Straight Fiction: Up in the Air

By: Unknown Author

The last month had been hell. It all started a little over four weeks ago in New York. My boss was supposed to go to Paris to help get our partner company up and running with our new system. A few days before he was supposed to leave, he came to me and said, "You're going to Paris in my place. The top guys think you know the system better and they want me here for other things. I have booked the flight already. You leave Monday, for a month."

He wasn't giving me a choice, and I can't say that I was that thrilled. My girlfriend and I had been kind of on the rocks for the last month, so taking off to Paris, the 'city of love,' especially without her, wasn't exactly the best timing and would not go over very well with her, that I knew.

But then he continued and said, "I was planning to take my wife, so I paid out-of-pocket and upgraded my business class ticket to first class and purchased another first class ticket for her."

Hearing that, I suddenly started to like the idea of going to Paris for a month. After all, with two already paid for tickets I could take my girlfriend with me. This could be just the thing I needed to resolve our current 'disagreement.' I mean, what woman wouldn't love her boyfriend to death if he took her to Paris for a month, flying there in first class no less!

But then, my boss kept on talking and said, "But since I won't be going now, I changed those two tickets back over to one business class ticket for you."

"Great," I said feigning a smile. He slapped the ticket down on my desk and then left my office.

As my door closed, the smile disappeared and I became sullen. How the hell am I going to tell my girlfriend that I am going away for an entire month… to Paris... and, without her? I thought, and then it hit me: I'd just call the airport and change the one business class ticket into two coach tickets. Even if I had to pay a bit, it wouldn't be much, and would be well worth it to bring my girlfriend along and keep the peace.

After being on hold forever, I finally got through to an agent and was promptly told that that the ticket couldn't be changed. "I don't understand. It was already changed once from two first class tickets into one business class ticket. Why can't you change it to two coach tickets? I understand I may have to pay something," I replied.

"It's not that easy, sir," I was told. "The entire coach section on that flight is booked."

"I see," I grumbled. "Well, can I get another business class ticket, then?"

There was clicking on a keyboard. "I'm sorry sir, business class is all booked now as well." More clicking. "I can exchange your ticket for two first class tickets on that flight, if you'd like."

"How much would that be?" I asked. She told me and you'd have to be rich to afford those… but I guess that is why they call it first class. "Out of my budget," I grumbled.

"Well, let me see," she said as she worked her keyboard again. "I can exchange your business class ticket for two coach tickets on our next flight, which departs Tuesday morning at 10am."

"Tuesday morning? That's no good. I have to leave Monday. Are you sure there is nothing available, other than first class, on any flight departing on Monday?"

"I'm sorry sir, Tuesday morning is the first flight to Paris we have that still has available seats in coach and business class. But you will have to book right now before all the seats are sold."

"No, that's ok. I'm going there on business, and, as I said, I have to leave Monday. Thanks anyway," I said and hung up.

When I told my girlfriend that evening that I was going to Paris without her, and tried to explain what had happened and how I had tried to get her a ticket but couldn't, she exploded. "It is so indicative of our whole relationship! You probably didn't even try to get me a ticket! Have a great time by yourself!" she screamed and slammed down the phone in my ear.

She wouldn't talk to me for the rest of the weekend, refusing to take my calls or answer my emails. I even tried to explain again through emails and on her voicemail, but obviously all she heard was 'I'm going to Paris for a month and I don't want you to come with me.' It wasn't like I had any choice in the matter. If I had refused, I surely would have been fired, so, angry girlfriend or not, I left for Paris on Monday morning as planned.

You would think that a twenty-eight-year-old American guy could have a good time in Paris, but the people were rude. The people I went there to help were rude; the people in the hotel where I stayed were rude; the people in the restaurants, coffee houses, and even on the street were rude; because I could not speak a word of French, and because I was obviously American, they were rude. When it came time to go home, I was so ready.

And now, here I sat, in a chair at the airport, waiting for my flight to board and take me home, finally. There were a handful of other people sitting and waiting too, chatting, or napping… and one guy playing a video game on his phone – a game that had the most annoying sound effects and was driving me nuts.

About fifteen minutes later, as I was concentrating all my will power to stay seated and not go over and smash the guy's phone, two more people walked in and sat directly across from me. There was a man, older, about fifty, and he was all business. He had a cell phone glued to one ear and a handheld in his other hand. He sat down and talked to whomever it was on the phone. They were obviously discussing some sort of business deal and it was very intense. The other person was a woman, whom I quickly figured to be his wife given the closeness to which they sat… and the wedding rings they both wore. She looked to be in her late thirties and was very pretty.

Moments after they sat down, she stood and removed her coat, sat again, and laid it across her lap. Since she was the only remotely interesting thing around, and a nice distraction from the din of that video game, I studied her closely. She had long wavy brown hair and gorgeous green eyes that would drive men wild, not to mention the sexiest, full, pouty lips coated in a lustrous, glossy red lipstick. She was wearing a blood red satin blouse that buttoned down the front, which matched her lipstick, and a black skirt that came to just above the knee with a generous slit up one side. There was a matching black patent leather wide belt around her waist. She looked amazing!

After several minutes of casually studying her, I expected her husband to get up and come over and hit me at any second, but he was turned away from her, talking intently on his phone. He had papers spread out on the seat next to him and was completely captivated by it all. He was in another world, so I kept on checking her out. It was then that I noticed a button on her blouse had popped open, and a black lacy bra was now partially visible through the opening. I always was a sucker for a woman in black lace lingerie, and I was getting so terribly horny. Perhaps that was because it had been almost two months since my last sexual encounter with my girlfriend, and no sex with anyone else in that time period, either, but I think it had more to do with the 34DD tits I was looking at.

Then it happened! She caught me looking! Instead of being angry and telling her husband, she just smiled. I smiled and turned away, feeling embarrassed… but that didn't last long. My eyes soon drifted back to her sexy mouth and those great, black lace covered tits! The more I looked, the harder I got. I was sitting there in a pair of 501 jeans and they were getting tighter and tighter in the front. She busted me again... and again... and again, and each time she did I would keep looking a little bit longer before looking away for a moment or two… it was starting to become a game.

She looked down finally and I figured she would button her blouse, but she didn't. Instead, she opened the only button above it and pulled her blouse a little further open. My cock throbbed in excitement and I swallowed hard. She smiled seductively and scanned my body. I was trying to hide my rapidly growing hard-on, but it was almost pointless. My jeans left little room for adjustment. Then she reached down, lifted her coat from her lap and placed it in the chair next to her. She sat there with her legs crossed and her outstretched foot lightly bouncing up and down. I drank her in and knew that my masturbation fantasy when I got home would be centered on her.

About ten minutes later she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs in the opposite direction. When she did this, her legs parted enough to show me, just for a fleeting moment, a pair of black lace panties. That was the final straw. I was now rock hard. My cock was literally aching with pent up frustration and desire, and I knew I wouldn't be able to wait until I got home to give it the relief it was crying out for. So, I stood, holding my carry-on bag in front of myself, and began to head to the washroom.

I hadn't walked but a few feet when there was an overhead announcement that my flight was boarding. I initially cursed in my head when I heard it, but as I kept thinking about what to do, I figured I'd probably have time to go in the washroom and beat a quick load out before the final boarding call, so I continued on my way.

Well, wouldn't you just know it: when I got to the washroom, there was an out-of-order sign on the door to the men's room! "Do you know where there is another washroom?" I asked one of the airport personnel that was nearby.

She told me where one was, but then asked to see my ticket. "Oh, you won't have time to make your way all the way there and back before final boarding," she said after she looked at it. "But, don't worry sir, there is a washroom on the plane you can use as soon as you board," she smiled.

I smiled back, thanked her and made my way to the gate. There was no way I was going to jerk off in the small airplane washroom with all those people around. Horny as hell and unable to get off, the icing on the cake of this horrible trip! God, this flight is going to seem extra-long, I just know it!  I thought as my cock still ached for relief.

As I took my seat on the plane, I looked around for the sexy woman from the airport but did not see her. My bad luck continued as the guy from the airport who had been playing his annoying video game took a seat one row over and one seat up from me. He obviously had a phone with 'airport mode' on it, because as soon as the flight was in the air he was playing that damn game again!

I tried to tune out the game, tried to forget about the woman, but I couldn't do either. My cock was now soft, but I was still horny as hell, and that video game was driving me insane. I had to get away from it! So, even though I didn't think I would want to jerk off in the airplane washroom, I decided to do just that. Perhaps if I did, that video game would be less irritating.

As I started to walk down the aisle I noticed the woman I had been ogling in the airport sitting several rows back. She looked up as I passed and smiled at me, and then glanced at my crotch. I could have sworn I saw her subtly lick her lips! I felt my cock stir and now couldn't wait to get in that washroom!

As I stepped into the small washroom and started to pull the door shut, there was some resistance. By the time I had looked behind me at the door to see what or who the problem was, the lady in red was pushing me forward and closing the door.

All Male Fiction: Pure Desire (Part 2)

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Read Part 1

"I know where the key is," Ryan stated. "My father keeps it."

"Where?" Marc asked.

"With him," Ryan replied.

"With him?" Marc repeated.

Ryan nodded and then said, "Father only gives me the key once a week so that I may give my penis and my sperm guard a thorough cleaning."

"Wait, your dad locked your dick in that thing before you even sprouted pubes, right?"

"Pubes?" Ryan questioned.

"Pubic hair," Marc said, and, still sitting with his jeans pulled down, reached down and combed his fingers through the trimmed hair above his cock.

Ryan let his eyes fall to Marc's crotch, then, as he came to understand what the word meant, he looked back to Marc's face and replied, "Yes, that right."

"And he's been letting you take it off your dick once a week since then, and you're telling me you've never wanted to or even tried to whack yourself off while you were out of it?" Marc questioned as he mimicked masturbation by pumping his fist in the air. "Not even once?"

"No! Never!" Ryan replied, offended by the question. "I did not even know what…" Ryan started and then paused. He felt the word Marc used was dirty and not something he should say, although he liked hearing Marc use words like that. He then continued, "…what that was or that such a thing even existed until you just… just showed me."

"That's fucked up," Marc said shaking his head. "But now that you do know what it is, the next time your dad gives you the key to that thing, you're gonna try it, aren't you?"

Ryan shook his head. "Father supervises me while I clean my sperm guard and my penis."

"Your dad watches you in the shower, watches you wash your dick?!" Marc asked.

"Yes," Ryan replied, not understanding why Marc seemed so shocked by such a thing; it was completely normal to him. "All fathers supervise their sons in such a manner to ensure that if any swelling occurs down there while washing, the sacred sperm is not expelled accidentally."

"That's fucked up," Marc said again. "So you've never cum before, ever?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not know what the word you just used means."

Marc shook his head. All of this was so strange to him, so unimaginable. He then went about explaining to the naïve and sheltered boy what the word in question meant. "Cumming means shooting your… err… expelling your sperm, as you call it. Have you ever done that?"

Ryan shook his head and then said, "No, I just told you, I've never…" he paused, again finding himself unable to use the dirty word Marc had used, and then continued, "done what you just did before. The expulsion of sperm is something that is reserved only for marriage, and only to procreate."

"Uh-huh," Marc said shaking his head some more. "Ok, I get that you've never actually jerked off before, but since you never have, you must have had a wet dream before, at least once?" Marc questioned.

"What is a wet dream?" Ryan inquired.

"A wet dream is when you cu… expel your sperm while you are sleeping. Usually when it happens, you are having a hot dream."

"You mean, if you get too warm or start sweating while you're asleep and dreaming you can expel your sperm?" Ryan asked innocently.

"Wow!" Marc said under his breath. "No, a hot dream is when you dream about sex."

"Oh," Ryan said understanding now; he knew that sex meant procreating. "No, I've never had a dream such as you describe. I don't see how I could dream of something I've not yet experienced."

"Would you like to experience it?" Marc asked.

"Procreation?"

"No, cumming."

"To expel my sperm outside of marriage or for any other reason than to procreate would be a sin," Ryan replied.

"Why, because that's what your dad told you?"

Ryan nodded.

"I get that your parents have certain beliefs and that they raised you with those same beliefs, but that doesn't mean that you have to live your whole life according to what they believe."

"It's all I've ever known," Ryan replied.

"I know, but it doesn't have to stay that way forever. You're eighteen now, a man, and you can make the decision to know something else and develop your own belief system; to leave your sheltered life behind and discover a whole new world that exists outside of your own; to experience the joys and pleasures life has to offer that you've never known."

"Like what?" Ryan asked.

"Like sex," Marc said.

"I don't think I want to get married yet."

Marc laughed. "You don't have to. That's what I am talking about when I say you need to experience a world outside of your own. In today's world, people have sex for fun and pleasure, whether they are married or not."

"Really?" Ryan asked with widened eyes.

"Uh-huh… and guys jerk off all the time too. It's normal, natural; at least to almost everyone else in the world."

"I can't imagine a world like that," Ryan said.

"That's fair, I guess. I can't imagine living in a world like yours either," Marc chuckled. "If you want, though, I can help you."

"Help me? How?"

"I can show you what it's like to cum."

"You already did; I saw you touch your penis and expel your sperm."

Marc smiled and laughed quietly at the freakish naivety of the farm boy. "I meant, I can help show you what it feels like to cum."

Ryan's eyes widened once more at Marc's proposition. After seeing Marc expel his sperm and how pleasurable it appeared to be, he had to admit to himself that he was now very curious to know what it was like, what it felt like, however, he still felt it was wrong to expel his sperm except to procreate.

"I don't know…" Ryan answered.

"Trust me, you'll like it."

Ryan still wasn't sure. Marc had made some valid points about him making his own decisions regarding his religious beliefs, but, still, he couldn't be expected to just immediately drop all of the beliefs instilled in him by his parents all of his life.

"I'm telling you, cumming is great. You'll feel something you've never felt before, and it will feel unbelievably good!"

Ryan's penis began to respond to what Marc was suggesting: It was swelling up inside his sperm guard, just like it did every morning when he awoke, ever since he had hit puberty. It was that uncomfortable feeling between his legs that instantly reminded Ryan that even if he wanted to try what Marc was suggesting, it would be impossible for him to do so. He could not even attempt to do to his penis what he saw Marc do to his own, while wearing his sperm guard. And he could not remove it because his father had the key; not that his father would give it to him, even if he was at home.

"So, how about it? Want to experience a pleasure you've never known?" Marc asked a few moments later.

"I-I can't. I really can't," Ryan replied.

"No, you can, you're just stuck on what your parents told you, about it being wrong to do it for fun. Well, I'm telling you, it is fun, and it's not wrong. No offense, but you're parents and any others who share their beliefs are wrong. They are in the minority in the real world. But the only way you will ever know that I speak the truth, the only way you can develop your own beliefs, is to be your own man and experience new things. And what I am suggesting is the first and most important step you need to take."

"I-I want to… know what it's like to… to cum," Ryan said, a strange, almost exciting feeling running through his body as he uttered the dirty word. "But I can't, because I don't have the key to my sperm guard."

"Yeah, I know," Marc said. "But there are others ways a guy can cum, without touching his dick."

"There are?"

"Yeah," Marc smiled.

"How?" the curious boy asked.

"Stand up and take off your clothes and I'll show you."

"Take off my clothes?"

Marc laughed. "Well you can't cum with your clothes on, now can you?"

"I-I guess not," Ryan said. He stared at Marc for a few moments and then nervously stood up and then began to just as nervously undress.

All Male Fiction: Uncle Jake's Place

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

With my parents away on a romantic weekend and my brother Matt away at college, I was enjoying having the house to myself. I loved being able to lounge around the house completely naked and jerk off to porn on the big screen TV in the living room. Have you ever watched porn on a 60" flat screen TV? It's awesome! At eighteen, I was horny all the time, and watching porn on the big screen was one of the first things I did the minute my parents left.

However, by the end of the first day the excitement of porn on the big screen had worn off and I was feeling pretty bored by the time Sunday rolled around. I thought about going online and finding some guy to come over and have sex with me, but I was too scared to give out my address to anyone because you never know who's gonna show up, or if they might show up again uninvited. I was not out to my family and the last thing I wanted was some guy I had fucked showing up at my parent's door looking for more action.

So, bored out of my mind, I decided to go over to my Uncle Jake's place to keep him company, or rather so he could keep me company. Uncle Jake and I got along great, which was probably largely due to the fact that he wasn't that much older than me. My grandparents had my dad young and had Uncle Jake years later. Uncle Jake was only twenty-eight, exactly ten years younger than my dad and ten years older than me.

Even though they had the same parents, my dad and Uncle Jake looked nothing alike. Both were handsome and you could see the family resemblance, but while my dad had brown hair and hazel eyes, Uncle Jake had black hair and blue eyes. He was also a bit taller than my dad and, while my dad wasn't out of shape, Uncle Jake worked out and had a pretty good build on him. He also had a great sense of humor, which my dad didn't, and he was always telling jokes of one kind or another - most of them pretty dirty, but I liked the way he told them, and always with a glint in his eyes.

Uncle Jake worked in real estate and was one of the area's top sales agents, which made it possible for him to purchase a rather nice home and amass quite a bit of money in savings, despite his young age. He worked hard at it and deserved all he had. What he didn't deserve was a gold digger girlfriend, and when he recently discovered her true motives, he quickly dumped her. So besides keeping me company, I figured he could use the company as well.

I phoned him first, just to make sure it was ok for me to drop by, but the line was busy. I tried a few more times over the next fifteen minutes and it was still busy, which told me he was most likely on a business call in front of the computer. I didn't want to sit around by myself and I knew that Uncle Jake wouldn't care if I came over unannounced; I had only really been calling to be polite, just like I always did before I headed over. So, on my last attempt to get through, I left him a voicemail letting him know I was coming over.

Uncle Jake didn't live that far from us, about a ten minute drive, but since I didn't have a car, and with Matt having one of my parent's two vehicles at college and them using the other one, it was either take the bus or ride my bike. I opted for the bike, which made it about a twenty minute trek.

When I got there, I parked my bike at the side of the garage and headed across the driveway towards the house. As I passed by the window to the room that Uncle Jake used as his office, the light was on and I casually glanced in as I passed by… and then I came to a quick stop! With the slatted blind open I could see right in. Uncle Jake was at the computer all right, but he wasn't on the phone doing business, he was sitting in the desk chair with it reared back… and he was completely naked!

The scene I had stumbled upon had immediately aroused me. I had always thought my uncle was a good looking guy and I guess you could say I had developed a bit of a crush on him, often wondering what he looked like naked, what his cock was like and masturbating to those thoughts. I was now getting the chance to see and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to get a better look, so I made my way off the concrete walk, stepped into the flower bed and carefully, quietly made my way right up to the window.

Uncle Jake's office was on the front corner of the house and his desk was on the other outside wall of the room, so his desk (and chair) was at a side view to the window. Standing to the side of the window and peering around into the room, man did I get an eyeful! From the walkway I could just see that he was naked. Now, up close, I could see that he was playing with his dick while looking at some straight porno pics on the computer, and his dick was rock hard! I couldn't believe my eyes! My uncle's dick must have measured well over eight inches, was very thick, and had a huge mushroom head. I could also see that he had neatly trimmed his pubes into a nice black patch of hair, and his balls were enormous, big and round, shaven smooth and hanging loosely from his body.

I had always wondered if my uncle had a big dick and figured he did because of his big feet and hands, and long, thick fingers - not that that always meant a big dick, but it did more often than not. Needless to say I was not disappointed at what I saw and my stiffening cock was now at full attention inside my pants. The whole thing was like a fantasy come true!

When my eyes drifted away from his cock to scan his body, I noticed that he had a drink in his hand. Uncle Jake liked to drink Rye & Coke, and I began to think that he just might be in the right state of mind for me to make a move on him! This was something I had fantasized about doing many times while jerking off and thinking about him, but never thought I would have the nerve to do. But here, now, right in this moment, with the sight that lay before my eyes, my cock had taken over my brain, deciding to do it the minute my uncle's nakedness and hard dick was displayed to me. It was risky but too good of an opportunity to pass up… well worth the risk to me.

I tried the front door but it was locked. I then slipped around to the back of the house and found the back sliding door unlocked. I figured it would be since I knew my uncle didn't smoke in the house and always went out the back to light up. I slid open the glass door very quietly and then closed it softly so that he wouldn't hear me enter the house. I removed my sneakers and then snuck through the kitchen, down the main hall and over to the office door, which was open. His desk was across from the door, so his back was to me.

I stood and watched for a few minutes and could see that he was really going at it. His legs were stretched out in front of him, spread eagle, and he was furiously fisting his meat with one hand while clicking through porn pics on the computer with his other.

I still had a full hard-on inside my shorts and was getting even hornier being so close while watching my uncle playing with his cock. I wanted to be closer though, and with my horny cock giving me the courage and leading the way, I quietly crept into the room until I was directly behind his chair. Right when I got to it the floor squeaked and he whipped the chair around, shocked to see me there behind him, catching him doing what he was doing.

All Male Fiction: The Boy Next Door

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" I asked Shawn, the boy from next door. His twenty-first birthday was in just a few days.

Shawn scratched his head and looked puzzled.

"Gee, I dunno, Rick," he drawled. "Maybe... well, how about a good blowjob?"

I nearly dropped my drink. Seeing my look of shock, Shawn let his poker face break into a grin, and he laughed out loud. I forced a laugh, too, though I was a little puzzled about why he'd chosen this form of humor, and I was a lot disappointed that he wasn't serious.

"What's the matter?" I countered. "Won't your girlfriend suck it for you?"

"Shit, she calls it a blowjob, but I call it all teeth and hot air."

We laughed again and left it at that.

Shawn and I had first met four years ago, when I moved into the house next door to his. Although I was fourteen years older than him, a friendship soon blossomed between us. It wasn't like he didn't have any friends his own age, he did, but we just really seemed to hit it off well, at first just shooting the shit whenever we saw each other outside, and then, eventually, Shawn started dropping by to just hang out, whenever he was bored.

And he got bored a lot, mainly because he attended a local college while most of his friends had gone off to attend out of town colleges and universities. Whenever he wasn't too busy with his school work he'd usually be hanging out over at my place, even more so in the summer. An only child, I think he thought of me like an older brother or something.

My feelings toward him were far from being brotherly, though. Not that it mattered; Shawn had no idea that I was gay, and, as far as I knew, he was straight. Hitting on him would likely only result in putting an end to our friendship, so I had resigned myself to the fact that the only way I would ever have him was in my fantasies.

When the day of Shawn's birthday arrived, I stopped by his house to drop off a gift for him. We had never exchanged birthday gifts before, but turning twenty-one was considered one of those milestone birthdays, and so I had decided that I wanted to get him something, and I got him something I felt was appropriate for the occasion: a nice bottle of Jack Daniels.

Shawn laughed when I gave it to him, thanked me and told me that he would definitely put it to good use later that night. Shawn's birthday was in the summer, so most of his friends were around again, and he went on to explain that he had invited a bunch of them over to his place to celebrate his special day. He didn't offer me an invite, but that was ok; I totally understood. After all, it would seem kind of odd for a twenty-one-year-old guy to invite his thirty-five-year-old neighbor to a party full of other twenty-one-year-olds.

Late that evening the doorbell rang, and there stood Shawn. His party had obviously come to an end, and he stood there with a smile on his face, holding a napkin-covered paper plate. "I thought you might like some cake. I even brought something to wash it down with," he said grinning and holding up the bottle of Jack Daniels I had given him in his other hand.

I could smell the whiskey on his breath as he spoke, and could tell he was very close to being drunk. I accepted his offer and invited him in.

Once inside, and after handing him a glass for his whisky, I asked about his party and he began to fill me in on it and told me of the gifts he got.

"I'll tell you, though," he said, now sipping his second whiskey, "I was kinda disappointed that all I got from you was a bottle of booze. I was really countin' on that blowjob," he laughed.

Bisexual Fiction: Driven by Desire (Part 1)

By: chicagobasil & Ryan Michaels

During a company-wide computer upgrade, all employees were required to attend a full day training course. Since the work still had to get done, and with the massive number of employees within the company, obviously everyone could not attend all at once, so the course was held every day over the period of one month. Each employee was given a date and time to attend, with a half dozen or so people from each department sent each day.

Today was the day I had to attend the training session, and I was not looking forward to it at all. My outlook changed, however, as soon as I walked into the classroom and found I was lucky enough to be put into a class with a really hot guy who worked in my department. While we didn't really know each other, other than to say hi if we passed each other during the work day, I had always noticed Rob and thought he was really sexy!

Rob was six-foot-two, with blond hair and blue eyes, a great chest, muscular arms, and an amazing ass; the kind of ass that was just made for fucking! Out of all the guys in my department, he was the hottest! Unfortunately, he had a girlfriend and was always flirting with the younger women in the department; not that I ever would have had a chance with him anyway, even if he wasn't straight.

The classroom was set up with rectangular type tables, with two computers on each. Rob ended up sitting next to me, probably because the other four from our department, who were women, had already paired up at tables and I was the only other person in the group that he recognized.

As the session dragged on, I found myself sneaking quick glances at the nice sized bulge in Rob's pants. It took all of my will power not to just reach over and start massaging it. As I took yet another glance, with Rob totally unaware of my peeping, he leaned back in his chair and casually spread his legs a little wider and rested his hand next to that impressive bulge.

As I continued to check out his package from the corner of my eye, I saw Rob turn his head in my direction. I turned my head to look at him and he was looking right at me, smiling; his eyes then dropped to his crotch and he gave it a squeeze. He looked at me again, smiled, and then lowered his eyes to my crotch. This action totally took me by surprise, but it didn't prevent me from immediately pushing my chair back a bit further so that he could get a good look at my bulge. I started to get hard right away, just from knowing he was looking at my crotch.

As I stared at his crotch, my mouth literally watering, I could see his dick poking at the front of his pants as if it was trying to escape. He had the beginnings of a hard-on going on, and it looked like it was going to be a pretty impressive one! It was a good thing we were sitting in the back of the class!

I starting moving my legs back and forth, squeezing my hard dick between my thighs. As I continued to open and close my legs, I eventually let my left leg touch his. Surprisingly, he pressed his leg into mine, too, and then started to lightly rub his hard dick through his pants; seeing this, I quickly started doing the same. I figured he was just as bored out of his mind as I was with the course being taught and was just goofing around to pass the time, but I wanted so badly for us to be rubbing each other's bulges instead!

It seemed like forever, but finally we were given a thirty minute break and Rob motioned towards the door, indicating he wanted me to follow. He headed down the hall, looking back over his shoulder to see if I was following just as he approached the men's room door. Could it be? Am I really going to get to fool around with the hottest guy in my department, who also happens to be straight? I thought.

Unfortunately, Rob turned his head back around and kept walking. I stopped in the hall with disappointment, as some other people from the course passed me by and began going into the men's and women's washrooms.

Realizing why Rob had continued down the hall, I started walking again to see where he had gone. I rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of him standing at the exit to a stairwell, holding the door open with his hand. When he saw me, he went through it, and I kept following. Lagging behind him, I ended up following him up two flights of stairs, but when I entered the corridor where I had seen him exit the stairwell, Rob was nowhere in sight.

I walked along the empty hall trying to find Rob as people were busy working away in their work areas. Looking down a corridor I was passing, I noticed a sign protruding from the wall above a door saying "Men" and figured that must be where Rob had disappeared to.

As I walked into the washroom, I was correct in my assumption and found Rob standing by the sink area in this less busy washroom. He started rubbing his crotch as soon as he knew it was me who had entered. I walked up to him rubbing my own crotch as well, and when we were right in front of each other we both immediately put our hands on the other's throbbing bulge.

Within seconds we had our pants unzipped and were stroking each other's hard cocks. My own cock was a good size, measuring seven inches when erect, and was of average thickness and was circumcised. Rob's cock, however, had mine beat, and was everything I had hoped it to be from the size of that promising bulge, and more, looking to be about nine inches in length, fatter than my own, and uncut.

As soon as I saw that big, fat, juicy piece of meat, I couldn't help myself, and, forgetting my surroundings, I started to drop to my knees so I could take his beautiful hard cock into my mouth. He grabbed me by the arm, though, stopping my descent to my knees, and motioned towards one of the toilet stalls. Just as we started walking towards it, we heard the first of the two sets of doors to the washroom open.

I darted into the stall and shut the door, waiting for whomever had just come in to use the facilities to finish and leave so I could wrap my lips around Rob's massive man-meat; I was so excited that I was slowly stroking my cock the whole time the other guy was taking a piss.

The unwanted visitor finally left and I opened the stall door so Rob could join me; unfortunately I found that I was all alone in the room. I was disappointed and cursing whomever had come in there and stolen my opportunity, but I was so fucking horny now, not to mention hard as a rock, that I ended up closing the stall door again so I could give my aching cock some relief!

With neither the time nor the desire for a leisurely stroke-session, my hand was a blur on my dick, when someone came in. I looked through the crack in the stall door to see if it was Rob returning, but it wasn't. By that point, though, after all the buildup earlier, I was too worked up to even care that someone else was in the washroom and I just kept on furiously beating my meat.

As horny as I was, and working my cock the way I was, I was ready to cum in no time, and, when I shot my load, as hard as I tried to keep quiet, I couldn't, and a few low moans escaped my lips. I heard the other guy laugh under his breath as he washed his hands. I couldn't believe I'd just shot my load in the public washroom at my work with another guy in the room, and that he had heard me cumming, but it was also kind of hot! I just wish Rob had stuck around so that I could have been sucking on his cock while I was jerking off and dumping my load!

After cleaning up all the evidence and washing my hands, I returned to the classroom. Rob leaned over to me and whispered, "Sorry man, I freaked a bit when that guy came in and I just bolted." That was the first time either of us had actually used spoken words to communicate.

"No problem, I had my own fun anyway," I whispered back with a smile on my face.

Rob smiled too, and, after taking a quick glance around the room, he planted his hand in his crotch, gave it a firm squeeze and said, "I guess my fun will have to wait until later." Even though I had just dropped a load minutes earlier, my cock began to stir as I began to wonder what might be in store for after class!

As soon as the course was over, everyone, including Rob, scrambled to get out of there. After eight hours in a boring class I could understand his wanting to get the hell out of there, but I'd thought his comment after the break meant that he was interested in meeting up with me afterwards to get that blowjob I had tried to give him earlier. I guess he had actually just meant that he was going to have to wait until later to jerk off, like I had informed him I had done during the break. Still, I figured he'd at least say something to me, even 'see you later' or something, but he didn't say a word or even look at me before bolting from the room. Needless to say, I was disappointed that I wasn't going to get to suck his cock like I had hoped, but I took some solace in the fact that I had at least gotten to see it, and even touch it; that alone was more than I'd ever dreamed of.

As I grabbed my course materials from the tabletop, there was a small piece of blank paper sitting on top of my course folder. I picked it up, and when I turned it over it read: If you want to finish what you started, meet me at Miller Park by the old shed right now. I quickly finished gathering my papers and, with that feeling of disappointment now being replaced by great excitement, I left the room to head to the park.

All Male Fiction: House Rules

By: Walker Davis & Ryan Michaels

The Deauville was a broken down hotel smack dab in the middle of Center City, which isn't saying much. In that part of the country anyplace where two roads cross has the makings of a town. Throw in a gas station, a diner serving greasy food and maybe a store for provisions and you've got a town — add a name with the word 'city' in it, and it's a city.

Center City lay somewhere between Abilene and the rest of the world; it sat out in the middle of the flat, Texas scrub like a carbuncle on a smooth back, waiting for something exciting to happen — which never did. No one seemed to remember why Center City got started, and no one seemed to care now why it kept going. But, like so many people who drifted down its dusty streets, it just didn't have the sense to die.

If you grew up in this part of the world you got out as fast as you could, heading towards Galveston or Houston or sometimes even towards Dallas. If you didn't come from Center City that meant you were just passing through and, after shelling out a couple of bucks for gas, the place was no more a memory than was being born.

The Deauville had been around as long as Center City and still sported its first coat of paint. It was a weather beaten building that creaked in a strong wind and stayed wet from a downpour for a couple of days. Originally it was built to house the crews of oil companies who flooded West Texas looking for black gold. The oil boom came and went inside a couple of months and with it went the men. The building then became a cheap hotel and restaurant, serving the greasiest food west of the Pecos, so it was said locally.

When that failed, The Deauville just sat there in the middle of town, its two stories with the false front towering over the rest of the buildings on Main Street like some king presiding over his court. The men from the oil company who had run it stayed on, somehow keeping the place running, somehow keeping it open for travelers or locals who'd had too much to drink on their nights off.

No one actually knew how The Deauville managed to stay open; it seemed no one ever went in or out of the place, but there were rumors. The name used to come up out on the ranches after dinner when a big meal had made the men's bellies full and their tongues loose. They said you could have sex in any shape or form in The Deauville day or night. Just ask for room 1612, they'd say, and the secrets of the hotel were yours. Hank Throp had heard the stories for years but had never paid a lot of mind to them. In this part of the country you heard a lot of stories about a lot of strange things.

Hank was twenty eight, and had been born and bred in a Center City-like town of his own over in Oklahoma. He'd moved to Texas when he was twenty two because he felt it was manlier to be from Texas. Hank stood just over six feet tall and his body and muscles were nicely formed from working on a ranch day after day. His brown hair was almost always covered by a Stetson, making him look like a genuine Texas cowboy, and his blue eyes shone from his face like mountain lakes at sunrise.

Hank didn't mess with anyone. He did his job, earned his money and now and again went into Califax to get laid. He had never dreamt his life would fall into this routine, but then he had never really dreamt about his life at all, so what he was given was enough. His dreams only happened at night when he was asleep and usually by daybreak they were gone. Hank only wanted food and rest and a sexual release from his aching nuts once or twice a month or so. He never jacked off because he didn't consider it manly, and he always wore a rubber when he fucked the whores in Califax because he didn't want to get a disease.

Somewhere around eight o'clock on this particular night, the temperature dipped down to eighty three, the coolest it had been all day. High, black clouds like thick clouds of rich soil scudded along the darkened sky foretelling a storm that, like so many in these parts, might never come. Hank wiped his brow with his right hand while his left held tightly to the wheel of the jeep. Shit, it was hot! He'd busted his ass all day long mending some fence off in the northeast corner of the ranch. Thinking of a fistful of cold beers was the only thing that had kept him there working. Now, driving into Center City, Hank could almost taste that first cold one washing the dust from his mouth and throat.

Almost as soon as the flickering lights of Dora's Diner came into view Hank was out of the jeep and seated at his favorite booth slurping down a cool, crisp Coors like it was mother's milk. The diner still smelled of the evening's last batch of French fries, but there was something about it that was real homey. Dora herself looked like every grandmother south of the Mason-Dixon Line and treated everyone like a favorite child. What her cooking lacked in taste, Dora made up for in motherly charm and good humor.

Hank drank his way through a river of good beer and was just settling in for a while when the rain came. It started so softly that no one heard it hitting the aluminum roof of Dora's at all. Then it got up a full head of steam and the sound became like a drum roll across the roof. Hank looked gloomily out the window, watching several months' worth of dirt loosen and drain away in the rain. Shit, the jeep was parked out back, open to the weather; he'd be a drowned dog by the time he got back to the ranch.

"Hey, bubba," Dora called out to Hank affectionately, "looks like you're in for some ride home. Hope you brought along some rubbers to fit your feet, too," she said lewdly, then broke out into a fit of laughter that rocked the diner.

"Don't worry 'bout me, Dora. I'm so wet inside, hardly matters how I get on the outside," Hank replied as he raised a beer in salute.

Twenty minutes later the rain still droned on. Hank stood up unsteadily and paid the bill, over-tipping Dora by nearly two bucks. "Take care, Dora," he called out as he made his way to the door.

"You drive careful, you hear?" Dora shot after him. "It's a bitch outside. Don't want to read about you in the papers."

"I will, Dora. Goodnight," Hank waved, and then he stepped out into the rain.

The wind whipped across the flatlands like a crazed steer on the run. There was no hiding from it. Hank ducked his head low but the wind caught hold of his hat and ripped it from his head. Since there was no use in trying to get it, Hank staggered to the jeep, found his keys and gave it a try. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing. The points had gotten wet in the storm. Shit!

He was about to go back to Dora's to ask if she'd mind a guest for the night in one of her booths, when Hank saw the lights of The Deauville blinking at him between the rain drops. He stopped in his tracks, ignoring the rain. Unconsciously he slipped his hand into his pocket and began to massage his heavy balls as he thought about those rumors, and how it had been nearly three weeks since he'd cum. A dull ache quickly started throbbing in his groin, and he suddenly found himself making his way quickly through the rain to the front porch of the old hotel.

Hank never expected he'd spend the night at The Deauville any more than he had expected he'd live in Center City for six years, and, after convincing himself that the rumors were true, he hoped that no one had seen him go inside the place. He just didn't want his personal needs to be known all over town — there were some things a man needed to keep private, and needing pussy was one of them.

The lobby of The Deauville smelled of dust and decay and lemon wax. Hank shook himself off on a very tired Oriental rug and looked around. The lobby was surprisingly grand; tall palm trees were scattered about among the heavy velvet covered pieces of furniture; there were spittoons near each chair and old magazines and newspapers on the tables; gas lights flickered and swayed in the dusky light.

Behind the desk a tall, thin, balding man stood staring at Hank. He smiled. "Help you, son?" he queried.

"I got caught in the rain," Hank replied uncomfortably.

"It came a gully-washer, that's for sure," the man said quickly. "Need a room?"

Hank nodded.

"Any special room?" he asked, the tone of his voice changing just slightly.

"I hear room 1612 is pretty good," he said, the color rising to his cheeks.

"That it is," the man grinned. "Just sign in and you'll be on your way." The clerk watched Hank sloppily sign his name, and then said, "Here's the key. There's the stairs. 1612 is on the first floor."

Hank took the key and headed for the stairs. At the first floor he walked down the hallway peering at the numbers: 1609, 1610, 1611, and finally, there it was — room 1612. Hank inserted the key in the lock and turned the door. It opened into total darkness. He felt the walls for a switch, but there was none, only the cold, clammy feel of age and decay.

Hank stepped into the darkness, both hands stretched out at his sides, both hands touching a wall — he was in a hallway. He moved now, slowly, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. The darkness enveloped him like a cloak, wrapping itself around him, drawing him in deeper. He moved forward, going further into the heart of the darkness, hearing only the sounds of his footsteps and his heavy breathing.

Further along there was a glimmer of light to the right. Hank edged towards it, feeling along the wall. The light grew brighter until it gushed into the darkness through the frame of a door — an unopened door. Hank quickened his pace, until finally he stood at the door. Slowly, he reached out and turned the knob, and then cautiously opened the door. A dazzling light from within the room shone out into the darkness, momentarily blinding him.

"Come on in. Sit down a spell," a voice called out to him.

"Who's there?" Hank asked, shielding his eyes from the light.