There I was, sprawled out naked on the shower room tiles, water running down the drain under my ass as the cum and piss dried on my skin. My dick was limp now, but it was wet, and sticky.
It was Friday night. A basketball game at school. I'm a passer, but for the first time in my life, I was a shooter. I shot the winning basket and the crowd went wild. Trace Sanders smirks at me as we head for the locker room. Trace is the usual star of the team. We're both Juniors, 18 years old. There's been a little competition between us. This is the first night I shot and he didn't. He smirked. When we play one-on-one in my driveway, with our shirts off and sweat dripping down our bodies, he's all over me. Towering over me, raising his arms over my head so his sweaty pits are right in my face, shooting basket after basket. But tonight, I shot, and now he smirks as we head for the locker room.
Many tall, skinny, hunky little athletes undress in preparation of the ritual cleansing. There's Matt Vindich with his shorts down, and there's black-haired Native American Richie Cicciocciop standing around with his black pubes sticking out of his high school boy jock strap. Richie was nasty sometimes, he would get on younger guys' cases all the time, calling them fag and shoving them around. His last name is pronounced Cheek-ee-chop and I've been staring at his sexy, naked cheeks in his tight little jockstrap and thinking of pork chops. How I'd like to smother `em with my gravy. Those cheeky little chops of his. Mmmm.
So Trace just strips off his jock and heads in to shower. And I figure, I'm feeling good since I won the game and everything, so I strip off and head in there too.
The not-too-hot-but-nice-to-feel water runs over my body as I glance around the room, seeing Richie and Matt and Bryan and Todd and Trevor naked in the showers, washing their sweet, naked boy dicks and shooting the shit about the game.
"It was awesome the way you sank that winning shot, Brett" said Trevor.
"Yeah," Matt agreed. "You really surprised us. Didn't know you had it in you."
He had caught my interest with his picture but there was also something else I could not quite figure out. Anyway we sent e-mails to each other and as luck would have it I was going to be working down near where he lives. We made an arrangement that he would SMS me on the Monday to make arrangements to meet. By 9pm I had given up on Matt ringing me and was feeling horny but down in the dumps.
They get twice as much work as they pay us for now, and the whole point of a per diem expense allowance is to keep the book-keeping smile, Ken declared, verbally twisting my arm. He had a point. Hurst, however, was an entirely different matter. We'd both heard that before.
since I'm not the type to kiss-and-tell, I'll let you guess at his name (well, OK, suck-and-tell is a little different, but I'm still not going to identify him). I will say that he is in his early thirties, married, and bi, and described himself as being about 5'7" or so, maybe 150 pounds, brown-haired, hairy-chested and fairly well-hung.
At that time I knew I was gay, I used to LOVE to jack my seven inch cock off to gay porn all of the time. I would sit in my quiet room for hours a day and into the wee hours of the morning watching cute twinks or older men have passionate fucking and sucking sessions. My hand would vigorously work my long member, until I came all over my "built" upper body.
It's a hard choice. I'm holding my contact add and a naked photo, but should I mail it to the gay magazine. Well, now it's done, but I have this funny feeling, it's like I regret, but it's all to late now, isn't it. The days passed, nothing happened, but then suddenly one day this letter came: It was a plain white envelope without name, but I knew what it was. It was from a Swede.
The thin trails of smoke that drifted towards the ceiling were only a hint of the haze that would form once Happy Hour was in full swing. The murmurs of those already there were not yet enough to drown out the tinkle of ice in glasses or the soft rock coming through the sound system. There were still empty stools now, but it wouldn't be long before the place would be filled to capacity.
I had just walked after a rough day at work. I loosened my tie and flopped on down on the couch. My roommate Kate told me that Joe called while I was out. She told me that he wanted me to come over tonight, said he had a favor to ask.
Coach Debor was wearing his skin tight white pants and showed us how to use all of the equipment. He noticed me staring at him the whole time. and I wasn't watching his arms. During lunch that day, I got a pass to go down to the lockerroom. Coach was there waiting for me and he told me that he saw me staring and that he was gonna teach to stare at him. All he was wearing was a towel.
My first week becomes a blur of wailing sirens, speeding squad cars and cold revolvers coupled with the realization that my youthful good looks and trim, uniform-clad body had drawn the attention of the others officers. But, I fail to realize exactly what it is my ruggedly handsome partner has in mind when he clasps my strong thigh in a comradely way.
"Seems like I've just been gone for the weekend," thought Chris as he lugged his suitcases up to his second floor apartment. Chris' roommate graduated in December and had moved out. Erik lived in the apartment across the hall. His roommate had transferred to another university. He was a typical cowboy.
A friend of mine owns a furniture making business and he's been trying to convince me to work for him for years. He gave me a key to the building, inviting me to make a visit anytime in order to look the place over and tell him what I think. For the past thirty-some years I've been getting up so early, even the roosters are still snoring.
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. The only light was from the sunset outside that entered from the high windows above.
For the record, it was not *the* military academy, the one located over the Hudson River outside New York City, but it was *a* military academy. As this is a work of fiction, it matters not which one it was, but if there are other graduates of this institution, they might recognize the location based on some of the incidents.
My boyfriend is called Jack, also 18, although he is small and thin, his baby face and mousy hair making him appear to be no older than 14. Nobody in the world, however, could be cuter than Jack. Now, my story begins with Jack and I returning to our flat after a long day walking about town. Without a word, I moved over towards where he was sitting on the sofa and knelt down in front of him.
There was something of a family crisis so it was decided I'd visit the farm during the long summer holidays. The slow train pulled into the small rural town of Marton and stopped at the tiny railway station. I collected my suitcase from the Guard's van and looked around me. The platform was empty. I sat down on my suitcase and waited in the bright sunshine.
He had played the game since he was 6 years old. Now a junior in college, he was the best pitcher on his college baseball team. He was a very good looking guy by now. He stood 6 ft 3 inches tall and was about 210 pounds of solid muscle. He had a nice firm chest, and washboard abs. Baseball and school.
Will and Harry were lovers and both had a younger brother each. As they catch the little bros having sex, they decide it is a great opportunity to join. This is going to be one hot foursome.
First let me describe myself. I am 5 11 155 lbs 18 years old runners build and a 7 cut cock. My parents took me first to France to see Paris. So hear I am on a subway train riding it through Paris with this nicer looking adult male behind me who has been checking me out the whole ride and moving closer and closer to me. he than pulls my shorts down just enough to access my crack and my hot hole.
"Oh, I got a lot in me that would surprise you," I responded, gently nudging the conversation toward something a little nastier.
Trace smirked in my general direction. "I don't know about that. I don't surprise easy. Besides, one winning shot in the whole season and you guys are gonna get all bent out of shape about it? I've been winning games all semester for you little dweebs."
"Sounds like a challenge," I smirked at him.
"What kind of challenge?" Trace asks.
"You're upset `cause I shot tonight and you didn't. So now you can make it up to all of us by shooting a big load."
"Dude, there's no question I could shoot a big load if I wanted to."
Matt and Bryan were getting into this. Matt looked over at Trace and was anxious to see his dick harder. Bryan was already stroking on his dick, soaping it up, just to maintain the pretense of getting clean.
"You guys think I can't shoot?" asked Trace, sounding a bit wounded.
"I don't know about whether or not you've lost your talent for shooting, but I'd kinda get into seeing you shoot now," Matt drooled, "Just let it happen, and let it go."
Trace started stroking his dick, taking it in his right hand and squeezing, as he wrapped his fist around it and jerked the sucker to life. I was feeling hotter than hell as I watched all the naked jocks around me start pounding on their boy puds. Trace is staring at each crotch in turn, I can tell where he's looking. And he's wrapping a tight, firm paw around his meaty dick, with his pubic hair getting all matted down from the shower, and from sweat. He smirks over at me and says he's ready to do a little shooting. His balls slap around his thighs as his fist slides faster up and down his stiff shaft. He gets a cocky look on his face, and smirks at me again. And he bets me he can shoot farther than I can.
I'm fine with that.
"No sweat, dude. You'll see I've developed quite a shot after this game I won for us."
"We'll see who the real winner is," Trace said as he tilted his head back, thrust out his knees and started fingering his ass.
Matt was glassy-eyed by now, seeing his favorite naked fantasy flailing away on his dick, and all his teammates beside him in the shower, stroking on their cocks, all of them naked and wet. Richie started to play with his Native American balls, swinging them back and forth with his fingers, enjoying the nasty feel of his rough hands on that sensitive sac of skin. Bryan was black-haired with green eyes, an undeniably sexy combination. And his lanky build, with the sinewy muscle and long, thin cock looked very hot under that shower head. Todd and Trevor are now stroking each other's cocks, not seeing us, not caring to see us, as they looked into each other's eyes and firmly grasped the penis of the boy they liked the most.
It was way too hot a scene, all of us naked and jacking, after winning a Friday night game. Every gay thought I ever had in my head exploded all over my brain: licking Bryan's asshole, worshipping Todd's balls, choking on Trace's penis, and Richie, homophobic Richie, always shouting down the younger, tender guys. Yes, Richie was jacking with the rest of us. He was probably thinking of pussy, but he was hot, and he was wet, and he was naked and hard and stroking. I'm under a warm spray of water and jacking my meat with my buds when I focus in on Richie. But Richie is standing on the other side of the room, and I keep thinking about how he's always shoving around little guys and calling them fag and I want to mark him, mark him up as territory. As a closet fag who loves to feel cum all over his naked, wet, sexy, bad boy body, loves to feel my cum, loves to be my territory...and I shoot a huge string of cum that flies clear across the room and hits Richie right between the pecs. And then I'm arching my back and stroking my hard bone like a boy scout trying to start a fire. The cum just keeps jetting out of me and flies all over the room.
This spurs on Todd and Trevor, who lock eyes and spew, the cum running down both boy's chests and bellies simultaneously. Bryan shoots a few strings right down into the drain, and Richie affects a look of disbelief.
"Man, you shot your spooge right on me, from clear across the room."
"Couldn't help it dude, I was fuckin' high."
Richie strokes hard on his teen-boy cock and thrusts out his hips, offering his sperm as a sacrifice...Native American children who will never be born, thanks to his locker-room antics. His cum shoots to the middle of the shower room floor, thick wads of it, spinning lazily around on top of the drain. And Trace grunts and thrusts forward with his hips. He may not have shot in the game, but he was about to make up for it. Trace's thick, veiny cock jerked in his tight fist as he shot his load of cream right onto Bryan's thigh.
It was clear I had won. I shot further than Trace, winning both the game, and the after-game game.
Trace, with a look of quiet surrender, walked over to me naked in the shower. He gazed down at me and held his semi-soft penis up. I looked up into his eyes, not knowing what to think, when I felt a warm trickle run across my belly and down my legs. Trace was pissing on me. I felt the warm liquid coat my belly and legs, and he picked up his penis and aimed for my chest. His piss continued to stream out and hit me all over, my nipples, my neck, my pubes, I was soaked in Trace's piss.
Somehow, this was exciting to me. Trevor, the star of the team, pissing all over his lucky-shot teammate, as the rest of the team looked on. This meant something to me. Meant that I was part of Trace's team, and anything I did that brought glory to the team, especially brought glory to Trace. He was the head dick around here, even if I had just shot ropes of cum across the shower room on Richie. Trace was in charge, and he would show it.
The others soon fell in line, with Bryan first up to squirt his pee all over my naked game-winning body. Then Trevor and Todd, both dripping in cum, pointed their piss-missiles at me and let fly with a gallon or so of hot yellow firewater.
Speaking of firewater, Richie was fucked up over my cum landing on his red skin, so he pushed his hips out and pissed a river on me. He soaked my wet pubes and gushed out over my naked high school boy hips, making me his young, sissy homo for the day. I was covered in jockboy piss.
And then Matt, in a show of solidarity for the team, pisses on my head and face as I sink to the floor in humbled exhaustion. Piss, and warm water from the shower are running down all over my body, and the boys all start to bone up again. They were standing over me, naked, and wet and getting hard. Stroking up and down those boy shafts, making them hard for me. I was sitting on the shower room floor, naked and hard, and milking my dick in front of my teammates. Bryan, Todd, Trevor, Trace, Richie, Matt, all stroking on their boy meat right over my naked boy body. It was fucking driving me nuts! And I shot another load, sank another basket, dribbled and shot...as my teammates unloaded their teen boy jism all over my piss-soaked body.
Being on a team is hard work. Even when you win the game, you still have to remember your place. You're just one of the guys, part of the mechanism that keeps the machine rolling along. And everybody knows a machine needs to be lubricated. Mmmm...
One of these, for me, was being sent to prison. The reason is unimportant and I'm not going to discuss the penal system yet. I had spent the previous 90 days in the county jail waiting for sentencing and had adapted to the people and the place as best I could. His name was Billy. We talked.
I was scanning the faces of the kids in my class when my eyes fell upon a particular boy. His name was Varni Shah. He'd been in the class all year, but I'd never noticed him before. This was probably partly due to the fact that he was Indian (NOT Native American). However now (mid-April) I noticed that he was pretty good-looking and had a nice-looking body. But suddenly I really wanted this guy.
I prefer the shy nice-looking "geek-type", they really get me revved up. I never really had any social problems in school. I was a little quiet compared to the jocks that had big heads and big mouths; neither of which were ever put to use in something really worthwhile, if you know what I mean. I could take care of myself, I'm a big guy at 5'8" and 170 pounds of beef and muscle.
However, a couple of years ago I came across a website that lists massage therapists all over the world, by type of massage they offer and city, and in my mind, figured that having a sensual massage would be a way of having some male contact, without "going out and having sex". Splitting hairs, I know - but that's a whole other story, and not for discussion here.
He was "my kind of guy". Twenty-something, polite, slight but powerfully built, and black. That ebony shade I love so well, that complimented his dark uniform, though I would have preferred to see him in Navy Dress Whites, or those skimpy shorts the UPS and FedEx guys wear sometimes. The truth is, I'd have preferred to see him with no uniform at all.
One day Dan, the 3rd baseman of our school team and a real hunk, caught me watching him as we changed after a late workout. He started harassing me about it, saying he'd seen me staring at some of the guys before. He said if I wanted to see his crotch so much, I should get on my knees where I could see it up close. He said he was gonna tell everyone I was a faggot unless I suck his cock.
He had scoped a guy in the gym doing some stretching exercises. He had a good, lean body, dark hair, an excellent ass, and was clean shaven. They had exchanged a little small talk, and met up later on in the steam room, where Jonny had noticed that the guy was eying him up.
I looked at my watch: right on time. The Hunk made his way to the men's locker room in several long strides, bouncing on every step as if he had springs in the soles of his sneakers. They were nice, squeezable melons, attached to one hot looking dude by the name of Mike. Miserably. Real careful.
Anderson when he came into our store to purchase a suit--he's the vice-president of the big national bank down the street from where I work. When he first walked into the men's department, I couldn't help but whistle to myself as I appraised the man: about 6'4" & 260 pounds of hot man meat! He had thinning blond hair that was graying at the temples & gorgeous steel-grey eyes.
Strong, handsome, kind and brilliant, he was as perfect a specimen as you could hope to find. Even self-avowed feminists, with no use for men of any kind, swooned in Andy's presence. He was just worth it. I had known him since high school, when he was the unlikely mix of scholar and athlete.
I passed through the double doors and made my way to the mid-section of the locker block. I opened my locker and began removing my clothes. I stripped down to my jockey briefs, then slipped them off my legs. I wrapped a towel around myself, and made my way into the shower area. Maybe I should describe myself for you.
Both of the chairs were taken so the only place to sit was next to an average looking guy, somewhere between 35 & 45. In the looks department, I'd have to say he was slightly above average because he had that look that made you think he must've been pretty hot looking during his prime.
Not as many now as there used to be before they introduced all these hi-tech ideas, but enough to keep the industry going. Of course I go to all the pubs and clubs just in case I get lucky, but I get more from my favourite "Gents" than I do from them. That's more sex, in case you were wondering! Yes SEX in all its sucking, fucking, slurping glory. I reached out and took it in my ha.
After going to and from school for a couple of months I noticed that a couple of boys that were both in my class lived only four houses from me. At first I thought they were twins because they were both in the same class with me. We finished our Junior and Senior year together and ended up being close buddies. Ed usually went his own way but Mike would hang out with me a lot.
"Seems like I've just been gone for the weekend," thought Chris as he lugged his suitcases up to his second floor apartment. Chris' roommate graduated in December and had moved out. Erik lived in the apartment across the hall. His roommate had transferred to another university. He was a typical cowboy.
I was still in my early twenties, he was 18. He isn't gay, and I was still wondering about myself. Anyway, we stayed at a motel in Richmond, that only had one double bed not wanting to go any further because it was getting late, we took the room. My cock was stretching my briefs to the limit.
The man pulled his penis out of my ass and flipped me on my back. I then looked down my body and could see nicely formed breasts. If I had been myself, I would have eagerly grabbed those breasts. However, I had other things to deal with.
Actually, he wasn't as much looking as forward to the practice as the fact that he was going to be with Jeremy. He got there a bit early. He had arranged a few kids who were really good and sexy (though he hadn't said that) at baseball to help him on a Saturday. He was in his ball clothes, so he went straight to the field to start.
The health club that I go to has the best locker room set up that I could ever imagine. The club itself is enormous, covering several football fields. The second floor of the building, where the men's locker room is, has been added to and altered many times over making it a maze of shower rooms, saunas, steam rooms and whirlpools. By now, Dan and Slava have seen my erection a million times over.
How the fuck could we lose? We were the #1 ranked team all season. No one even came close to us. And we lost 2-3. I left the field before the rest of the team and headed to the locker room. The whole school was there. I could see the mascot and the geeky science kid that was apparently his handler. I don't know if he liked animals or just hated sports. Fuck that little bitch.
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