Gay Erotic Stories

Chapter Five – Long Time Passing “How long since you had sex?” I looked up in shock. Neil was staring at me, having asked his question across the dinner table in front of four other friends. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said indignantly. “Yes it is,” he replied, “especially when you sit here at our table with a morose look on your face and refuse to join in the conversation. You’re becoming boring Mike, and I think you need a good fuck!” “Yep,” chimed in Peter. “I agree. And getting back to the question, how long has it been, Mike?” I stared miserably at Neil, then Peter, then the others who were all looking to me expectantly. “I don’t know, a while I suppose.” “Almost a year!” declared Peter’s other half, Rob. “Since that weekend you went to Melbourne chasing this faceless Dave we all heard about but never met, and came back with your tail between your legs. What did happen with him?” “I don’t want to talk about it!” I said emphatically, standing up and storming outside to get away from them, bringing the topic to a close, or so I thought. Neil joined me five minutes later. “Look, Mike, I’m sorry if you’re upset, but we’re worried about you. You’re a good friend, but everyone says the same thing. Over the last twelve months you’ve become very quiet, withdrawn. It’s not healthy!” “I’m fine, really I am.” “No you’re not. You’re still carrying a torch for someone who dumped you ages ago. You have to get out and live.” I began to sniffle as the tears formed. He had caught me at a bad time – it was exactly a year ago to the day that I had met up with Dave again in the pub and we’d both collapsed at my flat after a long night of drinking, to wake up the next day and make passionate love. Neil saw the moisture in my eyes. “Hey, mate, are you okay?” “He didn’t dump me, Neil. I dumped him. But I miss him, more than anything. I haven’t gone a day without thinking about him.” “But why…” “He was so far away, and sleeping with other guys. I couldn’t bear being the occasional long distance fuck, to be fitted in amongst his regulars.” “Is that what he said?” “No, but it’s how I felt. It was better to end it. But I just can’t seem to get him out of my head.” Neil just stood, and moved to me, holding me in his arms. I cried softly, letting out some long built up emotion. He waved the others away and let me get control again. “Mike, you really do need to get back into circulation again. But you’re obviously still not ready for starting another relationship. This is going to sound crass, but I think you should get yourself out and have some no-strings sex. Take yourself off to the baths or somewhere. It’s a way of breaking the cycle of thinking about him when he’s not around. Start with the easy part – sex – first, and work up to the difficult emotional stuff after that.” A week later I was sitting at home alone, when Neil’s words came back to me. He had been quite sincere, and serious, when he’d suggested I go out and get some anonymous sexual gratification. Maybe what he said made sense. I certainly wasn’t getting anywhere sitting at home alone every weekend. So I found myself at one of the saunas. It was a long time since I had been to somewhere like this, but the basic rules hadn’t changed, and they fulfilled a purpose. Pay your money, collect your towel, make eye contact, find a cubicle, fuck, and leave. That was how it worked, I knew. No commitment, no questions, and more often than not, no names! It didn’t take long to find a potential partner. He was tall and solid, dark hair covering his chest, and I noticed him following me from one area to another as I explored my way around the place. I felt a rush of blood, a sense of nervous anticipation, and stopped near the door of an empty cubicle, turning to watch him as he got closer. He walked right up to me, looked me straight in the eye, and brushed past me, his arm lingering against my chest as he went into the tiny room and sat on the vinyl covered bench, looking at me still. I followed him in, my heart beating quickly. As I did, he stood and turned the latch on the door, giving us some privacy. The towel around his waist was carelessly dropped, and his semi-hard cock swung from his groin toward me. He lifted his hand to my chest, running a finger along the edge of my pecs. “Hi,” I said quietly. “How are you?” “Okay,” came the gruff reply. His hand slid down my abdomen. “Been here long?” I asked, trying to make some kind of intellectual contact. “Nuh.” He loosened my towel and pushed it away, leaving me naked. His fingers grabbed at my slowly hardening cock. “So where are you from?” I asked, feeling strangely nervous. “Do you wanna fuck or not?” He sounded annoyed. “Well, yes, I guess so. But can’t we talk as well, at least tell me your name?” He stood up, recovered his towel, and opened the door with an irritated snap. “Forget it mate. If I wanted conversation I wouldn’t be here, would I?” As he left, I sat down hard on the bench, mentally kicking myself. I knew how these places worked. Why couldn’t I just shut up and get on with it? Feeling very glum, I stared at my feet, sitting there still naked, my towel lying on the padded platform beside me. I heard a cough, and looked up at the open doorway. Leaning against the edge of the door, his towel draped over his shoulder, one hand slowly stroking a thick and growing tool, was a blond guy with a chiselled chest and impossibly narrow waist. He was gorgeous, and looked a lot like Dave. I forced myself to not think about Dave, and looked again at the man who was staring at me and fondling himself only a metre away. “Busy?” he said in a low tone. I stifled a chuckle. “Not now,” I said. He sauntered casually into the cubicle, an air of confidence about him. Locking the door behind him, he dropped his towel. His prick was now almost fully erect, standing out proudly in front of him. It was huge! Long, although not the longest I had ever seen, but thick as well. I looked at his meat, then up to his face, which smiled at me, and back to his groin again. “I saw the other guy piss off,” he said quietly. “Didn’t he want you?” I smiled grimly to myself. “Not after I asked him his name,” I said. “It’s been a long while since I came here. I forgot how to act appropriately.” “My name’s Warren,” he volunteered, and I’d really like to fuck you!” I tried not to sound shocked at his forthright comment. After all, that was why people came here. “I’m Mike,” I said quietly. I looked again at him, taking the time to enjoy the sight. He was truly stunning, a beautiful man, and I wondered for a moment why he needed to come here for sex when he could have his choice of men at the bars. “So, Mike,” he whispered, “do you want it?” “Yeah,” I hissed, my cock suddenly throbbing erect. “I want it.” There was no prelude to our joining, no pretense at romance. He moved quickly to me, taking my now stiff member in his hand and squeezing me appreciatively. I copied him, wrapping my fingers around his massive tool. I suddenly wondered if I was going to be able to take him, he was so big. “Uh, Warren, take it slowly, okay? It’s been a while for me.” “No sweat, mate. You got any preference for position?” “Err, no …” “Then lie back and enjoy!” he said as he knelt on the bench, spreading my legs and lifting my feet to his shoulders. As my head rested on the vinyl, I felt his hands kneading my cock, and running along the crack of my arse toward my hole. He reached for a couple of sachets of lube from the bin provided by the management, and began to rub it onto me, using his fingers to insert the oozing liquid into my anus, opening me as he did. He was gentle enough, and careful as he went, although a little quick. I willed myself to relax and enjoy his attentions as I felt him force first one and then a second digit into me. Just as I was beginning to tingle with the pleasure of his ministrations, he withdrew his hand, and coated the lubricating gel over and along his huge pole of muscle. He settled my knees on his shoulders and leaned over me and into me. I thought for a second he was going to kiss me, but no, he was just getting into the most comfortable position. With his fingers guiding the way, he nudged his firm round knob against my puckering hole and began to press forward. I felt the pressure against me, felt my sphincter resist, and willed myself to relax, pushing back to meet him. “Slowly, Warren!” I cautioned again in a whisper, and he grunted an acknowledgment. Gradually I felt my muscles yield to the insistent force of his cockhead. My anus stretched as wide as it could, and still his prick pried me open further. Whether it was because I had not been with anyone for so long, or whether he was exceptionally large, or a combination of the two I don’t know, but as he inched forward, driving the head of his weapon into my hole, a searing knife of pain ripped through me. I was no virgin, but this was agony. I hissed and gasped, my breath coming in quick pants as I tried desperately to relax around him, to adjust to him. I swore he had torn me open as I ached from his insertion. When the mushroom cap of his flared glans finally passed through and my anus closed around his shaft, he moaned a low satisfied sound, but all I could do was grimace from the shooting pain emanating from my arse. I bit my lip and blinked away the salt of tears that had come unbidden to my eyes as he stopped for a moment. “Okay?” he hissed, and I grunted back, not wanting to admit that I was in agony. He took my response as encouragement and began to push again, his thick, thick shaft slowly sliding between my ring of muscle and sinking into my protesting rectum. I squirmed with the discomfort, forced myself not to cry out. Even though his entry into my gut was slow and measured, it felt as though a beer can was being shoved into me. Finally, he filled me completely, the entire length and thickness of him buried inside. He rested a moment and began to hump at my body, slowly in and out, increasing his speed as the clenching resistance of my hole lessened. Gradually, the pain I felt from being ploughed by his huge log resolved into mere discomfort as Warren thrust into me, pounding his thick sausage into my wounded bowel. The man atop me was obviously enjoying himself. And he was a ‘talker’. As he thumped himself into me, he hissed, “Fuck yeah …” Ram. “Oh that’s good …” Shove. “Take that cock …” Thrust. “You like it, don’tcha …” Thud. I lay there and accepted his plunging and his hissing, doing my best to relax and enjoy it. I blocked out the sound of his voice in my ears, and in the dimness of the cubicle, I imagined that he was Dave. It was Dave, in my mind, who drove himself into me; Dave who fucked my arse with intensity and lust; Dave who filled me. The discomfort faded, and with the help of my fantasy, I began to be aroused by this fucking. My cock returned to its previous hardness, and tingles of pleasure spread from my cavern exciting me and stimulating me. With my eyes closed and my head back on the bench, I felt Dave holding me as Dave’s cock thundered into me. I was just starting to really get into it, to moan and enjoy it, when I was suddenly brought back to reality. Warren in the real world, as opposed to Dave in my imagination, had hit his peak. As he did, he grabbed at my legs, and pulled me back fiercely onto his massive tube of manmeat, shoving himself into me hard and deep, and shuddering with the power of his climax. I felt his cock erupt, a load of his jizz filling my gut as he twitched in release. In a minute or so it was over, but my eyes were closed again, my mind telling me it was Dave who filled me, as my hand flew up and down my shaft, flailing at my cock and driving me towards orgasm. Warren leaned over me. “You about there?” he whispered, but I ignored him. “I can’t stay in much longer,” he warned, as his rapidly flagging tool was clenched by my arse, and I writhed under him as in my dream Dave fucked me harder. With a gasp, I exploded, wads of cum shooting up and falling back onto my skin. As I reached my peak, I clamped my arse hard, and the spasm expelled Warren’s now limp, flaccid prick from my body. He sat back on the bench and watched as I ejaculated several times before collapsing, spent for the moment. “Hey mate,” he murmured. “What did you say your name was? Mike? That was great, Mike!” He began cleaning himself up, readying himself to leave. “You wanna get together again sometime?” “Uh, I don’t know,” I said slowly, not wanting to offend him with an outright rejection. “No worries!” he said cheerfully. “I’m here every Saturday night, if you change your mind.” I smiled weakly, and watched him exit the room. What an existence, I thought to myself. How could anyone go through life spending every weekend having anonymous sex in dim bathhouses? Suddenly I had to get out of there. I cleaned up, dressed and headed home as fast as I could. Several days later I spoke to Neil again. “Have you tried to get out like I suggested?” he asked. “I tried, but it was awful!” I related the whole sordid story, giving him all the details, including my fantasising that the man was Dave, as the only way I could get into it. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh, boy. You really are in a bad way. Why don’t you try to get in contact with this Dave guy again? Maybe that’s the only thing that can save you!” “I tried that the day after the sauna. His number is disconnected.” Neil tutted again, and pushed me for more information about Dave. He had been a ‘no-go’ topic since I dumped him, and consequently none of my friends knew much about him. Now Neil seemed determined to find out everything he could, and in my depressed mood, I answered him as best I could. It didn’t even register with me to question why Neil wanted to know so much. Finally, he patted my back and got ready to go. “Listen, Mike, this has gone on way too long. Try to cheer up, okay? You have to get on with life, and it’s never as bad as you think.” “Yeah, yeah,” I replied despondently. I doubted I would ever feel really happy again. Time passed slowly, but my mood didn’t improve much. As I had been for the last year, I worked during the day, went home and stared at the TV or wanked off to relieve the tension, and slept. I operated on auto-pilot for most of the time, not thinking about anything much at all. My friends continued to insist on having me join in at dinner parties, or going to the theatre, but I rarely enjoyed myself, and the comments about finding me a man began to wear thin. One Saturday morning, Neil rang me. He sounded excited, pleased with himself about something, but I took little notice. “Mike, do you have any plans for this evening?” he asked. “Nah.” My usual response. “Good. I have something important to show you. Meet me at ‘Chez Hommes’ tonight, okay? I’ve booked a table in your name for 8.30.” My curiosity was piqued. I knew the restaurant he named: it was a small intimate place, good for romantic dates and quiet talk. Why on earth would Neil want to meet me there? “I guess,” I answered uncertainly. “This is important, Mike. Promise me you’ll be there?” “Okay, okay! I promise.” I showed up just before the allotted time, and asked for my table. The maitre’d ushered me into a booth at the back of the room, very quiet, very private. Again I wondered at what Neil could possibly have to show me that required such a setting. I sipped a drink as I waited, looking over the menu, when there was a cough beside me. I looked up and gasped. Standing there, looking absolutely stunning, with a guilty grin on his face and a single long-stemmed red rose in his hand, was Dave! To be continued… Comments, complaints or compliments? Email me at iainlthr@hotmail.com