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My first older man

Cruising at the downtown commuter train station in Chicago is by far the best play for an admirer of older men to catch a glimpse at their packages while in the bathroom. It took me a while to realize that other men were there doing the same thing. It was one moment in particular that I learned this.

On my usual rounds around 4 pm when a lot of people get out of work, hence, the maximum cock viewing, I encountered this older gentleman, about 6ft, 215 pounds, a shining head of silver (which made me notice him). I'm sure my 5'8 160 frame of 21 years was enticing for him too.

I turned, looked, then looked down and looked back, and he was sporting the thickest cock I had ever seen. I responded by showing him my eight inch wood, and his eyes sprang even further open. I got scared from someone coming in and I zipped up and headed to the McDonald's in the food court.

As I stood in line, I notice the same guy walk up behind and said, "Can I buy you an ice cream cone? I said sure, and we exchanged pleasantries and complimented each other. He asked if I had a place and I didn't, because I was still living with my folks at the time. He said he worked in an office building right in the loop, and we could sneak to his office if I wanted to blow him. I gladly obliged and we head to the 32 floor of a build around the corner from the station.

We got up to the office and by this time he already knew how much I wanted to pleasure him. He wasted no time in dropping trousers and was already throbbing with and extremely swollen head, which I thought was pretty good for a man who was 55. I got to my knees and began my career as daddy dick sucker.

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Resting a demon

I thought I was going to be sick. His mother asked him to entertain us, to play something for us on the piano, and the pert-butt blond tossed the curl out of his face and flowed over to the piano and started to fill the room with Chopin. I'd had this kid in my craw for a good fifteen years, and all I wanted to do was to slam him to the floor and fuck the stuffing out of him. And that was when he was just a series of pictures and narratives in letters from his mother to mine. And now here he was in the flesh, Mr. Perfect. And, damn if he didn't play Chopin like a concert pianist.

His mother, Belle, and mine had gone to school together--more than that, they'd been in the same little social clique from kindergarten through high school in a very small town. Belle had been told she couldn't have any kids. And she didn't have any kids until very late in life, and then there was Jon; her pride and joy. I was the third of five that my mother had had and was six years old when Jon was born. Mother hadn't thrown it up to Belle that she could have kids at a drop of a hat and Belle couldn't, but from the moment Jon popped out, Belle thought he was the only kid in the world and had made a career out of pushing that idea with all her friends and one upping any talent or achievement mentioned about any other kid in town. And I think she called my mother every day of her life and had a camera implanted between her tits, so she--and all of her friends--wouldn't miss any of the wonderful things Jon was doing.

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Fantasy

Fantasy takes many convoluted twists and turns on its way to picturization - - take me, for instance - - I'm your fairly well-adjusted garden-variety homosexual - 6'4", a little over 200 pounds, 40" waist, 60-ish with an average six inch cut cock that sometimes has a mind of its own. Most days will find me going to work, coming home, fixing supper for my long-time lover, reading the paper and the latest arrival of the many magazines we take. But many times, I log on to the computer and go direct to the gay chat rooms for many vicarious pleasures. At times, my alter ego, Jake, takes over - but, then, let's have Jake tell his own story - -

Hi! I'm Jake and I just wouldn't call myself "garden-variety" anything, particularly when it comes to sex. I take sex any way I can get it and as often as possible. See, I'm 19 years old and have a constant hardon--or sure can have one whenever I choose and a lot o' times when, even, I don't choose. I'm 6'4", weigh 177 pounds, have blond hair and blue eyes. Combine this with a 46" chest and 30" waist and several people have told me I'm a real hunk. I'm clean shaven but have a somewhat hairy body but my real assets are swingin' between my thighs. My walnut-sized nuts back up nine and a half inches of swingin' uncut meat. My cock's not too big around--bout the size of a silver dollar--and soft hangin bout 6 inches. It shows in my pants when I'm walkin' down the street, cause I have to wear something fairly tight or my nuts get sore and achy. Even if I wear baggy pants, like the fashion nowadays, certain sitting positions make my cock and nuts stick out for display. Course, I kinda like to display them anyways--you never can tell when somebody'll want to sample the wares--so to speak. I'm goin to the local college full-time and livin in a small rental house that my sugar daddy pays for -- more about him later.

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Dad takes my temperature

I was feeling a bit sick and I was running a temperature. I was a kid of a single Dad. Mom had left us and I was in my Dads care. Dad put me up in doggy style and lowered my head with my ass in the air. Dad took the thermometer and slowly slid it inside my butthole. I felt so relaxed. It was nice and I knew Dad was taking care of me. When ever I was feeling bad Dad would always take my temperature no matter. I started loving getting in that position, that I would sometime pretend I was feeling bad.

Once Dad finally realized I was not sick and I would get in the position to have my temperature taken, he decided to lube up his finger and slide that into my waiting hole. The first time, I was going wild, It felt so big and it was so gentle. I knew from that point, that Dad was going to always stick his finger in my ass when I was not feeling well. I was not feeling well often after that first time. Sometimes I would ask Dad to take my temporature even when I was feeling fine. Dad would always check it for me.

I was loving having Dad stick his finger in my asshole and work it around a bit. Not sure why but this one time Dad used his thumb, and I was wild. Dad was going larger and larger. I started asking more and more now with the thumb. So dad decided I needed something larger. When I told Dad to take my temporature, I got down on my knees and lifted my asshole up for Dad. I waited for the pleasure and boy did i get a new feeling. Dad had something bigger. I was not sure what it was but it was bigger then his thumb. It was hard, like maybe a carrot. I was enjoying it regardless of what it was. I now wanted this new size to fill me more often. I got my temperature taken more and more and was having my ass filled all the time.

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Young farm boys visit to town

While I was living on the farm with my family, we would occasionally go into our small nearby town for supplies and auto repair. I was still in school so most of our visits in town were on the week ends. My father was having some problem with one of our farm trucks and made arrangements to leave it at the local garage while he ran some errands and got a haircut. I was to stay close to the garage and wait for his return.

I had never been to this garage before and the men in the shop were all new to me except the owner of the garage, George Fowler. I went to school with his daughter and I had seen him on occasion when he came to pick her up after school. He was a solid man about 35, 6 feet tall or better and completely bald. He was at the garage today and nodded to me when dad was talking to him about repairing the truck. He had a demanding face and deep hazel eyes. I don't remember if I ever saw him smile.

Whenever I saw him he was always wearing his garage coveralls. I couldn't quite make out if he was heavy or muscular under his loosely fit clothing. I did notice he had very large hands and wore large shoes. I understood that was definitely an indication of a big cock.

My dad took me to the nearby store where I bought some candy from part of my weekly allowance. He instructed me to go back to the garage and wait for him while he ran his errands. When I returned to the garage I went inside to set on the wooden bench near the workmen. When Mr. Fowler saw me again he gave me a stern look and wiped his hands with a rag. He came over to me and told me it would take awhile for the repairs, and I should follow him.

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How dad and me act in public

Cause of today's sissified morality, studs can't horse around or even show affection openly like real men. An innocent chore a boy does for his daddy, can be misunderstood by women & their pussy-whipped girly men. That's why an innocent service I do for dad at home, I can't do in public. If dad uses me as his pissboy at a truckstop, some asshole might object. A wholesome, innocent act like being dad's urinal & drinking his hot piss, might get his accused of sexual child abuse, & get him labeled a degenerate pederast. So I only do fuckin shit like that, or sucking dad off, at home. Only dad's buds get to see me give his a blow job, or take his fuckpole up my shitchute.

Dad is a trucker. He wears a kahki uniform. To support his manhood, he wears a jockstrap under his trousers. He sports the bulge of his jock pouch on his right hand side. I get a real fuckin kick outta the way he all the time gropes hisself to adjust his manmeat. Like all born cocksmen, he does it openly in public. He don't give a fuckin shit who's watching. When he sports a hardon that tents out his pants, he never tries to hide it. He struts around for all to see. It makes me Goddam proud to see other manly studs get boned lookin at my daddy's hardon.

Every wed. dad took me to "Men Only" nite at the Y. On the way over & in the locker room, dad talked to me about sex. Dad loved looking into my wide-eyed innocent face & saying the filthiest sex shit to me. Dad loved sleazy sex action & taught me to lust to perform devient sex acts too. By the time we stripped down nude at the Y, we both had rock hard rammers. Our mantools stuck out from our bods, & dripped a steady flow of precum lube. Thank God that from the time I was 12, my manmeat was almost as large as my father's. We liked to measure our cocks by pressing them together, to compare.

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A night with dad

"Dad, wake me up at 8 am tomorrow?" I called to my dad before I went to sleep. I'd been sleeping through my alarm clock all week and if I was late one more time for the class I was going to be in big trouble.

"No problem," Dad said.

At 8 am, I felt the bed shifting. I clenched my eyes against the sunlight streaming through the blinds and then blinked.

"Wake up, son." Dad whispered, slipping under the sheets beside me. I stirred and I felt dad's naked body pressing against mine, his hard-on brushing against my thigh. Dad was completely naked and was laid out beside me. My own cock was already hard, poking up against the sheets, and I felt it throb as dad moved his hand down to my cock, stroking the smooth skin with his fingers. I shivered in pleasure at the touch of his hand on my cock again. I missed that feeling since the last time we had sex.

"Ooohhh Great, dad. Uummm" I moaned as he squeezed my cock. He kicked off the sheet, exposing my huge, throbbing cock.

"Dad, go ahead. Do what you want. Uummm I'm your good boy." I grinned. Dad slid down my body, opening his mouth and licking around my cock head. I groaned, leaning back and putting my hands behind my head as dad swallowed sucked on my cock, enjoying the great sensation. I could feel dad's cock throbbing against my leg, and that turned me on even more.

As dad sucked me off, he slid slightly back and forth, rubbing his hard cock against my legs. The faster he sucked, his hand moving lightly up and down along my shaft as he moved his hips faster and faster. His cock was leaking pre-cum, dripping along my legs, and I groaned. "Ooohhh Aaahhh Keep on, dad."

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The day the earth moved

The two construction workers worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning up for the evening around the construction site on the new house on the steep hillside overlooking the pounding surf on the rugged coast below. The two moved together, in fluid motion. They were having a boisterous and obscene conversation of what the two horny hunks planned to do to their girl friends that evening after a hard-working pay day. The day had been hot, and they were both stripped down to shorts and tool belts and heavy construction boots.

They were working together in a back room that was almost finished when the earthquake rumbled along the ridge and collapsed the framing of the new house in upon itself. As the walls of the house came in upon each other and the ceiling drooped down, the two construction workers were thrown against each in other in a small air pocket.

The lithe and wiry young blond's cheek was flattened against the back wall, which still held, although he could hear the roaring of the surf dangerously close. his hands were flung out, his palms leveraging against the wall.

The olive-skinned older Italian, the cut and horse-hung bodybuilder with curly black hair in abundance, had been flung up against the blond's back; his pelvis nestled up under the blond's buttocks.

The two huddled closely together as they waited out the earthquake and its ever-weakening aftershocks, hoping that the walls of their prison would hold.

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A boy that feels like a girl inside

Hi, this is my story, about how I feel inside and my dream couple.

First my physical description, I'm a 22 year old boy, college boy looks, I'm 5'11 160, brown hair, blue eyes, smooth , athletic body, swimmers' build. I'm just a nice looking boy. As I said, I'm straight looking, so girls come on to me very often, but I'm definitely not attracted to them. I love men.

Inside, I feel weird sometimes, 'cause I really love guys and I think I love them the same ways as females do. I don't have much experience, but I deeply fantasize about what my ideal couple would be. The kind of guys I like are very masculine, macho guys, well built, muscled, sometimes hairy, guys between the ages of 21 to 40.

My greatest fantasy would be to get married with the man I love, and best of all, having him treat me like he would treat his wife. I 'd love to be a "stay at home boy", doing the cleaning , cooking and doing housewife stuff, although I'm a boy, I'd like to be my man's "wife".

I'm happy as a boy, that's not the point; I just feel that I love men the same way as a female would do. I'd like my man to ask me to marry him, want him to bring me flowers, open up the car door for me, even thought I'm a masculine boy and happy that way. I'd like my man to drive the car, to talk to me about sports events that he likes to watch 'cause he's very masculine and into very male stuff and I like that about him a lot.

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Sauna sex with big dominant rugby player

First off let me tell you a little about me. My name is Tony Im 5 ft 8 in, 13 stone 44c 33w mixed race and smooth. Ive always had a thing for big white guys, I had a couple of days off work from my job as a warehouse man, I was bored and horny so decided to take a trip down to London and visit a Sauna.

The train journey took a couple of hours upon reaching Liverpool St, my 9x6.25 uncut cock was already stretching my trunks. I arrived at the Sauna paid my money, and went off to get undressed, as I past the showers a big guy with a shaved head, bumped into me, he made his apologies and went off.

I got naked and put the towel on, and decided to have a look to see what talent was around the Sauna, I saw a couple of skinny guys and a few well built black and Asian guys, but they didnt really do anything for me so I decide to go to the gym, I did 10 minutes on the exercise bike, and then decide to hit the machines, I prefer working with free weights but this gym only had machines so I had to make do.

I was in the Middle of bench pressing when the guy who bumped into in Changing Room walked in. I didnt really take in how big he was until now; he was 6 ft 1 gotta be around 18 stone, big chested--at least 50in and had a light dusting of hair over it. He said hello and asked me where I was from, I told him a town in the West Midlands, and he mentioned he had some friends from up there. He had a Northern Accent and it turns out he was from Sheffield and played rugby league. We introduced ourselves his name was Bob. He asked what I did for a living and how long I was going to be in London for; I was only down for the day. We made small talk for a while, then he said, "I might see you later," and left the gym to have a wonder. I finished my work out 10 minutes later and decided to go and find him.

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