Gay Erotic Stories

The screen went dark for a few seconds, and then flashed back on. Tom was watching a broadcast of "The Tonight Show with Jay Leno". On stage was comedian Robin Williams, wearing a god awful purple and white checkered suit, who had just moved over to the couch, leaving the chair open for Leno's next guest. "So now, please welcome that feisty political strategist," Leno began. "Feisty? I don't think that's the word I'd use to describe this guy; loud, opinionated, even a little crazy maybe, but feisty...naw, feisty just doesn't fit. He is known in some circles as the Ragin' Cajun and to others just a raging pain in the ass, but regardless of how you feel about him, there's no denying that he is one really smart fellow, so ladies and gentlemen, Democrats, Republicans and all those in between, please welcome James Carville, The Ragin' Cajun!"

A tall, bald man with high check bones, squinty eyes and a wide smile walked through the curtains onto the stage and Tom suddenly remembered that he'd seen this episode before and the reason he remembered it so well was because when Carville sat down to be interviewed, he sat with his legs widely spread apart and Tom had drooled at the sight of that man's obviously huge bulging crotch.

For Tom, older actors were not the only ones he lusted after. There were TV newscasters, sport coaches, umps, officials and team managers as well. There were also quite a number of politicos who wore their suits rather nicely: Senators John McCain and George Voinovich were two such politicians, and George Bush Sr. when he was CIA Director, Vice President as well as President was another one, along with Howard Dean, Bill Bradley, Rudy Giuliani and the man he knows loves blow jobs, William Jefferson Clinton. But James Carville was one of those studs Tom labeled handsomely homely who always got Tom's juices flowing, with his sharp angular features and bald head although lately, Carville had begun to look a little thinner than normal and now shaved his head so that he was completely bald. But this Leno show was originally from 2002 and back then Carville was slightly heavier and he still had a ring of short graying hair surrounding his bald dome. He also didn't wear his glasses back then, and was sexually fashion challenged, wearing what looked like a suit bought right off the rack(for Tom, seeing a guy in a cheap or tight ill fitted suit was always more sexy then a guy wearing Armani or decked out in the tailored loose baggy suits currently in fashion). Carville was wearing a white shirt, dark burgundy tie and a light brown polyester suit, the tight slacks very form fitting in the crotch which show-cased his very large eggs and fat, meaty sausage which rose up big on the left side of his lap when he sat down.

"Man," Tom said in a low whisper, lust thickening his voice. "Just look at him...what I wouldn't give to bob my head up and down in that man's lap!"

"Then, why don't you just go and do it Tom?" the voice suggested above Leno's and Carville's stage banter.

Tom lifted the remote to his face, realization slowly dawning on him. He looked hungrily at Carville then back at the remote. "No way!" Tom exclaimed with excitement. "You mean with this remote I can..." "Enter whatever program is on the TV? Yes, that's the sole purpose of the Remote Controller, you silly boy. If you press enter, you'll be placed right into the program, even if it's a live broadcast, on tape or on film; pressing exit returns you to your room. You can control the scene just like a tape in a VCR, fast forward, reverse; if you pause the action you can still move and manipulate objects and people at your whim. And like I said, the command function will allow you to set the course of the action by instructing the participants to do whatever you tell them to...cool eh?"

“So cool," Tom whispered.

"Here's some advice for you Burger Boy. You can only pause a scene for five minutes which will be counted down for you on the LCD display, and once the time limit expires, the scene will start up again. Also before you enter a scene, it's a good idea to use the ghost mode or you might give the people an unwelcome surprise. Like I said, think VCR when using the remote, like pressing play if you want to restart a scene okay? So, are there any questions? Are you ready then to embark upon your first journey into Television Land?"

Tom stared nervously at the Remote Controller, his hand shaking slightly with anticipation.

"T-This can't really be happening-can it? I mean, this has to be some whacked out dream, right? This just can't be for real!"

The voice took on a cool, challenging tone as it answered; "Press "enter" and then see for yourself how real you think it is."

Tom stood up and as he watched the show unfold, Leno having just asked Carville something about him completely shaving his head and Carville raising both hands up to touch what little hair he had left, Tom pressed "enter" and felt-nothing. However, he discovered that he suddenly was no longer in his room, but instead stood in a brightly lit TV studio standing directly in front of a very surprised Robin Williams, Jay Leno and James Carville, who in particular was staring at Tom in utter shock, his hands still touching both sides of his head.

Tom heard loud gasps from the audience behind him and saw movement off to his left from security and studio staff.

"Hey," Leno started, "What the hell are you doing?"

Tom, remembering the Remote Controller's functions quickly pressed "pause". The studio fell silent and everything was frozen, just like a video image still frame and Tom was amazed as he walked about the stage looking at the camera people, the audience and the band members standing as still as statues, touching everything within his reach. Wild excitement crept over his body...he actually felt the heat from the hot lights, and the solid floor beneath him. He walked behind the couch and Leno's desk and examined the stage more closely, moving the curtains; feeling their texture and noticed that they stayed in the position he moved them to. He got a close look at the back drop, touching the plywood and plastic with his fingers; he then walked back over to stand behind Carville, his arms still raised. Tom leaned down to sniff deeply at Carville's left arm pit through his suit. He could vividly feel and smell the material of the suit jacket as well as Carville's own deodorant and slight arm pit smell-he doesn't wear cologne, Tom discovered, which was fine by him, because he always believed that a man's natural scent should be enough anyway. Tom quickly stood up, excitement racing all over his body, and shouted out loud: "SON OF A BITCH! Blue Lips-it's real! Goddammit, IT'S ALL REAL!" He slapped the remote against his thigh, staring in disbelief at his surroundings when he suddenly remembered the pause time restrictions and began to think about how best to use the command feature. After a moment he pressed the "command" button, faced the audience and spoke into the microphone.

"Everyone watching will not remember seeing me appear out of the blue, nor will you notice me on the stage and anything that happens up here that may seem out of the ordinary will seem perfectly normal to you, no matter what you may see or hear." Tom turned back towards Leno and his guests. "The same goes for you guys. But you James, you are going to be especially suggestive to all of my orders, doing whatever I tell you, as if it's the most normal thing to do...no matter what it is." He moved over to stand directly in front of Carville, the bright stage lights shinning off the thin sheen of perspiration from his bald head. He looked at the LCD screen and saw that he had about forty four seconds left. Moving in closer so that he was now standing between Carville's widely spread legs, he continued with his instructions. "While you will feel and hear everything I do and say to you, you will continue your conversation with Jay. And, eh...every time I say...eh, liberal, you're going to get really horny, your sexual desire will increase and you'll get the biggest, hardest boner that you ever had...your sexual urges will be totally pure focused lust, and whatever you feel me doing to you, the level of ecstasy you'll experience will be intense, like nothing you've Tom glanced down again at the LCD screen and saw that twelve seconds remained. He stepped back from Carville and just as the final seconds ticked away told him, "Man, I really want this to last, so no matter how much you'll want to cum, you can only do it when you hear me say...eh, say...Mary Matalin...yeah, only after I say Mary Matalin will you be able to let go and shoot the moon!"

And then, like a video tape the scene started up right where it had left off. "-here, oh...eh, what the heck was I saying?" Leno asked, puzzled that his train of thought had been derailed. He looked over at his guests hoping to get an answer.

"You asked James about shaving his head," Robin Williams answered stiffly, not bothering to hide his absolute boredom with the interview, wanting to be elsewhere. While the conversation continued, Tom stared at Carville and the others for a moment, still amazed that he was actually standing unobserved on "The Tonight Show" stage in front of a man who Tom, over the years, ever since first seeing "The War Room" had jerked off over, fantasizing about him in his head, dreaming about what it would be like to suck him off, and now he was about to find out for real. "James," Tom said, giddy as a kid in a toy store, "Stand up-continue looking and talking to Jay, but face forward-and take off your jacket and toss it to me." And without missing a beat, while Leno asked him how he felt about the current political climate, Carville stood up, turned his head towards Leno, slid off his jacket and tossed it over to Tom and then preceded to answer Leno's question. Tom brought the jacket up close to his face and deeply inhaled the familiar scent. Damn he smells so good, like a real man Tom thought, starting to feel his cock throb in anticipation. "James, place your hands on your hips," Tom commanded, "And thanks for remaining an unapologetic, opinionated, hard headed liberal!" And while Leno and the audience was laughing over a funny comment Williams had just tossed out, a somewhat perplexed expression came over Carville's face, followed by a slight smile which turned up the right corner of his mouth. "Liberal...liberal...liberal..." Tom uttered and at the sound of each word, he noticed James Carville was suddenly finding it harder to concentrate on Leno's questions, becoming agitated and slowly thrusting his hips forward. Tom looked down at Carville's crotch and discovered Carville's ability to concentrate was not the only thing that was getting harder. "Holy...shit," Tom muttered in amazement, stepping over towards Carville, whose body still faced the audience, while his head was turned towards Leno. Carville stood in front of his chair, a crooked half smile on his face, and hands still firmly on his slowly thrusting hips and whose tight pants were now tented out by what appeared to be the biggest hard on Tom had seen in his life; truth was, aside from his own modest boners, this was actually the only other hard-on he'd ever seen in real life because up until now, the only sex Tom had experienced was in his head and by his own over worked hands. And now, here he was face to face with one of his fantasies and about to learn first hand how it felt to engage in hot, sweaty sex with another human being-a real man, and by the looks of it, a really hung man at that! That being said, for his very first time, he wanted to go slow, so Tom decided to keep it simple-feel the man up and just give a blow job this time out on his first maiden voyage into sexual activity. So he kneeled down in front of Carville, the man's snug pants barely able to contain the huge cock pulsating behind the straining zipper, and Tom hesitantly reached out to touch the big bulge; curiously it felt both spongy and solid, stretching upward to the left towards Carville's belt. Then, becoming a little bolder, Tom ran his hand up and down the thick, warm shaft, and then squeezed it tightly through Carville's pants, his Carville fantasy finally coming to fruition. "Ohhh, momma, momma..." Carville moaned closing his eyes to allow the waves of pleasure to wash over him, carrying him upwards to a sensual peek he'd never reached before. "Yeah," Leno prattled on, "Speaking about mothers, just what does your momma think about her son's political notoriety and does she get along well with her quite out spoken conservative Republican daughter-in-law?" Tom had placed the Remote Controller and his glasses on top of Carville's jacket on the floor earlier and was now rubbing his face all over Carville's bulging cock, indulging himself in the feel of the thick, rubbery hose and the strong scent coming through James' pants, the front now damp from pre-cum stains left by the horny man's heavily leaking cock. "Momma's...momma's...MOMMA'S ALRIGHT WITH EVERYTHING!" Carville shouted, singing it like it was a lyric from The Doobie Brothers' song "Jesus Is Just Alright With Me", and the audience laughed louder as he began to thrust his hips faster and more aggressively against Tom's face, pounding so hard that at one point Carville's boner made solid and painful contact with Tom's nose and Tom had to quickly pull back from the sexually intoxicated strategist in order to avoid another mild collision. After a moment Tom leaned back further, looking up at Carville who was being engulfed by lust and need; he smiled and ordered the man to stop moving his hips. A loud audible whine of disappointment could be heard from Carville above the din coming from the audience, which was now laughing over Leno's comment that while politics could make strange bedfellows he would bet a soggy two dollar bill that it was not nearly as strange as the bedfellowing that probably went on in the Carville-Matalin bedroom. "James," Tom said, moving forward on his knees so that his face was now mere inches away from Carville's warm, damp crotch, "I want you to drop your pants." Tom got a close up look at Carville quickly reaching down to unbuckle his leather belt. "Ahhh, slowly, slowly, don't want to rush it," Tom directed and watched with hungry eyes as Carville took his time opening his belt, leisurely pulling the strap through the buckle, letting it hang open to jingle softly. Tom leaned backwards a bit as Carville undid the fastener to his pants, grabbed the tab to his zipper, and gracefully slid it down over the lump his dick made in his boxers. Then with his pants pooled around his ankles, standing there in light blue boxer shorts, his shirt tails now covering his bulge, Carville placed his hands back upon his hips and continued talking to Leno, sprinkling plenty of moans throughout his answers, about how well his family got along with his wife Mary, despite the couple's strong contrasting political differences. Tom scooted back over to him after taking in the comical sight of James Carville standing in front of an audience wearing a white dress shirt, tie and boxers, with his pants down over his shoes and socks like he was in a scene from some slapstick movie, and then after instructing him to place his hands behind his back, proceeded to pull down Carville's blue (and heavily stained) boxer shorts. What greeted Tom's nostrils was the very strong, musky man-scent of sex flowing out from Carville's bushy crotch. And what greeted his lustful eyes was the man's long, heavily veined, thick pole of flesh, its' tip dripping with sticky pre-cum; the rod was well over twelve inches long and as wide in diameter as a super-sized plastic bottle of aspirin. The cock, below which hung a huge pair of gray, hairy balls, jutted out from between Carville's white dress shirt, after Tom had to unbutton some of the shirt buttons, sticking straight up like a pole despite its thick girth and Tom believed that he had possibly found the answer to the question that had to be on most people's minds when speculating on what was the secret "something" other than love that held together this particular marriage between two such divergent and opposite political animals.

When you watched Carville and Mary Matalin going at it on some televised pundit shouting match circus of a talk show, you sometimes didn't know how much of a hate-love fest you were going to get, because along with arguing with each other over something like the place of government in the lives of private citizens, they both fiercely came to one another's defense if any outsiders dared take personal pot shots at them, and it was pretty obvious that the two loved each other very much-it was just that Tom had now discovered for himself exactly how much of James Carville there was for a person to love. Tom stuck his tongue out to lick the dripping tip of Carville's cock and found his first taste of male meat not too bad, something he was determined to get used to along with the ever present masculine crotch odor he was sure to find down between the legs of all the future Suit Daddies he planned to sample and he quickly began to swallow more of the fleshy tube. It was difficult for him to take all of Carville into his mouth without gagging, so after a while he settled upon using his tongue to wash the cock and balls, mixing his spit with the heavy amount of pre-cum and sweat already lubricating the man's big dick. After Leno took a commercial break, then came back to finish his interview with the horny politico, Tom and Carville hadn't wasted a single minute during the break, having established a very satisfying rhythm together, with Tom licking and sucking on the cock head while using his hands to jack off the slimy stalk as Carville, now allowed to face his head forward, his hands still clutched tightly behind his back, deeply thrust himself to and fro after Tom gave in and permitted the man to rock his hips after observing Carville's trembling body and the expression of dire frustration upon his sweaty face over being ordered by Tom a while ago to not move. Tom was like a man who had been lost in the desert for days suddenly stumbling across a rich, exotic oasis and now he damn well was going to drink his fill of James Carville, determined to suck him completely dry when he believed that the man couldn't hold back any longer. Carville was loudly grunting and moaning like a beast in heat while still, as ridiculous as it may seem, trying his best to, under the circumstances, carry on the interview with Leno, who now asked him, "James, if all you're going to do is grunt out your answers, just how far do you plan to go in the political strategy arena? You have to be able to communicate and AR-TIC-ULATE your positions clearly to be persuasive to your clients, don't ya think?" Carville, his unfocused eyes now mere slits, with his mouth hanging open slightly, drool dripping from the corners, made an effort to glance over towards Leno. "H-How's-how's this-ohhhhh-this f-for...oh, goddamn...for a-a-artic-u-lation," Carville gasped, quickly taken under by the undertow of his raging sexual pleasure wave and shouted out at the top of his lungs: "I AM SOOOOOO FUCKING HORNY!!" The audience erupted with applause and shouts as Tom continued to suck on the sweet, pungent man meat, sensing that Carville had passed the point of no return long ago, but was unable to release his cum because Tom hadn't given him permission yet and although the elegant torture was pleasurable beyond anything the political strategist had ever felt before, it was still cum-denial torture and soon Carville groaned aloud, "Please, let me cum, let me cum, let me cum," over and over again while Tom jerked and sucked even harder on his crimson colored cock. "Say, we're going to have to take another commercial break pretty soon," Leno piped in, "And as much as I'm enjoying the exhibition you're putting on for us, exactly how much longer are you going to be fella?" "OH GOD I WISH I KNEW!" Carville whined in frustration. Tom, his own cock now hard as a rock which he had been massaging ever since he first started working on Carville, pulled his mouth off the man's dick while continuing to jack the long stalk. At first Tom planned for the man to cum in his mouth so he would know what it felt like to swallow and taste Carville's juice, but he then remembered that there was another guy-one special Irish guy-whose cum he wanted flowing down his throat for the first time instead. So he stood up still jacking off Carville and looked into the man's perspiring face, his head tilted backwards, his expressions shifting between intense pleasure and intense discomfort. Carville was breathing hard and drenched in sweat, massive dark stains dripping down from under his arm pits, his chest and down the back of the once crisp white dress shirt and he was so ready to explode that Tom knew he had to eventually let the man cum or else cause serious damage to those enormous, straining cum-filled balls. Tom's hands moved like a piston up and down Carville's cock and he leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Put your hands behind your head and tell Jay that you're about to give everyone the money shot they've all been expecting, James." Carville clasped his hands behind his head and rolled it from side to side, his eyes unfocused and bright as he told Leno, between a slew of "ohhhs" and "ahhhs" exactly what Tom had ordered him to say. "Hey folks," Leno said, "Let's count him down then...Ten! Nine!" Tom stepped behind the moaning and humping Carville and reaching around, placed both his hands on the sex addled man's upright cock, jacking it faster and faster while he rubbed his own hard cock against Carville's muscular ass and the audience, in unison with Leno loudly continued the countdown. "-Seven-six," they shouted while Tom felt his own cock burn with desire each time Carville pressed back hard against it. "Five-four," Carville was muttering something unintelligible which to Tom sounded like a mixture of mangled French, English slang and something-- else, while Tom continued to savagely pump the slick, thick dick. "Three-two-ONE!" Tom whispered "Mary Matalin!" into Carville's ear, feeling his own orgasm suddenly take hold of him, slowly filling his underwear with cream and he had to grip Carville's cock hard to stabilize himself. And it was a good thing too that he had something to hold on to because all at once the man staggered forward a few paces, then stood still, shivering from head to toe. Carville shouted out a stream of incomprehensible gibberish which sounded like a cross between sci-fi alien war cries and rebel yells, throwing his head back and tightly squeezing his eyes shut as his cock shot thick ropes of cum everywhere about the stage. "BLAST OFF!" Leno cried who stood up and began clapping along with Robin Williams and the entire studio audience, which was now giving Carville a standing ovation, its clamor filling the air with whistles, cat-calls and chants of "Car-ville! Car-ville!" And throughout it all, the man continued to shoot reams of thick, white cum which landed on him, on the floor, the couch and the desk. Tom's hands were covered with the stuff, not to mention he felt like he was carrying quite a load in his own pants-- the bald strategist hadn't been the only one to experience an awesome orgasm on that "Tonight Show" stage. Carville staggered over to his seat and heavily plopped himself down exhausted, with his pants and shorts still down around his ankles, his hairy legs spread wide, his big cock now softening slightly and dripping cum into his pants like a leaky faucet. Jay, still standing and applauding, glanced over at Carville sprawled back in the chair recovering from his orgasm, smiled and said: "Now I know what they mean when they call you the Ragin' Cajun. Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for a quite impressive James Carville in awe-inspiring action!" While the audience wildly clapped and cheered, Tom was laying in front of Jay's desk basking in his own after-glow from a most incredible experience. He had not only given the one and only James Carville a blow job live on TV(even if it was a taped repeat broadcast), he had also managed to give himself an orgasm unlike anything he'd ever felt before and without even opening his pants! He reached over for Carville's jacket, put back on his glasses, grabbed the Remote Controller and then stood up. After glancing over at Carville one last time, who Tom saw was now looking directly at him with a broad grin and flashed him a quick wink, Tom smiled back at him and pressed the "exit" button-and found himself back in his bedroom sitting in the recliner. The TV was still on where a car commercial was just ending and the sponsor's spot gave way to "The Tonight Show". Tom sat up suddenly as he watched Jay Leno say good-night to his quests and noticed that everything on the show was the way it should have been before he made his foray into show biz: Carville was still wearing the brown suit, jacket and all, that he had on from the beginning and the set was not covered in cum...in fact everything was quite normal, as if nothing at all had ever happened. Goddammit," Tom said with disappointment. "It was just a fucking hallucination after all-it wasn't real!" Just then "The Tonight Show" dissolved into static and the blue lips reappeared on the screen. "Hey there Burger Boy, I trust you had a deliciously fabulous time?" "It was only a fucking illusion, nothing but a dream!" "Maybe...but tell me, what's that in you're lap?" Tom looked down and noticed draped across his lap was- "Carville's suit coat!" he exclaimed. He raised it up to his nose and inhaled. Yes, Carville's scent was still there. He even noticed a few tiny pearl colored spots on the lapel-some of Carville's cum had landed on the jacket where it still clung stubbornly. "B-but, how could this be his jacket? I clearly saw him still wearing it!" Tom questioned. "Do you doubt that's James Carville's coat?" the lips asked. "Well-no, but..." "And do you doubt that you currently have a load of cum filling your briefs at this very moment?" Tom quickly became aware of the uncomfortable sensation of wearing damp, soggy underwear. He stared at the coat, and touching his damp crotch slowly leaned back into the chair clutching the souvenir suit jacket and shaking his head, puzzled by the paradox. "I-I'm so confused," he confessed with a heavy sigh. "Oh, you are that B Boy, but don't sweat the strange stuff, because like I said, it's all in the mind, and with some effort the mind can accomplish some quite amazing things and you can too-all you simply have to do is believe in your own crazy ass self, visualize what you want and set your mind to achieve it!" Tom thought back on how Carville's cock tasted in his mouth, how it had felt and smelled like and how he had actually made the man have one soul shattering orgasm on the air, not to mention experiencing his own nut-bursting release. He smiled and said, "I want to go again-hey, where's that remote?" "Ahh, well now," the lips said, "Here's the catch my damp little friend." Tom eyed the TV with apprehension and asked, "What do you mean by 'the catch'?" "You see, once you exit a session, you have to wait a period of time before you're able to use the Remote Controller again. It has to recharge itself; it takes a hell of a lot of energy to alter reality, don't you know. And you B Boy, you are the source of that necessary charge! You are now linked to the Controller, and as you put a more concerted effort into living your life, you create enormously powerful waves of energy which can be picked up by the Controller, energy which can be used to feed your fantasies and give you the chance to travel the airwaves again. Do you hear what I'm saying? Do you get it? Sitting around on your butt, hiding from the world, feeling sorry for yourself doesn't get the Controller back up to full charge. But don't you worry, because if you do all the right things, and I believe you will you little cock-hound, the Remote Controller will come back once it's fully charged and if you adhere to the time limits." "Time limits? You didn't say anything about goddamn time limits!" Tom said angrily. "Just tell me when it'll appear again!" And he felt that it could be quite awhile. The blue lips smiled broadly and began to slowly fade as it answered, "Ah, well that is the million and one dollar question now, isn't it Tom Traveler; what do you plan to do to take your life back, eh? When you figure that out, it may reappear next week. Or it might take up to a month, a year; it will most assuredly return in its own sweet time. Meanwhile, might I suggest that you get out there and face the taunts-there're just words anyway-- and struggle to get mentally stronger and zap the Controller with Life Force, because trust me Burgher Boy, you ain't seen nothing yet!" And just like a TV shutting down, the lips vanished into the static field which proceeded to shrink down to a tiny pin point of light which then slipped away into the smoky darkness of the television screen. "Fuck," Tom muttered, "There's always gotta be a gimmick." But his hand gripped James Carville's suit coat and he brought it up to his nose again-and yes, it still reeked from the essence of Carville. "Well. Hell, maybe it won't be so bad having to wait," Tom mused, and figured it was worth learning how to deal with the homophobic crap and stand up to anyone who had a problem with who he was or what he liked, just so long as he got more TV time with the Remote Controller. He made room in his closet and hung up Carville's suit coat and made the decision to collect more souvenirs from his upcoming journeys. And there would be more TV trips for sure, because starting next week, Big Fat Burghers was going to be history and he was going to look into that loading dock opening down at Walsh Ind. which was only a block and a half away from his house and paid a lot more than BFB. Maybe with him having that sort of job it will get the Life Force energy waves flowing from him big time. Tom then flipped upon his bed and picking up the TV Guide, began scanning for movies and TV series featuring his favorite Irish character actor. He remembered hearing something about a new crime drama called "Cold Case" which John Finn was co-staring in coming on in the fall, and he made plans to check it out once the new TV season started. "I don't know how long I'll have to wait," Tom said out loud, speaking to his silent TV, "But however long it'll take, when it's time to travel again, I think I'll drop by a certain cold case police squad's office because I'm sure I'm going to have a strong hankering to kiss and lick a big ol' bald headed Blarney Stone all over his hairy body!"

To be continued…