March 11th, 2010
A Session With The Corporal by aaron sub lad.
Lewis came out of the train station, Jason had siad he would be in a blue Peugeot. I spotted him and thought to myself “nice looking”, blond blue eyed skinhead big muscles I went to walk past the car but stopped an introduced myself, “get in” Jason said I, eagerly got into the front of the car it was daylight and I immediately glanced down to look if he had Doc Martins on, Black 12 eyelet ones well worn, I was in heaven we chatted on the way to his house all I could think about was the Dm Boots and his socks he made me feel really horny as he was so good looking.
We arrived at his house and he showed me in and locked the door firmly behind us, Jason showed me in to the lounge and offered me a cup of tea, we chatted for a while and then he asked me what I liked doing, well this is what happened.
Jason took me upstairs to his room the room was warm and cosy I’d never been invited to a corporals house before and as a private I felt privileged, on the bed were a number of items a Gas mask, various but plugs and dildos, KY jelly, Blue boot socks and a bottle of poppers. I felt weak at the knees at the thought of what was about to happen…
March 10th, 2010
Lifes Journey by Skinphil.
Life was confusing for a 16-year-old boy in the mid 60’s living on a small island. Everyone knew every bodies business before you knew it yourself. My father was forever advising me on how to woo the women, whilst my mother was exercising her right as a “God fearing” Christian to instruct me on how not to sow my wild oats, and to always carry a condom, just in case. I was totally confused, especially when pictures of naked and big bosomed women were not as stimulating as my father had told me, and my pictures of James Dean and Frankie Avalon creamed my jeans every time. By 16, I had learnt to control my habit of cumming in my jeans but the erections were a much harder habit to cure.
I was working as an apprentice motor mechanic: my wage was little more than the pocket money my parents had given me as a young teenager. I worked long hours and got all the menial or dirty jobs my boss Jim thought would put hair on my chest. Fat chance of that happening. I was already shaving daily as my jet black hair was rough and left a 5 o’clock shadow even at 16 years old, a throw back to my Basque ancestors, but no chest hair. I prayed often to whoever was listening up there to please give me chest hair so I could prove to finally be a man. There was plenty of this thick black hair in every conceivable place on my body except my chest and my back. As an apprentice, my money seldom allowed me the luxury of clothing for purposes other than work. Overalls, steel capped hobnailed work boots, a donkey jacket and cloth cap. I looked like a mini version of my father. Man how I hated that look. I would do anything to get rid of that look…
March 9th, 2010
Bovver In The Bogs by Flemster.
My eyes strained to see who it was that had walked in. And with all the battering I had been taking torturing my senses, I really had to strain hard to see, even though by now I had got used to the darkness.
The figure moved casually towards the trough, glancing now and then at me and the ogre. He looked young. He was slim and thuggishly juvenile looking. He was wearing a dark coloured tracksuit and topped off with a peaked cap. He pulled down the front of his tracky bottoms, making sure that me and the big man were watching, and then he took out his soft cock. He kept looking over at us, while he flopped his cock backwards and forwards, each second it seemed to get just a little bit more solid, and we couldn’t help but keep our eyes on him.
There was a point, while slapping his partially limp dick into the palm of his hand that he turned his face to stare at my attacker with the sort of shit eating grin that could only mean one thing…
March 8th, 2010
Skinhead Slave by Gayskin.
It had been a long boring day, it was only Monday and I still had the rest of the working week stretching out in front of me. I was thankful to be returning home to my flat. I was the sole person in the carriage of the Central line train and so there was nothing to distract me from my book. The train pulled into Liverpool Street station and the doors opened but I did not bother to look up. As the train moved off again over the top of my book I noticed a pair of 14 hole DM boots stopping right in front of me. Despite the rest of the carriage being empty they remained there, holding my attention. Their owner was obviously proud of the boots, they were polished to an almost mirror finish and there wasn’t a mark on them. My gaze started to move slowly up the body in front of me. Skin tight jeans that did nothing to hide an impressive bulge at the crotch, a green bomber jacket and finally the face. A completely shaved head, piercing blue eyes which were staring straight at me. His face was expressionless, he just continued to stare.
This was my sort of man, my mouth went completely dry and my cock twitched in anticipation. I returned his gaze but he quickly won the battle, I could not maintain eye-contact. I looked away but his crotch was at my eye level and I was drawn to it. My eyes kept shifting between his crotch and his face, he continued to stare and his face took on a different expression. It wasn’t really a smile, more of a half smile really, but it was a look which spoke volumes. This man knew what he wanted and knew he was going to get it from me, my opinions in the matter were irrelevant. At this point I should tell you a little more about myself; I am 30 years old, have my own hair shaved to a zero crop. I am just under 6ft tall and have a slim build with little in the way of muscles. My eyes are grey/blue and I am clean-shaven. However, my body is fairly hairy as I don’t bother to shave my body hair, with the exception of my cock and balls. I am no magazine pinup but, even if I do say so myself, I am not unattractive…
March 7th, 2010
Change for the Better by Tufty3.
Dave had been looking forward to his trip down to London for a while. After he got off the train, he nipped into the gents and had a long stare in the mirror, knowing that before long the face looking back at him would be much different.
He was met at the station by Cager and taken on the back of his motorbike to the estate where he lived. They mounted the stairs to the third story building before any words were spoken. Cager opened the door and gestured Dave in.
In the shadows, Dave’s gaze was met by the grin of a tall meanlooking skinhead, fully dressed in 20 hole DMs, bleachers, Perry shirt and braces. Tufty smiled as he met Dave for the first time, and Dave felt a stirring in his trousers…
