Bad Boys' Book Club
Looking for some erotic gay fiction to fuel your fap fantasies?
Do you like a bit of erotic fiction? If you’re looking for some reading material to help fuel your fap fantasies, then you might be interested in the series of short stories collected in the Bad Boys' Book Club.
Each volume is a collection of short erotic encounters between men, for some one-handed reading at its finest.
Available in Kindle or Paperback, if you like to stimulate your imagination with the written word, get comfortable, and dive in.
Check out some of the samples below - this isn't the kind of romantic happily-ever-after kind of erotica generally described as m/m, this is intense encounters between guys who like to fuck other guys.
Lou took his position on the bench and got to three reps before he ran out of steam and had to put the bar back.
“That was only three!” protested Jonathan.
“I got distracted...” smiled Lou. “Your turn.”
Jonathan lay down on the bench, it was already starting to feel a bit sweaty beneath him from the heat of their bodies. He looked up at the barbell, but his eyes were drawn to Lou’s crotch only a few inches from his face.
“I can see what you mean...” grinned Jonathan. “This is a pretty distracting view.”
“What if I turned around” smiled Lou. “Would that be better?”
Lou turned around so that now instead of his jock covered crotch it was his bare ass that was only inches away from Jonathan’s face.
“Stop talking and put your mouth to work…” instructed Andreas, unzipping his suit trousers and pulling out his cock.
“I’m going to miss this cock…” sighed Brock, taking hold of Andreas’s cock and beginning to jack it, pulling the generous foreskin forward and then sliding it back, feeling it responding and growing in his hand.
Brock dropped to his knees and begin to kiss and lick Andreas’s cock. Running his tongue around the sensitive head, pulling the foreskin forward and bunching it up so that he could toy with it with his tongue, slurping and slobbering up and down the thick cock-shaft.
It turned Brock on that Andreas wasn’t taking his suit off, wasn’t undressing at all. He looked much more serious and in control when he was wearing his suit. It was almost as if Andreas was an important, international businessman, and Brock was his office boy - on hand to satisfy every need.
De Vere smiled as his hand came into contact with his cock, firm and thick. The combination of warm water and the friction from the soapy washcloth had already primed him. De Vere wrapped the palm of his hand around the shaft of his cock and began to slowly stroke it up and down, sliding his generous foreskin backwards and forwards. The Sheriff’s cock quickly responded, growing in size, growing in hardness. De Vere quickly glanced around the yard to ensure that no one was watching - satisfied he was alone, he picked up the pace of his stroking, feeling the waves of pleasure washing over his body as he jacked his cock, the water splashing around his body as his fist slid up and down his hard cock-shaft.
“Ungh - fuck yeah…” moaned De Vere, his imagination not fixing on any specific fantasy but just enjoying the thrill of being able to pleasure himself out in the open.
“Normally, the cabin boys that we take on board ship have a fair bit of experience at the kind of duties that will be expected of them. Generally, they’ve been trained by the priests or the wealthy men who like to keep young boys in their household…” mused the captain. “But, you come to us seemingly untrained. Your father insisted that you would be up to the task. I guess we’ll soon find out.”
“Do you mean the cleaning and the cooking, sir?” asked Marcello, a bit mystified as to what the captain was talking about.
“No...” smiled the captain. “Not the cleaning and the cooking. Get your clothes off, boy.”
“Sir?” asked Marcello, not sure if he had heard the captain correctly.
“I said get your clothes off!” shouted the captain, suddenly losing his temper. “When you are on this ship, you belong to me! I am your captain. Whatever I say you do. I will not have disobedience on this ship!”
The sun felt good against his skin. He closed his eyes and dozed happily in the warm afternoon rays.
“Want me to rub some sunblock on your back?” came a voice, disturbing Tony’s daydreaming. Tony opened his eyes, the voice sounded close and Tony wasn’t sure if that question had been directed at him. There was a guy standing fairly close, looking down at him.
“Sorry?” said Tony, realising that the guy was waiting for a response.
“This sun is pretty strong — thought you might need a hand with some sunblock?” explained the guy.
Tony was paying more attention now — the guy was hot. About mid 30s, dark hair, he looked like he spent a lot of time at the gym.
“Um sure!” said Tony, fishing a bottle of sunblock from his bag and proffering it to the guy. “I can never get it in the right places.”
Tony’s father was still at work so they had the flat to themselves. Tony led Clarence through into his bedroom, they pulled off their football boots. Tony took off his top and his socks, leaving just his football shorts on.
“Man — they are the smallest football shorts I have ever seen…” exclaimed Clarence.
“You have to attract the Coach’s attention…” laughed Tony, checking his ass out in the mirror, “Whatever it takes!” Tony grabbed a bottle of massage oil from his desk and handed it to Clarence. “My dad usually rubs me down after a match…” said Tony, “…but I think you’ll do a pretty good job — you’ve got the right size hands for it… big, strong, hands…”
The best part about playing a team sport like football is the showers after a training session. Once it became known in the squad that Tony got horned up when playing football, then there were no shortage of volunteers to help out with scratching that itch. It generally started in the showers. The showers in the changing rooms were an open row of shower nozzles, no one was too bothered about privacy — after training everyone stripped off and then stood around waiting for their turn in the shower, lathering up their bodies with soap, feeling the warm water cascading over them.
“You must get guys hitting on you all the time?” asked Farran.
“I’m okay with that” grinned Tony, “I can always say no if I’m not interested.”
“What sort of guys do you say yes to?” asked Farran.
“Well… I have pretty diverse tastes…” began Tony, “…but if I had to put a label on it then I generally go for sexy nerds… cute guys, smart guys, guy who wear glasses…”
“Um…” mumbled Farran, nervously adjusting his glasses, “…would you say yes to me?” Tony didn’t answer but stepped in close to Farran, placed his hand gently on the back of his neck and drew their mouths together until their lips met in a gentle, tender kiss.
“Does that answer your question?” asked Tony with a smile.
It had taken Terry a while to realise that there was a sexual edge to the treatments that his football coach administered. Whenever Terry asked the coach to help him with a sore muscle, the coach would get him to strip down to his jock strap. This was totally natural for Terry, playing team sports you seemed to spend most of your life just wearing a jock strap. But after the first few sessions, the coach also started to strip down. He explained that it gave him more freedom of movement when he was working on Terry’s injuries, but Terry could sense that the tone of their sessions had changed, the coach’s hands became more sensual, his touches more intimate.
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