Gay Erotic Stories

A Golf Affair To Remember, Part III Part III After my heartbeat returned to normal and my breathing slowed, Sean kissed me again on the neck and lips and whispered that we better get to sleep soon if we wanted to be fresh for our morning tee off time. I must have chuckled a little indicating my agreement. He rose in almost a bashful way, went to his overnight bag, and slipped on a pair of boxers that were obviously to be his nightwear on this warm, special night. After watching him in the shadows, I did the same and then I went downstairs to turn off the cd player and close up for the night. When I got back upstairs, Sean had already been in and out of the bathroom and was in bed. I took my turn in the bathroom and while I was brushing my teeth I looked in the mirror at my own taut but slight frame and wondered again what Sean saw in me. The captivating beauty of Sean's words was wearing off. But those words had been nice and they had certainly helped my mood along. As I returned to the bedroom, I turned out the hall light and made my way in the darkness across the bedroom. I opened the drapes and the sliding glass door, closed the sliding screen door, and turned the box fan on low, just enough to circulate the cooler night air into the room. I noticed that the night outside was calm, the moon was full, and the only sounds from outside were the crickets and the occasional murmur from a Friday night party at the distant clubhouse. I circled around the bed, got into the other side from Sean, and looked at him in the sliver of moonlight that reached the bed. His back was towards me. Given the warmth of the night, he had covered himself with only the top sheet and that was drawn up only to the small of his back. At the bottom of the bed, his feet had freed themselves from even the sheet. I did not know whether he was asleep, but his breathing was slow and regular and I figured that, if he were not yet asleep, he was well on his way. There, beside him, as I rested, I gazed at his shadowy form in the moonlight. As my eyes became more and more accustomed to the darkness of the room, I was able to count the small nodes of his spine as it rose up his back. I observed the slight dampness of his hair as it curled slightly at the back of his neck. I think I made out a small mole just above his left shoulder blade. It seemed to me that the rhythm of his breathing and the slight expansion, hesitation, and then contraction of his chest that accompanied each slow breath was all the music and movement I could want right then. More out of an overwhelming desire to maintain a simple connection with this amazing man, I reached out and gently placed my hand on his hip. He stirred, seemed to half purr a "hmm..m..m..m," and I smiled as I realized that, yes, he was asleep. I then fell asleep, facing his back less than a foot away, with my hand resting on his hip. Sometime after midnight, noise from the break-up of the party at the clubhouse woke me up. At first, I was disoriented, but then my mind slowly recalled where I was and who it was sleeping beside me. I looked over at Sean, who was now sleeping on his back and snoring lightly through his rugby-rearranged nose. The top sheet was gathered below his thighs and, protruding from the fly in his boxers was his hard cock trembling parallel to his body, as though it were trying to point the way to his navel. I watched it, I wanted it, I admired it. He must be having one wonderful dream, I thought as I listened to his snoring while I watched Sean and his cock for the next couple of minutes. It would have been so easy to have begun to suck that handsome pole as I had done earlier, but I figured that I had surprised Sean enough for one evening, so I merely leaned close to his ear and whispered quietly, "Sean, roll over, you're snoring." He was obedient in his sleep, but rather than rolling away from me as I had expected, he rolled on his side towards me. His right arm reached over in my direction and his hand came to rest in the middle of my chest. For a moment, a strange sense of panic came upon me, I felt captured -- closed in. Then, I calmed down, rolled away from him slightly and onto my side. His hand slid down my side to my hip, where it rested as I fell back asleep, my breathing eventually matching his. The next morning, I awoke early, just after 6 a.m. Recognizing that Sean was still asleep but realizing that I could not sleep anymore, I slipped out of bed, climbed into my running shorts, and went for my early morning run. The cool, early morning air of the Cape woke me up, both my body and my common sense. As I ran, my common sense was screaming at me that the night before had been absolutely crazy. I was married. I worked with Sean. He was not just a friend, but my subordinate at work. Jesus, what had I been thinking? How could this possibly end, except disastrously ? By mile 2, I had talked some sense into myself as I turned around and headed for home. By the time I reached the condo, I didn't have a plan, but I figured that, somehow, I was going to have to ask Sean for his forgiveness and try to persuade him that the night before had just been a mistake brought on by the wine, or whatever. Sweaty and wide awake from my run, I reached the front door of the condo. When I entered the front door of the condo, I knew that Sean was awake. The rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee hit me as I entered. Sean, however, wasn't in the kitchen or, when I went upstairs, in the bedroom. I took off my shoes and socks and headed for the bathroom when I heard the sound of the shower being turned on from inside the bathroom. I paused outside the bathroom door, waiting just enough time for Sean to get into the bathtub/shower, but I urgently needed to take a leak, so I went inside. Sean was in the shower and I could only glimpse the very top of his hair over the shower curtain. Steam was billowing from his shower. Over the noise of the water, I said good morning. I stepped to the toilet and relieved my bladder. As I pissed, Sean and I chatted about the late starting time this morning (9:30), how he slept, how my run was, and other innocuous matters. Standing on his toes, Sean looked over the shower curtain, observed that I was hot and sweaty from my run, and suggested that he would be quick to finish because it looked like I needed the cleaning up. Like a good host, I told him to take his time and leaned against the wall to wait. Without turning off the water, Sean drew back the curtain just enough to get out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and said, "It's all yours, partner." As he deftly exited the shower, I saw what appeared to be a tattoo on his right buttock. Not one to waste the running water, I hurriedly stepped inside the shower. Sean continued to make small talk from outside the shower. I stood under the hard drill of hot water from the shower head with my eyes closed, feeling the pleasant sensation of the water on my body and recalling the all-too-brief sight of Sean's body as he had stepped out of the shower. Oh, God, I felt the resolve from my morning run melt under the warmth of the shower water. Well, I thought, at least I can stay in the shower until after he's dried off and gone. Finally, I began to lather myself with soap as I listened to Sean's calm voice discuss how to play the very difficult second hole on the course. Hearing the squeak of a hand on the mirror, I realized that Sean was finished toweling himself off but was now shaving. This might be one long shower I thought to myself. Slowly, our conversation through the shower curtain lagged. I was nearly finished my shower and I was just beginning to hope that Sean had left the bathroom, when Sean opened the shower curtain and stepped inside. "Partner," he said, "you're taking an awfully long time in here, so I figured that you must need a little help." I didn't know what to say. My mind wanted to explain quickly all those things I had thought about on my run. But my libido just wanted to touch, kiss and suck that wonderful, tall body of his. Before I did anything, he reached for me. First, his hands held hips and drew me close. Then he placed his right hand behind my neck and lifted my lips to his, as his left hand squeezed my ass and then slid up and down my soapy crack. The steam, the water, his lips, his chest pressed against mine, his hand caressing, rubbing, and holding me from below. I don't know which or what overwhelmed me, but overwhelmed I was. My hands and arms hung limp at my sides. Within seconds though, my cock was anything but limp. It was hard, with its huge mushroom head, but no harder than Sean's own member. Seeing my excitement, knelt before me and, as the shower water pounded my back, he took my thrilled cock head into his mouth and began to tease every aspect of it with his tongue. He shot his hands up to my wet nipples and started urgently stroking them and the wet hair that encircled them. Waves and waves of excitement seemed to pierce my body. With my left hand I pressed against the tile wall to steady myself, with my right hand I held on to the back of Sean's neck, and, as the waves of sensuous feeling electrified my run-awakened body further, I leaned my head back to let the shower water storm through my hair and then down over my face. I was gasping for air through the cascade of water; I knew I was going to cum. Again, like the night before, Sean knew my urgency and paused the blow job his lips and tongue were conducting. Disappointed and on the edge, I opened my eyes to see Sean reach outside the shower and then see his hand return with a condom. It was with mixed feelings that I recognized the condom. I was never good at using condoms, but I also realized that, the night before, the best, most intense head I had ever received was through a condom. As I was debating the merits of condom use in my own mind, I was awaiting Sean to slip the condom on my turgid prick so that Sean could finish what he had started. To my surprise, Sean did not place the condom on me, but rather slipped it onto his own, quite hard cock. Then, he turned me around to face the shower nozzle, spread my legs, and told me to brace myself against the tile wall alongside the shower head. A little frightened, I did as I was told as his hands seemed to lift my hips effortlessly and he slowly slid his hard cock into my hole. "OH-H-H ARRRGG, oh fuck, OH-H-H" I groaned and swore as he entered me. I thought I was going to die, but then, slowly, I stopped fighting his cock and he slid into me more easily. Slowly, Sean began to rock me as he slid his cock deeper and deeper into me. I felt his strength inside of me, filling my hole with his heat. After a short while, he reached around and began stroking my still rigid cock, pumping it as he rocked his cock inside me. Sensations seemed to flood upon me from everywhere, I raised my face to the steaming, streaming water from the shower, and in a shudder, I came with violent streams of jism as Sean also released inside of me.. For a couple of moments, we stood, or rather hung, together under the still streaming water. Then Sean withdrew, kissed me on the small of my back and my left buttock, and stepped out of the shower. Moments later, after I had slowly rewashed myself and my ass, when I stepped out of the shower, he was already gone from the bathroom. I took my time shaving that morning. I didn't know how I should regard Sean and I didn't know what I would say. It had been a shower to end all showers. When I finally left the bathroom to get dressed in the bedroom, I smelled the aroma of scrambled eggs and toast added to the coffee I had smelled before. That morning, we ate a hearty breakfast together, neither of us directly referring to our shower escapade. That day, my golf game was erratic. After a shaky start, I birdied three holes in a row at the end of the first nine. Those several great holes, combined with Sean's consistent, safe play and pars, caused us to move up the leader board in the tournament's better ball of partners format. By the last three holes that afternoon, I was clearly tired and so on 16 and 17, we did well to rely on Sean's bogey and par. On the 18th hole, as we approached the green, one of the several onlookers let us know that we were just one shot off the lead and, if we birdied the hole, we would go into Sunday tied for the lead. Unfortunately, Sean's second shot had landed in a sand trap alongside the green. My second shot had landed on the front of the green, but at least 50 feet from the cup. Undaunted, Sean blasted his sand shot only three feet from the pin. We decided to have him putt for the par before I tried for the birdie. He drained his par putt into the center of the cup and then walked behind me as if to survey the line for my 50-footer. I am sure that everyone else thought he was giving me advice on how the putt would break when he whispered in my ear. What he actually said was, "I know you're tired. That's probably partly my fault. This putt breaks 10 inches left; hit it hard, its all uphill and the grain is against you; and if you make this putt, I'll give you an orgasm tonight that will make your eardrums burst." My world stood still for a second. I smiled slightly back at him, nodded, and said very quietly, "You're on." I stepped up to the ball, focused on the line, and rammed it home. A cheer went up from the half dozen folks around that green. I shot Sean a wide grin that almost matched his own, a wink, and all I said was, "Later!" (Still more to come) Again, if you have comments or suggestions, please feel free to e-mail me at ByMarkBost@aol.com.