Clay Hunter Dalton is stationed in Germany and goes to Frankfurt on pass. While there he goes to a large department store to buy civilian clothes, and when he checks out he discovers that he has more than he purchased, including a more expensive jacket, and several pairs of shorts and T-shirts. The clerk points out the man who told him to include the items. He is a wealthy German businessman who then invites Hunter to his estate. Hunter goes, ...
At the gym, a man meets up with a gorgeous hunk who turns out to be a sergeant in the National Guard. The sergeant asks for a ride to his girlfriend's cabin, and the man soon finds out that the sergeant has other plans in mind for the weekend, and he's not the only one. Four other men join in the hot action.
Okay, I was surprised out of my mind, but decided that maybe he wasn't all that gay; he sounded like he was just being a man about it, like he was eating a pussy before he fucked it.
He soon entered a plush hotel lobby. We see him walk to the ornate 'welcome desk' where a highly groomed blond gentleman stood smiling. The smiling eyes seemed to fixate on the muscle bulging out of the Bros muscle shirt.
I wadded the jock up in my fist and opened the door and looked out into the barracks. There were several guys still in their bunks, probably sleeping it off, too. One guy was reading, another was polishing his boots.
As the plane touched down, my thoughts were to make this trip the catalyst to strip David from my life, relax, and get on with things. After claiming my baggage, I got a cab to the secluded resort.
I don't know how long I stood staring at his body and his crotch, but it seemed that all of a sudden he was beside me, closing the bedroom door. As I heard the door click shut, I looked up at his face in surprise.
Then, holding the gun in front of him with trembling hand, he tentatively moved out of the room. He instinctively moved from one well-lit spot to the next, not even consciously knowing why, just knowing somehow that that was an important thing for him to do.
It was with a sense of surprise but not regret the next evening when Leon handed me a ticket for a B-2 Cowbody Special at the same hotel wedding suite at midnight the next night.
He arched my torso back so that my head nearly touched the floor. my knees were bent on either side of his butt cheeks, and my calves ran back toward the front of the chair so that I could balance my body on the balls of my feet and maintain some sort of fulcrum leverage, as he grabbed my hips in this hands and slid my ass back and forth in deep strokes on his tool.
I got out of the shower and Salvas dried me off with the towel, Making quite sure that all of my private parts were dry and well rubbed. After he finished, he moved around the room, straightening up, but never quite getting around to putting his clothes back on.
All of this was too much for me; I had never imagined, not to mention seen, anything like this. And I shot off a load of semen down Don's throat. Don now lost focus on my cock and balls and moved back to in front of me.
Thereupon Emile rose and stretched along the young man's body, and placed his lips upon the gardener's lips and locked his violet eyes on the gardener's hazel eyes. The gardener was weakly trying to return the pressure of the kiss.
Now renamed 'Carla' after some trannies started putting some feminizing hormones up my ass, it was hopeless trying to pretend I was a man. My Rugby playing friends were determined to make sure of that.
The right front leg was clearly broken, a compound fracture revealing bone and tendon to the cold evening air. I ran for the saddlebag. The gun was wet, but I prayed it would fire.
The bulge under his fly startled me at first, and I wondered if maybe he was stuffing his basket...but judging by the rest of his physique, I guessed not.
he lifted my legs and started to apply a big hand of crisco from a open tub by the bed, he worked it and his left hand back in my butt hole. I could feel his hand stretching me more and more and I knew the pressure I felt meant his knuckles were at my ring again..
I felt so innocent, but at the same time so slutty; I felt like the cock was never going to end and the pleasure was incredible. Having 5 stinky black dicks in front of me.
I began to give him head, slowly at first and then faster. I moved a hand over his thigh to cup his balls and to roll and pull at them. One finger of that hand, though, I allowed to travel down even further until I could feel CJ's knuckle, buried in Binggum's hole.
CJ pulled me up from the seat with the hands he had on my waist and hips, swung me around into the aisle, and laid my chest down on the cold table top between the facing seats across the aisle. He knocked my legs apart in a wide stance, with my feet on the floor; my chest on the table top, held down with a strong hand; my butt waving out into the aisle; and my face up against a porthole, where, nonsensically, I watched the world of patterned ...
After a second and then a third ride, and continuous attention from the stool, I was finished with him. I turned off the stool and untied him and he just huddled there in thank-you whimpers. As a parting gesture, I untied his necktie, rolled the spent condom off my dick, and wiped my dick and then his asshole with the silk tie and stuffed it in his mouth.
But it wasn't over. Flash was still as hard as ever. He turned Clint on his back and knelt below him on the divan and pulled Clint's pelvis into his hips. This time he fucked Clint in vigorous strokes. Joyfully. His eyes locked on Clint's. Full of pleasure, laughter, and lust.
And then he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Some movement over by the cabin's door. And then Ralf was bounding in the room and moving quickly toward the bed.
As the ship pulled away from the dock and Folsom waved to Manfeld and company and the somewhat disappointed bruiser, he turned and headed for the Alexander Lounge. Half way there, though, he was accosted by the African potentate, wanting to claim his rain check on their romp on the Helios deck lounger, and Folsom thought, what the hell, and permitted himself to be carried off to the king's cabin.
This story happened a few years ago. Back then, I used to live in Paris, and I would sometimes call one of these phone sex numbers and listen to the ads. One of the first times I did that, one message really caught my attention. The guy was about my age (I was twenty one), sounded nice and wanted to have some fun. So I wrote the number down (with many others!), and called.
Josh is the new 18 year old that moved to this school from the closest city 2 hours away, he is tall, a bulging 6 pack, the softest skin that you could ever feel, and the biggest package on record. I am completely and totally in love with him, But he is my best mate.
James has come back 'changed', he's not the shy little mouse that everyone remembers. As far as he is concerned everyone can go to hell. And that includes his first love Kevin.
Will Merrin has everything one would think a 29-year-old man would want: Looks, health, self-confidence, a fast track career in business and an extremely well-paying job in a bustling East Coast City. But he's lonely in a new city and over-worked, and is starting to get sick of being celibate..
Folsom's mind was racing. In the horror of what he saw and the short time that he was in the room, could he possibly have overlooked seeing a thick and bloody dildo of some sixteen inches in length on the floor by the body? No, he couldn't imagine that being possible. He was a trained cop.
When they both were spent, they just lay there, Folsom stretched on top of the African, and watched the ship's passage through rocks of the Loreley, with their legend of siren songs luring seafarers to their death on the tricky shoals of the passage of the Rhine between two rocky crags.
As had been the case in Folsom's cabin the previous evening, the steward had lowered only one of the beds and, after helping Folsom shed his clothes, Frist sat him on the edge of this bed, disrobed himself, and then knelt between Folsom's thighs and gently sucked Folsom to a orgasmic death.