Arab Gays Blog Community

Jim and Steve

2007-07-31T15:38:00.000-07:00

Steve and Jim had grown up together and, in true friendship, had shared everything in their eighteen years. In looks they were quite opposite -- Jim was of medium height, slim and dark haired while Steve was a blonde, somewhat taller and heavier. In outlook, it turned out, they were identical. One weekend during Spring break, Steve called Jim up on the phone and invited Jim to spend the weekend. With his parents out of town, Steve had decided that he didn't want to sit home alone all the time and decided that he and Jim could at least "hang out" for a couple of days. Jim agreed that it sounded like fun and, packing a bag, headed for Steve's house. Once there, Jim settled into the extra bed in Steve's room and the two friends decided to catch a quick swim. They changed into their suits and headed for the backyard where they quickly jumped in and swam a few laps. Pulling themselves out onto the deck, Steve and Jim lay back to let the sun dry them while they talked, as usual, about everything that came to mind. Again, as usual, the conversation turned to sex and the boys decided to watch some of Steve's dad's porno VCR tapes. They went into the den and Steve set up the machine, then sat down on the couch next to Jim as the tape began to play. The first tape was rather tame -- two guys and a girl fucking and sucking their heads off. Even though it was mild, both boys began to get hard-ons and, unconciously, began rubbing their cocks through their now dry swim trunks. Carefully, perhaps because they were embarassed, they avoided looking directly at each other but, out of the corners of their eyes, both boys snuck more than a glance at each other's bulges. When the first movie ended, Steve, with his hard-on clearly outlined in his racing trunks, walked over and put a second one on. This movie was a lot better -- it featured two guys who, meeting at a health club, became more than close friends.

As the two guys on the screen began kissing and undressing each other, Jim surprised both of them by turning to Steve and asking if they could try that, too. After thinking it over for a moment, Steve agreed that it was something they probably should try and suggested that they go ahead and do everything that the guys on the screen were doing. Their minds made up, the two friends stood up and tentatively put their arms around each other. As they pressed their bodies together, their hard, young cocks ground into each other and their breathing quickened. Jim was the first to make a move -- he reached down and gently squeezed Steve's young ass. Steve, not to be outdone, began to slowly lower Jim's trunks until he felt Jim's straining cock leap into his own belly. He reached down between them and began to slowly stroke Jim's tool, feeling it get harder and harder with each movement of his hand. Jim, not to be outdone, reached under Steve's shorts and began playing with Steve's cock and balls. Deciding to get more comfortable, the two boys broke apart for the few moments it took to lie down on the carpeted floor, then moved back into each other's embrace as they looked at the VCR to see what they were to do next. On the screen, one guy was on his knees licking and sucking the other man's straining cock so Steve, never the shy one, pulled Jim to his knees and bent down to get to work. Steve slowly licked up and down Jim's dick, tasting the spunk that Jim had left there after his morning beat-off session. Deciding to go even further, and really getting into the part, Steve then began licking Jim's balls, gently taking them into his mouth one at a time while running a finger over Jim's puckered, virgin asshole. Jim was almost ready to cum with just this action and, when Steve's sucking mouth went back to his dick, he couldn't hold it. Grabbing Steve's head in both of his hands, Jim began face-fucking his friend, moving his hips in and out of Steve's mouth and moaning about how goo d it felt and how he didn't want it to stop.

Suddenly, feeling his cum rise from his tight youthful balls, Jim moaned "I'm cumming! Keep sucking, please! Oh, God, it feels so good! Keep sucking -- moving -- yeah, that's it, yes-s-s-s-s-s-s!" With a last thrust, Jim felt his cum move through his rigid dick and into Steve's sucking mouth. Steve, a little suprised by the force of Jim's cum, managed to swallow all of it and, after checking out the VCR from the corner of his eye, began l icking Jim's dick clean. Gradually, Jim's cock began to soften although, because of Steve's gentle licking, it never did get completely soft. After he had caught his breath, Jim looked at Steve and said "That was the BEST! I didn't know you knew how to suck cock -- where did you learn?" Steve replied, "That was my first time -- did I really do OK? Did you really like it?" Jim just smiled and said "Lay back -- your cock is still hard so it's my turn to make you cum." Pushing Steve back onto the rug, Jim lay on top of him with their dicks rubbing together and began exploring his friend's body. Being somewhat dark complected, he was fascinated with the blonde, almost white peach fuzz that covered Steve's body. Jim decided to make this last and began gently licking Steve's nipples, first the left one then the right until both of them stood out from his friend's chest like little erasers. Seeing that Steve had closed his eyes and was enjoying the attention, Jim continued licking on down Steve's body until he reached the forest of blonde hair from the center of which spouted his friend's huge dick. Gently, Jim began licking just the tip and the sensitive underside of the plum-sized head, then worked his way down the thick shaft until his tongue was lapping at Steve's large, fuzz- covered balls. Remembering what Steve had done to him, Jim took each of Steve's balls into his mouth and gently sucked them. He then went back to the head of Steve's dick and began to gently lower his head over the delicious looking cock until he had swallowed it all. Moving gently, Jim began to slowly move his head back and forth, in and out and, at the same time, began probing for the other boy's asshole. All of this action had Jim's dick hard again and he decided that he would give his friend a special treat. He took his mouth off of Steve's straining cock and, when his friend opened his eyes in protest, motioned for Steve to turn over onto his stomach. Steve did so and Jim began to slowly lick Steve's asshole, getting it ready for what was to follow.

When he saw that his friend's asshole was well lubricated, he placed the head of his engorged cock against it and slowly began pushing until he had about half of his six inches buried in his friend's ass. Pausing for a second to let Steve get used to the feeling, he suddenly thrust his entire length into Steve's ass and began fucking him passionately. He also reached around Steve's moaning body and started beating him off, keeping a regular rhythm and trying to make them both cum together. After just a few moments of this hot action, Jim felt the cum rise from his balls once again and felt his friend's hot cock get even harder. Suddenly, Jim felt his spunk spurt from his straining cock into Steve's clenching asshole and, at almost exactly the same time, felt the warm, sticky fluid surging from Steve's cock all over his hand. It took quite a while before both boys had calmed down and Jim's now soft cock had slid from Steve's asshole. They lay there together, Jim's leg thrown over Steve's now soft cock while they talked about how they both had had wet dreams thinking of doing this with each other. They decided then and there that girls were probably OK, but that they really loved each other and would get together to fuck and suck as much and as often as they could.

ANTON

2007-07-31T15:30:00.000-07:00

After going to bed, showered and, of course, naked, Anton had lain awake for some time. Then he got up again and fetched the hand towel from the wash-station. He placed this by his hips when he lay down. His intention was obvious. He was lying on his back, with his left hand caressing the inside of his thigh, and nuzzling up against his balls. His forefinger began stroking the adjacent testicle. His other hand was flat on his stomach. His penis lay where it had flopped, the glans between the other ball and his thigh. It was clearly stirring. The upper hand began to migrate south, stroking the sensitive skin of the smooth area between the navel and the pubic hair. He had a thick forest, but low down and with a clean upper line. When they reached the root of his phallus, he parted his forefinger and second finger, and ran this vee down to embrace the thickening shank. A few pushes, with the fingers curving down to engage with the upper scro- tum, and the glans looked distinctly heavy. He transferred his forefinger to the other side of the shaft, and hooked it below it, supporting it so that the glans, by now doubled in size, was raised up. His thumb rubbed the upper surface of the shank, and more fingers joined in the support. He took the hand away, to re- assure himself of the presence of the towel, to catch the sperm and perhaps to cover himself in case of an intrusion. When he removed his hand, the shaft supported itself. He switched on the bedlight, and lay admiring the growing weapon. By now it was no mere stiffy, but a tree in full flare. He watched the taut skin pulling slowly back across the glistening plum-surface of his close textured glans. There was no quick flick of the fingers this time: he was taking his time. When the skin finally caught up on the flaring corona, the upturned rim of his glorious helmet, he pressed down with both hands on his pubic lawn, stretching the skin on the shaft enough to clear the rim. The first stage of erection was complete, the ridge of skin below the corona disappearing into smoothness as the penis filled to its last inch. He used the towel to remove some of the stickiness from his plum, wincing a little at the touch of the rough cloth. Still Anton just lay there, admiring what was certainly very much to be admired. Then he reached up for a picture book, the stiff member wobbling in its weak rooting as his upper body arched. He brought the picture of one beauty to the surface of the bed beside his loins. He held the open book above his midriff for a long time, look at it, but making no attempt to stimulate his organ. Apart from the occasionally pulsing which is natural in an unattended erection, there was no obvi- ous reaction in his tool. He closed the book, laid it flat on his stomach, and passed a hand down to grasp his shaft, then he began the work of the hand on the rod of iron. His technique was obviously practised, but unsophisticated. Writhing; delicious: he was a toe wiggler. The thigh muscles filled - full buns with deep side hollows and a clean division between the curve of the bun and the straighter convexity of the under-thigh. As the knees came up, the deep top grooves were clear, and most inviting. Relaxed - pumping not stopped, but much slowed, and the hand pres- sure minimal. The he slipped the hand up higher, and began to caress the point below the glans with the side of his finger. Some fluid had formed at the eye of his shaft and he slicked it down over the point as a lubricant. He began to pump once more in this higher position. His sweat- dewed face, mouth wide open in rictus of excitement; between the tun- nel of his legs, the balls, now pulled high and close as orgasm neared. His shaft was indeed now bending back over his belly as he left the plateau for the summit.Then again he relaxed. He reached a hand up to move the book, placing it upright on the bed, propped against the side mirror wall of the alcove and turned the upper part of his body so that he could stare at it. And his eyes thus engaged, he resumed the pumping action. A looser grip at first, his hand sliding farther up and down the shaft, then a tighter grip at the top, the side of his finger digging into the sen- sitive point. He meant to complete the job this time. His other hand was cupped to his bollocks, the forefinger digging into the root of the shaft beneath the taut skin. Did he mean to halt the flowing? His hips and thigh reared up once more, his toes and feet twisting the sheet into knots beneath them. The sheen on his glans was lost as the pores open up with the climactic blood flow. He would come! He would come! Too late did his ball hand clutch for the towel, for the first wad was already airborne, flying to land above his navel. The twist of his body sent the second jetting to a splatter on the side mirror. He was obviously very full, for the third spasm also sent a glob into the air, landing on his still pumping wrist. He spasm again and again, but this time producing floods of more liquid spunk which flowed warmly down onto the top of his hand. He spasmed a six and seventh time too, but this time nearly dry - just a wide working of the glistening eye of his dick. Then the pent-up breath was released. Completely still, with his eyes closed, for about a minute, then wiping the spunk from his stomach and hand. He began to milk the re- maining juices from his dying cock, pulling upwards with the tip of his forefinger pressed hard into the underside of his organ. He wiped the gland carefully, so that the foreskin, now beginning to bunch be- low his glans, wouldn't stick too painfully when it had return to the protection position. Finally he cleaned the mirror, before folding the towel under his prick's tip to mop up any last weeping. Then he closed his eyes, flicked the light switch, and rolled over on his side to sleep.

Anton looked towards the door at the sound, then dropped a hand quickly to his crotch, to flatten his erection and to conceal it? His hand gripped his weapon. Feverishly he pulled at the unfamiliar zip, but by the time Klaudio had entered, his penis was still exposed. An- ton froze. Klaudio stood facing the bed, and smiled. With an exaggerated ex- pression of delight, he started to point to the various parts of the prick, repeating their names. His pointing finger got closer and closer, but still he did not touch it. As he got very close, Anton's hands clutched at the surface of the bed. How long would he bear this language lesson, before grabbing his tool and stuffing it hastily away inside his trousers? But Klaudio knew what he was doing. He had become a doctor with a friendly but detached beside manner. He looked at Anton's face more than his organ, obviously concentrating hard on his pronunciation. Then he decided to go for it. With one hand he made the unmistake- able gesture on the forefinger of his other of frigging, and repeated the word for wank three times. He looked expectantly at Anton. "Do you want me to wank you." It was a neutral request - still the friendly doctor offering treatment. Anton froze. Klaudio looked at him pa- tiently, and was just at the point of asking again, when Anton grabbed at his hand and pulled it into the general vicinity of his groin. He closed his eyes, flung his head back and gripped the sheets. The pa- tient was tensed for the cut of the knife! But Klaudio gave the merest touch with the side of his bent fore- finger to the underside of the glans. The corona of the penis flared. He moved his other hand to cup above the shaft, as if warming himself at its heat. Then slowly he began a two hand movement - the lower hand a gentle fist the lower joints of whose fingers formed a knobbly flat platform moving along the underside of the penis, while the other hand formed a coving arched over the fist, gently trapping the shaft be- tween them. Slowly it moved up and down the tool, sometimes gripping enough to move the skin over the hard shaft, sometimes barely grazing it. Sometimes the hands would move at different speeds, chafing the surface; sometimes the knuckles or the joints of the fist would be brought into play, their harder knobbles kneading the surface. Anton's eyes were still firmly clenched, as if he were gripping his courage with the lids. His lips were pulled into a rictus, like a smile but clearly not one. He needed to relax if he were to enjoy it. Klaudio quietly changed his grip, and moved up the bed to kneel beside his loins. Then with his free hand he gently stroked Anton's forehead. At the unexpected contact, his eyes sprang open. Klaudio cupped his hand beneath his neck, casually grazing the erogenous zone behind his ear, and raised his head so that they could look at each other. Klau- dio raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly: a clear gesture meaning, "Am I doing it right? Are you enjoying it?" Klaudio changed hands, so that he had a one free to stimulate his balls and upper inside thighs. He knew how far he could go with this at this stage. There must be no hint of a movement towards the anus; even the sensitive point at the root of the scrotum was out of bounds at this stage. It must be purely penile, this orgasm. Slowly Klaudio worked. This had to be a good one - a better one than a quick hand job - but he could use only limited resources for fear of spooking his charge. A short burst of speed had Anton groan- ing, and the feet started working. His hands, which had released the grip on the sheets now clutched them again, but from ecstasy not fear. His body began to arch up, but Klaudio knew how to change his grip at the right moment, holding him there for a full minute before reducing the stimulation to allow him to get his breath. Anton's face now looked very different. The strain that showed there now was from a different stable, and the open mouthed smile was real. Five times did Klaudio make his loins rear up and hold him there, until he was crying out to be allowed to come. Then he came - shooting high to land on his taut, flat belly. Klaudio risked trapping the later spurts with his lips pressed to the eye of Anton's glans: he was too far gone to notice even if he had bitten the end off. He reeled back, practically in a faint. By the time he was taking notice again, Klaudio had cleaned him up and zipped his flaccid weapon back into his fly, and began the language lesson as if nothing had happened.

As Anton entered, the lithe figure that had been lying on one of the bunks arose to a relaxed position of attention to greet him. He was about a year older than Anton, though he looked perhaps a little younger than him. In many ways he was similar, a little lighter in build, but clearly athletic. He was black haired, with a light olive skin - the hair thick on his head and brows, but his body clear, ex- cept for the inevitable dusting on his legs and lower arms. The per- fect tan of him was the product of hours under the sun, with due care to the arrangement of lighter and darker shadings to emphasise his good looks. He had chosen to keep his sexual midriff white, always wearing briefs, because he liked the bright contrast of the darker stomach and thighs and the dramatic shock of thick black pubic hair. He answered to Jag, or `Lightning Loins'. His voice was as smooth as his skin and as dark as his hair. Jag had then taken his clothes off and had lain on his bed read- ing. After a while he expressed surprise that Anton was still dressed and asked him if he were feeling cold. He explained that the heating in the rooms was automatically increased in the later evenings. Anton had then removed all but his underpants. It was fairly obvious that Anton had been observing Jag's body, and Jag had been trying his best to show his best features without making it too obvious that he know he was been examined. Clearly Anton was too virginal to make any overtures, so Jag took the initiative. He asked Anton if he had had sexual release that day. He stated that he would be obtaining relief himself with a friend later, but stated that he would be happy to assist Anton if he required it, and that he would try to have the another friend fetched so that Anton could have some- one to sleep with himself if he desired. Anton was indignant at first, but the idea had been planted in his mind, and soon spread to his loins. Though his mouth refused, his pe- nis showed a different opinion. It soon became clear that he would have to allow Jag to help him for there was to be no privacy for self relief. And the painful hardness showed relief was necessary. Anton submitted to Jag's hands. Jag expressed a wish to help him enjoy him- self as much as possible. When the act was thoroughly underway, and his hands were controlling Anton to a near climax, he had suggested that Anton allow him to use his mouth to make the act even more plea- surable. Anton, who if in a less excited state who most certainly have recoiled from the suggestion, gave a silent acquiescence to Jag, whose warm mouth soon enclosed his shaft. Jag's hands, freed from duty ion the cock, slid easily over An- ton's body, massaging, pressing, brushing, tickling. He knew all of the right spots to give attention to. When his mouth had carried Anton beyond any chance of refusing, his fingers explored his anus - tick- ling the puckered hole till it relaxed. Then an exploring finger en- tered, searching for the walnut shape that was the prostate gland - the seat of orgasm. When the shattering, shuddering climax came, that gland was stimulated from inside and outside. The other hand wrested the last ounce from the balls as the flood of seminal fluid exploded from the spunk store, crashing through the prostate, to fly in spas- modic wads up through the straining, surging shaft, filling Jag's mouth and throat faster than he could cope with it, and flooding out down the sides of the pulsing, dying rod. Later Jag licked him com- pletely clean - ready for the companion whom Anton would certainly now accept to share his bed for the night...

by: nobody@nowhere.org

The Vouyer Sent to Jockey Club

2007-07-25T03:57:00.000-07:00

Charlie was a good looking kid. He was your typical high school jock. His best friend was Jeff Adams. They were sitting on the ground in Chuck's driveway sweaty and hot from having played about 2 hours of one-on-one basketball. Both boys had long ago stripped off their t-shirts. Chuck's cut off jeans were dark from the sweat. They stuck to his legs and irritated the hell out of his balls but there didn't seem to be much he could do about that. He had glanced over at Jeff who wore loose fitting shorts and wished he had also choosen to wear his gym shorts. Chuck found himself staring at Jeff's crotch. Looking up along his buddy's solid legs he spotted a flash of white. Jeff's underwear was showing. Chuck could see the doubled over cloth sown around the leg opening and a bulging pouch filled with cock and balls. The sight made him realize all the more just how much he got turned on by underwear and why his neighbor did what he did. It also made hime think back to the one time last year when late one night, after drinking too much and spending too many hours talking about "getting it" he and Jeff had ended up in a
two man circle jerk.

It had started out with the two of them just trying to adjust their swelling cocks as they talked "about it". Pretty soon both boys had become aware of eachother and without any words being spoken, both had pulled out their cocks and jerked off. They no sooner had shot their loads when the "guilts" settled on each guy. Neither said anymore about it that night or since. Chuck thought about some of the things he had done lately and started getting a hard on. He could never talk to Jeff about his neighbor or some of the great solitary jerk off sessions he had up in his bed room. Chuck knew that Jeff would never understand why he had started getting his kicks from underwear."Let's call it a day, OK?" , said Chuck wiping the sweat from his face and chest with his t-shirt. "I'm hot, soaked and tired.""Yeah, I've had enough. I should get home to clean up and eat. I wanted to catch the early bargain movie downtown. You interested in going?""Yeah. My folks are gone for the night. I'll meet you back here in about an hour and we'll head out.""I don't know if I'll make it that quickly 'cause I know my mom will make me eat with the rest of the family.""You could call her and tell her you're eating here. We could clean up and grab a pizza before the show. We'd have plenty of time." "I don't know. I'm soaked. I've got to shower and change.""So you'll wear my clothes. We're the same size." "Sounds OK to me." said Jeff as the two boys got up and hurried inside to make the call. Within minutes everything was set with Jeff's Mom.

"Go ahead first." suggested Chuck. "Shower up and dress while I take the garbage out." Jeff went up to Chuck's room and quickly stripped of his sweaty clothes. He tossed them on the floor and headed to the shower. Chuck walked in as Jeff's bare ass disappeared into the bathroom. He moved over to the pile of clothing and spotted the white underwear laying on the top of the pile. He picked them up and examined them. They were hot and sweaty from Jeff and there were a few dark pubic hairs trapped in the cloth near the fly. Chuck could tell that they were Fruit of the Loom and when he looked at the label he could just make out a 28-30 size. He stripped out of his own clothes. He was glad Jeff was in the shower because Chuck had on his "fancy" underwear. He never wore it to school because he didn't like changing in the locker room when he had these colored Calvins on. He slipped out of everything and waited nake. Jeff came out with just a towel wrapped around his shoulders. His heavy cock hanging softly and moving as he walked. His light brown hair had formed a dark forest at the base of the tool. "That feels good! Getting as shower is one of the great feelings!" "Yeah, its my turn now. Hunt around and you'll find something to wear." said Chuck as he moved intot the bathroom for his shot at the shower.

Jeff opened the second draw from the bottom of Chuck's dresser and found the underwear drawer. It seemed like an unwritten rule that all guys used that for underwear. There was an assortment to choose from and Jeff seemed to enjoy his mini shopping trip. Chuck's drawer had lots of both plain white briefs and the fancy colored kind. He spotted the Jockey name on some of the neatly folded waistbands as well as Calvin Klein and Perry Ellis. Jeff never realized how many brands of men's underwear actually had names on them. There were some with neat lettering saying John Henry and others that advertised Brut. One even said "Hang Ten" Jeff started to smile and thought how there should be "Hang Eight" or "Hang Six" and everyone could wear just the "right size" underwear. There were white underwear with stripes on the waistband and some with just plain white elastic. Some of the colored ones had no elastic at all. Tucked off in one corner were a few jock straps. He could hear the shower turn off and figured that Chuck would be out in a moment. Without taking too much more time Jeff chose a pair of plain white Calvin Klein to put on. They felt great as he pulled them up and adjusted his balls and cock. They fit just right. There wasn't any of that loose cheep feel his own underwear always had. The cloth pulled tightly over the curve of his rear end and sat lower on his waist. He couldn't explain it but he felt a little excited standing there in Chuck's underwear, especially these Calvin's. He felt like the model in the Calvin Klein magazine ad that lay on the bright desert background wearing only his briefs.

He grabbed a pair of 501 jeans out of Chuck's closet and pulled them on just as Chuck came out of the bathroom. "You're right. A shower feels great." "Yea!" Jeff answered, feeling a little embarassed about his thoughts. He wondered what underwear Chuck himself would choose. "I grabbed these 501's Chuck. I hope you don't mind." "No. Go ahead. Any of the shirts is OK too." Chuck had toweled off and was standing at his own dresser. "Whose underwear do you have on?" "What? I mean...yours of course." "I know that but whose brand?" "Just plain ones. Not your fancy kind." "Yeah but what brand?" "Calvin's." "They're great. You'll like them." Turning back to the drawer Chuck picked out a pair for himself. "I think I'll wear Old John Henry tonight." as he shook out a pair of white, fly front, lo-rise shorts. "Or maybe these Calvins just like the ones you have on." he said as he put the first briefs back in the drawer and took out a second pair. "I never knew there were so many brands." said Jeff. "Neither did I." Chuck answered as he stepped into his briefs. "How come you have so many?" "It's a long story and I don't know if you'd believe me. Besides, I might get embarassed." Chuck had reached in and was adjusting his balls and cock off to the left of the white cotton pouch. "What do you mean?" "Well you remember that night you and I got drunk and closet showing Jeff his bubble butt. Chuck's last comment made Jeff start to blush. "Yeah...well..we were drunk." "I know but that doesn't mean I don't jerk off. Everyone does. Right?" "No. I mean I guess they do." "Don't hand me any of this THEY stuff. I know you must." Chuck teased as he pulled on his 501's and began buttoning the fly. "Yeah well...That still doesn't tell me anything about all the different underwear you have."

"Look. If you promise not to laugh or tell anyone I'll tell you all about it." "You're on." "Well..when I jerk off, I usually lay on my bed. When I come I usually shoot into a towel or some underwear so I don't make a mess." Jeff was a little embarassed listening to his best friend make this confession. He also wanted to hear more and figured he would make Chuck more comfortable if he told some of his secrets too. "I usually do it in the shower. Sometimes my Mom yells because I'm in there so long." "Wait now. This gets better. See if you sit on my bed you can look out my window. I never thought about it because I'm on the second floor and there's nothing over there except my neighbor's attic. One night I'm laying here stroking away and realized that my neighbor was over there watching. I got real paranoid and turned of all my light." "No shit. What happened?" "I closed up the blinds and went to sleep without finishing myself off. All I could think about is that this guy was probably watching forever." "Jeese. I almost got caught once but that was only my folks." "Well the next day I'm coming home and there he is working on his front lawn. He smiled and said ' Don't be upset. If you look behind my garage I'll leave you something to fill up.'" "That's all?"

"Yeah that's all. That night I go behind his garage and there's this little paper bag. I open it up and there are a pair of Jockey underwear. You know, plain white Jockey with the fly that's different. There size 28 which is my size and there is a note that says 'Try these tonight and let me know if you like them' . There's also a five dollar bill." "What did you do?" "What do you think? I went upstairs and without turning any lights on I strip down and put on these Jockeys. There already washed and all so they fit tight. They were real comfortable. I figured 'what the hell' and went over to my bed. I turned on just the little lamp and started rubbing myself. I got a rod up with the underwear on yet and before I knew it I was shooting my load all into them. I never got to take them off. I just came with them on and it all got soaked up into them." "Was he there watching?" "I guess so. Anyway, I put just the underwear back in the bag and the next moring on my way out I leave them behind his garage right where I found them. I checked later and they're gone, so I figured he took them." "You're kidding!" "No. I wouldn't fool about this. Anyway...I start checking every so often. A few days later there's a bag behind the garage again. I take it in and there's more underwear in it. This time there's a note that says ' Try sleeping in these tonight. They're just right for a hot summer night'. I pull them out of the bag and check 'em out. They're white and have a fly and all just like my regular ones but they're cut lower and a little tighter." "Yeah." "Well I do what the note says. I strip down that night and wear just these briefs. Anyway I go ahead and lay down on the bed with just the little light on and before I know it I'm getting a hard on just thinking that the neighbor is watching me. I try to make believe that I was asleep but I end up with this big boner sticking out the top of the underwear. I couldn't help it. I just had to take care of myself. I pushed the underwear down just a little and started jerking off. I shot all over me and the bed and all but I took off the shorts and cleaned up with them. The next morning I left them behind the garage and they were gone in an hour."

"Is that guy watching right now?" Jef asked. "No he gets home about 6." "Was he watching the night we...you know?" "I don't know. Maybe." "Jeese." "This whole thing keeps going on. One day there is a pair of plain white hanes and a pair of colored Hanes in the bag. The guy put a five dollar bill in with them and a note that says,'why not wear the ones you like and some nice loose gym shorts. Come on over and talk'" "You didn't go over did you?" "I sure did. I went upstairs and tried on both kinds. They were tight fitting but the colored Hanes made me feel faggy so I put ont he white ones and some gym shorts and went over. The whole time the guy is talking he kept watching my crotch. I sat on the ground infront of him and sort of let him get a good view up my leg and ...well..." "Yeah." prompted Jeff. He realized he was getting turned on by Chuck talking. His cock had started to fill with warmth and excitement. "Nothing really happened. We just talked. At one point he asked me to stand up and when I was standing he came over and started to reach for the waistband of the gym shorts. I figured 'this is it' but all he did was pull them down enough so that the waistband on the underwear showed. He kept telling me how sharp I looked. After a while I had such a fuckin' hard on I had to leave or sit there and shoot my load." "So!" "So, I left. I went home and jerked off. I went up to my room and turned the light on and laid there and jerked off." "I can't believe it." "I told you you wouldn't. Anyway. One Saturday he even takes me shopping. We went to about five different stores in the mall and the only thing we bvought was underwear for me. He acted like he was my Dad and we would go in and go to the men's department and shop for briefs. In the one store we asked the clerk all sorts of questions about the fancy colored briefs and ended up buying the ones that the clerk said he wore. They are comfortable."

p align="justify">Jeff was trying to move enough to hide his growing cock. "Later that night." Chuck continued, I went up to my room and tried all the different kinds of underwear on. I stood by my mirror and opened each package. I took out a pair and put them on and smoothed them out and modeled them knowing the whole time that he was over there watching." Both Jeff and Chuck were now at the point where neither could hide their cocks. "Looks like we're sort of in the same situation as that night we drank too much." "I think so." Jeff answered. "What time is it?" "About 6:00." "Are you sure?" "Yeah. He'll be home any minute now." "Jeese." "You want to do it?" "Do what?" "Don't bull shit me. Let's both give him a show tonight." "What should I do?" "Just do what feels good. I'll sort of show you." "Sounds real good to me. "agreed Jeff. "Just do what I say. Let's get over by my window. I'm going to sit in that chair and help you get started. It's just about time." Chuck sat in his desk chair with just his Levis and underpants on. He looked toward his buddy Jeff who stood there in the same clothing almost like his twin. "Just stand there and start rubbing hour hand over the fly of your jeans. Get that cock of yours hard. If it bothers you to have me here you can close your eyes. I'm going to do the same thing anyway. " Jeff's long thin fingers curved over the bulge in his crotch. They adjusted and pressed. Chuck did the same sitting and watching. Both boys knew the neighbor was there. They could feel it.

"That's good Jeff. Now just unbutton the fly real slow."Chuck watched as Jeff followed his commands. He saw the bright white of the underwear show above the dark blue denim. He couldn't explain it. He knew it would be his own Calvin's right from his own dresser that were showing but when the gray letters were exposed on the elastic, his own cock get even harder. Jeff had the fly on the jeans unbuttoned all the way. The underwear stretched where his cock pressed into the soft white cotton. His one hand cupped his balls that filled the pouch and his other hand rubbed up and down the swollen tube that pointed up toward his left. Chuck sat watching. He had a solid bulge of a hard on but he hadn't started to strip. "That's it Jeff. Now take your Levis off. Let's see you just in underpants. Do it man." urged Chuck. Jeff stepped out of the jeans and stood upright facing his friend and the window to the neighbor's house. His adult sized feet anchored him to the floor. Solid young boy's legs stretched up to the bright white of the underwear. A little fine soft hair covered the muscled calves and thighs. His head was tiltedback and he closed his eyes. His chest rose in deep breaths as he continued to feel his erect cock that was still hidden behind the soft cotton. There was just a hint of downy boy hair between the nipples on his muscled upper body. His stomach was flat and his waist was so solid. The elastic waistband on the Calvin's stretched firmly across the sun tanned flesh. The swollen cock had pulled the elastic down into a gentle "U" shape before the cloth pushed into a tent of excitement.

"Oh that's great Jeff. Feel that cock and hold those balls of yours." Chuck directed. "Run those fingers up and down. Reach through the fly man." Jeff could do nothing but obey. His right hand reached through the fly of the briefs and his left hand slipped under the elastic at the leg openning. He tried to push his erect cock through the fly and couldn't. Pausing for a moment he changed tactics and pulled the briefs off to one side of his cock and balls letting them go free. The leg openning stretched beyond capacity and pulled the cloth tightly up his young ass crack. "No man. Not that way." Chuck leaned forward and roughly grabbed the waistband of the stretched briefs. He pulled out and down forcing the cloth to free his friend's cock. He released it only after getting it part way down Jeff's thighs. They snapped back just below Jeff's balls. The cloth pushed up forcing his balls tightly up against the bottom of his cock. Chuck started to unbutton the fly on his own jeans. He slipped them down his legs and commanded Jeff, "Give me a hand with these." as he sat, lifting his legs towards his buddy. Jeff grabbed the jeans that were already part way down Chuck's legs and stripped them off. Chuck reached with his curled toes and pressed against Jeff's belly. He moved down feeling his friends pubic hair and solid cock. His toes stopped near the partially lowered underpants and grabbed. He pulled, forcing Jeff to move closer. "Come on and help me get these off." Chuck ordered as he rubbed his hands lightly over his own Calvins. He pulled Jeff toward him still using his toes. When Jeff was within arms length Chuck let his foot move down between Jeff's own legs and feet. Jeff stradled Chuck. His cock pointed at his buddy's face. He lowered himself until his balls rested on Chucks ankles with only his partially stripped off underwear between them. Chuck's toes curled back between his buns and held him close. He leaned forward and reached for Chuck's briefs and forced his own erect cock against Chuck's shins. He felt like a puppy dog, humping his master's leg in sexual frustration.

"That feels good Jeff. I can feel your cock laying just right. Now let's get my underwear off." Jeff started to reach for Chuck's briefs when he was ordered to stop. "Not that way. Use your teeth." Jeff was still astride Chuck's legs. His hardon between Chuck's shins and his arms wrapped around Chuck's thighs. His face rested on Chuck's lap, the soft cotton of Chuck's briefs warm against his cheek. He raised his head to follow Chuck's order and slowly rubbed his erect cock against Chuck's legs. His nose filled with the musky odor of Chuck's cock and balls, still hidden behind the fly of the underpants. The letters on the waistband were so close, his eyes couln't focus on them. He buried his face into the warmth of Chuck and gripped the waistband with his teeth. The soft downy hair on Chuck's belly almost tickled his nose.

Varsity

2007-07-25T03:43:00.000-07:00

Brian Dern and Gene Saylor had both reached their goal, they were both chosen to be on Harbor High School's varsity football team. But when Brian saw that Gene's name was also on the list, he experienced a twinge of anxiety. The relationship between them went way back into childhood. They lived in the same neighborhood, their parents played bridge together, and all during elementary school, Brian and Gene were inseparable - in fact some of the other kids thought they were brothers. This was not an unlikely conclusion to reach. Although Gene was blond and Brian had brown hair, they looked very much alike and dressed very much alike. They were best buddies. In junior high, though, something happened that caused them to see less and less of each other. Their parents and friends were mystified, but neither of the boys would talk about it. What happened was that Brian had stolen a Playboy magazine from a liquor store and asked Gene to come over and look at it. Both boys of course got very hard, and Brian talked Gene into the idea of taking their cocks out and masturbating. They did, but afterwards felt very guilty. Their guilt eventually drove them apart, until they were only the most casual of friends. Now Brian realized that he and Gene would be on the same team, which had not been the case in previous years. (Brian had started in the football program earlier than Gene and played junior varsity while Gene was still in Frosh/Soph football.) He wondered if, after all this time, their relationship could be mended. At their first practice, Gene and Brian found themselves sitting next to one another on the bench. They started by discussing some new plays the coach had given them, then the imminent arrival of their varsity jackets, then the conversation turned to their girlfriends. Their eyes met, and an awkward silence ensued. It was Gene who finally spoke up. "I've been thinking..." Another pause. "We were just little kids when...that....thing...happened..." Brian looked around nervously. Gene continued, his eyes on the ground. "What do you say we just pretend it never happened?" Brian's heart swelled. He had been hoping for this for years. He tried to contain his emotion, but his voice cracked, "Yeah..." He cleared his throat. "Sounds O.K." They looked at each other and smiled. A great weight had been lifted from them both. In the coming weeks, they began hanging around together more and more. Some observant classmates noticed that Brian would occasionally show up in some of Gene's clothes and vice-versa. They began to look like brothers again. Both of them had very solid builds for high school students, they were the same height, and they wore exclusively Levi's corduroy jeans or 501's. They wore the same brand of T-shirt (J.C. Penney "polo" tees), sometimes alone, sometimes underneath button down shirts.

They wore their hair the same, somewhat shorter than most of their classmates, but longer than most of the jocks. They were desired by every girl on campus (and some of the guys, too.) Gene was going out with Denise Shaw, a very pretty brunette, whose look suggested innocence, but whose reputation did not. Brian was seeing Bonnie Hansen, a blond, who was attractive but not striking, a good student, and member of the marching band. It was Bonnie who first brought up the idea of a double date. It was decided that they would all go to the Warner Drive-in on Saturday. Brian convinced Gene to borrow his dad's big Buick so there would be room to maneuver. The Warner was showing a double feature - a 007-type spy movie and a B-grade sci-fi creature movie. Gene planned their arrival so he could watch the spy movie first, then turn his attention to Denise during the second movie. When he got there, Gene realized that, although taking the Buick was a good move, he would have to take the front seat and be in view of Brian and his date. He hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself by cumming in his pants the way Denise usually made him do in the drive-in. During the first movie, both couples cuddled and kissed. The kissing became more intense during the movie's love scenes. At intermission, the girls were clamoring for some popcorn and something to drink. Brian and Gene headed for the snack bar, both with their hands stuffed deep in their pockets as they tried to conceal their hard-on bulges. Once in the snack bar, Gene looked down at Brian's puffed fly and grinned. "You too, huh?" he asked. Brian saw what he was looking at, noticed Gene's pose and grinned back. "Does Denise ever let you have any?" he asked quietly. Gene didn't want to admit that their activity had never gotten past his ejaculating in his pants, so he said, "Yeah, sometimes. How about you and Bonnie?" "Naw, she's too much of a goody-good." Their popcorn and Cokes were delivered, and now they had to remove their hands from their pockets. The two football players walked back to the car with big, obvious, unyielding bulges in their Levis cords. While the guys were gone, their dates were talking. "Brian's a real hunk, huh?" Denise asked Bonnie. "Yeah, I think so. But Gene's a real dreamboat... you're so lucky!" "Have you ever done anything with Brian?" "No, I'm saving myself," Bonnie said. Her eyes widened as she wondered aloud, "You've done it with Gene?" "No, he never gets it out of his pants," Denise replied. "What do you mean?" "Well, usually he cums in his pants while we're making out." Seeing Bonnie's incredulous look, she continued, "Sometimes I...`help' him do it." Denise smiled a wicked grin and both girls began giggling. The guys returned to their laughing dates. "What's so funny?" Brian asked. "Oh, nothing. Just girl-talk," Bonnie responded. "But you should try that, Bonnie," Denise hinted.

Bonnie just smiled. The couples polished off their snacks quickly, and soon the making out began in earnest. Brian was trying to figure out what was going on in the front seat. He kept hearing Gene whisper things like, "Not tonight, O.K.?" and "Slow down!" and "Cut it out!" He figured out that Denise was giving Gene a hand-job in the front seat, but didn't fully understand why Gene was trying to stop her. Still, knowing that his buddy was "getting some" emboldened Brian. He didn't want to seem less of a stud than his friend. He leaned over Bonnie and moved his body on top of hers. It was very awkward until he got Bonnie to stretch out on the seat. Then he laid on top of her, and for the first time, Bonnie felt Brian's hardness rubbing against her. Gene glanced back to see what all the commotion was and saw Brian laying on top of his date. He could see Brian's ass muscles through the fabric of his pants, working in a steady rhythm. He wondered if Brian had his cock out and was actually `doing it' in the back seat. Gene had to bring his concentration back to what Denise was trying to do. Despite his repeated pleas, she kept playfully teasing and rubbing his trapped cock, making him leak globs of pre- cum into his shorts and pants. He prayed he would be able to hold his cum, and not have to embarrass himself in front of Brian. But Denise was very good at this, since she had made him cum enough times to know just how and where to rub his throbbing cock. "Stop it!" Gene hissed through clenched teeth. "Oh, you can't mean that. This is fun!" Denise whispered. "Well then at least take it out." It was when he heard that, Brian realized what was going on in the front seat. Gene was getting a hand job all right, but it was still in his pants. Brian's own cock leaked a big glob of juice in his shorts as he continued making out with Bonnie. "No! Wait!" Gene's whispers were frantic, and his breathing was heavy. Brian realized that Gene was getting ready to shoot off in his jeans. He looked up just in time to see it all. Gene clutched Denise tightly. Brian saw Gene's face straining, almost in pain as he fought to hold back his load. Suddenly Gene let out a half-groan, half-sob, and his breaths took on the rhythm of the spurts of semen which began filling his shorts and pants. `He's really doing it!' Brian thought. `Gene's creaming his jeans!' Brian had kept up the steady humping of his trapped hard-on against his date all through this, but was taken by surprize when he felt his own cock releasing big globs of hot, wet goo into his shorts! He immediately tried to stop the flow, but it was too late. He resigned himself to the feeling, but managed to keep his breathing under control while his cock continued to squirt. Now both boys were caught up in orgasmic contractions. Wet, sticky semen filled the inside of their shorts, soaking through to make shiny, wet stains on the outsides of their pants. Gene was mortified. He knew he had made so much noise while cumming that Brian had to know what happened. He was unaware that Brian had shared his orgasm in the back seat. He looked at the car's clock. "Uh... (ahem)... Uh, I told Dad I'd have the car back at 11:00. Brian?" Brian pulled himself off his date. "Yeah, that's cool," he said. Everyone began rearranging clothing as Gene started the car. Once the girls had been taken home, Gene felt as though he should say something about his "accident," especially since the car reeked of cum, but he couldn't think of what to say. After a long silence he said, "Well, I guess you know what happened..." "Huh? Oh, yeah," Brian replied. He had been off in his own world, worrying about his own wet underwear. "Man, I just couldn't help it, you know? I'm sorry if it ruined things for you and Bonnie." Brian realized then that Gene didn't know that he had done the same thing. He decided to put his friend out of his misery.

"Hey man, don't worry about it. I did it too." "Naw man, you don't understand. I...I...shot off in my pants, man," Gene admitted. "Yeah, I know. So did I" Gene whipped his head around. "Huh?" he said. He looked down at Brian's pants. Brian was wearing dark blue corduroys, and the stain was not apparent, especially in the dark. "You're bullshitting, dude!" Gene challanged. "No, really! Here...feel it...right there." Brian pointed to where his load had soaked through. Tentatively, Gene reached down and touched his buddy's pants, something he hadn't done since junior high. His fingers landed on cold wetness. He kind of pinched the material and felt a sloshing, gooey mass underneath the fabric. Brian smiled. "Well, I'll be damned," Gene said. "Now I don't feel so bad." Brian glanced at Gene's pants. He was in faded tan corduroys, and the stain by his fly was very obvious - and very large. "Looks like you really did it," he commented. "Yeah, Denise really knows how to get me hot," Gene admitted sheepishly. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with creaming in your jeans. Lots of guys do it," Brian said. "Yeah but...it seems like I can't hold back anymore. Every time I go out with a chick I come home with wet shorts." "Well at least you get your nut. Just think about those nerds who can't even get a date." "Yeah, I guess you're right," Gene said as they pulled up to Brian's house. "See you Monday." "Yeah, thanks for driving!" Brian called as he walked to his door. The following Saturday found both boys without a date. Since the movie at the Warner was one that both of them really wanted to see, they decided to go together in Brian's little sports car. Partway through the movie there was a love scene. Brian noticed Gene moving and squirming in the passenger's seat and looked over just in time to see him adjusting a big lump in his faded 501's. "Enjoying the movie?" Brian teased. Gene looked over and saw Brian looking at his crotch. "Shutup," was all he could say, and he punched Brian in the arm. Brian laughed. He could feel his own cock starting to throb and swell in his jeans. "Yeah, I wish Bonnie didn't have that band concert tonight." "Yeah, I'd sure like to have Denise here, too." "She'd only make you cream in your jeans," Brian taunted. Gene retorted, "That's cool...lots of guys do it that way, DON'T THEY BRIAN!?" Both boys laughed. The love scene was getting steamier, and both guys had full erections straining against their jeans. "Has Bonnie made you cum in your pants a lot, Bri?" Gene wondered aloud. "No, that was the first time with her. But other chicks have." "How many times?" "Hey, if I had a dollar for every time I've come home with jizz- soaked underpants, I'd be rich," Brian replied. Gene chuckled. After a short silence, he continued, "It's really not such a bad feeling, you know?" "No, it sure beats going home with blue balls."

"Have you ever...um...done it to yourself?" Gene asked tentatively. "You mean have I ever jacked off? You KNOW about that." "No, I mean...have you ever jacked off in your pants?" "Yeah," Brian admitted. "A couple of times." Inside, Gene breathed a sigh of relief. "Me too," he said. "I even did it in class a couple of times." "Wow," his buddy breathed. "I kinda like feeling my cock shoot off into my shorts, especially since I've been going out with Denise." Gene said. "Yeah, I gotta admit, it felt pretty good last night when I was humping Bonnie." Both boys were rock hard and leaking in their Levis. "Hey man, we gotta either stop talking about this, or do something about it. Otherwise I'm gonna go home with blue balls tonight!" Brian said. "Well...you wanna...like...fool around a little?" Gene asked quietly. "You mean, like, pretend we're with our dates or something?" "Yeah. I'll rub you in your pants and you rub mine," Gene suggested. Without another word, each guy put his hand in his buddy's lap and began massaging. This went on for several minutes. Brian broke the silence. "Hey, this feels pretty good." "Yeah," Gene croaked. "It's not the same as being with Bonnie though," Brian said. "You wanna try...well, you wanna like...kiss and stuff?" Gene looked at Brian for the first time since they started their sex play. "I don't know, man. Isn't that kinda like...queer?" "Well, hey. I know you're not queer and, you know I'm not. We're just pretending we're with our dates," Brian rationalized. Gene thought about it for a while. Brian kept up a steady rhythm on his concealed hard-on, hoping Gene would get so aroused he'd agree. Finally, Gene whispered, "O.K." Slowly, the guys brought their faces together, their eyes open. Brian sensed the hand on his crotch was trembling. Gene closed his eyes and Brian moved the last few inches until their lips met. He felt Gene's cock throb HARD under the confines of his jeans. The first kiss was tentative, followed by another, and another, each increasing in intensity. The two high school varsity football players began passionately kissing, each rubbing the other's cock, right in the drive-in! The tempo of their crotch rubbing increased. Both guys were drenching their shorts with pre-cum juice. Brian could feel the wetness soaking through the soft denim of Gene's pants. Their tongues intertwined as they got closer and closer to their now inevitable orgasms. Gene pulled away. Eyes tightly shut, he clutched Brian to him and began murmuring, "No Denise, don't make me do it. Stop! I can't hold it!" He was deep in his fantasy. The sound of Brian's deep groan brought him back. "Brian... Ooooohhh, Brian.... yeah, make me do it...make me cream in my pants!" Both guys went over the edge. The first spurts of hot semen sloshed into their shorts at the same moment. Clutching each other tightly, the two hunky teammates frantically rubbed each other's crotches as wad after wad of milky white liquid soaked their Levis. Wet, shiny stains spread quickly over the ends of their cock-bulges. Brian's orgasm lasted a little longer than Gene's, and Gene considerately milked his buddy's boner until he finished shooting in his pants. Finally it was over. The guys were sweaty and exhausted. The windows of the small car were completely steamed over. Their 501 jeans were drenched with the results of their huge orgasms. Brian wiped the inside of the windshield only to see the movie credits rolling up the screen. He turned to Gene. "You want to go?" he asked. "Yeah, O.K." They rode in silence back to Gene's house. As they pulled up, Gene looked into Brian's eyes and said, "I don't know if we should do this anymore." After a second or two, Brian replied, "Yeah, you're right. We probably shouldn't." (They did.)

by:ducvax.auburn.edu

Of Men and Men

2007-07-20T06:15:00.000-07:00

I would like to introduce Paul. His story is one many of you will recognize. Paul, although a real person, is like so many others. An amalgam not easily disentangled from the people and places that have surrounded him over the years. His earliest memories are, oddly enough, erotic ones. One image in particular remains quite vivid for him. The setting is a simple, working-class neighborhood, and Paul and some of his friends are playing house in the little secluded alcove separating the rectory of the local parish from the adjacent building (it was probably a store of some kind). The children were too young to know for sure. Paul was the daddy and Jay was one of several children. All the players were no more than four or five years old. As when playing "doctor," there came a time when an activity involving exposure was to occur. Jay had just been a bad boy and it was Paul's role to spank him. Paul sat down on the platform behind the rectory and told Jay to come stand in front of him. They had all played these games before and knew quite well how everyone was supposed to behave in theirrespective roles."Why did you hit your sister?" daddy asked of Jay. "She took my toys and wouldn't give them back," he responded defensively. "I've told you before what would happen if you hit your sister," Paul said to Jay, in the most authoritative voice he could muster. And then the ritual began. While the other children looked on, the daddy told the child to unfasten his shorts (it was high summer) and bend over his knee. Jay did as he was told, and Paul proceeded to pull both the shorts and the underwear down, exposing the silken cheeks of Jay's tiny buttocks. For some unknown reason, the ritual was rapidly approaching its climax. Paul's heart was racing with excitement as he began to strike Jay's bottom. They weren't the sort of strokes that caused pain. The children were playing and exploring, and the unspoken rules were clear that no one should be hurt. They were erotic spanks. They were a perfect excuse for Paul to touch the flesh of his companion's behind, even if only for the fleeting moments that spanks allow. They were always unusually long spankings which would end only when daddy had made the child's buttocks a light shade of pink. Paul's tiny penis had grown erect as his friend lay over his lap. For reasons no one could understand at the time, the entire experience had been exhilirating.

Call it lucky or unlucky (it all depends on how you view these things), the frequency of these erotic experiences waned as Paul's ability to understand and appreciate them developed. There were countless episodes of playing house and doctor that could be conjured up if he thought hard enough about them. There was the time, for instance, when Jay and his two brothers slept over Paul's house and Jay produced his penis for everyone to look at and giggle about. It was not funny, however, when he decided to take the "game" a step further by urinating (inexplicably) on the floor next to the bunk bed Paul shared with his brother James. Suddenly Jay was the focus of much reproach as the assemblage of young boys were confronted with the equally unpleasant choices of somehow cleaning up the urine or being punished by the adults who, given the pandemonium in the room, were sure to appear at any moment. For reasons which can be explained another time, from this night forward Jay was always associated in people's minds (or at least in Paul's) with pee and poop. It was only in reflecting back on these very early experiences that Paul was able to figure out what made them so intensely exciting, and thus memorable. It was not until he was twelve that anything even remotely erotic happened to him. It was that year that he entered junior high school. The transition was more than just switching buildings from his elementary school to the middle school. It was a quantum leap in his understanding of what it meant to develop as a male. No single experience was more intriguing and eye-opening than the evening he accompanied one of his friends to the junior high school to pick up the friend's older brother, who was a ninth- grader (and a symbol of unachievable maturity from the perspective of the younger boys just arriving in seventh grade). The gymnasium, and sports in general, take on a new meaning after elementary school. Through the initiation to the locker room and the gang shower, it is the first time boys come to associate sports explicitly with its erotic dimensions. When Paul and his friend entered this new environment in search of the older brother (who was on the basketball team), it was as if they had entered into a steamy cavern, darkly lit, full of echoing sounds coming from everywhere and nowhere. Paul's eyes were drawn to the shapes of the dozens of bodies he saw milling around the locker room. The sheer level of activity, combined with the fact that all the boys were moving about with only towels wrapped about their waists, bewildered Paul enormously. He didn't know where to look next. He began to be aware of where he wanted to look. Moments later Paul was face to face with a most astonishing sight. When they came upon the older brother in front of his locker, he was standing completely uncovered. He was reaching into his locker for his white underwear. When he stepped back and turned slightly in the direction of the two younger boys, Paul's eyes dropped to the ninth-grader's groin, which had a patch of dark hair clearly visible above a penis which was substantially larger than anything Paul had ever seen before (and certainly larger than his own and Jay's -- the penis he'll never forget). In that moment, Paul felt his first consciously homo-erotic impulse. He wanted desperately to touch the older boys penis. It was, in a word, simply beautiful.

Being transfixed by the sight of the maturing genitals of the older boy was Paul's earliest conscious realization of his attraction to people of his own sex. He was both excited and mortified in the same moment. Suddenly he was jolted backward to a playground experience in early elementary school. In kindergarten teachers always made the little kids walk hand-in-hand, forming parallel columns. It was an effort to keep the kids from scattering in several directions at once. The normal thing to do was for boys to hold hands with other boys, and the same for the girls. Neither group had the slightest interest in holding hands with members of the opposite sex. Children are still innocent at this age. They haven't been taught to abhor physical contact with same-sex friends. Paul was in first or second grade, and he was about to learn a formative lesson in being a "normal" male. He was on the playground at recess time, and he was moving about the area with his close friend Mark, with whom he would walk to school each morning. They were holding hands, as they had always done--indeed, as they had so many times been required to do. The playground attendant, a youngish housewife from the neighborhood who volunteered at the noon hour to keep an eye on the children as they frolicked, was walking in a determined fashion toward Paul and his companion. Their faces brightened as she approached, thinking she was going to invite them to join in a game or something. "Hi Mrs. Clemson," Mark said. Paul expressed his greeting with a broad smile. Without saying a word, she leaned forward and slapped the two boys' hands just hard enough to break their light grip on each other. The two were dumbfounded. After a moment, Mrs. Clemson spoke. "Haven't you two learned yet that boys don't hold hands with boys?" she demanded. They looked at each other in horror. Paul was so shaken he began to cry. Meanwhile, all Mark could think of was was the stinging sensation on the top of his hand, where Mrs. Clemson had connected. "Do you want people to think you're sissies, or something?" she added insistently. "No," the two boys answered in unison, not having the faintest idea what sissies were.

These images from the past swept in rapid succession through Paul's mind, mingling bitter-sweetly with the sensations he was now feeling as Michael's strong hands and tender lips were exploring every reach of his body. Paul had matured into a handsome young man. Standing a solid six feet, he caught the attention of men and women alike. It was only the men, however, who saw the flash of Paul's brilliant smile and the look of recognition in his eyes as he passed them on the street. Moaning almost inaudibly as Michael's tongue slipped down toward his groin, Paul's palms alighted on Michael's head, gently stroking his thick black hair and half-consciously encouraging the motion downward. Michael has been teasing Paul with his kisses and strokes for what seemed like an eternity, and Paul was now beside himself with the desire to feel that first delirious sensation of Michael's mouth on his cock. Paul arched his back slightly as he felt Michael's warm breath over his hardened penis. But Michael would not relent. Rather than plunge his mouth on Paul's cock, he extended his tongue fully and ran it slowly from base up to the head, and then back down again. Paul arched still higher as Michael slid his hands under the flexed muscles of his ass. And in that same ecstatic moment, Paul is spanking Jay again, in a steamy locker room, and sounds echo from every direction, sounds of little children playing at recess, saying unintelligible things like boys shouldn't touch boys.

It was a dreary Monday morning. The sunshine of the weekend had given way to a gray rain that looked like it was going to be around for some time. Making the morning even more depressing was a stack of dozens of reports and memos piled precariously high on Paul's desk. He could work non-stop all day and not get through them, he thought to himself. The idea of dumping the whole pile into the trash and starting with a clean slate was very appealing. But it was also a nice way to get sacked, and he was just beginning to enjoy some of the nicer things about being out of school--finally--and supporting himself comfortably. Paul was a strong achiever. In terms of brightness, he was definitely placed on the high end of the curve. His office had worked extremely hard to recruit him. He couldn't help wondering sometimes if being wanted so badly actually made him more able than most gay men to be open about his romantic interest in men. Would they have hired him if they knew he had actually clocked many hours sucking on other mens' cocks? How could the straight men and women surrounding him at work deal with the image of Paul with his legs raised in the air and his ass swallowing another man's enlarged penis to its base? Surely such images would be foremost in their minds! But could they also imagine the joy, the pleasure, the satisfaction? Could they ever appreciate the fact that the love he had felt for other men was no different from what they felt for their partners? It was amusing to Paul that images of heterosexual intercourse did not disgust him in the least--not even the part about licking a woman's vagina and clitoris. And this despite hearing from not a few men that the odors and fluids down there were not always the most palatable. No, he was not disgusted or revolted. He was just indifferent--which was all he felt he asked of straights in return. But this, apparently, was asking too much. Just that weekend, in fact, as he lay blissfully in Michael's reassuring arms, one of his acquaintances was having his skull split open by three young men who had lured him into a secluded area. The source of the fear and anxiety behind attacks like these was deeply puzzling for Paul. What could possibly provoke such anger and violence? What possible justification could society offer?

The buzzer sounded on Paul's desk. "Yes?" he asked, leaning closer to the intercom. "Will you take a call from Michael, Mr. Peterson?" the secretary asked. "Yeah, thanks Sandy." Paul paused a long moment, then hit the flashing button. "Hi Michael. Are you at work already?" "It's 9:30, silly. Of course I'm at work," Michael responded, in a playful tone. Paul glanced at his watch. The morning was passing fast, and he really didn't have the time to chit-chat with Michael. "The gym is pretty empty right now, except for a couple old farts wandering around," Michael added, amused with his observation. Paul's response was delayed. He could tell Michael was bored and trying to fill his vacant morning. "Look, Michael," Paul began, "I can't really talk right now. I'm buried under my work this morning. Are we getting together at your place tonight?" "Sure," Michael said brightly, "I'm already hard just thinking about it." Paul, too, had a half-erection imagining Michael in his work outfit, his broad shoulders and strong arms nicely accented by a tank-top shirt and his firm, rounded ass outlined by a pair of spandex shorts. Paul's secretary came in as he was hanging up the phone. He pulled his chair forward slightly so she wouldn't notice his bulging crotch. The smell of Michael's cologne drifted upward as Paul lowered himself and kissed his neck. He continued downward to his nipples, which were already fully erect from more than an hour of foreplay. Paul's penis was slowly sliding into Michael's lubricated anus, and Paul knew from experience that his partner's moans were a mixture of pleasure and pain as he adjusted to the penetration. Michael's legs were resting over Paul's shoulders, and his hands were wrapped around Paul's ass, pulling his firmly inward. Paul began biting on Michael's right nipple as the pace and length of his strokes increased. With one of his hands, Paul had applied a liberal supply of lubricant to Michael's cock and was also working its full length. Paul knew that few men could long endure what he called "the ecstatic triangle" of nipple, ass, and cock stimulation. Michael's hand was now on Paul's, trying to slow the masturbation. The explosion of cum was building rapidly, and he wanted to prolong the sensations of the fuck. Paul could feel himself building to a climax too. He would let himself go as soon as he felt the spasms of ejaculation in the muscles of Michael's asshole. "Oh, god," Michael exclaimed, "I'm going to come!" "Yeah..... come... come," Paul said, as he fucked Michael's ass so hard that his balls slapped up against his bottom. Paul pushed his cock in to the base as he too shot in delirious waves.

Selecting a tie was never easy for Paul. He stood in front of his wardrobe holding several ties up to his many shirts and jackets. His high position of status and power would surely surprise his friends and associates from childhood. Who would believe Paul had grown up from such simple working-class origins to become an Associate Vice-President for Investment and Finance for a major American University? And by the young age of thirty! Ties and suit-jackets were not an element from his past. Paul's father held a series of factory jobs, while his mother worked nights to help make ends meet. It was a combination of luck and hard work that permitted Paul to attend one of the country's leading liberal arts colleges, and then continue his graduate studies at Yale's School of Organization and Management. By the time he finished school, he was being courted by all the top financial houses on Wall Street. But he had nothing but disdain for the high-stakes, material existence of big-city investment bankers and analysts. Although he was not a scholar, he had come to love the university lifestyle. He jumped at the opportunity to manage the investment portfolio of one of the most prestigious institutions of higher learning on the West Coast. Even if Paul lacked a designer's flair for picking the ideal tie, he nevertheless had a wardrobe any man would envy. He cultivated his eye for the sharp lines of a fine suit and trousers back in his mid-teens when he worked after high school in the Suits and Shoes section of the Macy's store in his town. For the most part, working in a department store (even Macy's!) was astonishingly boring for Paul. There were long stretches when no one would walk into his section. All the "associates," as they were called, had strict orders not to wander out of their designated areas, and like the others, Paul would prowl the outlines of his territory in search of ANYTHING to break the boredom and make the clock turn faster. The single redeeming aspect of his job was that as a salesman of suits, he was permitted great license in touching the bodies of his customers as they tried on different jackets and pants. (Paul hated kneeling down and placing shoes on men's stinky feet, by the way!) He loved running his hands over the broad and strong shoulders of the men in their twenties. "How does that feel?" Paul would ask, as if he was referring to the fit of the jacket. "Great," they would always reply. The best part, and at times the most dangerous, was when Paul would be down on his knees measuring the inseam of his customer's trousers. It was enormously erotic for Paul to be a breath away from all these men's crotches as he placed his tape-measure just below their balls and stretched it to their heels. And they'd just stand there for him!! The worst part was when he'd have to stand up again. Although he was still quite young, his cock was already mature enough to be prominent when erect.

Sandy was on the phone when Paul paused in front of his secretary's door. She looked up as Paul motioned toward the office door. "I'm going out for a short while," Paul whispered loudly, exaggerating the words on his lips. "I'll be back in time for the portfolio review meeting, ok?" Sandy smiled and nodded as she jotted something down from the phone caller. It was just before 2:00 p.m., and Paul would have to hurry if he was to avoid being late for the 2:30 meeting with his boss and the university provost. He took the elevator down to the ground floor and headed toward the computer engineering building. It was on the other side of campus, and most importantly, in a realm of the university far removed from Paul's post in the administration building. He entered the side door of Barrows Hall and took the stairway down to the basement level. With neither classrooms nor labs on the lowest floor, there was very little traffic. The quiet of the area made Paul brave. He walked in steady and familiar strides to the door marked "men" at the end of the darkly lit corridor. As he approached, a youngish man, maybe nineteen years old, emerged looking slightly embarrassed. After a lingering look at each other, Paul averted his eyes, passed the young man, and entered a small atrium. It had all the classic characteristics of a T-room. Off the beaten path. A squeaky outer door. A second one before entering the area with the urinals and stalls. Paul's pulse quickened slightly as he walked forward several paces and pulled the inner door open. To the left was a line of six stalls with dark wooden doors on springs. Paul glanced downward and noticed that two stalls were occupied, with one empty stall between them. He was sure that the guy who just walked out must have been in the middle. In front of the stalls was a line of sinks, and Paul considered walking over and giving his hands a long wash as he tried to make up his mind about entering one of the empty spots next to the two men already waiting. Directly in front of Paul was a large mirror. He looked again at his suit and tie. He still wasn't sure the match was right. To the right was a line of seven or eight urinals, and Paul noticed that someone was standing at the one farthest from the door. The man had jet-black hair and was almost as tall as Paul's six feet. From his profile Paul could see the man had very handsome features. Paul decided to step up to a urinal two positions away from the end spot where the man was standing. Paul looked straight ahead at the wall as he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock. He didn't have to urinate too urgently, but he was able to muster a respectable flow. He listened to hear if the man to his left was still relieving himself. There was no sound. Paul turned his head slightly and glanced for the first time to get a closer look at the guy. He became slightly excited as he realized that the man was even more strikingly handsome than he looked from afar. His cheek bones were high and his facial features were sculptured. His nose was not prominent, but he had a strong chin. His skin looked firm and healthy, and was a soft brown. The man did not glance back in Paul's direction, and so Paul did not let his eyes linger too long. Before facing forward, Paul swept his eyes downward in hopes of catching a glimpse of the man's penis. But he was standing too close to the urinal. Paul was unsure. Clearly this guy had been standing at the urinal for an unusually long time. "I've heard of long shits, but nobody pisses this long," Paul thought to himself. He was strongly attracted to the man, but knew that police sometimes tried to trap gay men with undercover operations. The man looked old enough to be a police officer. Maybe he was in his late twenties. Asian men always look younger than they really are. Just as Paul got up his nerve to move over one urinal closer to the man, he heard the outer door opening. Startled, he reached up and pulled the toilet plunger. In the same instant, the mysterious man turned his head in Paul's direction. He would never forget those eyes! "Am I late?" Paul asked Sandy, as he rushed into his office to gather the folders opened on his desk. "No, they just stepped into the conference room," Sandy said, handing Paul his phone messages. "Michael called," she added. Her face was blank, but Paul wondered if her mention of Michael signified she suspected something. Paul organized his thoughts as he walked down the hall toward the conference room. "Stop thinking about him," he muttered to himself.

Paul's boss, one of the university's four vice-presidents, was wrapping up the meeting. A new system for managing the university's huge investment portfolio was about to be designed. Paul had taken copious notes, and his hand was a bit tired. "We've asked one of our new professors in computer science to come over and discuss the sort of customized software we'll need to design," Paul's boss said, while peering through his bifocals at the name at the top of the memo in front of him. "Dr. Adrian..... Roxas will be stopping by this afternoon to confer with you, Paul," he added, mispronouncing the last name, despite a long pause to think it over. Paul's eyes flashed a look of approval as he gathered his notes and papers. On his way into his office Sandy handed him his phone messages. "Michael called again," she said in a monotone. It was unusual for callers not to leave their last name. Paul nodded, trying to look as undisturbed as possible about Michael's frequent calls. Closing his office door behind him, he turned his chair toward the window and propped his feet on the ledge. His eyelids drifted shut as he slipped into a restful daydream. In a matter of moments he was carried back to the afternoon hour, and he was once again standing next to the dark and commanding figure in the T-room. Now in the limitless realm of his subconscious, Paul was recreating every detail of that electric moment when the mysterious man at the urinal turned and looked at him with deep brown eyes that almost made Paul gasp in the moment they fixed on his. But instead of the door opening and startling Paul back into reality, the two men were not disturbed. Paul was transfixed by the young man's gaze. There was a massive intelligence behind his eyes. Slowly, a faint smile formed on the man's lips. And in the same moment, the two turned toward each other--still silent so that the others in the stalls remained unaware of the events unfolding just a few yards from where they sat. Both men had their genitals exposed, and as they moved closer, they reached out to stroke each other gently. The man's features were even stronger head-on than they appeared to Paul from the side. His skin was flawlessly smooth, and his hands had an almost manicured, but still quite masculine, look to them. This same, beautiful hand was massaging Paul's cock as it grew larger and larger with every thump of his heart. Paul tried to control his breath, but his chest was heaving from the excitement. Paul was feeling the man's balls, which were enclosed in a perfect sack of warm and hairless flesh. Above his hand, the man's penis, which had more girth than length, stood fully erect with a pearl of precum forming at its opening. Paul was startled nearly out of his chair by the sound of the buzzer on his desk. He was certain it was yet another call from Michael. "Yes, Sandy?" Paul said, adjusting his hard-on with one hand. "Prof. Adrian Roxas is here to see you," the voice from the box announced. "I'll be out in a minute," Paul responded, releasing the talk button on the intercom. He put on his sport coat to help cover what remained of the rise in his crotch, and walked toward the door. When he opened it, he looked so stunned that Sandy rose from her desk in a reflex of concern. "Prof. ....... Roxas?" Paul stammered. The mysterious man was a mystery no more.

The expanse of Michael's back was truly a sight to behold. It was a perfect triangular form, starting at his massive shoulders (the sort most queens try to approximate with pads in their garments) and narrowing gently to his belt-line. Every time Michael lowered his head onto Paul's shaft, Paul caught another glimpse of his back. Paul was seated on a black leather sofa in the living room of Michael's modest flat. It was still light outside, but there were no neighboring buildings from which a lucky voyeur might look on. Michael was kneeling on the floor in front of Paul, and his well-define arms were wrapped comfortably behind the small of Paul's back. Each slow, rhythmic raising of Michael's head revealed the glistening length of Paul's cock protruding from the zipper of his trousers. Although he was having a terrible time pulling himself away, this is not what Paul wanted. He had tried hard not to let Michael turn his visit into a sexual encounter, but Paul had become almost addicted to this man's erotic magic. Half lost in the sensations of Michael's warm, wet mouth on his penis, he struggled once again to collect his thoughts. "Michael...," he said, in as unsexual a tone as he could produce. "Ummhmm," came the response, followed by an especially pleasurable downward thrust on Paul's cock. Paul knew that if he didn't stop Michael soon, he would be on the verge of a very powerful ejaculation. "Michael, I don't want to come," Paul pleaded. "Yes you do," Michael returned playfully, plunging his mouth yet again to the base of Paul's cock and holding it there while moving his tongue wildly around its shaft. "Look," Paul began, trying to push Michael away, "I don't know how to say this without hurting you..... but I don't think we should see each other anymore." Michael stopped abruptly and looked up to see if Paul's eyes would hint he was joking. His lips were wet with saliva. Paul's cock felt cold as his erection started to subside. "I've wanted to tell you for some time now that I'm seeing someone else," Paul added, after an interminable pause. "I'm in love with him."

To hear Paul say he had fallen in love with another man came as a complete shock to Michael. Sure, Paul had been acting a bit differently, and he seemed to have a lots less free time. But the idea that Paul was becoming deeply involved with someone else had not occurred to Michael. "What do you mean you're in love another man?" Michael asked, rising slowly to his feet. Paul was fumbling uncomfortably with his fly, trying to zip his zipper without catching any foreskin. He was hurting Michael, despite trying so hard to find a way of letting him down gently. As Paul searched his heart and mind for the right words to say, he was certain of one thing: he could not reveal to him that it's not an issue of being in love with "another" man. Though he felt a genuine warmth for Michael, Paul never loved him. "I don't know what to say," Paul responded, trying desperately to buy time and to fill the void of silence left in the air by Michael's question. Despite his size and strength, Michael appeared deflated as he settled back on the sofa. Paul turned toward him to offer comfort, but it was clear Michael did not want him near just then. Certainly not under these circumstances. In the midst of the quiet interlude between them, Paul's mind replayed the conversation he had had with Adrian that morning. "I know it's not going to be easy, but you've got to tell him," Adrian whispered. He and Paul were lying on their sides, with Adrian's arm draped over Paul. It was a bright morning, and Paul felt at peace in Adrian's arms. Paul didn't answer. He reached behind him and pulled Adrian's naked body more firmly against his own. He didn't remove his hand from the smooth, tight flesh of Adrian's thigh. Paul could feel the erection rising slowly against his buttocks, but he decided not to turn and respond. He wanted instead to just lie there a bit longer and savor the moment. Adrian remained motionless. After a long silence, he spoke again. "If the commitment we made to each other last night is to have any meaning," Adrian said in a gentle tone, "both of us need to talk to the men we've been seeing." Again, Paul was silent, but he knew that his lover's words were reasonable and true. And despite the anguish he felt as he thought about how Michael would react, in that moment, with Adrian lying next to him, he felt content. "I want this never to end," he said to himself.

The three months since Paul and Adrian met in the T- room (and later the same day in Paul's office) had marked a new chapter in the lives of both men. Even as he sat there next to Michael, who was now sobbing in a way no one could imagine possible for a man of Michael's demeanor, Paul's heart was not entirely in touch with the emotions of the moment. Had he just been stronger and ended his liaison with Michael as soon as he realized he was falling in love with Adrian, he would not be facing the mess he was now in. Paul had been aware almost from his first date with Michael, nearly a year ago, that their relationship would always be mostly physical. Paul was fond of Michael. Everyone was! He had a charming personality and a body to die for. But he was not very bright, and his work as a trainer in a health club was a fairly good indicator of his intellectual potential. What Michael lacked in the intellectual stimulation department he more than made up for in bed--and on the sofa, and in the shower, and on the living room floor, and on the highway heading to Portland, and in a dozen other places they had fucked and sucked and masturbated. Paul had had sex with quite a few men in his day, but no one could stimulate and satisfy him in the way this man could. And this was Paul's weakness when it came to not telling him about Adrian. The cruel and selfish part was that Paul knew Michael was falling in love with him. And by sleeping with him again and again, he let his "fuck-buddy's" feelings deepen. "You've never loved me, have you?" Michael asked quietly. This question, put so directly and with so much pain, sliced even through Paul's granite exterior. He turned and pulled Michael tightly into his arms. Michael cried uncontrollably. And for the first time in more than five years, tears filled Paul's eyes and slid slowly down his cheek.

Three months had passed between the day Paul first met Adrian and that heart-wrenching afternoon when he held Michael in his embrace for the last time. The contrast in emotions could not have been greater. Paul quickly regained his composure as Prof. Adrian Roxas rose to his feet and walked toward Paul's office, extending his hand and looking as if this was the first time they had ever laid eyes upon each other. Paul wasn't sure, as he closed the door behind them, whether this man even realized that he and Paul had met earlier that afternoon in the T-room, standing by the urinals. And because just a few moments before, Paul had been enjoying his fantasies about what the two men COULD have done together had they not been interrupted, he was having a little trouble as the two were entering his office separating reality from fiction. When he turned from the door dividing his office from his secretary's, he was startled to discover that Adrian had not moved into the open space of the office, but instead was standing directly behind Paul. Before he could say a word, his visitor stepped forward and wrapped his arms over Paul's shoulders and pulled their two bodies firmly against each other. Adrian's lips, which were full and warm, landed squarely on Paul's. Paul's eyes closed--partly as a reflex and partly because of the collision of their faces. Adrian's tongue was now parting Paul's lips and probing the space which was slowly opening between his teeth. Still a bit off balance, Paul reached his arms around the small of Adrian's back, coming to rest on his belt. Paul's tongue met Adrian's now, and for a while they danced playfully under the two men's lips. Then Paul thrust his tongue deeply into the man's mouth. Adrian's head was pressed backward slightly, and he made an almost imperceptible groan as his embrace behind Paul's neck tightened. His heart pounding with excitement and fear (Sandy, his secretary, could open the door at any moment!!), Paul finally broke away from Adrian's passionate kiss. "My God!" Paul exclaimed in a whisper. "How nice to meet again... and so soon," Adrian responded, his breath quite irregular as his chest heaved in the ecstasy of the moment.

It was mid afternoon, and Paul had just come home from school. His mother, who was usually still at work, happened to be home. Paul was thirteen at the time. He loved his mother very much. No one in the family of six communicated together as well as Paul and his mom. They shared a special bond others in the family could not match. Paul's older brother seemed jealous at times of this relationship. Paul, meanwhile, never envied his brother's closer relations (such as they were) to their father. Everyone was watching the TV. The Phil Donahue show was on. The year was 1973--long before the genre of TV shows parading every imaginable social oddity was the norm. Phil was a trail- blazer in this regard. A pioneer. Paul only glanced at the screen for a moment as he strolled into the living room. He was distracted by the way his mother's eyes appeared to be frozen to the screen. She looked up and smiled uncomfortably for a fleeting second. They both looked back at the screen. Something was not right. Paul listened carefully to try to figure out what Phil's guests were talking about. There were two sets of adults, husbands and wives from the look of things. One of the couples was holding hands while the other two sat back in their chairs in a more relaxed position. Paul's mother was leaning slightly forward on the sofa. "We're not ashamed of our son," said one of the men, somewhat sheepishly. The woman next to him, who looked like she was about the age of Paul's grandmother, nodded her head in silent agreement. "What did he do, mom?" Paul inquired. There was no immediate answer. "He's a fag," Paul's older brother filled in, laughing derisively. He wasn't completely certain what a fag was or did, but he knew there was something disgusting and repulsive involved. Paul's eyes flashed back to his mother's, but she continued to stare at the screen. Phil was holding a large microphone to the mouth of a member of the audience, who kept saying the word "sin" over and over. Other people in the audience were nodding their heads as the camera panned out. Now a caller from Florida was speaking excitedly. Everyone was looking up as if the voice was coming from heaven or somewhere. Paul just stood there in visible discomfort as the male voice coming over the speakers blathered on. "I'm sorry, but people like your sons are just perverts," the anonymous caller opined, pausing to organize his thoughts. "And I can't believe you've got the nerve to come on this show... displaying your soiled laundry for the whole country to see...." Paul was mortified inside. He looked again at his mother. As she got up and headed past Paul toward the kitchen, she sighed, "I hope none of you ever tells me you're gay......."

Of Men and Men -- 15 Paul sat in the room he shared with his brother. Most early evenings he had the room to himself because his brother was always at one athletic practice or another. Paul was strong, agile, and dexterous like his older brother, but team sports, with their accent on macho-bonding, had very little appeal to him. So many thoughts were swimming in Paul's head at once. The tantalizing image of the boys he had seen in the locker room. How his math teacher would look without clothes on. How it would feel to touch his arms, chest, or the sculptured, firm roundness of his buttocks. Paul never looked at the equations when his math teacher turned his back to write at the chalkboard. It had not been a good day overall. At school there were the games to be played about chasing girls. As Paul sat in the cafeteria with his friends, the talk turned quickly to who was "going" with whom, and what sorts of sex games the various boys had engaged in recently with the girls. Paul did his best to chime in, but the others seemed to sense how his stories fell flat. It wasn't just that they were wild concoctions--all the boys were engaging in beefy exaggerations. It was that Paul could not conjure convincing images. There was no passion or excitement in his tall tales, and Paul fell silent after a few awkward comments. Then there was the episode before dinner with the Donahue show. Paul had been terrified by the discussion. His worst imaginable fears of being discovered were realized in that moment when his eyes met his mother's. Pride and courage were clashing with hatred and narrow-mindedness right there on the tube. And in Paul's own living room. Why did they have to talk about this subject so openly like that? Paul felt like a frightened little animal caught with his eyes a-glow in a harsh and exposing light, leaving him suddenly blind and naked with no retreat. And as these thoughts swirled in Paul's mind, they mixed with the vision of being rejected by his mother, the only person he truly believed loved him. Until just a few hours before, he was sure that her love was unconditional and forever. But after seeing the face of his mother's own desperate fear, after hearing her say, in effect, "please don't ever tell me such a thing," Paul was no longer sure of anything. He moved to the bed and lay down, burying his face lightly in his pillow. He now felt more alone than he had ever been. More alone than most people can ever fathom. And for the first time, he actually said the words out loud to himself. Muffled into the pillow he whispered a truth he had known for years, one he could no longer deny inside: "I am gay.... I am gay...." He began to cry with a shudder that reverberated through the mattress. He cried for a lost and searching thirteen-year-old. He cried for a little boy named Paul.

Sleeping over

2007-07-20T05:53:00.000-07:00

I had stayed overnight at Dave's old house, but since his room was small, I had to sleep in the guest room. His parents would go to bed early and we would also, because it was a school night. Now that summer was here, we could stay up late. Dave's new room was off of the basement, far away from everyone. The stairs were even on the far side of the house. He had his own TV and phone too! As I think back on it, he had it made for a kid at the time. After dinner, I helped him unload his boxes. Each one had his name on it and were piled in the hall and the rec room. We got pretty far along putting stuff away when we decided to go to bed. I was really tired and although the idea of staying up late was fun, I just wanted to get to bed. I went into the bathroom first and brushed my teeth. I got into my pajamas and put on a clean t-shirt. I was pretty embarrassed in my youth and tried not to be seen naked often. Dave was more outgoing. When I came out from his turn in the bathroom, he was in his underwear. I was already in bed and he slipped in next to me and turned off the light. We talked about his new house, school and some of the things that we were planning to do that summer. I guess that I dozed off, because I am not quite sure what woke me up. I laid there, listening, but the only sound I heard was Dave's breathing. I felt a little funny, but it was hard to figure out why. As I lay there, I began to understand what had woken me. As I was starting to doze off again, I noticed that Dave had turned over, mumbling something incoherently.

As he turned over, his arm came down lightly over my stomach. I was about to turn over onto my back to force his arm to fall elsewhere, when he started mumbling and started to move again. I guessed that he would be uncomfortable and just move his arm back, but found that his hand was now near my crotch. I was beginning to wake up more now. I was starting to get a little hard was feeling somewhat uncomfortable. His hand was slowly moving closer to my crotch and I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was beginning to feel really neat. I had goose bumps all over as his hand touched my dick. He let his hand stay there for a few seconds. I wasn't sure if he was awake or not, but wouldn't know what to say if I had to speak. I also could have turned over, but was in such a strange condition, I didn't. I liked the feeling and guess I wanted it to continue. After a few more seconds, Dave's fingers slowly started lightly rubbing up and down across bulge in my pajamas. I knew by now that he was probably awake and was wondering what he was up to. I had never masterbated before and had never known that rubbing myself could feel quite this way. Especially when someone else was doing it for me. My dick would occasionally get stuck in the folds of the pj's but would then move a little more and it would free itself. Finally, the head was starting to stick out from the fly of the pajamas. Dave was still lightly running his fingers over my dick. His hand was brushing over the top of my dick now and it felt so good, that I was getting really aroused. I had started to breathe heavier to make it sound like I too was asleep.

Dave stopped touching me and turned towards me. After waiting a few seconds to see if I was still asleep, he slowly pulled my dick out from the fly in front of my pajamas. It was now as hard as it was going to get and I felt like I was in heaven. I tried not to breathe too heavily and give myself away. Dave started to lightly run his fingers along the shaft of my dick, just barely touching it. It jerked as he he did that. Up and down, up and down went his fingers. I couldn't move. It just felt too good to do anything to make him stop. His fingers were slowly closing in on my dick and finally, his fingers were slowly pulling the skin up and down as they rubbed me. His pace was increasing and I felt pretty strange. As the skin went up and down, I had this feeling that I would have to go to the bathroom. I was afraid that I would pee all over us. I tried my best to hold that feeling back. He was now jerking me off pretty fast and that feeling I had was changing. I don't know how to describe it, but it felt really great. My eyes were closed, but I could see things. I know that I wasn't dreaming but could see Dave. He was standing near the lake with his clothes off. Mine were off too. We must have been skinny-dipping as we were going towards the water. I kept looking to see what his dick looked like, but couldn't see it. Dave's fingers were gripped around my dick and were moving at lightning speed. My 'dream' kinda disappeared as I noticed a feeling of something moving up inside of my dick. I could feel this tingling in my balls and this feeling of wanting to shoot whatever was in my dick, out. I was breating pretty heavily now myself and could feel an explosion at the tip of my dick. It was spurting out all over Dave's hand, my t-shirt and everything. The feeling lasted for a what seemed an eternity. dave just kept fingering my dick and this stuff just kept coming out. I was in another dimension! Colors and images flashed past my closed eyes and I felt wonderful. Before I knew it, Dave had slipped my dick back into my pajamas. I didn't even feel it go in. He was pushing my arm and trying to wake me up. I opened my eyes, wondering why he didn't just let me sleep, as I didn't know what to say to him. "Wake up! You are having a nightmare!" he was saying. I looked down at me and saw this milky-white sticky fluid all over my t-shirt. Dave said, "Looks like you had a wet dream!". "What do you mean?", I asked him. He explained that as I got older, sometimes my dick would explode like that, as I was dreaming about people I liked. I guess that he was trying to make me think that I had a dream and this had happened, but I knew better. He touched the sperm and rubbed his fingers in it. "God, what a mess you made!".

Guess you had better get cleaned up. He went into the bathroom and got a towel for me. I began to run it on my shirt and pj's when he took the towel from me and lifted my shirt up and started rubbing my stomach to clean me off. Dave pulled my pj's down and rubbed the towel over my dick. "You sure are a mess and, I'm getting that way too." "Let's get the shower going." Well, he was starting to head to the bathroom and I followed. He started the shower and adjusted the water temperature as I slipped out of my clothes. I jumped into the stall and closed the door. In a few seconds, the door open and Dave came in. Goosebumps again went up my back. I turned away from him and tried to get done so I could get out. I was embarassed, confused and wanted to go home. "Look at this" he said. As I turned my head, I noticed his hand on his own dick. It was hard and he was rubbing it, just like he did to mine. I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he did that. I didn't know what to say. "You know that you can rub it hard like this and it will shoot like you did in the bed". "Come on, try it, it feels really super!". I watched him for another second or two, not knowing quite what to do. When I didn't touch myself, he reached down and took my hand and placed it on my own dick. He moved my hand up and down and told me that he didn't want to be the only one jerking off. I was getting to feel strange again, watching him beat both of us off. As he removed his hand, I found that mine was continuing to move. I couldn't stop as I watched him. that feeling was coming back again and I didn't want to stop. He started shooting sperm all over the shower. I was amazed at what the sperm looked like. It shot out of him like water out of a firehose.

I came again, but only a few drops came out. The feeling was there though, like my head was exploding. We just stood pulling on ourselves and watched each other playing with ourselves. We had been friends at school for a while, but I never knew that he was like this. We joked around alot but never really talked about sex. We just told the sexy jokes that everyone told. I didn't know that you could pull on yourself like that and feel so good afterwards. We didn't talk about the 'feeling' anymore that night or the next morning. We started putting the rest of the things away on his shelves and didn't talk much at all, in fact. I was still uncertain what I could say about what had happened. It all seemed like a dream anyway. When my ride came and I was getting into the car, Dave said to me, "Want to stay over again soon, I can ask." I thought about it for a second or two and said "Sure, maybe this weekend." I am not quite sure why I was so ready to try it again, but I guess that there were still some things that Dave could teach me!

Orgy in Williamsburg

2007-07-19T17:00:00.000-07:00

God, it was great! My 18 year old brother, Marc, and I went with a bunch of guys to Williamsburg the day after Christmas 1985. The next two days were filled with drunken revelry the likes of which my young 16 year old body had never seen before. We stayed in the Motel 6 -- room 223. To understand my story, you have to understand that Marc and I have known we are gay for only about a month. We've done some jacking-off together and some 69's, but nothing really serious. We had told our parents that we were going with a Sunday School group, so everything was cool. In fact, we were to share our room with five other guys. One of them, Ricky, was our leader for the trip. He was 20 and had a van that could carry all of us. He had arranged the reservations and everything. I really didn't know him very well, but Marc did. Marc said that we should expect anything! He was right. We also had Sean, who was 17, and his brother, Eric, who was 15, with us. Tommy, 16, and Dale, 15, were there, too. When we got there, we found out that there were two other roomfuls of kids there that were just trying to get away from home like us. Next to us on one side were four girls who knew the five guys in the room that had a connecting door with our room.

When we got to Williamsburg, we went out and bought our Colonial Williamsburg tickets and spent the afternoon catching up on American history. Most of it was great, but not a great as what happened that night! The Motel 6 didn't have cable, so when we came back and broke out the six-packs and grass and settled down to watch network TV. The guys in the room next door found the girls and started their party. We felt really left out but very horny. By the time Johnny Carson came on, we were all stripped down to our underwear and laying on the two beds or the floor, ready for sleep. Marc and I had already planned to try to start things going if we needed to. Laying there in one bed with Eric and Dale on either side of me made my 9-inch cock start to get hard. I put my hand on my crotch and started slowly rubbing it through my white cotton briefs. Pretty soon I had a raging hardon. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Ricky and Marc were watching me. Marc said, "Hey, brother, looks like you need some help!" He came to the foot of the bed, leaned up against it, and let both of his hands run up the inside of my legs. I raised my butt up a little and slowly he pulled my briefs down to my knees. Then he took hold of my pulsating dick with his hand. He leaned over and started licking my balls, keeping his hand on my

throbbing prick. He lowered his briefs with the other hand and started stroking his own 8 inch meat. Soon, he was taking most of my cock down his throat. I was in estacy. He hadn't said much, but the noises I was making drew everybody's attention. Not knowing what the other guys would say, he looked up for just a moment and said, "Well, when you can't find any girls around, you have to settle for the next best thing!" I loved it. For Marc, a good cock was the first best thing. I put one hand on Eric and one on Dale. Their firm, young bodies were really a turn on. Slowly I moved to their cocks, only to find that they were throbbing and wet with pre-cum. Soon, they turned on to their sides and started feeling of my firm body. Dale loved what he saw and decided to start doing something about it. He drew his head close to my chest and started licking my nipples. When Eric saw that, he couldn't hold on any more. He put his mouth hard on my lips, forced open my mouth and stared french kissing me really hard. I loved having his tongue so deep in my mouth, but I forced his tongue back into his mouth so I could explore it, too. Pretty soon, everybody was stroking really hard. Sean and Tommy were watching Ricky, who was still on the other bed. All three had ripped off their briefs and were flogging away. I couldn't bear the feelings anymore and shouted, "God, I'm cuming!" Cum started shooting straight into my brother's mouth. He loved to taste cum as much as I did. I took my hands off of Eric and Dale long enough to pull Marc off my cock and up to my mouth. Marc and I kissed long enough for me to taste my cum. Then Dale wanted to see how it tasted, too, and started frenching me.

By this time, Sean had started blowing Tommy. Ricky said, "Hey, guys. Why don't you get off the floor and try out this bed?" They quickly accepted the invitation and joined in one of the most beautiful daisy chains I'd ever imagined. My attention turned to my bed as Eric poked me. He said, "This is great. There's my brother sucking on Ricky the way I've wanted to suck on him. I love it." Dale decided he needed to see what cock tasted like so he moved to Marc dick and tested it out. It wasn't long before Marc said, "Augh, I'm coming!! Do you want it down your throat?" Dale pulled back and said, "Not this time." I seized the opportunity and moved my mouth in front of Marc's dick. Just as my lips touched his cock, he came. Cum filled my mouth, and I swallowed as much as I could, but some of it dripped down my chin and onto my chest. Eric wanted to taste it too, so he kissed me hard. Dale must of changed his mind, cause he tentatively started licking the cum off of my chest. "Mmmm," Dale said, "I'll take it next time!!" Soon, I heard Ricky and Sean and Tommy really groaning. The three of them came at about the same time. Their pulsating and grinding bodies really turned me on, and my cock started to rise again. I soon saw Eric take Dale's cock in his mouth, and Dale shot off down his throat. Marc didn't want to miss anything, so he passionately kissed Eric, just to taste Dale's teenage cum. Ricky called out, "How about another beer?" Nobody bothered to put their briefs back on that night. We just got drunk and kept on making out and screwing around until the early hours. We didn't get back to Colonial Williamsburg until 1:00 Friday afternoon. Who cares. We knew that there would be more fun that night. I'm sure the people on the tour bus must have wondered what made seven teenage boys such good friends!! I even got up enough courage to squeeze Sean's crotch and Tommy's ass in public. That made us all the more ready for getting back to the Motel 6 for Friday night!

Friday morning saw all of us just as hot and horny as the night before. We had all kinda fallen asleep just the way we passed out. Arms, legs, mouths, and hard cocks sprawling all over the two queen size beds. We had been up so late that nobody really woke up before about 11:30. I woke up to the sound of water running in the shower next door. Damn! If I could hear the shower that well, I wondered if they couldn't have heard us last night! Shit! It would be fantastic to add the five gorgeous boys next door to our trip! I slipped on my jeans and cautiously opened the door to the blinding sunlight. To my surprise I found one of the most beautiful bronze gods out on the balcony that I had ever seen! He was about 5'10'' and really well built. Even though he was ready for the rather cold day, I could tell that he had more than average muscles and a pretty good tan, considering the time of year. He looked at me, still just wearing my jeans. Our eyes met and I realized that he knew about last night. Then he smiled. Ooohhh, what a smile... The kind that makes you just melt all the way down to your nuts. We just stared at each other for what had to be an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds. He finally spoke: ''So you boys had a party late last night...'' he said. ''Yeah, we got kinda rowdy, I guess. I hope we didn't distract you from your women.'' ''Shit, no!'' he said. ''We didn't get any pussy last night. We were GOOD little boys. We didn't even have any beer to drink!'' I grinned and asked, ''Hey, do you want one now?'' ''Yeah, I'll take one!'' He started to come into our room, but not knowing him well enough, I stopped him and told him I'd bring one over to his room. It only took a few seconds to reach into the cooler and pull out a couple of cold ones. I sprang over to his room just as fast as I could.

Now we had KNOWN that there were five boys in that room the night before. The one that met me on the balcony, Jason, made one. Another guy, Joey, was still asleep. And the shower was running... That made three. ''Where are the other two?'' I asked. ''We're all here.'' Jason grinned as he spoke. ''You mean there are three boys in the bathroom!?!'' I couldn't believe what I was thinking! ''Yep. Who knows why it is taking them so long to take a simple shower!'' he said. ''Goddamn!! Yall must not have gottenany PUSSY last night!'' ''Oh, we had fun. I believe in taking care of any problems that come up,'' Jason said as he removed his heavy coat. I realized that Jason was really beautiful. He looked like he ran track or wrestled. Maybe he was a swimmer, too! He rubbed his crotch. ''I think you know what I mean.'' ''This is GREAT! I really am liking this trip. The other boys will want to meet you and your friends! Are yall going to Colonial Williamsburg for the day?'' Jason grinned as he said, ''Sure are! You all must be going there, too. Huh?'' ''Yeah, as soon as I can get the other guys up and going.'' ''I wanna see what they look like,'' Jason said. ''Follow me,'' I said, ''but be very quiet. We'll surprise them later.'' I led Jason to our door and quietly unlocked it. Sure enough, everybody was still asleep, and no one had any clothes on. It was a beautiful sight! When Jason saw inside the room, he put his hand on my rump and caressed it lightly. ''Let's get'em going. You take your room. I'll take mine.'' Before Jason turned he gave a firm squeeze on my tight buns. ''Today is going to be GREAT!'' he said. It took about an hour to get everybody going. We got everybody ready and all got into Ricky's van to go to the historical area. You can imagine the knowing looks that were going around the twelve guys packed into Ricky's van. There weren't enough seats, so I ended up almost sitting in Jeff's lap. He took advantage of it and rested his hand right on top of my cock, which gave me a raging hardon. I squirmed a little, so he would know it was all right.

p align="justify"> Sure, enough, we really palled around all day in the historical district. It was a lot of fun seeing all the ancient sights, but it was even more fun seeing the expressions on people's faces as we patted each other's fannies and walked arm-on-shoulder all day. We were ready for going back to the motel... and we didn't waste much time getting there right after supper! We made a stop at the convenience store for some more beer, which Ricky and Marc readily supplied. Once we got back to the room, we all decided we were tired of wearing our clothes and our cocks were just too hard to keep captive inside our jeans. I turned around and there was Jeff, just waiting to take me in his arms. We hugged for about five minutes, grinding our cocks together and enjoying the freedom. I felt a pat on my ass and turned to see Jason grining at both of us. He wasn't wearing anything and just stood there, running his hand up and down his hard dick. I took my cue from Jeff to go down on him. I knelt down and put my mouth on his throbbing prick. I sucked in hungrily. Jeff immediately dropped his own jeans and started beating my forehead with his dick. I didn't think I could do both, but I managed to get the heads of both their beautiful cocks to go in my mouth just a little bit. I looked up and could see them locked in an incredibly hot french kiss. Jeff was so hot, he came almost immediately. I lapped up as much of it as I could, but he just kept on squirting his sweet, hot juice into my mouth and all over my face and hair. Jason quickly got down on the floor with me and started tonguing the cum off of my face, while Jeff started sucking on his own cum out of my hair. Soon the pair of them had my clothes off, and were going all over my body with their hot mouths and hands.

After Jeff had sucked my dick for a while, I was turned over onto
my stomach. I felt Jason's finger move toward my nearly-virgin asshole, but he spread something that was very wet or slippery into it, all the way to that spot that feels sooooo good. I looked back, just as he put his cock next to my ass. ''Tell me if it hurts too much,'' he said. I shook my head in agreement. Seeing an opportunity, Jeff got down underneath me, laying on his back, and started sucking on my still very hard dick. I took is prick into my mouth just as Jason shoved his up my ass! Ohhhh, am I glad he used that cream!! It hurt just a little at first, but I got used to it real quick! Jeff started really sucking on my cock and Jason was really going to town on my ass. I was just in ecstasy as I greedily tongued Jeff's dick. Soon, Jason pulled out of my ass and came all over my back. I just couldn't stand it anymore. I started shooting all over Jeff's chest, face, hair, and into his mouth. I must havesquirted at least eight times!!! Jason collapsed on my back, and I fell to the side. We lay there, trying to wipe the cum off of our buddies and stick it into our mouths as fast as we could. Meanwhile, Ricky, Tommy, Eric, and Dale were all on the bed with two of the guys from the other room. The other two were locked onto Jeff's brother, Marc, in the other bed. God, it was a beautiful sight... All of that young flesh just devouring each other! We should have made a movie! It would have been a BEST SELLER!

During the evening, we changed partners about every ten minutes, until we were so tired, we couldn't even speak! In his usual way, Marc spoke up, ''Anybody ready for a cold beer?'' What can I say. We refreshed ourselves and got back down to some really great stuff. With twelve hot boys in the same room, it was hard to find a place to really get some sleep, so we didn't try. Every now and then, someone would pass out from exhaustion, but they'd be ready again in a couple of hours.... Besides, who'd want to let an opportunity like this pass them by? In the morning, we decided not to EVEN go back to the historical area. We just laid around, stroking and sucking.... There was no better recreation....and no better vacation! Before we left at about 3:00 in the afternoon, we traded each other's addresses and phone numbers. Maybe we'll get back together again! On the long road back, we we all pretty quiet. About the most we did was feel each other's legs and crotches with our tired hands. I think everybody did get off again at least once on the way back. It wasn't a surprise that we all had wet cum stains on our jeans when we finally got back to Raleigh!

by : Jeff Adams, Shawn Morely and Jeff Johnson

The Preppy Meets Daddy's Meat

2007-07-17T17:31:00.000-07:00

He paused in sucking me to compliment me on the flavoring I'd dabbed on my cock head. ``It's peach,'' I told him proudly. ``Wait till you get to my asshole. There it's cherry.'' ``How wonderfully inappropriate,'' Burleigh murmured and returned to my cock. He sucked with a grace that could be attained only by the truly wealthy and aristocratic. I fancied that he'd been initiated by his brothers when they first came back from Selwyn Prep, trained by a juicy young stableman who'd serviced any number of discriminating masters, including Burleigh's pater, and fine-tuned by a succession of wealthy visitors to this family manor at Oyster Bay. Lying naked between my legs on his parents' emperor-sized bed, he radiated sexiness wherever his soft, smooth skin touched mine. I knew what people meant when they said they could eat someone up. Now he was holding my balls in the soft palm of his hand and licking them. ``Ooh,'' he exclaimed, ``is this grape?''

``Tutti-frutti, I think,'' but I was no longer able to think straight. ``My compliments to International Flavors and Flagrances,'' cooed Burleigh. And then I felt my lower ball sucked into his mouth, and I was out of my fucking mind with pleasure. ``Don't thrash about so much,'' he warned me. ``I don't want to nip you. I've got to remember this isn't a real piece of---tutti-frutti did you say?'' But my pelvis was quite out of my control, and before I knew it I was squirting my come into his golden hair. He jumped up and ran, hard-on wagging, not to the bathroom but the mirror. ``Oh,'' he exclaimed ecstatically, ``it's like a coronet of pearls.'' I loved him at moments like this.He came back to the bed and curled up on top of me, his cheek against my chest and his thigh across my solar plexus. I gently stroked his slim, elegant cock and the smooth balls that stuck out underneath his thighs while I licked my come out of his hair. ``You make me feel like a kitten being washed by its mother,'' he said sleepily. But his hips were wide awake and rubbing against my dick, which was starting to get interested again. His cheek touching one of my nipples and his warm breath on the other had caused both to become erect.

``I think I'm going to fuck you,'' I told him. He yawned. ``You're not sure?'' ``It all depends.'' ``On what, may I ask?'' ``On whether you keep on teasing my peter with your cute buns.'' ``Your `peter'; how nostalgic.'' ``You're still doing it.'' My cock was painfully rigid again. Yours would be too with that precious butt stroking it. ``That means I want to be fucked. But be gentle this time, Terry. Don't just spit on your cock and ram it in.'' ``I love it when that pretty mouth of yours talks dirty,'' I said. ``Fuck. Shit. Piss.'' ``Ooh-h-h,'' I said, simulating orgasm. ``Uh---cunt.'' ``Keep going.'' ``Sorry. That's all I know.'' ``And you went to Selwyn? And now a sophomore at Holyfield?'' He shrugged. ``I think the pater keeps some lubricant in his nightstand.'' ``Get it.'' He scrambled across me as if I weren't animate and pulled open the drawer. He came back with a tube of something and, straddling my thighs on his knees, spread the shiny, viscous stuff on my cock. It was cool at first but quickly became warm. Then taking a fingerful, he slid it in and out of his asshole, his lips parted in pleasure. ``That's good enough,'' I said. ``You can stop now.'' He stuck his tongue out but tossed the tube onto the far reaches of the bed and stood up, positioning himself directly above my cock. He lowered his body delicately, and when he was just above my cock head, he took hold of my shaft to guide it, and I felt myself sliding into him. He grinned at the bliss I couldn't keep off my face and, balanced on his springy young legs, moved up and down. Finally it got to him as well as to me, and he groaned in unison with me as he increased the pace of impaling himself on me.

I used both hands on his cock, which was now so hard I knew he had to shoot soon. I went lighter on him till I could feel my own orgasm rising again, and then I tightened my grip and pumped him mercilessly. He screamed and shot a stream of white come all the way up to my face. It splattered on my lips, nose, and closed eyelids. I felt a second volley land on my chest. With my softening cock still inside him, he bent forward, and I could feel him licking his come off my torso. Then my cock slipped out of him, as he leaned over my face and licked it too. He was lying sprawled on me when the door opened and the elderly maid came in. ``Your folks is comin','' she panted. ``Y'all get your asses outa their room.'' Burleigh leaped up as if he were on a spring, and I leaped after him. He grabbed her and planted a kiss on her plump cheek. ``Could I harass you sexually, Lily?'' he begged. ``No, you couldn't.'' The old lady slapped his butt as he bounded toward the door. Going out, I looked back. She had just put the tube in her pocket and was smoothing out the bedspread. As we scampered past the railing overlooking the foyer and on down the broad hallway to Burleigh's suite, I heard the front door open and the click of suitcases on the marble floor. That would be the chauffeur, and the pater and mater wouldn't be far behind. Giggling, Burleigh took a flying leap onto his own sizable bed. ``We'd better get dressed,'' he said. ``They'll be up here first thing. After all, they haven't seen their dear boy in three months.'' He got up and was rooting in a dresser drawer among a colorful assortment of bikini underpants. ``Oh my God,'' I cried, ``my clothes are on the floor in your parents' room.'' ``Not to worry. Lily'll take care of them.'' Out of a lower drawer he took a pair of distressed pale denims with big rips around the knees and thighs and much fraying along the fly. ``But what am {\it I\/} going to wear? Can you picture me squeezed into your pants?'' ``I like the concept,'' he said, zipping himself snugly in.

I was getting panicky. ``I'm bloody naked, you sodding little tart.'' I could hear the click of high heels on the marble staircase several doors down the hall. ``Oh, I love it when you're scared shitless.'' Burleigh was now fully dressed and looking virginal in his white shirt. There was a light tap on the door. I looked at him in terror. He kissed the air toward me. ``Go have a bath,'' he suggested. I rushed into his bathroom, closed the door as noiselessly as possible, and stepped into the big, tiled shower stall. I turned on the tap and almost died. The water was icy cold. I turned it off and, my teeth chattering, grabbed a big white towel and dried myself. From the bedroom I could hear Burleigh talking with his parents. ``We were out throwing the football. We got rather dusty. Terry's just finishing a bath. Terry. Come out and meet the Aged Parents.'' (At school he referred to them as the A&P.) There was nothing to do but go out and face them. I quickly combed my flattened locks and, wrapping the towel around me as securely as I could, opened the door. How two people as tall as that could have a son as petite as Burleigh was a mystery. They both towered over me, and I'm 5 feet 11. Okay, I'm only 5 feet 10 in my bare feet. With a gracious smile that not only stripped the towel off me but also seemed to read my filthy mind, the mater extended her hand. It was thin-boned and cool, but it had a grip that told me it could crush me if mater took a notion. As for the pater, if you needed someone on a telly commercial to hoist a champagne flute in front of a baronial fireplace, Central Casting might send you this man. He was white-haired and white-mustached, craggy-faced, with pale blue eyes that twinkled benignly but distinctly signaled, ``Don't come on innocent with me, you young sod.'' I felt the same way I did when I was on the carpet before the ever-polite but sadistic headmaster back at Selwyn. I wondered how well these people knew their son. Probably pretty well, and if that was true, they sure had me pegged. But I'd played that game opposite adult authority too often and in situations too desperate not to hang on to the wide-eyed schoolboy role as long as it was a viable option. Answering pater's probing questions, I told him respectfully, assuming the voice of a younger teenager, that yes, sir, I was playing football for Holyfield. Yes, sir, I did have the physique for swimming and in fact swam on the college team. He seemed hungry for that kind of information, and it occurred to me that Burleigh might have been a minor disappointment to him in the athletic line. The pater, it turned out, had rowed for Cambridge, a fact Burleigh had never bothered to tell me.

When they had left Burleigh asked me, ``What do you think?'' ``I think I've been stripped and searched.''``That's pretty close.'' He patted my cock head where it indented the terry cloth. ``Why don't you try on some of my brother's clothes? You might as well leave the towel here.'' He checked to see that the hallway was clear, and then I followed him bare-assed down to Roger's suite, where I found I fitted nicely into some brand new tattered duds just like Burleigh's. The sales price was still on them: $55 for these rags. Most of the weekend we'd been eating in the kitchen with Lily. Now everything was grand style, at a polished walnut table with candles and silver in the large, high-ceilinged dining room. The pater wore a blue blazer and gray slacks, the mater a floor-length gown. I assumed at first they were dressed to go out for the evening, but no such thing. This was their at-home dinner attire, and they lost no time chiding Burleigh about his tatters. ``Why, I just bought these pants last week,'' said he calmly. ``Always speak the truth, Burleigh,'' said the mater sententiously.``I saw patches.'' ``I think I've still got the sales slip in my pocket. Yes, here it is.'' Burleigh obviously was used to thinking a move ahead of his A&amp;amp;amp;P. Bedtime came, and Burleigh advised me wryly that I'd better sleep in my own room tonight. His parents already suspected him of being what he was. My ``own'' room was actually Roger's room, and I hadn't slept in it since I came here two days before. So I was all alone until an hour or so after midnight, when I heard my door open and someone enter. I assumed it was Burleigh, and I was all ready to say something salacious when the light on the desk went on and I realized it was the pater. He was wearing a loosely tied silk robe. His legs were bare, and at the collar I could see several inches below his chest, which was covered with white hairs. ``Hope I didn't wake you up, Terry,'' he said easily. ``I was just passing by and thought I'd drop in and bid you good night.'' Was he drunk? Or was this a bed check? I've found you can never tell about parents, especially rich ones. The rich ones can impose their own version of reality on everyone around them. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put one leg up on it. This pulled the lower half of the robe apart, and I could see most of his left leg and thigh; it was hairy but surprisingly muscular. He seemed to notice my bare shoulder for the first time. ``You didn't bring pajamas, Terry?'' ``Uh, no, sir, I didn't.'' ``Well,'' he declared expansively, ``we can take care of that. You can wear a pair of Roger's pajamas.'' He got up, opened three dresser drawers, and found a pair. Instead of handing them to me so I could wriggle into them under the covers, he tossed them onto the end of the bed, clearly expecting me to get up and fetch them. And so I did, very much conscious of his eyes on me. ``You have a nice athletic walk,'' he said as I padded around the other side of the bed from him. ``You tread like a panther.'' Or a cat on a hot tin roof, I thought. I knew from the college locker room that a macho guy doesn't try to hide his nakedness from other machos. They're not even supposed to be aware of it. And so, despite my instinct to stand so that he wouldn't see my cock, I just stepped into the pajama bottoms while facing him. For his part, he made no effort at all to disguise the fact that he was staring at my body. ``That's a good-looking cock,'' he remarked.

``Sir?'' I didn't know adults used the word {\it cock}.``Your cock,'' he said. ``It's a big one. How long is it?''I had gotten back in bed and demurely drawn the covers up to my chin.``I don't know, sir. I---I've never measured it.''``Boys today have bigger cocks than they used to. Don't you think so?''``Well, sir, I don't have anything to compare\dots{}.'' My sentence dwindled off into confusion.``Of course you don't. But take me, for example.'' He whipped open his robe to reveal his cock in full erection, red and rough with surface veins. ``I was considered above average in my time. Let's see how yours compares with mine.''My face felt hot with embarrassment. ``Sir, I don't think my, uh, cock is, uh, erect.'' I hugged the covers to my chest.``We can take care of that,'' he said in a businesslike manner. ``Get out of bed.'' It sounded like an order, and I obeyed. ``Drop your pants.'' I slipped out of the bottoms and stood before him.``Get out of that top.'' He seemed slightly irritated. ``I can't see with that fucking top on.'' I took it off, and immediately his eyes went all over me. ``Now.'' Without the slightest hesitation he took my penis in both hands and stroked it. I couldn't help it. He was turning me on. In five seconds my cock was as rigid as his.He moved in on me, holding our two cocks together. I was beginning to pant a little. ``See?'' he said triumphantly, ``you've got a good inch on me. Ah, you young kids pack a lot of muscle down there.'' But he wasn't letting go of me. He was slowly jacking me off, and I'd lost any will to resist him.He turned me around so that my back was against his chest, and with his left hand he continued to pump my straining cock, while with the other he reached under my balls and began to finger-fuck me. I tightened my sphincter to squeeze the long finger that slid in and out of me.He must have sensed that he had me completely in his power, for he now boldly threw me onto the bed on my back, climbed up between my thighs on his knees, lifted my legs over his shoulders, and smiled down at me as he leisurely lubricated his cock and spread the same ointment on my pucker. I closed my eyes and felt the tip of his cock touch me there. It began to penetrate me with exquisite slowness. In this position I could not move, I could only acquiesce. He pushed, my sphincter relaxed, and the head of his cock powered through the narrow entrance and was fully inside me. Then I felt his shaft sliding slowly through the same entrance and filling the passage up into me.

As he fucked me, he murmured (almost as if to himself), ``I have always wanted to fuck a fresh, young college swimmer with a long, strong, muscular, hairless body. What lovely pectorals you have, my boy'' (he was stroking my hard tits in a slow rotary motion), ``what lovely, firm stomach muscles'' (as his fingertips slid over my midriff), ``what a lovely belly button'' (poking his middle finger into my navel), ``what a lovely mass of pubic hair'' (gripping it between his knuckles as his hand brushed my cock), ``and this magnificent organ.'' Taking it, he rubbed its underside against his belly, and I felt my orgasm mounting in me. Holding it in his left hand, with his right he reached me and stroked my crotch behind my balls.That did it for me. My come shot all the way up to his chin, and as his underbelly slapped against my ass with each thrust in fucking me, I dreamily watched my come trickle down his thin chest. He took my limp right hand, brought it up to his chest so that it wiped up my juice, and then he put my fingers in his mouth and tongued them clean. The last pearls of my come had oozed out onto my belly, and he scooped these up and gave them to me to lick. Lord help me, they tasted of cherry.Completely relaxed, I began to doze. I dimly felt his cock slip out of me and my butt descend to the bed. I believe he kissed me on the forehead, but I had drifted into a deep sleep.When I awoke to broad sunshine streaming through the leaded windows, I was lying under covers up to my chin, and I was again in the borrowed pajamas, every button fastened. I guess the pater was inflexibly fussy about what people wore even in bed.I padded down the hall to Burleigh's suite, knocked perfunctorily, and went in. Half awake, he lay sprawled on top of his covers. He was in pajamas too, something I'd never seen him wear at school. I crawled on top of him, kissed him, and felt our two cocks fill and heat up.Sleepily we reversed our positions, burrowed our faces into each other's flies, and sucked each other's still eager cocks

by: Terry Gillin

Love that never was

2007-07-16T17:57:00.000-07:00

I met Andrew during my first day at boarding school in Year 9. He, along with the other students, had known each other for a few years. I, on theother hand, was starting fresh- I'd never met any of them before, and as anew scholarship student, and son of working class parents, felt quite outof place at one of the most prestigious and expensive schools in thecountry.At that early stage, I don't even think I was sure that I was gay, butseeing Andrew certainly pushed my mind in the right direction. Even at 15he was the most gorgeous guy I'd seen- about 5'8", slim and toned, but notoverly muscular. He had a fantastic tan and physique from playing sports,and carried himself with a certain quiet confidence. Despite his fantastic body, it was his face that really caught my attention. He had (and stillhas) the cutest face I've ever known. Clear hazel eyes, with distinct darkflecks within them, a well-shaped nose and chin, a strong jaw and the firstsigns of approaching stubble. And then, he smiled. Just a quick, cheekygrin in response to one of his friend's jokes. Those few seconds, however,are etched in my memory forever- the way his smile lit up his entire facemade me promise myself that I would meet this boy.

I'd been standing in the Boarding House common room, listening to the Housemaster, Mr. Horus, give his standard "Welcome to the new year" addressto the group of students when I saw him smile for the first time. I was sointoxicated that I barely even heard Mr. Horus say my name, introducing meto the rest of the students. I snapped out of my trance just in time togive a feeble smile to the group of 50-odd boys aged between 14 and 18.After Horus left the room the boys started talking louder, catching up onthe stories of the Christmas holidays. Slowly, the boys in my gradeapproached me and started introducing themselves.-"Hi, I'm Jimmy"-"I'm Lyell, how're you going?"-"Hey man, I'm Andrew. Hope you like it here. It's not too bad once you getused to it."I stood there, trying to take in names, and not stare at Andrew, when Ifinally replied, "Hi. I'm Robbie. It's nice to meet you guys. So what do wedo now?"-"Well, it's almost 9.30, so we have to get to bed. School rules", one ofthe others said. I can't remember who it was exactly- I think all thepeople I'd met (besides from Andrew of course) started to blend into eachother at that stage.I followed the group of boys up the stairs to the open dorm, sleeping 16boys. I was wondering where we went to get changed for bed, until I noticedthe other boys shedding their clothes freely. Apparently years of dormliving meant that inhibitions flew out the window- definitely something Iwas going to have to work on. From a purely voyeuristic point of view,however, I couldn't complain. 15 other boys all getting naked in front ofme, without even worrying about the others watching. The compulsory sportand PE had obviously worked wonders with these boys. Sure, there were a fewwho were nothing special, but for the most part these boys should have beenmarked "instant hard-on". Being in the younger dorm, the boys around mewere between 14 and 16, mostly tanned after the summer holidays. Bodyshapes ranged from beefy rugby types to the slimmer athletes; hairy chestsand legs, to smooth hairless bodies; penises of all shapes and sizes- a seaof sexy young guys surrounding me, all gorgeous in their own way, but Icould barely keep my eyes off Andrew.

Even in the few quick glimpses Icould secretly take, I memorised his entire gorgeous form. If I was smittenbefore, then I was completely in lust now. His body was deeply tanned allover, except from a small white patch where he wore his shorts. His uncutpenis was about 4" long and soft, buried in a sexy patch of dark curlswhich extended up into a thin ab-trail. His smooth chest only served toaccent his dark little nipples, and I caught a glimpse of dark hair as helifted his arms to remove his shirt. As he turned around to grab hisboxers, I saw his butt, and one word ran through my mind- perfection. Lilywhite, hairless skin, stretched smoothly over two flawless round cheeks.Believe me, when I finally got to sleep, it was that butt that inhabited mydreams.I woke up the next morning, and quickly began the routine of showering anddressing in front of a group of other boys. As I expected, my inhibitionsabout being naked around them took some time to get over, but eventually Idid get used to the whole situation (it did take a while to learn how to"control myself" in the shower though.) Over the same period of time theboys, who at one stage had blended all together, took on their own personalities, but even after my immediate lust wore off, Andrew stillshone out. He was always there when you wanted to have a good time, alwaysthere for a laugh or a joke. On the other hand, he was also one of the onlyguys who I felt comfortbale enough around, in those first months, to talkmore seriously with. Whether you had a problem with school, teachers,parents, or friends, you could always count on Andy to say the right thing,and keep it in absolute confidence. As the months wore on, I looked atAndrew less as an object of lust, and more as a close friend (who justhappened to be gorgeous). By the time it came for us to go home for theChristmas holidays, I knew that I had settled in to my new life, and wassecure in my network of friends, but I also knew that I would miss themterribly.Over the next few years I grew attached to all of the guys I lived with, inone way or another.

A bond developed between myself and Andrew, howeverwhich was unlike any other friendship I had had. Just as my view of himchanged from lust to friendship earlier, I realised over time that myfeelings had turned from friendship to something much deeper. I watchedintently, hoping for some sign that he felt the same way about me, but Isaw nothing. Even when he was comforting me in times of sadness, it neverseemed like anything more than friendly, almost brotherly, affection. Afterfour of the best years of my life, it was time to complete our final examsand leave school. I had convinced myself that I would tell him when we wereready to leave- at least if he completely rejected me I wouldn't have to see him every day anymore. Still, I couldn't tell him. The thought of Andrew, who I truly considered one of my best friends, hating me or feelinguncomfortable around me was too much too risk; I just didn't want tojeapordise our friendship.About six months passed after the end of school and it looked as though wehad lost contact. The distance between our two cities, coupled withuniversity and work commitments made it incredibly difficult to keep intouch. One night, I was busy with a Law assignment when an ICQ instant message popped up:-Robbie, is that you? It's Andrew. I had to hide my sheer delight from the others in my room, and pretend thatthis was just another friend messaging me. On the inside however, I wasalmost bursting. I honestly think thats a pretty reliable way of telling ifyou're in love- when there doesn't have to be anything sexual at all; whenjust seeing someone, hearing their voice, or in this case seeing theirtyped words on a screen makes you weak at the knees. I was like that withAndrew- just being near him made me content and at ease. I really thoughtI'd lost him over the last 6 months, and now that we'd found a way to keepin contact, I was determined not to lose him again. It turned out that Andrewhad only just received his new computer from his parents, but once he didwe were often trading emails and icq messages, and I felt happy again justhaving him back in my life. And then came September 15th 2000...As most of you know Sydney held the Olympic games in 2000, and it was quitea big deal for most people here in Australia. Andrew's parents held anOpening Ceremony party at his house, and he invited me to come.

I can stillremember how nervous I felt on the way to his house. Would we still be ascomfortable around each other? Would I still be able to hide my feelingsfor him after a few drinks? It'd been about 10 months since I'd last seenhim, would I still have feelings for him at all? In fact this last thoughtkept running through my head over and over. I knew it would be EASIER if Ididn't feel the way I did about him; maybe after months apart I'll realisethat his smile doesn't make me weak at the knees anymore, and I was makingmore of my feelings than they were worth- absence makes the heart growfonder, and all that.That thought though was blown out of the water as soon as he opened hisfront door, saw me, smiled, and pulled me into a big hug. In those fewseconds I fell deeper and harder for him than I had even at school. Yes,his smile still drove me wild and just feeling him pressed next to me mademe realise that this was how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I lethim go and mingle with the rest of his guests, and I did the same, mostlyjust chatting to people I knew, catching up on stories of the past 12months.Throughout the course of the night we chatted, drank, watched the amazing Opening Ceremony and generally had a great time. Eventually, everyone elsehad gone to bed, and it was just Andy and I sitting in his spa talking. Ilonged to touch him, to feel him next to me, but I enjoyed simply talkingwith him just as much. Again, I realised that my feelings for him were thereal thing. Sitting there in the hot water we managed to laugh, joke,reminisce about old times, and silly things that we had done and then talkabout politics, law, and travel- I could really talk to him about anythingand everything.At about 5am, the alcohol, tiredness and hot water became a bit too muchand we decided to go to bed. Seeing as everyone else had retired hours ago,the only place to stay with disturbing everyone was, you guessed it,Andrew's room.

So, i slept (eventually) on a mattress on his bedroom floor.Before I fell asleep I had to endure the torture of listening to himbreathe, knowing he was right next to me and this was precisely where Iwanted to be forever, but that I could never be with him.Now why, I hear you ask, didn't I try something- I was sleeping in hisroom, we'd both been drinking, he'd been friendly all night etc. Even in mydrunk state I realised that I was more in love with this gorgeous 18yo thanever, and there was no way I was willing to jeapordise our friendship. LikeI said before, even without the sexual element, just being friends with himand knowing that he's close is enough to make me happy. The things I loveabout him are the things he gives freely, without needing to be in arelationship- his smile, his laugh, his advice and support- and for themoment, just having them was enough. That didn't mean that I didn't spendthe next few months cursing myself, wishing I'd tried something with him,feeling depressed that I wasn't with him.We managed to stay in contact through email and icq over the next fewmonths, running into each other coincidentally in Sydney a few times aswell, and then in January 2001 we went through a very difficult timetogether, involving one of our friends (which I'd prefer not to writeabout), but all I know is that when we turned to comfort each other at thesame time, holding each other, crying onto each others shoulders, it feltright. I couldn't bear to see him in pain, and I just wanted to make himfeel better any way I could, and having his arms wrapped tightly around mecomforted me more than anyone could ever know.When the university year started a month later distance separated us onceagain, as we went back to our everyday lives still keeping in touch. ThenAndy dropped his bombshell- he'd decided to take six months off and travelthrough America, starting in July. I knew what this meant- NO chance ofseeing him, and very few phone calls. It turned out that even emails werefew and far between because of his constant travelling, meaning that he isvery rarely at a computer, and when he is he always has heaps of people towrite to, so long, personal emails are out of the question.

The few emailsand postcards I have received have always brought a smile to my facethough. We finally organised a time for a phone call about a week ago, andjust hearing his voice, hearing his almost childlike enthusiasm for histravels, kept me on a high for days. The smile on my face must have said itall. One of my friends came up to me the day of the call, and said,-"What's up with you? I haven't seen you this happy in weeks. You've beentalking to Andrew, haven't you?"I honestly didn't think I was that transparent, but apparently I am.I realise now though, that I can't keep going like this. As much as I lovehim, and as much as his voice can pick me up out of a rut, it's not enoughanymore. For one thing, I'm in the rut BECAUSE of him. I can't stay in arelationship with any guy, because I always end up comparing them to Andy,and they lose. So I've decided that no one relationship should mean that Istuff up the rest of my life- I'm not allowing myself to miss out on other,potentially rewarding relationships anymore, on the off-chance that Andrewhas feelings for me. And so, when he returns from America in six weeks,three days and 14 hours, I'm going to confront him. I'm going to tell himhow I feel. If he reciprocates, then I'll feel like an idiot for wastingthe last six years, but at least I'll have my man. If he doesn't feel thesame way, then I'll feel like an idiot for my major case of unrequitedlove, but at least I'll have my life...

I woke up just before 6am on Sunday the 11th of December, alone as usual, to the persistent ringing of my phone. "Great," I thought to myself, "I only got home from work 4 hours ago, and now some arsehole is ruining my one chance a week to sleep in. This'd better be good." In fact, I fully intended to repeat that sentiment to whoever was inconsiderate enough to be calling me at this god-forsaken hour. "This'd better be good," I answered grumpily, when I picked up the reciever. "Fine then," a familiar voice responded playfully, "maybe I'll just call you when you're a little more civil." "Andy? Man, its not even 6 in the morning, and it's a Sunday. You of all people know I'm not a morning person." I replied, trying to sound angry, even though my annoyance died as soon as I heard his voice. "Is it only 6? Sorry, I thought it'd be later there," he told me, sounding a little remorseful. "Not that it matters- I would have called anyway." So much for remorse, I thought, before replying "So whats the emergency? Where are you?" "I'm in Singapore Airport, waiting for a flight home. It leaves in an hour, so I'll be home by 4 pm, your time." "What?!" I asked, incredulously. "You said you weren't coming home until the end of next month. Why the sudden change?" "I just got sick of it," he replied bluntly. "No, that's not exactly true. I was still enjoying myself, but I just wanted to see the family and everyone at home. The main reason I was staying the extra month was so I could meet up with Mum and Dad and my brothers while they were overseas, but they've decided to cancel their trip and stay in Australia, so I thought I might just head back. I've had my fun, now its time to come home." "So, you'll be here for Christmas and New Years? Thats a far cry from the slopes of Austria." I teased, "but it'll be good to have you back. I've missed you mate. Besides, you had to listen to all my painfully boring overseas travel stories, now you can take your revenge." "That's kind of why I'm ringing actually." he told me, cryptically. "Like I said, I'm getting home tonight and having a big family dinner, but I was hoping you could come over some time over the next few days. I've got heaps to tell you, and Mum and Dad would love to see you." "I'd love to come, but it won't be for a few days. I'm getting a few weeks off work, so I can go home and visit Dad for Christmas. I have to go through Sydney on the way home on Wednesday- how about I come over then?" "Sounds like a plan," he said happily. "Great, well I'll see you then. Have a good flight, and call me to let me know you got in OK." "Will do. Seeya" I hung up the phone, with all thoughts of returning to sleep gone. I was too awake, too excited.

I was going to see Andy, almost 6 weeks before I'd expected to. I couldn't wait to see him, and to hear his stories, but my mind kept venturing back to the vow I made to myself yesterday. Could I really tell him how I felt? It was easy to convince myself that I could when it was 6 weeks before I'd have to do it. Now, I knew that I'd be seeing him in only 3 days- would I still have the guts to tell him? "OK, OK. Calm down." I told myself. "It'll be OK, just relax, calm down, go on as normal." Which is exactly what I did. For the next 3 days I carried on as normal. I worked, I packed the car ready for my trip home, and tried not to dwell on the idea of seeing Andy. I got to the outskirts of Sydney on Wednesday afternoon before I called him. "Hey, it's me," I said. "Listen, I can't stay long. This weather is shocking. I can barely see the road in front of me with all this rain. I've just come in to Sydney, and I should be at your place within 40 mins or so." "OK. No need to rush though, just drive safely. See you soon. Bye" I went back to concentrating on the road, and eventually pulled up in the driveway. I sat in the drivers seat for about 5 minutes, composing myself, before I got out and made the mad dash through the pouring rain to his front door. I knocked, and couldn't help but smile when he opened it, holding a towel. "I figured you'd be needing this," he said, grinning at me. "Come on in, get yourself dried up- there are some fresh shirts in my room. I'll grab us a couple of beers. I reckon you'd need one of those too." "Thats for sure," I said as I walked automatically to his bedroom. "I don't think I've seen a storm like this for ages." I put on one of Andy's old T-shirts, and could recognise his unique smell on the material. "Thats why Mum and Dad aren't here," he told me, handing me a Tooheys Extra Dry. "They were at a friend's place, but neither of them are game to drive until this storm eases up. Apparently, they're spending the night over there, and they made me promise to make you stay here tonight. They said they didn't want you driving- especially not at night, in the rain, after you've been drinking." "Yeah, yeah. Believe me, there's no way I'd get on the wrong side of your Mum." I said jokingly. "Besides, she's got a good point. It wouldn't exactly be the smartest thing I could do." "Great. Now that that's settled, let's get something to eat. I'm starving.

Mum had planned a big dinner, but seeing as they're stuck on the other side of Sydney that won't be happening. What about we just cook up some steaks? We can still use up some of the salads Mum made that way." "Sounds good to me. I'll go get the barbecue fired up, and you get the steaks and salads." I walked outside to the barbecue, thankful for the large covered area his parents had recently built. I lit the barbecue, and waited for Andy to come out with our food. In the meantime, I stood listening to the constant drumming of the rain on the roof above, and wondered how on earth I was going to tell him how I felt without ruining the friendship that meant so much to me. He woke me out of my daze with a clap on my shoulder, and another beer. For the next few hours we went about the business of cooking and eating dinner, chatting, and generally just acting as though we'd seen each other only a week before- it honestly was that comfortable with him. The only difference this time was that he had 6 months of international travel stories to tell me. At some point we found ourselves sitting on the couch, looking through another photo album. Suddenly, the sky lit up fluorescently as a bolt of lightning earthed somewhere nearby, and seconds later the house was left in darkness. "I should've known this would happen," Andy said. "I'll go and get some candles from my room, and I'll be right back" I sat, waiting for his return, watching as the occasional bolt of lightning would briefly illumuniate the house, only to plunge it back into darkness a second later. Eventually Andy returned, placed the candles on the table in front of us and lit them, giving the room a soft flickering glow. I took me a moment to realise that something had changed, the comfortable atmosphere of only a minute ago seemed to have gone. I reached over to touch Andy's shoulder, but he flinched from me. "Andy, there's something wrong. What's the matter?" I asked, concern evident in my voice. "Why did it have to be like this? I told myself it was going to be tonight, and now this just makes it so much harder.

Why does everything have to be so hard?" He blurted, words coming out a mile a minute. "Shhh, you're not making any sense. Just relax, it'll be OK. I'm here. OK, what was going to be tonight?" "I was going to tell you." "Tell me what, Andy?" "That I'm gay!" he shouted at me, before curling up back on the lounge. I didn't know what this did to my plan to tell him. If anything, it actually made things more difficult more me. I was determined to tell HIM, to face absolute rejection as he told me he was straight. Now, I knew that he was gay, and while I was excited at the prospect of there being at least a chance between us, there was another worry on my mind. At least if he was straight, I could believe that it was impossible for him to love me. What would I do if he told me now, after telling me he was gay, that he just wasn't interested? I honestly thought that would hurt more, that he would be personally rejecting ME, not just guys in general. Then, I turned and looked at him curled up, softly crying on the lounge, and I realised that this wasn't about me anymore. I hated to see him like this, and all I wanted to do was comfort him. I leant across to him, put my hand on his face, and tilted it so that he was looking at me. "Andy, there's no need to cry. It's OK." "I was so afraid that you'd hate me for it, that you'd never want to talk to me. That was the last thing I wanted, but I had to tell you. I'm sick of lying" "Calm down. I could never, EVER hate you. Tell me, are you still the same person you were 2 minutes ago, before you told me you were gay? Are you still the same person who helped me through so many hard times? Are you still the same person who I can sit, talk and laugh with like no-one else I know?" "I guess so." he replied, his fear seeming to drain away "Then you have got absolutely nothing to worry about. I'll be there for you no matter what." I told him, with absolute honesty. "Have you told your parents?" He shook his head. "Your brothers?" Another shake. "Anyone?" "No-one, only you" "Well, I'm honoured. But, I would have thought it would be easier to tell a girl friend, rather than a guy." "It probably would have been. But, I had to tell you first." I watched as the fear seemed to rise in his face again. "I had to see how you'd react. I'm just so tired of hiding, Robbie." "Why is it so important how I react?" "Because I love you, Robbie." he told me slowly and softly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I've always loved you, and I always will, but I can't go on pretending anymore. I love just spending time with you, but it drives me almost insane being so close to you, and not being able to touch you." I sat, silent and open-mouthed as he rattled off the reasons why he loved me, the special times we had shared which had confirmed his feelings, and was amazed that they were the same reasons and times together that made me realise how much I loved him. It amazed me that we had both shared the same feelings for so long, realised our feelings at the same times, and yet neither of us ever knew how the other felt. "Please Robbie, say something." "I, I, I don't know what to say." I stammered, the shock of his words apparently severing the link between my brain and mouth.

"I know this must be difficult- a straight guy having his recently-outed gay best friend professing his love for him musn't be the most comfortable situation on earth." "No." I said forcefully, "that's not it at all. I don't know what to say, because..." I took a deep breath before continuing, slowly, surely, "I don't know what to say, because you've just said everything I haven't had the guts to say for the last 4 years." With that said, everything else just came out in a tumble- being gay, my feelings for him, the torture of living the last 4 years thinking I could never be with him. I watched as it was his turn to sit open-mouthed, silent, disbelieving. "Wow," he said, staring at me, looking as though he were trying to catch his breath. "Now I'm the one who doesn't know what to say." I stared straight back at him, looking deep into his eyes, amazed by how they shone in the flickering candlelight. Eventually, I replied "Maybe we don't have to say anything anymore." Both of us started leaning forward, slowly and nervously, knowing that things would be very different from now on. Time seemed to move in slow motion, and it felt like minutes had passed before our lips finally met, destroying any last doubts about our feelings for each other. Even just this light grazing of our lips sent a shock through my body, which only intensified when I felt his fingers softly stroking my cheek. I was so caught up in this kiss that when I heard a soft moan escape from our lips I couldn't tell whether it came from him or me. 6 years of pent up emotion seemed to be expressed as our mouths met. As his lips caressed mine, I could feel all the love we'd hidden from each other for so long. As my tongue softly flicked across his bottom lip, I knew he could feel the same thing. As another soft moan escaped our lips, I finally realised- it came from both of us. Still the storm raged outside, but inside, in the arms of my love, I was oblivious to it. All I knew at that moment was him; drinking in every possible detail, etching them permanently into my memory- the feel of his lips against mine, the soft intake of breath he occasionally made, the warmth of his cheek under my hand, that scent which regardless of cologne was exclusively Andy, the way the candlelight played across his face. Eventually we parted, looked at each other, and came to a silent agreement. Slowly, we walked to Andy's bedroom, never breaking physical contact.

I watched him intently as he stripped down to his fitted boxers, showing off the body which was my idea of perfection. I watched as he blushed thanks to my intense scrutiny, and I couldn't help but giggle when he looked back at me cheekily, daring me to follow suit. I undressed, and still without a word between being uttered between us, we crawled into his bed, his back resting against my stomach and chest. I placed an arm over his body and held him close to me, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. Slowly, our breathing fell into sync and we slept, finally at peace with ourselves. I awoke the next morning to find the storm had cleared, letting sunlight stream into Andy's room. We had changed positions at some stage during the night, I realised, as I was now lying comfortably on my back. Andy, sleeping peacefully, was sprawled almost face-down over my chest, his right hand on my left shoulder, his head on my right. I was content to just lay there and watch him sleep; soaking in the warm morning sunlight, memorising the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, so peacefully as he slept. I couldn't help myself, and I reached down to gently stroke his hair, trying desperately not to wake him. Eventually, lulled by sound of his breathing, I fell asleep once again, with a smile on my face. I awoke again some time later, and even before I opened my eyes I sensed that we had changed positions once again. I could feel myself lying on my side, my arms wrapped around him, enjoying the feeling of his warm body next to me. "You can stop pretending now, Robbie" he said knowingly, "I can tell that you're awake." I turned my head, opened my eyes finally and looked up at him, quizically. "How could you tell?" I asked. He looked back at me, blushing slightly. "I've just been lying here watching you sleep for the last 15 minutes," he replied, his blush spreading. "I could hear your breathing change the moment you woke up. God, that sounds so corny." "It's not corny, it's sweet." I told him truthfully, "Besides, I watched you while you were sleeping too. You just didn't wake up and catch me." That seemed to calm him a little, and slowly our breathing slowed, once again falling into a single rhythm. I could feel myself dozing off again, when Andy broke me out of my relaxing state. "Robbie, what happened last night?" he asked nervously.

by: aushotty@yahoo.com

Straight Mate in Speedos

2007-07-16T16:47:00.000-07:00

Jon, at 24, was the picture of a strapping rugby lad. Broad shouldered,thick muscled thighs, big muscled butt, tall (6') and laddish in nature,tending to raise his Leeds accent over the sound of everyone else in a room. He had fair curly hair, and strong chiselled features that made him somuch hornier than some of the other lads who play rugby who can be more fatthan muscle.Jon was one of the lads I was at Universiy with, and one of the fiveflatmates in our house. We were all good mates, but Jon and I tended to geton particularly well because we were also on the same course. We would doall the usual student stuff, drinking competitions, messing around, skivingoff seminars to go to the pub. All of this was great except for one thing,I fancied the pants of the guy. It is a shame he was straight. I had nevereven managed to see him in the nude, only in rugby shorts when I watched himplay, which was enough to see those strong, fit legs. There was the oddtime he came out of the shower with a towel around him, and I saw thatsmooth chest with pecs I really wanted to get my hands on. Playing out myfantasy started when he was out and the house was empty, I got into hisrugby kit bag, and discovered that Jon wore a jock. I would wear it andwank with it on, but always taking care not to cum in it.All this changed when we went on holiday. Five of us travelled toCalifornia for a week in the sun, Jon, myself, his girlfriend and 2 otherguys. The twist of fate started when we arrived and Jon's luggage failed toturn up. The airline gave him $100 to buy some stuff until it was due toarrive on the next flight. We checked into a motel. After the first night,Jon said he would meet us at the beach while he went to buy some clothes. Iwent with him to pick up a newspaper. In the beach store Jon was gutted tofind that they had no swimshorts, only speedos! I tried not to laugh when Isaw his discomfort - it just wasn't what real men wore according to Jon. Icouldn't wait to see him in them - I had never seen him wear anything tightfitting. He went off looking for an alternative while I returned to thebeach.I met the other guys at the beach where I, like the other guys was wearingsome knee length shorts.

I was reading when Jon turned up at the beach and,knowing what he had to show, I couldn't wait for him to remove his baggycargo shorts. He bent over by his towel and undid his shorts to reveal asight that instantly made me so hard I had to cover my dick with my book.His beefy rump really pushed out the back of the black speedos, and heclearly revealed his full package out the front. I couldn't take my eyesoff him, thank god for my shades which hid what I was looking at. Jon tooka lot of ribbing from the group (including his girlfriend). We all wentinto the water and Jon's mate Mark really started ribbing him, includingswimming underwater and trying to pull down the speedos, but they were tootight fitting to just be pulled down.When Jon came out of the water it was even better, the trunks glistened inthe sun and had shrunk in the water to fit his tidy package and squeezethose butt cheeks. I could tell he was embarrassed as he lay face down formost of the time outside.The weather clouded over in the morning and, as we weren't used to the heat,we mistakenly stopped applying sun tan lotion. We also had a few beers froma nearby bar. Mid-afternoon, I was feeling pretty rough so I headed back tothe hotel.I had only just taken my t-shirt off and, as soon as I sat back on the sofain my shorts, I started to shiver and felt I was going to throw up. Irushed to the sink in the kitchen/sitting room thinking I was going to besick. At this time, Jon walked in, still in just his speedos, and came overbehind me, asking if I was all right and putting his hand on my back. Iwasn't feeling good enough to be horny, instead I started to go even palerso much so that Jon came up behind me on my right side and started rubbingmy back.He got pretty close, and I was starting to get my bearings I decided to makethe most of the moment. I moved to my right slightly so Jon was pressingcloser against me. He passed me some water, and as lifted up to drink it Imade out that I was losing my step and fell back slightly into him. Hegrabbed me with his arms (as I knew he would) and held me steady, asking meif I was all right. I held onto him and by now we were in a hug. I madesure I was pressed up against the front of his speedos, and put my armsaround his waist and pulled him in a kind of team mate bear hug. I thoughtI could tell his package growing but it might have been because his dick wasbulging in those speedos.I decided this was an opportunity to take advantage of, so whilst hugging Islapped him on the butt and thanked him.

The thing was, I didn't move myhand from his butt after the slap. It felt fantastic, I had never held itbefore and here I was grabbing his butt filled speedos. It was then that Ifelt his dick grow hard and I pulled him tighter still to make it harder forhim to concentrate, even starting to squeeze his butt cheeks through histrunks.Neither of us said anything but this was my chance to go for it. I shovedmy hand down the back of Jon's speedos. I could have creamed there andthen. I got a handful of naked butt, and cupped it in my hands. That wasit. I looked up at him and our lips locked, we were sharing the mostpassionate of kisses. As Jon was `straight', I needed to do the leadingbefore he got a chance to pull away. If I wanted his dick, I knew I had totake control before he got any second thoughts.I pushed Jon through to the bedroom and we fell onto the bed, rolling aroundstill with my hands down the back of his speedos. I knew he liked blow jobsbecause he always talked about those his girlfriend gave, so I bent down andstarted sucking his dick through the speedos. Jon was clearly gettingturned on by this, writhing around on the bed, so I pulled his trunks offand increased the sucking on his dick. After a good 10 minutes of this, Imoved back up to his face, where we kissed each other wildly, and I rubbedmy naked butt cheeks on his rock hard cock. He had a look of bewildermentand unabated lust on his face - he couldn't control it now, we had gone toofar.I carried on kissing him whilst I reached behind me and grabbed his cock,pointing it at my butt. I leant down and kissed Jon to distract him fromwhat he was about to do. Whilst in a tongue-lock, I pushed my butt-holeback onto Jon's cock and eased it inside me. Jon let out a groan that Ithought would bring the whole resort into the bedroom.At this point Jon decided to take some control of the situation.

Turning meover, with my legs in the air, he wrapped his arms around me and with ourlips still locked, he started pounding my butt. At the same time, I grabbedhis smooth butt cheeks and squeezed them hard. With no care in the worldabout who might find us, we were fucking like crazy until it was clear wewere getting close to shooting our loads. As Jon was reaching his climax Ishoved a finger up his butt, he let out a faint scream in shock, looked atme in the eye and shot his load so far up my butt I could feel it. At thesame time I creamed all over his chest.He lay on top of me, both of us out of breath, and laid his face on mychest. We held each other for what seemed like only seconds. Jon got up,and I feared he was about to run out of the room as fast as he could.Instead, he leant over the bed and gave me a long hard kiss, and evengrabbed my cock whilst doing so. He then winked and left the room. I wasleft hoping it would not be long before we got a second go.

by:ldnsimon@hotmail.com