Gay Erotic Stories

My sewing machine throbbed to a stop. I carefully tugged the gossamer-thin garment away from the needle and snipped the umbilical cord. Holding it up, I checked my handiwork. I had been right to pick shiny black nylon; white would have been too obvious. Besides, I'd never tried making skimpy shorts before. The results of my amateur cutting and machining were quite good. Apart from sewing in the ends, they were complete. I held them up to the window - they were certainly see-through. I could clearly identify the house opposite! Great! My dick lurched in my jeans; I couldn't wait to try them on. Abandoning the machine, I headed straight for the bedroom mirror, slipped off the 501's and carefully stepped into the miniature garment. It felt as cool as the inside of a 'fridge as it travelled up my legs. I watched in the mirror as I pulled the waistband over my rock hard cock. It made a rude shadowy bulge against the tight nylon. There was no inner lining. They felt marvellous, and highly erotic. My reversed image looked great. The nylon clung to the curve of my arse, but stopped, tantalisingly short. The lowest part of my cheeks were clearly visible! I bent over. Smooth material hugged my cock and clung to my already damp hole. In the mirror I saw a daring expanse of hairy butt. My fingers slid lightly over rough hairs, then explored my moist crack. I was so turned on I knew there was only one solution. I lay on the bed opposite the mirror. Sunlight streaked across my torso to emphasise the shorts. My knob stood thick and rampant. There was no disguising the charged veins through the thin cloth. Opening my legs, I caught a fleshy glimpse of my shaved nuts, straining with excitement. My mirror image rubbed the leaking end of the bulging cock. Pre-cum seep through the nylon. Excitement coursed through my veins. I started rubbing off through the shorts; it wouldn't take long. I thought of why I'd made the garment in the first place; they'd be so revealing when lounging by the canal path. I wanted hunky joggers to look as they ploughed past! Pre-cum dribbled through the shiny material as I rubbed myself in front on the mirror. Almost there, I opened my legs wide. My nuts were tight and swollen; my cock ready to pop. Again I visualised men running in briefer than brief shorts... A loud series of insistent knocks on the front door disturbed me. I tried to ignore them but they kept on. I knew that sound too well; I swore. My neighbour knew I was in. I'd have to go and answer her. With cock still about to explode I grabbed my track suit bottoms and headed downstairs. It was about three o'clock, that afternoon, when I finally got away, having de-coked the woman's spark plugs and sewn in the threads on my new shorts. I wore the tracky bottoms over them, and headed for the canal. The kids weren't yet on holiday so the path was relatively quiet. Brilliant sunshine baked the dusty path. I threw down my bag on a hummock shaded by cool, overhanging trees. My favourite spot was a few metres from a small humped bridge which crossed the canal. At that point, the towpath curved in toward the water, under the bridge, then out again. I unfolded the towel, sat down, and faced the water. It was so peaceful here. Silence broken only by birds squabbling in nearby trees, or fish jumping from the water. I was well attuned to other sounds though; those of paced running as joggers approached, the unmistakable grind of bike-tyres on grit and the flabbery sound of a rattling saddlebag, being pedalled over the near-by bridge. Cyclists or joggers often liked to stop at this point to enjoy the view or simply take a rest. Me being a greedy opportunist - like a resident troll - I lay in wait! Off came my bottoms. I made myself halfway decent by re-arranging the shorts. They shone in the sunshine and I was pleased with the blatant way they hugged my cock. Almost before I'd finished admiring my loins, I heard approaching footfalls. I looked up. Twenty metres away a lone jogger pounded toward me. Feeling in my bag for the sunglasses, I watched him draw closer and closer. A man in his late fifties, I dismissed him shortly before he reached me. He acknowledged my presence and looked at the shorts as he panted past. My knob stirred. At least my body language and clothing were giving off the right signals! A couple of bikes whizzed passed in the other direction; an older woman (I closed my legs), and a youth with muscles, attitude and a sun visor. He missed me completely. I was just getting into the second chapter of my book when I heard footfalls again. Coming from the same direction as the first man, I looked up to see a broad, good looking guy. With powerful movements, he pounded toward me. He wore a red cut-away vest and small navy shorts. His fit physique and good muscles were well tanned. A short blond moustache corresponded neatly with his slightly darker hair. With powerful strides he pounded up to me, displaying a look of concentration as he passed. Rounding the small bend under the bridge, he disappeared from view. Wow! I thought. He was stunning. I stood up to catch a departing glimpse as he travelled off along the overgrown path...but he wasn't in sight. I frowned. He'd been moving fairly fast, what had happened? I walked the few feet to the bridge and rounded the corner. In that split second, I caught a glimpse of him. Standing a few feet along the curve of the bridge, his back was to me. Legs astride, he had slipped down the shorts for a piss. The red vest rode high. I saw his firm bare buns, rounded and bleached white. He furtively half turned, seeing me from the corner of his eye. He quickly tugged up the shorts and without looking back, pounded off down the towpath at speed. My heart thumped uncontrollably. I cursed; so near, yet so far! Sod it! I tiptoed to where he had straddled, almost hoping not to disturb anything. A large damp patch stained the wall next to the bushes. It gave me an idea, I checked my watch: five past four. After that I lay in my chosen spot for a long time. Needless to say, nothing that afternoon compared with the fabulous looking blond guy. I kept fingering and touching myself through the thin material. Hot sun warmed my aching balls and loosened my sac. The contents poked out below the skimpy garment, but I didn't care. My knob grew solid and throbbed. Pre-cum seeped through the black nylon. It glistened invitingly. I turned over on the towel and press my knob to my stomach. I couldn't stop thinking about that beautiful jogger! As I rubbed my hips against the bank through the towel, I imagined slipping down his shorts; seeing again that fabulous bleached arse. It took no time at all. There, in full public view, I spunked off. My cock lurched and throbbed wildly. Pumping sensations thudded along my shaft. A huge spunky load shot out of my cock-head, tightly pressed against my stomach and the black nylon. Hot cream covered my belly and the material. My over-due flood christened the brand new shorts with a lovely slippery load! That night, I thought about the jogger, while rinsing out the shorts. Who was he? Why had I never seen him before? Would he run past again tomorrow? Alone in bed, the heat kept me awake. I couldn't control my hard-on and kept feeling myself. Again I was red hot and fired up. I lay on my side and tossed like fury. Imagining the jogger was beside me, I jacked off a good load onto the sheet before eventually falling asleep. The following day, it rained. Typical. I mooched around the house; tipped the contents of my knickers drawer into a big heap and started sorting them out. In the process, I discovered an old favourite. I loved the cut of the small thong - but not the colour - bright pink! I still had enough thin black nylon. Following the success of the shorts, I decided that as hunting joggers was postponed, I'd make a new thong, using the old favourite as a pattern. Not a good idea! Suffice to say, they are deceptively difficult and I grew annoyed...and very frustrated! Bedtime arrived. I stood straddled in front of the full-length mirror, wearing the skimpy shorts. Again I imagined the tall jogger, while enjoying a long, sensual jack-off. There he was, in the mirror. Occasionally our cocks would touch. Wetting my palm, I closed my eyes. The jogger's mouth was working on my hot tool. He licked round and round, bringing me close to eruption. We shot our loads together. Cock pressed against cock. We fetched off blistering spunky loads, before sinking to our knees, exhausted. In bed, before dropping off to sleep, I watched the creamy cum, as it thinned and dribbled down the mirror. Bright sunlight streamed in through my curtains the next day. By ten o'clock it was tropical. By mid-day, blistering. I lay in my favourite spot by the canal before three. As the minutes passed four, I checked my watch. At almost precisely five past, I looked up to see a well-built guy solidly thundering along the towpath toward me. Same red vest, same shorts. With my sunglasses in place, I lay back on my towel and opened my legs provocatively. He approached. His footfalls slowed a little. He kept running, but passed slowly by, staring all the time at my exposed crotch. I watched him speed round the bend, and under the bridge. My stomach tensed as I approached the bridge. Had he stopped running? Removing my glasses, I silently rounded the corner. He was there. His vest pulled up high, shorts right down. He had half turned toward me and besides the tip of his bulbous cock, I saw the thick stream of piss jetting from it. Our eyes locked. I froze. He finished his piss and hauled up his shorts. With a smile, he turned and leaped off down the path without a word. My cock ached it was so stiff! I crept over to where his piss stained the wall; it was still warm. I stroked the damp patch with one hand as, in no time, with my other hand I jacked myself off inside the black nylon. The point where my piss-slit pressed against the material quickly turned milky white. The next day was also cloudless and warm. Again by three, I'd set up my station. My suntan was coming along a treat! At five to four, I packed my things and prepared to leave. I climbed the slip path to the hump bridge and waited. Five past four...ten past. At a-quarter-past I saw a lone figure in a red top and white lycra shorts, jogging toward the bridge. He seemed to hesitate a little when he reached my favourite spot. As the good-looking jogger passed beneath me, I looked first at his tee-shirt, and its distinctive emblem, then at the bulging lycra. He disappeared, re-appearing on the other side. As usual, he stood near the wall, peeled down the lycra and started to piss. I had a grandstand view! His uncircumcised dick was broad and fat, and he rolled his balls around in his hand as he pissed. He kept a look-out, either side, just in case. All the time, he rolled those smooth balls around in his large palm. His piss slowed to a dribble, then dried up. He kept massaging his nuts. His knob filled and expanded. Stepping back toward the water, he checked the path both ways. Thinking he was alone, he cupped his fist around his fleshy tool and started pumping. With his free hand he squeezed and punished his right nipple. My cock was almost splitting the black cotton. Silently I got it out and fell into rhythm with the jogger. I imagined I was down there beside him and we were tossing each other. His eyes closed and he bent his head back. Just as he was about to shoot off, his eyes opened, he spotted me. I stood there, above him, wanking wildly. He gave me a startled look. I could tell he wanted to turn, or run off, but it was too late. At that moment his dick leapt violently in his hand and he sent a huge gob of spunk smacking against the bridge. He groaned and stared at me as more jetted out of his cock-end. I erupted over the parapet, narrowly missing him. He smiled as he wiped his knob-end on his tee-shirt and hitched up his snug-fitting white lycra. "Same time tomorrow," he called, then thundered off down the well-trodden path. Again, that night, I was restless, couldn't sleep, and it was nothing to do with the heat. The jogger filled my mind...or, more correctly I should say, fireman. At any rate, that's what was printed on his red tee-shirt, below the Metropolitan Fire Service logo! He'd see me tomorrow, same time. I couldn't stop thinking about him. We kept getting close, but not close enough. Would he let me touch him tomorrow? Was there any chance I could entice him the short distance home and do things properly? My mind whirred and whirred. Together, in my fantasy, we copped off another load in the mirror. It mixed with the previous one and dribbled down onto the carpet as I drifted off to sleep. Next day started off well, but by the time I'd tidied the house...just in case...the weather had turned wet. It wasn't windy or cold, so I decided I'd go to the bridge anyway. Rain pelted down as I left the house. I wore 501's, a jacket, and took a huge umbrella. I felt really stupid walking along the muddy path toward my favourite spot. Rain pelted all around me and there was no one else in sight. I approached the bridge a few minutes before four. The place was deserted...I wasn't at all surprised! I stood beneath the hump, beside the swirling canal, listening to the rain getting worse. I shook my head, convinced I was mad. I kept looking along the path though, just in case! Five past...ten past...lightening and thunder added dramatically to the humid rain. The fireman certainly wouldn't venture out in this. I peered through the torrent: nobody on the path. By twenty past, the canal looked about to overflow. The path below the bridge was a running river. Thunder echoed loud. I was about to leave. Reaching for the umbrella, I heard footsteps, coming down the slip path. Running toward me was a very wet fireman, wearing his yellow helmet and full gear! "I knew you'd come, despite this" he cocked his chin at the rain. "Sorry I'm late. Had a job to do!" With his arrival, come the unmistakable smell of smoke. Somehow it mixed erotically with the scent of the rain. "Come back to my place!" I suggested. "Don't have time," his clear blue eyes sparkled. "Besides, I don't think we'll get disturbed, do you?" I smiled and shook my head. Leaving his dirty helmet on, he opened his vast waterproof jacket. That delicious charcoal smell increased. His huge chest was bare, apart from braces holding up the over-sized trousers. He didn't speak but his eyes motioned me to unzip him. The tip of his tongue slithered over the edge of his blond moustache in anticipation. I moved very close and my hand shook as I reached for the zip. He immediately enveloped me inside the long jacket. His powerful arms held me securely. My own arms found their way around his body, beneath the jacket. I stroked velvety flesh of his back above his trousers. My head rested against the broad chest. He felt very warm and I heard the wild thumping of his heart. Breaking from my hold, he began furiously unzipping my soggy jacket. I helped, and then tossed onto a partially dry spot a few feet away. My shirt quickly followed. As he unbuckled my belt and began exploring the buttons of my jeans, I lowered his heavy duty zip. His trousers being held up by braces, allowed plenty of room for hands inside. I prised opened the fly. He wore white cotton mesh briefs. The tiny guard pouch was redundant as his huge rampant hose jutted far into the restraining open mesh. It stretched the grid to capacity. His rough fingers snagged across the thin nylon of the brand new thong I'd made the night before. The sight of this powerful fireman inviting me into his privacy, made my knob full and stiff and very hard. I rubbed my fingers over his cock through the mesh. Excitedly, it stiffened even more. "Unbutton the braces," he whispered. I popped the four front buttons and heard the braces slither over his shoulders. He slid the trousers down his muscular legs. There was a look of deep longing in his eyes as he continued exploring me. His rough hands travelled across the bare globes of my arse and my jeans slithered away. His fingers traced the single line of black nylon to where it hugged my moist hole. His huge cock-head bulged hard against the cotton grid. A bead of pre-cum had formed. I rubbed it provocatively through the lattice. His powerful arms pulled my butt closer. My fingers dislodged the back of his briefs; I began to explore his arse. Our cocks touched. As we rubbed our over-charged flesh expertly together, his pre-cum lubricated my thong. I felt wild, I wanted to shoot. I wanted him to. I wanted us to spunk off like this, without using hands...but at the same time, I didn't. I wanted this to last for ever! Holding me firmly he rubbed against my cock. Clear fluid poured from the tip of his rampant cock-head. Mine too. His fingers made circling movements as he explored my hole. I stroked the furry hairs on his fit arse. Our cocks rubbed and pummelled each other. I knew, like me, he was close. Pressing us even closer with his hands, one of his fingers entered me. His legs shook uncontrollably. He bent his moustache toward mine and as his tongue began exploring my mouth, our climaxes exploded. I felt his cock jump and pump. Hot sensations erupted around my groin as his spunk spurted out. Simultaneously his tongue and finger delved deeper inside me and he moaned ecstatically. As his whole body shuddered, my own climax peaked. I pumped load after load of sticky spunk out through my thong. It mingled with his and coated his briefs and the flesh and hairs on his belly. For a long time we stayed locked together beneath the bridge, his coat wrapped around us like a single skin. Eventually, without speaking we dressed and prepared to leave. Somehow I knew that to ask for a further meeting would spell disaster. I didn't want to hear him say "No." My last view of him was as he left our shelter. He turned briefly, to give a broad smile. His tropical blue eyes flashed. I smiled back as I watched him toil away up the slope, rain bouncing off his jacket and the dirty yellow helmet.