All Male Fiction: Night Visions (Part 3)

 By: Ryan Michaels

Listen to this story

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2

Ryan sat on the edge of Chad’s bed, heart pounding, stomach fluttering, the alcohol making everything feel both sharper and softer at the same time. Chad stood in front of him, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles, that huge, uncut cock already hard and pointing straight at Ryan’s face.

"Suck my cock!" Chad repeated, voice low.

Ryan leaned in. He had imagined this exact moment a hundred times while watching the cameras. Now the real thing was right there. He was nervous, as it was his first time, but the alcohol allowed him to open his mouth and take the head between his lips without hesitation.

Chad let out a soft moan. "Yeah… just like that!"

Ryan’s tongue pressed up under the foreskin, tasting the slight saltiness there. He sank deeper, inexperienced, but hungry. One of Chad’s hands settled on the back of Ryan's head, not forcing, just resting and guiding.

**********

In Ryan’s bedroom, Sean stared at the laptop screen, his mouth agape as the screen filled with the image of his best friend’s head bobbing up and down on a cock.

"What the fuck…" Sean whispered.

He couldn’t look away. The hidden camera angle was almost perfect—side view, clear enough to see everything. Ryan’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked. Chad’s hips gave a small roll. Ryan’s hands were braced on Chad’s thighs, an obvious boner in his pants from what he was doing.

Sean’s own cock twitched inside his underwear.

He told himself he should close the window. He should get the hell out of Ryan’s room and pretend he never saw this. Instead, he stayed put, heart racing.

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.

BateBook Shorts - All Male True Experience: Private Practice

By: Unknown Author

Listen to this story

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

 

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.

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 absolutely 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

Did you enjoy this Deep Dive?

Do you want to see more Deep Dives for future stories?

Comment below and let me know.

All Male Fiction: Forbidden Desire

By: Ryan Michaels

 

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 Fiction: Cockfighter

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

All Male Fiction: Blowjob Blues

 By: wpblue & Ryan Michaels

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it?"

"Is it, what?"

"Is it all you think about?"

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

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

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

I nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: Late-Night Hunger

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

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."

Bisexual Fiction: Triple Workout (Part 1)

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yup, and you’re Josh?" I commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure. No problem."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male True Experience: Breaking in a Virgin

 By: Unknown Author

 

I nailed a beautiful young guy over the weekend. I saw him out at a gay club, one of those that cater mainly to college guys, twinks, and young gym bunnies - nineteen is the legal drinking age where I live.

At this place (and in general) most of these younger guys will ignore you if you are older; in fact, you may as well be dead as far as they're concerned. However, there was always a handful who were into the older 'daddy' types.

I happened to be older at thirty-eight years old, standing 6-feet-tall, with 180 pounds of hard muscle, a tanned body, and a big, thick cock between my legs. Thankfully, I fit into that 'daddy' category some of these twinks liked, and, wanting a young bottom to plant my load in, I couldn't think of a better place to find one.

The young men in this place usually stick together in small groups. The place was hot and already more than half of them were shirtless. Though the hot young flesh on display was nice to look at, I prefer my bottoms to be a little more inhibited. I knew as soon as I saw him, he was the one I wanted.

He was cute, young, probably twenty years old at most. He had that preppy look, with stylish dark hair, green eyes, and a long lean body that was going to look great stretched out naked under me. You could tell he was shy. He was sitting alone at a small table in the corner, nursing a bottle of beer, eyeing the half-naked men dancing under the lights. He hadn't looked in my direction yet.

I walked over by him and stood against the wall. I looked down at the back of his neck, feeling my own neck tingle as I imagined how delicious his skin would feel against my lips. He must have sensed me looking because his head turned. He looked at my face, and then his eyes dropped to my crotch, back to my face again, and then back to the dance floor. I could see the color flush into his cheeks. I didn't say a word, just crossed my legs and waited for him to look back again.

Thirty seconds later he took another look, this time quicker. I walked over and took the other seat at the table. "See anything you like?" I directed my gaze out onto the throng of dancing twinks but made sure he could see my crotch as my hand gently caressed my bulge. He said something to me, but his voice was so quiet and timid that I couldn't comprehend a word of it.

This was bullshit. I cut to the chase. "Why don't we get out of here and fuck?"

The kid knocked his beer bottle over and looked directly at my bulge. Then his eyes met mine. "How about it? You want to see what I have under here?" I asked as I stood and stroked myself obscenely. He just stared like a scared kid but didn't say anything at all.

"Well, if you decide that you do, I'll be outside having a smoke before I go," I told him, giving my bulge a good squeeze, and then I turned and left.

I stood by my car and lit my smoke, waiting to see if the quiet guy was coming out. I was halfway through my cigarette when the door opened and he slid out. He loitered near the front of the club, repeatedly glancing over at me, working up the courage to walk over to me.

Finally, he ambled over. "Got a place?" I asked him. He was shivering a little and I'm not sure it was entirely from the cold.

"Maybe. What about you?" he replied.

"Mine's over on the other side of town. Not really close at all. It's pretty small. Yours is probably closer." I said. I didn't like taking young twinks to my place. I preferred to go to their place, so I could just get up and leave when I was done with them.

I let him yammer for a bit then tossed my smoldering cigarette butt to the ground and exhaled. "You drive. I'll follow," I said, making the decision to go to his place, for him. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

He walked to the far end of the lot and started up a small car. I hopped in my own and peeled out after him, making sure to stay right on his ass. Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of a small house in a residential area.

"Nice place," I said, checking out the neighborhood. He looked scared shitless, like one of his neighbors might see him returning home late at night with a stranger, a male stranger.

He walked us up the driveway, to the garage. "I don't live in the house. My place is up there." He glanced up and pointed at the upper level of the garage and unlocked the side door.

The place was small, just a studio with a small kitchenette, a sofa in the middle of the room, and a bed protruding from the wall behind it. It was decorated like a teenager's bedroom and he would inform that it was his parents' house and that when he had turned nineteen a few months back, they had allowed him to move out over the garage.

I listened to him babble on but truthfully, I didn't give a shit about what he was saying; I was just there to fuck some twink ass. I did note that he was nineteen and that I had been pretty close in guessing his age.

"Uh-huh," I said when he had finished yapping and then told him to get himself naked and wait for me on the bed while I used the bathroom, which was barely large enough to stand up in.

In the bathroom, I tore off my shirt, dropped my jeans, and eased my sticky briefs down. I sat on the toilet long enough to kick off my shoes and socks.

Totally naked, I went back out into the main room. "Oh my god!" was all he said, gawking at my cock, which stuck out like a club.

All Male Fiction: The House Painters

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

The one good thing about living in Houston, Texas, which is very hot and humid during the summer, is that men tend to strip off their shirts whenever the opportunity presents itself; so, there is a lot of eye candy to look at, and that makes a good trade-off for living in such a hot and humid city.

One summer morning, I changed into my bike shorts and hopped on my bike and started peddling around the neighborhood. I had been riding for about an hour when I drove by a house that had a For Sale sign out front, and a couple of guys painting the outside of it.

Both of the painters looked to be in their mid-twenties, and both were working without shirts on, wearing just shorts and shoes. Both were tanned and well-built. I wouldn't have kicked either guy out of bed, and checking them out caused a stirring inside my bike shorts. I almost hit the curb looking at them.

After averting a header over the handlebars and preparing to get my bike back in motion, I noticed there was a pickup truck with deep purple metallic paint backed in the driveway with a For Sale sign taped to the windshield. I wasn't in the market for a vehicle, but I decided that pretending to be interested and going up and taking a look at it would give me the perfect opportunity to get a closer look at the hot studs that were painting the house.

"Can I help you?" the one guy called over when he saw me there.

"I just noticed the For Sale sign while passing by; just taking a look, thanks," I replied.

I took a good look at the truck to look convincing as to why I was there and was about to get back on my bike and ride off when the guy called out to the other one, "Yo, Mike, there's some guy interested in your truck."

The other guy came jogging over to the driveway.

"Hi, I'm Mike," he said with a smile once he arrived in front of me. "You interested?" he asked.

God, was I interested, but not in his truck! The man was even more gorgeous up close. Of course, I indicated I was interested, saying that I had no vehicle and was tired of peddling my bike around town, and he started telling me about the truck, which afforded me the opportunity to take a good look at his body.

He was about five-foot-eight, had dark brown hair, a naturally smooth chest, tanned skin, and was sporting a six-pack as well as a couple of tattoos. Other than baggy cut-off shorts riding low on his hips, he was not wearing any other clothes except tennis shoes without socks. He also had specs of white paint all over him which made him look even sexier.

This guy could really chatter on and on but he finally came to a pause in his long-winded sales pitch and said, "I gotta tell you dude, if you end up buying my truck, don't give up on the cycling; it's obviously gotten you, and kept you, in great shape, and you wouldn't want all that hard work to go down the drain."

I knew that his comment was purely innocent, just a guy in good shape complimenting another guy who was also in good shape, and not a come-on, but I decided to be kind of bold in my response and said, "Thanks. Cycling is great for the legs and butt, but you've got an amazing chest. Wish mine looked as good as yours."

He grinned and then did that thing bodybuilders do where they make their pecs jump.

"Wow, that's amazing. How do you do that?"

"It's not hard; anyone can do it if they do the right weight training to develop those muscles," Mike replied. "So, back to the truck, you interested in buying her?"

Obviously, I had no interest in buying his truck, so I said, "I'll definitely think it over, but right now I gotta jet. I really gotta piss bad and need to find a bush or something." That last part was true; I really did need to piss badly.

"Dude," he laughed. "No need to be pissing on some old lady's bush. The house is empty, but we're also painting up the inside and have got the key. You are more than welcome to go inside and use the washroom if you want."

"Are you sure it's ok?" I asked.

"Sure. Not a problem, dude. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

I thanked him and I took in his ass as he led me to the house and then showed me where the washroom was.

I went into the washroom, closed the door, and took care of my full bladder.

As I was coming down the hall from the washroom I could see the living room and noticed that Mike, as well as the other guy, were both in the house now, and Mike was saying something to him quietly. When I got out into the living room, Mike introduced me to his buddy, telling me his name was Brad.

Brad also looked to be in his mid-twenties, with the same dark brown hair on his head, and some close-cropped hair on his chest, and was muscular, too, but not quite as ripped as Mike. Like Mike, he was also sporting a couple of tattoos and wearing nothing but baggy cut-off shorts hanging low on his hips.

After introducing me, Mike indicated they were going to take a break and wanted to know if I wanted a beer. Naturally, I said yes.

Mike opened the lid of a cooler that sat in the room and pulled out three beers, handing one to Brad and one to me.

Because the house was empty, there was no furniture in the place, so Mike grabbed some empty paint buckets and turned them upside down, placing two of them side by side and the third opposite them.

I was sitting across from Mike and Brad, and every time Mike lifted the beer can to his lips his right bicep flexed and it was driving me crazy with lust. After sneaking a furtive glance at Mike's crotch, I also noticed that the top button on his cutoffs was now undone and I could see even more of the jet-black streak of hair leading down to his crotch.

Besides being sexually attracted to Mike, I also admired his ripped physique and wanted to know how he achieved it, so I started asking Mike about his workout routine.

Brad's male competitive spirit kicked in and he immediately started ragging on his buddy saying, "Mike may have bigger muscles, but for the muscle that counts the most with women, I have him easily beat."

Mike shook his head, seemingly having heard this argument before, and then rolled his eyes and said, "Brad is just jealous because I get more looks from women than he does."

"You may get the looks, but that's all you get because while you are spending all your time in the gym with your 'homo' bodybuilder friends, I get my workout laying pipe with the ladies, lots of ladies." Brad then jumped up and stood in front of both of us and cupped and squeezed his crotch in his hands and said, "Women like a big dick better than they like big muscles, and they'll choose the big dick every time."

Meanwhile, my dick was begging to get hard, which is bad when you are wearing skin-tight Lycra bike shorts. I was praying they would not notice my growing bulge, and I leaned forward a bit so they would not spot the evidence.

"You've only seen me pissing, so how would you know? I'm probably as big as you are, or bigger when I'm hard," Mike responded.

Brad scoffed at this and then looked at me and asked, "What would you prefer if you were a chick, a big dick, or big muscles?"

"I'd have to see your dick to know for sure, since I have already seen Mike's muscles, which, I have to say, are pretty awesome." I couldn't believe I actually said those words, but by that point, I was buzzed after the exercise and drinking a beer on an empty stomach, and so fucking horny. I knew if it hadn't been for that, I would never have been bold enough, or brave enough, to respond that way.

But what I really couldn't believe was Brad's reaction to my statement. Instead of getting mad and asking me if I was some kind of homo, or telling me to get the fuck out of there, he simply started to unbutton his shorts and hauled out an uncut cock. It hung about five inches or so, soft.

After pulling it out, he let go of it and crossed his arms over his chest. When he did that, his loose-fitting shorts fell to the floor leaving him there naked just a few feet in front of me.