Gay Erotic Stories

For many years, the safest and most comfortable place for anonymous sex in Dublin was the sauna called (confusingly) "The Gym". Hardier and braver souls than I would venture to The Phoenix Park on the western edges of the city but sex in the perpetually damp grass (not to mention the possibilities of being spotted by the police guarding the President, the Papal Nuncio and the US Ambassador) did nothing for my libido. Dublin's other outdoor cruising ground, St Anne's Park to the north, lost its appeal after a number of infamous fag-bashing episodes, culminating in the murder of a guy there some years back. I like danger as much as most but even I have limits. "The Gym", on the other hand, was (to my tastes) as close to an ideal location for casual sex as we're likely to find in Ireland. Situated down a dark side alley, the entrance was protected by a heavy metal door and a CCTV camera. Embedded in the wall was a plaque which said simply "The Gym" and listed its opening hours. The rest of the street comprised of the entrances to the kitchens of the restaurants which fronted Dame Street, complete with overflowing dustbins, and the side entrance to "The George" gay bar. Late at night, the darkness, the smells from the kitchens and the faint sound of dance music coming from "The George" gave the alley a deliciously seedy atmosphere - essential to creating the right mood for good casual sex. And, on this particular Friday night, I was in the mood. It had been a long time since I had last been fucked by someone whose name I was never likely to hear and whose face I was never likely to see again. Don't get me wrong - there was no shortage of sex (some of it good, even) in my life at the time: my lover was attentive and caring but it had got to stage where I could anticipate all his moves hours before they happened. I suppose I was bored. I know I was restless even before I met Michael in "The George" and we had our usual chat about our sex lives. Outwardly, Michael was a pillar of society - he was a teacher in a good school, had an apartment in a good area, drove a nice car - the usual stuff. But Michael was more closeted than I ever had been; with good reason: a teacher in Ireland can expect to be fired for being gay. Michael's delight in casual sex was, I suppose, a compensation for the rigid, orthodox life he led during the day (preparing children for their first Holy Communion and that sort of stuff). I know for certain that he could never sustain a relationship. "How's Pat?", he asked me, as I handed him his beer. "Pat's fine", I answered, "he's down at home, visiting his family. He'll be gone all weekend". "When the cat's away...", Michael said, grinning broadly. "So what's this mouse getting up to tonight?". Surprisingly, Michael and I had never fucked, mainly because we usually met in the company of Pat or whoever I happened to be seeing at the time. God knows I wanted to - Michael was a great looking guy: about 5'11", slim build and those sad, dark brown eyes that just make you want to hold him. If this was a come-on, then I would have been a fool to turn it down. "What would you suggest?", I asked him, looking straight into his eyes. "After all, you're the expert!". He seemed taken aback. "Are you serious?", he asked. "Yep!". Slowly, a grin replaced the look of astonishment on his face. He leaned in close to me and said: "Have you ever put on a show?". It was my turn to be surprised. "What, here?", I asked, indicating the slightly shabby surroundings. "No", he sniggered, "not even I would do that! Come on, finish your beer". He drained his glass and I followed suit. Putting his arm around me, he led me to the door and out into the lane. It was a cold October night and I shivered - not just from the cold either. Michael held me tighter and it was a delicious feeling. The lane was deserted apart from a few mangy cats as we hurried quickly across. "Where are we going?" I asked. "The Gym", Michael replied. "You're guaranteed an audience there". He grinned wickedly. Within moments, we were handing over our money to the bored attendant who gave us towels and locker keys in return. We quickly climbed the stairs to the changing room where there were about 6 or 7 other guys of all ages in various stages of undress. One guy in particular caught my attention - late 40s or early 50s with a very well preserved body and the largest nipples I had ever seen on a man. His chest had a light coating of brown hair (streaked with grey) and he had a small tattoo on his left forearm. He smiled at us as he padded off in the direction of the steam room. Michael leaned in towards me and whispered: "Are you ready?". Before I had a chance to respond, his mouth was on mine and his hands were under my shirt. I was shocked into immobility. After kissing me passionately for a few moments and teasing my nipples into hardness, he took a step back ... and slowly began to strip me, starting with my shirt. By this time, our audience were beginning to take notice. Big Tits had stopped at the door of the Steam Room and looked about ready to come back. Having tossed my shirt into the locker, Michael began to undo my belt, open the top button of my jeans and, as he slowly opened the zipper with his right hand, he slid his left hand in. By this time, I had recovered my composure and I realised I had better start getting into the part if we weren't to lose our audience. I had hopes for audience participation. I placed my hands on the back of my head and arched my back as Michael began to finger my hardening cock through my boxers. He quickly pulled his hand out and my pants dropped to the ground. As he slowly lifted my left leg out of them, he ran his tongue up along my thigh towards my crotch and a shudder went through me. By this time, I had my eyes closed and I was swaying to some hidden music that only I could hear. I opened my eyes to see Michael raise his hands over his head. I moved towards him, raised his t-shirt and guided it over his head and into the locker. My hands dropped to his jeans and, as I opened them, I began to lick his neck, his shoulders, his chest; taking long slow swipes over his beautiful chest muscles; sinking slowly to my knees in front of him as my tongue mapped out his torso. I paused a little while at his navel, swirling my tongue around and around, as my hands worked his jeans down to the floor. Then, placing both my hands on his hips, I buried my face in his jockey shorts. His cock was as hard as a rock, lying sideways across his thigh and I ate it greedily through the fabric. Easing my fingers under the waistband, I inched the shorts slowly down until his dick sprang free and struck me on the face. I took three long, slow licks from the base to the tip and slowly stood up. Michael pinned my arms to my sides and kissed me passionately. By this time, we had a very attentive audience. About a dozen guys had appeared from different rooms to watch and even the bored attendant was standing at the foot of the stairs, arms folded and a broad grin on his face. Michael leaned into the locker to grab something from his jeans, threw me my towel, locked the door and flung the key at the attendant. Grabbing my hand, he hurried me towards the steam room. Michael opened the door and all but disappeared in the cloud of steam that emerged. I plunged into the stifling gloom after him. We both flopped down onto the hard wooden slats and tried to catch our breath. Looking around, I noticed the only other occupant of the steam room was Big Tits. He had discarded his towel and it was clear that our performance outside had impressed him. He was looking directly into my eyes as he slowly stroked his cock. It had to be at least 8 or 9 inches long and thick to match with a bush of jet black hair at the base. Michael gave me an encouraging push and I slowly bent down towards it. I cupped one hand around the hairless balls and slowly began to slide my mouth over the purple head that had emerged from his foreskin. As I began to swallow it, I got onto my knees on the bench so I could go down on him easier. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the door opening and someone else entered the room. I love sucking dick but this one was so thick that even I was daunted. Its owner grabbed my free hand and guided it towards his chest and I started to pull and twist his nipples. In response, he started to fuck my face hard, forcing himself further and further down my throat until I was blinded by tears, choking with every effort to breath. Reader, I'm not ashamed to admit that I gagged a bit on that massive chunk of meat. Suddenly, I felt two hands grab my hips from behind and the unmistakable rasp of a tongue exploring my ass-crack. The hands pulled my cheeks apart as the tongue worked its way downwards until it reached my hole. At the same moment, the cock in my mouth began to jump and suddenly my taste-buds were overwhelmed with the sticky, salty-sweet taste of fresh cum. I swallowed greedily but there was too much of it ... it leaked down my chin and onto my chest and splashed onto Big Tits's crotch. By this time, the tongue was wildly fluttering around my hole, making sudden deep forays right inside, then coming out again. Just as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone - to be replaced seconds later by something suddenly cold and damp. First one finger, then two, worked the lube into my ass, forcing my sphincter to open more and more. I vaguely registered the unmistakable snick of a condom being pulled on and then I felt the fingers being replaced by a larger, more urgent presence. The guy I had blown cradled my head on his chest as the cock inched its way into my guts. At first, it burned and it seemed to take forever to get it all in but finally I heard a satisfied sigh from its owner just as I felt his pubic hair brush against my ass cheeks. I momentarily opened my eyes - in the gloom, I could see about five or six guys wanking themselves as they watched the performance. Michael was being blown by an overweight guy in the corner, a huge grin on his face as he winked over at me. As my fucker began to move slowly in and out, I closed my eyes again. He was gentle and slow at first so I pushed my ass back to meet his thrusts ... God I wanted to be fucked HARD! He soon got the message and suddenly he thrust in deeply and hard. A half-gasp, half-scream escaped from me as he pumped harder and deeper inside, until all that existed was the exquisite throbbing, probing combination of pain and pleasure in my ass. I hadn't realised my eyes were open until Michael's hand swam into view, clutching an open bottle of poppers. Someone's hand held my head as the bottle was stuffed under my nose ... I had no choice but to inhale two panting, gasping breaths from the bottle. I felt my pulse race, my heart beat as if it was going to burst through my chest wall and all the time this relentless, pulsing dick was fucking my ass, punching my guts. I was in heaven. There was a sudden movement in the room and first one, then another then still another came towards me, stroking their cocks and shooting all over my back, my head, my face. I'm not sure when I realised that the voice half-shouting, half-gasping "fuckme fuckme fuckme" was my own. Time lost all meaning. I was drenched in sweat and in cum. A hand brushed against my cock head and that was enough to send me over the edge. I came and came and came. As my cock twitched and jumped, as spunk flew out of me, my ass gripped my fucker's cock and he groaned and thrust deeper into me. I screamed as I felt him shoot into my ass and my vision exploded into stars. As soon as the guy pulled out of me, I collapsed, gasping and sobbing, onto the guy with big nipples. He gently stroked my hair and back until I caught my breath, kissing my head gently. Sometime - a minute? an hour? who knows? - later, I felt two arms hauling me to my feet. Michael whispered "Are you ok?" to me - it was all I could do to nod once. Slowly he led me to the showers as our audience, silent but appreciative, parted to let us pass. I turned to Michael and said "Who..." but he silenced me with his finger and said "That's the whole point ... not knowing". I called Pat the next morning. He was very understanding - he quite understood that I needed time to find myself. He couldn't disguise the hurt in his voice though. But hey - the show must go on, right? Copyright (c) Russell Clarke 1997. The author has asserted his moral rights to the ownership of this work.