Gay Erotic Stories

The summer I turned 20 I had a few weeks off between the time my old job ended and before my new job started. For once I had both time and money, and I intended to use both wisely: riding my motorcycle and, most important, having sex! To my dismay, I found out immediately that all my usual fuck buddies were preoccupied with work or school. And all my usual cruising spots were empty during the week. I began solving my physical frustration with marathon masturbation sessions: 30 minutes or longer, 4, 5 or even 6 times a day. It was during this time that I set my personal best of 12 lopes in one 24-hour period. But the more I jacked, the hornier I got. And worse, the endless physical need between my legs was now met by a growing mental need for connection and contact with another man. I didn't just need sex: I craved it. And yet, every one of my known outlets was unavailable to me, and I was too naive and inexperienced to know how to go about finding new ones. One day in desperation I hopped on my motorcycle and rode across the bridge to Sausalito. I theorized that I might perhaps meet a tourist or a local man. Instead of proceeding straight into town, I drove through the Presidio -- the abandoned military base now turned into a national park: beautiful winding roads, shaded by tall stands of eucalyptus. As I came around one bend, a steel blue BMW 320i came the other way. As I flashed past, I got a momentary glimpse of a blond guy driving. I was wearing a full face helmet, so all he would have seen of me was an equally momentary glimpse of my dark brown eyes. I continued into town without giving it a thought, and after 30 minutes gave up in frustration: mid-week, mid-afternoon the town was deserted and I saw no one who looked even slightly approachable. In frustration, I began the long journey home to what would be another episode with my right fist in my apartment. For some reason, I decided to retrace my path through the Presidio, and I then decided to stop to smoke a joint at a small vista point. I coasted to a stop and parked the bike and leaned against the saddle. I fired up and smoked, staring moodily at the picture-perfect view. As the smoke eased into my mind, I relaxed a bit and felt maybe a touch less on edge. Then, I felt a prickling in the back of my neck: the odd sensation that someone was watching me. No car had passed, and there were no hikers or bike riders in sight. I was ready to chalk it up to stoner paranoia, but I turned around. Of course there was nobody behind me, but at the top of my field of vision I detected a flicker of motion. I looked up -- way up -- to the top of the hill behind me. High above me, silhouetted by the afternoon sun, was a man waving -- apparently at me. Between the sun and the distance I couldn't see who he was, what he looked like, or even what he was wearing; just a dark figure waving. So not knowing what else to do, I waved back. Then he made a slow, exaggerated and very broad 'come here' gesture, and then pointed to his right. I pointed in the same direction and he waved eagerly. I got on the bike and pointed again, and he waved some more. Even I can get the picture, so I started the motor and headed up the road. The mounting curiosity in my mind matched the mounting erection in my briefs as I rode along slowly. I went around a few bends and then came to a big turnout area. I pulled off into it and looked toward the back and spotted a small access road, overgrown with weeds. I was amazed: I'd been past this spot hundreds of times in my life and never noticed it. As I coasted closer, I noticed the weeds had recently been pushed down as if by tires. I rode carefully forward, and up the hill on a heavily rutted and little-used road. At the top was the blue BMW, parked and empty. I parked my bike and took off my helmet and jacket. Before me was what looked like an abandoned military installation: a mixture of empty and ruined buildings, all fenced off and with a locked gate and No Trespassing signs. I walked around the corner and found the exact spot where the mystery man had stood. I gazed down at the spot far below where I had just been, and got dizzy. So I turned around and examined the fence, and quickly found a place where the chain link had been cut and I could easily pass through. I walked a short way and found myself in what was a quadrangle between several buildings. I heard footsteps and he walked around the corner. He was in his mid-to-late 20s, about 5'11", maybe 170 pounds or so. Very good looking, but not in an Adonis sort of way. He was stark naked, wearing nothing but a pair of sandals, and carrying a thin pair of running shorts bunched up in his hand. He was surprisingly hairy for a blond guy, with a nice blondish-brown crop across his chest, narrowing to a treasure trail of curly fur on his belly, then flaring out again on his crotch and down his legs. He walked up to me and said hi. I could smell pot and realized he must be as stoned as I was. The buzz made me key in on things like looking at his penis dangling between his hairy legs, and seeing one long continuous strand of pre-cum running out of his cock and dangling between his legs until the end had attached itself to a furry kneecap. It reminded me of a single strand of a spider web, glistening in the afternoon sun. Come with me he said, simply, and he turned and I followed him. No hair on his back or shoulders, but a patch of the same blond-brown fur on the base of his back, covering his ass cheeks, and then turning blond again on the backs of his legs. It was then that I noticed he had no tan line at all, and was one unbroken even shade of brown. We walked into a roofless ruined building. In one corner, facing the afternoon sun, he had laid out a blanket, a towel and his backpack. The perfect spot: secluded, totally private, protected from the wind, and open to the afternoon sun. The whitewashed walls made the glare intense, but turned it into an awesome outdoor tanning booth. In a haze of excitement at this bizarre situation, I could only say the first thing that came into my head, which was, "You must come here often." What a dumbshit thing to say, I thought, can't you do better than that! But he grinned and said, "Yeah, in both senses of the word!" He sat down and pulled his knees up, his penis dangling between them, and his bulky testicles sitting on the ground. I got out of my clothes faster than I ever have in my life! I was physically a lot like him, though a little shorter and with brown hair. He grinned as I took off my jockey shorts and my erect cock snapped up in the air. He lay down on his side and his cock flopped over his leg. Again, the buzz made me key in on it, and I watched in fascination as each beat of his heart made it throb, and each throb made it get bigger and longer, until it was rigid and reddened, pointing like an arrow up his belly almost to his navel. I lay down next to him and it began. Without a word spoken, we both knew we were incredibly sexed up both physically and mentally, and that we would have to make it last as long as possible, even though it wouldn't be nearly long enough. We eagerly, passionately, almost frantically, began using our hands and mouths and cocks and bodies in an endless variety of ways, changing positions and activities every 15 or 20 seconds, never sticking to anything too long. The pre-cum slid out of both of us, coating our hands with its greasiness, and leaving streaks on our hairy legs and bellies and arms. No words as we grunted and groaned, an occasional gasp or intake of breath as one of us hit pay dirt on the other. We rolled over each other and stood up and crouched down and tugged and pushed and licked and pulled and clambered all over each other. It must only have been 10 or 15 minutes at the most when we could stand it no longer; we were both just too horny. The end came simultaneously, with us on our hands and knees beside each other in opposite directions, jacking each other off like dogs. Our semen shot out in massive squirts all over our hands and the ground beneath us. We fell back, gasping and laughing. When we caught our breath we talked for a while, our red penises dangling and still leaking between our legs. The sun eventually dipped below the roofline and it cooled quickly. I realized I would need to get going if only to get home by dark. We dressed and walked out together, and hugged goodbye, and I slowly followed his car down the steep hill back to the main road. I have never had any time in my life for regret or recrimination and I always look forward not back. But I must say to this day I am sorry I didn't exchange numbers with him. It would have been awesome to experience some more extensive time with him. Over the next week before my new job started, I went back almost every day but he was never there. The next chance I got to go over there, the road had been blocked with a new locked gate. But I learned an important lesson that day: guys are always horny, and the most exciting and powerful experiences can happen suddenly and unexpectedly, and in the most unusual places. Just keep your antennae up, and it'll come to you.