Don’t Tell Mom, Part 3: Breaking all the rules

Step-Dad(Read part 1 here)

I know I’m insane to be doing this, but here I am jacking off and licking my step-dad’s chest while he is passed out in his bed: The bed my mother slept in up until she left Mitch and I last month for some guy in Utah. I know it’s wrong on so many levels, but I’m getting close to shootings and can’t stop.

My eyes are locked on the growing bulge in Mitch’s white boxer briefs. I move to rub his crotch when Mitch wakes with a gasp and grabs the back of my head before I know what is happening. He holds my head against his chest as his eyes slowly focus on me. I can’t bring myself to take a breath.

“Kevin?” Mitch mumbles, sounding somewhat like an accusation rather than a question. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I don’t make a sound: There’s nothing I can possibly say to make this right. I turn my head to see his green eyes trying to make sense of the situation. Mitch’s muscular body is tense but he looks more confused than angry, and I suspect he may still be drunk. Aware Mitch can easily kick my ass without even working up a sweat, I quickly weigh my options and choose the path of greatest resistance and greatest potential reward. Mitch isn’t a violent man and I figure the worst that he’ll do is knock me out of his bed.

That, and kick me out of his house.

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The Younger Man, Part 1

younger manTrent hit me up online a few weeks ago and has been aggressively pursuing me until I finally agreed—against my better judgment—to invite him over tonight. Don’t get me wrong: I have no complaint about a sexy, muscular jock wanting to climb into my bed; but I’m a little wary about our difference in age. I just celebrated my forty-seventh birthday last week, making me 24 years older than Trent.

He shows up at my door with a hint of a smirk on his scruffy face, his hazel eyes dancing as he introduces himself. At 5’10” he is only a few inches shorter than me but his lean, athletic body makes me feel like a giant in comparison. He pats me on the arm like an old friend and glances around my living room before finally looking up at me. This boy is fucking beautiful, yet oddly masculine for someone so young. Continue reading

Steamy Black Cock

big black cock

Shoulder-deep in one of the hot tubs here in the Mandalay Bay’s spa, I’m doing my best to relax after an insane three days in Vegas. I seem to be the only person in here today and it’s actually a little creepy. I pull myself out of the water, wrap a towel around my waist, and step into the dry sauna. Again, I am the only person to be seen, and I have to wonder if it is always this dead on a weekday in September. Maybe everyone is out at the pool?

I begin to dry out, so I grab a bottle of water and an iced towel and step into the steam room. I inhale the scent of eucalyptus and sit down on the lower shelf. As expected, I am the only person in here so I lean my head back against the upper step, down the bottle of water, and place the cold towel over my eyes.

The door opens after a few minutes but I don’t even bother to look. I assume it is just one of the spa employees but I can sense someone sitting down on the tiled shelf across from me. Trying to look casual, I remove the towel from my face so I can get a look: The guy is thin, Black, and probably in his fifties or sixties. He has a bald head and, in fact, the only hair he seems to have anywhere is a graying beard and a small patch of hair over his thick flaccid dick. He opens his eyes and notices me looking at him. I look up at the ceiling, feeling stupid, and try to relax again. Continue reading

Taking home the trainer

my trainer









Done with another session in which I am convinced my trainer is trying to kill me, I limp back towards the locker room and am stopped by another of the trainers whom I’ve never met but have seen around. Like most of the trainers here at Gold’s gym, he is young and in great shape.

“Hey man, I’m Levi,” he says. “Jon told me you’re a massage therapist.”

Jon is my totally hot—and totally straight—trainer. I nod. “That’s right.”

“Any chance you can work out a knot, bro? I tweaked my back this morning and I can’t work it out.”

I want to laugh when he calls me “bro”, but, considering I am easily twenty years his senior, I’m lucky he didn’t call me “Sir”. “I specialize in deep tissue work,” I explain with a smile, trying my best not to overtly check him out. Levi is around my height of 6’, has cropped light brown hair and bright blue eyes. He has smooth, pale skin and looks pretty ripped from what little I can see past his gym pants and black polo shirt. He’s skinnier than the guys who usually catch my attention, but he’s a handsome guy. Continue reading

Blind Date

blindfoldI make it to the Embassy Suites right on time and navigate my way through the large atrium of a lobby. I locate the second phone to the right of the elevators and, as promised, find the key card hidden underneath it. Key in hand, I head up to his room and open the door onto a large, dark hotel room illuminated only by the city lights coming in through the partially drawn curtains. I remain by the door for a minute to allow my eyes to adjust. Slowly, I focus on my prize: The dude I met on Adam4Adam lying naked on his back, head hanging over the foot of the bed, blindfolded with what looks like a black undershirt.

I step towards him, scanning the room for anyone lurking in the shadowy corners. I’m a little nervous, which is always hot, and my cock is doing it’s best to push its way out of my pants. I drop to my knees so that my face is more level with his and inspect the merchandise. He has dark brown hair – long enough to grab yet short enough for the business exec visiting from Atlanta he claims to be. He is clean shaven and looks fairly pale in this light. He gasps when I trace my index finger across his Adam’s apple and down his smooth, muscular neck. He tips his head further back as though he wants me to kiss him.

Not yet, pretty-boy.

I rub my hand down his chest, which causes him to moan and writhe a little. He is thin, yet defined, and he either shaves his body or is amazingly smooth for a thirty-something-year-old. His cock is rock hard and curving up against his belly-button: It’s probably around seven inches but looks huge against his small frame. His online profile claims he is 5’10” but I’m guessing he’s a little shorter, though it’s hard to tell at this angle. I stand up and take another look around the room, finding the lube, condoms and bottles of water on the nightstand just as he promised.

Good boy. Continue reading

Glory Daze

Glory HoleOne of my fuck-buddies calls, asking if I’ve ever met the dude in my neighborhood who advertises having a private glory hole set up in his home. I’ve seen the profile dozens of time but have never checked it out: It just seems creepy, if not dangerous, and the only photo the guy offers is a close-up of his open mouth. My buddy agrees it may be a little weird yet, being the pig that he is, wants to check it out anyway. He wants me to join him, promising we can bail if it gets weird. I doubt the dude is going to let us both come over at the same time, so I agree. In less than five minutes my buddy is instructing me to rinse off and meet at the address in half an hour.

The things my dick gets me into, right?

I get there first and wait a few minutes until my buddy pulls up and parks in front of me. He gets out of his car—wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a gray ball cap—and walks over to my car. He’s tall, thin and blond, which usually isn’t my thing, but he has a huge dick which I’ve given up on trying to swallow and a great ass which, thankfully, loves getting fucked. He looks great tonight.

I roll down the window and he leans in. “This is crazy.”

“That’s why you love it,” hey says with a smile. “Let’s go blow our loads.” Continue reading

What happens in Vegas …

10en71yI’m wide awake at 7 am for some reason, even though my friends and I were up in the casino till 3 am. I glance at the other bed in our suite to see my buddy dead asleep. I’m a little hung over and seriously horny, so I log on to A4A Radar and find 14 other men within 300 feet and apparently in the same predicament. I love how many gay men stay here at the Cosmopolitan.

One guy catches my attention: 36 years old, bottom, decent shape, and looks like he may be Latin. I hit him up with a simple “What’s going on, handsome?” and find out that he is killing time before a 10am meeting, is horny, likes to kiss and be dominated, is 6 floors below me and needs 20 minutes to get ready. I have condoms and he has lube. I can’t remember the last time a hook up was orchestrated so efficiently and before I allow myself time to question it, I am showered and on my way down to his room.

He answers the door in gym shorts and a tight white t-shirt, looking nothing like I imagined from his photo: This boy is breathtakingly handsome with bright blue eyes, light brown hair and reddish scruff. He is 5’9” at best and is built like a gymnast on steroids. I run my hand through his wavy hair as a greeting, then close the door behind me and pull him in for a kiss. The connection is electric, and I know in an instant by his moan and the way he is clinging to me that he feels exactly the same way. I push him against the wall and kiss him hard and deep until we are both gasping for breath.

We finally pull apart long enough for me to pull his shirt off. I’m conscious that anything I say at this moment will sound completely stupid, so I just stand back and admire his defined shoulders and hard chest. He has just the right amount of light brown chest hair, which trails down his tight abs and under the waistband of his shorts.

He rubs his hands over my chest and down my arms. “Damn, you’re buff,” he says, making me laugh.

I can’t think of anything else to say other than “I want you.”

“You have me!”

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