Gay Erotic Stories

Nice comments and requests for more are welcome - shah@hotkey.net.au) As I stood on the station waiting for the train to arrive, I felt not exactly depressed, but bothered and disoriented. It had been an oppressively hot day, and it had not been a happy one. I had started the long drive from Melbourne to Sydney early that morning, only to get to Melbourne's northern limits when my car began behaving oddly. Five kilometres later, it simply stopped. Phone calls, tow trucks, irritable car repairers and frustration followed, as did a dash to Spencer Street Railway Station to see if I could get a sleeping compartment on the overnight train to Sydney. "Get real, mate," I was told by the cranky old booking clerk, "those were booked months ago. But I have got one last seat in Car 2". So I took it, and here I was waiting with a mass of humanity to rush the carriages and claim my seat. As usual, I was early and just as I was rummaging through my carry bag at my feet looking for the book I had forgotten, a pair of beautifully sculptured, smooth, coffee-coloured legs housed in a pair of tan Timberland loafers appeared at the edge of my field of vision. Hoping immediately that they were male legs, I slowly raised my eyes to be met by the sight of a pair of beige linen shorts which appeared to enclose a pert and perfect peach of a bum. Now I was really interested and the horrors of my day were quickly cast aside! And now it was time for a proper inspection. Initially I did not have to be secretive, since the object of my interest - and rapidly developing affection- was standing with his back to me. His torso was covered by a smart bright pink polo shirt; he was clearly Asian, but from which country I could not yet guess; his arms matched his legs, and the long slender fingers of his right hand were wound around the handles of a black nylon day-pack. The back of his neck was like brown silk and strands of straight black hair mingled at his shirt collar. I sent him a silent thought-message to turn around, and at the simultaneous hoot of the slowly-approaching train, he did turn to watch it glide into the station. His face was so sweet and angelic, so smooth and free of blemish, that I thought he had to be Thai or Malay. His lips were full and sensuous, and his eyes were wide and innocent. "Stop staring", I inwardly screamed at myself, but I was too late, and he caught my eyes with his - only for a moment, but it was enough to make me melt. But now the rush was on. I was torn between following him and searching for Car 2. Of course I had to choose the latter option and, as I picked up my bag to head towards the front of the train, I saw with dismay that he was making his way towards the rear of the train where the sleeping compartments were. "Oh well," I thought, "just another disappointment to make the day complete". No wonder my seat was the last to be booked. Not only was I over a set of wheels, but I was also next to the most repellent specimen of Australian manhood - fat, dirty, unshaven and with a can of beer in his hands. He grunted some sort of unintelligible greeting, pulled the top off another can of beer, belched loudly and assaulted me with a foul mixture of stale breath and nauseating body odour. By now the train had begun its inexorable crawl to Sydney, and I just knew I was in for the journey from hell. Searching for some alternative to sitting in close proximity to my hideous neighbour, I decided that I must be hungry and that it was time to locate the dining car. Pushing open the doors to the dining car, I spied an empty seat opposite a well groomed middle-aged lady and was making my way towards it when I saw a flash of pink at the far end of the carriage. Could it be? Yes, it was…and there was an empty seat opposite him. So I kept walking. "Is this seat taken? Would you mind if I joined you?" - I didn't wait for an answer to my first question. The flicker of a smile and a nod of agreement was all I needed, and instantly I was seated at the table and in seventh heaven. Porpon, it turned out, was Thai, 24 years old and was in Australia studying for his Masters degree in Biochemistry. He was going to Sydney for five days to conduct some experiments requiring specialised equipment in the computer laboratories of the University of New South Wales. He was intelligent and amusing, and as we talked our initial awkwardness turned to familiarity. He was from a wealthy professional family in Bangkok, and it soon became clear that his journey to study in Australia had been motivated by more than just a wish to be at Melbourne University. He was running away from something. Could it be that he was gay? And how could I find out without offending him? Well into our second bottle of white wine, Porpon himself solved that problem by asking me about the gold chain and charm I wear around my neck. When I told him that it was a present from a former lover, he looked me in the eyes and quietly asked, "Was this lover perhaps a boy?". My nod of agreement simply led him to say, "That is good". Deciding that a third bottle of wine was excessive, I explained to Porpon the revolting prospects of returning to my seat. I will never forget his reply: "Well, I am afraid that you must return to your seat", and then after a lengthy pause and a faintly wicked smile, "but only for five minutes to collect your bag. I would like you then to join me in Compartment 9 of Car 11". As I got up from my seat, I was aware of the discomfort in my groin as my raging hard-on fought to free itself from the folds of my CK briefs. My tap on the door of his compartment five minutes later was met by a soft "It's unlocked". As I pushed back the sliding door, I was met by a vision of pure heaven. Porpon was lying on his back on his bed clad only in a pair of white Jockey boxer-briefs with the top of his erect cock peeking cheekily from under the waist band. I stripped to my CK's, now glistening with pre-cum, and straddled him on the bed. Words were wasteful, and I devoted all my attention to lathering his armpits with my saliva and then nibbled at his small but erect nipples. This seemed to send an electric shock right through him, and he arched his back and let out a long low groan of pleasure. The only hair on his torso above the waistband of his Jockeys was a sparse black snail trail which emerged from underneath the knob of his rock-hard cock. Slowly I wound the hairs of his snail trail around my tongue, which I then sent darting towards his knob to catch the drops of clear liquid oozing from his slit. Bucking at every touch of my tongue, he was now desperate for me to rip off his Jockeys. "Oh no, my lovely", I thought, "all good things come to those who wait". Now I turned him over and turned my attention to the soles of his feet with my tongue, snaking it up the back of his legs over the meagre offering of hair on the back of his thighs and running it along the groove where Jockeys met thighs. But those perfectly moulded round cheeks stretching the cotton of his Jockeys soon got the better of me, and I buried my face into his cotton-covered arse, nipping and licking, and inhaling his wonderful aroma. Only now did I begin to peel his boxer-briefs slowly down over his hips, revealing the velvet of his unblemished bum, at which point, with a vigour that caught him completely by surprise, I pulled his cheeks apart and buried my tongue in his pucker. I thought for a moment that he would shoot his Thai coconut cream then and there, but fortunately that pleasure was postponed. Turning him over again, I was greeted by the vision of a ramrod-straight quivering cock, surrounded by neatly trimmed black hair and towering over a smooth shaven sack weighed down by two very large plums. Very soon that beautiful 6" shaft was in my mouth, and not long after my own rod was worming its way into the cherry of his magnificent arse. It was soon clear that I was not the first to fuck him, for which I was grateful, and he presented that wonderful combination of grip and freedom. I had no wish to pound him, and I soon discovered that what gave him (and me) the greatest pleasure was a rhythm of total withdrawal and slow reinsertion I straddled him, rode him, bent him over - and then he sat on me, slowly lowering himself to be impaled by my rigid sword. He had barely touched his dick when it seemed to explode, spraying my face and chest with stream after stream of hot white tropical cream. When his ecstasy had subsided, he lowered himself to lie beside me, peeled off my condom and took my meat deep into his luscious mouth. With a quiver, I tensed and shot so much cum into his mouth that it oozed through his lips and dripped down on to my balls. His body and bum were everything they had promised to be, and to kiss his soft, full lips and bury my tongue in his throat was ecstasy. The taste of his bum was as sweet as his cum was salty. All night we rolled in a mixture of saliva, sweat and cum, luxuriating in our passion. His appetite for sex and love was insatiable, but by the time the train rolled into Sydney's Central station, my capacity to satisfy it was spent. Six months later, we are both back in Melbourne, but the passion and the cum keep flowing!