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Mascot

By: sr71plt



Chief had first noticed him when they did the Smithson 4th of July parade. The young man was Hispanic with a dark complexion and jet black hair and dashing eyes, also, with an easy smile and a "gosh-died-and-gone-to-heaven" look as the fire trucks rolled by with the firemen all decked out in their firefighting equipment and hanging off the sides of the hook and ladder truck.

The next day Chief saw him again, standing outside the firehouse, waiting patiently for a call that would bring the trucks out. An hour later, Chief looked again, and the young man was still there, sitting on the curb. Chief was the only one around for the next couple of hours, as the rest of the day crew was off at a practice tower performing an exercise.

The young man looked familiar. It was only after searching his brain that Chief realized he'd seen him out at the Loredo Ranch—a place where men went to meet other men and maybe to get a little action. Most of the guys at the firehouse liked to go out there. They were comfortable with each other—having the same interest bonded the men into a good firefighting team. They were considered the best in the region. They all kept in good shape, which encouraged appreciating the bodies of other men, and they backed each other well—and you could say they backed each other up real close. But there was no particular need for the other firehouses to know why they jelled as well as they did.

For the life of him, however, Chief couldn't remember in what capacity he'd seen the young Hispanic man at the ranch. Chief certainly hadn't paid for time with the guy there. Although he would have been happy to. He was a real sweet piece of tail. And those doe eyes of his. Chief ducked back into the firehouse and continued the inventory he was taking of the equipment—a job he performed every three days to make sure that everything was right there where it might be needed in an emergency.

Chief fantasized about latching his eyes onto those of the young Hispanic's while he was fucking him—watching the change of expression on the guy's face when he realized that he was being mined deeper than usual and that the man riding him had the stamina to fuck him into the ground. Firefighting made a MAN of a man. Chief liked to watch for the point at which the guy he was fucking realized that—and realized that he was in for one royal fucking.

An hour later and the guy was still there. Chief thought that showed a remarkable stamina itself, as the day was scorching hot and the Hispanic guy had been out in the sun for hours just from the time Chief had first seen him.

So Chief went out into the drive and approached him.

"I'm just watching," the young man said as Chief came closer. "I make no trouble. I just like to watch."

"No problem," Chief said.

"Really, I stay to sidewalk. I make no trouble."

Again Chief said, "No problem. Really. I'm just afraid you'll fry out here. You want to come in and get a drink of water?"

"Me? Come into the firehouse?" The young man was incredulous.

"Yes, come in and get out of the hot sun for a bit. Do you like firehouses, firefighting equipment? What's your name?"

"They call me Ricky. Ricardo, but Ricky for short is OK to call me."

"I'm Chief," Chief said. "That means I'm in charge here, and if I ask you in for a drink of water, there's no one to tell me I can't."

"You are kind. Yes, please. Thank you."

They started to walk toward the door next to the bay truck windows that were now closed. Chief guided the young man with a hand on his upper arm, and he could feel Ricky trembling at the touch.

"I think I've seen you . . . out at the Loredo Ranch." Chief said it to try to make the young man less skittish, more comfortable. He could feel he was intimidating the young man. Chief was a man and a half himself. All of the firemen were. Most of the time they weren't out on call, they were working out in the gym at the back of the truck bays. They had to be strong and agile to do what they had to do.

But the young man was still trembling. "Maybe. You go to the Loredo Ranch?"

"Yes, we all do here. It's part of keeping our edge—keeping in shape and calming our nerves. It's a tense job, you know."

The youth said nothing. But Chief could see he was processing it. And Chief didn't want to withdraw his hand even when they entered the cool interior. Ricky was turning him on. He liked the little guys, and although Ricky was a good third the size of Chief, he was a very nice little piece. And those eyes alone were making Chief go hard.

"You like firehouses, Ricky?" he asked as the Hispanic youth drank first one glass of water and then another and then another.

He hadn't looked like he was sweltering out there, but Chief could see that he was having a lot of trouble quenching his thirst.

"I don't know. Maybe. We don't have them where I come from."

"I saw you at the parade yesterday. You looked like you liked the equipment—the hook and ladder truck and the red water truck."

"Yes, maybe. They were nice."

Chief was perplexed. Ricky had looked like what he was seeing was way beyond just "nice."

"It was the firefighting equipment you came to see, wasn't it, Ricky?"

Ricky hesitated. And then he hung his head low and said, "It was more the men—in their fire suits. If you go to Loredo Ranch, I think you must understand."

"You like seeing the men in their uniform?" Chief asked.

"Si." Given a bit reluctantly. "Out at the ranch, on the stage, some of the men dance in fire suits. I like watching that best." And then. "Thank you for the water. I guess today not a good fire day. I hoped to see men racing to fire. My friend Miguel, he tells me men come running out of firehouse still dressing in their uniforms."

Ricky looked up into Chief's eyes, and Chief could see the arousal deep inside the young man.

"You like to see the firemen half dressed?" Chief asked.

"Si." Again somewhat reluctantly given.

"And you like to see firemen dressing—and, maybe more, firemen undressing."

"Si."

"And you work at the Loredo Ranch, yes?"

"Si."

"And maybe you like seeing these half-dressed firemen doing each other?"

No "si." Just a shrug and a failure to meet Chief's eyes with his.

"You see the building above the truck bays, Ricky? That line of windows up there?"

"Si."

"Do you know what's up there?"

"No."

"That's where the firemen sleep much of the time. And that's where they begin to dress. And it's where they undress. And sometimes it's where they fuck. As chief I have my own room up there. And I do all those things."

"Oh." Chief chose to interpret that as a glimmer or more of interest—and maybe understanding. And if Ricky understood, it was a good sign he wasn't backing out of the firehouse right about now.

"If I let you see me dress in my firefighter's gear will you let me see you undressed—and more maybe? If I pay you. You lay with me if I pay you?"

"Me? You want me to lay under you. With you in your fireman's suit?" Ricky asked.

Chief could see the interest in Ricky's eyes.

"Come with me, Ricky. The stairs are over here."

The young man was still trembling and Chief was still holding his arm, guiding him, willing him not to back out now. Because now Chief had an aching hard-on.

Chief asked Ricky to undress first—and Chief was delighted with Ricky's nicely formed body—and heartened by the young man's own half hard-on. That was the real gauge of his interest.

Then Chief stripped, giving Ricky a full view of what was waiting for him, and Chief was pleased to hear the intake of the young man's breath when he saw the length and girth of what Chief had and the bulging muscles that went with the demanding job.

And then Chief began to suit up in his firefighting gear. Ricky stammered a request as he was dressing, though, that Chief not put anything on his upper torso other than the suspenders.

"I like chest. And the hair," Ricky simply said. But there was a catch in his voice and his cock was at three-quarter staff now when he said it.

There was a full-length mirror in the room, and Chief looked at himself with just the suspenders and the heavy pants and boots, and he couldn't help thinking, "Damn I look good. This kid knows his fetishes."

"Fireman's hat too?" Ricky asked, almost as if it would be a great favor.

Chief motioned the young Hispanic to him when he'd put the hat on and adjusted the chin strap, and Ricky slowly moved to him. Chief took Ricky's cock in his hand, while Ricky tentatively touched Chief's bulging arm and chest muscles and paused at the fireman's nipples, which were now hard and the size of quarters. The young man gently played his fingers through Chief's chest hair, and Chief took one of Ricky's hands in the one Chief wasn't stroking Ricky's cock with and moved Ricky's hand down the hair trail to Chief's abs and to his belly and then into the opening Chief had left unbuttoned at his crotch.

Ricky gasped at the size Chief had grown to. Now it was Chief's turn to shudder at the feel of Ricky's hand on his freed cock, and he pushed gently down on Ricky's shoulders, signaling he wanted the young man on his knees.

Ricky gasped and choked on the cock working inside his mouth. He was giving a valiant effort, but Chief knew it wasn't going well.

Pulling the young man back up on his feet, he whispered. "You haven't done this before, have you? What is it you do at the ranch?"

"No, no. I'm sorry. I'm a cook there. A new cook. I must go now?"

"You can go, if you want. But I still want you. I'll still pay you to let me have you. If you still are willing. I won't be rough."

"I stay. I want it."

"Then let's do it right. Come with me." Chief led the naked young man back down the stairs. He hopped up on the running board of the hook and ladder truck and opened the passenger door, which yawned wide outward. He'd gathered a tube of lube and a handful of condoms as they left his room. He handed Ricky up and laid his back on the passenger seat and told him to lift one leg and brace it in the corner of the windshield. Then he moved the other one to reach for the ceiling at the post between the front seat and the back.

Chief spent the next glorious half an hour standing on the running board and rimming Ricky's nice, tight hole and then slowly opening it up with his tongue and lubed fingers so it could take his cock. As Ricky arched his back and moaned, Chief also gave him a good example of a blow job—which ended with Ricky's first ejaculation of the fuck session—and nipped at Ricky's nipples, while Ricky groaned and sighed and clutched at Chief's chest through his matting of hair.

All the time Chief was opening Ricky's channel up for the first time and Ricky was crying out and moaning and grunting and groaning and hanging onto Chief's suspenders for dear life, Chief kept his eyes locked on Ricky's, watching in an experience he so much wanted to see and that he'd never forget, the change from pain to ecstasy to exhaustion but full satisfaction at the taking. And then the confusion and fear—and the resignation—when Chief didn't stop plowing him. Ricky had been moving with him, but he couldn't sustain it—all of the rhythm and muscle work slowly went out of him until he lay there, completing open and defenseless to Chief's mastering, pistoning staff, not able to do more than whimper and moan and quietly groan. God, it was great taking a virgin.

"Thank you, Ricky," Chief murmured at the end, when he'd taken Ricky for the second time doggy style from the rear, as both stood on the running board and Ricky's chest was buried in the passenger seat of the hook and ladder truck and Chief's hairy chest was rubbing up and down on Ricky's back in the rhythm of the fuck—and Chief was holding the young man up with a grip on his hips because Ricky no longer could do that for himself.

"No, thank you," Ricky whispered as he turned his head and Chief took his lips in his. "Sorry I know not what to do. Sorry I could not stay with you."

"You did just fine. You could be our mascot."

"What does mascot job pay?"

"All the dick you can eat at both ends for starters. No, no, that was a joke. We'd treat you right."

"You mean other firemen fuck me? Like you did? Dressed like you?"

"Yes, if you liked. And I'm just an old man. Some of the younger guys can ride you into tomorrow."

It was just banter, but they were still in a pretty compromising position when the day crew—six burly and boisterous young, virile, in-shape men—returned from the fire tower exercise.

Chief immediately had work to do that took him off to the side. Ricky dragged himself up the stairs to retrieve his clothing, but not fast enough that two of the guys didn't see him go up the stairs naked. They followed him and cornered him in the room.

"Hey, lookee, Frank. We got a real nice piece of Cuban ass up here with us," said firefighter number one.

"Has Chief been doing you, cutie?" asked firefighter number two.

"He say I could be mascot here," Ricky answered, almost indignantly, not wanting to lose the ground he thought he'd already gained.

"He say what a mascot would do for us?"

"What you want, mascot would do."

Frank and friend immediately started to strip as both reached out for Ricky.

"Only the shirts, please. I like rest of it on, please."

"Whatever you want, cutie."

Chief was busy talking with the men in a group, but it wasn't long until he realized his "group" was down to one and a firefighter in full gear except for a bare muscled upper torso was standing on the stairs and motioning to the only guy still with Chief.

"Oh, my God. Ricky," Chief exclaimed and he headed for the stairs—in time to find the third guy in the second round standing between Ricky's spread legs and feeding his channel deep and vigorously.

"Off him, Clint. He's fresh—or was."

He looked down into Ricky's eyes, glittering now more than ever before, a sloppy grin on his face, and limp as a rag doll.

"God, I'm sorry Ricky. I didn't mean for this—"

"You mad at Ricky?" the young Hispanic asked in a weak voice. "I no good as mascot?"

"You're OK with this?" Chief asked, incredulously. "You want to stay?"

"I want to be mascot," Ricky said in a faraway, but determined voice.

"OK, then. I guess you're up, John," Chief said. As he stepped aside, firefighter number six was already stepping up to the plate and unbuttoning his fly.

"The shirt. Wear everything but shirt. Yes, keep fireman's hat, please," Ricky requested in a small voice.

Masculine and Beautiful



copyright ©2010 by A_Satori. All rights reserved.

Author's note: As with a most of my other pieces, this one could have been placed in a number of story categories.





Masculine and Beautiful



Mara again whispered harshly, "I meant for you to walk to the car and ask her to come inside, not shout and wake up the entire neighborhood! Now, go to the car and walk her inside." She turned abruptly and went back to the powder room. Jimmy had let Tommy go. Her son was slumped with his back against the wall.

Jim grinned. "He said he weren't sick no more."

Mara was suddenly very tired.

"Hi, Mrs. Dolton."

Mara turned around. "Julie, you're not drunk too, are you?"

"No. Really, I'm not. And that's because I'm not stupid like these guys." Julie's jaw clenched.

Bill was grinning as he put his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "I really love Julie, didja know that, Mrs. D? I really-really love her."

Mara looked at the pretty, dark haired girl and saw her roll her eyes and shake her head but Mara could see she liked what Billy had said. "I want the boys to help me get Tommy up to his room, and... will you be okay driving them home? You really haven't been drinking? You don't seem like it, but seriously... Julie, if you have, tell me. I'll... I'll drive everyone home if you have, and..." She once more exhaled sharply and her voice lowered, "I won't tell anyone's parents."

Bill spoke, "She didn't have nothin' ta drink, Mrs. D. I kept sayin' to, but... she wouldn't."

"I had one beer at nine o'clock, then diet Cokes after that, Mrs. Dolton. Really."

"Well, at least one in the group is mature, and it's always the girl." Mara and Julie exchanged a sympathetic look.

"I can get them home, Mrs. Dolton."

Bill leaned forward to look directly at his girlfriend's face. "Don't call 'er, Mrs. Dolton, call 'er, Mrs. D."

Mara smiled. "Considering what we're both going through right now, I think from now on, Julie, you should call me Mara." Both females giggled.

Tom stirred. "Waz everybody in here for?" He made it up to his feet. He sighed. "I'm tired." His tongue moved around his mouth. "I gotta bruss my teeff." He moved to the sink bent down to the faucet and started rinsing his mouth.

Mara repeated what had become her favorite gesture of the night, she exhaled sharply. "Use a Dixie cup, Tommy."

"Nahh. Don' need it." He kept slurping, swishing, and spitting water.

"Can you make it up to your room, to the bathroom to brush and gargle?"

He slurped more water. "Yeah... sure, no prob."

Jim who had been standing in the powder room gawking at Mrs. D's tits, legs and ass, laughed. "I guess ya don' need me in here anymore."

Mara moved out of the doorway. "Thank you, Jimmy." She turned to Julie. "Are you sure you can take care of both of these idiots?"

Julie grinned. "Yeah, Mrs... um... Mara."

She looked at the boys and shook her head. "I should tell your parents."

"Awww... c'mon, Mrs. D, we got Tom back here for ya. All safe and sounds."

Jim added, "And we're not really drunk, neither."

Both Julie and Mara exhaled sharply, then each hearing the other, looked at one another and now it was they who laughed.

Julie shook her head at the boys. "Come on, you guys. I'll take you home."

"Be..." Mara was nudged out of the way by her son as he weaved towards the stairs.

Tommy didn't face his friends as he raised his hand in a wave. "See ya guys!"

Mara watched her son. He seemed to be steady enough on his feet. She turned to the other young people as they started towards the door. "Julie, drive safely, please."

"I will."

"Night, Mrs. D!"

"Yeah, g'night, Mrs. D!"

"Bye, Mara."

"Goodnight, Julie. And thank you for getting my son home safely."

Mara closed the door behind them, then watched from the side lite window to make sure Julie was driving. Mara smiled when Billy's hand dropped down from Julie's shoulder and grabbed her butt. The girl jerked away and punched his shoulder hard. Billy instantly looked contrite, even opened the driver's door for her then he hurried around to get in the passenger's side. Jimmy was already in the back. Mara thought he lay down on the seat, but wasn't sure. The car started up, the headlamps came on and Julie slowly backed up and then slowly drove down the street.

Mara headed upstairs to check on Tommy. She heard him gargling and then saw him cross the hall to his bedroom. She went to his room, surprised he had only taken his shirt off, and had flopped face down on the bed. She heard his breathing and knew he was already asleep. She thought of that night last summer and it made her stomach tense. No temptations tonight. His legs were on the bed and he had taken his sneakers off. She went to the hall linen closet and got a crocheted afghan, returned to his room and draped it over him. Leaving him in his jeans would serve him right.

She watched him for a minute. He was a handsome boy and would be a handsome man. She guessed most mothers would probably say that about their sons, but objectively, he was cute and had a trim, toned body. No, he wasn't going to be some fashion magazine model, but he was a good looking young man, muscular, proportional structure, attractive features on a usually intelligent face, she was sure his wonderful blue eyes would melt many girls' hearts, he was smart, fun, and usually a caring, friendly person. He was more attuned to other people's emotions and generally much more perceptive than their daughter. He noticed things, could read people much better than Denise. She thought his emotional depth was greater than their daughter's too.

A month or so after Christmas, he had gotten up early one Saturday and then hung around the kitchen while she was cleaning. He finally asked her how things were going. She said fine, but she could tell there was more to his question, and that her answer hadn't satisfied him.

She had asked him, "What do you mean exactly, Tommy?"

He had gotten visibly nervous, then had said, "Are you and Dad like... you know, okay? Everything okay with you guys?"

She had considered laughing it off, but Tommy had seemed so serious. "Tommy, everything is fine with me and Dad. We love each other. We have a good marriage. Why... why do you ask?"

"I was ahh... just wondering, because... ahhh... nevermind, Mom. Ahh... sorry."

He had turned and started to leave but she had stopped him with her voice, "Say what you wanted to say, Tommy. What were you going to say or ask? I want you to always be open with me." She had wondered if he thought a divorce was looming or something, and why he would think that.

He had looked at her. "Yeah, figured you loved each other, but are you guys like still... you know, in love then?"

She remembered how her throat constricted and her eyes had welled at the inflection on those two words. She hadn't expected him to even know the difference, she thought he was too young. "Your dad and I, we... we love each other... very much." She saw his face droop a tiny bit. He opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated.

He had stared at her for a few very long moments before he spoke. She was sure he had caught what she had meant, and then probably didn't know what to say. "Ahh... okay. Stupid question, I guess. Uh... I... I'm gonna head over to Bill's."

"Okay."

She had almost cried after that little conversation. Why couldn't Phil be like their son? Had he ever really been like Tommy?

Mara took a deep breath, sighed, then made her way to the master bedroom. She got into bed and glanced at the clock again. 2:47AM. She pulled the top sheet up and hoped the afghan wouldn't make Tommy too warm. She assumed even drunk, he'd push it off in his sleep if it was uncomfortable.

She was too tired to rid her mind of the memory of that hug she had with Tommy drunk last summer, or how that bulge in his crotch had looked after he stroked it when he was lying on his bed, nor could she stop her hand from moving between her legs and her fingertip tracing her naked slit. It didn't matter because a minute later she was sound asleep.

Mara awoke. One of the kids was crying. She whipped the sheet off herself and jumped up. It had to be Tommy, but it sounded older, like a guy... She stopped after two steps. She rubbed her face with both hands. For a moment she had been confused, thinking it was ten years in the past. There was crying though. She hadn't imagined that. She looked at the clock. 3:29AM. Her feet started moving.

Tommy was crying. She stopped in the hall, holding herself back from running into his room. She hated these moments when she wasn't sure what the best thing to do would be. Would Tommy be super embarrassed if she saw him crying? Or, if she left him alone would he have some sort of tiny emotional scar later in life when he realized his mother hadn't come to him when he was upset?

She flipped the switch for the hallway light, then hurried to his open doorway. Tommy was on the floor, his back against the side of the bed, his legs folded up, his arms across his knees, his forehead resting on them. He was crying, nearly sobbing. His jeans were down, one leg bare, the other had the pant leg turned inside out, most of it to the side on the floor, the lower part bunched tight around his ankle.

Mara entered the room. "Tommy? What happened? Are you okay?" She knelt beside him, then sat back on her heels. Her right arm went around his shoulders. She kissed his head, then rubbed her cheek against his hair. "Honey, what's wrong?" Her other arm moved under his. Her hand stroked his chest. She noted his pectoral muscles but her touch was a mother comforting her child. She knew he was upset about Marcia. Her eyes welled. She recalled her high school junior year when Mike had broken up with her. She thought she had loved him and that she'd never find love ever again. She had been devastated. She knew exactly what Tommy was feeling.

His voice was strained and raspy, "I love her... Mom. She was at the party an' wouldn't even talk to me. I loved her so damn much, an'... an'..." He cried hard for a minute.

"Sweetheart..." Mara's heart was breaking for her son. More tears came to her eyes. She wished there was some way she could calm him down, make the hurt go away. She wasn't exactly sure what to say. There were no words, no logical answers for this. It was about emotions, and there was no logic in emotions, especially love. "It's good to love, Tommy, but... sometimes it doesn't work out." She frowned and shook her head. Tears ran down her face. "You're going to find love again. You may not believe that right now, but it's true. You are going t..."

Tommy interrupted, "It's my fault... my fault."

"Tommy, it's not your fault. Love... emotions are..."

He interrupted again, "No... no. I pushed her... I pushed her too much."

Mara's brow pinched. Had Tommy asked Marcia to marry him? She couldn't believe he had, but... yes, of course that was possible, even though Phil said they had talked about that, and Tommy had said he wasn't going to ask any girl to marry him, that he had college to finish first. Her tears slowed. She bit her lip for a moment. "How did you push her, honey?"

"It... it doesn't matter. Ahhh... Mom... I loved her... I really did." He cleared his throat. "I can't shleep. I... I-I think about her all the time. I jus' can't shleep at night."

Mara had noticed he was staying up really late, and a couple times in the middle of the night she had gone into the hallway and had seen light at the bottom of his bedroom door. She thought he had fallen asleep with a lamp on, had been tempted to go down to his room and turn it off, but had feared he might be masturbating or something and didn't want to embarrass him by tapping on the door or walking in.

"You should... um... just try to think about other things, pleasant things, happy memories when you were a little boy, and... and relax. It'll be easier to fall asleep."

"Mom, I... I-I think about having sex with her all the time. We did it a lot, and... I-I jus' can't relax now... I can't even... beat off without her... I... get close then... then..." He cried for a few seconds. "I miss her... I miss her so much, Mom. My balls hurt all da time." He sniffled, then cried softly for a few more seconds. "I miss her... I screwed it up. I shouldn't a' pushed her. I... c-can't sleep. All I wanna do is sleep."

Mara didn't know her eyes were wide. She was still thinking about... We did it a lot. She knew they were probably having sex, but... We did it A LOT? She was drawn out of her thoughts when she felt Tommy's warm hand cover hers on his chest.

Tom sniffled. "Mom... I need help. I need help... please."

Her eyes got even larger and she stopped breathing for a moment when she felt his hand slowly pushing hers down his chest. "Tommy... what... what are you doing?"

"Mom... please... please. I need help."

Mara's pussy clenched and her thighs squeezed together. She desperately wanted to help her son. How could she not? She loved him beyond words, but this? Yes, she did want to release his frustration, wanted to enable him to sleep, but this? Her voice was soft, but firm, "Tommy? Tommy? No... no, Tommy." Her arm muscles flexed. "Tommy... stop... Tommy?"

"Mom... please... I need you to help me... please."

She felt her palm sliding down over his hard abdomen. Her mind was reeling. Everything was getting so mixed up inside her. She was half crying with him and half for him. She knew how much she loved him, it was her son asking her for help so how could she refuse, but this had to be wrong, wasn't it? "Tommy... no... don't." She ordered herself to pull her hand away. Pull it away! PULL IT AWAY! "Tommy... don't... don't do th..." She heard how breathy her words were. She should be screaming at him. Mara! Pull your hand away! "Tomm..." Again she stopped breathing. Her palm was on his naked hard penis. He had pushed it under his boxers! "T-Tommy d-don't..."

"Please, Mom... jus'... jus' a li'l. Please. It's so achy." His hand made hers curve around his throbbing rod. He started stroking it up and down. "Please... please... I-I can't sleep. Please, Mom."

Mara still wasn't breathing. Her eyes couldn't have been open wider than they were, and tears were still running down her cheeks. Her heart was racing. Her pussy couldn't have been clenched any tighter. Tommy's cock felt like it was on fire, and... and it was so hard, and so thick. His other arm moved, pushing between the bed and her side. It wrapped around her lower back. She exhaled and took a few hurried breaths.

For the most part, Tom had stopped crying. "Please, Mom... please." He pushed up higher against the side of the bed. He pulled his mother closer and felt her breast and taut nipple against his upper peck near his armpit.

Her fingers and thumb as if on their own accord, moved, wrapping around his erect manhood. She blinked and her jaw dropped slightly. For a moment her thumb tip searched for her other fingertips. She couldn't touch any. Her voice was a breathy whisper, "No... Tommy... I-I can't."

As the soft words fell from her lips, his hand kept hers moving, stroking down, then slowly up, her palm covered the bulbous head, swirled around it. It was wet with slippery, clear semen. Her breathing suddenly turned shallow. His hand was lighter on her own. She screamed in her mind to pull away, to get up, to tell him to get to bed. She slid her hand down, smearing the thick staff with the clear fluid. "Tommy, I can't... I can't do... this."

Tom's breathing had gotten ragged. "Yeah... yeah, like that, Mom. Please... please, Mom."

"Tommy... I-I can't do it for... you." She shut her eyes as her hand slowly stroked down then up again, and once more her palm swirled around the big head. The upstroke had squeezed out another puddle of clear pre-cum. Her hand gripped slightly tighter and slid down the incredibly thick erection.

"Ahhhh... Mommmm," Tom groaned.

Her eyes opened. Once again Mara stopped breathing when she realized Tommy's hand wasn't on top of hers. "I... I can't do th..."

Tom interrupted, "Don't stop... please... please, Mom. I-I can't sleep... I ca... urrrrhhhh." Tommy's feet slid forward on the carpeting, stretching his legs out at a slight angle as his hand pushed the waistband of his boxes down and held it on his thigh.

Once more Mara's eyes went wide. The light spilling in from the hallway illuminated Tommy's cock. It looked so hard and it really was incredibly thick. Her hand was stroking up and she saw the clear semen ooze out from the large urethra hole. It drooled down the side of the big helmet. She didn't know her tongue traveled around her lips. She whispered, "Tommy... I... I can't do this." She stroked over the head again, once more coating her palm in slippery pre-cum. Her hand slid down, then on the upstroke it twisted side to side too as it rose up his length.

Tom groaned again, "Oh... wow... yeahhhhh... yeah, like that."

She licked her lips again. Tommy was as long as Phil, but he was definitely thicker, and she couldn't recall the last time Phil had been this hard. It felt like a thick bone covered with hot flesh. She gazed at his testicles. They were larger than Phil's, not something abnormal, but large. She couldn't recall what her high school boyfriend or those guys in college had looked like. Had she ever really looked? Yes, of course she had, but she couldn't remember any details. She could barely remember Phil's details. She knew she had never seen a cock like this... ever. It looked... so manly, so muscular, and so... inviting. She had never had any qualms about doing oral except maybe for swallowing, but this cock... Tommy's cock, was the very first one she ever truly desired to feel in her mouth. It was so masculine, so... beautiful.

"Li'l faster... Mom... please." Tom's breathing had turned into ragged gasping.

She exhaled. "Okay... Tommy... I want you to-to... to sleep." Again her eyes popped wide. Tommy's hand on her hip moved. It pushed between her ankle and ass. He gripped a cheek of her bottom. Her pussy tightened even more. "T-Tommy..." She gasped a couple breaths herself.

"Ahhh... Mommm... yeah... yeahhhh."

"Tommy... Tommy..." She didn't know what to say. Her hand moved faster up-down, up-down, twisting as it slid on his thick, torrid cock. She saw more and more seminal fluid oozing out the tip, now some was whitish. The faster she stroked the harder his hand gripped her bun, and the more she clenched her pussy. He was pulling her closer. His head dipped, and his face turned into her breast. She felt his hot, moist breath coming through the cotton fabric of her T. His lips were right on her taut nipple. He was starting to suck her nipple and part of her breast through her shirt. It sent a shiver down her spine. "T-Tommy..." Again she didn't know what to say. She slowed the pace of her stroking hand. "Cum... cum, Tommy. Cum now." She slid her fist slowly a few times, holding a little tighter, then started stroking a little faster, squeezing her twisting moving hand a bit more on the thick, hard muscle. God, it was an incredible cock, so hard, so thick, the head was so tantalizing. Her hand moved faster.   

"You... are... so hot... Mom... I've wanted to... to... oh... arrrhhh... ARRRH!"

Again Mara's eyes went wide. The first surge of Tommy's cock spit a large dollop almost to her son's neck, the second surge sent a larger amount into the air, part of which hit her shoulder. More spurts followed. She saw that his large balls had drawn up close to the base of his hardened penis, every muscle of his body was tensed, flexed, his six pack was very evident, as more and more thick white sperm spattered his naked chest, his taut body twitched with each surge.




Masculine and Beautiful



His fingertips dug into her bun. It made her clench both her anus and pussy even tighter. Another spurt of thick white goo flew from the tip and onto the bed. She whispered, "Oh my god." Then she tensed again when she felt his fingertips slide into the valley between her buns. They were only a inch or so from her clenching anus. He gripped again. She tensed and exhaled a whimper, "Oh-h-h." For a moment she thought she might orgasm. Through all if it, she kept slowly stroking and squeezing his pulsing cock as if she was milking him.

Tom exhaled a long moan, "Arrrrrhhhhhhh." He felt the last ripple of his throbbing dick. A few seconds later his body went limp. "Oh mannnn... Mom... oh god... I love you... I love you, Mom... I love you so much." He pushed his face into her neck. He licked her skin, kissed it, kissed it again, then just kept his face there, gasping breaths.

Mara stared at his cock. Her hand was still caressing it. Phil would deflate almost immediately. Tommy was only just now beginning to slowly soften. She ran her thumb over the head smearing white goo around it. She actually smiled when Tommy groaned and his body trembled. Her smile vanished. What had she just done?! Oh my god! Oh my god! OH MY GOD!

Mara yanked her sticky hand away. She felt Tommy nuzzling her neck. His hand on her butt loosened its grip. She knew he was dozing off. WHAT HAVE I DONE?! OH MY GOD! She told herself to calm down. She saw his T shirt on the floor. She kept her right arm around his shoulders and reached for the shirt with her left. She folded it with one hand almost into a square, and started wiping up the copious amount of slippery goo off her son's chest, neck, and shoulders, then hesitantly around his hairy crotch, and finally on and around his now diminished manhood. She put the cum soaked T on the floor. She pulled his boxers up almost to his waist.

She nudged him with her neck and shoulder. "Tommy? Tommy, get into bed."

"Huh?"

"C'mon, get up. Get into bed."

"Ahhh... 'kay."

Mara stood up and grabbed his upper arm with both her hands. She pulled. He slowly rose, then sat on the edge of the bed. He got his jeans off from his right foot, then crawled onto the mattress and plopped down on his stomach.

"I love you... so much... Mom... Night... Mom."

"Goodnight, Tommy. Go to sleep."

She stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes traveling down his muscular body. Her stomach was still knotted, but she also felt how wet her pussy was. She picked up the dirty T and left the room. She enter the hall bathroom and opened the hamper. She looked at the wet portion of the cotton shirt, some thicker spots of semen on it. She bit her lower lip for a moment, then brought the T to her nose. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her son smelled like... like raw masculine. She looked at the shirt again and had an urge to smear it around her face, which just made her feel even more perverted. She quickly threw it into the hamper and closed the lid. She stepped to the sink and looked in the mirror. Her face was flushed. She noticed the gob of cum on her shoulder. Her pussy clenched yet again.

She used her index finger to wipe up the white goo. As with the shirt, she brought it to her face and looked at it. It was quite viscous, maybe because it was starting to dry, or maybe it was clumped sperm. Without thinking her tongue poked out and just before it touched her fingertip, she yanked her hand away. What is wrong with me?! That's Tommy's cum! She had only swallowed cum a few times in her life, and none of those were with Phil.

She quickly turned on the faucet and washed her hands with a lot of soap, taking a moment to use her wet fingers to wipe the rest of the cum dollop from her shirt. Her mind was still reeling, her body tense, her stomach in a knot. She'd have time for self-recriminations later, probably the rest of her life, but right now she had to figure out how to handle this tomorrow. She just couldn't think straight, and she knew the main reason why. Her pussy was tingly and felt inflamed. She tried her best to ignore those physical sensations. She just couldn't though, nor could she get the image of Tommy's thick, hard erection out of her mind. She shut her eyes tightly. There was a moment there, when she had actually thought about taking him into her mouth. She had been mesmerized by his cock. She shook her head and whispered emphatically, "No... no... no."

Her eyes opened. She toweled her hands dry, then looked in the vanity mirror. Her eyes looked crazed and scared. Her face was still flushed. She finally noticed she was trembling slightly. Once again, those crazed eyes grew wide. She spread her legs and her fingers drew upward on the inside of her thigh. She whispered, "Oh my god." She felt a drool line of pussy dew. She wiped it off with her fingers, then rinsed her hands again. She whispered, "What is wrong with me?"

She left the bathroom, turned off the hall light and went into the master bedroom. She locked the door and moved to the bed. No light was necessary. She hadn't drawn the drapes in order to get a breeze into the room, so light was coming in from the street lamp. Now there was no breeze because she had shut the bedroom door. She lay on the bed, then pulled over one of the three other pillows. She hugged it. She knew her skin had a sheen of perspiration. She closed her eyes, and told herself to just stop thinking, and not to imagine anything, then ordered herself to imagine a black void and to fall asleep. She told herself to relax.

Ten seconds passed before she realized the pillow on her chest was making her nipples, what? Ache? Ache to be touched? She noticed her pussy seemingly with a mind of its own was clenching and relaxing over and over again. She almost screamed at herself to get real! She did have control over her body! She could control her thoughts too!

Yes, Tommy's cock had been the most masculine one she had ever seen, and the most beautiful. Could a cock be beautiful? Yes, yes it could be, it had a masculine beauty, the form, the texture, the colors. All of it. It had been so alluring, almost like some powerful, erotic magnet. She had been awed by it.

It had also been a surprise. Even with that bizarre episode last summer getting him into bed, she would never have expected what she had seen and touched tonight. It was probably average length. She was sure if it had been even an inch longer, it would have looked freaky to her, like some weird, big penis on some porn vid that Phil would beg her to watch. She blinked. How many years had it been since he had asked her to do that? Ten? She shook her head and gazed at the ceiling. Phil was the last thing she wanted to think about at the moment.

She pushed the pillow off her chest. It was making her sweat more, and making her nipples crave attention more. She shook her head again. When was the last time she thought in those terms, that her nipples craved attention? College? Her first few years of marriage maybe?

College. Randy. She used to laugh at her own dumb and so obvious nickname for him-- randy Randy. Maybe the way she had been with him was her true self? And who she had been the last twenty-some years was a facade? An invented character? She shut her eyes tightly. No... NO. I'm not that kind of girl!

More images of what just happened flashed through her mind. She had to stop thinking about it, at least in the way she was at the moment. How am I going to handle it tomorrow? What will I say to him? Will we ever have a good mother-son relationship after tonight? Will he stop loving me? She blinked and asked herself a question that made her feel guilty to her core. Why aren't I crying right now? I should be sobbing with worry, with fear, with concern. What is wrong with me?!

She knew what was wrong. She was excited, she was wet. It had been a long time since she had felt this kind of excitement, that type that needed gratification. The last five... no, much longer than that, probably the last ten years of her marriage, she could be horny but if Phil wasn't in the mood, or if the kids got in the way of them making love, she might feel extremely frustrated, but not like this, not this burning need, this burning craving. This was like what it was with Randy.

Stop thinking about that bastard!

She pushed thoughts of randy Randy away, but then her mind was filled again with images of what had happened in Tommy's room. It had been heartbreaking at the outset, she had even cried, hadn't she? At first she had only been thinking of making her son feel better, of listening to his drunken confession of love and the grief he was feeling over the breakup, and how he couldn't even sleep at night. She wanted to fix it all for him, revitalize his confidence, give him hope for love in the future with some wonderful girl, and yes to help him sleep. Her heart truly had gone out to him. That's why she hadn't yanked her hand away when he guided it down his chest. She couldn't recall all her thoughts at that moment, but she was sure she let her hand be moved because she was filled with a mother's love, not some crazed, perverted desire.

But... at some point on his hard abdomen things started to change inside her, change how or into what she wasn't sure. Curiosity again? Looking back now it seemed that trip from his pectorals down to his beautiful cock had taken an hour, when in reality it had only been a quarter second. Quarter second? No-no... it had to take longer than that. A fraction of a second would have meant Tommy shoved her hand down to his manhood, and that's not how it was at all.

She could recall her shock fairly accurately. She hadn't expected Tommy to slide her hand beneath his underpants, then the bigger shock when... well, when it was bigger than she had imagined. She kept saying 'no,' hadn't she? She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was glad her son was drunk for a couple reasons. If he had been sober, she might very well have inadvertently and stupidly taught him tonight that 'No' sometimes didn't mean 'No.' Ohmygod... I'm a terrible mother!

She kept her eyes closed and tried to reorganize her thoughts, but again all she could do was see Tommy's beautiful cock and her slender hand on it, remember how muscular, sturdy, and rigid it had felt, how that big helmet had looked so alluring, how there was an odd vein on the top side of the staff that did a little sort of curlicue near the midpoint, like a tube under the skin making a loop that traveled under itself then continued up towards the head but disappeared into his thickness again before it reached the firm yet spongy, smooth, alluring helmet.

He had a lot of thick pubic hair around the base, and his testicles were impressive. She remembered the sight of them clenching, moving up towards his body, towards the base of his wondrously thick cock just before it erupted. Did all guys' testes do that as they reached orgasm? And god... the quantity of seed that shot out, like in some of those porn videos Phil made her watch years ago. She had thought that was faked, some little squeeze bottle of white goo hidden next to the actor's penis, but... gawd... Tommy just gushed loads of it. She remembered how his thick rod had expanded with each of those surges. She knew that it would, but it seemed now that if she had tried to squeeze him harder to stop it from expanding, she'd not have been able to. Of course that was crazy, no penis is that muscular or strong, but it really felt like it would have.

She felt her nipples throbbing, or imagined they were. Her left hand slid onto her breasts. She remembered how Tommy had sort of sucked her nipple through her T shirt, how his lips had clamped... somewhat. Her hand closed around her nipple and some of her pliant flesh, gripping slightly. A soft moan escaped her throat, "Mmmm." A moment later her right hand slid over her hip, pulled her T up and two fingers coursed up and down between her now puffy labia. They were already open. Her fingertips could feel how slick she was. "Mmmm."

His cock was so masculine, thick, rigid, beautiful, and so incredibly alluring. Her fingertips gently circled her clit. When exactly was it she had the brief thought of taking it into her mouth? Was she actually salivating at that point? She sort of remembered licking her lips, or had she? Her fingertips moved a little faster, her clit now taut, poking way out from its covering. Was she just curious about what it would feel like in her mouth? Was she wondering if her jaw would ache just getting it into her mouth? Or... oh my god... was it all just a sexual desire, to take his cock into her mouth both for her own pleasure and to please Tommy? Had she wanted to suck it, to swallow all that hot goo when it had exploded? Had she ever felt like that since Randy?

Stop thinking about that bastard Randy!

All that hot goo. My god there was so much. She had wanted to smear her bare hand around his chest just to feel it, to squish it between her fingers, to rub it on her pu... NO! I didn't think that last thing, maybe not smearing it either! I'm not remembering this right! Her teeth clamped her lower lip. Her fingertip kept working her bud, and her other hand continued to course around her breasts, squeezing around her nipples. She knew if she had a few more seconds to think about it though, she probably would have wanted to stroke her hand on his toned chest and abs to feel all that slippery seed. And the fragrance of it, the scent of a man, of sex, of orgasm. That alone had made her pussy clench. Yes... just the scent of it.

Mara opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She discovered her breathing had quickened. The scent alone. She nearly jumped out of bed and hurried into the hall, then quietly went down to Tommy's room. She listened to him breathing deeply. He hadn't moved an inch. She turned and went into the bathroom, opened the hamper and grabbed the soiled T shirt, then hurried back to the master bedroom. She locked the door again, went to the bed, set the cum stained shirt on the sheet, then quickly pulled off her own night T. She lay down again.

Mara decided she needed relief just as her son had. She opened Tommy's T up and felt for the damp area. She brought it to her face and inhaled deeply. The scent of man, sex, desire, lust. She draped the T over her face. Her breathing had already quickened. Her left hand returned to her breasts, massaging, squeezing, and this time, her thumb and index finger gripped each of her nipples, clamping, then twisting and pulling gently, letting herself imagine it was Tommy's mouth and tongue doing it to her. It was just a fantasy, fantasies were okay, it wasn't reality, it wouldn't hurt anyone, and she just had to fantasize when she was in this kind of mood.

She thought about his cock without feeling any guilt. Fantasies were all right, everyone had fantasies, it was normal. She started using two rubbing fingers on her clit again. She rubbed harder. Mom, we made love a lot... A LOT. Mara's fingertips slid down and up her dewy slit, again... again. We fucked a lot, Mom... A LOT. Marcia loved it, she loved my COCK. Her fingers moved back to her shivering, tingling clit. They were a blur on her pink pearl. Mara bet that little bitch loved it, yes, she was sure that little bitch LOVED IT.

Mara usually used one finger when she wanted interior stimulation, but tonight, she used two, not working them in slowly as she usually did, she jammed then roughly into her channel as far as she could then twisted her hand nearly viciously.

"Ahhhh... urrrrrrrrhhhhh," she moaned as she started pumping her two digits speedily in and back, deep and shallow, deep-shallow, in-back... in-back... in-back... in-back... The cheeks of her ass clenched, as her bottom rose from the sheet. Without giving it a thought, she added a third finger crossing them together and kept plunging into her wet sex, stretching her tight channel as her other hand got rougher on her nipples and breasts, the entire time she was gasping quick breaths of air and the manly scent of her son's erotic essence.

"Oh... urrrh... nnnnhhh.... oh... gohhhhhd... ye... yes... oh... oh baby... make... m-make m-me... c-cummmm.... mmmmhh... mmmnn." Her knees had raised, to use her legs more to shove her burning, shivering, tingling pussy towards her rough and relentless invading fingers. If she were to open her eyes, she might have seen droplets of her dew fly off her digits on the back strokes. She was vaguely aware of how wet she was though, not only the squishy noises, but there was a line of drool coursing over her torrid, clenched anus.

Her body started trembling, then it increased to shaking, followed by periodic twitches, then jerks of her body. She knew it would be only a matter of seconds. "Oh... ohmygod... yes... oh god.... make-me-cum... make-me-cum... cum... cum Tommy... oh... oh... OH GOHHHHHD!"

Mara's body lurched into convulsions both inside and out. Her three grouped fingers were shoved deep in her channel, her hand shaking, sometimes it twisted on its own accord, her thumb rubbed her clit frantically. The hand at her breast, was gripping her flesh as if holding on for dear life. Incredible waves of erotic heat and delight coursed through her body. It just kept going on and on and on. Sometimes her mind was blank, sometimes she saw flashes of Tommy's cock, it spurting, her hand on it, it in her mouth, it jammed deep in her pussy, his bushy pubic nest pressed forcefully against her own trimmed muff.

Finally her twitching, jerking, and tremors began to lessen. She was gasping ragged breaths, still inhaling the scent of her son's seed. She slid her hand around her now slightly abused, sweaty breasts, and her fingers pulled out of her incredibly wet channel as her butt lowered to the sheet again. She became more aware of the wetness in the deep crevice between her buns. She felt how wet the sheet was right beneath ass. Her fingers gently coursed up and down her labia. She stretched her legs out. She was still gulping air but left the T shirt on her face for another minute, then her hand on her chest pulled it off, and the warm, humid air in the bedroom actually felt cool on her face.

She whispered, "Oh my god." She ordered herself not to feel guilty, not to feel ashamed that part of her masturbatory fantasy had been about Tommy, even if all of it had been about him. It was just abstract thoughts, nothing real. She thought about the incredible orgasm she just had. She had needed that, she had needed that a lot. Her hand moved off her slit and felt the sheet under her pussy and buns. She smiled, then grinned, then giggled softly albeit briefly. She had wet the bed with pussy dew! She had only done that a dozen times with Phil and that was way back when, and of course all those times with Ra...

Stop thinking about that bastard Randy!

He vanished from her thoughts. Her hand moved and got the cum stained shirt. She pressed it between her legs, raised her ass from the sheet, wiped the wetness from between her buns, then her palm lay the shirt over her still tingling pussy. Her hand covered it and undulated in a gentle massage.

She half smiled. It now had both their 'cums' on it. It was a cum T shirt! She wasn't sure why, but she thought that was humorous, even though she knew it wasn't. She grinned for a moment, then her smile waned. She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. What an insane, bizarre night it had been! She felt her stomach tensing again, and willed it to relax. She certainly wasn't going to figure out what to do, what to say, nor how to handle it all tonight. She'd of course have to talk to Tommy. She'd figure it out tomorrow.




Masculine Magic Ch. 01



Chapter 1 - First Aid Then Man Made

There is nothing wrong with finding two athletic college sophomores taking advantage of an empty gymnasium on a Sunday morning. This is especially true if one of the young men happens to be the coach's son, Bruce. He and I met when we were freshmen, and our friendship has become closer with every passing day. I am Harry, and my Dad is something else, and he is somewhere else. I live with my Mom, Bernice.

Anyway, we had been out on the oval track trying our best to burn off some unwanted pounds. We picked a perfect day. It is hotter than Hell, and we had been sweating like two prostitutes waiting for their pimp down at the police station. To further complicate things, most of my excess weight has gathered in the general area of my hips and my thighs. It is no surprise that my inner thighs up high were blistered raw. My crotch was on fire.

Not to worry. Bruce, as always, has a solution. Not surprisingly, he has a key to the varsity team locker room wherein there is an abundance of first air paraphernalia.

"They keep tons of medicated talcum powder on hand for situations just like yours. Come on," Bruce said as he turned and headed for the hallway leading to the locker rooms. I was willing to do anything to relieve some of my misery. I followed, but I lingered in the hallway while he went into the forbidden zone. He returned shortly with a large shaker type can of the magical powder.

"Try this, buddy," he said handing me the can.

As I turned over in my mind just how I was going to treat my injury, I suddenly realized I was about as prepared as a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest. I not only could not see the infected area, it was also too painful for me to contort my body sufficiently to apply the powder properly. Bruce quickly saw my problem.

"Need some help, Pal," he asked as nonchalantly as he could under the circumstances. I was desperate. I ignored the smirk he was fighting back as he offered his help.

"Damn, this is embarrassing," I grunted as I tried to avoid eye contact. It wasn't a question of modesty; it was intimacy.

"If you need my help, Harry," he said soberly, "I'm here."

I handed him the can of powder still avoiding his eyes as much as possible.

"It appears to me," he mumbled in his version of an authoritative tone and shook out a generous portion of the magic powder into the palm of his left hand, "that you need to give me more room to operate my good man."

I looked at him with my confusion showing on my face.

"Squat and spread, Harry," Bruce said treating his request as inconsequential as possible.

I knew this was going to smart, but I would go to great lengths to relieve some of the pain racking my crotch. I squatted as much as I dared, and I spread my feet farther apart. With his best clinical detachment in play, he reached between my legs from behind and gently patted my scrotum with the wonder drug. 

I relaxed somewhat when I discovered that the powder was cool and comforting to my wounds, and surprisingly I also realized that Bruce's hand was soft and gentle as he applied the talc. By this time he was kneeling in front of me, and without thinking of how it might seem, I reached out and rested a hand on each of his shoulders. He seemed not to notice my action, and continued to spread the powder around on the surface of my raw skin. Oh man did it feel great. So did his hand.

"Does that seem to be doing the trick," Bruce asked in a friendly manner.

"I can't begin to tell you how much, old buddy," I said with obvious pleasure in my voice. What I hadn't realized yet was that I was slowly developing a rather impressive erection. Bruce continued to rub tenderly, and I continued to expand noticeably. Then I noticed,

"Oh shit, Bruce," I cried, "I am sorry. I just lost control."

"That's a fine looking cock, Mister. Do you use it much?" He still had my balls cupped in his left hand, but now he was delicately holding my shaft between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Both hands were moving ever so slowly and creating the oddest sensation I had ever known. I liked it. My dick was getting harder.

"I think maybe this is going too far, Bruce," I said in a surprisingly hoarse voice. "But I've got to admit that you have a very arousing touch."

"Want me to stop?" he asked is a very soft voice.

"Are you cool with this?" I didn't know what else to say.

"Only if you are, Harry. Your cock feels good in my hand." Now he was holding my joint in a loosely cupped hand, and I did not protest his actions in the slightest.

"What's next?" I choked out.

"I'd like to pay some more attention to this monster," Bruce said as he squeezed my dick ever so gently. "Just say the word and it will never be mentioned again, or," he added with emphasis, "give me the go ahead and I will introduce you to an entirely new world." He looked straight into my eyes, and not so gently squeezed my balls. I instinctively started to pull away until I realized I was enjoying what was happening.

I thought for a minute, and then I said with a deep sigh, "Go ahead." Without really noticing, I moved my hands from his shoulders and laced my fingers behind his head. He waddled a little closer like a duck walks, and renewed his first aid treatment although there was a different purpose in his action now. Bruce was stroking my crotch ever so gently now. His talc covered hand was moving from the crack of my ass all the way to the end of my cock. Needless to say, only a portion of that area was chafed 

"I think my joint needs a little more powder, Bruce, old buddy," I said shocking myself at my boldness. What the Hell! His hand felt great, and now with the added powder he was encasing my cock with his hand as he stroked back and forth. He stroke didn't reach all the way back to the crack in my ass but occasionally. When he did get that far back he made sure his fingers tantalized my asshole a little before returning. That tickled, but the sensation was pleasant rather than annoying. My cock was now as hard as tempered steel, or so it seemed.

"Bruce," I managed through heavy breathing, "if you're going to suck that thing, now is the time."

"Are you sure?" he asked. I noticed his breath was also labored. "I'll stop whenever you say."

"I don't want you to stop until your mouth is full of my stuff, Okay?"

"Done." He said softly. I noticed there was a gleam in his eyes, He was thrilled that he was going to suck my dick. I hadn't really noticed, but so was I.

First contact sent a shiver from my pelvis to my asshole, and then directly up my spine where it started a mild stinging sensation. Then I started enjoying the feel of his mouth sliding up and down my shaft. His action was slow and smooth as a rule, but occasionally he would make a couple of quick strokes in rapid succession. This was great.

My pal, Bruce, was an experienced cocksucker, and today I was truly thankful for his sexual persuasion. My hands were still clinched behind his head, only now I was helping him move with each trip up and down my cock. My innards began to churn; I felt the familiar stinging sensation that occurred during masturbation, and then we both felt my cock jerking in his mouth. He sucked harder, and pumped vigorously on the barrel of my tool. When the juices spewed forth, he hungrily sucked them into his mouth.

I dropped to my knees. I was excited, I was happy, and I was sexually satisfied. Bruce's next move surprised the Hell out of me. He rose to a kneeling position, hugged my naked body, and kissed me full on the lips. His tongue was the next surprise, but it only took me a minute to respond. I sucked on his tongue, and then offered my. Needless to say, he sucked my tongue in a manner very familiar to the way he sucked my dick.

We stayed kneeling and holding each other for the longest time. Then he put his lips close to my ear. "Want to help me with my problem now?"

Before I could ask what problem, he moved my hand down to feel his swollen cock. I almost instantly wrapped my fingers around the engorged tool and immediately started sliding my fist up and down its pulsating length. This felt good. I knew then and there that I was going to suck my friend's

cock. Bruce knew this as well. He released me and sat back resting his butt on his heels. This position caused his erection to stick straight up at me.

"Come on down," he said cheerfully. "Play my flute."

I'm definitely no musician, but after what Bruce just introduced me to, I was determined to return the favor. The feeling of his mouth on my cock was unforgettable. His hand gently massaging my balls was unbelievably arousing, and the orgasm I experienced was far more satisfying that that I had received from any female. With all these memories racing through my head, I leaned forward, gripped his cock, and buried its head in my mouth.

I was certain that I was going to gag, but I was really in for a surprise. I could feel his pulse beat forcing blood through his veins, the throbbing of his entire shaft as it slid in and out of my mouth and the knowledge that this time I had my lover's genitalia in me was awesome. I went about driving Bruce to the point of orgasm with my mouth with intensity and vigor I had never known before was in me.

Bruce's reaction to my oral efforts encouraged more and more from me. I was holding his shaft firmly, polishing his knob as it were, and surprisingly becoming more and more addictive to this new sport. I was going to like sucking cock.

Bruce's actions left no doubt that he was thoroughly enjoying oral ceremony, but he also felt that he should continue his tutoring until I had reach a professional level.

"Harry," he said with bated breath, "play with my balls while you play my flute. It will make the music sweeter." When we began this encounter he was resting on his outstretched hands behind hio\m. Now he had shifted to an upright sitting position, and had cupped his hands behind my head. I had not noticed until now that he was gently pulling my head forward when I took his cock into my mouth. He was also pushing his hips forward with each inward stroke of cock. The thought briefly flashed in my mind that I could easily choke to death if this man got too excited and forced himself on me.

The moment of truth arrived. I could feel the convulsing, the jerking, and now the pumping of Bruce's cock. Then I felt his juices hit the back on my mouth and begin to trickle down my throat. This was a no-brainer – swallow. And swallow I did, again and again until I was certain he had deposited everything he had to offer. 

I was filled with the satisfaction that I had performed my first oral sex on another male quite satisfactorily. But I needed assurance. I rose to a kneeling position, and we instinctively and passionately kissed.

As I embrace lingered, we heard a noise off in the distant. The front door to the gym had opened and closed.

"Oh, shit," I exclaimed, "who could that be?"

"That's probably my old man," Bruce said quite calmly.

"Damn," I said in a hushed voice, "we'd better straighten up a bit."

"Relax, Harry," Bruce said maintaining his cool composure.

"Yeah, but . . ."

"Where do you think I learned to suck your cock as well as I did?"



Masculinity and College Sports



My name is Steve Victor. A six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, muscular and dare I say extremely good-looking young Black man currently living in Virginia. This year has been the year of changes for me. I graduated from Castor Academy, an all-male private boarding school in Boston, Massachusetts, and got accepted into Saint Theresa College. It's a private, deeply religious school located in rural Virginia. Originally, it was a women's institution for well over two hundred years, but three years ago they voted to admit men. The college is now home to ten thousand students, and half of them are men. Unfortunately, there are only eighteen hundred Black students, and I'm one of them.

I wasn't too sure what to make of Saint Theresa College when I got there. I expected a stuffy, elitist, all-white, female-dominated place. It was quite different. Well, it was still mostly white, but that's what you get for living in the great state of Virginia. The school originally offered Women's Archery, Basketball, Bowling, Cross Country, Fencing, Field Hockey, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Rifle, Rugby, Softball, Soccer, Swimming, Track, Volleyball, Water Polo and Wrestling. For club sports, they offered Women's Cycling, Equestrian and Boxing. The Equestrian Club recently became coed, with five male Equestrians among its roster of twelve. With the arrival of the male students, the school added new athletic opportunities for the men. They started Men's teams in Archery, Basketball, Baseball, Bowling, Cross Country, Fencing, Football, Ice Hockey, Lacrosse, Rifle, Rugby, Soccer, Swimming, Track, Volleyball, Water Polo and Wrestling. For club sports, they offered Men's Cycling, Rowing and Boxing. 

My first day at Saint Theresa College, I tried out for the Football team. I made it, too. I was selected to be an offensive lineman. That's cool with me because that's what I liked doing. I played football for Castor Academy back in high school. I loved it. It's an experience which I will never forget. The Football coach, Michael Slade was a tall, burly Black man in his early fifties. He was also the Director of Athletics for the college. His daughter Emily Slade was the Captain of the Women's Rugby team. She was rather famous, having being a high school wrestler and football player before joining the college varsity Women's Rugby team. His son Arthur Slade, a tall and bulky, bald-headed Black guy was on the college's Men's Wrestling team. I guess everyone's an athlete in this family. I would get to know the Slade family quite intimately. As for their mother, Sarah Jefferson Slade, she was the Director of Admissions for Saint Theresa College, as well as an alumnus of the school.

My roommate was a six-foot-tall, good-looking, red-haired and green-eyed Irishman named Manny Des. He was on the Saint Theresa College Men's Basketball team. He was sexy as hell. The first time I laid eyes on him, I saw something familiar. Yep, he was like me. A bisexual stud. I trust we were going to get along wonderfully. Manny Des was going out with a tall, sexy blonde named Ellen Grey, of the Saint Theresa College Women's Soccer team. They made quite the cute couple. I met Ellen. She was a nice gal. sometimes, I hung out with Manny and his girlfriend. I had a lot of fun with them. I just wished Ellen would stop trying to fix me up with her girlfriends. I liked all kinds of women. However, there's one type of chick I liked most. A brick house. I'm talking a tall, thick-bodied, big-bottomed and sensuous woman, preferably Black or Hispanic. You know what I'm talking about? Cool. I've hooked up with a few white chicks. They were fun. However, I like me a woman with a big ass. White chicks with big asses are rare. They're out there, though. I just didn't seem to run into one at Saint Theresa College. There weren't a lot of Black women around either, so I found myself a somewhat frustrated brother.

Now, I was a young Black man in a rather unfamiliar environment. I had legions of female admirers. Lots of chicks go crazy for a good-looking Black stud in a college football jersey. However, I had read headlines about Black male athletes getting in trouble with the law over females. Yep. I wasn't oblivious to that, or so overconfident that I thought it couldn't happen to me. I didn't want to sex up some chick, especially a white chick, and have her say that I sexually harassed her or worse. Yeah, besides, females can be too much trouble. At that point in my life, I decided to focus on the men. There were tons of good-looking young men at Saint Theresa College. Black men, White men, Asian men and Latino men. Sexy studs. Jocks of all types. Football studs. Hockey gods. Basketball superstars. Burly Wrestlers. Muscular Baseball champs. Lithe Volleyball players. Stocky Rugby men. Lean and nimble Swimmers. Agile Track men. Yeah, all kinds of studs. Yeah, an endless parade of good-looking men of all colors, shapes and sizes. An unlimited supply of fun to be had, if I played my cards right. I lucked out. I didn't even have to leave my room to find some fun. It found me.

I was returning back to my dorm after a grilling afternoon at football practice. The Saint Theresa College football team was the newest member of the National Collegiate Athletic Association. We were operating at the Division Three level. We had a shot at taking our division title and coach Slade wasn't letting us forget it. The man was really tough, and didn't cut us much slack. He was tough on his own kids. I had classes with Arthur and Emily Slade. Apparently, coach was also tough at home. He expected Emily to be the best damn Rugby Player on the women's team. He also expected Arthur to reach the State Wrestling Championships in his weight class. Talk about high expectations!

I sometimes hung out with Arthur and Emily. Lots of the school jocks, both male and female, hung out together. Emily was a tall, thick and bodacious young Black woman with a pretty face, large breasts, wide waist and a plump bubble butt. I could tell that she was sweet on me. Truth be told, I was attracted to her too. But I wasn't going to make a move on the football coach's daughter. I was still a freshman and I didn't want to get cut from the football team. I mean, I came to college to get a degree in engineering, but I also had hopes of being an outstanding football player. Who knows? Maybe if I was good enough, I might get drafted into the National Football League. Wouldn't that be something? No thank you, Emily. I'm going to have to pass. 

So, yeah, where was I? I was returning home from football practice. And to be honest, I was really tired. Yet, when I walked into my dormitory, what I found took my mind off football altogether. Manny Des was standing there, wearing only his blue boxers. I looked him up and down. And smiled. He looked at me, and didn't smile. I knew that look. I asked him what was wrong. He told me the truth. Point blank. He had just broken up with Ellen, his longtime girlfriend. I looked at him sympathetically and clapped him on the shoulder. There was plenty of fish in the sea, I told him. There were five thousand women at Saint Theresa College. A handsome athlete like Manny could have his pick of them. 

Manny looked at me, and told me that he didn't want a girlfriend. He broke up with Ellen, not the other way around. He had had it with women. It wasn't Ellen's fault but she simply could not satisfy his needs. There were things which she simply couldn't do for him, no matter how hard she tried. He wanted something which she simply didn't have. I told him that there was no such thing as a perfect woman. Word up. Manny grinned, then told me that he wasn't looking for a man. I asked him what he was looking for. He smiled and told me he had just found it. Then, he kissed me. I must say that I was surprised. I mean, I knew Manny was bisexual the moment I laid eyes on him. However, I didn't know he wanted me. Nevertheless, I kissed him back.

When our lips parted, Manny smiled at me. He told me he'd been wanting to kiss me for a long time. I smiled, and kissed him again. Truth be told, I wanted him. I had wanted him for a long time as well. I felt a certain longing when I saw him with Ellen, walking around holding hands on campus. I liked Manny. Why? He was sexy, good-looking, smart, charming and a really nice guy. I liked him a lot. And he liked me too. We kissed again, and tumbled on the bed. I took off my clothes, and he threw his boxers away. We stood naked, facing each other. I admired Manny's body. Tall, lean, muscular. Pretty face, sexy body and big dick. My man had the total package. He checked me out as well, running his hands all over my six-foot-three, muscular body. He traced his hands over my sex, and liked what he felt in his hands. Laughing, we rolled around and wrestled. It was pretty intense, funny, and kind of erotic. I found myself on top of Manny. He smiled, and put his arms around me. We kissed again. I took my sweet time kissing him. I wasn't in any rush and neither was he. We were exploring each other's bodies, and in some way, souls as well.

Manny kissed me, all over. His hands grabbed my sex and stroked it, and caressed my buttocks. I kissed his lips, then licked his chest and cupped his manhood in my hands. He was so long and thick, so wonderfully erect. A sexy Irishman in all of his glory. He smiled, and stroked me as well. We kissed, and continued our sexy games. We masturbated each other to a guilty pleasure. Except we didn't feel any guilt over it. When I came, he did as well, and we shared the seed of our masculine passions. I climbed on top of him. He entered me, and I rode him. I felt his hardness inside me, and surrendered to it. He thrust into me passionately, and I completely let go. And enjoyed. He came, and I welcomed the onslaught of his masculine essence inside me. He withdrew from me, and kissed me. We held each other tightly, in silence. Then, we fell asleep in each other's arms. It was one of the best nights of my life.

The next morning was something I dreaded. How would Manny feel about what we did? I've been with a few men and some women whose personalities changed the morning after. Manny didn't. He was still the same man. He smiled at me, and kissed me. I kissed him back. We didn't talk about what happened between us, and instead spent the day together. It was a Saturday, so no problem there. We went to the movies and watched the latest action flick, and a science fiction feature. We also ate at Wendy's and then went to the gym to work out together. Manny told me that he liked me, and wanted us to have lots of good times together. He also told me he cared about me. But he didn't want the entire campus to find out about us because homophobes really don't like it when their favorite athletes turn out to be queer. I understood. I mean, I play college football and if any of my teammates found out that I was bisexual, I'd be dead. Manny was in the same situation. The college basketball team wasn't too keen on gay and bisexual players either. So, for the time being, we would keep our relationship, or whatever it was, a secret. I wasn't too happy with it, but I understood the necessity. Manny and I had our fun at night, away from prying eyes. We also went out together. Yet no one knew we were an item. We were simply, well, us. For now, it would be enough. 



Masculinity And Power



My name is Jericho Stanford. I'm a six-foot-tall and rather good-looking young black man living in rural Virginia. I am originally from New York, but ever since I won myself an academic scholarship to an elite Virginian school, I've been living there. The only thing I missed about New York was my boyfriend Manny. My tall, good-looking and well-endowed chocolate stud. We had many good years together, when we attended Saint William Academy, an all-male private boarding school. Best friends, and also lovers. Living him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. He's currently playing football for Buffalo State. We stay in touch through email, but it's not the same. He's got some chick he's dating back there. He's bisexual. That's cool, cause I'm bisexual too. I still prefer him over any female, though. No woman can make me feel complete, though a few of them come close.

I currently attend the Sparta Institute of Technology located in rural Virginia. It's a very nice school. No two like it in the world. Sparta Tech is one of the last all-male private colleges remaining in North America. It was founded in 1990 by James Sparta IV, a now deceased former businessman who poured his last dime into making his vision of an educational revolution into a reality. Well, I guess it paid off. Sparta Tech is a nationally accredited school.

Currently, there are sixteen hundred students at Sparta Tech. It's a school focusing on technical institution. Engineering, computer science, mechanicals, manufacturing, that's the school's focus. We're all a bunch of techies down here, but we're not all nerds. The Sparta Institute of Technology takes athleticism just as seriously as it does rigorous academia. We compete in the National Collegiate Athletic Association's Division Three. That means that our school doesn't offer any athletic scholarships. Our sportsmen are academic luminaries who enjoy athleticism for its challenges and play because of pride and interest. Whatever. I'm just glad I get to play. I'm a member of the school's Varsity Football Team. Division One colleges with football programs are allowed scholarships for eighty five members, by decree of the National Collegiate Athletic Association. We don't have such restrictions because we don't receive funding from the federal government, and neither do our athletes. We also don't offer athletic scholarships, so what we do with our money is our business.

There are one hundred men on the Sparta Tech football team. We're just there to play, mainly because we love it. At our school, athletes make up almost fifty percent of the student body. The Sparta Institute of Technology offers Intercollegiate Sports in Alpine Skiing, Archery, Baseball, Basketball, Bowling, Cross Country, Crew, Fencing, Football, Gymnastics, Ice Hockey, Lacrosse, Rugby, Rifle, Soccer, Squash, Swimming, Tennis, Track, Volleyball, Water Polo and Wrestling. Club sports are Boxing, Karate, Judo, Sumo Wrestling, Equestrian, Hiking and Cycling. We're the only college in America to have an all-male Equestrian club. Yeah, athleticism is important to us. 

The football team had a good season. We made it to the National Collegiate Athletic Association Division Three Football Championship. Unfortunately, we lost to top-seeded Magnus College. They won our conference championship. I couldn't believe it. They had a very good team. We beat them once, but this time they had our ticket. Losing at nationals sucked, but that's life. Second place wasn't bad, though I would have preferred first place. There's nothing like first place. Anyhow, the year was winding down. I focused on my classes. Engineering is my major. I intend on getting a bachelors degree in it and then maybe head to a great technical institution like the Georgia Institute of Technology. One of my professors went to Georgia Tech. He said great things about that school. Next time I'm in Atlanta, I'll check it out. For sure. 

Presently, I'm hanging out with an old friend of mine. Her name is Wanda. She goes to Virginia Tech, which is an okay if sometimes eventful school. When we first met, she was a tall and skinny black chick who was cute but talked way too much. She was going through a phase where she felt sexually curious about women. After sleeping with a few lesbians, she got it out of system and declared herself straight but flexible. Oh, and she broadcast this to anyone with ears. A loud bisexual femme, great, just what I needed. Or not. After a minute, I decided we were better off as pals or casual acquaintances instead of boyfriend and girlfriend. We remained pals for years. Wanda was cool. I was never attracted to her, until I saw her recently. The chick got big! I mean, the Wanda I remembered was a skinny dame. Damn, what happened? Anyhow, I must say that I liked her new look. I like big women. Never been fond of the skinny dames. I'm a black man, damn it, and where I'm from, we like thick chicks with big asses. I liked the fact that Wanda had thickened up a bit. She was still five feet nine inches tall, but no longer skinny. Her body was thick, her face round, her breasts were large and her hips were wide. Also, her ass thickened and rounded up nicely. She now had a thick bubble butt. Just looking at it made me want to squeeze it. I made plans to tap that ass real soon.

We went out and had a good time. Wanda and I danced all night at a club, then we went to the bathroom to get frisky. Wanda has never really lit my fire before. Skinny women never do. However, the woman who was feeling me up in the locked and filthy women's bathroom was pleasantly plump, and that made my dick hard. She knew it, and went straight for the cock. Wanda knelt before me and pulled my ten-inch uncircumcised black cock from my pants. She began sucking on it, and fondling my balls. While she sucked me off, she also fingered her glistening wet pussy. Wanda was a damn good sucker and I almost regretted not hooking up with her earlier. When I came, she drank my seed. Licked me dry. Man, she was good.

We had more fun. I watched as she hiked up her skirt, then turned around. Showing me her plump black ass. I like big women with big butts. I don't know why. The sight of Wanda's thick bubble butt caused my cock to harden like you would not believe. She asked me if I've ever had anal sex before. I smirked, and told her that I've fucked a lot of men in the ass. I liked making them scream. I've only fucked two chicks in the ass and they were both white chicks. I've never had anal sex with a black female, though. Wanda was totally down with anal. She spread her plump butt cheeks wide open, showing me an obvious target. I smiled and pressed my cock against her butt hole. Then, I pushed it inside. Wanda's asshole was warm and tight, but not too tight. Gripping her wide hips, I began to fuck her hard and fast. As Wanda undulated and pushed her big butt back against me, I knew this woman was no stranger to anal sex. I pumped my cock into her asshole. She squealed in delight and begged me for more. I fucked her hard and fast, until I came. My hot seed rushed deep inside her asshole. Wanda squealed and cussed like a New York city cabbie. It was that intense. 

We tried a few different positions. I propped her up against the latrine and shoved my cock into her butt hole. She spread her plump butt cheeks even wider than before, welcoming my cock. Damn, this chick was so frigging crazy. I loved her ass. It felt so wonderfully tight around my cock. Wanda's big tits flopped around as her body shook under the force of my thrusts. This was one of my all-time favorite things to do. Find a cute, plump and willing woman and fuck her in the ass. Nothing better than that, except maybe sexing up a sexy gay or bisexual man with a huge cock. Yeah, that was always fun. Wanda and I went at it like this for some time until I finally came, sending my hot cum deep inside her asshole. Her scream of sheer pleasure mixed with pain was music to my ears. What did I tell you? She's a freak!

Afterwards, Wanda and I went back to the dance floor. It was funny watching her walk unsteadily as she made her way out. Having ten inches of hard dick up her ass had taken away some of the usual bounce in her step. We would hook up regularly from that day forward. I had other men and a few women I also sexed up from time to time but truth be told, Wanda became my favorite. She was cool and always down with some hot sex. No drama. I liked that about her. She kept me busy during the off season. 



Masculinity in American Colleges



Caleb Douglas is the name and I'm a young African-American stud who's having the time of his life. Seriously. Why is that? Well, let' s see. I'm a full-scholarship student at Ripley College in Boston, Massachusetts. Ripley College was founded in the year 1950 by philanthropist and popular author Patricia Ripley and her husband, billionaire Thomas Highland Smith. They passed away ten years later but the Ripley & Smith Foundation has continued to look after the fledging college, providing valuable financial support in its time of need. Since then, the school has become one of the best four-year small private colleges in New England. 

Today, Ripley College has fourteen thousand students, and a wonderfully diverse student body. Demographically speaking, the school is fifty percent male and fifty percent female. Forty percent of the students are Caucasian, thirty percent are African-American, ten percent are Asian and twenty percent are of Hispanic origin. The school president, former Massachusetts Senator James O'Leary is committed to diversifying the campus. He's been really good at it so far. He hired retired National Football League superstar Harold Jenkins III as the Head Football Coach of the school's fledgling Football program. The school knows how it treats its students well. There are six fraternities and six sororities on campus, along with various social and special interest clubs such as the Men in Engineering Club, the Women in Technology Club, the African-American Literature Club, the Women's Literature Society, the Men in Nursing Club and the Men and Women's Criminal Justice Club.

Recently, the Ripley College Department of Athletics has beefed itself up. Ripley College student-athletes now compete in Men's Intercollegiate Baseball, Basketball, Cross Country, Fencing, Football, Golf, Gymnastics, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Rowing, Rugby, Soccer, Sailing, Swimming, Tennis, Volleyball, Water Polo and Wrestling along with Women's Intercollegiate Basketball, Cross Country, Fencing, Field Hockey, Golf, Gymnastics, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Rowing, Rugby, Soccer, Softball, Sailing, Swimming, Tennis, Volleyball, Water Polo and Wrestling. For club sports we have Men's Archery, Boxing, Cycling, Sumo Wrestling and Karate along with Women's Badminton, Archery, Cycling and Karate. All of our sports teams compete in the National Collegiate Athletic Association's Division Two. We're known as the Silver Stars and the Lady Stars.

This is the school that I attend. Isn't it awesome? I got to tell you, it's a lot better than many other colleges and universities across America. I'm a member of both the Varsity Football team and the Men's Wrestling Team. We're doing pretty good these days. In both sports. I think we might make it to the National Collegiate Athletic Association's Division Two Football Championships. A lot of people don't take Division Two College Sportsmen and Sportswomen as seriously as they do our Division One counterparts. I don't know why. We play just as hard. Hell, we play harder. Division One College and University student-athletes walk around with a sense of entitlement. We don't. Nobody kisses our butts. We play because we love sports. And we wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm living in the dormitories, located near downtown Boston. Ripley College spared no expense when it decided to add Football to its Department of Athletics. Thankfully, the Football program generated quite a lot of revenue in its first year. It cost the school two million dollars to begin a Football program. The program generated upwards of ten million bucks during its first year. I'm glad we have an NFL guy as our Head Coach. I've worked with him. I'm on the Special Teams. I'm basically the Quarterback's personal bodyguard. Who is our quarterback? Jonathan Wilson, a big and tall, good-looking, blond-haired, green-eyed stud. Although he looks quite Teutonic, he's actually a third-generation Irish immigrant. I like the guy. He's cool, smart and listens to his teammates. I've been playing Football since high school and I really don't like quarterbacks who are full of themselves. They get on my last nerve. I've decked more than one. Jonathan Wilson is okay by me, though.

Yeah, I was living the kind of life many men can only dream of. Attending a good school, for free. Playing college football. Living in a world-class city. Surrounded by smart men and beautiful women. Or smart women and handsome men. Whatever your flavor. Hey, most people only get half the package. Good looks or intelligence. Only a select few can have both. You know it's the truth, so live with it. Political correctness causes people to shun the truth these days. I'm not the kind of man who just goes with the flow. I got my own beliefs and I take a stand. Even if it's unpopular. To hell with society. That's me, folks.

Today is Friday and my friends and I are hanging out in the city of Boston. We went to the Prudential Mall. It was awesome. We went into the Food Court. One hundred young men wearing Football jackets. How about that? It was awesome. American society doesn't seem to appreciate men anymore. Anytime you see something about men, it's usually negative. Well, I walked around with my fellow football players from the Ripley College team proudly. We had a blast. We ordered Chinese food and had cokes and sodas. Folks around the Mall stopped to stare as we walked around, doing our thing. It's like that old music video, it's Raining Men! I sat down with my buddies, ate some food and had some fun.

Yes, we were all young college men, all together and we were having a grand old time. Just being ourselves. I saw everyone looking at us. Men and women. Blacks and whites. Gays and straights. Some of them were admiring us. Others were covertly hating on us. I just smiled and laughed at my teammates jokes. We did our thing. And when we were done, we got up and walked out. All men. All of us together. We're America's young college men. And we will be ourselves. We will do our thing. Black and white, straight and gay, we're in this together. Whether it's as a football team, a group of firemen, or just some buddies hanging out on a Friday night. All men are brothers. 



Masculinity In Tough Times



My name is Duke Brownstone, and I am young black man living in rural Texas. I'm originally from the city of Boston, but I like rural Texas just fine. It's quite different, you know. To be surrounded by old farms and tons of wilderness is a refreshing change from the fast-paced and loud world of the big city. What brings a young black urbanite like myself to rural America? College, of course. Des College is my new home. I didn't think I'd like it, but I ended up loving it. It's become home away from home for me. What can I say? I've grown accustomed to its face.

Des College is a small private school sitting in a valley near a river, surrounded by wilderness. Nearby, there's a small town called Des. It's got a population of around twenty thousand people. It's really small and backwards. There's one hospital, a sheriff's department, a small chain of stores, a movie theater and a few local businesses. The rest is farming country. They're all farmers down here. Des College is home to a student body of five thousand students. It's surprisingly diverse racially. Also, it's evenly divided between male and female students. Also, it's a pretty fun place. These country people are a simple folk. They take great pride in the local college's sports teams. The Des College sports teams are known as the Des College Raging Lynxes. Don't ask. 

Des College currently offers Men's Intercollegiate Archery, Basketball, Baseball, Cross Country, Bowling, Rowing, Swimming, Soccer, Gymnastics, Wrestling, Track, Volleyball, Rifle, Football, Badminton, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Golf, Tennis and Rugby. They also offer Women's Intercollegiate Archery, Basketball, Field Hockey, Softball, Cross Country, Swimming, Bowling, Rowing, Soccer, Gymnastics, Wrestling, Track, Volleyball, Rifle, Equestrian, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Golf, Tennis and Rugby. This school had a strong tradition of athletic dedication and I respected that. I just wished there were more black students around. One hundred and eighty black men attended the college, eighty percent of them were on the Men's Football and Basketball teams. There were two hundred and ten black women on campus, and most of them were on the Women's Basketball and Cross Country teams. Yeah, at Des College, the black students were either athletes, academic luminaries or they weren't there at all. Isn't that just peachy? Things weren't ideal, but I try to keep busy.

My first day at Des College, right after moving into the men's dormitories, I walked up to the football stadium where the men were practicing. I was a walk-on tryout. I've played football ever since I was young, so it came easy to me. Pop Warner taught me a lot, after all. I was also a running back on the football team at The General Grant Academy For Boys, a private boarding school near Boston. I made the team. I was a lineman instead of a running back. That's cool because I've got the build and talent to excel at both of these positions. I stand six feet three inches tall and weigh exactly two hundred and forty pounds. I've worked out extensively since my youth and at nineteen years old, I was in prime shape. I joined the Des College football team. We were a Division Three college football team with a hundred-year history of excellence. That was a lot to live up to. Practice was murder, but I got through it. Between playing football and taking five classes my first semester, college life was threatening to burn me out. Luckily, I found some way to relax. 

One of my professors really helped in that area. This dame was really hot. Lisa Rivers Coleman was her name. She was a Criminology professor. Married to James Coleman, some guy who was the Dean of Student Affairs, with brats to boot. Oh, well. I guess she kept coming onto me because I gave her something she couldn't get anywhere else. This dame boasted of impressive natural assets. A six-foot, pretty-faced, large-breasted, thick-bodied, wide-hipped and big-bottomed Latin woman with short black hair and pale brown eyes. We had a lot of fun together. She'd come to my dorm and we'd have some fun together. This thick older woman really knew how to work her stuff. We hooked up all the time. Let me tell you about one of our steamiest hookups ever.

I was coming back to my dorm after a grueling afternoon of football practice. Guess who I found waiting for? Now, I was pleasantly surprised when I found this big beautiful woman in my bedroom, wearing nothing but a black bra and matching panties. Her thick, sexy body looked frigging gorgeous like that. I smiled, and nodded. In case you haven't guessed it by now, I like them thick. Always have and always will. Many brothers will agree with me on that one. Thick women do it better. Who wants to hold onto a sack of bones anyway? Aside from those modeling dudes, nobody! I looked at Lisa, smiled and gestured for her to come to me. Lisa grinned, and shook her head. Apparently, she wanted me to come to her. That's cool. Whatever, you know? I smiled and walked up to her. I looked her up and down. Damn, she looked even hotter up close. I put my hands on that plump ass of hers and gave it a good squeeze. Damn, she had a hot bubble butt, just the way I liked them.

Lisa pulled me to her and kissed me. We played tongue twister for a minute, while I ran my hands all over that curvaceous body of hers. I also felt up her large, firm breasts. But mostly I focused on that beautiful booty of hers. I like a big woman with a big butt. That's always been my primary sexual interest and it's not going to change anytime soon. Grinning, Lisa playfully pushed me. I laughed and gave her a good shove, sending her tumbling on the bed. Lisa laughed, and rolled around on the bed. When she stopped, she was on all fours. She shook her plump booty at me. I felt my cock harden like steel in my pants. Damn! I had to get that booty if it was the last thing I did. I unzipped my pants, and threw off my shirt. Lisa laughed, and gestured for me to come to her. I leapt onto the bed, joining her. We rolled around on the king-sized bed, playfully wrestling. Damn, I liked feeling her firm, fleshy body on top of me, underneath me, wherever.

I finally had her pinned, and she looked up at me. I looked into her eyes. Without a word being spoken, I knew exactly what she wanted. Truth be told, I wanted to stick my cock into her right then and there. However, getting my professor pregnant might seriously affect my college plans, not to mention my life. I told her to wait up. she looked at me, wide-eyed. I gave her a reassuring smile as I reached into a drawer and pulled out some condoms. I stopped buying Trojans after that infamous commercial of theirs. Nowadays, I used Durex. I tore off the plastic and took it out. I placed the condom on my dick. Now, some dudes will lie to you and tell you they've got twelve inches or more. Not me. I've got nine inches of long and thick, uncircumcised black cock with balls the size of apples. And I am proud. Above all else, I know how to use it. Just ask any female I've been with. 

First things first, though. I liked to inspect and explore the terrain before marching across it to do battle. So, I spread Lisa's plump thighs and took at her pussy. Lisa was a natural woman. She didn't bother shaving. Oh, and while other women used vaginal deodorant, this female flaunted her own aroma. She kept it clean, though, which I was grateful for. I spread her pussy lips and began licking away. I licked her clit and fingered her pussy. Lisa shuddered and guided my actions as I pleasured her. I was pretty good at eating pussy. Over the years, I've licked and fucked them all. Black pussy, white pussy, Asian pussy and now, Latina pussy. Just call me the multicultural pussy licking expert. I continued to lick her pussy and began probing her with my digits. Worked her up until she squealed and came, smearing her hot juices all over. I smiled. See? I told you I got skills.

Now that I had gotten her rocks off, Lisa was basking in the post orgasmic glow. Well, I needed her to come down from cloud nine. She was all grateful for my performance and stuff. I smiled as she asked me what I wanted her to do for me. I'm a butt man, if you catch my drift. I told Lisa that I wanted her ass. No, I didn't want to do her pussy in the doggy style position or play with her ass. What I wanted was far different. And I can't make it any clearer. I wanted to stick my cock in her ass. Her eyes widened when she finally understood. I nodded slowly. Lisa, bless her heart and big booty, is always up for anything. So she complied. All she asked for was for me to grease her up good. I was more than okay with that. Now, those of you who totally get off on anal are going to criticize a brother for not having KY Jelly around. Well, I don't have that stuff at home because anal sex encounters are few and far in between. It's hard to find a woman who loves anal sex. So, I had to make do with what I got in order to get what I need. I used Vaseline cream instead of KY. Isn't that something? 

I had Lisa get on all fours and spread those gorgeous plump butt cheeks of hers wide open. Then, I took the bottle of Vaseline and dropped some water on it. I mixed it up, then smeared it all around her puckered little asshole. I also applied some of it on my condom-covered cock. Lisa was cool about the whole thing. Not a peep or complaint from her. I then held my nine-inch cock in my hand and rubbed it before pressing its head against Lisa's backdoor. I put my hands on those wide hips of hers and pushed my cock inside her butt hole. Lisa gasped as I entered her. I worked my cock inside her dark tunnel slowly. I like to take my time during anal sex. I'm not like others who rush through the whole thing. If you rush, you're missing out on the best part. I was like an unhurried tourist. Just call me Duke Boy in Anal Land. I took my time to enjoy the sights and sounds, and above all else, the sensations. Lisa's ass felt warm and tight around my cock. I loved that feeling. I pushed my cock deeper and deeper inside the tunnel of darkness. It slowly stretched as she opened herself up to me, taking more and more of my cock. We continued slowly until I worked up about six of my nine inches inside her. That's where she bottomed out. Meaning she couldn't take anymore. I pushed my dick inside, loving the feeling of warmth and tightness all around me. Meanwhile, Lisa moaned softly. Damn, this woman was something else. I mean, I've done anal with a few women of various ages, and most of them can't take a cock where the sun doesn't shine without howling. Not Lisa. She took it like a champ. I squeezed her hot buns as I fucked her. The feel of her ass was incredible. We went at it like this for about half an hour, then I came. Slowly, I withdrew from her. This was one of the most amazing sexual experiences I've ever had.

Man, this was fantastic. I ran it through my mind again and again. Lisa and I lay side by side. Naked as jaybirds, giddily talking about it. She told me that she'd only done anal with one other man and that was her husband James Coleman, the Dean of Student Affairs at Des College. Well, that comment rather pleased me. It also surprised me. Lisa had the biggest, plumpest and most perfect-looking bubble butt I've ever seen. It's a shame more men haven't gotten a piece of that. Of course, I didn't tell her that. I liked her. She was smart, pretty, a great conversationalist, fun in bed, and most recently, her willingness to do anal sex put her at the top of my list. I guess a penchant for anal sex is a quality I admire in a woman. Right up there with personality, intelligence, looks and all that jazz. The only thing I didn't like about Lisa is the fact that she smoked. Cigarettes are filthy things. I don't smoke cigarettes, though I've been known to take a blunt or two at a party. Oh, well. It's her life. I watched as she got up and put her clothes back on. With her business suit on, and her lawyer's briefcase, she looked every bit the professional woman of modern times. I knew better, of course. Tonight, she was going to return to her hubby and brats. And I'd go back to surfing the web and do some studying. We both had our own lives. Neither of us clung to the other. We were cool, and had casual sex a few times a week. The rest of the time, I went to class and played football. She did whatever else she did when she wasn't in class, at home or with me. That's the way the world would be if we hadn't been conditioned to be commitment-hungry emotional sycophants. It's the way the world should be. 



Masculinity Throughout Time



Sometimes, it amazes me how much the world has changed in a few years. Yeah, I know I sound like an old-timer. It's because that's what I am. I'm sixty years old, and currently standing in a cemetery at night. looking at my wife's grave sure brought back memories. I remember how we met. Yeah, those were different times indeed. The favorite daughter of a family of rich white southerners fell in love with a handsome black college man. It was an event which changed both our lives, and altered our relationships with our respective families as well as our views of the world. From that moment on, nothing would ever be the same.

The time is 1970 and the name is Joel Brown Derrick. I'm a six-foot-tall, somewhat heavyset but good-looking young black man living in Atlanta, Georgia. Currently, I'm a first year student at the Georgia Institute of Technology. I major in civil engineering. My father James Derrick is a mechanical engineer in Houston. He owns his own business. He really wanted me to go to Morehouse College, his alma mater. Truth be told, I was quite tempted. I liked Morehouse, the only all-male and all-black college in the world, but I was more focused on Georgia Tech because they offered me an academic scholarship. Free room and board for four years. I had to go there! Now that I'm there, zero regrets. It's definitely the place to be! 

The story that I'm about to tell you involves me and some friends and admirers of mine. My girlfriend Tory Darwin is a very freaky female. Six feet tall, pretty-faced, large-breasted, thick-bodied, wide-hipped and big-bottomed. Her hair is short and blonde, her eyes blue and her skin alabaster. She goes to Spellman College, an all-female private school. This sexy Irish mama weighs three hundred pounds and she's totally hot. I like big women. It doesn't matter if they're white, black, Asian or Hispanic. I like big women and I cannot lie! I don't know why. Whenever I see a big woman with a big butt walk by, I get excited. I don't know why. Maybe someone should do a story on that. Or perhaps a psychological study. Whatever. I met Tory at Spellman and we have been together ever since. I get along with her great because she's a simple gal with simple tastes. In other words, easy to please, and not big on whining. That's perfectly cool with me.

Currently, Tory and I are wrestling in oil. She likes wrestling and so do I. We grappled around the polished wooden floor, knocking stuff around. I weight two hundred and forty pounds. Tory is quite a bit heavier. She's big and strong, and likes wrestling, but she doesn't have much experience. Instead of grappling with her face to face, I managed to jump on her back and pin her down. She reached backwards, trying to dislodge me but I hung on. I caught her hand and pinned it behind her back, then twisted my right leg around her left one while supporting my weight with my left leg. We tumbled down on the floor. Tory cried out. I laughed. Technique can overcome size almost anytime. She was a good wrestler, though. I did enjoy making her tap out. She grimaced, grunted, then tapped out. Laughing, I caressed her plump ass and kissed her ear. 

Caressing Tory's plump white ass caused my cock to harden. She turned around, and saw the desire in my eyes. Smiling naughtily, she nodded. I smiled, and gently spread her plump butt cheeks wide open. Slowly, I pressed my cock against her backdoor. One of the many things I liked about Tory is the fact that she liked sex. This big white woman liked sex just as much as I did. We did it many places. In the club bathroom, in her dorm at Spellman College and pretty much anywhere we happened to be when the need struck us. Yeah, we had fun. Recently, we had been experimenting with anal sex. At first, she was reluctant but recently, she transformed herself into the queen of all anal receivers. She simply loved getting my cock in her ass. Hell, sometimes she asked for it. Am I a lucky guy or what?

I slowly worked my cock into Tory's butt hole. Holding her by those wide hips of hers, I thrust into her. The first thing I felt upon penetrating her asshole was one of warmth. Tory's asshole was tight, but thankfully not too tight. It wasn't very loose either. It was just right. As I began fucking her, she held her cheeks with both hands, prying them apart. Clearly, she wanted more of my cock up her asshole. Is this gal awesome or what? My girlfriend was an anal sex enthusiast! I began to happily pump away, shoving my cock deep down where the sun didn't shine. 

As I fucked her, Tory screamed in mixed pain and pleasure and begged me for more. I gave her all the cock I had. Eight inches of uncircumcised black stud. My cock burrowed deeper into her asshole, going into forbidden territory. Probing the depths of my big, beautiful and absolutely willing girlfriend was so pleasurable it's not even funny. I felt like the walls of her anal cavity were massaging my cock. Damn, this was so damn hot! We went at it like this for some time, until I finally came, sending my hot cum deep inside her ass. Tory squealed in delight. Yeah, she loved this, and so did I. We lay on the wooden floor, panting. My cock was still inside her. I tried to pull out, but she wouldn't let me. We had more wicked fun together later on.

Yep, and that's how things were between me and Tory. The big white chick I fell for. We got hitched, and remained together, in spite of what both of our families thought. Yeah, many people opposed our relationship. My family didn't want their brightest and best educated son to marry a white chick. Her family, a bunch of rich Georgian farmers, weren't keen on their favorite daughter marrying a black man. Tory and I got hitched and stayed married. We had a couple of brats together. Two sons and one daughter. We lived in Atlanta. I became an engineer after graduation. She became a teacher. We were together until cancer claimed her in late 2007. I loved this woman, and enjoyed every day we had together. No regrets.