Gay Solos

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.

Ray opened the front door to his home and there stood Brady.
He stood about six feet four inches and weighed about 200 pounds.
He was solid muscle. Brady’s handsome face and boyish smile was
enough to melt metal.

“Come on in Brady.” Brady entered and walked into the
living room. “Have a seat.” Brady sat on the chair just oppo-
site the couch where Ray sat. Brady completely engulfed the
chair as he sat there in a slouched, spread legged position.
Brady’s tight white T-shirt looked wonderful as it stretched over
his perfect chest and teased as it showed his firm nipples. Ray
couldn’t take his eyes off of Brady’s tight fitting 501’s. Brady
was showing a basket that could probably be seen for miles with
the naked eye.
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It had been a great day. Warm, dry and the traffic had been light.

I had been riding for some seven hours now, but wasn’t yet tired. The

sun had just started to draw the evening curtains, and there was a

faint hint of rain on the cooling twilight air. I was cruising along a

quiet back road in Sussex on my BMW K100.

I have been riding bikes since I was 16, that’s 24 years now. I

have always liked biking, and will do it for as long as I can. I’m not

a flash rider. My bike is silver and standard; and I wear jeans and a

black leather jacket. I like wearing jeans, they are comfortable and

offer a little more protection than trousers.

I was doing about 50 when I saw across the hedge a Day-Glow lemon

top and black trousers. Quick check, no speed O.K. as I’m outside the

limit, still be careful! After rounding a couple of bends the road

straightened out and I could see the figure some way ahead. I was

wrong, it wasn’t the law, just some youngster in a fluorescent top and

black track suit trousers. He was hitching as far as I could tell from

this distance, but I don’t pick up hitch-hikers. Still I was in a good

mood as the day had been good; and he was miles from anywhere on a

road with little traffic and he couldn’t cause me much trouble on the

back really. I slowed down and pulled up alongside him.

I was talking to a new friend the other night and he wanted to
know just when I realized I was gay. I told him that I realized
that boys interested me from the time I was about 5 or 6. I used
to live in the city of Poughkeepsie in New York and our house was
next to a city playground and across from a baseball park. Every
time there was a ball game, a friend and I would sneak into the
gym and watch the men change into their uniforms. I’m not sure I
realized it was sex I was interested in at the time, but I knew I
liked to see hairy asses and especially in jockstraps.
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My “first time” was in high school. I was a right halfback in the
old t-formation and I had an offensive tackle, named Dick (off all
things) who was one of the best blockers in the city. He really made
me look good and paved the way for me to be all-city my senior year.
One day after practice, Dick and I went back to his home and decided
to watch some of his parents porno flicks. We got on the bed and
watched, both became very horny and hard, and he decided to do something
about it. At first, he asked if he could stick his dick between my
legs and pump away. I wasn’t thrilled by the idea, but let him go
ahead. He came in no time and left an awful mess on the bed.
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I remember the sound of luggage rolling across concrete as he turned. The ripple he made in time frozen on my brain, the image of his sway. I stole that parting glance and tasted the air through which he had passed, brushing against me a sweet memory. He said something, or hinted at something perhaps but only to my eyes. It was understood, the secret that can be bought between men. In the past it went unnoticed by most, but things are a bit different now. A moment cannot be held at leisure. It cannot be savored that way. The rings on his finger said leave it, but the glint in his eye begged and beckoned.
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