Circumcised Stories

It was Saturday night, and I was going clubbing with a group of friends. We were all a bit tipsy by the time we got to the club and continued drinking after we got there. Two of my friends are dating, and they hooked up on the dance floor a few times. My other mates and I all tried to find a willing girl to kiss us too. Somehow we all actually managed to, although my girl had to leave at about twelveish so I just got back...

Andy was a driving instructor, and well-known among the cottaging fraternity in North Nottingham. I had heard his name mentioned by different guys who described fantastic sexual sessions they’d had with him. He was a total bottom with a reputation for having a willing arse, and a magnificent cock that anyone would have been proud of. I lived in hope that my path might cross with his one day. I finished some shopping at th...

My heart beat fast with expectation as I walked in the summer sunshine along the path that led to a huge house divided into several flats, on Nottingham’s Park Estate. This was a hall of residence for students from the University and I was there to see Mitch again. He had now completed his final year and was due to return to America at the end of the week. Mitch greeted me with a kiss at the front door and led me into his...

It was Phil who told me all about ‘The Attic’. I first got to know him when I attended a bukkake afternoon at his house in Leeds, which you can read about in my story ‘Bukkake Time’. It was there that I heard about places where I could find more new and exciting sexual experiences. Although living in Nottingham for many years, I hadn’t heard of ‘The Attic’ in Derby. Today, it is an active swingers’ club where, at the week...

So I had managed to break my right hand and wrist in a bar fight in Stockholm and found myself in a local hospital, all casted up and immobilized. Stupid, considering I am actually a prize boxer. And it goes to show how important those gloves really are. Things here were deceptively similar to America, perhaps a bit like Vermont or New Hampshire, with the notable exception of the language, which sounded a little like some...

”Always nice to catch a glimpse of the manly neighbour,” said Linda, looking up at me as I was standing on her ladder in my soccer shorts on a hot summer’s day, fixing a ceiling lamp. I had no hand available to check on my shorts, so I just asked her if there really were any glimpses to be had. ”Not yet,” she said with a mysterious smile, and wafted off, barefoot and in her silk negligée, to make us two martinis as I put...