Gay Erotic Stories

Well now, I’ve just gotta tell ya…after my long hiatus from sex, not entirely voluntary on my part, I was very pleased at the ease which the two of us “fit”. I guess it’s really true what ‘they say’ that sex is like riding a bicycle—one never forgets.

Thank God—my equipment responded splendidly. I didn’t have to ask Rodrigo if “it was good for him” and judging from all my huffing and puffing and the sweat pouring from us both, Rodrigo had to know he was doing a good job on me. I guess maybe it’s also true about “what they say” about Latin guys too. Rodrigo was a dynamo underneath me. I couldn’t have slowed down or stopped if I’d wanted to. Luckily, my ex-partner was similarly inclined, so I’d developed an amazing way of pacing myself in order to continue to satisfy him. That acquired talent sure paid off now.

Rodrigo kept switching from English to Spanish—to some lustful combination of both while he wriggled and madly stroked away on his own hardon with a vengeance. It was probably something like a good 5 or 6 minutes when his dick lurched and he shot the first time. He didn’t give much warning, just a quick arching of his back and the words, “I cum.” He must have thought that I was thinking his “show’s over” and should finish up, because he quickly added, “Keep going, I cum two or three times more…”

Now I was a bit concerned, as the thought of seeing Rodrigo with a hefty five or six good shots of cum splattered in his right cheek, upper chest, and the later trailing down past his navel, were proving more than enough visual encouragement. Luckily the muscles in his ass eased their grip and slowed their contractions, so I was able to hang on. I didn’t know about this guy, but once I’d cum, I usually needed a good hour or so to re-load so to speak. Not wanting to be a first round disappointment, I decided that saving it was the way to go.

At this point, I was beginning to wish that I’d kept more active and either walked, jogged, or at least ridden by bicycle a bit more often. I wasn’t tiring, but was finding it a challenge to catch my breath. I slowed my pace, and in doing so, I apparently was driving precisely home on Rodrigo’s G-spot. His dick came alive again and within another 4 or 5 minutes, he shot another good load—not as copious as the first time, but still very respectable—adding significantly to the mess already shining on his chest.

This made it harder for me to concentrate—on keeping my composure—but then again, I was really more than ready to let loose. I’d managed to choke back the inevitable—probably approaching double digits. His ass muscles were too much…I felt myself cascading over the edge—no chance of retreat. I just picked up my pace and let myself go… This caused a third reaction in Rodrigo—he came again—three good shots. I kept on pumping as long as I could stand it. When my dick was just too sensitive to continue—I pulled out abruptly, which made an audible plop as his hole sucked inward.

Rodrigo reached up and pulled me down on top of him, causing an oozing of cum from the edges of our chests and stomachs. Between the sweat and the cum, the heat of our bodies made the feeling absolutely wonderful…like a fine homemade massage oil. However, the aroma was unmistakable—hard earned—raw sex! His tongue searched upwards and past my lips. I didn’t care if I was heading for another bite or not. To my subconscious relief, he was absolutely gentle—passionate in his kissing—but no biting of my lip. We caught our breath and rolled on our sides, feeling some of the sweat and cum that had cooled as it hit the sheets—a sharp contrast to what percolated between us.

We lay there for a good 10-15 minutes, not saying anything—we didn’t choose to—nor have to. Finally, I took my fingers and pushed back the sweat from his coal black hairline, “Hungry now?” I asked.

“Depends on how you mean,” he replied.

“As in food,” I said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up an appetite all of the sudden.”

“I am too,” Rodrigo concurred, giving my crotch a gentle thrust with his semi-hard pinga.

“No food—no fuel for the fire,” I teased. I pulled him up off the bed and we headed for the shower. I got the water hot and we stepped in. I’d forgotten just how wonderful a shower—with someone—can be. We explored, shampooed, and lathered from head to toe. I paid special attention to that absolutely provocative ass of his. After getting it good and clean, I found my tongue giving it a final inspection. Rodrigo reciprocated immediately—something told me that I was going to share more of myself in relatively short order.

We got out of the shower—hard thing to do—but on occasion, the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right? We dried each other off and Rodrigo put on his gym shorts, sans the top. I put on my favorite pair of loose fitting swim shorts and reached for a T-shirt, but Rodrigo stopped me from putting it on. “You don’t want to get that dirty from cooking, do you?” I didn’t buy into his concern, but what the hell…

Dinner was an eclectic hodge-podge of what ever we found in the refrigerator that wasn’t frozen. Dinner eventually consisted of a left-over skirt steak which I shredded and added barbeque, twice-baked potatoes, and some peas (boil-in-the-bag). I’d thought about asparagus—but you just KNOW what happens with that later! Rodrigo rummaged through my limited wine collection and picked out a Chilean red, which was really good—as best as I can recall. At that point, it could have been some $1.99 bottle of 20/20 and I wouldn’t have cared.

After dinner, we stripped the bed and replaced a fresh set of sheets, then settled down to catch his favorite program on TV—and re-charge our batteries. I just sat there not able to concentrate on the program, my mind was reveling in my good fortune and was running onward thinking about the future—was there any to be...would this last? Somehow, while busy with my thoughts, I apparently slipped off…and was jolted by the arrival of the 11 PM news. I awoke with a start, as did Rodrigo. We both had dozed off, and were both caught by one another. In the meantime, two of the cats had made themselves at home on each side of us, while the oldest stared at us from across the room while perched in his favorite place…the ottoman of my favorite chair.

We watched the news and playfully poked each other in various provocative positions, causing Rodrigo to again slip past the confines of his micro-sized pair of athletic shorts. We had some flan I’d bought for a nighttime snack, followed by an espresso at Rodrigo’s request.

“Jesus, that’s all he needs—an espresso…and here he goes again!” I thought. “Shit, I’m not used to this…but I’ll sure as hell die trying.” I got up and shut off the TV in the living room and pulled Rodrigo up from the couch. We headed for the bedroom, for what appeared to be round two with a movie. Rodrigo stripped and got in bed; I followed suit. To my short term relief, all Rodrigo wanted to do was cuddle and remained content to watch TV and fondle various body parts.

Well, one thing lead to another, as I said “short term”, I’ll be damned if I can recall anything about the movie. The bed became a “work bench” again, and we did wind up sharing more of ourselves with each other. Thankfully, I had a third set of bed sheets. Enough said.

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