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Two Warriors


Two Warriors By Collage Maker

[A reworking with kind permission of Mars' "Pec Fight" at http://www.greasetank.com/pecfight.htm on the Grease Tank site.]

Dante grunted as he lifted the crushing weight of the barbell in each hand. As he lifted, the quivering slab of his pectoral muscles, flushed red from the hours of endless lifting and strengthening, solidified into a rock-hard mound, his large, hardened nipples capping the swollen edge of each pec.

The pecs, though massive and bulging off his muscled torso, fit the young bodybuilder's physique with his broad shoulders, swollen arm and leg muscles and ripped stomach.

His friends having left hours earlier, the 20-year-old Latino stayed in the empty gym to further strengthen his awesome physique before the finals of the Perfect Package contest the next day. Sponsored by a national workout equipment company, Dante would secure the championship for an unprecedented third time if he clinched it tomorrow.

The stakes were high with product endorsements and the pride of gyms across the country on the line. A couple of bodybuilders from out-of-town had gotten in Dante's face in the parking lot after the first day of competition this year and the trash talk quickly led to a fist fight. Dante was used to tough street fights, however, and finished the punks off quickly. Dante suffered a slightly swollen and bruised left eye, but refused to even acknowledge it.

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Pete And Re Pete


The most exquisite pleasure is giving pleasure to others.

Pete and Re-Pete by RimPig2007

How long had it been since I'd seen him? Five, six years? Ever since his marriage. He and the girl he'd met had come back home after that. They'd stayed for a week. His parents had invited me to the house for a welcome home party for them. He and I had talked for a couple of minutes, promising that we'd get together before I left town to go back to college, but we never did.

Now, here he was, coming through the door of Danny's, the same neighborhood bar that his dad and my dad had drunk in as friends. That's how we became friends first, the fact that our dads were. Neither one of us had brothers or sisters but we didn't need them. We had each other.We only lived a few doors apart and it was like we lived at each other's houses growing up.

"Hey, Steve. How you doin'?" he asked, coming up to where I was sitting at the bar.

"Okay, Pete. Pull up a barstool. How have you been. I heard from my mom that you were back in town." I said, indicating the empty barstool next to mine.

"Yeah. Decided I might as well come on home."

"So you're out of the Marines now?"

"Yeah. I put in ten years but I didn't want to go back to Iraq again so I decided to get out."

"How many times were you there?"

"Twice, but one deployment was for almost two years."

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Hotel Maintenance Man


There I was in New York tired and horny but after all those meetings I needed some rest. The hotel was good, and I needed some sleep. I thought a quick shower and then I would get some sleep so that I could face the next days meetings and then at least I would have the weekend t myself before flying out either on Monday or Tuesday depending on the outcome of Fridays meeting.

I had a nice room with a great view and so after ordering room service and catching up with some paper work I headed for the shower.For some reason or other the shower seemed not to work which I thought strange cause it had worked that morning. So I got on the phone and reported it and they said that they would send some one up.A couple minutes later there was a knock on my door.

"Maintenance man" I heard him say, so I opened the door and there he stood this tall Latino man wearing an overall and eyes that totally captured me. I let him in and followed him to the bathroom to show that the shower wasn't working.His head was clean shaven and I could see that he well built and from the back I could see his ass filling up those overalls and I wondered how big he was in the front but left him to do his job and went back into the room to finish my work. He was in there for a while but I got carried a way with my work. I was sitting on my bed with a towel around me when he eventually came out.

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Mark Just Knew


Mark knew it would happen. Sooner or later it would. He just didn't know who, when or where. And he hoped that given his usual conservative habits, he wouldn't let the moment pass with it could occur.

Stephanie had slid her hand down his swim shorts one summer. It was the first time he remembered anyone touching his private parts. Others had touched him years before obviously Doctors, parents and inquisitive cousins but he didn't remember them.

Mark remembered Stephanie. She said his was the first penis that she'd ever touched. Her fingers explored the length of his cock and juggled his testicles.

"You're not hard" she exclaimed. He had feared his cock would do exactly that. It wasn't that her fingers didn't feel good, they did.

Mark felt a tingle in his gut but not the usual feelings he had when he was about to masturbate. Or the little shivers he felt when he lay naked on his bed running the tips of his fingers of one hand on the other side of his body.

And it certainly wasn't a combination of pleasure and pain he felt when he pinched very hard the dark pink nipples that got hard and erect when he did so.

"Nice" she said when Stephanie withdrew her hand. "Wanna feel my tits?" she offered.

Truthfully Mark didn't care about her breasts. He remembered seeing his little baby brother suck on his mother's breasts when they were both younger. He stared but not because of seeing her tits. It was beautiful to watch.

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No Exit


The snow had been falling heavily for several hours. The branches of the trees, which lined the street, were crowned with easy and delicate layers of snow.

Inside, in our apartment, it was hot enough to go without clothes, and we had to open the window a crack from time to time.

Max was sitting by the fireplace, with a copy of Paradise Lost and a notepad, going over the poem. He had not taught it for several years, and now, with Taylor on sabbatical, he was going to.

My wrists were fastened above my head, spread-eagle, to the chinning bar suspended in the casement of the doorway that gave from one sitting room onto another. I was stripped of clothing, except for a cock-ring, a black leather thong, and a tight leather collar. Each nipple was clamped by a sharp, silver clip shaped like a tiny lion's claw. My toes just touched the floor. My body was as taut as a solid hard on.

The pain, what can I say about the pain that would make you understand what it was doing to me? I might say that it was almost intolerable in order to give you a sense of its intensity. But that would not do, because it is clear enough that I was tolerating it. But tolerating is entirely the wrong word. I was worshiping it, surrendering to it. I had become one with it. I was a piece of steel that felt what it was like to be tempered. Pain defined me. It stretched me out to my fullest and made me feel my outlines, my boundaries, the contact points between me and everything. It illuminated me. But it was pain. It was pain, not pleasure.

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Trio Fantasy Session


I'd spent many satisfying hours on the Internet Chat, and had made some friends. Mostly, we lived too far apart to meet in person, but we all fantasized about meeting, and enjoying mutual jacking sessions. Now it was another Saturday afternoon, and I lay back in my recliner with some paper towels and drifted off into my fantasy world... Bob and Rick were two guys with whom I'd enjoyed gratifying jack-offs on the chat. The main reason was that we were all uncut, and were able to relate to each other because we know the subtle and pleasurable nuances of an intact cock. This time, my fantasy was that we'd arranged to meet in a city convenient to us all. We'd agreed to split the cost of a luxury hotel suite to make it affordable. I'd arrived first, and arranged for the others to pick up their keys at the desk while I lounged in the suite's hot tub. Bob came in next, and I saw him shedding his clothes in the bedroom before he came out to the tub. Bob was 53, younger than I, and had a trim, athletic figure and salt and pepper hair. Our pricks were about the same limp, three inches, part of which was the long foreskin nipple in front of the cock-heads that bulged through our hoods. Bob eased into the water on my right and our thighs touched as we made small talk and fondled each other's cocks until they were hard. The hot water relaxed us, and I felt Bob's fingers clasp my foreskin nipple and begin rolling it. I squeezed his glans through the covering skin to make his cock-root throb. We turned our heads as the door rattled, and watched Rick enter. Our eyes were on him as he stripped and we saw his trim six-foot, 170 lb. frame appear. He had blue eyes and what was left of his hair was brown. My eyes are brown and my hair white. Rick also had seniority, as at 63 he was two years older than I. Unlike Rick, I weighed 215 lb. and had a middle-aged roll around my waist. Rick's tapering 3" cock dangled in front of his low-hanging ball sac, without a hint of the glans underneath the skin. He peered into the swirling water as he took his place on my left. I introduced them, as they'd never met. Rick looked at me questioningly and I grasped his prick with my left hand, feeling for the head. I gave it a few brisk squeezes, hearing him gasp at the sharp sensations this generated in his cock-root. "Feels nice, huh?" I asked as I continued to squeeze and felt his prick swell in my hand. Our cocks had swelled in the hot water, and the stimulation had brought them to full attention. "Ready to get up?" asked Bob as he gave my prick-head another squeeze. I looked at Rick, who nodded affirmatively, and answered; "Okay. Let's go." As we stood, we took in each other's hardness. Rick's six-inch cock curved slightly left, and the opening in his foreskin widened to reveal his long slit as it slid half-way down the head. The musky aroma of foreskin filled the air, and now that his prick was full-hard, we saw that the head was slightly wider than the shaft. My six-incher had a straight shaft, and the bulging helmet was definitely thicker than the shaft but still fully covered by its hood, which formed a tight pucker at the end. Bob's hard-on was slightly shorter than mine, about the same medium thickness, and the same big bulging helmet that showed the outline of its ridge through the tight skin. "Glad to see your skin is tight, like ours," Bob said to Rick as he rolled the end of Rick's foreskin between his fingers. "I think it feels better that way." "It gives just the right pressure to the head," Rick replied. "That way, I can slide it with just two fingers and the friction on the head is perfect." "Jack likes to have his hood skinned back slowly so he can feel its nerve endings stretch as the big head spreads the skin." Bob demonstrated by slipping my foreskin back just enough to expose the teardrop shaped hole, then pushing it forward again. "That feels so good," I added as I cupped Bob's balls. Bob replied by skinning my prick back farther this time, baring the big blunt nose. "I like your pee-hole," Rick said. "It's just like mine." Bob pushed my hood forward again, then eased it back to stop just in front of the ridge. Rick's fingertip tapped on the end of my rock-hard glans, filling it with sensation. "His helmet's a lot like mine," Bob explained to Rick. "See how the big ridge flares?" He pushed the hood forward again, then stripped it back to drop into the deep groove behind my flaring purple ridge. "Lovely," Rick whispered. "I really like that." I gave Rick's cock-head another squeeze through the covering skin and suggested: "We ought to take a shower, wash those chemicals off us." Bob and Rick sniffed the odors of bromine and chlorine emanating from our still damp bodies and nodded agreement. The shower was a large glass enclosure that held the three of us with room to spare. I adjusted to water to as hot as the tub had been, and we rinsed off under the needle spray. Our cocks had begun to soften and the hot water on the head produced a familiar urge in my bladder. "Anyone have to pee?" I asked as I slid my hood forward and pinched the end tightly. I relaxed my crotch muscles and felt the flow begin, filling the fleshy sleeve until it ballooned. Rick did the same, and I saw his thick hood bulge. "Look at mine!" Bob said, and we turned our eyes to his crotch, where his fingers pinched the end of his foreskin. Mine was stretching so much it began to feel uncomfortable, and I let go, watching the heavy yellow gush drop down to the drain. A moment later, Rick and Bob released and retracted their hoods. Our three streams mixed in the bottom of the shower pan as we emptied ourselves, and we left our hoods skinned back to rinse our cocks thoroughly. We left them that way as we dried ourselves, enjoying the sight of our three big glossy purple tips dangling at the ends of our cocks. "My tight skin acts like a tourniquet when it's back," I said. "See how it makes the head bulge?" "Mine's the same way," added Rick, and we turned to look at Bob's swollen purple helmet, with the tight collar of skin behind the ridge. We spread towels on the bed to catch our juices and sat facing each other, legs intertwined, and my right hand fell to Bob's cock and began pinching the head again. Bob slipped Rick's hood forward with his right hand, and cupped his low-hangers with his left. Rick in turn slid my hoof forward and began rolling it sideways over the head. Within seconds we were full-hard again, and I felt a drop of lube crawling slowly up my urethra. Rick held my hood back and began to tap lightly on my exposed glans, working from the big round dome at the front down to the flaring ridge, then underneath to my hot spot. I skinned Bob's hood back and saw that his slit was pouting with clear drops that parted its thick lips. I spread the drop of lube around his teardrop shaped orifice, making him gasp with delight. As more lube appeared, I spread it all over his glossy purple head, watching as it darkened under my touch. "That looks so nice," Rick said as he stared at Bob's swollen head. "You're lucky to have such a beautiful tip on your cock." He continued tapping my cock-head with his fingertips, and I heard myself moan as the sensations filled me glans. "Yours is nice too," Bob said as he continued to tease Rick's foreskin back and forth slowly over the shiny head. Rick took a deep breath and shuddered slightly. We continued to work each other's pricks, delicately and carefully, wanting to keep the sensations coming but without the mad rush towards orgasm that would finish it too soon for us. "It's nice to take our time," said Rick as he squeezed my shaft to compress the veins and make the head stand out more. "I like to take my time too," agreed Bob. "Oh, I know," I said. "A nice long build-up makes the orgasm more intense." My fingers continued to explore the sexy contours of Bob's cock-head, working around the big dome, then back to the ridge, into the deep groove behind it, and caressing the hot spot under the head. "I jacked my prick the other morning with that rolling motion you told me about," Rick said to me as his fingers danced over my cock-head. "I've got just enough skin to cover the head if I hold it in place, and it felt so good." Bob pulled Rick's hood up over the bulging head, testing its fit. The sleeve slid smoothly up over the contours, and then Rick's head was hidden underneath, the flaring ridge bulging through its protective covering. "I'd really enjoy if you guys made me come with that rolling motion," he said. "Well, it looks like Rick goes first," I suggested to Bob. I let go Bobs prick and gently pushed Rick flat on the bed, grasping his shaft at the base. I squeezed because I knew he'd enjoy the feeling as more blood filled his cock. Bob straddled Rick's thighs and he cupped Rick's balls lovingly, caressing the insides of his thighs with the other hand. I moved to Rick's right and grasped the end of his foreskin-covered prick firmly between my palms, making sure the skin didn't slide back, then began moving my palms in opposite directions. I felt his prick throb responsively in my hands as I began pouring hot sensations into it. Rick lay with his arms outstretched, enjoying the feeling. Bob spread a towel over his chest and stomach to catch the juice that would shortly be gushing from his engorged prick. "Try to relax," I urged Rick, "That way it'll be better for you." I moved my hands faster, knowing that this would drive him to orgasm quickly despite his efforts at relaxation. I knew what he was feeling in his prick, as I vividly remembered how my prick had felt when my buddy Stan had done that to me. I saw that Bob's scrotum was tightening in Bob's cupped hand, drawing his balls tightly against his body. I twisted Rick's foreskin back and forth between my palms, and saw that the end of his cock-head was visible in the wide opening. His slit was leaking lots of lube now, filling his foreskin as I twisted it over the engorged head. I went faster and saw that Rick's eyes had closed as waves of sensation washed over him. "He's close, real close," Bob muttered as he continued to caress Rick's inner thighs. "He's gonna explode any second." I felt Rick's cock swelling to its final hardness between my palms, and worked his supple hood faster. Rick groaned loudly, his body stiffened, and suddenly his hips bucked, thrusting his hard cock between my palms. I heard him cry out "Jack, Jack!" in joyful agony as his mind-numbing orgasm began. His head rocked from side to side as his prick erupted, sending a thick rope of white cream onto his chest. His hips bucked upward again, and this time the hood slid abruptly off the swollen head, which now lay naked between my palms. I rolled his prick harder, knowing that the direct friction on the head would send him to new heights of ecstasy. His hot glans throbbed in my hands as it spat another torrent of cream, and I could vicariously feel his orgasm. Bob's fist tightened around the base of Rick's shaft as the hot hard prick shot another load. The room filled with Rick's cries of pure joy as I tortured his naked, sensitive cock-head between my palms. He writhed helplessly as wave after wave of sensation filled his shuddering body. His face was contorted in the sweet agony of orgasm as Bob and I watched his cock spurt again and again. White cream had spilled all over my hands and I rubbed it into his throbbing glans to make him spew even more. The throbs weakened, and the jets became dribbles as Rick slid down from his high. I heard him screech "Stop!" and I knew his tip had become super-sensitive. I stopped rolling his prick, letting it throb in my hands, and felt it become still as his body relaxed. "Man%2 C that was a hot one," Bob muttered to me. "He really went for it." He got up and returned from the bathroom with a hot towel, which he laid over Rick's softening cock. Rick opened his eyes and looked at us tenderly, with wordless gratitude. Bob's cock had been drooling lubricant constantly for the last few minutes, and without a word I pushed him flat on the bed. Rick cupped his balls with one hand and began caressing the insides of his thighs. I spread a towel over him, then clasped his shaft with one hand and pulled the hood all the way back to bare the shiny purple head right to the groove. My fingertips began caressing his hard, sensitive glans lightly, making him moan and squirm from the first touch. More lube gushed from his hole, lubricating my fingertips as I brought him closer to the point of no return. Bob was already worked up from our mutual play and helping to make Rick come, and within seconds his legs were trembling as he struggled to hold back his orgasm. I wouldn't allow it, and continued my maddening touches on his super-sensitive glans, feeling it harden even more under my fingertips. Bob's eyes closed, and I felt the first hot hard throb as his tip erupted, shooting a thick jet f white cream onto the towel as he roared "Jack, Jack, Jack!" His hips bucked as he shot another torrent of cream, shaft throbbing in my fist. Rick and I watched his purple tip blast another jet that arced in a foot-long trajectory.

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June Spoon


June Spoon By Timothy Stillman

I awoke that early morning in the new year, soft warm breezes, an ocean that went on forever, in placidity, in contentment. In my warm soft bed, my window open to January, the touch of my sheet over me, nakie save for my favorite black undies, come on them from last night's masturbation, and was an open tender heart for everything. I had time. I was 15 and in love, and loved in return. No more school `till March. Time for making love, and TV and eating and going to the mall. New Years' was when we came out. New Years' full of plenty ahead and hand holding and fears gone away.

I smiled to myself and put on my glasses from the bedside table, my Harry Potter glasses, and I stretched my long and skinny body and closed my eyes in that delicious state when morning means a whole day of glassy sun and roaming with friends and laughter--god, the laughter, and the sheer fun of life--even going to the grocery with my mom was fun. Being me and nobody else and run I thought and swung my legs out of bed, the rest of me coming with them of course, peeled off my undies and dressed in summery clothes, in wintry soft light blue shirt and shorts and tennis shoes, wondering and feeling every part of myself, my hand on my crotch, stroking my penis hard, my butt cheeks clinching back and forth, not conceited, just me, kind and polite and an elf and an imp inside me.

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