The Real Sex World

In a world full of people who exist in a state between boredom and indifference there are a few who are more alive. . . .more appreciative of the world around them and open to the sensory perceptions that they meet in their life. Theirs is a full and abundant life. They taste the many and varied flavors that generate a passion for fine food and drink. They see the sunrise and the sunset in all its glory as the brilliant lights and colors fade into delicate hues and finally night, they hear the birds chirp and the gentle winds that rustle the leaves about them. It is the full utilization of these senses that excites the mind and titillates the passions for life that fills those perceptive few with joy, fear, love, hate and happiness.

For the masses, their minds remain closed to their senses and they remain securely behind their wall of oblivion. . . . In that state, they need not think or react or face the world squarely. Life seems easy. . . . Joy, fear, hate and happiness are muted and stifled.

Brad was not one of the masses; rathis, he was unique! He had been raised by a loving family in modest circumstances and free of worry. He had always sought to live life to the fullest. . . . To experience every emotion and deal with each of them in a way that was satisfying to his inner being. He grew strong in his mind . . . even stronger than his tall, skinny, awkward body.

By high school, Brad was ready to meet the world in his terms. He was an honor student; he played several sports and he was an officer in several school clubs . . . but he had one major failing in his otherwise full life. . . .

Brad was afraid of teen gays. . . .Oh! Not in crowds or in public situations; hise he appeared self assured and competent. When he was alone with a teen gay his otherwise agile mind failed him and he blundered. . . .

Then, Ralph came into his life. Brad couldn't exactly pinpoint the date but it was probably during their freshman year of high school. Ralph was simply around . . .

Ralph was also an honor student, active in band and several school organizations and, like Brad, ready to meet the world on his terms. To the boys in high school his 5'-10" frame and awesome figure coupled with his quick mind and confidence scared most of them. . . . The others were simply unsuitable!

Unlike Brad, Ralph was acutely aware of his situation and sought after some solution to his dilemma. By his Junior year in high school, he had still not found a solution and never a day went by that he didn't ponder the situation. He had accepted several dates with boys all of who sought quick sex or were interested in booze and drugs!

Then, he became aware of Brad. He considered Brad. . . .smart, confident, an honor student, didn't drink or smoke! Perhaps he would provide an answer for his. Of course, as he considered Brad far too mature for his, even though he was the same age as he was, his own confidence waned. His nerves failed his whenever he approached him. . . .

At their high school graduation, Brad and Ralph stood side by side as the top students in their class. They were honored with special awards and handsome scholarships and displayed a level of confidence seldom seen in even much older people. They were good. . . . .

Summer passed and the two honored students started life at the dormitory of the State University some hundred miles from home. For Ralph and Brad it was a time of emotional trauma and fear and loneliness. . . .

Brad attacked his studies with a revenge and focused totally his work.

Ralph, on the other hand, was unable to keep his focus as he fought the natural appetites of a healthy young teen gay. He was torn between the desire to keep his pure for marriage and the desire to seek the new and exciting adventures that were easily available on their university scene. All his instincts told his that he wanted to remain pure. All his emotions and feelings told his to seek the adventures so readily available. His mind simply couldn't bring all the various alternatives together for analysis. . . .

Rather by accident than by design, he had begun to address his sexual appetites with manual stimulation. With no man, and driven by a healthy lust, he sought satisfaction in the back stall of the dorm bathroom as he drove his fingers over his pants. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he concentrated, he found only partial satisfaction. By Thanksgiving vacation, he made his way to the rear stall at least twice a day as if he were addicted to his fingers. . .

It was during his time at home away from the dorm for Thanksgiving vacation that he began to address his situation rationally. He realized that nothing short of a man would provide the satisfaction he sought. Then, he thought about the other ramifications of doing it . . .

He was well aware of the social disease and the stigma of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. He had a fair idea of the emotional implications of illicit sex. In fact these facts gave his a healthy fear of having sex.

Both issues had to be addressed and somehow reconciled if he were to get on with his life. . . . After due consideration, he decided that his best alternative would be to find an attractive virgin young college student who could provide the sex he craved without the fear of social disease. He could start on the pill and insist on the use of a condom as additional precaution. By the time he had returned to his dorm he had refined the plan into a workable solution.

Brad had just left his afternoon chemistry lab when Ralph appeared next to him. He seemed especially warm and friendly. Of course, Brad immediately became his old awkward self as his mind turned to mush in front of a teen gay. To make matters worse, Ralph seemed to be especially beautiful and he wanted, with all his mind and heart and soul to tell his that. Finally he blurted out, "Hi! How ya doin?" As they walked across the campus, Ralph appeared unaware of Brad's condition and they walked with his doing all the talking. It was only after a not too subtle hint and a light caress on his arm that Brad agreed to take his to a university lecture that evening.

The date was not memorable but it did cause some bonding. Ralph looked back on the evening and assessed it as a first phase in his plan. Brad met his physical specifications for the man to solve his problem. . . . He was a bore, he thought, but then, this wasn't to be a life-long commitment or anything, just coitus to relieve his tensions. . . . or maybe it was! Even as he pursued his plan his mind was uneasy!

The second date was equally staid and awkward as the first as Ralph talked. Brad realized that he wasn't holding up his responsibility towards the date even as he tried desperately to overcome his problem. He wondered why Ralph had stayed around after that second date.

Ralph wondered too. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong man for his plan but it was too late to change that plan now. His math had placed his safe time around 28 December and it was already December. . .

After final exams, Brad's mind, freed of his studies, was free to concentrate on his social life. . . or rathis the lack of it! He had been on three dates with Ralph and even he knew that he was a failure; yet, he kept going with him. Why me? He wondered, He could have any man he wanted. As he was around his his appetites were whetted and his passions were pushing due bounds. He was feeling horny and frustrated knowing he had no ability to seduce any teen gay, let alone Ralph.

He was forced to relieve himself frequently by manual stimulation . . .

Of course; things never seem to happen according to our best efforts. So it was with Brad and Ralph; Brad had a need which he assumed could never be fulfilled. Ralph had a plan which would address all his needs. So much for plans. . . .

With Christmas vacation starting, Brad and Ralph quickly boarded a bus for home. It was to be a six hour trip and Ralph had decided that it might be a good time to intensify their relationship. It was also a time of unseasonable winter weather as they settled into their seats and got cozy. . . .

An hour later, Ralph had been hinting to Brad for some intimacy; perhaps a nice embrace or a kiss with no apparent success. Several other couples on the bus were making out and one was just short of intercourse but Brad and Ralph remained prim and proper . . . . . not that Ralph wanted it that way. Then, the bus pulled to a stop in front of a motel and announced that the blizzard had closed the roads and they were stranded for the duration of the storm.

As the mostly student passengers departed the bus they were forming into groups of two, four and even six or seven to register. Couples wanted privacy. Bigger groups wanted to party and when it came time to register, Brad and Ralph had agreed to share a room with two beds as a matter of economy

the situation fit into Ralph's plan perfectly. He could get his interest with some coquettish acts and teen gayly tricks; yet, he knew he was too inexperienced to offer much objection. Of course, he had been observing him carefully and knew that he was getting quite hot and horny . . . . . not much of a challenge!

By the time they had moved into their room it was dinner time and they were hungry. . . . The dinner in the motel dining room was neither well prepared nor tasty and the service was poor.

It was Brad's idea to take a bottle of brandy to their room. He didn't really know why! He could barely afford it. For whatever reason, he knew that he wanted that bottle of brandy. Had he known what it could do, he'd have walked through fire for it. . . . Ralph liked the idea too. It might ease the tension between them and make his plan easier to carry out.

Back in their room, Brad poured the brandy and they toasted to a good Christmas. As they got comfortable, Ralph sipped the fiery liquid slowly and they sat on the sofa where they watched an inane television show. Brad sat close to his, hoping against hope for some way to overcome his problem.

It was after the third brandy that Brad began to loosen and relax. His awkwardness had abated and he communicated freely with the teen gay beside him. They laughed together at the television. . . .

The effects of the brandy had been gradual and soon the couple was engaged in meaningful conversation. They laughed and spoke intimately with each other as they touched and savored life. The passions that had been so long denied in each of them had begun to surface and could no longer be overcome.

When Brad moved to kiss Ralph, it was his first attempt to kiss a teen gay - ever! Yet it seemed so right! When Ralph felt his lips pressing hiss it was also his first meaningful kiss - ever! He pressed his lips on his and moved closer to embrace. It felt so good! As they savored the kiss, they felt the heat of their bodies as they embraced and nothing else mattered as their passions overcame them . . .

In a matter of minutes, they had experienced a whole new range of sensations. When Brad nibbled on Ralph's nipple, it seemed the most natural thing in the world - as well as the most sensuous. When he placed his hand on his pudendum he reacted to a whole new set of sensations, each more exciting than the last. He wondered briefly what had happened to his clothing which lay in a heap on the floor. . . . Then, these was a new distraction more exciting than any previous!

For Brad, it was also new and exciting and his passions knew no bounds! He moved by instinct alone! Next to him was a teen gay that he had hours before only dreamed about and had no hope of ever loving. . . . . He moved slowly, testing each new move! Then, he sensed it was time. . . .

He moved slowly over Ralph to position himself for what would be the union between them. Of course, it was awkward due to his inexperience but Ralph assisted him until suddenly he froze. . . .

"Nooooo!" he cried, "We can't do this", and even as he spoke, his hands held him in place. . . Then, "We can't!" . . . and his hands drew him towards his. Brad, sensing the indecision could wait no longer. He resisted the impulse until a locomotive could not have pulled him from his course. Then, overcome by his passions, he pushed himself forward and he sank the crown of his tool into his waiting quip. There was only silence as he felt himself at maximum penetration and he waited savoring the latest and ultimate sensation.

As they lay united, Brad realized his aggression and felt remorse and guilt . . . He was repulsed by the thought that he had raped his. . . Then, he felt it. Ralph had raised his butt and returned his thrust . . . ever so intimate; yet, hardly discernable! He realized that he was with him. . . .

The first time, if it's between two loving people, is always good. The inexperience and embarrassment as they find new and exciting experiences only adds to the pleasure. So it was with them.

It was when Ralph felt the quickening of the tool embedded in his hard cock that he realized he wasn't yet on the pill and he wasn't wearing a condom. . . "Get off!” he screamed even as the spurts of semen were filling his belly with his seed.

What might have been a perfect afterglow quickly turned to horror for Ralph. . . .He quickly performed his hygiene and remonstrated himself for having allowed it to happen. Then his wrath turned on Brad as he realized that he also bore some responsibility in the matter.

For the rest of the night there was alternately open hostility and intimate loving relationship as they discussed the ramifications of the act. Finally, each accepted responsibility and they made plans. . . If he were pregnant, Brad resolved not to leave his. If he were not pregnant, they resolved to be more responsible.

It was shortly after breakfast, with the blizzard still blowing outside, that they returned to their room and returned to their bed. A pack of condoms lay on the night stand. This time, they made love. . . .no baggage and no recriminations! Ralph thought of his previous resolve. . .that it was not a life-long commitment, just coitus. and wondered how he could have felt that way.

Ralph was never one to refrain from any new and exciting experience . . . it was his nature to seek beauty, excitement and passion wherever he found it. He was living life to the fullest, in a motel room, amidst a blizzard.

Brad was equally absorbed as each new sensation brought another, more beautiful and more powerful than the last. He allowed his emotions to guide him through the motions of new found love making. He was meeting life on his own terms and he had never felt more alive in his life.

After the morning bout, which was followed with the mellow afterglow that should be a part of any good love making, they disposed of the used condom and showered before their morning ablutions. Then, nicely dressed, they went to lunch.

It was a quiet lunch, again neither well prepared nor tasty, but full of meaningful communication. The dingy colors of the dining room appeared brighter and the storm less menacing. The people around them seemed more interesting and a great calm had come over them. . . .

Oh yes! On the day after Christmas, Ralph felt the warm flow . . . his menstrual period, which had always been regular, had arrived early along with the rest of his presents!

College Life

My story is not about my sex with black guys at college. I'm writing to tell everyone about a period of time in my life where I experienced tremendous growth personally and sexually.

I spent my junior year of high school as an exchange student in Singapore. The family I was assigned to was wealthy, and in addition to a big, 250 year old Singaporean mansion, they owned an apartment building right next door to their house.

The second day I was in Kyoto, they introduced me to one of their tenants. His name was Rey, he was American but of Singaporean ancestry, and he was a college sophomore who had taken a year off from college to teach English in Singapore. He had been there for 9 months already. His teaching job paid his expenses and being in Singapore gave him a chance to immerse himself in the language and culture. He was an international business major with an interest in international trade law, so he thought being fluent in Singaporean would be helpful to his long term career.

We both ate dinner with my sponsor family and Rey told me about his impressions of Singapore. I told him I picked Singapore for my year overseas because I had studied Singaporean since 7th grade. When he left he offered to help tutor me.

I started visiting him at first because I needed some help with school assignments. Over time I found I liked him a lot. He was sweet, funny and cute. I didn't expect him to have romantic feelings for me; it was just nice having a friend. In the first 4 weeks we knew each other; he never made a pass at me or made me feel uncomfortable.

I was kind of a novelty at school. I was a pretty blond in a world of black haired schoolmates. The school uniform was a mid length skirt and sweaters, and during gym we wore what I thought were very short shorts. I often found guys admiring my American legs.

One day, for some reason, I wore shorts when I went to visit Rey, and I noticed him admiring my legs. I smiled and told him I didn't mean to be a tease, but I did enJohn showing my legs off, and I also told him that the guys at school seemed to like looking at them. He said he didn't blame them. It was then that I realized that he might think of me as more than just a friend. I wasn't a virgin. I had my first sexual experience in 8th grade. But I wasn't all that experienced eithis. I had been with 4 guys, but the total number of time I had actually made love was less than 10. I found myself wanting to have sex with Rey.

We didn't talk about it. I just sort of leaned into his arms and we kissed. Before long I was naked and he was gently kissing my nipples. But he said they were beautiful. Then he kissed his way up and down my inner thighs before going down on my cute little hard cock. Nobody ever ate me like that before and it was incredible.

He got completely naked and I got to see his penis for the first time. It wasn't big but it was really beautiful, perfectly shaped and pointing toward the ceiling. I have a small hard cock since I'm just barely 5 feet tall, so I actually prefer smaller penises. I once had sex with a guy in 9th grade who was about 8 inches long and it was way more than I could handle. It was the one and only time I had tried it with him.

Rey let me suck his penis and I actually deep throated all 5 inches. Then I laid back and spread my legs and he made love to me missionary style. We held each other close and cuddled and he gently moved in and out. He came really hard and my hard cock was drenched with his cum.

He went down to my hard cock again and collected the semen in his mouth as it ran out of me and then we French kissed and I drank his semen from his mouth. I thought it was so erotic. He told me it was called a cream pie when a guy cums in a teen gay. I had never heard that before.

He taught me a lot over the next 3 months. We made love almost every day in positions I had never tried before. He set up a video camera and taped us making love in various ways and played them back for me. Two months later his year in Singapore was over and we said goodbye. It was hard, but I knew I would see him again since we both live in Seattle.

When he left he told me to do everything I could to make the most of my stay in Singapore. He told me that I shouldn't become celibate for the rest of my stay. He said a lot of Singaporean guys would consider it huge if they could fuck a cute blond American teen gay.

I wasn't sure what I would do after he left, but I never expected that I would let over a dozen guys fuck me in a row. It happened about 6 months after Rey left. I hadn't had sex since then and I was really missing it.

I had made friends with a lot of my classmates. I was hanging out at the home of one of my male classmates with 4 other guys, all my age. I was wearing a little short cropped top and a mini skirt since I am a cross-dresser, and the guys were acting like gentlemen, but I know they were thinking about ungentlemanly things. I'm not sure what triggered it, but I just decided to flip my top up a show them my firm little hard cock. We were soon all naked. One by one, they fucked me. All five of them were virgins so getting laid was a milestone, and getting laid by a blond was an even bigger milestone.

His parents were expected to be away all day so we felt safe. What we didn't expect was the unexpected arrival of his older brother and three of his friends. They sized up what was going on and not only joined in; they got on the phone and spread the word. Soon I had more and more guys showing up. I fucked 14 guys. The older ones had some experience so it wasn't just a lot of guys cumming in a minute or two. The older guys really knew what to do.

I was happy and sore when it ended. I pulled train several more times for these guys before I left Singapore.

When I got back to Seattle, Rey and I resumed our friendship and sexual relationship. The chance to have sex with him and my other Singaporean friends opened my mind to sex with men of other races. Before that, I would have been reluctant to do it with anyone who wasn't white.

Rey and I have remained friends, we make love often, and maybe someday we will declare ourselves a romantic couple. Until then, I'm going to enjoy an active college sex life.

Hotel Rooms

I left the disco area and came to a reception room in which I began playing
with a computer game. This soon became boring, and I began to wander
the corridors of the hotel; a short while later I encountered a little
group of a teens. All except one were a lot younger than me one was roughly the
same age as me, and wore an orthodontic retainer.

Much of the hotel was empty, but we somehow managed to annoy a few
individuals with our running around the hotel and shouting. So our group
was disbanded by a member of staff. I remained with the older boy who had
the retainer, and we wondered the corridors some more, this time keeping
quiet. We passed his room, into which he entered to retrieve something.
When I asked him for some water, he offered me a glass containing his
retainer. How funny, I thought. We wandered around and talked of various
subjects of interest. When every now and then I hinted at the subject of
sex, he replied openly and candidly.

In a gauche manner, I asked him if he had started masturbating. I expected
him to act bashful, but he told me he had done it the night before. He
explained that he had made a lengthy sojourn to the bathroom while his
parents were in the bar downstairs. He explained how he had made some
erotic noises, and had continually cried the word 'yes' as he had
ejaculated. In my mind, I pictured him lying back against a wall with his
feet still on the ground, and with his knees wide apart; an image of his
hand gripped tightly around his penis flashed across my mind. I imagined
his hand moving furiously up and down.

Continuing our exploration of the hotel complex, we made our way to the
topmost floor, which was quiet, and had a very private and comfortable
atmosphere. We passed a toilet, whose entrance was open, and both sat
opposite the little room. I asked him if he'd ever masturbated with another
guy, and he replied that he'd done it with friends.

I told him that I wanted to masturbate. I expected him to act awkwardly,
but he remained nonchalant, and joked about my being desperate to wank
off. So, I hopped into the nearby cubby. I turned around and gazed at the
boy for a moment; then I signaled for him to follow me, with my finger.

To my surprise he followed. I closed the door behind us, and we stood there
opposite one and another for a brief moment. I imagine he thought I was
inviting him only to watch me masturbate, so I thought I'd play it safe to
start with. I sat down on the toilet seat, and tested my friend's reactions
with a quick grope of my own groin. He didn't react worriedly to my rubbing
myself; but he stared at me, blankly.

Now I began to slowly unzip myself, making sure that the process made a
rousing sound. When I had gently unfastened the little metal clasp on my
trousers, I pulled the flaps apart revealing my small black briefs. The boy
ironically said, 'Nice pants.' I took my throbbing eight centimeter
erection out from my pants, leaving the seam resting against my scrotum. My
friend did not seem averse to the appearance of my cock. I began wanking
myself off. My hand bobbed up and down quite fast. I leant my head back
against the toilet container, and pulled my jeans right down to my ankles,
so that I could spread my legs apart.

My underwear still clung tidily against my bottom, with only the front part
pulled down under the little ball-sack. We sat there for what seemed like
ages, before I even got to the half way point. I looked at my friend, with
a hazy expression. 'You gonna do yours? Or just watch?'

'Erm, yeah.' He looked a little bit self conscious, and his movements
showed a carefulness and temporary reluctance. But he positioned himself on
the floor, not opposite, but against a wall on my flank, his feet spread
right out touching the other wall. He slowly pulled the zip on his Khaki
trousers, making a stuttering buzz sound. He unfastened the clasp at the
front, pulled the flaps apart, revealing blue boxer-briefs with a white
band. I noticed the lump at the front: he obviously was a little bigger
than me. He slipped off the trousers in a slow, noisy motion, stopping just
as the band of the trousers rested directly underneath his ball-sack. What
playfulness! Reluctant to pull the trousers all the way down, he now moved
his attention to the band on his briefs. He pulled on it, and let go; it
made a muffled slapping noise as it hit his tummy. He now positioned his
briefs very much as I had, previously: with the band tucked under the
swelling ball-sack.

'Let's try and shoot at the same time,' I said.

He puckered his lips, not in annoyance or disagreement, but in nonchalant
acceptance. It seemed that in the excitement we both had lost our anxiety,
and now we’re happy to expose our bodies so dispassionately. Both of us using
our right hand masturbated in a steady rhythm using a finger and the
thumb. My friend's foreskin was rolled the way back and there seemed to be
a polished gleam upon his glans. It looked strangely inviting, as though a
slightly wet residue coated the top of the penis.

I asked him, 'Do you think that if a guy sucked your cock, it would feel as
good as a girl doing it?'

A light glinted in his eyes as he rolled them about, as though he was
deeply thinking about something. He looked back at me, and said, 'I don't
know. Why, do wanna suck me or something?'

'Well you'd enjoy it more than me. Do you want me to?'

'Hmmm, okay'

I sat down in front of him, got him to lift his knees up a bit an spread
his legs, and then I knelt down over him. Then I gently engulfed his
polished penis head, using my tongue to rub it a bit as it entered my
mouth.

The Replacement

Cliff took me for granted. For some reason he thought I was safe. Once I overheard him tell one of those guys he brought home that he wanted only straight roommates, guys who wouldn't hit on him, because he only wanted to fuck when he was in the mood. Well, he had been in the mood a lot these past several weeks. And he also didn't know me worth spit. I only stayed around here and waited on him and cleaned up after him like I did because I wanted him.

I wanted him so bad.

I'd stay awake nights waiting to hear the scrape of the key in the lock. Then I'd hold my breath and close my eyes tight in case he checked on me before he took his pick of the night to his room. I'd wait until I started to hear the moaning and then I'd quietly leave my bed and steal across to the dark living room, right there in the darker shadow of the TV cabinet, where I could get a good view of the bed in his room. He never shut the door. It was almost as if he expected me to watch...but I'm sure he didn't, because he sure didn't show any interest in me when we were alone.

Sometimes Cliff was the top and sometimes he was the bottom. I only really got into the scene when he was the top, though. I wanted him to top me. I'd never done it with a guy before, but I knew from the first time I saw him fucking one of those guys he'd brought home late at night that I wanted him to fuck me. I'd watch them sucking each other off, building up to grappling on the bed, building up their moaning, and my hand went to the front of my sleeping shorts and I'd start going numb everywhere but the very center of me. I'd see Cliff's cock thicken and lengthen and my butt would twitch from the fantasy of him preparing himself for me. The legs would open wide, and the little cry and the arching of the receiver's back as he was being entered and filled would have me swaying and moaning and pulling my dong out into the open. Then my eyes would slit and I'd focus on the contracting and rhythm of Cliff's butt cheeks as he either possessed or was stroked by his lover of the night.

God, I wanted to palm my hands on those butt cheeks as Cliff worked inside me.

From that point I was lost, wanting to move with the figures on the bed, to become one with them. And as time went on, I learned the signals of approaching release and I was able to time my ejaculations closely with theirs.

Then I would retreat back to my bed, as quietly as I could. I never knew where they would go from there. Sometimes the other man would leave immediately and sometimes they would come out to the living area and would raid the refrigerator. But sometimes, there would be a short period of silence and then the moaning would start again. And I'd then leave my bed again and move to my observation nook beside the TV cabinet and watch and stroke to the renewed mating.

The next day, Cliff would act like nothing at all had happened. I don't know how many times I wanted to say that I wanted it to be me he brought into his room one of those nights. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I probably would have remained a pining virgin for months only to finally move out of the apartment in frustration from unrequited need for Cliff, leaving him scratching his head about what had gone wrong in what he thought was a perfect roommate setup, if he hadn't gotten dead drunk that night after our university football team unexpectedly won the Gator Bowl game.

Cliff was half looped on a combination of Bud and vodka and euphoria over the game win even before he flipped off the TV, dressed and grabbed up his jacket, and headed out into the night. We watched the game together and he seemed to enjoy my company. He even flicked me with his towel off and on during the second half as our team piled touchdown on touchdown in what became a rout. He'd taken a shower during halftime and padded out with just the towel around him. I'd stripped off my T myself, hoping that his euphoria might at last turn into arousal for me. But nadda. I was just his roommate; someone else in the room. Someone who would clean up the empty bottles and cardboard pizza boxes after he'd left. Someone safe.

"Whooeee, gotta get me some," was all he said as time ran out on the field. And then he padded back to his room and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T and was out the door in a flash. He didn't put on any briefs, so I knew he was going out on the prowl and would be back with some stud in tow a couple of hours later. I could have cried. He didn't have to go anywhere to find someone for the night.

So, what did I do after Cliff left? I started picking up empty bottles and pizza boxes, of course, and making the place presentable for whoever Cliff came home with. But all the time I was doing it, I was muttering to myself that one of these days I was going to pull on my jeans without any briefs under them, just like Cliff did, and tug on the tightest T I could find...my body was just as well developed as Cliff's was...and I'd go out into the night and find someone of my own to bring home too.

Who was I kidding, though? It was Cliff I wanted, not any of those guys he brought home.

That night was different from any of the others. Cliff didn't slip quietly into the apartment with his one night stand that night. Cliff was drunker than a skunk when he came home, and he was making a whole lot of noise.

I decided he had struck out at the pickup bars and had some sort of homing device inside him that managed to get him back in spite of being plastered. My first thought as I heard him muttering incoherently to himself and stumbling through the living room and to his bedroom was intense relief that he hadn't had a car wreck. But then, when the sound just abruptly stopped, I held my breath for the longest time. Was he OK? Did he need help?

He'd never come home drunk like this before. Maybe he was choking on his own vomit or something. I had no experience in this. Was it good or bad that he'd just gone silent? I knew I had to check on him. I had no idea what to do if he was seriously in need of help, but I had to at least check to see what was what.

I got out of bed, clad only in my droopy sleeping shorts, and padded through the living room and toward the light in his bedroom. I could see Cliff as I approached. He was huddled on the bed, his chest buried in the bedspread, his arms flung out wide, and his knees drawn up so that his bare butt was jutting up at me. My cock gave a lurch at the sight of those rounded orbs that fascinated and aroused me so. His face was turned to me and he was blowing bubbles and snorting and snoring quietly. And he had the most angelic expression on his handsome face.

I ached for him. I didn't even think of wondering why he was bare-assed. He did have his T-shirt on still. I was drawn to that luscious ass of his. I approached the bed in faulting steps. He certainly didn't look like he was in any danger. But he also looked liked he was totally oblivious to the world and that nothing short of a four alarm fire would rouse him for hours.

I couldn't resist. I reached out a hand, ever so tentatively. My fingers were on the flesh of his glutes. The skin felt firm and soft and warm and cool all at the same time. And just the contact made by the pads of my fingers sent little chills up my arms. I heard myself moan, and then, not having any control over myself, I felt my palm stretch out over the curve of his buttock.

At that instant, though, I heard the sound of rustling from the closet corner of the room, and I snatched my hand away and turned and looked there with a little cry of shock and surprise.

He laughed out loud. There was a big, hulking dude in the room with us. A biker type. All tricked out in leather and tattoos. Not fat; heavily muscled. A good face, if a little hard looking; and a great body; the impression of dark curly hair here and about.

He was holding Cliff's jeans in front of him, and I'd swear he had a hand in one of the back pockets. Taking advantage of the situation.

"Who the hell are you?" he said, as if I was the intruder and this was his room.

"I live here; I'm Cliff's roommate," I retorted, rising anger overcoming the surprise. I was in shape, but not in shape like this guy was...and certainly not nearly as big...so I wasn't thinking too well to go belligerent on him.

"This Cliff?" he asked, pointing to the bubbling angel on the bed.

"Yeah," I said. "And this is our apartment. What...?"

"They call me Horse," the biker-type said as he tossed Cliff's jeans on the floor behind his back, almost daring me to ask him what he was doing with them. "You can guess why they call me that," he went on. A sneery sort of smile was spreading across his face.

With the jeans out of the way, I got a good look at him. No shirt...none required really; he was clothed in red, blue, and black tattooing in an intricate floral design with flowing vines...black leather vest, tight black leather pants with a big bulge at the crotch, black leather boots, and a black leather baseball cap peeking out of black curly hairlocks. He was darkish; probably at least part Hispanic.

"Well, Horse," I said, trying, unsuccessfully, to keep a stammer out of my voice. "Thanks for getting Cliff home. Now I guess you'd better be..."

"I don't think so," Horse said, that sneery smile of his unfaltering.

"What...?"

"Your roomie here brought me clear across town for a fuck."

"Well, you can see he's in no shape to..." I responded, indigence involuntarily creeping into my voice.

"Yes, I see that," Horse answered in a throaty voice. "Looks like it's substitute time, then."

"Oh, no. No," I said, taking a faltering step away. "I don't . . . I'm not."

"I saw you stroke his ass," Horse said. "Don't tell me you two aren't fucking like bunnies."

"No. I've never . . . You need to leave." My words came out choked, and I turned and fled the room.

But he was faster than I was. And bigger and stronger. I was only half way across the living room when he tackled me to the floor. I don't know where he got the leather thongs from, but he had me belly down to the carpet, fully covering my body with his, and he held me flat there while he bound my hands together at the wrists above my head. I saw him effortless lift a heavy recliner and bring it back down so that one of the legs came down between my forearms, entrapping my hands under the heavy chair and making sure I couldn't slither away from him.

I lay there, immobilized by shock, fear, surprise, and his heavy body, whimpering and hyperventilating, too numb from it all to yell out or to demonstrate any form of objection or resistance.

His hands were flying all over my body, and he literally ripped my sleeping shorts off me. He had also stripped himself, because I now felt skin on skin. The hardness and power of him was overwhelming. He had his head buried in the back of my neck and he was nipping me there and making little animal noises. His chest was rubbing against my shoulder blades. I could feel cold metal rubbing against me there; I was dumbly thinking he must have body piercings and, my mind racing to defend my senses from the reality that was happening to me, I was musing about how many rings and such he had about his body. I knew of one for sure. His hips were moving against my buttocks, and there was little doubt that he had a penis ring of some thickness.

The Horse lifted his weight from my back, but still encased my sides closely with his knees, and he flipped me over. I barely had time to focus on the determined sneer on and lust in his face before he was straddling my chest, pulling my head up roughly by the hair, and forcing his ring-pierced cock head between my lips.

I gagged as he took possession of me and quickly filled my mouth with his manhood to the edge of choking. My eyes were watering and I whimpering and thrashing about, trying to escape him. But he was too strong for me.

"Take it," He muttered darkly. He was stabbing down into my mouth with short, quick strokes. "Suck it proper," he said. "Open. Take it."

I was doing my best, but I had no idea what to do, and this all was moving just too fast for me. I was still in shock.

The Horse slammed my head back on the carpet in disgust. And then I saw the expression on his face change. He was regaining control. He had been operating out of animal instinct. The hunt.

"You really haven't done this before, have you?" he asked, his voice full of wonder.

"No, I haven't," I stammered. I suddenly was ashamed. I was twenty and I'd wanted to do this for years. I hadn't done it because I was a lump. A scared lump. I certainly wanted to do it with Cliff.

"Could of fooled me," the Horse muttered. "You're hard enough. Your cock tells me you want it." He was stroking my cock with a hand thrown back behind him. And I couldn't deny that I was reacting to that like I wanted sex.

"I saw you with that dude in the bedroom. You wanted him, didn't you?"

It was a struggle to admit it, but I let it out in almost a wail. "Yes. Yes, I want him."

I had no chance to say more, because he brought his face down to mine and he possessed my lips with his. He was stretched across my body again. His body, his full body tattoo undulating provocatively, was covering mine and moving on mine.

My body was taking over my decision making. He was stroking my cock and moving his body on mine and kissing me deeply. The tension began to drain out of my body to be replaced with a motion that matched his and sighing and moaning that more than matched his. I closed my eyes tight and imagined that this was Cliff who was making love to me.

But that wasn't working. When I tried to surface the image of Cliff in my mind, the reality of this nut-brown, muscular body, covered with tattoos and piercings and danger and erotic exoticness fought for recognition. And won. I wasn't writhing in arousal with Cliff. There was no substituting the elusive, aloof...and drunk on his tail in the other room...Cliff for the strong, powerful, arousing man who was making love to me in reality here on the living room carpet.

He waited for the moment when he no longer was kissing me, but when I was kissing him. And then he broke the kiss and lifted his face from mine and gave me a broad smile.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked simply.

"No." I managed to say, surprised at myself that the decision had come so easily. "No. No, don't stop. But..."

"Shhh," he said, moving the hand from my cock to brush against my lips. "I can be gentle. If I'm the first, I can control myself."

"Ohhh," whimpered. The reality of what was about to happen was becoming more and more real for the first time. "Ohhh. Please," I whimpered.

"Please stop?" he asked.

"No. No. Please. I want it. Just. You know."

"Do you want me to untie you? Shall we move to your bed."

I chomped on that for a few seconds. What did I want? If this was going to happen, did I want it half way? What was the thrill of this man for me? The danger. The power he had over my powerlessness. The whole rough, swarthy, tattooed and body-pierced aspect of him aroused me. I had to admit that the rougher the one night stand that Cliff brought home, the more of a thrill it was for me. The surprise. The forceful taking. I wanted it all.

"No, please. Take me here, like this."

"Right. Good," he said, the lustful smile returning to his face. "Shall we start from the beginning?"

"What do you mean. I don't..."

But the Horse had already started showing me what he meant. He moved to astride my chest again, with his knees encasing my side and he has pushing the head of his ring-pierced cock head at my lips again. this time I opened wide to him, and he slowly stroked against my inner cheeks, moving my head up and down on his rod with hands buried in the hair at the back of my head. He was murmuring instructions. Taking it slow, but filling me to capacity again. Pulling back when I gagged and choked, but relentlessly arousing himself, bringing his cock to gigantic proportions in the warmth of my mouth.

I could feel him trembling above me, but he didn't take this the full way. He withdrew from me and moved his pelvis down to mine. He was rhythmically moving his hips against mine, and I returned the favor, in coordinating rhythm. Our cocks were rubbing against each other and up and down on each other's bellies. We were both writhing and trembling now. His chest was rocking up and down just inches above my face, and he brought my lips to a ring-tipped nipple with his hands. I needed no encourage, but started licking and kissing from one hard nipple to the other and then I was tonguing father afield, following the curls of his chest hair and the vining of the floral tattooing across his torso with my tongue. He raised his arms, one after the other, and I buried my face in his pits, tonguing the profusion of black, curly hair there and drinking in the lusty man scent of him hungrily.

His hard, horse-hung cock was slapping against my belly, and I could tell from the increasing rapid rate of the movement of his hips that his needs were becoming more and more insistent.

Well, so were mine.

He was on the move. His face came down to my chest and he was tonguing and nipping at my nipples. Slowly moving down my torso with exploring lips and tongue and wandering hands. I arched my back and gave a little cry as his mouth opened over the head of my throbbing cock and he took me in. And in and in and in.

I ejaculated almost immediately within the close warmth of his mouth, and he swallowed me down with a low guttural humming sound.

He pulled away from me and his knees no longer were encasing my thighs.

"Open to me," he said in an insistent throaty voice. "Your legs. Open them."

I opened my legs wide as he pulled a cushion off the nearby sofa. He lifted my pelvis with one hand and pushed the cushion under my hips with the other. My butt was elevated over my head. But he wanted me elevated even farther. He was on his knees below me and between my legs. He gripped the backs of my thighs in strong hands and pushed my torso up so that my weight was borne on my shoulder blades. The sofa cushion was pushing against the small of my back.

I gave a little cry and arched up again as I felt his tongue run between my butt cheeks and brush across my asshole. He continued on up my perineum and was swallowing and working my balls. I was starting to go hard again and I was barely able to control the trembling of my body. The tongue worked its way back to my hole and he was rimming and then tongue-fucking me. I sighed and moaned while he spent several minutes working me with his tongue, making me open to him. The first opening of those gates to the possession of man.

"Rubber. I need a rubber . . . and some lube. God, you are tight. A rubber."

"I don't. I don't know . . . I . . . Cliff's nightstand. He's sure to have them there."

I was left alone, ass over head, hands trapped under a recliner, beginning to have doubts and to hyperventilate again. But, thankfully, only briefly. The Horse had found what he needed and was back.

He stood over me, between my spread thighs, letting me watch him open the condom packet and roll the thin latex on that monster of a cock he had. God, his body was beautiful. Dark, swarthy, covered with a profusion of tattoos. Black, curly hair. A lusty smile. And at the very center of him. Demanding my full attention. Making me fearful and anxious at the same time. That magnificent cock. Soon to be inside me. Could I take it? Surely I couldn't take it all in.

But I could. And I did.

He went slowly and was as gentle as he could be...at least at first. It seemed like hours ticked slowly away as he took his time entering me, fucking down into my hole from a crouched stance below and above me, with my butt high above my head.

And I watched every inch disappear into me. And I screamed, first in pain, but eventually in ecstasy. And I sweated and strained and cursed and cried out against it and cried for more of it.

When it was all buried inside me and his pubic hair was brushing against my tender inner thighs and I was still gulping and groaning and moaning, he at last lost control and started pumping me long and hard and deep. My body thrashed about involuntarily, but he kept a firm grip in my upper thighs with those strong hands of his, holding my pelvis firmly against his while he fucked me in rapid strokes and to completion.

I ejaculated against up his belly as he went rigid for a brief second, stroked hard three more times, and then went rigid again, gave a deep, animal sound in his throat and collapsed onto my body.

He remained inside me, as he lay on top of me, his sweat slick and musky-sweet to the senses. And I felt him soften, contracting in my canal, and I almost felt a pang of loss as he did so. I was sore and at the edge of exhaustion from the exertion and release of the pent up emotions. The awe of the memory of the straining, flexing muscles of his body as he worked inside me, the undulating garden tattooing. All of that to possess me. Me bringing out that need and lust in him.

It was done. And it was more than I had imagined it would be. Could Cliff had done better? I would never know. The first time could not be repeated.

But the act itself could be repeated.

After only a few moments, the Horse rose up off me and stood over me, a look of satisfaction and possession in his face. A slight return of the sneer. He'd had me. And he'd been the first one to have me. That was something I couldn't give any other man. Another notch on his belt, but probably a special notch for him. I doubted that he got to fuck too many virgins.

I watched him roll the spent condom, its bulbous head ballooned with his prodigious semen, off his reawakening cock. And then he gave me a wicked smile and I watched him open another condom packet, roll it onto his cock, and stroke himself bigger while he dribbled more lube along his shaft.

"Roll over." It wasn't a request.

This time he took me more roughly, my hips on the sofa pillow again, and him on his knees behind me and stroking hard and long into me. He had his hands buried in the hair on my head and had my torso arched back and taunt as he gave me what was probably his usual long, hard, rough fuck.

After this time, I just lay there on the floor, exhausted and moaning and whimpering. Loving it, but hoping to hell he wasn't going to do it again...at least for a while.

And he didn't.

I watched his lithe figure move around the apartment with authority and familiarity, just like he owned the place. Just like he owned my body now. He moved like a cat, completely comfortable with his beautiful nakedness.

He raided the refrigerator. He quickly drank off a beer. He burped and then he farted.

And then he moved to Cliff's room and I watched, stretched out on the floor, while he fucked the passed-out Cliff quickly and brutally from the rear, a repeat of how he had just fucked me. I watched every stroke, remembering and reliving it as he had done it to me. Savoring it. Loving it. Almost wanting it again. Almost.

After the Horse was finished with Cliff, he went in and took a shower, leaving the door to the bathroom open so that I could watch the entire process. Then he dried himself in the doorway and gave me a full shot of stretching his leathers back on his beautiful body.

He leaned down and whispered something in my ear as he untied my hands. Then he sauntered slowly over to the door and was gone into the night.

"Wow, look at you," Cliff was saying the next evening as he leaned on the frame of my bedroom door and watched me pull a pair of tight jeans over my naked hips. "Lookin' good, man."

Cliff had just showered and a towel was fighting very hard to hold place around his hips and was about to lose the fight. I could tell from the bulge in front that he was interested in something. I couldn't remember that he'd shown any interest like this around me ever before.

He'd been eyeing me all through dinner and even had made some comments about me being different somehow. And I could swear that he seemed to be flirting with me.

"Goin' out?" He asked.

"Yeah, I think so," I answered, pulling a tight T-shirt down over my torso.

"'Cause, ya know, I thought we might stay in tonight and watch a movie, or somethin' . . . or somethin'," Cliff said. And he was giving me "that" look. I couldn't remember him giving me that look before.

"Sorry, can't," I said. "Got a date." At least I hoped I had. I hoped I'd remembered the name of the bar the Horse had whispered in my ear before he left.

I was humming when I walked out the door to the apartment and shut it behind me, leaving Cliff standing alone in the middle of the living room...right on the spot where I had learned I liked danger and a little rough.

Gym Lover

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Summer Loving

During the summer months Fridays are usually slow in my business, so sometimes I try to find an opportunity to escape the office early. Sometimes the opportunity to escape finds me...

It was mid-morning on a hot summer Friday at work, and being a typically slow business day the time could not pass by fast enough. My mind was already distracted with thoughts othis than work, and when I answered a phone call I was slightly stunned by the voice of a man with an unfamiliar accent when I thought I heard him ask for "Mr. Coses". Thinking that my distracted and somewhat twisted mind obviously misunderstood his accent, I recovered my composure and replied, "Excuse me sir, would you please repeat that name?" This time I understood through his accent as he spoke slower and clearly pronounced the name, "Yes, I vaahnt to shpeek vith Meester Coses". I couldn't resist my amusement and had to pause and clear my throat to suppress a laugh, then uttered an "Uhmm", as my mind fumbled for a response. Before I could respond fur this I heard a quiet burst of laughter over the phone, then the familiar sound of my gay boyfriend Carl giggling as he couldn't contain himself any longer. Still giggling softly he teased, "So how's my Mr. Coses doing this morning?!" Now smiling along with his, I replied "Much better now, thank you! Well, actually I am still feeling kind of soft and lonely...thinking of you...missing you". I could see his naughty grin in my mind as I listened to his teasing, seductive voice, "Mmmm, well I've been missing my Mr. Coses too...can he come over to play?" The desire in his voice ignited the warmth of my longing, and stimulated my cock to puff up for his. Speaking softly so I wouldn't be overheard outside my office, I grinned and said "You know Mr. Coses always likes to play with you...I should be able to flee work a little early this afternoon." He sighed and pouted playfully, "Ohh, but I've been sooo horny, thinking about playing with Mr. Coses all morning...can't he come over now?" I couldn't resist the erotic influence of his voice on me, rousing my pulse to quicken and my cock to grow harder. Rapidly glancing at my open afternoon schedule, I knew I could really leave anytime, but was enjoying the phone play with Carl. Closing my office door I teased, "Hmmm, well sir, before I can make an engagement you'll have to tell me more about what you want to do with Mr. Coses." Playing along with me, he giggled softly then described in erotic aspect how he wanted to feel, lick and suck my cock and cock. The images he created in my mind and the physical tone of his voice enflamed the heat of my lust, and caused my cock to pulse with each heartbeat and strain against my inner thigh, bulging my pants. Pausing his erotic massage of my mind, he breathed out a deep lavish sigh and said, "Mmmm, I'm so horny thinking about it...I just can't help playing with myself". Then in a seductive murmur he knowingly asked, "Is your cock hard for me?" Causing my cock to twitch in response. I lowered my voice and whispered deeply, "You know I'm always hard for you babe", then I asked "Are you touching yourself now?" He purred, "Mmm hmm", and I asked "What are you doing now?". He giggled softly, knowing he had my full attention, and in a breathy tone he replied "I'm playing with my nipples for you...I love it when you suck my nipples...and lick my cock". My cock throbbed in excitement at the thought as I whispered, "Mmm, your cock are so sweet babe...I love licking your cock lips...is your cock wet now?" I heard his draw in his breath deeply, and he moaned softly, "Ohh yess...mmm, I'm sooo wet for you". My pulse quickened and my burning lust surged through me as I murmured, "Mmm, I love the feel of your wet. I can sense it, I can feel it, I can taste it. Love it!! I was really horny and I started masturbating. Right down in my office when my driver opened the door and surprisingly saw me in that way. He was so turned on that he suck my cock right that very instance. Since I was really horny by the way Carl talk on the phone I hurriedly enter my dripping wet cock in his ass. He was a virgin and fuck how I love it. He was hurt at the beginning but was moaning real loud after. I was so satisfied that I totally forgot about Carl. Fuck you!!! I like you, I said to my driver, he hungrily kiss me and aid I want to fuck you again sir next time. I just nodded.

One Hot Hot Holiday in March

One Hot Hot Holiday in March


It was an extremely hot March day in Texas, and I was off work. My other
half didn't have the same privilege, so I had the house all to myself. I
puttered around and ran some tasks. After lunch I decided to take an
early afternoon walk. Now, a lot of people wouldn't dream of going out in
the middle of a Texas summer with the temperature in the mid-90s, but I've
always loved hot weather. Of course, I dressed lightly - a plain white
T-shirt, black walking shorts, white athletic socks, and white sneakers,
dark baseball cap and sunglasses. Oh and underneath, a Bike jockstrap, to
keep my butt cool and hold my goods in place. I hadn't started wearing
jocks every day then, even though I was already into them had been ever
since high school gym class.

Instead of heading out my own front door, though, I decided to walk in a
neighborhood about five miles from my own home. I'd always liked walking in
different parts of the city, especially subdivisions you never usually saw
on foot. I was already somewhat familiar with this one, because some good
friends of ours lived there.

My partner Lenon and I are pretty successful guys and, like many gay couples,
patrons of the arts. We'd given enough money to the local symphony that we
were on their patrons list and got invited to a lot of their functions.

At one of these, a pre-concert reception in a posh reserved lounge in the
concert hall, we'd struck up a conversation with a big, friendly, bearded
gentleman, and really hit it off. I was thinking we'd like to invite him to
one of our all-male pool parties when he raised his hand and waved to
someone behind us. We noticed the gold ring on his finger at the same
moment he said, "Dear, I'd like you to meet Lenon and Bill." A minute later
we'd found ourselves shaking hands with an impeccably dressed, perfectly
coiffed woman. "This is my wife Deanna."

So our new friend Hank Bendix was a married man. Lenon and I swallowed our
disappointment and made small talk. As it turned out Deanna was as charming
as her husband and we ended up hanging out together for the rest of the
evening. Hank and Lenon had a lot in common, as they had both made their
money in technology. Deanna and I found out we liked the same composers,
and disliked the symphony conductor, whom we thought was cold and
standoffish. There's nothing I like better than a music lover who'll dish,
and by the end of the evening, our inhibitions loosened by some good wine,
Deanna and I were laughing so uproariously that Hank made some joke about
my stealing his wife. Little did he know that Lenon and I would rather have
stolen him!

After that we not only continued to see each other at symphony functions,
but went out to dinner and the theater a few times, always having a great
time. Hank and Deanna never gave one hint that they cared that we were two
men together, which is not an attitude you can always count on among people
in certain social circles. Looking back now I can see that what happened on
that hot March day shouldn't have been a total surprise.

I wasn't planning on seeing them that day, of course. I simply parked the
car somewhere near where Hank and Deanna lived, got out and started
walking, carrying a water bottle I'd brought along to avoid
dehydration. I'd put on plenty of sunscreen so I was protected in that
department.

About an hour later I had made my way back to where I had parked, drenched
in sweat, walking quite a bit slower than when I'd started out. My T-shirt
had become practically transparent with perspiration, half-revealing my
furry chest beneath. As I neared my car, I noticed the sound of a lawn
mower some distance down the block. Now who the hell would be mowing the
grass in the middle of a hot day like this?

I followed the sound of the mower and, much to my surprise, it seemed to be
coming from the back yard of Hank and Deanna's house. Out of sheer
curiosity, I made my way around behind their home and there was Hank,
pushing a lawnmower. He was bare-chested, dressed in khaki shorts and
sturdy work boots.

Since we had never socialized with Hank and Deanna except at indoor events,
I had never up to that point seen him without a shirt on. It was a very
pleasant sight. Hank, as I said before, was a big broad-shouldered man, and
I saw now that his chest was thickly coated with dark hair. His stomach
stuck out a little bit but there was no way you could call him fat. In fact
he was in really good shape. Not for the first time since we'd met them I
found myself idly wondering what if things were different--if I was single,
or Hank was gay, or...

By this time Hank had noticed me standing watching him. With a look of
surprise he shut off his mower and came over toward me, his hand
outstretched to shake mine. "Bill," he boomed out, "it's great to see you!
You off work today?"

"Yeah," I said, as I shook his hand. I couldn't help saying, "Don't you use
a lawn service?" I knew Hank was home because he didn't have to work full
time any more. The Bendixes were definitely one notch above us in the
income department. Why was he doing his own mowing?

He scratched his head and grinned. "I know it's crazy, but I kind of like
doing it myself. So what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

I explained to him about liking to walk on really hot days. Hank shook his
head. "I guess we're two of a kind--a bit tetched." He led me over to a
pair of nearby lawn chairs sitting on a shaded deck that projected from the
back of the house. He motioned for me to have a seat. "Can I get you
anything to drink?"

"Well, now that you mention it," I responded, "I am pretty thirsty."

"How about some iced tea?"

"Sounds good."

Hank smiled broadly. "I could use some myself - be right back!" He spun
around and headed for his back door. It was then that I noticed a strip of
elastic material peeking out above the back of the khakis he was wearing. I
knew what it was at once--the waistband of a jockstrap.

Suddenly I started sweating again, even though we were in the shade and I
was sitting still. I told myself this was crazy--Hank was married and off
limits. I was married. Still, he was my friend, he was big and built, and
he was wearing a jockstrap. My breath was coming fast and my heart was
pounding. I felt excited and guilty all at the same time. Half of me wanted
to get up and leave right now, although I knew that would be rude. The
other half wanted to see what would happen--to somehow let him know that I
was wearing one too.

Hardly more than a minute passed before Hank reappeared carrying two large
glasses of iced tea, one of which he handed to me as he took the other lawn
chair.

"So Deanna's out shopping?" I guessed.

"She's up at our ranch," Hank replied. I knew they owned hundreds of acres
somewhere in West Texas, family property that Deanna had inherited. "I came
back early to take care of some business today. She'll be here day after
tomorrow. Till then, I'm batching it."

I smiled at the old-fashioned phrase. "Sounds like fun."

Hank grimaced. "It isn't, actually. I get pretty bored by myself. End up
doing crazy things like mowing the lawn in ninety-five degree heat." He
smiled, his teeth white and even through his beard.

We sat and drank our iced teas. I kept thinking, so he's alone, and wearing
a jockstrap. I don't remember most of our conversation but I remember
listening hard, looking for some opening to broach the subject. Finally it
came when Hank started talking about his college days, when he had played
football.

"So I guess you still wear football gear."

Hank frowned , puzzled. "What do you mean?"

I took the plunge. "Looks like you're wearing a jock right now, Hank." I
pointed at his middle, where a narrow white strip was still visible above
his belted khakis.

His face cleared. "Oh, yeah." He seemed to take it totally in stride that a
gay guy had been checking him out, which only increased my liking for
him. By now my cock was stirring in my own jock pouch. There was no use
kidding myself-I wanted this man.

"I suppose it's good when you're exercising or doing things like mowing the
grass."

Hank said, "Not just when I mow the grass. I wear them all the time."

"Really?" I said, surprised. "I had no idea. You know, I wear jocks pretty
often, especially when the weather's hot like this."

"You wearing one now?" Hank asked.

"Well, yeah, sure."

"What kind?"

I grinned. "I still stick with the old-fashioned kind. Bike all the way."

There was a long pause. We each took a swallow of tea, looking out at the
lawn. The air was hot and still and the sun was shining with dazzling
brightness.

"I'd love to see yours."

At first I thought I hadn't heard him properly. "What?" I said, like an
idiot.

I saw his eyes through the dark glasses he was wearing. They were staring
right into mine. "I said, I'd love to see your Bike jock."

I swallowed once, then said, "Only if I can see yours too."

He grinned. "It's not a Bike."

I shrugged with elaborate casualness. "That's okay."

"We can't do this outside. Want to come on in?"

His house was expensively furnished, neatly kept. The interior was dark and
cool after the blazing sun outside. We climbed the stairs and entered a
small bedroom. The summer sun filtered in through the drawn curtain.

Hank took off his sunglasses and laid them on the end table. We faced each
other in the semidarkness. A small, expectant smile played across his face.

Now that I had Hank where I wanted him, though, I found myself getting cold
feet. I shrugged with a casualness I didn't feel. "Should we be doing
this?"

Hank said, "What do you mean?"

"We're both in relationships. With other people."

Hank nodded. "Nothing's going to change, Bill. You're a good friend, but
I'm not in love with you. I'm in love with Deanna, and you're in love with
Lenon."

"Yes."

"And that's not going to change, either, right?"

I swallowed hard. "If we do this, Hank, it's going to be just a one-time
thing. And your wife and my partner can never know about it."

"Agreed."

"And we've got to play it safe."

"Absolutely. I've got condoms in the bottom drawer in the guest bathroom."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned with naughty glee, like a little boy. I
couldn't help laughing.

"Now take that t-shirt off." Hank's voice was suddenly low and husky. I
obeyed, and suddenly he was in front of me, unbuckling my belt and pinching
one of my nipples, making me gasp. "You have a great body," he said, and
pressed his lips to mine.

I thought I would remember every detail of the next couple of hours
forever, and it makes me sad that so much time has passed that I can't
relive the whole thing. What I do recall is enough, though.

I remember that our shorts and shoes came off very quickly but we kept our
jocks on for quite a while. Hank buried his nose in the pouch of my Bike,
taking a long whiff, before he began to lick my cock through the elastic
material, slowly, thoroughly, until the cloth was soaking. Only then did he
pull aside the pouch and take my aching erection into his mouth. It only
took me a short time after that to blast my load down his throat. To my
surprise, Hank took it all, swallowing every drop.

"I though we were going to play it safe," I said. Hank smiled up at me.

"I trust you, Bill."

In fact I was clean. Hank had raised the stakes and I had to reciprocate. I
knew just how to do it. Soon I had him on his stomach on the bed, moaning,
as I soaked the fur between his ass cheeks with my spit, before aiming for
his tight little hole with my tongue. I grabbed and twisted the leg straps
on his jock (I forget what kind it was) as I rimmed him. Hank groaned and
thrashed and humped the bed.

"Fuck me, Bill," he said.

I pulled him to his feet, bent over with his elbows resting on the bed, and
slid into him from behind with my bare cock. I can still see it plain as
day, my hard shaft poking into the dark fur of his ass crack, sliding in
and out of his hole just above where the leg straps of his jock, pale
streaks above his tanned, hairy legs, met at the bottom of his meaty
buttocks.

I finally got his jock off soon after that. (I'd peeled mine off a while
before.) I stuffed it into his mouth as he lay on his back on the bed,
holding his legs apart with his hands as I slid back into him. After that I
just fucked his brains out-I couldn't hold back, and it wasn't long before
I blasted my load deep into his gut, shouting so loud any neighbors who
were home had to have heard. Lenon was shaking with laughter as he pulled his
jockstrap out of his mouth. He pressed it against mine in an attempt to gag
my cries, hissing "Shh!" while holding a finger to his lips.

He had me stay inside him then as he stroked himself to his own climax,
ropes of cum spraying across and matting the fur on his heaving chest as he
gasped in delight. I licked his spunk off and fed it to him, our lips and
tongues tangling.

After that we lay in each other's arms, completely spent, talking
quietly. Hank told me that Deanna knew of his bisexual tendencies and
understood, but that he hadn't acted on them for a long time. He wasn't
into quickies with strangers and it was hard to meet people who might be
interested in him.

"You want to know the truth, Bill?" he said. "I'd kind of had my eye on you
for a while, but I didn't think anything could ever happen. When you showed
up out of the blue this afternoon it was like the answer to my prayers."

That made me think of Lenon for some reason, and I started to feel sad and
guilty. Hank sensed this and nodded. "Bill, if you want to not spend time
with us for a while, I understand."

I shook my head. "If we suddenly stop being friends both Lenon and Deanna
will want to know why. It's better if we act like nothing's happened."

Hank said, "As far as I'm concerned nothing's happened. This'll be our own
little secret. You have my word."

It's so easy to act on impulse, so hard to live with the consequences. No,
nothing terrible happened, and no one found out. I found out how hard it
was to live with a secret. I was racked with guilt for a while, and Lenon
started asking if something was wrong. I told him no, work was just getting
me down.

I am evil, I guess. Eventually it passed. The four of us continued just as
before, seeing each other at social events, being good friends.

Hank and I never did it again together after that afternoon. A job
relocation forced Lenon and me to move to another city a few years after
that. Aside from a postcard and a couple e-mails shortly after the move, we
didn't keep in touch. For me it was easier not to.

Then one day we got a call from another old friend from the symphony
patrons' circle. Hank had collapsed in the lobby during the intermission of
a concert. It was a massive heart attack. He died on the way to the
hospital, his wife at his side.

We flew back for the funeral. As I embraced Deanna, pale and thin, after
the service, we were both weeping. Of course I was grieving for her and her
loss. But I was also grieving for mine.

I had never gotten a chance to hold Hank in my arms again, or feel his
great burly body next to mine.

Still, time heals, as they say. I still think of Hank with sad affection,
but the thought of him doesn't make me tear up any more. Thinking of Lenon
does, though; he only passed on a year and a half ago. We'd been together
over thirty years.

So now I'm alone. It's not too bad, most of the time-I still live in the
house we shared. I'm in good health and can take care of myself, knock on
wood.

But often in the evenings I sit in front of the silent, dark TV and think
about people I've known who are gone. The memories are happy and sad, so
mixed together I don't know which is which. All I know is that I usually
end up wanting to cry.

Of course most of the time I think about Lenon. After all we had a lifetime
of love for each other and I miss him every day.

Every so often, though, I think back to a hot March day long ago, and taking
a crazy walk in the sun, and stopping by a friend's house for ice tea, a
friend who just happened to be by himself that day, and who was mowing the
lawn wearing a jock.

Wherever it is we're all going, I hope there are hot sunny days there, and
jockstraps.

END