Gay Erotic Stories

It was called the Serpent's Tooth and was a newly opened after hours club. As usual when any new Gay bar or club opened up, it was much talked about. What made the Serpent's Tooth such an object of discussion was that you couldn't just walk in off the street. When I asked if that meant a heavy cover charge, I was told, no. There was no cover that anyone knew about. Admission was free but only after you followed a strictly kept set of five rules. First, you had to be a man. No women were allowed. Secondly, you had to be Gay and between the ages of 21 and 35. Third, you had to be well-built and good looking, at least in the opinion of the guy at the door. Fourth, you had to be dressed entirely in black. Finally, you had to be stripped to the waist. The rules or code or whatever you wanted to call it, put more than a few noses out of joint. I heard a lot of guys say that if that's the way whoever ran the bar was going to be, they could just take their club and shove it. They wouldn't be caught dead in the place. As I discovered, these were also the same guys who'd tried to get in and been turned away more than once in a couple of cases. I made a mental note that one day I'd have to check the place out. As far as I could think, I fit the criteria to get in. I was 22 and a Gay man. As to being good looking, well, I was 6', blond with jade green eyes. I looked like Brad Pitt, his mirror image people said. I guess they were right, except where he was on the skinny side, regular workouts had given me a solid, very well defined physique, with great pecs, wash-board abs, and well-cut thighs. With all due modesty, I could and did turn heads. A couple of months went by. Summer drifted into fall. The Tooth continued to cause talk. One of the more outrageous rumors started in mid-October, at least that's when I first heard it. That was that the Tooth was, in reality, not a club at all. On the contrary, it was a coven of vampires, Gay vampires, who fed themselves of the blood of young men who, after being bitten, became members of the "living dead." That peaked my interest, at least enough to listen. I'd always had an interest in vampires. Why, I couldn't say, but I was. I enjoyed reading stories about them and I went to see all the movies, like "Interview With The Vampire," a decided favorite of mine. I'd seen it five times. The scene where Tom Cruise tops Brad Pitt to sink his fangs into Pitt's bared and yielding neck was, I thought, one of the hottest scenes on film. Of all the Gay bars in the city, the one I liked the best was a place called Pebbles. It was a pleasant place. As far as I was concerned, a cut above the others of its kind. It was small. The lighting was good. The music was kept low enough to be able to talk and be heard. The bartenders were friendly and easy on the eyes and every so often the owner would buy everyone a drink. I liked walk the couple of blocks from my apartment, grab a stool, order a beer and sit and talk with the other regulars. In the second week in October, the owner hired a new bartender, a guy named John. He was darkly handsome with a good, solid build to him. Since he'd told me he was new in town, I asked him if he'd heard the rumor about vampires and the Serpent's Tooth and what he thought of that. "Yeah, I've heard that," he answered. "Fascinating, huh?" "Yeah, I guess. Still, vampires in a Gay bar in the middle of a city?" I questioned. "There's nothing in the legends that say vampires can't be urbanites," John coun-tered. "And what says vampires have to be all hets? Take Rice's Lestat." He paused, glancing down the bar to see if anyone needed another drink. No one did. "I mean, if I had a chance to sink my teeth into Brad Pitt's neck-Oh, baby!" "Or anyplace else on his body." "Oh yeah." John's eyes seemed to glow. He extended an arm to run an index fin-ger down one side of my neck. "Me? I'd go for his thighs. Sink my teeth into one of those. Uhmmmm Can you imagine it, huh? Some young hung, naked spread-eagled, drinking his blood from the vein crushed against his skin my his thigh muscles. Oh, yeah!" The thing is, I could imagine it. I could imagine a scene like that easily and it was one hell of a turn on. "You sound like you've got some vampire in you," I said. In reply, he only chuckled and sauntered off down the bar to get someone a beer. As he did, I looked at the clock. It was getting late. Tomorrow was Saturday, but I had things to do, errands to run, and I had to go. I downed the last of my beer and got up and started to leave. "Careful going home," John called after me in a teasing tone. "If you hear the flap of wings behind you, duck." "No, I'll look first. If the thing looks like Tom Cruise, I'll give in. He can sink his fangs into me anytime." "Uhmm, I'll have to remember that." Throughout the next day, I kept thinking about The Tooth. Finally, towards eve-ning, I decided that it was high time I go there and see for myself what was going on. I wore black, skin-tight jeans, a form-fitting, short sleeve shirt to hug my biceps. I left the top two buttons open, enough to show some cleavage. In front of a full length mirror, I struck a pose, hands on my hips, legs slightly spread. Yeah, I looked good, enough to eat, I thought. There was a stirring in my loins. From my window, I could see fog beginning to roll in, veiling the city in a ghostly haze. Three floors beneath me a dark figure crossed the street and disappeared into the gloom. A car went by and then another. There were no more. From a pack on my dresser, I took a cigarette and lit it. I don't usually smoke, but tonight the menthol-laden smoke felt good in my throat and lungs. It calmed me, though what I was nervous about, I could not say. As I stood there, the fog seemed to thicken. The hush was so deep I could almost hear the blood pumping hotly in my veins. If there were vampires about, I thought, this would be the night for them. But there were no vampires. They were the stuff of myths and legends. I knew that. I stuffed the cigarette pack and lighter in my black leather jacket pocket and left. The Serpent's Tooth was located in the basement of an old building about tree blocks up from center city. The entrance to the bar was off a parking lot in the back, through a dim lit door on which was a snake, coiled, head up, mouth open with its fangs ready to strike. Except for a small, naked light bulb burning over-head, that was all. No sign whatever and no neon lights as was usual for bars. Inside was a small vestibule, all black, illumined only by the glow of two red lights. Usually when you go into a bar, there is music. Here, however, there was only si-lence. Beneath one of the lights stood someone dressed like a Medieval monk in a floor-length black robe and pointed hood. When he spoke, his voice was deep, but not un-pleasant to the ear. "We have a rule here," he said. "No shirts or jackets worn in the bar." It was only then that I noticed the pegs on the wall behind him from which de-pended jackets and shirts. No problem. I stripped to the waist. "You may enter," the guy said. I left, going down the dark, narrow stairs into the cavernous bar. Like the vestibule and stairwell, the bar itself was all in black to which the red lighting imparted strange, fiery glow like a coal mine burning with a hellish heat. It was quite, a stillness broken by the eerie sound of a flute playing softly in the back-ground. Though it was after eleven, the bar wasn't crowded. The center of the large room was empty. What patrons there were stood along the walls. In the dim red glow, it was hard to see them. They were more like presence's than human, like silent senti-nels watching my every move. So far as I could tell, all of them were men, all as I was, wearing black pants and stripped to the waist. At the far end of the room, there was a bar. No one stood there, no one sat on any of the black stools. The lone bartender didn't look old enough to be in a bar, let alone be a bartender. His was a feline beauty, a boyishly attractive guy with dark hair, large, luminous eyes, lusciously full lips and a smooth torso that tapered to a narrow waist. I noticed that he, too, had a tattoo exactly like the one the doorkeeper had. I ordered a tap beer. As he went to get it, I saw he was wearing tight-fitting black shorts. He had a clas-sic little butt on him, the kind I liked to push my face into and eat out. His legs were equally great looking, smooth, wiry with muscle, really nice cuts. I could easily imagine sucking on his toes before working my way up to nibble on his thighs, his sensitive inner thighs. Hear him moan with pleasure as I moved to suck on his balls. "Here you are, Brad," he said through a knowing, sensuous smile as he put the glass into my hand. His voice was clear, very easy on the ear. Brad isn't my name, but I didn't correct him. As John, among others, said, I was a dead ringer for Brad Pitt, at least as far as my face and hair color went. In calling me Brad, the bartender, I thought, was just trying to pay me a compliment. Since he had no other customers I asked him his name. "Johan," he answered. He leaned, forward with his elbows on the bar. I took a swallow of my beer and glanced around. "Is it always like this? I mean it's Saturday night. Where is everyone?" "Down in the pit," he answered. "What's that? A private club or something?" "Or something," he replied. He shifted position and reached out a hand and laid it on my left pec. A strange, but not uncomfortable, tingling radiated out over my chest. The tingling ceased when he took his hand away. "You work out regularly." He squeezed my left bicep. The tingling returned, stronger this time and warm. "Yeah, yeah, I do." He took his hand away and, as before, the tingling stopped. "I get off in five minutes," he said. "There's a whole downstairs area I could show you." "The pit?" "Yes." I accepted his invitation. To me a downstairs area, regardless of what it was called, meant a place to go and have sex, lots of sex, hot sex. And Christ, I wanted that. I was unbelievably horny. I wanted Johan to fuck me, fuck my face, fuck my ass. I needed him to split me apart, to drive his cock up into me, ravish me, rape me if that was his fantasy. The thing was I didn't care what he did with me or how he did it, just as lone as he took me. If he'd told me to strip and taken me right over the bar, I wouldn't have protested, not in the least. I hadn't been a virgin in nearly 10 years, not since one of my teachers took me. His name was Mr. Ramerez. He was young, darkly handsome and well-built, a really gorgeous hunk of man. I was failing his class. One afternoon after school, I went to him to see what I could do about getting a passing grade. Everyone was gone. I remember that. I remember, too, that I was frightened of the way he always starred at me with those deep, dark eyes of his. When I asked him if there was any way I could improve my grade, he told me there was and began playing with the buckle of my belt with the fingers of one hand. All the while, he kept looking deeply into my eyes. His gaze was hypnotic, like a snake might have and so goddamn hot that I could feel my balls begin to churn. I dropped my pants. For a couple of seconds, he groped me through my briefs until I shoved them down around my ankles. I wasn't embarrassed being bare assed in front of him. I wanted him to see me na-ked. I wanted him to take me, dip into me, do with me anything he wanted to do. "Nice thighs," he said, looking down at me. "Nice, rounded, silky thighs." He got down on his haunches and placed his hands on my legs. "You're a virgin, I'll bet." His deep voice was soft, like a cross between a purr and a hiss. "Yeah." "That won't last much longer." "Okay, good. It's time I got fucked." He stood, turned me and pushed me over against the desk and screwed me, thrusting his powerful cock deep into my poor, innocent hole. I know that some people would say I'd been molested, but I didn't think of it that way at all. The fact is that I'd enjoyed the experience, enjoyed it so much that I'd gone back for more, a lot of times, but never again in the school, though. Sometimes we'd have sex in his car on a lonely stretch of road. Other times he'd take me in his house. Once, when he had a couple of friends visiting from out of town, they all three had me. After that session, I didn't think I'd walk for a week. In high school, I continued getting a steady diet of sex. Not to be vain about it, but I looked pretty good from the start. A blond angel someone had called me, begging to be violated. When I started working out, I looked even better and a lot of guys wanted a piece of me. If a guy turned me on, I'd go with him, let him do what he wanted with me. My parents? Shit, what'd they know. They weren't home much. Even when they were, it was easy enough for me to slip out of the house and spend the night hours cruising the streets. In college, my roommate, Brian-Gay as I was myself-told me I was a sex addict and probably a natural born whore. I guess maybe he was right, but so what? I liked sex. I always had liked it. Besides, he didn't seem to be concerned about that on the nights when he'd come to my bed, slip my briefs down and bang me. I en-joyed it. He did too. So, the point is that I had a healthy sex drive. To put it another way, I was horny all the time. But I can honestly say that I'd never been as horny, never had I felt such urgency boiling in my loins, than I did now. It was like my blood had turned into fire coursing in my veins and had set every nerve in my body to glowing. The five minutes passed quickly enough, I guess, but they seemed to go so slow at the time. I was just praying that no one would come over and order a drink (no one did) and that his replacement would be on time (he was). Johan came from behind the bar. "C'mon," he said. "We'll go downstairs now." At the other end of the bar, there was a narrow door that gave into a corridor. Like everything else in the bar I'd seen, it was all black, illumined only by small red lights set at intervals along the walls. Here, for the first time, I noticed a chill, the damp kind of clammy cold that comes from a river at night. Johan put an arm around my waist. "It won't be long now," he said. The strange tingling that I'd felt before when he touched me, returned, radiating out over my loins and down my thighs. It was warm. I didn't feel the dampness anymore. At the end of the corridor, there was an elevator, its single black door illumined by a red light. As we approached, the door slid back. As with everything else in the bar, the interior was black and bathed in the blood-red light. We entered, the door slid shut and the light went out. Johan pushed me back against the elevator wall. I couldn't see anything. It was pitch black, but I could feel him grope me, pushing down hard against my thick, hard cock. I let out a soft groan as I felt him begin to undo my pants. He kissed me, plunging his tongue into my mouth. He was pushing my pants down, stripping me. I tried to get his shorts off, but could not. As much I wanted to, as hard as I tried, I couldn't move. My arms, my legs, I couldn't move! I was para-lyzed, completely immobile. I could feel him kissing me, feel him inside me, feel his hands on me, but I could not respond. My shoes and socks were gone. My pants were stripped off my legs. I was naked and boiling hot. The tingling was gone now, replaced by a blazing inferno that suf-fused my belly and burned hotly in my thighs. My cock was rock hard. I could feel the precum oozing out of it, feel it dripping down the bulging shaft. My balls felt like they were the size of grapefruits, hanging heavily between my legs. My raging hot nuts felt like they were going to explode. Johan took my arms and put them behind me. I couldn't move them. I tried. It was as if they were tied, bound together by the stoutest rope. "Don't even try to move, Brad. It won't do you any good." Johan's words came out of the darkness, a frightening, disembodied voice, but somehow strangely soothing, hypnotic in its way. I could feel Johan's hands roam over my torso. He fisted my dick, digging a nail into the sensitive, bulging tip as once more, he kissed me, harder than before. His tongue slid over mine and seemed to hit the back of my throat. I tried to groan in pleasure, but to my surprise found I couldn't make a sound. When he withdrew from me, I tried to speak. The words were in my mind, my tongue moved, but I couldn't say anything. All power of speech was gone. Sweat trickled down my sides. I could feel the moisture beading on my inner thighs as he licked my nipples, first one, then the other, slowly driving me out of my mind. How far down was the elevator going? Was it going at all? Why couldn't I move or speak? What did Johan plan to do with me? I didn't think about things like that. All I was really conscious of was the overwhelming surge of feeling of sensual aban-donment that was coursing like molten lava over my fevered brain. The elevator door slid silently open admitting a burst of cold, damp, fetid air. Be-fore me was what seemed to be a hallway bathed in eerie red light. It was only then that I saw that Johan was as naked as was I. "You can walk now, Brad," Johan said. He was right. I could move, but only in short steps. It was as if I wore leg irons on my feet. The hall in which I found myself was long and narrow. The walls dripped with moisture and seemed to have been carved out of the living rock. There was not a sound to be heard. "Welcome to the Pit, Brad," Johan said and reached out to wrap the fingers of one hand around my throbbing cock. As he squeezed it, his eyes seemed to gain a red-dish glow, but I attributed that to the light. His dick was fully erect, a good nine inches long and thick and crowned by a massive head. From the piss slit hung a long strand of precum that glowed red in the light. As I stood there, helpless, I tried to imagine what it was going to feel like when he fucked me. Could I take that massive rod of his? I would have to take it. I didn't think I was going to have any choice. "You can walk, Brad." We went along the hall until we came to a door. It was metal gray and looked like it was made of steel. Johan opened it and we went in. There was a room, only slightly larger than one that could be found in any hotel. By the glow of red lights, I could see an image of a serpent on the wall in back. It was a fearsome thing was coiled with its head up. Its eyes glowed fiercely, its mouth was agape showing curved, needle sharp fangs dripping with what I guessed was blood. "It won't be long now, Brad," Johan said. What he meant by that, I didn't know and didn't even want to guess. For the first time, I felt fear that was mixed with a terrible sense of dread that felt like a hole had opened in my gut. Had I been able to do so, hot as I was, I'd have turned and fled. But I could not flee. I couldn't move, apparently, unless Johan told me that that I could. I was at his mercy. He controlled me and could do what he wanted with me. When Johan told me I could walk, we went across the room to stand beneath the serpent. Up close, it was more terrible than I had first seen, a really evil looking thing and far bigger than I had thought. It was perhaps ten feet high. "Spread your legs, Brad." I did as he told me, expecting that his next order would be for me to bend over so he could fuck me. That order never came. Suddenly, I realized that Johan had disappeared. A few seconds, I heard a sound, not loud, like something being dragged across the stone floor. As I stood there, un-able to move, I saw to my horror, two snakes coming toward each other, slithering along the base of the wall in front of me. The serpents were each about as large around as a python and about five feet long. Their skins bore a pattern of diamonds colored black outlined in gold. When they were right beneath the image on the wall, they stopped. In all the world, there is nothing I fear so much as snakes. Seeing them in a zoo sends cold chills down my spine. Now, here I stood, naked before them. I couldn't run. I couldn't move a muscle. All I could do was stand there, sweating profusely and feel the beating of my heart. The snakes turned their heads to face me. I tried to cry out. I thought maybe if I could do that, I'd scare them off, but no sound came. I couldn't even open my mouth. Beads of sweat hung from my nipples and dripped onto the floor. They started crawling toward me, heads raised, their eyes seeming to glow with a ghastly light. God in Heaven, I wanted to run. I tried, with everything in me, I tried to move, but my body would not obey the pleading of my brain. I heard a flute playing the same music I'd heard up in the bar. This time it was louder. When the snakes reached my feet, they stopped and reared themselves up. Their heads swayed back and forth while their forked tongues flicked in and out. They moved quickly to wrap their thick, scaly bodies around my calves, one to each of my legs. Their skins weren't rough as I'd expected, but the pressure on my legs from their muscles was great. The one on my left stopped when its fearsome head was about on the level of my waist. The other kept climbing, eventually detaching itself from my leg to coil its body about my waist. I'd read somewhere that fear is one of the things that can suppress sexual desire. Maybe so, but not with me. I was scared, more frightened than I'd ever been in my life, but I was hotter too, than ever. In my loins burned a raging heat. My balls felt like they were twice their normal size. My cock was rock hard and dripping. The snake that was wrapped around my waist, reared back its head. Its eyes glowed. Its nostrils were flared. It opened its mouth to reveal great, long, curved fangs. I heard it hiss. Impossible as I knew it to be, the hiss had the sound of words, words that I must obey. I turned my head, bearing my neck. The snake lunged to-ward me and sunk its fangs into my flesh just beneath my left ear. At the same time, I felt the other serpent drive its teeth into my blood-engorged cock. The next thing I was conscious of was sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. I was in bed. How I got there, I didn't know. Had it all been a bad dream? If it had, it had been the most vivid one I'd ever had. I got from my bed to draw the blind. The sunlight hurt my eyes. In the full length mirror I examined myself, expecting to find the marks where the snakes had bitten into me, but look though I did, I could find no puncture marks in either my neck or my dick. Still, it hadn't been a dream. I couldn't convince myself of that. The de-tails, the feelings were too sharp, too clear for it to have been a dream. Though I'm in peak condition, I felt like I'd been to an all night party. I went back to bed and slept the day through. When I awakened, night had fallen and I felt re-freshed, much like my old self. I decided to return to the Serpent's Tooth. When I got there, however, the door was locked and there was no one around. So maybe, I thought, it wasn't open every night. Some bars were like that. I went off to Pebbles to have a beer and talk to John. He wasn't there. The new bartender said John had quit that day and was moving out of town. Where, he didn't know. A week went by. I knew something was wrong with me. For one thing, daylight, even on the grayest of days, hurt my eyes. I tried sunglasses, the darkest I could find, but they didn't help much. My eyes still stung so that I had to squint to see anything at all. The only way I could feel comfortable was to go out only after dark. During the day, I kept the blinds tightly closed and slept, coiled into a fetal posi-tion. When darkness fell, I would awaken, shower, shave and dress. After fixing my-self something to eat, I would go out to roam the city. Always I stayed in the shad-ows. Bright lights hurt my eyes. For another thing, I was hungry, ravenously hungry. I ate everything in the kitchen and after dark, went out for more. During my night wanderings, I'd stop in all night diners and eat and eat. No matter how much I ate, however, or how often, I couldn't seem to get enough. I never felt satisfied. One evening I awakened to feel a strange itching in my back. It was only a mild annoyance at first, but as the night wore on it got worse and worse. When I could stand it no longer, I pulled off my shirt and rubbed up against a tree. That helped a little, but not much. Only with the first, gray light of dawn did the itching cease. Halloween came cold and damp. A dense fog covered the city. I could hear the fog horn moaning from the lake. I was about a block from Pebbles, taking a shortcut through a small city park. Half way along, I stopped. I had a strange sense of pres-ence, almost as if I could feel someone lurking nearby, but look as I would, I couldn't see anyone. Suddenly, from out of the dense fog stepped a dark figure wrapped in a full-length cloak. A hood obscured his features. "Good evening, Brad." The voice was all too familiar. "John?" "Yeah, Brad, it's me, John. Welcome to the clan." As he came toward me, another robed figure joined him. Both stopped several feet from where I was. "Clan? What 're you talking about?" "The Serpent Clan of the Vampire Tribe. That's the Gay clan, Brad. You're clan." " No! You're fucking crazy! I'm not dead. I'm still alive, very much alive-and quit calling me Brad. My name's David!" "David's your old name. You've got a new name now. It's Brad. But who said any-thing about being dead? Do you feel dead? No, of course not. You're not dead. You're immortal, Brad and gifted with eternal youth. What more could a Gay man want?" "Sex?" "That you'll have lots of," John assured me. "You'll get it from one who was meant for you, a master of that art as you'll find out." "So how come you know all this?" "Look at me, Brad." He opened his mouth to reveal long, curved, needle-sharp fangs. "You! You bit me. You were one of the snakes." "Yes, one of the many forms I can assume as Lord of the Serpent Clan. I fed on your blood as is my right, but I wasn't the one made you as you are now, as you were always meant to be. There were two of us, remember? As I watched, John raised one arm. One of the dark figures near him stepped forward and as he did, his hooded cloak fell away. "Johan?!" "Hello, Brad." He opened his mouth to reveal long, curved fangs. John continued. "It was Johan's bit to your neck that accomplished the task. It is Johan who wanted you, Johan who is meant for you as you are for him, Johan who got you and Johan who bit into your neck." Johan came to where I was. "I know you've been hungry Brad and I can feed you. Here." He turned his head to bear his neck. "Eat me." There was no way that I wanted to drink his blood. Even the rare steak made gag. But that thought vanished as I looked and saw the vein in the side of Johan's neck bulging out against his skin, running with his hot blood. And then, I felt it, a sharp tingling in my upper gums. I reached up a hand to feel. I had fangs like all the rest. "Drink, Brad," Johan urged. "Please, drink your fill from me and be satisfied." I needed no further urging, but took him by his shoulders and sank my teeth into his neck to drink greedily of his blood coursing in his vein. It tasted so good. All that was more than a year ago now. I've come to terms with being a vampire. For one thing, it's what I am, after all, what I was born to be. For another, I'm im-mortal and will never look any older than I do now, so it really isn't such a bad life. Besides that, Johan is with me, my companion, my lover, my friend. Johan and I travel a lot, going from city to city around the world. Everywhere we go, we stop at a "safe haven." These are run by members of the Serpent Clan. The two of us sleep during the day, curled up together. When the sun goes down, we awaken to drink each other's blood. After that, we have the greatest, hottest sex it's possible to imagine. In each city we visit, there's a new bar that's opened up. Sometimes it's called The Serpent's Tooth, sometimes it's known by another name. Whatever it's called, it has one purpose: to draw those Gay men who are destined to be members of the Clan to their destiny. Johan and I go there. We tend bar together and escort new members into the pit. I should mention that not all these men are young. Some are middle aged or older. However, when they wake up after a night at the bar, they find that all signs of age have vanished. They are young again with perfectly sculpted physiques. Eventually, after a couple of months or so, the bar closes down. Johan and I go on our way to another city where the process begins all over again. One final thing I should mention is that not all members of the Clan are like Johan and me, wanders on the earth. The great majority of Clan members vanish from the earth, going to join their brothers in a universe beyond our own. Soon, I am told, they and the rest of our race will come here to gather us all in and take us home. Johan and I look forward eagerly to that day. Perhaps you who are reading this are one of us. If so, soon, very soon, you'll learn of a new bar near you, a strange, mysterious place to which you will be drawn. Don't resist. Don't even try. Your efforts will be in vain. Our time is now.