I was thirteen years old the first time I saw my dad naked. He was in his mid-30s at the time, very muscular, dark brown hair, buzz-cut with flecks of gray especially around the temples. He had just finished taking a shower and was finishing drying himself off in his bedroom. I had gone to his room to ask him if I could go play at my friend's house for the day and I saw him come out of the bathroom in the buff. He was a big, sexy man. About five foot ten, 195 pounds with a lean waist and a light covering of hair, he was also very handsome with blue-gray eyes, a square jaw and high cheekbones. He could have modelled for Colt if he'd wanted. His cock must have been six and a half inches dead soft and his balls were big, round and full. I felt giddy just looking at him and had trouble keeping my eyes away from his dick as I was talking to him. All the while he was casually standing there buck naked drying off in front of me! He and I were always very close, especially after he and my mom got divorced and he got custody of me. He'd regularly walk around the house naked and we would have very candid talks about sex if I ever asked him anything about it.
What are you doing alone? Why are you ignoring me? You lay there asleep, dreaming your dreams; men, hot, sweaty, muscled, nude, black, white, Latino, Chinese, you dream of them all. You tell me that you feel insignificant, insecure and inappropriate at times. Men do look at you when you go out. You don't notice; sometimes you don't care. You go out drinking, clubbing and sometimes tricking. It's an unsafe world we live in but you don't always care. You have made it through 40 years without an STD, injury or accident. Maybe you sometimes think that luck is on your side.
Alone but not alone is how you feel. You work, live and party amongst many people. You have a large number of friends. You have a loving, caring, large family. Yet you still feel alone.
I watch you when you go clubbing or simply out to drink. Flirt? That is way too simple a description for what you do! You seduce, intrigue and entice. No one is safe. Dance becomes a ritual for you. Men join you dancing and the ritual circle grows. You are average, nice looking but average; intelligent but not Einstein; funny but not Leno. Your ritual circle grows; men take off their shirts. Sweaty, lean, firm men kiss you, hug you; making you feel attractive, wanted, empowered. You feed off them like a vampire. You caress their firm chests, their firm ass; you wrap their sweaty hot bodies against yours. You still think of yourself as alone. In the bathroom, an attractive young black man, thanks for the dance earlier. You don't remember but pretend you do. You kiss, embrace and at one point your hands are on his ass and his hard dick that earlier was pressing into your crotch as you embraced. You walk out together, you buy him a drink and when he is distracted you disappear into the crowd. Your feeling of loneliness grows. Your belief that there is nothing out there for you grows. You feel like the last 20 years have been for nothing. Your attention span is short; your career life is short. Your friends ask, what's wrong? Why so snippy? Are you okay? You always tell them yes; no problem; nothing. You drink for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You look for happy hour. Beer isn't drinking; is what you say to yourself and others. You're Southern; Southerners don't drink until noon. Anything before noon is simply a good start. Even straight men like you. Straight men would turn bi for you. You have seduced several supposed straight men. They always come back to you eventually. You don't understand them, but the seduction is a victory to you. Then the loneliness creeps back in again.
Carl was older than me and had married my niece who was younger than me. Their marriage was rocky from the start as Carl had several run-ins with the law. It finally caught up with him and he was sent away to prison for three years. My niece couldn't take it and divorced Carl while he was put away. After he got out of prison, we saw one another occasionally and I had always liked Carl, so we remained civil and friendly to one another, as did Carl and my niece.
I had remembered her talking about him being restless in prison because he was horny and couldn't have visits. I asked my niece what he did about these situations and she said "he screws his bunk mate all the time". I was intrigued by this as I had been with several men myself over the years, but nothing long term or serious, just the occasional blowjob. I had run into Carl and invited him over for a beer and he accepted, as we had not touched base in months. I am 38 and Carl is 48, but in pretty decent shape, with a beer gut--just an average looking Joe--me too for that matter.
That Friday afternoon was a hot one and I sat at my patio table overlooking my very private garden. The neighbourhood was very quiet with most people still at work. How lucky I was, I reflected: my business largely ran itself and I only had to get involved with strategic decisions. Much of my time was free for me to enjoy myself. And I certainly had no trouble doing that.
I sat wearing only a skimpy pair of shorts that just about contained my huge cock and balls. My free time allowed me to keep my body in shape. Time to work out is quite essential when you get to the age of thirty-five. Guys find me very attractive and just love my cock. You could say that I'm a cock happy kind of man.
Just as I felt the sun was beginning to burn my skin, I heard my doorbell ring. I had not expected anyone to call that afternoon and wondered who it was.
I opened it and thrilled at the sight of Harry, my next-door neighbours' boy. He was, like me, dressed only in shorts. He was a handsome twenty-one year old who had an exciting, smooth young body. His chest was beginning to develop well and his large dark brown nipples were ripe for sucking. If only, I thought to myself.
Have you ever had a knock at your door and when you opened it found a young guy smiling at you ? Before you had the time to say anything he launched into a presentation inviting you to have a free, no-obligation quotation for replacement windows and doors ?
No - then let me tell you that you have been lucky but don't worry your time will come !
Yes - then I wonder if it was on my lads who called on you.
The UK double glazing industry, selling replacement windows and doors together with such things as conservatories and other home improvements not usually within the skills of an average DIY homeowner is one big rip off. Products are sold and fitted at many times the true cost leaving enough profit for everyone involved to take a sizeable share. At the bottom of the double glazing hierarchy are these guys who go door-to-door looking for potential customers. The industry calls them foot canvassers or marketeers and every large company uses them. Each town up and down the country has its double glazing showrooms featuring such major players as Zenith, Everest and Anglian, all have their own marketing team of door-to-door canvassers. Some are more successful than others but turnover of members is high. A number of years ago I saw an opportunity to set up and run a team which would make me a lot of money. I had a longer term goal in mind and saw this as a way to build the finance. I took my business plan to one company who immediately accepted my ideas.
I don't usually go to bars, but I heard this bar is one where mature guys hang out. I'm not a kid. At 31, I'm hardly a virgin, but I haven't been with that many men, either. I'm not looking for a "daddy" -- I'm just looking for a man who has some experience and knows what he's doing.
I've been here about an hour nursing my one beer slowly. You and your friends showed up about 5 minutes ago. I see you checking me out. Thanks. Yeah, I know. Back when you were my age, you probably wouldn't have given me a second look. I wouldn't have been in your league. Back then, man, you probably could stop traffic.
Back then, I would have been too chunky, or too hairy, or too shy, or too nerdy. I don't care about back then. I'm hoping right now might work out. I think you're very good looking. Yeah, you've gained a little weight (love it). You've got some hair in your ears (makes me smile). Maybe you're even a quarter-inch shorter (don't understand how that happens). But, of course, your dick is the same size as it ever was.
Andy is a wanker.
More than that, Andy is an amazing wanker:- a fun-fucking-tastically amazing wanker !
Want to know more ?
Young Andy works for me, I am in fact his line manager or in old fashioned terms I'm his boss. He's a great lad - always smiling, more often than not down right cheeky although never directly rude, for ever full of energy and a great asset to the business. He's the sort of guy who was born on the wave of success and has surfed the crest of that wave for just over nineteen years.
Normally Andy drives himself to and from work, he passed his test earlier in the year, but last week his little old car was off the road and I offered him a series of lifts while it was fixed. It was during one of our journeys home after work that my story begins.
Even though these events took place only a few days ago I have to be honest and tell you that I can't exactly remember how the initial conversation began. Andy had been telling me how, when he had been at school, two boys were caught wanking by one of the teachers. (I have a very firm suspicion that Andy was one of those boys.) He went on to tell me a whole list of things he could do with his organ of manhood.
The boy, feigning disinterest, rolled an eye at me. He continued to lean nonchalantly against the alley wall, hip thrust out, one leg cocked and the too-tight jeans hugging his basket.
He lit a cigarette and tossed his head, causing the long blond hair to slip away from his eyes. It was a studied gesture, like the way he thrust his left hand into his trouser pocket and "casually" rubbed his balls.
I saw something that looked like a pager stuck on his belt, and it struck me as weird until I realized he probably had police connections. I'd heard that sometimes a hustler gave it up for a cop, and if the policeman liked the kid especially well, he'd give the boy an emergency device. You know, those Medic Alert-type things. The kid would activate it and instead of calling the Rescue Squad, it alerted the cop and you'd have some heavy explaining to do in about a minute and a half.
"Want to make fifty bucks?"
My cuz Dennis was 15 years older than I was, but he was one hell of a hot guy. He was tall and slim and had a big cock what I could see when he would take a piss when I was around. I use to dream about what it would taste like. Just the thought of his cock in mouth would make me hard.
I wasn't built like Dennis I was a small guy and I was young and my cock was small. One day while we were taking a piss together I noticed that he had a bonner. I just stared at it. It was the first time that I had see him with a bonner. Right away I sprung a booner as well. He looked over at me and asked, "You like what you see?" I didn't say anything. He said, "I see how you look at me when I take a piss."
"Yes, Dennis, I do like what I see. But I have somthing to ask you. My cock is so small how come?"
"Well, Jim, it is because you are still growing and your cock will grow as well."
"Ok, thanks, Dennis, I was wondering about that."
"You know, Jim, you are staying overnight at my house tonight. You know that."
I'm 64 years old and have been married and divorced twice. I had a few minor homosexual experiences when I was in my early twenties and in the army, but went on to date girls and eventually married a beautiful young woman. We had a son and a daughter, but when the oldest one was about ten years old my wife left me for another man, and took the kids. I lived alone for two years and then met someone who was living in my apartment house. We married and had a daughter. The marriage lasted three years. I left this time. Now, after all these years, I have three grandchildren and I live alone in a walk-up apartment in Manhattan.
If you know Manhattan you know that you can order food at almost any time of day or night, and whatever kind you want. About three months ago I called for a delivery of Sushi, which I've come to love. About 30 minutes later the doorbell rang and the delivery person arrived with my order. He was a boy in my eyes, perhaps 25 years old, somewhat Asian looking, with the smoothest skin imaginable. His smile was magnetic. I paid him but before he left he asked me if I could allow him to use the bathroom. I said of course, and showed him where it was.
As I sit here alone on a rainy Halloween night, I scan the club to see if there is anyone worth approaching. The entire place is illuminated by green lights, with white spotlights around the stage, and melted dry ice provides a feeling of classic spookiness.
Shall I describe what I am seeing on the dance floor? There are men of all ages crowding the dance floor, and the disco band has kept the music pumping. I enjoy watching all of the guys iron their sweaty bodies against each other. The enormous mirror ball casts small hints of light on gaudy costumes, and warlike face paintings. Leather flanks worn by butch men expose slivers of damp flesh, and practically absorb much of the glint. Scantily clad wallflowers enjoy the random company of men closest to them. The grotesque set pieces are largely ignored as ravenous men tear them down in the heat of passion. From where I am sitting, the smell of musk imbues the air, and my desire for a man skyrockets. As the vapor of dry ice continues to spread, I can see silhouettes of bodies amalgamating, and my memories start to creep.
Once upon a time, long ago in a faraway kingdom lived a poor, orphaned step-son, Albert, of an evil stepfather and his two equally evil sons. The stepson's daily task was to clean the fireplace (since there was no central heating in those days), and so he became known as Cinder-Albert, or Cinder-al, for short. Cinder Albert had to do all the chores of the mansion while his step dad and stepbrothers partied and abused him. He was usually required to perform his daily chores in the nude, since his stepfather refused to buy him any clothes and his stepbrothers refused to share theirs clothes with him. As he cooked and cleaned, his step dad and step brothers would heap their insults on him, taunting him about his large endowment hat would swing freely between his legs.
He was not permitted to touch himself, and often would get hard while cleaning and cooking for the other three. This would aggravate the jealous stepbrothers, whose endowments were not as large, until one day they persuaded their stepfather to place a ring through the head of CinderAl's cock, and tie it down to a special lock that was chained to a large and heavy ball that he would have to carry around. (They feared one day he might run away.) And so they hatched their plan.
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.
A little about me, and then I will get to the good stuff. I'm 18, 5'9, 155lbs, good shape and a track star at school. I live with my dad. He is a great guy, tough but fair. My mom has never been in the picture, and dad has raised me on his own. I have known my whole life that I was gay, so I guess I'm pretty lucky. Mostly, I have always been attracted to older guys; teachers at school, coaches, and especially my dad. My dad is in amazing shape. 6'3" broad shoulders, hard hairy pecs, thick arms, and flat stomach. Ever since puberty hit, I have had the hots for him.
So now to the good stuff. It was a Saturday about a month ago when everything began. I was enjoying a day where I didn't have to wake up and go to school. I got out of bed around 9:30 am with a raging hard on. I went downstairs and found that I had the house to myself. My dad usually works Saturday mornings, so I knew I had some time to play. Lately I have been going into my dad's bedroom and laying in his bed to jerk off. Sometimes I would pick up a sweaty jock or a pair of his underwear and sniff them as I jerked. I had got the idea from reading a story like this online, and found it to be very hot.