Gay Erotic Stories

I certainly was not accustomed to the prospect I was facing this Fourth of July. I was trapped at home for the whole three day weekend, alone, with a high priority project I had brought home from work. I had sent the family off to our cottage in the north country on Friday evening to spend the holiday without me. Saturday morning the alarm went off at 5:30 and after a couple of swats at the snooze button, I finally got up at 6:00 and went to the gym for that early morning workout which was going to put me in the right, steely, frame of mind for all the work I had to get done. As always, after I had overcome the initial lazy reluctance to work out, I was feeling good by my third set. I took my time and did it all the right way. I didn't have actually to be somewhere as I would have on a "real" workday. I was back home by 7:30, looking forward to a shower, breakfast, coffee and a little session with the local newspaper before I got working on the project. I was disappointed, then, when I didn't see any newspaper lying on the walk as I returned home from the gym. The Great Northeast Daily was as important a part of the morning's regimen as the workout had been and the coffee and breakfast were to be. The Daily, however, had a promise to keep so, somewhat grouchily, I called for a redelivery. I had gone through a couple of days of missed or late deliveries every time the circulation service changed drivers. The delivery service promised to try again and so I turned on the coffee maker and headed into the bathroom for a long luxurious shower. When I was finished, I flung the door of the bathroom open to let the steam out and the aroma of good strong coffee in. I don't know who was more startled: the guy standing in the hallway about 8 feet from me, holding the Daily or I, naked and wet and about to fling a bath sheet around my waist. "Uh....I'm really sorry. Mr. Bell?... I thought this was...um...like an apartment house and I just walked in." And of all the things I could have thought of, in my thoroughly surprised (and Adam like) state, the only thing that struck me as remarkable was that he knew my name. We both stood there for a long awkward moment and then he stepped up and left the newspaper on a chair outside the bathroom door. He gave me a lopsided little smile and a shrug while I muttered something like, "It's OK. It doesn't matter." He was a guy in perhaps his early 30's, slender build, wearing shorts and a red tee shirt with something written on the back. As he turned and walked back to the little vestibule and the French doors that led outside, I remember that I found myself trying to read the back of the tee shirt. It had something to do with a fire department but I couldn't make out the details. When he got to the door, he turned once more. I was still standing in the bathroom, although by now I had wrapped the towel around me. And for a moment we looked at each other. I nodded again. Then he was gone. I worked pretty steadily all day Saturday, taking small breaks to shake the kinks out of my shoulders from the long hours of being hunched over a keyboard and squinting at spreadsheets and tables and jargonese. I was trying not to feel a little sorry for myself while my family sported lakeside in the north country. Physically I had nothing to complain about. I was working in air-conditioned comfort, my home study a pleasant room overlooking our own private little garden terrace. From time to time, I found myself thinking about the morning's odd encounter. In my mind's eye I had a clearer recollection of the newspaper guy's legs than of his face. They had seemed unusually sculpted and well shaped with a kind of overall blonde fuzziness. I really don't know why they seemed so vivid. Then I went back to work. On Sunday morning, I played the same game with the snooze alarm. Since it was a Sunday after all, I didn't roll out of bed until 6:15 but I did go to the gym again. (The "gym" was actually part of a well equipped athletic center that was one of the amenities that came with the condo.) I was approaching my front door an hour or so later, flushed, my tee shirt and shorts completely drenched with sweat just as the same newspaper delivery guy was stepping out of his car. "Morning," he said. I greeted him and took the proffered paper. "I'm sorry about just walking in on you yesterday," he said and he repeated his explanation about how the entrance looked like a public lobby or vestibule. I should explain that my condo was created a few years ago when a large turn of the century mansion was subdivided and renovated as a condominium development. The developer had carved a number of units out of the main house itself and built new townhouses on the grounds of the estate. In fact, I have to give pretty explicit directions to people about how to find my exact entrance. I understood therefore how he could have been a little confused about where public space ended and private space began. "Believe me," I said. "It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it." He lingered just a fraction longer than the encounter warranted. "You been working out?" he asked. "Yep," I told him and mentioned that there was an athletic center on the premises. "That's pretty cool. I like to work out too." And then he gave me the same lopsided smile as yesterday and shrugged the same little shrug. "Seeya." And he was gone. Sunday was pretty much the same as Saturday had been. I went back to the athletic center late in the afternoon for a swim. The weather had become so close and muggy, however, that I wiped out most of the refreshing benefit of the swim just by walking back from the pool to my place. In those two days, I had all but finished the office work project. What remained was little more than editorial work. I considered driving north to join the family but decided against a cramped three hour drive after having spent most of the past two days hunched over the computer. Instead, I rented a video, drank a beer. Two, actually. And went to bed early. Monday dawned with that premonitory early morning heat that promised a very hot and humid Fourth. When I came back from the gym and showered I pulled on only a pair of boxers and took my roll and coffee out to breakfast in our little garden terrace. The morning air felt good on my bare skin. I even felt a pleasant chill as my bare back leaned against the metal frame of the garden chair. It was too early still for the newspaper so I had brought a book out with me. I really wasn't reading it. It lay open on the table in front of me. The world was still making its transit into early summer. Sunrise must have been a little after 5. The birds were still in a singing mood and I was enjoying the simple sensations of good coffee, air and bird song in a very pretty place. I heard the newspaper guy's car before I saw it. The terrace where I was sitting was bordered by shrubs and trees of different heights. Though the border defined the space, it did not enclose it. I saw the car stop near the new townhouses further down the drive and then start up again. I got up, coffee in hand and wandered to a gap in the border. The guy saw me as he climbed out of his car and headed towards me newspaper in hand. He was wearing a loose tank top and shorts. He was wiry and strong looking despite his overall slenderness. After glancing almost involuntarily at his legs again, which still seemed tanned, with an overall kind of honey colored fuzziness to the surface, I did take in his face. It was lean, with regular features, not bearing the stamp of any obvious ethnicity. The hair was short and of a color somewhere between dark blonde and light brown. "Taking the morning off?" he said. I didn't really know what he was talking about so I answered almost randomly, "Not exactly." He seemed a little awkward when he said, almost in a mumble, "No gym today, huh?" "Oh", I replied, probably a little smugly now that I knew what he was referring to, "been there already." "Hey, good for you." He stood there for a moment. It seemed that he didn't want to break off the conversation but that he also wasn't sure how to continue it. I decided to help him out a little. "Is this the end of your route? Or do you still have more papers to deliver?" "Yours is the last one," he said, starting to turn. I realized that my last question sounded like a hint to move along. And now, for some reason, I found myself wanted to prolong the conversation. "Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?" "Uh....sure, that'd be great. Thanks," he said and stepped through the gap in the border. "How do you take it?" He told me and I went into the kitchen to get him his cup. When I returned, he was sitting uncomfortably on the very edge of one of the chairs around the wrought iron table. He looked like an inexperienced candidate about to start his first job interview. He was leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, hands folded together. I found myself involuntarily glancing down the gap the loose tank top made. His chest was covered with the same short blonde hair as his legs. I put his coffee on the table next to him and drew in my own chair so we were sitting near one another. I made a half toasting sort of salute with my cup and he responded. "You a fireman?" I asked. He looked surprised and then must have realized how I had guessed. "I am. I was wearing that tee shirt the day I caught you coming out of the shower." I think he colored slightly at the recollection. He took a sip of his still too hot coffee, realized that that was a mistake and put the cup down hurriedly. "I don't know which of us was more surprised," I said. I think the weight of the embarrassment must have fallen on the intruder rather than on the intrudee as I recalled my own mortification once when I had pushed open a not-quite-closed airplane lavatory door on a woman just in the processing of pulling her pantyhose back up. I had returned to my seat, crossed my legs and hidden for the rest of the flight behind the Wall Street Journal. "So...you work out a lot?" he asked. I had the feeling that he wasn't really changing the topic but was picking up a thread or a sub theme. "I'm not a fanatic; I just try to be consistent at it." "You look like you're in good shape," he said. I admit I was flattered. "Thanks." I tried to be as offhand and nonchalant as I could. "You look fit and athletic yourself." He looked pleased and flattered too. He glanced down at himself and plucked at the front of his tank top. "I was doing OK until I took on this paper route. Hard to manage two jobs and a workout routine." "How's your coffee?" "Great," he said. "I mean....are you ready for a refill?" "Um..yeah...sure." I got up and started towards the kitchen with the two cups. He followed me into the kitchen. "By the way, I'm Toby," I said as I poured out some more coffee. "Steve," he said. We shook hands quickly, perfunctorily, the necessary ritual that follows the exchange of names. I actually noticed his smell as he stood there so close to me. It was nothing offensive. He just smelled like a guy who had just put in a couple of hours of physical effort. "God. I probably smell like a bear," he said, disconcertingly. The remark smacked of mind reading. "Sorry about that....I've been up delivering papers since 3:30." Not knowing what else to say, I said, "Relax....you smell fine." And without really thinking, I added, half laughing as I said it, "I guess you know where the shower is here." For a moment he didn't say anything though his air of awkwardness seemed to have vanished. "You mean it? ....You really wouldn't mind?" "Sure.....I mean, no....of course not. If you want to, feel free." "Your family won't mind?" "They're away for the whole holiday weekend. Of course not....it's fine. Go ahead if you want." "I could really use one. Thanks." I led him back to the bathroom, dug a clean towel out of the linen closet and handed it to him. I glanced back as I went back into the hall. He had left the bathroom door open. I admit that as I walked back to the kitchen, I did ask myself just what I thought I was doing by inviting a stranger in and opening my house up to him that way. When I heard the water stop running a few minutes later, I refilled the coffee cups. After a moment's hesitation, I picked them up and brought them back to the bathroom. The door was still open. Steve was standing on the mat toweling himself dry. I held the cup up. "Your coffee." He answered me with a smile as I set it down on the vanity. He seemed completely at ease with his nudity, as though we were in a locker room together. He had a very good body. It was lean and fit. He was built more like a tennis player, or maybe a runner, than a gym rat. The blonde chest hair darkened a little in his groin. He was sporting a couple of different tan lines. His torso was just a little lighter than his arms and shoulders, I guess from wearing tank tops. Without apparent self consciousness, he stepped up to the toilet to take a piss. His ass looked creamy white in contrast to his tanned back and legs. It was a butt that belonged to somebody who didn't spend all day just sitting on it. As he stood there pissing, the cheek nearest me showed a deep dish at the trochanter. When he was finished, he picked up a pump jar of skin lotion that was sitting on the back of the toilet. "Do you mind if I use a little?" "Go ahead." "You don't think I'm being a pain in the ass using your shower and all your skin stuff?" "No. Don't worry about it. Just use it." I started to pick up my coffee and leave the bathroom. There was a current in the air and I wasn't sure how I wanted to respond. "Hey, you don't have to go," he said quickly. I stopped and came back to lean against the vanity. I just sipped my coffee while he spread the lotion on his hands and with one foot propped on the toilet, spread it up and down one leg and then the other. "Skin gets really dry. This stuff seems to work best when you're still wet after a shower." "I use it that way, too," I said, making my contribution to this stilted conversation. About skin lotion for crissake! The sight of him slathering this stuff on began to stir me. I saw suddenly, blindingly, that he was being deliberately provocative in the way he was massaging the lotion on his upper thighs. I had been so slow off the mark. The clues had been there all along but I hadn't fit them into a pattern until that moment. I felt my breath suddenly go short. I felt as though I had suddenly developed tunnel vision. The whole world contracted to the sight of him standing there, casually smearing lotion on his body. It had been a long time since I had had a sexual experience with another man. The last ones belonged to fumbling adolescence and college. I won't pretend that my thoughts and fantasies didn't sometimes roam in that forbidden pasture but I would not have had any idea about how to go about initiating a sexual encounter with another man. A blush spread over my chest and face and my shallow breathing seemed embarrassingly obvious.. My cock sprang to attention with a suddenness that barely gave me time to keep it from leaping through the fly of my boxers. Meanwhile there was Steve, this stranger, standing in my bathroom rubbing lotion on himself. He was smoothing it over his lower abdomen. He spread his legs slightly and slid both hands, one on each side, between his balls and thighs, half lifting his cock in the process. I watched mesmerized as his cock seemed to thicken and fill up a little. He wasn't looking at me. He seemed both intent on what he was doing and relaxed and nonchalant. He glanced up at me, smiled slightly, as he rubbed the stuff over his chest and arms. Our eyes were locked. "Mind putting some on my back?" he asked, holding the jar of lotion out to me. I took the proffered jar but said nothing. I didn't trust my voice. I spread a big gob of the lotion on my hand to warm it slightly. He turned away from me and I stepped up behind him, my cock now tenting the front of my boxers. If I moved the wrong way, my cock, which was still caught in the fabric of my boxers, would come shooting out of the fly. Of course, it wouldn't have been any more conspicuous fully exposed than it was as the lodge pole of that tent. Anyway, his back was to me. I used both hands to spread the lotion, starting with his shoulders. I found myself half massaging his shoulders as well as smearing on the lotion. As my thumbs and fingers dug in, I could feel him arch his back into the always pleasant feel of a massage. "Mmmmm, good," he said, turning his head back to me and showing a little smile. I worked my way down his back, his skin feeling warm and supple under the lotion. But as I worked downwards, it wasn't really possible to massage as vigorously, with him just standing unsupported. "Brace yourself against the vanity," I told him. I kept carefully behind him so he wouldn't see my erection as he obeyed me. I guess I wasn't quite so sure of my blinding insight that he was seducing me that I felt I could trust the sight of my aroused state to him. As I got down close to his waist, I half encircled it with my hands as I massaged, the curve of his ass cheeks just grazing my palms. I temporized a little. I couldn't stop but I wasn't so confident that I should continue downward. I went over his whole upper back once more but my hands and eyes felt irresistibly drawn to that creamy expanse of ass below the tanned back. "Mmmmmm, feels great," he said. That seemed like encouragement. So, taking a deep breath and with one hand then on the middle of his back between his shoulder blades, I reached down with the other and smoothed the lotion over his right cheek, my finger tips coming forward far enough just to touch the hipbone, then rotating down to run along the crease between cheek and thigh. I think he gave a little grunt as I took on this more ambiguous massage. He didn't jump up, run away or push my hand away. So when the cheek was slick with lotion, I dug into that dish on the side of his cheek with a couple of knuckles to massage it. His only reaction was another little grunt which I took as more encouragement. I expelled my held-in breath. Intuitively and simultaneously then we both shifted positions. I recharged my left hand with lotion and with more confidence, put my right hand on the middle of his back and massaged his left cheek. I could feel the big muscles tense and flex and relax as I alternated between just spreading lotion and massaging. I am not sure now that anything could have prevented what was now unfolding. My heart was racing again. Vision tunneled again. The entire world seem to have contracted to that body standing naked in front of me. I forgot who I was, where I was, where I had been a mere fifteen minutes before. I squirted another large puddle of lotion on one hand, transferred some to the other, and squatting behind him, I spread lotion simultaneously on the backs of both thighs. He adjusted his stance a little, spreading his legs. I massaged the lotion first into the backs of his thighs and then I took just his left thigh between both hands just above his knee, rubbing my thumbs deep into the muscle from his knee to his cheek, up slowly, very slowly. Very, very, very slowly. I heard him sigh as the fingertips of my right hand made their way up his inner thigh and finally came to rest just behind his scrotum. I thought I could feel the engorged root of his cock. I could easily have peeked around to see how he was faring but I didn't. I slid my hands down again and moved to the back of his right leg. Once again he adjusted his stance, spreading his legs even further apart. I repeated the slow northward march of my hands but this time I let my finger tips actually caress the back of his scrotum lightly. He seemed to be quivering all over. I heard a barely audible, "Yesssss...." I was beyond rational thought or any kind of concern now about how he might respond. I slopped another large gob of lotion on the fingertips of my right hand and slipped my fingers now between his cheeks and drew them right up the length of his crack, digging deep. He gasped and twisted towards me but I kept my hand and finger tips buried between his ass and legs. I stood as he turned. His tongue found my mouth in less time than it takes to tell of it. I sucked that tongue into my mouth even as my finger tip played with the edge of his hole, my hand keeping its grip on the hardsoft ass. Somehow his cock found the flaps of my fly, and like some sly burrowing animal, slid right between the flaps, and I could feel the nub of his prick, slippery from precum, as it pressed itself against my groin. We hung in that embrace a long moment, tongues exploring each other's mouths. I had my other hand on the back of his neck, almost forcing the kiss to go deeper while the other remained splayed on his ass and between this thighs. I'm not sure where his hands were...caressing my back, I guess. Meanwhile we were both gyrating our hips slowly. I was still wearing my boxers. I let go of him so I could shuck the shorts. His cock slipped out of my fly and sprang back smacking his belly audibly. As I reached to pull my shorts off, he grabbed for my wrist, shook his head and whispered, "No...my job." We stood there looking at each other, at arm's length. Then Steve, still holding both of my hands at my side, leaned in and I could feel his tongue in my ear. A delicious shudder radiated from that point of warmth and wetness. Then he licked his way under my chin and probed my other ear with his tongue. Still holding my wrists, he began working his way down my neck, licking, sucking in the flesh and hair of my chest. His chin and face as they made contact felt a little rough. He hadn't shaved in a while. He made his way slowly to my right nipple. When he got there, he gently rubbed that one ultra sensitive patch of bare skin with his chin. Then he wet it with his tongue and rubbed again. The sensation of roughness sliding across the moistened skin was exquisite. He took the tip between his teeth and bit ever so carefully. I began to feel as though my entire body had become a vast, undifferentiated mass of sensation. I wanted to cry, to laugh and to devour all at once. He looked up at me, and without stopping the slow migration across my chest to the left nipple, winked lasciviously. He had left a trail of wet chest hair in wild whorls flattened against my skin. My loins, whatever the hell they are, were melting in anticipation. I could feel my hips wanting to buck and thrust as his mouth made its way slowly down my belly now. He began such a slow deliberate cock tease at that point that I don't know why I didn't just ejaculate into moon orbit. First he put his hands on my hips and tugged the waistband of my boxers down a little, just lightly running his thumbs along that inch of skin newly exposed. Then he bent down, and with his hands still on my waist he began nibbling and licking my inner thighs, one then the other, inserting his tongue as far as he could under the hem of the boxers, and then nudging the hem higher, and licking closer and closer to my balls. Then I could feel his hands on the back of my thighs, up inside the boxers, the tips of his fingers playing with the lower edge of my cheeks, tickling the point where cheeks and crack and thighs merged. He slipped them out and dragged my shorts down another inch or so. Then keeping his eyes locked on mine, he slowly licked that whole newly exposed expanse, sucking in and tugging belly and bush hair with his lips and tongue. My cock was so hard and was so caught and twisted in the fabric of my shorts, that it hurt. He reached behind me and pulled the shorts rapidly down to my knees. With his eyes still fixed on mine, he ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the shaft, just barely grazing it. "Could we find someplace a little more comfortable?" he asked then, standing up. I took his hand and led him into an adjacent spare bedroom. As I leaned over to pull down the spread, I felt his hand lightly caress my ass crack. I shuddered and with one motion rolled into the bed and pulled him down with me. For the next few minutes we lay entwined and merely kissed. A kind of calm descended after the incredible explosion of sexual tension and desire in the bathroom. I found myself wondering how I could possibly be lying in such intimacy, making so many motions that seemed now to be affectionate with a complete stranger. Gradually the kisses became deeper, more playful. The light caresses up and down backs and asses firmer. Our cocks were lying pressed up exactly against each other. I attempted a very small up and down motion to start the friction between them. Up to this point, we had not actually touched each other's cocks with our hands. I drew slightly away from him and he rolled back a little from me. Still kissing lightly, I touched his nipple lightly with my finger tips. It was on the small side and required the most delicate of touches to feel it at all against the taut skin of his chest. Steve had a kind of dreamy smile as he relaxed, seemingly now content to lie back and experience whatever sensations I might be able to evoke or confer. I ran my fingers lightly over his rib cage, savoring the smoothness and fitting my hand to the curve of his hip and the hollow it made near his groin. He lay back completely, legs spread, in complete abandon, willing my hand to play with his cock. I felt an unaccustomed sense of peace and well being; no doubt biochemistry had its role in that! There seemed however such a congruence of reality and desire that I found myself willing time to slow down, to stop, so that I could prolong the moment. I took the time to study him, lying in such a pose of relaxed abandonment that he seemed as though he had been studying erotic baroque paintings. The part of me that was connoisseur and voyeur was fully engaged. The honey colored chest hair framed and defined his pectoral muscles and his rather small and boyish nipples. His belly was smoother, the hair lighter and finer until it plunged into his groin. His torso was wedge shaped - broad in shoulder and chest, narrow in waist, though his chest did not have the deeply defined sculpting of a gym rat: the center of his chest formed a fuzzy, touchable, kissable, lickable hollow. His cock lay slightly aslant, a stripe across the dark honey color of his pubic hair. A tiny bead of wetness shone on the cock slit. His flesh seemed smooth in the hollow of his groin between his bush and the edge of the hip bone. The fine hair graduating down from the dense curls of his bush showed a little dark against that paler skin. That hollow too seemed so touchable, kissable and lickable. I lifted his balls. He spread his legs a little further apart. A faint brush of dark honey hair helped define the bottom edge of his ass crack. I wet my finger and probed there. Steve closed his eyes and moaned softly. I released his balls and ran the backs of my hands lightly up and down his body, closing my eyes as I brushed his nipples, just barely palpable and just crisp to the touch. I ran my hands down again, this time making a light fist around his cock. His hips rose involuntarily. It felt so astonishing to be holding another man's cock in my hand. It felt at once so familiar (it was very similar to my own in size and shape) but it was so obviously, so wonderfully, not mine. I ran my fist up and down it so very lightly, just squeezing the underside of the cap a little more firmly with my thumb when I reached it. He closed his eyes again and lazily, languidly, reached over to stroke me in a similar way. Fortunately his touch was light, caressing, exquisite. Otherwise, I might have ejaculated from the mere excitement and relief and novelty and strangeness of what I was doing. He sat up and pushed me down. He took my arms and pinned them above my head and resumed his lingual exploration of my body. When I felt his tongue in my armpits and then his mouth sucking in the soft inner flesh there, I could feel my whole body levitating. And then when I felt him finally enclose my entire cock head in his mouth, I felt I was rocking at sea, wet, swamped, alive only to sensation. He released my hands. We rolled back and forth, one on top, then the other. Our hands were almost never still; we experimented with delicate fingernail caresses and firm squeezing and kneading of each other's backs, asses, thighs, necks, chests. Finally he pushed me back on the bed and knelt between my spread legs. Steve had brought the lotion into the bedroom with him. He squirted a gob into his hand and began massaging it onto my cock and balls, his slick, warm fingertips reaching down to tease the bottom of my ass. Then he spread some on his own cock and with one fist surrounding both our cocks he began an exquisite double jerkoff. I found one hand buried in his chest hair, splayed over his chest as he stroked us. He began to quiver and pant. I knew I was about to cum too. And then he spurted. I felt the hot spray on my chest and shoulder and cheek. As soon as I felt that, I boiled over myself, my first spasms picking up just as his last ones faded. The unmistakable metallic odor of cum filled the air. He milked us both dry...squeezing my shaft gently and firmly for the last drops and then slid down, half on me, half beside me. He gently massaged the warm sticky mess of cum and lotion over the half of my chest that he could reach, as though he were massaging my breath into its normal rhythm. I could feel his breath on my neck, then his tongue licking a little droplet of cum off. And that's the way my Fourth of July began. Comments to GLP3333@aol.com