Gay Erotic Stories

Currently, he ran six kilometers to the gym, completed his work out, and then ran back home 3 nights a week. On three alternating nights, he would run the six kms to the gym arriving not long before closing time, where I'd be waiting to put him through his paces with a challenge. (I'd arranged with the gym manager to close up after our work out, which suited him because it enabled him to go home early.)

Steve had reached the point where he could now perform the three sets of 20 repetitions for 8 exercises with only 30 seconds rest between each set - and take all the gut punching this entailed. 480 solid punches in the guts as he worked out.

Sometimes I'd use my flat fist to pound the eight separate muscles making up his eight pack, and sometimes I'd use the knuckles to hit the line of definition between the muscles, or in the gap between his ribs, just under the rib cage. It was this last punch, which I found, was the hardest for him to tolerate, but he never gave in.

At the end of the workout, I'd have a raging hard on. My cock would be aching, stiff as a bar of steel, and desperately in need of Steve's attention. After the last punch I'd belted into him. He sometimes lay on his back on the nearest exercise bench, pulled down my shorts and briefs, and took the whole length of my cock in his mouth and straight down his throat.

He new I found this feat of his so exciting that it wasn't long before I'd blow my load straight down his throat, causing his throat muscles to tense and contract around my cock head as he swallowed my cum, which made the orgasm last that much longer.

While my cock was still hard after blowing that first load of cum, he'd tell me to lay on my back on the same bench, then straddle the bench so that I was able to lick and suck his sack of two huge balls, before I began to suck on his stiff rock hard cock in its velvet sheath, while he went down on me again for the second time, using his superb technique of running his mouth firmly up and down the length of my iron rod, occasionally pressing his teeth into the end of the shaft where it met my body, having already taken the head and part of the rod down his throat. My cock's reaction was to grow harder and bigger, to the point where I felt it would explode.

When he drew his head back, still with his mouth tightly pressed around my throbbing tool, he'd run his tongue firmly around the sensitive edge of my cock head. Because I was flat on my back on the exercise bench, I was unable to pull away from this incredibly erotic sensation, and so before long I'd come again, and blow another load of jism into his ever-ready mouth and throat.

After all the exercise and gut punching, together with blowing me the first time, Steve would be desperately trying to restrain his need to blow as a result of my licking and sucking his balls and cock, so when I came the second time, that would be the signal to release his load which I'd frantically swallow so as not to waste a drop.

Having worked out six days a week, including three sessions of 480 gut punches, making a total of 1440 punched a week, even Steve with his incredible strength, toughness, stamina and endurance needed a rest, so on Sundays we'd give each other a long sensuous massage. While I enjoyed the massage he gave me, I'd get incredible pleasure from running my hands over every part of his smooth skin, covering all the firm but relaxed muscles of his magnificent body.

I'd press, squeeze, pummel and kneed his muscles as hard as I could, but Steve tolerated any pain I inflicted almost with indifference, he was so tough.

His massage of me usually ended with a long slow massage of my cock and balls, and teasing my nipples which he new were very sensitive, until I'd yell that I couldn't hold off any longer, and he'd wrap his mouth around my cock and suck me dry.

Naturally, I'd reciprocate by massaging his cock and balls, but like all his muscular control, he was able to refrain from cumming for a lot longer than me, but when he finally did, he would blow an enormous load which I had trouble managing to swallow.

Sunday afternoons, we'd spend on the beach in our briefs, improving our tan, and being amused by the looks of admiration, envy and excitement we'd receive from all the other guys and their birds, especially when we would slowly and sensuously rub sun tan oil over each others body.

For something new on Sunday nights, after a day of rest and relaxation, I'd have Steve strip naked in the lounge, spread his feet for balance, hands clasped behind his head, and then I'd blind fold him. With music playing loud enough that he couldn't hear me moving around, every now and again I'd walk up and punch him in the guts as hard as I could, without any warning. This meant that he had to keep his abdominals tensed the entire time, which was a spectacular sight. To distract him between punches, I'd squeeze and twist his nipples, squeeze his large nuts, massage his cock, or just leave him alone, not knowing what or when something would next happen.

Occasionally, when his cock was stiff and hard and jutting out, I'd grab hold of half of it and try to bend it in the middle, which I knew was impossible, but created more pain and discomfort for him to tolerate. His only reaction was for his already stiff cock to get harder and stick up higher. Sometimes I'd hit him with a series of punches, driving my fists as deep into his guts as I could, but as usual it was just like hitting a solid, heavy, leather punching bag.

After an hour or two of punching and teasing him, we’d both be so horny, we'd be happy to retire to bed for another final bout of incredibly satisfying sex.