LGBT Stories

Let me introduce myself, I’m 18, 5ft 11, I’m slim, but athletically
built, I enjoy middle distance running, football and swimming. I’m in
college. My hair is black, cropped, my dick is 8 inches, uncut, average
thickness; if I get really hard my foreskin usually peels back on it’s
own accord. I have a fair amount of silky genital hair. My body is smooth
and hairless apart from a trail from my navel to my pubes. I’ve been out
with a couple of girls, but we’ve only fooled around, I’ve never fucked
one. At school I had the usual mutual wanking sessions with some of the
lads in my class, but nothing more. Until last Saturday that is. I don’t
know my sexuality.
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The Young Man was naked, apart from a studded dog collar, however his ball bag was tied around the base with fine twine, and his balls were then separated by the same, they looked like two, dark red, shiny walnuts under the bright lights. The twine had pulled up enough of his skin to expose his bright red knob. His cock was very stiff, very hard, and twitching. The Master and the Boy were also naked apart from the Boy’s own dog collar and studded wrist bands, and a 5 inch butt plug nestling up his bum, the Master wore a short leather waistcoat and had on studded wristbands too. They were both hard also, the Boy’s cock was leaking little dribbles of precum, which he wiped off with a finger which he then put straight into his mouth. He was very excited to be assisting his Master, a reward for his performance three nights ago when his Master and three friends had used his compliant body for three hours, to everyone’s mutual satisfaction.
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I was walking home from a rockabilly gig and noticed a gang of teenage skinheads hanging around a street corner. I was feeling kind of horny as there’d been some very cute rockabilly kids at the gig, but of course they were all unavailable. Or at least, if they were available, they weren’t going to admit it in that setting, amongst their straight mates. I’d been standing behind one particularly fuckable rockabilly aged about 18, and had a raging hard-on all thru the gig, staring at his very lickable neck with a tattoo of a Rebel Flag and the legend `Rockabilly Rebel’. It was all I could do to stop myself pressing up against his tight little bubble butt, and taking a vampire-like bite out of his neck.

So in this sexed up state, I guess I looked at some of these attractive teenage skinheads a little too long. As I turned the corner, I heard footsteps behind, and realized the gang were following me. I quickened my pace, but my heart sank as I heard:

`Oi there, queerboy! Wotcha lookin’ at?’
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My partner, when homeless in London and living as a rent boy, was sleeping rough near the Royal Festival Hall and was awoken by a policeman in uniform who ordered my partner to give him a blow-job or be arrested; presumably for prostitution and vagrancy. This sounds like a fantasy come true, but my partner said it was anything but. On another occasion he was arrested in a public toilet with another man, and when he protested they weren’t doing anything the police said: `No, we know you weren’t, but if we hadn’t come in when we did you might have done something.’ They then framed them both with false evidence. On yet another occasion they arrested him in a public toilet along with his best friend, another rent boy, and accused them of picking each other up. It was ridiculous; they’d lived together for years as `sisters’ and never had what was then known as `tootsie trade’. They had no need to go to a public convenience if they wanted to have sex together, as they often shared a bedroom.
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My boss and master was always thinking up new ways to humiliate me. Making me beg for all my meals, from breakfast to dinner, which always began with a big mouthful of hot spunk from his cock. Then he’d bring his friends around to feed me their loads as well.

For my 19th birthday he bought me a whole load of t-shirts which he told me I had to wear whenever he took me out anywhere. The red one with yellow lettering he ordered me to wear today read: `I’m A Cum Eater. Please feed me’.

I had got a job as an office boy just last year, and he had trained me to sit under his desk and suck him off whilst he interviewed clients and prospective employees. Several months after I started working there, he took me home with him and told me that’s where I’d be living from now on. He made me write a letter to my parents saying I’d be living with my boss from now on.
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I was 18 years old and on a peace demonstration at a military base in East Anglia, England. We had come equipped with ladders and mattresses in order to climb the boundary fences and safely scale the coiled barbed wire at the top.

About 20 of us from my group managed to scale the perimeter fence, and once inside we headed for the nearest military equipment we could locate armed with mallets, etc. to smash it to pieces. Some women made for an aircraft, climbed up on it and smashed the cockpit windows before climbing inside and smashing up the controls.

I somehow got separated from the others, and decided I’d head for a light armored vehicle and see what damage I could do to that.
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Sam Charger slid his ID card through the slot at the entrance of Philistine Estates. As he waited for the massive iron gates to slide back he flipped open the center console in his 2000 Jaguar XJ-16 and flipped on the monitor and pushed the infrared scan button. It took three seconds for the camera to freeze in a room labeled “Ray’s bedroom.”

There were two figures which angered Sam until he remembered Hank was coming over to tutor his thirteen-year-old adopted son in math after school. He was usually gone by the time Sam got home but they were still going at it.

“Wait a minute,” Sam said as he came to a stop sign and took a closer look. “What the hell’s going on there?”
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First a little background. I was 17 years old, 137 pounds of lean boy, light brown hair on my head and smooth EVERYWHERE else. For the most part I was pretty much void of chest hair, and the hair on my legs and arms was negligible. All that had been in my crotch; I shaved off every other day in the shower. I liked the way it made my 7-inch circumcised cock look and feel. I was also sporting a nice tan, except where my bikini covered me, as I really enjoyed being outdoors. My groin area and buttcheeks were very pale white. I had never had sex yet with a girl and didn’t really think about it much. I had a few experiences with a boy from school in the gym locker room after practice. But nothing ever went beyond some mutual masturbation or a quick blowjob for either of us. I never really considered myself gay, but I knew I wasn’t that turned on by the girls either.
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Jeremiah turned to see himself in the mirror that he had bought at the local auction. It had been setting there in the corner like a quite sentinental watching over the rest of the collection of oddities. Making sure that none of the escaped without being purchased properly. He had asked the older gentleman about the mirror and was told that no one wanted it because that it was ugly and the shine seemed to be gone from the surface. However, Jeremiah was drawn to the mirror and knew that he would be taking it home but did not know how truly to explain it to his mother.
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I had walked to this same bar now for three weeks hoping to see if the man that I had seen the first night would be sitting in the corner booth. It was a longshot but I prayed that he would be up to character and would be there. Someone told me that he was the owner of the bar but he looked no more than eighteen years of age. He had long black hair weighed about 185lbs and stood just over six feet two inches tall. What interested me was what he was packing in his jeans. His cock seemed to hang down the length of his leg; it seemed to be about ten inches long soft. I would give anything to see it hard.
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Reaching for the door knob, “I have everything? Ya, Best blue pinstripe suit, new white shirt, Harvard tie and shoes shined. “With just enough time to get to the plane for Boston, I look about the kitchen and then….

“How about a good-bye kiss, buddy,” I turn and you are standing there in nothing but your jockstrap. You are nice, but I’m rushing so I step up to give you a quick kiss. You reach around with your left arm placing the hand between my shoulder blades, pulling me tightly into your six two frame. Pressing your lips tight to mine, you starts to slowly brush the tongue across my lips forcing them to separate and allowing it to enter. Slowly washing my tongue and teeth with it and rocking your head back and forth the kiss take on one of deep passion as you pull me deeper into your arm. With my arms wrapped around you, I dig into your back fully enjoying the kiss. My mind swirls to the previous night. “This man is both tender, soft and wild with lust, that the whole encounter of the night left me drained, and sore by morning, completely full of both sexual satisfaction and a deeper love for him.” (more…)

I had never been in an airplane before, but I already hated it. I had survived the take-off, the weird air supply, the kid screaming three rows back, and the big hairy man who fell asleep two hours ago and was still using my shoulder for a headrest, but the plane would land soon and my new life would start. I got in a lot of trouble back in El Paso, 18 years old and had stolen three cars. This time the judge was mad. I had already seen him twice, so he would have to lock me up this time in a real jail. So of course I jumped at the opportunity he gave me. He said I had never had a real father and didn’t know how men were supposed to be. True, I had lived in various group homes the last few years, and I never knew my father, but I was a man. I know what men do. (more…)

“Welcome, Parker, we’re glad to have you,” said the facilitator.

I sat down in the empty chair next to him and stared at my shoes. I didn’t know what I was doing here. A few hours earlier I was in the counselor’s office at my school. Mrs. Bradley was a nice lady, very easy to talk to, but I didn’t want to be there. I had gone because a junior, Lance Adams had slammed me against a locker and written “faggot” on my forehead with a magic marker. At 5′5 and just over a hundred pounds, I was at a disadvantage and could do little more than struggle against his massive arms pinning me.

“Maybe it would help if you could talk to other kids… kids like you,” she trailed off.

“I’m not gay!” I yelled, wanting to get up and run out of the room. They had already called my father to inform him of the incident and actions taken against the boy who did it to me. I was sure he was on his way to the school to fly in and rescue me like he always did. I was so tired of it; I didn’t even want them to punish Lance. I just wanted to forget it happened and now I would be labeled as the school fag. (more…)