Gay Erotic Stories

When I called in a service request for our smoking, creaking copier, I figured they would send the usual guy: the one with the 42-inch waist stuffed into the 36-inch waist pants. He was the subject of the original “Just Say No To Crack” campaign, since he couldn’t keep his pants up with suspenders. As usual he showed up sweaty, reeking of copier fluid of some kind or another, and dragging his bag of tools. The one thing he had with him that he didn’t usually bring took my breath away. Next to him stood a guy about six-four, and 200 muscular pounds. He was dressed to thrill with shirt open about three buttons, thigh-straining khakis, and a forest of hair on his chest. Then he smiled, and I nearly came in my pants. “Hi. My name’s Andy, and Bill here is training me to be the new service tech. He’s going back up North.” My dreams had come true. I shook hands with him, and showed them what the copier was up to this time. I didn’t get much work done while they were there. If I thought his pants were tight in the thighs, the fit in the ass did me in. Once they finished, Andy came over to my office with the service invoice. As I signed it, he asked me if I had some time free the next afternoon. “Sure,” I said, wondering why. “I’d like to bring you some info on some new machines we have, since yours is pretty much worn out,” he explained. “What’s a good time?” “Anytime in the afternoon,” I said, knowing that I would be there alone. “See ya about three, then,” he said. I would swear he winked, but I didn’t want to get worked up over nothing. Well, too worked up, anyway. Next day I spent a little extra time putting myself together: couldn’t hurt, right? Most of the morning I spent trying to remember whether his eyes were green or blue. Then my secretary left right on schedule for her Friday afternoon hair appointment, and I had the office to myself. Right on schedule at three, in walked the hunk. If I thought he looked good Thursday, his version of Friday afternoon casual blew me away. He had on a nice tight polo shirt, and a pair of shorts that hugged his bubble butt, and revealed his incredibly strong, hairy legs. Again with that smile. And his eyes were that shade of Caribbean blue-green that makes you forget all your cares and relax. Do guys really have eyelashes that long? His firm handshake brought me back to reality. He didn’t waste any time getting right down to the real reason for his visit. As he took me through the new feature-laden machines that leased for the same amount as my old clunker, I tried to focus on lower toner usage and power saving settings, but my gaze kept drifting up his strong lower arms and his incredible hands. He wasn’t wearing a ring. I didn’t dare look at his face; his lips were full and strong, and he smiled way too much when he talked. His cologne was barely there, and really nice and clean. It was safer to try to look at pictures of copiers. I noticed that he was beginning to need a shave, and the casual way his hair fell over his forehead and perfect ears. How anybody could be that sexy talking about office equipment, I have no idea. I was almost completely lost in space when he asked me a direct question. “So, what do you think, can we sign you up for a new copier?” I leaned back in my chair, trying to rearrange my straining hard-on without being too conspicuous. “What’s the service contract like, then?” I asked. “Well,” he said, “this unit doesn’t need much service, other than changing the toner. You just put the paper in and go for thirty-five hundred or four thousand copies. Then you put in another cartridge and keep rolling. Since it’s connected to your computer network, it will call out for service only when it really needs it. Some of these new machines only make a service request call twice a year.” I thought about that for a minute, and said, “I’m used to being serviced much more often than that.” The blush started below his collar and rose across his cheeks as he smiled. The twinkle in his eyes told me he got it. “Think about how much more fun we could have if you didn’t have to worry about getting your copier fixed all the time…” Shit, that did it. This guy was a total sales package, and it worked. I already knew I needed a new copier, how much sales grease did he need? “Where do I sign?” I asked. “Right here above the line that says `Take the afternoon off and go sailing with me’,” he replied. I looked; it really did say that. “I’ll sign it and change clothes,” I said. I was fighting to get out of my tie and slacks in record time, and looked up to see him standing in the door to my office bathroom with his arms crossed, and a big smile on his face. “Couldn’t wait to see what kind of equipment I was going to be working on,” he said. I’m in good shape, so I took my time from then on. I could literally feel his eyes on me as I shucked down to my pecker-tracked skivvies, and half-hard cock. We had a little small talk while I fished around in my gym bag for something to wear. Before too long, I was dressed in a polo shirt and shorts, and ready to go. I locked up, and we walked out to his car: a Jeep Wrangler, of course. What else would a guy like him drive? The marina was five minutes away. When we got there, he led me to the slip where his boat was anchored. About 36 feet long, I figured, and teak, not fiberglass. It was beautiful, and every bit of trim was gleaming. This was going to be some kind of sailing. As we left the marina, the ocean was like glass around us. No reason to unfurl the sails, since it wouldn’t have done a bit of good. The purring diesel below deck was doing a great job. It was truly too beautiful an afternoon to waste in an air-conditioned office. We got near the reef, and he started shucking off his shirt. “How about a little snorkeling?” he asked. We hooked onto one of the mooring buoys designed to keep boats off the reef, and he hauled out two sets of fins, masks, snorkels, and zero-buoyancy vests. Then he took off his shoes, and his shorts, and stood there naked in front of me. As I surveyed his beautiful body, with its tiny little tan line, I got some ideas about snorkeling on something else. His uncut cock was about seven thick inches, flopping about as he smeared on some sun block. He handed me the tube. “Would you put some on my back and shoulders?” he asked, and turned to show me that perfect ass. Thankfully, my hands were steady as I squeezed out too much, and began massaging it across his shoulders and down his back. It was slow to absorb, and I continued rubbing it in far longer than the appropriate coverage required. “That feels great,” he said, “but it’s your turn now.” He turned around and grabbed the tail of my shirt, raising it quickly over my head. Then he reached over and unfastened my shorts, letting them drop. When they hit the floor, his fingers entered the waistband of my briefs, where my dick had snapped out above the elastic. He dragged it down the length of my now totally stiff cock, slowly, torturing me to the point where I nearly came. “Step out of them,” he said, taking the tube in his hands and squirting a long, thin line down the middle of my chest. Then he took both hands and began rubbing it in firmly, kneading the muscles of my chest, rubbing my shoulders, and coating my upper arms. Turning me firmly around, he squirted more on my back, and moved in close to me as he rubbed it across my shoulder blades and down to the small of my back. I could feel his now-stiffening cock against my ass as he rubbed in the lotion. The heat from the sun, and the heat from his body made my skin tingle all over. It just seemed to radiate wherever he touched me. I could feel the hair from his chest and his legs against my back as he reached around to rub more lotion onto my chest. He pressed his cock into my crack and I swear it had to be ten inches hard. With his arms wrapped around me, he whispered into my ear. “Let’s get in the water,” he said. Not exactly what I had in mind at the time, but I went along. He pulled the vest on me from behind, and leaned over my right shoulder to inflate my blow tube. We moved off to the dive rack on the back of the boat, and I tried to focus on pulling on fins with a throbbing hard-on. Just before I pulled on my mask he said, “I think you’re going to like this,” and gave me a deep, penetrating kiss. Then he rolled off into the water. I cleared my tube, pulled down my mask, and followed him in. The water was warm, salty, and delightful. No shrinkage out here. I was secretly thankful that I hadn’t worn anything shiny; it wouldn’t do to lure a barracuda to anything sticking out. My vest was inflated perfectly, and I floated weightlessly along the smooth glassy surface of the water. I got lost in the experience of the reef below, as always. Millions of fish swarmed and swirled below me, an endless changing palette of color and light. Snorkeling always seems to turn me into just a pair of eyes, floating out there to take it all in. The warm water, the floating, the colors, and you just get lost. I think I jumped a little when his arm reached across my back. Oh yeah, I’m out here with somebody else. I dropped my feet and raised my mask. He held my shoulders, face to face. “Nice day, isn’t it?” he asked. “Yeah,” I agreed. Then he kissed me again, our bodies intertwining in the water, perfectly supported by the buoyancy vests. His cock rubbed against mine, both hard as rock, as we floated weightlessly. I raised my knees around him, lifting up to impale myself on his huge cock. The look of pleasure on his face was almost more than I could bear as my tight ass gripped his throbbing rod. We kissed as he gently slipped back and forth in me under the warm seawater. We would push it almost to the edge, and drop back a little, then surge again, almost in time with the water currents around us. Then his strong hands and arms gripped my ass hard, and I knew it was time to let it rip. He pumped me full, which triggered my eruption, and I could see the waves of pleasure passing through him as my ass tightened on his cock. We hung there, motionless, as we recovered from an incredible orgasm. I didn’t want to move, ever, with his arms around me, and his fantastic cock in me. When he opened his eyes, he smiled. “That was pretty incredible,” he said. I nodded in silent agreement. The seawater rushed in as he pulled out his cock, and the feeling was almost as incredible as the fuck was. It felt soothing, and warm. He kissed me again. We floated there for a while, and then headed back to the boat. More reef colors and fish on the way back, but I didn’t seem to focus on them much. We crawled up on the dive rack and flipped off the fins and masks. We sat there kissing for a while, until he motioned back to the boat. “The cushions are more comfortable than this rack,” he said. As we moved back onto the boat, he brought out thick, fluffy towels. We sat on the aft deck, and it wasn’t long before we were at it again, a little wilder with gravity, but still an excellent fuck experience. We watched the sunset in each other’s arms, and headed back for shore under the stars. I woke up Saturday morning curled up with him in my bed. He even looked great when he woke up. We showered together, and went out for breakfast. He left after that. Sunday passed pretty slowly. I couldn’t sit still, so I cleaned everything in the house, twice. Finally it was Monday, and time for work. When I walked in the office, my secretary sat there smiling, and said, “I see you took off a little early Friday. Good for you. We have a delivery scheduled for eleven this morning.” I got coffee, and tried to concentrate on working until eleven. A truck driver showed up then, and off-loaded a huge crate in the front lobby. He sort of shrunk-wrapped the old copier in plastic, and loaded it up on his truck. I was a little surprised when he left without opening the crate. About ten minutes later, in walked good ole’ Bill, pants at the usual half-mast, dragging his toolkit. He set about opening the crate and hooking up the various components: Did I really order the laser printer board, too? The secretary had stars in her eyes! It took him a good hour to get the thing assembled, hooked up to the computer network and plugged in. He had a few practice runs with the secretary, showing her how to change toner cartridges, and load paper. He said goodbye and he left. It was quiet after that. Without the copier in the office, I would have thought the whole thing was a dream. I was concentrating on a proposal about two that afternoon, when the secretary stuck her head in the office and said, “This is kind of weird. We get a new copier today, and there’s a technician out here with a service request already.” I got up, grinning from ear to ear, and said I would take care of it. And trust me, from then on, I did.