Gay Erotic Stories

He was a real spunk, the kind of guy you could stare at for hours, and he lived across the hall from me. I had only been living here a month when he moved in, and the day he did I noticed him: noticed the strong legs and wide shoulders, the thin waist and tanned skin topped by a beautiful face with a permanent smile beneath a shock of mousy blond hair. The day he arrived I was on my way out to get some much-needed groceries when I opened my door to see his beautiful butt aimed right at me. He was bending down over a cardboard box fishing for his keys, and as I closed my door he straightened up at the noise behind him, and looked straight into my eyes. He nodded, and smiled one of those devastating grins that makes you melt. I stammered out a weak “hello” and then he was gone, pushing the box across his step and closing the door between us. When I got back with an armful of bags, he was unloading more boxes from an old bomb parked on the street in front of our building. “Moving in?” I asked. What a stupid question! “Yeah.” “Want a hand?” “Nah, but thanks,” he replied, and then looked at my groceries. “Looks like you got a handful anyway,” and he grinned: A stunning smile of even white teeth, which lit up his face. Blushing at my foolish attempt at conversation, I hurried inside to save myself from even more embarrassment. At this point I should say, in my own defense, that I am not a very outgoing person. ‘Shy’ would be a good description; ‘reserved’ even better, although downright terrified and hermit-like are probably closer to the truth. The thought of speaking to a complete stranger could send me into shivers, and trying to chat up a good looking guy was no more possible to me than flying to the moon. So I contented myself with hiding away in my flat and dreaming of the un-named hunk who lived a matter of metres from my front door. He featured heavily in my dreams over the next few days, and it was his face I saw as I shut my eyes and fantasised while I masturbated every night. About a week later our first meeting very nearly repeated itself. I was on my way back in from a morning jog, and had just opened my door when his door suddenly flew open, and we both looked up, face to face. When he saw me, he seemed to jump a little, and I swore he was embarrassed, as his face blushed pink. “Uh, hi, …” he said nervously. “Hello again,” I responded. And silence hung in the air between us like a solid wall. We stood and stared at each other, neither of us knowing what to do or say next. Finally I broke the impasse with a brilliant and decisive statement. “I’m, um, Tim,” I said uncertainly. I was certain that was my name, but not certain of how he would react. “Oh, er, hi, um, my name’s, ah, Mike,” he said, proffering his hand. So what had I expected? I looked at his hand, sticking out toward me in the air, dumbfounded and unmoving for several seconds and then realisation crashed into me like a ton of bricks. I smiled weakly and shook his hand, feeling more than ever the fool, and we shrugged at each other. I smiled and pointed at my own living room and he gave a halfhearted laugh and looked down the hallway, and we again went our separate ways. Inside, safe behind my door, I could have kicked myself except that I would probably miss. What an idiot I was: Why couldn’t I have a simple, friendly conversation with my neighbour? For weeks we went on in similar fashion, bumping into each other occasionally in the hallway, and lost for words each time. And still he dominated my dreams, and starred in my waking fantasies. We did at least manage to say hello to each other, and even to smile, without falling over our own tongues, and most of the time I remembered who I was and where I lived when I was in his presence, but that was all. I wanted to ask him in, wanted to get to know him and have a chat, to find out what he did, where he was from, what he liked. Hell, I wanted to rip his clothes off and have him make mad passionate love to me right there on the floor, but like that was going to happen – not! So I sat at home, dreamed of Mike, and continued my relationship with my right hand. Neale, my best friend, who collected and discarded boyfriends faster than I consumed dinners for one, admonished me to get out and mingle. “You have to circulate,” he would say, “let yourself be seen. Mr. Right ain’t gonna come knocking at your door.” I didn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him, that Mr. Right could easily knock at my door, since apparently he had moved right across the hall. So I tried. I stood in crowded bars for hours on end swallowing far more alcohol than was healthy and trying to look alluring and available but not desperate. I went to the right nightclubs and stood around again, still drinking and still looking great. I went to the trendy cafés and this time I sat around and drank coffee and tried to look available. Oh, it worked fine. I got plenty of looks, and quite a few approaches, but every time someone spoke to me I froze up, lost for words. And besides there was always something about him – usually that he wasn’t quite … well he wasn’t quite ‘Mike’. Another Saturday night had rolled around and Neale was perched on the edge of my sofa as he made ready to go out. He was meeting George, the latest in a long, long line. I was a little fidgety, but giving serious contemplation to a really hot session with a jar of KY and a porno DVD, followed by a romantic movie on TV. “Tim,” he looked at me with near pity, “you know what you need? A good hot fuck!” I snorted. I couldn’t even find someone to talk to, let alone get him into bed. “I mean it. And I’m not talking romance, or dinner and flowers with a reasonable courtship. You need to release some physical tension. I want you to try this place.” He scribbled a name and address on a scrap of paper for me. “It’s one of those ‘adult’ stores. Tell them at the counter that you want the ‘private area’ – they’ll give you a key and you go inside, take off your clothes and grab a towel, and the rest of the place is pitch black. Guaranteed you’ll get yourself laid, even if you can’t see him.” I stared at the writing, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t try it. “Oh, and Tim,” Neale added as he stood to leave. “Remember: you’re just there for sex. Don’t try to talk, okay!” For an hour or more I agonized, the scrap of paper lying accusingly on the table in front of me. I tried watching the porno, but that just made me feel even more like I needed to connect with another being. Finally, I plucked up my courage and decided: Out I went. Thirty minutes later, I was closing the locker where I had stashed my clothes. With nothing but a flimsy piece of cotton around my waist, I pushed open the door to the darkened maze beyond. A tangle of corridors led to tiny individual cubicles on my left, and to my right a doorway opened to a large black space. The only lighting in here was the dimmest of dull black globes – whoever invented black globes? – and even after my eyes had become completely accustomed, the best I could see was dark shapes as people moved around in the blackness. I inched into the large open area, and realised there were figures walking around the room, or coupled together, some standing, others lying on the spongy floor. I could discern enough to see one shape move to another, and then the two would blend and become a single dark blob. Suddenly, a hand brushed against my butt. I gasped and moved away, and another set of fingers was cupping my cock! A third hand, or maybe it was the first one back again, rubbed down my back. I wasn’t ready for this, and I quickly moved away from the beginnings of an orgy, slowly finding my way backward. Another gasp as my back came up against the cold solidity of a wall. Still unable to see anything but blurred masses, I began to edge my way along the wall, feeling ahead of me by slowly moving my hand out to the wall and back again. Suddenly, my leading hand came down not against the cold wall but against warm firm skin. I flinched and drew back quickly, looking more closely into the darkness. A heavy shape was there, and I whispered “Sorry!” in a low voice. Nothing but whispers pervaded the room, and the hidden man whispered back, “It’s okay; my fault!” I stood there, sensing rather than seeing a movement by the other man as he detached himself from the wall to stand out a little, immediately before me. A feathery touch sent tingles through my chest as his fingers brushed over my nipple. I shivered with uncertainty and arousal. Taking a deep breath, I reached out an exploratory hand, and felt the heat of his flesh as I made contact with rigid muscles at his abdomen. I slid my palm lower, and felt the wiry hair of his pubic bush before I found the soft tube of his dick. Wrapping my hand around him, I felt his erection grow as his cock sprang to life. Quickly he became a long hard poker in my hand. I massaged his prick for a while, and slid my fingers down until I could cup his heavy nuts in my palm and squeeze those jewels firmly. As I did, his hands explored me, running across my chest and around my body to grip at the flesh of my butt cheeks, and then I felt a single finger tracing its way down the crack of my arse. When his digit found its target, he prodded gently at my hole and a sigh of aroused need escaped me. In the darkness his mouth closed over mine, and his tongue forced its way between my teeth as our moist lips connected in a long and passionate kiss. Drawing back, he hissed into my ear in a murmur barely audible in the quiet room, “Do you want to fuck?” “Yeah,” I responded, my voice throaty and low, “but not here.” “Let’s find a cubicle, then.” He took hold of my hand and we slowly walked between the moving blobs of darkness and along a corridor, feeling our way as we went, until we located an open cubicle door. Inside, I checked no one was actually using it by feeling my way around the tiny room with my hands, while he closed and locked the door behind us. I turned to him then, still unable to make out his features at all in the dimness, and again we kissed in a growing, urgent embrace as our bodies ground against each other. His arms were around my body, his hands at my shoulders and he slowly maneuvered the two of us around until he could lay me back on the vinyl-covered bench, which took up all one side of the tiny space. Without a word being spoken, he leaned over me, and his lips and tongue began to lick and nibble at me, starting at my chin and working slowly down my neck to my chest. In an ecstatic haze, I lay there as he explored me with his mouth. He found my nipples, and teased them, licking at each in turn before taking the small erections in his teeth gently and pulling at them, then releasing my tits to blow warm breath across the heated flesh. I lifted my hands to his head, caressing his neck and shoulders and running my fingers over his chest and pinching at his nipples as he continued his journey, nibbling and tonguing his way across my stomach, falling closer and closer to my now swollen and throbbing cock. The stubble on his chin scraped at the head of my dong for a second, and then his talented tongue began to lick at me. Slow, soft touches of his mouth as he lapped at my slit then traced around the ridge of my glans, and down the length of my shaft, covering my manhood in tiny kisses and bathing me with his saliva. Back up along my weapon he came, and then his mouth opened and he swallowed me completely, sliding his face over my member and gripping at me with his throat. I was in heaven, and I moaned a low hum of contentment. And then he was lifting away again, but my disappointment was short lived as his lips closed over the rolling mounds of my nuts, and first one by one he sucked them into his mouth, and then he swallowed both at once, massaging my balls with his tongue. My testicles plopped from his lips and his tongue worked its magic yet again, this time licking at the super sensitive skin between my groin and my arse, as he bent forward and lifted my legs above his shoulders. I trembled with delight, unable to do any more than ruffle his hair as he lavished his attention upon me. When his tongue found my hole, and started to lick at the twitching muscle, I shook with delight. As he probed at my rosebud I ached and gasped. He lifted his head and a lust-filled whispering voice asked, “Are you okay?” “Oh yeah,” I answered. With my throat dry and my voice cracking, I hissed at him. “Fuck me, man! Take me now!” He stood for a moment, then knelt on the bench between my legs and I heard him reach for the condoms on the wall above us. A tearing and sloppy sound as he opened a sachet of lube and smeared the gel over his latex-sheathed prong, and then he was leaning into me again as I lifted my knees to his shoulders. The cool, wet hardness of his cockhead pressed against the outer edge of my ring, and I willed myself to relax, pushing back at the solid rounded shape begging entry to my body. He nudged forward against my resistance, and then he was in – his mushroom cap through my sphincter as my anus involuntarily closed tightly behind his glans. The momentary pain was quickly replaced by a sense of completeness as I accustomed myself to his penetration, and I sighed again. After a moment’s stillness as we both adjusted, he began to slide into me, the long thick shaft of his cock inching its way through my clenching muscle as he probed my rectum, his pole pushing against and then scraping over my prostate and imparting indescribable pleasure to my entire nervous system as he did. Gradually but steadily he sank himself into my body, not stopping until his entire length was buried to the hilt and his heavy nuts were rubbing against my upturned arse cheeks. He rested then, releasing the breath he had held since starting his assault in a long whoosh as he relaxed his tensed body against my own, and we both reveled in the moment of fulfillment. And then he began to move. Slow, tentative surges and careful withdrawals to begin with, until he found his rhythm and started to rock back and forth against me, his manhood sliding in and out steadily and caressing my innards, massaging my gut as he thrust and parried in easy, instinctive motion. I matched his movements, clenching at him as he pulled back, and opening around his steel hard length as he plunged again, rocking beneath him in a sympathetic cadence of sensual rhythm. In mutual bliss, we hunched and breathed, as he plumbed the depths of my wet enveloping cavern and I accepted his probing penetration. I felt his long dagger of flesh stab deep inside me as he moaned quietly and buried his masculinity deep within my gut. For what seemed an eternity we remained joined like this, smooth strokes of his cock driving long and deep into me as I held and released him, the friction of his meat within my rectum sending waves of pleasure through me. As my delight at his thrusting increased, I sensed his speed grow, and his pumping become deeper and more urgent. With each lunge forward, he pounded at me now, harder and faster, deeper and more powerful as he shifted his weight a little and really took possession of my body, slamming himself into me and driving his throbbing sword completely into the heated writhing scabbard of my arse. He leaned over to hump into me again, and I grabbed at him, throwing my arms up and around his ribs, lifting my legs to wrap them tightly against his waist as I clenched my sphincter on his pistoning rod of steely flesh. Pulling him down as I rolled my body up, our lips met again, and we locked together. His tongue probed into my mouth with the same urgency that his manhood pierced my body and we sweated and heaved, becoming a single animalistic mass of coital desire. Coupled in mutual lusting need, we rutted madly, heaving and writhing as we fucked each other with abandon. Our joining was total as the fucking, shuddering power of our pure masculine sex consumed us. I trembled and ached as his cock impaled me, gripped and clenched at it as I took possession of his very masculinity, and in turn gave myself to him completely in undiluted erotic passion. My entire being seemed centred on the point of our connection, where his thick meaty cock entered my raging heated cave, and an irresistible tide of passion crept up into my gut, spreading from my groin and throughout my body. With my penis sandwiched between us, rubbing and slamming against both his stomach and mine, I held back as long as I could, but I knew my time was upon me. With a gasp of surrender, I floated over the edge of climactic release, and flooded the space between us with long sticky ropes of creamy white jizz. Spasms rocked my body and I writhed and twitched in ecstasy as my balls emptied, and again and again cum arced from my cock and splattered against my skin and his. Through my peaking release he continued to pound at me. He fucked himself into my arse, harder and harder as my sphincter clamped itself at his shaft and I twitched and shook around him and beneath him. And never did we break our kiss. I held him in a vice-like grip, and he gripped me back, slamming his pelvis against my butt as he pistoned his hips back and forth in urgent passion. I felt my climax reach its zenith, and slowly begin to subside, but I held him yet as his body shuddered against my own. Just as I started to flag, he lost control, crunching himself at me one last time, sending his swollen rigid pole deep into me and holding it there. A quaking commenced way down inside him and burst its way up and out, as he writhed and shuddered, racked by spasms and his orgasm hit him, hit us both. I knew, could sense, that his glorious manpole, buried so far inside me, was exploding, filling me with his essence as his breathing stopped completely. Our mouths were still pressed together, but held there by the force of our grappling at each other, and I ached with satisfied pleasure as he shook and trembled through his release, my body wrapped around him. The moment was over, our passion spent, and suddenly he pulled his face from mine, drawing deep gasping breaths as he descended from the heights. He almost fell against me as his spent body collapsed from exhaustion, and I lay back again, still reveling in the meaty thickness of his prick sunk within my anus as I too caught my breath. Slowly, evenly tenderly, he withdrew himself from me, and removed the layer of latex that had sheathed him, now filled with his juice. Sitting back on the vinyl platform where I lay, he draped his arm over my knee. “That was un-fucking-believable!” he gasped between panting intakes of air, “Thank you!” I looked into the darkness, wishing I could see his face, could know who this amazing man was. “You too,” I whispered eagerly. “Just incredible, best ever.” For many long minutes we sat there side by side, recovering and enjoying the warm fuzziness of afterglow. Sat in silence and sensed each other’s sated, happy contentment. Finally, he stood slowly. Reluctantly? I hoped. “I suppose I better go,” said a murmur in the darkness, so quiet I almost didn’t hear. I hated this part of anonymous sex, and realised that I wanted to see him again, or at least be with him again. I hadn’t actually seen him for the first time yet. In a stammering, breathless whisper, I started. “I, uh, don’t suppose you’d, er, like to , um …” That was as far as I got before a shooting pain crashed through my head. He had been standing in front of me and slightly to my left, facing away from me. As I spoke, he had turned quickly and his arm connected with my head, the point of his elbow ramming right into my left eye. I gasped and let out a loud ‘uunnnhhh.’ I felt his hand reach out and touch my shoulder as I rolled down onto the bench in pain. “Are you okay?” came the plaintive, whispered question, concern in his muffled voice. “Yeah, I think so,” I whispered back. “But I think I’m gonna have a black eye!” “Shit, I’m sorry.” I heard him move again, starting to crouch down in the narrow gap between the bench and the wall. And then there was a loud ‘crunch’ and a yelp of pain in the blackness. Now it was my turn to enquire. “You okay?” I hissed, mindful that we were starting to make a lot more noise than was expected in this place. “Yes,” came his breathless reply. “I just cracked my knee on the edge of the bed.” “Can you walk?” He tried to stand, but sat down again heavily. “Fuck, that hurts,” he swore. “Do you want me to get help?” I asked in the quietest voice I could. “No, I’ll be okay, I’ll just rest it awhile before I get up again.” The chance had passed, my opportunity gone and I felt like a complete fool, sitting there, my eye socket throbbing with pain, as the man who had just given me such incredible pleasure nursed his knee and hissed in discomfort. I leaned very slowly, very cautiously toward the bulky darkness where I knew he was sitting, and found his face, kissing him again. “I have to go,” I said softly, regretfully. “Thanks again.” His whispered words hid the pain he felt, and sounded disconsolate instead. “I guess so. Maybe catch you again some other time …” it was a statement without hope or likelihood of being true. I slowly opened the door, and with fingers out in front to guide me and prevent me running into anything else, I found my way back to the lockers, changed and left. I slept late the next day, and when I woke I had a pounding headache. Dragging myself from the bed, I made for the medicine cabinet in search of aspirin, and quickly swallowed a couple of the tablets. And then I looked into the mirrored door of the cabinet. Staring back at me was a very dark, purpled bruise around my eye, the tissue swollen and my left eye partially closed. “Shit!” I said aloud. How was I going to explain this at work? I gingerly touched at it, wondering if it might go down by Monday morning. I decided I’d better get down to the pharmacy and see if they could recommend some kind of ointment to help with the swelling at least. Half an hour later, armed with a tube of cream, I was walking along the street, almost home, when I noticed Mike coming toward me. He was limping badly, favouring his right knee and grimacing, his face screwed up with pain. ‘Wonder what he’s done to his knee?’ I thought to myself. ‘Knee? Now why does that make me think of last night?’ But by then I was almost on top of him. “Hey Mike, what have you done to yourself?” I asked concerned. His head was down, and he tried to avoid my gaze, blushing as he coughed a little, and stammered out, “I, uh, knocked it against a … a door, last night,” he said, finally lifting his face to look at me. When he did, his eyes widened. “Oh, wow Tim, you’ve got one hell of a shiner!” he declared. I reddened. “Yeah, umm, hit my head on a … ahhh, … door,” I lied. Mike stared at me, like he’d never seen me before, a strange look in his eyes. He appeared to be trying to make some connection in his mind, and suddenly, a huge grin widened his smile. “This, ah, ‘door’,” he asked slowly, “wouldn’t have been turning around quickly because you were going to ask it to have a coffee with you, would it?” he smirked. Realisation hit me like a door slamming in my face. My jaw gaped open, and I looked at him again, then down at his knee, and back up to his face. I started to laugh. “And I’m guessing the ‘door’ you knocked your knee against was flat and covered in vinyl, and that some guy who really wanted to see you again was sitting on it, holding his injured eye, right?” We both grinned widely, and my heart beat like a drum. “Where are you going?” I asked him now, concerned that he was trying to walk on that knee. “I was just going to get something for the swelling,” he confessed. I lifted his arm onto my shoulder, and helped him hobble back to our building. “I have some anti-inflammatory cream I’ve just bought. Should be enough for both of us. You need to keep your weight off that leg for a while!” Slowly we made it back to the flats, and he looked into my face as we neared our homes. “Your place or mine?” he asked, trying not to laugh. “Mine!” I said firmly, opening the door and helping him to the sofa. Once I had him settled, I sat on the table, leaning close to him, and plucked up some more courage. “Mike, I can’t believe what’s happened. If only you knew how long I’ve wanted to get to know you, and last night …” I trailed off as he looked at me hard. “Why didn’t you say something, or invite me in, or whatever?” I finished lamely. “Me?” he was surprised and incredulous. “I was so much in lust with you, Tim, that every time we met I got tongue tied, and couldn’t make the words come out, in case you weren’t interested.” Again I gaped in amazement, and then began to laugh. “Well, you weren’t exactly ‘tongue-tied’ last night. In fact, I recall your tongue being unbelievably flexible,” I leered at him, and he blushed deeply as I went on. “If only we’d had the courage to speak up, we could have saved ourselves a hell of a lot of time and heartache.” “And knee-ache, and eye-ache,” he added grinning widely. “So, ah, what would you have said…if I’d managed to finish my question last night?” I asked slowly, uncertainly. He leaned to me again, his hands holding my face. “I would have asked ‘your place or mine?’” he said seriously, and then he kissed me. Comments, complaints or compliments? Contact me at iainlthr@hotmail.com