All Male Fiction: Blowjob Blues

 By: wpblue & Ryan Michaels

 

We sprinted the last several yards along the beach before dropping into the sand; both of us sweaty and panting, trying to catch our breath. We had met on the beach several weeks ago - Sunday morning runners who happened to take the time to chat - and have been meeting to run every Sunday morning since then.

His name was Kyle. He's 26 and is a self-employed fitness instructor. He had what I would describe as a dancer's build. He was thin, but all sinew and muscle. He had an incredibly sexy bubble butt and an enticing bulge that was prominent even when he was wearing baggy running shorts.

His voice was deep and sexy, and even his mundane chatter kept my interest. It was like the sound waves from his voice were covered in lube and they floated through the air to slide around my cock.

His body and his voice kept me in a perpetual state of lust when I was around him, but I did my best to keep myself in check. I hadn't told him I was gay; the subject had never come up, and if he suspected it, he has never said anything about it.

There was really nothing about me to suggest that I was gay (other than the way my eyes lingered on him, the way they undressed him). I have an average build, somewhat on the muscular side, and I am as masculine as he is, though in an understated way. He's definitely an Alpha male, whereas I am more subdued.

He was exceptionally quiet this morning, and I wondered what was on his mind. I turned onto my side and studied him. He was splayed across the sand, eyes closed, arms at his sides, legs spread. I watched the subtle movement of his stomach; studied the prominent bulge in his shorts. He opened his eyes and sighed deeply. He was clearly conflicted about something, and I decided to find out what was bothering him.

"Are you okay Kyle? You're not usually this quiet."

He didn't answer right away, just sighed a few more times before finally speaking. "I'm okay, I guess. But sometimes, life can be really fucked up, you know?"

"I hear ya. What's going on? You want to talk about it?"

Kyle sat up and faced me, his legs pulled up and spread. His eyes locked onto mine, making me feel like I was going to melt. "It's my girlfriend... I know I haven't said much about her before, it's like private stuff, you know? But lately, she's been like a cold fish when it comes to sex. She's cuddly and affectionate, but when I try to have sex, she backs off, tells me that's all I think about."

"Is it?"

"Is it, what?"

"Is it all you think about?"

"Hell no. Well, maybe. I mean, I need sex, you know? Fuck, maybe I do pressure her too much. I sometimes think I'm addicted to sex. I jack off in the shower in the morning and then have to jack off at night too before I go to sleep. Anytime I'm on the computer I end up jackin' off to porn, even if I've already jacked off a few times. It's like my dick is always hard - and I'm always thinkin' about gettin' off."

"Geez Kyle, maybe all that jerkin' off has her upset. Maybe she feels threatened."

"No, she's happy I take care of my own needs because she doesn't want to have sex. But I'm not happy about it; I still want sex, no matter how many times I've jacked off. I mean, that's part of being in a relationship, right?"

I nodded.

"And then, when we do have sex, she won't even go down on me. She'll, like, lick it, and get me all primed, but then won't suck it. She says it's too big, that the taste is gross. I don't get it; I go down on her every time we do have sex."

All this talk about his cock made me look at his bulge. And he noticed where my eyes were. He frowned slightly but didn't say a word.

"Okay Kyle, I get it. You're a horn dog. But do you like her enough to keep dating her, even if she doesn't want to blow you?"

"I don't know man. It's not just the blowjobs; it's the sex in general. I kind of regret asking her to move in with me, now. I mean, there's just no hiding when I get hard, and when I am, which is, like, all the fucking time it seems, I always try to get sex and she only ever says yes about once a week. Hell, I'm hard now just talkin' about always being hard."

Once again, I had to look. And yes, he was hard. I could see the fullness pressed against the material of his shorts. My thoughts were no longer on his girlfriend issue, but on the large hard-on between his legs; I couldn't take my eyes off it. When I did take my eyes off of it and looked at him, he was staring at me. He adjusted himself and closed his legs.

Just as he started to say something, it started to rain. The rain was heavy and Kyle grabbed me by my shirt sleeve and said, "C'mon, let's get in my truck," and we jumped up and headed to the parking area.

By the time we jumped in the truck, we were both soaked. He started the engine and the air conditioner blasted us with cold air. I start to shiver in my wet clothes, and he adjusted the temperature. We sat quietly, and then he said, "I'm sorry to lay all this on you man. I just needed to talk about it. I'll figure something out."

"No problem. I don't mind listening; I just wish I had some advice for you."

"Well, what would you do in my shoes?"

"I'm not sure you'll like my answer to that." As I said that, he lifted the bottom of his shirt and fanned it, trying to dry it out. I looked down and could see that he was hard again, or still.

Again, he noticed me eyeing his cock. I tried to pretend that I was not aware of his aroused condition, and continued with what I had to say. "Your sex drive is not going to go away, and her sex drive isn't going to increase. So, unless you just want to stay frustrated all the time, the only logical choice is to break it off. Until you find someone that has a sex drive to match yours - you'll just have to get it where you can get it."

"I know you're right; it can't work."

We sat quietly again. It stopped raining, and he turned off the engine and rolled the windows down to the cool outside air. When he turned his head back, he followed my gaze, both of us now looking at the outline of his swollen cock. I looked away, pretending to concentrate on something outside.

"You don't need to look away. I'm pretty sure you want to see what I'm packin'."

All Male Fiction: Intimate Strangers

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Ryan drew in a sharp breath as he heard the front door squeak open. It was late, it was dark, and he was home alone, in bed, completely naked.

He heard footsteps, and his body tensed when he heard those footsteps getting closer and closer.

He could hardly breathe as his bedroom door swung open and, even though he was wearing a sleep mask, he shut his eyes.

Ryan felt the fingers and knuckles of what was obviously a man's hand on his skin as the man grasped the top of his blankets and pulled them down, exposing Ryan's bare butt.

As Ryan lay there fully exposed and vulnerable, his ears took in the sound of someone taking their clothes off. Moments later, he felt the mattress go down near the bottom. He remained completely still, barely breathing, as he felt the tip of the man's soft dick lightly brush against his balls before making its way from the base of his ass crack to the top of it.

All Male Fiction: A Real Man

 By: Tommyhawk1

 

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

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

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

"Oh, nothing," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male Fiction: Late-Night Hunger

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Male True Experience: A Walk on the Wild Side

By: ZigZagZonk

 

This experience happened thirty years ago, in the space of about thirty minutes.

I was twenty-one, shy, naïve, and more than a bit curious about life and sex. I was also getting absolutely no interest from the ladies. There was a bar close to my college that had a seedier reputation than it deserved because it was THE gay bar in the area and anybody who was gay, bi, or curious (like me) went there. It was New Year's Eve, and, to quote Lou Reed, I thought, "Why not take a walk on the wild side?"

Later that evening, I put on what I thought was appropriate attire for a gay nightclub and headed off. I may have been new at this, but I was not so naïve as to realize that my twinkish charm would appeal to some of the gay men.

When I got there, the club was packed full of men on the prowl, so many that every square inch was jammed full. The place had the stench of cologne, alcohol, and smoke. Those were the days when you could still smoke in a bar, but how anybody got a lit cigarette in their mouth was beyond me; you could only slip past the door and work yourself past horny men three inches at a time.

The dark nightclub was operating at a deafening roar. People laughed and talked at full volume to be heard over the dance music pounding out of the loudspeakers. Some of the young men seemed exciting and handsome, but bars were not my scene and I did not know how to start a conversation with a stranger in a room where you could hardly talk. I just shuffled past the men until I reached the far end.

When I reached the opposite end, someone was suddenly talking into my ear. "I haven't seen you here before," the voice said.

I turned my head when he pulled his away. He was twice my age and had the look of a man who worked out, with thick solid biceps that intimidated a skinny college kid like me.

"First time here," I shouted back over the hubbub and music.

He smiled knowingly of experience, looked over my body, lingering on my crotch for a moment, then looked back to my face, and said, "Well, welcome!"

As I replied, "Thanks," he looked back at my crotch again, and when he looked back at my face, I smiled. It was more of a nervous smile, but I guess he took it as interest and permission because he just unabashedly reached his hand over and started rubbing my cock through my pants.

All Male Fiction: The Christmas Package

By: Ryan Michaels
ryanxxx@hotmail.com

Warning: Although this story does not involve incest, it does involve a father watching his son having sex. If this type of theme offends you, do not read this story.

I couldn't help but smile as I placed the package in the trunk; I knew my son was going to be so surprised when he opened his Christmas present. It wasn't something he had asked for, but something I knew he was really going to enjoy.

Ben is eighteen years old and is an outgoing and personable individual. He is also athletic, and hard-working. Of course, as his dad, you might think I'm a bit biased, but there are many others who know him who would agree with my assessment 100%.

He is also an exceptional swimmer, and I was so proud when he was accepted to a large Ivy League university and asked to anchor the school's swim team. All of the years of getting up at four-thirty in the morning every day to take Ben to swim practice had paid off.

Still, the house felt so empty without him in it; raising him on my own for his whole life, the two of us have always had a very close relationship, and I have missed having him around.

That however was all about to change, at least in the short-term, as he was coming home for Christmas. He had been unable to get home for the Thanksgiving holiday, so I was looking forward to seeing him even more so.

I smiled as I pulled into the driveway and saw Greg's car. Greg was a friend of Ben's, and he had volunteered to make the trip to pick Ben up from school.

He was spending the holidays with us as well after his parents had decided to spend theirs at a tropical resort. It was Ben who had asked if Greg could spend Christmas with us, and I didn't mind at all; I didn't want anyone to have to spend it alone.

Getting out of the car, I grabbed the package from the trunk and tucked it inside my coat. It was Christmas eve and my boss had let us go home at four o'clock instead of six; this wasn't the norm on Christmas eve, but I wasn't complaining.

I looked at my watch as I made my way up the pathway to the front door. Even after stopping to pick up Ben's Christmas gift, it was still only 4:45.

Ben was always so curious about his Christmas gifts, so I quietly unlocked the front door in an effort to get his gift in the house and hidden away without him seeing me. I could have avoided this had I decided on his gift sooner. As it was, I took too long to make that decision thus ordering it online was not an option if I wanted it to arrive in time. Thankfully there was a specialty store in town that sold the particular item I was interested in.

As I opened the front door, I could hear Ben and Greg talking in the living room which was right to the left of the front entry. So, I quietly closed the door and made my way around to the back door instead.

As I slipped through the back door and into the kitchen, the faint aroma of burning hickory filled my nostrils, and I smiled; Ben knew how I always liked to have a fire on Christmas eve.

After stealthily making my way down the main floor hallway, I felt I would be able to get up the stairs without being noticed, provided the two boys had their backs to the living room doorway. So, I moved close to the wall and peered around it into the living room to check their positions, and my jaw dropped as my eyes took in the sight before me.

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.