Gay for XXX

I was at the end of the boardwalk about 4:15 the next afternoon. I saw Harold walking up the beach with another man. He looked younger than Harold, so I guessed that it must be his friend. He was in his mid-to-late forties, a little shorter than Harold, weighing in at, I’d say around 170, slender built. He had slightly balding blond hair, moustache and goatee,

Harold walked up, stopping at the bottom of the stairs,

“Hello, again,” he said, “This is my friend Alvin.”
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I was staying in a condo, sharing it with a co-worker during the summer of 1996. He had gone golfing and I wanted to work on my tan. I had brought various bathing suits with me, including several thongs. Thongs, especially on males, were not worn on the main beach, so I put on a gray thong and pulled on a pair of shorts over them. Taking my beach towel and another, I grabbed my fanny-pack (With suntan oil and other necessities) and walked down the path from the condos to the beach. Once there, I checked both directions, then chose to head north. There were not many people towards that end of the Island.
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This is a true story as told to me in an email from a reader.

I looked forward to joining the Army. The only choice I had, really. My parents had no money, and we lived in the poorest town in the poorest part of Alabama. Jobs were hard to get and paid only enough to make crime worthwhile. Aside from the part about you-might-get-killed, the Army was the original Great Escape.

The day I turned 18, I walked into the recruiter’s office, and I never looked back. In answer to my prayers, the Army took me far, far away from our little, shabby house of unpainted, cracked boards with the smell of garbage, the grit of sand and dirt, and the roar of trucks, machinery, and arguments. The Army marched me away to a new life in a barracks, moving me from a shanty into an apartment building.
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Somehow I had managed to stop myself from masturbating as I showered and got ready to leave my house. My mind was racing and my cock ached at the thought of what I was about to do. After weeks of responding to timewasters I had finally found someone genuine who was willing to help me fulfill the fantasy I had placed on the numerous personal sites on the internet.

I wanted to suck cock. Although I consider myself to be 100% straight I had been getting more and more turned on at the thought of taking a thick, hard cock in my mouth and sucking it until my mouth was pumped full of cum. My advert was simple and to the point. I wanted to arrive at the other person’s house, strip naked, drop to my knees, suck their cock, then dress and leave without any words being spoken or any other kind of interaction.
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If we met at the pub or a ballgame, I think you wouldn’t think twice about me. Maybe a “seems like a nice chap” or “he really likes his sport” but nothing memorable, nothing of substance. A regular guy, with an ever diminishing hairline, not in bad shape but certainly not a gym rat, probably the quintessential definition of average.

My job is regular, I’m a tax accountant. My family is regular, including a once pretty wife sliding to indifference as she gracelessly reverts from perky and young to tired and middle-aged, and two regular kids, a boy in grade school currently infatuated with his new favorite activity (masturbation morning, noon, and night) and a girl in high school that makes masturbation a needless exercise for any boy willing to give her a second look.
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That boy. He came into my coffee shop one day, pulled a stool out from under the counter, and sat with his chin resting on his hand. Looking at me with wide dark eyes, he smiled slightly. I was busy, distracted. I turned off the steamer but forgot to wipe the handle. In the midst of filling another order, I asked him what he wanted.

I made him a mocha, decorated with whipped cream and thin shavings of chocolate, embarrassing myself by serving him before I finished with the people before him. I sang along with the music playing over the speakers, trying valiantly to ignore him. Sneaking glances out of the corner of my eye, I took in every detail of the boy’s appearance. He ate the whipped cream off his drink with a spoon, parting his full pink lips to let the white froth into his mouth, suggestive, almost trashy. He had short bleached hair tipped with bright blue, tan skin, broad and muscular shoulders. 18. Dreamy. Not my type, but somehow so attractive. Whenever I turned my head he was looking at me, his eyes tipping up from the book he was reading, then darting back down, lashes black against his skin. The milk I was steaming overflowed; I startled and spilled it on the front of my shirt. I rolled my eyes at my own lack of concentration. My cheeks burned. He quickly hid a smile.
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They say that eavesdroppers never hear well of themselves, don’t they? Guess it’s the same for any bad news.

I’ve been away for a while – can’t actually remember how long, this time. Tyler knows to expect me, though I can’t remember telling him exactly when - shows you how tired I am! I’m often away, of course; damned job requires it. But he always knows how much I miss him. I tell him so, don’t I? I show him so, wrapped in the sheets at night, in our bed, caressing him, claiming him as mine. Making him cry out loudly with his pleasure; making him hold me so tightly that I know I’ll never find another lover as responsive.
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This short story is an abridged depiction of an experience that still leaves me baffled. My wife and I bought a home from an eighty-something widower four years ago. Victor seemed nice enough in spite of the fact that he was selling the home he and his wife had built in the mid-fifties. All was going well with the inspection and closing until a discrepancy in tax records led us to discover the house was actually smaller than the listing. This effected the amount the lender had agreed to. It was now worth a little less and we needed to renegotiate. The seller was more than eager to be done with the process of selling and was cornered into lowering the price. He dropped it by $5000. Then some other contingencies were presented which put him in an awkward position of compromising once again. In the end, he lost nearly $10000 from the asking price and let our agent know he wasn’t happy. The agent was somewhat unscrupulous as it turned out and we felt bad. We never had the opportunity to apologize one on one. We moved in to his home as he settled into his retirement community.
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This story was originally written to be a sequel to “A Ghost of a Chance”, but as I wrote it, I created it in a way that it should stand alone just fine. As with most of my stories, we have a couple disclaimers. The first is that my this is not a piece of porn, its an erotic short story, emphasis on the word “story”. You want quick porn, seek elsewhere. Second disclaimer is that this has elements of fantasy in it, its my style and my passion. Should these things be something you’re interested in, have fun and enjoy! I certainly loved writing it, I hope you love reading it!
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Authors note: This is a male on male BDSM fantasy that may be a bit rough for some tastes. If this isn’t your cup of tea, skip it. It is just a fantasy. My regular readers know my mind works in mysterious ways.

As Andy lay on his bed, he wished his master would come home. Andy hated being left alone so much. He knew his master had business to attend to but wanted more of the master’s love and attention. Even though that attention was not always gentle and kind. Andy loved serving Master Edward and would be happy do anything for him and readily submitted to his every whim. At least on this particular day the master had not left Andy tied up. Although confined to his room, Andy could move about the room and enjoy the nice things his generous master provided. Though not allowed to wear clothes without specific instruction from Master Edward, Andy was chilly and had put on the expensive silk robe that Master Edward bought him last week. Surely the master would not be cross at him for using the generous gift. The silk felt wonderful against Andy’s skin. Andy closed his eyes and dreamed of his master coming home and using Andy’s slim body for his perverse pleasures.
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