Gay Erotic Stories

It's one of those things that, in retrospect, should have been as plain as the nose on my face. If I would have been on TV, people would have been screaming at me for being so stupid. So...sue me for being stupid. I didn't believe it could be real, even when I made the connection. I figure it started some time around the time when my friend Eric and I played racquetball while his girlfriend was visiting her folks. She'd been gone for a couple weeks (they live across the country, so she was taking a month for a long overdue visit), and so he'd only had "Mr. Hand" for company. And he grumbled about it openly while I commiserated. God knows, I'd been going through a dry spell myself. Eric and I had been friend since high school, when I was a skinny, bookish nerd struggling with his sexuality and he was a dark-haired prince with a naturally toned body and sex appeal that had everybody running...even the teachers noticed. Somehow, we became friends. I didn't complain, because I just thought he was plain gorgeous and it gave me the added benefit of being popular. Somehow, if I was Eric's friend, then I was OK. Anyway, I helped him get through university entrance math, and he taught me self-confidence and introduce me to the gym. Twelve years later, he was a buff cop with a criminology degree and I was a fit (not as well-muscled as him, but I get my share of looks) high school English teacher. We managed to stay close together, shared a lot of laughs and a lot of big cries, especially when I was coming out to my folks. Back to the racquetball game. After sweating it out for a solid hour, we mopped our foreheads with our tee-shirts and called it a game. I looked at his barely-concealed physique (it was one of those bodies you could look at a million times and never get bored with), and said, "Shower and a beer?" Between breaths, "Yeah...sounds cool." "Y'know, Eric," I teased, "for all that you have arguably the finest body God has landed on this planet at this time, you're still a shitty racquetball player." He snarled playfully, "Well, it seems you need hand-eye co-ordination a lot more than I do." "What's that supposed to mean?" With a sly grin, he looked up at me "One: I don't slap at balls nearly as much as you do," I groaned, knowing where this was headed, "and two, you've had to go it on your own for how long now?" "Eight months," I muttered, "So tell me, hotshot, with Marla away for two weeks, have you managed to find yours yet?" He just sniffed, aping the "gay attitude" pose that always made Marla and me laugh, as we entered the change room. We grabbed our gym bags from our lockers and then I made a discovery. "Shit." I said, "I left my shower stuff at home," I paused, "Well, you go on ahead and get showered, and I'll wait at the front of the gym. I'll clean up at home." He already had his shirt off...glistening, well-defined square pecs, with those chewable, quarter-size nipples at the bottom outside corners...six-pack abs you could grate cheese with, and biceps that had been cut out of marble. He straightened up from his stuff, "You got beer at home?" I shook my head. "I ain't coming to your place and waiting for you to shower with no beer in the house. We'll pick some up on the way." I protested, "I'm not going into any liquor store looking like I was dragged out of a ditch." He smirked, sliding his sweaty T-shirt back on, "Okay...my place...we'll both shower there, and I got beer." And that's how we both wound up at his place. Sweaty. Getting ready to shower. I mention all this because Eric was one of those guys I had always fantasized about, but he was so completely comfortable with his sexuality that it never occurred to me that he was anything but straight. If he would have been any other straight man, I would have thought that there would be at least some insecurity fueled by a few bisexual urges...and I might have even made a play. But, not Eric. Kind of a "respecting boundaries" thing. So, we got to his apartment, dropped our stuff on the floor, and he headed straight for the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open, a tinny clatter, and out he came with two cold beers. He was taking a long pull when he handed me mine. I shook my head, "Not yet. I need to clean up, I feel like I've been soaking in dishwater." He snorted from behind his beer, "I'll get you some towels." Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, clean, refreshed, and half erect. I was drying myself off when he came in, stark naked, and dropped his towel on the toilet seat. Looking at me with a grin he said, "I hope you weren't batting balls in the shower..." "Ha ha," I replied humorlessly, "Don't tease the fag." By this time, however, I wasn't nearly as cool as I pretended. We'd showered together frequently in the gym, but somehow, that was different. Here we were, in the close confines of his own bathroom, in private. I was sporting a semi...nothing he had never seen before, but I could feel the blood making a run for my dick, and that I didn't want him to see. To make matters worse, I could almost feel the length of his body. The perfect abs led to his crotch, with its tight thatch of black pubic hair and a beautiful, soft, five inch cock. Round quadriceps gave testimony to the power of his legs, and I found myself dying for a look at his bubble butt. He unwittingly obliged when he bent over to turn on the water. The hairy crack of his ass jerked my dick to full attention, and I suddenly spent a lot of time drying my crotch. He pulled the curtain shut, but I could still see the faint outline of his slick five foot ten body as he soaped himself up. My heart was pounding, and I was breathing short, shallow breaths by this time. For the very first time in our relationship, I was fantasizing about him freely in his presence. I didn't want to leave the cramped bathroom, and had an inspiration... "Hey, bud...mind if I shave?" "Go ahead...there are disposable blades behind the mirror. Shaving cream should be right there." I turned to the task of shaving (thank God I didn't shave that morning!), and trying to catch glimpses of him through the shower curtain and foggy mirror. I had tied my towel around my waist, but there was still a visible tent. I was feeling a curious giddy excitement, almost as if I wanted him to see my erection. The shower shut down, the curtain snapped open, and he began to dry off. I was almost done shaving and straightened up, comforted by the fact that the mirror was too foggy for him to see the reflection of the tent in my towel. "Hope you weren't batting..." I began, but he interrupted with a "shaddup" and pretended to snap me with his towel. I turned around and saw that he now had a semi. Fuck! Was it beautiful. Thick at the base and curving in a powerful arch down to a slightly thinner tip with a graceful mushroom head. His balls were drawn up tightly...I ached to see his prong shoot its wad. In mock retaliation, I took a swipe of shaving cream from my chin and reached over to his cock. He tried to back away, but I was too quick. In a moment, there was a white foamy patch on his dick. "Hey!" he said in a half-serious tone. "Ah, relax," I replied, "It's not like it's gonna fall off." Which it didn't...it just continued to harden...slowly straightening, rising. By this time, I'd forgotten that I was really hard underneath my towel. He saw it, and suddenly started drying his crotch again. "Huh...you have been going it alone for a while, haven't you." "Yeah." he said, and just kept drying. No banter, no quick riposte. He was uncomfortable...but now I was so fucking horny, I let my instincts take over. I reached down to his cock while he wasn't looking at me, and grabbed it at its base. God, was it hard! "Carl...no." he said. But he didn't pull away. I gave his dick a strong stroke, from the base to the tip, stopping at the head, and then stroked the head. He gasped and let out a tiny moan. His body quivered. "It's ok, Eric," I said quietly, "we've been friends for years. Let me jerk you off, man. You know it won't mean anything." His dick was completely hard, and I could feel his breath as I moved beside him. My dick was straining against my towel. He was making slow, drying motions on his arms. He didn't say anything, and then I moved my hand to his dick again. "Umm..." I whispered in his ear, "If you don't like how this feels, you can tell me to stop." Then I grabbed his dick again, jacking on it once, twice, three times, slowly, feeling his breath come and go in unison with the rhythm of my stroke. "Uhhh...." he grunted. A sound I'd never heard him make, but it drove me wild. He had closed his eyes, so I reached for his dick again, this time, while I stroked, I reached for his chest with my other hand. It twitched and then his nipples hardened while I stood there jacking him off. I brushed his nipples with the palm of my hand, and he grunted again. "Is this okay, Eric?" I asked, whispering in his ear. As much as I was really getting off on this, I was truly concerned for him...wanting him to enjoy this. He licked his lips, nodded. I brushed my hand across his left nipple, then lightly grabbed and twisted. He moaned. "Fuck, Eric, you are a hot man. Marla's a lucky woman." The mention of her only made him more horny, and his pelvis began to thrust, forcing his dick across my hand. This continued for a couple very quiet minutes. Me caressing his chest, jacking his dick, listening to him moan quietly. Then, when I couldn't stand it any more, I whispered again, "Can I suck your cock, Eric?" He stopped fucking my hand, opened his eyes...I could see that it was a boundary for him, "Just let me try it. If you don't like it, tell me to stop." He turned toward me, and I dropped to my knees. I ran my tongue along his shaft, now a good seven and a half inches in length, and he responded, "Mmmmm..." he was getting into it! I swallowed his dick, feeling the tip at the back of my throat, and he began to fuck my face, the tempo markedly faster and his thrusting more forceful than before. His breath was coming in long, heavy gasps. I tore off my towel, and for the first time, began beating off my own seven inch dick. I looked up, and our eyes locked. He was watching me, and having a great time. I sucked, jacked my dick, with more vigor, and he smiled...with the tip of my tongue, I explored his slit...tasting the precum. With my free hand, I felt the iron of his ass, squeezing it firmly. He just continued to fuck my face. I moved my hand around from his ass to his balls, took them and firmly tightened the sac, increasing the tightness in his dick. "Fuck, Carl...that feels good...don't stop..." "Like that? You gonna cum soon?" He nodded...then I stopped... "Eric...I want you to fuck me." I had a good thing going. In my mind, it could have stopped everything. I counted on him being too far gone to care. I knew, like most straight men, that he wouldn't want to get fucked. But, I hoped that, having been on his own for several weeks, and already fucking my face, that he would let himself go the distance. There was no response. His dick stood as stiff as ever, dripping with precum and my saliva. He breathed heavily...I stood up, gently caressing his pecs, his abs, lightly stroking his dick with my hand. Then, with my other hand, I opened a drawer by the sink...jackpot! Condoms. I ripped open the package, and unrolled the condom onto his dick, stroking his balls as I did it. He merely looked down with a glassy faraway look. I smiled... "You ok?" He looked at me, smiled weakly, and nodded. "I looked around... "Not enough room in here...bedroom?" He nodded...in moments, I'd led him, with his rock hard member sheathed in latex, across the hall to his bed. I lay him on his back...then climbed on top. I lowered myself onto his dick, and then it was my turn to moan. Fuck, he was hot! While I slowly slid up and down on his cock, I jacked myself...He looked at me, then closed his eyes, and breathed heavily. I clamped his cock with my ass, and he responded by arching his back, I could feel him flex, begin a pumping motion which I matched. We sped up, our bodies, now, covered in sweat, and our groans became audible...his dropping to the pitch of a deep growl. "Fuck me, Eric" I commanded, and he complied by pushing his dick as far up my ass as he could. Suddenly, his pumping motion stopped, his back stayed arched, and his face twisted, "Ahhhh..." he shouted...he was cumming! My hand flew across my dick, and it erupted in a pulse of cum that streaked across his chest. His body relaxed momentarily, then spasmed again...another quick shout...and my dick burst again...this time across his face, so that some of my cum went into his mouth. he didn't even notice, and for a good ten seconds, we twitched and came in unison, ropy strands of my semen flying over his body, until I collapsed across his chest coating myself and smearing him in my cum. I heard him smack his lips and say, "So that's what you guys take for vitamin supplements!" So...that would be hot enough if the story ended there. But it doesn't, because the next day was when I noticed something weird. Eric didn't stress out about the whole incident. In fact, he was glad for it, saying it made him feel like he had explored something new. I also knew that Marla would still be coming home to a very hot straight man. And that was fine. But, the next morning, I woke up to hear the door buzzer. It was Eric! Not that unusual. I made him coffee and we made small talk...then, in his characteristic frankness, he said, "Carl...I know this sounds weird, but I liked the taste of your cum." (to be continued)