*Gay Sex: Older & Young men*

Every morning at 5:30 that summer, I was in the local pool. The early-bird swim, they called it, so early that the lifeguard no longer bothered to answer her alarm. Good thing I knew the pool manager, who slipped me a key to open the gate and let myself in.

I’d been alone five mornings a week, stroking through 45 minutes of non-world-class freestyle, getting the heart-rate up and doing what I could to tighten the muscles.

Alone, that is, until two weeks ago. I knew him only as Gord, a guy with the same average fitness goals. He was about 25, a couple years my junior, and we were the same 6 feet, within a pound or two of 185.

I’d be lying if I suggested I hadn’t taken a good look at his form in the water, and out of it. He was nicely muscled, but not overly so. Here was a guy much like me, battling the excesses of life that challenge the wardrobe, and he was succeeding rather nicely. He had the broad back of a man who swam and lifted a few weights, the narrow waist of someone waging war with the calories and winning most of the battles.

(more…)

I see Sean four mornings a week at the gym. He runs the treadmill and I swim, but our schedules are close enough that we arrive at nearly the same time and finish our workouts a few minutes apart.

I thought this a coincidence, at first. But I knew better when I got to know him, and learned to
appreciate him in unimaginable ways.

Our lockers are in the same area; you know how it is with routine. From the beginning, I enjoyed the ritual of preparing for our workouts, and if I close my eyes now I can see every detail of the first time I took serious notice of Sean getting ready for his run.

As usual, he arrived in jeans, battered sneakers, a T-shirt and he carried his gear in a knapsack that had seen better days. From two lockers down a little before 5 a.m., he smelled both of sleep and strong musk.

(more…)

Getting fit wasn’t going to be easy, and I’ve not been the most disciplined man in the world. No, this was going to take something extra. This time I needed help, and so it was that I talked to the monitor at my gym about finding a personal trainer.

“Very useful if you’re willing to follow the routine, Dave,” Karen said. “If you’re going to cheat, and stop at the Krispy Kreme on the drive home from the gym, then you’re just going to waste a lot of money.”

“A Krispy Kreme has never crossed these lips,” I said to her, lying through my teeth.

And of course she knew it. The extra 10 pounds I was carrying around my 32-year-old midsection wasn’t coming from my overindulgence at the salad bar.

(more…)

I know your characters as though they’re my friends. I would recognize them on the street, if they weren’t only the product of your imagination. I would invite them home and I’d take them. Or let them take me.

My right hand is on the mouse, scrolling, resisting the urge to race down the screen. I keep my left on the keys, for now, to keep it out of trouble. I enjoy how your words begin to thicken me without even a touch of my hand. Only a half-dozen paragraphs deep and I’m swelling, on my way to a needy erection.

There’s no turning back now. If I’d wanted to behave, I’d not have started reading you in the first place.

(more…)

There’s nothing like watching the teams I love to hate, win ball games. Topping the list are Dallas or Chicago. Since Chicago doesn’t have a football worth anything, that little bit of hate is turned on the Bulls. That’s one team I just don’t like. Another one is Dallas. I hate the Cowboys. I try to turn the TV channel soon as Mr. Sanders or Mr. Jordan’s face appears. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s cause I just hate the Chicago/Dallas hype, I mean it’s wore than Seattle-hype! My luck is I’ll meet some dude who live in those places and end up moving there. In that case, I’ll take Dallas. I hate crazy-cold winters.

I get real mouth-watering and ass-twitching horny when my teams are on the losing end. I mean it’s like I wish I could be there in the locker room afterwards or in a hotel room. I’d be naked on all fours and getting pumped from both ends by all their dejected cocks. I’d offer myself for their conquest, to work out their frustration on.

(more…)

The lighting and music is perfect. The bed is soft. The curtains gently billow in the soft breeze flowing in from outside. The air is filled with a special electricity, male scent filling my nostrils.

I inhale and exhale in total relaxation, langorously taking in that intoxicating aroma. My member stirs very slightly. Hands slowly begin to make their way up and down my thighs, gently rotating and flowing over my skin, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. As precum flows, a tingling sensation climbs my inner thigh. First one hand is placed on my ball sac while the other, very moist finger probes my manhole, enticing the prostate so that my cock quicly becomes ergorged, expanding to its full 9 inches.

(more…)

My fingers caress the keys, thinking that I caress your body. Looking for in Internet something that moves my soul. Among the messages sent to a community gay, I encounter an album of pictures, Pictures 1988. I open it and I am dazzled by the beauty of images that contains.

First plane: the white and perfect body of an adolescent, of feet, the hands supported in the frame of the window. Behind him, in a second plane, among the shades, the body of a man, strong and powerful, their legs, their torso, he almost erect penis. The man’s hand approaching slowly, to the white body. Don’t touch me, the afraid souls of the alive ones scream. Touch me, the souls whisper in pain, of those that never enjoyed the beautiful forbidden fruits. Now in the picture, the cock of the man seems to arise of the shades. The adolescent’s head is turned, his hypnotized eyes follow the evident growth of the man’s sex. The image is frozen in this way, boy and man, both still awaiting theirs relentless future.

(more…)

It wasn’t as though I was unattractive. In fact, I was actually quite good-looking. I just wasn’t satisfied with my looks. Even as I sat in front of the mirror that Monday morning I was unsure of my appearance. Perfectionists get that way, I guess.

“Damn it,” I said in frustration as I ran a comb across my hair once more. It hung loosely around my head, only falling to my ears or so. As much as I’d been told my hair always looked good, it never looked good enough for me.

Thinking back on it, I don’t know why I spent so much time trying to look good when I was fourteen. I was antisocial and didn’t have many friends. I was never after girls so there didn’t seem to be a point in looking like a lady-killer. I just had an overwhelming desire to look nice.

“Much better. Damn, I’m cute,” I said to myself, staring into my own soft hazel eyes. I tossed my math book into my backpack and pulled on my blue Nikes. Taking another look in the mirror, I noticed a pimple on my chin that had not been apparent before. I cursed silently and walked out the door.

(more…)

“Grammy what’s that room used for?” asked Tommy pointing to the room where his grandmother had just retrieved a vacuum cleaner to clean up the potato chips on the living room carpet.

“Tommy that room is used to hide things that we don’t other people to see or know about.” Said his grandmother as she pushed the vacuum.

“What’s it called Grammy?” persisted Tommy. “It’s the closet,” said his grandmother making her way into the living room.

“Funny things about closets Tommy things have a way of coming out of there on their own.” And she continued to vacuum the room, Tommy helped moved the chip bag in the way.

(more…)

Joshua was the eye candy of every girl in sight. He was only 18 but looked to be much older. He always wore black pants and black boots even if it were hot outside. He loved feeling so strong; he’d always wear either a slit shirt, half of a shirt, or no shirt. His body was very sculpted and hard not to stare at. Every girl would be caught looking. His brown curly hair was a few inches from his head and his attitude and personality made the girls want him even more. Joshua seemed to have everything, but something always troubled him.

Each weekend at the neighborhood pool center Joshua would see Jacob. Jacob had just turned 15, wasn’t very tall, and although he had a skinny physique he was developing a small gut. Joshua always seemed bothered when he’s catch Jacob staring at him. Joshua wanted Jacob to
stop being so troubled, he wanted Jacob to feel like he felt. Strong, tall, and sexy. Jacob had curly almost black hair very much like Joshua. His skin was a little darker tan Joshua’s but Joshua thought that if Jacob grew to his height and worked out like him, they might even look like brothers, Jacob could only dream of even talking to him though.

(more…)