Tag: kissing

The Jock

^^’The Jock’ in question

The following is an excerpt from my story Gym Bros #1: The Jock. Buy the full thing on Amazon ($2.99):-


As the sesh was coming to an end, Mark knew he had to seal the deal. Otherwise, he’d have to wait until he and Hud were together again, and by then, the moment might have passed. Hudson might come to his senses and keep his distance. Mark caught Hud heading towards the water fountain. Now or never.

He ‘accidentally’ knocked into the bro’s shoulder. Hudson got set to apologize but when he saw it was Mark, he faltered.

“Oh, hey. You know, I just wanted to say sorry for-”

Mark pulled the dumb lunk round the corner and pushed him gently against the wall. He put his lips firmly against Hud’s and grazed the inside of his mouth with his tongue.

Hudson placed his arms on Mark’s shoulders as if to push him off, but the pressure he exerted was token; a necessary show of resistance from a man who identified as straight. Mark pushed his tongue in deeper and locked with Hudson’s own. At once, Mark got a rush of adrenaline and his dick spiked. Nothing got him going like a tongue war.

And Hudson was right there with him.

Mark giggled into Hudson’s mouth. These gym bros did make him laugh. They tried so hard to not be gay, but when crunch time came, heterosexuality fucked right off. Usually.

He slid his hand down Hud’s front and gently cupped his dick. “You feeling alright, bro?”

“Fuck. I’m just, you know…?”

“What?”

“You know…something, fuck, I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it, bro.” Mark rubbed his hard crotch against Hud’s. “I’ve got the same problem.”

The jock gasped and actually exerted pressure as he pushed against Mark’s torso. Their dicks separated.

“I’m not like… you.” He winced at the problematic implication.

“No,” said Mark. “Of course you’re not. But listen, I’m gonna head to the restroom for a sec. If you wanna be not like me in there, you’re more than welcome.”

Mark squeezed Hud’s boner, then sauntered off to the locker room. Hud watched him go. Mark made sure to really waddle his glutes with each step. He always wanted to give a bro a show.

The locker room was as crowded as earlier, though the bros had changed. Mark recognised most, but some were new. He made a quick mental note. He’d get started wooing those studs as soon as he could. Hopefully most were either proud gay sluts like him, or closeted basketcases like Hudson. Either way meant more dick.

As he entered the toilets, Hud entered the locker room. Mark smirked.

Signed, sealed, delivered.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Guiding

Mark guiding a gym bro’s hands to where they should be. He’s got a lot of patience for his boys. Many of them have never been with a man.

Mark is often the gateway drug for his bros. The first foray into androphilic sex that sets bro on a spiral of homosexual decadence. Mark loves it. One day, dude is pent-up, reserved and toxic. Six months in Mark’s safe guiding hands, and dude is a sexually liberated poly fuckboi – having sex with any hot thing that’ll have him. Mark’s producing an army of bisexual himbo sluts. The gay agenda made manifest. He is the solution.

Some of his boys reserve their androphilia just for Mark. They don’t wanna play the field once Mark’s broken the dam. They just want Mark’s body, Mark’s lips, Mark’s throat, Mark’s ass, and – eventually – Mark’s cock. They are Marksexual. And Mark does everything he can to keep them on side. He strokes their ego, he worships their masculinity and sexuality, he treats their cocks as objects of reverence.

Most men aren’t willing to just give up a delicious good boi who’s champing at the bit to suck his dick, while praising him for every masculine excess that wider culture condemns him for. That shit will mess with a dude’s brain in all the right ways. And all it takes is a firm guiding hand from a beautiful, talented slut.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

OGs of Homofascism

OGs of Homofascism – openly gay before the revolution and the mass conversion to homosexuality. Once marginalized, they are now on top of the social ladder. They are executives at their company which manufactures armaments for the State. It gets them hard to think their work is directly aiding in spreading the just war of homosexual expansionism. They are respected daddies in their communities – both in their late 30s and the proud fathers of three sons. They’re raising them to the Party’s dictum, word for word. They welcome the weekly visits from the orthodoxy police to ensure their sons are on the right androphilic path. A bruising enforcer testing you on your loyalty and masculinity is enough to set any boy gay. And they enjoy all masculine pastimes. They love sports, they workout, they build, and fix, and reason. Before, they used to distinguish themselves between top and bottom, but no more. It’s counter-revolutionary, but also contrary to their new understanding. The one who identified as a bottom truly internalized the desire to use his manhood to bring pain and pleasure to another man. His fear of topping vanished with the androphilia that subsumed the nation in the years following the revolution.

And they were happy to surrender any and all feminine pursuits they had indulged once upon a time. The Party was right to purge the nation of all symbols and acts of effeminacy. They once enjoyed drag shows, but now they see them as the pinnacle of hetero-feminine decadence. Men dressing up and acting like women? What an affront to androphilia. What an affront to the Patriarch. It makes them cringe with genuine shame to think they used to enjoy it. But that was the past. They’re changed men. Completely at one with the Party and their leader.

They’re enjoying their Sunday at the beach, surrounded by hundreds of gay men and their families – both original and converts. They love their new converted brothers, and they fully accept that they have cast aside their heathen heterosexuality. But most OGs of Homofascism never quite get over their superiority complex. The “I was here first” outlook. Still, a gay’s a gay for all that. And here, on this sunny beach on the Med coast, there’s only gays to be found. Not a straight man in sight. Not a woman in sight. This is the paradise they were promised. The Party said they would deliver, and deliver they did.

Glory to the Patriarch.

Learn more about Homolania here.

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