I had been going to the local YMCA after work for about a week now, I was trying to bulk up a little bit to impress my girlfriend. I'm a pretty slim guy at 6 feet, and 150 lbs. I certainly wasn't in bad shape at all, I just wanted to get a little bigger and tone up a bit. I had always known I was an attractive guy, and many people had also said as much, but despite that I had very little luck with women.
The house was built on a rise, and the garden sloped gently down to the banks of the Hunter River. Willows and reeds lined the shore, and a few ducks busied themselves feeding in the water occasionally turning their tails up, as they lowered their beaks to the muddy bottom. I looked behind me. The house was impressive, a fine Georgian style home with 15 rooms, not counting bathrooms or laundry.
When I started driving some years ago, I recall my dad's repeated warnings about keeping plenty of gas in my car. Well, as this 19-year-old sat on the gravel shoulder of a rather desolate foothill highway after running out of gas, the last thing I wanted to think about was my dad being right, as usual. It didn't seem that I would have to worry about anybody coming along this road at 1 a.m., so I figured I might as well bunk in my car until daylight.
I hate camping; I think that it is the stupidest thing ever. Why would people want to go out into the wilderness and with no bathroom, no shower, and no electricity? But despite that my Dad would insist once a year that he and I went out to this obscure little clearing in the woods which wasn't even a real campsite. We would go out pitch a tent; eat fish that he caught in the lake, and sleep on the cold hard ground.
All characters in this story are above the age of consent (18). The story and its characters are all fictional (even though I wish they were not). I love hearing your comments so please leave one. I love to get messages from my readers.
Behind schedule, over budget, and never good enough for the client, status quo for a creative director; that was my situation when Sandra popped unexpected and uninvited into my office.
"Somebody has a crush on you." She chirped.
It was my freshman year in college. While I had a scholarship that paid most of my school expenses, if I wanted to have a social life or even a Big Mac, I had to get a job. As in any other college town, good jobs are hard to come by, so I took what I could get. In this case, I worked with the maintenance department at the local mall.
"Shit!" was all I could come up with.
Here it was the end of the friggin' night and I had to go take another stupid report for a lost or stolen ID. That's what junior guys are for, dammit! I quickly realized though that if anyone else were available they'd not be sending me because, on top of the fact I was top guy (oldest prick) on our crew, I also garnered top pay for OT when I get stuck, and giving me OT would be avoided if at all possible, so I knew everyone else had to be tied-up and I just sucked it up and headed to the address they gave me in the radio dispatch. The address sounded vaguely familiar too.
Wanting to get in to better shape I decided to join a nearby gym. Moreover I was feeling the need to look at other men naked. With your experience you will know the type of young man I am. I am the one who spends longer than is necessary in the shower, stealing looks at other men's cocks. I am the young man who is slow to get changed, sitting there pretending that there is an important message on my phone while giving long, lingering looks, at the dudes standing, holding their towels, talking.
Billy Olsen's life back in 1966 was no bed of roses, having been sick for much of his teenage years, and even after pretty much recovering from rheumatic fever Billy's overbearing mother insisted he stayed in the house most of the time, studying and reading.
This story's a sequel to Copenhagen Couple and Meetings with Mark. It's not necessary to read those stories first, but some things will make better sense if you do.
At the age of 20 and after my first experiences with male sex I acknowledged to myself that I was bisexual. But I wasn't going to be open about the fact that I liked to be with men. Sadly, bisexual men are often despised by both gay and straight guys, and even by some women.