Tag: gay experience

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Wow,” Brian breathed.
“Wow, what?” I say, mildly amused.
“Just never touched another man’s balls before,” he replies.
I watch as he continues to pull on mine, over and over. “And how do they feel?”
“Like mine but…rounded. Bigger. Fuller. It feels kind of weird to be doing this though…”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I mean – think about it this way. Biologically, this is like where the sperm comes from…it’s like the most important thing when it comes to reproduction. With a woman, I mean. And in our society, we sort of train ourselves to recognize that everyone has testicles but we’re supposed to pretend they don’t exist – you don’t look at someone else’s and you don’t touch someone elses. They’re just these big fleshy sacks that hang off our body and they’re so taboo but -”
“Boy,” I start, but he keeps going.
“But here I am, just…touching yours in my hand, I don’t know why I want to or why I want to keep doing it but it feels very forbidden and taboo to be touching your- your- reproductive organs, like I’m doing something incorrect here, so biologically incorrect but I-”
“Boy,” I say again, louder, cutting him off. Brian looks at me with wide eyes. “Boy. Stop thinking so damn hard. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you use up that many brain cells while all your blood is rushing south.”
“Oh. Good point.” Brian pauses stroking my balls and lets them rest in his hand. Then, he looks up at me. “…Can I touch your cock now?”
“Yes, as long as you do it quietly.”

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Text is fictional.

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“See? Look at this huge boner I got. Are you gonna come over now and fix it or what? And while you’re here, can you clean my apartment? I’m fucking hopeless without you.”
“…Yeah you are. Your roommates must be out for the day.”
“Yeah they’re gone for the weekend, as is my girlfriend. No one will know. I’ll sneak you in.”
I stare at my phone. I don’t get it. He’s so in denial he’s not even acknowledging the closet exists. As long as he gets his blowjobs, he doesn’t see it as cheating or whatever. I sigh. I already know I’m going over there. He has a perfect cock and a damn amazing body. What do I get out of it? Frustrating him. Making him horny and needy, making him think about sex, and dangling my hot ass right in front him. He’s gonna snap one of these days, jump my bones, and fuck my brains out. Once he does, he’ll be addicted and I’ll be able to manipulate him however I want.
“Alright, give me a minute to clean up and I’ll come over.”
“Yr amazing.”
Yeah yeah. I set down my phone and dig through my underwear drawer for my best pair of underwear. I’m going to need something sexy to clean in. He’s gonna pay dearly if he thinks he can dismiss me as just a hot mouth. I want him to be unable to keep his eyes off of me. I want to fill his dreams with naked boys and make him wake up confused with sticky sheets. I won’t be happy until I’ve made him break up with his girlfriend. Sometimes I dream about locking up his cock and making him beg me for release. That seems only fitting. It would be a good way to correct his entitled behavior. I hum to myself as I slide on my best pair of Aussiebums. It’s gonna be a fun afternoon.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

A typical Friday night of foosball and football on the TV becomes that special night when you finally get that boy. When a playful kiss ends up more than just an impulse, and suddenly you’re allowed to undress him and his penis is jutting out in front of his body expecting your attention. Something about seeing his cock and balls hanging and protruding on display turns any doubts about this off, and your brain puts all other functions on ‘hibernate’ so it can devote all its energy to sex.

You get your arms around him, cradling his torso, one hand sliding down to his thigh. You want his cock, and he wants you to have it. He’s acting like a woman, parting his legs, trying to encourage you to give attention to his pussy. It turns you on in dizzying, incredible ways to know that a man is expecting you to take him, that he’s silently accepted you as the dominant one.

The high lasts for nearly an hour, a two man orgy of touching, caressing, kissing, and sucking. Not an inch left unexplored, no erogenous zone neglected. The sex lasts maybe ten minutes but you know the penetration is just the finale. By the time you reach the breeding, the pulling his hips flush with yours so you can get deeper in him part, you are just an animal recreating what your ancestors have been doing for millennia.

He’s very hot, and very malleable in your hands. His penis feels like a silk flower in your fingers, his balls soft permissions heavy on the branch. Wetness is everywhere.

The next morning you both convince yourselves it was a dream and never reconnect on Fridays again. You don’t see each other for nearly 15 years, until one day he finds you online, and messages you out of the blue: “Do you still wonder if it was real or not?”
Your heart leaps at his message and you reply: “Every day.”
“Do you ever wish it were real?”
“Every day.”
“555-921-8266.”

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Text is fictional. Need the source please.

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(ed note – Lucien is one of my rare reoccurring characters. Prior stories about him can be found with the lucien stories tag.)

“Lucien?”
“Mmm.”
“When was your first time?”
“Having sex?”
“Mm no, with a man.”
Lucien rolled his head to the side and looked at me. “You think I just do this for money?”
“No. But, you seem so casual with so many men. Just men as far back as I can imagine. I was just wondering how it started.”
Lucien huffs air out his nose. “So many men indeed. My first customer was a guy moving from Virgina I think to -”
“No no,” I insist, giving him a little kick in the shin, “Your first gay experience. When you knew, you know, that you liked men.”
Lucien raises an eyebrow. “I don’t usually tell those kinds of stories to clients, stories about…” he trails off suddenly.

“You were going to say your real name weren’t you?” I ask.
“Yes,” he admits. “That boy…he is very different from Lucien. I’m not sure you’d like him.”
I furrow my brow. “But you share the same body. I like your body. I like being in your body…why wouldn’t I like him?”
“Because,” Lucien insists, “He was an angry person. A sad person. Someone who hated the world because of the life he’d been born into. When I …he was seven, his mother got him a big Costco size box of Lucky Charms for Christmas. Cause they could never afford name brand cereal right? And that meant he’d get breakfast for a few days. He ate some of it, then put it on the top shelf to save it for special occasions, like when there wasn’t food. A week later, he went to sneak some in the middle of the night and discovered a mouse had moved into it, as well as these moth things… he cried and cried. He learned that day that life wasn’t fair. I don’t think he ever recovered.”
“Lucien…that’s so sad.” I gave him a kiss. “I’m sorry.”

“See?” he insists. “This is why I don’t tell these stories. They’re not fun, or sexy, or happy.”
“So…the story of your gay encounter, it wasn’t any of those?” I dare to ask. I’m not sure now if I want to know, but Lucien has become a figurehead of fantasy in my daydreams when I’m off at university, and I feel that I must know his full story.

Lucien takes a deep breath and sighs patiently. “I thought…he thought, it wasn’t fair that God made him gay in a very rural, very conservative town in the Bible Belt. So, for a while, he was angry about that too. One summer, he got a little work detasseling corn and washing dishes for a big BBQ restaurant. Under the table. And it wasn’t fair – the other boys were spending their money on comics and sodas and cassette tapes, and those with older brothers got them to buy them cigarettes and dirty magazines; but I… – he had to save his money to buy a new pair of shoes for school, money for lunches, hair cuts. Really good duct tape to hold up the tarps that kept the rain out of the trailer. Nothing ever fun.”
I listened intently.
“There was a boy I worked with. We were both 14. He was a beautiful creature. Very serious face, a strong nose. Freckles. Bony shoulders. He was so beautiful, very distracting. A bunch of boys would go down to the quarry to go swimming after our shifts, but as more of us would wander off to go smoke or hang out with girls, it ended up just being me and him one day. And he suggested that we’d skinny dip because it was so hot. He was so stunning naked, he had the most perfect penis, even at his age. It was going to be just the right size when he was done growing, the right color, shape. I was so envious how he looked like a model, standing there in the dirt, naked with corn silk in his hair.” Lucien chuckled at the memory. “He saw me staring at him, so he came into the water and swam over to me. He asked if I ever kissed a boy before. I said no. And he kissed me. And we kissed a long time. He sat on this rock shelf submerged into the water and he let me touch him. He was so hot, so virile. His balls…Jesus, they were huge. I played with him until the water turned cloudly, then he did the same to me.”
Lucien doesn’t talk for a while. The moment is too tender to interrupt. I cuddle up against him and wait.
“As we were cycling back into town, the other me…he realized something. Life isn’t fair, but even if it isn’t fair, it can still feel really wonderful. And thus, life can be OK, as long it’s by our standards and not someone else’s standards. From then on, he thought being gay was the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“I’m glad you’re gay,” I offered.
Lucien reached over and tousled my hair. “You do love a good dick.”
I snorted and playfully shoved him. “Lucien, did something unfair happen to that boy?”
Lucien shrugs. “No.”
Relief floods through me.
“He moved away. Father lost his job or something. They moved back in with his mother’s family in Tennessee. I’m happy he got out of Cordova, went back to a bigger town, where people can appreciate a beautiful man like him. Last I heard, he joined the Marines. I bet he looks crazy gorgeous in that uniform.”

“You still think of him,” I hear myself say, in awe.
Lucien blinks at me. “I looked him up on the internet at the library some time ago. I just like knowing he’s happy, that his life is fair. Somehow, it makes me happy too. Like the universe has balanced itself out.” Lucien moves his hand over my belly and starts rubbing my half erection through my underwear. “Did that excite you? Are you ready to have sex now?”
“Fuck Lucien,” I gasp. “Even when you’re telling stories, you make me so horny It’s like the pure, unfiltered, raw kind of horny. It’s just not fair.”
He laughs for the first time today. “Not fair hm? But it feels good, right?”
“Yes, very good,” I breathe as he plays with me.
Lucien smiles mischievously at me. “Then by our standards, it can’t be all that bad.”

I can’t think of what to say to that, but Lucien is already reaching for the lube, preparing for the next stage where talking isn’t real necessary.

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Text is fictional. Photo was shot by Markus Bollingmo; the original was in color and the rest of the series (must see!) are at his Livejournal here, actually.

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captionstojerkby:

“What can you tell me about Jordan Kasher?”

That’s when the interview went off the rails.

It’d been great up until then. Okay, not great maybe, but fine, normal, whatever. The usual bullshit questions about the team, the season; the usual bullshit answers about how he was just taking it one game at a time.

And then, that question from left field, the one that he didn’t even quite understand at first because he never thought he’d have to answer it: “What can you tell me about Jordan Kasher?” He knew he should’ve just shrugged, said “Jordan who?” and broken two hearts at once, one word for each. He knew he could’ve said “nothing,” which would have been true—there wasn’t anything he could tell the smirking and smug and snot-nosed interviewer from the campus daily about Jordan. He thought of all the things he couldn’t say—all of the things that were none of the guy’s damn business, no one’s business, that were just theirs, alone. The way Jordan sucked his dick, like Jordan had been born to it the way he’d been born to football; like Jordan had been training for it his whole life. The way Jordan got hard blowing him, the way his smell alone was enough to get to Jordan, to shut off something inside his head; the way that that fact alone—seeing Jordan just pause with his nose in his junk, like he could stay that way forever, like he would, like he was going to—shut off something in his own head, turned off all the parts of him that weren’t primal and basic and geared toward the relentless motion of his muscled hips. That night over the summer, though, when he and Jordan were both completely trashed and Jordan smiled, shyly, and said he wanted to fuck him, just once. Who smiles like that, nervously and at the edges of his mouth, his eyes not meeting yours, his bangs hanging in front of his face, when he says he wants to put their dick inside you? Who actually manages to look bashful while he’s doing it, like he’s been given this gift he’s deathly afraid he’ll break or something? Manages to look like he’s the one being fucked, deeper than ever before, even as he slides into you and his mouth curls into a soft ‘o’ and that’s all he says, quietly, like a sigh: “oh.”

What could he tell you about Jordan Kasher? Not a fucking thing. So he just stood there, silent, and listened to to the soft clicks of the tape spooling in the recorder.

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He’s on his back on my bed, but it still feels like he’s trying to run away from me. It’s the way he’s completely taut and stretched out, making his flat belly concave and his ribs heave when he breathes. His head is tilted back, and he only dares to gaze at me downward, as if it’s polite to avert his eyes. He’s scared of what it might mean if he does look me head-on, unblinking. With one hand on his knee, and the other grabbing the edge of the bed, it’s like he’s holding on for dear life to avoid spinning out untethered, reeling. Poor boy, it’s just an orgasm. Why has society taught you to fear it so much?

Probably because the same society told him he was straight by default, that he’d be experimenting with girls instead. He’s wary of being with men, and confused over his feelings for them. Watching him flirt with me was like watching a kid descend the stairs in a laundry basket and flipping halfway through – hilarious and painful, yet somewhat adorable and endearing.

It would be me who would have to make the first move, I knew. Kissing him, holding his hand, each repulsed him and baffled him, as if he’d somehow banned himself from participating in homosexual love at all, as if it somehow might override any heterosexual feelings he had left – which was close to 0. He’s a silly boy, but erasing years of programming is not an easy thing. It took a year to get this far, to get him naked, on my bed. His cock is a hot rock in my hand, and I’m dripping buckets as I jerk us off together. I can see the vein in his throat throbbing. His body is enjoying this, his mind is sitting this one out. I smile down at him reassuringly. “You just gotta do what feels good, don’t listen to what anyone else says.”

He swallows hard and nods. Easier said than done. “I’m… I’m gonna! I’m close!” his face twists in surprise as if he were expecting the Easter Bunny instead.
“Let it happen, don’t hold it back,” I command, but he’s still biting his lip, resisting. God sometimes he can be so stupid, and what for? I press my fingers into the tip of his glans with a smug look on my face, and his balls compress and empty their load in a big burst of cum. He’s gasping like a drowning victim, clutching the bed with white fingers.

I lean over and press my weight on top of him, rubbing against him with unbridled bliss as I shoot onto his stomach. I want him to know what it’s like to have a man between your legs. It’s such a wonderful sensation. Warm. Sexy. Secure. I reach between us and pet his twitching cock gently.
“How was that?”
“Holy shit,” he gasps. I don’t think he expected to enjoy it as an outcome, although it was inevitable. Such a pessimist.
I kiss his jaw, even though he tenses. “I can feel you spasming against me.”
“Is that weird…?”
“No, it’s very good…that was really nice, we should do that again sometime.”
He half nods, his eyes blank marbles. He needs time to digest this, to accept the truth. He’s gay, and this is what it’s gonna be like.
“Being with a man…it’s not that bad isn’t it?” I pout. He blinks at me, wondering if I read his mind. He takes a deep breath and puts an arm around me, still silent. I freeze, wanting to say something but I don’t want to ruin the moment.

I dare say it, but I think we’re moving forward. Agonizing, painstaking progress, but progress none-the-less.

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Text is fictional. Boys are from Corbin Fisher.

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Sev and Igor come from a rural village where they have a strange tradition. Upon reaching 20, two men of comparable size will couple to strengthen the bond between families and to erase any simmering grudges from their youth. They determine which one bottoms by grabbing onto eachother’s cocks; first one to smile or laugh loses. Since they were away from home at college when they both turned 20, they only had eachother to complete the tradition. I was a bit worried how our frat would feel about this homo-erotic practice, but they were all in favor of cultural sensitivity. They got into the spirit of things by placing bets. Igor lost. I bet for Sev and made out like a bandit.

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Text is fictional; source is Randy Blue.

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“Travis? …Traavis, are you awake?”
He doesn’t stop although he seems to be aware he has an audience, “…No.”
“You passed out during the party. Your blood sugar dropped. Are you feeling ok since we got some sugar in you?”
“Mmhhh your bed is comfy…” he murmured, continuing to hump my bed.
I crawl up behind him and sit next to his ass. “Can …Can I jerk you?”
“Mmmmmhmm…” he answers, lost in a sleepy daze of arousal.
“Lift your hips,” I purr back. I’ve been wanting him for a long, long time for access to his body. Consent is consent. 

He rolls his hips to the side. I straddle him, hovering over his ass and thighs, and slide my hand under him and find his cock. It’s hard, swollen stiff, the tip already wet. From being smothered under him, it’s burning hot and the vein under the shaft is pulsating. I sigh softly as my fingers caress the silky skin. Travis moans and bucks his hips into my hand. I ghost my finger tips from balls to shaft and he shudders, dripping pre-cum onto my comforter. I don’t even mind…it’s Travis. I’ve been wanting him for the last four years. I wrap my fingers around his cock to stroke him, but he’s out of his mind with carnal needs and humping my hand faster than I can keep up. I make a tight wet fist lubricated with his own seed and he loves it, bucking and driving his erection against my palm. I position the tip of my thumb so it brushes against the tip and he make noises that I’m sure anyone can hear.

“I’m coming!” he gasps, “Oh god oh god!” I work his shaft as he thrusts into my hand, his balls pushing against my fist. At first the cum just dribbles out, but then just when I think he’s finished with the orgasm, a big dose of it gushes out of the tip and all over his chest and the sheets. He cries out with a little sob, overwhelmed by how good it felt to be jacked off by another man. I sit back on his calves ignoring my own cock, and continue to fondle his cock through his legs. He’s got his ass up in the air now, head down, knees slightly apart.

As the skin grows more and more sensitive, he hisses and tries to jerk away from me but I keep an iron grip on him. I pull on his shaft with deliberately slow speeds until I run out of flesh, and he makes the most erotic little gasps when my skin touches the head of his cock. The more I do this the more he begs for me to stop, but I won’t. He thrashes and mewls as I unrelentingly pet and stroke him, giving special attention to his balls and that sensitive little spot at the top. “S…stop!” he pleads. But I don’t, until he’s making frustrated noises into the mattress and trying to push my hand away. “B..Brodie, stop!”

“Gotta get the rest of your seed out, baby, I know you have more in there.” I coax him to half hardness again, then milk the remaining seed out of his cock like the way someone would flatten a toothpaste bottle. A little push under his balls is the magic trick though. To my delight, I see him curl his toes as it dribbles onto the bed. When I release him, he’s completely soft. He collapses into the mess. “Christ man… what sort of kama sutra torture was that? I’ve never had a sexual experience like that ever.”
“Oh that? Simple edging techniques. You came so little and your balls still looked so full, I figured your recent inebriation and blood sugar spike might be preventing a good load.” It was bullshit, but he was dumb and gorgeous and would probably believe it.
“Shit.” He simply said, his breath slowly returning to normal, “I can’t believe you just jerked me off.”
“You feel good?”
“Yeah… how did I end up in your room? Where are my pants?”
I sit back on my bed and lazily play with my own straining member. “Well, you and the guys were drunk and comparing your cocks to beer bottles and cans. So you took off your pants for that, which is what happens when you drink –  you always end up naked. Then, you apparently forgot to eat today and you crashed. We put some sugar under your tongue and took you in here. I came to check on you.”

He thinks about this. “Thanks man… but hey uh…let’s not tell anyone about this ok?”
“Sure,” I say, “No problem. Just helping a guy out. Sucks when you’re hard and too disoriented to get off.”
Travis thinks. “That thing you did… do you do that to any other guys?”
I shrug. “Only boyfriends, and even so, not lately.”
“Don’t. I want a monopoly on that. Shit, my balls feel light as air. You gays have some crazy techniques.”
“Wait until I put my mouth on it.”
Travis groans. I can almost hear his Kinsey number change. “Right after you’ve cum… you’re nice and sensitive, and my velvety tongue just licking you like a little kitten, sucking on your balls like angel kisses…”

“Fuck man! Stop that. Are you tryin to make me hard again?”
“…Yes,” I grunt.
Travis looks over his other shoulder and just now notices me masturbating. “Oh shit, forgot about you. I thought you came already.”
“No,” I manage, getting close. The urge to hold him down and force my cock in his mouth is incredible. His lips would look so beautiful around my cock, wet with my seed… I suppress it though. He’s not ready. I end up mounting Travis and rubbing my cock between his ass cheeks until I come all over Travis’ back. He doesn’t protest, just stays still. When I reach under him to give it one final squeeze, he’s half hard again.

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yeahstr82gay:

Just look at him, and you can see that he’s the whole package.  One of those guys who, when you knew him in high school, you wanted to hate him so bad, because he was so good-looking and athletic and popular, but you couldn’t hate him, because he actually was nice.  A boy scout type.  And smart, too.  Yeah … that’s Ethan.

The high school quarterback at his mid-sized school, now at college on an academic scholarship, a nice boy, his parents love him.  So does his girlfriend.  He seems serious about her.  His little brothers look up to him.  His fraternity has already made him treasurer.

But on Sunday mornings he comes here, to my apartment, wearing whatever pair of undies I secretly sent him the week before, and makes breakfast, or my coffee, or whatever the hell else I want him to do around the place.  And then that beautiful, perfect boy slips off the undies and climbs into my bed, or on my lap, or between my legs, or on the floor in front of me, and I have him that way, too.

Who knows what makes him do it?  I’ve never asked, he’s never offered.  Sometimes, right after I cum in his ass, or as he pulls off my dick, I see it in his eyes, that lingering question: “Why am I doing this?”  Maybe he craves male attention, maybe his dad’s an ice cube, maybe he really is a closet case and fucking that girl of his takes more effort than I think.  Maybe he was just born to it.

For my part?  I don’t really care.  In two years he’s gone, off to get married and make babies and start counting the days until vacation and retirement.  But I like to think, on Sunday mornings, he’ll always think of me.

What is it about boys named Ethan that keep getting themselves into gay trouble?

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yeahstr82gay:

There, in the den, away from the party, Josh had ditched his pants and shirt and dropped before Miller’s dick.  

“God I’ve missed you,” he groaned quietly.

“Shhh….don’t want the girls to hear you…or anyone else, for that matter.”  Miller spread his legs and moved his shirt away so it wouldn’t get hit by any spray.  "Just go.“

Josh nodded and started bobbing his head almost immediately.  Miller sighed and leaned his head against the wall.  One of these days, they had to go away … take less chances, and more time … 

I’m betting Miller never told Josh he threw that party specifically so he had an excuse to invite him over…