Gay Erotic Stories

The night was dragging on badly. I knew that I would probably have a date with boredom in a few minutes. The second glass of scotch on the rocks was getting warm, and my mood sour. "Hey," called out the bartender, "want some more ice on that?" I shot him an icy stare. "Well, I guess not," he replied. Fortunately, this bartender was a little apologetic. If he were not, I would have probably picked a fight on any retort he would have said. I sighed. The break-up with Mark had left me empty for two weeks now. And on this sullen Friday night, I had no more tears left. The din of Tracy Chapman's Baby Can I hold You was deafening me to the point of insanity. I looked over my shoulder at the stage were two strippers were getting familiar with each other. The people up front were screaming. A couple were duplicating the strippers' moves on the dance floor, while another group was celebrating the coming out party of a new "sister of the faith." I was disgusted by all the happy faces. The tight lycra shirt and Levi's pants rightfully reflected my black mood. The only object of color I wore was the silver locket with Mark's face and mine inside. I had planned a ceremonial burning of the disgusting object at midnight. My almost feminine form shivered as I remembered the events that transpired in the past two weeks. I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes more and I could begin the cursing ceremonies. I glanced again at all the disgustingly happy faces. I pushed the warm glass of scotch across the bar. "Hey, watch out!" called out a young man as the glass slammed on his elbow. I just turned my head the other way. I did not even care to look at him. I did not even care, period. I sensed he was moving over towards me. I anticipated some heated words or a punch. Instead, he sat beside me and placed the glass of scotch before my bowed head. "I believe this belongs to you," he said. I was insulted. I raised my head to look at this asshole who dared invade me in my moment of sorrow. I looked long and hard. And I was shocked by the resemblance. Under the ghostly haze of smoked-filtered neon lights, the young man looked very much like Mark. If it were not for the deep baritone of his voice (Mark sounds like a tenor in a shower that ran out hot water in winter) I would have mistaken him for the one I hate -- and love and miss at the same time. The rush of emotions was only too much for me to bear. I burst out in tears, and instinctively threw my arms around him. "There now," he said as he also wrapped his strong arms around me. "I now know you are sorry. Whew! This probably the most sincere apology I have ever received." He kissed my hair. I looked up at him and laughed. I wiped away the tears and straightened myself. "I'm sorry about that," I explained, "I'm sorry." "Okay. I think I already get that point," he said, "By the way I'm Andrew Van Meyers." "Yeah right," I retorted, "And I am the queen of England." "Really. I am Andrew Van Meyers." He was serious. In the span of three seconds my sorrow turned to surprise. I looked closely. I knew little about the Van Meyers family but I knew they received much press coverage, being the richest family in the city, if not the whole county. My friends did joke that Mark resembled one of the Van Meyers. I never took that seriously. Until now. "Why are you telling me this," I asked. "Don't you realize the implications?" It was certainly a juicy news tidbit which could be blown up into enormous proportions. The son the richest man in a gay bar. "I don't care," he said, "I'd probably just call up the mortgage of that publisher and buy him out." He laughed. I sensed the money oozing out of his well sculpted body. He indeed acted like a Van Meyers. "And you are?" he probed. "Daniel," I answered. "Can I buy you a drink, Daniel," he asked. "Of course," I answered, "I don't think it would cost you much anyway." We both laughed. The fifteen minutes I was to wait before the ceremony had come and gone. For the first time in weeks, I was actually enjoying myself. "Hey, why don't you come on over to my condo," he asked after about thirty minutes of conversation. "It is just two blocks from the university." This was probably the speediest pick-up I have ever experienced. I stopped and thought it over. "How old are you," I asked. I had told him a while ago that I was 22 but I never bothered to ask his age. "Only 18" he replied but he cut me off before I could begin to decline. "I know it would be illegal. But hey, I am no jail bait. I wouldn't sue you for money anyway. I don't need it. Plus, I don't need the publicity of a trial." I could not believe he was only 18. His 6'2" frame and broad chest was not that of a teen. He had the wavy blonde hair of an experienced surfer and light tufts of chest hairs peeked from the low necked T-shirt he was wearing. Despite my being older, my svelte 5'6" frame could easily be engulfed by his broad arms. His argument was sound. Besides, I have not had sex for two weeks and was more than ready to explode. I was so turned on by him. I had totally forgotten about Mark, despite the fact that they looked so similar. I found myself agreeing. "Great!" he said. He flipped open a pocket cellular and said a few words. He then invited me to go out. I gathered my things and wrapped myself around his right arm. I felt secure. We went out the door together. I felt the jealous eyes of the single people in the bar burn through the lycra of my shirt. In a few minutes, a limousine pulled up and a big, handsome man who looked Persian, came out and opened the door for us. "Thank you, Yakov," Andrew said and led me in. The inside was cozy and very masculine. The gray leather covering smelled musky like him. The door closed and we were off. Andrew raised the divider and we were suddenly alone. I snuggled myself and laid my head on his broad chest. He fondled my hair. In a few minutes he moved my hand to his crotch. I could have done that on my own, but I preferred to be led. It was more romantic that way. I wasted not time in undoing his buttons and fly. I could see an enormous cock trying to tear the pristine white fabric of new Calvin Klein's. He took of his pants and I gasped at his near perfect legs, a good complement to the surprise I could see through the strained briefs. I tugged at his briefs to free his cock, but he held it back. "Later," he whispered as he nibbled on my earlobe. His tongue was exploring the regions of my face. I tried to take off my own clothes but he restrained me. Again he told me to wait until we came to his condo. But he took off his own shirt. The only thing covering him were those damnable briefs. I was fully clothed still. My hand was kneading the length of his penis through the fabric of his briefs while he engrossed his mouth with my neck. I straddled him and I could feel his pulsating cock even through the thickness of my black Levi's. I kissed him, my tongue exploring every crevice of his hot mouth. I moved down to his neck, with every intention of sucking his nipples and his dick. But every time I moved past his collar bones he would pull me up and kiss me even more. In my mind, I was screaming for the driver to hurry up. After a short while, we turned into the basement parking of the Pacific Palisades condominium complex. The car stopped for a brief inspection with the building guard. I straightened myself but Andrew held me back and asked me to continue kissing. I said we might be seen. "He can't see through the glass," he whispered and went back to sucking my lower lip. The car pulled to a stop. The intercom lighted up and Yakov spoke. "We are here sir," he said with a heavy Middle Eastern accent. Andrew mumbled an agreement, but he did not let me go. Nor did he bother to put on his clothes. Then, the door opened and I could see Yakov showing us out. I was shocked and straightened myself. Andrew assured me and did not even bother to cover his half-nakedness. I stepped out and Andrew followed, still in his strained underwear. Fortunately, there was no one in the parking that early in the morning. Yakov was holding an elevator door open for us. Andrew picked my up easily, and I could feel his penis trying to break through the jeans material and into my hole. He kissed me again as he carried me into the waiting elevator. I looked at Yakov. He did not directly look at us, but all of us knew that he could see what we were doing. Andrew did not seem to mind him, and continued to kiss me and whisper dirty things into my ear. Yakov just looked the other way. When the door opened to Andrew private penthouse, I could see five other men waiting in the living room. Still Andrew did not seem to mind them. With me still wrapped around his body, he carried me through the small crowd to his room. Surprisingly, the six men present did not seem to mind us either. As if we did not exist at all. Andrew shut the door behind him and he put me down. He looked at me and smiled. I could not quite place the strange gleam in his eyes. He took my hands and guided it, this time inside his briefs. I could feel about eight inches of heated man meat there. I was very turned on. He kissed me and disappeared into the bathroom. I was in heaven. When he appeared, he was wet and totally naked. I gasped at the size of his cock. It was shaking and shivering with anticipation. The bulbous head was already red and shiny. Pre-cum was dripping in big quantities from his penis. He walked toward me, and without warning ripped the thin lycra from by torso. I was surprised. "Don't worry dear. I will buy you three more," he whispered as he nibbled on my ears again. I could feel his cock pushing against my naked abs. "Kneel," he whispered again. This moment I was waiting for. I wet my lips in anticipation. I kneeled, and his cock-head was just two inches from my face. "Close your eyes," he told me. I complied. I anticipated a gentle probing into my mouth of his hot dick. I waited for that moment. Instead, I felt a hard slap across my face, three seconds of pain. And then darkness. (to be continued) for comments please write to alopett@mailcity.com