Gay Erotic Stories

It was summertime, I was 18. Just after my parents had separated my mom and I moved into the city with my grandparents. Mom sold Avon and during the summer she would give me some pocket money to deliver her orders. During one of my deliveries to a part of town I had not yet travelled through, I came across this little park tucked away in the midst of the city.

It was not very big at all, in fact it was not much bigger than our yard out in the burbs. It had a few swing sets, couple of benchs, and a small public bathroom. Feeling the need to pee, I decided to make use of the facilities. It was one of those old bathrooms. The urinal basically ran the the hole length of room: a wall with a gutter. At the end was a tiny room just big enough to hold a single sit-down toilet. As I was peeing, I couldn't get over the graphic grafitti on the wall detailing and or soliciting all sorts of sexual acts. Usually the grafitti I ever saw was hetero--all of this grafitti was definitely M4M.

I got hard just reading it. The walls in the "stall" had even more detailed writings. I finished my business and continued with my delivery. I came back passing the same little park. Free of my wares and curious as hell, I ventured back. This time as I reached the threshold, there was a man standing at the end of the urinal wall. He was making no effort at hiding the fact he was stroking his cock. He even looked back at me in the door, smiled and looked proudly down at his cock. I just stood there in the doorway dumbfounded.

He wasn't particularly handsome, as a recall, but it was the first hard cock I had seen so I never really spent much time looking at his face. I had no idea what to do. I approached the wall at the other end and positioned myself as if I was to pee. My young cock was hard and long. I had a hard time wrestling it out through just my open fly. I pulled it out and just stood there. I could feel my cock slightly bounce with each pulse of my heavy beating heart. It was also the biggest I had seen it ever get before. He stared down at me and grinned as he continued to stroke his own cock.

I bravely grabbed my meat and slowly began to stroke it. We stood there, each stroking our cocks as we looked at each other beating off. He signalled me to come down to his side. I walked sideways, with my cock still hanging out, bobbing with each step. While still standing at the wall, he came up behind me putting his arms around my waist, pulling close to me and hugged me. He reached his hands up under my T-shirt and started rubbing my hairless chest. He toyed with my nips--pinching them slightly. He then reached down and grabbed a hold of my cock and started to jerk me off. I could feel his hard-on lined up with my crack pressing hard up against my ass. I was so nervous, my legs involuntarily started to bounce up and down. The stall door was closed which seemed a disappointment to my friend.

He continued to give me a hand job. While he stroked my cock, he kissed the back of my neck and nuzzled my ear. We heard someone coming in; he had just yelled to his kid that he was going to the bathroom and to stay out here and play. My friend moved back to the right of me. Our new friend stood right next to me to my left despite the fact that there was plenty of room further down. Glancing over, he was hard, unimaginably long and was playing with himself.

He, I remember, was very nice looking. I was reminded of him when I first saw Peter Horton (the blond guy with the beard and long hair) on "Thirty something" several years later. Seeing this, my friend resumed his position wanking me from behind. "Peter" continued to jerk himself off watching him jerk me off. My friend continued to jerk me while fondling the ass of our visitor. "Peter" seemed to enjoy the attention. This was more than my poor little virgin mind could take. Still shaking uncontrollably, I shot up against the porcelain wall.

Nervous as hell, I ran out of there and all the way home. I never had the occasion, nor the guts, to venture back to that part of town. We later moved to another state and a few years later, so did my grandparents.

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