All Male Fiction: Night Visions (Part 3)

 By: Ryan Michaels

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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 True Experience: A Matter of Convenience

By: Ryan Michaels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yup," the clerk said.

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

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

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

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.

All Male Fiction: After Hours

By: Ryan Michaels

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: Hello Friend

By: Ryan Michaels

A fictional piece based on a real experience.

Ryan felt a familiar hum of nervousness as he heard the doorbell ring. It was Liam.

​Liam was Ryan's next-door neighbor. He was twenty-five and possessed a casual, easy-going charisma that had captivated Ryan for quite some time now.

Ryan had a bunch of stuff he was trying to get rid of, some of which he thought Liam might be interested in, and that is why Liam was dropping by.

​"Hey, Ryan!" Liam said, stepping through the door with a friendly grin.

​"Hey," Ryan replied. "Thanks for coming by. The stuff is all in the other room. Follow me."

Ryan gestured at the big pile of boxes stacked in the corner. "Take a look through everything and take whatever you want," Ryan offered.

"Thanks," Liam replied as he moved over to the corner.

​As Liam looked through the pile of boxes, his eyes soon caught a small, framed piece of text art sitting on the bookshelf next to the boxes. It read: Masturbation is more fun with a friend. And right below it, in smaller letters: Hello, friend! ​Liam paused, staring at the frame. Without looking away, he murmured, "Hello, friend."

​Ryan blinked, caught off guard. "Sorry, what?"

​Liam chuckled, turning toward him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The sign."

​Ryan let out a slightly awkward laugh. It was partly an inside joke with himself because Ryan was a chronic masturbator. He had totally forgotten it was even there.

"Right! Yeah, that. A buddy gave that to me as a gag gift," Ryan lied. He had actually made it himself. "I just thought it was funny to keep up."

​Liam’s expression shifted, his smile fading into something more contemplative. He looked at the sign, then back at Ryan, his gaze lingering. "Oh, too bad," Liam said softly. "I thought it was legit."

​Ryan felt his heart pound in his chest. The air in the room suddenly felt very thick. "Legit?"

​Liam stepped closer. "Yeah. I saw the sign, and I guess I was hoping it was an invitation.”

Ryan gulped and took a breath, meeting Liam’s eyes. Was this really happening? Could Liam, his young, seemingly straight neighbor, really want to do this? Was he going to get to see Liam's cock, his hard cock? Or was it some cruel, convoluted trick to expose his own unspoken desires?  

"Well?" Liam prompted. "Was it?"

"Wa-was it what?" Ryan sputtered.

"An invitation?" Liam replied as he casually groped his crotch while looking Ryan right in the eye. "I've always wanted to try jacking off with another guy," he added.

In that moment, Ryan knew this wasn't any kind of trick to trap him. There wasn't a hint of mockery or amusement on Liam's face; Liam was being serious, displaying raw, unfiltered honesty in what he wanted. He could see it in Liam's eyes and realized he had nothing to lose.

"The truth is, Liam... yeah, it is," Ryan said, finding his footing. "I’m not shy about it. I love to masturbate. It’s a big part of my life. And I'd love to masturbate with you. So, if you were serious just now, we could actually do that."

​Liam didn’t hesitate. He simply nodded, his eyes locked on Ryan’s. "Sure, I'd be up for that," he smiled.

​Ryan stared at Liam for a brief moment, processing the reality of the situation, before turning toward the couch. Liam followed closely, settling onto the cushions right beside him.

Ryan wasn't sure if Liam's interest was geared toward simply watching porn together or focusing on the act of their mutual masturbation, so he asked. "Porn or no porn?" He was hoping for the latter, so he could openly watch Liam masturbating, and Liam watch him, but Liam chose the former. Ryan wasn't surprised by Liam's choice; for a straight guy crossing this line for the first time, a porn video offered a safe focal point, a mutual alibi while they stole glances at each other.

With the decision made, Ryan reached for his laptop on the adjacent fold-away table, flipped up the lid, and opened a browser. He would have preferred gay porn, but since he knew for sure Liam liked girls and wasn't sure if he was into guys, too, he pulled up some straight porn. As the two of them scanned the video thumbnails, Ryan asked, "Which one looks good to you?" Liam pointed one out, and Ryan clicked on it and clicked the play button.

As the porn filled the screen, despite their mutual desire, the initial awkwardness of the situation was undeniable. Someone had to break the ice. Knowing Liam likely wouldn't make the first move, Ryan took a breath, counted to three in his head, and undid his pants. He lifted his hips, pushing both his pants and underwear down in one fluid motion.

Liam’s eyes darted over briefly before snapping back to the screen. But as Ryan gripped himself and began a slow stroke, Liam’s gaze lingered longer the second time. A few moments later, Liam’s own hands moved to the button of his jeans. He undid it and lowered his zipper hesitantly, sliding his jeans down while keeping his underwear on, his eyes locked firmly on the video.

Ryan stole a glance at his neighbor's lap. Even beneath the fabric, the outline was impressive, the distinct shape of a heavy, semi-erect cock. Suddenly, Liam shifted, resting his hand directly over his crotch. Within moments, his hand slipped inside his underwear, slowly moving up and down inside it. After a quick, lingering look at Ryan's fully hardened length, Liam finally eased his underwear down beneath his balls.

Ryan's five-inch boner flexed in his fist, and a drop of pre-cum oozed from the tip as he laid eyes on Liam's cock, which stood fully erect. It was easily seven inches in length, thick and uncut, with a tamed black bush above it. He had a hefty pair of balls to match, which were shaven smooth.

Now totally exposed and aroused, Liam seemed to shed the last of his hesitation. He lowered his underwear the rest of the way and kicked his discarded clothes away from his ankles and began masturbating, his breathing deepening as he stroked himself. Every few seconds, his gaze would drift away from the screen, watching the way Ryan’s hand moved on his hard dick.

Ryan, meanwhile, found his attention split. He was watching the screen, but his real focus was on the sight of Liam - the way his fingers splayed around his thick cock, the way his hand moved rhythmically up and down his long length, the way his foreskin slid back and forth, exposing the wetness inside it. 

The intensity of it all was almost unbearable; Ryan wanted more. Driven by his desire, a sudden spike of boldness took over, and he shifted his weight, letting his knee press firmly against Liam's bare leg. Liam glanced down at the contact but didn't pull away.

Encouraged, Ryan pushed the boundary a little further. He rested his free hand on the cushion, sliding it closer until the side of his palm brushed against the bare skin of Liam’s leg. Liam’s eyes flickered downward, but he didn’t move. Taking the stillness as an invitation, Ryan slowly lifted his hand and pressed it flat against Liam’s inner thigh, his knuckles brushing the warm weight of Liam's scrotum.

Liam let out a soft, sharp gasp. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he forced his gaze back toward the screen, his chest rising and falling more rapidly now.

The lack of a rebuff was all the permission Ryan needed. He shifted his hand, cupping Liam's balls softly, and began a slow, deliberate massage. A low moan escaped Liam’s lips. His fingers slipped away from his own shaft, his hand falling limp against the couch cushions, leaving his cock sticking straight up in the air, completely unattended.

There was no doubt this was an open invitation, and Ryan wrapped his fingers around Liam’s steel-hard cock. Liam let out a long, breathy sigh that melted into quiet moans as Ryan masturbated him.

When the porn clip ended, Ryan had an idea. He let go of his own dick and used his free hand to open a blowjob compilation porno he had bookmarked.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Liam moaned when the compilation started playing.

"You like blowjob porn?" Ryan asked, squeezing Liam's cock a little tighter.

"Oh yeah!"

"Do you like getting them, too?" Ryan asked, stroking Liam a little faster.

"Who doesn't?" Liam laughed breathlessly, his hips giving a subtle, unconscious thrust against Ryan's hand.

Realizing his ultimate fantasy was quite possibly within arm's reach, Ryan decided to test the final boundary. He leaned forward, putting his face right next to Liam's cock, making his desire completely unmistakable.

Liam glanced down, catching on instantly to the silent request. He looked back at the screen, watching the onscreen performer, and blurted out, "Suck that cock!"

​Ryan knew Liam was talking to the woman in the porno, but the meaning was crystal clear - it was a green light, and Ryan didn't hesitate. He leaned over, parted his lips, and slid the head of Liam's cock into his mouth, groaning as he got his first taste of Liam's meat.

"Oh, fuck!" Liam gasped at the same time, his entire body going rigid as his fingers locked into the fabric of the couch cushions.

Ryan swiftly moved off the couch and onto his knees in front of Liam - he preferred to be on his knees when sucking cock, especially when it was one-sided like it was going to be with Liam. 

Liam let out a shaky, desperate breath as Ryan took him all the way into his mouth this time, the warm, intimate reality of the moment far exceeding anything Ryan had ever imagined when he first made that silly frame.

Ryan was completely lost in the sensation, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin of Liam’s cock, savoring the taste of him. Every time Ryan swirled his tongue or tightened his grip, Liam would let out a low, guttural sound, his hips occasionally twitching and lifting toward Ryan’s lips.

​"Yeah, suck it!" Liam rasped, while watching the woman on screen giving a blowjob, his voice thick with building pleasure. "Suck that dick!" His tone was appreciative, though, and Ryan knew Liam was really talking to him. But if he needed to pretend the woman on screen was blowing him instead of a guy, that was ok with Ryan.

Ryan could feel the heavy pulse in Liam’s cock that told him Liam was getting very close. The sheer intensity of the sounds Liam was making, combined with the heat of the moment, sent Ryan's own arousal surging completely out of control. He started pumping his own aching erection in a frantic, heavy rhythm that perfectly matched the pace of his mouth on Liam’s shaft.

​Liam's breathing turned into ragged gasps, and his back arched off the couch, his fingers digging deeper into the couch cushions. "I’m gonna…"

Knowing Liam was right on the edge, Ryan accelerated his pace on both of them, his mouth a hot, slick friction against Liam’s shaft while his own hand worked furiously on his own dick. He felt the sudden, explosive tension in Liam’s body as Liam finally spilled his seed, "Unghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he cried out, his hips bucking in time with his release.

At that exact same second, the overwhelming friction and the sound of Liam's release pushed Ryan straight over the edge. With a sharp, muffled cry around Liam's spurting cock, Ryan's body went rigid. He came powerfully, his semen spurting thick and heavy straight into his own clutching hand, spilling over his knuckles as his hips twitched in a shared, explosive climax.

Ryan stayed with Liam for a moment longer, catching every drop of his release, his throat working in a series of deep, rhythmic swallows until they were both completely spent, the sounds from the screen fading into background noise against the sudden intensity of the moment. 

Ryan slowly pulled back, the taste of his neighbor lingering on his tongue as Liam slowly let out a shuddering breath. Ryan sank back onto his heels, breathing heavily, looking down at his own messy hand before grabbing a few tissues from the adjacent table to wipe himself clean.

Liam's hands gradually loosened their white-knuckled grip on the couch cushions, his chest heaving, his face flushed a deep, satisfied pink. He looked down at Ryan, a look of pure, dazed contentment on his face. ​"That," he breathed, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face, "was definitely more fun than just jacking off together."

​Ryan laughed softly, tossing the crumpled tissues into a small bin. "Yeah," he agreed, climbing back up onto the couch cushions to sit right beside him.

They sat there in the heavy silence that followed, two neighbors separated only by a shared fence an hour ago, now completely rewired into something entirely new. The anticipated awkwardness never came. There was no sudden rush to pull away or patch up boundaries; instead, a comfortable, heavy warmth settled over the room, the framed joke on the bookshelf forgotten in favor of the much more interesting reality they had just created.

Thinking about all they had just done as he looked at Liam sitting there half-naked, and perfectly content, Ryan knew the polite, distant dynamic of their neighborly relationship was gone for good, replaced by an unspoken understanding of exactly what would happen the next time Liam accepted an invitation to drop by.

©2026 by Ryan Michaels

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Forbidden Desire Deep Dive

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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 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: Humiliation Games [Audio Story]

 

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BateBook Shorts - All Male Fiction: The Trick

By: sausagewithgirth & Ryan Michaels

 

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Jimmy’s teammates were tired of his cocky attitude. He acted as though the wins that got them to the meet were all due to him alone. So last night as he slept, his teammates used a stencil and permanent marker to play a trick on him. 

The trick, however, had a very different outcome than they had planned. His teammates had simply wanted to ridicule him in the showers and locker room for a while.

Jimmy woke up early the next morning, though, and went down to the pool to get in some laps. He knew the opposing team would be there getting in some practice before that day's meet, and cocky as he was, he wanted to do his laps in front of them.

Jimmy always did his laps in the nude (it was an all-male university) regardless of who else might be there (that cocky attitude of his again), and did not know his ass was sporting a new look, so he did nothing to try to hide it. 

Several members of the opposing team found it very interesting that Jimmy would be flashing a sign on his tight swimmer butt that invited men to use him like a whore. They figured that anybody advertising like that must want some immediate action.

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: Intimate Strangers

By: Ryan Michaels

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!