Bisexual Fiction: Unmasked Desires (Part 1)

By: bbw4youngercocks1 & Ryan Michaels

 

By all outward appearances, Kevin and Linda were the picture-perfect suburban couple. They owned a beautiful home, free and clear, thanks to the success of Kevin’s business. Their sprawling master bedroom even featured a large, freestanding Jacuzzi tub right in the corner of the room—not tucked away in an ensuite or out on a deck, but prominently displayed as a luxurious conversation piece. They entertained often and were highly popular in the neighborhood, save for a few conservative, easily scandalized neighbors.

But every couple has its secrets. For Kevin and Linda, their secret was a thriving, deeply adventurous sex life rooted in Kevin's bisexuality. While Kevin deeply loved his wife and the incredible intimacy they shared, he had always harbored a strong attraction to men—specifically dark-haired, fit men with sharp features.

Rather than being pushed away by such a revelation, Linda found it intensely arousing. The first time she had ever witnessed her husband intimately involved with another man, the sheer visual thrill had overwhelmed her.

Over the years, they had gradually explored group sex, starting with a few heterosexual threesomes. The first involved one of Kevin's male co-workers; it turned them both on so much knowing that a guy Kevin worked with every day had fucked his wife. After the first time, so comfortable with having done it, they decided to do it again, this time with one of Kevin's good friends, which turned them on immensely as well.

After those two encounters, Linda and Kevin brought a woman into bed with them. The situation had just presented itself, and so they went with it. But nothing quite matched the specific, raw energy of Linda and Kevin sharing another man. For Linda, the sensation of two men focusing on her and each other was unparalleled; for Kevin, it allowed him to fully embrace both sides of his desires with his wife’s enthusiastic blessing.

For a long time, they kept these adventures private, especially when a notoriously nosy neighbor lived next door. But after she finally moved away and the house sat empty for months, they learned a new neighbor was moving in.

"Probably another busybody who needs to mind her own business," Kevin joked one afternoon.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

When the moving truck arrived, it was followed by a modest minivan. Stepping out of the driver's seat was PJ, clad in only a pair of tight shorts. At twenty-eight, single, and recently out of a long-term relationship, PJ was an absolute striking presence. He stood six feet tall with broad shoulders, toned arms, a hairless chest, a remarkably fit physique, and had a mound between his legs that showed promise of a well-endowed cock. While PJ had only been with women up to this point, he possessed a quiet, latent bi-curiosity that he had never acted on.

From the moment they met him, both Kevin and Linda were captivated. PJ was slightly shy at first, but incredibly charismatic and quick-witted, and he quickly integrated into their social circle.

Kevin would secretly smile whenever he caught PJ discreetly checking Linda out. Even after a decade of marriage, Linda was stunning, and Kevin felt pride rather than jealousy. Kevin was just as attracted to PJ as Linda was. Both couldn't help but wonder how he would look totally naked, preferably in their bed.

Linda noticed a rotating door of women leaving PJ's house, prompting her and Kevin to playfully joke that he was treating sex like a takeout delivery service when he could just come next door and get all the sex he needed for free. The trick was getting him over there and making it known to him, but that wouldn't come until later that summer.

Kevin was out in the yard working on a privacy fence—a lingering project from the days of their old neighbor—while Linda lounged by the pool in a thong bikini. Next door, PJ was cutting his grass, entirely distracted. In fact, he nearly lost control of the lawnmower when Linda shifted, intentionally letting her bikini top slip slightly to catch his gaze. Sensing his eyes on her, she rolled over with a slow, deliberate movement, giving him a full view of her ass.

PJ let out a low groan. The only thing that was stopping him from going over there, ripping off her bikini, and fucking her brains out was the fact that she was married, and the assumption that Kevin would tear him apart if he tried. Unable to stop looking at her scantily clad body, he had to stop cutting his lawn and retreat inside to take care of the raging hard-on in his shorts.

That evening, Kevin fired up the indoor Jacuzzi, and Linda extended a casual invitation to PJ to come over for drinks. PJ accepted, desperately trying to figure out how he was going to keep his cock from getting hard when he saw Linda in her bikini again.

When PJ arrived, he was wearing tight, form-fitting swim trunks that left very little to the imagination regarding his impressive proportions. He admired the unique layout of their master bedroom, laughing that they could easily host a party in there.

Soon, the three of them were soaking in the warm, bubbling water, sipping wine, and chatting easily. The entire time, just as he had feared, Linda's near-nakedness had caused PJ's cock to get rock hard under the water.

As the alcohol and the heat took effect, the atmosphere grew thick with anticipation. Under the cover of the bubbles, Linda reached out, her hand slowly brushing against PJ's thigh, then grazing his lap. She gave her husband a subtle sign, confirming exactly how aroused their neighbor was.

Deciding to give Linda the first move, Kevin smiled, excusing himself to grab another bottle of wine. "Keep my wife company for a minute, will you, PJ?" he asked, throwing Linda a subtle, knowing wink.

"Happily," PJ replied, his voice a bit strained.

The moment Kevin left the room, Linda moved closer, her touch becoming deliberate and intense. PJ gasped, a trace of nervous loyalty hitting him. "What about your husband?"

"Trust me," Linda whispered, leaning in close. "He won't mind at all."

Forbidden Desire Deep Dive

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All Male Fiction: Forbidden Desire

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

 

The morning sun hit the brick facade of the two-story apartment complex, casting long shadows across the central courtyard. It was a well-maintained property, quiet and private, designed with all the units facing inward toward an inground pool.

Ryan stood leaning in the doorway of his apartment, looking out over the courtyard with a mug of coffee in hand. At forty-eight, Ryan was in great shape, possessing a lean, athletic build that made him look easily a decade younger than his actual years. He wasn’t just a resident here; he owned the entire building.

When he purchased the complex, he had recognized the potential in the layout and immediately renovated the apartment right above his. By installing a staircase, he converted his unit into a unique, spacious two-story apartment. The main floor housed the open-concept living room, a kitchen, dining area, den (originally the bedroom for the one-bedroom unit), a four-piece bathroom, and a French door leading to a backyard patio. The renovated second floor now contained a large master bedroom with an ensuite, a large second bedroom, a four-piece bathroom, and a hallway.

From the kitchen behind him, the heavy, familiar tread of combat boots signaled that his husband was getting ready for a shift. Chad was a firefighter, younger than Ryan at thirty-four, with the broad shoulders and rugged stamina that the job demanded. Their marriage was grounded in a deep, mutual respect, though Chad’s demanding schedule at the station often left Ryan holding down the fort at home during long twenty-four-hour shifts.

Living with them was Jake, Ryan’s twenty-two-year-old son. Ryan was a friend of Jake's mother, who wanted a child, and he had agreed to help her out, via artificial insemination – Ryan has never had sex with a woman. When Jake's mother died when Jake was twelve, Jake came to live with Ryan. 

Ryan and Jake are extremely close, father and son, yes, but also really good friends. They could talk about anything with each other, just like two guy friends would, and once Jake was old enough, that included intimate things. For example, Jake knows his dad is an insatiable bottom, that he is submissive with men, loves to be called names by men, one in particular, and has even heard some of the dirty details of Ryan's sex life. It wasn't a one-sided situation either; Jake, too, would share intimate things with his dad, such as telling his dad when he lost his virginity and all the details.

When Jake was nineteen, he came out as bisexual. A good kid, he was navigating his twenties with a solid circle of friends, the most frequent of whom was Ben, his best friend since high school.

Ben was also twenty-two, straight, with an easygoing charm and an athletic build that fit right in with the family. But recently, there was a distinct shift in the air whenever Jake wasn't around. Ben’s posture would change. The casual, respectful friend vanished, replaced by a guy who dropped heavy innuendos, lingered too close, and locked eyes with Ryan in a way that made Ryan’s chest tighten. It was a subtle game of lingering glances and loaded compliments that Ryan never brought up to his son or his husband, but one that added a quiet, underlying tension to the humid summer days around the complex.

With Chad pulling frequent twenty-four-hour shifts at the fire station and Jake often out, the sprawling two-story apartment often grew quiet. It was during these precise windows of time that Ben would find reasons to drop by, supposedly to wait for Jake, though he never seemed disappointed when only Ryan was home.

Without the buffer of his best friend in the room, Ben’s casual demeanor shifted into something much more deliberate, using his presence and a steady stream of sexual innuendo to test Ryan’s boundaries.

On this day, the wi-fi had been acting up. Ryan was down on his knees, ass in the air, checking the cables and adjusting the antennas for the router that sat on the lower shelf of the hallway – resetting it hadn't helped. Ben knelt right next to him, his shoulder firmly pressing against Ryan’s as he pretended to look at the blinking lights.

"Looks like the problem is a lack of penetration. If you need some help penetrating your walls, I'm your man."

Ryan would usually offer a disciplined, knowing chuckle, trying to diffuse the tension without explicitly shutting it down, but the air in the apartment remained thick with the unspoken knowledge that Ben was pushing the game further and further each time.

A couple of days later, while Chad was away, Ryan was prepping the grill, rubbing spices into a few racks of ribs. Ben had shown up under the guise of waiting for Jake to get home and was leaning against the patio table, watching the fluid motions of Ryan’s hands.

"Man, you really know how to handle your meat, Ryan," Ben said.

Ryan let out his usual disciplined chuckle.

"But I guess with Chad away so much on those twenty-four-hour shifts, you're used to handling your meat, huh, Ryan?" Ben chuckled.

Ryan didn't respond to the innuendo.

Ben looked around and then moved right up behind Ryan. He put his head over Ryan's shoulder, and let his crotch lightly brush Ryan's ass, and said into Ryan's ear, "How'd you like to handle my meat, Ryan?" and then gave his crotch a firm press against Ryan's ass.

Ben had just gotten way more aggressive with his flirting; he had taken the game too far, and Ryan couldn't take it anymore.

​Ryan confronted Jake about it as soon as Ben had gone home, telling his son how Ben was always flirting with him when Jake wasn't around.

Jake laughed it off. "Dad, come on," he said, shaking his head. "Ben is straight. He’s just a flirty guy. He knows you're gay and is just having fun with you. You're misreading it."

Ryan shook his head. "No, I'm not. I don't want him coming over here anymore."

"C'mon, Dad. I've known him since high school. He's my best friend. He's always over here. He's like family. What am I supposed to tell him?"

"I don't know. Make something up or tell him the truth. I don't care."

"Right, Dad. I'm gonna tell him my dad thinks he wants to have sex with him."

​Frustrated and unable to convince his son, Ryan compromised. "Fine. He can still come over, but only if you’re here, and when you are, you don't leave him alone with me."

​The rule worked... until the night Ben stayed over.

All Male True Experience: Paying Rent

By: Unknown Author

 

In my early twenties, I finished college and was now renting my first apartment. After a few months, I was behind with rent and ended up with my fifty-something landlord telling me I could be "his personal fuck toy" or move out.

I really didn't want to suck off and get fucked by my landlord. I mean, I was in my twenties, and he was in his fifties, my dad's age, but I really had no other choice but to comply, or else I would have been on the streets. (Moving back home was not an option.)

To be clear, he knew I was gay, and I wasn't servicing him instead of paying rent; I was servicing his needs in exchange for his allowing me to pay off owed rent over time.

He had a fat seven-inch cock and liked to use me roughly, call me names, and generally degrade and humiliate me. Although initially almost disgusted by the idea, I have to admit that once I started servicing his cock, I really enjoyed it, in part because he was 'making me' do it.

He would come around at least three times a week, some weeks every day, but my favorite was one particular Friday night, when he turned up at 2 am with a friend.

My landlord and his friend, also in his fifties, shot the shit while watching me as I stripped off my clothes – my landlord told me on day one that his fuck toy needs to be naked when servicing him.

I was rock hard when I slipped my underwear down and off, so turned on by the fact that my landlord was not only going to have me service him in front of his friend but make me service his friend, too, a total stranger.

Once naked, I got onto my knees and fished my landlord's cock out of his pants and began sucking on it. His friend quickly had his cock out and was stroking it as he encouraged me to suck his friend's dick, calling me names, such as cocksucker and faggot, just like my landlord did.

Soon, I heard my landlord's friend say, "Let me have some of that," and then my landlord was pulling my head off of his cock and directing it towards his buddy's. His buddy took over, grabbing my head now and pulling it down onto his cock. He groaned and said, "Yeah, suck that dick, bitch!"

I bobbed up and down on my landlord's friend's slightly smaller (about six inches) but also thick cock, making lots of slurping sounds.

The next thing I knew, my landlord had moved over next to his buddy and had angled his body so that his cock was touching his friend's. I knew what he wanted, and I did my best at trying to fit the two cocks in my mouth at the same time, but they were both so thick that I couldn't really do it. So instead, I went back and forth between them, literally making a popping sound, and I repeatedly popped my mouth on and off each of their cockheads.

I was so turned on feasting on these two hard cocks that I could've spent all night sucking them, and I actually cried out around my landlord's cock when his buddy pulled himself away from the action. However, a hard slap to my bare butt quickly told me why he had done so.

I moaned loudly around my landlord's cock as his buddy started stroking and then poking my hole with his fingers. Soon I felt the coldness of lube being pushed into my ass via a finger-banging, and then my back arched as I let out another loud moan around my landlord's cock as his buddy pushed his fat six-inch cock balls deep into my ass.

My landlord started to fuck in and out of my mouth as his buddy fucked in and out of my ass, and with both my holes being pounded at the same time, I lost it pretty quickly and started to cum, shooting my load without even touching my dick.

As I came, my ass muscles milked the cock in my ass, and I felt it throb, and then erupt inside me. My landlord's friend shot a huge load. It flooded my hole, leaking out and dripping down my legs.

Once he had come down, he slapped my ass and pulled out. He and my landlord switched places, and while he ordered me to lick his cum-slicked cock clean, my landlord took his place behind me, fucking me deep and hard, using his buddy's cum as lube while fucking it deeper into me at the same time.  

When his buddy withdrew his now soft cock from my mouth, my landlord slapped my ass, pulled me backwards on the floor, and pushed my head down, ordering me to lick my own load of cum up off the floor.

Once I had completed that task, he yanked his cock out of my ass, grabbed me under the arms, and simultaneously pulled me up onto my knees while turning me to face him. He then rammed his cock down my throat and blasted his load down it. 

Afterward, my landlord and his buddy lounged on the couch, talking about how they had just used my holes, referring to me as a faggot, while I fetched them a couple of cold beers.

My landlord, who I mentioned liked to humiliate me, made me remain naked and lie on the floor under my coffee table while they drank their beers and shot the shit.

A while later, my landlord's buddy wanted another blowjob, and my landlord snapped his fingers at me and said, "You heard him, suck his cock, bitch!" And, of course, I did.

He brought that friend over again about a month later for a repeat performance, and another time, he sent his friend to my door to use my holes one-on-one. After that, it was just my landlord who used my mouth and ass to drain his nuts.

This went on for the year that I lived there, and I definitely hated having to leave that apartment, but a job opportunity left me no other choice.

It's weird, in the time since I left that apartment, I not only find myself seeking out older men to have sex with now, but have also lost interest in having sex with guys my own age.

Recently, I went to a bathhouse and got used by a daddy while other guys, mostly younger guys, stood around and watched with their dicks in their hands. It was hot!

But that's a story for another time!

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All Male Fiction: Intimate Strangers

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Ryan drew in a sharp breath as he heard the front door squeak open. It was late, it was dark, and he was home alone, in bed, completely naked.

He heard footsteps, and his body tensed when he heard those footsteps getting closer and closer.

He could hardly breathe as his bedroom door swung open and, even though he was wearing a sleep mask, he shut his eyes.

Ryan felt the fingers and knuckles of what was obviously a man's hand on his skin as the man grasped the top of his blankets and pulled them down, exposing Ryan's bare butt.

As Ryan lay there fully exposed and vulnerable, his ears took in the sound of someone taking their clothes off. Moments later, he felt the mattress go down near the bottom. He remained completely still, barely breathing, as he felt the tip of the man's soft dick lightly brush against his balls before making its way from the base of his ass crack to the top of it.

All Male Fiction: A Real Man

 By: Tommyhawk1

 

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

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

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

"Oh, nothing," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: 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."

Straight Fiction: I am ALPHA!

By: Unknown Author

Girls want to fuck Alpha Males.

Let it piss you off as much as you want, but you know it's true.

That girl you like who is totally sweet and you have the biggest crush on? The one who keeps going back to guys who treat her wrong for reasons you don't understand? The one who calls you up at 1 am to cry about how her boyfriend hasn't called her in three days. The one who will curl up next to you on the couch, hug you close, kiss you on the cheek, and never let you fucking touch her beyond that?

Yeah, I'm fucking her.

The hot girl behind the coffee counter who won't even smile at you? The one who won't even say hi to you? The one who takes your money and shoves your coffee at you? The one who forgets you exist before you've even stepped away from the counter?

Yeah, I'm fucking her too, even harder.

The geeky girl you think might be enough like you that you have a chance with her? The one you think is so incredible? The one you still haven't worked up the courage to tell how you feel about her?

Guess who just sucked me off and told me they'll always love me?

And what's more? I laugh at guys like you. When you cry about how much girls treat you bad and wonder why they can't just see that you're a nice guy who would always treat them right? I nod and tell you to hang in there, you'll find someone right for you someday, don't give up hope man. But inside? I'm laughing my ass off at you, you pathetic fuck.

Every girl you set your sights on, I'm going to fuck six ways from Sunday and cum in their mouths, pussies, and faces before you can even tell her you think she's cute.

And the biggest reason I laugh? Because it's not me doing all this…

All Male True Experience: Ball Camp

By: Jeff C.

I was only eighteen and very nervous being at basketball camp with a whole slew of dudes from all over the state. I can’t remember when I wasn’t turned on by looking at a cute guy, and I knew I was in for a long two weeks.

The day we all arrived, we were split into teams of five, and the five of you were to do “everything” together. We all slept in small cabins with one team per cabin. Each team was then assigned a counselor (college athletes to help with camp). Ours was named Chip and he was a stud that would make anyone drool just at the sight of him. Chip stood six-foot-three, blond hair down to his collar, dark, sparkling blue eyes, and a build that would make the best athlete envious. Chip was in charge of seeing to it that we got to the right places at the right time and keeping an upper hand on us at night.

The first night, Chip informed us that, in his opinion, the key to being a star athlete was to keep completely relaxed and always get a good night's sleep. He said he made it a practice to stretch and relieve tension every night. It sounded good to all of us, so we asked what his routine was. He showed us a few stretches and then told us that the best way to be sure we relieved all of our tension was to whack off twice every night before we went to sleep.

There was some apprehension, but finally, one tall black-haired stud named Rick pulled out his cock and started jacking. I soon followed suit, and everyone else did likewise, including Chip. I thought I was having one of my biggest fantasies come true, watching and jacking off beside these jocks.

All Male Fiction: A Dirty Jockstrap and a Dirty Fuck

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

"Suck my dick, Shawn!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that gave me an idea…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: Flip-Flop Flap

By: Tommyhawk1 & Ryan Michaels

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gambling?!" Grandma was scandalized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what if you're not looking?"

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

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

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

"Trophies?"

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

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

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

"I guess it can," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly!"

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

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

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

All Male True Experience: Hot Summer Nights

By: Curt J.

It was the summer between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I didn't hate high school; I had a lot of good memories with my best friend Don. We weren't unpopular, but we were far from part of the "cool" crowd. We rarely got invited to parties, and even worse, we never had girlfriends - at least we weren't the guys who got picked on by the jocks. I was actually a member of the track team, so I earned a certain amount of acceptance with the cool crowd, just not enough to be a full-fledged member.

As I was lazing around one day, the phone rang. It was Don, calling to inform me that his parents had gone away to visit a relative for the weekend, and he wanted to know if I wanted to come over and hang out. No parents? A whole house to ourselves? I was down for that, of course, and told him I'd be over in a little while.

I enjoyed hanging out with Don. He had been my best friend for over seven years. He was laid back, and never cared about his social status in high school. He could have been an excellent athlete, but never played on a team; instead he always had a job after school. As a result, he practically had a mini-bachelor pad in his bedroom: a huge TV, VCR, video games, and a top-notch stereo system – as you can tell, this all took place years ago. Don was fun to hang out with, not only because he had a lot of nice "toys", but also because he was fun to talk to.

When I showed up at Don's place, we went straight up to his room and played video games for a while. At some point we ordered a pizza, and after we had finished it we decided to switch from video games to watching movies.

When it came to what movie we were going to watch first, Don telling me to go ahead and see if there was anything in his videotape cabinet that I wanted to see was the catalyst for what would follow.

I opened up the cabinet and checked out his collection of movies. I was a bit surprised to find an adult video, and pulled it out and looked at the cover, then glanced over at Don and promptly asked him where he got it.

Let me explain: back then there wasn't easy access to porn like there is now; you had to buy girly magazines, and buy or rent porno movies, and you had to be eighteen to do so. Don had just turned eighteen a couple of months ago, and I had just turned eighteen three weeks prior. We could both now legally buy or rent it, the problem was we lived in a small country town and there wasn't any porn available to buy or rent. Don was an only child and I had an older sister, so no older brothers for either of us to get porn from. So basically, the only way for us to get our hands on some would be to buy it online (and neither of us had a credit card) or drive to another place where it was available that was about an hour away.

So, how did Don get a porno?

Well, I couldn't believe it when he told me he'd gotten it from his dad, or more to the point, how he'd gotten it from his dad! Turns out he didn't find his dad's porn stash and steal one of his videos, but his dad actually offered him to borrow his porno movies if he wanted, telling him where he keeps them and that he could feel free to borrow them anytime he wanted, as long as Don's mom wasn't around when he went to his dad's hiding spot to do so.

Fuck, at the time I remember thinking how lucky he was to have a cool dad who provided his teenage son with porn to watch, and I told him so. Then I asked him if the porno I held in my hand was hot, and he said what he'd watched of it had been, then surprised me a bit when he said we could pop it in the VCR and watch it if I wanted to.

I just shrugged as I stretched out my arm to give him the tape, like watching it was no big deal to me. Truth be told I wanted to see it so bad; I had never seen a porno before, or any porn for that matter!

Don had a nice big double bed, and I lay down on it and propped myself up with a pillow. Don put in the tape and stretched out next to me, also propping himself up with a pillow. At first, it felt a little uncomfortable, but I soon started to feel more relaxed, in part because Don was so laid back, you couldn't help but feel at ease around him.

We sat there watching the porno in complete silence for a while but soon began to chat about what we were seeing on the screen. I remember it all, everything I was seeing for the first time, and everything we said and did, just like it was yesterday:

"I'd love to do that to Angie Smith," Don commented on a girl from school as the couple on the screen fucked.

"I'm a bigger fan of Leslie Harris," I replied.

"Well, we can wish all we want; it looks like it will never happen."

"Yeah, our sex lives aren't the greatest," I commented.

"You've had sex?!" Don asked me.

"No, unfortunately."

"Yeah, me neither," Don informed, and I remember him seeming both disappointed that I hadn't, and relieved that I hadn't because he hadn't either. "Fuck, I'd love to try it," he added.

We looked at each other, two horny guys alone watching porn. We could both see we had hard-ons under our shorts.

"Fuck, I want to try it so bad!" Don exclaimed with obvious desperation and frustration in his voice. "Like, right now!"

"Yeah, me too, but we need a girl for that, and not having a girl to do that with is our whole problem," I laughed.

"Not necessarily…"

"Wh-what are you thinking, Don?" I remember thinking we were thinking the same thing, weird as it was for us to be thinking what we were thinking.

"You, um, want to try it, Curt?"

"Um, I'm not gay. But I'm turned on, and I'm desperate to know what it's like, too. I don't know… what do you think?"

"Well, I'm not gay either… but I'll… suck you if you do the same for me."

"I dunno… if-if we do that, you have got to promise me you'll never tell anyone, ever!"

"As long as you never tell," he responded.

I remember we sat there for a minute, not saying anything, unsure if we should go through with it. We were both nervous and turned on, both breathing hard, and both had stiffies that were rock hard and throbbing… at least mine was throbbing. I could also feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Don finally spoke. "I've thought about asking you to try this before, but I was too scared," he told me. "I promise not to tell anyone; it's our secret," and then he rolled off the bed and just started to get undressed. The time for thinking was obviously now over; it was happening.

I hurriedly pulled off my clothes, too, and in a flash, we were both lying on Don's bed, totally naked and displaying our excited cocks to each other, the porno all but forgotten now.