BateBook Shorts - All Male Fiction: Caught in the Act

 By: Ryan Michaels

The morning air was still quiet when I arrived at the large office building. Hoping to make up for having to leave early the day before, I had come in much earlier than usual, long before anyone else in my office.

Needing to use the facilities right away, I hurried inside the shared public washroom off the main hallway and slipped into a toilet stall. Just a few minutes later, the heavy outer door clicked open. Footsteps echoed on the tile, and someone walked directly up to the row of urinals located straight across from the stalls. Through the narrow vertical crack in the stall door, I could see who it was: my co-worker, the very person I sat directly across from and collaborated with every single day.

As I turned back to my own business, a peculiar detail caught my attention: he was lingering at the urinal far longer than usual, and there was no sound of him pissing. Peering through the crack once more, I spotted the unmistakable motion of his right arm. A wave of disbelief washed over me as I realized he was masturbating right there in the men's room at work, standing openly at the urinal. My mind went into overdrive with questions of whether this was a one-time thing or part of some secret daily routine. Then the pieces clicked into place, reminding me that he always managed to beat me to the office.

All Male Fiction: Blind Trust

By: Ryan Michaels

 

The afternoon light filtered softly through the bedroom blinds as my boyfriend looked over at me, his expression a mix of playfulness and intent. I had been waiting all day for him to come home and fuck me.

"Get naked and lie down on the bed on your stomach," he instructed. "I'm going to take a quick shower first, and then I'll come back in here, and you'll get what really need."

I smiled, feeling a familiar warmth rise. "I'll join you in the shower instead," I countered. "Maybe you can even fuck me in there."

He shook his head, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "No," he said softly. "I know how much you want it, that you've been waiting all day for cock in your ass. But wouldn't it be even more exciting for you to lie there on your stomach, completely naked, with your legs spread, feeling the cool air against your hole and waiting with total anticipation for me to walk in and then feel it slide right into you?"

The thought alone sent a shiver through me. The wait would be torture, but the payoff would be worth it. I nodded in agreement before he disappeared into the bathroom. Silence settled over the bedroom as I began to strip out of my clothes, broken only by the hum of the running shower. Grabbing the lube from the bedside table drawer, I greased myself up, then got onto the bed on my stomach. Full of anticipation, I took a breath and let the tension—and the heat—build, counting down the moments until he came back.

About ten long minutes later, the bedroom door clicked open. He climbed onto the bed behind me, leaning down so his breath brushed against my ear.

"Are you ready to get fucked?" he whispered.

Before I could answer, a sleep mask slipped over my eyes, plunging me into sudden darkness. I gasped softly. "Oh... you've never done anything like this before."

"You like it, don't you?" he murmured, grabbing first one, then the other of my wrists and bringing them behind my back.

"Yes," I breathed as he tied them securely before moving off the bed.

Standing at the foot of the bed, he reached down and spread my legs wider apart. I heard the pop of the lube bottle, then, a moment later, his voice. "Do you want this cock in your ass?" he asked.

"Yes!" I practically cried out.

I felt the mattress go down behind me, then the tip of his cock touching my ass crack.

"Beg for it," he said, his voice commanding and teasing.  

"Please!" Fuck me! Oh, God, please! I need your cock inside me so bad! Fuck me, please!" I begged.

The head slipped through my crack and against my hole. I felt the familiar pressure start to push against it and the head popping through my barrier. I let out a deep moan, but as his cock continued to push its way inside, a sudden, jarring realization hit me: it was moving deeper, filling me in a way my boyfriend never quite managed.

All Male True Experience: A Matter of Convenience

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

I used to buy my cigarettes at a certain gas station in town because they had the lowest prices. Due to an upcoming road expansion project, the government appropriated the land, forcing local businesses to close or relocate. The gas station simply shut down about three weeks ago.

As a night owl, I regularly popped out late at night when running low on smokes. Because alternative local stores and gas stations all matched the same elevated prices, I ultimately switched to a 24-hour convenience store located closer to home.

On my first visit around 1:00 AM, the clerk—a cute guy in his early twenties with a light-brown complexion and a slim, athletic swimmer's build—was talking to someone who was clearly a friend rather than a customer. As I approached the chest-high counter, they stopped talking, and I could feel his friend's eyes on me. I turned, gave a friendly smile, and immediately recognized the friend as a guy whose cock I had sucked a couple of weeks prior. You need to know that I am a cocksucker; when I hook up with guys, it is strictly to suck them off with no reciprocation wanted or needed. As I crossed back toward the door, I heard the friend whispering to the clerk.

The next time I went in around 12:45 AM. This time, the clerk greeted me with a wide smile, leaving me to wonder if his friend had filled him in. I bought my smokes and left.

On my third visit right around 1:00 AM, the clerk was on the phone with someone. He looked at me, told the person on the line that a customer had arrived for smokes, smiled, chuckled softly, and said a pointed "Yeah" before putting the phone down to grab my brand. As I walked out, I saw him in the glass reflection, back on the phone, looking at me, and giggling with who was obviously the friend that had been in the store that first time.

Driving home, I pieced it together: rather than just saying he had a customer, he had made a point of noting that the customer was there for smokes, followed by a knowing smile and a "Yeah". I concluded that the guy I had previously serviced must have told the clerk everything, and the clerk was verifying that I was that customer.

When I went in next, the total was more than before. "Fuck!" I cursed. "Price has gone up again?"

"Yup," the clerk said.

"Man, I really need to quit! Sucking on cigarettes is going to bankrupt me." I didn't say "sucking on cigarettes" intentionally; it's simply a habit of phrasing I've always used. Whenever I'm in desperate need of a smoke, I'll catch myself saying, "I really need to suck on a cigarette."

He laughed softly and quietly replied, "Yeah, there are better things to suck on," while ringing up the purchase.

My eyes locked onto him. While not normally in my nature, the possibility of sucking a guy off always got me instantly aroused and bold. Figuring I had little to lose after his remark—and that I could always go to another 24-hour store if it backfired—I decided to go for it.

BateBook Shorts - All Male True Experience: Private Practice

By: Unknown Author

Lucas joined the swim team two weeks into the season. As the team captain, I arrived early to help him catch up before the other members arrived. When he arrived wearing swim trunks instead of the required practice Speedo, I provided him with a spare from the locker room.

When Lucas took unusually long to change, I went back to the locker room to check on him and found him turning side to side in front of the mirror. The reason quickly became obvious when my eyes dropped to his Speedo, which was stretched to its absolute limits by a huge bulge.

"Whoa," I blurted, "I think you need a bigger Speedo. You're about ready to bust out of that one."

Lucas chuckled, continuing to admire his reflection from various angles. "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing."

"Yeah, that one's definitely too small for you," I remarked, grabbing a larger size and tossing it to him.

Without hesitation, he slipped out of the first Speedo right in front of me. My gaze naturally drifted to his crotch, and I couldn't help but stare at the size of his cock and balls—his soft cock hung long, and his balls were egg-sized! As he maneuvered into the larger swimsuit, subtle movements left him semi-erect, with the tip poking out the top.

All Male Fiction: My Second Big Cock

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

 

Author's Note: This is the follow-up to My First Big Cock. The first story detailed a real-life experience and ended up ranking in the top 10 for views, so I decided to write a Part 2. We pick up just a couple of weeks after that first night—though, unlike the original, this continuation is, of course, entirely fictional.

Read Part 1

Two weeks of agonizing silence had passed since my first visit to that secluded backyard. I had refreshed my ad on the gay chat site so many times my thumb was practically raw, but the replies were a total bust. I was starting to think my first taste of a big cock was going to be a one-time fluke, and the frustration was driving me crazy. Each time I practiced on the nine-inch dildo I’d bought to hone my cocksucking skills, it only made me crave the real thing that much more.

Then, on a humid Tuesday evening, I finally got a reply that made my heart skip a beat.

“Hey. Still looking for a big dick, or did you find someone else to practice on?”

It was him. I didn't even hesitate, my fingers flying across the keyboard to tell him that no one else had even come close and that I was dying for another shot at it. A minute later, he replied: “Show up at nine, meet in the backyard, use the side gate.”

I was so wound up I nearly tripped over my own feet getting out the door. When I slipped through his side gate at exactly nine o'clock, the backyard was just as dark and private as I remembered. He was already standing on the concrete patio, the silhouette of his broad shoulders framed against the dim light from the kitchen window. He didn't say a word at first—he just smirked, took my hand, and guided it right back to the familiar bulge stretching his jeans.

"Glad you could make it so fast," he said, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop to his ankles.

As his nine-and-a-half-inch cock sprang free, my mouth instantly watered. I dropped straight to my knees on the hard concrete, gripping the thick base of his shaft. This time, there was no hesitation or nervousness. I knew what was coming, and thanks to some serious practice with that nine-inch dildo, I was ready to show off. Opening wide, I trailed my tongue all the way up the underside of his long shaft to the pulsing head and locked my lips around it.

I began to bob my head up and down in a steady, deliberate rhythm. He let out a low, satisfied groan, his hands coming down to rest on top of my head, guiding my movements. Encouraged by his reaction, I decided to show off. I gathered my breath and lunged forward, sliding his entire length down my throat until my nose was buried deep in his pubic hair, and held it there for a long, solid moment.

"Oh, fuck!" he gasped, his fingers tightening in my hair. "You definitely weren't lying about that lack of a gag reflex. Fuck!"

Hearing his praise only made me hornier. I kept up the intense pace, swirling my tongue around the ridge of his head every time I pulled back, then plunging right back down to the base. It didn't take long for his breath to turn shallow. His hips began to twitch instinctively, pushing deeper into my mouth as he approached the edge. He shuddered, and then a thick load of warm cum erupted directly down my throat. I swallowed hard, taking every single powerful spurt as he pulsed inside my mouth, before slowly sliding off to clean him up with a few final licks.

The cool night air in the backyard was still thick with the heavy scent of his cum. I was still on my knees on the concrete patio, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, when the sudden, sharp creak of the back screen door made us both freeze.

All Male Fiction: On the Sidelines

By: Willy Wanker & Ryan Michaels

                                                        

The midnight air was thick and heavy, typical of mid-July. Shawn waited at the edge of the small wooden pier that jutted out into the lake, marking the dead end of his street. For the past two weeks—ever since summer holidays had freed them from early mornings—this had been his and Josh’s ritual. They would meet under the cover of darkness, then slip into the dense, quiet woods nearby. With both sets of parents disapproving of their relationship, these humid nights were their only sanctuary.

Tonight, however, Josh was late.

Shawn checked his phone again, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. Just as he sighed and slipped it back into his pocket, the steady rhythm of footsteps echoed down the pavement. Someone was jogging toward the water. But as the figure stepped onto the pier, Shawn realized it wasn't Josh.

The moonlight was bright enough to reveal a tall, dark, shirtless man. He looked to be in his mid-forties, but he possessed the lean, sculpted physique of an elite athlete—smooth, tight, and effortlessly powerful.

The man slowed to a walk, his gaze locking onto Shawn. Sensing an opportunity in the secluded, late-night setting, he drifted closer and came to a stop just a few feet away.

"Beautiful night," he said, his voice low and casual.

"Yeah," Shawn replied, his throat suddenly dry.

"So, what brings you out here so late?"

"Just waiting for a friend."

The man tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "So, where is he?"

Shawn blinked, a little defensive. "I never said it was a 'he'."

"You didn't have to," the man countered smoothly.

Shawn prided himself on passing for straight, and a small part of him was annoyed at how easily this stranger had read him. But as his eyes drifted over the man's chest, annoyance quickly gave way to intrigue.

"I'm Bill, by the way," the man said, extending the introduction.

"Shawn."

A heavy silence settled between them as they openly appraised each other. Words became redundant; the raging boners each guy was now sporting through their athletic shorts was communication enough.

Bill took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "If your friend doesn't show up soon, I might just have to take you for myself."

Shawn held his gaze, a sudden rush of adrenaline making him bold. "Why don't you then?"

That was all the invitation Bill needed. He closed the distance instantly, grabbed a handful of Shawn's crotch, and shoved his tongue down his throat. The two guys passionately made out and rubbed each other's dicks for a few moments before Bill reached down and swiftly tugged Shawn’s shorts and underwear to his ankles. Bill licked his lips as he laid eyes on what was a rather long, but somewhat skinny piece of hard teenage cock.

Despite the intense arousal of the moment, a flash of hesitation crossed Shawn's mind. "Right here?" he whispered, glancing back toward the path. With Josh, they were at least hidden by the trees. Here, they were just off a public footpath where anyone could walk past and see them, just as Bill had come along and seen him.

"Sure," Bill replied, already kicking off his own shorts and removing his jockstrap. "It's not like anyone is going to be strolling by at this hour."

Shawn's eyes widened at the sight of the older man's erect penis. It was even bigger than his seven-and-a-half-inch cock. It had to be nine or nine-and-a-half inches long, and was really thick, too.

"You like it, my big dick?" Bill asked with a grin as he saw the boy looking at his impressive cock with lust and fascination.

Shawn could only nod.

"I like yours too," Bill said as he reached out and wrapped his hand around Shawn's hard-as-steel dick and slowly started jerking it. "Stroke mine, too. Go on, touch it. You know you want to," Bill said as he took the boy's wrist and brought it towards his cock.

Bill's confidence only aroused Shawn further, and he splayed his fingers and then closed them around the older man's girth. As he looked down at what he was doing, he thought of Josh. He felt slightly guilty for cheating on him; he really liked Josh, and they had a lot of fun together, but this was too hot an opportunity to pass up.

When Josh finally arrived half an hour late, he froze at the edge of the gravel path, greeted by a sight that felt entirely surreal. Bill was sprawled back against the pier, naked except for his sneakers, with an equally naked Shawn straddling him, thrusting his ass up and down on Bill's cock. Josh stared, paralyzed. A sharp wave of shock and betrayal hit him—Shawn was giving himself over to a total stranger, acting as if their entire relationship didn't exist—yet the visual was undeniably arousing.

Instead of interrupting, Josh stepped back into the shadow of the tree line, his hands slipping into his pockets. He watched, hoping they wouldn't notice him standing there in the dark.

But Bill had already spotted him.

All Male Fiction: After Hours

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxx@hotmail.com

 

The gym was dead when I walked in. Only a couple of guys were scattered across the floor, which was to be expected given the hour; it was a 24-hour place, and the clock was ticking past 11:30 PM. I headed into the locker room, changed into my gear, and hit the weights.

Eventually, the crowd thinned out entirely until it was just one other guy and me. After striking up a casual conversation between sets, we eventually teamed up to spot each other. He decided to head off to the showers before I was quite finished, but I wrapped up my final sets shortly after and headed to the locker room as well.

After stripping out of my gear, I grabbed my towel and made my way toward the showers. Since we were the only two left in the building, we had the locker room entirely to ourselves. I suppose that’s why he didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that, even with his back to me, his arm was moving in an unmistakable motion. He was stroking his cock, jacking off right there in the gym showers.

I quietly chuckled, a sudden wave of arousal hitting me. I’ve always really enjoyed masturbating. I'm what is generally referred to as a "bator"—I even have the t-shirt to prove it. What I love even more than solo sessions is bating with other guys. Whether they’re dedicated bators themselves or just looking to drain their nuts, it doesn't matter to me; as long as I get to watch and share the moment, I'm good.

This seemed like the perfect opportunity. Even if he wasn't a bator, he was pleasuring himself in a public shower, and there was a good chance that if I let him know it was cool, we could turn it into a mutual session.

Hearing my footsteps approach, he glanced over his shoulder, his hand instantly falling to his side. As I stepped up to the showerhead next to him, I chuckled again.

"Hey, you don't have to stop on my account," I said with a laugh as I turned on the shower. "There's nothing better after a good workout than working out your cock, too."

He didn't look at me. He was obviously feeling a little uncomfortable, having been caught jerking off in the locker room showers. With a guy like him—a typical, hyper-masculine alpha male—being seen stroking by another guy can make them feel defensive, like they're being judged.

Recognizing the opening, I spoke up again. "Would it make you more comfortable if I did it, too? Because I could definitely use that kind of workout right about now."

My pulse quickened as I watched him process the offer. His cock, which had subsided slightly, hardened right back up to rock-solid as he weighed the idea. It was a beautiful dick—uncut, about seven and a half inches, thick and heavy. It was exactly the kind of cock I loved to suck. But in that moment, I was focused on bating. Besides, from our conversation during our workout, I knew he was straight and married, so a blowjob seemed out of the question.

"It's cool, man," I reassured him. "There's nothing wrong with a couple of guys jacking off together. Lots of guys do it. If you're worried that it's gay or something, trust me, it's not. Do you know how many guys stroke together these days?"

"Well..." he started quietly, his voice gradually finding its footing. "I... I was hoping to finish before you got in here. But too late for that, I guess. So… why the fuck not?"