All Male Fiction: After Hours

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxx@hotmail.com

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: 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.

Bisexual Fiction: Triple Workout (Part 1)

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yup, and you’re Josh?" I commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure. No problem."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male True Experience: Ball Camp

By: Jeff C.

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

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

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

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

All Male True Experience: Sucking My First Cock

By: Sean R.

Several months ago, I had an experience I will never forget. It started as a normal day, however, things would deviate from the norm after I had finished work and made my way to the gym.

I had plans to play racquetball with my usual partner at 7:30 pm. He wasn't there yet, so I went to the locker room to change. I love locker rooms; being able to catch glimpses of all those hanging, swinging cocks. This locker room was a very nice, large one with plenty of mirrors.

Just the sight and smell of a locker room could get me feeling horny, and this time was no different; my dick was semi-hard by the time I took down my pants and underwear. I was just contemplating giving it a couple of tugs when I heard some voices, and then two guys, older businessmen types in suits, came around the corner and went to lockers a few doors down from mine.

I quickly pulled on my jock to cover my semi, then got the rest of my gym clothes on and headed off for the juice bar to wait for my friend.

After arriving at the juice bar and taking a seat, the woman behind the counter asked if I was Sean. I told her that I was, and she then passed along a phone message to me saying that my friend had called and would be unable to make it.

I thanked her, sounding rather disappointed, and asked if she knew of anyone else who was perhaps looking for a racquetball partner. She didn't but said if I was planning to stay, she would let people know that I was looking. I thanked her again, bought a drink, and sat at the juice bar for a bit.

It was now 8:30, and so far, no one had been available or interested in playing a game of racquetball with me. I decided I had wasted enough time and didn't want to just leave and go home, so I decided to head to the court, open a can of balls and get some practice time in.

I batted those balls over and over and had long since worked up a sweat. I decided to step out and get some water and check the time. I was surprised to find that it was after 9:30. I was so preoccupied I didn't realize that I had been batting balls for a little over an hour; it certainly hadn't felt like that much time had gone by.

I looked around and there was no one else around now. It didn't matter anyway, though; it wasn't like I was going to get a game in before the club closed. However, I decided I'd get in a few more practice shots before calling it quits; I was plenty steamed from being stood up and having had no luck in finding a partner and had decided this was the best way to burn it off.

As I approached the court, I saw through the windows that someone else was now in there, swatting their balls. I sort of recognized him; he was a regular at the gym, but not the courts. He was about 6'2", which is about my height, and had dark hair, green eyes, and being shirtless, I could see that he was in really great shape, too.

I tapped the window before entering, to get his attention; if you just walk in when someone doesn't see you, they will turn and the ball is likely to come back and hit either you or them.

He moved over and let the ball fly past him and I stepped into the room. "Hi, you must be Sean," he said.

"Uh, yeah. How do you know my name?" I asked him.

"Oh, Melissa told me there was a guy named Sean in court 7 looking for a partner."

"Melissa?"

"The girl at the juice bar."

"Ah," I nodded.

"I'm Josh," he said extending his hand. "So, you wanna get a game or two in?"

I told him I'd love to as I shook his hand, but pointed out that the place would be closing soon and we didn't have enough time to do so.

He then told me that Melissa was his girlfriend and was going to be there until 11:00 or so, locking up and stuff and that we could stay until she was ready to leave. After explaining that, I agreed to a game and we started playing.

We played to 15 at first and it was a great game. I just barely won and I was completely out of breath, and very thirsty. I went out to get another drink of water from the fountain and noticed that most of the lights were now off. I looked at the clock and it said 10:30. I figured Melissa was almost ready to leave, a little earlier than her boyfriend had anticipated, and that we would have to leave now, too.

However, after telling Josh this, he explained that most of the lights in the main gym area got turned off after hours and that his girlfriend had left our light on so we could play a little longer.

Game two started the same, and we were in the middle of the point when the lights went out, and being in the middle of a dive for the ball at the time, Josh slammed into me in the dark. We both went crashing to the floor. He was on top of me and his sweaty arms and legs were all over me. I could also feel a soft cock quickly stiffening and pushing into my stomach. This was the strangest thing I had ever felt.

I didn't want to seem awkward or pushy so I asked him if he was alright. He said he was fine, and that he was sorry. He rolled off me and I could hear him breathing next to me. He said he guessed that was his girlfriend's way of saying that she wouldn't be much longer and that it was time for us to call it a night, and go and get showered and changed. I told him that I agreed and that my fiancé would be wondering where I was.

We both got up and felt our way toward the door, and with the small amount of light shining through the windows from outside of the racquetball court, I could see his shorts being pushed forward by a hard-on. I tried not to make it look like I noticed, but this turned me on a lot.

As we entered the locker room, we each went to our locker areas and undressed. Towel wrapped around my waist, I headed to the showers. Josh was just stepping in as I arrived and had his back to me. I took the shower across from him and took in his naked body from behind as he began to wet himself down.

He turned and I quickly averted my eyes. His cock appeared to be semi-erect and I noticed him taking in my nakedness as well. His cock began to rise even more and he turned away from me to hide his erection. I decided that an opportunity like this would not present itself again.

"Hey, great game," I started.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I had a great time," I continued.

"Yeah me too," he replied, and then there was a moment of silence.

I decided to use his embarrassment against him to bring up the subject of his cock. "It's ok, happens to all of us at some point," I said.

"What does?"

"Getting a hard-on in the showers."

"Shit!" he said under his breath, realizing I had seen it. "Uh, yeah," he said with a nervous laugh, "It has a mind of its own. Just thinking about my girlfriend, you know. I'm not gay or anything, so don't worry or get nervous that it means anything."

But I knew it did mean something, I just had a feeling. Probably because he got hard when his sweat-soaked, bare-chested body landed on top of mine, and he started to get hard when he saw me naked in the showers. "I'm not worried, I'm not gay either. It happens to the best of us." I wasn't lying; I considered myself straight and simply bi-curious.

He didn't reply but I couldn't stop now and, after mustering up all my nerve, I went for it, "So, um, do you need a hand with that?" I asked.

"Uh, hand with what?"

"With that boner you can't get to go down," I chuckled.

"Uh, I told you, I'm not gay; I have a girlfriend. Um, what did you have in mind anyway?"

All Male Fiction: My Best Friend (Part 5)

By: Lucas Miller

Read Part 4 | Read Part 1

The bus trip back to my campus was long and uneventful. I tried to sleep, but my mind raced with images of Josh, Marc, and the others that I had met while visiting my best friend at his school.

But now I was on a bus heading back towards my old life, the time before I discovered the joy of being close to someone in every aspect of being. How could I return to the way that I used to live? How could I interact with the same people as before without letting them in on what I had experienced? Or should I just tell them?

Telling them would probably be a mistake. I didn't know them very well. Sure we hung out together and joked around, but they knew little about my past and I took little interest in their lives outside of school. It would be best to keep quiet for now.

As I got closer to my school, the longing for human touch became more intense. I wanted Josh's hand on my chest. I wanted him to gently kiss me while his hands moved over my body. And I would let him do whatever he wanted.

I could not think of one person who could fill that void. My roommate, Russell, didn't seem to fit. He was a bit of a geek. He hardly ever left the room. He was either studying or playing video games. I don't even remember seeing him without his shirt. In fact, he always went to the showers very early in the morning or late at night when it was empty. He would go fully dressed and come back fully dressed. How odd. I wonder if he has some massive birthmark that he doesn't want someone to know about.

Russell and I rarely spoke. I knew that he was from Virginia and had an older brother who graduated a year ago from the same college, and that his parents were divorced. Russell never spoke of current or previous friends, and shared close to nothing about what he enjoyed doing (reading and playing video games).

When I arrived at the dorm, it was a little after ten at night. I was tired after the long trip and just wanted to just get into bed and start fresh the next day. Fortunately, Russell had had the same idea. He was already in bed when I opened up the door. He lifted his head slightly and grunted a "hello."

I tossed my stuff on the floor by my bed, undressed to my boxers and got into bed. I couldn't fall asleep, though. I laid awake for over an hour. Russell was quiet in his bed. He had the covers pulled tightly up to his neck. I again wondered what he was hiding under his sheets and clothing.

Around midnight, Russell suddenly moved about in his bed. I could see that he was facing me and appeared to be looking directly at me. I pretended like I was asleep, and shortly after he got up and went to his desk. I heard him take a couple of tissues out of the box on the desk and return to bed.

I slowly opened my eyes. With the covers pulled back up to his chest, he turned away from me. I heard the rustling of clothing and a waistband snap softly. Was he going to jerk off? Good 'ole Russell actually had a libido!

He was very quiet about it, but I knew he was jerking off. The covers moved with a quiet swish as his right arm and hand went to work at bringing himself off. I don't think I had ever been as quiet as that.

About ten minutes after he had started, Russell's breath began to get heavier. His arm was moving more quickly now, and beneath the sheets his body was becoming more rigid. He was definitely very close now.

Despite the fact that I couldn't see anything except an occasional silhouette, I was also getting very aroused. Without realizing it, my hand had slipped inside my boxers and I was running my fingers over my hard cock. I didn't know what was making me more excited: the idea that my roommate was masturbating only a few feet from me or that Russell was exposing flesh that he never showed in the daylight.

There was a low grunt from Russell's bed, followed by another less obvious one. His arm had slowed down considerably and his body appeared more relaxed. Then he pulled his clothes back on and he got up again. I heard him drop the tissues in the trash and get back into bed.

My hand never left my cock. It was still very hard and it would not permit to just leave it that way. I started stroking it, trying to be as quiet as Russell was. I kept looking over at his bed. He didn't seem to be facing me.

Although I considered giving him a show, I decided I didn't want to embarrass him. He obviously thought I was asleep, so my strokes were short and concentrated around the head of my cock for the most pleasure.

But my mind drifted. I thought of Josh and his hands on my cock. I pictured him moving down in the bed and stroking my hard cock as he ran his fingers over my balls. He was naked and I was naked. Marc was sitting by the bed undressing. He got down to his underwear, and I saw that they were my boxers. In my mind, he kept them on as he rubbed his cock through the cloth.

Josh was becoming more forceful with my cock and balls. He had a tighter grip on my shaft and was pulling at my nuts. Sweat was running down my face and chest. I was getting close. I wanted Josh to put his mouth on my cock, and I wanted to taste Marc's sweet prick.

But the fantasy was interrupted. Russell turned his lamp on and was looking at me sternly. "What the hell are you doing?"

All Male Fiction: Private Lessons (Part 3)

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Read Part 2 | Read Part 1

I stopped dead as I heard Mr. Johnson's voice. My heart began beating faster and my shoulders stiffened and rose slightly. I was frozen in place momentarily, and then I slowly turned around, full of trepidation.

As I came to face him, however, despite my fear and anxiety, my eyes automatically fell on my teacher's long dong. It was soft now, well almost. Rather than hanging down long and straight as it always had when I had seen it those other times, now it was pointing out from his body very slightly. The head of his giant cock was red, and I could see the shine of wetness on the tip. I knew why, and so did Mr. Johnson! Now the only question was, did he know that I knew, and, if he did, what was he going to do about it?

After realizing where my eyes were, I raised them up Mr. Johnson's body to meet his eyes. He must have known I was looking because he had stood silently for those few moments that I had been mesmerized by his big penis.

Once eye contact had been made, Mr. Johnson spoke. "Where do you think you're going, Ryan?"

"I-I'm going back to my dorm room, sir."

"Not yet you're not," Mr. Johnson said and started to approach me.

I felt myself start to tremble slightly. Then Mr. Johnson, standing right in front of me now, reached out and took my jockstrap, which was dangling below my books, the one strap of which had been held by one of my fingers. In my haste to get in and out of there as quickly as possible, I hadn't even realized that I had snagged it when grabbing my books.

"You know that you're not allowed to take your jock back to your dorm, Ryan," Mr. Johnson said. The jockstraps were provided by the school, with each student's first name and the first initial of their last name written on the front of the wide waistband with permanent marker. After they had been worn (we didn't wear them for every gym class) they were to be tossed in a bin for laundering and never allowed to be removed from the locker room.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson. I didn't even know I had hooked it with my books. I guess I just forgot to toss it in the bin after I got dressed."

"Ok, Ryan," Mr. Johnson said. "Now you'd better get back to your dorm. Looks like you have quite a bit of homework you should be doing," he said nodding at the pile of books in my hands.

"Yes, Mr. Johnson. Goodbye Mr. Johnson," I blurted nervously, and then I quickly turned on my heels and made for the door.

Once outside, I fell back against the locker room doors and let out a big sigh, relieved that Mr. Johnson hadn't confronted me about peeping on him. Obviously, he had no idea that I had witnessed his private moment in the showers or he surely would have said something.

A moment later, I found myself turning around and pressing my eye to the thin crack that appeared between the double steel doors of the locker room. My line of sight was filled with a rear view of my naked teacher walking away. I looked at his ass, and then below it and saw what I, for some reason, longed to see, part of his large cock hanging down between his legs, swinging and bouncing around as he padded across the locker room floor. My attention was diverted from my teacher's oversized penis when he neared the bin where the jockstraps got deposited and kept on walking without dropping mine into it, still holding it in his hand as he turned and headed in the direction of his office.

I didn't know what to make of all that I had seen, but I knew one thing for sure: I needed to get back to the dorms and jerk off right away!

After I got off, homework, sleep, and the next day's classes had kept my mind otherwise engaged and off thoughts of the previous afternoon. But now it was time for gym class again, and I was dreading it. During the hours between classes, I had somehow managed to convince myself that Mr. Johnson was fully aware that I had spied on him in the showers, and was fearful of the repercussions I might face now that he had had a day to think over exactly what it was he was going to do about it.

When gym class ended, Mr. Johnson, as expected, put me in the last shower rotation to shower with him and one other student. At least it wouldn't be just me and Mr. Johnson this time. That would assure that he wouldn't bring anything up in the showers, and I planned to make sure I was dressed and out of there before my other shower mate.

But, Mr. Johnson didn't take his shower with the last two as he almost always did. It was just me and Tommy Mitchell, a classmate I didn't really associate with.

This just convinced me even more that he knew I knew what he had done in the showers because he was making a point not to shower with me. The fact that he had chosen not to, settled my nerves. Now I knew I could shower and dress and get out of there without seeing him again for sure. Despite this, though, I still found myself kind of wishing he would come and take a shower with us so I could get a look at his cock again… and it was with those thoughts of my teacher's large penis that my own started to get hard!

I couldn't believe it! I had never once sprung a boner in the showers in front of my classmates, only Mr. Johnson. And now here I was getting one in front of Tommy Mitchell!

All Male Fiction: My Best Friend (Part 4)

By: Lucas Miller

Read Part 3 | Read Part 1

I woke up to the smell of chicken. The room was dark. I was in Josh's bed with the covers over me. I was naked underneath. Looking around, I found the small LED alarm clock. It was shortly after nine o'clock in the evening. I had been asleep for about six hours.

What another incredible day. First spending most of the morning with Josh, then sucking the dick of a faceless stranger in the library restroom, and finally a much needed jerk off while reading Marc's journal.

Now, just a few short hours before my time visiting Josh was to end, I smelled chicken. It was so strong that it had to have been coming from somewhere in the small dorm room. Then the door opened and I saw Josh's silhouette. He quickly shut the door and kept the lights off. When I stirred in the bed he stopped in his tracks.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he said walking over to his bed and sitting down beside me.

I rubbed my eyes. "It's okay. Why did you let me sleep the day away?"

"I actually came in and tried to wake you, but you were knocked out. So I covered you up and let you sleep."

I sat up and pulled the covers off of me, revealing my hard dick. Josh smiled, but stood up and moved to the other side of the room. "There's plenty of time for that later," he said. "For now, you need to eat. A couple of hours ago I went out and got us some roasted chicken. I was also got us some beer to go with it." He turned a lamp on and I could see that he had a nice feast waiting for us.

I got out of bed and slipped on my underwear. I was a little disappointed that he didn't respond to my obvious gesture of sexual interest, but I was also very hungry. He was right, sex could wait.

Josh was opening the beers as I sat down. He was dressed in just a t-shirt and boxers. He looked as if he was going to eat and go to bed. I was hoping that this wasn't the case. I wanted to have a memorable night before heading off in the morning.

As we ate, Josh couldn't stop looking into my eyes. There was a look of intense love with a glimmer of sadness. He talked about the times we had while I visited. We had definitely taken our friendship to another level and leaving was going to be more difficult than I anticipated. Thoughts of dropping out of school and moving closer to Josh fluttered through my mind, but I dismissed them. I had to go back to school. I needed space to determine if my feelings were real or figments of my lustful imagination. That wasn't to say that I wouldn't visit as much as possible.

After finishing our meal, Josh talked about how he wanted to end my visit just as it had started. I was a little confused, but he asked me to follow him. He was at the door before I had a chance to question. I got up and followed him into the hallway. It was very quiet in the dormitory. He led me to the showers and I held back.

"You want to do it in the shower room?" I whispered.

He nodded with a devilish grin.

"We got caught last time by Marc; what if someone else discovers us?"

He spoke in a normal tone. "No one will find us. There's a homecoming celebration at the football field. Everyone is there. The place is empty." With that he went inside, and I followed, my cock rising in my underwear.

Once inside he immediately grabbed a hold of me and started kissing me. His hands explored my back, then moved over my butt. Our tongues darted between our mouths. My dick tented my underwear and poked at his waist.

When we broke our kiss, he took off his t-shirt and quickly slipped off his underwear, and then dropped to his knees. His lips brushed against the tip of my waiting, covered cock, but he didn't remain there. Instead he began kissing my thigh and running his tongue toward the leg hole of my briefs. As he moved closer and closer to my balls I was afraid that I wouldn't last much longer.

But he stopped and stood back up. "That is how much you turned me on the first time I saw you naked," he said. "I thought I was going to lose my mind when I saw you in the shower and then afterward."

"Afterward was the greatest I have ever felt," I interjected. "You really are my best friend."

"Yes I am, but you made a new friend too. Remember?" Upon saying that Marc came from out of the shadows. He was naked and stroking his hard dick.

All Male Fiction: The Awakening (Part 2)

By: Lucas Miller & Ryan Michaels

 

 

 

Read Part 1

 

When I woke up the next morning, Jeff was gone. Jim was up already, rummaging through his suitcase. He obviously hadn't showered yet as his hair was sticking up in dry clumps and he was wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. They clung to his body revealing a nice-sized bulge in the crotch. I stayed in bed with the covers over me to hide my morning erection.

"You want the shower first?" Jim asked when he noticed that I was awake.

Since my cock had returned to a limp state I nodded and got out of bed. I pulled some clothes from my suitcase and went into the bathroom.

To my surprise, Jim followed.

"I'm gonna shave while you shower if that's okay?"

I couldn't disagree; he was already running the water and preparing the lather. I slipped my boxers off with my back to him and jumped into the shower. The water felt nice against my body, caressing every inch of me.

"I didn't know that…" I heard Jim say from outside the shower. His voice faded, though, and I missed the end of his thought.

Poking my head out from behind the curtain, I asked what he had said. He looked at me through the reflection in the mirror as he shaved and said, "I didn't know that you were a fruit, too."

"What?"

"Fruit. Homo. Fag."

"I'm not," I replied nervously.

"Sure you are. I heard you and my brother last night. It certainly sounded like you were having fun." He gave me a grin.

I couldn't answer. I was caught. What if he told my sister? I tried to think of an excuse; some other reason that I was moaning with pleasure last night.

"It's not a big deal. I just didn't know you were gay. Your sister doesn't, I know that!"

As he shaved with one hand he scratched his balls through his underwear with the other. My cock began to grow. Was he as big as his brother?

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" I pleaded.

"Of course not, it's your life. But you should be more careful if you're worried about people finding out. Having sex with another guy while your brother-in-law is just a few feet away isn't being careful." He gave me a wink and removed the last of the shaving cream from his face. "Tell me something, though."

I was a bit more relaxed now and felt I had his confidence. "What's that?" I put my head back behind the shower curtain and continued with my shower.

"What does it feel like to have a dick up your ass?"

"I don't know," I replied. It wasn't a lie.

The shower curtain opened and he stepped inside. He was fully naked now. "Well, what do you do? Suck cock?"

All Male Fiction: Bob and the Day After (Part 3)

By: amtibbs

 

 

 

Read Part 2

 

The next day, Bob couldn't keep his mind on his job, his mind still going back to the night before, and it was almost time for the lacrosse team practice and there were still things to do to prepare the locker room. Though not really part of his job description, Bob helped the team manager and his assistants lay out the gear each player would need for the practice that day. Piles of shirts, shorts, socks and jockstraps had to be distributed to each player's locker so when they arrived they could immediately get changed and visit the trainer if necessary. There was a list that mapped locker to player and player to size, but this late into the season Bob had it committed to memory.

That day, Bob was pushing the cart filled with jockstraps and cups. As he reached each locker he'd grab the proper size jock, insert a sanitized cup and lay it neatly folded in the locker.

As his mind wandered, he recalled that one of the first things he learned working in the locker room was that the colored stripes on a jockstrap waistband indicated its size. "Shit!" he thought. "I can't remember anything from my classes this morning. Why did I think about that?"

Bob still had ten lockers to go when the first of the lacrosse players arrived. He wondered what was wrong with him; why was it taking him so long. None of the staff liked to be seen handling the guys' jocks and the razzing that came with it. Other staff had received comments like "Bet you'd rather be handing that jock with me in it" while the player grabbed their pouch and "Hey, mine has a hole in the back!" as they bent over and spread their ass cheeks. Bob had never gotten caught doing this part of the job and he waited for the comments to fly.

He hurriedly finished the job not looking around to see who might be watching. As he headed back with the cart, he finally glanced up and noticed a couple of the players standing together watching him but he got no ribbing.

After returning the cart, Bob made a straight line back to his office. He had almost gotten there when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He stopped quickly and spun around to find Nick standing there with concern on his face. He quietly asked Bob if everything was alright. A number of answers ran through Bob's mind. He decided that "Hell no and it's all your fault!" was not the appropriate answer and just replied that he was feeling confused but okay. Nick asked to meet him later to explain. Bob mumbled a reply before turning and walking on.

All Male Fiction: Bob and the Soccer Team (Part 1)

By: amtibbs

 

 

 

Bob was angry. He wasn't a towel boy. He was a student manager at the college gym. More specifically, Bob managed the locker room used by many of the college's men's teams. Sure, the football and basketball teams were important enough to rate their own dedicated locker rooms, but when it came to the second tier sports like soccer, if you were on the team and wanted a clean towel, you came to Bob. Well, perhaps the towel was a bad example - he did much more than hand out towels.

I should probably first tell you a bit about Bob. I didn't meet him until after he had graduated from college. I've seen college photos of him and I would describe him as an average guy. He's currently about 5'10" and 160 pounds with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Back in college he was too busy with classes and working as a student manager at the college gym to work out on a regular basis. Nevertheless, he still had a toned, if not muscular, body and wouldn't be embarrassed to take off his shirt at the beach.

Bob grew up in a home where school was more important than sports. Consequently, while he played baseball, shot baskets and threw around a football with other kids in the neighborhood, he never played on a school team and his family didn't watch sports on TV. To this day, if you ask him sports trivia, like who played on some championship baseball team, he's at a total loss. His brain just wasn't wired to remember that stuff as he grew up.

Now you're probably wondering about Bob's sexuality. If you ask Bob, he'll tell you it's none of your damn business. I think you need to know a bit more to understand Bob. In my opinion, Bob is seventy to eighty percent heterosexual. I know he only dates women now, but I also know that Bob doesn't mind a bit of male on male body contact either. I was kidding him about being around all those naked guys in the locker room and he said he didn't think he could have worked there if he was gay. When I asked him why, he said "it would be like a diabetic working in a candy store" or something like that. On the other hand, Bob said the fact that he had always admired the body of a good looking guy made going to work at a place where he could observe them a pleasant experience, despite the crap that came with the job.

Bob didn't lose his virginity until he was a sophomore in college. He was shy in those days and his right hand was his best friend until the semester he took an evening class and met this girl. He told me he'd walk her to her car after class and they'd stand there and talk, sometimes for an hour or more. Then she would drive off and he'd walk back to his dorm. One cool, fall night they got into the back seat of her car to talk and, well, you probably don't want to hear about that.

Bob never really had a steady girlfriend while in college. His parents continually drilled the importance of studying over everything else and, since they were paying, he felt obligated to bring home the grades. But that wasn't all bad, and while Bob didn't get all the sex he wanted, "even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while" he jokes today.

Now that you know a little bit about Bob, let's continue.

It was Bob's second and last season managing the locker room for the soccer team. Bob hated soccer season. The 'pretty' boys on the soccer team seemed to thrive on harassing him. For players of a second tier sport at the college, they thought their dirty jockstraps didn't stink. But they did stink, especially when they'd grab him and pull their sweaty jocks over his head. Bob dreamed of payback. Unfortunately, every idea he came up with would result in him losing his job, his recommendation or getting beaten to a pulp.

Towards the end of the season, and after being thrown in the shower for the third time in his clothes, Bob decided that his best course of action would be something that the players might not even find out about but would follow them for the rest of their lives.

All Male Fiction: My Best Friend (Part 1)

By: Lucas Miller

 

 

 

I had known Josh since we were in grade school. We were the best of friends and inseparable at that time. When I was twelve he moved to Virginia and we would only see each other once a year after that. We continued to be great friends, writing to each other and calling when we were allowed, and more recently, e-mailing each other.

When we did visit one another, I was struck by the physical changes that took place as the years went by. I remembered that he was a thin kid at twelve. He had dark hair, green eyes, and olive skin. He was always active and popular with everyone that crossed his path. Now, nearly seven years later, he was still thin, but not gangly. I could tell that he was involved in athletics, as he appeared to have no body fat and nicely formed muscles on his arms.

I hadn't seen Josh at this point for about a year and a half. I had asked him to come to my graduation party, but he had gone to California with his parents for his own graduation present. We had tried to get together since, but with college starting, it was more difficult. When I learned that I would have an early spring break, I called him and suggested I hang out with him at his college during that week. He agreed and the arrangements were made.

I arrived late in the evening and Josh met me outside his dorm. We hugged each other and headed up to his room. We weren't alone; his roommate, Marc, was sitting at his desk reading.

Josh introduced us. "This is my roommate Marc, and Marc, this is my best friend Adam."

"Nice to meet you," Marc smiled broadly as he shook my hand.

"You, too," I replied.

"I've got big plans for tonight," Josh said to me. "There's this huge party right off-campus. There are tons of people I want you to meet."

"Sounds good to me." I looked around the room for a place to set my stuff.

"Oh, bad news. You're gonna have to sleep on the floor. You can use my sleeping bag if you want."

"No problem."

"You can use my bed," Marc said.

"No, the floor is fine." Marc was smiling again and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Well, we should get ready for the party," Josh suggested as he started gathering his bathroom stuff. "Do you need a shower?"

"Probably a good idea. It's been a long trip."

"And you smell like hell, too." Josh slapped me on the back and laughed. "Let's get that foul smell off of you."

I got a change of clothes and followed him to the community showers. I'm not sure what got me going, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of Josh. He removed his shirt, revealing a hairless stomach and chest. He appeared to be working out. He was trim and well-defined. I felt nervous for some reason, and thoughts of seeing him naked excited me. He removed his jeans, standing only in his boxers and socks.

"You planning on taking a shower in your clothes?" Josh laughed.

That shook me out of my daze, but my dick was starting to get hard. "I guess I'm just a little tired."

He laughed. "Whatever you say." With that, he pulled his boxers off and quickly turned away. I only got a glimpse of his cock. It seemed to be about four inches limp, and his balls hung low.

I undressed and wrapped a towel around my waist to hide my semi-erect prick. What was happening? This was my best friend. He wasn't gay… and I wasn't gay. Was I?

I stayed in the shower until my semi-erection had subsided. Thankfully, there were individual stalls and I could hide behind the curtain.

When I was done I dried off in the shower stall and wrapped the towel around my waist just in case I had a sudden pop-up. Josh was already out of the shower and sitting completely naked on one of the benches. On the one hand, I admired the way he just sat there without shame, while on the other I wished he would get dressed so that I wouldn't be distracted.

I groaned as my cock reacted to my friend sitting with his legs spread apart giving me a clear view of his cock and balls. It looked bigger than I had thought earlier.

My clothes were beside him, so there wasn't any way to avoid him. I turned away from him so that my back was to him, but if someone were to pass by they would definitely see my growing dick.

Wouldn't you know it… someone did. Marc passed by us wearing only a towel. He smiled at me, glanced down at my cock, then at Josh. His smile got a little bigger.

Josh suddenly spoke. "Take a look at this." I turned my head. He pointed to his toe where blood was trickling onto the floor.

"What happened?" I turned completely around forgetting my half hard-on.

"I don't know. I guess I cut it on something."

"Well, it's really bleeding." I squatted down and put my towel on the bleeding toe to apply pressure. "Does it hurt?" I looked up at him realizing I was almost eye-level to his cock. I swallowed hard. I thought I saw it move slightly.

"Not really," he replied. His eyes dropped briefly from my eyes to my crotch and I felt nervous again. He then lifted his foot and lightly caressed my balls.

I gasped and my cock twitched.

"Sorry, buddy." He lowered his foot again.

I couldn't answer. I glanced at his cock and it was semi-erect now. Maybe he was feeling what I was feeling. I thought I would test it.

I put one hand on his knee while I continued to apply pressure to his toe. "How does that feel?" I asked while spreading my fingers to stretch out against his thigh.

"Good." He looked around. Except for Marc, who was in the showers, we were alone. He raised his good foot again and kept it at my balls. He slowly moved it under them, touching them gently.

My cock was now completely hard.

"Boy have you grown," he smiled. He took his foot and ran it over my cock. I thought I was going to explode.

My hand moved closer to his cock and he too was hard. I found his balls and held them in my hand. I moaned and increased the motion of his foot on my dick.

"We have to hurry," he said. "Marc will be right back."

All Male Fiction: Spokes & Strokes

By: Unknown Author

 

 

 

One by one, my four buddies dropped out. Other commitments, they claimed. One couldn't get time off from work. One had a family emergency, one just wimped out, and one decided he'd rather spend Saturday night judging a drag competition.

So, that left me alone with four thousand other bikers, facing a two-day, one hundred and fifty-mile cycling trip, not knowing a soul. But hell, I'd paid my registration fee and looked forward to this outing all summer. With or without my buddies, I was going.

They let us through the starting gate in groups of one hundred at 6:30am. I was in the third group. The sun was just creeping over the horizon as we lined up our bikes. I ran a quick, last-minute check over my new black Fuji and made sure my pair of water bottles were full, and then scanned my fellow bikers.

Let me tell you, there was some prime meat there, and all of it stuffed into tight Spandex. It's hard to hide your equipment in biker shorts. Serious cyclists are almost always in such great shape, too; great leg muscles, hard rounded asses and flat bellies. I felt my cock begin to stiffen as I looked around.

Down boy, I thought as I looked down at my crotch. It's probably all straight meat.

I was waiting impatiently for the go flag when I spied him. He was about three bikes further back in the pack, standing with a big silver Cannondale between his legs, looking really relaxed. He hadn't put his helmet on yet, and the wind stirred his thick black hair. There was a hard, handsome angle to his sun-bronzed face, and he had the kind of piercing blue eyes you only read about in books. His short-sleeved jersey was zipped to the neck, but I could see the clear outline of his well-developed pectorals underneath and the clean definition of his biceps and forearms.

Suddenly, he looked my way, and I turned around quickly and pretended to adjust the strap on the back of one of my gloves. I didn't want him to think I was staring. Slowly, though, I turned around again. He was drinking from his water bottle with his head tipped back, his throat muscles working as he swallowed.

The flag came down. The pack surged forward, a rippling sea of colorful helmets and jerseys and bikes as the riders stepped onto their pedals and took off. There was a big archway of bright balloons to pass under, and the families and friends of all the riders stood at the sides applauding and yelling.

My heart hammered with excitement. I'd done these rides before, though never without at least one partner. We turned out onto Highway 50, one lane of which had been marked and set aside for the tour riders. I shifted up onto the big wheel immediately and tore down the pavement. Riding in a pack can be dangerous if a lot of bikes are too close together, so I always like to get up front and away from the others as fast as possible.

Cars whisked by in the left-hand lane. Little kids pressed their faces to windows, wide-eyed and excited by all the bikes. Drivers waved to us out of rolled-down windows, just as excited, but with a more adult demeanor. Some cars pulled off onto the shoulder and parked to watch us go by.

One had a sign taped to the back bumper that said, "Go all the way, Becky!"

Yeah, there were a few women on this ride, too. Becky's friends stood by their car with cameras and camcorders, screaming and yelling.

I'd had a new aero-bar installed on my handlebars. That's a kind of sharply bent, U-shaped bar that extends out in front of your normal bars. You can lie down almost flat, reach out, and really pedal like hell. It cuts down on wind drag, too, so I was going all out.

Ten miles down the highway, I braked and pulled into the first rest stop. Depending on the terrain, there were rest stops positioned every six to ten miles on the tour. I parked my Fuji, took off my gloves, walked over to several tables under a big tent, and helped myself to an orange wedge.

There were lots of bikers gathered around from the first two packs, riders who hadn't pushed on yet. From this point on, the packs would begin to string out and mingle into one long line of bikers.

As I swallowed a bite of orange, he pulled in. His face gleamed with sweat. Beads of it rolled off the tip of his nose as he unstrapped his helmet and leaned back on his bike seat. Slowly, he got off, peeled off his jersey, stuffed it into a tiny ball, and shoved it into the small pack under his seat.

I just about choked on my orange. His nipples were brown and erect, large as half-dollars. His chest was absolutely smooth, his belly ridged with hard muscle. A tiny patch of black hair extended from just below his navel down into the top of his black biker shorts.

He pulled his water bottle from its rack and poured it over his head. The water ran in streams through his hair, down his face, in beads over that chest and into his shorts. Then he carried the empty bottle over to one of several tanks and proceeded to refill it.

"Good ride isn't it?" he said to me as he passed by on his way back to his Cannondale.

I was too startled to answer immediately.

"It gets harder from here on out," I answered, but he was already gone, astride his bike, where he busied himself over his cyclometer.

The sun was moving higher into the sky now, and the morning was getting warm. With two water bottles on my bike, I had enough to get me to the next rest stop, so I hopped back into the saddle and took off.

We were on country roads now, and the pavement rolled along through farm country over gentle, sloping hills. Volunteers with orange flags waved us in the proper direction at intersections, and farmers and their families sat out on their porches to watch us go by.

I glanced over my shoulder to measure my progress against the other riders. My bare-chested friend was right behind me, pedaling with efficient, relaxed energy. I bent down on my aero-bar again and rushed ahead. Though I loved passing people, I hated to be passed, even by bare-chested, dark-haired hunks like the one who was riding my ass.

I reached the second rest stop about four minutes before he did, and took the time to down a full bottle of water. There was cherry yogurt to eat this time, as well as orange wedges and peanut butter sandwiches. I scooped the yogurt down, refilled my water bottle, and headed back to my bike. Before I took off, I looked around.

He was leaning against a tree, enjoying some shade while he ate his own cup of yogurt. Our gazes met briefly, and I swallowed. In his Spandex shorts, I could see the outline of his thick, soft cock.

I shot off like a rocket down the highway, putting that image out of my mind. This was a bike tour, not a cruise.

Concentrate on your time and speed, and on the distance. There's a long way to go, I silently told myself.

My jersey was soaked with sweat by now. Without slowing, I grabbed one of my water bottles and took a drink. Then I gave myself a squirt in the face to cool myself off. As I pushed the bottle back into its rack, I glanced back. My dark-haired friend was just coming over the summit of a hill about an eighth of a mile back, coming hard.

Well, he wasn't going to catch me. No way. I bent low and settled in for some serious pedaling. The road swept by in a blur beneath my wheels. The wind sang in my ears. I laughed a little because I loved it so much. My body felt like a perfectly functioning machine. I'd trained hard for this ride, honed my muscles, and this was the payoff. This thrill! So what if my buddies had chickened out, who needed them?

I was closing on a pair of riders ahead of me. One of them had a really nice ass wrapped in bright blue Spandex and all stuck up in the air as he worked his pedals. One thing you had to say about these country rides: the scenery was always fantastic. He was obviously in the wrong gear, though, not getting the most reward for his effort, as I surged past, my eye on another string of riders ahead.

Looking down at the cyclometer on my handlebars, I saw I'd come twenty-three miles in well under an hour, which made me feel pretty good.

Then disaster struck. The last rider in the string ahead lost control of his bike and slid sideways. He rolled into the left lane while his fallen bike blocked the right. There was no way I could slow down in time, so I steered desperately for the narrow grassy shoulder. There was about a four-inch drop-off between the pavement and the grass and then a steep ditch. My Fuji pitched forward, and I flew over the handlebars.

A sharp pain exploded in the front of my left shin, and then I hit the ground, the wind knocked out of me, stars bursting inside my skull. The Fuji skidded around and fell beside me in the ditch. Instead of biker gear, the kid who had fallen off his bike wore cutoffs and tennis shoes. A damned beginner and he didn't even seem to be scratched. He stood above me on the pavement, hands on his knees as he stared down at me wide-eyed.

"Hey, you all right, man?" he called. "I hit some gravel and just lost it."

I couldn't answer right away. The wind was still knocked out of me. A lot of bikers were slowing down or pulling over to see what had happened. Then my dark-haired friend pulled up. He parked his Cannondale, whipped off his helmet, threw it down by his bike, and then scrambled down the grassy embankment.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a concerned voice. "I'm a doctor."