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Spying On My Dad Jacking Off

I remember it everyone talking about 'Jacking off' when i was just in the 7th grade in middle school. The older boys in the 8th grade would talk about how it 'felt so good' when 'the white stuff came out'. I had always been curious with this sensation that they were talking about. I remember i had tried it for days but got no luck in feeling any sort of sensation. My friend Pete had told me that 'all the real men did it, probably even our dads,' I remember being disgusted when he had mentioned this. Pete was also the one that told me the 'white stuff was sperm,' so i automatically realized that if anyone had been able to shoot sperm, that means they had finally reached puberty. I didn't know if i was able to shoot 'sperm' because every time i would 'try' to masturbate, i felt my penis was too dry. The guys in the 8th grade would also brag about their growing penises. One guy said his was 7 inches long, which got me curious. I remember measuring mine and it was exactly 4 inches erect. I was ashamed of myself, because i thought i was one of the only boys in my school who didn't reach puberty, and who didn't know how to Jack off.

This is where my dad stepped in. Growing up, i had always just lived with my dad. My parents got divorced when i was only 5 years old. My mom left Michigan and moved to California, taking my younger sister with her. It had just been Dad and I for seven years in the house by ourselves. When i was 12 years old, my dad was 37 years old. He was on the taller side of the scale, around 5'11.. He had a little belly, but even then, his body was in great condition. He had a very nice chest, with a line of hair running down passed his stomach. I remember wishing being like his physique when i got older. One thing dad and i never discussed though, was the topic of sex. He would occasionally make a reference to my penis, jokingly asking me if i had grown yet. I of course, being ashamed that i hadn't reached puberty, would usually change the subject. My dad owned his own private business, so the good thing about that was that he would be able to make his own schedule as he pleased. While i was in school, he'd usually work Monday-Thursday, and have Friday off (and work on Saturday), i never really questioned why he would do that, even though i thought it was a little strange. Little did i know that soon i would figure out why.

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Music Room

"The Music Room"


Tim Stillman

I followed him into the music room. The wall baffles made it look like the inside of an egg crate, and it was summer hot and roasted, and we were young, and had come here to make love. There was nothing for us but the territories of ourselves, and he turned to me and he smiled that slightly lopsided smile and I put my arms around him, and the ands in this sentence are not meant for bad construction or run on sentences, but because there was always an and between us and around up, and protecting us.

We had met senior year in high school and now were almost through our university freshmen year. He locked the door and we both tested to be sure, and he lowered the shade on the window next to the piano, and we were together, because together was us, and we were oceans come together to small the world, as I put my hand in the small of his back and felt his wet shirt of yellow bay and his wet spine and I kissed him deeply, and he loved me, and there were only the hums of the a.c., deliciously cool, and the sounds distant and vague like steps up a mountain we never had to climb far away, and I loved him and was him and he loved me and was me, and I cupped the back of his golden head and I touched tongue to tongue with him and we pressed close together, and he was purest sexuality come with purest love, and we would never age or be sad, for all our lives were to be spent here in this piano room, and he would play for me, and I would kneel beside him and hold him round the middle, slight, he would be playing an etude on the keys and I would hold him softly as though he were the song, as though the music was coming through his bones and into mine.

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Kyle And Andy

"Pain, tell me what you think pain is? Does it hurt worse to have a bruise so visible that people stare, or does it hurt worse to have a piece of your heart ripped out by your father as he hits you? I am lucky I have two great earthly parents and many more heavenly guardians watching out for me, but some people are not this fortunate." --Scrypt

School of Love: Kyle & Andy

I grew up in a school that came from all around. It was a small school and it was the only High School in the city. If that tells you anything about the city, then you will know how small of a city it is. I know most of the people that I went to school with, and I had known them since we were born. Same daycare, same Elementary, same middle school, and the same High School. None of us were any closer for it; a few of us had found good friends with in the groups that we tend to hang out with. I was one of the lucky ones that had found my friends. My name is Andy. I was probably small for my age but it never bothered me that much, I was smart and could usually out smart any problems I had. There was only one person outside of my parents that could scare me, and his name was Kyle. I had short brown hair, kept cut clean and I wore nice clothes. I was skinny and a slight tan, cute by most girls' standards. I was 14 a young freshman in high school. Puberty had been very kind to me; I was already through what I knew to be most of it, and I didn't get affected with acne or any of that other teenage stuff. My father was the Sherriff of the city so I knew most everyone and was well liked. I wasn't popular in school but no one (besides Kyle) picked on me, so I was happy. We had a school bus but most people lived close enough to either walk or are driven so we did. Walking to school was one of the times that I had to always be on my guard and make sure I bit my tongue. Walking to school involved going from my house to the school and by the bridge. This bridge was what I didn't like. It was where for 3 years now a boy name Kyle decided he would wait for me and then slap me around until I gave him my lunch money. The one time I made the mistake of telling my dad was the day he punched me in the chest, right where no one would see unless I lifted my shirt. He was taller than me by a few inches now, and stronger. He had dirty blonde hair that he kept shaggy and un-neat. His clothes always looked to be second hand and he never seemed to have any friends, of course he took pride in that fact by making sure everyone around him feared him. His eyes were crystal blue, and even through the pain he was inflicting there was a sadness in his eyes. I didn't have time to explore the sadness as his hand came up fast and grabbed the front of my shirt. I threw my hands up in front of my face instinctively as he drew back a fist. He was able to lift me off the ground which always scared me because it left me completely vulnerable. "Hand it over, dweeb." He said maliciously. "Here!" I scraped around in my pocket for my lunch money and thrust it up in the air. He snatched it from my hands and dropped me. "And don't forget that tomorrow is Friday, that means I'll be expecting desert money too." He laughed and aimed a well placed kick to my stomach which didn't hurt but knocked all the breath out of me. I stood up as he was walking away and brushed myself off, taking shallow breathes all the while. I wished that I was strong enough to stand up to him. I went the entire day thinking of what I could do to get even with him; I actually wanted to hurt him. I failed to actually pay attention in classes I just spent my time writing things down, just ideas and other things that I felt the need to write down. That night as I lay in my bed I picked up my Bible and closed my eyes. I was religious, but I didn't hold the Bible standards most Christians did. I prayed. "Lord, please help me see what the best way to deal with Kyle is. I need your help and your guidance." I whispered the prayer and then slowly opened the book to a random page and read the first thing my eyes fell on. Romans 12: 9-10 "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves." What did this have to do with us? I was getting pretty adept at being able to apply the words to my situation but this completely blew away my perspective. Was God telling me to forgive him and befriend him? I would give it a try; my anger gave way to my curiosity, what was the sadness in his eyes? The next day I got ready for school quickly and cheerfully. I walked all the way to the bridge and smiled when I saw him. "How are you today Kyle?" I smiled at him. "You crazy?" He said confusedly. "No just showing you that there is another way then fighting, here ya go Kyle." I handed him my lunch money and smiled at him. I was trying my hardest to be extremely nice in hopes that he wouldn't hit me. "Thanks twerp." I smiled at him and went to walk by him almost with a spring in my step, but apparently not enough spring, seeing as I couldn't bounce over his foot as he stuck it out and I fell flat on my face. "See you Monday, dweeb." I hit the ground with my fist and got up brushing myself off. I would have to take a more direct approach and I was not planning on waiting until Monday to have him hit me again, we were going to settle this. School went by in a blur and I was walking out the front doors after the final bell before I knew it. I saw him leave a crowd by pushing his way through and I started to follow. He ducked through a few alleys in the town and ended up in a wooded area. He walked down a small grass trail through the woods and into a clearing where a rundown trailer sat. It was strange that I hadn't known where he lived. My father was Sherriff and I had been all over the town. A man, he looked like Kyle only older and uglier, came rushing out of the door. He was wearing a mechanics jumpsuit and looked greasy already. "You got any money boy?!" He yelled at him as he walked toward him. "No dad I don't." Kyle almost whimpered out. The man raised a hand and swung it hard at Kyle, hitting him square in the back of the head. Kyle fell down and I could see him holding his head in pain. The man jumped into his truck and sped down a gravel drive away from me. Every ounce of anger I had for him fled from me as fear and sadness for the boy enveloped me. I did probably the most stupid thing I could have chosen to do at the moment. I made myself known. "Are you ok?" I asked as I rushed forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and jumped up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "What are you doing here?" He yelled and raised a fist to hit me. "Go ahead hit me." I said stupidly and I stood my ground staring into his painfully sad blue eyes. "Nah, it's not worth my time." He dropped his hand and looked at me. "What are you still doing here?" He looked angry and embarrassed. "Are you ok?" I asked sympathetically. "Don't act like you care or even know. What do you know? Your father cares; you think my father ever cared to give me lunch money every day?" He flushed again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." He raised his fist to hit me again. I flinched but I stayed where I was. "You got some guts Andy." He chuckled. "Want to go inside and play some games?" I asked him randomly, it was the first thing that came to mind. "Do what?" He stammered as confusion flooded over his face. "I don't have any..." his face flushed and he looked down at the ground. "How about we go to my house and we can play mine, maybe order a pizza too. What do ya say?" He looked up and gave me a look like he was trying to figure out something. He nodded and smiled. "That might be fun..." We turned and slowly walked back towards my house. It was strange walking with someone that had tripped me earlier that day. He had tormented me for almost three years into my life and here we were almost walking together like we were friends. There wasn't much conversation going on between the two of us. We were insight of my house he asked me a question. "So, do you have both of your parents?" He looked over to me. "Sort of, My Dad and I live here and my mom lives in New York or something. They are divorced, and she's not very influential in my life. You?" I didn't mean to say it but it was habit to return the question when asked something like that. This could lead to a very awkward conversation if he chose to answer it. "Nah..." He shook his head looking at the ground. "...my mom died when I was real young, things were good till then..." he trailed off there and I knew that this was a good moment to either let him talk or change the subject. "What do you like to do...I mean besides beat me up." I joked hesitantly but my words felt right. "Yea...about that...I guess I'm sorry..." He began to say. "Don't worry about it...I tend to think that things can only get better if they are bad." I said almost merrily. "...yea...right...but what do I like to do? I've never been asked that...seriously...honestly, don't laugh but, I love to write." My head did flips, because Kyle and writing had never been two images I ever thought to see together, and it made me realize that I had been just as unfair to him, judging, as he had been to me physically. "Really?! Me too!" His head jerked up as he stared at me in the eyes. "Really, you don't think it's weird or...gay?" I almost laughed, this was something I had thought about before, `why would a boy want to write, instead of playing sports or something' but it never bothered me like that. "No sir, its art, just as much as music or painting, and guys do that. And if you're good at it than that's all that matters. What do you like to write?" We had made it to my house by now. Walking in the front door, I noticed that he was looking around slightly amazed. "Well...I like to write...poems." His face flushed, it confused me why he was embarrassed. "Wow! That's so cool, I just write stories. I would love to hear some of your work sometime." I smiled at him. "You mean you want to hang out more than just today?" He said slowly. "Of course, I mean if you want to, you're welcome here when ever. Why would I just hang out with you once and then go back to letting you pick on me?" I chuckled but he still looked a little sad. "I thought that you were just doing this out of pity." He looked at me. "Honestly, I think that you're pretty interesting to be so mean sometimes." I was being really blunt which I think is what he needed right now, he didn't need someone to be coy and beat around the bush. I was reassuring the fact that I knew what was going on and was ok with him being him. "You're pretty cool to be such a dweeb sometimes." He laughed. This was the Kyle that I was trying to pull out; I wanted him to be confident in himself and able to be nice doing it. We started playing video games and messing around with other stuff that I had for entertainment, when my dad knocked on my door and came in. I introduced him and he smiled, walking back down stairs to order pizza for dinner. He had invited Kyle for dinner, who accepted graciously. The pizza was good, and Kyle ate a nice share, which made me happy. He was smiling a lot now, which was a change from the sadness that usually covered his face, but something was nagging at me. The sadness was still in my eyes. "So Kyle, would you like a ride home? It's getting pretty late, or would you like to spend the night?" My dad smiled at him. "No I don't think I can sir. I should go home." He looked up at him with his crystal blue eyes. We all walked over to the door and my dad put his jacket on. Kyle held his hand out to me and I shook it with a smile. My dad went to get his keys from the kitchen and I took the moment we had alone, so I didn't embarrass him. "Remember what I said Kyle, you're welcome to come here whenever you need or want to." I said with a smile. "Thanks Andy, you're a good person..." He said slowly. "I think you're a good person too, I hope we can be friends." I said seriously. "I've never had one of those; I think it might just be possible." He grinned. My dad came back and they left. I went to my room and got ready for bed. My dad came back and poked his head in the door and said good night. I had the hardest time getting to sleep that night; I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't place. It was a tingling feeling and I had the hardest time letting myself fall asleep, because for the first time I felt that reality was a lot more exciting than my dreams. Saturday morning found me slightly well rested, once I had fallen asleep I slept well, and my dreams were fun. I woke up and wandered down stairs for breakfast. "Hey did everything go ok taking Kyle home last night?" I asked my dad as he cooked the sausage. "For the most part, he asked me to drop him off away from his house. Why didn't you tell me he was Jeff's kid?" He peered at me. "Who is Jeff?" I asked seriously, that name had no specific meaning to me. "He works down at the auto shop, and he is known for his ill temper. Does he treat Kyle ok?" Dad was extremely intuitive; it came with the Sheriff territory. "Honestly, I'm not sure; we haven't exactly been friends for a long time." I said. What I said was true too, but I wasn't planning to tell him the entire thing. There was a knock at the door. "I'll get it." My dad nodded as I got up to go to the door. I placed my hand on the door knob and turned it. The door came open... "Hel..." A tear-filled Kyle fell through the door and into my arms. "Kyle what's wrong, what happened?" I led him over to the steps and sat him down, the closest seat. He was leaning on my shoulder now, and he was shaking. He continued to cry and shake. He couldn't talk because he was gasping for air. "Kyle, calm down, breathe." He took a deep breath and settled down to just leaning on my shoulder. "Take him up to your room let him lie down." My dad had come into the room unnoticed and understood the problem, more so then I did at the time. "Come on, Kyle." I wrapped my arms around his waist and rose with him, getting him up the stairs was easy, now the he had stopped hyperventilating. I pushed the door to my room open and led him over to my bed. We sat down on it and I lowered him down to my pillow. His hand found mine and I clasped it tightly. "He hit me..." He said quietly. This was what I was afraid of, Kyle was one of the toughest guys I knew (or so I thought) and I knew that if he was upset like this something was seriously wrong. "Where..." There were no visible marks on his face, so I knew this had happened before. It was the same thing Kyle had gotten good at doing to me, hitting me to make sure no mark showed up. He raised his shirt a bit and I saw several old bruises, but as his shirt came up I saw a striped bruise that look dark enough to be fresh. It was from a belt, I could tell from its length and width. It made me sick to see such an atrocious thing done to him. "What happened, Kyle?" I held his hand tighter and put another one on his hip, trying to avoid bruises. "When I got home last night, he was drunk, and he was pissed that I hadn't been home. I hadn't done anything for his food, and then I came home...happy. He didn't even give me a chance to talk; he already had the belt in his hand. I left as soon as I could; it was early in the morning when I actually got out side. I stayed outside for a couple of hours, wandering, and eventually, accidentally I found myself in front of your house." He had turned his face into my pillow so that he wasn't looking at me anymore. "I remembered what you said about being welcome here; I hope that this isn't bad. I didn't know where else to go...and I didn't want to go back." A tear fell down his cheek. "I said you are welcome and you are welcome always." I took my hand and wiped the tear away. There was a knock at my door, and I got up to answer it. "Here, I thought you guys could use some breakfast." I took the tray that my dad had passed to me from the hall. He didn't come in, and I knew that he did that for good reason. He wanted to give him a chance to talk to someone that he trusted. (I hope he trusted me.) I shut the door after giving my dad a look that was worth more than just a smile. I knew that I would have to talk to him, and tell him what was up. "How about some food?" I walked back over and he sat up a bit. He took a fork and began to play with his food. "You will get through this...I am here for you, and you're welcome to stay here...I don't care what my dad says...but I think he would agree." He leaned and hugged me tightly. "I don't know what I did to get you to talk to me yesterday, but I'm glad I did. You are an amazing person, and I'm just a jerk." A tear fell down his face on to my shoulder. "You have a good heart; you have just had a hard life. I hold no grudges against you." I said as I slightly pushed him back. "Now eat your food, I'll be back in a second." I looked back at him as I opened the door, he was looking down at his food, and a tear fell into his eggs. He sniffled and then scrapped some eggs up on his fork and shoveled them into his mouth. I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where my father was sitting with a cup of coffee and a news paper. "Thanks for the food dad. So I guess that answers your question whether he treats him right or not. Dad he can't go back there, he has belt bruises." I said slowly. "If that's so I don't think he will be going back, not if I have anything to say about it, I'll make the calls I need to tonight. He can stay here as long as he needs to, but he will have to stay in your room." He looked at me questioningly; I smiled up at him sincerely. "That's fine; my bed is big enough for the both of us I think." I turned and walked toward the stairs. "Hey Andy, see if he wants to go to church with us tomorrow, if not you two can stay here." He looked back at his paper with a smile. "Ok dad!" I walked back up the stairs, and opened my door. Walking in, he looked up from a clean plate and smiled at me. His hair was a mess and he looked really tired. I grabbed a pair of my sleep pants, some boxers and a night shirt that was bigger than normal so I knew it would fit him. "Why don't you go take a shower and then come back and take a nap, you look worn out." I said as I fumbled for the clothes. "But I don't have any spare clothes." I turned as he said this and handed him what I had gathered. He looked at my clothes with a look of disbelief. He stood and up and gave me one of those tackle hugs where you have no choice but to drop what you have in your hands and wrap your arms around the hugger to keep from falling. That's what I did, and I found myself holding him as tight as I was being held by him. We released lightly, keeping our arms around each other and looked into each other's eyes. His dazzling blues looked happier then they had in a long time. "I don't deserve a friend like you..." Normally the thought of hugging another guy like this would have caused two boys to throw down their arms and act like they didn't know what had happened in the last few minutes, and I don't know what kept his arms around me, but I knew that for myself this felt perfectly right. "You should get in the shower." I said slowly. He shook his head slightly as if coming out of a dream and dropped his arms. He walked around me and opened the bathroom. I had a bathroom that was conjoined with my dad's `writing room' although he didn't use it much anymore. I used it more than he did. "Towel is on the rack." I said at the door as the water came on. I kicked something as I shuffled my feet. I looked down and saw the stack of clothes for him that I had dropped. I went to the door and tried to turn the knob but he had locked it or it had been locked by habit already. I folded them up and sat them at the corner of my bed and lay down thinking. He was a quick shower taker, and I was surprised when he walked out with just a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was dangling across his face in wet streaks; each dark blond lock was dripping down his face. I had never realized exactly how thin he was, I could see a faint outline of his ribs. My eyes traveled down his chest, and past his naval, over the towel, down his legs. There was a light dusting of blond hair on his legs. The door of the bathroom slowly closed and clicked as it latched. The sound dragged me back to reality. "Forget something?" I said slowly. "Yea..." He walked over to the bed and gathered his clothes up in one hand and went back to the bathroom door. He turned the knob but nothing happened. "Oh! It locked, I'll go get a paper clip, it's the best way to open it, and the other door is always locked." I left the room making sure to shut my door. I walked to the study room and grabbed a paper clip from the desk, and walked back to my room. I slowly opened my door, and I stopped, mouth gapping at the door. Kyle was standing with his back to the door, towel drying his hair, naked. His back was strong, muscled nicely; I noticed the bruises that were all but fading on his back. I followed a belt mark down and my eyes traveled to his round but firm butt. I was staring and I knew that my face had flushed a bit. He stopped drying his hair and slowly turned to face me, and in pure shock his dropped the towel and cupped his hands over his privates. His face flooded red. "Everything okay up there?" My dad called from the foot of the stairs. I gathered my senses and called back to him. "Yea, we are good." I jumped into my room and quickly closed the door. I stood facing the door, I had just glimpsed his penis, and I wasn't disgusted. "I...I'm...I'm Sorry." He stammered. "No, its ok I don't mind." I said slowly. In my head I was thinking of what to say `Yes this is ok because you I know I see guys penis' all the time, although yours in nice'...or... `I don't mind, would you like to see mine.' I could have kicked myself for thinking this stuff. I didn't know what I wanted at the moment, all I knew is that I didn't want him thinking he had done something wrong or anything of that nature. I slowly turned around to see him pulling up the sleep pants over, the boxer briefs I had given him. They were tight his legs were thicker than mine, and I could see a noticeable bulge as the pants slid over his hips. He threw the shirt on and stood there awkwardly. "So how about that nap? You can lie down and sleep as long as you'd like." I smiled and waved my hand toward the bed. "I think I will..." he walked over to the bed and lay down, smiling at me. "I'll be in the next room if you need anything." I stood up as he closed his eyes and slid out of the door and quietly shut it. I walked downstairs to talk to my father again. He was sitting in the living room, reading a book as I wandered in. "Hey, thanks for letting him stay here. I'm really scared about what his father could do to him." "Its fine, I would rather him be safe here than somewhere else in pain, but there is something you're not telling me." He looked over his glasses and gave me the piercing look that I couldn't deny. I stared at the ground and took a deep breath. I continued to tell him the entire story, from the beginning of him picking on me until now. "But he is different now, he needed friendship, and he has never gotten it. He doesn't scare me at all; he is a great guy, just severely mistreated." My father gave me a look that said he wasn't sure how to take it. "Dad seriously, he isn't the same, he was just mistreated and it came out on me. He has realized that I can be a better friend." I had decided that I would leave out the severity what he had done to me and the fact that he had taken my lunch money. "And..." "You've said enough, he seems like a good kid...misunderstood perhaps...but good none the less. I made one of the calls I had to make and found out that he has family that lives in the town." "Really? That's great!" I smiled at him, it was great to realize that I had such an understanding dad; it was strange that some people were just so different; my dad had never raised a hand against me. My dad was incredibly perceptive, which scared me because at this time I was holding a ton in and I did want to talk to him about it, but I don't think now is the right time. "I'll be in the study room, Kyle is sleeping." "That's good. Have fun." He said. I walked up the steps and into the room that held our computer. It was a nice-sized room, and I could spend a long time in here, just writing or reading. Today, I had a lot to get out so I wrote for several hours and lost track of time. I wrote everything that came to mind, made a few post to a story website I frequent, published a few blog poems, and a few other creative outlets. It was mid afternoon when I jumped out of my skin because of a hand touching my shoulder. "Oh! Oh...how are you feeling?" I said as I turned around and realized that it was Kyle that had touched me. He looked significantly better, well rested and smiling. He had a nice smile. I knew what was happening I had dreamt about it, written about, read about. I was falling for him, and it scared me. I pulled up a chair from next to the desk and patted the seat. He slid into it and pulled his long legs up with him. He was thin enough to sit in the like that, so was I but it didn't look comfortable to me. "I'm good, I feel good." He gave me that smile again, and I nearly melted right there. "What are you working on?" Um...what could I tell him? The truth? No, not now...I don't want to scare him away. Most of my writings had been about him, in some form or fashion. "Oh, this and that, nothing much." I said avoiding the answer all together. "You said you wanted to read some of my stuff, still interested?" He smiled at me. "Of course!" I said excited I really did want to read his writing. He slid the keyboard towards him a bit and began to type. "I use the School Computers to post my stuff, online." He double clicked something and I turned to look a website that I knew well. It was the website I had just closed and where I posted all my favorite writings, under a pseudonym. There was what looked like a poem sitting on the screen. So I started to read. ~Love has stabbed me blind, Once again I find myself torn. One to that whom true love lies And the other where love causes scorn. Desire tempts those of faint heart And holds those weak under spell. I reach for an answer, not gaining And I learn what I know to well. One is safe but is it honest? One is honest but is it safe? A choice have I made, to Question life's choices on loves ways. When an answer I find, love will Be to late, and both shall move away. What love is right, and who shall Tell me so? Safe told by mother Fun told by Father Desired told by Sister Required told myself Honest and strict told by the lord. Which one is true?~

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Park Toilet

Park Toilet by ZebraBob

This story is partially based on some true events, but I'm not going to say which ones are which. Gosh, ain't I a stinker?

Back in the summer of `81, I was a graduated senior, fresh out of school, dating a sweet little brunette who liked to make out but was saving herself for marriage so I had to find alternate means of getting my rocks off after our dates.

One night, after dropping her off at her house I headed off in my truck to one of the locations I knew about in my small hometown where a guy could almost always be sure of getting some action.

It was after eleven when I drove thru the entrance to the small public park. The sign at the entrance listed the times that the park was open, but there was no gate or chain blocking the way and I was needing to take a piss anyway so I had a legitimate excuse to swing by and hit the head. The cinder block building housing the mens and womens toilets was close to the entrance but the road was only one way and you had to go all the way around to get to it. There was a river that encircled about three quarters of the park, defining its shape and as I drove around the outer edge I noticed that there weren't any cars parked. It was a little odd that there was absolutely no one in the park, every time that I'd ever been there, day or night, there was always at least a couple of cars around.

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Marine Surprise

I wrote this almost 2 years ago and now I feel it's time to let you read it.


MFM, MMM, military, surprising situations

My buddy and I had a couple of weekend passes, but there was a small problem. Neither of us had enough money for a hooker.Joe solved that by suggesting we share a bitch between us.We had done it before and it worked out alright. There are just things you have to accept and other things to avoid with two big marines in bed with one woman.I mean, we both can't fuck her at the same time, but also we both shoot huge loads so we're going to be getting each other's cum on us.And sweat and spit.I'll kiss her and then Joe, so he will almost be kissing me.And if I eat her pussy, I'll probably be drinking some of Joe's cum.

These are just some things that happen and you got to be ready for them.

So we go to our favorite off base bar and started cruising the women.This is an active night with lots of tits and tight asses in short skirts.But when they hear that we both are gonna fuck the same one, you should see the looks we get.We are both big chested, slim waisted, big cocked Marine manstuds. And of course good looking to boot.I guess none of these women thought they could handle us both.

It almost looked as though we were going to be left high and dry but then someone whispered in my ear about a new crazy bar just down the road.Chicks and guys all dancing on the bars, any kind of scene we could imagine.Maybe Joe and I would luck out yet.

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Work Out Gym Photography

My name is Craig, and I own and manage a fitness gym in a suburb of Chicago.

I am 32 and as you can imagine, I am well built and toned.I don't go in for over developed muscles or body weight.Just good looking healthy bods are my thing.For myself, I'm 5'11", weigh 175#, and have a blond crew cut and blue eyes.I sport a 7" cut tool, if it is any of your business.I guess it is your business if you are reading this story for what I think you are.

We tend to get a crowd in the gym at about 5 PM and they are usually cleared out by 11 PM.

A short while ago a photography studio opened about two doors up the street from the gym.The photographer, a dude calling himself Danny, stopped by one evening and introduced himself.He said he had put together portfolios for body builders in the place where he worked, before opening his own studio.He asked me to recommend him to any body builders or would be models who wanted a book or portfolio.He would cut me in for 10% on anyone who I sent to him.It sounded good so I let him put up a sign in the entrance.He said he would do a portfolio for me in exchange for using the gym for a month.I told him "what would I need with a portfolio?"He told me "Craig you're a hunk, and I could get you into some magazines for sure.The magazines pay big, depending on how much you want to show."I laughed and told him that I would think about it.I told him to go ahead and use the gym any time.I got Danny some sweats and he did some presses and set-ups.Later when I had closed the gym and we were in the shower, we checked each other out.Danny was not a hunk but he was very good looking. His package was good size and his cut cock looked to be about 6 1/2"" when hard, but who was checking that?Danny told me that I was gorgeous and sexy and he could sure get me some modeling jobs if I wanted.Again I just laughed and let it slide.Danny came around a lot for exercise and he continued to pressure me to do some modeling.

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In Praise Of Older Black Man

My fifth true story and reflection on my life as a gay man in America.Not about youngsters in their prime, not about thin, cute girly boys who whore around sucking twenty cocks a day...just about a man who enjoys the sexual company of older black men.

I have learned to appreciate the art of lovemaking, cocksucking and orally entertaining mature men of all races and types.I detest femininity and am not into doing men half my age.I relate to men in their fifties and up and particularly African American men.

As I said in previous stories, whether in an alley, men's room, bedroom or a park bench, black men really know how to appreciate a man who can give a good blow job.Black men are also very good at letting a white guy sip from their bladders.

In previous stories I talked about incidents in a movie theatre parking lot, a pinelands episode, a man from a local store and my alley buddies.This story is about a few of my black buddies that I have come to love...

To me there is nothing sexier than watching a man walking up to a urinal, open up his fly, yank out his hang and hit a splash on a urinal drain.The look of satisfaction on his face, the way he holds his cock, if the man is uncut it is whether he gently skins his hood back or lets it fly through his closed funnel. The excitement is definately hightened when the man is using my mouth as the urinal or blow job machine.

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