All Male Fiction: Relations

By: Marcin904 & Ryan Michaels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn't.

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

All Male Fiction: A Dirty Jockstrap and a Dirty Fuck

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

"Suck my dick, Shawn!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that gave me an idea…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: Roommates (Part 1)

"Secret Rendezvous"

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

It had been a long week and I was glad it was finally Friday! Even better was that my boss had let everyone go home early, which was an unexpected and much appreciated bonus. I literally breathed a sigh of relief when I walked through my front door, happy that it was the weekend; not that I had any major plans, other than sleeping in and maybe going out on Saturday night and trying to get laid. Tonight, though, I just planned to relax, and I was going to start the process by taking a hot shower. Not only would it help to relieve some of the day's tension, but I really needed one, too - it was a swelteringly hot day, and being crammed on a bus that was packed like sardines had left me sweaty all over.

I went right to my room and stripped off all my clothes, putting them directly in the hamper. I hated the habit that my roommate, Mark, had of undressing in the bathroom and leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, and that is why I always took my clothes off in my bedroom before showering. I suppose I could have undressed in the bathroom and carried my clothes back to my room after, but that seemed like an extra, unnecessary step.

The fact that I had a roommate didn't hinder my practice of venturing from my bedroom to the bathroom completely naked. And, there was no way to avoid crossing his path if he was in the living room: We lived on the main floor of a house, which had been retro fitted as apartments. My bedroom was in what used to be the dining room, right off the end of the living room. Mark's bedroom was also off the living room, on the back wall in what had originally been designed as a den or office space. The large eat-in kitchen had been split in two, with one half being turned into a bathroom. So basically all rooms – kitchen, bathroom, and both bedrooms – faced the living room, and you had to pass through the living room to access them.

Mark didn't care that I would walk through naked and never gave me a second glance. In fact, I think he made a point of diverting his eyes, for which I was glad - I may not have had any issue with him seeing me naked, but I certainly didn't want him checking me out. The fact that we were both straight, and such good friends, allowed me such comfortable casualness.

I looked at the time before leaving my bedroom. It was almost 4:30. Perfect! That gave me about an hour before Mark got home - usually, he got home before me. Naked, I left my bedroom and strode across the living room to the bathroom.

Turning on the shower, I got the water nice and hot and stepped into the spray. I wet myself down and began to lather the soap on my body. When I soaped up my dick, I let my hand linger a bit and it didn't take too long before my cock responded and started to grow. I gave it a few loving strokes but then let go of it and finished washing myself. I had stopped on the way home and rented a new porno and wanted to save my load until after my shower, so I could beat off in front of the TV watching it.

And, I was really looking forward to it, too, because I always had to do it in the bathroom either at the toilet or in the shower - Mark was the type of guy who would knock and then open the door before waiting for permission to enter. He had almost walked in on me beating my meat once, but thankfully I had just started playing with myself and still had the sheet and bulky comforter over my naked body, so he hadn't seen what I was doing – but that was too close for comfort - and from that point forward I always jerked off behind the security of the locked bathroom door when he was around. Doing it sprawled naked on the couch with porn playing on the flat screen was such a rare treat. Thinking about it had my cock raging, so I quickly rinsed the soap from my body and shut off the water.

As I stepped out to dry off, I heard the front door open and bang shut and I cursed under my breath. Mark, of course, had every right to come home, but I was pissed that he had done so before he was due, because now I couldn't jerk off, at least not in the way I had planned. At that moment, I wished I had jerked off first and then taken a shower, but I had felt grimy and wanted to get the dried sweat off first… and thought I had plenty of time to do both. I still needed to get off, though, and it looked like I was going to have a date with the toilet, instead. At least the steam from the shower had quickly dissipated through the open bathroom window, so I wouldn't end up soaked in sweat all over again.

As I began to dry off I could hear my roommate talking to someone, so I put my ear to the door and listened. I would never normally do that type of thing; I respected my roommate's privacy and, quite frankly, I usually didn't give a crap about what he was saying when he had a friend over. I just wanted to find out if it was a girl or one of his buddies. If it was one of his buddies, there wouldn't be a problem walking out in just a towel. But, if it was a girl, I would have to wait. I had done that once before, and he got mad at me after, asking me to not just barge into the living room wearing only a towel and a smile if he had brought a chick home. In those situations, he asked that I wait in the bathroom until they went to his bedroom, which we both knew would be right away. While he had some of his buddies over from time to time, the only time he ever brought a girl home was to fuck her, and he always did that behind closed doors.

Even though I was straining my ear to hear, the sounds were muffled so I quietly twisted the doorknob and opened the door a bit. I could hear Mark talking softly, but I had not heard the voice of whomever he was talking to, yet. I would have to stay trapped in the bathroom and keep listening until the other person spoke, so I would know if it was ok to venture out or not.

Now if only the other person would say something, but Mark wasn't letting them get a word in. He was just rambling on and on about something, in a soothing voice, but I still couldn't hear exactly what he was saying. I was assuming he was trying to convince a nervous girl to go through with the sex he had brought her home for.

Suddenly Mark moved his position in the room, and I could now clearly see him, but not the other person. I knew I was probably right about what he was doing when I heard him say, "Have you ever done this before?"

It was at that point that I finally heard the other person speak - the first time Mark had let them speak - and it was another guy. I knew that Mark was trying to find someone to hook up his new surround sound system, so I figured that's what they had been discussing when he had asked the other guy if he had ever done it before. Since it was another guy, I was just about to make a bee-line for my bedroom when the male stranger said, "Yeah, I've given blowjobs a couple of times before."

All Male Fiction: Selling My Soul

By: Tommyhawk1 & Ryan Michaels

Tonight, one of the local gay bars was having a Halloween party. Costumes were optional so I thought I'd go for a few drinks and check things out.

I had just gotten a drink at the bar, turned around, and nearly ran right into Adam. I goggled at the hair my fingers longed to run through, the eyes my longings dove into every time I looked into them, the smile that tore my heart out without ever leaving those lovely, languid, luscious lips... okay, that's not the best alliterative poetic phrase ever concocted, but god, that's how I felt about Adam.

But I was now confronted with Adam dressed in a football uniform, his costume complete with shoulder pads, those tight football pants, and it appeared he was even wearing a jock with a cup.

"Hey Scott, how you doing?" Adam put one hand on my shoulder. God, those shoulders of his, those magnificent bulges of the man who worked out just enough to give his body that perfect amount of definition, the rounded shoulders, the bulging biceps…

"Muh-uh?" I mumbled. My lips were numb, because all my blood, all my passion, all my desires, had pooled underneath that hand, throbbing there, wanting only to be with him, only him, always.

"Well, catch you later," Adam said, and withdrawing that hand and sending my heart down into my shoes, he smiled at me and then turned and walked away. My eyes fed upon the sight of that perfect pair of ovals that were being hugged tightly by those football pants until the press of other people's bodies closed it off from my sight, and when it did, all I could do was sigh.

"You missed out on him again, didn't you?" came an exasperated sound.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"You want him that much, why don't you go get him?"

"I've tried," I protested. "I... I just can't. God, I'd... I'd sell my soul for a chance with him, a real chance!"

"Your terms are accepted," the voice said.

"Huh?" I turned around at that. I'd been carrying on a heck of a conversation with this guy who had come up behind me, a stranger come to think about it.

Black hair, dark eyes, a goatee that came to an excruciating painful looking point at the end, heavy eyebrows, and dark brown skin above a suit of black with a dark gray sweater under the jacket. He was dressed as the Devil.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm the answer to your problems," the man smiled at me, and it was an evil smile, befitting of his Devil costume.

"Oh really, how's that?" I asked.

"It's simple really, I just grant your wish."

"My wish?"

"Yes, your wish, your desire to be with Adam."

"And how would you make that wish come true?" I asked with a laugh.

"It's quite easy. You just stated you'd sell your soul to the Devil in exchange for a chance with that boy."

"Oh, and let me guess, you are really the Devil, right?" I laughed.

Without answering my question, he simply responded with, "Of course, if you didn't really mean what you said, I won't hold you to it."

"Sure, whatever you say, buddy!" I replied and turned to walk off.

"Wait!" he exclaimed and I turned to look at him once more. "Maybe this will convince you that I have the power to give you what your heart desires."

He waved a hand and the crowd parted like Moses had parted the Red Sea. They weren't knocked aside; it was like they all decided to move at the same time, a coincidence that happens now and then. Only this coincidence put Adam and me in plain view of each other. Adam looked at me from across the room, scanning my body, and then he locked his eyes on mine and smiled.

"How did… That's impossible… You-you can't really be…" I babbled unable to form full sentences.

"So what do you say? Have we got a deal?"

I swallowed hard. "I don't know what's going on here, I must be dreaming or hallucinating, but yeah, you've got yourself a deal! You get me Adam and you can have my soul!"

"The bargain is confirmed," the Devil said, and I looked at him puzzled. "It's what we do instead of having people sign their name in blood," he assured me. "Now that we have a binding agreement, I'll just fetch Adam over here and you can take it from there."

The Devil wiggled a finger at Adam, a 'come here' wiggle of the index finger, and Adam immediately began to walk forward, through that aisle of people who had kindly stepped out of the way.

As Adam made his approach, I turned to look behind me and the Devil was nowhere to be seen now. Out somewhere poisoning kittens and pushing little old ladies into the paths of 18-wheeled trucks, I guess.

When I turned back around Adam was right in front of me. "Hey Scott, you're looking good. Have you been working out?"

It was a cheesy line but at least it was a line, and Adam was using it on me! "No, not really," I mumbled nervously.

"Oh, well your body looks great. You should have worn a costume to the party, maybe like a Tarzan costume, you know, just a loin cloth, show off that hot body of yours."

I couldn't believe the words coming out of Adam's mouth, or better yet, that they were being said to me. I didn't know how to respond and just blurted, "You too… I mean your body looks great, too."

"Thanks," he replied with a smile. "I work out regularly."

"It shows," I replied bashfully.

"Well, what you see isn't all me. I mean these are shoulder pads," he said touching his shoulders, "and this," he said knocking on his crotch and laughing, "isn't all me making this obscenely large bulge. That's all just my cup," he said, looking down at it and cupping his hands around it to show off the sizable mound protruding from his crotch.

Seeing him tapping on his cup-covered crotch and then looking at it and groping it made my cock twitch in my pants. And then he let go of it, chuckled, and look back up at me. "Not that I need a cup to make a big bulge, believe me, I don't. It's just part of the costume; I wanted to make the look as authentic as possible." That remark made my cock do more than twitch, and made my mouth salivate.

I knew I wasn't drunk, for I hadn't even had a chance to take a single sip from my first drink of the night yet, and I hadn't done any drugs, so I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, and it was then that I knew, as unbelievable as it sounded, that the man in the devil costume had to have really been the actual Devil. There was no other explanation for what I had seen or for how Adam was acting toward me.

"Hello?" Adam said waving his hands in front of my face. I had gone into a daze, talking to myself in my own head, trying to comprehend things. I looked up at him. "Am I boring you?" he asked with a smile.

Before I could answer I heard a voice in my ear saying, "You've already sold your soul, so don't blow it now if you want to blow it later." I whipped my head over my shoulder and then looked behind me; no one was there. If I didn't believe that man was really the Devil before, I believed it now.

"Everything okay?" Adam asked looking puzzled by my strange behavior.

Uh, yeah, everything is great," I said. Better stop acting strange and just talk to him. I've sold my soul to the Devil for this chance, so like he said, I better not blow it, if I want to blow Adam! I said in my head. "Uh just caught up in the atmosphere of Halloween I guess; thought there was someone behind me," I replied to cover up my strange behavior. It's not like I could tell him the Devil was just whispering in my ear!

Adam laughed. "Yeah, Halloween can play some weird tricks on the imagination." I just smiled and nodded, even though I knew that it was not just my imagination. "Hey, you wanna dance?" Adam asked.

"Well I don't really dance, but I see the pool table is free. You want to play a round?"

"Sure," Adam agreed.

"And maybe after that, we can find some other way to play around," I punned. God, did I really just say that to Adam? I had! Not only was I no longer tongue-tied around him, but I was also flirting with him.

Adam laughed. "Let's see how well you handle your stick first and then we'll decide on that."

So we headed over and played a game. Adam won and so I offered to buy him a drink for winning the game. The conversation flowed freely now, and after downing a few drinks each Adam looked at his watch and said that he had to be going.

"Do you have to?" I blurted.

"Yeah, I came with my friend and he told me he had to leave by a certain time, and he's my ride." Adam excused himself to go and find his friend, and as he walked away I cursed the Devil for playing his evil games on me.

Adam came back about five minutes later. "I couldn't find him anywhere. I guess he found some action," Adam said with a disgruntled look.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked.

Adam looked at me, smiling and furrowing his brow. "How can getting some action not be a good thing?"

"It's just that you looked bummed out when you said it, that's all. I thought that since you came with him, maybe by 'friend' you meant he was your boyfriend or a friend with benefits or something."

"Nah, Jay isn't my boyfriend. We've never had sex, either; we're just friends, that's all. If I looked bummed when I said that it's because he was my ride home and now I'll have to take the bus."

What luck! Now I could offer to give Adam a ride home. Or was it luck? Maybe Adam's ride disappearing was arranged by the Devil. I quickly offered to drive Adam home and he accepted my offer just as quickly.

When we got to his place, Adam looked at me and said, "You want to come in for a bit?"

I looked at him and Adam was smiling at me, and when my eyes met his, his eyes dropped to my crotch. It was my dream come true, what I had been wishing and hoping for, but when I finally heard those words come out of his mouth I became extremely nervous.

Any other time I would have been tongue-tied for sure, made a fool of myself, and would have ended up going home and having to use my own hand, but the price I'd paid here was too damned high for that! I had to get what I had always wanted, get what I had sold my soul for, be a man and not a pathetic tongue-tied wimp, so I took a deep breath and said, "I'd love to!"

"My place is on the second floor," Adam said, and I followed him, my heart pounding. My dream, my wish, god, it was finally coming true!

I stepped through the door behind Adam and closed it behind me. As soon as I turned around, Adam lunged at me. Those beautiful arms went around me, those majestic lips sought out mine and those eyes were burning into me. I was rock hard in an instant and my dick was throbbing and already tingling in that way it does when you are about to... Oh god, I'm going to cream in my shorts! I thought.

I fought it off, and as my lips struggled with Adam's, my hands were touching him, touching him everywhere I could. I felt out the body that had haunted my dreams and it was so firm and hard, so muscular, and it was going to be mine, all mine, finally!

Adam's hands found my ass and he grunted as he pulled my hips roughly up against his and he rutted against my crotch, with the hard cup of his jockstrap pressing and rubbing against my leg.

My fingers were trembling as I pulled on the hem of his football jersey. Adam lifted his arms and I pulled the jersey up over his head and tossed it to the floor. He instantly lifted the large shoulder pad gear over his head and let it drop to the floor. His upper body was now exposed to me, all golden and gleaming.

As he kicked off his shoes, I knelt at the altar of his body and I kissed that small indentation at the bottom of his ribcage and just above the muscles of his abdomen. Then, I reached up and began to pull on the laces of his football pants. When I did that, Adam's eyes closed and he moaned quietly.

Adam bent over me as I continued to undo the laces, grabbing my own top, a pullover, and he shucked it from me and I was now as bare from the waist up as he was. His hands caught me under my armpits and he tugged and I rose again and his hands began to unfasten my belt and then fumble with the button and the zipper of my pants. I kicked off my own shoes, and my pants fell to my knees as his hands slipped into the back of my underwear and began to fondle my butt cheeks.

Adam's hands were smooth as they moved all over my bare ass, and then he removed them, pulled on the front of my briefs, and looked inside. My cock was not huge by any means, it was slightly above average, and kind of on the thin side, and when he saw it he nodded, which I assumed was his approval of its size, and then he looked up at me, smiled, and then shoved my underwear down.

I followed by tugging on either side of his football pants, spreading the laces I had previously unlaced, and then giving them a yank, sending them to his ankles.

There we stood, me naked, save for my socks, and he in nothing but his socks and that jockstrap, that jockstrap that had a cup in the pouch hiding from me any detail of what was inside, doing its job, protecting his pride and joy. It was time to relieve that jockstrap of its duties, for I was there now, and I wanted to be the one to protect Adam's balls with my hands and mouth and his cock with the warm folds of my mouth and the darkness and warmth of my asshole. It would be just as safe in me as it would be in that cup. I grabbed the elastic waistband and pulled it forward and then down.

Like mine, his cock was already hard, and it was magnificent - Larger than my own by about an inch, and a lot thicker too. Now, wearing only socks, we stepped away from our clothing and went to the bed. Adam sat down on it and held up his arms toward me, his cock a hard pillar beckoning me toward it.

Adam meant for me to go into his arms, but I couldn't resist that marvelous tower of manhood before me. I knelt instead and my mouth sunk over his cockhead and down his shaft.

"Oh, god, Scott, oh, oh fuck!" Adam moaned as I pulled back up again and was rewarded by a pearl of pre-cum upon my tongue. "Oh, shit, oh, fuck, mmm!" And now my mouth was sliding easily; his cock fit so well, so perfectly, as though it belonged there, and had all along.

"Scott, please, get up here with me," Adam groaned after a minute or so of this. I was blissfully sucking on him and his moan caused me to look up. "Come on, get up on the bed so I can give you a little of what you're giving me!"

My stomach was performing flip-flops as I complied, getting on the bed with my head toward the foot of the bed, and Adam moved his position so his head was at the top of the bed and scooted down to place his face at my crotch and put his own legs nearly all off the bottom of the bed. He got his hard-as-steel dick back to my level, and as I happily crammed it back inside my mouth I felt the warm moisture of his mouth encircle my cock and coat it with his hot saliva.

Adam's actions on my prick after that can only be described as ravenous; he was sucking me with a frantic edge that sent me reeling. Shit, I was close to creaming again. "Adam, Adam, stop, please stop!" I begged him.

Adam reluctantly released my cock. "Why?" he whined. "I've been waiting for this for so long, Scott. I always tried to talk to you, tried to get something going, but you would never talk to me, just mumble and look away, so I thought you weren't interested. When you agreed to come up here, I thought, wow, I'm finally going to get to sleep with him, and now that it is actually happening, you're asking me to stop? Why, am I not doing a good job? Doesn't it feel good?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Adam had wanted me the entire time I had wanted him? This must be true; it couldn't have been the Devil making him say that, for I could tell his words were sincere, that there had been a real longing there, just as I had longed for him; I could see it in his eyes. "It feels so good, and I have wanted this for a very long time, too," I hastily assured him. "I only asked you to stop because… well… it's just that... I want you to fuck me, Adam. Please fuck me."

"But I was going to get you to fuck me," Adam protested.

"Later," I promised him. "But for now, please, I've got to have this inside me," I said gazing at his hard cock and squeezing it gently. "I'm on the edge, and I'd never last if I was to put my cock in your ass right now." My cock jerked angrily at even the mention of the possibility.

"Okay," Adam panted. "But I'm not going to last very long either!"

"That's okay, just put it in me," I groaned. "That's all I need. Please!"

Adam nodded and grabbed a bottle of lube from his bedside table. He squeezed some on his cock and then handed the bottle to me. He spread the lube on his cock as he watched me lube my hole for him.

As soon as we were both lubed up, he got my legs up and got in between them and he pressed his cock against my asshole. "Oh fuck, push it in, push it in!" I moaned.

"I'm about to cum!" Adam warned me, his face flushed with desire, eyes glazed, mouth open, skin twinkling with sweat.

"I don't care, push it in, cream in me even if you don't thrust it in and out first! Please, Adam, please!"

 "Ohhhhh fuuuuuck! So tight! Oh, shit, I'm... uhh, uhh, uhh, AH-GAH-AH-HAHHH-GAHHH!" Adam's cock exploded inside of me as soon as it entered me, just as he had feared it would. I could feel the hot spunk as it shot deep into my ass. Adam hadn't even fucked me, just stuck it in and came right away, but I didn't care - I had Adam's cock, and his load, deep inside me and that's all that mattered.

"GUH-GUH-HUUNNNH-KUHHHH!" I moaned right after I felt his load flow inside me and I began squirting both of us with a heavy flood of cum, a load that had been building up ever since I'd first met Adam over a year ago. A year's worth of desire and need and yearning, it all blasted out of me and coated both of our stomachs with my jizz.

When I was done, Adam lay down on me, his cock still in my ass, and my cum glued us together as one. We were one, and this was all I'd ever wanted - Adam was in my arms and his cock was in my ass and my life was complete and my soul was... no longer mine to give to him!

We lay like that for just a few brief moments, and then Adam rolled off me, still panting hard, and said, "I told you I wouldn't last."

"It's okay," I chuckled ruefully. "I didn't either, you may have noticed."

Adam's fingers went to his stomach and I watched his fingertips play with the slick cum I'd layered onto him. "I noticed," he grinned.

"Sorry about that. I wanted to last, I wanted to fuck you, too."

"I wanted that too," Adam said. "And you will; I figure you and I rest for a couple of hours and then we can go at it again. I mean, if you don't mind spending the night," he said with a grin.

"I don't mind at all," I beamed at him.

Adam and I fucked twice more that night, the first time with me fucking him and the second with him giving me a proper fucking this time around.

When I woke up later, it was getting light outside. I went to the bathroom quietly, and then I leaned against the doorway wearing only my briefs, looking at Adam lying on the bed, the sheets all rumpled and his hair in disarray. His face bore a smile even in slumber.

I decided I'd check out his kitchen and see if I could make him a bit of breakfast without making a racket or a mess.

The man of the night before was sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of food in front of him and a newspaper before him. "Ah, there you are," he said to me. "I was wondering if I'd have to come get you."

"Already?" I gulped.

"But of course," the man said, putting the paper aside as casually as if he were a businessman about to leave for work. "Now, if you're ready to fulfill your part of the bargain..."

"I guess so," I said. "But I had hoped to have some more time with Adam."

"And why wouldn't you have more time with Adam?"

I looked at him. His hair, it wasn't black; it was more of a brown, a brown that lightened by the minute, it seemed. His skin, too, was lighter-toned. Well, the Devil can look like anything he wants to. "I assumed you were coming to take me to Hell," I admitted.

"Hell? Oh, I don't have anything to do with Hell. Nasty place, I assure you; you don't want to go there."

"But... but you bought my soul."

"In exchange for giving you a chance with the love of your life," the man agreed. Now his hair was very light brown, and his skin was totally Caucasian pale. "Now, I ask you, what would the Devil know about love? Ask him to give you power or cause trouble for someone, he's the go-to guy, I admit. But love? He couldn't make a boy pigeon fall in love with a girl pigeon much less, people."

"So… who are you, then?"

"Who am I?" The hair was now completely blond, even blonder than Adam's. "I'm the poor angel assigned to you, who's been trying to do his job right for the longest time. But you've been too busy wetting your pants every time Adam came by to give me the slightest chance to put the two of you together."

"You're my guardian angel?"

"In the flesh," the man agreed. "I kept pushing Adam your way, the perfect man for you, and every time he got near enough to see you, you blew it. So when you made that offer of your soul for the chance with him, I grabbed it. I agree that's more a tactic used by the other side, but since it worked, I'm not complaining."

"Me, neither," I agreed, with a great deal of relief. "So... now what?"

"Now what? I own you, Scott," the man said. "You have to do exactly what I tell you from now on. I bought your soul at a fair price, remember?"

Uh-oh. This didn't sound good. Was my guardian angel about to join the forces of Darkness? "So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go back to Adam and love him," my angel said. "I want you to love him for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others until death do you part, that's what I want. You think you can manage that?"

I had to smile at that. "I sure hope so," I agreed. "I'll try my best."

"Good, then that's settled," the angel said. "Now get hopping. I've got a busy and very happy life planned for you, and since I own you now, you'd better get started on it. Why don't you take Adam out for breakfast instead of breaking eggs and burning toast for him like you usually do when you try to cook? And on Monday, we're signing you up for a couple of cooking classes so you can fix breakfast in bed for him from time to time."

"Yes Master," I said playfully and went off to wake Adam to make the suggestion.

I had sold my soul for love. And from the look of things, I had just made the best bargain of my life!

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All Male Fiction: On the Mat

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

It was a grueling practice. The coach had worked us hard, trying to get us ready for the meet that was coming up against our rival school. Their wrestling team always beat us, but this year Coach was determined that we would win. So he was always on our butts, pushing us harder and harder, regularly keeping one of us after practice for extra coaching. A lot of guys on the team would grumble in the locker room about how hard the coach would work us during practice, but not me. I enjoyed the hard, sweaty workouts with the team. It gave us some team spirit, not to mention a common "enemy" - Coach Meyer.

One thing you gotta say for Coach, he knew his business. He was the top in his weight class in college, and here he was, not two years later, coaching our team. He kept himself in great shape, too, always working out in the weight room, keeping his body hard and tight, never deviating much from his 177lb wrestling weight. Broad, muscular shoulders, defined pecs, narrow waist and hips - a great body for a wrestler.

We were in the same weight class, and my body was pretty good, too. I worked out for it, trying to keep up with Coach, and did pretty well, too. I was just a bit smaller in the shoulders, but otherwise we were pretty evenly matched, body wise.

Not to say that any of us on the team were slackers. We all kept up as best we could with Coach. Kind of a pride thing. First thing we did before practice was meet in the weight room for a workout. Coach was always in there before us, and worked with us almost like a personal trainer, pushing us to go harder. Then we'd go into the wrestling room, pairing up and testing each other, trying new holds, sweating up a storm.

This day, all the guys were exhausted after practice. We all hit the showers, but there was none of the usual horsing around. We all just wanted to get out of the gym to nurse our sore muscles.

And most of us did. I wasn't so lucky. I was one of the last in the showers, and so was one of the last to be in the locker room, drying off, when Coach walked in.

"Tim," he said, "I'm not happy with your workout today. You weren't taking care of business out there. Get back into your singlet. We've got some work to do."

"Ok, Coach," I said. But it wasn't ok. I had just showered, and now had to get back into my sweaty uniform, not to mention my only jock, which was also damp with sweat, only to have to shower again later. But Coach seemed pretty insistent, and I was the only one left who had yet to go through some additional one-on-one coaching after practice, so I didn't really have much of a choice.

When I came out of the locker room, I found Coach standing on the mat, waiting for me, his hands on his hips, still in his singlet.

"You ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," I answered. "What was I doing wrong?"

"You weren't pushing for the pin like I told you. The only way you're gonna win at wrestling is to go for the pin, all else be damned."

"Yeah, but Coach..."

"No buts, Tim. Let me show you how to do it."

He hunkered down in wrestling position, ready to lock up with me. I did the same. We approached each other, got our hands on each other's shoulders, he slipped his hand behind my neck, and we started to circle each other. He shot his hand out, catching me behind my knee, and pulled up, toppling me back. He landed on top of me, swung around, catching me in a deep crotch hold, trying to cradle me up into a fast pin. But I managed to bridge back, preventing him from getting my shoulders down. As I did this, I felt his hand slip through my legs, until it rested on the pouch of my singlet. I thought I felt his hand give it a slight squeeze, but I was sure I was mistaken.

I got my arm around his neck, slipped my arm through his legs, and rolled him over on his back. Now I was close to pinning him, but he rolled through, and away from me. He stood up, ready to lock up again.

This time, I managed to get my arms around his chest in a bear hug, lifting him off the mat, and slamming him down, with me on top. He wrapped his legs around me in a body scissors and held me there. We were chest to chest, crotch to crotch. I grabbed his wrists to pin them over his head, when he broke his scissors, and bridged up. I was on top of him, feeling the pressure of my dick pushing down on his, and noticed that he had thrown a rod. The feeling of his dick against mine caused a reaction in my own crotch, and I started to get boned up, too.

We wrestled like that for about fifteen minutes. I could partially see some of his cock outlined as it stretched the material of his singlet. My full-on hard-on was even more obvious in my singlet, but that didn't stop us. Guys always get hard-ons when they wrestle, it's natural.

Finally we broke off for a short rest. We were both soaked with sweat and panting from the exertion. We both lay on our backs, trying to get some air into our lungs, when Coach turned to me. "Not bad, Tim," he said. "I knew if I pushed you, you'd do ok."

"Thanks, Coach. You do pretty well yourself."

He laughed, and punched me in the arm. I did the same to him. He hit me again. Pretty soon, we were rolling around with each other, play-wrestling. He landed on top of me, getting me in a tight bear hug, trying to pin me down. Suddenly we both stopped, realizing that our crotches were mashed together. Coach rolled off me and stood up.

"This singlet is too wet to wrestle in," Coach said and then began to peel himself out of it. "Yours is soaked with sweat, too. Strip it off, Tim," Coach Meyer said as he tossed his singlet to the floor and stood looking down at me, hands on hips, in just his jockstrap.

All Male Fiction: Bob and the Day After (Part 3)

By: amtibbs

 

 

 

Read Part 2

 

The next day, Bob couldn't keep his mind on his job, his mind still going back to the night before, and it was almost time for the lacrosse team practice and there were still things to do to prepare the locker room. Though not really part of his job description, Bob helped the team manager and his assistants lay out the gear each player would need for the practice that day. Piles of shirts, shorts, socks and jockstraps had to be distributed to each player's locker so when they arrived they could immediately get changed and visit the trainer if necessary. There was a list that mapped locker to player and player to size, but this late into the season Bob had it committed to memory.

That day, Bob was pushing the cart filled with jockstraps and cups. As he reached each locker he'd grab the proper size jock, insert a sanitized cup and lay it neatly folded in the locker.

As his mind wandered, he recalled that one of the first things he learned working in the locker room was that the colored stripes on a jockstrap waistband indicated its size. "Shit!" he thought. "I can't remember anything from my classes this morning. Why did I think about that?"

Bob still had ten lockers to go when the first of the lacrosse players arrived. He wondered what was wrong with him; why was it taking him so long. None of the staff liked to be seen handling the guys' jocks and the razzing that came with it. Other staff had received comments like "Bet you'd rather be handing that jock with me in it" while the player grabbed their pouch and "Hey, mine has a hole in the back!" as they bent over and spread their ass cheeks. Bob had never gotten caught doing this part of the job and he waited for the comments to fly.

He hurriedly finished the job not looking around to see who might be watching. As he headed back with the cart, he finally glanced up and noticed a couple of the players standing together watching him but he got no ribbing.

After returning the cart, Bob made a straight line back to his office. He had almost gotten there when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He stopped quickly and spun around to find Nick standing there with concern on his face. He quietly asked Bob if everything was alright. A number of answers ran through Bob's mind. He decided that "Hell no and it's all your fault!" was not the appropriate answer and just replied that he was feeling confused but okay. Nick asked to meet him later to explain. Bob mumbled a reply before turning and walking on.

All Male Fiction: The Wrestler

By: MrCreamJeans & Ryan Michaels

 

Rich was at that age. His biological clock had reached the time in a guy's life when his cock stands to attention at the least provocation. He had never paid much attention to his cock before, except to notice in the school locker room that the other guys had all sprouted hair long before he finally did. His health class textbooks called him a "late bloomer" and tried to reassure him on things about which no boy his age is ever sure.

But one thing he was sure of, his cock had a mind of its own when it came to getting hard. All his life he had dressed UP, that is, he wore his cock pointing up inside his briefs. It never bothered him before, but now, with his prick's newfound sensitivity, it was a cause of some real problems. It was a vicious cycle - His cock would get hard, swelling his fly and poking against his underwear, then as it would (finally!) go soft, its extra weight would cause it to fall off to one side as he walked. It would get caught in his shorts, and he would reach down and give it the quick tug it needed to bring it upright.

But even that little extra stimulation would make it get hard again. As a result, he spent a lot of time adjusting his crotch and walking around school with a tent in his pants. And what a tent! His hard-on was exceptionally large for a guy his age, and made quite a bulge.

His buddies, most of who had already outgrown this stage, took the opportunity to poke fun at Rich quite frequently. They eventually came to know that even if Rich didn't have a boner, if they started talking to him about it, he would soon get one. Then they could laugh and point at the embarrassed Rich as he tried (usually in vain) to conceal his big, throbbing hard-on from their gaze. Of course, some of them would occasionally "lose control" and get hard, too, despite themselves. They were usually the ones making the most noise about Rich. Only one, Johnny, was ever caught, much to Rich's relief at the time.

But there didn't seem to be any long-term relief in sight for Rich. Part of the problem was his parents - strict religious types who warned him about the dangers of "touching yourself down there," and who forced him to sleep with his bedroom door open. Frightened by their tales of what happened to wicked boys, Rich had never jacked off, and his only relief was through wet dreams. Rich loved the feeling of waking up with his hips grinding into the bed and feeling his hot semen running and gushing into his briefs. He would always clean up very thoroughly afterward and hope his mom didn't spot the stains on his briefs. However, he always relished the relief he felt afterward, even if he wasn't fully sure why.

Rich had joined the wrestling team before this problem started. Several of the guys on the team were now his chief tormentors, and among them was Johnny.

Johnny wasn't particularly large or strong, but he was very good-looking and was known for his pranks and his way with the girls. It was Johnny who once announced to the other team members in the locker room that Rich had worn his jock all day in an attempt to restrain his boner. (Johnny had also done that but would never admit it, of course.) It was the last time Rich would try that.

And on this day, it was Johnny that the coach picked to wrestle against Rich in practice. The other boys on the team were paired off and the coach signaled them to take their positions. Rich went down on all fours at once, tacitly recognizing Johnny's dominant role, knowing it would end up this way even if he protested.

Johnny reached around Rich's waist and asked him, in a mocking tone, "You gonna pop a rod while we're wrestling, Richie?"

Rich's only response was, "Shut up," but just the question began his heart thumping. A tremor of near panic swept through him - wrestling class was the one place he had never gotten hard. Now that the thought had been planted, would he be able to restrain himself? He winced as, seconds before the coach blew his whistle for them to begin wrestling, his cock began to tingle. No, not NOW! he thought. He knew his wrestling tights would conceal nothing if he lost control.

"Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeee," the coach's whistle blew.

Before Rich knew what hit him, Johnny had flipped him over on his back. But rather than trying to pin his shoulders, which he should have been doing, Johnny had one leg planted between Rich's legs with his thigh pressing right into his dick.

"Ummmph," Rich grunted as he wriggled out of the ineffective hold. It may have been ineffective as a wrestling hold, but it was having another kind of effect that Rich definitely wanted to avoid. Seconds later, however, Johnny had him in another hold, this one a bit trickier to get out of, and one which allowed Johnny to grab Rich's balls from behind. Rich realized that Johnny was being very careful not to hurt him, and also suddenly realized that his cock was undeniably growing hard in his jock!

Rich quickly broke free and managed to flip Johnny over and loop one arm behind Johnny's knee. The position had Rich laying with his pelvis on the mat, and as Johnny struggled, the shifting weight of Rich's body massaged his rapidly stiffening prick into the mat. Johnny broke free, and during the ensuing struggles, he managed to plant a hand firmly in Rich's crotch. His hard-on had been discovered!

Both boys froze. Rich looked into Johnny's face and saw a smirk of recognition. Johnny wrapped his hand around Rich's boner and gave it a squeeze. Rich's heart sank, expecting his partner to stand up and announce his condition. Instead, Johnny went back to wrestling. Rich, not knowing what to expect anymore, followed suit.

Johnny's strategy soon became clear, however. He was rubbing Rich's cock at every opportunity. His holds always seemed to include some sort of pressure against the trapped, throbbing boner Rich so fervently wished would subside.

But soon, Rich was wishing for even more self-control as a certain tingle warned him of something potentially more embarrassing than just getting a hard-on. That feeling he got when he was lucky enough to wake up from a wet dream just before he began to shoot, that feeling of his balls contracting, his prick jumping, the tightness in his lower abdomen, all that was starting to happen.

Now Rich was wrestling with a new strategy, to keep his cock out of the reach of Johnny. He flipped over on his stomach but immediately regretted the move. Johnny pounced on him, looping one arm under his, and the other in between his legs. Rich expected to be flipped over from this hold, but instead, Johnny was holding him on his stomach and grabbing his balls.

Rich was in a panic. He didn't want to have an accident right there on the mat, but his ability to hold back his semen was weakening. He suddenly remembered that his last wet dream had been several weeks ago.

He managed to grunt through clenched teeth, "Cut it out!"

Johnny paid no attention. Rich held himself stock-still, realizing that it would only take one move to trigger the explosion waiting to take place in his balls.

Just then, the coach blew his whistle, yelled, "Hit the showers!" and walked out of the gym.

Rich breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Johnny remove his hand and start to rise. His first priority was to get the pressure off his bucking hard-on. He tentatively lifted his body onto all fours, as in the original wrestling position. He was keenly aware of the feeling of his jock pouch straining to hold back his throbbing hard-on. While he debated with himself about standing up with a terribly obvious lump in his wrestling tights, suddenly Johnny was back on top of him, assuming the referee's wrestling position! But there was a difference. The arm wrapped around Rich's waist reached all the way around to his cock!

Johnny stroked the boner a couple of times and breathed in Rich's ear, "Ready to go again, Richie?" Then he laughed and stood up.

For Rich, it was all over. When Johnny stroked his cock, the first squirt of sperm came shooting out of his cockhead, right into his jock and tight wrestling gear. Unable to restrain himself, he emitted soft sobbing noises as his overheated rod released huge globs of jism. The hot white goo was shooting out in such copious amounts that it was soaking through the pouch of Rich's jock, through the spandex of his wrestling tights, and was dripping down onto the mat, making a milky puddle.

Johnny watched in amazement. He shouted, "Hey guys! Check this out! Rich is creaming in his gear!"

Soon he was surrounded by the whole team. They taunted Rich as they watched him, down on all fours, with cum dripping on the mat underneath him.

All Male Fiction: Matman's Meat

By: jockcock4jockass

 

 

I wrestled in high school, and I have no idea how many times I wrestled with a hard-on - dozens of times! I wanted to wrestle in college, but I didn't make the team. Instead, I became an avid fan. I'd come to watch practice. I came to all the matches. I cheered for the home team, and for my favorite stud.

I went ape over Steve when I first laid eyes on him. I was eighteen, and a freshman. He twenty, and a junior. He was also a damned good wrestler, and handsome as sin - muscles in all the right places, which he proved he knew how to use, and, always a girl hanging on his every move.

I watched Steve intently during practice, and during games. I yearned to bury my face in his crotch and his cock in my throat. I also yearned to bury my cock in his tight, hard ass.

When Steve won, I was always the first one up and cheering – and he began to notice. By mid-season he seemed to pause and take me in before he took his stance on the mat for a match. One day he smiled at me before he did that. He locked eyes with me when he won.

The next day during practice, he came over to my spot in the bleachers and made small talk while stretching his back and legs. That pushed his crotch damned close to my face, and without even realizing I was doing it, I reached down and groped my own crotch, and then he was off and running back to practice.

I dawdled around the locker room a couple of days later. It was after another match, and I hung around while the guys showered, especially around Steve.

I happened to be in the right place for him to say to me, as he paused at the exit, "Want to go get something to eat, Chris?"

All Male Fiction: Teenage Spunk

By: rick_licks_dick

 

 

My heart sank when I saw Whittaker crumple up and hit the field like a wounded animal. He was my champion athlete and I was counting on him to pull us through in the regional finals next week. Now, he was flat on his back, both hands cupping the considerable bulge in his groin. I got up off the bench and loped across the field to find out what had happened.

"Pulled a muscle in my groin, Coach," he groaned, tears welling up in his eyes. He was a big, strong, eighteen year old man, but right now he looked as helpless as a baby. I helped him up, and slipped an arm around him, half-carrying him back to the locker room.

Touching Whittaker was unlike touching any of the other young men I've coached over the years. Many of them had had great bodies, but Whittaker's was almost too much to take. His arms and shoulders were tight and thick with muscle, and his chest was a true masterpiece. Right now my fingers were curving under the rise of his big pec and it felt like a warm rock. When he moved it was sheer poetry in motion, and I was convinced that he had a great athletic career ahead of him.

"It really hurts, Coach," he groaned, looking over at me with his big brown eyes. Whittaker's arm felt good against my neck, his sweat soaking through my t-shirt and rapidly making me a whole lot hotter than the cool fall weather could justify. "You have to make it better. I have to be able to compete this weekend."

"We'll worry about that later," I reassured him, giving him a friendly squeeze. "Right now I want to get you inside so I can see how badly you're hurt." I tightened my grip on him and bore most of his weight as we descended the stairs.

"Let's get these clothes off you," I said, helping him into my office. "Can you get your shoes off?"

All Male Fiction: Biking With Josh (Part 1)

"The Discovery"

 

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

 

Josh and I have known each other for about four years. He was my manager when I was first hired on at the plant. After a year of that cutbacks had forced him to step down, and he had to take a line job with me. He took it in stride, saying the pay was not all that much worse and it was a hell of a lot less stressful. Over the next three years we became very good friends. Not long after that I found out he liked to bike, something I enjoyed too. We've been biking almost daily ever since.

Josh is twenty-four, the same age as me, around 6'4" tall with a trimmed goatee, buzzed dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Over the three years that we've been friends I've come to know that he's not modest. He'd shower at my place after biking sometimes and come out of the bathroom in just a towel and lounge around on the couch that way. Josh has a really fine body, muscular and beefy. I've always wanted to see what was under that towel, and I've wanted to mess around with him for a really long time. But not only did he have no idea I was gay, there was no doubt in my mind that he was straight.

He came over this past Saturday for a 'weekend' ride. We planned to bike out into the country side, find a place to crash on the side of the road, and then come back Sunday. He had on an orange tank top and white spandex shorts, which showed a black jock through the thin material. It was going to be a hot weekend, and I'd for sure be letting him lead so I could watch that ass get hot and sweaty and the spandex become transparent.

I finished strapping my backpack on the bike and glanced at Josh, who had his hand down his spandex shorts adjusting himself. I let my eyes linger a bit longer than I should have and he caught me. "Bike shorts are just so damn uncomfortable, but I guess they're a necessity," he said grinning at me.

I sheepishly nodded and got on my bike.

We had been riding for a few hours now and both of us were covered in sweat. I was half-hard for most of the ride from watching Josh's muscular ass become more and more apparent through the white spandex. I could easily make out the black straps of his jock and his ass crack now.

It suddenly started to cloud up very quickly, and about half an hour later it got very dark and windy. "Looks like it's going to storm," I called ahead to Josh.

Josh looked over his shoulder with a nod of agreement, and then said, "I know a place up ahead we can hole up if it gets too bad. One of my buddies took over his father's farm down this way."

Fifteen minutes later the rain was pelting down on us and we were soaked. Lightning crashed down around us and I was getting a bit nervous about being out in it. Josh pointed up ahead. "Trevor's place is right up ahead," he yelled back through the thundering downpour.

Sure enough, we crested a hill and there was a big red barn set back a ways from the road. Farther back was a white farm house. We hurriedly headed for the house, but were disappointed when no one answered the door. There were a couple of vehicles in the driveway, but none looked drivable.

"Go take cover in the barn," Josh yelled. "I'm going to write Trevor a note to let him know who's hiding in there in case he takes us for derelicts."

I headed for the barn, stashed my bike inside and wiped it down with my shirt. I was petting one of the horses when Josh came in.

"Damn, I haven't seen a storm like this in years," he said, closing the barn door behind him.

I glanced over at him. He took his shirt off and slung it over a stall wall and was working on dropping his shorts.

"You should get out of those wet shorts, man. They'll chafe your ass raw."

Standing in just his black jock now, I finally got to see his muscular naked ass as he headed towards the barn door. It was a hot ass, just as I knew it would be, and looked even hotter framed by the black straps of the jock.

"I'm going to take advantage of the rain and rinse the sweat off," he continued. By the time he finished saying it he had reached the barn door. He opened it, shucked his jock, and stepped out into the downpour.

I moved to the door and stood watching him run his hands over his body slowly. His eyes were closed as he stood under the barn's downspout. The rain running in rivulets down his tanned, muscled body mesmerized me.

Just as I began to feel my cock stiffen in the confines of my bike shorts from looking at him, Josh looked over at me. "What are you doing, man?"

I started to stutter thinking he was pissed that I was looking at him as he stood naked under the water.

"I told you those wet spandex shorts are gonna rub your ass raw. Get out of those wet clothes and come rinse off."