A little of what you fancy (Gay male) Part 1

[JackM]

Warning: The following story is an erotic fantasy for adults containing explicit scenes of sex between men – all adult and consenting. If this kind of thing offends you, or if you are under the age of majority in your country, then read no further!

I emphasise that this story is a fantasy, and that the practices in it cannot be described in real life as safer sex. To be safe, don’t do it without a condom!

Although there is a hint of satire here, this story is not intended to be frivolous. I would be delighted if it all came true. It was originally written in the early 1990s, and there have been great advances in treatment for HIV/AIDS since then. However, remember that there is still no cure! Any real life advances in either treatment or population control will be much less dramatic.

Constructive criticism is welcome.

A LITTLE OF WHAT YOU FANCY by John Neal

Beads of sweat stand out on Alex's muscular thighs as I take his long cock deeper and deeper into my mouth. His moaning grows more and more breathless as the stubble on my chin rasps against his legs and I gently run my fingers over the fine hairs on his balls. He's already cum once for me. I swallowed his load eagerly after rolling it around in my mouth and savouring the slightly acrid taste. As his hands caress the back of my head, I glimpse the deep golden colour of his thumbnail cuticle, proof (if proof were needed) that this is health food.

Even two months ago when the first visual evidence was already in front of them, no-one believed such a reversal could happen. The Coming was in April 1994, and just recalling the image is still enough to send the Religious Right into paroxysms.

A small, dark, striking man standing on the ramp of a flying saucer lecturing the world about its breeding habits. Looking somehow familiar, and later being revealed by a dig into the newspaper vaults as the exact image of the silent movie comedian, Charlie Chaplin, in his youth. Describing himself in an arrogant sort of tone as Torg, representative of the Bacchae, a super-advanced race who had travelled several light years to rescue the Earth from suicide. Telling the "religionists" (his word) that at the end of the twentieth century their condemnation of birth control as a sin was criminally wrong; that the laws of nature would not allow a planet’s population to continue increasing indefinitely; that homosexuality should be encouraged as a logical means of population control. Telling them – worst of all from their point of view – that the Bacchae were going to cure AIDS, and they would do it by encouraging promiscuous sex amongst homosexuals!

As everybody knows now, the key to it all was AVIB or Antiviral Immune Booster. Far from being a simple antiviral drug, it was an antivirus, something hitherto unknown on Earth in this form. Like HIV, it bound to the body's DNA but, unlike any other virus, its effects were entirely benevolent. AVIB boosted and regulated the immune system so that all disease-producing viruses and bacteria in the body were rapidly eliminated. It could mutate and strengthen, again in an intelligent self-regulating manner.

Exposure to different strains of the virus would enhance the effect so that the body's DNA could repair itself. Not only were ailments cured, the body of an older person would gradually come back its peak as if the person were in their early twenties again. Cunningly, the Bacchae had engineered the antivirus so that the person's life span was not greatly extended. Sudden deaths, strokes and heart attacks could still happen but until they did, the person would enjoy perfect health.

AVIB was spread by bodily fluids – just as AIDS so disastrously had been. Torg’s agent was different because it had been engineered to cure the disease and keep the world’s population in check. To avoid an increase in pregnancies, it was designed for oral administration. It even contained a 'smart inhibitor' that would make any woman virtually sterile after her third child. People who were already sick or just enjoyed taking pills would be given a simple course of tablets and would recover within a few weeks. The simplest way for everyone else to get it was through oral sex and swallowing semen.

"So, what I’m telling you," said Torg "especially gay and bi men – is go out and suck some dick. It’s good for you!"

The Bacchae had made it really easy: all carriers of the agent could be identified by the unmistakable ‘gold nail’ - a vivid gold coloration underneath the nail of the left thumb. The more active strains of the agent present, the brighter the colour, so there was never any doubt about where to go for a healthy diet.

So here I am, doing it (of course) for the good of my health. It's a brilliant way to work out! I'm 36 and until just recently, you only had to look at me naked to get a good idea of my age. But all the cum I've swallowed over the past few weeks is already building up my muscles and trimming my waistline. My image in the mirror tells me I can easily pass for 25.

Wanting to make it as good as possible for Alex, I pull my lips back around the head of his dick and run my tongue around the rim. He moans again and I can feel from the swelling of his dick head that he’s not far off coming. He hasn’t got a particularly thick cock, but it's one of the longest I've seen (never mind sucked). I haven’t got a ruler but it must be ten inches.

"Ohhh, John..."

As I expected, it’s only a few more seconds before he groans, arches his back and starts to pump his load down my throat. It’s thinner and there isn’t quite as much of it this time, but I shouldn’t be greedy. In any case, it tastes wonderful.

He has quite an appetite for dick himself. Just a few seconds after he’s got his breath back, he rolls over and starts tickling the head of my cock with his tongue. As he gets to work on me, I reflect on how badly his diagnosis had hit him. Just a couple of months ago he was looking pale, thin and old, but he’s embraced the new remedy eagerly and is now glowing with health and looking even younger than his 26 years. It’s amazing.

Alex has no selfish motives. He’s already a more 'senior agent' than me. He’s sucking me purely for pleasure, and I don’t know which of us enjoys it the most. I look down and watch as my engorged dick disappears into his throat. It's not quite as long as his but much thicker, and just now it's so hard that he has difficulty stretching his lips around it.

I suppose there's an element of novelty in all this that may wear off with time, but these past few weeks, the mental aspects have been as important as the physical. The Bacchae have performed a miracle for us in turning sex back into a positive, life-enhancing experience. I admit I had a long period of paranoia in the 80s, when I almost gave up sex. Now, the freedom from tension, from the unbearable fear of each drop of semen is in itself a tremendous aphrodisiac. Even when I haven’t got a hard on I’m just so fucking horny...

Talking of horny, I’m going to cum again for the fourth time today. Not so long ago, my balls would have been drained after the second shot. Alex's beautiful blue eyes are looking up at me. He can see how much I'm loving this, and he speeds up his sucking and drives me crazy by tickling just below my cum slit with his tongue.

And then I’m writhing in ecstasy and can take no more. My juice hits the back of Alex’s throat and his own dick jumps to attention again as he swallows convulsively.

A minute or two passes while we lie contentedly in each other's arms.

"That was brilliant, Alex."

"I know. I loved it too!"

 

[JackM]

(Part 2)

Stratton Hill Baths is just up the road from me - it’s a neat, modern, well-equipped building but unfortunately the clientele is very straight. I almost said boringly straight, but some of them are incredibly hunky-looking. Michael, for example - he’s an inch or two taller than me, about 5' 10", and has a stocky build with that classic V-shape I always thought came only from extensive work-outs in the gym. He tells me the only exercise he gets is swimming and walking to and from work – he’s one of the managers at the big local supermarket. Straight, of course. Although he talks to me regularly, I don't know his surname.

I'm glad to see him going into the pool just ahead of me, but less pleased that I didn't get to see him strip. I work up quite a sweat speeding up and down the pool: nevertheless, Michael regularly leaves me behind. An athlete too. We're in there for an hour, so we both pause for breath a couple of times and make small talk. Eventually we heave ourselves out of the pool.

I watch – trying to look as if I'm not interested – as he peels off his wet Speedos in the shower, revealing a trim arse even more beautifully shaped than I'd thought. He rubs shower gel into his hair and splashes it over his body. Is it my imagination, or is he paying more attention to soaping his dick than he needs to? Anyway, it's an impressive specimen – as chunky as the rest of him and definitely even thicker and longer than mine.

"I’ve got the car outside with my shopping," he says as I stand in front of the mirror and flick a comb through my short hair. "Come on, I’ll give you a lift."

I’m intrigued by this because I know he lives in the opposite direction from me, but naturally I say yes.

It's one of those flawless June evenings so rare in Britain – very warm and still, with a fine veil of high cloud keeping the light soft and warm. It’s almost as if time has stopped. Close up, in the car, he's even more attractive and his physical presence is almost overwhelming: I feel calm but with a strange sense of anticipation - almost exultant. I don't know why I'm not more nervous with him...I suppose the languid evening is having a tranquillising effect.

We drive along in silence for a minute or two. As we turn into my street he says:

"I saw you looking at me in the shower, you know. I sussed you out. Do you suck cock?"

It's just as well he’s the one driving – I'm so dumbstruck I would probably have run into the car in front. He pulls up just outside my door and looks me straight in the eye.

"I've had girls do it to me a few times, and I sometimes wondered what it was like for them," he goes on. He pauses, still waiting for an answer.

"You are gay, aren’t you?" he asks.

"Well," I mumble, still hardly capable of speech.

It's obvious that I’m paralysed with nerves, so he continues as if to reassure me.

"I used to find the whole idea pretty off-putting, but now...well, I don’t know. After this Second Coming thing I’m even more curious. It's just weird: I mean, drinking spunk is good for you...?"

I'm still not quite sure whether he’s on the level or just baiting me. But you have to take risks sometimes...

"All right, yes," I say quickly, figuring I've got nothing to lose. "I am gay, I do suck cock. And I’d love to suck yours."

"Okay. Right, you’re on. I'll come in with you, you can suck it for me – and we'll see how things develop." He grins at me and I almost pass out with excitement. As we get out of the car I'm glad there’s no-one around: they could spot the hardon in my jeans from the other end of the road.

For whatever reason, Michael refuses a cup of tea. I wave him towards my bedroom and suddenly spot a larger-than-usual bulge in his pants. Wow – so he is on the level!

He sits down on the bed, and I'm almost sure he's trembling a bit.

"Just lie back and let me do the work," I tell him. I want to rip all his clothes off but I force myself to move slowly. Don't want to scare him off.

Carefully I peel his T-shirt up from his waist. Close-up, his body is even more exciting: waist and abs like a model. I rub my hand over his impressive bulge - gently at first, then a bit harder.

"Oh, yeah, go on," he says encouragingly.

Carefully I pop his trouser button and run down his zip. This is going to be good.

I peel down the front of his jockey shorts and behold the object of my desires. It's as close as I've ever got to the ideal dick – uncircumcised as nearly all of us are over here, thick, long and beautifully shaped. There's already a pearl of precum at the tip. I rub it away gently, licking my finger, and he twitches and goes "Ohh" at my touch. With my tongue I tickle the fine line of hair leading down his washboard stomach.

"Suck me. Please suck me – I can’t wait!" he pleads.

I need no more encouragement. I run my tongue along the underside of his dick up to the head, take a deep breath and dive down over it. It throbs satisfyingly in response. His precum has the wonderfully unique concentrated salty taste of real cum: he can’t be far off! I don't know why porn writers describe cum as sweet tasting because it’s anything but. At least, none of the many samples I've ever swallowed has been. I suspect with a lot of these writers it's wishful thinking – they’ve never tasted the real thing. Well, they’ve got no excuse now for not plunging in.

I moan contentedly. I could do this for hours with no other reward. There's nothing like sucking a big hard dick to give both of you an incredible high. Straight men and uptight women who've never tried it don't know what they’re missing.

He's groaning quite openly now, and his dick must have grown an inch and thickened up even more as I caress it with my lips and tongue. Then, yet another surprise – he shuffles round so that his mouth is in front of my dick, grabs hold of it and starts sucking me off!

He's just started, but to have this stud sucking my dick is just too much. He's inexperienced and doesn't do it that well, but it’s intensely erotic to have it happening at all. Almost immediately I'm on the brink. I can't hold back much longer and to keep Michael interested I have to cum first. Will he take it? Will he find it a turn off? Only one way to find out. I gasp "Cumming" just to warn him – and let myself go.

He chokes briefly, but then keeps gulping and swallowing as if he can't get enough of my jism. Eventually my balls are drained: I start to go limp and he comes up for air.

"Mmm – it’s like spirits or something!" he says appreciatively.

Getting fit was never as much fun...

 

[Samstheone]

amazing!!!!!

 

[Pepijn]

very nice!