Gay Solos

Tim Holzny was one of the gods of the shower room. He stood at
5′8″ and had short blond hair. It was almost white blond. He had a very
light skin tone and the blond hairs on his arms and legs barely stood out
against it. He was well built since he was on the track team. He had
very muscular legs and a well defined chest. He had a hairless chest like
mine with hair under his armpits. At his crotch there was a thick mound
of dark blond hair just at the base of his penis which was about my size,
but it seemed fuller than mine at the moment as it hung between his
thighs. I could also see blond hairs on his balls. He was definitely a
natural blond.
Slowly the guys started to exit the shower, but I took my time. I
liked to watch for as long as I could. I continued to pretend to shower,
running the soap repeatedly over my chest and arms as I watched the firm
white asses parade by as they left the room. Then my gaze would return to
the other guys in the shower and continue to watch them spread soap over
their bodies.

One particular afternoon after finishing up our swim, we all piled
into the showers, stripping off our swim suits once in there and washing
our private parts in the very public atmosphere of the shower room.
It was a large one room building just off the door to the swimming
pool. With only about 25 guys in the class, we could all fit in the room
with a few spigots left over which gives you an idea how large the room was.
On this particular day I was running my hands lovingly over my
19-year-old body. I had a tan which I had gotten from my trip to Florida
over Christmas break. It was lighter than it had been a few weeks ago,
but still noticeable. I had a nice, average build, standing at 5′6″ with
brown hair and blue eyes. My cock was average size; it was six inches
when erect with a thick mound of brown pubic hair at its base. My pubic
hair was just growing back now after Steve trimmed it during my Christmas vacation. I had short little
hairs on my balls. These were also just starting to grow back.

Returning I began on your right breast, licking lightly at first until
I reached the nipple. There I stayed until it became hard, and then I sucked
all of your breast into my mouth. You let out a gasp. Goddess, you are
a quiet one. I did the same for the left breast and recieved a moan
from you. As I started down your stomach you pulled me back up. I
wondered if I had done something wrong. You said no, you were just
scared. So I laid in your arms and we held each other, silent.

No, last night wasn’t the night, but you don’t rush the good things in
life.

They didn’t seem a likely pair, these two high school boymen who
were giving each other pleasure on the locker room bench.

It was after 6 PM, and they had sneaked in to steal their furtive
moments of pleasure. When they were done, they would sneak out, act
like their straight friends and stay hard until they were able to
do it again.

It was the second time they had met, and they had not become too
adventuresome, not even approaching the fantasies that their
minds had been turning over since they each learned (years
before) that thinking about boys made them harder and feel better
than thinking about girls ever could. When they were sure that
they were alone, they embraced one another and were once again
struck by how right their mouths felt, and they wrestled with
their tongues kissing eyes, cheeks, lips, neck and thus inflamed
their passion. The two athletes were now breathing as heavily as
during any workout and were straining against their jocks and
sweat shorts.
Continue Reading »

Charles Collins opened the note with a trembling hand. “I’ll see
you after the game”, it said. “Don’t get changed.” The note wasn’t
signed, but he knew exactly who it was from, for he had repeatedly
asked his friend Peter to go up to the barn with him after rugby. To-
day, at last, Peter had agreed, and Charles knew that the moment he
had longed for was close.

The game seemed endless; at half-time, Charles would gladly have
walked off the pitch, even though the score was level and his chances
of selection for Saturday’s match hung on the outcome. His mind was
elsewhere, however, and more than once his captain had shouted to him
“Charlie! Wake up!” as his eyes had wandered to the touch-line in
search of his friend. Every scrum seemed to bring temptation - a wan-
dering hand, the faint smell of youthful bodies. But Charles knew that
he must wait, patiently, and that it would be worth it.
Continue Reading »

It was Friday evening, the end of a thoroughly shitty
week. Travis had had to work late to get some stupid report done
that his boss wanted first thing Monday morning. This pissed him
off, since Travis was in the habit of working out after work on
Fridays - to get into shape for the week end - and he was afraid
the gym would be closed by the time he got there. As it hap-
pened, Travis finally finished his work about eight, the gym
closed at nine, so Travis figured he still had time for at least
part of his routine.

By the time Travis arrived at the gym it was twenty past
eight, there were just a few sweaty guys still there. Most in-
structors had left, leaving Joe to close up. Since he was the
youngest of the gym’s staff, Joe usually got this detail when
things were slow. Travis went directly to the locker room to
change, avoiding looking at Joe. Travis knew Joe would be a
little pissed at somebody coming in this late, but hoped he
wouldn’t say anything about it. Joe didn’t. Travis got into his
sweat pants quickly, not bothering with a shirt or a jock, and
got right down to his workout routine. Recently Travis had been
concentrating on reps for definition, so each routine took a
little while. Travis was concentrating on his third set of
situps on the incline board when he noticed Joe was standing by
his shoulder watching him closely.
Continue Reading »

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.

His hands came up and caressed me at the bottom of my spine, and
I half-jokingly mimicked a passionate grind against his thighs.
He rubbed both hands over the back of my ass and really seemed to
be getting turned on. A nervous chuckle started in my throat, but
I swallowed it in a gulp. My cock throbbed against him, and he whispered
in my ear “Got you Dave.”
I could feel his cock grow hard beneath his pants, and I gulped
again. The blood was pounding in my neck and I imagined he must
have been able to hear it. I tried to pull away again and drew my
knees up, but that pushed my dick across his growing hard-on, and
my stomach muscles began to quiver. It was an electric moment.
Continue Reading »

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.
Continue Reading »

Alcohol makes these boys wanna try gay sex.
We ainТt alcoholics Ц we just get these boys drunk and fuck Сem any way we want to.
After a few shots of vodka their secret wishes come to life.
Alcohol and cum is their favorite cocktail!

where to find these nasty gays?

real drunked boys

Archive-name: Samesex/anton.txt

Archive-author:

Archive-title: Anton

Chapter One

———–

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.

Chapter Two

———–

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.

Chapter Three

————-

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…

–