Gay Erotic Stories

“How you doing; you want to go sit somewhere?”

Well he was some guy; over six feet tall, white teeth, black brown skin, well muscled, quietly dressed. He asked what I did and seemed impressed when I said I worked in an office. He worked on a construction site. Cheekily I asked him “so – what do you like?” and his answer sent a shiver of anticipation up me. “I need it, four or five times every day, any hole, I need it now”.

There was nothing much more to say so we drank up and I drove us to my apartment. He was quiet in the car and I was babbling about how I liked to be fucked and looking at the bulge in his crotch. I couldn’t get the key in the lock because of the excitement I felt so he took it off me and opened the door, standing back to let me in.

That was Carl, almost old-fashioned manners. We kissed long, his tongue pushing in, and then he carefully undressed me. I felt quite small up against him – thanking my lucky stars that I had waxed behind only that morning. I unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. His body was firm, quite smooth with only a little hair. He stepped back and slipped off his shoes and socks – why isn’t there an easy way to do that. I fumbled with his belt a bit and then pulled it out of his jeans, liking the feel of the leather and wanting to tease him about the possibilities. He looked at me while I stretched the belt out, holding it behind me and rubbing it on my ass side to side, pressing my nipples to his chest. Soon they were erect, just like something else a bit further down.

He opened his buttons – no shorts! The tool, his black tool, was long, medium thick and moist at the tip. I dropped to my knees, belt forgotten, and my hands pulling his jeans down to stroke his cheeks, my mouth to that enormous pole. His hands were in my hair holding my head to his cock.

Then he lifted my head and pulled me to my feet, kissing again while his cock pushed up against me, holding me. My legs were weak and I could feel my crack was wetting. He could see the bedroom door ajar and he started to move towards it, me walking backwards, unable to let go.

He let me fall on the bed gently, my legs parted and him standing between them at the bedside. If anything his pole seemed even longer. My mind was a daze, I had to get some KY down there. I reached out and scrabbled for a sachet. He just stood there while I rubbed some in, legs in the air, fingering my rosebud. A strange feeling that I might pee went through my mind as I watched him standing there, cupping his balls while his cock stood up, scarily.

I looked at his face and he seemed to understand, moving forward. His cock seemed to know exactly where to go. His hands pressed into my shoulders holding me firmly while he pushed in. I squirmed and whimpered saying “please, please” begging for him to stop the pain but wanting it. His face was expressionless.

Then he was in. He grunted and thrust regular strokes like an oarsman. My legs clutched at him while my arms thrashed. My nipples wanted to pop and I couldn’t stop myself from massaging them. My own cock was irrelevant, despite pressing against him. The pleasure was all anal.

I started to quiver and shake while shouting and panting. I felt my come spurt out against him. The fucking went on.

His body stiffened and he thrust up to the top and held it there. I could feel it pumping and pumping and there he let out a great sigh and collapsed on top of me.

Needless to say he soon moved in. He was quiet and gentle but when it came to sex unstoppable. Each morning I would lie alongside him waiting for the whispered “need it” and his hand would push my head down. His tool was always erect and it wasn’t too long before it started pumping come into my mouth. Some lunch breaks I would get a text to meet him because he couldn’t wait and had to get relief. That didn’t stop him at night; nothing relieved that pole for long.