Gay Erotic Stories

All right, I was angry, I was hurt, I was scared, I was... a lot of things. But all I know is that for the three months, every night had been either an outright argument between me and my wife, or (even worse) stony silence. My kids were walking on eggshells, and my work was suffering as well. I was on the verge of a breakdown. So I packed a bag and walked out. Left a note saying I needed some time, some space. Took a room in a big hotel not too far from work, not too far from home, and decided to get my head together. In the two weeks I was there, I worked every day, made small talk with my colleagues, never letting on that anything was wrong at home. After work, I would come back to the hotel, watch TV, eat dinner in my room, work out at the fitness center, swim my customary 4 miles, cry a little, think a lot, and still -- no answers! Do I stay with my wife, whom I have loved for 15 years of marriage? Do I stay with my kids, who since the day they were born have been the light of my life? Or, do I walk away? Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I had to admit I was not getting any younger. No longer the high school and college swim champ, starting to get a little less toned (not fat, just not as tight as I used to be). 36 years old, six feet, 175, black hair (starting to show a little gray), green eyes, smooth body. Though not a competitive swimmer, I still shaved my chest, legs and balls: I liked it and my wife told me that it was my smooth body she fell in love with. If I left her, I would be able to find someone else. Probably. Possibly. So, when I got back from work with only one night left on my two week reservation and the prospect of going home the next day still with no answers, I did what any self-respecting man would do when he has an important, potentially life altering decision to make. I went to the fitness center, worked out and swam until I was exhausted, and then got drunk. Not falling down, piss in your pants drunk, but a nice, easy, mind-numbing buzz. The bar in the hotel was kind of comfortable in an English Pub sort of way: Dim lights, dark wood, comfortable wing chairs; very relaxing. And when 1AM came around, I got up, only slightly swaying to steady myself, and headed back to my room -- no closer to a decision than I had been two weeks earlier. But at least I would sleep well. I wandered the halls, thinking about what I was going to do, until I turned down the hall leading to my room and stopped short. There in front of me, where the hall to my room should have been, was a blank wall. The same wallpaper as the rest of the hall, the same kind of nondescript painting over an occasional table, but no hall. I turned around, and realized I was lost. I had been thinking, not concentrating, and made at least one wrong turn. So back I went, retracing my steps, until I turned the corner to where the bar was (or should have been) and there again: a blank wall. This went on for what seemed like an eternity (probably only 4 or 5 minutes), until I came to the conclusion that the only way I was going to get back to my room was to call for a bellman to find me and help me. I looked back behind me, down the hall, and saw a house telephone. I walked toward it, and as I got to within 15 feet of it, a room door opened and the guy leaving the room bumped into me. In my state (feeling little to no pain), I fell on my ass. He apologized, helped me up and into a chair, and worst of all, kept calling me "Sir." I looked at him and thought he looks like I did when I was swimming competitively: 18 or 19 years old, blond hair (not black like mine), blue eyes (not green like mine), but the same basic height and build. The same smile, the same youth, the same "I have my life in front of me and not a care in the world" kind of attractiveness. Then I realized there was silence. He was looking at me, as if expecting an answer. I had completely spaced out. I stared at him dumbly, and said "Huh?" He laughed, and said, "Can't find your room, huh?" I laughed, he laughed, and offered to help. Fortunately, I could remember my room number, and he could read the wall signs, so fairly quickly, we were standing in front of my door. I thanked him, inserted my room keycard, and realized he was still standing there. I turned and asked whether he needed help finding his way back to his room. He said nothing, just stared into my eyes. Then he leaned in and softly put his lips against mine. I groaned, fell back against my room door, and he fell against me, our lips still pressed together. His tongue entered my mouth, and his hands pressed against my ever-hardening crotch. Reaching behind me, I opened the door; we backed into the room, and locked it behind us. Without taking his lips from mine, somehow we both undressed and fell onto the bed. His hands were everywhere at once, on my head, my nipples, my cock and balls, touching, stroking, tickling. I had never felt that way before. I had jacked off with buddies in high school, and on the college swim team we had a tradition of a circle jerk after each meet we won (needless to say, we were State champs three years in a row). But I had never even considered men as sexual partners, certainly never thought that a man could make me feel like I was feeling then. He slowly started to lick down my chin to my neck, tickling, nibbling, probing my ear with his tongue. Then down and down, until he had first one and then the other nipple in his mouth, again, tickling, biting, pulling. My 7" cock was hard in between us, dripping the pre-cum that had been building up for the past 2 weeks. My nipples had never been a big erogenous zone for me, but I swear, he could have made me cum by working them alone, that's how turned on I was. Licking farther down, his tongue entered my belly button -- a small "inny" -- and I groaned out loud. He looked up, smiled, and went back to torturing me, exquisitely, probing my navel with his tongue. After a while he took pity, only to hit another very sensitive spot -- that area on my abs just above my pubic hair. I grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and twisted my body, trying to avoid his tongue torture. He chuckled and continued to make my nerve endings sing with his light touch. After what seemed like an eternity, he slid down until his body was off the bed in between my legs and his head in my lap. His mouth opened, and I felt his hot breath on the head of my cock. Ever so slowly, he extended his tongue, until the tip probed my piss slit. A droplet of pre-cum attached itself to his tongue, and as he pulled away, it kept us connected. He licked his lips, savoring the taste of my lube, and then, with one quick move, took me balls deep. I groaned, and to my dismay fired volley after volley of cum down his talented throat. When I came back to earth, he was there still kneeling in front of me, his head by my lap, smiling. I apologized for shooting so quickly, and he said, "Don't! I take it as a compliment. But I'll bet someone as hot as you has another load in him, am I right?" And with that, he pushed up on my knees, pinning them to my chest. His hot tongue, which had not a minute before been torturing the head of my dick, buried itself in my asshole. I had not been rimmed for years, not since college (my girlfriend junior year introduced me to the sensual aspects of my asshole, and every so often, I would stroke it when I masturbated or as I shaved my balls), but my ass remembered it as if it had been yesterday. My butt muscles relaxed and clamped around his invading tongue, relaxing as he thrust in and squeezing as he withdrew. My cock, still shiny from his saliva and my cum, throbbed and throbbed, filling with blood until it was as hard as before. Again, his eyes met mine, and he smiled, never withdrawing his tongue from my chute. I have no idea how long this lasted, but it did, me pushing my butt back against his face, trying to get every inch of him inside me, until I heard myself say, "Fuck me." I had never been fucked before, but I knew that, more than anything else, I wanted -- no, I needed -- his cock up my ass. He looked up at me, and I repeated it -- "Fuck me. I have to feel you inside me." Reluctantly, he took his tongue from my butt, and stood. His cock, almost an inch larger than my own 7", was hard, red and dripping with pre-cum. I got off the bed, and walked to the bathroom, where I took my toiletry kit and came back to find him still standing there, still hard, still the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I took out a tube of hand lotion and a condom, and knelt before him. I squeezed a dollop of the lotion on the head of his cock, and slowly worked it into his shaft with my fist. He stood there, shivering with the sensation of the cold lotion coating his hot, hard pole. When he was thoroughly lubed, I opened the foil packet, and squeezed some more of the lotion into it, and popped it onto his cock head. Then, looking up at him, I moved my mouth closer and closer, until my lips hit the latex. Slowly, I increased pressure and pushed forward, unrolling the condom onto his shaft with my tongue (another trick that girl from junior year in college had taught me). The whole while, he was moaning and grabbing fistfuls of my hair. When my lips hit his pubes, and his balls were touching my chin, I pulled my mouth off him, and grinned. He pantomimed applause, and I almost blushed. I stood, and again pressed my lips against his. We tongue wrestled and worked our hands all over each other until I thought I would die if I did not feel him inside my ass. I pushed on his chest until he sat down on the edge of the bed. "I have never done this before, so we have to do it my way,” I said. With that, I straddled his legs, and squatted down. He leaned forward, and started to tongue, then suck, then nibble on my nipples. His hands found the lotion, and he slowly started to work the cold thick liquid into my hot hole. I was more than ready, grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away. I then grabbed his pole, and held it straight up as I lowered my butt closer and closer until I felt his cock head at my hole. Our eyes locked, and as I froze for a second, the gravity of what was about to happen taking hold of me. Then, two things happened. He bit down on my nipple, and I slipped down, feeling the head of his cock pop into me. He took his mouth off my chest, and said, "I am sorry, I just figured you needed something to take your mind off it." He was right -- without realizing I had half of his 8 inch dick in me, and there had been almost no pain at all. I started to ride up and down, going further down each time, taking more and more of him in me until I felt his blond bush scratch at my butt cheeks. I paused, and he grabbed my cheeks, pulled them apart, and pulled me down to get the last half-inch of his shaft into me. I rested there for a minute, feeling more full and more complete that I had ever felt before. His tongue probing my mouth once more, until I started the ride again, taking full, long strokes, up and down. Without realizing it, my butt muscles started the milking action again -- relaxing on the downstroke, tightening on the upstroke, maximizing his pleasure and mine. His arms went around my neck, and before I realized it, he stood up, my butt impaled on his cock (ah, youth!). He turned around and lowered me to the bed on my back. My legs went around his waist, and he started to fuck me, taking over the action, taking me and making me (and my ass) his. My cock was flowing pre-cum like never before, and every so often he would take his finger, mop up the puddle, and share it between his mouth and mine. Having just cum, the pressure of his cock head on my prostate was exquisite torture, but although I was leaking freely, my balls were still down far enough that I was not on the verge of orgasm. His balls banged against my butt as he thrust in. He lowered his weight onto me, and my pre-cum lubed my shaft as it was pinned between us. The friction of our bodies rubbed my cock harder and tighter and better than any hand, mouth or hole had ever done. After about 30 minutes (again, oh to be young again), I detected a change in his breathing, and his moans took on an urgency I knew all too well. My balls had been rising steadily, and I knew I was not far behind him. His eyes locked onto mine, and I said, "Give it to me." He sped up his strokes, and I reached up and thumbed his nipples. His eyes rolled up into his head, and with a final hard thrust that buried his cock head deep inside me, he cried out, and I felt the rubber start to fill with his hot seed. Pulse after pulse, I felt his load fill the latex. The additional pressure on my prostate was all it took, and I fired volley after volley, drenching his abs and chest as well as my own. He collapsed onto me, and after a while, his cock slowly slid out of my ass. We stayed in that position, not taking our arms from around each other, until he said, "For the past two weeks, I have been trying to figure out how to get you like this." I looked at him again, and realized that I had seen him on almost a daily basis since I checked in -- he was the locker room attendant at the fitness center. He looked at me nervously -- not knowing what my reaction was going to be now that I recognized him. I started to laugh, he started to laugh, and then the whole story came out. He told me that he had been attracted to me from the first day I walked into the fitness center, and tried to figure out whether or not I was gay. Every day, he tried to engage me in conversation, but only got monosyllabic answers. On the verge of giving up, two nights ago he saw me in the locker room shaving my balls and butt hole. Watching from his hiding place, he noticed me slide a finger in my hole and how hard it made my cock, so, he said, he figured he had his answer. Tonight, he said he saw me head into the bar after my workout, and watched from a corner table until I staggered down the hall. Following to make sure I did not get hurt, he realized I was lost, and decided to take his shot. He walked into the nearest ice room, and, as I walked by, he burst out of the room, knocking me down. In my stupor and confusion, I did not even realize that the room he exited was not a guest room. I explained why I shaved my balls and butt, and how I got into my hole as an erogenous zone, and he said, "Wow, all I can say is I'm glad I was wrong." I said, "I am too, but I am not sure you were." Having told me his story, I told him mine. We talked until the early morning hours; me about my marriage and my dissatisfaction with things, and he about his plans for school -- he wanted to be a physical therapist. We never slept, and when it was time for me to check out, I did, and checked right back in again until I could find a small apartment near where he went to school. My wife was not too thrilled, and my kids were confused, but it was all for the best. That was five years ago. We have been through a lot together, me and Scott, and I realize that gay relationships are no easier than straight ones. Scott graduated school and is beginning to build a nice practice as a physical therapist and personal trainer. My co-workers, after getting over their initial shock, have all but forgotten that I was not always "out." My ex-wife has remarried and moved out of state. My kids now accept Scott and me for who we are. They even stay with us on holidays. And every year, on the anniversary of our first night together, we re-enact the single hottest night of sex either of us have ever had. And, I have found that it pays to have a physical therapist in the family, since I am not getting any younger or any more limber. But somehow, Scott never seems to mind. And he still gets that same look in his eyes when he is on his knees sucking me, or as he is just about to shoot his load into my ass: The look of love.