LGBT Stories

The room was nondescript. Dark, but the darkness itself secreted nothing of importance.

There were only three items of furniture: a spacious, well-used (and stained) double bed denuded of its blanket; a plain wooden desk chair; and a small, wheeled cabinet with a set of drawers. What light there was–and there wasn’t much–emanated from a desk lamp that sat atop the stand.

The man stood in the room and stared at the boy before him, silently appreciating his features. The young man sitting in the chair was short of stature, slender of form, firm and lithe of body. His youthful face was framed by a head of short, tousled brown hair.

He looked innocent. Virginal. Frightened.

The man grunted softly to himself in approval.

The boy tried to hold the man’s gaze, and failed.

He was, despite his resolve not to tremble, afraid. Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and collected in his softly tufted armpits. His stomach pitched, his bowels felt loose. His sphincter spasmed in an odd mixture of fear and anticipation, and warmth suffused his crotch. His genitals tingled and his testicles roiled tightly in his scrotum.

(more…)

I had just left the bar, bored and horny, when the boy spoke, asking me if I could light his cigarette.

I had never paid for sex before, but when I looked up and saw the kid, I knew I was about to.

He was small, slender, blond, with a cute young face and a humpy little bod. I doubted he was much older than 18. He didn’t have that hardened look they get when they’ve been on the street a while.

I produced my lighter and struck the flint. He took my hand in his and brought it to his unlit Winston. As he pulled in the flame he looked up; his long lashes framed his blue eyes as they bored into my own. After the butt started burning he held onto my hand a fraction longer than he needed to.

I was hooked.

“How much?” I murmured softly. I knew there were vice cops in the area.

“Depends,” he smiled, blowing smoke from his nostrils.

I glanced around furtively. There was no one on the street but us.

“Forty for the whole works,” he declared flatly. “Hurry up an’ decide, man. We’re gonna get smacked by John Law standin’ here like this.”

(more…)

The young Lieutenant looked up as his door opened and two MPs entered.

“Yes, Sergeants? What is it?”

“Another AWOL for you, sir,” said one, handing him a set of files.

The Lieutenant sighed.

“What’s this one done?” he asked, glancing through the folder.

“Went off base four days ago chasin’ tail, Sir. We nabbed him while he was in some sleaze-bag motel, fuckin’ some greasy skank on a dirty bed. Been on a three-day pussy hunt, Sir. Figured you’d know what he needed.”

“Okay, Sergeant. Good work. Send the punk in.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The MPs smirked at each other as they went out.

(more…)

“Well, well, Bobby” the bearded man in my living room chuckled.

I was looking up at him in shock He was dressed completely in red trimmed with white, his black boots shiny, a cap set jauntily on his head. His white beard flowed luxuriously down his front, and he had a knowing smile on his ruddy face, his eyebrow cocked at the sight before him.

I was on my knees, my trousers and shorts around my ankles. There was a shiny magazine before me on the floor, and my rigid cock was in my hand.

I was jacking off to porno, and Santa had caught me with … well, my pants down!

“Um–I–uh–” I stammered. My cock went immediately limp, and I jumped up, my face red with shame, pulling my pants up hurriedly. My eyes were aimed at the floor.

He chuckled again, a deep, rolling, merry laugh.

“Look at me, Bobby,” he commanded. His voice was surprisingly gentle, but there was a firmness under its soft quality that clearly brooked no disobedience.

I raised my eyes slowly, and as they traveled up his form, I was almost sure I saw a large bulge at his crotch, but I didn’t dare look at it long enough to be sure.

When my eyes looked into his, I noticed that they glinted with merriment.

(more…)

No question about it: he loved to be slowly and skilfully masturbated by
knowing fingers. But it had to be very carefully done so that he didnt come
for a long, long time. He thought nothing of lying on the big old bed in the
hot upstairs back bedroom for hours while his friend squatted on his heels
between his wide-spread legs and stroked and tickled and tweaked and pulled
and twisted his slick, hot, oily cock in a thousand different sweet,
delicious, torturous ways. Oh, the rapture of it! He would stretch his legs
wide apart and lift them off the bed, staring down across the lean tight
hardness of his body and enjoying the look of his glistening tensed chest,
abdomen, and thighs. Heaven!

And his friend had learned just the right way of holding his penis in his fist
when it started to spurt, squeezing and jiggling it with just the right
pressure, just the precisely right rhythm so as to make his orgasm last and
last and last. He was thankful that his friend had been willing to learn these
tricks that so greatly magnified and prolonged his pleasure, and that his
friend seemed to enjoy giving him pleasure as much as he in turn enjoyed
receiving it.

(more…)

The heat shimmerered on the asphalt, the road stretching away to both horizons in a straight monotonous line. Parked by the side of the road was a Ford pickup, with a cap over the back. A sign on either door, handwritten in black marker on white bond paper, and affixed with masking tape, declared “Minutemen Welcome Wagon”. Beside the truck stood two men, looking south to the shimmering horizon. A tall American Indian in white t-shirt, worn jeans, and suede cowboy boots, his long black hair reaching the middle of his back, spat a wad of tobacco on the ground.

“Shit, it’s hot”. Sparrowhawk - known to all as Hawk - pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his face, his smooth lean torso glistening with perspiration. He threw his shirt in the open window of the truck, and scanned the desert scrub along the horizon. “Where’s those damn wetbacks?” he muttered.

“Patience”, said his companion, an African-American dressed in a blue denim shirt and button-fly Levis. Leroy raised his binoculars, scanning the desert for signs of illegal border crossers. He was going to add something, when he froze, a glint of light attracting his attention in the distance. “Showtime”, he announced, climbing into the pickup. He pulled a rifle from the gun rack at the back of the cab as Hawk climbed in and turned the ignition. He turned the pickup southwards, and soon they were barreling over the dry ground through the sage and scrubgrass.

(more…)

Josh was hustled quickly from the ornate 15th cent. choir stalls, and
whisked off into the crypt of the building.
The boy’s saucy attitude was apparent as he smirked at the verger. “Where
are we going? The dungeons? Oooh, scary!”
“If I were you I’d show less attitude, young man.”
“You talk big for a sissy in a black dress.”
“You have disrupted the Solemn Office. For this you will be punished.”
Without warning, the verger had Josh in a half-nelson. He was amazingly
strong for his size. Stunned, Josh could hardly resist as he was forced
down a series of dark and twisting corridors.
The young man had been hitch-hiking across Britain during the summer
before his senior year at a private art school. The only child of a
moderately wealthy but profoundly disinterested American family, his only
posssions on the trip were a large rucksack and a cocky attitude. It was
the attitude that got him in trouble during the service. Josh realized
that his rucksack must be up in the gothic abbey somewhere. His grip on
the arrogant smirk was slipping fast.
At first the 18 year old boy (who, of course, thought himself a man) was
amused by the fact that he had so successfully gotten under the skin of
the pompous official. But, truth to tell, all of a sudden the little boy
inside him found the gloomy crypts positively creepy. And there was
something serious about the man’s grip on him that intimidated Josh to
silence.

(more…)

You and I are suspended in a lying horizontal position, one above the other face-to-face, in mid-air by invisible ropes around our naked bodies, myself the higher of the two of us, looking down. Our invisible suitor has placed us in a 69 position. Our cocks are completely erect, the distance between us, adjusted so our shafts barely touch our lips. Our mouths cannot yet feel the skin our our bodies — it is very cleverly planned, and extremely exciting this way!

We are in emotional pain as we have been like this for an hour already, our hungry mouths waiting to catch their prey … precum slowly dropping out into our waiting throats. It all began when we found one another in our dreams and were unable to satisfy our desires. Before we knew it, we found ourselves in this enticing, yet completely frustrating position. This is not a nightmare, but one of the best dreams that we have had. But we have had enough. We want to find each other’s cock in our mouths — the finale to our dream. We yell to our naked suitor, who gazes up at us from far below. He just smiles at us, while stroking his own shaft which has been shooting cum now in a constant 10-minute stream. He is also lying down on his back, the cum all over his stomach and in his mouth. He is licking his lips while looking at us.

(more…)

The man lit his third cigarette of the morning as his eyes watched
the boy moving around the restaurant. The kid was more than aware of the
man’s interest in him, and he figured it was just a matter of time before
the two of them would meet. The boy glanced toward the man from time to
time, but their eyes never connected. The kid was much too saavy for that.
He knew he had to wait for the man to make the first move.
“Take this shit to the back, Sean,” the owner said to the boy,
referring to the pan of dirty dishes the boy had collected from emptied
tables.

Without answering, Sean picked up the tray and did as he was told.
Once in the kitchen, he put the pan in the usual place for the dishwasher
to get to it. Sean pulled a box of Marlboro Reds out of his jeans and
fired up a butt, his first of the day. The smoke tasted good, but it made
him slightly dizzy as it filled his lungs. He leaned back against the
counter, watching the dishwasher get the soiled dishes ready for the
machine.

“Let me have one of those,” the dishwasher said.
Without a word, Sean retrieved his pack and tossed it to the other
boy. He needed a light, he said, and Sean obliged as he stuffed the pack
back into his pocket. The two kids smoked in silence.
The owner of the restaurant walked across the room to the table the
man was sitting at.
(more…)

After seeing one too many ads in the local gay rag, of bottoms seeking tops, I knew that we had an epidemic on our hands. It seemed every guy I met was dating Rosy Palm and her five sisters or he was “a bottom” looking for “a top”. Top men were becoming extinct. Think about it. When you go to a sex-toy store, what’s in abundance? Dildos!

I know an opportunity when I see it, and only told my parents, as they are totally cool about homo-sex. I can remember my dad greeting me in the living room after my first date with a guy. It was my freshman year in college and I had scored, I’d gotten laid! Dad was interested.

“Evenin’ son. Have a good time, did ya?” he said, looking up over the top of his reading glasses. He was in his reading chair in the living room, had a fire going and was having his quiet ‘dad-time’.

(more…)

I’m daydreaming again in my survey of American History class. We’re studying the economic and ethnic dynamics of the slave trade upon both the West African tribes people and colonial America. I which I could be there, not actually involved, but invisible, floating around seeing first-hand what people did, how it was.

Being an always horny dude who just so happens to be queer, I want to know all the things that didn’t get written down for posterity. Even more, I want to know those things that might have been written about, but have been purposely censored by heterosexist historians.

The picture of my history professor pops in my mind.

“Yea, you white man,” I think to myself. “How many of our fore fathers long ago supplied themselves for the sexual pleasure of black men? Truly Mr. Johansen, how many white guys gave hole to black brothas in the land before America became more civilized? The thought triggers a hard on in my pants right there in class. This isn’t my first time fantasizing about black and white sex in the olden days.

(more…)

Master Lord Lukas Conrad.

From a young age Lukas had became transfixed by torturing the other lads at school and throughout his time at Strathclyde Uni. How he enjoyed torturing the rich English boys. Tying them up so they couldn’t get away from him and doing things to them that you could never imagine especially if he was with his mates. Soon him and his mates formed a secret society and preyed on the young freshmen that they used throughout the year. Some became masters themselves others stayed as slave boys. Only the one’s that enjoyed it stayed as slaves boys.

That was over five years ago, now he was in his mid twenties and had been very busy like I said. Lukas was still young and had done well for himself this is so true. No one really knows how he got his millions together; perhaps it was through the Internet cafes he owns all through the country. He bought the old castle from a bankrupt Scottish family and became a Lord too. He had worked hard for his money and intended to enjoy it.

After he had set up that part of his life he started on his more personal life. First of all he worked on his body pumping himself up, turning himself into an even more handsome man and making himself even scarier than ever to his prey, as he liked to call them.

(more…)

It was a Thursday or maybe a Friday. It’s so long ago I can’t remember… Actually to think of it the main event took place two days later and that was definately a Saturday. So it was definately a Thursday. Yeah I remember it was after the Barbecue at the Braithwaites. It was getting a little late and to be honest everyone had a few beers.

At the moment you may find this irrelevant but its very important for you to know about me for it was greatly on my mind all that evening. I had just moved from the main family house and into the lodge so I could ‘do the place up’ before I sell the place and live in the lodge permanently living off the profits. I worked my butt off at university and as a lawyer in London for so long it was about time I lived it up a little now. So with the money I’d made over the years I decided to give my parents old place a facelift and sell it once and for all, after all they’d been dead for ten years. I was over all that. Completely. Some guys get over things by getting out there and having a good time but not me. I forced myself to be recognised as a forced to be reckoned with and one way to do that was work. Sometimes that meant seven days a week for weeks. Well a social icon I was not and that was why I struggled at the Braithwaites like I had with talking to folk. The company was mix, from the vicar and the local bank manager to a couple of guys who had come back from Uni for the summer and so on. All in all there were about fifty folk there. Half the village and a few extras for good luck I suppose.

(more…)

Your instruction tonight is for me to share my nastiest thoughts proving
how queer i am for your cock. Even with my eyes closed, blindfolded and
tied to the bed, i can sense your cock as it comes close to me. The smell
of you is heat and sweat and musk and a spicy something else that’s
indescribable. it is the essence of you. Close up and bare you are
pungent to the point of overwhelming for this fag cocksucker. My mouth
begins to water at my first whiff. As your smell pervades my senses, i
feel almost high, my head leans toward the scent, trying to get more, the
pureness of the source. i want to bury my face in your skin, to gather
your funk on my face. My tongue snakes from my mouth, although i know this
is forbidden. Sir will give me his cock when he is ready. My faggot
weakness is of no interest to you. The first thing i love about your cock
is the smell of it.

After you put me back in my place, usually with a hard slap across my
faggot face, you draw even closer. Your smell becomes my universe, my skin
burns from your heat. i feel you, beating my face with the head of your
club. First on my cheek, across my nose to the other. On my eyelids, my
forehead. You cockwhip me mercilously. Your pre-cum splatters from your
thick dick head trailing from the site of one slap to another. Your
powerful cock leaves a trail of pre and splotches marking me as your cock
bitch. i feel your hairy balls brush up against my chin as you lean
forward to batter my forehead. And then you stop. i can still smell you,
hear you breathing above me, the heat of your cock and crotch. The second
thing i love about your cock is the firmness of it.
(more…)

Steve was always one of the “bad boys” in my small town high school.
Although he was a member of the wrestling team and did car repairs after
school at his Dad’s service station, he had a reputation for using his good
looks to seduce the more naive co-eds, leaving one a single mother of his
first son, and whispered rumors of abortions in his wake as our high school
years progressed.

I distinctly remember hearing of Steve’s sexual conquests second hand from
a friend named Chad. Chad was generally considered a good kid, although it
was more because he just didn’t get caught fucking up or, as was the case
with Steve who just didn’t care what people knew as long as he got laid.
Chad related that he and another friend and Steve had been driving around
town (a practice called “cruising” and really one of the only things to do
in our town) and picked up Sonja, known for being pretty easy. Chad
watched while Steve nailed her in the back seat before they dropped her off
on the square.

For years after that as I jacked off, I imagined that it was me, not Sonja,
that Steve had picked up. That it was me he had degraded first by pushing
me down to suck on his cock before making me surrender my ass to him. And
all of this while his friends watched my humiliation.
(more…)

My name is Michael Williams. I’m 28 years old. An average guy. I live in a small town in southwestern Ohio, almost bordering on Kentucky. It’s a real traditional place. We started out mining coal, and when that ran out, we became a factory-based economy. Most of the people I know, live and work with get their living at the manufacturing plant in town.

I never went to college. Never really had much interest in it, to tell you the truth. I was a jock in high school– football, baseball, track to get into shape in the spring. And I worked on cars at the local garage. But I never had the skill it takes to do that for a living. I was married within a year of graduation to a girl from my class. We settled down in a modular home and tried to have some kids.

After six years my wife finally got pregnant. It wasn’t until I was standing there in the delivery room and the baby was born that I had any inkling it wasn’t mine. It didn’t take my wife long to admit that she’d been having an affair with her boss. Within two months, she’d filed for divorce and moved away with him leaving rumors in her wake about my sexual inability and how it had forced her to wander from our vows.
(more…)

“Ok ladies, get your asses off the bus, Now!” the Guard shouted at the prisoners as he opened the door to their transport.

Another day at Slater Penitentiary. Home to 900 men all convicted felons from petty crime to convicted murderers and rapists, it now had 20 more to call its walls home. Among the fresh meat was Quincy Davies. He didn’t belong here, or so he thought. He only did what any normal man would’ve done in his situation.

Quincy had walked in on his girlfriend of five years, riding a next man’s dick, in his bed. So what, they were having problems but to fuck another guy in his bed. To make it worse this wasn’t just any man, it was his best friend, Jamie, his bro, his peeps.

He was angry, so he showed Jamie what backstabbin’, bitch fuckin’ bastards like him got, a proper beat down. Quincy had beat Jamie to within an inch of his life before the cops burst in and pulled him off him. Now he was here in prison, aggravated assault and a five-year sentence, with chance of getting off in two for good behavior.
(more…)

My name is Dean, I am Charge Nurse at our local Cottage Hospital,
which is in the midst of being renovated. Most of our work is with
elderly patients, but about 3 months ago we had a bit of excitement.
There was a road accident just outside the Hospital, a young lad was
knocked off his motor bike, breaking his leg. Luckily our Part Time
Casualty Unit was operational, and he was bought in for treatment. I went
into the booth to prepare him for the Doctor, he was 6 ft, quite good
looking with shaved black hair, and an earring in his right ear. He
seemed unconscious, I removed his leather jacket, he wore nothing
underneath, revealing his quite well defined hairy chest, I was
surprised to see a ring through his left nipple. Usually we just cut up
the leg of the trousers anywhere, but I could see that they were very
expensive leather so I carefully cut up the seam on his broken leg
thinking how grateful he would be later. He was wearing a pair of white
boxers, and I was tempted to have a grope, my hand hovering over his
crotch, but professionalism kicked in and I finished removing the
leathers and covered him with a blanket. The doctor came to examine him
and I went to start the paperwork, having found his documentation in his
jacket pocket. His name was Darren B********, aged 19. Next of kin was
his mother, they lived at the same address. I telephoned her work’s
number and found out that she wouldn’t be able to collect him until 6
p.m. I estimated that his treatment would be over by 2:00 p.m. He’d have
to wait in Reception for her. (more…)

Paul was well and truly lost, why on earth had he took what he had thought
was a shortcut when he didn’t know the area? He’d left the Hostel with the
intention of walking to the nearest village, about one and a half hours away,
buying some wine and fags and returning to sunbathe by the Hostel pool. The road
curved round a forest, and when he’d seen the track he’d taken it, estimating
from it’s direction it would save him half an hour. He hadn’t expected the
track to turn away from the village, but he’d plodded on taking this fork then
that. Now HE WAS LOST! His back pack was getting heavier so he stopped, dropped
it off his shoulders and lit up his last Ducados. The sweat trickled slowly
down his broad back, he’d long ago removed his T-shirt, and down his hairless
chest, across his tight stomach to puddle in his navel. He had a good body for
18, due to his swimming and hiking, he didn’t do weights, content to carry a
few heavy books in his back pack whenever hiking. His baggy shorts were soaked,
moulding themselves over his four inch flaccid cock and heavy balls.
Carefully extinguishing his fag, he rose, stretched his 5ft 8 body and
looked around. Just to his right he could see what looked like a clearing, he
picked up his back pack and walked over. It was, and there was also a cool
inviting small lake. His spirits lifted, dropping the pack, he removed his trainers,
dropped his shorts and ran, naked, tight bum cheeks jiggling, down the
shingle beach into the cool inviting water. Ah, bliss!
(more…)