All Male Fiction: The Abduction (Part 2)

By: Rob & Ryan Michaels

Read Part 1

I came to my senses quite suddenly as I felt something cold brush against my neck. I blinked my eyes, trying to see. It dawned on me again that I was still blindfolded, but something felt different, something about my body. My throat was dry, my body ached, and I still couldn't move freely. My arms and legs were securely fastened, but not in the same position as before. Before! 'Before' suddenly came to my mind as I realized that it must be the next day.

I concentrated on feeling anything on me, but all I could feel were the ropes on my arms, the unmoving bonds on my feet, and something under me that I was now lying on. I tried to call out, seeing if anyone was within earshot. I managed a hoarse yell that hurt as it came out. "Ah, you're awake," came the same voice as the night before. "I hope that wasn't too much of a shock to waken you, but I didn't want to scare you."

I was already scared. Here I was, still in the captivity of this madman. What was next?

"I want you to know that I was able to get four more loads out of you before you passed out," he began to gloat. "At that point I decided to show some mercy and turn off the milking machine. I mean, you had no more cum stored up and, if I had left it running all night with your balls empty, well, the only thing that would have accomplished was causing irreparable damage to your penis. It would have been chewed raw and would no longer function. The doctors would have had no choice but to simply remove it. Oh, don't think I didn't consider doing that to you, I did, but like I said, I decided to show you some mercy, at least in that regard," he laughed evilly.

"Hlet mgh gho," I managed from behind the gag in my mouth.

"Let you go?" he mocked back at me. "Well, I thought about it last night after I got you in here, but I've decided that since you did so well, why not see how much fun we could have the entire weekend?"

"Gno! Gno!" I pleaded.

"I must, you see," he sank down to the bed and began to speak into my ear. "I was doing a favor for a friend, someone who wanted you to suffer for what you've done, but I don't think the one night of suffering you endured was anywhere near the embarrassment and suffering you have caused for her. No, the only way I can be sure you never treat any other girl in that way again, is by keeping you until Sunday."

All Male Fiction: I Spy (Part 1)

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

 

 

Eric slipped into Coach Anson's office at the back of the boys' high school locker room. Eric, who was five-nine, weighed one hundred and sixty-five pounds, with dark hair, and brown eyes, and who was muscular and fit and had a bubble butt was one of Southfield High's up-and-coming athletes. He had just turned eighteen and, like most guys his age, was horny all the time. Which is why he was in Coach Anson's office snooping around. He was looking for the key to the Coach's desk. Rumors abounded that the Coach kept porno magazines locked in the bottom drawer, and Eric desperately needed to get off right then and wanted to go into a stall and pump out a load of sperm while looking at porn.

Before he had managed to locate the key, though, Eric suddenly heard voices entering the locker room. It sounded like two voices - a man and a woman – and as the voices got closer, with no way to escape without being seen, Eric ducked inside a locker housed inside Coach Anson's office that held the Coach's clothes as well as some personal hygiene products on the top shelf.

Looking through the slats in the locker door, Eric recognized Mr. Diego, along with a sexy young brunette woman he hadn't ever seen before as they entered Coach Anson's office.

Mr. Diego was Eric's geometry teacher, but to everyone else, he was "Alex." Alex was in his mid-twenties and made all the girls at Southfield swoon. He was Hispanic and handsome, stood five foot eleven, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a muscular frame that rippled when he walked. The cut of his pants showed off every finely sculpted muscle of his ass, and his arms and chest popped out of his short-sleeved polo shirts.

As Alex and the young woman entered Coach Anson's office, Alex's hand was wrapped around the young woman's ass. They were laughing and hanging on each other. Then Alex spoke. "We'll have some privacy in here."

The young woman replied with a smile and her hand reached around Alex's sturdy torso and cupped his luscious ass firmly. Her hand then darted back to the front of Alex's pants and began unbuckling his belt. Eric watched as they began to undress, standing only ten feet away from his hideout in the locker.

Alex's pants dropped to the floor. He was not wearing any underwear, and his cock, which was fat and uncut, was semi-aroused already, jutting out slightly. She handled Alex's cock as he reached to unzip her skirt, and Alex's cock became harder and thicker as she played with it, and got rock hard in no time. Alex's cock wasn't only thick, it was also pretty long. It had to be at least eight inches.

Alex hiked up her skirt over her abdomen and turned her around and bent her over Coach Anson's desk. She was now facing away from the locker, but Alex blocked her view from Eric when he came up close behind her. His ass cheeks faced Eric; they were hairless and bronzed. They hung like cantaloupes, tight and bouncy at the same time.

The next thing Eric witnessed from his hiding spot was Alex entering the young woman from behind. Alex slipped inside skillfully and began to buck faster and faster, holding onto her shoulders for support. He then grabbed her hips and fucked her harder and harder.

Alex's bucking quickened and then he withdrew as he began to cum. Eric soon saw Alex's cum running down her leg. Alex stepped aside and trailed his finger through the little rivers of cum, drawing his finger upwards, and then inserted his cum-coated finger into her mouth. He smiled and whispered, "Just want to leave you something to remember me by."

With that, Alex and the young woman quickly dressed and moved towards the door of Coach Anson's office. They were both stunned when they realized Coach Anson had been standing there quietly for several minutes, observing their fuck session. Eric had been so involved in watching Alex and the woman fucking that he hadn't heard or noticed the Coach come up to the door, either.

Alex, the woman, and Eric all stood silently looking at the coach, wondering what was going to happen next as he eyed both of them.

After an awkward pause, Alex spoke first. "Hey, Coach, didn't see you standing there."

Coach Anson motioned for the young woman to leave, and she scrambled through the door, but his arm moved across the doorframe and blocked Alex's path when he moved to follow her out.

Coach Anson was in his mid-thirties, with dark blond hair and brown eyes, stood five-ten, and weighed about one hundred and ninety pounds. He was fit and built; his hairy muscular forearms stretching the arms of his light-colored t-shirt, his bulging pecs straining the thin t-shirt across his chest. Coach Anson's ass was a muscular silhouette filling out his navy track pants. He was pumped like he'd just completed a strenuous workout.

Coach Anson retorted, "That's because you were too busy banging that chick. How many times do I have to come in here to find you slamming your meat into one of the substitute teachers?"

"Just trying to make her feel welcome," Alex joked trying to break the tension, moving backward as Coach Anson stepped forward.

Coach Anson followed as Alex backed toward his desk and spoke sternly, "I already caught you in here once this week, and once a couple of weeks ago." He then asked, "What did I say, Diego?" as the back of Alex's legs bumped into Coach Anson's desk.

Alex thought for a moment, his face showing a thought crossing his mind. He didn't say a word.

Coach Anson followed up. "I said, I would teach you to keep your dick in your pants, and I guess that's what it's come down to."

Eric watched in awe as Coach Anson swiftly grabbed Alex's left hand and twisted it behind Alex's muscled back. Alex tried to squirm away but was trapped. Coach Anson wrenched Alex's hand tighter against his back until Eric could see the pain visible on his face.

Alex winced and breathed in quickly, whispering, "What do you want, Coach?"

Coach Anson kept Alex's left hand pinned while his free hand reached around Alex's waist and undid Alex's belt. With one swift move, Alex's pants fell to the ground again, exposing his soft cock and naked ass.

All Male Fiction: A Couple of Amateurs

By: Tommyhawk1

 

 

 

The room was pitch black except for a square of white light. The window wasn't frosted, just a combination of outside lighting, indoor darkness, and glazing produced that uniform, white, unrevealing light. It formed a perfect square, clean, unbroken.

An oval form disrupted the whiteness, someone's head was on the other side, perched atop a hint of neck, and then, there were two such ovals. Shadows danced along the floor of the square, not as delineated as the heads, they made triangles that overlapped and broke each other... hands and arms were working at the bottom of the sash. The heads bent together in consultation to the tune of scratching metal and fracturing wood.

"Come on, man, hit it good!" one voice hissed.

"I'm hitting it. The motherfucker's not turning loose!"

"Go on and hit it. Nobody's home."

"I know that!"

"So hit the mother!"

Crunch!

"Yeah, that's moving it. Hit it again!"

"You hit it. My hand's sore!"

"Pussy! Fine, move over."

Thud! "Yeowch!"

"Now who's the pussy… pussy!"

"Shut the fuck up! Help me with this."

Crunch-crack-crack-ka-thoomp, and then a vibrating tone of an aluminum rod humming itself into silence.

"Yeah! That got it."

"Come on, open the mother up!"

Scritch-scritch-scritch-whoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo! The window rose up, surrendering its duty to defend the home, but not quietly.

"Come on, get in."

"So give me a hand up!"

"Here!"

"Uh-uh-hoo-HOOPH!" And now the whiteness was blackened entirely, the body slithering inside like some arthritic snake, caught halfway, teetered, and then fell inside, landing on the carpeting which muffled the sound that should have been a resounding thud.

"Damn, dude, you didn't have to shove me in!"

"Shut up and give me a hand in."

"So give me your hand," the guy inside offered.

A sliding-scraping sound, and they were both inside, and the white light was back now, bearing a black line near the top where the window had been opened completely up.

"Where the fuck's the light switch?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"Well, find it."

"You find it."

"Let's both find it."

A flick of a switch being thrown and the room was filled with light. Now you could see that the room was well-furnished, a delicate green on the walls, the bedroom furnishings were of dark, rich maple wood, the sheets on the bed were of soft, white silk, not the more common cotton, there was a painting on the wall of a green-faced man, bearing the unmistakable trademark of being an original work of art... and the more common things, a simple alarm clock, some books and an ashtray on the dresser.

The two intruders were revealed as being young, both about eighteen. They were alike in their hairstyle, cut short on the sides and longer on the top. Both were on the thin side of muscular. Both wore blue jeans and t-shirts, one guy's was green, the other guy's was pale blue.

They were looking at each other.

"Hey, man, you found it!" the one in the green shirt said, before he noticed that neither were standing anywhere near to a light switch.

Kli-klick! The unmistakable, unforgettable sound of a gun being cocked filled the air.

They turned and looked to see there was a third man in the room.

Older, brown-haired, heavily muscled, and holding a shiny, silver-plated rifle with the muzzle aimed in their direction, along with a scowl of anger on his face, bordering on fury. You'd think the fact that there were two of them and only one of him would have made him less threatening, but that logic goes out the window when the 'one' is an armed, angry man with a gun pointing in your direction.

"Shit!" said green shirt.

That seemed to sum it up for both of them; they raised their hands.

"I thought this house was empty," blue shirt said sheepishly.

"Yeah, my sister said they were in Europe," green shirt said in a whisper. "She works here as a nanny."

The scowl barely moved enough to let the words part the armed man's lips. "You two never heard of a house sitter before?"

"Oh," the two boys said in unison.

"Yeah," the man sneered. "God, but you're a pair of dumb shits. Your sister told you this house was empty, huh?"

"Uh, she just told me that she had the week off because the owners were away in Europe," green shirt babbled. "She didn't know Kyle and me were going to break in here, though, honest!"

"God, Jake, tell him my name, why don't you?" blue shirt said in exasperation, not realizing in his fear that he had just done the same thing.

"Kyle and Jake," the man nodded. "Want to give me your home addresses while you're at it, you couple of damned amateurs?"

"No, sir," both boys chimed.

"Please don't call the cops on us! We'll pay for the window; we just broke the frame on it," Kyle offered. "Bent it, actually. You can nail it back up and it'll be good as new, honest."

"I'm not going to call the cops." But the steely look in his eyes told them he wasn't letting them go, either.

"Oh, God!" Kyle breathed.

"Shut up!" Jake hissed at him.

"We are screwed! We are both so totally screwed!" Kyle moaned. "He's going to kill us and then put a pistol in our hands and say it was self-defense!"

"Shut up!"

"We are so totally screwed!" Kyle groaned.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Ah, fuck you!" Kyle turned instant rage onto his partner. "This was your idea. I just went along with it. I'll tell that to the cops and make a deal."

"He's not going to call the cops, remember?" Jake reminded him, snarling the words out.

"Oh, God!" Kyle was so pale, he looked like he was about to faint.

Jake looked at the gun again. "Man, please, just let us go," he said softly. "You don't want to kill us."

"Well, maybe I won't kill you," the man conceded.

Kyle breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I can't just let you two go, now can I?"

"Oh, god, we're so screwed!" Kyle said again. "We are both totally fucked."

"That's the idea," the man said.

"What's the idea?" Jake asked.

"Both of you totally fucked." The man's cock began to unfurl and snake down the leg of his pants.

Jake's eyes widened as he saw this. "No way," he breathed.

"Oh, God!" Kyle groaned. "He's going to rape us both, tie us up and fuck us. What are we going to do?"

"I'm not going to fuck you," the man clarified. "You are."

"Huh?"

"You two are going to fuck each other," the man said. "Put on a good show, and earn your freedom."

All Male Fiction: Pleasing the Boss

By: Unknown Author

I work for the federal government. My job isn't all that exciting, but it pays well and has a great benefits package. Good money aside, I still found myself needing to apply for a company loan, to replace my car, which was on its last legs.

Mr. Harlow, my boss, came up to my desk one day and said he needed to talk to me about my loan application. He instructed me to come with him and led me to one of the boardrooms.

"Well, Peter," he started out, as he motioned for me to take a seat, and took a seat himself. "As you know, when an employee applies for a company loan, we still do a credit check."

I didn't know that. I figured that since the company paid us, if an employee applied for a loan, and didn't make payments, they would just take it off your paycheck. Even so, I just nodded.

"We are like any bank that loans money," he continued. "Before we hand out large sums of cash, we check out the applicant thoroughly."

"Ok," I said. My credit was good, I wasn't worried.

"After doing a check on you, I understand that besides working for the federal government, you also have another source of income."

In checking me out, he had discovered my secret. You see, I make extra money doing amateur gay porn. I don't make much from it, but it gives me a little extra spending money. Being that I worked for the government, they had easy access to any income information on me, something I never thought about when applying for my loan. As I said, I never even thought that they would check me out before granting my loan. I just figured the paperwork was a formality.

"Huh?" was my unplanned reaction to his statement.

"Peter, I know you do porn videos."

Doing amateur gay porn was not something I advertised to my family, friends, or co-workers, but he knew, so there was no sense in even trying to deny it. "So what," I blustered. "It's not against the law. What does that have to do with my loan application? If you checked me out, you must know I don't make much money from that, and I still need the loan."

"Think about it, Peter. If I sign off on your loan application, when the paperwork goes upstairs to the big wigs for final approval, and they see what you do, you'll be out of here in a week."

"You can't fire me for making porn videos; it's totally legal and has no bearing on my job here!" I said almost shouting.

"It won't be for making pornography. The men upstairs are from a different generation Peter. They would probably understand if it was straight porn. Maybe. But this type of porn, no they won't agree with that, and won't want you here."

"Is that a threat?" I shouted. "You do that, and I'll sue you for discrimination based on sexual orientation!" I said standing and slamming my fist on the table. I was pissed!

"Calm down Peter. They won't fire you for being gay or making gay porn. They'll say you are being let go for some other reason. I don't agree with any of that, but you'll be gone just the same."

I sat back in the chair and looked across the table at him. "So then, you called me in here to tell me that I'm not getting the loan, or to tell me I'm fired?"

"No, I didn't say that."

"Well, that's what it sounds like to me. I mean, from what you are saying if you approve my loan, upper management will then have to sign off, read about my other source of income, and, according to you, fire me. And, if you don't sign off on it, they won't find out, I'll get to keep my job, but won't get the loan. So I lose either way."

"No, I think there is a way we can get around this so they won't find out, you'll be able to keep your job, and still get your loan."

"How?" I asked.

"Well, there are some things that can be done to make the info about your other job disappear before they receive the paperwork. You're a good worker, Peter. I don't want to see you lose your job, and I want to help you get the loan you need, but you'll need to help me with some things to make sure the paperwork on your other career disappears."

"I'm just an employee, not management. What can I do?"

He smiled. "I'm a simple man. How about letting me give you a good fuck, like those guys do in your videos?"

I'm sure my mouth must of fell open when he said that. In fact, I know it did.

"What?" I blurted. "Do you honestly think that I would agree to have sex with my boss, all in order to get a loan?" I spat.

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "You do porn, Peter. You have sex with strangers for money all the time."

"Yes, for money, and that's just a job. There's a difference," I said and then thought: And those guys are all young and hot, not middle-aged slugs like you.

"Not really. You'll get your loan if you give me what I want, so essentially you will be getting paid for it."

He wasn't all that much to look at - straight hair cut conservatively short, grey eyes, and a round face that looked every one of his fifty-something years. He was built okay, but nothing spectacular.

He stood up from his chair, smiling at me, and pulled down his zipper. He dug inside the fly of his suit pants and pulled out his cock! I couldn't believe what he was doing, and so casually! It was already almost fully hard, and it was a fairly big one and fat. I was impressed.

"Come on, Peter. You do this type of thing all the time with strangers. Is it really too much to ask in order for you to get your loan approved, and, keep your secret?"

He really was something, a long, sad sort of face, the eyes of a cow. But I really needed that loan. Once my car went off to the big junkyard in the sky I would be fucked without a vehicle, so was getting fucked by my boss better than being without a new car, and being fucked anyway?

"Well, Peter?" he said wagging his dick at me. "How badly do you want that loan?"

All Male Fiction: The Abduction (Part 1)

By: Rob

I don't really remember how I got here. I know that I was at a party with a few friends. I know that I probably had too much to drink, but that's all I remember of the night before.

I went to move, feeling as if I was floating on air, but something kept me from going anywhere.

I tried to open my eyes, but everything was dark, black almost.

I went to say something, I don't know, anything, but I couldn't even do that. Something was keeping me from talking. Something was in my mouth and I couldn't spit it out.

I started to force myself up from my position, but I got nothing. Frustration led to yelling, but it did me no good.

"Ah, you're awake," were the first words I heard.

"hleht he gho," I managed from my gag.

"Oh, no," he replied, "I can't do that until I'm done with you."

"hhat doh hu hant," I asked.

I felt him get closer to me, stroking my back with his hands and leaning closer to my ear.

"I want you to relax and enjoy every moment of this adventure we're going to share together," he replied. He ran his hands all over my body.

It was only then, as his hands were touching my skin, that it dawned on me that I was bare-assed naked, and that the floating sensation was caused by being suspended in the air by a series of ropes and leather braces!

With some conscious thought, I was able to "feel" my position. I was suspended in the air, leaning forward, and held spread-eagle. I could feel the leather on my skin and smell it in the air. I could feel the cold air against my cock and balls as much as the air on my back. I began to wonder my lot in this situation. Was my unseen tormentor going to maim me or kill me? Was I ever going to get free from this place… wherever I was? I think my nervousness showed on my face because he began to talk again.

"What's wrong, Robert?" he asked. "Are you afraid of what I'm going to do? Or are you afraid of how much you want me to do it?"

His questions cut through me as did the realization that he knew my name, but I didn't recognize his voice at all.

"I thought it would be nice to see how you respond to some intimate touching," he said, waking me from my own thoughts. "But before we get started, I want you to know why you're here. I know about your little encounter with one of the sorority girls. I know that you didn't do anything that any drunk and horny guy wouldn't do, but, I do know that your actions have terribly upset one young lady that I admire."

If he meant that girl Shannon I fucked, sure I encouraged her to drink, to get her a bit drunk in order to increase my chances, but I didn't force her to drink or force her to have sex. I was drunk, so was she, she said yes. What's the problem? And I asked him just that.

"The problem is I know for a fact that Shannon has never been drunk before that night, and it was you who got her that way," he said. "She was so embarrassed when she realized what had happened, that you had gotten her drunk and then not only took advantage and had sex with her, but you had sex with her on the floor of the frat house in front of everyone! She felt totally humiliated." He put his hand on my chest and trailed circles around my nipples. "And I'm going to make sure you NEVER do something like that to a girl again."

I began to squirm in my restrained position and screamed into the gag, "Hlet mgh gho!"

All Male Fiction: Bomb Threat

By: Tommyhawk1

 

 

 

I was standing by Tom when the store's phone rang just after closing. He gave a sigh, looked at me, and said, "Guess I'd better take that." One of the problems of being the store manager was in having to go above and beyond the call of duty... and of the time clock.

He took the steps into the little cubby which was the store customer service area. As he did, I watched the butt in those tight pants he had on. God, what a gorgeous ass this guy had on him! I wanted to peel him out of those pants like peeling a grape, drop down and dive into those buns with my face, probing into his deep little crevice with my tongue!

The best way to describe Tom would be "delicious." An odd adjective when applied to a person, but he has this thin-stranded shock of black hair on his head, a square face, more cute than handsome, and a body that wasn't over-muscled but nicely defined. Sort of a marvelous compact package of masculinity you wanted to just eat up. Like I said, delicious!

"Carver's Grocers," Tom answered the phone.

"Hey don't block the time clock!" Gregg said to me.

"Sorry!" I said, stepping to one side. Gregg was a big black dude. He'd never tried to intimidate me per se, but he was pretty intimidating just the same without threats. When you're big, strong, muscled, and tough-looking like Gregg, you intimidate with a single look!

"Got to get out of here. Got a pretty young thing waiting for me to come rock her world," Gregg bragged as he punched his time card.

"You always have a cute young thing waiting for you," Marvin said right behind him.

"More than you'll ever get," Gregg agreed. "What are your plans for the night?"

"Given it's now ten o'clock at night, I'm ready for bed. Some of us have to work for a living." Marvin punched his own time card.

Marvin was an eighteen-year-old fresh-faced, blond-haired, sturdy hunk, who was going to be starting college next week. Where Tom was "delicious," Marvin was more like "Yummy!"

Gregg ran the checkout while Marvin was the bagger. Me, I was the stock boy, and Marvin and Tom helped me out from time to time. That was how our little small-town store held together. We stayed open until ten, but customers were thin after about eight o'clock.

"I'm out of here," Gregg declared.

"Wait!" Tom said to him and us.

"Wait for what?" Gregg asked, sounding disgusted at the delay.

Tom was still on the phone. "Yes, there's only the four of us in the store," he said, which was followed by a slight pause, and then he said, "I've already locked the front door."

"What is this?" Marvin asked, beating me to the punch by a half-second.

"I've already locked the safe; it won't open again until eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I've got what's in the register, maybe a hundred dollars."

"Tom?" I said questioningly.

Tom looked at us and the look in those eyes was haunted. "What do you want us to do now?" he asked. "No, I haven't called the police… Okay, I won't let anyone leave. Can I tell them why?"

Tom apparently got the go-ahead from the phone, for he looked at us and said, "Caller on the phone says he's got a bomb in the store… And he's watching us all right now... We make one move he doesn't want and he'll trigger the bomb," with pauses in his sentences, as the caller was telling him what to say.

"Shit!" Gregg exclaimed, but it was more like a prayer than a curse.

"Oh, man, oh, man!" Marvin moaned.

"Tom?" I said again. "Are you sure he's watching us?" I looked around. A desk calendar was on Tom's desk, and I picked it up. "Ask him what I'm holding in my hand," I said. "If he can't tell us, he's bluffing. And if he's bluffing about seeing us, he's probably bluffing about the bomb, too."

Tom thought about it, then nodded. "Prove you're watching us. What does Felix have in his hand right now?" he said to the caller.

I held it up high enough to be seen from outside, or any camera.

That haunted look returned as Tom said, "He's watching us," and nodded to me soberly.

"Shit!" Gregg said again.

"Oh, man, oh man, oh man, oh man!" Marvin groaned.

"Look, let the others go," Tom offered. "I'll stay here and unlock the safe for you in the morning and hand over the entire amount, nearly a thousand dollars."

I looked at Tom with new eyes. He was ready to play hostage to save us! It didn't work, but I loved him more for it anyway.

"Okay, what do you want from us, then?" Tom went on, desperately. "We don't have a lot of money. This is a small town and we make deposits every afternoon. A thousand is all we have, plus what's in the register."

He listened to the man on the phone in silence for some time. "I can't do that!" he said, scandalized. Pause. "Come on, we're not like that. These are my employees and my friends. You can't ask me to..."

Another long silence. "Is that all you want of us? Not the money? Just that?"

"Just what?" Gregg demanded.

"Oh man, oh man, oh man!" Marvin went on. I would have been annoyed with Marvin if I hadn't been so damned scared myself. If he needed to say "Oh, man!" over and over in lieu of screaming, I could deal with it.

"What does he want?" I asked.

"Guys," Tom said to us, and paused, gulped hard, and then continued, "He wants us to put on a show for him."

"What kind of show?" Gregg asked.

"He wants us to... to… do it... with each other."

"Do what?" Marvin asked. 

 

Gregg got it first. "He wants us to screw each other?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah, that's about it. Only he gets to pick who does what, and with whom."

"I'm not doing that!" Gregg proclaimed.

"Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man!"

"Will you cut that shit out!" Gregg snarled.

"What all is he expecting us to do?" I asked.

Tom relayed the question into the phone and then listened, his eyes growing wider. "Felix, he wants us all to… fuck you."

"Me?" I yelped.

All Male Fiction: The Butthole Patrol

By: Ben G.

 

 

My buddies Mac and Jerry got started on this little kick as a lark one Saturday night after we'd had a few beers. We were feeling pretty raunchy, so when the driver of a little red sports car cut us off on the highway just out of town, we punched the pedal to the metal and took off after him, figuring on passing out a little vigilante justice on lousy drivers.

We chased the fucker for about ten miles before we finally cut him off on a curve and forced him into a freshly plowed field. Jerry cut off the engine and the three of us jumped out of the pickup and ambled over to the car. The driver was sitting behind the wheel, cussing a blue streak when we got there, glowering at us like he'd just as soon shoot us as look at us.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he shrieked, pounding on the steering wheel in a fury. "You could've killed me!"

"Well," Jerry drawled, leaning on the top of the car, "me and my buddies was thinking pretty much the same thing when you cut us off back there on the highway. We don't like havin' to pick our teeth out of the dashboard any better'n you do."

"When I get back to town, I'm going to have you goddamned pricks arrested!" the guy blustered, the veins in his forehead swelling up like little cables. "I don't need some ignorant rednecks telling me how to drive my car!"

"I figure you need somebody to teach you some manners," I said, opening the guy's door and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you just step out here and we'll continue this conversation."

"Fuck you!" he snapped.

I tightened my grip on him and jerked him out of the car. He came up to about my shoulder and he was a cute little piece, even if he was steaming mad. He was wearing stylish slacks that showed off his narrow waist and bubble butt, and a pullover shirt that clung to his tight torso like wet paint. The little fucker hauled off and pasted me one in the gut while I was looking him over. I just grunted and shook him 'till his teeth rattled.

"This one really needs to be taken down a peg or two," Mac opined, shaking his head and spitting at the dude's feet. "When I cut up like this as a kid, I always got my ass whipped by my old man."

"Not a bad idea," Jerry seconded. "From what I can see, there's a pretty nice target for us to aim at." He reached out and grabbed a handful of the dude's tight ass, making him squirm in my grip. "Real nice."

"Let's take him over there in the woods and teach him a little lesson," Mac said. "Come on, boys. Let's go."

All Male Fiction: An Unwilling Cocksucker (Part 1)

"Jacked"

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

 

 

 

It was around midnight when Ryan finally left the office to head home. He was up for a big promotion, one that hinged on how well his presentation went the next day, which was what had kept him there so late. Tired, he was eager to get home to his wife and to get some long-overdue rest.

As he stood fumbling with his keys in the underground parking garage of his office complex, he didn't even notice anyone coming up behind him until he heard someone say, "Hey you!"

Turning around, he was faced with three teenage boys of about eighteen, one of them holding a gun, which was pointed right at him.

"Give us all your money!" the one holding the gun demanded.

There were security cameras, but the garage was only used for the office complex, and there was no security on duty at that time of night. So, with a gun in his face and no chance of intervention, Ryan complied and handed over his wallet.

"Now your cell phone!" he ordered.

Ryan complied again.

"Now hand over the keys!" he demanded, putting his hand out.

Giving over his cell phone and wallet was one thing, he only had about thirty dollars in his wallet, and credit cards could be replaced, so could his cell phone, but his car? He'd just bought it, his very first new car. He was still paying for it.

Ryan looked the three boys over. Despite being teenagers, all three had fairly muscular builds. The twenty-eight-year-old was in good shape himself, hitting the gym several times a week, and thought that he could distract them and take control of the situation.

"Here, take them," Ryan said and extended his hand to offer up his keys. When the guy with the gun went to take them, Ryan let them drop to the ground.

"Pick them up!" the thug demanded.

Ryan bent down to pick them up, and, as he began to straighten back up, he grabbed for the gun. A struggle ensued and then Ryan felt the gun crack him in the head, causing him to fall to his knees, stunned and gasping for air.

Disoriented and with his head hung, he felt a hand latch firmly onto his arm and another grabbing a fistful of his hair, pulling his head up. The one with the gun was standing in front of him, still pointing the deadly weapon at him. He smirked at Ryan, and Ryan felt that he was about to die.

"Please, just take my car and let me go!" he pleaded. "I won't tell anyone about this, I promise!"

The gunman smiled at him. "No, I think you still have more to give us," he said lowering the gun.

Ryan didn't understand. They had his money, his cell phone, and his car, he had nothing else to give them. However, just seconds later he fully understood what else they wanted as he watched in horror as the teen thug with the gun unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.

Bisexual True Experience: If the Van's a Rockin'...

By: Unknown Author

 

 

 

I found out that I was more or less bisexual some time ago, when my friend Steve and I went to the beach for the weekend. I had a very well equipped van that had lots of home comforts in the back. We would drive to the beach most Saturday mornings and spend the weekend chasing pussy and having fun. We'd sleep in the van, clothing was our swim trunks, and food was basically beer.

Although we always tried to find some girls who were willing to give it up every weekend that we were there, most weekends we didn't get lucky. Of course, that isn't to say that we never did, just not every single weekend. There were a few times that Steve and I managed to both pick up girls and we fucked in the back of the van, side by side. The last time either of us had gotten lucky, at the beach or otherwise, was over a month ago. That was a particularly long dry spell for both of us!

On this particular weekend, while we were sitting on the sand scoping out girls, this really hot girl, about twenty-four years old, walked up to us and said hi. After we returned her greeting, she pointed at the van and asked if it belonged to one of us. I told her it was mine, and then she leaned in and asked in a whisper if I had any beer in the van.

Before I could answer, Steve spoke up and said, "Yeah, we got beer, you want some?" She said she'd love one… or two… or three, so Steve and I stood and all three of us headed to the van.

Once in the van, Steve handed out a round of beer, and we sat and talked as we worked on our drinks. It was just small talk, but soon the conversation took a turn.

"So, do you guys have girlfriends?"

We both shook our heads.

"Oh, well, then you must bring girls in your van and make out with them I bet. You do don't you?" she asked grinning at us.

We both nodded.

"So… would you two like to make out, now?"

"Fuck Yes!" Steve said excitedly and I nodded my head with the same excitement. As I said, Steve and I had fucked girls together in the van before, but we had never taken turns fucking one girl, never had a threesome together.

"Good, so do I," she said.

Steve lurched forward to kiss her, but she put her hand out. "Not so fast" she said, "First take your shorts off, both of you."

Fuck, Steve and I had been naked together in the van before and had even seen each other with boners, fucking, so taking off our shorts while we were side by side was no big deal for either of us. So right away Steve and I stood as much as we could in the back of the van and shed our trunks.

She just sat there looking at our dicks, smiling, but made no attempt to reach out and play with them or suck them.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Steve asked, "You gonna suck and fuck us or not?"

"Oh don't worry, I'm gonna fuck you guys, but you gotta do something for me first."

"What?" Steve asked.

"I really get off on seeing two guys get it on with each other before I fuck."

Steve all but came un-glued and practically shouted, "What do you think we are, queers or something?"

She laughed and said, "I really don't care if you are or not, but I want to see you two getting into some action with each other, then, I promise I'll fuck you both."

"You mean you want us to butt-fuck each other?" I asked, not believing what she was saying.

"No, well, yes, but I don't think I would be able to get you guys to do that, but I at least want to see you two play with each other's dicks."

Steve started a rant about not being a fag and how there was no way in hell he was going to play with another dude's dick. But, as he was ranting, I was thinking, What the fuck, it's just a hard dick like my own and if it will get me some pussy, why not?

All Male Fiction: The Wrestler

By: MrCreamJeans & Ryan Michaels

 

Rich was at that age. His biological clock had reached the time in a guy's life when his cock stands to attention at the least provocation. He had never paid much attention to his cock before, except to notice in the school locker room that the other guys had all sprouted hair long before he finally did. His health class textbooks called him a "late bloomer" and tried to reassure him on things about which no boy his age is ever sure.

But one thing he was sure of, his cock had a mind of its own when it came to getting hard. All his life he had dressed UP, that is, he wore his cock pointing up inside his briefs. It never bothered him before, but now, with his prick's newfound sensitivity, it was a cause of some real problems. It was a vicious cycle - His cock would get hard, swelling his fly and poking against his underwear, then as it would (finally!) go soft, its extra weight would cause it to fall off to one side as he walked. It would get caught in his shorts, and he would reach down and give it the quick tug it needed to bring it upright.

But even that little extra stimulation would make it get hard again. As a result, he spent a lot of time adjusting his crotch and walking around school with a tent in his pants. And what a tent! His hard-on was exceptionally large for a guy his age, and made quite a bulge.

His buddies, most of who had already outgrown this stage, took the opportunity to poke fun at Rich quite frequently. They eventually came to know that even if Rich didn't have a boner, if they started talking to him about it, he would soon get one. Then they could laugh and point at the embarrassed Rich as he tried (usually in vain) to conceal his big, throbbing hard-on from their gaze. Of course, some of them would occasionally "lose control" and get hard, too, despite themselves. They were usually the ones making the most noise about Rich. Only one, Johnny, was ever caught, much to Rich's relief at the time.

But there didn't seem to be any long-term relief in sight for Rich. Part of the problem was his parents - strict religious types who warned him about the dangers of "touching yourself down there," and who forced him to sleep with his bedroom door open. Frightened by their tales of what happened to wicked boys, Rich had never jacked off, and his only relief was through wet dreams. Rich loved the feeling of waking up with his hips grinding into the bed and feeling his hot semen running and gushing into his briefs. He would always clean up very thoroughly afterward and hope his mom didn't spot the stains on his briefs. However, he always relished the relief he felt afterward, even if he wasn't fully sure why.

Rich had joined the wrestling team before this problem started. Several of the guys on the team were now his chief tormentors, and among them was Johnny.

Johnny wasn't particularly large or strong, but he was very good-looking and was known for his pranks and his way with the girls. It was Johnny who once announced to the other team members in the locker room that Rich had worn his jock all day in an attempt to restrain his boner. (Johnny had also done that but would never admit it, of course.) It was the last time Rich would try that.

And on this day, it was Johnny that the coach picked to wrestle against Rich in practice. The other boys on the team were paired off and the coach signaled them to take their positions. Rich went down on all fours at once, tacitly recognizing Johnny's dominant role, knowing it would end up this way even if he protested.

Johnny reached around Rich's waist and asked him, in a mocking tone, "You gonna pop a rod while we're wrestling, Richie?"

Rich's only response was, "Shut up," but just the question began his heart thumping. A tremor of near panic swept through him - wrestling class was the one place he had never gotten hard. Now that the thought had been planted, would he be able to restrain himself? He winced as, seconds before the coach blew his whistle for them to begin wrestling, his cock began to tingle. No, not NOW! he thought. He knew his wrestling tights would conceal nothing if he lost control.

"Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeee," the coach's whistle blew.

Before Rich knew what hit him, Johnny had flipped him over on his back. But rather than trying to pin his shoulders, which he should have been doing, Johnny had one leg planted between Rich's legs with his thigh pressing right into his dick.

"Ummmph," Rich grunted as he wriggled out of the ineffective hold. It may have been ineffective as a wrestling hold, but it was having another kind of effect that Rich definitely wanted to avoid. Seconds later, however, Johnny had him in another hold, this one a bit trickier to get out of, and one which allowed Johnny to grab Rich's balls from behind. Rich realized that Johnny was being very careful not to hurt him, and also suddenly realized that his cock was undeniably growing hard in his jock!

Rich quickly broke free and managed to flip Johnny over and loop one arm behind Johnny's knee. The position had Rich laying with his pelvis on the mat, and as Johnny struggled, the shifting weight of Rich's body massaged his rapidly stiffening prick into the mat. Johnny broke free, and during the ensuing struggles, he managed to plant a hand firmly in Rich's crotch. His hard-on had been discovered!

Both boys froze. Rich looked into Johnny's face and saw a smirk of recognition. Johnny wrapped his hand around Rich's boner and gave it a squeeze. Rich's heart sank, expecting his partner to stand up and announce his condition. Instead, Johnny went back to wrestling. Rich, not knowing what to expect anymore, followed suit.

Johnny's strategy soon became clear, however. He was rubbing Rich's cock at every opportunity. His holds always seemed to include some sort of pressure against the trapped, throbbing boner Rich so fervently wished would subside.

But soon, Rich was wishing for even more self-control as a certain tingle warned him of something potentially more embarrassing than just getting a hard-on. That feeling he got when he was lucky enough to wake up from a wet dream just before he began to shoot, that feeling of his balls contracting, his prick jumping, the tightness in his lower abdomen, all that was starting to happen.

Now Rich was wrestling with a new strategy, to keep his cock out of the reach of Johnny. He flipped over on his stomach but immediately regretted the move. Johnny pounced on him, looping one arm under his, and the other in between his legs. Rich expected to be flipped over from this hold, but instead, Johnny was holding him on his stomach and grabbing his balls.

Rich was in a panic. He didn't want to have an accident right there on the mat, but his ability to hold back his semen was weakening. He suddenly remembered that his last wet dream had been several weeks ago.

He managed to grunt through clenched teeth, "Cut it out!"

Johnny paid no attention. Rich held himself stock-still, realizing that it would only take one move to trigger the explosion waiting to take place in his balls.

Just then, the coach blew his whistle, yelled, "Hit the showers!" and walked out of the gym.

Rich breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Johnny remove his hand and start to rise. His first priority was to get the pressure off his bucking hard-on. He tentatively lifted his body onto all fours, as in the original wrestling position. He was keenly aware of the feeling of his jock pouch straining to hold back his throbbing hard-on. While he debated with himself about standing up with a terribly obvious lump in his wrestling tights, suddenly Johnny was back on top of him, assuming the referee's wrestling position! But there was a difference. The arm wrapped around Rich's waist reached all the way around to his cock!

Johnny stroked the boner a couple of times and breathed in Rich's ear, "Ready to go again, Richie?" Then he laughed and stood up.

For Rich, it was all over. When Johnny stroked his cock, the first squirt of sperm came shooting out of his cockhead, right into his jock and tight wrestling gear. Unable to restrain himself, he emitted soft sobbing noises as his overheated rod released huge globs of jism. The hot white goo was shooting out in such copious amounts that it was soaking through the pouch of Rich's jock, through the spandex of his wrestling tights, and was dripping down onto the mat, making a milky puddle.

Johnny watched in amazement. He shouted, "Hey guys! Check this out! Rich is creaming in his gear!"

Soon he was surrounded by the whole team. They taunted Rich as they watched him, down on all fours, with cum dripping on the mat underneath him.

All Male Fiction: The Executive

By: MrCreamJeans

 

 

 

>knock knock<

"Mr. Smith?"

The vice-president looked up from his desk to see Jimmy from the mail room. Jimmy was a college student working part-time to help pay his tuition. "Jimmy. You're working late," Kip said. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was piling the inter-office mail on the cart when one of the envelopes fell open and everything spilled out. Your expense report and receipts were in there." He held up a disorganized pile of papers.

Kip stood up with a slight look of anxiety and walked over to where Jimmy stood. "Oh, don't worry about it, Jimmy. Shit happens," he said as he reached for the papers.

Jimmy backed away holding the papers out of Kip's reach. "The thing is, Mr. Smith, one of the receipts was kind of interesting. You went to Orlando, and that's where I'm from. I couldn't help but see that you expensed a trip to Kitty's Kavern."

"So?" Kip asked, his unease becoming more apparent.

"Well, like I said, I'm from Orlando, and I know what goes on at Kitty's Kavern. That's a lap dance club, isn't it?"

Kip was dumbfounded and unable to speak. Jimmy closed the office door.

"I can't imagine what Mr. Thompson would think if he knew you were billing the company for your lap dances," Jimmy said as he circled around to the back of Kip's desk. He made himself at home in Kip's chair.

Kip's shoulders sagged. He could tell this would not be easy.

"So, what went on at the Kavern? Was Crystal working? Man, she sure knows how to make a guy blow his load. Did you cream in your pants there... Kip?"

Jimmy put particular emphasis on using Mr. Smith's first name. Kip got the message - he was at this young man's mercy.

"I don't see what this has to do with..." Kip blustered.

"Aw, c'mon, it's just us guys here. Did some young Florida honey make you cream your boxers?" Jimmy could tell Kip was wearing boxers because he could see the fabric lines through the supple suit fabric.

Well, maybe if I play along, Kip thought. "Yeah, she was too good. I couldn't have held back if I wanted to," he said.

Jimmy leaned forward. "You mean you weren't even trying to hold back? You wanted to shoot your load inside your shorts?"

Kip was on the defensive again. "Well, of course I was trying to hold back."

Jimmy saw the lie in Kip's eyes. "Sure you were. With that fine young ass sliding over your bulge - back and forth, up and down - all you were thinking about was staying in control." Jimmy could see a bulge growing in Kip's crotch. He kept going. "She's pushing her tits in your face and rubbing her pussy over your trapped cock. She's telling you what a big cock you have. Your boxers are getting damp with pre-cum..."

With that, Kip's cock gave a lurch and grew to its full length, jutting oh-so-obviously down his thigh. The high-powered executive stood helplessly in front of the mail room boy with a major boner tenting out in his suit pants.

Jimmy was getting hard as well. He hadn't gotten off in several days. What's more, he was enjoying having some power over Kip. Ever since he started working there, Kip had been aloof and condescending toward him. Now this straight-laced executive was in his power.

Jimmy continued, "Pretty soon, you feel the cum trying to get out of your balls. You know it's going to soak through your boxers and make a stain on your pants, but you just can't help it. She knows it, too, and she starts really working on the head of your prick."

Kip's cock throbbed.

"Then you reach the point of no return. Hot cream starts leaking, then spurting right inside your pants. The girl on your lap feels the wetness soaking through, and she reaches back and finishes you off with her hand. Is that the way it happened, Kip?"

There was silence for several seconds. Finally Kip said, "What do you want?"

Straight Fiction: Blackmailing Dean

By: expatt & Ryan Michaels

 

 

Dean had been going out with my older brother, Matt, for about two years when I found out he'd screwed another guy, a guy named Eric. Worse yet, Eric was a good friend of Matt's. I knew I could use this to my advantage.

I was eighteen and devious. I'd had a huge crush on Dean from the first time Matt had brought him home. He was twenty-two, and had a broad hairless chest and big muscled shoulders. His face was masculine and he was quick with a smile. I loved hanging out with him, and always tried to see him without his shirt on. He came away with us one summer up to the beach house, and I loved seeing him in his shorts and nothing else. He was my fantasy man, which led to many a time of me fucking myself with my dildo, pretending it was his cock in me, while rubbing my clit to orgasm.

I still couldn't believe he was gay. No one would ever think it. He was the epitome of the 'typical' straight man in appearance and demeanor. But not only was he gay, he was one of those gay men that was disgusted by the very thought of getting anywhere near a pussy, let alone sticking their dick in one.

I found out he screwed Eric because I overheard a telephone conversation between the two. Dean had been spending the weekend at our house while mom and dad were away at the beach house. Matt was in the shower and Dean thought he was the only other person in the house. He was, until I'd come home and (unintentionally) picked up the phone, finding that Dean was using the one in the bedroom. I heard them talking about how nobody could find out that they'd fucked, and Eric was going on and on saying how much he really liked Dean, but he promised him that he wouldn't say anything. I listened to the whole thing, and suddenly had the most amazing idea!

So, one day when I knew that Matt was working, I went over to Dean's house. He lived in a small apartment on the other side of town and worked from home. He was surprised to see me, but invited me in. We were sitting on the couch and I could tell he wondered what I was doing there.

"Dean, I've got a deal for you," I told him.

He sat back on the couch with a smile on his face. God, he was sexy. I was so hoping that my plan would work. "What's that?" he asked casually. He had no idea what I was about to suggest.

"Well, first off, I need to tell you that I know that you fucked Eric Sanderson last month." I paused there to let that sink in.

The color drained from his face and he stared at me. "Shit," he said under his breath a moment later. "How did you find out? Does Matt know?"

"No, Matt doesn't know. I overheard you talking to Eric last weekend at our house. And I haven't told anyone."

I could tell that Dean's mind was spinning. He didn't know what to do.

"Are you going to tell Matt?" he asked me.

God, this was great. He was completely at my mercy! "That depends," I said. I wanted his agony to last.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you'll fuck me," I told him.

He looked at me with disbelief. "What?" he said, incredulously.

"I said I want you to fuck me." I was getting more and more confident.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, unsure of my seriousness.

I shook my head with a smirk on my face.

"You must be out of your fucking mind!" he said. "I'm a fag, in case you've forgotten. I don't do pussy. I'm not gonna start now, and I definitely wouldn't start with you, even if I had the inkling, which trust me, I never will. You're my boyfriend's sister for Christ's sake! Jesus Christ Kelly, are you drunk or high or something or think this is actually a funny joke to play, because I know you can't be serious!"

He was raving. I just let him rant. It didn't worry me. I felt pretty sure he'd agree to my conditions. He was deeply in love with Matt, and the two were even planning to get married at some point. (Gay marriage is legal where we live). I loved my brother, but, still, right then, in that moment, I wanted Dean's cock in my pussy more than anything else in the world!

"I'm completely sober and totally serious. All I want is your cock in my tight pussy. If you don't do it, then I'll tell Matt what I heard on the phone. He'll dump you, you know he will," I said, smugly.

"You fucking bitch!" he grumbled and sat back down heavily on the couch.

"Dean. I only want you to do this once. And I promise I'll never ask again, and I will never say anything to Matt about Eric."

He didn't say anything, rather just lay back on the couch with his hands over his face. He was thinking. I sat across from him, staring at the bulge in his pants. God, it was big, and he was so cute.

"Just once, right?" he asked removing his hands from his face.

My heart leapt. He was considering it!

"Yup, just once; I wanna suck your dick, and then I want you to fuck me."

He was silent and just looked at me for a long time. "I can't fuckin' believe this," he finally said. "I thought you were a nice girl, but today you've shown me what a little cunt you really are."

"I'm not a cunt. I'm just a girl who gets moist whenever she's around you."

He made a face when I said that, getting a mental image I imagine.

"So, what's your answer?"