Gay Erotic Stories

Looking back on it now I realize that we never should've even planned to get married at all. Both of us were on the rebound - she from a second failed marriage and me from the loss of my love of several years. Stacy and I had been together since college, and had decided that we didn't need the benefit of a marriage license to legally join us. We'd just put a bid on a small house and the seller had accepted our offer (after countering a couple of thousand higher). Nonetheless, it was a deal and we'd gone back to look at the place once more before heading for the closing. "You lock up and I'll wait in the car" Stacy had said. I'd barely turned the key in the door when I heard the sound of tires squealing and I looked up just in time to see a car careening up onto the sidewalk and pinning Stacy between the car and the big oak tree we'd so admired in the front yard. Six months later I was still a basket case and my shrink suggested that I make a new start - perhaps move my studio to a new city and start all over. "There's too many memories here for you" he said. He was right of course. Every time I turned around I was reminded of some wonderful characteristic of Stacy....the dark hair and eyes, the beautiful face, the terrific body, the luscious lips and --- oh yeah I almost forgot, nearly a foot of fat cock that I loved choking down my throat almost as much as having it shoved deep up my horny ass-hole. Melinda was my first customer after I moved to Dayton. I knew it would take a while for the studio to become established, and I was so happy that she liked my stuff that I cut the price of a pair of ceramic vases by over 60% just to encourage her back. She promised to tell her friends about my place, and I caught myself hoping that she would return as well, not just as a customer. She did come back and came back close enough to the end of the day that I caught myself asking her to join me for a drink at the corner bar after I closed up. After an evening with her I was determined to make a 180o change in my lifestyle. We spent almost every evening together after that, and within six weeks we'd decided to get married. I convinced myself that I was completely over Stacy, that I was ready to go straight. It might have worked too, except for that guy I saw at the convenience mart on the day of my wedding rehearsal. It was mid-September (too early for Indian summer but too hot to think of Autumn) and I realized I was running on fumes. I'd pulled into the cut-rate gas station and knew almost immediately that what I saved in gasoline wouldn't come close to the potential cost of doing what I was about to do. He was pumping gas into a car at least 15 years old next to me. There were numerous dents and rusted out spots on the vehicle which well-matched his apparel of tattered running shorts and a sweat shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a couple of huge tears in the front. He looked like he hadn't had a bath or a shave in over a week, his hair was unkempt and a cigarette dangled from his lips. I started to pump gas into my car next to him and watched as he placed his hand on his belly and started scratching, pulling the sweat shirt up in the process to reveal an extremely hairy belly. What I'd originally thought were running shorts ended up being a pair of old phys ed uniform shorts. They were faded from their original deep blue color by years of wear and laundering but the white strip which had once held the guy's name was still there. The magic-marker name though, had long since worn away. "You got a light?" he asked me, and I realized that the cigarette in his mouth was not burning. "No sorry I don't" I told him honestly. "How about the lighter in your car?" I asked, and he explained that it didn't work any better than a dozen other items on the old beat up vehicle. I reached into the glove box of my car where I knew I had put a book of matches from the restaurant where we were to have our rehearsal dinner that very evening. He took the matchbook from me and lit up his cigarette, took a big drag and exhaled it slowly. "Oh yeah that's wonderful!" he'd said, comparing a drag on a cigarette to the pleasure of taking a good shit or pumping out a load of come. I knew I should've been disgusted by his comments, turned off by his behavior, but I found myself intensely aroused by the stuff he was saying. We both finished filling our tanks and he looked right at me and said "You wanna' pay for both of these and meet me at the motel just down the road. I'll make it worth your while mister". Common sense told me to tell him to forget it, to pay for my own gas and not even think about the outrageous invitation he'd extended me. Instead I said "Uh-huh, I'll be right there" and my heart pounded with the possibility of what I was about to do. It seemed like the wait to have my credit card processed by the bleached- blond woman behind the counter of the gas station was an eternity. Her long candy-red polished nails handed my card back and I realized my mine was shaking as I took it from her. I raced the couple of blocks to the motel down the street and was half afraid the guy wouldn't be there. I'd taken so long at the convenience mart that he might figure I'd changed my mind. Rounding the corner I was relieved to see his old beat-up car in the parking lot. I pulled up next to him and got out. "Go check us into a room" he said, and I suddenly realized that this guy was expecting me to pick up that cost too. For about one second I considered backing out of the whole thing, then took a look at his rough-whiskered face and imagined what it would feel like buried in the crack of my ass, chafing and rasping my skin raw. I went into the office and pulled out my credit card. The kid behind the desk looked at it. "Don't you take this?" I asked, and he explained that most of the transactions there were cash. "You want the hourly rate or a whole night?" he asked, and I figured out why most people paid in cash. "Give me the whole night" I said, though I knew I had to be gone in a couple of hours. I was too embarrassed to admit that I was checking in for a sexual encounter for the afternoon. I took my receipt after signing my real name and went back out to where our cars were parked. The guy I'd met just 10 minutes earlier sat on the front fender of his car (though I was surprised that it supported him) smoking another cigarette. "What's the room number?" he asked and I looked at the key. "Fourteen" I said, and he nodded approvingly. "Good, that's the end unit". Evidently this wasn't the first time he'd been here if he knew how many rooms there were. Just before entering the room he tossed his still-lit cigarette onto the parking lot and once inside the room he got right to the point. "How do you want it?" he asked and I suggested that maybe we get to know each other a little bit first. "What's your name?" I asked him, and he answered with a question of his own "What do you want it to be? How about Buck or Hank or Butch?! Yeah, I'll be Butch today" he said. He was right about that! Hell, this was about the "butch est" guy I'd ever seen. He peeled his torn sweat-shirt up over his head and I gasped at the sight of his extremely hairy body. I'd figured he would be pretty well-coated, but was amazed at the thick coarse pelt of black that completely covered his front, his shoulders and most of his back as well. "You like what you see?" he asked me, an evil grin showing me badly shaped teeth, stained by years of cigarette smoking. "Yeah" I said, admitting to him that I really liked excessively hairy guys. "You like this all over?" I asked, running my hand through his thick chest mat. "See for yourself" he offered, and I tugged at the faded gym shorts, yanking them down in one big pull. I'd already seen his bare legs, so it was obvious that they were equally coated as the rest of him. Seeing his ass made me wonder about the genetic makeup of this guy. He appeared to be half bear and half gorilla. Then I focused in on the huge hunk of thick uncut cock that hung between his legs and I thought to myself that he had to be a least half horse as well. Stacy had been pretty hairy and very well-hung, but this stranger put him to shame in both departments. I dropped to my knees and peeled back the hooded foreskin of his cock, saw the cheesey film that coated his thick cock-head and went right at it. It tasted as strong as it smelled and I loved it! I hadn't sucked cock for months (not since Stacy's death) but it all came back as I started choking his big tube down my throat. It expanded in both length and thickness as I sucked it eagerly, and I had to force myself to breath so I didn't suffocate on it. All the while that I blew him I ran my hands over his fabulously hairy body, alternating from beefy hairy legs to thickly coated belly to his huge barrel chest, where I was able to feel a considerable muscular development beneath the coating of coarse black fur. Somehow (I couldn't believe it!) I managed to take the entire huge shaft of this monster organ into my face. My nose was pressed into his thick and heavily-aromatic pubic bush. Then "Butch" began fucking my face like there was no tomorrow. He would pull his foot-long horse-cock out and then slam it back in so hard that it felt like my throat would burst. Had he asked (he didn't!) if I wanted him to stop I would've said no. Truth was that I loved having him abuse me this way. His huge bull-sized balls hung low and each time he pistoned into me the big cum-makers bounced against my neck. On the one hand I wanted this to last forever, but I was also anxious for him to blast his load down my gullet. He left little doubt that he was about to come, bellowing out a guttural sound and telling me that he was "gonna' fucking flood my face!" Maybe it was because I was out of practice (I don't think so!) but I couldn't keep up with what he was pumping into me. I swallowed like mad but his mammoth organ just kept spewing it's contents in one pulse after another. The amount I couldn't swallow started to dribble out the corners of my mouth and he pulled out to allow several more ropes of cum to splatter all over my face and neck and shoulders. I still had my slacks on, though somehow my shirt had been removed prior to the blow-job I gave him. "I want you to fuck me!" I said, pressing my tongue into his ear and smearing my cum-coated chest against his massive hairiness. "It'll cost you!" I heard him reply and I realized that this could potentially cost me a lot more than he ever imagined. "I don't care, I want you to fuck my ass you big-dicked hairy animal!" Stacy Morgan and I had been lovers. When we did it there was romance and tenderness and emotion. Having "Butch" fuck my ass was pure lusty sex and I felt better than I ever had with my deceased lover. Somehow this guy was able to become hard again immediately, and I figure his balls had been drained earlier. They may have been drained, but somehow he was able to come up with another load after about half an hour of non-stop butt-fucking action. I could feel him depositing what felt like a gallon of spunk up my hole but he didn't stop then. No, he kept going, screwing my ass for another couple of hours and coming half-a-dozen more times. His body was soaking wet, dripping with sweat as if he were doing push-ups into my ass for all that time. I'd come myself three or four times, spewing my load all over between us, cementing his hairy body to my smooth one and I wanted more! "Holy shit!" I suddenly shouted, realizing that I was nearly an hour late already for my own wedding rehearsal. "I rolled him over off me and jumped out of the bed. "I gotta' go!" then I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I was not exactly in any shape to attend anyone's wedding rehearsal -- certainly not my own. I reached for the phone and called my fiancee's place, knowing that there would be no answer. At her parents' house I got the answering machine but didn't leave a message. All the while that I frantically made calls Butch lay on the bed grinning at my dilemma. Every hair on his head and massive body was drenched in sweat and mats of my come on his front made him look like a new-born puppy. I reached into the drawer of the table next to the bed and found a bible and a phone book. Paging through the yellow pages in the "CHURCHES" area I found the place where our rehearsal was to be, dialed the number and managed to catch someone in the office. They were, in fact there trying to call me at home. I made up some outrageous story about my car breaking down and that my cell phone was in a "dead pocket" where I couldn't seem to get any service. "I'll be there in 20 minutes" I said, knowing that I had some clean clothes in the car and that the church was only a few minutes from the motel. I ran out to the car and got my clothes, ran back into the room and turned on the water in the shower. I figured I could afford three minutes in there and still make it to the church when I'd promised. My body was all soaped up and I heard the door to the bathroom open. In came Butch, naked as a jaybird and hairy as a bear. "You want some company?" he asked, climbing into the shower without waiting for an answer. Of course I did, but I knew it would make me late. I grabbed the soap and started lathering him up, marveling at the feel of his hairy muscular body beneath my hands. I think I made my decision right then, wrapping my arms around his broad chest and pulling him close to me. I kissed him on the mouth and he kissed back. I tasted the cigarette flavor on his tongue and sucked it eagerly, felt his bristly whiskers against my chin and cheeks. We spent probably 45 minutes in the shower, where I soaped him up once, turned and faced the wall to take his cock up my ass once, and then wrapped my legs around his mid-section to impale myself on his big cock for yet-another ass-pounding. Finally the warm water turned cool and we moved our action from the tiny cramped stall to the bed in the main part of the motel room. "I've gotta' go" I said, and he said something that made up my mind once and for all. "Stay here and fuck me!" he said, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You mean it?!" I said, unable to imagine that he wasn't joking with me. "Yeah I mean it. I want you to eat my ass and then fuck it!" he said. Oh shit, what an invitation! I buried my face in the hair-pie of his nearly grotesque butt- crack, licking and chewing and thrusting my tongue up his soapy clean chute. Oddly enough, he seemed to be digging it almost as much as I was and I was almost reluctant to take my face away from his butt in order to instead position my raging hard-on at the opening. We took turns after that, literally fucking the night away and I not only missed my wedding rehearsal and dinner, I also completely blew off the wedding and the reception just to stay there in that seedy motel room with "Butch". It didn't take much to change my address from Dayton to Daytona, nor did it take much convincing to get Miles to move there with me. Yeah, that was his real name, though I've always called him Butch. You would too if you ever saw him. Melinda was pissed as hell when I stood her up, but eventually she admitted that it would've been a big mistake to marry me. She actually came out and told me that her first husband was gay too. Imagine a woman falling for the same thing twice. Miles cleaned up really nicely. A shave and a haircut and he was about the sexiest man alive. I was almost tempted to leave him looking like a bum for fear that every gay man in the world would want him. Wanna' know the real kick of this whole thing? Miles and I have been together now for almost five years. I've moved my studio to Florida and he runs the shop out front. Sometimes guys come in and put the moves on him but he always tells them that there's no one he'd rather fuck or be fucked by than me. I can relate to that! Hell, that goes double from my end ---- (no pun intended)!