March 13th, 2010
Young Master by Skinphil.
At the tender young age of 17 years, Johnnie Burkett had become an accomplished lover of gay men, through his lover Mick, and through his acts of prostitution. His life in the tiny Island in the English Channel had blossomed since meeting Mick, the leader of the Queerskins. Their relationship had been passionate, violent, at times brutal, but always loving. Johnnie’s grasp and love of the brotherhood and culture of the skinheads was quick and total, as if he had been born to be a skin.
The Island (the name shall remain anonymous for obvious reasons) was small, and nights long. The teenagers of the Island had little to do on long summer nights, and sex was their main preoccupation, as well as the Odeon or Gaumont Cinema’s. This led to a high early marriage rate of teenagers, some marrying at 14 and 15 years. Most were parents before they turned 16 years old. Therefore, to think of Johnnie as promiscuous or Mick as being a pedo, is unwarranted. This was life in the 60’s in the Islands; with sex their only form of entertainment. Yes it was illegal to have sex before 21 years of age, but if enforced, the entire Island population would have been in jail.
The Islands were also different from the remainder of Europe for their progressive attitudes to some things and regressive thinking in others. The good points were their attitudes to road safety. At age 12 years, a youth could have a motorcycle licence for an auto cycle up to 49cc. At 16 years, a motorcycle licence up to 99cc, and at 18 years up to 199cc. At 21 years, they could have an open licence. This allowed the youth to learn gradually…
March 12th, 2010
Sex at Boot Camp by Bear-Cop.
Upon my arrival at Fort Knox I was greeted with the stark reality that I was in over my head. My thoughts began to wander as the Sergeant went over how to fill out all of the Forms.
I was impressed with this man. He had dark hair and eyes, and told us he was from Guam. I wondered if I had made the right choice about enlisting in the Army. I knew that it was going to be tough to be a Gay service member – I had lie to get in, but I wasn’t sure how tough it was going to be.
That night I played it really cool. We finally had lights out at about 02:30. And that began the longest week of my life. Inprocessing in the Army is anything but easy, they give you test after test, shots and more tests, haircut and more tests. After the Inprocessing we finally got assigned to our Basic training companies and then we met our Drills…
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…
