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: Halloween Treat

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Based on a premise by CubShaman

 

There was still quite a bit of candy left in the bowl as Kyle locked the front door and shut off the porch light; he was happy the trick-or-treating part of the night was over because he had his own special Halloween celebration planned.

Kyle was an attractive and fit twenty-eight-year-old man who had been married to his high-school sweetheart for seven years. He'd never been able to celebrate Halloween in the way he was about to because his wife had always been home, and he knew she just wouldn't understand.

But this year things were different; his wife had gotten a promotion at work, a promotion which also came with a requirement to attend a yearly company seminar. And, as luck would have it, that annual seminar was scheduled to take place during the last week of October each year, and it was that circumstance that would finally allow Kyle to do what he had waited many a Halloween to do.

At last, the wait was over and Kyle didn't waste any time, excitedly rubbing his hands together before he made a dash for the kitchen.

Once there, he went over to a drawer, grabbed a knife, and then proceeded to carve a round hole into the side of the pumpkin that sat atop the kitchen counter.

Finished, Kyle placed the knife on the counter, took a step back, and grinned at his creation. He then shoved his hand into his pants pocket and withdrew a joint and a lighter. Waiting to smoke up until after he carved the hole in the pumpkin meant Kyle would have to wait just a little bit longer to get started with his special celebration, but he figured it would be a lot safer handling the knife BEFORE he got high.

After moving over to the sink and washing the roach down the drain, Kyle turned back to the counter where the pumpkin sat, and he grinned again as he looked at it once more. However, this time that grin barely had time to creep all the way across his face before he was unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly, and pawing at the button on his jeans.

As gravity took his jeans down around his ankles, Kyle yanked his tighty-whities down to his knees revealing his already hard seven-inch rod that was already leaking clear liquid from its tip. That prick of his was uncut and thick, too, and he had big low-hanging balls to go with it, and he kept those big balls shaved and his bush trimmed short. He also had an ass that many gay men would probably just want to dive right into – with their mouths or cocks… or both! Unfortunately for them, Kyle was about as heterosexual as they come.

Kyle absentmindedly gave his balls a scratch and then his hands were just a blur as they moved to the counter where the pumpkin sat, and he grabbed it, held it in his hands in line with his twitching prick, and he thrust his member deep into its hole. He moaned as his hog was enveloped by the wet, cool insides of the pumpkin, and then he started to gently thrust in and out of it.

Kyle and his wife still had sex regularly – once or twice a week – but despite how much sex he was having, Kyle had always really enjoyed masturbating. However, until this night, he had only ever used his own hand to pleasure himself, and while he'd imagined that using a pumpkin would probably feel pretty good, he never thought it could feel THAT good!

Kyle knew pretty quickly that his slow thrusts just weren't going to cut it, not with the way his cock felt in that tight, wet, and slippery hole he had created for himself. So, he pulled his dick out and lay the pumpkin on the floor instead.

Kyle freed his jeans from around his ankles and then positioned himself above the pumpkin, and with his cock pointed at the hole he lowered himself down until his stiff, slimy dong reentered it. He wrapped the fingers of one hand around the stem and began fucking the pumpkin, hard, as hard as he could, harder than he had ever fucked his wife, filling the room with the sound of his balls slapping loudly against the cool, hard skin of the pumpkin.

Kyle was moaning and panting heavily in no time at all; he wasn't planning on cumming so quickly but with his hard pounding and his prick feeling so incredible going in and out of that slimy hole, he could already feel his load rising. He could have easily delayed his approaching ejaculation by slowing his thrusting down, but he really didn't want to at that moment; he had waited so long to try this, why hold back? After all, he knew, good as it felt, he'd be horny for some more pumpkin-pussy before the night was over, and that he'd be able to make himself cum again, too, so he kept going at it full throttle.

And then the doorbell rang.

Kyle just ignored it, but then it rang again. "Damn kids," he grumbled. "Halloween's over, at least for them," and he kept fucking the pumpkin.

And the doorbell rang a third time.

Kyle stopped thrusting and grumbled some more to himself as he reluctantly pulled his cock out of the pumpkin and slipped his tighty-whities back on. Moving at a quick pace, he made his way to the nearby bathroom and grabbed his bathrobe from the back of the door.

And the doorbell rang a fourth time.

"Hold on! I'm coming!" Kyle shouted as he was tying his robe while on his way to answer the door, the irony of the phrase not escaping him.

Kyle grabbed the candy dish and turned on the porch light; annoyed as he was, he wasn't going to deprive some kids of candy on Halloween. As he flipped the deadbolt and reached for the doorknob, he forced a smiled onto his face and opened the door. "Happy Hallowee-" Kyle stopped. He was expecting to see a kid or kids, but instead, he saw what he could tell was a grown man in a ghost costume.

The man in the ghost costume was holding a pumpkin bucket and held it out. "Trick-or-treat!" he said in a deep voice.

Kyle chuckled, "Aren't you a little old for trick-or-treating?"

"Halloween is for everybody," the stranger replied, his voice slightly muffled by the costume that covered his head and body. "Everyone deserves a treat on Halloween."

Kyle just chuckled and shook his head at the situation, and then went ahead and dropped a few pieces of candy into the man's bucket, if for no other reason than to get rid of the adult trick-or-treater so he could get back to his own Halloween treat.

Kyle wished the guy a happy Halloween and closed the door. He put the candy bowl back on the table, once again locked the front door and turned off the porch light, and then he headed back to the kitchen.  

Kyle returned to the living room moments later, pumpkin in hand; he figured it would be more comfortable being down on the carpeted floor rather than the hard kitchen floor. He was still slightly hard, and after placing the pumpkin down on the floor, Kyle opened his robe, pulled off his underwear, got down, and began to fuck his pumpkin some more. His prick stiffened back up in an instant, and a happy chittering moan escaped him as he pumped it.

Kyle huffed as he built his load back up, he could feel sweat drip down his ass crack as he thrust. And then…

…the doorbell rang again.

Again, Kyle decided to ignore it, and again, the doorbell rang again… and again… and again.

"Son of a -!" Kyle started as he yanked his cock out of the pumpkin again. He stood up and closed his robe, leaving his underwear on the floor this time, and went to the door.

Kyle opened the door to see the ghost man was back. But this time another man was with him; a man in overalls and a paper mâché jack-o-lantern mask. Both men held out pumpkin buckets, "Trick-or-treat!" they said.

"You were just here! And the porch light off means no more candy! What am I saying? You're grown men, for fucks sake! Get out of here," Kyle snapped.

"But I didn't get the treat I wanted," the ghost man said.

"You didn't get the tre… look, both of you leave and don't come back, or I'll call the cops!"

"We didn't get the treat we wanted," the jack-o-lantern man said.

"For fucks sake!" Kyle cursed again and turned to grab the candy bowl. "Here! Take what you want and leave!"

"That's not what we want," the ghost man said pointing at the bowl of Halloween candy.

Kyle was more than annoyed and went to close the door in their faces, but the jack-o-lantern man stopped him from being able to do so. "We want our treat," he said.

"What treat? What the fuck do you want?!"

The ghost man lifted his sheet and the jack-o-lantern man unbuttoned his one still buttoned overall strap and the overalls fell down around his feet. The two men were both naked below their waists and their fully exposed cocks were now staring Kyle in the face.

"What the hell?!" Kyle said as he quickly looked away; he didn't want to see other guys' dicks! "Get the fuck out of here you perverts!"

"We want to join you," the jack-o-lantern man said.

"Join me? Uh, I don't know if this is some sort of prank, but I'm a happily married man… a happily married STRAIGHT man," Kyle informed as he again tried to close the door on them. "Go, now, or I'm calling the cops!"

"We want to join you," the ghost man repeated, and he pointed at the pumpkin Kyle had been fucking before they had interrupted him.

"How did you know I was…" he started as he too pointed over to the pumpkin. He didn't know why he asked that or why he even cared how they knew, but he suddenly felt different somehow and he remained standing there, calmer now waiting for the answer.

"We heard your cries of penis pleasure, brother," the jack-o-lantern man said. "Every year on this Hallows Night we answer the cries of the men who have thrust their phalluses into the sacred pumpkin. We come to them so that they may cum and share their seed treat with us."

"Uh, ok," Kyle chuckled. "What are you guys on?" he laughed.

"We are on a mission. Please, let us come in so that you may share your seed treat with us," the ghost man said.

"And so that we may also share ours with you, brother," the jack-o-lantern man added.

Kyle unwittingly looked down at their cocks, and saw that the men were both now fully erect. He then realized that his own had sprung back to life as well, and then he heard himself inviting the two men to come inside.

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 Fiction: The House Painters

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The other guy came jogging over to the driveway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: A Fair to Remember

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

The summer after I turned eighteen, the old gang from high school decided to get together for one last fling. A couple of the guys were getting married in the fall, a couple more were joining the army, and myself and another were set to go off to college. We all got together out at my parents' farm for a big barbecue, then we headed out to the big park on the outskirts of town, where the county fair had set up. This might not seem like a likely place for a big fling, but you gotta remember that we were country boys living far from the temptations of the big city.

The six of us hit the fairgrounds at about sundown, and soon we'd bro­ken up into two groups. I was walking down the midway with a couple of my buddies when a herd of kids rounded the corner of a tent, going full-blast. One of the little rug rats plowed right into me, jamming his cotton candy right between my legs. It was hotter'n hell out, and the com­bination of sweat and sugar on my bare legs was not a pleasant sensation. I looked down and saw nothing but pink fuzz from knee to crotch. My buddies got quite a kick out of it, but I couldn't see wandering around for the rest of the night with sticky thighs, so I left them at the arcade booth and headed off in search of a place to get cleaned up.

I must've made a wrong turn, because instead of ending up at the bathrooms under the grandstand, I found myself smack in the middle of the trailers where the folks who worked the fair circuit were living. There were a couple of lights on, but for the most part everyone was work­ing. I was trying to find my way back to the midway when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Stop right there, buddy," a gruff voice ordered. Hell, I wasn't looking for a fight, so I stopped right in my tracks. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was taking a shortcut to the men's room, and I guess I got lost," I shrugged.

As he removed his hand from my shoulder, I turned to face the man who had stopped me. He was a big guy, with slicked-back hair and a cigarette hang­ing out of the corner of his mouth, glowing in the dusk. The light was behind him, so I couldn't make out much more than that, but he could clearly see me. "I got zapped by some kid's cotton candy. I'm a mess." I looked down at my legs and shrugged. The long hairs growing on the insides of my thighs were plas­tered flat, giving me some credibility.

"Looks like they got you a good one," he chuckled. "Sorry I wasn't too friendly at first, but a couple of the trailers got robbed last week and folks around here are a little nervous. Why don't you come with me and we'll get you all fixed up?"

I nodded and followed, assuming he was going to show me to the washroom since I had told him I had gotten lost trying to find it, but instead he led me over to a trailer parked under a large tree. He flipped on the lights and motioned me inside. The trailer was tiny, and there was barely room for the two of us in the cramped quarters. The guy smiled at me and offered me a beer, which I gratefully accepted.

In the light, I could see that he wasn't much older than me, probably mid-twenties, dark-haired and kinda good-looking, in a rough kinda way. He hadn't shaved, and the stub­ble on his chin and cheeks was almost starting to look like a beard. The sleeves were ripped off of his shirt, displaying a solid pair of arms with pumped biceps. There was a tattoo of a tiger on his left forearm that really looked like it was moving when he flexed his muscles. His shorts were just an old pair of jeans that he had cut down, and they were worn in all the right places. He had big hands with grease and grime ground into the callouses, like he was a mechanic or something along those lines.

"Looks like they got your shorts as well," the guy said, staring openly at my crotch. "Slip 'em off and I'll throw them in the sink; in this heat, they'll be dry in no time."

I took off my shorts and discovered that the gooey mess was also on my shirt. The guy motioned for me to give him that as well, leaving me cooling my heels in my underwear, white socks and sneakers. "I feel pretty dumb," I commented, taking a long pull on the beer.

"Don't worry about it," the guy said, looking me up and down. "Too fucking hot for clothes anyway," he said as he peeled his shirt off over his head.

The guy was built real solid, with a smooth chest and a pleasure trail that traveled from his navel into his jean shorts. He motioned for me to sit on the couch, then sat on the chair across from me. The space was so small that our knees were touching.

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: Roommates (Part 1)

"Secret Rendezvous"

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

It had been a long week and I was glad it was finally Friday! Even better was that my boss had let everyone go home early, which was an unexpected and much appreciated bonus. I literally breathed a sigh of relief when I walked through my front door, happy that it was the weekend; not that I had any major plans, other than sleeping in and maybe going out on Saturday night and trying to get laid. Tonight, though, I just planned to relax, and I was going to start the process by taking a hot shower. Not only would it help to relieve some of the day's tension, but I really needed one, too - it was a swelteringly hot day, and being crammed on a bus that was packed like sardines had left me sweaty all over.

I went right to my room and stripped off all my clothes, putting them directly in the hamper. I hated the habit that my roommate, Mark, had of undressing in the bathroom and leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, and that is why I always took my clothes off in my bedroom before showering. I suppose I could have undressed in the bathroom and carried my clothes back to my room after, but that seemed like an extra, unnecessary step.

The fact that I had a roommate didn't hinder my practice of venturing from my bedroom to the bathroom completely naked. And, there was no way to avoid crossing his path if he was in the living room: We lived on the main floor of a house, which had been retro fitted as apartments. My bedroom was in what used to be the dining room, right off the end of the living room. Mark's bedroom was also off the living room, on the back wall in what had originally been designed as a den or office space. The large eat-in kitchen had been split in two, with one half being turned into a bathroom. So basically all rooms – kitchen, bathroom, and both bedrooms – faced the living room, and you had to pass through the living room to access them.

Mark didn't care that I would walk through naked and never gave me a second glance. In fact, I think he made a point of diverting his eyes, for which I was glad - I may not have had any issue with him seeing me naked, but I certainly didn't want him checking me out. The fact that we were both straight, and such good friends, allowed me such comfortable casualness.

I looked at the time before leaving my bedroom. It was almost 4:30. Perfect! That gave me about an hour before Mark got home - usually, he got home before me. Naked, I left my bedroom and strode across the living room to the bathroom.

Turning on the shower, I got the water nice and hot and stepped into the spray. I wet myself down and began to lather the soap on my body. When I soaped up my dick, I let my hand linger a bit and it didn't take too long before my cock responded and started to grow. I gave it a few loving strokes but then let go of it and finished washing myself. I had stopped on the way home and rented a new porno and wanted to save my load until after my shower, so I could beat off in front of the TV watching it.

And, I was really looking forward to it, too, because I always had to do it in the bathroom either at the toilet or in the shower - Mark was the type of guy who would knock and then open the door before waiting for permission to enter. He had almost walked in on me beating my meat once, but thankfully I had just started playing with myself and still had the sheet and bulky comforter over my naked body, so he hadn't seen what I was doing – but that was too close for comfort - and from that point forward I always jerked off behind the security of the locked bathroom door when he was around. Doing it sprawled naked on the couch with porn playing on the flat screen was such a rare treat. Thinking about it had my cock raging, so I quickly rinsed the soap from my body and shut off the water.

As I stepped out to dry off, I heard the front door open and bang shut and I cursed under my breath. Mark, of course, had every right to come home, but I was pissed that he had done so before he was due, because now I couldn't jerk off, at least not in the way I had planned. At that moment, I wished I had jerked off first and then taken a shower, but I had felt grimy and wanted to get the dried sweat off first… and thought I had plenty of time to do both. I still needed to get off, though, and it looked like I was going to have a date with the toilet, instead. At least the steam from the shower had quickly dissipated through the open bathroom window, so I wouldn't end up soaked in sweat all over again.

As I began to dry off I could hear my roommate talking to someone, so I put my ear to the door and listened. I would never normally do that type of thing; I respected my roommate's privacy and, quite frankly, I usually didn't give a crap about what he was saying when he had a friend over. I just wanted to find out if it was a girl or one of his buddies. If it was one of his buddies, there wouldn't be a problem walking out in just a towel. But, if it was a girl, I would have to wait. I had done that once before, and he got mad at me after, asking me to not just barge into the living room wearing only a towel and a smile if he had brought a chick home. In those situations, he asked that I wait in the bathroom until they went to his bedroom, which we both knew would be right away. While he had some of his buddies over from time to time, the only time he ever brought a girl home was to fuck her, and he always did that behind closed doors.

Even though I was straining my ear to hear, the sounds were muffled so I quietly twisted the doorknob and opened the door a bit. I could hear Mark talking softly, but I had not heard the voice of whomever he was talking to, yet. I would have to stay trapped in the bathroom and keep listening until the other person spoke, so I would know if it was ok to venture out or not.

Now if only the other person would say something, but Mark wasn't letting them get a word in. He was just rambling on and on about something, in a soothing voice, but I still couldn't hear exactly what he was saying. I was assuming he was trying to convince a nervous girl to go through with the sex he had brought her home for.

Suddenly Mark moved his position in the room, and I could now clearly see him, but not the other person. I knew I was probably right about what he was doing when I heard him say, "Have you ever done this before?"

It was at that point that I finally heard the other person speak - the first time Mark had let them speak - and it was another guy. I knew that Mark was trying to find someone to hook up his new surround sound system, so I figured that's what they had been discussing when he had asked the other guy if he had ever done it before. Since it was another guy, I was just about to make a bee-line for my bedroom when the male stranger said, "Yeah, I've given blowjobs a couple of times before."

Bisexual Fiction: Driven by Desire (Part 2)

By: Ryan Michaels

ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Read Part 1

My hand was almost shaking with anticipation and excitement as I reached out to knock on the door of 1203 Ridgeburn Crescent.

"Hey come on in buddy," Rob said after opening the door.

I stepped inside and took my shoes off.

"My girlfriend's in the living room." I followed him into the living room. "Ryan this is Michelle. Michelle, Ryan."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"Nice to meet you too," she replied smiling.

"So what do you think? You wanna fuck him or what?" Rob asked.

"Rob!" Michelle said blushing. "Jesus Christ!"

"What? That's why we invited him over isn't it?"

"Yes, but he just walked in the door and you didn't have to just blurt it out in that way. There's such a thing as tact."

"Women!" Rob said rolling his eyes. Michelle swatted him across the arm.

"It's ok. He's right. He did tell me I was coming over to see if you approved and if so we were all gonna have sex together. It's cool if you two want to get right to it," I said.

"Oh, um, well did Rob mention certain details about what we wanted to do?" Michelle asked me.

"You mean about you wanting to see another guy suck his dick? Yes, he mentioned it."

"And you are comfortable with that? I mean if you aren't, it's ok, but I need to know now because that's a stipulation in my agreeing to have a threesome," Michelle replied.

"Yes, I am cool with it."

"Rob told me you are straight, so do you mind if I ask why you want to suck another guy's cock? Doesn't that mean you are least bi?"

I had no idea Rob was going to tell his girlfriend I was straight but I figured I had better play along, and I was a quick thinker so it was no big deal.

"Well, even though it's embarrassing to admit, it's been quite a while since I've been with a woman, and when Rob asked me about the threesome I was really excited about it. Then he mentioned the whole dick sucking thing and I was like, no way!"

"So why did you finally agree to do it?" Michelle asked inquisitively.

"Well honestly, and I hope I don't offend you, but Rob started describing your pussy, telling me how it was shaved and how tight it was and how good it feels. When you've gone without for so long and you have the opportunity to get some, the little head starts to take over. I've also never had a threesome before and it's always been a fantasy of mine. I'm totally straight but also pretty open-minded and I figured I could try it in order to get some pussy, and to finally get to have a threesome."

"And that's all it took to get you to agree to suck dick, the promise of some pussy?"

"Well yeah, and I mean I have some gay friends and never understood what they got out of sucking other guys dicks, and the more I thought about it I guess I was a bit curious to see what it's like. And, as I said, I am open-minded too and I just look at it as a new experience; One that I'll probably never repeat, but it's kind of cool to at least say and know that I tried it." Everything I was telling her was the truth. Except that I was actually talking about being with a woman, but she didn't need to know that.

"That's really cool, and you're right, very open-minded of you."

"Great! So you wanna fuck or what?" Rob asked getting impatient and perhaps feeling a bit ignored.

"Jeez keep your pants on Rob, we're just talking," Michelle scowled.

"That's just it, I don't want to keep my pants on. I want to take them off and fuck some pussy and have a couple of bitches suck my cock!"

"Classy isn't he?" Michelle said smiling at me.

"Yeah," I said chuckling. "But I would like to get started too, if you want to do this."

"Oh yes. I like you, and I definitely can't wait to see you sucking my straight, macho boyfriend's cock."

"Great! Then let's go upstairs and get naked," Rob said motioning to the stairs.

There was no argument from Michelle or from me, and we headed up the stairs to their bedroom.

All Male Fiction: The Boy Next Door

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" I asked Shawn, the boy from next door. His twenty-first birthday was in just a few days.

Shawn scratched his head and looked puzzled.

"Gee, I dunno, Rick," he drawled. "Maybe... well, how about a good blowjob?"

I nearly dropped my drink. Seeing my look of shock, Shawn let his poker face break into a grin, and he laughed out loud. I forced a laugh, too, though I was a little puzzled about why he'd chosen this form of humor, and I was a lot disappointed that he wasn't serious.

"What's the matter?" I countered. "Won't your girlfriend suck it for you?"

"Shit, she calls it a blowjob, but I call it all teeth and hot air."

We laughed again and left it at that.

Shawn and I had first met four years ago, when I moved into the house next door to his. Although I was fourteen years older than him, a friendship soon blossomed between us. It wasn't like he didn't have any friends his own age, he did, but we just really seemed to hit it off well, at first just shooting the shit whenever we saw each other outside, and then, eventually, Shawn started dropping by to just hang out, whenever he was bored.

And he got bored a lot, mainly because he attended a local college while most of his friends had gone off to attend out of town colleges and universities. Whenever he wasn't too busy with his school work he'd usually be hanging out over at my place, even more so in the summer. An only child, I think he thought of me like an older brother or something.

My feelings toward him were far from being brotherly, though. Not that it mattered; Shawn had no idea that I was gay, and, as far as I knew, he was straight. Hitting on him would likely only result in putting an end to our friendship, so I had resigned myself to the fact that the only way I would ever have him was in my fantasies.

When the day of Shawn's birthday arrived, I stopped by his house to drop off a gift for him. We had never exchanged birthday gifts before, but turning twenty-one was considered one of those milestone birthdays, and so I had decided that I wanted to get him something, and I got him something I felt was appropriate for the occasion: a nice bottle of Jack Daniels.

Shawn laughed when I gave it to him, thanked me and told me that he would definitely put it to good use later that night. Shawn's birthday was in the summer, so most of his friends were around again, and he went on to explain that he had invited a bunch of them over to his place to celebrate his special day. He didn't offer me an invite, but that was ok; I totally understood. After all, it would seem kind of odd for a twenty-one-year-old guy to invite his thirty-five-year-old neighbor to a party full of other twenty-one-year-olds.

Late that evening the doorbell rang, and there stood Shawn. His party had obviously come to an end, and he stood there with a smile on his face, holding a napkin-covered paper plate. "I thought you might like some cake. I even brought something to wash it down with," he said grinning and holding up the bottle of Jack Daniels I had given him in his other hand.

I could smell the whiskey on his breath as he spoke, and could tell he was very close to being drunk. I accepted his offer and invited him in.

Once inside, and after handing him a glass for his whisky, I asked about his party and he began to fill me in on it and told me of the gifts he got.

"I'll tell you, though," he said, now sipping his second whiskey, "I was kinda disappointed that all I got from you was a bottle of booze. I was really countin' on that blowjob," he laughed.