LGBT Stories

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“Hello.”

“Hi. Is Chuck home?”

“Yes. Speaking.”

“Chuck, you don’t know me but I wanted to call you anyway. I’m in my bedroom naked and was thinking about you while I jerked off.”

“Who is this? Is this some joke? Is this Bobby?”

“No, it’s no joke. I know you but I don’t think you know me. I’m in school with you.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game this is but I’m going to hang up.”

“I wish you wouldn’t. It took me a while to work up the nerve to call you. I really am laying on my bed jerking off. I’ve got my stiff cock in my left hand and I’m stroking it very slowly, making believe it’s you doing it.”

“Well I’m not on the bed naked, I’m in the kitchen dressed.”

“Do you have a phone upstairs?”

“Yes, but it’s a different number than this one. It’s 3309.”

“I could call on that other number in a few minutes and if you’re there we could talk.”

(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.

My body, now totally relaxed, begins to writhe with the pleasure I feel. I am in sheer ecstasy with the sensations which totally fill my hot body. The scent of maleness becomes even stronger in the air as my shaft throbs even more and the love tunnel is probed ever deeper with fingers. Drops of sweat cover my arms. I become even more excited. The sensation is indescribable. My lips part and I take the shaft in my throat, my lips slowly sucking, urging this erect cock deeper within the abyss of my throat. Releasing it, I now suck up and down the shaft, lapping up the precum which slowly forms like dew drops on the head and continue my adventure on this wonderful pole, while one finger probes in and out of my manhole. I am patient for the climax. A daily ritual which always sends waves of ecstasy throughout my body. I purr with pleasure at the feeling of this hard cock down my throat. I love tasting the slightly salty precum on my lips, its aroma slowly filtering through my nostrils. Oh … the prostate begins to vibrate and sends me more intense joy. I feel like this can go on forever. But we know that it never does. The end eventualy comes. Always a sweet finale.

(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.

Anyway, I’m watching the Dallas/Vikings game and can’t continue seeing my Viking underdogs get trounced by the Cowboys. Luckily I’m not watching this with my straight buddies. Just once I’d love for them to turn on me and do me front and rear. Instead, I flick off the TV set and head for my room. There’s a big brown 8″ dildo in my room I’m going to make the longest love to tonight. It’s hard to believe that I started out with a little 4″ latex buddy about two years ago. I don’t know, maybe I was naturally gifted with an accommodating hole, but I’ve just kept on adding inches to my conquered list.

(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.

I might stop mid-story and reread a passage that is especially good: a
description, perhaps, down to the texture of his skin or the veins
protruding on his shaft. I look down. A bead of opaque fluid has bubbled to
the tip of my cock. For the first time, I allow myself contact, in two ways:
with my thumb I smear the drop around my cockhead, spongy and darker in
color, and then I reach lower, cupping my balls, squeezing them gently. They
are floating in a creamy pool that your words soon will encourage out of my
sac.
(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…)