All Male Fiction: Cockfighter

By: BW & Ryan Michaels

 

Cockfighting - the purest form of male vs male sexual combat. Whether it's a slapping sword fight to try and make your opponent go soft or an erotic grinding to try and make him cum first; either way, it proves who has the stronger cock and who is the Alpha Male.

This is the story of how I became a Cockfighter.

I was eighteen years old and brand new in college. As a standout on the football field in high school, I was recruited hard by several colleges and finally decided on my destination - one of the powerhouse programs in the south - and I was more than ready to get started. I knew I had my work cut out for me to see the field as a freshman, but I was determined to do so; after all, they didn't recruit me to ride the bench.

We had just finished our first spring practice under the blistering sun and the lot of us were now in the locker room, shooting the shit as we stripped out of our football gear and headed off for the showers.

Tyler walked into the shower room last and grabbed the shower next to mine. He was the Alpha Male of the team, a junior linebacker who was 6'4 and 245 pounds. He ruled the team and kept everyone in line, but it was all about respect for him - he demanded it, and he got it.

We chatted a bit as we showered and then he looked at me and grinned. "Come on, rook. Time to initiate you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll see. Let's go."

I knew better than to say anything to Tyler; his word was law on the football team and we all knew it.

"Initiation time for the heralded rook! Circle up, boys!" he called out to the rest of our teammates in a loud, thunderous voice.

Our teammates quickly made a circle around the two of us in the shower room; I never expected what came next.

Tyler moved in front of me and I looked over his body, which seemed to be sculpted out of clay. His cock, bigger than mine, hung between his legs proudly.

"Ok, rook, you want your spot on the team? You want to be a part of our crew?"

I nodded.

"Then you're gonna have to earn it. You're gonna have to fight for it."

"Fight? Are you serious? I thought that was against the rules?"

Everyone laughed.

"Not fist fight, rook. We're fighting with our cocks."

"Huh? Our co… I'm not sure what you're talking about, Tyler."

"Cock on cock combat. Cockfighting!" he replied.

"Cockfighting?"

"Yeah. I guess you've never heard of it in the small town you're from, but we all do it here. All rookies get initiated this way, and since you're Mr. five-star wide receiver, you're first up on the chopping block."

I clearly had no idea what to do because I had never heard of such a thing in my life, and I just stood there, looking to Tyler for more.

"Ok, rook, here's how it goes: We battle with our cocks, until one of us goes soft or loses his load. Got it?"

I just nodded my head again, still not really having any idea how to cockfight.

"Come on, rook! Stroke that cock of yours and get it ready for battle. My beast is ready for another win!" Tyler said as he grabbed his cock and started to stroke it.

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: A Real Man

 By: Tommyhawk1

 

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

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

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

"Oh, nothing," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: Late-Night Hunger

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

 

As my sleepy eyes came into focus, so did the fuzzy glow of the digital clock on the bedside table; it read 2:06 in the morning. I was staying at the Comfort Inn, a place I was very familiar with, as I traveled to this particular city once a month on business. I usually slept just fine during my regular stays there, but for some reason, I had woken up and just couldn't get back to sleep.

After alternating between tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, I decided that a snack might help, since I was feeling hungry and thought maybe that was what was keeping me awake. So, up I hopped from the bed and headed off for the small alcove that housed the ice machine and a couple of vending machines.

As I started to peruse the snack items available in one of the machines, a man walked in and took up at the vending machine next to me, which housed sodas and water. "Hi there," he greeted me.

"Hi," I replied, casually taking him in as he browsed the choice of beverages in the machine. He looked to be about forty and was clad in only a white t-shirt and boxer shorts. He was decent looking and appeared to be in good shape. When my eyes moved to take a look at his crotch, they lingered there as I saw the outline of his cock hanging down along his thigh.

"Like what you see?" he spoke, while still looking straight ahead, and then he turned and looked right at me.

"What? I don't know what you mean, I'm just getting a snack," I babbled and turned my head, eyeing the items in my machine again.

"Hey, it's cool," he said. "The only reason I'm up at this hour is because my pecker won't let me sleep, and I'm pretty sure after I caught you checking out my dick that you like sucking on them, and a good suck job would be real nice right about now. So, how about it? You wanna suck on this?" he asked giving his cock a squeeze through his underwear.

By that point my own dick was hard inside my sleep pants, making my condition impossible to hide.

My hard dick was screaming yes, but my head was telling me that this guy, after catching me staring at his crotch and figuring me for a queer, could be setting me up for a beating or something. I'm sure it won't come as any surprise that my cock won out and I nodded my head.

"Great!" he grinned, and then he put his hands to his hips and was about to push his underwear down, right there in the fucking alcove!

"Hey, wait!" I spoke. "We can't do it here! Why don't we go back to my room, or we can go to yours if you prefer?"

"It's after two in the morning; no one is around. Where's your sense of adventure?" he smiled.

"I don't know. I really think we should go back to…"

I stopped there when he went ahead and proceeded to push his underwear down past his balls. One thing I could not resist was a cock. I wasn't just a cocksucker, I was a hungry cocksucker, and now that his cock was exposed right in front of me, all reason and caution went out the window and I immediately fell to my knees in front of him and gobbled that cock up!

All Male Fiction: Flip-Flop Flap

By: Tommyhawk1 & Ryan Michaels

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gambling?!" Grandma was scandalized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what if you're not looking?"

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

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

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

"Trophies?"

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

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

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

"I guess it can," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly!"

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

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

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

All Male True Experience: An Unrelenting Urge

 By: 69andmore

It’s that familiar feeling that comes upon you suddenly, out of nowhere. If you are bi, and married, like me, well, you know what I mean - that sudden, unexplainable urge to have sex with a man, to satisfy a desire. It invades your thoughts, and experience has taught you it won’t go away, won’t allow you to think clearly, rationally, until you surrender to it.

All I knew was that once the craving overpowered me, I was horny for cock and needed a fix, to give in to the hedonistic power it had over me and find some sort of man-sex for relief. Trying to fight it off was futile. 

I was feeling that way today, and to make matters more complicated, it was Father’s Day. Why did I have these re-occurring thoughts again badgering me, especially today of all days?

Although my sex life with my wife was good, and despite knowing that because it was my special day I’d probably be getting some that night, ambushed by the thoughts of a hard cock, a hot ass, and a hot load of cum, I knew what I had to do.

After making my cell phone ring, I went upstairs and told my wife that my buddy Joe had called to tell me his car had broken down and he needed a ride. Of course, that wasn’t true, but my wife and Joe never talked so I knew she’d never hear differently.

With an excuse to get out of the house for a bit put in place, I jumped in my car and headed off to a specific adult book store. I had chosen this particular one purposely because it was fairly new in the area and I had heard it offered booths with glory holes – something none of the others in the area had - and that men went there to use them with other men. Using a glory hole was going to be a new experience for me, but one that I was quite excited about.

That excitement grew as I pulled into the parking lot, and continued to grow as I entered the bookstore, paid the attendant cash in exchange for tokens, and started to make my way to the back area where the booths were located.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I heard the sounds of the sucking and fucking emanating from the porn playing inside some of the occupied booths. The empty booths stood with the doors open, as a small number of guys hung out cruising, some walking around, and some leaning against the walls or booths.

I didn’t have the time or need to cruise; all I needed was to have a little man-on-man sexual activity so I could regain control of my life again, and I immediately walked into the first open booth and closed the door.

After locking the door, I dropped some tokens in the machine and pushed a few buttons until I came across a movie that looked good. It was a gay porno and watching it made my mouth water. I looked around and saw the hole cut in the wall between my booth and the next one, and my cock twitched in my jeans.

It wasn't too long before I heard someone enter the booth next to mine and lock the door. I looked down through the large hole in the wall and was barely able to make out a pair of legs and sneakers in the darkness of his booth.

As I continued to peer through the hole, the stranger dropped some tokens into his machine and then dropped his shorts and underwear to the concrete floor.

All Male True Experience: Asshole in the Park

By: Unknown Author

I'm twenty-one, bisexual, and have a girlfriend, whom I have been with for six months. Prior to being with her, I had had sex with two other women, and a lot of other guys – other horny teen guys, anonymous hookups, etc. – the number of guys outnumbering girls because it's just a lot easier to get sex from another guy. My girlfriend doesn't know I'm bisexual, though, and I had decided that while I was with her I would be faithful and not have sex with other men.

I really didn't think it would be that difficult, since I'm more into women than men (I'm attracted to, turned on by and like sex with both equally, but the love and emotional stuff I only feel for women), but, after just six months of not having any sexual contact with another man, I suddenly found myself getting hard several times a day just thinking about it. When that happened, I'd jerk off thinking about other guys, and mostly thinking about and picturing their asses.

I've always considered myself an ass man - there's just something about a man's ass that excites me. Whenever I see a man from behind, I get so hard, especially when I see a guy bent over in a locker room, with his balls hanging and his cheeks slightly open, revealing his asshole. To me this is very arousing, because when you think of all the areas of a man that can arouse sexual excitement in another man, the asshole reflects the most private part of a man.

Sure, a man's cock is a source of sexual arousal too, but most men don't have a problem exposing their cocks around other guys - like at urinals, in the locker room, online, and some guys, especially horny teen guys, will even jerk off in front of each other – so it's not private in the same way. Let's face it, there's no more private part of a man's body than his asshole and, to me, if a guy bends over and exposes his asshole, he's exposing the most private part of himself.

It's the casualness in which it's done in the locker room, or the willingness on his part during sexual encounters to expose his most private place that turns me on, and I'd now like to share an encounter which illustrates exactly what I am talking about.

With the ever increasing thoughts of sex with guys creeping into my head, finally I decided I just couldn't go without any longer, even if it meant being unfaithful to my girlfriend, so I decided to head to a local park (known in certain circles to be a cruising spot for guy-on-guy action) to see if I could satisfy my desire.

It was a Monday night when I went to the aforementioned park. I was fully aware that I'd have a better chance of finding some action there if I had gone late on a Friday or Saturday night instead, but I had made up my mind that I wanted some man-sex ASAP and went in the hopes that I might get lucky anyway.

When I arrived it was still fairly early, just before dusk, and so I wasn't all that surprised to find that there were no other cars there. However, even though the lot was empty, I knew from past experience that guys still went there during the week, too. I also knew a lot of guys would just drive in and then leave again if there were no other cars there, but if they saw even just one car they would be more likely to stick around - so, I backed into a spot in the gravel lot and waited.

After waiting for half an hour or so, and just contemplating leaving, a truck pulled in and parked to the right of my car, backing in several spots away from me. I could see that there was only one person in the truck and it was a man. In these instances my heart begins to race and my cock begins to pulse in anticipation of a sexual adventure, but I think that happens to most guys in these types of situations.

After several minutes he opened the door of his truck and got out. As he closed the door I noticed him reach down with one hand and give his crotch a quick and casual rub, which was always a good sign. I watched as he walked away from the truck and headed across the lot toward the entrance of the path that led into the woods.

Just before he entered the path, his head turned over his shoulder and looked back at my car. I, of course, was looking right at him just for that reason, to see if he would look back; a universal code in cruising spots like this to find out if you are both there for the same reason.

In these situations I always wait a few minutes so as not to appear overly aggressive, plus I don't want to end up walking right behind the guy; I prefer to wait until he is ahead a bit so that I can wander down the path and just 'find' him, as if I had just stumbled upon him on my walk.

After waiting a couple of minutes, I got out of my car and headed across the lot to the path. As I got a ways down the path, I saw the man from the truck standing just to the side of it, leaning against a tree in the near distance. It was dusk now, and the cover of the trees made the area appear darker, and I ducked into the trees and moved a bit closer to check him out.

Within a few seconds he removed his t-shirt, and I watched him begin to run his hands across his chest and down into the waistband of his shorts - he had obviously spotted me ducking into the trees and knew I was watching him. My heart began to pound, and I stepped out onto the path again and began to slowly approach. He turned and looked at me and indicated his interest with a smile, while slipping his hand all the way into his shorts and giving his cock a good grope.

Seconds later I was standing face to face with this man. He was an attractive guy, about six feet tall and, I guessed, around two-hundred pounds; not fat, just solidly built. He had on a baseball cap and had a scruffy five o'clock shadow, and looked to be in his mid-forties, more than twice my age. I'm not usually into older guys, but at this point in time I didn't care, I just wanted cock! I was just happy that he was in-shape and attractive – but, honestly, even if he had had a beer gut and average looks, I probably would have still hooked up with him… desperate times and all.

Still groping himself, I stepped closer, and when I did, he removed his hand from his crotch, reached out and grabbed a handful of my crotch and gave it a hard squeeze. Already swollen, my cock grew completely hard from his touch. I then reached out to get a feel of his, with him moving his hand away from his crotch to allow me to touch it.

I moaned both from another guy feeling my dick and from feeling another guy's dick again. We silently stood and felt each other up for a few moments, and then he removed his hand, squatted in front of me, and pulled my shorts and underwear down.

When he was met with my stiff seven-and-a-half inch uncut cock, he commented on my "nice, hard, young dick" and then he turned his ball cap around backwards, leaned his head in, opened his mouth and fully took my cock all the way into his throat. He pulled back and then took me deeply and slowly back into his throat again and then started bobbing up and down on it in a nice rhythm.

All Male True Experience: Working Stiff

By: Unknown Author

I work in a large, all-glass building in the city, surrounded by other all-glass skyscrapers. In my job, I often have to work late, being at the office all alone most times when I do.

One night a few weeks ago, I was working late again, when something unexpected happened. I was alone by this point, and, sitting at my desk in my private office, tired after an already long day, I decided to take a short break, and went and grabbed myself a coffee.

Once back in my office, sitting in my chair sipping my coffee, my mind began to wander a bit, specifically onto sex with my wife. These thoughts of fucking the wife brought on an unwelcome stirring in my trousers, as my cock, with a mind of its own, responded to the mental images flowing through my head. Without even consciously thinking about it first, I gave my cock a quick rub through my trousers, which only succeeded in encouraging it to journey its way to a full hard-on.

I jack off a lot more than I get to fuck the wife – working late quite often and with my wife wrangling two young children all day, sex didn’t happen as often as we, or at least I, would like - and when I get hard like this, I know that I’m not going to be able to concentrate on whatever else I’m doing at the time unless I take care of it first. So, I knew a quick jack off was in order before getting back to my work.

I’d jacked off in my office quite a few times before when all alone and working late, and, after locking my office door – since there was a cleaning crew somewhere in the building – I made my way back to my desk and proceeded to undo my belt, unbutton and unzip myself, and then eased down my gray suit trousers to my knees.

Underneath my pants I was wearing boxers, and I gave my stiff cock a squeeze through the fabric, feeling it throb underneath, then pushed my boxers down as well, sat down in my chair, turned it sideways to the desk, slouched down, stretched out my legs, wrapped my hand around my prick and started jacking off.

As I sat there beating my meat, something caught my eye and I turned my head to see that a light was now on in an office opposite - Environmental laws where I live require office buildings to turn off all lights at night on any unoccupied floors, so the building across had been mostly dark, and this had never happened before, nor had it ever been a thought or concern when jacking off in my office - and there was a man in that office, a cleaner, obvious by the uniform he was wearing, who was standing right in front of the window, watching me!

All Male Fiction: Alex's Game (Part 2)

By: sebastian_wallace & Ryan Michaels

Read Part 1

Alex looked down at my dick as though to reassure himself that I was still aroused by this. Finding that I was - my little pencil was still poking upright in my briefs - he went on, "There's something weird about the slit on the head. It's kind of underneath it. I think it has something to do with my cock being so huge. You wanna see it?"

I'd never heard anything about this, even though I'd had dealings with cocks of many different shapes and sizes over the years. It was probably something unique to his own cock, which he just assumed was a consequence of its size; maybe a birthmark or a scar from a long-forgotten injury. I was intrigued, though, and figured it couldn't hurt to take a look, especially considering what had already transpired.

I shrugged. "I suppose so. But after that, we go back into the exam."

He smiled and said, "Yeah sure, whatever," and then, with his hand still on my shoulder, he began pushing down on it and said, "You'll have to kneel down on the floor to see it, though."

My knees began to buckle from the pressure he was exerting on my shoulder. "Yeah, kneel down," Alex urged as I began to willingly bend, lowering myself down until I felt the sharp coldness of the tile floor against my knees.

I peered intently at Alex's large, gently-pulsating organ. The smell of it - the sharp but inviting odor of the sweat in his pubic hair - was quite powerful as I stared closely at his piss slit. I didn't see anything unusual, though, and told him so.

"Take a look at it close up and you'll see," Alex replied. He was insistent, putting his hand on my head, as if to guide me towards the incongruity I was trying to find. He pushed his hips towards me so that his cock, now swollen to its full impressive size, was within an inch of my face.

I opened my mouth to tell him that I still couldn't see anything unusual, when Alex grabbed my head firmly and pushed his cock into my mouth. He slid it in and out a few times, no doubt feeling me resisting it in the initial shock of finding myself invaded by him, and then feeling me responding to him by urgently sucking at it as the pleasure of what he was doing overwhelmed me.

Still holding my head, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and swiveled my neck so that I was staring up at him open-mouthed. "You like that?" he asked. "Do you? Yeah, of course you do," he smirked before letting me answer, and then pushed himself back into my mouth.

I fed hungrily on his cock, as eager to pleasure it as if I were worshipping it; smothering it with my tongue and drinking the slow dribble of pre-cum down into my throat.

Alex soon bent over me as I blew him, and I heard him suck at one of his fingers before groping down my back to lift the bottom of my shirt and grope around my ass. He quickly located my asshole, hot and sweaty at the base of my ass crack, and pressed his moistened finger into me.

Perhaps sensing my intense pleasure at feeling myself penetrated and the eagerness to receive more, Alex stated, surprisingly calmly, "Stand up."

I did as he said, and watched as he reached down into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. From that he extracted a condom – a Trojan Magnum condom - and, with a practiced hand, quickly opened the wrapper and rolled the rubber down the length of his oversized prick.

All Male True Experience: Strokin' in the Boy's Room

By: chicagobasil

I was walking along a busy downtown street and I suddenly felt the need for a little bit of relief, if you catch my drift. I hunted down a public washroom, and luckily no one else was using the facilities. I closed myself in a stall, lowered my pants and started stroking my dick to get it hard.

As I sat there casually stroking myself, someone entered the washroom and walked up to the urinals, which were located directly across from the stalls. Peering through the crack in the stall door, which was rather wide, I checked out the stranger. He looked to be about five-foot-nine, had dark hair and was wearing a business suit.

When he finished taking a leak and turned to leave, he casually glanced over and looked through the crack of the stall door as he adjusted his clothing. I had never stopped stroking but had slowed it down after he walked in so he wouldn't hear, because you gotta be cautious when you do stuff like that in public washrooms.

After I caught his glance, I started stroking faster. He looked over again, cocking his head to get a better look, and I now knew for sure that this guy was definitely into it.

All Male True Experience: A Couple of Dicks

By: Unknown Author

I'd accepted an invitation from a couple of friends to go with them to a science-fiction convention in the city. I hadn't been to one in a while, and also hadn't seen these friends in a while, either, so I figured, what the hell. After being there for a bit, I needed to use the washroom, so I let my friends know and ventured off.

The washroom was not all that big, with only one sink, one urinal, and two stalls; all on the same wall. The urinal was disgusting, with some old, odorous piss sitting in the reservoir, and piss all over the rim and on the floor beneath it. I decided to check the conditions of the stalls instead.

It wasn't until I went over to the stalls that I noticed the second one was occupied. Opening the door to the first, I peered in and saw that it was fairly clean. I stepped in, and as I turned slightly to close and latch the door I immediately noticed a hole in the divider between the stalls. It wasn't a glory hole, though. It was much too small for that; basically just big enough to see through if you put your eye up to it. After latching the door, I turned to face the toilet, unzipped and hauled out my cock.

As I began to piss, curiosity got the better of me. I was sure if I held my head in a certain way I could get a good look at the guy in the next stall, more specifically, get a good look at his dick. So, I turned my head and leaned my upper body back, and was instead met with an eye peering through at me. My first instinct was to straighten back up and turn my head to face forward again, and as I did so, my piss done flowing, and my dick still in my hand, it started to grow just from knowing I was being watched.

Horned up now and wanting to put on a show, I began to stroke my cock to full hardness. Once I was fully erect, I looked back and the stranger in the next stall was still watching me, so I turned sideways and moved over a bit so that I was directly facing the hole where his eye was. He continued to watch, and I could hear that he was stroking his cock too.

Straight Fiction: Sometimes You Just Really Need to Get Fucked!

By: Brindle Chase

Life gets so hectic at times that I forget to relax and enjoy it. I'd stop to smell the roses, but it seems like there is a bill collector behind every bush. Work and no play makes me cranky, and I didn't have time for relationships.

We all feel that need to get laid, to let off some steam. I'm not a slut, but I can be, when I need it badly enough. Like everyone else, I have a threshold and when I hit that cap, I need to get some. This was one of those times.

A flat tire on the way to my dead end job was just the start. My boss had reamed me for something I wasn't even involved in. I lost one of my best clients and my favorite team got eliminated from the playoffs.

Enough already. When I got home and made a cup of noodles, and the depression and loneliness hit, I decided I needed to get fucked.

I went to my wardrobe and picked out a teeny tiny miniskirt and matched it with a spaghetti strapped satin halter. Only a moron wouldn't see my outfit as a desperate plea for some cock.

I did my hair in loose spirals, and did my makeup in lady of the evening fashion. I looked pretty good when I took the time, so I did. I even added glitter. Some lucky son of a bitch was in for a wild ride.

On a whim, I went driving downtown until a flashing neon sign caught my attention. There were people lined up down the block waiting to get in, so I figured it was a hot spot. Perfect.

The place was jumping. Heavy pulsing music blasted to a thumping bass drum while bodies thrashed and ground against one another in a blur of flesh on the endless dance floor. It was wall-to-wall with people wanting the same thing I did.

I turned down three offers of various indulgences before I could even worm my way up to the bar and order a cosmopolitan. I needed some liquid courage first and then I'd decide just how low I felt like setting the bar.

I'm not that picky. As long as he's clean, his looks don't matter all that much, but it's always nice if he just happens to be attractive too. Gentlemen were my favorites, but tonight I just wanted some bad boy to ring my bell. This place was crammed with them. I felt like a kid in a candy store with a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

Every seat in the place was taken, so I took up residence by a pillar near the main dance floor. The industrial techno just kept going and I couldn't tell when one song ended and another began.

Another three come-ons failed to impress me, when I noticed a guy watching me. He was sitting at one of the booths along the far wall. The flashing lights made it damn near impossible to see what he looked like, but I was so horny by then, I decided he was the one.

I ducked and weaved my way through the undulating crowd and stopped in front of his table. His eyes went up and down me like a leopard eyeing its prey. I flashed him a smile and slipped into the booth next to him.

He had longish dark hair he kept in a shag, a neatly groomed goatee and sexy full lips. I couldn't place his nationality, but he was definitely part black. I couldn't tell what color he was in the alternating blue, red and green lights, but he was a few shades darker than me.

"What's a sweet young..."

"Shut up," I said, cutting him off. I didn't want him to ruin it with a stupid pickup line.

He arched an eyebrow and gave me a 'what the fuck' look, but I simply scooted closer. The little round table at the booth's center was perfect. I was so needy, I wanted him right there. Throwing caution to the wind, I met his look with a catlike grin.

"Don't talk, just fuck me."

He seemed shocked by my statement for a split second or two and then said, "Uh, that works for me," and then tried to introduce himself.

"I don't want to know your name. I want your cock, nothing more," I yelled over the music. A name to go with his face would make it personal. This was raw animalistic need, not a prelude to something more meaningful.

I moved my hand to the fly of his pants and found his cock beneath the slick fabric. It grew hard almost instantly as I stroked it. My eyes spoke my desire as I gazed at him.

"Just fuck me, here. Now."

I leaned into him and he took my lips with his. He was probably completely confused that he didn't even have to work for it, but I didn't care. I hadn't picked him for his ability to sort out a puzzle. The dilemma I had presented him with was quite simple: Fuck the girl or don't fuck the girl.

His hand slipped up my top and crushed my tit, kneading it and I purred. I loved to be manhandled sometimes. I slid across his legs and straddled his strong thighs.

He worked my breast out the top of my halter and sucked my hardened nipple into his warm wet mouth. I loved it. The silk fabric was tight across my tit, holding it in place for him, like an offering.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. The booth was in the darker back of the bar, but there were people all around. My pussy was all the wetter for the anxiety I felt that others might see me fuck this stranger.

Four snaps later, I had the fly of his tight jeans open and his thick, dark hard-on slid into my hand when I pushed his boxer briefs down. He was smoldering hot and I wasted no time. Who knew how long it might take for someone on staff to notice us. Getting thrown out, or worse, arrested, only added to my excitement.