Hard Riders by Ashe Barker
“Holy fuck,” muttered Jackson, a spilt-second before he mashed his mouth across Liam’s.
The next few seconds were a frenzy of open-mouthed kisses and frantic grappling to be rid of jackets, shirts, anything else in the way.
“Someone might come…” Liam mumbled the words half-heartedly, not usually so cautious.
“That’s the idea. Come on.” Jackson broke the kiss and sprinted across the road to vault a four foot high dry stone wall. Liam was right behind him. They ended up in a field, home to a flock of disinterested sheep who continued to chomp at the springy grass in a manner which suggested half-clothed bikers rolling around in their meadow was an everyday occurrence.
“What about the bike?” Despite his enthusiasm for the turn of events now unfolding, Liam felt someone should spare a thought for the abandoned dream machine.
“It’ll be fine, we’ll hear if anyone’s about.” Jackson lay on his back and made a fluttery come-here gesture with the fingers of both hands. Liam did not require a second invitation and fell on top of him.
It took Liam approximately three seconds to get Jackson’s leather pants undone and shove his hand inside. He found a firm, solid cock already twitching and ready to go. Liam wrapped his fingers around the shaft and pumped, slow at first then firming up the motion, as Jackson gasped and moaned his appreciation. The other man arched his back, thrusting into Liam’s hand as clear pre-cum leaked from the tip of his erection. Liam glanced down, admiring the hard, veined dick in his hand, and ran his thumb over the smooth, bulbous tip to smear the juice around. He wanted to taste, and wriggled around to bring his face in line with Jackson’s groin.
“Christ, yes…” moaned Jackson, the flow of fluid from his cock increasing as Liam’s intent became clear.
All Roped Up by MK Elliott
As soon as he let Alex into his flat, the other man headed straight into the room, Conner watching his taut backside moving in his fitting jeans as he walked. With a suppressed smile, he followed Alex in.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” he offered.
Alex pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. “I assume my hands are going to be tied, so unless you plan on letting me drink through a straw, I think I’ll say no this time.”
Conner smirked in amusement. “Okay, then.” He watched as Alex undid his belt buckle and shucked out of his jeans. “Are you warm enough?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Are we going to do this, or are you just going to stand there staring at me all evening?”
“Sorry, but watching you strip in my playroom is a sight I want to remember.”
Alex grinned. “Good. Me, too.”
Conner walked further into the room and went to the box where he kept his rope. He opened the lid and started to pull out longer lengths than he had used last time. The last time he’d just been warming Alex up. This time he wanted to take things further.
“How do you feel about being gagged with rope?” he asked him.
“Gagged?”
“Yeah, you know—having the rope placed in your mouth so you won’t be able to speak.”
“How will I be able to tell you if something is wrong?”
“You’ll still be able to make noises, so you’ll be able to tell me if you’re in distress. But I promise nothing will go wrong. I’m always going to be gentle with you when I tie you up. I’d never be anything else.”
Alex nodded. “Okay, I trust you.”
Conner smiled. “It’s good to hear that.”
To create what he wanted, he needed several lengths of rope of different sizes. He always kept his rope neatly tied, so all he had to do was loosen a knot and the rope would unravel, ready for use. Conner selected his thirty meter rope and matched the ends and then pulled his way back to the centre. From here, he created a loop known as a bight.
“Put your arms behind your back, the way you did the other day.”
Alex did as he was told and Conner bound his arms together, wrapping spirals up his arms to just below the elbows. From here, he wrapped the rope around Alex’s chest and then moved upward to wrap higher and place the rope between Alex’s lips. Alex opened his mouth to him, his eyes wide and trusting. Not wanting to push Alex too much, he wrapped the rope only once around the back of his head. He folded the rope under at the base of his skull, before spiralling the running ends back down around his arms. He paused to place a kiss on Alex’s smooth shoulder, and then continued. He wanted each part of Alex to be joined to the next, so he attached a new length of rope to the first and pulled the running ends down to Alex’s ankles. He used the same technique on his ankles, wrapping the rope around his legs and then folding it under and spiralling it back down.
“Are you okay?” he asked, wanting to make sure. “If you feel any kind of discomfort, I’ll stop.”
Alex’s eyes slipped shut and he gave his head the slightest of shakes.
Conner continued to work. From Alex’s ankles, he worked the rope back up, and slipped the running ends between Alex’s legs. His hand brushed the soft, warm skin of his balls, and Alex’s cock jerked at the contact. He looked incredibly sexy tied up like this, with the rope accentuating every line and muscle of his body.
The draw of Alex’s beautiful cock was too much for him. He wrapped the rope around Alex’s balls and folded the rope right below the base of his dick. Then he wrapped another circle of rope around the stem of his erection. Alex’s breath caught, and then became shallower. His erection grew even harder, the head swollen and purple.
Tentatively, Conner ran his fingers along the length and then swiped his thumb over the end. A bead of pre-cum slicked the ball of his thumb and he lifted his hand to his mouth before looking directly at Alex. Alex’s lips were stretched at the edges by the rope, and his eyes were wide, and focused on Conner’s thumb. Without taking his eyes off Alex’s face, he lifted his thumb to his mouth and licked off the salty fluid.
Alex gave a groan and thrust his hips forward. Conner knew exactly what he was trying to tell him—that his cock needed attention. He imagined he’d be desperate to be stroked, especially with the extra sensation of the rope around his balls and the base of his cock.
Gently, Conner pressed on Alex’s shoulders, pushing him backwards so he sat on the heels of his feet. The position caused the other man’s cock to stand upright, jutting out from his body.
Blood rushed to Conner’s groin, and he hardened and lengthened in his jeans. But this wasn’t about him right now. His job was to take care of Alex, and that meant making sure he was comfortable.
Conner ducked his head down and placed both of his hands on the floor either side of Alex’s thighs. Alex’s dick bobbed inches from Conner’s face, and the masculine musky scent of him, combined with the salty pre-cum, filled Conner’s nostrils. He moved his mouth closer to Alex and parted his lips. He exhaled a rush of hot breath, the warm air hitting Alex’s swollen head and making the other man shiver with desire. Conner glanced up. Alex’s hazel eyes were wide and wild, and a thin trickle of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth. The gag was doing its job.
Conner moved lower and placed his tongue at the flat base of Alex’s cock. With a slow, deliberate movement he raked his tongue back up until he got to the top. Then he circled the purple bell-end, spiralling inward to the slit, and pressing his tongue against it.
Alex let out another muffled moan and shunted his hips upward again.Shibari
Conner smiled against Alex’s dick, and then slowly opened his mouth and slid his lips over the head and down the rigid core of him. Alex was so hard, it was like sucking warm iron. Conner moved down as low as he could go, forcing himself to hold back his gag reflex so he could get Alex right to the back of his throat. The other man wasn’t massive, not like him, and Conner found he could take all of him, his lips touching the coarse rope wrapped around the base of his cock. He reached out and cupped Alex’s balls, his thumb skirting over the rope knotted tight at the top. It was so sexy, having Alex tied this way. Conner knew exactly what he was feeling right now. His cock would feel harder than it ever had before, tingling and rigid with pressure. He knew when Alex came, he’d come with more force than he imagined possible.
Conner squeezed and massaged Alex’s balls while he moved his mouth up and down. Above his head, he could hear Alex’s breathing growing harsher, his chest expanding and contracting, his hips bucking to try to force himself deeper and faster into Conner’s throat. The trickle of drool had become a rivulet, giving him a primal, feral appearance, especially with the rope stretched across his mouth. This smart, educated man had been turned into a creature purely focused on sensation, and he’d both lose himself and find himself in his unravelling.
Palming Alex’s balls, he slid his finger along his perineum, locating his anus. With a small amount of pressure, he pushed, not quite penetrating him, but causing enough sensation that Alex’s body bucked and his cock jerked in his mouth. Conner moved faster, swirling his tongue around him, and sucking with just enough pressure. The amount of pre-cum leaking into his mouth increased, and he knew Alex was close.
A sudden spurt hit the back of his throat, and then hot, salty cum was streaming into Conner’s mouth. He gulped and swallowed, not wanting to miss a drop.
Doctor’s Orders by Lucy Felthouse
Aaron hummed contentedly as he walked along the white-painted corridor towards the locker room. He was happy in his job as a hospital porter. He might not be saving lives, like his doctor boyfriend, Blake, but he liked to think he was improving them. He made the effort with the patients he transported around—or the ones that were well enough to hold a conversation with him, anyway. He chatted to them, showed an interest, tried to make them laugh, always remained positive, even when things were bleak. That was his way of spreading a little cheer, or helping someone forget their worries, even if it was only for a few minutes. It was a small contribution, but a contribution nonetheless, and it made him feel good.
The corridor stretched on, and Aaron thought for the umpteenth time that it could do with some artwork on the walls—something other than doors to break up the interminable expanse of white paint and grey dado rail. But patients never came to this area of the building—unless they were lost—so there was no need to spend any more money on it than was absolutely necessary. Aaron understood that, but boy did it make for a dull walk to the locker room.
As he continued his journey, he saw that a supply cupboard door on the left hand side of the corridor was ajar. It was nothing unusual—people often propped doors open with their feet if they were just leaning in to grab something, or used something as a door stop if they needed both hands to carry what they’d come to collect and therefore couldn’t open the door again to let themselves out.
Reaching the door, he’d just opened his mouth to call out and ask whoever it was if they needed help, when the gap grew wider. A white-clad arm appeared and the accompanying hand grabbed the front of his T-shirt, pulling him roughly into the cupboard.
“Wha—”
Aaron didn’t even get chance to finish his exclamation, as he’d been slammed against the now-closed cupboard door, and hard, demanding lips were pressed to his. Lips, he realised, as his brain caught up with the turn of events, that belonged to Doctor Blake Colville. Lips that were allowed to kiss his, thank God!
The fresh, spicy scent of Blake’s cologne invaded Aaron’s nostrils, and he relaxed into the kiss, returned it with enthusiasm. Blake’s tongue sought entrance to Aaron’s mouth, and he gave it willingly, moaning as their tongues slipped and tangled together sensuously, and Blake’s firm, lithe body pinned his slightly-more-muscular one against the cool wood of the door. He stifled any further moans that wanted to sneak out, remembering that, hot as the situation was, it was also pretty precarious, and both of them could get into serious trouble if they were caught. Patients may not frequent this area of the building, but the staff sure did.
Reaching out, he gripped the lapels of Blake’s white coat and pulled, so their bodies were crushed together and their kiss grew bruisingly brutal—in a good way.
Toys for Boys by KD Grace
“I really am sorry, lads,” the proprietress at the Keld Lodge said, “but I’ve only a tiny single room available which, due to health and safety, I can’t rent as a double.”
“God, I really don’t want to spend another night in that leaky tent,” the dark-haired bloke was barely understandable between chattering teeth. “There must be something else close by.”
“Not within easy walking distance,” the proprietress said. “I can let you put up the tent around the back,” she offered. “You can even use the showers and the drying room for your wet gear. Of course stay inside by the fire as long as you like.”
The weather had been abysmal when I arrived the night before on a short writing and walking retreat. It was worse today, so I’d spent my time ensconced in the pub’s restaurant at a table by the window looking out onto the misty Yorkshire Dales. It was mid afternoon when the two drenched, bedraggled lads slogged through the door, bringing with them a gust of icy, wet wind. I had just come to the bar to order a pot of tea and, as I stood quietly in the queue behind them, I noticed the blond casting worried glances at his shivering companion.
“Walking the Coast to Coast?” I asked.
“We are,” the dark-haired bloke replied. “Though I’m pretty sure we swam most of it today.”
“You taking the high level route through the mining ruins tomorrow?” I asked.
They both nodded. “Supposed to be sunny,” the blond replied. “Three days of bad weather and last night the tent sprung a leak. We were hoping for a hot meal and a real bed tonight.”
“I’m truly sorry, lads,” the proprietress said. “I wish I could help.”
I’m not sure what inspired me to make the offer, perhaps memories of the times I’d walked cold and wet, but more than likely it was simply because I’m a hopeless romantic and I recognised that the two men were more than just mates out for an adventure.
“Look, why don’t you take my room for the night? I’m on my own and I have a nice double until the end of the week. I can take the single, and then we can switch back tomorrow. Wouldn’t that work?” I asked the proprietress.
“I don’t see why not,” came the reply. “I’ll sort it with housekeeping, and you can work out the details among yourselves.”
“It has a bath and lots of hot water,” I said, recalling what a pleasure an actual bathtub was after a long, cold walk.
“Oh God, you’re a saint,” the dark-haired one said, offering me a blinding smile between chattering teeth.
Mile High Kink Club By Lily Harlem
“You’re sure they won’t come out of there?” Rhodri whispered in Darius’ ear.
“I’m sure.”
“Even if they hear…”
“What?”
“Noises.”
“No, and besides, they wear headphones, don’t they?” Darius pulled back and giggled.
“I guess so.” Rhodri felt as though his heart was swelling with love. “Because don’t think I’ve forgotten about those spanks.” He spun Darius within his arms so he faced the window. “Hold onto this shelf. You’re going to need to.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Rhodri scooped his right forearm beneath Darius’ waist then palmed his buttocks. “Damn, your skin. It’s beautiful, almost transparent, so delicate.”
“I’m not delicate.”
Rhodri smiled. His sub could pretend to be tough all he wanted, but he had the measure of him. He drew back his hand and delivered a stinging blow to Darius’ right cheek.
“Ah, fuck,” Darius gasped, jerking forward.
Rhodri held him tighter and watched as his skin turned rose-red instantly. It was stunning in detail, the shape of each of his fingers blooming. “Keep still.” He breezed his palm over the opposite buttock. Now Darius knew what was coming it was all the more fun to tease him with anticipation. He kept on stroking, caressing. “What do you see out of the window?”
“Clouds.” His voice was breathy. “Lots of fucking clouds…argh…!”
Rhodri had spanked him again. He’d hit hard. He didn’t dare give more than two loud slaps. Not here, not now. There would be times in the future when he’d have Darius glowing like a beacon and counting to fifty on each side, but this would have to be enough for today.
“How does that feel, sub?”
“Good, sore, hot…”
The Guitar by Tabitha Rayne
So I’m not the kind of guy you’d see in a magazine or fashion catalogue – I’m kind of chubby at the hips and have a hint of the man boob. I’m tall in that way that happened too quickly so I stooped as a teen and the stoop has remained. My face is probably slack rather than chiselled but I have quite full pouting lips (I’ve been told). My eyes are framed quite nicely with long black lashes and when I’m not being critical of my acne scars and uneven beard growth, I could say they were even pretty. Or handsome. Or whatever you’d say about eyes. Intense maybe?
I just am not confident. Well there is one part of my existence where I am. When I’m playing guitar.
One of my friends told me when I was quite young that Jimi Hendrix used to rub himself off with his guitar when he was playing on stage – I begged for lessons from my parents from that day. Turned out, I had quite a skill even if I did come late to learning.
Now though, I’m lying on my bed in the shaft of afternoon sun that shines into to my upper flat bedroom, with my guitar lying over my pelvis. I love the solid weight of it there as the gentle hum of the amp lets me know it’s plugged in and ready.
I’m naked. And from what I described earlier, that may not fill you with much excitement, it doesn’t really me either, but when I hook my long dextrous fingers into an A chord on the fretboard, my cock begins to swell. Thick cherry wood presses against is and it strains as I poise my plectrum ready to strum out the first chord. I love this moment. The shivering anticipation. You know what’s coming next. I barely even need to play anymore to get my cock fully erect. It feels good. The compressed swelling and growing.
I swipe the pick over the metal strings and a note shrills out through the amp and vibrates into my dick. It’s amazing. Sensations prickle through my pelvis into my ass and I clench my cheeks, grinding into the back of the guitar while the vibrating note sustains. I lean my forearm onto the body of the instrument and thrum again, this time massaging my cock with the guitar in time with the tune I’m beginning to play. It feels so good. I press the wood into my body and pull upwards, my balls pull up too and tighten a little. Afternoons are my time. My horny time. I spread my legs and begin rubbing and playing more frantically until the vibrations become too much and I have to throw off the guitar and grab my cock in my fist, pumping ferociously as the feedback yowls through my bedroom.
I come hard and fast over my belly and lie there panting and sweating. I cup my balls in and massage them for a bit. It is always at this stage in my play that my pinkie strays down to my perineum. Just a little. But it is enough to feel the stirring again. Oh to be able to stroke myself there with no guilt. To feel pressure at my most intimate place from a finger or even a cock.
Listen, I’m no virgin, by any stretch of the imagination. I’m just incredibly uptight. And that’s probably because of being told as a child that homosexuality is a sin. Hell is a scary place to young minds. It makes me angry that this was placed into my innocent psyche. Even then, in my bones, I knew it wasn’t true but it stuck. It remained. And it forms who I am today.
I’ve performed on men. Sure. But what I really want is an equal share in that performance. The ability to feel completely at ease with my desires. If I want to be made love to, why shouldn’t I be able to let that happen?
It makes me angry and sad. Why is my mind capable of holding on to these things? Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that my father died never knowing his son was gay. Was that a good thing? Probably for him. But now, now though, in the darkest nights when I’m fantasising and imagining being fucked hard by my lover, being stretched open and taken, it’s my father’s disapproving eyes that replace those of my lover and I stop.
Lying back into my pillows, I let the sensation of my come half trickling, half drying on my belly ease me into an afternoon doze.
