Gay Erotic Stories

It was just gone 11 PM when we got to Mr. Connors’ apartment. As he turned the key in the lock, I looked around the lobby, somehow convinced we were being spied on and that word would get out that I’d been at Coach’s house for sex late on Friday night. Indeed, the evening had moved so fast and in such a surprising direction that it was only now that I realised quite what I’d gotten myself into. I followed Connors through the door with a mixture of intense excitement and more than a little trepidation. He must have been able to hear my heart pound against my ribcage, I thought. “Take a seat, Rob,” said Connors, showing me into the living room. “Wanna beer?” Thinking it would chill me out a little, I agreed. A minute later he reappeared with two Budweisers and, handing one to me, sat down next to me on the sofa. “Cheers, Rob,” he grinned, clinking glass. But then I guess he must have noticed my bottle shaking in my hand. “Jeez, Rob, what are you so nervous about? I’ve enjoyed the evening so far… just go with the flow, okay?” He leaned closer, putting his hand on my thigh and starting to rub. “We’re just two guys who enjoy working out and appreciate the male body… there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” The intoxicating masculine scent Connors was giving off made it impossible for me to disagree. “Do you feel like going into the bedroom and doing some posing with me, Rob?” “What do you mean?” Well, I pretty much knew what he meant; I just wanted to hear him explain exactly what he had in mind. Okay, so I had got to see my stud of a coach’s body – hell, I’d even blown him about an hour before - but to have him flex those big muscles of his and show off, especially for me, in the privacy of his own home, would be something else. “You know, just showing off all that hard work we’ve been doing on our bodies. I went in for a couple of contests when I was younger; I’m sure I could still put together a little routine. Come on, it’ll be hot.” He rubbed my thigh again and took a long swig of beer. “I’ll strike some poses and you can follow my lead.” After that we couldn’t finish our beers fast enough. Only minutes later, we were in the bedroom, Connors stripping down to the white cotton bikini briefs he had put on at school after our shower. I followed by peeling off my sweatshirt and shucking my jeans, only to be reminded that I was wearing the tattiest pair of boxers I owned. Connors smiled and fished in a drawer. “Here,” he said, throwing me something that looked altogether more alluring. “It’s my old posing suit, from my contest days. I think you’ll look hot in it.” I wasn’t used to wearing anything quite so, well, brief, but off came the shorts, and I carefully packed my dick and balls to the left in the high-cut suit, instantly quite liking the way they held me. “There,” said Connors, admiringly. “I told you: hot! Now, the first thing we’ve got to do is get ourselves oiled up. Will you help me out, buddy?” He motioned toward a clear plastic container on the dresser. I picked up the bottle, squeezing some baby oil into my hands, dropped to my knees and started rubbing it into Connor’s shins and meaty, diamond-shaped calves. He stood completely still, letting me take my time: already, this was one of the most erotic experiences I had ever had. By way of his smooth, tree-trunk thighs, I progressed to his taut stomach, which I just couldn’t help kissing as I rubbed, and then up to those breathtaking pecs, where I’d started my worship of him a couple of hours before; I felt his nipples stiffen immediately as I caressed his perfect man-tits. Moving to his rear, I massaged his broad shoulders and the back of his neck before drizzling more oil down his sculpted back and making long, sensuous strokes up and down with both hands. By the time I was through he positively glistened under the low lights of the bedroom. Then he took the bottle from me and slathered oil over my body in much the same way, working his way up from my lower legs to my shoulders and down my back. Already my cock was stirring in the posing suit, as he put his big hands all over me. “Okay, Rob,” Connors said when he was done, stepping back from me, “check this out. This is a double-biceps pose.” He lifted his thick arms out and up from his body, and then he pushed them further upwards slightly to really show off his peaks. “Cool, huh? You wanna try?” I certainly did. It felt good to flex the muscles I’d been working so hard to build all these months. And Connors took me through various poses, some of which I recognised from magazines and from a couple of contests I’d watched on the TV, and some of which were new to me. Occasionally, if I hadn’t quite got it right, he’d stroll over and adjust my posture himself manually, a couple of times taking the opportunity to feel me up through the suit. Not that I minded. As time wore on, the exertion of our continued flexing caused us to break out into a sweat, which mingled with the oil and ran down our chests and began to seep into our posing wear. After a half an hour or so, Connors’ bikinis, being white cotton, had become completely transparent. I wasn’t copying him anymore by this stage; my eyes were instead fixed upon the sight of his swollen tool straining against the sodden fabric, my own cock achieving full hardness in response. However, determined perhaps to complete his routine, Connors ignored my piercing gaze and turned away from me. “Okay, Rob, this is what they call a lat spread!” he grunted. I watched as his powerful arms rose in unison, and his spinal erectors separated to reveal a pair of shredded Christmas trees. After holding the pose for thirty seconds or so, he slowly peeled the underwear down his thighs from where it now so pointlessly clung and flexed his perfectly rounded glutes, which rose and tightened beautifully into the small of his back. As his kecks fell to the floor around his ankles, he moved his arms into a back double biceps pose. “Would you mind rubbing some oil into my butt, Rob?” he asked, holding the pose, and without turning round. Well, I didn’t need asking twice, and, after I’d fully coated those magnificent globes, I took the opportunity to work a finger a little way inside his glorious man-pussy and, pushing my hand between his thighs, fondle his scrotum from the back. I could feel his big, heavy eggs, no doubt bursting for release, drawn up tightly in his sac. Connors then turned around to face me again, breathing very heavily now, his unfettered 9” erection bobbing in front of him. Staring into my eyes, he rolled those great slabs of pec, and then flexed them into hard mounds, fondling them slowly and deliberately before squeezing his nipples between the forefinger and thumb of each hand. He was unable to stop himself emitting a low moan. Finally, with what he announced as a vacuum pose, he shrank his waist down to ridiculously tiny dimensions, in stark contrast to his developed upper body. By now we were both breathing hard and sweating profusely, and the bedroom was filled with a heady mixture of fresh, manly perspiration and more than a whiff of salty pre-cum. You could practically smell the anticipation of what was without doubt going to be some searing flex-sex in the air. I pushed my posing suit down my legs and began stroking my aching hard-on with my right hand. Without a word, Connors relaxed and took a few steps forward, dropping to his knees in front of me, and closed his lips over the head of my cock. He took me slowly, inch by inch, into his warm mouth, and I luxuriated in the sensations of my first ever blowjob. Once he had wetted my tool all over with his devilish tongue and could slip his lips up and down my shaft with ease, he picked up speed and took big, hungry mouthfuls of me, making me cry out in ecstasy. He varied his techniques between just holding the head in his mouth and sucking hard on it, bobbing madly up and down over the top few inches, and swallowing me right up to the balls, but everything he did felt divine. But I decided I didn’t want to cum just at that moment, and so I asked him to stop sucking. “Lick my balls,” I urged instead. And he took each big sperm factory between his lips in turn, rolling them around in his mouth, sucking on them like pieces of sweet, succulent fruit, nuzzling the whole area between my legs with his nose and stubbly jaw, coating my ball sac in his spittle – all the while roughly manipulating my buns with his powerful, oily hands. The feeling made me weak at the knees; I had to put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. “Okay,” breathed Connors at last as he stood up again, “I want you to do what I do. I want us to shoot our loads together, while we flex. I did this with a guy once after a contest; best sex I ever had.” He lifted his right arm up, flexing his biceps and lats on that side, and I followed suit, copying the pose. Then, seemingly reading each other’s minds, we grasped each other’s engorged cocks in our left hands and worked up to a steady rhythm. Slick and shiny from the combination of sticky pre-cum, the copious amounts of baby oil we’d used and, in my case, fresh saliva, our schlongs were ready for some vigorous action. Our muscled arms seemed to flex involuntarily as they took long, steady strokes on our throbbing penises. As I jacked him I studied the veins that snaked all over Connors’ biceps and the shaft of his manhood. “Feel like cumming now, Rob?” Connors gasped after a couple minutes of intense masturbation, as we feasted out eyes on one another’s bodies, our pecs rolling in rhythm with our stroking. “Fuck, yeah,” I groaned back. Moments later, he lifted both arms behind his head and crunched down into an abdominal pose, his chiseled six-pack rippling above his damp pubes. His huge, stiff prong pointed straight up and the gleaming, bulbous head looked like it would burst. “Oh, I’m close, Rob!” he panted. “Fuckin’ hot, sir!” I yelped, continuing to pound my coach’s meat as it pumped out bullets of thick man-cream. Deep rumbling sounds came from Connors’ throat. At the sight of his orgasm and flexing abs, my balls finally blew and my dick erupted with its second incredible load of the evening. My ball-juice rained down on Connors’ big chest, as he continued spraying his spooge all over my pecs and abs. When we’d caught our breath, we once again rolled our pecs and spread our lats, starting to pose for each other again, covered with sperm. Our huge rods bounced and waved, still half-hard and dripping with thick tendrils of jizz…