I could not wait for the end of the school year. I could remember earlier years waiting for school to finally end but none of them seemed to takeas long to finish as the Fourth Grade. As the summer got closer, thetemperature during the day got hotter and hotter just as the sexualexcitement between my legs did the same. I learned about the pleasureof playing with my own peter last year when I had my first dry cum. Ithought that I had discovered the most wonderful thing in the world andI was sure I alone knew the secret, that wonderful pleasure between mylegs. All I knew is that once I discovered it I had to get that greatfeeling in my body every day and not just once each day. I didn'tunderstand it and was afraid that I would lose it or it would just stop butI knew enough to realize that however it worked my peter and balls wherethe primary source for it. Maybe that is why I became so interested inwhat men had between their legs. It was also then that I begin to lookfor the men's underwear ads in the clothing catalogues. I'd have ratherlooked at the real thing, particularly my Grandfather's thing, but Ilearned early the benefit of using whatever else was available that Icould get my hands on to increase my pleasure. As far as the ending ofthat school year was concerned, sure it would be the end of having to goto school every day so I could fill my days swimming and messing aroundon Grampa's farm, but most of all it meant Grampa and I would betogether, just the two of us. Every year Dad and I would go out toGrampa's farm for a couple of weeks but this year in the ninth year of mylife, I was considered old enough to stay out there just with Grampa. Ireally don't remember when Grampa became the object of my desire butI can still remember sitting in school with my little dick always hard andfeeling a different kind of warmth in the pit of my stomach when Ithought about him. What I had not yet figured out was how I was goingto tell Grampa what I felt.
When I reached my fortieth birthday, I had been married for nine years, with two kids, but since the divorce two years ago I saw the kids only on holidays. You see, I was straight, or so I thought. Where I grew up, there wasn't really much choice, not then anyway. There were what we called 'queers' around though, guys that dressed funny, and wiggled when they walked, but I never got involved in the popular sport of gay bashing like some of my friends did. I felt let other people live their lives their own way. I shied away from any of the guys at school, and later at college, and at the office, however, who were openly queer. I wouldn't be caught dead talking to any of them. You know how it is. You are known by the company you keep. I certainly wasn't gay! But I admit, I was curious.
I was thirty-two when I got married. "About time," my father said. I thought so too, and that's why I did it. I thought I tried to convince myself that I was in love when I married Christine, I wanted it to be love, but it wasn't, at least not the physical kind, and we both knew it almost as soon as the honeymoon was over. She just didn't turn me on. I really had to work hard at the sex thing with her, and we never had sex with the lights on. Truth is, I couldn't look at her naked body. I didn't find it attractive, and I was always embarrassed when I saw her that way. I used to have to really try hard to keep my cock up long enough to climax, and I think she knew it. After we came home from Miami, and settled into our new house and our regular routine, sex became a Saturday night thing that neither of us really enjoyed. Once, we thought about going to a marriage clinic, but didn't. We tried porno flicks, but I found myself watching the men, and was afraid that she would notice, so I told her I didn't like them. Our sex became routine. Sort of like, we had to do it because we were married. By the time our second child, a daughter, was born, we didn't have sex any more. That's probably why our marriage fell apart. We tried to keep up the pretense for the kids, slept in the same bed, and all that, but that didn't work for long, and one day Christine and the kids were gone. I wasn't sorry. Sort of relieved, really.
The crew had been pouring concrete in the hot summer sun since dawn. One of the new concrete workers was finding it especially difficult to concentrate around 4:45 on this Wednesday afternoon. Since starting the new job, Dan had become secretly obsessed with Mack, the brawny jobsite foreman.
To Dan, Mack was the embodiment of Daddy Bear perfection. Mack was a typical rugged, beefy lumberjack type, late forties, 5' 8" tall, 215 solid pounds with a husky fireplug build and a firm beer gut. With his olive complexion and features, he was unquestionably of Italian decent. His piercing translucent amber eyes, thick auburn brown, but graying hair and bushy beard, not to mention the visible graying fur spilling out from the collar of his buffalo plaid flannel shirt all added to his naturally masculine sex appeal. His massively developed mature chest, shoulders and arms sure didn't hurt either. Mack's stocky, over developed thighs were like tree trunks, stretching the 501's he wore almost past their usual design specs.
Looking back, I can't remember the times I passed on the opportunity to have a great sexual encounter. I think about it now and wonder why I chickened out, or wasn't more aggressive when a situation presented itself.
The first time was when I was a young teenager. One of the twins that lived next door to me, it was rumored, by my older brothers, was giving blow jobs to two of his older cousins who were visiting his family for part of the summer. My brothers indicated they were doing even more.
Well one time the twin boy and I were playing around in our haystack and he started to feel me up. We wrestled around and he got my pants open. I had already gotten hard, and he rubbed it making me delirious with excitement. I got brave and started groping him as well. Soon he had me out and was playing with my erection. It felt fucking great having someone else's hand touching my prick.
I soon opened his pants and took him out too. We were about the same size although he was a year older than me. He started jacking me off and I did the same to him. It didn't take long for me reach my peek. He started to bend over me like he was going put his mouth on my pulsing dick, but I put my hand up and stopped him. Something I still regret to this day.
It had been a glorious day and the night was warm and sultry and, to be honest, I could not sleep. At 1AM I climbed into the car and headed out into the Irish countryside and headed for a nice cove I knew just a short drive from home. As the lights of the city disappeared behind me I reached over and turned on the radio and searching the channels found some soft music to drive by.
I had been out of the city now for about 10 minutes when my headlights picked up a guy walking along the road his thumb out in the time-honored fashion looking for a ride.
Now at 1:30 in the morning walking dark country roads is not something I would like to be doing. Well not on my own anyway. So I slowed down and had a quick look at him. He was young. He looked okay so I stopped a little in front of him and watched as my rear lights picked out his form as he hurried towards the car. NICE, I thought to my self.
I hit the button for the window. "Need a lift?" I asked him. "That would be great, man," he said. "Where are you headed?" I asked. He told me and I said I was going that way anyway.
It was a year before my first anal experience and I had come to the realization that I was gay or at least bisexual. I was 18 at the time and had just given my first blowjob to an older man while jogging in the park. Since then Id taken to cruising the local parks that had all the tale-tell signs of cruising. They were somewhat empty, out of the way, occasional condom wrappers and tissues on the ground and had a few guys hanging out in the parking lot.
Since giving my first blowjob, I had given about 6 more in the following year. They were all older men, at least 25 years my senior, and I assume most if not all were married. The experiences were normally the same. The older guys would want to fulfill their fantasies of being with a younger boy and couldn't wait to have me service them, normally in the front seat of their cars. In the end, I always wanted to be fucked by one of these guys, but most of the encounters were quick blow-n-go's. I wouldn't even get a chance to open up the car door to spit before they'd be starting up the engine to leave.
My friend Norman and I decided to break up our holiday together which had included plenty of touchy feely stuff and lots more sucky, sucky stuff...but that's another story. We bought tickets to a touring Broadway show and took our seats. There was an empty seat next to me and in my usually grouchy fashion waited for the fat, smelly old lady who usually occupied that seat whenever this happened to me and I dreamed of the "special stud."
When the seat was still empty just minutes before the curtain, I held out hope for extra leg room, but then I heard a gasp from Norman and looked up to see a strikingly handsome, well built, well dressed man in his early thirties easing into the seat. My heart skipped a beat as the conductor raised his baton and the overture began as the house lights dimmed.
I felt Norman's hand almost immediately on my thigh, but instead of the usual gentle squeeze it was a push in the opposite direction. I was confused. Then it dawned on me. I glanced down at the powerful thigh on my right. This guy was built! Slowly I moved my right thigh to gently touch his left. He didn't pull away! Very, very slowly I moved infinitesimally closer as the curtains parted.
Like many people, I had gotten off early the day before Thanksgiving. Since the gym would be closed on Thursday, I decided to stop by the gym for a work out. It wasn't real crowded and I finished my workout quickly. I undressed and grabbed my towel to head for the shower. I noticed when I got in the wet area of the locker room, there were a couple of good looking younger guys getting cleaned up. Real nice eye candy to finish off the work out! One of the guys, that had a real fine formed ass, passed me and went into the dry sauna as I went to shower. The sauna is across from the showers. The only available shower for me had a view of the sauna. With the warm water hitting me I got a semi hard. I turned and faced the sauna and noticed that the young guy was sitting there getting an eye full of me! I'm 5'11", 175good shape...hairy as hell and 7"c. I don't look my 40 something age. After rinsing off, I headed to the sauna to check this guy out.
He was a 20 somethingcollege kid. About 6'1" 165 hairless except for his armpits and bush. He had a little treasure trail that led up to his navel. His light brown hair was about medium length. He had features that gave him the look of a model in a clothing adjust no clothes! I sat down across from him so I could get a good view. Damn he was hot! With him in my sight my semi hard was not about to go away. I looked up and we made eye contact. He glanced down at my semi hard and back up to my eyes. He smiled. I smiled back. He propped one leg up to show his goods even betterdamn he was hung too! Our eyes met again and he motioned with them to the door. I got up and went out into the locker room. He followed. In the locker area, he asked if I had a place we could go. I told him that I didn't have a place but we would find somewhere.
When Ms. Elisha came off the stage at the Bourbon Street female impersonators' club and swished into her dressing room, Chas Angle was waiting for her. The meta hunk had worn a muscle shirt barely covering the superhuman bulges of his torso and a silky pair of shorts that barely held the bulge of his twelve thick inches. So, when he asked her if she'd come pose for him for photos, her quick answer was "Honey, you can take me anywhere you want and do anything you want to me." She would regret that comment.
They went straight out to the alley and Ms. Elisha hiked up behind Chas on his motorcycle, stiletto heels and all, and wrapped her arms around Chas and hugged him tight. By the time they reached the plantation house on the Mississippi, Ms. Elisha had fully examined every curve and hard muscle of Chas's torso under his muscle shirt and had determined for herself that everything in that bulging basket at his crotch was the real deal. She was purring when they stopped in front of the old mansion.
Darrell Rice had just finished his college studies for the summer when he got this job at the small town newspaper. Staying in the dorm after the semester was a bit lonely, but he enjoyed the time away from home and the privacy on the floor. The trip to town was a quick ride, and his dad had given him the second car to travel to school and then use for the semester. He came into the newspaper job as an intern, based on his High School stint as school paper editor. He enjoyed the atmosphere in the newsroom, the manly camaraderie, sense of importance, the late nights discussing stories and leads. It was like being a quarterback, a detective, and psychoanalyst in one package. He wanted join in and needed an angle that he could sell to the editor-in-chief.
Mr. Meyers reminded him of his years in High School, on the Basketball team with his teammates and with the coach trying to figure out the strengths and weakness of the opposing team. He knew that the newspaper editor had played Football back at the same college Darrell now attended but those late nights at the bar he never went into detail, merely pointing to his knee and putting on a houndog look. That was the only time Mr Meyers ever looked the least vulnerable. With his wide shoulders, trim waist and steely grey hair he was an imposing force on the news floor. You could feel the ripple of fear and admiration as he strode through the newsroom barking orders, laughing at the latest foibles with the political staffers, winking at the secretaries who would never consider it sexual harassment, but instead blushed at the attention.
It was a cool, misty twilight morning as I headed to work. Everything was fresh and beginning to green. Not much traffic this time of day in our small town - just the few early risers out and about. When I came over the bridge which arched the railroad I saw him. I had come to call him "my runner" as I passed him along this route each day. His physique had been earned by his daily discipline of running. Appearing to be my height, 5'8", or an inch or two taller, he had dark brown hair which hung over his ears and a neatly trimmed mustache. His dark skin was always accented by bright nylon running shorts cut at the side revealing strong upper legs. A cropped T-shirt gave a glimpse of his flat stomach and navel. Its sleeves had been ripped out revealing a striking view of his taut brown chest and strong arms.
Each day I came by way of his path hoping to catch a longer look. My fantasies begin to increase, and I wondered what he was like, though I knew there was little chance we would ever know each other.
"Okay, stand straight, arms relaxed at your side," I said to the fourteen year old hottie whose feet I was at. I held a measuring tape at his ankle then up against the bottom of the bulge in his white cotton briefs, pushing slightly while I took my time measuring his inseam. The boy giggled a little at the intrusion but didn't say anything as I bumped up against his boy stuff a couple of times, and what respectable boy stuff it appeared to be. Then I measured his waist, reveling in the fact I was eye level with a terrific belly as well as face to face with his boyhood bulge and that seemed to be moving slightly. I quickly finished since the boy's mother was waiting for him and left the fitting room so he could dress.
I loved boys. It's a big part of the reason why I stayed in type of job I was in. I'd started as a clerk in the men's department of a large department store. It was a fairly easy way to help with college and worked my way up to manager of a more exclusive men and boy's store, dropping out of college in the process. In any case I loved boys and I thought that they were about the coolest thing on the planet. I loved everything about them, how they looked, acted, talked, rough housed, smelled, felt. Hell, what else can I say? Because of my job I'd seen plenty of boys in various stages of undress, often clad only in underwear, as well as fully naked and that more frequently that one might guess.
I perched in the chair in the doctor's office next to my Momma, my legs dangling over the edge. Mom was upset, I could see. The doctor had that look that doctors use, when they have to tell you something really, really bad and want you to sit there and take it. "Mrs. Marsh, you know how extensive your husband's injuries were." he started.
I nodded along with my Mom. Dad had been really messed up when those steel girders had landed on him. I hadn't seen it, except on television before my Mom caught me and shut it off, a big pile of stuff and one hand sticking out of it, and me thinking, "That's my Daddy under there." Funny, but I wasn't upset at that. I guess, when you're my age, you still haven't figured out that you can die. Or that your Daddy can.
"Yes, I know." Mom said.
"We've done what we can for him." the doctor went on. "Medical science can do wonderful things these days, what with electronic medical assistant devices and nanocircuitry." He paused, then said, "But no amount of science can't put back what isn't there any longer."
When I was 11 years old my Mom's youngest uncle broke his ankle and came to stay with us for a while. Richard was a neat guy you really took care of himself. I can't say I was physically attracted to him but I did think a lot about other boys and masturbated regularly with their pictures in my head.
Richard stayed with us in a small building out back of our house wired for electricity and had a small water cooler in it.
One weekend when my folks were gone Richard and I were togother and he was going to stay with me. He had just gotten off his crutches and had his cast removed. Instead of staying inside he asked if I wanted to stay in his room out back. Both of us crawled in with only our briefs and snuggled in.
"What to feel and see something fun?" Richard asked. When I replied "Yeah, I guess so" he put my hand down his pants to feel his nuts and what I thought was a massive hardon.
"Hey, promise me you won't tell your folks" he warned. I thought no way would I ever talk to Mom and Dad about this.