Gay Erotic Stories

He had short hair in that captivating shade between brown and red, but fortunately for his tan, he was not as sensitive to the sun’s rays as a true redhead.

Around the resort, he wore only one pair of shortish shorts or another, never changing between beach volleyball, the swimming pool, a chaise lounge on the beach, or the ocean.

I liked that he knew how to truly relax. Oh, sure, when we played volleyball, he was totally into it; several times I saw him work the bulging muscles of his chest, back, legs, arms, and shoulders as he saved the team by diving into the sand. But walking around the resort, he always ambled at the same unhurried pace, only the definition of the muscles of his legs showing how much power was under control.

I enjoyed watching him from every angle. As he approached, I appreciated his smooth pecs, cobbled belly, and dick swinging pendulously left and right with his gait. As he walked past, I admired the confident angle of his open, smiling face in profile and his protruding ass and basket under a thin layer of nylon. As he receded, I gazed at his broad shoulders that tapered down to narrow hips with his ass cheeks alternately rising and falling.

And now we were leaving the climate which allowed us to reveal to each other the most possible skin in public. The bus ride from the Mexican resort to the airport was about an hour, during which Miles drank a six-pack of Corona beer himself. He was flying before we even got out of the bus. That’s when it happened. As he was descending from the bus, he caught his bare leg on a sharp edge of metal and he began bleeding from a long, diagonal gash.

Having seen everything from behind, I followed him off the bus and immediately pulled the first-aid kit out of my back pack. I removed some gauze and hydrogen peroxide and knelt down to look at the cut.

“Dude,” he said. “You’re the paramedic, right?” I nodded. I had introduced myself as an Emergency Medical Technician when I met him and his friends at dinner our last night at the resort. He was a flight engineer in the air force, and I had been in the air force to receive my medical training free of charge, so we had had a lot to talk about. “Your name’s John,” he said. I smiled up at him, happy that he had remembered my name.

“That’s right, Miles.” He smiled too.

The wound was on his outer thigh and only superficial, not going deep enough to require stitches. I let the blood flow for a moment to push germs away from the site before I began to blot it with gauze. Then, I pressed the gauze firmly around the gash to stop the bleeding. I had to hold the back of his leg with my other hand to maintain the pressure. Come to think of it, the palm of my hand was just where the curve of his ass met his strong thigh. “It can’t be that bad,” he said. “I hardly feel a thing.”

Oh, I do, I thought. I shook my head to clear it of distracting thoughts; I had to concentrate on his needs--like how his big cock needs me to nibble on it until it hardens, then take it all the way down my throat--concentrate on his medical needs!

Miles began to squirm with impatience, so I gripped the back of his leg more firmly.

“In fact,” I said, “it’s worse than it looks. The alcohol you have drunk not only dilates the blood vessels, making you bleed faster, but also it is dehydrating to begin with. Dehydration is very dangerous in this hot climate, and the air in the cabin of the airplane will be very dry. As for the risk of infection--”

“Okay, okay!” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Please do what you can. Say, can dehydration make you dizzy?” he asked.

“It can,” I answered. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I’m going to f--” he said, just before he collapsed. Luckily for both of us, he draped himself over my back. Catching him meant releasing a handful of his ass to grab his muscular upper arm as I laid him under the shade of a palm tree in front of the airport terminal.

I had almost decided to put his life in the hands of a small-town Mexican hospital when he suddenly awoke. I opened one of my bottles of water and he drank it all. I was relieved that his condition was not acute enough to keep him unconscious; I didn’t want to risk using Mexican medical care to re-hydrate him intravenously--who knows where their needles have been?

After a few minutes of rest, I pulled him to his feet and we made our way into the terminal building. His girlfriends seemed happy to have me in charge, ushering us to the head of the line at the airline counter. I was still holding him up, so the clerk assumed Miles and I were traveling together and assigned us adjoining seats. Because the airplane was about a third empty, we had a window seat, an aisle seat, and a seat between in case either of us wanted to stretch out.

* * *

As soon as the seat-belt light was turned off, several people began to add layers of warmer clothing for the weather back home. Miles took some jeans from his carry-on luggage and went to the washroom to change out of his shorts. When he returned, I noticed that the jeans did justice to the shape of his ass, and his crotch still looked stuffed with more than a mouthful.

The flight attendants had served us lunch by the time he returned. After we ate, I said, “It’s too bad you changed into jeans, Miles. I can’t check the bandage now.”

“Oh,” he said. “We could go to the head for some privacy.”

“Lead on,” I said, grabbing my first-aid kit.

I entered the washroom first and sat on the toilet lid, then he came in. Miles had to lean over me to close the door. He stepped out of his sandals and shucked his jeans right off. I was somewhat surprised to see him wearing briefs, since he had been freeballing all week.

I put one hand around the back of his injured leg again, just under his ass and the leg of his briefs. With the other, I pressed along the tape of the bandage and saw that it was still sealed. The outside of the gauze was dry and the bandage was still in position.

Two fingertips of my butt-hand brushed almost innocently against the back of his balls through the thin white cotton, but there was nothing innocent about the way he widened his stance to allow my fingers better access, or the breath he sucked through his teeth as his ball-sac churned.

“Doc,” he asked, “do you have an anti-inflammatory?”

“You know, Miles, I’m not a medical doctor. I’m a technician,” I said. “Why do you need an anti-inflammatory?”

“I seem to have a little swelling,” he answered.

“Where?”

“Right here,” he said, as he turned toward me, and pointed at his tented crotch.

“That’s a very big swelling,” I correct him, “and quite a cockpit you have there, fly-boy.” He beamed with the happiness one feels when one’s advances are successful. “According to my not inconsiderable experience, it will require a more drastic treatment to relieve than any drug can provide.”

“I trust you, doc,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. I did not correct him again--who am I to take away his fantasy? For the second time, he said, “Please do what you can.”

“We must not rush the treatment. The flight will be several hours more. That might be enough time.” He shuddered, not primarily because he was almost nude in the restroom of chilly plane.

I grabbed the waistband of his briefs behind him with one hand and dragged them around his smooth, firm ass. His cheeks squeezed together as my fingers slid past, like a sea anemone trying to capture a fish that brushes a tentacle. “Too soon for that,” I said, and eased my fingers out of the humid trench.

When I continued to pull his briefs down, I had meant to remove them altogether, but his hard dick was a mighty obstacle. I had to yank more firmly before his swollen cock yielded to the waistband, then slapped his lower abs.

His white dick was beautiful against his tanned torso and legs. His pubes were a triangular hedge. The flared base led to a long shaft of hard rock marbled with blue veins. The cut, flanged head was like a glass bell, a shining beacon in that dim room.

I saw the head as my mouth approached it in slow motion, and can still remember the view from every angle of my docking. His spearhead cleaved my lips apart, and my eager mouth was not slowed until I had engulfed half the head.

I had not realized either of us had been holding our breath. He sighed, as if in relief of a perfect landing. When I realized what I had forgotten, I pulled my mouth off him abruptly only to entrap a smooth-shaven ball, as I fondled the other. I teased and nibbled as my other hand dug frantically around in the first-aid kit on the counter.

He tore open the covering of the condom as soon as I handed it to him. He paused as he was about to suit himself up--I knew that he could not decide which he wanted more: the blowjob or the ball tease. When I switched my mouth to his other ball, his head lolled to one side, and he was content to let me give it the same treatment with my lips and tongue as the other, to prevent it from becoming jealous.

After the equalizing treatment, he opened his eyes and lifted his head, then rolled the condom down his dick. I could take a hint, but still, he said, “Please suck my hard dick! Suck it now.” I obliged him, starting where I had left off before, with my mouth covering half the glans. I rubbed my tongue along the trigger ridge underneath, just behind the rim of the bell-shaped head. “Oh, right there! That feels really good,” he moaned.

I added to his pleasure by fondling his balls while I worked his cock with my lips and tongue. “Oh, yeah!” I could hear the smile on his face.

I eased his butt up onto the narrow counter around the sink. He lifted one leg onto the toilet lid beside me. I pulled my mouth off the head to lick all around and down the shaft.

I gripped his dick firmly and jacked it very slowly. Then, I licked the place where his ballsac meets his inner thigh. He was feeling so good I could not resist licking the perineum, behind his balls. With one hand on his shaft and the other on his balls, my tongue orbited my final destination, preparing to land.

If you thought he was chattering like a porn star before, you should have heard him carry on when my tongue executed its smooth insertion. You would have thought I had bombed his homeland if you had heard how loudly he moaned and wailed.

My flicking tongue sortied in and out, preparing the tiny target. Miles lifted his other leg and pressed his foot against the wall for support. I awaited my final orders--

“Fuck me!” he roared, above the whining engines and the creaking airframe, and tore off his condom.

Any passengers who were not wearing headphones surely found him much more entertaining than the in-flight movie. I sure did.

Hearing his permission, I stood up to undress, but he pulled my face back to his asshole. “Don’t stop,” he said. Isn’t it just like a superior officer to give contradictory orders? Apparently he wanted it all. A wave of pride rippled down my body when I realized that I had everything he wanted.

Back to practical matters of logistics. Luckily, I was still wearing only the shorts I had bought in Mexico, so I was about to pull them off when I realized that my hands were already full jacking his dick and tickling his balls. It was like an X-rated game of Twister, and I made a mental note to work on the rules for an actual game we could play with some military fuck buddies the next time they were in town.

“Mumlum,” I said to him.

“Huh?” he asked.

“Mum-lum,” I repeated.

“Oh, condom,” he said, and rifled through the first-aid kit. Well, you try talking while your tongue is stuck out.

He bent over and pushed my shorts down, then I kicked them out of my way. My cock pulsed with the power it contained. He attired it safely and took over whacking his cock and pulling on his balls. “Now,” he said. “Do it! And hard,” he added.

I aim to please, so I entered him in one quick stroke that coincided exactly with his reaction. “Yesss!” he hissed. His ass hugged my dick tighter than a girl greeting her bombardier husband at the dock as he returns from World War 2.

I pulled back and jabbed him again and again, and we grunted in unison with each compression stroke. “Take my dick!” he ordered, and I obeyed, squeezing his cock as tight as his ass was squeezing mine. I beat his meat with each thrust of my hips.

He lifted his foot off the wall and propelled it over my head, turning himself around. We looked into each other’s eyes in the mirror, our sparkling eyes saying it all.

My teeth nibbled on his ear, then clamped down on the trapezious muscle of his shoulder, beside the neck. Two fingers of my other hand clamped onto his nipple. I was holding on for dear life. “I’m ready,” he announced.

“I’m with you,” I said.

“Fire at will!” he boomed.

“Now!” I answered.

The turbulence experienced by the passengers was nothing compared to the buffeting we gave each other. Hard muscles slammed into each other, smacking loud enough to match the lightning striking the wings of the craft.

To this day, I do not know whether his squeezing sphincter triggered my explosion or the pulse of my ejaculations pushed the master firing button deep in his ass.

All I know is that I my fuel injector spurted into his turbine and his ignited rocket squirted its load repeatedly. The débris from his weapon dripped down the mirror into the sink.

“Thank you,” he said.

“The pleasure was all mine,” I said.

“Well,” he said, “not entirely.”

I lay on top of him, with my semi still up his ass, and we talked about how much we had been regretting going home so soon. “Until now,” we said in unison. I had been absently rubbing his chest when I brushed a hard nipple. He shuddered. I looked down and saw his spent shell apparently reloading itself.

“Oh, no,” he cried, aghast. “The swelling has returned.”

My dick responded to his wriggling hips. “It seems to be contagious,” I said.

“I can’t believe that I have given it to you,” he said sadly.

“Not yet, you haven’t,” I corrected, and retreated to remove the condom. “We’ll have to quarantine ourselves in here until the plane lands.”

“What will we do for so many hours? Do you have a board-game or a deck of cards, perhaps?”

“I have a better idea,” I said. “It’s no long-term cure, but I think we can give each other the treatments. We’ll alternate.”

“And when we get back to the city?” he asked.

“I’d like to continue these treatments for a very long time.” The swelling was certainly returning, feeling even firmer than before, if that is possible.

“Will we go to my place or yours?” he asked.

I considered, then said, “Definitely my place first.” He gave me a quizzical look. “My bathroom is very small,” I said.

We laughed and kissed and laughed some more. Then we exchanged places and reached for another condom.

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