Gay Erotic Stories

Charley shivered, both with cold and anticipation. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. The air around him was full of suspense, and the expectancy was palpable. Charley closed his eyes, licked his lips and flared his nostrils, desperately trying to heighten his awareness of the Master's approach. But he heard nothing. He had been waiting at the appointed spot now for nearly two hours. Two hours of sitting on an old beer crate in the dry but rather musty cellar, with only guttering candle flames for company and comfort. Still, he thought, it will be worth it when HE comes. These thoughts were all that kept him sane and patient; the thought of spending precious time in the presence of his Lord and Master. The hours stretched on. His mind began to wander, his memories floating back to their last encounter, when the Master had been so cruel and dismissive of him. He touched his cheek and felt the scar where the Master had wounded him with a swipe from his riding crop. He so wanted to beg for his Master's forgiveness and implore him to be more tolerant of his clumsiness. After all, he was a willing slave who desired nothing more than to serve The Master and his awesome boots. As he sat there musing, Charley found he couldn't quite remember how long he had been in this state of semi-consciousness, drifting and dreaming of times past. His mind continued to wander, and he wasn't sure anymore of what was a dream world and what was reality. Suddenly, everything snapped into sharp focus. He heard a faint yet instantly recognisable sound. His sense of hearing was super-heightened, for the sound he heard was the sound he craved; the sound of his Master's steel heel plates on the hard stone floor of the cellar. HE was approaching. Charley immediately fell to his knees, his head bowed and his hands crossed, meekly, behind his back. He knew he must be ready for the Master and he must please him utterly if he was to enjoy the rewards he was seeking. From now on, every sinew in his body, every thought, every action must be focused upon his Master. He must focus his mind totally on the intoxicating pleasure of servitude he would be privileged to experience in order to fully appreciate the dominating and authoritative power the Master brought to their relationship. Relationship? Yes, Charley thought, it was a relationship. He depended upon the Master and the Master (at least to some extent) depended upon Charley. These thoughts tumbled through Charley's mind as an annoying distraction, for he was fervently trying to focus all his attention upon the sound he most craved, the sound of his Master's approaching boot-steps. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow as he concentrated all his innermost thoughts and emotional energy upon what was to come. If only he could remain focused and blot out all these other distractions! The sound of the sharp steel heel plates on the stone floor echoed mysteriously throughout the subterranean complex as they drew nearer and nearer to the appointed place. Charley’s throat became dry and his heartbeat began to race in anticipation. Suddenly the sound stopped. The Master had arrived and stood now, so his sixth sense told him, somewhere just before him. He dared not open his eyes to look, never mind raise his head. He must wait, contain his excitement, and listen for his Master's voice. "So, boy, we meet again.” The Master's voice was smooth and rich in tone. "I am pleased to find you as I ordered.” "Thank you, master,” mumbled Charley, meekly. The Master shifted his weight, and as he did so the glorious sound of the steel heel plates scraping against the hard stone floor shot to the very core of Charley’s memory receptors. He felt his cock begin to twitch in his pants and, whilst on the one hand he began to enjoy the first stirrings of his erection, he also began to panic in case the Master noticed his arousal and was displeased. Charley trembled in anticipation as he heard the Master take two more steps towards him and could then be certain with every fibre of his being that HE was towering above him. Charley’s head began to spin with the heady scent of the new leather he knew encased his Master’s muscular body. Its aroma was heavenly and wildly erotic. Charley tried to subdue his feelings and push them down below the surface of his consciousness, but he knew in his heart of hearts that it would be futile because the presence of his Master always made him rock hard. “You may open your eyes, boy,” said the Master, “but I forbid you to raise your head. Focus all your attention on my fucking boots.” Charley had hardly dared hope for this opportunity so soon in their encounter. He lost no time in obeying his Master’s command. His eyes flew wide open. He struggled to get used to the dim light and focus all his attention upon the objects of his desire: His Master’s boots. There they were, centre stage, right before his hungry eyes. They were the most beautiful boots Charley had ever seen, and though he took in all their splendour in an instant, he knew that he could and would spend hours in the days that followed dreaming about every aspect of their unearthly beauty. The boots were made of the smoothest, glossiest black leather Charley had ever seen. They had such an intense deep gloss that Charley involuntarily caught his breath in fear that the depth of the spit-shined surface might swallow his reflection. Oh, how he longed to surrender himself to the intensity of their deep glossy black magnificence. The boots were western in style, but totally smooth with no visible stitching. These were boots made by the gods for a Leather God. And that Leather God, thought Charley, is standing before me right now in all his glory and majesty. I am in the presence of perfection, thought Charley. He drank in the details that went together with such precision to make those glorious boots. They had 3-inch, stacked-leather, underslung heels with full steel heel plates. It was these heel plates that made the awesome sound Charley craved whenever the Master moved. The boots had smooth leather soles that ran from the base of the heels to the very tip of the up-turned, elongated snip toes. Those snip toes were, in fact needlepoints. The needlepoints themselves had elegant burnished steel toecaps, which gleamed with splendour in the reflected candlelight. Those up-turned toes drew Charley’s eyes inexorably towards their display, which was one of pure arrogance. Letting his eyes wander back along the length of the boots, his eyes were next drawn to the glossy black leather bootstraps. Gleaming steel chains ran under the boots, framing the magnificent, towering underslung heels. The bootstraps supported spurs, which were again made of polished steel. They were elegant riding spurs with small, sharp rowels and sat impressively just above the boot heels. Charley had no idea how tall the boots were, or to what glorious lengths those unseen glossy leather shafts rose up his master’s powerful calves, for skin-tight leather pants covered them. All Charley could see at the moment was the bottom of those pants, for he dared not raise his eyes without permission. What little he could see, however, made him aware that the pants were made of glossy, soft black calfskin and were laced with fine leather thongs in a crisscross pattern on the outside of the legs. What an exquisite combination, he thought: total and supreme perfection in leather. Charley had to remember to breathe consciously, because if he hadn’t he would have expired in the hallowed stillness of that divine moment. His focus on the boots was total. Nothing else mattered. “So, boy,” said the Master, “what do you make of my new boots?” “They are awesome, Sir,” murmured Charley. “Please may I touch them?” “No, not just yet, boy,” replied the Master. “You must worship them first and make sure they are perfectly clean.” “How may I worship them, Master?” said Charley. “How may I clean them?” “You may beg to tongue-wash them, boy. You may beg to lick the soles and heels clean and, if you do a good job, I will allow you to beg some more and maybe allow you to spit-shine the tops and shafts of my boots.” “Thank you. Oh, thank you, Sir!” replied Charley. “You honour me.” The Master then moved, sitting down on the beer crate and offering the sole of his left boot to the boy. Charley collected the drool in his mouth and greedily began to lick the sole of the first boot, reveling in the feel of his tongue on the rough leather, and in a maelstrom of ecstasy at the sight and feel of the sheer length of the elongated sniptoe. His slurping mouth and lapping tongue coated the leather soles with his drool, the drool of a willing and eager boot boy. The Master leaned back, enjoying the sound and sight of the boy kneeling in worship at his booted feet. When the sole was tongue-washed and clean, he proceeded to lick the stacked underslung heel, paying particular attention to the gleaming chain that embraced his Master’s heel, and the steel heel plate whose sound gave him such a thrill. The edges of the heel plate were sharp and dangerous, but Charley knew just how to do this job with relish and care. He dared not raise his eyes above his work for fear of punishment, but he could hear his Master’s satisfied moans of pleasure as his boot was being serviced. He knew also, from the rhythmic creaking sounds of leather upon leather, that his Master was fondling and caressing his impressive mound of leather-encased hardness with his tightly gloved hands. It made Charley feel good, and proud, for he knew that soon, if his Master were truly satisfied, there would be a reward for his boy. When he had finished the bottom of the first boot, he pulled back, hung his head and waited for his Master to present the second. This boot too, Charley eagerly serviced, so that soon the soles and heels of both boots were washed and clean. He pulled back and hung his head again, waiting and hoping for his Master’s approval. “Very good, boy, very good,” said the Master, inspecting the boy’s handiwork. “Now tongue my spurs.” The Master rose, turned, spread his leathered, booted legs and presented his boy with two gleaming spurs, which jutted out above the stacked leather heels. Charley eagerly bent forward again, drooling at the sight of those spurs, and engulfed the steel-bright knob end of his master’s left spur in his hot mouth. Oh, the ecstasy of that moment! The rowel was sharp, but Charley adored the feel of it moving within his mouth as he sucked and let his tongue flick and tease it. He let his tongue travel the length of the spur shaft, taking care not to touch the leather of his Master’s boot. Then back again, leaving both spur shaft and rowel wet and shining with drool. “Now the other one, boy,” panted the Master. “Tongue the other one.” Charley was only too willing to comply. He was in spur heaven! The feel of those spurs in his mouth nearly sent him over the edge. He tried to resist his animal instincts and urges, but he couldn’t contain his desire and had no option but to grab the mounting erection in his pants and try to subdue it or gain some little relief. “So, getting horny are we?” said the Master, with a sneer in his voice. “Sorry, Sir!” garbled Charley in a frenzied panic. “Please correct me, Sir!” There was a deep silence. A gulf of blackness and emptiness filled the air. It was as if time stopped. Charley’s heart missed a beat – had he displeased his Master? Crack! Charley gasped as his Master’s riding crop descended on his clasped hands. The stroke stung bitterly, and he cried out in pain. “See that you always obey me!” said the Master, turning yet again to face Charley. “You have done well, so far. Don’t get too confident and forget your place, boy.” So saying, the Master turned and began to walk away. “Please, master, please don’t leave me! Punish me again! Command me; I will do anything. Only please, don’t leave me!” “Anything?” enquired the Master. “Yes, Sir, anything!” “Well then, you may service my boot tops and shafts, boy. Worship my fucking boots!” Charley needed no second command, no other words of encouragement. He eagerly moved his trembling hands to fondle those wonderful boots and spurs. His hands softly and reverently traced the lines of their construction. His wide eyes reveled in their glossy brilliance. He caressed and fondled their form and shape, while his hot mouth came ever closer and closer until he could contain his drool no longer and he finally began to tongue and drool on the boot leather itself. He could hear his Master’s groans of delight as he focused all his attention upon those glorious boots. He spared no effort in his work, his trembling hands unfastening the leather thronging on his master’s pants to reveal the glossy brilliance of the towering boot shafts. Soon both boots were wet and gleaming with drool as Charley lapped and slurped at the glossy leather. Charley was getting more and more aroused by the pleasure zone he was at the centre of, and he knew that his Master, too, was enjoying every moment of the attention being lavished upon him and his boots. Suddenly, Charley started again, for he thought he felt the touch of leather on his cheek. First on one side, then the other. What was this? Was his Master displeased with him again? No. Strangely enough this was a gentle and tender touch, the touch of gloved hands on either side of his face. “Well done, boy, well done,” said the Master. “You have pleased me greatly. You may claim your reward.” Saying this, the Master gently cupped and lifted Charley’s face in his leather gloved hands, allowing him, at last, to raise his eyes and behold the vision of leather godliness that stood before him. His Master was coated in skin-tight black leather from head to toe. His authority was supreme, and emanated from his arrogant stance, his towering height and his overpowering aura of dominance. The Master looked down on Charley through mirrored glasses that shielded his eyes and reflected Charley’s dumbstruck upturned face in their lenses. Gently, the master lifted Charley’s face until it came to rest at his Master’s crotch. With his face pressed close, Charley could feel at his cheek, his Master’s enormous throbbing cock at present concealed behind his snap-on studded codpiece. Charley knew what he had to do. He began to lick and nuzzle the massive, leather-encased length of his Master’s cock; his hot breath coming in short pants as he focused his whole mind and mounting desire upon the leather-covered treasure which was so close and yet so out of reach. His head swam with elation. He felt like a puppy; a puppy in the presence of a stallion. Charley let his hands drop, subconsciously to his own crotch and began to fondle his own by now raging hard-on. He tore at his button fly, ripping the fabric open to allow his cock to escape the confines of his pants. He grasped his meat roughly and began to jack himself off, whilst at the same time, drooling and mouthing the mound of leather before his face. “Give me head, boy!” commanded the Master, thrusting his hips forward into the boy’s face. So saying, he tore away the studded codpiece from his crotch to reveal his massive cut cock and hairless balls, which jutted out from between his leather-encased thighs. The sight that met Charley’s eyes nearly made him swoon: Nine inches of thick, engorged, throbbing, pulsating man-meat. The enormous hairless balls were encircled at their root by a gleaming, smooth, stainless steel cockring, and his impressive length was surmounted and crowned by a gigantic purple mushroom head, which was already slick with pre-cum. The Master fondled himself with his leather-gloved hand, causing his cock to grow even thicker and longer. “Eat me!” commanded the Master, and so saying he grasped the sides of Charley’s head in his powerful hands and plunged his cock into his willing mouth. Charley gagged and nearly choked on the power and size of that thrusting cock, but, trying to stay calm, he eventually settled into a reasonable rhythm as his Master began, slowly at first, but with mounting passion, to face-fuck his boy. Charley was in heaven as he willingly let his Master use his hot wet mouth. He gagged again and again as the giant cockhead was eased down his throat, but he stayed calm and relaxed his throat muscles as he had been taught and gradually swallowed the length of his Master’s cock, until his nose was touching the cool, gleaming steel cockring and being tickled by the crop of short pubic hairs at the very root of his Master’s cock. With growing urgency, the Master thrust his cock deeper and deeper into Charley’s throat, at the same time allowing Charley to jack himself off between his splayed leather covered legs and arrogantly booted feet. It wasn’t long before Charley felt a change in his Master’s thrusts. His breath was coming now in short bursts and his rhythm quickened: he knew his Master would soon cum, cum deep in Charley’s throat. The Master’s tightly leather-covered anal mounds tightened and his massive leathered thigh muscles pushed forward. The whole of the Master’s energy was focused in one spot and he cried out in pleasure and triumph as he shot his massive load into Charley’s throat. Charley gulped and spluttered trying desperately to contain the vast amount of white-hot thick, creamy cum which spewed into his mouth. He knew he couldn’t contain it all. Spasm after spasm pumped what seemed like quarts of cum into Charley’s mouth, so that, swallow as much as he could, streams of it spurted from the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin and neck. Within seconds, Charley felt himself come to the edge, and with a heady rush of adrenaline, he shot his load in an arcing fountain all over his Master’s gleaming boots. The two men were locked in a moment of passionate, hot masculine sex, the likes of which neither had experienced with such potency before. As the Master’s cock began to subside, he tenderly fondled the sides of Charley’s face again with his leather-covered fingers. Charley closed his eyes and gave himself totally to the sensuous touch of his leather Master. He was in the hands of a Leather God and he felt as if he could gladly stay at his feet forever. However, it was not to be. Gently, the Master withdrew his glistening cock from Charley’s mouth, supporting its still impressive length with one of his own gloved hands. Its mushroom head was still pumping gobs of thick creamy cum, which formed a pool in the Master’s hand. Charley looked up, expectantly. How he wished he could lose himself in that pool of ecstasy. “Still not had enough, boy?” enquired the Master, with a wicked half-smile on his face. “No, Sir!” gasped Charley. “I can never get enough of you!” The Master laughed, then bent down to scoop the gobs of Charley’s cum off his own magnificent boots. “No Sir, let me,” pleaded Charley. “Be still,” replied the Master and, so saying, he lifted his gloved hand to Charley’s face and smeared Charley’s lips with the cum now on the tips of his leather fingers. Charley’s tongue darted out to accept this gift and, after receiving a masterful nod of approval, lapped at his Master’s cum still in his gloved palm. The Master then scooped gobs of his own cum from Charley’s face and, lifting his other hand, fed himself with thick creamy jizz, eagerly filling his own lusting mouth with salty man-juice. Just then, much to Charley’s amazement, The Master removed his mirrored glasses to reveal his sparkling sapphire blue eyes. They were truly masterful eyes and bore deep into Charley’s psyche. They were eyes that danced with power and authority. “Rise,” he commanded, and Charley rose to stand erect before his Master. He was transfixed and dumbstruck. His Leathered Lord was still head and shoulders taller than he, but Charley didn’t mind: he enjoyed his Master’s towering presence and his own feeling of subservience before him. “Join with me,” the Master said, as he pulled Charley’s mouth towards his. Charley had to stand on tiptoe to reach his Master’s lips, but once there he swooned, as he looked deep into his Master’s eyes. The Master brought his lips to Charley’s lips and kissed him deeply. Charley let himself go completely. He wanted to be totally dominated by his Leather Master. He willingly let his Master’s tongue slither sensuously into his mouth and explore the far reaches of his still cum-drenched throat. Their co-joined juices mingled in their mouths and dribbled from their lips as the Master held Charley in his powerful leather-covered arms and embraced him. Charley felt at one with this Leather God, almost a part of him. “Now you are mine, boy, totally mine!” “Yes, Sir!” whispered Charley, in ecstasy.