Gay Erotic Stories

I really didn’t want to be in Russia. Nothing against the country or its people – they’re both wonderful and pleasant – but I’d had my fill of cold weather from my trip to Norway just one week prior, I was tired of traveling and I needed to be home dealing with the issues Elliott and I were having. Despite all that, I agreed to go to Moscow as a favor to Jake. At the last minute, his photographer came down with something icky and couldn’t make it.

So, there I was, in Moscow, freezing my balls off, taking pictures outside of the Kremlin. Jake was off somewhere trying to get directions or something and I was just trying to pass the time. I took a few random shots of people passing by, trying to find something or someone spectacular to catch my eye. I found my subject in the form of a young cutie standing outside of a pastry shop devouring a sugar-covered éclair.

Half his face was covered in powdered sugar and he had cream all over his lips and nose. How seductively nasty! I aimed my camera and snapped away – three, four, five pictures of the Russian hottie eating his dessert so provocatively. Sexual innuendos aside, the guy photographed very well. He was thin and statuesque, and had a soft angelic face and naïve, doe-eyed expression that was captivating.

I continued to watch him through the viewfinder. He carefully sucked the powdered sugar from his long, slender fingers until they were squeaky clean. Then he swabbed the cream off of his thin, rosy lips. I adjusted the bulge in my pants and took another shot for good measure. These were definitely going in my private collection.

“You missed a spot,” I yelled out. He looked up and scanned the empty sidewalk until he spotted me standing a few yards away, walking towards him with a napkin. “Right there, on your nose.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning down the napkin and licking the spot of cream off his nose. Damn, what a talented tongue.

“Was it good?” I asked. “The éclair, I mean.”

“Oh, yes. This bakery makes the best desserts in town. I highly recommend you try them.”

“I’ll make sure to do that.”

We stood there, exchanging awkward smiles and glances. At about 6’6”, he was a good 7 inches taller than me and although he had the boyish features of a teenager, I still felt like a child standing next to him.

“Well, thanks again,” he said and started to walk away. “Don’t forget to treat yourself to a dessert.”

“Wait,” I called out. “Listen…I hope you don’t mind, but I took a few pictures of you just now.”

“You were taking pictures of me? Why?”

“I was, um…amused by your eating habits.”

His wrinkled his brow and chuckled nervously. “My eating habits?”

“Yeah…it was funny watching you eat that pastry. There was cream and sugar everywhere.”

He chuckled a little more warmly that time. “I guess that was a sight to see…although, I’m a little worried that you were watching me eat…and actually took pictures of it.”

“Yeah, I guess that sounds a bit creepy, doesn’t it? But, I’m not a stalker or anything; it’s what I get paid to do…take pictures, I mean.”

“Like fashion and models?”

“No. I work for an American travel and exploration magazine.”

“Neat!” he said. Then his friendly, dimpled smile slowly faded. “Are you going to use my pictures in your magazine?”

“Maybe,” I answered, knowing full well that his pictures were going to be used in my private jerk-off collection. “But I can’t use them unless you sign a waiver giving me permission to,” I added.

“Hmm…I don’t know. I’m not sure I want my picture in some American magazine; especially not those pictures. I probably look stupid.”

“No way! They’ll be great. Our readers love candid shots of the locals and you…well, you’re so photogenic. They’ll love you.”

“I don’t know…maybe if I could see the pictures first?”

I reached in my pocket, pulled out my business card, scribbled down some information on the back then handed it to him. “I’m staying at the Baltschug Kempinski. There’s the phone number to my room. Come by this evening and I’ll let you see the pictures.”

He read the card then stuffed it in his coat pocket. “Sounds fair enough,” he said. ”I’ll see you this evening, then.”

He smiled and waved then walked away. I watched his tight, little ass bounce down the street.

“Who was that?” Jake asked, suddenly popping out of nowhere.

“Dessert,” I replied.

The phone rang in my hotel room around a quarter till eleven. I had just cozied up to a John Irving novel and considered not answering it. Five rings later, I finally picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Batista, this is Ivan,” said the mysterious voice on the line.

“Ivan?”

“You know, the guy you were taking pictures of today.”

“Oh! I didn’t think you were going to show up.”

“Yeah, I know it’s late…I can come back tomorrow if you want.”

“No, it’s cool as long as you don’t mind coming up to the room instead. You see, I’m already dressed for bed and…”

“Hey, it’s no problem; I can come up.”

I gave him the room number and hung up. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. I threw on one of the white guest robes from the bathroom then hurried to answer the door. Ivan was standing on the other side of the threshold looking as scrumptious as ever in his dark gray dress slacks and tight, black turtleneck. His medium-length, brown hair was heavily gelled and slicked back, drawing even more attention to his beautiful, dark brown eyes. His lips pulled back into a wide smile and I was nearly blinded by the shine.

“Come on in,” I said, stepping aside to let him pass. He stepped through and walked into the sitting area. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks, I’m fine,” he said, looking around the room before taking a seat on the small red sofa. “Thanks again for seeing me so late. I hope I didn’t wake you or disturb you.”

“You didn’t. In fact, you’re lucky you caught me at all; I’m usually out partying this time of night.”

“That’s where I was,” he admitted.

“You stopped partying to come see some stupid pictures?”

“Yeah. At first, I wasn’t going to come at all, but then…I don’t know; I guess I was curious to see what these pictures were all about. Besides, the party wasn’t that great anyway. No action, if you know what I mean.”

I matched his grin with an even wickeder one of my own. “I know exactly what you mean.” I walked into the bedroom to get the photographs. I came back out and handed him the small manila envelope. Ivan opened the envelope and inspected the pictures. He smiled, and even laughed, as he flipped through the snapshots. He really did have an amazing smile. “These are great pictures. I look ridiculous, but they’re good.”

“Don’t be silly; you look great.”

Ivan smiled, again, and even blushed a bit. He put the pictures back in the envelope and handed them to me. “Keep them; they’re yours.”

“Wow! Thanks.”

“Does this mean I can use your pictures?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Excellent,” I said. “Let me go get a waiver form for you to sign. I’ll be right back.” I walked back into the bedroom to get the form. When I came back, Ivan was standing up with a small white box in his hand.

“I stopped by the pastry shop on my way here and got you one of those éclairs. I had a hunch you didn’t go inside like I suggested.”

I hung my head in mock shame. “You’re right; I didn’t.”

“All is forgiven if you try one right now,” he said, handing me the box.

I untied the fancy red string and opened the box. The wonderful sweet smell hit me as soon as I lifted the lid. Inside were two éclairs, just like the one he was eating when I met him. I gently lifted one out and set the box on the table. The first bite was heavenly; I’d never tasted anything like it before. The light, buttery dough was coated in honey and melted like syrup on my tongue. The first gobs of rich cream gushed out of the center and dripped onto my lip and chin. I took another bite and hummed in utter delight. Less than a minute later, I had savagely devoured the ample dessert and was licking sugar and cream off of my lips and fingers. Ivan looked on and laughed.

“You missed a spot,” he said, pointing to a spot on my nose.

I tried to lick it clean like I had seen him do earlier, but my tongue was nowhere near as nimble as his. Again, he laughed at my predicament.

“Here, allow me,” he offered.

Ivan stepped closer, stuck out his tongue and licked the dollop of cream from the tip of my nose. I shivered from the sudden rush of pleasure. He licked it twice more then turned his attention to my powdery lips. His tongue lazily skimmed across my lips, lapping up every trace of powdered sugar it could find. When he was done, he kissed me and I could taste the syrupy sweet flavor on his lips. It somehow tasted sweeter on him.

He pulled away slightly, but stayed just close enough so that I could feel his hot breath on my face. He looked down at me with his bottomless brown eyes and said, “I’m not sure which one is sweeter: you or the éclair.”

I untied my robe and let it fall open, revealing my bare chest to him. “You wanna take another taste?”

He grinned, his dimples deeper than ever, and then plunged in for another slow, passionate kiss. His hands crept under my robe and settled on my sides as his tongue danced playfully inside my mouth. He pulled his mouth away from my pouting lips then slowly kissed his way down my chest and stomach.

Now he was kneeling in front of me with his hands firmly grasping my waist, licking and kissing my often-overlooked navel. I half giggled, half moaned as his tongue flicked across the tiny nub. He looked up at me through those long, curly lashes as his mouth wandered down the front of my boxers and found sanctuary on the prominent lump inside. He sucked and licked my package like he had licked and sucked his fingers earlier. The front of my cotton shorts were soaked and started to tent up from my resulting erection.

“Mm yeah…suck that cock Ivan,” I moaned.

I grabbed a good fistful of his hair and crammed my crotch into his ravenous mouth. He tightened his grip on my hips and attacked my cock with his teeth and tongue. My hard-on strained to free itself from the now tight confines of my blue plaid boxers. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensational crotch munching the young Russian was giving.

I was really getting into it and so was he, I gathered, by the way he was moaning and shit. Then I felt his teeth grabbing at me, and his tongue swirling around. It felt good, mind you, but I looked down to see just what the hell he was doing. What he was doing was unbuttoning my boxers with his mouth! In seconds, he had my fly open and my dick out without taking his hands off my hips.

“You like?” he asked, looking up at me with those big, sexy, brown eyes.

“Yeah, that’s hot!” I said. My cock bobbed up and down in agreement, slapping Ivan on his face.

He caught the bouncing slab of meat in his mouth and sucked the end of it with all his might. I swear it felt like he was sucking the pre-cum right out of my nuts.

“Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah,” I babbled. “Suck my balls dry, baby.”

He pulled his lips off with a resounding pop then swatted at the swollen head with his playful tongue. Ivan licked his way down the length of my shaft to my balls. He gave each one a kiss, licked it until it was dripping wet then sucked it dry. I guess he took my command literally. I’d had my nuts sucked before but never with as much infatuation as Ivan was lavishing upon them.

After he finished guzzling my ‘nads’, Ivan flicked his tongue back up the length of my pole. Like he had done with my balls, he swabbed the engorged tip until it glistened and dripped with his spit then sucked it bone dry. He repeated this a few times and I thought I would pop any minute.

“Suck it…please,” I groaned, reestablishing my grip on his head and trying to feed my lizard down his throat.

He resisted. “Just relax and let me do this.”

I relaxed the clutch I had on his hair and let Ivan continue his job. He opened his mouth wide and fed my cock into it, being extra careful not to let his lips, teeth or tongue touch it even slightly until I bottomed out in his throat. He closed his mouth and enveloped my dick in his warm, wet maw. He had a good six or seven inches eaten and he started to work on that with his talented mouth.

The things he did with his tongue and throat are hard to describe. He massaged the head with his throat while his tongue stroked and caressed the shaft. The whole time, his head never moved a single inch. Periodically, he’d grab my ass and feed another half inch down his throat until he had choked down the entire ten inches. Now, with my prick shoved down his throat and his nose nestled in my pubic hair, Ivan stuck his tongue out and started licking my balls.

“Holy shit, Ivan!” I howled. “I… I…”

He was sucking my cock so good I was speechless. I wanted to fuck his mouth so badly, but he had a firm hold on my hips. He was doing all the work for me. It wasn’t long before I felt that rumbling in my nuts and that tingling in the pit of my stomach. I started to tense up. He instinctively pulled his mouth off of my dick. His tongue flicked along the underside of the head, coaxing me to cum.

Boy, did I. My cock jerked and bobbed with every blast, spraying jizz all over his face and in his hair. Ivan caught some of it in his mouth and greedily licked away the drops on his lips, chin and nose. I squeezed out the last sticky drop onto Ivan’s tongue, which he swallowed with a satisfied smile.

“So, what’s your verdict?” I asked, looking down at his cum-splattered face.

“You’re cream is tastier by far.”

I smiled at him then bent down to kiss him. I could still taste my cum on his lips…or was it Bavarian cream? “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I led Ivan to the bathroom and gave him a towel. “There’s soap and shampoo in the shower,” I pointed out.

“Won’t you be joining me?” he asked before pulling his sweater over his head.

One look at his smooth chest and large, brown nipples and I couldn’t resist. I shucked off the robe and boxers then watched Ivan strip out of his clothes. Ivan had a nice body – a little on the lean side but very tight. I finally got to see his dick. It was average in length – maybe five or six inches – but it was rock hard and ready to go. And that ass…it was a nice handful of tight, hard muscle. I couldn’t wait to get into that. He jumped in the shower and I followed closely behind.

Let’s just say there was more playing around than there was showering. He unleashed that talented tongue on my ass until I was begging him to fuck me. And he did. They’re not kidding when they say it’s not the size of the ship, but the motion in the ocean. I’d certainly had much bigger dicks than his, but Ivan managed to fuck not one, but two loads out of me. I was so exhausted and satisfied that I didn’t even attempt to tap his tight Russian ass.

We finally stopped fucking around long enough to actually clean up. Ivan got dressed, gave me another hot, nasty kiss, and then left. I never got him to sign that waiver form, but it didn’t matter – I never planned on using him in the magazine anyway.

I grabbed the pastry box and sat down to eat my other éclair. To this day, whenever I eat a cream-filled pastry, I can’t help but think about Ivan from Russia.