Gay Erotic Stories

This is a sequel to “One Night in Bangkok”. If you haven’t seen it, you might want to check that one out first. This is a real-life adventure from April 2002. Five months had passed since my vacation in Thailand. Five months since my world was rocked by a handsome, muscular, incredibly hot and completely straight young stud named Brad, whom I met over beers in a Bangkok pub and ended up sharing a wild night of passionate sex with my first and only time with a guy. Since then I had returned to my normal, straight lifestyle at the beach. I was back to my old routine of hanging with my straight friends, getting toasted on brews, chasing the girls and every so often getting laid. But I hadn’t forgotten my night with Brad. And I must admit, I’d started to look at the guys down at the beach in a whole new light. And then, just last week, I got a call from Brad in Tokyo. After five months of bumming around Asia he was heading home to Colorado, and would be stopping over in L. A. for two nights. Of course I invited him to stay with me, and of course that’s what he had planned on all along. My heart was racing by the time I hung up the phone. The taxi dropped him off at my place around eight o’clock on a Thursday night. My breath quickened as I heard his footsteps on the stairs. Idiot, I said to myself, you’re never this nervous around women! I opened the door and there he was, the same fabulous stud I’d last seen sprawled sleeping and naked across my hotel bed. After months of travel he’d dropped a few pounds of muscle mass from his collegiate wrestler’s frame, but he was still lean and tight and looked to be in great shape. And he had the same winning smile, the same boy-next-door good looks and the same spark in his killer green eyes. “Hey, buddy!” I greeted him with an outstretched hand, which he clasped warmly. Every instinct told me to wrap him up with a hug and give him a deep, soulful kiss, but I wasn’t quite comfortable with greeting a guy that way, regardless of past history. Besides, I didn’t want to maul the poor guy right off the plane. “How was the trip?” “Lo-o-ong,” he said, stepping into my apartment and swinging a hefty backpack down from his shoulders. “I’m beat.” He collapsed into an armchair, leaned back and let out a deep breath. I offered a beer but he said he’d rather have water, so I fetched him a tall glass and asked for a rundown of his travels. Brad told me about all the places he’d been since November— from Thailand to Malaysia and Singapore, then Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, China, Korea, and finally Japan. He shared little stories about the places he stayed, people he met along the way; I had to smile at the way he could talk to me, a stranger really, just like we were old friends. It was one of the things that brought us close in the first place, and probably the only reason we ended up the way we did. But there was one subject he didn’t go near. After a while, I felt I had to break the ice. “So, have you had any more experiences like…uh, like we had?” Brad’s eyes narrowed and he gave me a funny little smile. “Nah… that was a one-time deal. I didn’t need to do that any more.” My heart turned to a lump of wet clay in my chest. I stared at the floor for a moment of very awkward silence, until Brad pulled himself up from the chair. “I really need a shower,” he said. “I stink. And then I need to crash. It’s been a very long day. Where do I sleep?” “Well, I, uh, was figuring my bed…” “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Cool. You got a clean towel for me?” “In the bathroom.” He dug into his backpack for his travel kit, then headed for the shower— I couldn’t help but notice that he locked the door behind him. I heard the water running, and fifteen minutes later he emerged scrubbed and clean, with wet hair and fresh boxers, to tell me a quick goodnight before disappearing into my bedroom. I mumbled something, pretending to be engrossed in the tube. I flipped the remote for a couple of hours without really watching anything until eventually calling it a night. For a moment I wondered whether I should sleep on the couch. Screw it, I told myself. After all, it’s my bed. I crept softly into my room, quietly undressed— I needn’t have bothered being so careful; after being awake since ten last night California time, Brad was already dead to the world— and slid between the sheets. Brad slept peacefully. The sound of his low, even breathing beside me was somehow so comforting. In the dim streetlight glow filtering in through closed blinds I could see the muscular lines of his shoulders and neck. I lay there half the night wide awake with a stiff and aching cock, watching him sleep and wishing I could just put my arms around him and hold him while he slept. What kind of fag was I turning into? I kept to my side of the bed and watched him, and waited to fall asleep. My alarm went off at six; I arose and plodded to the shower while Brad grumbled, rolled over and went right back to sleep. Well, that part sure seemed familiar. I left a brief note and a spare house key on the breakfast table, then headed off to work for a completely wasted nine hours. All day I couldn’t stop thinking about Brad, the guy I’d spent one night with in the flesh and dozens more reliving the experience in my head, lying in my bed and stroking my cock thinking about how his ripped body felt underneath me, on top of me, wrapped all around me. Now here he was, in my own fucking house, and I didn’t even know if I could get near him. Did he really expect to sleep in my bed and keep me at arm’s length, and then shove right off to Colorado like nothing had ever happened? I spent the whole workday with a semi-hard cock, and scooted my chair into my desk more than once to hide my full hard-on. Things have got to change, I told myself. Tonight, it’s my turn to take control. I formulated a plan: first I’d take him to my gym, where a little physical activity and the sight of my muscled body in workout clothes ought to get his motor running. Then out for dinner and a few drinks to loosen the inhibitions. Then back to my place, and the game would be on. It was Friday and I had all night. He couldn’t hold out forever. At the gym I introduced Brad to some of the guys, secretly nervous that they’d somehow guess our history, but with Brad’s totally masculine, outgoing personality and athlete’s build he was accepted immediately without question. I took him through my biceps and chest workout at a leisurely pace. More than once he complimented me on my physique, and I noticed him checking me out as I exercised. His own strength was impressive, and even though he hadn’t been inside a gym in months, he was really pushing it hard. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow,” he said. I smiled to myself, and thought, you have no idea. I was spotting him on the bench press, he was cranking out a few solid reps at two and a quarter, when our eyes met and locked. Suddenly I felt transparent. It seemed like he was staring right down into my soul and all I could do was stand there helpless, watching the barbell rise and fall while he leapt into my head and read my thoughts like an open book. In his eyes I saw complete openness, honesty and candor, and most of all a deep understanding; this was a guy who knew me in a way that no one else ever had. I thought back to when we first met in the pub in Bangkok, how easy he was to talk to, and how even if we’d never ended up in bed together I would have been proud to consider him a close friend. The master plan was beginning to crumble. There was no point in playing games or trying to out-maneuver him. I genuinely liked the guy. Whatever direction he wanted our friendship to go, I would gladly follow. It was after dark by the time we left the gym. We were walking back to my place on the sidewalk that runs right along the edge of the sand, chatting about Brad’s day at the beach while I quietly despaired over the prospect of spending another night in blueballed agony. “The girls around here are awesome,” he made a special point of telling me. While ordinarily I’d have been quick to agree, at that moment it was the last thing I wanted to hear. We reached my street and I turned inland, but Brad stopped short, looked out toward the water and began unlacing his shoes. “I want to jump in the ocean,” he said. He pulled off his shoes and socks and sprinted across the sand. I stripped my own feet bare and charged off in pursuit. When he stopped at the water’s edge I tried to infuse some reason. “Dude, the water’s pretty cold this time of year.” In fact, it was about fifty-eight degrees. If Brad was even listening, he was unfazed. He threw his gym bag down on the sand, then peeled off his shirt, dropped his shorts, yelled “Come on!” and ran naked into the frigid waves. I tore off my clothes in an instant and raced after him. It was dangerously crazy. Here I was in my own backyard, in a homophobic little beach community where everybody knows everybody, playing around in the waves naked with another guy. We were only splashing around and body surfing a few waves, all very innocent, but to anyone else it would have looked exactly like what I wished it really was. Luckily it was after dark and the beach was deserted, but our laughing and yelling was loud enough to attract attention from blocks away. It was only a few minutes before the water temperature got the best of us— it was bone chilling cold, even to a veteran surfer like me— and we waded back to the sand to collect our clothes. “Hey, where’s my shorts?” I asked. Brad shrugged. “Where’d you leave them?” “I don’t know; I just pulled them off and dropped them.” “You mean like over there?” Brad pointed just a few feet from where we stood, to where the waves were lapping up onto the sand. Oh, great. Not only do I go swimming naked on a public beach with a guy, but I drop my shorts into the ocean. The only thing I had to cover myself was a small gym towel, which barely wrapped all the way around my waist, and if not for the shrinkage factor might have left me dangling in the breeze. Brad pulled on his shorts while I adjusted my towel. We carried the rest of our clothes the two blocks back home, sneaked through the back alleys dripping wet thankfully without meeting anyone, and climbed the stairs to my apartment door. I begged the spare key from Brad; my own were in the pocket of my shorts, probably fish food by now. As I started to slip it into the lock, he suddenly yanked my towel away, leaving me bare-ass naked on my doorstep. I panicked and dropped the key, quickly scrambled to retrieve it, fumbled with chilled-numb fingers to open the lock and finally threw open the door and hustled inside. Brad laughed like a maniac while I quickly slammed the door shut. “Jesus Christ!” I yelled. “That wasn’t funny! I’ve got neighbors—” He was doubled over in stitches, gasping for breath as he reached into the gym bag, pulled out my shorts and said, “Were you looking for these?” “God dammit! You cocksucker!” I was profoundly pissed off. All the frustration, sexual tension, and apprehension I’d been feeling for the last twenty-four hours were instantly channeled into uncontrolled anger. I wanted to punish him; I wanted to grind his face into the dirt. I hadn’t wrestled since college and Brad was younger than me by four years, but I didn’t care. It was time to teach the kid a lesson. I lunged for his ankle and a quick takedown, but he countered, spun around me and tried to wrap me up from behind. The kid had reflexes and he was good. I fended off that move, caught his right leg behind the knee and tried to roll him onto his back. He escaped, could easily have turned the tables and had me helpless but inexplicably rose to his feet and backed off. I thought maybe he’d had enough but as soon as I stood, with one quick move he pulled me in, wrapped both arms around me and held tight. I struggled briefly, then caught a glimpse of his eyes and realized what was happening. I stood motionless for a moment, gazing into his clear green eyes. My arms wrapped around his body. We kissed. The invigorating chill of the ocean, the threat of public exposure, my blind rage and the living room wrestling match had stoked my adrenalin and sent my heart rate shooting through the roof. Now, all the passion and sexual arousal I felt was multiplied as our jaws flexed, our mouths engulfed each other and our tongues slipped and slid around one another. My body melted into his, remembering the long-lost feeling of his muscular chest against mine, his rippled abs rubbing on my flesh, his powerful arms and strong hands holding me, stroking my back and squeezing my ass cheeks. My cock hardened and stood up straight. We kissed ravenously for what seemed like several minutes, exploring each other, comparing the size and shape and curves of our muscles, and savoring the feeling of our bodies pressed together, sweating on each other, hungering for each other. It wasn’t long before I felt his cock hard and straight alongside mine, poking into my abs through his gym shorts. I pushed back a half step and grinned at Brad, then slowly sank to my knees before him, kissing and licking each nipple on the way down and running my lips over his abs. The fresh smell and pleasantly salty taste of the ocean on his skin whet my appetite and aroused me all the more. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and gently pulled them clear of his bulging cock, releasing it to the open air, then slid both hands around to his ass and slowly worked the shorts down to his ankles, feeling every curve in his legs all the way down. He gasped slightly as he stepped out of his shorts while I stroked his calves and thighs. Finally I leaned into his crotch and began licking the sea salt off of his balls, making his scrotum tighten and forcing a small whimper from his throat. His cock was so stiff and thick. I licked my way from his balls up the shaft of his cock, relishing the saline taste, the smoothness of his skin against my tongue, the faint but urgent pulsing of blood through his veins. When I reached the soft, swollen head I ran my tongue around the sensitive edge, then gently took it between my lips. Brad breathed deeply and began to quietly moan as I slid my lips slowly down the shaft of his cock. I felt his whole body shiver when his cock head finally reached the back of my throat. I steadied him with my hands and lightly stroked his abs as I pulled my lips back to his head and then took him in down to the pubic hairs again, licking and teasing him with my tongue. I fell into a slow, easy rhythm of sucking, and licking, and sucking. His ass muscles tightened; he badly wanted to fuck my mouth hard and fast, but I held him steady and continued massaging his rod with my lips at my own deliberate pace. With a long sigh he relaxed, stroked the back of my head and neck and let me work his cock as I desired. After many long minutes of dedicated sucking his breath became quick, shallow and desperate. I knew he was close. I gently cupped his balls with one hand, steadied myself with the other on the small of his back, and doubled my pace. Brad squealed and yelped wildly as my head bobbed up and down on his stiff member, and his whole body tightened. I loved pushing him over the brink, out of control. He tried to hold back but I drove him harder and faster until he let out a loud moan, his body shuddered and his cock exploded into my mouth. Brad’s hot cream splattered over my tongue and down my throat, and I swallowed gladly. His knees began to wobble. I wrapped my arms around his legs and held him up, burying his cock deep in my mouth as he spurted load after load, his moans gradually subsiding to a long, low hum. His cock began to soften in my mouth. I sucked him dutifully, squeezing every last drop of his fluids onto my tongue and swallowing them down. At last his breath came deep and slow, his arms hanging limp around my shoulders. I released his legs and he collapsed to his knees before me, threw his arms around me and held me close, pressing his lips to mine as his tongue explored my mouth, searching out the taste of his own semen. We helped each other to our feet and stood holding each other for a minute, my rigid cock sandwiched between us. Brad maneuvered me to the armchair. I sat down and leaned back, and he knelt down before me. He kissed my leg just inside the knee, worked his lips up along my inner thigh, licked my scrotum and sucked each of my balls into his mouth in turn, then ran the tip of his tongue up my shaft and closed his lips around my desperately aching cock head. Brad slid my cock in and out of his mouth, torturing the sensitive underside with his tongue and gently squeezing my head with his lips on each breathtaking stroke. I stared at the ceiling, then my eyes wandered around the walls of my living room, and finally settled on Brad’s muscular shoulders flexing as he stretched his neck forward to swallow my cock. Bangkok seemed so long ago and far away, and a drunken fog dulled my memory of the experience. But here I was now in my own armchair, in my own living room, stone cold sober with Brad naked before me and sucking my cock like a champ. It felt even better than I remembered, better than I ever would have imagined. I cradled his head in my hands and began massaging his shoulders and neck. He gratefully responded by licking and teasing my cock all the more vigorously, sending me into a state of pure, agonizing pleasure. I wanted it to go on forever; I knew I couldn’t stand it much longer. When he started pushing my cock deep into his throat, I felt my head bulge even larger. Every muscle in my body tightened, and I blew my load into his mouth with unbridled intensity. Brad continued to work me as my throbbing cock pumped wave after wave of my hot cream down his throat. He sucked and swallowed all of my fluids, and when I was finally spent he stood and pulled me to my feet. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go lie down.” We stretched out on the bed, our salty bodies rubbing against one another as we kissed and playfully nibbled at each other’s ears, necks, shoulders and lips. The crusted-on sea salt seemed to make my skin extra-sensitive to his touch, and hoping it affected him the same, I began running my hands all over his body, feeling and exploring every muscle, every curve and angle. Brad’s cock grew long and hard, and I softly stroked it until it reached full length. I wanted so badly to feel it inside me. I reached over to the nightstand, pulled out the fresh tube of K-Y that I’d bought anticipating this very moment, and handed it to him with a look that told him how ready I was. I started to get up on all fours so he could mount me doggie-style, but Brad rolled me over onto my back. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said. “This time I want to look you in the eyes.” He climbed between my legs, facing me as he rubbed a fat gob of the glistening jelly onto his cock I raised my knees, exposing my asshole to him, and he smeared in a little of the K-Y and slipped his finger briefly inside. It felt wonderful. He gently bent my legs back toward my shoulders as he eased his body into mine, and I reached down and guided his stiff cock to the target. My body seemed to remember the feeling of his thick cock as it pushed inside; I relaxed, and took him in easily. It was only the second time I’d had a cock inside me, and the first time without the haze of alcohol. His hot flesh in my ass felt so incredible, made me so horny and excited. I couldn’t believe that this was what I’d been afraid of all those years. Our eyes met and he gazed deep down into my soul as he began to slowly pump me. I reached for him, to pull him closer and gently stroke his gorgeous body as he drove ever deeper into me. “Harder,” I said, surprising both of us, “fuck me harder.” Brad was only too happy to comply. He quickened his pace and gave me the full force of his sexual energy. It drove me wild. Normally I was dead silent during sex, quiet enough to spook a couple of old girlfriends, but now I began to moan loudly as he plunged into me again and again, harder and faster, grunting like a wild animal and pounding away at my pleasure center, his eyes never leaving mine for a moment. My own cock stiffened, making my pleasure even more intense as Brad kept slamming away. I wanted him to fuck me for hours, but his face told me that wasn’t going to be the case. His brow wrinkled. He bit his lip and his eyes began to glaze. Suddenly he cried out, his body convulsed and I felt his cock throbbing in my ass; I knew he was shooting his wad. He pumped me hard once, twice, three, four times, and once more long and slow, then pulled out and collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him. The weight of his body pressing down on me felt comforting, and oddly fulfilling. I carefully rolled Brad over onto his back and took my position on top of him. He looked into my eyes and smiled knowingly. I bent to his mouth and gave him a deep, lingering kiss while I groped for the tube of K-Y that he’d left on the mattress. He spread his legs and raised his knees while I knelt at his crotch, lubed up my hard, anxious cock and rubbed a little jelly into his anus, causing his lungs to fill in a short, quick gasp. I maneuvered forward, lowering myself into him and he grabbed my cock and slowly eased the head into his asshole. Gently, gradually, I slid my cock into him, pushing my way inch by inch into his rectum. He inhaled quickly and erratically, struggling to catch his breath as I drove farther and farther inside him. I didn’t let up until my cock was completely buried in his ass, and then strained to reach even farther, plumbing his depths with my swollen rod before beginning to pump him strong and slow. Brad moaned with such obvious pleasure that I could barely keep my concentration. I looked down at his perfect body, lightly twitching and thrashing about as I rammed my cock into him, and let myself go like never before. I loved making that masculine stud squeal. The pure physical exertion of sex with Brad was so different than it ever had been with women, and the feeling of his ass tight around my cock was so incredible, I couldn’t remember it ever being quite as good, as unrestrained or as satisfying. I kept pumping his ass hard and long, making him wail in ecstasy, and he drove me wild by squeezing my cock with his ass cheeks. Our moans of pleasure mingled and rose in volume, no doubt giving the neighbors a few stories to tell. I bent my neck to kiss and lick any part of his body I could reach as I fucked the living daylights out of him, harder, faster, until I couldn’t bear it any more. My cock heaved and then blew a load so hard into his intestines I thought he’d taste it in his mouth. I crumbled on top of him as my cock continued to pump its hot juices up his ass. I was completely shattered. I pulled out and lay beside him, both of us sweaty and exhausted, breathing deeply and with immense satisfaction. As I lay beside Brad I turned on my side to face him, then draped my arm across his chest, leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. Questions began to flood into my head. Was I still a straight guy? Had I ever been? Is anybody really one hundred percent straight? Did I even care? Straight, gay, bisexual, whatever. It didn’t matter. All I knew is that I loved fucking and sucking Brad, and I loved being sucked and fucked by Brad. The rest was nothing more than a bunch of stupid labels. “Hey,” he said softly in my ear, “don’t you dare fall asleep on me. I’ll be ready in a little while, and after that you’re up again.” Morning found us well rested and sexually depleted; lying close together half under the sheets with cocks dangling limp and satisfied. Brad shifted in his sleep and leaned against me; I lay quiet, loving the feeling of his flesh on mine, the smell of the ocean still on him but mixed with sweat and the musky funk of anal sex. He awoke, smiled a good morning and rolled onto his back. We lay side by side, silently enjoying the nearness of our bodies, our hands casually stroking each other’s thighs. Brad’s flight to Denver wasn’t until six; we’d have almost the whole day to keep each other company in town, at the beach, or just lying here in bed if we wanted to. After the months of waiting, fantasizing and wondering, I couldn’t have asked for a better reunion. There was just one thing I couldn’t let slide. “So, I thought Bangkok was a one-time deal?” I asked. Brad chuckled. He snaked his arm beneath my shoulders. “I was jetlagged. I needed rest. I had to find some way of keeping you off me for one night.” He pulled me close and looked into my eyes; my arm automatically wrapped around his waist. “What I really meant was, I’m only interested in one guy.” We kissed and squeezed each other briefly, then relaxed and lay together, loosely intertwined. Later we’d shower together, go out for breakfast, spend most of the day hanging out like regular guys and then go back to my place for a final blowjob apiece before seeing him off at the airport. There’d be plenty of time for all that. For now and the next hour we’d just lie together wrapped up in each other, holding onto the last moments of our night together in California and the memory of our night in Bangkok, feeling close to each other and being good friends. Anyone else have an experience like this? Drop me a line. Justaregulardude@aol.com