Gay Erotic Stories

This is a totally true event, described as closely as memory permits. Chris was my neighbor, our back yards actually touched at an angle of the cul-de-sac subdivision where we each lived with our wives and family. We were both family men with kids, he was a doctor with four small children and I was a rising executive for a large corporation with three young sons. Over a period of several years, Chris and I became good friends, in that way that you develop and have a good neighborhood friend. We borrowed tools from each other, went to the same neighborhood parties, did the manly gossip of sports and politics, and occasionally would drink some beers together. Our wives were buddies and shopped together, baby-sat for each other, and spent a lot of time together at various of the typical suburban housewife functions. Chris and I rarely spent time together without there being kids or wives around as well. We were just your typical suburban husbands. Chris was ever busy with his growing practice with lots of his time at the hospital, and I did a lot of travel around the country. I was the ever-faithful hubby at home, and would never have gotten my pants off in any situation, a great believer that you “never do it on your own doorstep”. When I was out of town, however, I enjoyed being a bit of the bad boy when I had the chance to meet and play, and it was seldom with another female! I had experienced the thrill of having sex with the boys in high school and with the men in college, and knew that I was hooked and addicted, but I also knew that my marriage and family meant that I could not reveal the feelings and desires that I had for male sex. I was totally straight arrow on home turf, and I knew that no one could ever have had any suspicion to the contrary. Chris, my buddy, was even a straighter arrow than I was! He was the most hetero stud ever! I knew him well enough to know that he had the full All-American red-blooded sex drive of the typical highly sexed suburban male. He was happily married; he had four children that were the result of a healthy and active marital bed. He only ever referenced extra-marital activity in the macho and manly sense of lusty commentary of the female form wherever there might be the occasion to make a raw comment. Chris was totally straight. I never thought of him in any other way, ever, and he never gave me any reason to think otherwise. Why would I? We were both just your suburban husbands, totally straight arrows. One wintry evening, our wives had gone Christmas shopping, and I had been consigned by my wife to go help Chris with a woodworking project that he had going in his basement workshop. He was making bunk beds for two of the boys, and it was well known that I was far handier with the wood and the tools than was Chris who could handle a stethoscope far better than a hammer! I was very willing to lend a hand, and Chris was already in the basement when I arrived. I readily took over the project, and started providing assignments for him to do, when a slight accident happened. Chris was moving some of the two-by-four lumber to get it into position, and inadvertently, one of the timbers rammed me right in the groin, the inner thigh. I let out a yelp and a moan and an angry epithet, and Chris was immediately upset and concerned and apologetic for his clumsiness. My Levi’s had been slightly torn, and the skin underneath was visible and oozing some slight blood. Chris quickly slipped into the doctoral role, and very quickly took over, ordering me to drop my trousers while he went to get some first aid material. When he returned, I had my jeans down to my knees, and was huddling over to assess the damage, which I had inspected already and knew to be merely a skin abrasion. Chris did a thorough clean of the wounded area, down on his knees, as I leaned backward over his workbench under the glare of the hanging shop light, so that he could see better. He assured me that it was merely a minor scrape, and that it would heal quickly, and there would be no scar to distract from my bikini line! We were both laughing by now, with no concern over the minor mishap. Chris began to apply a soothing cream on the bruised area, as he told me that it was also beginning to swell a bit. And that was not all that was beginning to swell a bit, but I was trying to ignore the fact that my cock was slowly but firmly erecting! I was giving all of my mental will-power to make it go down, but my mental willing was not making that happen! Chris had to notice it, Hell, his eyes were right at cock level! He kept right on with the rubbing of the cream on the abrasion, and I somehow knew that he was intensely interested in watching my bulge grow. Inevitably, he made the comment that it seemed that there was some more swelling going on and we both knew exactly what he meant! Slightly titillated with the racy thought of his comment, I replied with a laugh that he could put the cream on any swelling that he could see from his vantage view. I knew full well that Chris was just making the locker room man-to-man comment, since I also knew that he would never rub my cock with cream! But I was sort of jolted into surprise and amazement when I heard Chris respond in more of a raspy whisper than a full voice, “Oh yea, Man, I will, I want to do that!” The air was suddenly sexually electric as my mind quickly assessed his whispered comment, and my cock was responding tremendously to even this slightest bit of suggestion of a physical touch. The bulge in my jockeys was reaching the point where they were going to have to come off or the dick was going to have to come out! Chris was right there at eye level, watching it grow, and I was virtually paralyzed from doing anything other than watch Chris as he watched my growing bulge. Without any words, he slowly worked his fingers up inside the leg of the jockeys, and his fingers did a glide over the balls, right to the shaft of my cock. He got a good firm grip of the shaft inside the jockeys with his right hand, and was frantically tugging them down with his left hand. His eyes had been focused only on my crotch until the moment that my cock was freed, and only then did he look upward with a deep look of lust and longing, with eyes that were nearly moist, as he whispered, “Are you OK with this?” I was breathing so heavily that I could only whisper back to him, “Oh yea, oh yea, oh yea, oh yea”, or something equally as unintelligible! He was stroking me, worshipping my cock, which was throbbing and oozing with his ministrations. I was so hot with the scene that I could hardly breathe. I was truly gasping for air as he silently played with my dick and my balls, tenderly yet firmly with a manly purpose of knowing exactly what he was doing. Moments later, he looked up at me again, and with another hoarse whisper as he looked deeply into my eyes, he asked “Are you sure you want me to do this?”. Though I was not exactly sure of what he wanted me to approve, I was never more sure of anything in my life, it seemed that whatever he wanted was OK with me! My whispers back to him were the sexual begging of wanting him to do whatever he wanted, “Oh yea, do me Chris, do me, do me.” With that encouragement, he leaned forward and licked my cockhead just once before he let his lips slip over the head to take in the inches oh-so-very-slowly until he had engulfed it all, his nose in my pubic hair. He just rested there with my cock buried in his mouth and throat and he did not move for what seemed to be an eternity! Then he began to suck, and to slowly move his mouth with the instinctive thrusting of my dick and he performed a blow job that I would have bet a load of cold hard cash that this man would never know how to do such a thing! He brought me to the brink of release while I begged for him to slow it down, with my hands on his head pushing him back, but he just shook his head negatively, with his eyes shut, and I blew my load with at least ten more spurts than my usual seven thrusts! Hungrily, he took all he could, with some of my load escaping and drooling down his chin, as he pulled off of me. Not a word was said. I was in a heavy breathing and still in a speechless mode of recovery, nearly paralyzed with the realization that this had just happened with Chris! He had now quickly come out of the spell of sexual excitement completely, and was saying a jumble of things all with great emotion; saying that he did not know what had come over him, that he was sorry, and to please forgive him. He was full of guilt, and embarrassment, and remorse, and some other undefined emotions that were causing him to nearly cry as he tried to talk to me without looking me in the eye, and physically shaking with his trauma of the moment. His voice was nearly a sob, as he rambled about his guilt. Finally, I was able to subdue him enough to take him by the shoulders and say, “Chris, listen to me! You did nothing that I did not want you to do!” He seemed to lose some of his tenseness, as I continued “Chris, calm down and let’s talk about this” but there was no chance to talk since suddenly there was the voice of his wife at the top of the stairs yelling down to us that she was home and did we want something to drink upstairs with her, and my wife? With a solemn sadness in his face and a deep begging within his eyes, Chris said to me, “I know you must hate me but if you can tolerate me, will you come to my office tomorrow to talk about this with me, please, please say you will!?” I quickly agreed “Sure”, and we headed upstairs to see the wives. Yes, there is more if there is any interest in doing the next Chapter. mistered53@hotmail.com