Gay Erotic Stories

I think I fell in love with my friend next doors’ father the first time I saw him out jogging. They had only moved in a few months earlier, but with the coming of warmer weather, everybody was going into ‘health’ mode. John and I had got along well from the moment we met, and I had gleaned that his mother no longer lived with them – the family had, in fact, just been through the whole divorce process. John was a good-looking boy, with reddish hair, blue eyes and fairish skin.

However, the moment I met his father Peter, it was pure, unadulterated lust. At 19, we had already discovered the shared pleasures of a mutual wank, whenever we were left alone. John had a beautiful, firm cock, with a set of balls that I was definitely in awe of, and a thatch of red public hair that gave me a hard-on as soon as I thought about it. I don’t know that we were openly gay, but certainly we enjoyed each others company, and sex together was always quick, but erotic.

His father, on the other hand, was tall and blond, probably in his late 30’s, with a hard, tight body and a litheness that appeared to be completely natural. The first morning I saw him out jogging, I thought I was going to have a spontaneous orgasm just from watching him run down the street. He had on a loose, white singlet that rippled around his body, a pair of brief, royal blue nylon running shorts, with scooped sides, white socks and runners. Looking down toward his crotch as he turned out of their gate, I saw a bulge bouncing from side-to-side, and the hint of a jockstrap caressing his arse as he passed by our home, throwing a wave as he crossed our driveway.

Now, I don’t have a father complex, and my father doesn’t do a thing for me sexually, though I know a few of the girls at school thought he was cute. I guess he was, but it is just not the way I chose to see my own father. However, my best friends’ father was a god, as far as I was concerned, though John saw his father the same way that I saw mine. The bathroom for their home was on the same side of their house as our driveway, and the only thing separating our homes was a line of bushy shrubs. Pushing my way through the bushes to the side of their house, I found that there was no blind or curtain on the bathroom window, being situated where, under normal circumstances, no one would be able to look in. I decided to sit in wait here, and have a good eyeful of Peter when he arrived home from his run. Being a creature of habit with his runs, I had a pretty good idea when he would be back, and the wait wasn’t all that long.

From my spot beneath the window, I heard Peter come in through the front door after his run. He yelled a greeting to John, who was still in bed, I heard him banging around the kitchen, and then suddenly he entered the bathroom. As he turned around to close the door, I could see the sweat glisten on his face, shoulders, and his heavily muscled legs. His sweat soaked singlet clung to his back, and his shorts were molded to his butt, outlining the profile of his buttocks, sitting tightly inside the crack of his arse. He turned around, and sat on the edge of the bath and removed his shoes and socks. He stood, pulled off the sweat soaked singlet, wiped his face with it, and then threw it into a corner.

The waistband of his jockstrap sat just above the waist of his shorts, and I felt my cock getting hard. I admired his taut chest, the prominent nipples, the six-pack stomach. How can somebody this hot be a father, I wondered to myself, and why does he have to be my best mates father to boot! He stood in front of the mirror and ran a hand over his face. I could hear the soft bristling of his five-o’clock shadow, and imaged it rubbing between my legs as he prepared (in my imagination) to blow me. By now, I had a raging hard-on, and my imagination is running overtime.

Peter stepped to the shower, and turned the flow of water on hard. I almost gasped audibly as he slipped his shorts down around his ankles. I got the hottest view of his butt as he bent to pick them up, and then turned around. I’m going to blow I thought to myself, and the bulge of his crotch in the pouch of the jockstrap came into view. The jock was also soaked with sweat, and it was molded to his cock and balls. One side of the pouch is coming away from the waistband, and one of his balls fell out as he bent over. He reached down, took the loose ball in the palm of his hand, and then pushed it back into the jock. He raised his hand to his nose, took a sniff, and then pulled the jockstrap down.

He threw the jockstrap in the general direction of the window, and I heard the soft thump of it hitting the wall. God, it is so close. If I could just reach in and grab it, I thought to myself. No longer captive in the damp jockstrap, his cock and balls swung free. I could see the sweat roll down his balls, and drip onto the floor. His cock was gorgeous, as I knew it would be, and John had definitely inherited his fathers’ balls. He reached down and gave his cock a slight pull, smiling, as it got partially erect.

I was surprised to see that he had shaved his pubic hair off. I want that cock – and I want it inside me I told myself. I wasn’t game to touch my cock, as I would end up exploding cum all over the wall and window ledge. Peter climbed into the shower, and I watched for another ten minutes as the water flowed down over his hot body, and the soap touched places that I wanted to touch. He finally finished, stepped out of the shower and dried himself, taking particular care to dry his cock and balls thoroughly, which caused another partial erection to happen. He gave his cock a final tug, and headed out the door and into the house, closing the bathroom door as he went.

I had to climb into the bathroom. It was a compulsion I could not control. I quietly pushed the window up, and climbed in. I knew this was risky, as somebody could well need to comb his hair or go to the toilet! This was silly risky, and I know I needed my head read, but I felt as though I had no control over any of it. My erect cock had taken control, and common sense had nothing to do with anything. The smell of soap, sweat, and that uniquely male smell permeate the air.

The smell alone is erotic, and I felt a dribble of pre-cum run down the head of my cock. I didn’t know if I can avoid an orgasm at this stage, or if I could control myself to do what I had to do. I reached down, picked up the damp white socks, and pulled them on. I picked up his soaking singlet, and buried my face in it. The smell of male was overpowering, the pungent odours of testosterone and sweat. I slowly walked over to the window, bent down, and picked up the item of my adoration – Peter’s jockstrap. My hard-on was almost out of control, but I know I had to hold on. I raised it to my nose, and breathed in deeply. The odour was almost too much for me. Knowing that this had touched his arse, his cock, his balls, that this was his sweat, his smell was almost too much. I raised my leg, and stepped into the waistband of the jockstrap.

I found the leg bands, and then slowly raised it over my raging hard-on. I felt the moistness surrounding my cock and balls, felt the damp straps embracing my legs. I picked up his shorts and slipped them on, pulling them up and poked my erect cock, in his strap, out the leg hole. I couldn’t control it any longer – I felt the cum pumping out the end of my cock, globs of it pushing its way through the pouch of his jock, mixing with the sweat, and the piss, and the cum he had deposited there. An intense feeling of relief flowed through me, and I quickly undressed and left the way I came in. I took one souvenir, as I couldn’t resist it. I took Peter’s jockstrap.

I rushed up to my bedroom and locked the door. I stripped off completely, and pulled the jockstrap back on. An instant erection told me I wasn’t as yet depleted, and putting the jockstrap pouch over my nose and fantasizing about Peter running his hands all over my body, I wanked until I blew a huge load up as far as my own face. I slipped the still sweaty jockstrap on, tucked my still erect cock into it, and dropped off to sleep.

The next morning, Peter waved his usual friendly wave as he jogged past our front gate. It may have been my imagination, but I thought his cock swung a bit harder and a bit lower than it had on other mornings, and that his shorts rode up just a fraction higher to show off his jockstrap leg bands. If he knew I had taken his jockstrap, he never let on – at least at that stage. John did the laundry in their home, and Peter may have thought it had just gone into the wash. I had his jockstrap on – still!

It had dried over night, but I could still smell his sweat and man-smell all over it. I had added three loads of my own cum to the pouch, and it was quickly becoming an object of my affection. I never would have imagined that something could turn me on so much. Hoping to repeat yesterdays bit of voyeurism, I again hid near Peter’s bathroom window. John was awake this time, and I caught a glimpse of him as he left the bathroom after having his shower. This was as good a start to my erotic thoughts as any, as John was wondering around in a pair of old Calvin’s, his cock and balls, though encompassed in the soft cotton, swinging around between his legs. I wondered what he would think if he knew I had his father’s jockstrap on, but thought he probably wouldn’t care. I heard Peter come in through the front door, and then head straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind him . I was about to peek around the corner when Peter’s hand suddenly shot through the window, and pulled me into the bathroom. He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t yell!” he said, observing the look of sheer disbelief on my face at the pace of the action. “I’m certainly not going to hurt you. I just want a bit of a chat”, he said, as he released me, and sat on the edge of the bath.

“Are you wearing the jockstrap you took from the bathroom yesterday?” he inquired, a brief smile crossing his face.

“Yes sir, I do. Do you want it back?” I stammered.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to miss a jockstrap, however, I’d like to see you in it, just to make sure it fits okay”, he said, a serious look now following the smile. “You drop your shorts, and I’ll drop mine”, he said, as he stood up and pulled his running shorts off”. He laughed aloud at the look of shock that crossed my face. The jockstrap he had on today was even older than the one he had on yesterday, and which I had taken. No wonder his cock and balls were swinging more freely than they did previously. The pouch on this one was grey with age, and there were holes and runs down the whole length of the pouch. The waist and legs were so stretched that they barely held the pouch over his cock and balls. His balls poked out through a hole in the groin of the strap, and the head of his cock poked out another hole. There was hardly a single piece of his cock that wasn’t accentuated in some way, and the added sweat molded it tight to him. He spread his legs, and smiled . “Now you!” he said, as he reached over and pulled my shorts down around my ankles. I had an erection, and nothing could have prevented that, considering what was confronting me. Peter reached over, and grabbed my cock through the pouch of his strap . “Nice cock! I know that you and John get off together, by the way. Are you going to wear my jock next time you have a wank with him?” he joked. “I think you need a nice load of my cum in that pouch. You can add it to the several loads that you have already dumped in there”.

Looking down, I couldn’t help but notice his hard-on. I tentatively reached across and ran my hand down the length of his sweaty shaft. It was beautiful, about 8” long, thick and uncut. A drop of cum sat on the head of his cock, which just showed out of the end of his foreskin, and I rubbed the drop off and put it in my mouth. He reached across and grabbed my cock through the pouch, running his hand over the erect mound, then down between my legs, where he lightly fondled my balls. By now, pre-cum was freely flowing out of his cock, and I wondered what it would be like to dock my cock in the end of his foreskin.

Suddenly, he grabbed me and spun me around so my back was to him. For an instant, I thought he was going to fuck me, and went light at the knees. God, to loose my virginity to this hunk was more than I could have ever dreamed. Instead, he just rubbed his hard cock up the crack in my arse. I felt the light trail of cum running up towards the waistband of the jockstrap, and reached between my legs and grabbed his heavy balls in my hand. Peter grunted, then I felt him stretch down the crotch of the pouch, just where the leg straps joined it.

My balls were suddenly pushed up lightly as he prodded his cock under my balls and into the pouch of the jock. The heads of our cocks met, and I heard him start to breathe heavily. I felt his thrusting hips as he rubbed his cock against mine, lightly squashing my balls around the shaft of his cock. With a quiet yell, I felt the hot cum pump out of his cock and into the pouch of the jockstrap. The warm, sticky fluid caused the pouch to adhere to my cock, and I could see it squeezing out the mesh of the pouch. Reaching down, I squeezed his cum onto my fingers, held it under my nose to smell his smell for just and instant then sucked the fluid off my fingers.

“Next time you want one of my jockstraps, just ask!” he joked, as he pulled his shorts back up. “You’d better leave before I open the door. I don’t know how I would explain you to John if he spotted you in here with me.”

I climbed back out the window, feeling a slight coolness as the shadows of the shrubbery. Maybe, next time, I’d get him to fuck me. I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop trying. I slipped my hand down the front of my shorts, cupping my still erect cock in my hand through the pouch. But, until then, I still had my fantasy.

Tim Alderman Copyright Ó 2002 Timothy James Alderman talderman@ihug.com.au