Gay Erotic Stories

I love my job! Plenty of people wouldn't care for the amount of travel I have to do, but it's just the thing for me. I'm out of the country about 20 days per month and the rest of the time I'm off. On the days I do work I have to do something for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes and then I'm free to go exploring in whatever foreign city I'm sent to. My outrageous salary (now in excess of $300,000 per year) is justified by the State Department because they can't afford to risk having a translator pass on the government secrets I learn in my various assignments. My "home" is outside of Washington D.C. in an old restored Virginia plantation. My wife and two kids (aged 20 and 18) sometimes whine about how much I'm gone but my salary and numerous benefits keep them supplied with cars, charge accounts and country-club memberships. I don't know exactly how (or why) I have this ability to pick up languages, but I think it has to do with being an Army brat as a kid, moving from one place to another throughout Europe and being the right age to assimilate the language and culture of every country in which we lived. Later on, in college, I found that I could spend just a few hours with a translating dictionary and bluff my way through almost any foreign language. I can't explain it....no more than one of my college roommates could explain how his sense of "perfect pitch" operated. My wife of 22 years probably suspects that I fool around when I'm traveling but she doesn't seem to care so long as I'm able to be put up a front at various social functions. We haven't had sex in fifteen years and have had separate bedrooms since she was pregnant with our son. In the last few years she's been drinking pretty heavily and takes more prescription drugs than the average entire population of a small mid-west city. She never questions me when I return from abroad, she's given up asking after the first few trips when I told her my activities were "top secret". It's not just my business dealings that I need to keep secret from her either. Divorce is out of the question, we just lead our separate lives. Some of the things that have made my life great are: PABLO - is a twenty-year old bell-hop in a Lisbon hotel. The moment I walked into the front door of the high-class place my attention was drawn to him. His jet-black hair was pulled back into a tight little pony-tail to show his stunningly handsome, well-tanned face. At the registration desk I specifically requested that he be the one to bring my bags to my room. He knocked lightly on the door and I opened it to allow him in. He asked me in broken English where I wanted them placed and I replied in perfect Portuguese. He looked at me somewhat surprised (I mean, my appearance immediately gives away the fact that I am NOT a native) but he commented that my accent was imperceptible. Of course he said that in his own language. "Shall I turn down the bed?" he asked, and I suggested that he return when he got off duty and we do it together. I gave him an outrageous tip just to insure that he return. I'd barely unpacked my things when he came back, told me that he'd gotten his cousin to fill in for him so that he could go off duty earlier than scheduled. I worked on the buttons of his uniform coat while we kissed and I stripped off the jacket and his shirt to reveal a well-built, velvety smooth chest capped on either side by a pair of huge brown nipples about the size of half-dollars. After I worked on both of them for a while I traced my tongue down his beautiful front from mid-chest to navel and then lower, running my mouth over the front of his black slacks. He started to unzip them and I said "No, let me do it!" With my teeth I grabbed the tab of his zipper and slowly, deliberately pulled it down. I'd already determined that he wore no underwear beneath the slacks and his big uncut cock flopped out as soon as the zipper allowed it. To this day, few Europeans (unless they are Jewish) are circumcised. I love pulling back the foreskin on a huge cock like Pablo's and digging my tongue inside. Between Pablo and his cousin they kept me busy for the four days I was in Lisbon. I made it with both of them, separately and together, taking their big cocks down my throat and up my ass. Luis wasn't quite so well-hung as his cousin Pablo, but he had something that made up for it....plenty of hair. Yeah, I'm a hair freak I guess. I love guys with a full thick body coat. For instance, take: BRUNO - There's this myth that all Italian guys are extremely hairy and I can vouch for the fact that some of them are, but certainly not all. Oddly enough, Bruno Santini came from Cleveland (though his ancestry is Italian). Bruno served as the masseur on a cruise ship that toured the Mediterranean. The moment I saw him I decided to arrange for a massage. He wore bleached white slacks and a tight-fitting white t-shirt ttha appeared to be sprayed on. His muscular forearms were coated with thick black, and I could see tufts of dark hair poking out the collar as well. The huge bulge in the front of his slacks hinted that this big bear had everything I wanted. The exercise/fitness center on the ship was in one of the lower levels and I purposely scheduled my appointment to be the last of the day. I arrived a few minutes early and was escorted into a room by a big blond woman named Ingrid. Suddenly I had this fear that she (not Bruno) might be doing my massage. "Take your clothes off and lay on that table" she said, in Swedish accented English. I responded to her in Swedish and she brightened up, not quite so stern as she'd originally appeared. "He'll be right with you" she said as she left the small room, and my heart pounded in anticipation. I lay on my belly, naked except for a towel over my mid-section. Bruno came in and greeted me and I realized that, up close, he appeared even hotter than he had at a distance. Almost bald on top, his dark fringe of hair began just around his ears and seemed to continue from there on down. By this time of day he had a heavy five-o'clock shadow and the front of his shirt had a gray cast to it due to the excessively thick dark coat beneath it. He squirted a glob of this warm oily stuff on my back and started kneading the taut muscles. It felt great and soon I was moaning lightly as he worked the tightness out. He removed the towel and started working on my legs next, starting down by the ankles then up toward the calves and finally the backs of my thighs. For each area he added more of the oil under his talented warm hands. As he approached the sensitive area between my upper thighs and my buttocks he seemed to hesitate so I groaned softly to let him know how much I was enjoying his manual attention. That's all it took to give him the go-ahead, and he put a big hand on each of my buns and squeezed them, first lightly and then a bit more aggressively. He squirted some of the hot oil right into the crack of my ass and I said "Oh yeah, that feels good!" I felt his finger trace the opening, running up and down the oiled slit and he asked if he should continue. "Hell yes!" I said, and he started fingering my ass with his expertly trained finger, working it in and out as I pushed my butt up to meet his probing digit. "Roll over" he said, flipping me over on the table without ever removing his middle finger from my butt. He used his other hand and squirted a bit of the oil on my hard cock, then stroked it with one hand while he continued to finger-fuck my ass with the other. It didn't take long for me to blow my load, a huge arc of white spunk shooting up into the air and landing all over my chest and belly. He took his hands and smeared the gooey stuff all over my body, telling me how good it was for skin tone. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. "Take your clothes off!" I said, my voice hoarse with need and excitement. He peeled off his shirt and I gasped at just how hairy this guy was. I reached out and started rubbing the thick blanket before he could get his slacks off. Once they were gone though, I moved my hands down to get at his huge cock. I'm hung pretty well (never got any complaints) but Bruno's huge horse-cock put me to shame. "Oh Jesus, I've got to have it up my ass!" I told him, and within just a few moments he was pumping his massive organ into me, filling me as I'd never been filled before. His quarters were attached to the massage room, and we moved our activities to a real bed after his first pumping of my ass. We went at it all night and the whole next day (his day off) and all that night too. I couldn't get enough of his big dick up my ass, and his hairy body pressed up against my own. At one point I asked him how old he was and he shocked me by saying that he was in his mid-60's, and that he had four great-grandchildren! He'd been an athletic trainer in an Ohio University for forty years before they forced him to retire. That's when he took the job with the cruise line. He regaled me for hours with stories of how many world-famous athletes he'd either fucked or been fucked by, and I asked how he knew I would be receptive to his advances on the massage table. "Ingrid can always tell. She told me how your eyes lit up when you came in to make the appointment and how delighted you were to get the final one of the day. She's really jealous that I get all the good-looking muscular guys!" Speaking of muscular, I should tell you about: YURI - When the Soviet Union split up they went through this crisis in state-funded athletics until each of the individual republics got their act together. The gymnastic tradition of the Russians was not ready to roll over and die and I got first-hand experience in just how strong that tradition still is. Yuri was at a state dinner in St. Petersburg and sat across the table from me. He'd been seated next to a petite young ice skater from the Ukraine who did nothing but bitch and complain throughout the entire evening. She had no idea I understood everything she said, and I just assumed they were together. When she left to go to the restroom Yuri breathed a sigh of relief, telling me how irritating he found the young prima-donna. I indicated that I'd thought they were a couple and he laughed "She is ---how do you say it?---not my type" and I asked him what his type was. My hotel was the perfect place for us to salvage the evening and that's just what we did. He wasn't very tall, several inches shorter than me in fact, but his entire body bulged and rippled with incredible muscles. Blonder than me, he had even less body hair than I do, just a bit under his arms and a small little pubic bush around a cock that seemed out of proportion to the rest of his short, compact body. We took turns fucking one another, the highlight of the night being when he did the Chinese splits to impale himself on my straight-up hard cock. When I asked him if he had to watch what he ate to stay in such fantastic physical shape he assured me that there was no limit to the amount of come that he was allowed to swallow. Like Bruno Santini had once told me, Yuri insisted that semen was great for the body. His Russian-trained doctor preferred that the nutrients contained go to the body internally rather than being rubbed into the skin. I never met Yuri's doctor, but let me tell you about: YUSEF - One of my more politically sensitive assignments was in Iraq. Yeah, I met Sadam Hussein and can vouch for the fact that he's a madman. Still, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I find him sexy as hell. Yusef El Amin was one of Hussein's personal physicians and he was the brother of one of Saddam's wives. When I met him first he was dressed in typical Arabic robes which made it difficult to determine what he really looked like. In the compound where we stayed there was a fully equipped health club with an Olympic sized outdoor pool. The rest of the State Department contingent was having a de-briefing that I didn't have security clearance to attend (the transcript of my conversation with an upper-level Saddam associate went to the meeting). I lay out on the deck beside the pool and looked up to see Yusef climb the tower to the diving board. He wore a pair of very revealing Speedo-type trunks that showed an extremely muscular body coated liberally with dark hair. I stared up at his well-built hairy frame as he positioned himself on the edge of the platform and I realized I was starting to get hard watching him. He dove off and I watched as he hit the water and he lost his trunks. What a stroke of luck! They floated to the edge of the water right near where I sat and I got up to retrieve them. Yusef swam to the side of the pool, laughing at his misfortune. "You seem to have lost something" I said, and he indicated his embarrassment at me seeing him naked. "I can fix that!" I said, pulling my own trunks off and tossing both pairs off to the side. I dove into the side of the pool and surfaced right next to him, wrapped my arms around him and let him feel my stiff cock against his. We kissed for some time there in the water, kicking our legs lightly to keep us afloat before we got out and moved to the lounge chair at the pools edge. There I pulled my knees up to my chest and exposed my eager ass-hole for him to fuck. And fuck me he did! Later, after we traded positions we lay on the chair and I asked him if he'd ever done this with Saddam. He told me he had and I asked if there was any chance of me getting it on with the dictator. "You'd be very disappointed!" he said, then rolled me over to make sure I wasn't disappointed in the least by him. SVEN- was no disappointment either. In Stockholm I looked up a distant relative of my wife's, called him on the phone and arranged for us to meet one afternoon. I guess I had this stereotyped expectation of what he would look like.....blond, blue-eyed and fair- skinned. He was blond and blue-eyed alright, but one look at my distant cousin-by-marriage dispelled my earlier preconceived image. We'd met at little outdoor bistro close to his office and it was a warm day. He'd loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Sven was a dark-haired blond, with an incredible coating of the same color hair visible above the collar and below the sleeves of his white dress shirt. At noon his face sported a considerable amount of rough-looking dark-blond whisker and I caught myself greatly attracted to his well-tanned face. He apologized for the fact that he couldn't show me around the city that afternoon due to a previously scheduled business appointment. I suggested that we meet for dinner that evening at my hotel but he countered with an invitation to his apartment for a home-cooked meal. "Is your wife a good cook?" I asked, and he told me with a wry smile that his ex-wife had been a lousy cook but that he was a superb one. "Come for dinner and I'll show you other things I'm good at!" he said and I spent the entire afternoon wondering what he meant by that. Two minutes inside his place that evening and I knew what he meant. Sven greeted me at the door wearing just a towel, fresh from a shower with moisture still glistening on his incredibly hairy blond/brown chest. "You're early" he said, and I tugged on the towel around his waist to yank it off. "I couldn't wait!" I told him. We never got around to eating dinner that night, but I ate his big uncut cock before I ate his ass-hole and then shoved my big meat up the hairy chute. He cancelled his appointments for the next two days so that we could spend them together at his place. He eventually did cook for me, but his gourmet food took a back seat to his fantastic body and his hefty hooded cock. All the way home on the flight I thought about how wickedly wonderful it had been to make it with someone to whom I was related --- even if distantly and only by marriage. ROB - was sent to meet me at the airport. Since his graduation from high school he'd done some occasional courier services for the State Department and some deliveries within the D.C. area for my immediate supervisor (the Secretary of State). He'd turned eighteen a few weeks before he finished high school and was planning to attend college on a football scholarship in the Fall. He wasn't a star, but a good solid player, built kind of short but extremely stocky. Just lately I'd noticed how muscular he was becoming and since the warm weather came he'd started wearing some pretty revealing clothing. Rob's car (no, he got nothing from the department) was an old beater with no air-conditioning and he'd stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the back seat before arriving at the airport. I looked at his beefy upper thighs, well-coated with coarse blond/brown hair and took special note of his muscular arms and chest, also he was beginning to develop a nice coating of similarly colored hair. I kept telling myself that I should not be having thoughts like this about him, but I just couldn't stop myself. "Hey, you just had a birthday didn't you?" I asked, trying to make small talk. "You know I did!" he replied, adding that he was now eighteen. "You're quite grown-up now" I said, and he looked over at me and reminded me that he hadn't gotten his birthday present from me yet. "You're right Rob, I've been so busy I didn't get a chance to go shopping. What would you like? You name it and it's yours" I said, not even realizing how I was setting myself up. He jerked the car into the parking lot of a sleazy road-side motel and said "I want you! I want your big cock up my hot ass- hole and I don't want to wait another day for it. What do you say?" I knew what I should say, but I couldn't resist what was being so willingly offered to me. We checked into the motel and he showed me things that no kid his age should know. Never, not in thirty years of having sex with men have I been so excited as I was that afternoon with Rob. His cock was slightly shorter (only by an inch or so) than mine, but it was really fat and seemed to be perpetually hard, even immediately after blasting it's load all over my body, or up my ass or down my throat. He called his mother and told her he wouldn't be home until late, and I called my wife with the same message. "My plane was delayed" I lied. I went so far as to tell her that I'd probably wait until the following day to come home. Reluctantly pulling my face away from his hairy butt crack, I asked him when and where he'd gotten such a furry chute. His reply as to the "when" was that it had been sort of a gradual thing, something I'd been too busy to notice. As for the "where" he was as stumped as I was. "I dunno' dad, maybe there's somebody back in your family tree or in mom's who is kind of hairy. "Oh that's a pretty good guess" I said, deciding to wait for a while before telling him about his distant cousin Sven. "I want to know where you learned how to do all this" I said as we lay wrapped in one another's arms in that cheap motel. He admitted to me that his football coach had been more on the ball (no pun intended) than I on when his birthday actually occurred. "Hell, I was barely eighteen before the coach got me!" Rob said and I was truly jealous that someone else had gotten to my hot and hairy young stud-son before me. CHUCK McKay wasn't expecting me that afternoon. I'm not sure exactly who he was expecting, but I'm sure it wasn't the father of his favorite former student. "Oh hi there Mr. Reed, or should I call you Dylan?" he asked, trying to ingratiate himself to me. "No, call me Mister Reed!" I said, purposely being cool in my dealings with him. I'd cooked up an idea that I thought would scare the shit out of him, and was actually having a good time watching him squirm. "I just came by to thank you for everything you've done for Rob this year, especially in this last few weeks" I said, and he was noticeably affected by my last comment. "What do you mean Dyl.. um. Mr. Reed"? he said, and I said we were most appreciative of his attempts to get Rob his scholarship. "I think there's something you should know though Mr. McKay" I said, and he insisted that I call him by his first name even though he wasn't given the same privilege. "Okay, Chuck" I said, "you need to be aware that my son's real birthday isn't for another fourteen weeks, he's not yet eighteen really!" "Oh shit!" McKay said aloud, and I asked him if it made any difference with his scholarship. "No I don't think so. It's just that... well....I mean he appears so.....um....I mean I thought that......well... it's like.....I figured he was telling the truth about......uh..... Aw shit Reed, are you going to have me fired or arreste or maybe both?" he finally said, pretty much admitting what he'd done with my son. "Well, it depends on what you're willing to do to make up for your lack of good judgment McKay" I said, trying my best to keep a stern look on my face while I secretly enjoyed every moment of his discomfort. "Look, it wasn't all my idea. I mean your kid came to me and told me how hot he was for my big hairy body. I just gave him what he wanted man!" he told me. "Was he worth it McKay, worth losing your job and going to jail for?" I said, trying to keep from spilling my hand to him. "Oh shit, no! Please! I'll do anything!" he said, close to tears. "Anything?" I asked, and for the next three hours Chuck McKay did "anything" and "everything" I told him to. Jesus, I can well imagine that Rob might have been attracted to the big jock. I mean hell, he was hairy as a bear and hung like a horse. Except for the fact that he wasn't bald he reminded me a lot of Bruno Santini. I left his place with a stern warning. "Look McKay, I'm willing to overlook your little error in judgment but expect that you'll keep your hands, your mouth and your big cock away from my son until well after he turns eighteen in September. By then he'll be away at college. As for the summer, I plan to take some time off to make up for all the time I've neglected him. And, oh by the way, should you find yourself in need of some ....uh.... physical relief you can call on me. I can give you anything my son has to offer....and more!" "Yeah, I can see that Mr. Reed" he answered. "Call me Dylan" I said over my shoulder.