Gay Erotic Stories

Boy, am I glad I found your site. I’ve been aching to share this story but there’s nobody I can tell it to. If anyone where I live found out about it, my life – well, my marriage and job, at least – would be over. The thing is, it really happened, and it’s the most incredible experience I’ve ever had, so I have to talk about it. See, I’m a married man with two teenage sons and a daughter, so this isn’t a regular kind of thing for me. In fact, the last time I even messed around was in college 19 years ago, right before I got married. Since then, except for this incident, I’ve been true to my vows. Anyway, this happened a couple of weeks ago, and every time I’ve thought about it since then I’ve popped a hard-on. I guess my wife should be grateful, though I don’t think she would if she knew what I’m thinking about. I was alone at home: My wife was at work, the kids visiting their cousins, and I was enjoying a few days off, sleeping late, hanging out in my boxers, surfing the Net, etc. I have to admit that I like surfing a lot, and I get really turned on by some of the stuff I find there. I’m straight and kind of a jock, but ever since high school I’ve been turned on watching guys, especially wrestling, or in their jock straps or Speedos, and in locker rooms. Now that I can see all that on the Net, I like checking out all the sites I can. So here I was at home, still in my boxers at four p.m., and I decided it was time for a shower. We live in the country, so we don’t lock the doors except at night, and I stripped and went into the bathroom, which looks out over the driveway on the side of the house. I didn’t bother to close the bathroom door. In the shower I soaped up, stroked myself a little, my dick was about half hard, when I glanced out the window and noticed the big yellow tanker truck that comes to fill up the oil tank parked in the driveway. I couldn’t see the delivery guy, and I hoped he hadn’t seen me. As soon as I finished showering I started to dry off, and then I heard him knocking. Of course I hadn’t even brought a bathrobe with me, so I wrapped the towel around my waist and went to the back door, expecting the usual 220-pound 50-year-old guy who’s been delivering for the last ten years. Instead, the guy standing there reminded me of an old college roommate. He was about 30, 5’10”, fairly slim; maybe 150 lbs, with thinning brown hair, a moustache, and horn rimmed glasses. He looked more like a schoolteacher than an oil delivery guy, except that his biceps and chest were really muscular. He wore the usual heavy cotton pants and work boots and a loose-fitting t-shirt, and I noticed right away he didn’t have on a wedding ring. “Hi. I just got out of the shower,” I said to explain the towel. “I can see that,” he said, and laughed. Handing me the bill, he said, “I was about to slip this under the door but I could see you in there when I came up the walk. Sorry to bother you.” I said, “No problem,” and then noticed a long streak of fresh oil that ran up his arm, across the shoulder of his t-shirt and onto his neck and hair. “I hope you didn’t charge me for that,” I said with a laugh. “No, sir,” he said. “It just built up pressure and kicked on me before I could get my hose all the way in.” “How do you get that stuff off?” I asked. “Oh, we use this grit soap on our hands, but this stuff I just wash off like anybody else, in the shower.” “Your wife must love washing your clothes.” He looked down at his t-shirt and shook his head. “I wish. I’m not married, I gotta do it myself. I’ll have to get it off me before I drive home or it’ll be all over my car seat.” “They have a shower for you at work?” I asked. Without even realizing it I was remembering a job I had for three summers during college. It was at a factory where we had a workplace shower, and the whole shift, about 25 guys, stripped down and showered together every night. Just the image of it made my dick start to get hard. “Yes, sir, they’ve got one, but I never use it. Water’s never hot enough. It’s not like a shower at home.” I tried to shift a little without him noticing, hoping to push my cock down where both folds of the towel would press it down. I thought he’d seen what I was doing, but he kept talking. “Matter of fact, I can’t even shower at home. They’re fixing the plumbing at my apartment all week, so I have to go to the “Y” just to take a damn shower. At least I can still piss outside.” He laughed, and I joined in. “Yeah, that’s one thing we got over women. Just whip it out and let ‘er rip.” “I’ve peed in the bushes at just about every house on my route,” he said, smiling. “Not this one, though.” “It’s not your route, is it? I’ve never seen you before.” ”Yessir, it is now. Since about two months ago. This is my first delivery here, though.” I looked at him with a smile, and said, “Well, hell, boy, you better pee in my yard now, while my wife’s not here to see you.” “I will, if you mean it. I sure as hell have to go.” “Go ahead,” I said. Without any hesitation, he stepped back onto the kitchen stoop, propping the storm door open with his left leg, unzipped his pants, and reached in to his jockeys. The dick he pulled out was about 5 inches long, hanging soft and thick between his fingers. He pulled at it a few times to get it stretched out – they always bunch up in briefs – and I could see his bladder muscles working. As soon as he started to piss, I needed to, too, and I told him so. “Dammit, now I have to pee. Do you mind?” “Go ahead,” he said, “It’s your bushes.” I unfastened the knot on the towel and tossed it over my shoulder, then stepped out to the stoop with the storm door against my shoulder. My cock wasn’t hard, but it was still kind of fluffed up from thinking about the factory shower – about 4:00 o’clock, and feeling heavy and thick. Whenever it’s half hard it takes me a minute to get started, so I stood there squeezing the base and tried not to watch him holding his dick. But out of the corner of my eye I could see his stream shooting into the ground, and I couldn’t help smiling when he started making a figure eight behind the azaleas. “Gonna write your name?” I asked him, and when he chuckled I saw him look down at my cock in my hands. “Don’t you hate it when it won’t start right up?” I added, trying to cover the fact that my cock was now almost horizontal. “Worst time for me is when I’m horny. When my dick gets hard I can’t pee to save my life.” “That’s my problem. My wife’s away, and I’m not getting enough. I’m half hard right now.” Without any kind of embarrassment he looked straight at my cock. “I can see that. You oughtta be beating off instead of trying to pee. I oughtta get out of here so you can go ahead and take care of it.” I’m not sure what came over me then. I’d avoided situations like this for 19 years, since the night before my wedding. I guess my dick was thinking instead of my brain. It got hard as a rock, sticking straight out with me holding it level to keep it from slapping up against my stomach, and I said, “I was going to offer you my shower. So you wouldn’t have to go to the Y. If you want.” Not looking at me but still staring at my dick, he answered, and his voice sounded a little shaky. “If you mean it, I’d appreciate it.” He hesitated, then added, “You’re my last stop, so I guess it’ll be all right.” I stepped back inside and held the storm door for him. “Come on, then,” I said, and led him towards the bathroom, wrapping the towel around my waist again as we went. As soon as we got there he pulled his shirt over his head and looked around for a place to put it where it wouldn’t get oil on everything. I took it from him and draped it over my arm. “I can throw this in the washer if you want.” Sitting on the john he unlaced one of his boots. “No need for that,” he said. “It’s not a problem, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was going to put my yard work clothes in anyway.” “Shit, man, I don’t want to take advantage of you. Just letting me shower here’s a favor.” He yanked his boot off and began unlacing the other. I decided to take charge. “Just give me your socks and jeans and everything and I’ll throw ‘em all in. It’s no big deal.” I dropped the t-shirt on the floor and went out to gather my dirty work clothes. When I came back a minute later, he was standing in his jockeys, both boots off, his socks piled with the t-shirt, while he unlaced the belt from his jeans. I stood and watched him, feeling my cock pressing hard against the terrycloth towel, pushing it up and away from me. He released the belt and dug his wallet out of a pocket, then dropped the jeans on the floor with the other clothes. “Thanks, man,” he said, looking at the bulge in my towel. I loosened it and dropped it on the pile. “Might as well wash this, too. Let me get you a fresh one,” I said, and moved toward the linen closet. He stepped backwards half a step, but I could still feel his heat inches away. “Must be tough being married and not getting any,” he said, and his voice had that funny quaver in it again. “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s not that different from being single. My dick stays hard all the time. I take care of it every chance I get, shoot my load and then get back to business.” I handed him a clean towel and added, “Same as you, probably.” I looked down deliberately at his cock. It seemed noticeably thicker than when he was pissing outside, and hung heavier, too. He blushed at my glance and his cock twitched and stiffened. Almost in a whisper, he said, “Sometimes I beat my meat six or seven times a day. A lot of times I do it at people’s houses when I’m filling their tanks. You know, in the bushes, or behind the house, even in the garage if it’s open and they’re not home.” As he talked, his cock hardened and lengthened even more, pointing now straight at mine. I smiled. “What would you do if you got caught?” “No way. I only do it if I can prove nobody’s home and nobody could see me.” I laughed. “I know what would happen here. If either of my boys walked in on you, they’d pop a boner so fast they’d come in their pants. They’re that age, you know, where watching somebody else jack off is a real turn-on.” His cock twitched as he asked, “How old are they?” “Fifteen and eighteen. And the 18-year-old would probably offer to suck it for you.” He stared into my eyes, disbelieving. “No way,” he said, and I could see him fantasizing how great it would be. “Oh, yeah,” I answered casually, “I’ve walked in on him sucking off his friends three times in the past few months. The last time I just smiled and closed the door and let him have his fun.” “Damn!” he said, unconsciously stroking the underside of his hard cock. “Have you talked to him about it? Told him it was wrong or anything?” His finger strayed to the tip of his cock head and made a circle around the hole. I could see it moistening. “I mean, if my dad had caught me at that, he’d have busted my ass and kicked me out.” “Then it’s a good thing he never caught you. My dad caught me a couple of times.” I smiled at the memory, and started stroking my own hard dick. “Caught you sucking cock?” he asked, astonished. “Well, yeah, I mean, when I was a teenager that was about the only sex I could get. Giving blowjobs to my buddies. Of course, that was a long time ago.” The tip of his cock was wet with pre-cum, and he spread it around the head and squeezed more out as he spoke. “Did you tell your son?” I thought back to my conversation with Nick and smiled. *** I’d knocked on his door a few evenings later and after he said, ‘Come in.’ I’d shut it behind me. He’d looked a little scared, but also defiant, the way he got when he was ready to fight me. ‘You know, Nicky, when a boy gets a hard-on he’ll do anything that feels good to get his rocks off. He’ll jack off, or stick his cock up another guy’s ass and fuck him, or let the other guy fuck him, or they’ll beat their meat together, or he’ll give his friend a blowjob.’ Nicky had that frozen look on his face that meant he was processing something he hadn’t expected. ‘When I was your age I was the best cocksucker in high school,’ I told him, and smiled, looking straight into his eyes. ‘My senior year, I tasted the cum of the horniest boys from sixth grade through my own class, and in between I’d sucked off guys who were five and six years older. I had a reputation as a total cocksucker because I was so horny I could shoot my load without touching myself as long as I had somebody else’s dick in my mouth.’ His mouth was wide open as he stared at me. ‘Yes, sir,’ he mumbled. ‘The reason I’m telling you this, Nick, is that I turned out all right. I haven’t sucked off anyone since I finished college and got married, and most of the boys I grew up with have forgotten all about what we did in high school – or pretend they have, at least. That’s why I didn’t say anything the other night. I didn’t mean to walk in on you and Pete, and I didn’t want to interrupt you, but I do want to make sure you don’t worry about it too much. If Pete was standing in my bedroom with a hard-on, I’d probably do the exact same thing as you did.’ Nick was wearing his skater shorts, loose and baggy in the crotch, and I noticed they were poking up. I reached over and squeezed his cock through the cotton. It jumped, and he stiffened on the bed but didn’t speak. My own cock was straining at my pants, too, and I slipped my other hand down and freed it. It popped out through the button fly and stood up against my t-shirt. Nicky stared at it. ‘Do any of your friends ever reciprocate?’ I asked him. ‘What’s that mean?’ ‘When you suck them off, do any of them ever go down on you?’ He shook his head nervously. ‘Huh-uh. No, sir.’ Without speaking I leaned forward and put my hands on his waistband, then tugged at his shorts until he lifted his butt. I pulled them down, and his boyish cock sprang up as they freed it. It was about six inches long, still pretty slim, and his pubic hair was blond and not too thick. It looked very soft and enticing, like my friends’ younger brothers I’d serviced as an upper classman in high school. I pulled his shorts on down to his ankles and got to my knees beside the bed. He half sat, half reclined on his elbows and stared at me as I leaned over and started licking my son’s dick. *** “Oh, yeah, I told him,” I answered the oil man. “Told him not to worry about it.” Then I showed him just how I'd done it to Nicky.