Gay Erotic Stories

As ever, when I’m not really wanting to do a job (or finish it really I mean), I’m cruising the web for updated porn sites. “I’ll just take five minutes out,” I’m telling myself as .JPG after .JPG file of masculine flesh loads onto my screen. My dick (stiff as a rock) twitches at each revelation of tanned muscularity, hairy-assedness or plain downright fuckability.

It being the weekend, I don’t have to be togged out in my suit and tie and have relaxed my usual ‘smart’ wardrobe in favor of jog pants (no underwear) and a sleeveless ‘T’.

I’m thinking as I look at these trim and honed bods that my own workouts at the gym and hours under the sun’s rays (or sunbed in winter months) are really paying off.

My hard-on tents my pants as I find a new (to me) pic of a favorite model. That cheeky smile, the come-to-bed-eyes and glorious tac he all send shivers up and down my spine straight to my groin bits - though his dick, pecs and chest hair that won’t quit really fire me up about the guy.

I realise as my dick bulges out the material of my jogging pants- I need to get off. Quick and dirty will do. A jerk-off here and now.

It strikes me that I haven’t described my dick to you yet. For someone so well endowed it might surprise you that I’m not more active, but I guess I’m just shy. Though the sample size is in the tens, not 100's, I never yet slept with a guy bigger and measures nine inches stem to stern. I have a beautiful plum-sized, purple glans and the shaft’s a thick bastard too – Boy, the number of lover’s I’ve had just can’t get enough of me crammed up their tight asshole! Its head also slicks up real easy and (like most men’s I suspect) isn’t that easily satisfied. Now I’m older (30’s) it doesn’t misbehave as it once did (hardening at the slightest provocation – an embarrassment on public transport I can tell you, if one that’s had me many a fine time ;-o!). Even so, it now seems to shoot longer and harder than ever it ever did before, if warming it up can take a bit longer, depending on the nature and quality of ‘stimulus’.

Of course, there’s an element of risk in what I’m doing right now. Pics of guys plastered all over my computer screen ‘in flagrant delicto’ FULL SIZE - for anyone to see (Oh for a hunky security guard to ‘burst in on me’ and irresistibly ravage my body.

But no, I reckon today it’s just the PC screen and me. It will ‘do’.

Or so I thought…

I have my PC set with a dark background so that in the right light, the screen is reflective of the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows behind me that separate my 15th floor office from winged creatures and the outside world.

Anyways, here I am nettus erectus at my terminal, intent on the latest tanned bod, hardly giving a thought to the fluffy clouds floating past outside when suddenly my brain registers movement somewhere. A shot of adrenaline causes my heart to race as I think I am suddenly ‘discovered’. What WOULD your ‘average Joe’ (let alone my Ma) make of the images flicking slowly by on the computer screen before me?

As I squint at the computer screen ‘I realise the reflection is from quivering ropes outside the window. A trestle is slowly rising into view outside, beyond my glass-walled hidey-hole.

Who knows why I 'm feeling so ‘abandoned’ (or do I mean ‘risqué’?) today? I guess the images have me pretty turned on or something. Anyways, I decide I won’t turn around to check out what’s happening, or try to catch his eye if he’s cute, but instead pretend I’m not aware/don’t notice anyone is there. My back is to the floor-to-ceiling window.

I wanna check that the guy - I’m sure it’s a guy, though I’ve not yet seen him (after all how many women window cleaners could there possibly be?) - is worth some kind of risk and display. A yellow hard hat is a definite start, appearing as the trestle winches slowly up.

Better still, the guy (and there’s no doubting it’s a guy now, - a young, toned one too) is shirtless and appears to have pecs to die for. I find myself resisting the urge to turn round and gaze enticingly into his eyes. It is imperative, if the plan forming in my head is to work, that he at least believes I do not know he is there.

I am gonna perform for him. Show him something he didn’t expect to see 15 floors up on a sweltering summer’s day when he’d rather be shagging his girlfriend, swilling a cool brew or whatever might turn him on (rather than cleaning office block windows).

I bring up on my screen a particularly evocative image – A studly blonde guy is rimming the very obviously well-spread ass of a cropped, hairy stud. The expression of pure pleasure on the latter’s face leaves little to the imagination about his enjoyment of the proceedings. The blonde too is clearly ‘well into’ it and both are obviously male (ALL man) – even from the distance of 15 feet between myself and my new-found beau/potential voyeur.

I’m trying ever so hard to see more detail of the guy (window cleaner) in his reflection on my screen and my mind imagines (or else I genuinely see) a look of surprise on his face. It is not a fully readable look – not disgust that’s for sure but is it shocked? Interested even? He certainly doesn’t look away. He’s real rugged looking in his overalls with bib folded down laying his chest bare to the waist.

His next action, application of soap suds to the window, suggests he may not even have noticed me, though I reason that he’s probably just getting on with the job to get it over and done with.

I then wonder if the light and reflective ness from outside compared to inside are consistent with his being able to see me inside.

Just in case, well, to improve the odds I suppose, I rise from my chair and reach to switch on the interior lights. This has the added advantage of allowing me to demonstrate a very sexy ass walk, though I have to be careful to resist catching his eye or letting it become obvious I know he's there. Fortunately, the switch is ahead of me and the double glazing muffles any sound he may be making.

I succeed and am back at my terminal though the bulge in my pants can’t have escaped his notice (if he was looking) as I turned my bod slightly towards him.

A quick glimpse at his reflected image on my computer screen suggests he was staring straight at me or certainly is intently doing so right now. He is still cleaning the glass, but I'd say a bit absent mindedly now. Almost it seems his use of his wiper tool, taking away suds as I muse, is being welded to make ever clearer the window through which can see my ‘activities. So be it!

All thoughts of reports are long abandoned now. Adrenaline is pulsing into my entire system. I am tensed with sexual excitement at the audacity of what I’m doing and plan to do. I'm finding it hard to stop my knees from shaking and all the while my dick is threatening to explode my jog pants. It aches to be free and to greet the open air. It must be clear to him that my hand is now in my crotch, stroking.

I liberate my tool – pulsing, purple, hot, sweaty and ramrod stiff onto my lap before me, though not yet on view to my ‘guest’ (unless he can see its reflection in my computer screen, he will have seen me reach into my crotch and can’t be especially mystified about why.

Did I imagine that he just adjusted his own crotch? Maybe – we will see. I’m gonna do my seductive damnedest with THIS one. He’s clearly between 20 and 30, muscular, hairy and dark-haired (like I prefer my men) and not ‘moving on’.

Indeed, as I'd planned, he seems quite intent on something hereabouts (and NOT his work). I’m gonna ensure he knows what’s on offer in respect of possible ‘play’. I reach down and untie my sneakers, kicking them away forward under the desk before me. I also reach down and ease off my white sport sweat socks, balling them and tossing them, too, after my sneakers under the desk.

My toes I wiggle in the pile of the carpet. He has to wonder why a guy would take his shoes and socks off under these conditions, if not as an overture to a special show to come.

I shimmy around a little on my swivel chair, offering him more of a side profile view (while trying not to make it obvious either that I know he’s there or to risk the possibility, and temptation, of being seen to see him standing there).

Let’s leave him an out at least so that he retains the option of ‘shrugging it all off’ (should our eyes accidentally meet) right up to and until the point of commitment. The point I know will come when I turn and offer him the come on and he will have little choice by then (if still around) but to accept my offer and take me to heaven/give in to his own urges (and mine).

But that time is not yet. He hasn’t yet 'incriminated' himself and nor have I really in this sexual cat and mouse game. It must be clear (from my crotch adjustments, tanned/fit bod and general stance) that I am interested in the on-screen pictures of naked men, but he can't yet know I'm MUCH more interested in HIM.

I want to leave him in no doubt about my sexual interests though. A search through my raunchiest files reminds me of a .AVI (movie) file I feel will 'do'. If he’s still at my window after the first few seconds of THIS one then he HAS to have an interest in man-to-man action.

As the file loads, to replace the rimming pic, I see that either my window cleaner man is not exactly an efficient and dynamic proponent of his profession or else is now well and truly ‘distracted’. He has not demonstrated any window-washing activity for quite a few seconds now – indeed, his squeegee tool and cloth have been dunked in his bucket and he is just standing there staring, unselfconsciously adjusting his crotch. His stillness allows me to observe the glint of a nipple ring – yum! I am encouraged.

The opening sequence of the movie file launches. My eyes are fixed both to the action on screen and (via his reflection in my terminal screen) my window-cleaning companion.

Another blonde guy appears on screen, his ass (in red shorts) to the camera as he drags down those of a mustachioed, chest-furred Adonis, releasing the latter’s firm dick to bounce up into the air. The blonde’s lips engulf it immediately and the image zooms in on him attentively slurping up and down its admirable length.

I raise my ass from my chair and in the quickest of motions push down my jog pants, well down my thighs, my ass and obvious state of arousal now clearly evident. As I grasp my hardness the screen flicks to the mustachioed guy’s hands easing down the blonde’s red shorts, revealing his reddened, glinting and pucker asshole and probing it gently but firmly.

I begin to stroke my rod and am delighted by the appearance of a pulse of precum spooging up from its flaring piss slit, dribbling out over my flaming purple glans. From where the window cleaner is he must be able to see the sun’s bright rays causing it to glint in a way any self-respecting cocksucker would fantasize about.

I reach into my desk drawer, all the while actually observing the window cleaner’s reflection rather than the on-screen action (which continues to hot up as the blonde slicks up the mustachioed guy’s ass by a good rimming). He (the window cleaner) hasn’t moved though his right hand is now obviously cupping his bulge.

My own hand contacts the necessary box of tissues – which are duly deposited on my desktop, and a butt plug I keep there ‘just in case’ together with a tube of lube.

I have now eased my jog bottoms to the floor and sit bare-assed on my chair, though the chair itself still somewhat obscures my window cleaner’s view of both the screen and my increasingly (and now almost completely) naked body. I stand up and push the chair aside, reaching behind me to pull my shirtless ‘T’ over my head.

I make a big show of appearing intent on the screen but swivel my hips ever so slightly so that he can see my hand wrapped firmly around my organ and the extent of its full majesty.

He has now seen me remove my shirt fully (though I made sure I remained facing the screen as if intent on it and unaware of his staring at me and my activities), my fully erect dick, my ministrations thereto and, now, as I step neatly out of my lowered jog pants, my completely naked body.

He has still not made any move away, resumed his work while looking away or made any audible sound. The double glazing would dampen out all but the squeakiest rubbing of his cleaning cloth (were he still actually cleaning the windows rather than staring, stock still, intent on my show) or else angry thumping indicating he was plain just not interested and maybe even offended.

Nope nothing but his rapt attention, though now I’m wondering what he’s thinking. Has he been waiting for me to turn around? Is he just awestruck at his luck (or my audaciousness, or both) and rooted to the spot in shock? Is he genuinely feeling he is witnessing a private sexual fantasy from a hot guy who doesn’t even know he’s there? Who knows? Or cares? He hasn’t moved on and that’s the main thing.

I stand fully naked, my left hand on the lube tube. STILL I am facing away from him, as I have been since first he must have laid eyes on me. I unscrew the cap and squeeze out a generous dollop of the jelly onto the fingers of my left hand, ever so slowly reaching back and using it to slick up my ass. I spend rather more time applying it liberally than is strictly necessary, gyrating my hips in an exaggerated way, working my fingers deep into my butthole and probing between my asscheeks.

I note in the screen’s reflection that if there is any response at all to the wanton displays of my ass from my observer that it is to be unobtrusively releasing the top button on his fly. He is a sitting target there insofar as there is nowhere for him to go really. He’s fully exposed to my view, and stare – should I ‘suddenly’ decide to confront him (or perhaps, in his mind, ‘realise’ with shock and outrage he is there).

In this respect, I am hoping the excitement is mutual, namely that he too is now feeling ‘exposed’, surreptitious and excited by his secretive voyeurism or else my ready exhibitionism, if not both. That he has not endeavored yet to ‘get my attention’ suggests he is ‘into’ this PARTICULAR game.

Just as I am beginning to get real worked up at the prospect of maybe getting to see the full glory of his dick as he takes it from his coveralls (or lowers them) I am disappointed to see him reach for the pulley system and begin to winch the trestle (and himself) down. Shit! He’s NOT interested after all; I’ve only imagined it. Or what?

But I mentally breathe a sigh of relief as it becomes clear he has stopped the lowering process with his eyes still able to see into my office and still fully take in ALL my activities therein. I realise he has probably done this so that SHOULD I turn and ‘face’ him he can feign recent arrival, shock, embarrassment (whatever) and then simply winch himself away again and disappear with no questions asked nor answers called for.

I can’t say I’m not disappointed though in some respects. While it’s very pleasing that he’s WELL into his voyeur role, played to my exhibitionist, I’ll be denied for the rest of this my surreptitious views of him watching me and, especially, of his reactions. I can, nonetheless, still just about see his eyes and their interested widening whenever I do something designed to charm him, turn him on or make him want to cream, though my view is now really not ideal. He is forcing me to tilt my computer screen to keep him ‘in frame’ while also being able to ‘perform’ comfortably and freely for him.

Another shock of adrenaline pulses through me as I consider that IF (or when – I am resolved now) I tilt my screen he will then ‘know’ I can see him. Of course, he needn’t acknowledge this, depending on how he wishes to play our ‘game’ but it introduces a risk element – I decide “GO for it!” reaching forward and trying not to be too obvious about the procedure I become certain now he knows that I know I’m being watched.

He may not know from when I first noticed him, but I expect him to believe that it was from the very start. I hope the idea excites him.

That neither of us ‘acts’ at this particularly ‘delicate’ point (he does not cease watching or escalate his watching activity and I do not stop), signals to us both that the game of voyeur and exhibitionist is still on, though I sense we both feel it should proceed apace and to it’s logical conclusion.

With my ass all greased up and shiny now I begin to buck and thrust my hips forwards and back as on-screen the mustachioed gent’s fully erect penis slips effortlessly into the blonde’s yearning hole. I find it hard to keep my head in a position where I can afford him a view of my screen AND see his reflection in it for myself, but heck he ain’t interested in the screen no more I hope and I press my face closer now.

As the blonde on screen is penetrated a corresponding smile of satisfaction illuminates his face. On mine too, as I slip the butt plug in deep behind me, though mine is not a smile I expect my observer to see since I am still facing away from him, hands reaching to brace myself on the desk. I wiggle my cute butt at him in an ever-so slow gyrating motion as the full extent of the butt plug slides up my ass.

The expression on my observer’s face is a picture, though I can only imagine what is going on ‘down below’ now. Certainly, a rhythmic motion in his right shoulder suggests he is masturbating slowly and evenly, stroking himself towards one mother of a climax.

The moment of the butt plug’s deepest penetration in my rectum sends a blackness of pleasure through my being as it hits my prostate. And so it is that the next time I am aware of looking at his reflection I note that the window cleaner’s tongue is almost hanging out and the rhythmic city of his stroking has upped to a steady, but forceful jerking. His face is contorted in hastily approaching orgasmic pleasure and I’m gonna have to speed up myself if my aim for us to cum together has any hope.

I have got him REAL turned - though I assure you it’s mutual – several times I’ve had to stop stroking myself now for fear of releasing rope after rope of jism all over my carpet (and out of my voyeur’s sight). I want him to experience my FULL load.

I resist the temptation to turn and face him (glance over my shoulder and signal eye-to-eye “game’s up, gimme action”). I have opted to give him a show and a show it is I’ll give him.

I hope now that he has lost all thought of circumspection and that since my building is the only tall one in the vicinity he has considered dropping his coveralls entirely to the floor.

I picture them gathered around his ankles, over tough working boots and the wiry hairs standing out on his calves, responding to the open breeze, with each little one catching the light of the sun like the fuzz on a luscious peach. His erect manhood and (in my mind) mostly naked body are in the closest proximity to me now, only the thinnest of glass panes, and a few paces, separating us.

Yet still I hesitate to bring this to its rather obvious denouement. At least YET.

Instead, I have another idea. A more ‘in your face, I know what you’re up to/want’ outcome. It’s forced on me by my excitement, his, and our desperation (his apparent and mine now pressuring my every decision) to cum.

The on-screen movie is running full-size now and I back away from it – getting closer to the window –we can’t be more than 3 yards apart now and his view of my ass (I have a lovely ass) must be incredible (I bet he’s absolutely lapping this up).

I can’t see his reflection at all any more but now, as I close my eyes, I have him in my imagination.

An idea springs to mind. I keep my eyes closed – all the while slowly stroking my dick to its imminent orgasm. I feel his eyes on me, wanting me, needing me, enjoying me as slowly I turn towards the window eyes still shut and approach it tugging ever more furiously at my erection.

It must be clear to him from the quantity of slick on my dick head that I need resolution now, to cum soon, yet with eyes still tightly shut I continue towards the light I can now see even through my closed eyelids.

I want to see him. To open my eyes and drink him in, but not doing so is better until the right time. As I approach him, my dick senses it’s way before me. I’m pumping it more and more forcefully (O man I’m gonna cum buckets) and rocking my hips. Everything I am sexually is now on full show like the sleaziest of strip artists and finest of lovers. And STILL I keep my eyes closed until the hand at the tip of my now aching penis brushes the window pane and my orgasm begins to swell inside me........!.!.!.!.!...

I open my eyes, speared by the sun's bright rays, but with head tilted down, I quickly bring him into a full stare and for the first time look into his azure eyes, cumming – spurt after spurt after juicy spurt.

My jizz dribbles down the window between us. My eyes drink in the jets of his cum arcing up between us from his fully engorged and frantically pumped penis.

As my orgasm begins at last to subside I wallow in the image of his spurts having dropped back to spatter copiously his thighs, lightly fuzzed calves and the coveralls gathered in a pile at the ankles of his leather work boots just as I had pictured them.............