scotty2

The Restroom A delicate flower. Exquisite. Innocent. Ripe. He is looking at me, a gentle boy, soft as goose down, naïve. He shivers a little, eyes wide, deep, dark. I brush his black unkempt hair from his forehead. “Monsieur,” he whispers, a voice like honey. “Yes, boy,” I reply. He doesn’t understand my English. I touch my finger to his lips. He kisses it. Little playful kisses, a game. He grins, a beautiful smile, joyful. He giggles. “Monsieur,” he repeats, and I melt. I kiss his hair. A hint of grease, a tinge of shampoo. Flowers, soap, exotic fruit. He is a smoker, I can tell from his scent. “You’ve never kissed a man, have you?” I tease. He doesn’t understand. I laugh. He laughs too. I lean forward, hold his chin and kiss him. A soft kiss. Mint, beer. His mouth is eager. He groans. Shivers. I hug him, his denim jacket damp. He feels warm, and I kiss his head again. Outside, on the motorway that leads to Paris, the traffic rumbles. Cars and trucks crossing the country, transit, movement. In the restroom it is cold, water drips, scents of piss and disinfectant. My hands are on his back. They travel down. I squeeze his ass. “Oh, goodness,” I mutter. He whimpers. I cup his crotch. He’s big, I can tell. And rock hard. “Show me,” I whisper. “Show me your cock. Take it out and show me.” My tone is flat, firm. He shakes his head, confused. There is Gypsy in him, a darkness. I unzip his fly. He is nervous now. He glances at the door. His anxiety excites me. I am a hunter, and he is my prey. He stands still. Obedient. Frozen. I inch my finger into his fly. It is warm, a little damp. He hisses. I pull on the elastic. His pubic hair is thick and wiry, warm to touch. “Show me,” I repeat. I nod reassuringly. He squirms, a grimace of a nervous smile. His eyes plead, burning with lust, tormented with shame. He squints, then with a final groan he pulls out his cock. I grin. I am lucky. His cock is beautiful. Hard, too hard. So hard it is purple and vascular, uncut, dripping pearls of precum. His cock scents the air, making my mouth water. “Good boy,” I say softly. The Room He came with me. Followed me like a lost puppy. We are in my room now, in my room by the side of the motorway, a bland room. It is private, the door locked, no-one can see, no-one can hear. This is the room where his life will change, the room where our destinies will merge. He trusts me, adores me. I am older than him, a father figure. I want him, and I want to own him, to make him mine. He is undressed now, down to his underpants. Vulnerable and shaking, his skin white, his body a little soft, like a cherub. He hugs himself nervously, his large teen cock tenting in his red briefs. He tries to hide it with both hands. “It’s OK,” I murmur. He shakes his head, and suddenly hugs me. Now it is my turn to gasp and tremble. I almost feel bad, I almost relent. I almost want to extinguish my anger. I toy with making him leave now, leave before I change his life. “It’s ok,” I repeat. I take off my shirt. I am muscular and strong, an older man who works out. He looks at me, he is hungry. I can see it in his eyes. “Tattoo,” he says. I guess the word is the same in French. He runs his fingers over my chest. “Scorpion,” he grins. I laugh. “Yes, a scorpion,” I say nodding. He makes a grimace of approval. “Good,” he says in thickly accented English. “Yes, good,” I say. “Maybe. But they bite.” He shakes his head, confused. My Cock, Harbinger “Look,” I tell him. I drop my trousers, I unhook my massive cock from my briefs. I am conscious I haven’t showered. Yet the thought of the boy’s virgin lips on my ripe cock head excites me. It will be part of his defilement, part of the fall. His eyes widen. My cock is so hard. I flex it, I want to impress him. “Your first taste of cock,” I say, more to myself. He is looking at me like a kitten. I press down on his shoulders, and he collapses to his knees, my cock pressed to his sweet nose. He breathes in, intoxicated, drunk on my scent. I motion for him to stick out his tongue. He shakes his head, his mouth slack. I rub my uncut cock head on his lips. He makes a low growl. A little trail of precum glistens like lip balm. I cry out in sweet joy as his mouth opens and he takes most of my cock. He splutters and gurgles. My toxic seed awakens in my balls. Soon, my beauties. Soon. The Bed He is lying face down on the hotel bed, an offering, a sacrificial lamb. My French, Gypsy boy. His ass is soft, plump, hairless, white. I caress it, it’s beautiful, warm. I encourage him to hold open his cheeks, exposing the prettiest hole, forcing him to co-operate in his own degradation. He is exposed, his most private place on view, his balls hanging. I lower myself to lick him, man tongue on teen-hole, a heavenly tang, a taste of heaven. He is groaning, arching, a young virgin bitch in heat. He gasps into the pillow. I dare to introduce my finger, marvelling at the warm, tight sensation. I need to be inside him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I murmur, my cockhead pressed to his pink hole. Purple flesh on white skin. He is squirming, trying to reach behind him. I take his hand in mine. “Relax,” I hiss. I hold a bottle of poppers to his nose. “Breathe.” He cries out, but my cock slides inside without mercy, gripped by velvet. I cannot hide my cruelty, my mask falls. I laugh, mockery in my tone. He cannot tell, he is in a trance, the trance of an 18-year-old with a big cock up his ass for the first time. I force more poppers into his sweet nose. He is open now, loose and damp. Conception I am close, my cock raw, swollen and dangerous. I fuck so hard that the bed is creaking. He sweats and writhes, his boy’s face screwed up, contorted in sweet agony. He laughs and groans. “It’s time,” I hiss, I feel my cum swirling, an ache that delights. I cannot hold it. “Fuck!!!” I scream, my seed shooting out of me, deep inside him. Potent seed. Bad seed. He turns round to kiss me, the face of an angel, eyes sparkling with life and bliss. It is done. I pull out, and my seed drips out, milky and alive. I lean forward and lick the foam. It is done.

I'd love to watch you do that

Thanks Bearbandit. It is a very encouraging thread and I am glad I started and glad that you contributed to it. I am aghast at why someone would be so unpleasant and so unsupportive at the retreat you had been on but good that you stayed. I am going to ask about the upper chest stuff at the gym tomorrow if my sinusitis calms down.

Yes, that is a good idea. Nearly always a comment is a kind of throw away unthinking kind of comment or unwanted advice or a crass observation and it doensn't happen often but boy, when it does it paralyses me. I know it is mostly in my head but it is tied up with childhood emotional abuse and quite difficult to shake off. I think it is a bit like coming out though, I am taking ownership of my body shape and saying (mostly to myself) "yes, this is wha I look like and it is not shameful. If someone says something like "gosh, do you know how many calories are in bread?" or "I noticed you've put on a bit of weight," what I hear is "You are greedy, you are lazy, you are unable to control your body and you are shameful." If I do end up putting on weight, after a bout of illness or a vaction for example, I actually feel guilt towards others, like I need to justify it to them, In the UK we have a TV programme called "How to Look Naked" and they take a woman who hates her body and make her go on a catwalk and then she cries and has a kind of epiphany.

Yes, this is good advice.....

lol, ok will do.....!

Thanks I will do that. Thanks for the good tips xx

Thanks that is a good idea. I will speak to one of the lads at the gym and ask them....give me an excuse to talk to the delectable sweeties who work there too!

Ah thanks. This helpful and supportive and you seem like a really kind man. I agree with what you say. And I identify with it too. Going to devoid some therapy time to this too. Nice pic btw;)

Here is a picture of me as I really am. This is what I look like, and I don't think there is much more I can do about it. I want to learn to love myself not hate myself

Yes, that is a good idea xx

Ah thank you Mike. But it is a kind of really deep agonising feeling, and I am covering it in therapy as of now cos it is a bit crippling. Just wondered where it comes from and what to overcome it.

Hi, thanks. I know what you mean about cumming too, but I feel no shame if I cannot cum at all, but identify with that feeling of being under pressure. And I think the body type in your avatar is ideal, very sexy indeed. But if it is my body I see it differently. Oddly, other signs of ageing in me trigger no shame. For instance I have a bald patch, but I just think it is funny and I joke about it and keep my hair cropped. My eyes have some wrinkles as a sales clerk kindly pointed out to me at Bloomingdales, asking me what skin cream I used. "Obviously not a very good one I replied," laughing. No shame. Bit of extra weight and I shrivel up like a worm in salt.

I decided to start a thread to get a bit of reality. It is about my body, and the way I was taught to hate it, and how I am trying to make peace with it. Here goes....When I was a boy I was sexually abused, once, by an adult who then turned nasty on me and spent the rest of my childhood tormenting me, about the way I looked, about my chronic socialphobia, about my interests and about my thinly veiled sexual orientation. At school a teacher started a thing going about my weight, as she saw it to use peer pressure to make me lose weight. My mother and father used my body as a battle ground, she feeding me and he saying I should be playing rugby (Purleeease!) The thing was I wasn't actually that fat as a child, when I look at photographs. My body is shaped so that my stomach protrudes a bit. I think it is called endomorphic or something. Throughout my adult life my weight has tended to fluctuate a bit according to my state of mind usually, and my routine. I am 6'1" and I have a 36 inch waist. I no longer weigh myself because it freaks me out, but I am about 185-190 pounds. I run 5K three to four times a week, walk an hour a day. I only eat healthy food apart from a piece of cake once a week. I don't drink except once a week, and I think about everything I put in my mouth. I have also been taking anti-depressants since April which might have contributed a bit. People occasionally make remarks to me about my body, usually in reference to my stomach, thinking it helpful to point out whenever I have put on any weight. For instance at the moment, I have been unwell with sinusitis and have no energy. I was on vacation in America for two weeks as well, and yeah, maybe I did put on a little. But when people say these things to me I feel like I am BEING ABUSED. This not vanity, it is not fishing for compliments or wanting attention. It is painful and confusing. It is the most agonising experience, an electric shock of shame. It paralyses me for a few seconds while I process it, it goes silent in my head, then the agony starts. For days I loathe my body, I stop and obsessively check my profile, I wear a T-shirt when I have sex..... I actually like guys who are not thin, it is my preference. When I watch porn and a guy has a tum, I love it. Big, muscly guys with six-packs? Less so. I like the feel of a guys skin who is a little overweight, I enjoy the softness of it, the silkiness. But in myself? It is self-hate, pure and simple, and whenever someone "helpfully" confirms that in me, it hurts so, so much. So how do I make peace with myself? I have described my routines above and to be honest I cannot do much more without a) feeling deprived and hungry all the time, and I am 46 and too tired to do much more than I do physically. Does anyone feel the same?

Hi How can I delete my account/profile? Thanks

I'd give myself a good seeing to, LOL.

So there we have it! Lol. But maybe there is a second van around the corner?

This is left to the imagination! How many do you reckon? xx

Is anyone interested in a e-copy of this book in exchange for reviewing it? If so, let me know. Thanks xx

Thank you fisterm8. I had thought about a twink doing the fisting but I tend to personally prefer it when the twink gets fisted, especially if they are virgins. I will mull it over and try and do such a story soon. xx

Thanks. Rowan, the character of this story appears in one of my Kindle books, Gay Sex Erotica - Sleazy Dads & Lads - Vol 1, on Amazon. I am currently working on five new ebooks. There will be trilogy of S/M stories of three twinks at the hands of three cruel masters, a Judge, a Bishop and a Count at the Count's French castle, there is the Andy McGreggor series prequel, Danny and the Fifty Load Fuck, and there will be two or three new short stories collections following on from Bareback Euro Lads and Older Men.

Thank you! xx

Young Walid was trembling. He looked up at the handsome sixty-eight year-old man in front of him, a well built man with a full head of luxuriant grey hair, a short grey beard, and a deep tan. Rowan was on the third day of his Moroccan adventure. He had hired a villa in Tangiers and had spent the day scouring the markets and souks for a suitable subject. Eventually, he had met Walid, aged just eighteen. Walid had the smoothest olive skin, dark curly hair and a dazzling smile. Some of his teeth were crooked but that seemed to be the way of things here, thought Rowan sadly. The lad's brown eyes were deep, as soft as satin, and now they were wide with trepidation. Rowan had brought his leather sling with him. He was, after all, here for a month. And it was in that sling that Walid, now as nude as the day of his birth, was hanging helplessly, like a trapped fly in a web. Walid's pretty cut cock was dangling over his small ball sack. Rowan had shaved Walid's pubic hair and the lad was smooth and pretty. A pool of cooling urine had gathered under the sling, Rowan ignoring the lad's pleas for a toilet break, and eventually the blushing teenager had had no choice but to shame himself. He had been forced to empty his bladder on the floor as the old man gazed on amused. Walid had turned his pretty head in shame. Rowan's cock was huge. Donkeys would envy him. And Rowan's brutish and vascular cock had been pounding Walid's pretty arse for over two hours. Rowan proudly fingered Walid's enflamed anus, admiring his cruel handiwork. It was as swollen as a donut, poor thing. Pearls of gooey cum seeped from the young Arab's boycunt like sap. Walid was no stranger to men's cocks, the dirty lad taking loads on a weekly basis and without discernment. The baker, the postman, the policeman, and the local doctor had all made their filthy deposits in Walid's accommodating boypussy. His sweet mouth had sucked hundreds of dirty cocks, male tourists filling the teenager's mouth with their bitter semen, along with older lads from Walid's neighbourhood and beyond. Walid was not the cheapest male whore in Tangiers, nor the cleanest but he had taken a shine to Rowan and had attached himself to the older man. Rowan had been sipping a refreshing glass of mint tea at the dazzlingly white terrace of the Hotel Continental. Walid had grinned over the wall and had waited for him to finish, shooed away by the security guard. Rowan had walked through the nearby souk and Walid had followed. "You want to fuck me, mister?" the lad whispered, licking his lips. "Fuck me, cum in me. I suck. You suck. I have nice cock. I have clean pussy inside. No shit." Rowan had grinned and had taken the lad home. He had then made Walid an offer. Walid would give up his boypussy to his first man's fist, and in exchange Rowan would part with a large percentage of his monthly state pension. Fisting was a relatively new concept to Walid. He had never really seen the point and no man had ever wanted it. Cock yes, but an arm? Walid desperately wanted a new laptop; he wanted a fancy one like an American would own. If that meant taking a whole hand into his little teez, so what? Rowan pulled out a cruelly proportioned buttplug and Walid moaned. Rowan's fingers explored the young Arab's lovely pussy, the boy's sphincter nibbling like a toothless calf. Fuck, that was nice, thought Rowan. He looked at the lad, his eyes clenched, eyelashes as long and black as a girl's. His hairless caramel arms were gripping the chains and the room was redolent of his armpits. Rowan lubricated his fist from the tub of grease. He'd need a good dollop; the lad was resistant and nervous. He pushed four fingers into the velvet opening. It was hot and tight. Rowan pushed up to the knuckles and Walid tried to swing away on the sling. Rowan simply steadied the chains with his free hand. The little rascal would not escape. "Stay still, you bad boy," Rowan said to the teenwhore, smacking him on the thigh. "Sorry," whispered Walid. "I try." "Yes, son, you try," said Rowan gently. "Granddad's going to push past the knuckles now. It might hurt." "OK," said Walid stoically. His little denuded cock was rock hard. It was dripping mucus. "Try and breathe deeply and push your bottom out, as if you were trying to poo," said Rowan. "Yes, breathe and push," repeated Walid. Walid howled, his breathing and pushing forgotten as the pain spread through his sphincter. "Sorry," whispered Rowan. "Look, try again, but this time Granddad will do it really slowly." Walid nodded gloomily, his eyes still watering. Perhaps he could do without a computer. This time Walid did not fight. He sniffed his jar of poppers and pushed. He pushed hard. He accepted the pain and breathed deeply. "That's it!" cried Rowan. "Keep going, son, it's going in." Walid gasped as he felt a strange pressure, a hard force entering him. His sphincter was parting and the man's hand was inside him. "Wa'allah!" gasped Walid. He sniffed deeply on the poppers. Rowan's fist rested inside his young guest's anus. "You good, good boy," whispered Rowan, delighted. The lad's cavernous pussy was satin and moist. Rowan closed his eyes blissfully. Fisting teenage men was the best, it really was! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you like this story check out my other stories on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Andy%20McGreggor&search-alias=digital-text. This story will eventually appear in http://www.amazon.com/Gay-Sex-Erotica-Sleazy-ebook/dp/B0085WPOMY/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1345930493&sr=1-3 volume 2

I had fun with my BF last night as I wanted to test out stories involving toothbrushes. I had read about it for a while and decided I needed to try it so I put a kind of caliper up my ass and then got him to rub inside with a hard toothbrush. He gasped and said "you're bleeding." He showed me the brush and sure enough it was kind of coated in red blood. It was a real turn on but unfortunately the BF doesn't fuck so that was as far as it went. I couldn't believe how much it can bleed in there.