Gay Erotic Stories

I spent the day thinking about the sexual episode that I had had with Chris the night before. I had slept little. I could do nothing but think about it. There was no clear pattern as to just exactly what I was thinking; it all merged into a stream of flowing thoughts that included the awareness that this was likely something that we simply should not have done! It was an action that was troubling Chris traumatically; it was something that I had promised myself would never happen on home turf; yet it was literally in my back yard, if not on my doorstep! I wondered if this really was a virgin event for Chris. He had kept repeating he had never done anything like this, and his guilt and remorse were definitely real: there was no phoniness to his words or actions. I could tell that he was sincere. I was almost numb, and when my colleagues commented on my zombie-like state, I just sort of grumbled and growled and they left me alone with my thoughts. I relived the event of the prior night all day long: Was it real? Yes it was. Last night I had received one of the great surprises of my life, a fucking fantastic blowjob from my friend and neighbor, Chris. It was totally unexpected and an encounter that might just have been an accident of our testosterone running high. Just the conscious imagery of it made me backtrack mentally to do a reality check that maybe it had not happened at all. But it had. And at the conclusion of it, Chris had gone a bit volcanic with guilt and remorse, and I had no chance to calm him, really, since the wives had returned home just about the time that I had pulled my pants up over my wet dick. The gals were cheery and I kept up a conversational train, but Chris was noticeably silent. When his wife asked what was wrong with him, he passed it off as being very tired, so my wife and I left after just a quick drink. The pleading look in his eyes as we said our good-byes at the front door tugged at my heart, then and now, as I pictured his face. My cock had been up and down so often all day that it was like a yo-yo! And Chris had kept saying that he had never done anything like this. Was it more traumatic for him or for me? By mid-morning, I had called Chris’s office and talked to his nurse. She had been told by the doctor to expect my call. She hoped that 5:30 would fit my schedule? It did. I wondered what the hell was I going to say or do when we met, and more importantly, what was he going to say? I finally just gave up trying to anticipate the conversation. I arrived at his office a few minutes early, but I was ushered right in. His nurse settled me in to his private office and we traded a few naughty jokes. When she asked me what the nature of my visit was, she almost caught me with nothing to say! But, thinking quickly, I told her that I just wanted to have some conversation with Chris, just a consultation. Satisfied with that, she told me that Chris would be in shortly. I could hear Chris talking with her just outside the door, and could hear that she was protesting his instruction for her to go home for the day. But he persisted, and she finally relented and I could hear the door as she departed. Chris literally swept into the room (reminding me of Loretta Young), obviously nervous and stressed. He was quick to tell me that everyone was now gone, and when I started to say something, he quickly quieted me, and said that he needed to talk, and hoped that I would listen. I was wanting very much to assure him that he did not need to be as stressed at all in any way, but it was clear that I was going to have to listen to him first. Chris turned out the overhead light, leaving just a small desk lamp dimly burning, saying that he thought that what he needed to say could best be delivered without the harsh fluorescent glare. He started with a long rambling apology for his actions, telling me how sorry he was for what had occurred, and that he could not explain or rationalize anything other than it was simply a singular, one-time occurrence of a physical event compelled by some aberration in his make-up. He iterated that he had never done anything like that ever before, and he droned on and on, as though I was listening as intently and as intensely as he was talking, but I wasn’t. It seemed that the more that Chris talked, the more that me and my cock were wanting to repeat the event from last night, and his wanting to deny the actions and events were not synchronizing with my hormones, which were beginning to pick up speed as they raced through my veins. Chris was not making eye contact at all in the nearly dark room, and some of his apologies and commentary were actually delivered with his back to me. He was not seeing that my cock was growing and was causing a bulge that I wanted him to notice, dammit! He turned to face me, and pronounced that he had just one last statement to make, a question for me, “My last question on this topic ever,” and he was oh-so-very serious! In essence, would it be possible for me to please forgive his misbehavior and to forget as much of this entire regrettable episode as I could so that our friendship and neighborly interactions could go on just as they had been before he had lost his head, and could I also forgive him for his actions? Or words to the effect. He was contrite and repentant and would just do anything to have that event behind him. Then he paused and said that he would like to hear my thoughts in response, since he did not believe that he could say any more. I waited for a long time, and the silence was pretty deafening as the phrase goes, but it was not an intentional act. Frankly, I was just looking at him, admiring his handsomeness and wanting to be naked with him. Chris finally asked me if I were going to speak or was there just too much venom, hatred, and animosity for me to say anything? He asked if I just wanted to leave? I spoke. “Chris, work with me on this, will you? Put yourself in my shoes; put yourself in my situation, Chris. I had just gotten gored by a 2 x 4 and you had asked me to pull my trousers down, right?” Chris began the apologies again, and said that he had never intended anything to happen, he was almost babbling. I was now standing just a foot or so from him. He stood up to face me, frightened, obviously not knowing what I intended to do next. I approached him, and I knew that he was fearful that I might be physical with him, probably by hitting him. Yes, I was planning to be physical with him! I put my left arm around him and pulled him close to me as he tensed his body and reacted as though he thought I might have intentions of hurting him. My right hand, however, went directly to his crotch, where I began stroking the basket full of his privates. I did not try to kiss him, but I did bury my head in his shoulder, and I held him firm and tight as I caressed his crotch with my hand. It did not take long before there was a strong reaction from Chris, his dick was growing very hard and he was breathing heavily and moaning, “Oh Man, Oh Man!” over and over again! Just as he had struggled to get my briefs off the night before, I now did the same to him, unzipping him, then unbuckling his belt and pushing and pulling it all away so that I had access to his crotch. His dick sprung free, and we were in the tightest clench of passion imaginable! It wasn’t easy to get free from his arms to go to my knees but he finally relinquished his hold when he realized what I was doing and where I was going. I licked his balls to start, while all the time Chris was moaning and saying, “I do not believe this! Oh man, I cannot believe this…” and when I finally got my mouth over his steel-hard prick, he released his load within microseconds of my sucking his cock. I do not think that I had ever been with anyone that delivered his load with such a powerful need to release! Chris was moaning and whimpering with pleasure in the afterglow, and I was unzipping and guiding his hand, fumbling with my Jockeys, to let him get to my own blue steel hard-on. I had every intention of having Chris do me with a repeat of last night’s event, and more. However, the repeat was not to be, cut short by the sound of the door, and a voice calling, “Chris, Chris? Are you here?” In record time, Chris was buckled up and presentable, and he swept out of the room to talk with his wife, Marilyn. My dick was wilting as I heard her say that she was just driving by and saw both our cars and thought that we might have been “partying”. Chris assured her that there was no “partying”, just a professional visit. I emerged and greeted Marilyn as though this was just as normal as could be. We all headed out at the same time, chatting, with Chris locking the door as we exited. Marilyn headed to her car, and Chris followed me to mine. Whispering, he told me how relieved he was, and how incredible all of this was, speaking very rapidly. I tried to downplay it completely for some reason by simply smiling and saying nothing at all. Chris was obviously ecstatic and was visibly excited. He put his hand on my hand and squeezed it, and pushed it against his crotch, which had that recognizable firmness again. “Please, we have to talk about this, please! Don’t just act like nothing has happened! Hey man, I think I am going to go crazy if we can’t talk about all of this! I have to talk to you about what is happening!” “Call me tomorrow,” I said, just as Marilyn pulled alongside to see what was keeping us. With a wave, I drove off. For the second time, Marilyn had caused a coitus interruptus to our experiments, and I smiled about that on my drive home. She would have no way of knowing what was going on with us two Suburban Daddies! I vowed that the next time, there would be no interruption! And then I asked myself for the millionth time: Is this really happening? If interested in this real event, let me know; I can continue if anyone is reading this!