Gay Erotic Stories

What was it about swimming that always left me feeling restless? I'd finish my laps, hit the sauna, and feel completely relaxed and at ease. But then by the time I finished my shower, I'd be full of energy again. For the first year or two we were married, I'd rush home and fuck Cathy's brains out. She loved it at first; then she started to get tired of it, and to complain that I was "pumping too hard". This went on for a year or two. It got so that Cathy would refuse sex, as if on principle, just about any time I suggested it. I was a horny bastard, but I wasn't about to cheat on my wife. So my right hand and I got better acquainted again, same as when I was in high school. I was jerking off every day, all the time fantasizing about my cock in Cathy's hot snatch, the way it was when we were first married. To tell the truth, though, I was going crazy. Masturbating was fun and all, but I had to have some real sex. I started doing weird stuff. I'd read books with titles like "How to Seduce Your Wife", and I'd set up these romantic scenarios, just like the books suggested. They worked -- about once a month. But man, I wanted it at least once a day -- and more often than that, if at all possible. So I started making my masturbation more than just quick jerkoffs. For instance: While Cathy nodded off in front of the TV in the living room, I'd fill the tub and take a long, sensual bath. Then I'd towel off, go into the den, and put in a porn video. While the actors and actresses got it on, I'd give myself as much of a massage as I could, never touching my cock. Then, when the video was over, I'd get into bed and hump the mattress as if it were Cathy. Then, and only then, I'd roll over on my back and start pounding my meat. I'd come all over my belly and chest, and smear my semen all over my body. Then I'd drift off to sleep, waiting for Cathy to come to bed. Around 3 or 4 a.m. she'd climb into bed with me. She'd ask why I was a such a disgusting sex maniac, and gripe about how crusty and smelly I was. Ah, marital bliss. It got weirder. One hot night, I was playing in the den with our Caesar, our Siberian huskie, just wrestling around and stuff. Because of the heat, I was naked. Feeling Caesar's lush fur against my cock brought me to instant erection. Without really thinking what I was doing, I started humping his back and rubbing my hardon in his fur. I shot my load almost immediately. He never knew what hit him. That's when I knew I needed to do something about the situation -- but what? I couldn't cheat; despite the sexual problems, I loved Cathy. Masturbation obviously wasn't the answer, or at least not enough of one. I thought of asking Cathy to go to marital counseling, but she was contemptuous of any kind of therapy or psychology. One night, when Cathy was working the night shift, I called one of those phone sex lines. It didn't do much for me; it just felt ridiculous. I kept picturing this fat housewifey type at the other end of the line, pretending to be some supermodel. I couldn't keep it up. So much for that idea. I wrote to an advice column in one of my men's magazines, asking for help. To my amazement, the columnist actually answered my letter. He said that maybe more sex wasn't the problem, since masturbation wasn't fixing it. Maybe, he said, I just needed more touching. He suggested that I hug people more, and maybe get a massage once a week, or take up a contact sport instead of swimming. Well, the very next day, after swimming, I went to get a massage at the club. The masseur was this chunky, middle-aged guy named Dennis. I'd never had a massage before. I lay there on the table in my towel while Dennis worked my back and legs and arms and neck. "Yeah," I thought to myself, "this is what I've been missing." And that's when it got really embarrassing -- lying there on the table, with Dennis's hands all over my body, I got a hardon. Shit, was I that desperate for contact, that this hefty, hairy old guy could do this to me? All of a sudden, the massage was over. Dennis slapped me on the rump and said he was done. I asked if it was okay if I just stayed there a while. "Well," he said, "I've got another appointment in five minutes. You've got that long." And he turned around and started getting his oils and such ready for the next customer. My face must have been about the color of ketchup. I stayed there, lying on my stomach to hide my condition. I hadn't had a hardon in front of anybody but Cathy since I was in high school, and never in front of a guy, unless you count my brother when I was about twelve. "Um," I started to say, but Dennis turned around. "Look," he said, "now you've got four minutes. It happens a lot, mister. Nothing I haven't seen before. I suggest you either take care of it right now, or get your ass down the hall to the locker room, get dressed, and go home and fuck your wife's pussy. It makes no difference to me." Well, I wasn't about to walk down the hall in this state. And actually getting to fuck Cathy's pussy was, to say the least, a long shot. At least Dennis already knew what the problem was, and didn't seem to care. And as horny as I was, it wouldn't take long for me to "take care of it right now", right? Still red-faced, I rolled over onto my back. Dennis went about his business, paying no attention to me at all. For all I knew, this was all old hat to him, all in a day's work. I parted the towel that was around my waist and started stroking my cock. "Three minutes," he said, matter-of-factly. "Need some oil?" Sheepishly, I nodded. Hardly even glancing in my direction, he handed me a bottle of massage oil. I splashed some into my hand, then rubbed it onto my cock. I shot my load in no time. "Towel?" said Dennis, without even looking up from his work. I took the one he held out and wiped off as much of the evidence as I could quickly. Then I wrapped myself back up in my own towel and headed down the hall to the locker room. This became a weekly occurrence -- Dennis would massage me, I would get aroused, and I would jerk off in the last few minutes allotted to me while Dennis got ready for the next customer. Though I had only ever jerked off in one other male's presence -- my brother's, when we were both adolescents -- I got fairly comfortable with the situation, especially since Dennis treated it as a very natural, even businesslike, matter, not worthy of comment. In no time, I dispensed with keeping the modesty towel on during my massage; it seemed kind of silly, given what inevitably followed the massage. Dennis proved indifferent, except to comment once, while he was kneading my buttocks, that "most guys are too uptight for this part of the massage." I got so I really looked forward to the release of my weekly massages. I even found myself getting half-hard in anticipation as I walked from the locker room to the massage room. And while the infrequency of sex with Cathy was still frustrating, my libido seemed to be returning to manageable levels again. Everything went along smoothly for a couple of months; then one day when I went in for my weekly massage, Dennis wasn't there. In his place was a short, muscular kid, who looked like he was barely out of high school. "Hi," he said, seizing my hand and shaking it. "I'm Jick." His grin was almost offensively perky. He was good-looking in a blond, surfer-boy kind of way that usually annoyed me. But he was so eager and so friendly, I couldn't help liking him. "Jick? That's an unusual name." He laughed. "Yeah. It's really Jacob. But somehow my big sister turned it into 'Jickup' when I was born. 'Jick' like grew out of that." He gestured toward the table. "Ready?" I dropped the modesty towel and climbed onto the table and lay down. Jick sort of stammered. "Um, sir, don't you want your towel?" I hadn't really thought about it. This wasn't Dennis. I probably couldn't just have my "release" now. At that thought, my cock underneath me grew suddenly hard. "Um..." I stammered back. "If it bothers you..." "No, no," he said in a rush. "You're the customer, after all." But his face was as red as mine must have been that first day. I tried to make small talk (something I'd never had to do at all with Dennis) to put him at ease. "You're new, aren't you?" Jick started working on my back. "Yeah. Well, not new to this. I mean, I'm trained and everything. I've learned, like, everything. But this is my first job. You're only the fourth customer I've ever had." "Oh yeah? Learned everything, eh? What made you decide to be a masseur?" He was silent for a long time, working on my back and neck. My erection was already at full. "I guess I just like people," he said. "I know how good a massage feels. I like making people feel good, that's all." He sounded defensive for some reason. "That's great," I said. He started working on my arms. "Where's Dennis?" "Oh, he quit. Retired, I guess. I'm his replacement." We didn't speak for a while. He skipped from my arms to my thighs -- my lower thighs. I found myself irritated that he hadn't touched the area that would otherwise have been covered by the towel. Jick did a creditable job. He lacked Dennis's experience, but he was indeed well-trained. He also seemed to pay closer attention than Dennis ever had to how his customer reacted -- easing up without needing to be told when it got too vigorous, focusing on tight or sore spots without having to ask whether I needed extra attention there. He did my legs, and then returned directly to my back for a while. Then he stood back and said, "How's that?" "You know," I said, still irritated by his squeamishness, "there's a reason I don't keep the towel." "Um..." His face was still as red as a beet. "Look, haven't you ever seen a naked man before?" "Well, sure," he stammered. "But -- but -- " "But what? Come on. Dennis always gave me the full massage. I expect the same of you." Jick swallowed, shrugged, and stepped forward. I felt his hands on my ass, and my cock twitched beneath me. I breathed a long sigh of contentment. I hadn't realized till just then how much I needed that particular part of the contact. "That's better," I said. Before I knew it, he stopped. "There," Jick said, tapping me on the shoulder instead of a brisk slap on the ass the way Dennis did it. "You're done, sir." "Almost," I said. I still had about twenty minutes left in my hour -- this kid had quit way earlier than Dennis ever would have. I rolled over, exposing my stiff cock. Jick's jaw dropped. I don't know what I was thinking. Ordinarily I would have been embarrassed to death to let a stranger see my condition. But something in me wanted to shock this kid a little, to give him something that would shake him out of his squeamishness. So I said, "I hope you don't mind," and lay back on the table and started pounding my meat, right there in front of this newbie masseur. "Some oil would be nice." "Uh-- uh-- " I looked over at Jick. His jaw was working wordlessly, and he was staring at my erection with wide, incredulous eyes. But what surprised me was that the front of his sweats was tented out. He was actually turned on by this! Poor kid must have been queer, I figured. But to my further surprise, this thought actually put me right over the edge. I'd hardly begun to stroke my cock, and all of a sudden I was shooting my wad while this surfer boy gaped at the sight. "Uh -- uh -- " he kept right on stammering and staring. His face was still six shades of red. I couldn't help laughing. "Never seen that before, I guess?" He looked at me -- finally tearing his eyes away from my crotch -- and shook his head. "No, sir." "I could use a towel, Jick. And don't call me 'sir'. My name is Joel." Jick handed me a towel, and I started cleaning up. "There. All clean now, and ready for the shower. But you know what, Jick?" He shook his head, his jaw still gaping wide. I reached out and grabbed his hardon through his sweats. I pulled him close. "I think you need a .... massage .... as badly as I just did." He didn't resist as I pulled down his sweats. He wore nothing underneath them. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I had never even considered doing anything like this with another guy, and here I was -- --- about to take this college kid's cock in my mouth. The thought had come to me all at once. I leaned over and pulled his dick to my lips. For one brief second I balked, but then I licked it. I could feel my own hardon begin to return. I licked and kissed his cock. The taste wasn't as unpleasant as I might have imagined it to be. He moaned and put one hand on my chest. Then I took as much of his cock as I could into my mouth. Jick's knees buckled, and his cock fell out of my mouth. He began to shoot his wad all over my face, my chest, and the table. I'd never seen so much semen in my life. One shot sailed out over my head and landed on the floor on the other side of the table. "Wow," I said, when his spasms and gasps subsided. "I never did anything like that before." "Me -- Me neither," stammered Jick. "I always wanted to -- " "Aha," I laughed. "So the real reason you became a masseur comes out. So to speak." Jick grinned nervously. "You won't tell, will you?" "Of course not," I said. "But listen, Jick, I'd like to do this again next time. You up for it?" Jick hesitated, then nodded. "I'd really like that, Joel. I mean... you're really hot." I laughed. I had found the solution. Here I had a ready outlet for my sexual energies, that wouldn't detract from my relationship with Cathy in any way. "Next time, Jick," I said, "why don't we plan on a two-hour massage? That way we can, um, treat some areas that have been neglected." Jick laughed at last. "Joel," he said, "I think I may still have a thing or two to learn about massage."