Gay Erotic Stories

Teddy was a pick-up artist, which was clear. And me, I stay clear of trickers--AIDS is big in my head and that's not my game, to die of AIDS. I'm always doing a self-test of what it is I think I'm doing when I head into a gay bar: I don't drink. I'll order a gin and tonic and nurse it with a big tip up front. Basically, I'm looking for a clean guy for some kind of relationship that allows me to trust my partner so that we can really enjoy one another. But Teddy, he was smooth. He had his hand on my thigh within seconds of introducing himself. He was a tricker, but it was so obvious that he was experienced and yet still healthy that I read it that he did safe sex. Good looking with a shock of thick black hair down over his forehead that looked like it got where it was by accident of towel or blow dryer--no comb art. This was the first guy I ever met whose eyebrows, thick and black, moved in a way that made the pass. His dark eyes were mere witnesses to their work. Dressed in black Levi's and a western-style plaid shirt he was invitation all the way. In New York there are all kinds and when Teddy picked up on the fact that I was looking for something more than a one night stand he played to this saying, "Look, a guy like you doesn't hang out in bars, so why don't we get away to someplace you can feel comfortable?" He didn't look like the type to have a house with fireplace and dog romping around, so when I found myself saying yes to a visit to his Village apartment I wasn't surprised. What did surprise me was that I asked him to dance with me--I'm a good dancer, but this was just a slow hold-each-other dance where all you really do is feel your body pressed to your partner. That's what I wanted. I needed to find out more about Teddy before I went to his apartment at 10:30 PM on a Saturday night, who-knows-where in the Village. I liked his body. He liked mine. Now I was getting horny like you get on Saturday night and you ain't got nobody--except now Teddy had me and we were together. Hands upon each other every chance we could, we just walked a block and a half to his apartment. Five stories high, it looked like the kind of place where decent people lived--always checking, dammit. I was carrying in me a need to be with a guy and Teddy was filling the bill. Out of the elevator on the top floor he took my hand and when I reacted a little he said, "It's cool; the whole floor is gay--but come with me, I'm clean and I don't bite hard." Since my dick was growing long down alongside my left leg I was wanting to go with him every way. Maybe I could save him from a life of doing tricks--I mean I am pretty confident that I have the body and the moves to make you gay if you're straight and make you want to give up everyone else for me if you're gay. Three doors down the silent and elegantly lit corridor we came to #518, his place. Keys in the door and the true point of no return: I took a deep breath and entered the darkened apartment. Teddy was behind me and when he turned on the lights, the place was still dark. He said, "Well, this is it," and with that said he went to me, pressed me friendly-like up against the wall and took my lower lip between his lips while he placed his hand right around my long dick. This corner press went on for quite a while as we introduced ourselves to one another sexually: My hands had to feel his cock in those tight black Levi's. There's something so satisfying that happens when two men have each other's hard-on at hand. Handshakes should be prick shakes and the world would be a better place.... The kiss that was begun with him eating my lower lip now transformed in a tender wet kiss with our tongues forming love knots and then inventing others. I painted his lips over and over with my tongue and he answered with the same move. Our lips were made phosphorescent, brightening with the exercise of these membranes, each upon the other's, in a bath of flowing oral juices. We were getting so excited by this hello that for a time we forgot all but our oral path to one another. My 50l's are worn in out-of-fashion tightness that I have loved ever since I was a boy and now at 38 I'm still turned on by the feel of these jeans, broken down, faded and openly inviting men to me. I leave the top button open as a sign. Teddy was already down to the fourth button and I was only beginning to pull his shirt out of his Levi's so that I could send him a thrill that only a lover's hands can give a guy. Suddenly, he just ripped it all down and my cut 6 inch cock was in one hand with his other hand he was gathering my balls to a rocking, I've-got-you tingle that got from me a long moan like only cock and balls being worked up can give up. I was paralyzed by it and Teddy had to take my hands and place them at the buttons of his jeans for me to realize that he needed me too. Still at the doorway, I pushed him to the deep plush carpeted floor and with my jeans binding my legs together, Lord knows, but that I must have just fallen on top of him like a cigar store Indian--but my wood was aimed at Teddy even though I was bound. Even bound, I was able in that extra dark space below his couch to find the buttons that would enable me to release his manacled member. Big dick & what follows....