Gay Wrestling Stories นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She was looking over my shoulder at the same wall and reading some of them softly under her breath. “Hmmm, look at this one,” I said. “This person seems to have described our date last week in perfect detail.” It was a story about a woman who liked to be spanked and punished. “I like this one,” Carrie said, pointing to another. “I really think we should try and work this one into our next date.” The story was about a couple who arranged to act like strangers and meet up at a trashy bar and pick each other up. There were long descriptions about them fucking in the back of the bar as the guys playing pool watched and stroked their cues.

I thought applying here would be formal. "My God! Bakla (gay), what is it! They're not the kind of waitress I'm looking for! Can't you see my bartenders? They're all on point! My baby boys and baby girls here are so hot, and them? They should be the ones applying at my bar!" A professional gay is sitting at a table, holding his temple as if he's extremely stressed while talking to another gay, and there are almost five girls lined up in front of them. "Girl, don't stress," the gay he's talking to patted his shoulders.

Like they were both poking at something they’d been circling for eight months. Somehow they ended up making a bet. One week. Her phone locked in the kitchen drawer — no social media, no mindless scrolling, no hiding behind the screen. His flirting completely off. No charming the barista, the neighbor, the woman at the dry cleaner. Nothing. Loser becomes the winner’s personal sex slave and maid for one full week. Cooking. Cleaning. Obeying anything the winner desires. No limits. They shook on it. Her hand was warm in his. She held the handshake a second too long, eyes locked on his, and something low and dangerous twisted in his gut.

And it wasn't until I wanted to take out the trash and instead took out my briefcase did I realize I needed to shut it all off. Even if it was just for one night. And it seemed like the only thing that would fix this disorientation was a hard fuck. That was the primary reason I was pushing through the door of the gay bar. For a fuck, and to unwind. The place was loud with people laughing and gyrating on the dance floor. I plugged in my ear buds to avoid the loud music as I ordered a whiskey at the counter. The bartender passed it to me quietly after payment and I moved toward the back.

I came over and over for a long time, with my face still in T's soft crotch and stomach. It was over, so intense… J's big beautiful meat was limp now and he slid out of my ass. Afterwards I got on my knees and kept sucking off T. He masterbated when he was close, stuck his cock back in my mouth and filled it up with his hot cum. I swallowed all that. We all felt so nice getting dressed and walking back to our vehicles. It felt like I was enjoying some kind of special secret doing this, something that only gay guys get to do.

They asked, their voice cold and dominant. My brain stalled but my mouth fell open with a wince, “Yes… Cage me into submission, Daddies.” <><><><><><><><><><> BOUND BY HIS RULES will return, reborn, reheated, and darker as CAGED BY DADDIES RULES and if your pulse isn’t already misbehaving, it will be. Who’s feeling that heat pooling in between their legs??? In the next series, it will be an explosive and infuriatingly hardcore Gay short erotica stories compilation where filthy boys and dangerously hungry men chasing the very thing they shouldn’t crave.

I was taking every inch of him, my pussy walls stretching and gripping the dark, heavy length of his shaft as I moved. "That's it, Blaire," he growled, his large hands digging into my hips, guiding the brutal pace. His fingers left deep, red marks on my skin as he hauled me down onto him again and again. "Ride it like you've been starving for it. I want to feel how much you've been wanting this. Tell me, you little slut, did my brother make you leak like this? Or was it the thought of me finally claiming what Manuel couldn't use?"

Well there was only two weeks left for Sam to enjoy her and he was doing that as much as he could. Not that he didn't actually enjoy the class itself as he had indeed been writing for the last couple of years. The only problem was what he was writing was dirty naughty stories, or as most web sites called it; erotic stories. Sam was pretty good at it and at the urging of his then girlfriend Stacey, had submitted some of his books to an eeotic story site named Erotic dom where under the pen name Dirtyfantasies, and had gotten some good reviews.

three times in two weeks. Rachel, twenty-eight, who'd brought her husband for "erectile dysfunction therapy" and now came alone twice a week. Elena, twenty-five, whose boyfriend couldn't make her squirt....but Dr. Stone could, and now she was addicted to the sensation. They all knew why they were there. All knew what happened behind that closed office door. All knew they couldn't stop coming back. One by one, they were called in. One by one, they were thoroughly fucked.

"I mean, I would like to share my experience with my boyfriend since he is the first time I had sex with. Although, are you willing to listen!" For some reason, I found it very interesting to hear a gay sharing his experience with fellow man. I am just fucking curious how they do it and who often initiates having sex with their partners. "Of course I would like to hear your story if you wanted to share it. I am an open minded person and I would really want to "Alright, please listen attentively as my story is going to be a fucking hot and each scene is so intense!" I laughed at his ridiculous joke. It seems like I will have another sister.