Gay Erotic Stories

Few of the stories in this section seem authentic, and some are laughably fake. But a true account of cocksucking should at least top the fake ones by its very authenticity. And together, the really true stories should leave a stain on the pretense of modern Western culture that will soil the fabric of civilization for generations.

Over the years, my career sucking dicks has evolved into themes that surpass any one encounter. Take foreskin, for example. A lot of short encounters centering on foreskin make for a good, true story, as opposed to taking one brief encounter and loading it with irrelevant details (age, length, hair color and so on).

My encounters don't easily fit into the categories here either, but they are all true, so that's the general theme. Thus, I'll start with a few facts.

In middle age now, I've sucked maybe 3,000 dicks already, starting at 16. That's a lot of cum. I have a sex drive that faces me with truths about myself and my sexuality, and the world at large, disabusing me of any glossing over this most carnal instinct leaching my brain out. I've gone from being a quivering teenage faggot afraid of getting a straight fist driven into his stomach into a brazen, sick, middle-aged pervert who probable deserve an ass-kicking, and my only regret is not embracing the transition sooner.

Some incidents emblazon themselves in memory better than others, and these are the ones that lay bare a depraved sex drive, which I intend to detail in future accounts. For instance, I remember the fattest dick I ever sucked. It was in the toilets at Sears, when I was 24. The guy was straight (ring), cut and not particularly good-looking. But that dick ... oh man, that was unforgettable, so thick I could scarcely get the head in my mouth. Instead of stopping when a customer walked into the restroom, he kept me on it, but I couldn't get past the massive head, nor past my fear that the customer would see two people in the stall. The owner of this massive peter was heavyset, a bit overweight, with a buzz cut and brownish hair. I don't remember much about his load except that he asked me in a low, almost panting voice, "You want my jism?" I know what the word means, but I'd never actually heard someone say "jism" during sex. That was what was memorable as well. As one faggot to another, I can tell you that of course I wanted his fuckin' jism. Never sice has anything that enormous fit in my mouth.

And that was it. End of story. See what I mean about a real versus a fake account? The event itself was short and sweet, yet vivid, and many more events like that need to be recorded for queer posterity to jack off to. Don't get me started yet on the youngest, the oldest, the hardest, the biggest load. And don't even think about dragging poppers into the equation. It's all too much for this introductory account.

As the years have passed, I've changed, too, from a naive, slightly nelly queer with illusions of romantic love into a hard-bitten bastard whose only god is to be found sticking through a glory hole. Along the way, I've gone from briefs to boxers (damned if I know why), caught a bug or two, learned how to deep throat down to my vocal chords and sometimes beyond, kept my hairline by some miracle, and shifted my hunting ground from toilets to arcades and hung on savagely at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, no small feat in a culture that worships status as much as I do dicks. The chronicle of these changes will mirror the experience of many, many men and foreshadow the lives to come for many more.

Tonight I'll masturbate, and as I do I'll hit the poppers. The demons unleashed by the vapors will inform me which story to take up next. The first theme will be about either the guys I've given my ass to to fuck, the nastiest dickcheese I've ever cleaned out with my tongue or the my slow descent into eating assholes. Those are just for starters, and I can't wait to get started, now ... masturbating, that is.

Until next time.