Awoken from a dream

When I was in my early twenties, I began to frequent a gay bar about 20 miles from my house. I was very shy and nervous and would usually plop myself down near the bar and not make eye contact with anyone. Over time, I became more comfortable with myself and my surroundings. I would always try and get the best vantage point sitting at the bar - one that allowed me to be seen as well as give a good view of the crowd and the folks coming in. One winter night, I was shocked (and a little nervous) to see a co-worker of mine pop into the place.

Roger was in his early 40's - his look average and very corporate-cookie cutter for the mid-80's, with graying receding hairline and glasses. Roger was always friendly at work, so I called him over and we began a nice long chat. Although there was 20 years between us, I found it very easy to talk to Roger. Over the next few months, we developed a close platonic friendship both at work and socially.

A few months down the road, I needed to move - I wasn't making a lot of money and that time and Roger graciously allowed me to rent a spare room in his home. He offered his home as if it were mine - allowing me to have friends over, blast my stereo, and take control of the tv. The guy had a big heart! Our platonic friendship blossomed and I felt very comfortable living in Roger's home.

About a year or so into this living arrangement, the stress of my job coupled with some family issues I wasn't dealing with resulted in a few episodes of night terrors. Three hours into sleep, I would start to have a bad dream and, often, start screaming or yelling. I would wake up panting and sweating and feeling badly at the thought of perhaps waking Roger (down the hall in his own room) because of this. Roger began to keep his bedroom door on a crack and would knock on my door and call my name if one of these episodes occurred.

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Uncle bob

Here I was again.....in my favorite spot, in my favorite position, doing my favorite thing! My eyes viewed the sight before me: a field of pink and dark brown filled my field of vision. I was savoring the taste of my favorite thing to eat.....cock! My mouth was filled with the hard, thick, long pole of a cock attached to my most beloved uncle: Bob. Uncle Bob and I have done this a countless number of times. Every time I do it, it is as hot as the first time.

Aaaah, the first time! I remember it as hotly and clearly as if it were yesterday. Uncle Bob and I have been together plenty of times since that first time and both of us love it just as much each time. The first time was quite some time ago. Uncle Bob and I were alone at my house. It was during summer and my family had gone away for an extended weekend at the shore for sun and fun. I begged off going because I had gotten a summer job and didn't want to jeopardize it by taking time off. My family tried to convince me to go along with them and was disappointed when I held out, despite their insistence..

Uncle Bob was two years older than my dad. I had been having lusty thoughts and dreams about my dad for a few years by this time. Uncle Bob was as sexy as my dad, if not more so. Both were hairy-bodied men which I found an immense turn-on. Dad was 2 years younger than his brother. While Dad was 5'11", Uncle Bob was 6'1", about 220 pounds and had a bigger frame than his younger brother. It wasn't long after I had lusty dreams about dad that I noticed Uncle Bob was like Dad, but more so. He had a heftier body, a barrel-shaped chest , densely haired arms, and I imagined a chest that was as hairy as my dad's....if that was possible. I've always loved my Uncle Bob but not like I did this day. The sexiest thing about this day is that it happened totally spontaneously.

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Coachs boy jarod

Coach York is 52, salt and pepper hair, big pecs, a little gut but still hard, nice guy, expects a lot, has a meaty hairy ass, hairy chest, and a very thick 9"uncut cock. He's got Jason, a guy on his baseball team, over for a one on one coaching session. Jase is 22, brown hair, smooth, intense eyes that are a little too close together, handsome face. Coach is wearing some gray sweats, muscle shirt, and a jockstrap. Jase is wearing long shorts, white t-shirt.

"Hey boy, you contracting those glutes as you lift?"

"Think so, Coach York."

"What do you fucking mean you think you gotta do that, boy, if you want to get bigger. go again, and this time I'm gonna see if you're contracting".

"Sure, coach...hey, what the fuck..."

"You just concentrate on lifting that weight, boy...that's it...fuck! You didn't fucking contract at all. You want glutes or what, boy?"

"Sorry, coach, I'm just..."

"Fuck that...here, I'm gonna show you. Here, put my shorts up on the bench...okay, boy, so look at these glutes. That's what you want, right?"

"Yeah, coach, fuck, you're one hardass."

"Sure am, boy, in more ways than one. Okay, this is the only way you're going to learn. put your hand on my ass. Don't fucking look at me like that, do it. Okay, now I'm going to do some squats the right fucking way. There, feel the contraction?"

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Old ike

When I think of dirty old men, I think of Ike Thomas and when I think about Ike I get a hard on that won't quit.

Sixty years ago,I worked in what was once my Grandfather's Greenhouses. Gramps had died a year earlier and Grandma, now in her seventies had been forced to sell to the competition. I got a job with the new owners and mostly worked the range by myself. That summer, they hired a man to help me get the benches ready for the fall planting.

Ike always looked like he was three days from a shave and his whiskers were dirty white under the brim of his battered felt fedora.

He did nott chew tobacco but the corners of his mouth turned down in a way that, at any moment, I expected a trickle of thin, brown juice to creep down his chin. His bushy, brown eyebrows shaded pale, gray eyes.

Old Ike, he extended his hand, lifted his leg like a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old man winked at me. "Ike Thomas is the name and playing pecker's my game.

I thought he said, "Checkers." I was nineteen, green as grass. I said, "I was never much good at that game."

"Now me," said Ike, "I just love jumping men. . ."

"I'll bet you do."

". . . and grabbing on to their peckers," said Ike.

"I though we were talking about. . ."

"You like jumping old men's peckers?"

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Spanked for stealing

I was expected at Mr. Kitson's flat in Regents Park Mews at half past three. It wasn't far, but I walked fast. My body had gone hot all over, especially along my back where I could feel beads of sweat forming, building then trickling down to the waist band of my underpants, a Mr. Macho thong bought half-price in the sale.

I had seen Derek Kitson, the owner of the menswear shop where I worked, several times before. He had interviewed me for the job and he called in every few months or so to add to his wardrobe. On these occasions he was always attended to by Mark Saunders, the manager, who seemed on very good terms with him.

Mr. Kitson was a tall, well built man of around forty, smart but not flashy. I tried to weigh my chances of persuading him not to call in the police. Mr. Saunders had spotted me taking ten pounds out of the till when I thought no one was looking. It had been a stupid bit of devilment: I'd almost dared myself to do it. It's true I was short of cash, but not that short. I regretted my lapse immediately. Quite honestly, it came as something as a relief to know I'd been found out. I'd thrown myself at Mark Saunders' mercy. It would be an awful blow to mum. I said, "She'll never be able to hold her head up on our estate again." But Mark said it wasn't up to him; he'd have to speak to Mr. Kitson. So he phoned through to Regents Park Mews and explained the situation. Luckily, Derek Kitson had been willing to see me to let me plead my case. As Mark said, that was something at least.

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Me and uncle jack

Callum woke up to the smell of pancakes and syrup. Yesterday was his last day of school. Now he was off for the summer. He yawned and stretched his thin, muscular frame. callum stood about 5" 9" and had a wiry wrestler"s build. His whole body was sleek and hairless except for the light brown patch above his cock. He threw off the covers, putting his feet on the floor. His oversized hands slipped through his long brown hair. He scratched the pubes above his big morning hard-on.

"callum, breakfast is ready, and don"t forget, you"re picking up your uncle at the airport this afternoon."

"Oh fuck!" he thought. He"d made plans with the guys, forgetting about his uncle. Well, he"d just have to call them and cancel. He hadn"t seen his uncle since he was a little guy; but always remembered him fondly. He checked his naked frame in the full length mirror, did a few muscle poses, and then turning to the side, and checked his morning hard-on. Now there was something to be proud of he thought, as he gave it a few loving pulls.

Seven and a half inches and thick as his wrist, was nothing to be ashamed of. Must have come from his mother"s side of the family; because the one time he caught his dad in the buff with a morning hard-on, there was only four or five inches jutting out. He took a couple of more pulls on his meat and went in to shower.

After woofing down eight pancakes and two glasses of milk, callum headed out to Beth"s house. He and Beth were friends since grade school. Beth knew everything about him. There wasn"t one secret he could ever keep from her. They hung out together until it was time to head for the airport. callum didn"t want to ask her to go with him and she felt a little left out; but callum wanted to greet his uncle alone. The fact was, Beth had been feeling a little left out for a while now. It seemed that callum spent more and more time with the guys lately.

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What a first kiss

My summer had gotten off to a slow start, just finished high school and wanted to take the summer easy. Well the first thing I knew was that I needed money and just my luck I had notice an ad for summer help right down the block from my home. A couple days past and I was ready to apply, it was simple yard work. I walk up to the door and ring the bell, than suddenly the door open, a grey haired man said, "how can I help you son," in a warm voice. I told him that I was applying for the position that was in the local paper, right away he asked when I could start.

After a few months things were going good I had a few extra bucks and the job was easy. When finally it happened; I had been doing some yard work when a down pour of rain came. I started to walk to my old car when I heard a voice say, why don't you come in from the rain. Quickly I agreed to come in he than said, go to the bathroom and get out of those wet things. I did, but in the mean time I had notice there were no towels. A knock on the door and he came in with a big towel, before he enter the room I quickly put my hands by my private area, he started to laugh a little and said he had seen it all, because he had been a doctor for almost forty years.

With that said I took the towel and began to dry myself and he left the room, but took my wet stuff and said he would dry them. Again he called my name and I walk out to his front room and sat in a chair when he offered me a cold beer, which I took right away. We talk for what seem like a couple of hours, I found out more about this warm caring man. He was 74 years old and never married and liked to travel, but he had a bad back so he could not work so much in his big yard. Something had happen I notice he also had a bathrobe on and he would touch my leg every so often.

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Dads and sons

They were lying in the back of the pickup on an old mattress, naked to the warm, autumn sun, with long ropes of come streaked across their muscular bodies. The boy, a muscular teenager of eighteen, had a streak of come on his face that ran from high on his cheekbone to dangerously close to his mouth. "I'm going to hate to see this trip end," the older man said.

"It's been one of the best weeks of my life," said the boy. "I'm glad you decided to take off work and go."

The man laughed. "I wonder whose cornfield we're in."

"Yeah, wouldn't he get a big shock if he decided to come back and check on his corn?" the boy said, laughing. There was a long, quiet but comfortable pause, and then the boy broke the silence, like a mallet hitting a gong. "Dad, is what we're doing wrong?" Jason asked.

"Do you think it is?" Brian Goddard asked.

"I did at first."

"You should have told me."

"I was afraid you would stop if I told you."

"We would have till we talked about it,' Brian said. "But you didn't answer the question. You said you thought it was wrong at first. How about now?"

"I'm past that now," Jason said. "I decided nothing so good could be wrong, no matter what anybody else thinks. Part of the problem was, I was doing such incredible and wonderful things with my dad and couldn't tell anybody about it. I couldn't talk to my friends about our great times."

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Daddy shows me

Ever since I can remember, I've had a fascination with the male body. I think back to times when I was a child, and I remember fantasising about being with naked men. I didn't really know what it meant then, but of course, I do now.

Part of this fantasy was an obsession with my dad. When I was a young kid he'd be the one to bathe me and generally take care of me, (Mum was a workaholic and never home much). Dad on the other hand was a part time contractor for a constructing consulting firm. He had a pretty large build, all hard and muscly with a smattering of hair all over his body. Everywhere he went he turned heads. Even though both Mom and Dad worked, and we were reasonably well off, my parents decided to stay in the apartment they had bought when I was born. At that time, my Dad was only 20, and my Mom 19, and they didn't have much money. Our home had only a single bathroom and two bedrooms with a tiny kitchen and lounge room. It was enough for us however, and especially good for me, as I was to find out.

I remember the first time I moved from having baths to showers, it was Dad who jumped in with me. I remember even at the age of 6 being fascinated with his dick. It was huge, to my childhood eyes; hanging down past his nut sack and as thick as a cucumber. When Dad turned the shower head onto me for the first time, I was pretty scared for some reason and I wrapped my arms around Dad's legs and started to tear up. My shoulder came into contact with his dick, and with my head against his hard stomach I squeezed as hard as I could. Dad started to laugh and squatted down on the tiles after shifting the shower head. He took me in his arms and gave me a bear hug. I lifted my legs off the tiles and wrapped them around his waist as he lifted me up. I remember the feeling of my little cock as it rubbed and bumped against his hard abs as he jiggled me up and down. "Come on, Tyler," he said, "it's not that bad."

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The yuppie sex chronicles

September 30th, 1980

At two in the morning, I brought forty-seven year old Gary home after meeting him at a coffee shop. He possessed a strong broad chest from working construction, and years of weightlifting gave his appendages a stocky appearance. After removing all of our clothes, Gary reclined on my leather sofa. By his calm composure, I could tell that Gary was accustomed to being serviced, and he was waiting for me to make the first move. He had a sly grin under his red mustache, and his green eyes were as mysterious as those of a sheik. By his body language, I could tell that Gary was a top, and the fact that I'm a younger guy only confirms my assumption. Still, that did not matter to me because I was going to have him one way or another. I directed him to my bedroom, and he stretched himself out on his back. I encouraged him to lift up his legs so that I could bathe him with my tongue. His hairy torso folded over with muscle as his hips lifted from the bed. I dove into him, and he groaned with ecstasy. Ten minutes later, Gary had an enormous erection, and his entire body was growing increasingly hot. While oiling my finger with lubricant, I asked him if he ever had somebody insert a finger in his anus. He shook his head in disapproval, and claimed that he only liked to be rimmed. As he answered me in his Irish brogue, I swiftly inserted my long digit inside him. For a moment, Gary tightened up, and he started squirming uncomfortably. Before Gary could get up, I immediately started stroking his stiff penis, and he was overcome by my pacification. Eventually, I convinced him to allow me to insert another finger. Then, after going down on Gary for a while, I persuaded him to let me penetrate. It was an incredible feeling to slide inch by inch inside of him. His orifice secured a firm grip, and Gary's slippery rectum seemed to curve to the shape of my penis. Both of his legs were fanning in the air, and he had a look of sweet agony on his face. When I was going for the long stretch, Gary's crimson face grimaced as his own body simultaneously exploded with orgasm.

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The cockpit

Dad was a pilot for a major airline. I loved the way he looked in his uniform when he was leaving or coming home from a trip. He was so handsome. Daddy was 6' 3" of solid man. The hair from his chest went all the way down his body to his calves.

Whenever he was getting ready to go flying, I would sneak a look from around the bedoom door into the closet where he would stand naked after his shower. My little boy-dick would get so hard looking at daddy that I had to go jack off as soon as he left.

This time I was so horny that I couldn't wait until he left. I ran upstairs, closed the door and ripped off all my clothing. Dad never came by my room to say goodnight, he always waited until morning to say hi to me before school so I figured I was safe. I was lying on my bed with my boy-cock in my hand when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I froze in horror.

"Son", dad called out, "my flight this evening was cancelled, so I'm inviting the guys over for a game of poker".

I scrammbled to my feet pulling up my underware. Trying to act like I was half asleep, I yelled back ,"Uh...Ok Dad." Now I was more excited than ever. The guys were coming over.

I always loved it when Daddy would have the guys over for cards. They would get really drunk and at some point start taking off thier shirts and shoes to get more comfortable. As the evening wore on, I couldn't sleep knowing that there was a house full of studs right downstairs. I could over hear lots of laughing and carryng on.

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