FREE BOOK: The Lost Boyfriend

To my Dear Followers,

The second book in my Gay Performance series The Lost Boyfriend will be available for free downloading from Amazon Kindle on Thursday the 28th of June and Friday the 29th.

Here is an excerpt –

At long last young Jody Benson felt he was on his way to becoming a creative, investigative journalist. Hell, he’d just had a unique experience hadn’t he? In the drag queens’ dressing room at Connections gay club he’d just been inducted into one of the mysteries of drag. He’d assisted his new young drag queen friend Shane to get ready for a performance of Drag, the smash hit show which was currently showing at the club.

In order to do this Shane had inducted Jody into the mysteries of ‘Tuck and Tape.’ Jody had then carefully shaved the boy’s pubes, balls and around his boy hole. Shane had then shown Jody how his testes could be fitted into something called the inguinal canal. The boy had then demonstrated how everything was firmly taped up in the arse crack.

The young queen and Jody had obviously ‘clicked’ with each other during the procedure because whilst the student journalist had been handling his cock and balls, Shane had cracked a hard-on. Jody then had the task of dealing with the stiff cock by wanking it vigorously and then going down on it to collect the jets of hot cum in his mouth. During this part of what was supposed to be a ‘clinical’ procedure, a mysterious figure had appeared in the doorway of the dressing room. Jody thought that it might have been one of the other drag queens but Shane, who had been facing the doorway whilst shooting his load, had assured him this was not the case. No, the figure in the doorway had been an incredibly beautiful boy who’d moved with the grace of a dancer. When he was told this Jody felt cold shivers running up and down his spine. Could the elusive ‘dancer’ have been Alex his roomie from Mitchell College at the university? But how could that be he wondered? Surely young Alex would be off rehearsing with his beloved Borovansky Ballet Company? Or perhaps he would be getting ready for a performance at the Princess Theatre. Early that morning at Mitchell College Jody had suggested to his roomie that he might like to accompany him to Connections where he was going to find out how drag queens managed to conceal their boyish bulges when they were getting ready for shows. Alex had indicated that he wasn’t at all interested, he had urgent ballet rehearsals to go to.

Had the boy changed his mind and followed him to the club Jody wondered? And then had he become upset when he’d witnessed Shane the sexy young queen pumping his cum into Jody’s mouth? But why would he be disturbed by that Jody wondered? They weren’t exactly boyfriends. Hell, there was no way Jody would have a boyfriend in any case. He was straight wasn’t he? But then he had to wonder – if he was so straight why did he have the metallic taste of Shane’s cum in his mouth? Life could be so complicated.johnfaitken-72dpi-1500x2000 (19)




FREEBOOK: Sleepover Boy

Hi to my dear followers,

My recently published book in the Gay Moments series,Sleepover Boy,will be available for free downloading on January the 8th and the 9th. Here is an excerpt-

“Almost without realizing it Jamie had become something of a stalker. How many times did he really have to walk his dog Benji past that hallowed house in Selway Place where divine Christian Compton lived with his parents?

How could he possibly justify lurking in the tropical grove of Rotary Park most afternoons when Christian took his customary jog along the path that led to the lake? Oh my God, the sight of all that junk bouncing about in those loose-fitting shorts would surely drive him crazy Jamie thought. More often than not, after His Magnificence had passed, he would pull his own weapon out of his jeans for a quick wank in the shadows of the pandanas trees. On one occasion whilst he was still working his foreskin Jamie had been given a bit of a shock when a boy emerged from the shadows and offered to give him a hand. He’d politely declined.”


Bangkok Boy Bar – a review

Bangkok Bar Boy by Richard Vohl is well written which is perhaps a little unusual for its genre. It put me in mind of Gaysia by Benjamin Law. At times the story is incredibly detailed, perhaps too much so in some areas. The book starts with a brief prologue set in Bangkok but this is followed by a long and occasionally tedious section about the author’s life as a gay man in Middle America and Los Angeles. This early part of the story becomes more interesting when the author meets Tien, a Vietnamese boy who has immigrated to live in the States. Although the writer and Tien come to love each other theirs is not a sexual relationship. They come to regard each other as ‘family.’ The family is later joined by Al, a male nurse who has come from the Philippines. Al is straight and is married (to a woman).

Eventually the author who works as a software designer decides to go on a trip to Bangkok to sample the gay life there. Again there is a lot of detail and I feel that we didn’t really need a moment-by-moment description of our story-teller’s journey on a commercial airliner.

The author books a room at the Babylon gay resort which has the biggest sauna in Thailand (and perhaps the world). Here we come to the most moving part of the story. The author ventures out to explore Bangkok’s boy bars and eventually ends up hiring a young man, Kirt, to go back to his room for sex. The American visitor and the boy become genuinely fond of each other and after several days (and nights) Richard Vohl believes that they genuinely love each other. However he faces a dilemma; if they are really in love how can he keep on paying the boy for sex? On his part young Kirt cannot conceive of giving up work.

Towards the end of his trip Richard falls in love with another boy called Golf and this time we feel they might have more of a future. When the author returns to the States Golf gives up his sex work and gets ‘legit’ work and there is a strong suggestion that he will share the author’s life.

Despite the fact that everyone who stays at Babylon receives a free day pass to the adjoining gay sauna our author only visits this facility briefly – and that’s to take a shower. There’s a hint that he disapproves of the action that goes on in gay saunas but he obviously doesn’t have any qualms about hiring boys out of bars for sex. Puzzling.

Unusually for this kind of books perhaps, the text has many photographs. The author tells us they have been taken on his cell phone and they look like it. At least a third of them are not of sufficient quality to be published. However, all on all, I feel that Bangkok Bar Boy can be recommended.

  • Reviewed by Alistair Young


Helmut the Helmet

John and I never wanked together again. We were in different years at school and we didn’t really move in the same circles. One day after my Science period I was surprised when a boy called Helmut asked me if I wanted to walk home with him. In those days before greedy developers over-built our suburb we could virtually walk home through bush tracks. Along the way we might see brumbies (wild horses) or the odd kangaroo. I was surprised when Helmut asked me to walk with him because although we were in the same class we’d barely exchanged two words. I had the impression that he didn’t really like me. He came from a German family and although he looked stern and even angry some of the time, he occasionally broke into a wide, wicked grin. In some circles he was called ‘Helmut the Helmet’ and I thought I could guess at the reason why. He had a reputation for doing a lot of wanking with some of his friends and he didn’t seem to care who knew. I guess that these stories only made the girls (ours was a co-ed school) keener and some of them tried to desperately flirt with him in the corridors and playgrounds. The harder the girls tried the less interested Helmut the Helmet seemed.  Of course as we set out on our walk home through the bush my heart was beating in anticipation. Would I get to see Helmut’s already legendary cock and maybe even hold it in my hand? I cursed under my breath when Tony, a younger boy, chased after us.

“Can I walk home with you blokes?”

“Of course you can m’boy” growled Helmut. Sometimes he could look and sound like an old man, someone around twenty five. He seemed to have the kind of authority you wouldn’t want to argue with and my heart sank. Because Tony was in a year below us at school I felt that Helmut wouldn’t want to do any wanking today. Perhaps I’d been a bit stupid daring to expect it anyway. Probably Helmut had simply wanted some company for the long walk home.

We eventually came to edge of some swampland which for some reason was called “Bitter Pools.” Helmut put down his back pack, opened it and pulled out a white towel. This was the summer term and on Wednesdays we were bussed down to the river for swimming lessons.

“I feel like going for a swim” said Helmut. “What about you guys?”

“Sure!” I said, trying to repress my excitement. I was already pulling my towel out of my school bag. Then it was almost as if my heart skipped a beat. Helmut was pulling his bathers out of his back pack. However he looked at them and then draped them on a bush to dry because they were still damp from the lesson.

“No need for these. We’re all boys together, eh?”

Helmut and I quickly peeled off our shirts and shorts and even although he was only at half-mast I could see why he was called Helmut the Helmet. His cock had the biggest head I’d ever seen. It bulged out through the lips of a thick foreskin.

Now Helmut was looking at the younger boy. “What about you Tony?”

Tony shook his head: “Nah, my mum would be able to tell if I’d taken my clothes off in the bush and then she’d whip me. I’ll just watch you blokes.”

Helmut and I gingerly stepped into the biggest pool. Horse flies were buzzing and brilliant butterflies cascaded through the greenish light of the swamp. Talking about swimming was probably being rather ambitious because the pool was only a few feet deep. Anyway, we splashed around a bit and all too soon we were back on shore feeling refreshed if not altogether very clean because of the muddy water. My cock was fully erect and I didn’t try to conceal it. In fact I was rather proud of it and I thought that Helmut was checking it out. Even young Tony stepped forward so he could have a closer look.

Now Helmut moved towards me and put his still half-mast cock in my hand.

“Feel that. You can pull the skin right over the head, let go and it will slide slowly back.” He looked at me. “You reckon I’ve got too much?”


“Skin ya dork!” He laughed and started to pull my cock. Tony was watching avidly.

“No, no!” I stuttered. “It’s just perfect.”

“Well I can hardly go to the barber and ask him to shave a bit off can I?” he laughed.

By now his cock was fully erect and I could have sworn that the head was getting even bigger. It was massive. By now I’d heard that at Army Cadets some of the older boys shoved their cocks up each other’s bums. It was said that it might be OK to do this if there were no girls around. I wondered if Helmut would ever be able to get his huge helmet inside my opening. I shuddered.

By now we were wanking each other enthusiastically. Tony had moved even closer so he could get an eyeful. I could see that he now had a tent like shape jutting out the front of his shorts and I felt sorry for him. But then I was also enjoying the luxury of having such a huge amount of loose, thick skin in my hand. In fact Helmut had become so big that I was now able to use two hands.

Helmut reached out towards the younger boy. “Just take your dick out of your shorts and your mum will never know.” But Tony shook his head and stepped back out of reach.

Helmut and I came almost simultaneously and we squirted our white jets over each other’s cocks.

All through the summer Helmut and I wanked on Wednesdays in the swampland and Tony tagged along to watch. To add variety Helmut and I started to masturbate (I’d just discovered that word in my dad’s dictionary) above and below the surface of the pond. For the first time I came under water and it felt incredible. Although I was still missing Jason I was very proud that I had such a magnificent cock to tug on.

At last autumn fell but we were still wanking on most Wednesdays. However one week I was walking home along the bushtrack without Helmut, but young Tony was still tagging along. Helmut had been away from school for a few days and his mum had sent in a note to say he had asthma. One of the bullies put it about that he was actually suffering from chronic wanking.

Anyway, on this Wednesday in autumn it was still stifling hot so I decided to cool down at Bitter Pools anyway. I took my clothes off and stepped into the gloriously cool water. This place had a bad reputation. It was said that huge leeches would attach themselves to your legs and drain all of the blood out of you. Well we never had any trouble. Maybe the leeches were not attracted by the flavour of our particular blood types. After I’d sloshed about a bit I stepped out of the pool. Even although Helmut was absent I still had a raging hard on and I noticed that Tony couldn’t take his eyes off it. I was drying myself with my towel when the boy moved towards me. He took my cock in his hand and started to wank it. He was pretty expert and had obviously learned a great deal from watching Helmut. I was astonished… it felt so sexy, so exciting, me standing naked in the bush being pulled off by a boy dressed in his school uniform complete with tie! I would have to recommend it to Helmut. When my head started to bulge and I felt the intense pressure building I turned slightly so that my cock was pointing away from the boy. If he’d gone home with his uniform splashed with cum his mother would have had a heart attack.


From BURMESE BOY: A Gay Sex Odyssey by Kevin Armstrong





Psst!… a message for my Dear Followers. ‘A Helping Hand’ which is the second story in my GAY MOMENTS series will be available on Amazon Kindle for FREE downloading from Tuesday the 10th of November until Thursday the 12th of November inclusive. This is a brief excerpt –


My friend Glenn was probably the best looking boy I had ever come across. He had tight blonde curls, startlingly blue eyes and a golden complexion you could die for. I knew from swimming lessons that his body was compact but not over-developed which I think can be pretty gross. Although, as I’ve suggested, he was pretty shy from a physical point of view, he couldn’t conceal the fact that he had a pert bubble arse.

Glenn’s room didn’t have posters of rock or movie stars like those posted on the walls of the bedrooms of several school friends I’d visited. No, there were only some brilliant pictures of the universe and travel posters of places in Asia he wanted to visit like Tibet. The room had a kind of ascetic look about it. What was somewhat unusual in a boy’s bedroom was there were shelves full of classical CD’s. Bach, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky – all that stuff. Most of my friends downloaded whatever rock music they wanted but Glenn said he liked the physical feel of the CD’s. He also had a pretty neat Bose sound system. Although I was a bit resistant at first, Glenn got me to love his kind of music. We particularly liked Tchaikovsky’s ‘Romeo and Juliet Overture’ and as the music blared out we would whirl about the room miming sword play. Sometimes Glenn would tell me stories about the lives of the great composers. I was particularly interested to learn that Peter Tchaikovsky had been condemned to death by an ‘honour court’ in Moscow for fucking a nobleman’s nephew.

What I really liked about being round at Glenn’s place was that he always seemed more relaxed and friendlier than when we were at school. It felt sometimes as if we might have been brothers. I didn’t know a lot about that – being brothers I mean because I was an only child. When I was a young kid I’d invented an imaginary brother who was called Charlie. Well Charlie and I enjoyed a lot of riotous cricket matches out in the back yard much to the bemusement of my folks.

As I’ve suggested I much preferred the Glenn I hung out with round at the McMansion to the Glenn I knew at school. Around Alston High there was something almost stiff and formal about him. Sometimes when I shouted out to him in the playground he would sort of look straight through me. Well he was Head Boy after all and I guess the responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Of course when we were hanging out in Glenn’s bedroom there were many occasions when I was tempted to ask him to show me his cock. But I could never really get the words out, there was something about the boy, he seemed untouchable somehow, wholesome even – if any boy on this planet could ever be called wholesome.

Whenever I had these thoughts I usually got a hard-on. I tried all sorts of ways to conceal my rod but I’m sure sometimes he must have noticed, although he was far too polite to say anything. But there were times during these occasions when I thought I could see a kind of glimmer in his eye. Wishful thinking perhaps.

Of course I wondered if my friend wanked. Then I thought – well of course, all boys did that. He wasn’t that much of a paragon. Glenn couldn’t possibly be asexual – could he? This was a new word I’d recently found on Google and I thought it was sort of cool. Except there was no way I wanted my friend to be ‘asexual.’

A couple of times when he went down to the kitchen to get us a couple of Cokes I searched round his room for some clues, evidence that he was actually a wanker. Well you know what I mean. A box of tissues on his bedside table? Nope. A tube of Intensive Care? Nope. I even pulled the duvet on his bed down so I could examine the sheets. Nope again. Absolutely immaculate. Oh God, I’m such a snoop.

One day we’d had a fairly long session on the computer doing a tutorial on Stock Broker and I reckon I’d had a bar up for at least a couple of hours. My God, I had blue balls – it’s a wonder they weren’t glowing through my shorts.

Glenn then announced he was going down to the kitchen to get us a couple of cool drinks. As soon as he went out through the door I dropped my shorts and my cock sprung out. I was desperate. I had to have a quick pull before my friend got back. I took hold of my foreskin and started to wank furiously. To hurry matters along I conjured up a vision in my mind of the glimpse I’d had of Glenn’s cock when we were out in the bush and he was taking a leak.. My fist was a blur and already I could feel the pressure, that indescribable feeling building in my balls and tubes. Then I heard Glenn’s footsteps coming up the stairs. I was gonna come – but where was I gonna shoot my load?  Oh my God, in my desperation I hadn’t thought of that. This must be the only boys’ bedroom on the planet with no tissues I thought. Well I couldn’t exactly squirt on his sheets now could I? I was c-o-o-o-ming. I knew from experience there was no way I could choke it off, hold it back. I was beyond the point of no return. Well I couldn’t be standing there with my cock shooting cum on the carpet when he came through the door now could I? I would never live it down. I would have to kill myself.

Suddenly I had a brain-wave. The empty Coke bottles from our previous break! There were two of them sitting there beneath the window. I just had time to grab one and hold the neck to my piss slot before I started to come. I reckoned that because of the excitement and the danger of discovery I was squirting twice as much as usual. Anyway, most of the jism went in the bottle with some excess running down the sides. I just had time to shove the vessel into my school bag before Glenn came through the door. I was hoping my juice hadn’t left a tell-tale aroma.

Glenn handed me a fresh Coke then looked beneath the window.

“I meant to take the empties down with me for the rubbish. Mom gets very fussy about things like that. Hey, I thought there were two…”

“Yeah! There were two, now there’s only one” I said stupidly. “The other’s in my bag.”

“Your bag?”

“Yeah, I collect Coke bottles.”


“The next door kids! I mean they make things out of them.”

I was praying inwardly that he wouldn’t ask to have a look at the bottle.

“Sure. But why didn’t you take the other one as well?”

“You mean I can have it?”

“Of course you can” he said looking at me rather strangely.

Thanking my lucky stars I put the second bottle in my bag.


I hope you enjoyed reading it and thanks for following,


Boy Scouts


I first got involved in circle wanks, believe it or not, when I was a member of the Boy Scouts. I belonged to the First Applecross Troop in a riverside suburb of Perth, Western Australia. Thinking back I realize this may have been one of the gayest Boy Scout troops in the whole of Australia. Of course in those days my school mates and I had never heard of the term “gay” pertaining to sex and we’d certainly never come across the word “homosexuality.” We’d had it drummed in to us that it was “dirty” to even think about touching up girls. But no one had told us that we shouldn’t play with each other. I guess you could say we were innocent or at least naive in a queer sort of way. Nevertheless, some instinct told us that we should be very discreet about our “playing”, it was to be kept a dire secret in our own little world.

My first brush with sex came when I was the age of twelve. I’d started to get regular erections and my cock would pop up in my grey school boy shorts at the most inconvenient of times. I’d heard about wanking but didn’t really know what it meant. Then the word went round our junior high school one Friday afternoon. An older lad (all of about sixteen) who was from another nearby high school was going to give an exhibition of wanking on the following morning. This was Neil Hamilton who I imagine, thinking back, must have been a straight boy or at least bi because he had the not so savoury reputation of fucking both his sisters in the family bathroom when their parents were out at work.

So early on the Saturday morning twenty or so of us gathered in a small bushland clearing just off the sports oval of our school. Neil Hamilton turned up on time and asked the boys to form a circle.

“Have any of yous started wanking yet?

Two of the older lads (about thirteen) rather sheepishly raised their hands.

“OK… for the benefit of the rest of yous I’ll show you how it’s done.”

With that he dropped his shorts, releasing a fairly large uncut cock into the fresh morning air. It was already rock hard. With his right hand he started to pull and push his foreskin up and down the shaft. He obviously had a fairly generous amount of skin because I recall that it would completely cover the cock head with each stroke. I noticed that I was getting hard myself and that several of my mates had tent like shapes in their shorts. After Neil had been stroking for about ten minutes he shouted: “Here it comes” and I was astonished to see jets of white liquid spurting out of his piss hole. Now this was confusing. Was that what some of my friends called “spunk”? I’d always thought that the slit on the end of my cock was exclusively for pissing out of. Wow, talk about multi-purpose? There was a sporadic burst of applause.

Now, grinning rather sheepishly, Neil Hamilton shook leftover drops of cum off the end of his cock, pulled up his shorts and disappeared into the bush without saying a word. I couldn’t wait to go home and experiment.

Back to the Boy Scout troop. A couple of weeks after Neil’s demo it was the school holidays and my folks had signed me up for a camping trip in the Darling Ranges with the scouts. We arrived in the hills on a Saturday and set about putting up the tents. I always loved this phase of scouting, working out how to pitch the canvas, banging in the tent pegs, tying off the ropes with the intricate knots we’d practised. The reef knot was my favourite; there was something deeply satisfying about pitching a tent.

After the pitching was over Mr Boswell the Scout Master called us together and told us we had a choice – we could go for a bushwalk with him (most of the guys cheered at this) or because we’d had a fairly long journey and had worked hard pitching the tents, those boys who were tired could rest in the tents if they wanted to. I elected to stay and rest as did Tim, a rather dark skinned boy who was a member of my patrol and would be sleeping in my tent. I thought that Tim’s ancestors may have come from some place in the middle east, or maybe even the Indian sub-continent but he had a broad enough Aussie accent.

The sleeping arrangements were basic – as befitted hardy, adventurous boy scouts. Just sleeping bags rolled out on rubber ground sheets.

Tim and I went to our tent and lay down on our sleeping bags. However I soon realized that my mate had no notion of just resting. I was quite surprised when he stepped out of his khaki shorts and knelt on his bag. He didn’t try to conceal the fairly large erection that jutted out in front of him and I noted with interest that he was uncut although, of course, I didn’t say anything. He gave his cock a few strokes and then looked at me. “There’s a group of us do this all the time at Army Cadets Kev. You should’ve joined.” With that he went back to his wanking and I felt myself hardening. I couldn’t take my eyes off Tim’s fairly loose foreskin riding up and down his shaft. At last I could stand it no longer. I slipped off my shorts and started pulling my own medium sized uncut cock. Tim gave me a complicit grin.

“My dad tried to talk to me about wanking the other day” he chirped. “It was all so embarrassing. He tried to ask me if I’d started wanking – can you believe it? Anyway, he told me not to, that it was bad for my eyesight and that in any case I should save my spunk for the girl I’ll marry. Well, that took me by surprise Kev. I’ve been wanking every day since the beginning of the year but I’d never thought about my future wife.” Tim stopped in mid stroke and looked at me. “You know Kev I thought, well maybe Dad’s right. Maybe I should save it for… then I thought, nah, why should I worry? I’m sure the girl I marry won’t miss a few drops.”

With that Tim started pulling his cock again in earnest and I could see that his well-shaped head was swelling and turning red. He gasped and shot more than just a few drops all over his ground sheet.

– An excerpt from ‘Burmese Boy’ by Kevin Armstrong.