BateBook Shorts - All Male Fiction: The Trick

By: sausagewithgirth & Ryan Michaels

 

Jimmy’s teammates were tired of his cocky attitude. He acted as though the wins that got them to the meet were all due to him alone. So last night as he slept, his teammates used a stencil and permanent marker to play a trick on him. 

The trick, however, had a very different outcome than they had planned. His teammates had simply wanted to ridicule him in the showers and locker room for a while.

Jimmy woke up early the next morning, though, and went down to the pool to get in some laps. He knew the opposing team would be there getting in some practice before that day's meet, and cocky as he was, he wanted to do his laps in front of them.

Jimmy always did his laps in the nude (it was an all-male university) regardless of who else might be there (that cocky attitude of his again), and did not know his ass was sporting a new look, so he did nothing to try to hide it. 

Several members of the opposing team found it very interesting that Jimmy would be flashing a sign on his tight swimmer butt that invited men to use him like a whore. They figured that anybody advertising like that must want some immediate action.

All Male Fiction: Blowjob Blues

 By: wpblue & Ryan Michaels

 

We sprinted the last several yards along the beach before dropping into the sand; both of us sweaty and panting, trying to catch our breath. We had met on the beach several weeks ago - Sunday morning runners who happened to take the time to chat - and have been meeting to run every Sunday morning since then.

His name was Kyle. He's 26 and is a self-employed fitness instructor. He had what I would describe as a dancer's build. He was thin, but all sinew and muscle. He had an incredibly sexy bubble butt and an enticing bulge that was prominent even when he was wearing baggy running shorts.

His voice was deep and sexy, and even his mundane chatter kept my interest. It was like the sound waves from his voice were covered in lube and they floated through the air to slide around my cock.

His body and his voice kept me in a perpetual state of lust when I was around him, but I did my best to keep myself in check. I hadn't told him I was gay; the subject had never come up, and if he suspected it, he has never said anything about it.

There was really nothing about me to suggest that I was gay (other than the way my eyes lingered on him, the way they undressed him). I have an average build, somewhat on the muscular side, and I am as masculine as he is, though in an understated way. He's definitely an Alpha male, whereas I am more subdued.

He was exceptionally quiet this morning, and I wondered what was on his mind. I turned onto my side and studied him. He was splayed across the sand, eyes closed, arms at his sides, legs spread. I watched the subtle movement of his stomach; studied the prominent bulge in his shorts. He opened his eyes and sighed deeply. He was clearly conflicted about something, and I decided to find out what was bothering him.

"Are you okay Kyle? You're not usually this quiet."

He didn't answer right away, just sighed a few more times before finally speaking. "I'm okay, I guess. But sometimes, life can be really fucked up, you know?"

"I hear ya. What's going on? You want to talk about it?"

Kyle sat up and faced me, his legs pulled up and spread. His eyes locked onto mine, making me feel like I was going to melt. "It's my girlfriend... I know I haven't said much about her before, it's like private stuff, you know? But lately, she's been like a cold fish when it comes to sex. She's cuddly and affectionate, but when I try to have sex, she backs off, tells me that's all I think about."

"Is it?"

"Is it, what?"

"Is it all you think about?"

"Hell no. Well, maybe. I mean, I need sex, you know? Fuck, maybe I do pressure her too much. I sometimes think I'm addicted to sex. I jack off in the shower in the morning and then have to jack off at night too before I go to sleep. Anytime I'm on the computer I end up jackin' off to porn, even if I've already jacked off a few times. It's like my dick is always hard - and I'm always thinkin' about gettin' off."

"Geez Kyle, maybe all that jerkin' off has her upset. Maybe she feels threatened."

"No, she's happy I take care of my own needs because she doesn't want to have sex. But I'm not happy about it; I still want sex, no matter how many times I've jacked off. I mean, that's part of being in a relationship, right?"

I nodded.

"And then, when we do have sex, she won't even go down on me. She'll, like, lick it, and get me all primed, but then won't suck it. She says it's too big, that the taste is gross. I don't get it; I go down on her every time we do have sex."

All this talk about his cock made me look at his bulge. And he noticed where my eyes were. He frowned slightly but didn't say a word.

"Okay Kyle, I get it. You're a horn dog. But do you like her enough to keep dating her, even if she doesn't want to blow you?"

"I don't know man. It's not just the blowjobs; it's the sex in general. I kind of regret asking her to move in with me, now. I mean, there's just no hiding when I get hard, and when I am, which is, like, all the fucking time it seems, I always try to get sex and she only ever says yes about once a week. Hell, I'm hard now just talkin' about always being hard."

Once again, I had to look. And yes, he was hard. I could see the fullness pressed against the material of his shorts. My thoughts were no longer on his girlfriend issue, but on the large hard-on between his legs; I couldn't take my eyes off it. When I did take my eyes off of it and looked at him, he was staring at me. He adjusted himself and closed his legs.

Just as he started to say something, it started to rain. The rain was heavy and Kyle grabbed me by my shirt sleeve and said, "C'mon, let's get in my truck," and we jumped up and headed to the parking area.

By the time we jumped in the truck, we were both soaked. He started the engine and the air conditioner blasted us with cold air. I start to shiver in my wet clothes, and he adjusted the temperature. We sat quietly, and then he said, "I'm sorry to lay all this on you man. I just needed to talk about it. I'll figure something out."

"No problem. I don't mind listening; I just wish I had some advice for you."

"Well, what would you do in my shoes?"

"I'm not sure you'll like my answer to that." As I said that, he lifted the bottom of his shirt and fanned it, trying to dry it out. I looked down and could see that he was hard again, or still.

Again, he noticed me eyeing his cock. I tried to pretend that I was not aware of his aroused condition, and continued with what I had to say. "Your sex drive is not going to go away, and her sex drive isn't going to increase. So, unless you just want to stay frustrated all the time, the only logical choice is to break it off. Until you find someone that has a sex drive to match yours - you'll just have to get it where you can get it."

"I know you're right; it can't work."

We sat quietly again. It stopped raining, and he turned off the engine and rolled the windows down to the cool outside air. When he turned his head back, he followed my gaze, both of us now looking at the outline of his swollen cock. I looked away, pretending to concentrate on something outside.

"You don't need to look away. I'm pretty sure you want to see what I'm packin'."

All Male Fiction: A Real Man

 By: Tommyhawk1

 

"Where the fuck were you?" Gordon asked gruffly as I hurried into the warehouse at ten thirty at night. He was a beefy, large man with a battered face and a ready vocabulary of foul language. Just the sort you’d expect to find working in a warehouse - hard work attracts hard people.

"I'm sorry," I responded sincerely. "I missed my bus." I took my bag from "A Different Light" and hurriedly stuffed it between two pallets of boxes in the warehouse. It would be safe there until I had a chance to sneak them to a better hiding spot, but I couldn't do that now. And showing them to Gordon was out of the question. Half his curse words were "pansy" or worse when he was searching for derogatory remarks to make about someone; "faggot" to him was worse than calling someone a "motherfucker," so I stayed firmly in the closet while at work.

"What you got over there?" he asked as I lifted my hand back. His huge biceps glinted with white crescents from the sheen of his sweat and the glare of the overhead fluorescent lights. His voice was like a god's, the heavy echoes of the cavernous warehouse reverberated back every syllable a dozen-fold.

"Oh, nothing," I said.

"Then haul your pansy ass over here and help me load this truck, motherfucker," he said.

He didn't know I was gay; he talked like that to and about almost everybody. I didn't dare let him see the "A Different Light" book bag, not as big and brawny as this guy was; he could snap me in two without thinking about it.

Taking a gay book and magazines to a job where you're closeted was stupid, I knew that, I knew I should have waited, but the bookstore was right on my way to work. Passing by "A Different Light" bookstore, I made the fatal mistake of peering inside to see what was displayed in the window. A look at my watch to verify I had a couple of spare minutes, and in I went, coming out much later than intended with not only the book but with two porno magazines. And, with my stash now tucked between a pallet of Tide and a pallet of Oxydol, it could wait until I could take it home and give it proper attention.

"Come on, move it, cocksucker," Gordon growled and I hastened over to him. He handed me half of a stack of lists and said, "We got three trucks to do tonight," and I groaned.

Our warehouse takes in the boxcars from individual factories, and from there we load the items ordered by individual supermarkets. We don't handle any of the chain stores, but there are a sizeable number of Mom-and-Pop places that need to furnish their customers with Pop-Tarts and Cheetos; I had plenty of work. In fact, with three trucks needing loading I had more work than I could handle.

Each store had a long page marked with the items and quantities they wanted. We tried to keep the supplies organized so we could go right down the list and grab in order, but in practice, it's never quite that easy. So, you run around until you get all the stuff for one store loaded, then you load that into a larger, plastic shipping box which is then driven over by a forklift and placed into the truck. Gordon drove the little forklift, which was about the size of a Volkswagen, but with only the two of us, he had to jump down from the forklift and trundle a trolley like mine, too.

Once we had the truck filled with the boxes, which contained boxes that contained boxes that contained the essential items for life, we'd move on to the next sheaf of orders. When we finished a truck, we could take a short break, then move the loaded truck out (Gordon did that as well. You have to have a special license and training to drive an eighteen-wheeler) and back another one in and we'd do it all over again. But a truck would take three to four hours to load. Three trucks meant overtime whether I wanted it or not.

So, I worked away on my list, fuming about the unfairness of it all. Damn it, I'd picked up a really butch issue of "Stroke" and couldn't wait to get home and do just what the magazine's title suggested. I had only glanced at the contents, seeing a heavily built, gruff man dominating a younger, more slender man - "Stroke's" favorite form of sex – and it caused my stomach to churn, imagining that big man dominating me, forcing me to take his cock into my mouth... okay, three boxes of salad dressing and I could take this trolley over to the shipping box.

Soon enough my mind was off of sex and back onto my job, because with nothing but cardboard boxes to select from you have to pay attention to what you're picking up. A store orders a box of Ronzoni spaghetti and if you give them American Beauty instead, they don't see it as being all right, you get a nasty restock order and three forms to fill out and sign and initial. One of those goes into your personnel file and they track your performance that way. Sucks. No wonder they had such a heavy turnover of workers on this shitty job.

So, I loaded up that shipping box and the next and the next, and time passed. Soon we'd be finished with the shipping boxes; we could then load the truck with them according to the driver's schedule, and then could take a half-hour break. Sitting and jawing with Gordon wasn't that bad if you let him call you names without flinching. He didn't really mean anything personal by it; it was just his way of talking.

I finished and looked over at Gordon's last box; it was only half-loaded. Hell, he was usually waiting on me, not the other way around. Maybe the guy was slowing down. I decided I could give him a couple of comments while I helped him finish his loading. A few of his choicer comments to me would work nicely, such as "They need to hire some real men to do this work instead of you faggots." I'd like to see his face when I used that one on him!

So, I went in search of him. The warehouse was big (it had to be) so it took some time for me to find him… right by the pallet of boxes of Tide! He had a big load of it on his trolley, and on top of the trolley was a big, white plastic bag… and my copy of "Stroke" was in his hands! And he was looking at the pictures!

All Male Fiction: Late-Night Hunger

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

 

As my sleepy eyes came into focus, so did the fuzzy glow of the digital clock on the bedside table; it read 2:06 in the morning. I was staying at the Comfort Inn, a place I was very familiar with, as I traveled to this particular city once a month on business. I usually slept just fine during my regular stays there, but for some reason, I had woken up and just couldn't get back to sleep.

After alternating between tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, I decided that a snack might help, since I was feeling hungry and thought maybe that was what was keeping me awake. So, up I hopped from the bed and headed off for the small alcove that housed the ice machine and a couple of vending machines.

As I started to peruse the snack items available in one of the machines, a man walked in and took up at the vending machine next to me, which housed sodas and water. "Hi there," he greeted me.

"Hi," I replied, casually taking him in as he browsed the choice of beverages in the machine. He looked to be about forty and was clad in only a white t-shirt and boxer shorts. He was decent looking and appeared to be in good shape. When my eyes moved to take a look at his crotch, they lingered there as I saw the outline of his cock hanging down along his thigh.

"Like what you see?" he spoke, while still looking straight ahead, and then he turned and looked right at me.

"What? I don't know what you mean, I'm just getting a snack," I babbled and turned my head, eyeing the items in my machine again.

"Hey, it's cool," he said. "The only reason I'm up at this hour is because my pecker won't let me sleep, and I'm pretty sure after I caught you checking out my dick that you like sucking on them, and a good suck job would be real nice right about now. So, how about it? You wanna suck on this?" he asked giving his cock a squeeze through his underwear.

By that point my own dick was hard inside my sleep pants, making my condition impossible to hide.

My hard dick was screaming yes, but my head was telling me that this guy, after catching me staring at his crotch and figuring me for a queer, could be setting me up for a beating or something. I'm sure it won't come as any surprise that my cock won out and I nodded my head.

"Great!" he grinned, and then he put his hands to his hips and was about to push his underwear down, right there in the fucking alcove!

"Hey, wait!" I spoke. "We can't do it here! Why don't we go back to my room, or we can go to yours if you prefer?"

"It's after two in the morning; no one is around. Where's your sense of adventure?" he smiled.

"I don't know. I really think we should go back to…"

I stopped there when he went ahead and proceeded to push his underwear down past his balls. One thing I could not resist was a cock. I wasn't just a cocksucker, I was a hungry cocksucker, and now that his cock was exposed right in front of me, all reason and caution went out the window and I immediately fell to my knees in front of him and gobbled that cock up!

Bisexual Fiction: Triple Workout (Part 1)

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yup, and you’re Josh?" I commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure. No problem."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: Flip-Flop Flap

By: Tommyhawk1 & Ryan Michaels

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gambling?!" Grandma was scandalized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what if you're not looking?"

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

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

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

"Trophies?"

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

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

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

"I guess it can," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly!"

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

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

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

All Male True Experience: Sucking My First Cock

By: Sean R.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Melissa?"

"The girl at the juice bar."

"Ah," I nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, great game," I started.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I had a great time," I continued.

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

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

"What does?"

"Getting a hard-on in the showers."

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

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

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

"Uh, hand with what?"

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

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

All Male Fiction: A Dying Request

By: Tommyhawk1

 

My last four patients had been sound asleep. I thought the fifth was, too, but the squeak of my cart's wheels caused him to turn his head my way, so I smiled and pushed the cart on in. "Book or magazine, sir?" I offered.

"No thanks," he said, turning his head toward the window. A soft groan escaped his lips.

Depression, I decided; plenty of sick people start giving up on life. A bit of lively conversation ought to cheer him up; after all, I was a volunteer.

He was looking out the window at a beautiful summer day. "It's a beautiful day outside, isn't it?"

"I guess," he said lethargically.

"My name is Cody," I told him. "I'm a senior at Whitman High this year, and I'm volunteering here at the hospital; so, you'll be seeing me around here."

"Not me," he said. "I'll be gone by then."

"Oh, you heading back home tomorrow?"

He turned his eyes to me and I realized that he was young and damned good-looking. His hair was mussed and uncombed, dark locks in tangles on his head, and his skin was an olive tone courtesy of some exotic mixture of ancestry. His eyes were dark black orbs that shone above a heavy set of eyebrows. And yet he wore an air of heavy sadness.

He looked at me in turn, seeing me in my clean white shirt and dark blue pants. I wore an armband that marked me as a volunteer at the hospital. "No," he said to me. "Not back home… except the home we all go to one day, sooner or later," he sighed. "At least I know it's coming."

"Huh?" I said. Then it hit me. "You mean..."

He nodded soberly. "Yeah. They should have told you. I have a defective aorta. Every time my heart beats, it rips a little wider. By this time tomorrow, I'll be..." He lifted one arm and made a sort of "whoosh" movement "...out of here."

"But... can't they operate?"

"Not on this," he said. "No time."

I was foundering. "But you're just... here in this room. There's no machines or anything."

"I didn't want them," he said. "They couldn't do anything but prolong things. I could stay alive as a vegetable indefinitely. I chose instead to let it happen. My choice."

If I'd been foundering before, I was drowning now. "What about your family?" When someone is dying, the family is always there, aren't they?

"Mom couldn't handle it," he informed me. "Dad took her home; he'll be back in an hour or so."

"That's... that's too bad… that your mom can't be here," I said.

"Can you stay with me for a few moments?" the man asked, putting his hand on my arm. "It's kind of lonely... waiting to die."

"Sure, sure," I said.

The man wiped at his eyes. "Could you close the door? You know, in case I start crying or something."

"Sure, sure," I said and hastily complied, shoving my cart back out into the hallway and closing the door after it. Just old books and months' old magazines, hardly items worthy of pilferage; we passed them out to the patients and gathered them up again when the patients were done with them.

"Come sit," he said, patting the bed's edge.

I did so, though it was kind of crowded like that.

"You're a nice-looking guy, Cody," the guy said to me. His hand went back onto my arm, clamping on; not too tight, but it wasn't going to let me go real fast, either.

"Thanks," I said. "So, uh, what's your name?"

"Ace."

"Ace?"

"Short for something I don't like to remember," he went on. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"First day," I agreed.

"I thought so. I'd have noticed you if you'd been here a while. Given that this is most likely my last day on Earth, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure, sure," I said again; it was turning into my default phrase.

"You wouldn't mind if it's kind of a peculiar request?"

"Of course not," I said. A dying man's last request, of course, I'd go along with it! "What is it?"

"You see, on the whole, I'm not afraid of dying; I've lived a pretty good life overall, you know?"

"Sure, sure." I was sounding like a broken record.

"But there is one thing I would really like to do, just once, before I die."

"What's that?"

"Cody?"

"Yes?"

"This is going to sound weird."

"That's all right," I assured him. "Just say it."

"Well it's kind of hard to say to someone, but, well I've always had this, well, sort of secret… craving to, well…"

"To what?

"To try it, see what it's like."

"Try what?"

"Well… oral sex… with a guy."

"Huh?" This I wasn't expecting. Take him to see a baseball game, maybe! "You want me to… to suck your..."

Straight Fiction: Poolside Attraction

 By: Bethyboo

 

The midday sun beats down as he watches her over his laptop. The splashing of people in the pool fills the air. He stares at the long length of her back, dimples just showing above her bikini bottoms. He sucks in a half breath; his fiancée is beautiful and he reaches to lazily run a finger from the waistband of her bikini, along her spine, stopping at the ties that stretch across, just below her shoulder blades. He moves them aside and frowns at the white strip, stark against her tanned back.

He unties the top, flipping the strings to either side and watches as she leaps up from the chaise, grasping her bikini top to her breasts, her eyes burning brightly with anger as she yells at him, "What are you doing?"

"Just trying to help you get rid of those tan lines," he frowns at her as her face turns crimson.

"What is wrong with you? There are people out here, who might see, and get the wrong impression." She reaches back, tying a knot in her bikini top so that he cannot do that so easily again.

Taken aback by her outburst, and a little embarrassed as several people stop to see what is going to happen next, he sets his laptop aside and rises, his six-foot frame towering above her. He stares down at her, watches as her lower lip does that little tremble it always does just before she cries. 

Frustrated, he blurts out, "You are such a prude; you even like to have the lights off when we have sex. What is wrong with you? Damn it! This isn't high school!" He turns and stomps off, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He enters the hotel, not even giving a glance back to see the tears in her eyes.

She stands and watches him leave, waiting for him to turn around, to apologize, and as his ass disappears through the door, she starts to shake. Is it anger or something else that makes the tears flow down her cheeks?

He enters the room, dropping his clothes along the way, and steps into the shower. He lets the spray stay cool, washing the anger from him, taking away the edge that momentarily flared up as he thought of his near-naked fiancée being ogled by the men at the pool. Damn it! He has needs and desires... and all she seems to have are rules and limits.

She looks up at the window of their hotel room and starts to smile as she realizes it has an unobstructed view of the pool. She licks her lips, anger giving her fortitude she didn't know she possessed. She reaches down and grabs the lotion, turns, and squares her shoulders. Marching up to the lifeguard stand she peers up at him, her eyes squinting in the sun.

"Excuse me, but my fiancé just left and forgot to put lotion on my back; I don't want to burn. Could you help me please?" She holds the bottle of lotion up in the air, standing on tiptoe and flexing the muscles in her ass. She knows she looks good, her long legs accentuated by strong calf muscles.

He tips his sunglasses up and looks down at her, a slow smile spreading, "Of course!" He descends the ladder and stands mere inches from her. He peels the bottle from her fingers and spins her around, the sensation of his fingers on her shoulder making her shiver in the heat of the day.

He is so tall he casts a shadow over her. She is a little nervous, quivering as his hands start to spread the lotion, up and down, small circles, sensuous as he lingers, his fingers pressing lightly at the sides of her breasts. She gives a languid stretch as he leans against her, his cock, his hard cock, pressing to her lower back.

All Male True Experience: Asshole in the Park

By: Unknown Author

I'm twenty-one, bisexual, and have a girlfriend, whom I have been with for six months. Prior to being with her, I had had sex with two other women, and a lot of other guys – other horny teen guys, anonymous hookups, etc. – the number of guys outnumbering girls because it's just a lot easier to get sex from another guy. My girlfriend doesn't know I'm bisexual, though, and I had decided that while I was with her I would be faithful and not have sex with other men.

I really didn't think it would be that difficult, since I'm more into women than men (I'm attracted to, turned on by and like sex with both equally, but the love and emotional stuff I only feel for women), but, after just six months of not having any sexual contact with another man, I suddenly found myself getting hard several times a day just thinking about it. When that happened, I'd jerk off thinking about other guys, and mostly thinking about and picturing their asses.

I've always considered myself an ass man - there's just something about a man's ass that excites me. Whenever I see a man from behind, I get so hard, especially when I see a guy bent over in a locker room, with his balls hanging and his cheeks slightly open, revealing his asshole. To me this is very arousing, because when you think of all the areas of a man that can arouse sexual excitement in another man, the asshole reflects the most private part of a man.

Sure, a man's cock is a source of sexual arousal too, but most men don't have a problem exposing their cocks around other guys - like at urinals, in the locker room, online, and some guys, especially horny teen guys, will even jerk off in front of each other – so it's not private in the same way. Let's face it, there's no more private part of a man's body than his asshole and, to me, if a guy bends over and exposes his asshole, he's exposing the most private part of himself.

It's the casualness in which it's done in the locker room, or the willingness on his part during sexual encounters to expose his most private place that turns me on, and I'd now like to share an encounter which illustrates exactly what I am talking about.

With the ever increasing thoughts of sex with guys creeping into my head, finally I decided I just couldn't go without any longer, even if it meant being unfaithful to my girlfriend, so I decided to head to a local park (known in certain circles to be a cruising spot for guy-on-guy action) to see if I could satisfy my desire.

It was a Monday night when I went to the aforementioned park. I was fully aware that I'd have a better chance of finding some action there if I had gone late on a Friday or Saturday night instead, but I had made up my mind that I wanted some man-sex ASAP and went in the hopes that I might get lucky anyway.

When I arrived it was still fairly early, just before dusk, and so I wasn't all that surprised to find that there were no other cars there. However, even though the lot was empty, I knew from past experience that guys still went there during the week, too. I also knew a lot of guys would just drive in and then leave again if there were no other cars there, but if they saw even just one car they would be more likely to stick around - so, I backed into a spot in the gravel lot and waited.

After waiting for half an hour or so, and just contemplating leaving, a truck pulled in and parked to the right of my car, backing in several spots away from me. I could see that there was only one person in the truck and it was a man. In these instances my heart begins to race and my cock begins to pulse in anticipation of a sexual adventure, but I think that happens to most guys in these types of situations.

After several minutes he opened the door of his truck and got out. As he closed the door I noticed him reach down with one hand and give his crotch a quick and casual rub, which was always a good sign. I watched as he walked away from the truck and headed across the lot toward the entrance of the path that led into the woods.

Just before he entered the path, his head turned over his shoulder and looked back at my car. I, of course, was looking right at him just for that reason, to see if he would look back; a universal code in cruising spots like this to find out if you are both there for the same reason.

In these situations I always wait a few minutes so as not to appear overly aggressive, plus I don't want to end up walking right behind the guy; I prefer to wait until he is ahead a bit so that I can wander down the path and just 'find' him, as if I had just stumbled upon him on my walk.

After waiting a couple of minutes, I got out of my car and headed across the lot to the path. As I got a ways down the path, I saw the man from the truck standing just to the side of it, leaning against a tree in the near distance. It was dusk now, and the cover of the trees made the area appear darker, and I ducked into the trees and moved a bit closer to check him out.

Within a few seconds he removed his t-shirt, and I watched him begin to run his hands across his chest and down into the waistband of his shorts - he had obviously spotted me ducking into the trees and knew I was watching him. My heart began to pound, and I stepped out onto the path again and began to slowly approach. He turned and looked at me and indicated his interest with a smile, while slipping his hand all the way into his shorts and giving his cock a good grope.

Seconds later I was standing face to face with this man. He was an attractive guy, about six feet tall and, I guessed, around two-hundred pounds; not fat, just solidly built. He had on a baseball cap and had a scruffy five o'clock shadow, and looked to be in his mid-forties, more than twice my age. I'm not usually into older guys, but at this point in time I didn't care, I just wanted cock! I was just happy that he was in-shape and attractive – but, honestly, even if he had had a beer gut and average looks, I probably would have still hooked up with him… desperate times and all.

Still groping himself, I stepped closer, and when I did, he removed his hand from his crotch, reached out and grabbed a handful of my crotch and gave it a hard squeeze. Already swollen, my cock grew completely hard from his touch. I then reached out to get a feel of his, with him moving his hand away from his crotch to allow me to touch it.

I moaned both from another guy feeling my dick and from feeling another guy's dick again. We silently stood and felt each other up for a few moments, and then he removed his hand, squatted in front of me, and pulled my shorts and underwear down.

When he was met with my stiff seven-and-a-half inch uncut cock, he commented on my "nice, hard, young dick" and then he turned his ball cap around backwards, leaned his head in, opened his mouth and fully took my cock all the way into his throat. He pulled back and then took me deeply and slowly back into his throat again and then started bobbing up and down on it in a nice rhythm.