Gay Erotic Stories

DISCLAIMER: This story is intended for those over the age of 18. It is a work of fiction containing descriptions of homosexual activity between two consenting adults. In the main any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Where it has been necessary to use actual business establishments, events or locales, this story in no way reflects the true policies of the establishment portrayed or the sexual orientation or preferences of its staff.

Gay Warlock has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Copyright ¨ 2005 by gay_warlock.

CELLMATES

CLANG!!! The cell door slams shut.

I look around the small twelve by six room made of breezeblock, painted institutional white, the white that permeates every public building throughout the length and breadth of this land.

Opposite where I stand is a window, small and set high in the wall, as if trying to trap the daylight and keep it just as locked up as me. I shudder. This is to be my new home for the next eight years. This God-forsaken, rat-infested hell hole; images of Calcutta and the Black Hole spring unbidden to mind as if my sub-conscious is trying to scare me, to frighten me even more than I am already.

At the far end, tucked away behind what looks like a very thin, flimsy screen, is a toilet and hand basin, the toilet bare, no seat just the cold stainless steel rim; the Hilton this isn't. To my left stands a pair of bunk beds, six foot tall covered in thin, dirty, grey institutional blankets; a product of some by-gone age hanging around yet to be replaced. I shudder again. I sigh deeply. I shouldn't be here. I am innocent. Cliché, I know. But it's true. I didn't go into any post office wielding a gun. I didn't rob anywhere at gunpoint; I know nothing about guns. I haven't even held one. I certainly didn't shoot the postmaster. I did drive the get-away car.

I turn to the bunks. The bottom seems unused. I sit and test it; hard as expected. Footsteps on the landing outside. I turn to look at the door. I shudder. When the guard had found out which cell I was in he had laughed. "Erection Eddie," he'd said, "you'll get on with him just great." He and the other guards had laughed again.

The footsteps stop in front of the door. I hold my breath. Images of a man well over six feet with a huge beer belly and long unkempt greasy hair and beard fill my mind--the typical criminal. The door swings slowly open.

"Meet Erection Eddie," says the guard. His face breaks into a sadistic smile. He stands aside to allow another man to enter. My horrendous vision vanishes. "Enjoy yourselves," the guard says.

CLANG!!! The cell door slams shut.

"Hi," I say timidly as I rise from the bunk. I hold out my hand to shake. Eddie ignores it.

"Listen good," he says. He looks me up and down. "This is my cell. I'm in charge. You do as you’re told. Understand?"

I don't reply. I'm in shock. SMACK!!! My cheek stings; I raise my hand to my face. The heat radiates from my cheek. It smarts from where he has slapped me.

"You do as you’re told and no harm comes to you. Understand?" I nod, still in shock. "In here you call me 'Sir'. Out there you call me 'Mr. Eddie'. Understand?" I nod again. He raises his hand.

"Yes, sir," I say quickly.

"That's better. You learn quickly, pretty boy." Eddie strokes my face where he slapped me. I flinch at his touch. Eddie chuckles. "You'll learn not to do that if you know what’s good for you." His brown eyes, deep and cold as a well stare at me.

What has happened to me? Two months ago I was a student studying for my exams, trying to juggle studying and holding down a job to try and stop my spiraling debt. Now look at me.

Eddie strokes my cheek again; softly, almost tenderly. "You know why they call me Erection Eddie?" He waits for my answer.

"No . . . Sir." I feel ashamed. I’ve never called another man 'sir' in such a humble way in my life.

"Because this never goes down." He grabs his groin. I see a mightily impressive package gripped in his hand. "It's always ready for action." I gulped. "And you know what? You're the bitch that's gonna service it!"

My eyes were now open wide in horror. I've heard the horror stories about prison but I thought that was all they were--stories. I find my voice. "No!" I scream. Sex has always been my decision. No one has ever forced me to do something I hadn't wanted to. "No," I say again. I backed towards the exposed toilet. Eddie chuckles but doesn't follow. I stand in a corner of the cell. I watch Eddie. His first is wrapped around the sizably impressive bulge in his groin. His hand massages it. He grins lewdly at me.

Through my fear a part of my brain checks him out. Eddie is roughly five foot eleven. He has dark brown hair which is parted in the centre. It falls like curtains over his forehead. His firm jaw line leads to a clean-shaven chin and a wide mouth with a set of pert, red lips. His eyes are brown, deep, cold. Eddie kicks off his regulation shoes. He reaches for the top of his regulation dungarees. He undoes the straps.

"No!" I cry. Panic fills my voice.

Eddie grins. His dungarees fall to the floor. I close my eyes. A rustling fills the room. Agony, it's absolute agony keeping my eyes closed. I am dying to look at Eddie. I am scared of him. He intrigues me. I have always wondered what it would be like to be forced. I don't want to find out this way.

I open my eyes. Still massaging his groin, Eddie stands in the same place. He is wearing only his regulation white socks. His underwear is a pair of blue wide checked boxer briefs--Versace.

Shock registers on my face. Eddie laughs, "I hate those white things," he says. He points to the spare pair of plain white cotton regulation boxer shots sitting on my bunk. "I sleep with a few of the guards and they bring me in a few favours." He rubs his groin. "I'm serviced all over the prison," he continues, "by many of the inmates and some of the guards." He looks at me. "But my cellmate is my number one bitch."

I pale. He laughs. "It's a position you'll come to appreciate. My authority carries through the entire prison. As my bitch you'll be afforded every courteously by the inmates if not a few of the guards."

“Articulate as well,” registers in my brain. Eddie releases his groin. His arms hang by his sides, his hands flex. My breath stops. Eddie is beautiful. He has the build of a rugby player and a bodybuilder. His shoulders are square and muscular. Two plateaus of muscle topped with small sensual looking erect nipples form his chest. He is smooth. There is no tramline of pubic hairs covering his six-pack muscular stomach. His arms are long and the biceps bunch with well-defined muscle.

Eddie is a typical man shape – broad shoulders, sleek waist and slightly wider shapely hips. His tight Versace shorts hug his hard looking firm thighs which are covered in a fine dusting of hair; the hair progresses down his legs, over his taut calves, thickening and darkening as it goes.

My eyes fasten onto the bulge in his shorts. The material rides up into his groin. It clings to his family jewels. It does little to hide the fact that--as his name suggests--he has an erection. My mouth goes dry. I swallow. Deep down I can feel my dick stir. Eddie is indeed beautiful.

He grins at me once again. There is something different about the way he smiles. As if he knows he has won. “Like what you see?” he asks.

I decide not to allow him to win. “I’ve seen better,” I reply. I deliberately leave off the ‘sir.’ Eddie smirks. He places his hands on his hips. He turns around. Eddie wiggles his butt at me provocatively. His arse looks like two melons encased in the Versace material. The cloth rides up his crack defining his two taut cheeks. He turns to face me. I shrink further into the corner. Eddie grabs his groin. He grins. He jumps onto his bunk. “Good night,” he says.

THREE DAYS LATER

Eddie leaves me alone at all times. He never speaks to me. It’s like I don’t exist to him. It’s how I like it. I enter my cell. Eddie is lying on his bunk. I undress for bed. I wear the white regulation underwear.

The guard locks the door. Ten minutes later the lights go out. I go to sleep. A few hours later I’m woken up suddenly. Hands are pawing my body. They grab my shoulders and roughly turn me over. My mind tries to make sense of what is happening. I am still under the influence of sleep. I hear a snap and feel a band of cold metal around my wrist; then again on my other wrist. The snap comes twice more. My brain kicks into gear. What the fuck is going on? I come to my senses. I begin to struggle.

“Hi, bitch!” Eddie says quietly into my ear.

I try to move my arms. They are restrained. My mind focuses. The cold hard metal around each of my wrists and ankles are handcuffs. They are attached to the bed supports. I struggle. The chain of the cuffs rattles.

“Look at me,” Eddie commands. His command seems all fuzzy as I fight my rising panic. I look at him. He is standing beside the bed in his Versace shorts. His hand is massaging his groin. The thin material is moulded to every contour of Eddie’s gorgeous body. He grins. Slowly he slides the material down his legs, over his incredibly thick thighs.

Beneath me I feel my dick stir. It lengthens and thickens as the blood flows to it. The sheets beneath are rough. My mouth goes dry. I stare at his dick. It looks magnificent and dangerous at the same time. It is thick - the size of a baby’s forearm. It looks long, at least seven and a half inches. The head is an ugly bright red. A pearl of pre-cum oozes from his slit.

Eddie is grinning. His Versace shorts are around his ankles. His fist is wrapped around his dick, squeezing his crank, pumping up and down. He moves closer to the bed. His hand trails up my thigh and over the regulation white boxer shorts encasing my arse. I realise what he is going to do. What do I do? Do I scream and hope someone hears me or do I accept it? My brain whirls. Eddie is, after all, very good-looking and he has one of the biggest dicks I’ve ever seen; I could have a good time. Alternatively he could rip me apart – literally.

“You want this?” Eddie asks. He shakes his dick at me.

I lick my lips. I nod. Shame rides over me like a wave. Eddie grins and wads his shorts. Before I can make another noise he rams them into my mouth. I am well and truly captured. My arms and legs are cuffed to the bed and I am gagged. Should I even want rescue it is now impossible. Eddie reaches into his cupboard. He withdraws a bright blue tube of lube. Thank God for that; at least he isn’t going to enter me dry. Eddie squirts a good splodge of lube on his dick. He greases his crank pulling the skin back and forth, caressing his meat.

I spread my legs, as much as my restraints allow, in anticipation as Eddie climbs onto the bed behind me. I can feel the head of Eddie’s dick as it nestles against my ring. I hold my breath in expectation.

Thank God for Eddie’s shorts. The scream that erupts from me is great. The pain is terrific. In one violent move Eddie thrusts his cock up my arse. With one hard attack Eddie stabs me open, his thick dick forcing open my defences. I jerk against the rough bed-clothes as my body instinctively tries to pull away from the hot stiff dick pushing up my rectum, invading my love-tunnel.

Eddie is relentless. His broad swollen rod continues its attack, ever upward never taking prisoners. As it advances I feel the bulbous head forcing aside the walls of my fuck-chute, the shaft spreading the skin of my bum wide, forcing open my sphincter and filling every spare inch of my tunnel. I gasp what air I can through my gag. I break into a sweat as I try to accommodate Eddie’s hard pleasure muscle. I mentally thank God again for the lube. Hours seem to pass before I feel Eddie’s coarse black pubes rub against my taut, rounded arse-cheeks.

“There, bitch,” moans Eddie, “It’s in. You’ve taken Eddie’s entire thick length.” He flexes his cock causing pain and pleasure to radiate from my stretched fuck hole. Eddie is laying on me full length. The heat coming from his body and his weight are, in a strange way, a comfort to me. He wraps his arms under my shoulders and holds me tight. “Get ready for the ride of your life, bitch!”

Eddie starts ramming my butt-hole with his big hot dick. There is no finesse to it. There is no skill or grace, no subtlety or delicacy. This is going to be a straightforward fuck. There is to be no enjoyment for me. If I do enjoy, it all well and good but if I don’t it doesn’t matter. I am simply a hole for him to take and possess; a hole for him to drop his load into. Eddie’s hips begin to pound. Faster and faster they move, increasing in speed as Eddie’s breathing increases. Beneath him I am crushed, squirming under his control as the heat and throbbing need of his swollen member makes itself known.

Eddie grinds himself against me his taut body slipping over mine as a fine layer of sweat lubricates our skin as the juices of my love-tunnel lubricates our union. Eddie begins to emit sharp grunts as he nears orgasm.

My world is filled with Eddie. His cock fills my arse as his grunts fill my ears along with the sharp clapping sounds of our skin smacking together. His cock forces itself deeper with each lunge, thrusting harder and faster. My arse is burning. The fires Eddie has ignited are burning bright and strong filling my arse with heat. Whimpers escape from around my gag with his every thrust. My hands grip the bed-posts with such force my knuckles turn white.

Eddie begins pounding faster. His guttural moans increasing as he comes closer and closer to his orgasm. I buck up against him, my arse meeting his thrusts, my sphincter and arse muscles squeezing tight and hard. As Eddie approaches orgasm he bucks violently. Short, sharp, stabbing motions begin as his hips pump hard. His panting increases; two or three deep thrusts later Eddie squirms down hard on my arse. “Ohhhh, ffuuuuuuck!” he bellows. His cock-head expands and shoots his bullets deep inside. He shudders each time he spits more spunk into my arse. He continues to pump his hips, his cock spreading and coating my tunnel in his love-juice. Bellowing and shuddering, Eddie moves in me until his balls empty their complete load. Eddie lies on top of me, his breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal and his cock softening in my hole.

Twenty minutes later Eddie is ready to go again. He fucks me all night--first my arse then my mouth. He uses me over and over and I never stop. I couldn’t even had I wanted to.

THE NEXT DAY

I sense a different atmosphere today. I walk along the landing to breakfast. The other inmates watch me intently. There seems to be a look of respect on their faces. I find it disconcerting. Why do they watch me? If it is respect why do they respect me? I enter the dinning hall. The chatter dies away and silence reigns supreme. What have I done? Why is this happening to me?

And then it hits me like a sledgehammer. Everyone knows about last night and the fucking I took at the hands of Eddie. Not surprising with the noise he made! I queue for my breakfast. The portions look a little larger this morning.

I go for my tea. “Milk and sugar?” asks the prisoner serving it. “One spoonful or two, Mrs. Eddie?”

There it is…Mrs. Eddie. I am doomed to be Mrs. Erection Eddie.

If you enjoyed, hated or were indifferent about this story please let me know by e-mailing: gay_warlock@fsmail.net Any comments, thoughts or ideas will be gratefully received.