All Male Fiction: The Christmas Package

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Warning: Although this story does not involve incest, it does involve a father watching his son having sex. If this type of theme offends you, do not read this story.

I couldn't help but smile as I placed the package in the trunk; I knew my son was going to be so surprised when he opened his Christmas present. It wasn't something he had asked for, but something I knew he was really going to enjoy.

Ben is eighteen years old and is an outgoing and personable individual. He is also athletic, and hard-working. Of course, as his dad, you might think I'm a bit biased, but there are many others who know him who would agree with my assessment 100%.

He is also an exceptional swimmer, and I was so proud when he was accepted to a large Ivy League university and asked to anchor the school's swim team. All of the years of getting up at four-thirty in the morning every day to take Ben to swim practice had paid off.

Still, the house felt so empty without him in it; raising him on my own for his whole life, the two of us have always had a very close relationship, and I have missed having him around.

That however was all about to change, at least in the short-term, as he was coming home for Christmas. He had been unable to get home for the Thanksgiving holiday, so I was looking forward to seeing him even more so.

I smiled as I pulled into the driveway and saw Greg's car. Greg was a friend of Ben's, and he had volunteered to make the trip to pick Ben up from school.

He was spending the holidays with us as well after his parents had decided to spend theirs at a tropical resort. It was Ben who had asked if Greg could spend Christmas with us, and I didn't mind at all; I didn't want anyone to have to spend it alone.

Getting out of the car, I grabbed the package from the trunk and tucked it inside my coat. It was Christmas eve and my boss had let us go home at four o'clock instead of six; this wasn't the norm on Christmas eve, but I wasn't complaining.

I looked at my watch as I made my way up the pathway to the front door. Even after stopping to pick up Ben's Christmas gift, it was still only 4:45.

Ben was always so curious about his Christmas gifts, so I quietly unlocked the front door in an effort to get his gift in the house and hidden away without him seeing me. I could have avoided this had I decided on his gift sooner. As it was, I took too long to make that decision thus ordering it online was not an option if I wanted it to arrive in time. Thankfully there was a specialty store in town that sold the particular item I was interested in.

As I opened the front door, I could hear Ben and Greg talking in the living room which was right to the left of the front entry. So, I quietly closed the door and made my way around to the back door instead.

As I slipped through the back door and into the kitchen, the faint aroma of burning hickory filled my nostrils, and I smiled; Ben knew how I always liked to have a fire on Christmas eve.

After stealthily making my way down the main floor hallway, I felt I would be able to get up the stairs without being noticed, provided the two boys had their backs to the living room doorway. So, I moved close to the wall and peered around it into the living room to check their positions, and my jaw dropped as my eyes took in the sight before me.

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 True Experience: An Unrelenting Urge

 By: 69andmore

It’s that familiar feeling that comes upon you suddenly, out of nowhere. If you are bi, and married, like me, well, you know what I mean - that sudden, unexplainable urge to have sex with a man, to satisfy a desire. It invades your thoughts, and experience has taught you it won’t go away, won’t allow you to think clearly, rationally, until you surrender to it.

All I knew was that once the craving overpowered me, I was horny for cock and needed a fix, to give in to the hedonistic power it had over me and find some sort of man-sex for relief. Trying to fight it off was futile. 

I was feeling that way today, and to make matters more complicated, it was Father’s Day. Why did I have these re-occurring thoughts again badgering me, especially today of all days?

Although my sex life with my wife was good, and despite knowing that because it was my special day I’d probably be getting some that night, ambushed by the thoughts of a hard cock, a hot ass, and a hot load of cum, I knew what I had to do.

After making my cell phone ring, I went upstairs and told my wife that my buddy Joe had called to tell me his car had broken down and he needed a ride. Of course, that wasn’t true, but my wife and Joe never talked so I knew she’d never hear differently.

With an excuse to get out of the house for a bit put in place, I jumped in my car and headed off to a specific adult book store. I had chosen this particular one purposely because it was fairly new in the area and I had heard it offered booths with glory holes – something none of the others in the area had - and that men went there to use them with other men. Using a glory hole was going to be a new experience for me, but one that I was quite excited about.

That excitement grew as I pulled into the parking lot, and continued to grow as I entered the bookstore, paid the attendant cash in exchange for tokens, and started to make my way to the back area where the booths were located.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I heard the sounds of the sucking and fucking emanating from the porn playing inside some of the occupied booths. The empty booths stood with the doors open, as a small number of guys hung out cruising, some walking around, and some leaning against the walls or booths.

I didn’t have the time or need to cruise; all I needed was to have a little man-on-man sexual activity so I could regain control of my life again, and I immediately walked into the first open booth and closed the door.

After locking the door, I dropped some tokens in the machine and pushed a few buttons until I came across a movie that looked good. It was a gay porno and watching it made my mouth water. I looked around and saw the hole cut in the wall between my booth and the next one, and my cock twitched in my jeans.

It wasn't too long before I heard someone enter the booth next to mine and lock the door. I looked down through the large hole in the wall and was barely able to make out a pair of legs and sneakers in the darkness of his booth.

As I continued to peer through the hole, the stranger dropped some tokens into his machine and then dropped his shorts and underwear to the concrete floor.

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.

Bisexual Fiction: Driven by Desire (Part 2)

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Read Part 1

My hand was almost shaking with anticipation and excitement as I reached out to knock on the door of 1203 Ridgeburn Crescent.

"Hey come on in buddy," Rob said after opening the door.

I stepped inside and took my shoes off.

"My girlfriend's in the living room." I followed him into the living room. "Ryan this is Michelle. Michelle, Ryan."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"Nice to meet you too," she replied smiling.

"So what do you think? You wanna fuck him or what?" Rob asked.

"Rob!" Michelle said blushing. "Jesus Christ!"

"What? That's why we invited him over isn't it?"

"Yes, but he just walked in the door and you didn't have to just blurt it out in that way. There's such a thing as tact."

"Women!" Rob said rolling his eyes. Michelle swatted him across the arm.

"It's ok. He's right. He did tell me I was coming over to see if you approved and if so we were all gonna have sex together. It's cool if you two want to get right to it," I said.

"Oh, um, well did Rob mention certain details about what we wanted to do?" Michelle asked me.

"You mean about you wanting to see another guy suck his dick? Yes, he mentioned it."

"And you are comfortable with that? I mean if you aren't, it's ok, but I need to know now because that's a stipulation in my agreeing to have a threesome," Michelle replied.

"Yes, I am cool with it."

"Rob told me you are straight, so do you mind if I ask why you want to suck another guy's cock? Doesn't that mean you are least bi?"

I had no idea Rob was going to tell his girlfriend I was straight but I figured I had better play along, and I was a quick thinker so it was no big deal.

"Well, even though it's embarrassing to admit, it's been quite a while since I've been with a woman, and when Rob asked me about the threesome I was really excited about it. Then he mentioned the whole dick sucking thing and I was like, no way!"

"So why did you finally agree to do it?" Michelle asked inquisitively.

"Well honestly, and I hope I don't offend you, but Rob started describing your pussy, telling me how it was shaved and how tight it was and how good it feels. When you've gone without for so long and you have the opportunity to get some, the little head starts to take over. I've also never had a threesome before and it's always been a fantasy of mine. I'm totally straight but also pretty open-minded and I figured I could try it in order to get some pussy, and to finally get to have a threesome."

"And that's all it took to get you to agree to suck dick, the promise of some pussy?"

"Well yeah, and I mean I have some gay friends and never understood what they got out of sucking other guys dicks, and the more I thought about it I guess I was a bit curious to see what it's like. And, as I said, I am open-minded too and I just look at it as a new experience; One that I'll probably never repeat, but it's kind of cool to at least say and know that I tried it." Everything I was telling her was the truth. Except that I was actually talking about being with a woman, but she didn't need to know that.

"That's really cool, and you're right, very open-minded of you."

"Great! So you wanna fuck or what?" Rob asked getting impatient and perhaps feeling a bit ignored.

"Jeez keep your pants on Rob, we're just talking," Michelle scowled.

"That's just it, I don't want to keep my pants on. I want to take them off and fuck some pussy and have a couple of bitches suck my cock!"

"Classy isn't he?" Michelle said smiling at me.

"Yeah," I said chuckling. "But I would like to get started too, if you want to do this."

"Oh yes. I like you, and I definitely can't wait to see you sucking my straight, macho boyfriend's cock."

"Great! Then let's go upstairs and get naked," Rob said motioning to the stairs.

There was no argument from Michelle or from me, and we headed up the stairs to their bedroom.

All Male Fiction: The Right Words

By: Unknown Author

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What have you been writing about?"

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

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

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

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

"Sure, but..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bisexual Fiction: David's Summer Job

By: Bi Guy & Ryan Michaels

David mopped the droplets of sweat that were dripping from his forehead and into his eyes. It was hot - the middle of July - and he was busy cleaning and scrubbing the beach snack shack at the Indian Lake Resort.

David's dad owned part interest in the place, and that's how David ended up as a gofer, clean-up person and lifeguard. The pay wasn't much, but he enjoyed meeting the vacationers, and he especially liked his lifeguard duty.

David had been a competition swimmer in high school. He liked the water, and he liked being with the guys. Sometimes he even thought he liked looking at the guys in their tight swimming trunks. He'd never fool around with a guy, at least that's what he had convinced himself, but looking wasn't a crime, was it?

Outwardly, David was your typical All-American stud, chasing girls and discovering how good sex feels when you're young and strong and always ready.

So far this summer, he'd played with more than one sweet, young girl who'd gotten turned on by David's muscular twenty-year-old body and even disposition. He'd always been attracted to girls around his age, so that's why his infatuation with Mrs. Dexter seemed unusual. Not that she was so old, but anyone over thirty seems old when you're twenty.

Mrs. Dexter - Jessica was her first name - and her husband, Michael, had been at the resort for a week. In that time, David had flirted verbally with Jessica each time he had served her at the snack stand.

David found himself daydreaming about Jessica's big tits and curvy ass. He had seen her and her tall, good-looking husband swimming and playing at the beach. She wore the tiniest bikini he'd ever seen, while Michael favored Speedos, just like the swim team. David had seen the bulge in those tiny swim briefs, and knew there was a large piece of meat inside. Too bad he couldn't see it in the shower room like he did the dudes at school. The thoughts about Michael unsettled David, but turned him on, nonetheless.

Jessica and Michael sunned themselves on the beach and commented to each other about the young lifeguard and how he seemed to enjoy watching them. Jessica told Michael about the little flirtations. Michael stared at David's sexy young body, and his cock grew hard.

Jessica teased him as she rubbed the front of his swimsuit. "David must really turn you on," she said, winking at her aroused husband.

Michael's bisexuality was no secret. In the five years they had been married, Michael had had several affairs, with Jessica's knowledge and blessing. But now it was Jessica who wanted a fling.

"He's so sweet and innocent, Michael. I want him. Will you let me have him?" she asked, almost in a kidding way.

"As long as I can watch him fuck you. He's my type, too."

Jessica's eyes widened. Michael kissed her and whispered in her ear, "Let him have you, and then let me have him."

Michael's tongue delved deeply into his wife's sweet, warm mouth and they clung together, each anticipating the hot time David could bring them. Michael's fingers pushed aside Jessica's skimpy bikini bottoms and he sensuously rubbed his aroused wife's pussy. Jessica thrust her hand inside Michael's Speedos and gently toyed with his erect penis and squeezed his large, heavy balls.

They wanted to do more, but not under David's watchful eyes. Not yet, anyway.

David watched from his lifeguard tower vantage point as the horny lovers played their erotic games. David's prick caused his swim trunks to tent up in the front, and a wet area started to emerge as his cock responded.

Michael and Jessica walked hand in hand back to their cottage, and as they passed the lifeguard station, Jessica winked at David and stroked the nipple of her left breast.

David's hand wandered to his crotch and he rubbed his bulge, nearly shooting his wad when Jessica played with her nipple. Was she hot for him, too? Why, he wondered, with a big stud like Michael to fill her needs? David then thought of Michael's dick and how good Jessica must feel as it pumps her cunt. He wasn't sure what excited him more, the thought of fucking her, or taking hold of Michael's prick and maybe sucking it; or maybe being fucked by him. The thought caused David to shiver with uneasiness.

The next day, David greeted Jessica with his usual big smile and friendly hello as she wandered near him as he was working at the snack stand. His bright blue eyes opened wide as he saw her approach in a skin-tight t-shirt and those skimpy bikini bottoms. The nipples of her ample tits protruded erotically from the thin material of the t-shirt, and David lustily thought how nice it would be to nurse them in his mouth.

"Watcha up to little boy?" Jessica asked with a wink.

"Cut out that little boy stuff!" David responded.

"Ok, ok. I can see you're more than a boy." Jessica gave his body a quick stare, lingering at his crotch.

The unsubtle glance was not lost on David.

"Maybe I need to prove to you I'm no boy," David flirted back.

Jessica extended her hand to David's face. She stroked his tanned skin and smiled. "Michael's gone to Stadium City on business today. I'm available if you are."

The proposition stunned David. He'd been dreaming about Jessica's body since she'd arrived. Now she wanted him. Or was she just flirting, teasing him? "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Very," she smiled.

David couldn't believe what was happening, and he quickly finished his chores at the snack stand and followed Jessica back to her cabin.

Of course, she had lied; Michael was gone, but not far. And he would arrive in time for the show. And maybe more.

All Male Fiction: Rocks for Jocks

By: Natty Soltesz

I was taking a summer physics course to bone up on my skills and pass some time. The campus was pretty deserted in the summer and the mood was nice — quiet and serene. There was this one guy who always sat in the front row, not that it did him much good, educationally speaking. Nick Anthony was what you might call an oaf: a big, dumb jock with a thick neck and an even thicker skull, and a prime candidate for "Rocks for Jocks" — which is how the rest of us referred to the Mickey Mouse science prerequisite typically snatched up by athletes and underachievers.

But 'Intro to Physics' was where he'd somehow ended up, an unwitting cog in the tyranny that was a liberal arts education, trying to wrap his head around Newtonian mechanics and kinetic theory when I suspected he'd rather focus on the trajectory of a football sailing through the air. He was trying so hard, intently taking notes as our professor explained equations on the board. But you could tell it wasn't getting through.

I stared as much as I dared. He always wore athletic gear — thin white t-shirts that hugged his buff and beefy body, and blue silky track pants with buttons going down the sides. A few times he wore a sleeveless Texas Longhorns shirt. His arms were so tan and toned. I lived for the days when he came in wearing his mesh basketball shorts, his ass flexing as he walked, his package flopping up front — Jesus! He had short dark hair and a stubbly face with sensuous lips. I'm sure he had no trouble getting laid on a Saturday night, but physics just wasn't his forte.

The prof and I had become friendly by the third week of the course. He asked me if I'd consider tutoring Nick and racking up some extra credit in the process. I didn't need the credit, but I enjoyed tutoring, regardless of whether I was fantasizing about the pupil sitting on my face, so I said yes.

We were formally introduced one day after class. Nick shook my hand, smiling. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and we walked out of class together. I offered to meet with him that night.

"Well, tonight, I got this girl I'm supposed to see…"

"Oh. No worries," I replied. "If you got a girl, we'll do it some other time."

He said tomorrow worked better for him, and I figured some lucky girl was going to be freshly fucked by then.

Thirty hours later, Nick pulled up to my off campus apartment. He couldn't have dressed any better — that goddamn sleeveless Longhorns shirt and the mesh shorts. I was dying.

I offered him a cold drink, and we sat down at the kitchen table. I guess I was a bit older and wiser than Nick, but only by a couple of years. That said, I never planned to seduce him — at least, not at first.

We started on some equations. He wasn't getting it and began to get frustrated. My place was hot and I didn't have AC, so after a half hour I suggested we take a break and try to catch a breeze on my balcony. Nick sat in my patio chair and downed the rest of his drink.

"So," I said, "you went out with your girl last night?"

"Yeah… well, we didn't really go out, y'know?" Nick said, smirking at me to see if I got the gist.

I laughed. "And you'd rather do that than work equations? Unreal," I joked.

Nick laughed and then sighed. "Man, I really hate this stuff. I dunno why it's supposed to be important."

"Well, you'll probably never use it again. But it's a requirement, right?"

"Yeah. Coach says I have to get at least a C. I dunno why I suck so bad."

"You'll get it. Besides, it's not that important in the grand scheme of things. I'm sure there's other stuff you're much better at."

"Yeah, you could say that," he said, giving me a sly lift of his eyebrows.

Fuck it, I thought. "So you're a real stud, huh?"

"Yeah," he answered, chuckling.

"I'm not surprised. You've got a really hot body," I said.

"Yeah, I do," he replied cockily.

I decided to go for it, put the moves on him. What's the worst he could do? Freak out, try to hit me? If that's how he reacted, I'd simply apologize, tell him I just admired his body, that no matter how much I tried to build up my muscles, I couldn't get a body like his. I felt I had nothing to lose, and possibly a big cock to gain, so I leaned forward and put my hand on his beefy thigh.

He didn't stop me.

All Male Fiction: The Trouble With Twins

By: nevada_gavin & Ryan Michaels

There's one thing about having twin brothers - you're always in the minority. The twins were just a year younger than me, and they'd kept me on guard ever since my dad married their mom when I was just a kid. They were always up to something, usually at my expense. I hated it while I was growing up, but after I went off to college and got away from them for a few years, I was actually looking forward to seeing them again. We were all getting together for a family holiday at the folks, and I was wondering what kind of a stunt they were going to pull on me now that we were all adults. I had no doubt they were still as full of mischief as they had been when we were growing up. Boy, was I ever right about that!

They arrived home about an hour after I did and started razzing me right away, just like they had done years before. They'd grown up to be good-looking guys, their dark hair cut short and their builds solid. They'd both gotten into lifting weights, and it was showing up in their heavily muscled arms and thick chests. I was tall and slender, more a runner than a weightlifter.

After dinner, they put their heads together and kept looking over at me and nudging each other, laughing like they were plotting trouble. As I sat there watching them, I couldn't help but noticing that if I saw them in a bar, I'd be attracted to them. I'd never told them I was gay growing up, figuring it would just give them something else to razz me about, but once I went off to college I came out to my family. Everyone took it well and was very accepting. Oh, the twins still razzed me when we were all home, but they never razzed me about that.

I turned in shortly before midnight, and the twins followed suit. It was just like old times - me in my room, the twins across the hall, making a hell of a racket while getting ready for bed, and mom and dad in the master bedroom on the main floor.

I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard my door creak. I started to sit up, but the guys were on top of me before I could get my head off the pillow. I struggled, but I didn't have a chance in hell against them.

All Male Fiction: Say the Wrong Thing

By: Tommyhawk1

 

 

I was in a situation I'd been in far more times than I cared to count. My ex-wife, my daughter, and her nineteen-year-old Marine recruit boyfriend were all looking at me like I was an idiot.

"Daddy!" moaned Annette first.

"Good grief, Harold!" Marsha said right after that.

 
"Uh, thank you, sir," Private First Class Victor Tolliver said, and blushed.

"Daddy, how could you!?" Annette continued and fled the room. Victor followed her, a puzzled look on his earnest face above the field-green uniform.

"Harold, you really have to learn to watch your mouth!" my ex-wife launched into me.

"I was just trying to be friendly," I said. "You know, make a joke in an awkward situation."

"So you take one look at our daughter's new boyfriend, look him up and down, whistle like a 40's cartoon wolf at a pretty girl, and say, 'Very nice!'" my ex-wife repeated my words with relish.

"I'm sure he already knew I was gay," I said.

"Well if he didn't, he certainly doesn't have any questions now, does he? And what is he going to think of our daughter with a father like you?"

"He's going to think she has good taste to pick him?" I ventured.

"Oh, God!" was her sole comment and she left to go help console our daughter.

So I'd stuck my foot in my mouth again. Shit! I had come to town for the weekend to meet my daughter's new boyfriend. I was trying to be gay and a father to a now-adult daughter. Everyone says, when they grow up you have to stop being their parent and start being their friend. Well, I'd just tried that with her new boyfriend, expressing my appreciation at how he was six foot two inches tall, with a wide set of shoulders and slim hips and a basket that filled out even those slouchy green fatigues he was wearing so... oh, my God, that boy must have a huge cock in there! And his face, wide and honest and innocent and kind. Make a joke? Hell, I'd just said the first thing on my lips was all.

My daughter deserved an apology all right. I figured I had better go find her and Victor and apologize to both of them.

As I turned to head upstairs, I saw a muscular hunk landing on the bottom step. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Sawyer?"

"Call me Hal," I said. "My friends all do. When I hear the name 'Harold,' it means I'm in trouble for my big mouth again."

"Yes sir," Victor replied, cleared his throat, and then continued, "Can we speak somewhere private, sir?"

"About my, uh, comment earlier?" I asked. "Look, I owe you a big apology. I was just nervous and..."

"It's not that, sir," Victor said. "I know you were just being yourself, sir."

"Yes, I was," I said. "My daughter says that my mouth just keeps flapping long after everyone else is getting tired of hearing it, and I say things without thinking and end up making everything worse the longer I talk and..." I trailed off, sheepishly. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"I guess so, sir."

"Look, let me go apologize to my daughter and then we can chat about whatever it is you want to talk about… assuming I don't get kicked out the door before I can finish apologizing."

"Ok sir," Victor said. "I'll be in Annette's room when you are done."

I followed that so-tight, rounded set of butt cheeks as they began to wobble up and down as he went upstairs. Oh, god, if I could stick my tongue between those cheeks… Shaking my head, I went to apologize to Annette.

Fifteen minutes of saying, "I'm sorry, honey" and "I'm an idiot" over and over did it like it always did. She was wiping her face dry and looked in the bathroom mirror.

"Oh, god, I've ruined my makeup," she moaned. "Mom, do you have any Sunset color lipstick?"

"No dear, but I have Orange Blush," my ex-wife offered.

"That won't do!" Annette moaned.

"What's the difference?" I asked. "An orange blushing versus an orange playing the sun going down behind the hills. Sounds the same to me."

"Haven't you chewed on your boot sole enough today?" my ex-wife said, her favorite way of pointing out I was about to stick my foot in it again.

"Okay, I'll shut up."

"Can't you use a different shade of lipstick?" my ex-wife asked my daughter.

"No, Mom, it matches this blouse!"

"Where can we buy it?" my ex-wife asked.

"God, put on some Orange Blush!" I moaned.

"You keep out of this!" Marsha said to me. "Come on honey, we'll go shopping and find you your lipstick and then we'll come back and fix these two baboons something to eat."

"Ook, ook, ook, ook, ook!" I said, scratching myself under my arm.

That got me a laugh and a kiss from my daughter. Now and then I say something right.

I saw them out the door. What was it I had to do now? Oh yeah, Victor! He wanted to talk to me privately about something or other. He seemed like an old-fashioned kind of guy, maybe he wanted to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage. It would explain why my unorthodox but positive response to him was why he wanted to talk to me, but did not need an apology for me basically raping him with my eyes.

So I went to my daughter's bedroom with a pretty positive outlook. I found Victor pacing about nervously. I figured for certain that he was about to ask me the question regarding my daughter's hand, and the ownership thereof being transferred from me to him.

"All right, Victor, what is it that you want to talk about?"

"Well, it's kind of about… that is… I wanted to… well… I wanted to ask you… if…" Victor started nervously and then stopped.

"Let me save you the trouble of asking me," I said smiling. "I'd be glad to say yes."

"You would?" Victor's face lit up and a grin nearly split it right in two. "God, that's great, just great!"

"Happy to give you my blessing. In fact," I went on, "I hope you'll let me be the one to let it out."

"Uh... certainly, sir!" Victor said.

"I mean, it's my moment to be the one on top of everything, you know," I went on.

"You can be on top if you want to, sir."

"And I know that it will just thrill my ex-wife to know I'm the one doing it."

"You think so?" Victor's eyes showed confusion. Then he shook his head and said, "You know her better than me, but I think she'd be the last one who would want to know."

"Are you kidding?" I said. "Marsha is going to want every last detail from me when I'm done."

"You'd be the one to know, sir," Victor said. "Uh, can we take care of it right now, then, while they're gone?"

"Now?" I said. "But there's nobody here to tell!"

"I don't want to tell anyone until we're done," Victor said.

I began to feel that old, familiar feeling. "I've gone and said the wrong thing again, haven't I?"

"Yes sir," Victor said, and then he stepped really close to me, looked me right in my nonplused eyes, leaned in, and then I found myself being kissed by this huge, muscled soldier boy!

All Male Fiction: A Couple of Amateurs

By: Tommyhawk1

 

 

 

The room was pitch black except for a square of white light. The window wasn't frosted, just a combination of outside lighting, indoor darkness, and glazing produced that uniform, white, unrevealing light. It formed a perfect square, clean, unbroken.

An oval form disrupted the whiteness, someone's head was on the other side, perched atop a hint of neck, and then, there were two such ovals. Shadows danced along the floor of the square, not as delineated as the heads, they made triangles that overlapped and broke each other... hands and arms were working at the bottom of the sash. The heads bent together in consultation to the tune of scratching metal and fracturing wood.

"Come on, man, hit it good!" one voice hissed.

"I'm hitting it. The motherfucker's not turning loose!"

"Go on and hit it. Nobody's home."

"I know that!"

"So hit the mother!"

Crunch!

"Yeah, that's moving it. Hit it again!"

"You hit it. My hand's sore!"

"Pussy! Fine, move over."

Thud! "Yeowch!"

"Now who's the pussy… pussy!"

"Shut the fuck up! Help me with this."

Crunch-crack-crack-ka-thoomp, and then a vibrating tone of an aluminum rod humming itself into silence.

"Yeah! That got it."

"Come on, open the mother up!"

Scritch-scritch-scritch-whoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo! The window rose up, surrendering its duty to defend the home, but not quietly.

"Come on, get in."

"So give me a hand up!"

"Here!"

"Uh-uh-hoo-HOOPH!" And now the whiteness was blackened entirely, the body slithering inside like some arthritic snake, caught halfway, teetered, and then fell inside, landing on the carpeting which muffled the sound that should have been a resounding thud.

"Damn, dude, you didn't have to shove me in!"

"Shut up and give me a hand in."

"So give me your hand," the guy inside offered.

A sliding-scraping sound, and they were both inside, and the white light was back now, bearing a black line near the top where the window had been opened completely up.

"Where the fuck's the light switch?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"Well, find it."

"You find it."

"Let's both find it."

A flick of a switch being thrown and the room was filled with light. Now you could see that the room was well-furnished, a delicate green on the walls, the bedroom furnishings were of dark, rich maple wood, the sheets on the bed were of soft, white silk, not the more common cotton, there was a painting on the wall of a green-faced man, bearing the unmistakable trademark of being an original work of art... and the more common things, a simple alarm clock, some books and an ashtray on the dresser.

The two intruders were revealed as being young, both about eighteen. They were alike in their hairstyle, cut short on the sides and longer on the top. Both were on the thin side of muscular. Both wore blue jeans and t-shirts, one guy's was green, the other guy's was pale blue.

They were looking at each other.

"Hey, man, you found it!" the one in the green shirt said, before he noticed that neither were standing anywhere near to a light switch.

Kli-klick! The unmistakable, unforgettable sound of a gun being cocked filled the air.

They turned and looked to see there was a third man in the room.

Older, brown-haired, heavily muscled, and holding a shiny, silver-plated rifle with the muzzle aimed in their direction, along with a scowl of anger on his face, bordering on fury. You'd think the fact that there were two of them and only one of him would have made him less threatening, but that logic goes out the window when the 'one' is an armed, angry man with a gun pointing in your direction.

"Shit!" said green shirt.

That seemed to sum it up for both of them; they raised their hands.

"I thought this house was empty," blue shirt said sheepishly.

"Yeah, my sister said they were in Europe," green shirt said in a whisper. "She works here as a nanny."

The scowl barely moved enough to let the words part the armed man's lips. "You two never heard of a house sitter before?"

"Oh," the two boys said in unison.

"Yeah," the man sneered. "God, but you're a pair of dumb shits. Your sister told you this house was empty, huh?"

"Uh, she just told me that she had the week off because the owners were away in Europe," green shirt babbled. "She didn't know Kyle and me were going to break in here, though, honest!"

"God, Jake, tell him my name, why don't you?" blue shirt said in exasperation, not realizing in his fear that he had just done the same thing.

"Kyle and Jake," the man nodded. "Want to give me your home addresses while you're at it, you couple of damned amateurs?"

"No, sir," both boys chimed.

"Please don't call the cops on us! We'll pay for the window; we just broke the frame on it," Kyle offered. "Bent it, actually. You can nail it back up and it'll be good as new, honest."

"I'm not going to call the cops." But the steely look in his eyes told them he wasn't letting them go, either.

"Oh, God!" Kyle breathed.

"Shut up!" Jake hissed at him.

"We are screwed! We are both so totally screwed!" Kyle moaned. "He's going to kill us and then put a pistol in our hands and say it was self-defense!"

"Shut up!"

"We are so totally screwed!" Kyle groaned.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Ah, fuck you!" Kyle turned instant rage onto his partner. "This was your idea. I just went along with it. I'll tell that to the cops and make a deal."

"He's not going to call the cops, remember?" Jake reminded him, snarling the words out.

"Oh, God!" Kyle was so pale, he looked like he was about to faint.

Jake looked at the gun again. "Man, please, just let us go," he said softly. "You don't want to kill us."

"Well, maybe I won't kill you," the man conceded.

Kyle breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I can't just let you two go, now can I?"

"Oh, god, we're so screwed!" Kyle said again. "We are both totally fucked."

"That's the idea," the man said.

"What's the idea?" Jake asked.

"Both of you totally fucked." The man's cock began to unfurl and snake down the leg of his pants.

Jake's eyes widened as he saw this. "No way," he breathed.

"Oh, God!" Kyle groaned. "He's going to rape us both, tie us up and fuck us. What are we going to do?"

"I'm not going to fuck you," the man clarified. "You are."

"Huh?"

"You two are going to fuck each other," the man said. "Put on a good show, and earn your freedom."