Gay Erotic Stories

After the cheering and congratulations died down around the 18th green, we made our way to the clubhouse. There were lots of stories being swapped about the day's golf and I got caught up in trading tales with the other members around the bar. It was only about 2:30 in the afternoon. For the first few minutes, Sean was at my side, nodding approvingly to my ever more outlandish stories of our golfing prowess.

After a while, though, he pulled me aside, said that he needed to run a few errands and asked if he could borrow the car. I gave him the keys and returned to the conversation. Sean slipped away. A few minutes later, the head pro joined our group and, after being pressed a bit, he started describing where the next day's pin placements were going to be. He had obviously saved the most difficult challenges for the next day. The pins were going to be placed just over huge pot-style bunkers that guarded greens, or close to the edge of a green bordered by water, and so on. I took some mental notes to pass along to Sean. I also learned the pairing for the next day and we were not going to be golfing with the team we were tied with but rather with the team that was two strokes behind us. So much the better, I thought. I also learned that the next day was supposed to be a scorcher -- probably over 90 which is a little unusual for the Cape in June.

When I finally broke away from the guys at the clubhouse bar, it was getting close to 4 PM and, as I walked back to the condo from the clubhouse, I realized that I was probably the world's worst host. I hadn't actively worked Sean into the conversations when he had been there and then I had failed to leave shortly after he did. I assumed that I would have to apologize to him when I got to the condo.

When I arrived at the condo, I was greeted with all sorts of sounds from the kitchen. When I peeked in, I saw Sean hard at work with something simmering in a huge pot on the stovetop and what seemed like mountains of vegetables cleaned, quartered and piled on the cutting board. Potatoes, carrots, cabbage, green onions, turnips, and an assortment of spices. "Your timing is perfect," Sean teased, "now that all the hard work is done. This mess, believe it or not, is what you -- from this moment on -- will refer to as 'Sean's Marvelous Corned Beef Miracle'!" I couldn't help but laugh and laugh.

"So this is the errand you had to run?" I asked. He smiled his full-toothed grin and replied, "Yep. And you WILL enjoy it! Now go upstairs and shower while I finish up for the moment down here and prepare to let the meat simmer."

Part of me wanted to protest being ordered around by a guest in my own place, but I thought better of it. After all, I had left Sean to his own devices for quite a while and it was probably better that he had occupied himself in this manner than that he had waited around wondering just how rude I was going to be. I went upstairs for a quick shower. As I showered, I couldn't help remembering our morning passion in the steaming water. Though I was moving quickly, I started to get a little "Woody" in the shower and so I finished up with a 30 second blast of cold water to calm myself down. Once out of the shower, I quickly combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and applied just a hint of cologne, per my usual regimen. I wrapped the damp towel around my waist and walked barefoot to the bedroom. In the two hours since I had sunk that marvelous putt, I had forgotten about Sean's incentive promise to me.

As I entered the bedroom, I saw Sean on the edge of the bed, just dressed in Tartan plaid boxers. I paused for a moment to survey the scene. The drapes and sliding glass door were closed against the late afternoon sun, except for a foot-wide slit that let a gentle breeze in. On the nightstand, Sean had lit a candle that gave off a fragrant scent of vanilla. Next to the candle was a little glass vial of oil floating in a larger bowl of warm water. Beneath the nightstand was an ice bucket piled high with cubes and covered with what looked like a wash cloth or small towel. Looking back up, there was also a box of six condoms on the nightstand. And there was Sean, with an absolutely devilish smile animating his face.

"Holy Shit," I blurted out as I took at the scene.

Sean rose and came towards me. "Not Holy Shit," he replied, "but perhaps Holy Fuck would be the correct, ah, phrase." He smiled as his arms encircled me and then he kissed my neck. "Look, Mark, I made you a promise and the one thing I never welch on is a promise to a buddy. I am going to give you the absolutely best, most intense orgasm you have ever, ever had," he whispered.

My knees began to weaken as I could only imagine what he had in mind. "W-W-What are you, just what do you, shit, what do you have in mind?" I was intensely nervous, excited and worried all at the same time. As he unwrapped the towel from around my waist and lightly stroked the hair that led from my navel lower, he answered my question with his own question, "Mark, do you know how the very, very best corned beef, the most succulent corned beef, is made?" My mind raced and my whole body twinged perceptibly just at his leering pronunciation of the word, "succulent".

"Don't you just boil the living daylights out of corned beef," I asked. Sean laughed. "No, Mark, the very, very best meat for corned beef is made by simmering the meat for hours and hours just below the boiling point. And that is what I am going to do for you. While the meat downstairs is simmering, I am going to get you hard. Then we are going to simmer together just below the boiling point for hours while your body builds up enough heat, and tension, and jism so that when you finally explode you will always remember it as 'Sean's Second Marvelous Miracle.'"

I have always been aural. Just the sultry whisper of a lover's voice in my ear can get me aroused. Sean's voice, as well as his words, turned me on incredibly. As Sean held my towel away from my body, he realized that the first part of his assignment was already completed -- I was hard. He guided me gently towards the bed and lay me down on my back on the bed. Ignoring his words, what my taut body wanted more than anything else was his wet lips on my cock and his tongue driving me toward orgasm immediately.

Sean knew better. He took the washcloth from the ice bucket, folded the cool damp cloth, and placed it over my eyes. Effectively, I was blind-folded in its cool, damp embrace which was an exciting contrast to the warm summer day. Sean told me, quietly, to relax. My cock with its prodigious glans stayed as hard as ever, but I tried to will the rest of my body to relax. I smelled the sweetness of the vanilla-scented candle and it strangely took me back to my days of childhood, watching my mother bake in her always aromatic kitchen.

I started to float in my mind as I heard Sean open what I assumed was the vial of warm oil. Oh, what I wanted, what I really wanted, was for him to drop warm, sensuous oil on my turgid, straining cock. My glans must have swelled just a little more in the two seconds after I heard to top come off of the vial. But it was not to be, just yet. I heard Sean rub the warm oil into his own hands and then he moved down the bed and he began to rub my feet with his warm-oiled hands.

"Oh, God, that feels good," I murmured as he expertly massage my dog-tired feet. He worked my feet with his fingers, his thumbs, and his knuckles, pressing and releasing the sore arches and treating each toe as though it were its own individual man. Sex is great, I thought, but I will become a slave to anyone that can give me a foot massage like this.

After ten minutes of this pure heaven, Sean oiled his hands again and moved up from my feet to begin to work my calves and shins. He bent my legs slightly at the knees to give himself better access to my tenders calves. I began to half moan, half hum, "Mmmmmm..mm..mm.." As he worked deeper and deeper on my calves with his strong warm hands, he could feel the incredible tightness in those tired calves and I began to breath sharply as his fingers found knot after knot of tired, tense spasms of muscle.

Then I quietly, quietly began to whimper and whispered to him to please go easy on these soar, soar knots. Each small knot seemed to me to be a bundle of shards of glass. Realizing my distress from my erratic breathing and my murmured pleas, he lightened his touch even more. Soon, he made his way up my legs to my tense and anguished inner thighs. After stroking my thighs for a minute or two, he raised my legs and placed my ankles on his shoulders as he sat on the bed where my legs had been. "Mmmmmm..mm..mm." I splayed my knees wider to give his wonderful, supple hands better access to my aching inner thighs and I locked my ankles somewhere behind his head.

Time didn't seem to exist for me, laying there with a cool damp cloth on my eyes, my every soreness being manipulated and soothed by this handsome hunk of a man. Silently, soothingly, he moved from muscle to muscle. I sighed, I moaned, I greeted each new site for his hands as though he were unlocking another chamber and the tension would rush out from my body with every noisy breath. Thighs, abs, hands, bi- and tri-ceps, navel, pecs, delts, shoulders, neck.... Methodically, deliberately, masterfully he moved up and around and then down my body. Whenever he sensed that I was drifting off in the luxury of his hands too much, he would rev me up again with a few brief, light strokes on my cock. Never enough to make me cum, but always enough to make me simmer some more. It seemed like there was no time, but after what must have been about an hour, Sean paused briefly. He stood and I heard him remove his boxers. I wondered whether he was hard. I pictured in my mind's eye, his swollen cock from the night before and earlier that morning. Hm..m..m..m.. I thought and smiled to myself.

Then he lay down beside me, his warm body all along one side of me. I felt his hard cock against my thigh. He whispered to me that although he had hoped that I had enjoyed the massage, he was now going to repeat with his lips and his tongue everything that he had done with his exploring hands. My entire body seemed to come alive at the thought of this repeat performance. When his hands and fingers had been warm, strong and manipulative, his lips, tongue and, occasionally, teeth were wet, soft and silky in their caresses. Feet, calves, thighs,... following the same progression as before, his mouth and tongue raised in me a heightened and excruciating level of anticipation. Precum, which had been drizzling from my glans every so often in the last hour, began to drip to a spot just below my navel. Every so often, Sean would pause to lick this precum from my abs without, of course, licking it from my cock itself, a process which just drove me even wilder.

After working my inner thighs with his warm lips and wet tongue, Sean surprised me and he began to lick my ball sack and below. Soon, his tongue was exploring the flesh below my sack and making concentric circles around my puckered hole. Gasping for breath and words, I started to stumble out words and pleas: "Oh, Jesus, .. oh, oh, Sean. Oh, Jesus, Sean. Please, oh, god, Sean. Please.... please, oh god Sean, I, I, I can't take, I can't take, take more of this!"

He chuckled a little and said that he would return to that later. He continued upward with his lips and tongue, a sweet wet soft assault on every part of my body. He devoted extra special attention to my nipples, flicking those erect sentinels of my chest with his tongue, sucking on them, and nibbling until I screamed that he had to stop. Finally, after working his way up my neck, he whispered to me that he thought this meat was done. Expertly, he placed a condom on my now so familiar cock and he stroked my cock while sucking my balls and stroking my ass with an ice cube from the bucket. I exploded in wave after wave of shuddering convulsions. I seemed to shoot jism again and again. My body continued to contract after there was no more milky cum to shoot.

And then, I stopped. I was limp, wet with sweat, saliva, oil and exhaustion. After waiting for a couple of minutes, Sean took the washcloth from my eyes and used it to mop my chest and kissed each of my eyelids in turn. He removed the condom from my cock and he moped up the spill or two with the washcloth. Then he said that he had to go downstairs to add the rest of the vegetables to the corned beef. As he got up, I could see his engorged cock swing to and fro. About a minute after he left, I had recovered enough to grab a condom from the pack and follow him downstairs, where I gave him head until he exploded as he was stirring the corned beef dinner. I told him that I would not call this dish his "miracle" but rather "Sean's Miraculous Corned Beef ConCOCKtion."

Over dinner, I told him about the golf for the next day and we planned our attack. That night each of us slept soundly, spooning together, but without further sex, to conserve our combined energies.

(Still more to come)

Again, if you have comments or suggestions, please feel free to e-mail me at ByMarkBost@aol.com.

(c) ByMarkBost. Posted with permission.