Gay Erotic Stories

"For Christ's sake, put some clothes on," said Craig. I turned to find out what had elicited such a response from him. Why I did I don't really know, for I knew exactly what it was before I turned around. It was Zak. Craig and myself were in the kitchen-come-living room discussing the coming Friday night's party. I was washing up, my back to the room, whilst Craig dried and put the dishes away. The kitchen wasn't very big, just large enough for a cooker, cupboard, sink unit, fridge-freezer, table and sofa. Cozy would be a good word to describe it, tiny would be better. To get to our bathroom you had to pass through the kitchen and this could be, at times, a problem. This was one of those times. When Zak wanted to shower, he had an annoying habit of walking through the kitchen in a pair of boxer shorts, a towel tossed nonchalantly over one shoulder looking like a tourist on a beach. I should amend that. It was an annoying habit to the others; to me it was a sight I enjoyed immensely. I loved to watch the way his thighs moved, the way his biceps bunched and curled as he opened the door to the hall that led to the bathroom, the way his genitals nestled in his shorts like an animal sleeping soundly in its home. I loved the way his buns bounced and filled out his shorts perfectly. That was where my imagination went into overdrive. Every time, I could see my cock, hard and erect, disappearing between those cheeks, invading his hole, the sphincter opening up like a flower under my insistent attack. Then, my cock slipping up his tight, hot channel, picking up a rhythm, moving in and out like the pistons of a steam train, his ring puckering and kissing my shaft. The way he would buck and thrust those tantalising mounds of flesh against my thighs as he fucked himself with my cock. The sensations I would feel as I built up to climax, finally blasting my load into his hot, slick passage, time and again coating his walls with my man-cream, his arse muscles milking my cock for every drop of my cum, would be ecstatic, sending me to new heights of passion. But it was never to be. Zak, like most of the other drop-dead gorgeous blokes, was straight. I sighed as I pulled out of my daydream and Craig looked enquiring at me. "What?" asked Zak, holding his arms out in an undeniably questioning gesture, the muscles of his arm bulging. "I'm covered. Would you prefer me to walk through here naked?" Yes! Yes, please! I thought. I'd like my suspicions regarding the exact size of his piece confirmed. "No!" said Craig horrified, "but couldn't you wear a dressing gown or something. We don't particularly want to see you parading around all the time." Speak for yourself, I thought and prayed to every deity which ever existed that my feelings didn't show on my face. "But it's not harming you," said Zak. "Ben, what do you think?" "Uh!" I said for I'd slipped back into my dream and was imagining Zak's hot mouth around my cock, sucking for all he was worth. "Wear what you like, it doesn't offend me." "See, it's only you with a problem," said Zak. "If Vicky gets here before I'm done, can you ask her to wait." I nodded and with that he disappeared into the bathroom. "What a prick!" said Craig turning back to the dishes on the draining board. "And now we have to play messaging service for Vicky!" He grimaced as the reality of his own bitching hit him. I resumed washing up. Vicky, in case you are wondering, is Zak's girlfriend; and a lucky bitch she is too. Imagine being able to have that cock whenever she wants. Like us she is a student at the university; studying architecture no less, in her final year. They've been together for five months, so it's the real thing (this last statement is intended to be sarcastic!!) I'm not sure if she stays with him because she loves him, for the pleasure of having a boyfriend or for the fact that he's great in bed. I know it's not the first, I've overheard her conversations on the phone - our phone bill I hasten to add. It might be the second because all her friends have boyfriends and she can't be bettered by anyone. But I think it's the latter, especially if all the noises coming from his room when she's there is anything to go by. The way the springs creak, the soft panting, then the way the rhythmical thump, thump of the bedpost banging the wall starts. Her soft whimpers and gasps leading to louder groans until finally the yelling and screaming starts. This is when the rest of us in the house, Craig, Jamie and myself, piss ourselves with laughter. She always screams at the top of her voice: 'Oh, yes, yes. Fuck me big boy, fuck me. Fuck me with your big cock. Yes, yes,' always interspersed with groans and whimpers. This seems to be her favourite phrase as she repeats it over and over again until eventually she howls, she actually howls, like a wolf. We know when it's all over and he's shot his load because she's howling like Lassie on heat and he bellows loud enough to be heard four counties over, 'Oh, fuck!' Then it all goes quiet.

I finished the washing up, turned around and filled the kettle. "Wanna cuppa?" I asked Craig. "Yeah, may as well." I placed two cups on the table and added milk and tea-bags. I took my time, and not only because I had to wait for the kettle to boil. When Zak finished showering he would run through the kitchen, wrapped only in the towel he took in with him, water glistening on the top half of his body. It used to turn me on and get my one-eyed snake kissing the waistband of my underwear. That was what I was hanging around for. Craig pulled me from my thoughts. "Did I tell you I'm going home for the weekend?" "No. When?" "Friday morning. I'm skipping two lectures. Be back late Monday." "Crafty way of getting out of the cleaning," I said as the kettle boiled and I poured water into the cups. "It is your turn this weekend ain't it?" "Yup!" said Craig, a huge grin on his face. I handed Craig his cup. "Right, I'm off. I've an accounts assignment to finish for Friday and I'm buggered if I can find where I'm going wrong." With that I left the kitchen and went back to my small room not seeing Zak in his half naked glory.

FRIDAY EVENING

I'd had a hard day in uni. The one hour seminar that was the only time I had on a Friday had bored me so rigid if a doctor had been handy he would have thought rigamortis had set in. I was relaxing in the kitchen with a pot of tea, a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge, a huge packet of chocolate chip cookies and a good book. I was sitting on the sofa with all the items in easy reach, my feet tucked up beside me. The house was quiet. Craig, I knew, had left to go home and Jamie and Zak were out somewhere; Jamie probably pissed and Zak probably fucking Vicky. Zak and Vicky, even the sound made me feel sick. Zak and Ben, that sounded far superior. I had been in the kitchen, quite happily lost in a world of make-believe, for an hour when Zak walked in. He was wearing a black terry-towelling dressing gown and nothing on his feet. "Didn't think you were in," I said. "I've been sleeping," said Zak as he reached in the cupboard for a glass. "I haven't been feeling too good." "What's wrong?" I asked, the picture of concern as he filled the glass with cold water. "Just been feeling sick," He sat down on one of the dining chairs and put his foot up against the handle on the cupboard. This was another one of Zak's habits; another one I whole-heartedly approved of. Balancing his chair on two legs, he sat there completely impervious to the fact that, seated lower on the sofa as I was, I could see straight up his dressing gown, the back part falling open like a flap. Not that there was much to see. He was wearing a pair of white boxer shorts, the curve of his arse and the soft mounds of his testicles, highly tantalizing. The material was so tight against his genitalia that I could make out the two hairy sacs nestled low in the package and the head of his cock halfway across his thigh. "Where's Jamie?" I asked. "Gone home. Went on Wednesday. Not due back for the week." That was a measure of how often I saw Jamie. He went on Wednesday; today was Friday and I hadn't even noticed he'd gone. "Craig's gone home as well," I said. "So it's just us," replied Zak. "Aye, just us all weekend, alone." I think I must have said it wistfully because of the strange look Zak gave me. I quickly buried my head back into my book and did my best to ignore the look that was boring into my head. "Ben, can I ask you something?" asked Zak I sighed involuntarily and looked up, straight into his sharp blue eyes. As I did so lighting passed between us like a spark jumping a gap and I don't know how, but I knew what he was going to ask. "Go on then," I said. "But I might not answer." "How long are you going to sit there staring at my groin instead of kneeling in front of me and sucking my cock?" Well you could have knocked me down with a feather as they say. Talk about being straight and to the point. I closed my mouth. That hadn't been what I was expecting him to ask. "Well, are you going to answer or are you going to sit there doing fish impressions?" he asked. I just stared at him, lost for words not knowing what to do. Caught in indecision. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to suck his cock until his cum shot down my throat, but what would happen afterwards? I'd known lots of people who had slept with friends only to be unable to go near each other afterwards. I know it was only a blowjob but my mind was fast working past that. "Oh, for God's sake!" exclaimed Zak standing up. I watched as he shrugged off his dressing gown like a wild animal shedding it's skin. He stepped closer to the sofa as I just sat there, starring at the sight I'd seen so many times before. Zak put his hands to the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down over his muscular, thick thighs and calfs, down his hairy legs to land in a pile at his feet. Slowly my gaze rose from his shorts at his ankles, up passed his toned calves, past his knees, up further past his thighs as thick as a rugby player's and into his groin. I sat staring into his groin that had so tantalised and teased me time and time again. Sitting there I drank in the beauty of Zak in his entire nakedness exactly as Mother Nature intended him to be. His groin was exquisite. The slight run of hair that linked his chest to his groin flared out just below his navel, spreading to form a triangle of dark, luxuriant hair. His pubes, like a small forest, were thick and dense and carried on to cover his balls which were hanging low below his cock. As I watched, his dick jerked and started lengthening, growing perceptibly longer and thicker. Zak reached out and took his dick in his right hand, skinning back the foreskin to reveal his head, running his thumb over and over the piss slit. "Come on, Ben," he coaxed, "Come and suck my cock, come and get my dick, come on." Slowly and by no volition of my own, at least not as far as I can remember, I moved to the edge of the sofa, mesmerised by the way in which Zak was wanking in front of me. "That's it, Ben, come on." When I was perched on the edge of the sofa like some bird on the edge of a cliff, Zak stepped towards me. He placed his hand on the back of my head and slowly pulled my face into his groin. I suddenly came to life and pushed my face forward. What the hell was I thinking of? Here was this boy, this man who I'd wanted to suck and fuck and generally play around with for the last few months and what was I doing? Sitting like some god-forsaken statue - I must have been out of my mind. I inhaled deeply. My nose sandwiched between the top of his thigh and his balls, captured the scent of him; his scent, the scent of sweaty groin just waiting to be cleaned. I could feel the heat on my cheek, coming from his cock and I could feel the backwards and forwards motion as Zak wanked. I pulled my head out of his groin and studied his cock, bobbing right in front of my face. He stopped wanking and let go so I could have a decent look. It was about nine inches long and as thick as a baby's forearm. Veins ran the length of it and from where I was sitting they looked like miniature mountain ranges, with the ridge if his cockhead acting as Mount Everest. The cum-slit gaped at me like the maw of a cannon, primed and loaded and just waiting to be fired. "Come on, suck it, baby," murmured Zak from above. I reached out and took it in my hand, barely closing my fingers around it. Licking my lips I advanced. He groaned as my lips met his prick. Holding just the tip in my mouth I tried to force my tongue down his cum-slit. I prodded and probed into his hole, forcing the tip of my tongue in as far as I could go. I moved my mouth forward, pushing my lips down his truncheon until they passed his head. I stopped and anchored them there. I ran my tongue around his cockhead, round and round in quick circuits tasting his manhood. "Aah! Aah!" moaned Zak above me. I probed again and tasted precum as it coated my tongue. Pulling my mouth off his prick I licked down the shaft until I put my head under his cock and sucked in one of his hairy balls rolling it around in my mouth like a gobstopper. I repeated the process on his other ball and then sucked in his hairy globes and a tight fit it was too. Then I returned to sucking his cock. Taking his head in my mouth I started moving back and forth on his thick shaft. I could feel the thick veins, especially the prominent vein on top as my lips moved over his fuck tool. Zak moaned again and I felt him place his hand on the back of my head. "Suck it, baby," he muttered. I picked up speed as I broke into a rhythm, my head bobbing up and down in his groin. His hips started to thrust - short, sharp jabs at first but soon, with his urgency, they became long, full thrusts down my tight throat. I gagged once or twice before relaxing to take his colossal member and learning to ride it like a pro. I could feel his cockhead battering my tonsils, the ridge grating against them with every thrust; with every withdrawal my throat felt empty. My hand explored Zak's body as his long nine inches of solid manmeat invaded my mouth. His thighs were tense and hard as he stood there, the muscles rippling with every thrust; bunching and relaxing. My hands roamed higher, cupping his firm rounded hairy buttocks. My finger found it's way between his cheeks, stroking up and down his crack, brushing lightly over his ring, his man-cunt. I circled it warily, like a hunter does it's prey, before I pounced and pushed my finger, right up to the third knuckle into his chute. Zak went wild, bucking and thrusting, his tempo increasing, faster and faster until my nose was buried in his pubes with every thrust. My jaw ached as he continued his attack on my mouth but I didn't want it to stop. I had waited for this for so long that I could have stayed like it until Judgement Day. I inserted another finger up his arse and let it do some exploring. Within minutes his arse-ring closed tightly around my invading forces, his sphincter, his defences, sealing off his channel as tight as an airlock in space. He held my head in both his hands and slammed his dick down my throat, holding my face tight against his groin. His cock jumped and spasmed and them I felt his spunk blast out if his cum-slit and hit me with the force of a cannonball. "Oh, fuck!" he screamed as he came loud enough for the entire universe to think I was stabbing him not blowing him. "Oh, yeah, take it baby, drink my spunk." Wave after wave of his ammunition hit the back of my throat, slipping smoothly down my gullet. As the force of the blasts lessened, I pulled back until just his cockhead was in my mouth, resting lazily on my tongue. I sucked back and fore milking his prick for all his cum until I had a pleasant mouthful. I swirled it around, coating my tongue, my palate, my teeth and gums with his cream, tasting it, analyzing it. It was a pleasant taste; not too bitter and not too sweet. "Wooh! Thanks Ben," said Zak. "You are one helluva cocksucker." I pulled my mouth off his dick, a strand of his cum as thin as silk linking his cockhead to my mouth, and stood up. Before he could stop me, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. I prodded his lips with my tongue and they parted allowing me entry. Our tongues did battle with one another, parrying and blocking every attempt at entry until I let his tongue slip past my defences. Zak swirled it around my mouth, probing and feeling, tasting his own spunk; the bitter-sweet taste, the creamy texture. I broke the kiss first. "What about me?" I asked innocently as I stared into his cornflower-blue eyes. Zak raised an eyebrow in question. "I haven't come," I said, nodding at the tell-tale tent my hard cock was making of my trousers. Zak's face broke into a big grin. "We'll soon see about that," he said as he swept me into his arms and carried me towards his room, leaving his gown and shorts in a pile in the kitchen. The last sound was our laughter as the door closed behind us, leaving us alone in our own private world.

If you enjoyed, hated or were indifferent about this story please let me know by e-mailing GayWarlock@rocketmail.com Any comments, thoughts or ideas will be gratefully received. DISCLAIMER:This story is intended for those over the age of 18. It is a work of fiction containing descriptions of homosexual activity between two consenting adults. In the main any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Where it has been necessary to use actual business establishments, events or locales, this story in no way reflects the true policies of the establishment portrayed or the sexual orientation or preferences of its staff. Gay Warlock has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. Copyright ¨ 2011 by Gay Warlock.