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

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.

The only light was from the sunset outside that entered from the
high windows above. There was a misty quality to the orange
twilight, leftover from the parade of sweaty bodies that had
showered there earlier. The only sounds would be the echoes of
their groans and words of pleasure. They sat down, face to face
on a locker room bench. Thankfully it was bolted to the floor so
it could stand their violent movements. Between continued mouth
work and crotch rubbing (“Oh, fuck! That feels great, Tim.”),
they pulled off each other’s shirts and licked off a layer of
perspiration while exploring each other pecs, pits, and abdomens.

These boys were true specimens of youth. Tim was definitely the
finer of the two, with varsity letters in both football and
baseball. 6′1″, 180 lbs., brown straight hair, brown eyes,
beautifully proportioned. His fascination for guys had made him
shy (how else could he not be out fucking the cheerleaders?)
Chris was a basketball player, 6′4″, 170 lbs. (“cute, but…” the
girls said). He was no Tim, but right now, charged with sexual
passion, the two appeared equals. As for the girls who
overlooked him, Chris, in his current position, would have been
the envy of them all.

Their upper bodies were smooth for the most part, save for a
trace of hair that led its way down to their crotches, a road map
to the grand prize. They interlocked their legs and in a tight
embrace humped their crotches together grinding and groaning,
echoing loudly in the otherwise empty locker room. Tim broke the
embrace and grabbed Chris’ knees and slide him away from him.
“I’m hungry Chris,” Tim said in an almost trance like state. Tim
then grabbed the waistband of Chris’ sweat shorts and slowly
pulled them down the basketball players long legs, pulling them
over his shoes and tossing the shorts aside. Tim then pulled
Chris halfway back towards him, reached forward and liberated
Chris’ long, thin (like Chris) dick from the jock, pushing the
constraining pouch to one side. (For some reason, they both liked
to keep their jocks and shoes on when getting off.)

When Tim touched the base of Chris’ dick and fondled his already
tight balls, Chris gasped as a large flow of pre-cum made its way
out of his dick slit and dribbled down the underside of his dick.
Tim felt a surge of pre-cum in his own dick but wanted to keep
his meat constrained for the time being. “Dinner time,” said Tim
laughing as he lapped up the bead of pre-cum and licked his way
up Chris’ ever-harder prick. Chris was almost in heaven and
leaned back and closed his eyes as Tim went to work.

Tim slicked up Chris’ dick and ball sac with a generous amount of
saliva and alternated between steady long mouth strokes and then
gently sucking one then the other of Chris’ steamy balls. When
Tim grabbed the base of Chris’ cock and started playing major
head games on Chris’ purple helmet, Chris stopped him.

“I love what your doing, man. But I want us to shoot together.”
With that said and a long kiss, Chris began reciprocating. When
he pulled down Tim’s shorts, it looked like Tim had creamed
already. There was a huge wet spot where the elastic band of his
jock met the pouch, and when Chris pulled the elastic back, a
thousand ribbons of pre-cum formed between the fabric and Tim’s
hairy crotch. Chris was in love with Tim’s balls. They were big
and firm, hotter than any he had seen in any magazine. Tim put
the wide elastic of the jock underneath Tim’s balls and started
his slavish devotion. Tim liked his own balls too, and sometimes
would make himself cum simply by playing with them.

Chris moved up to the thick prick that topped those gorgeous
balls and had a suckfest of his own, coaxing up more and more
pre-cum that he would in turn wipe all over his face. Tim was
getting close and the time for release was at hand.

As they had done on their first meeting, they locked their legs
together and started jerking each other off forcefully. Dick to
dick, fist to fist, they were like one unit of sexual energy.
They were wet with sweat. Their crotches were pools of pre-cum,
sweat and saliva. Chris started first, with Tim shooting a
millisecond behind. Their young balls churned out ropes of cum:
Tim’s first two spasms splashed the underside of his chin; an arc
of Chris’ cum filled a little pool above his collar bone. The
remaining spasms coated their chests, stomachs and crotches.
When they were both spent, they again embraced tightly and their
cum commingled in their embrace and the sweet smell of their
passion rose to their nostrils.

As they kissed, Chris and Tim were happy. Together they had
found fulfillment. Next time, perhaps they would move on further
into unexplored territory. Chris had awakened the night before,
cumming, in a dream of eating out Tim’s ass. Tim had similarly
dreamed of Chris sitting on his dick. But that was for next
time.

Tim now stood up and stretched. He took his cum-soaked jock off
and used it as a cloth to wipe down his hot body. He wouldn’t
wash it. Later, one whiff and he would be in ecstasy. Chris
cleaned up in a similar fashion. These boys were whipped! They
bent down and took off their shoes and turned to head for the
showers. After their first liaison, the shower they took
afterward, though only made up of soapy massage and warm embrace,
was almost as powerful as the sex they had enjoyed.

Coach Miller was standing about six feet away when they saw him.
Needless to say, they were surprised. Coach Miller was a fantasy
object for every male or female at their high school. He was 28,
and when Tim considered the people he knew that he’d like to
fuck, Coach Miller was the one. When Tim would try and wake up
early, one thing that would get him going would be to fantasize
about Coach Miller. He would get hard, get up, jerk off and
start his day.

He wasn’t thinking about that now. They both were speechless.

Coach Miller looked pretty steely. “Chris, put your gear back on
and head home. Tim, go grab a towel. I want to have a word with
you in my office.”

Tim went down and grabbed a gym towel that barely covered him.
With a look back, Chris headed out. Coach Miller picked up Tim’s
jock and marched down to his office. He dropped the jock down on
his desk and sat down in his chair. Tim stood there, nearly
naked, but for some reason felt he had a lot of power in the
situation.

“Sit down, Tim. I’ve got some advice for you.”

“So, you finally went for the big prize, eh Tim?” said Coach
somewhat mockingly. Tim wanted to pick up his cummy jock that
lay on the desk and wipe the smirk off Coach’s face with his cum.

Tim didn’t know what Coach’s game was. He always struck him as
eminently cool, not someone hurtful or judgmental. Tim felt fine
sitting there, half-covered with a towel and the smell of sweat
and cum rising off his young body.

Coach had come back from a run when he stumbled upon the two boys
in the locker room, and his hot 28 year-old frame was glowing
with perspiration. He was wearing a large, loose-fitting tank
top that was soaked with sweat. One reason that Coach was such a
fantasy object around the high school was his hot body and the
fact that he did not dress as the traditional coach; no polyester
shorts, shirt and whistle with knee socks for Coach Miller. He
was wearing black lyra shorts that stopped a few inches above his
knees, short ankle socks and running shoes. He leaned back in
his chair; the sweaty tank top covered his crotch. Tim wanted
him.

“You know you could have anyone in this school, Tim. You’re 18,
you’ve got the best body/looks combination here and you’re
graduating in three months. Why are you wasting your time with
Chris?”

Tim was pissed. Who the fuck was Coach Miller to sit there and
comment on his choice of fuck-buddy? Did he know how hard it is
to hook up in high school with other guys? Tim knew he wanted to
fuck boys and he was beginning to come into his own with that
opinion. His shyness had always held him back and was the excuse
for why the hunky boy was without female companionship. Tim was
ready to drop his shyness and get what he wanted out of life.

“You think I should be dating a cheerleader and dreaming of
copping a feel of tit and some drive-in and then going home and
jacking off thinking of how I rubbed her shoulder? Fuck that,
Coach. I don’t know how much of what you saw back there, but
Chris and I were fucking each other and if you can’t deal with
that, too bad.”

Tim was a little surprised by the strength of his response.
Coach laughed.

“You weren’t fucking, buddy boy, you were sucking each other off
and jacking off like a couple of 13-year old’s. You don’t have
the body of 13 year-old, so why do you act like one?”

“Why do you expect me to do,” he asked Coach. He propped his
foot up on the edge of Coach’s desk. Coach had a full view of
Tim’s crotch.

“For one thing, don’t act like a precocious little fuck, flashing
me your dick. Stand up and drop that towel.”

Tim sat there. “Stand up, kid and look at yourself in the
mirror. Do it!”

The last thing Tim wanted was a lecture about how he shouldn’t be
wasting his time on fucking around with other boys. He stood up
in front of the mirror and dropped his towel.

Coach stood behind him. “You’re a beautiful man, Tim. Like a
statue, perfectly formed. Your feet, your calves, thighs, cock,
balls, torso, arms, face, hair. Turn around. Your back, your
ass. You have the body and looks to get anything you want in
life, and I don’t want to see you waste it.” Coach’s voice had a
hypnotic quality.

“Here’s a little news flash, Tim. I like fucking men, too. And
I mean really fucking. I won’t fuck you; I’d like to, but
fucking a student is just a little too risky. I don’t want to
see you waste your time. Embrace who you are and start going for
what you want. How did you hook up with Chris? Did you stumble
upon him jacking off and join him?”

“Pretty much,” said Tim, feeling more and more the novice, but
happy to have someone to talk to.

“Why don’t you go after Carl Thomas. He’d let you fuck him in an
instant.”

Carl Thomas was a senior, a swimmer, and an adonis. Tim was
shocked by Coach’s suggestion.

“Carl Thomas, the great seducer of women? Did you happen to see
him fucking around in the locker room too?”

“No,” said Coach, but I’ve seen him look at you and trust me:
when I was in high school, secretly checking out the guys, I
learned all the tricks, and Carl wants you.”

Tim’s dick stirred at the thought of fucking Carl. One of Tim’s
first overt homo acts was stealing a pair of Carl’s speedos and
using them for serious jack off inspiration.

“So Tim. That’s my assignment for you. Find yourself; seduce
Carl and get what you want out of your life. Don’t be shy
because those around you won’t accept what you are. Find people
who will accept you and then talk to me about what’s going on
with you.”

Tim and Coach would talk in the months ahead, but Tim had his own
agenda.

“Okay, Coach. On your advice, I’ll try and fuck Carl, but
there’s something else I want.”

“Shoot,” said Coach, gathering his stuff, getting ready to leave.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“No way, jocko. Too much trouble.”

Tim spit into his hand and re-activated his cum-slicked dick and
immediately grew throbbingly hard. “How will I know how to fuck
Carl if I’ve never fucked or been fucked? I want you Coach. You
said you wanted me. Lift up your shirt and show me that you’re
not hard and I’ll go jack off, alone, in the shower.”

“Tim… I can’t do that.” Tim went for it and grabbed Coach’s
tank top and was delighted to see a tree trunk erection heavily
constrained by coach’s lyra shorts, topped off by a large shiny
pre-cum soaked area.

“Fuck yes,” said Tim. Tim stroked his own cock and licked the
resultant pre-cum off of his hand.

“You want to do it, Tim. You really want me to fuck you, with
this?” Coach took of his shirt and grabbed his dick through his
shorts.

“Fuck yes, Coach. Fuck me with that!” Coach walked over and
locked his door. Tim stood there stroking his dick and rubbing
his pecs. His breathing was heavy and he felt more sexually
charged than at any moment in his young life.

“Put your jock on,” ordered Coach. “If you want me to fuck you,
it’s going to be on my terms.”

Tim took the cummy jock from the desk. “Put it on backwards,”
barked Coach.

Tim looked at Coach, confused. “Just do it, buddy boy.” Coach’s
voice was totally turning Tim on. He turned the jock around and
putting it on felt the slimy pouch creep up his ass crack.

Using his forearm, Coach cleared his desk off with one sweep.
“Lie on your stomach.” Tim laid down and his already slimy cock
leaked more precum on the desk top. Grabbing Tim’s thighs, Coach
spread the boy’s legs and then dove into his ass crack tasting
Tim’s sweat and cum. He chewed the material and soaked it with
saliva. He then pulled the elastic aside and Tim almost came as
Coach’s tongue worked its way up Tim’s asshole. “Fuck yes!”
cried Tim.

After slicking up Tim’s virgin ass with his tongue, Coach then
inserted one finger and then another. Tim was blown away by what
he was feeling and his pre-cum flow became a river as Coach’s
fingers made their way to Tim’s prostate.

Coach was surprised at how relaxed Tim’s tight hole was. Tim met
the thrusts of Coach’s fingers with his own backwards thrusting.
“Give me your cock, Coach,” moaned Tim as he looked backwards.

Coach kept up his finger work as he pulled down his lyra shorts.
His cock was straining against his totally pre-cum soaked jock.
Tim looked back in awe as Coach freed his eight-inch cock. It
was thicker than Tim’s, smoother too, with a nice pearly gob
streaming out. Coach’s balls were big, and tight.

“Turn over,” said Coach. Coach gently stroked Tim’s dick and he
reached into his drawer and pulled out a condom and put it on.
Tim was in a trance-like state, in anticipation of the fucking he
was about to get. Coach pulled Tim up to him and they mouth-
fucked. No slight against Chris, but Coach knew his way around a
man’s mouth. Holding Tim’s face, Coach looked at him deeply and
asked him, “Are you ready for this?” In a breathy whisper Tim
answered, “Fuck me, Coach.”

Coach proceeded to do so, with Coach holding onto Tim’s beefy
thighs. Coach would slow his pace and reach up stroking Tim’s
pecs, and giving the occasional jerk on Tim’s meat. Tim was lost
in passion. Tim was just as much fucking Coach with his own
thrusts. “Let’s go for it Tim.”

They increased their pace. Tim started playing with his balls
and jacking his own dick. Coach pulled out, rolled off the
condom and started jacking too. Tim had his powerful legs wrapped
around Coach’s torso. They started coming together. Coach
sprayed Tim’s face with a heavy stream. Tim’s cum was arcing
high and splashing his chest and stomach. When they regained awareness,
Tim pulled Coach on top of him and they shared the taste of Coach’s
cum in their mouths. Coach looked at Tim. “You little fucking seducer.
I always said I’d never fuck a student.” “It won’t happen again Coach,”
Tim said with a mischievous cum-soaked grin.

“Until the next time.”

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.

At last, the whistle blew. “Don’t change” the note had said – so
he stayed in his rugby kit and headed off for the pavilion. There
stood Peter, a little away from the others, and as soon as he decently
could, Charles left the team and headed in Peter’s direction. “Come
on, Charlie”, he said, “We have to be back by five, and it’s half-past
three now.” So the two of them set off for the Barn – an isolated
building on the school farm, unused nowadays except by lovers and
sometimes by those seeking a quiet place for a cigarette.

It was ten minutes walk from big field, and Charles and Peter
walked fast. As they got out of sight, Peter put his arm round
Charles’ waist, and as they rounded the corner of a field, they
stopped and Peter pulled Charles to him. They kissed – a long, pas-
sionate kiss which expressed all the unsaid things which they had felt
for the three months during which they had shared a study. As Peter’s
tongue explored Charles’ mouth, their eyes met and their young bodies
pressed hungrily together. “Come on, then” said Charles, pulling away
and grabbing his friend’s hand.

They ran to the barn, and hurried inside. All was quiet, and in no
time at all Peter was on his knees in front of Charles. His hands
stroked Charles’ bare legs, slid up inside Charles’ shorts and fondled
his thighs. Quickly he unbuttoned Charles’ shorts and slid them down,
and he kissed the front of his friend’s jockstrap, running his tongue
all round and through Charles’ sparse pubic hair. With both hands he
pulled the jockstrap down, and exposed Charles’ stiff penis: Charles
took off his rugger jersey and stood nearly naked, blond and godlike
in his muscular nudity. Off came the boots, socks and the rest, and
Peter’s lips closed round the erect prick. Charles felt that he could
have popped there and then, but he knew that he must restrain himself,
and after a minute or two he withdrew from Peter’s mouth, bent down
and eased Peter to his feet.

Embracing him, he whispered “Now you undress”, and slipped his
hands down the back of his friend’s trousers, grasping the firm but-
tocks. Peter quickly released his belt and unzipped his flies, and as
Charles knelt down, his friend’s trousers slid down to his ankles, and
with them his pants. Peter’s cock was, if anything, harder than
Charles’, and Charles took it eagerly in his mouth. Peter quickly
stripped off the rest of his clothes and stood proudly nude as Charles
sucked him. After a minute or two, Charles came up for air – “Lets lie
down” he said, and they lay on the hay which remained on the floor of
the barn. It was quite cool that afternoon, but the two fifteen-year
olds did not notice. They were quite hot!

Each took his friend’s cock in his mouth, and played with his
balls. Neither of them had sucked a boy before – their sexual experi-
ence was limited to wanking and mutual exploration after dark in the
dormitory – but both took to it at once, and both boys’ cocks disap-
peared into their mouths with regular thrusts. Peter began to grunt,
and Charles knew that he was about to come; Charles felt the sap ris-
ing too, and their thrusts synchronised. Suddenly, with an enormous
sense of delight, Charles felt the spunk shooting up his cock. He dug
it deep into his friend’s mouth and shot, just as Peter was shooting
his load too. Both boys enjoyed a mouthful of cum, and both enjoyed a
fantastic sensation of satisfaction as they pumped the spunk into each
other.

When it was all over, they rested for ten minutes, and then
Charles said “Well, was it what you expected?” “Better,” replied Pe-
ter. “I know we must go back, but we must come here again – or can we
do it in the study, now we know what we really like?” “I’ll do it any-
where, with you,” said Charles.

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.

“You’ve got a nice set of ab’s there,” Joe said.

Travis said “Thanks,” and kept on with his situps.

Although Joe was a bit shorter than Travis, about 5′10″,
Joe had a great looking tight, muscular body; he had won several
local bodybuilding contests. He had light brown curly hair, blue
eyes, a fair skin and usually wore a smile even when there wasn’t
anything to smile about. Although Joe had a hard, muscular body,
he moved with a dancer’s fluidity. Travis knew many of the guys
in the gym had tried to get friendly with Joe in the past, but he
always seemed a little distant when it came to getting personal.
Joe was usually driven to work at the gym by a nice looking dark
haired girl about his age, so most assumed he was straight.

“Here, let me help you keep your knees down,” Joe said as
he straddled the board and sat across Travis’ knees, “It works
your ab’s better this way.”
Joe’s ass felt firm and tight on Travis’ legs as he sat on
them. Travis couldn’t help noticing that Joe had no jock on
either, and Travis could see the outline of Joe’s big cock under
his sweat pants as he spread his legs to straddle the board. Joe
put his hand on Travis’ ab’s as he continued to do situps, “to
tighten the muscles.” As Joe removed his hand it just slid over
the tip of Travis’ cock. Travis resisted thinking about the
sensation, for fear of embarrassing himself.

It was not until after Travis had finished his situps that
he noticed it was well after nine, and all the other guys had
left the gym. Joe and Travis were alone. Travis quickly fin-
ished a few perfunctory bench presses, then went to the locker
room for a shower. Joe started to turn out the lights, locked
the main door and started to go over the books at the main desk.

The shower room had three showers against the back wall,
and two at the side. Travis chose the middle shower, facing the
door. As he started to soap up, Joe came into the locker room
and started to strip. Joe’s ab’s tensed as he stripped off his
shirt. Travis noticed that Joe did not have an ounce of fat on
him. He showed a pretty impressive pair of lats as he leaned
over to take off his shoes. He had a broad, smooth chest and a
great pair of well defined, squarish pecs, set off by a pair of
tight erect nipples. Just the kind of chest Travis had been
trying to make for himself. When the sweat pants came off,
Travis got a good view of a tight, muscular pair of buns, and an
impressive uncut cock that must have been at least 8″ even limp.
Travis wondered what it looked like when it was hard.

Joe stepped into the shower room, selected the shower next
to Travis and started to soap his chest and arms. His great pair
of pecs tensed and relaxed as he soaped his body.

Then he turned to Travis and said, “Want me to soap your
back for you?”

Travis said, “OK,” turned, and continued to soap his chest
and arms.

They stepped aside a little, so the full stream of the
shower just hit their ankles. Joe started to rub soap into the
back of Travis’ neck and shoulders. Joe had a firm, but gentle
touch, and it felt good as he massaged the soap onto Travis’
back. He got down to the lower back with the soap and then
started to rub soap on the cheeks of Travis’ ass. He seemed to
take a little longer on this spot than on the shoulders, but
Travis didn’t mind. As a matter of fact, it felt real good to
Travis. Joe let his finger slide into the crevice between Tra-
vis’ cheeks and over his ass hole as Joe rubbed the soap in – but
just for an instant.

Standing behind Travis, Joe started to rub soap on Travis’
flank, around to the groin, and before Travis realized it, Joe
was cupping and massaging Travis’ balls in his right hand. As he
did this, Travis could feel something touching the back of his
leg that felt for all the world like the head of a stiff cock.

It felt really good as Joe rubbed Travis’ balls, and soon
Travis started to get a little hard himself. Then Joe took
Travis’ stiffening cock in his hand and started to massage it
gently. That did it! Travis was hard as a rock in an instant,
and ready for more. With his right hand Joe continued to massage
Travis’ now throbbing cock while he slid his left hand around
Travis’ side to his balls and started to rub them. As he did
this Travis could feel Joe’s hard cock rubbing between his legs -
there was no longer any doubt about what it was. Then Joe stepped
back a little and started to rub his cock up and down between the
cheeks of Travis’ ass, while he played with Travis’ tits with his
free hand. Somehow the head of Joe’s cock found its mark and
started to press against Travis’ hot hole – not hard, but firmly.

Travis was enjoying having his cock rubbed so much, Travis
he noticed when Joe gave a little shove with his cock and entered
Travis. Joe started to slide in and out slowly. Although Travis
couldn’t see it, Joe’s cock felt like it was at least a ten
incher. Joe’s meat felt great as it slid slowly in and out of
Travis’ ass, and he could feel Joe’s tight ab’s against his back
as Joe moved. The soap on their skins made the whole thing feel
even better as they rubbed against each other.

Just as Travis was beginning to get used to Joe’s hard
cock sliding in and out, Joe started to move faster and rotate
his hips a little so his cock hit a different part of Travis’
rectum each time it went in. As he did, Joe continued to pinch
Travis’ tit with one free hand, and pump Travis’ cock with the
other. In a minute they were both feeling great. As Joe pumped
Travis’ ass, Travis could feel his cock getting bigger with each
thrust. Travis’ cock was beginning to tingle with Joe’s hand
stroking it, and his balls were beginning to get sensitive. Some-
how, as Joe pumped, they migrated across the shower room, and
Travis found himself leaning on the wall with both hands while
Joe fucked his ass and stroked his cock. The fucking quickly
became pretty intense, and they were both beginning to sweat. Each
time Joe plowed into Travis’ ass it seemed to drive Travis’ stiff
cock into Joe’s tightening fist. Travis was in Ecstasy!

In a minute or two Joe began to moan quietly as he fucked,
and Travis could tell Joe was getting close to shooting his load.
Travis was getting close, himself. Travis pushed his ass back
hard against Joe’s cock and could feel Joe’s balls as they
bounced. Joe’s cock began to throb inside of Travis. It took no
more than another minute before Joe shouted “Jeeeeeeeeeeezus !”
and started to shoot his load into Travis’ ass. Travis could
feel Joe’s cock spasming as Joe pumped load after load of hot cum
into Travis. This made Travis feel so good, that he started to
cum himself. Travis could not hold back any longer! He shot the
his first load with such force that he could hear it splat on the
shower wall. Joe kept pumping Travis’ cock with his hand as
Travis came – five, six, seven, eight times – until there was no
more cum left in him. Travis’ cock felt so good, it almost hurt.
Joe stopped pumping, but left his cock inside for a few minutes
until it started to go limp. Neither of them wanted to move.
Finally Joe stepped back, and his cock popped out. Travis turned
and could see a little of Joe’s cum still dripping out of his
cock.

They stepped back into the shower, and washed off without
another word. Joe finished showering first, and went back into
the locker room to dry off. Travis followed a few seconds
later. After he was dry, Joe carefully laid the damp towel out on
the bench in front of his locker. Travis went over to his own
locker, took out a towel, and started to dry off. Joe just stood
there for a minute watching him, with one foot propped on the
bench. He started to stroke his cock gently, and Travis noticed
Joe was beginning to get hard again. Not being one to ignore an
opportunity, Travis started to stiffen a bit himself. Joe turned
away, opened his locker and took out a tube of KY. Travis moved
closer to see what Joe had in mind. Joe straddled the bench, and
sat down on the towel with the tube of KY in his left hand. He
reached out for Travis’ cock with his right hand.
Then, as Joe lay back on the towel, he handed the tube of
KY to Travis, lifted his legs, and said, “OK, Buddy, it’s your
turn.”

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.

Later on I found that I could have feelings of love for some of
my male classmates that were as intense as the feelings I had for
the girls. By my Junior year of high school, I knew I wanted to
have sex with Joe, but I didn’t know how to approach him. I
remember that I always kept track of where he was, and tried to
be near him as much as possible. He was older than I by almost
two years, since I started first grade at 5 and he had been kept
back one year.

At the end of the school year that summer the junior and senior
shop classes had a picnic at a large lake north of the city about
30 miles. If I was bad about Joe in class, imagine how it was
for me when I saw him in a bathing suit. He could have asked me
to do almost anything and I would have agreed.

Joe and Steve had always been good friends, and we shared a
mutual friend in Tommy. All three were in my classes. During the
afternoon of the picnic, Tommy came over to me and asked if I
would be interested in going out in a canoe. It sounded like a
good idea to me, so we took off with me in front and Tommy
paddling in the rear. As we paddled across the lake, we went
around a bend in the shoreline and were suddenly all alone. We
paddled along for a short while and Tommy said, “Man, I’ve got to
piss, but I don’t dare stand up or we’ll tip over. How about if
we pull in to shore for a minute?”

I agreed, and we headed toward a spot where we could get ashore.
We tied up the canoe and Tommy headed up a narrow path. He stood
at the top of the bank and pulled down his trunks. I could see
that he had a nice looking cock, and when he was done pissing, he
gave it a few tugs and it started to grow. I found this to be
exciting and could feel my own dick stir.

Tommy said, “I wonder where this path goes? Should we check it
out?” Without waiting for an answer he headed along the path. I
scrambled up the bank and caught up with him. We walked along
until we came to a clearing. Tommy stopped short and put his
hand out to signal me to stop.

In the clearing, lying on a blanket, were Joe and Steve. At
first I didn’t know who it was, because Joe was kissing Steve so
I couldn’t see either of their faces. What I could see was that
their hands were busy working on each other’s cocks. Tommy
whispered that we should stay very quiet and we’d get a good
show. Almost immediately Joe sat up and removed Steve’s bathing
suit. Then he stood up, removed his own, and knelt over Steve’s
face. He had his back toward us, so it was left to our
imaginations what he was doing. Whatever it was, it brought
Steve’s long tapered cock to attention. From the way that Joe
was undulating his hips, it was obvious that he was fucking
Steve’s mouth and I only wished I could see better.

Tommy must have read my mind, because he moved back down the path
a bit and quietly walked to a spot where we could see what was
happening.

Even from a distance Joe’s cock was stunning. I always knew it
would be beautiful. And his balls were quite heavy too. I
didn’t realize it at first, but Tommy had let me get in front
when we moved, so he was standing behind me now. I was suddenly
aware that his breathing was quite heavy, and when I turned
around I saw that his cock was out and he was caressing it as he
watched. I looked at it and then decided to do the same. As I
slid my suit down and took old peter in my hand, Tommy moved up
close behind me and whispered, “I’ll do that for you if you want
me to.” With that he slid his arms around my waist and went
straight for the cock. I almost came when he first touched me.
He realized I was close and only held it without moving.
Meanwhile, on the blanket, Joe had turned around and was putting
his cock back into Steve’s waiting mouth. Then he leaned forward
and took Steve’s tool in his hand and gave it a few strokes. He
took it into his mouth and I stared in fascination as his lips
moved all the way down to the base. Tommy whispered, “Isn’t that
fantastic?” It sure as hell was! Now Steve and Joe really went
to town, and before long Joe pulled Steve’s legs up and began to
caress Steve’s ass. I could see his fingertips as they searched
for the small opening. Once he had found it, he wet his finger
and then slowly inserted it. Now Steve began to buck up and down
and Joe just held his head still. As Steve fucked his mouth, Joe
pumped his own ass in slow motion and I could watch his thick
cock go in and out of Steve’s sucking lips.

I whispered to Tommy that I was going to come, and Tommy turned
me around a bit and knelt down in front of me. He squeezed my
throbbing cock and then gently caressed it while I watched the
scene in the clearing. Suddenly I felt the tingling in my balls
that means I’m about to come and then the rushing of that load up
to the end of my cock and out through the small opening. I
sprayed cum all over Tommy’s face, but he seemed to like it. (As
you can see, I still had a bit to learn).

The scene in the clearing had heated up too. Joe was working on
Steve’s cock and Steve was moving his ass like ninety miles an
hour. All of a sudden, Joe pulled Steve’s cock out of his mouth
and jerked him to a finish. Steve seemed to cum forever and Joe
licked it up like it was honey. Then he straightened up and let
his own load go all over Steve. All in all, there was a lot of
cum let loose in a few minutes time. Poor Tommy hadn’t gotten
his rocks off yet, but that got taken care of in a short while.

The big shock of the day was when I found out that this whole
scene had been carefully planned and staged by the other three.
They had been aware of vibrations from me, and were determined
that I would gladly join with them if I had the chance. I was
surprised, but felt good that they wanted to include me in their
games. That was really the beginning of a long relationship
among us. In fact, Tommy and I are still in touch today. There
have been some years when we kept in touch but didn’t see each
other because Tommy moved to San Francisco, but today we are
still glad to see each other.

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…

–

People all around grabbed their belongings and scattered in all. Brip, brap, sputter. Wheels on tile. Click, clack, click, dress shoes and stiletto hills cut through the din with a rhythm ignored. I followed at a short distance and saw that she was laughing at something – that same girl he’d sat next to on the train. Part of me wondered if she was trying too hard. It wasn’t my business, but I kept wondering. A friend had been generous enough to offer me his spare bedroom for my little weekend holiday in Chocolate City. There had always been something about the air in Washington that allowed the little head to take control of all higher functions. It was evident in the eyes of every man. Symbolic islands drifting together pulled by the gravity of pulsing cocks. I thought I had drawn a line that I wouldn’t cross, but the older I get the harder it becomes to see. I told myself as a consolation, he was ugly. But in truth, I wanted the sensation of his hips pressed against my thighs.

I was hungry. The smell of burgers with bacon, double meat and trans fats announced as neon beacons asking – clog thy Willie? I think not! Instant Chinese wasn’t much better, but it wasn’t as bad as the burger and fries. The food court on the second floor proved interesting. I found a spot advantageous to people watching with all the gender bias I could put into the art. The “obvious” twenty something’s were wearing their jeans teasingly snug in the crotch and hips, cut low around the waist – the next reincarnation of fashion. I shot the obligatory glance at a fine woman here and there just to throw a little confusion to anyone who caught me staring. Old habit. Still single and horny at 42, perhaps I could have done things a bit differently. I wondered if I’d be telling myself that ten years from that moment. It didn’t matter. Nature was calling.

I sipped more tea and kept an eye peeled on the bathroom to see who was going in, how long they stayed, and if instinct cast its veil. The traffic around the food court was pretty heavy and the layout of the restroom was all wrong. The lower level proved to be buzz worthy of what I was looking for. Finishing off the last of my snack, I headed toward the down escalator. There was a bookstore, coffee stand and a luggage shop that gave a partial view of who went in and out of the men’s room. Not a lot of traffic between arrivals and departures, and the entryway provided plenty warning. Turning into the bookstore I caught glance of a familiar profile out the corner of my eye. Pretending not to notice that he had noticed, I turned my back and picked up an issue of Ethnic Cuisine. His wife or so I thought, was saying something about the time. Something about a delay and souvenirs. Business. Kids. Crowded. Love. Concert. Wonderful friend. A lot of cooing. She was definitely trying too hard! I stopped listening. Shortly after they went to the seating area where he left her engrossed in the pages of a book and headed toward the toilet. After about a minute or so I figured he was involved in some serious number two or waiting. “Can I help you find anything?” His wife was an attractive woman, perhaps eight or nine years his junior. Why was I trying to figure that out?

“Sir?” I hadn’t noticed the sales clerk speaking to me. She reminded me of Carol Burnett. I smiled graciously and put back the magazine.

“No thank you. I was just browsing.” I left the store and headed toward the bathroom. Rounding the corner I slowed my pace intentionally as though trying to sneak up on a cat, kept my steps soft and pushed the door. He was standing at the urinal with two empty spaces to his right. No dividers. Perfect. I slid my bag over by the sink next to his and he turned to see who had walked in. I gave a polite nod and stepped over. With practice you can check out a guys cock without him even knowing. The guy next to me still had work to do in that department. When I saw his head angling for my prick, I turned to look him in the eye and gave a half smile. Redness shot into his face. He swallowed, shifted then fumbled for his zipper. “So where are you headed” I asked, which threw him a bit and he just sort of stood there holding his dick not knowing whether to put it away or to play out the scene.

“Um. Actually a business trip” New York or some place East. I didn’t really care what his answer had been. I just wanted to get my rise and get out.

“Business trip. With your wife?”

“She’s not my wife” he started but then trailed off. I looked down at his cock and thrust my chin forward as if to point out that he wore a wedding band. Yes, he was married but the lady hanging on his arm was not the Misses.

“No need to explain” I said and started to piss. On queue my dick started to swell and slow the flow to a trickle. I let out a breath of relief that was a little unnecessary, I could see that his cock had started doing a little rising of its own. I realized I was already crossing the imaginary line I’d drawn earlier. What excuse had I made to dismiss him? He slyly started stroking his cock and turned without shame to stare at me and did something I hadn’t expected, he reached over, grabbed my throbbing meat and pulled me to him. The precum oozed out and lubed the head of my fully erect prick. I smirked at the shine his drip gave. His hand found the back of my neck and before I could stop him our mouths came together. I didn’t really want to stop and was turned on by my flow of nerves. I could smell sex, cum, piss, pine, chlorine, sharp and penetrating. The pressure between my thighs, his shaft pressed against mine, his clear silky seed glistened in my pubes. I thought I heard someone. I had to stop before I turned a deaf ear to the door. I started to pull away. “Wait” he begged. His voice was a tremble. A look of hunger and desperation flooded his face. He jerked off furiously and grabbed me harder than I liked as though trying to pull my cock from where it stood. I reached for and fastened the button of my pants. Tried to straighten my shirt thinking about the time I’d gotten caught. He saw what I was doing and quickly dropped to his knees before I could take the next step. “I’m Jason” he whispered.

In my head I was already out the door. I’d seen what I came to see, got my sexual buzz on, and now it was no longer safe. “I could get arrested” was drowned out by the sound of my heart racing in my ear and then the sweetest thing I’d felt, the inside of a warm mouth. I froze and he gripped the back of my hips forcing the thrust that came too willingly. He gagged a little, and I felt myself slide in and curve down the back of his throat and all memories of consequence seeped down the drain. Looking down I saw his cock point straight up pressed against his belly. I wasn’t certain if that was its natural angle or simply the fact that he was resting his butt on the heels of his feet. There was a cool feeling in one of my hands as my leg had started to shake uncontrollably. The pleasure I felt at losing my body to that man had taken over. I grabbed a pipe to shift my weight. The moisture that had collected there felt cool to the touch. The timing of my thrust had increased to some rhythm with origins in some primitive life. Humping his mouth to bring on the nut, I hoped he’d swallow. He looked as though he’d do anything to please me. “Yeah. You like sucking a strangers cock don’t you Jason?” I goaded him and he responded that he’d take all I had to give. “You don’t get much dick from your girl” I laughed. He responded by cupping my balls in his hands, pulled them so that they hung outside my fly and started to bath me with his tongue. “You deserve some cock in your life don’t you boy! You need some cock Jason. Is that what you want?” He looked at me and begged.

“Can you fuck me, please. I just need to get fucked is all.” I smiled and slapped my dick across his face and the sound echoed in the silence of solid walls. I dragged and pushed the head against his closed eye leaving a moist trail. Brip. Then bending down to reach behind him I slid my hand that was wet from the pipes down the back of his pants. The crack of his ass served as the map to what I might find. My index finger and its closest friend found joy in the thickening fur the closer I edged them to the final stop. Brap. He arched, head bent down to the floor, his hands anchored my feet and my finger slid in. “Yes” was what I heard and then a final click, someone was coming. I could feel his ass grip my finger three quick times in secession before I removed it from his puckered hole. He gasped and realized the sound of wheels on tile and shot up from the floor grazing the side of my face. Ouch. We both snapped to attention facing the urinal as though a sergeant had yelled ATTENTION! My heart was pounding, his shirt half un-tucked, and my balls not cooperating got nicked by my zipper. Two throbbing cocks hovering over urinals refusing to surrender. The proverbial white flag was the cum rag offered through the intrusion of a stranger.

The guy that came checked himself in the mirror and headed toward the stalls. Jason was slowly stroking his cock to the rhythm of the other mans steps that neither of us had turned to see. His foot falls stopped behind us and changed direction where he parked right next to me, and whipped out a semi hard uncut dark brown Asian cock. It was obvious what was going on but he seemed stiff and too afraid to look. There was a recognizable gasp from my left and I saw Jason wasting his seed in the urinal. One, two, three, too many bullets to count. Wads onto the porcelain. Drip drop. It raced down like stallions at a six lane track in distinct trails. His body involuntarily slumped forward, back, then forward again. The guy next to me pretended not to notice. Jason quickly became the outward heterosexual on a business trip with his mistress after his spasm. Tucked his shirt, started to say something but didn’t and was gone before his jizz had even settled. After a moment I turned to the guy standing next to me. I looked down at his cock and thrust my chin forward pointing out that he wore a wedding band. I returned his knowing smirk, zipped up, grabbed my bag and left him in the echoes of my footsteps. Outside in the fresh air, I lit a cigarette and felt the stickiness of Jason on my balls. My friends Toyota rounded the corner shortly after I finished my stag and he greeted him with a warm familiar smile. “You haven’t been waiting too long I hope.”

“Nah. The train just got here only a few minutes ago.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m starved” I told him. “Let’s go to that little place you like. What was the name of it?”

“Cafe Asia.”

“That’s it. For some reason I’m craving Pan Asian.”

I always did have a big appetite.