“Nice shorts.” That was how I got here, on my knees in a public bathroom stall with an exquisite cock pressing against my throat, on the verge of penetration. But let’s go back. I arrived at the Linc in Austin, the one in central Austin, or is it North Austin? Whatever, I will never feel at home in this town. I grew up in the Bay Area near Palo Alto where I could orient myself pretty much no matter where I was. Mountains...

Roberto had just pulled out of my ass and shot his load up my back and I was about suck him dry when I saw Kyle and Conner emerge from the woods. “Oh damn, sorry!” Kyle cackled. I froze. What the hell, did these guys follow us? We were pretty far from the cabin and it didn’t seem likely that they had just stumbled across us out here in the wild. These thoughts were colliding in my brain as Roberto and I fumbled to put our...

“Oh man, sorry!” Niklas exclaimed, and for the first time in my life I was splattered with someone else’s cum. We were both students at the Goethe Institute. I was 26, he was probably around 20 and we had spent the afternoon by the Isar river, which runs through Munich, in an area where clothes were very much optional. We were at my apartment and had been grinding our pelvises together hard, exploring each other and givin...

By the Isar in Munich, Pt Two I tried to be nonchalant and look at his face a few times in between taking in his nipples and the tufts of hair in his pits and his pecs and stomach and navel and farther down. We were maybe two feet from each other and every detail of Niklas was clear in the high sun of the early afternoon. He had the tiniest blond hairs on his chest and biceps and stomach and even though he was pretty much...

The breeze blew cool through my pubes and over my dick and the pine needles poked my knees. Roberto’s tip pressed warmly and firmly against my rim and his left palm rested on my upper back while his right hand guided him in. Penetration. God, I love this part. First pain then… I screamed in pleasure. We were two miles from the cabin and no one was going to hear me except maybe a bird or a squirrel. He slid his hands up my...

Through the center of Munich the water of the Isar river flows clear and cool between sandbars and rocks and if you stand on one of the bridges above it, you can look down and see fish in the clear water swimming in place as the ducks float above them. I was twenty-two and the year was 1990. I had followed a girl to Munich and was taking German lessons at the Goethe Institute; for work I taught English at Berlitz. Spring...