have to ask her mom before we did it, even if we were married," he joked.

"How long did you two date?"

"Five years. Started dating when we were fourteen. She was my first girlfriend, and we were together ever since then until now."

First girlfriend? Since fourteen? Only girlfriend he's ever had? She never put out for him in all that time? That must mean that this hot, young stud is a… virgin. No way! "So when you said she said she was saving herself for the wedding night, you meant doing it, right? Fucking? She must have given you blowjobs, though, right?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Hand jobs at least?"

He shook his head again. "Not even that. Fuckin' bitch!"

"Did you ever cheat on her, get some on the side?"

"No. If I'd done that, around here, where everybody knows everybody and their business, she would've found out for sure."

"At least you would have gotten some, though."

"I know, but I was in love with her, thought I was anyway, and was willing to wait. Why do you think I was going to ask her to marry me at nineteen?"

I just couldn't resist, he had my attention now. "So what have you been doing, you know… for relief?''

He grinned at me and then looked to his crotch. My gaze followed his. "The only relief I get is from my right hand. And regularly!" He chuckled and nudged me. "That's the worst," he continued. "I'm a horny fucker and it needs lots of attention. I do it like five or six times a day sometimes. Always at least four times." Then he laughed and said, "Twice, I even managed to do it ten times in a day.''

I was flabbergasted. Here was this good-looking guy, a total stud, and he wasn't getting any sex, had never had sex, except with his own hand, and he was flogging his log all the time, four to six times a day!  And he was telling me all of this!

Speechless, I couldn't think of a suitable reply, but he broke the silence for me and said, "So, what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, is that how you get relief, too?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes," I said, getting my wits back. "But nothing like four to six times a day."

"Oh, so you have a girlfriend, then?'' he asked.

"No, why do you say that?"

"Because you said you get relief like that only sometimes. You must be getting laid or else you'd be doing it all the time, wouldn't you?"

"Well I don't have a girlfriend, but there is someone I go out with now and again. We're more like good friends, but good enough friends to jump into bed together from time to time. Doesn't happen often, though." It was true, I just didn't bother to mention that the friend was another guy.

"So, basically what you're saying is that your best friend is your right hand, too," he laughed.

"Yeah, basically," I agreed.

What a weird turn of events. After all this time of nothing much said between us, now here he was all of a sudden talking to me like I was a good friend of his, the two of us laid against a hay bale, discussing his girlfriend problems and talking about jacking off like a couple of schoolboys.

But now things had fallen silent again, and I looked up to the beautiful night sky as I absorbed all that we had just talked about. When I took my eyes from the sky, Mark had slouched flat on the ground with just his head propped against the hay bale, and I noticed his hand was tucked inside the waist of his shorts, his fingers busily playing with his cock, but almost unconsciously on his part.

I nudged him, bringing him from his reverie, and said with a smile on my face, "Is this one of the four times, or is it five, or six?''

He looked up and grinned. "Being out here all day with you guys, this will only be the second time today." He then nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. "How about you, your cock as big as the rest of you or what?'' he asked, taking in my long body.

I noticed when he asked the question that his hand started to move a bit faster inside his shorts. The idea that he was hard just by talking about dicks and jerking off made me harden up too, and I had to shuffle a bit to adjust myself inside the tight briefs I wore underneath my shorts.

"I've got a good handful," I offered.

"What do you call a good handful?''

"Oh about eight inches or so I guess. Never had a tape measure against it," I answered him truthfully.

"Shit! I'd call that more than a handful! I'd call that two handfuls!" he laughed.

I was about to return his question and ask him what he considered to be a handful, in the hopes of finding out how big his cock was, too, but I didn't have a chance. Instead, I got something even better, something unexpected.

"This is what I'd call a handful," he said as he popped open the button on his shorts and pushed them down, along with his underwear, to below his balls to reveal his rock-hard cock. He looked at his exposed cock for a moment and then up at me and said, "You agree?"

His cock looked to be about six inches. I wasn't a size queen, but I had to admit I was a little disappointed it wasn't bigger. With his height (I'm tall and he wasn't that much shorter than me), good looks, and hot body, I guess I just expected to see a large piece of meat between his legs. Still, it was nice, though, and really quite thick. "Yeah, I guess so," I said.

"Let's have a look at yours, then. Can't see much when it's hidden under there," he said pointing at my crotch.

Hell, I wasn't shy, and I didn't have any problem shucking down my shorts and showing my hard dick to this hot young guy!