Gay Erotic Stories

Before I begin this story, let me admit that I'm not completely proud of this whole situation. In the very least, it's left me in an extremely awkward position, confused, and paranoid as hell. On the other hand, I have to confess that I've enjoyed a lot of it, as most men would. On each night in question, I wait patiently like a predator for the night to fall, my world to settle down, and the sweet madness to begin . . . What has all too easily led to this predicament is my obsession with having my dick sucked. I've had it bad ever since the long, hot days of junior high when testosterone was like a drug. It started with quickie peep shows behind the bleachers during gym class, and the kiss and grope sessions during the football games and dances. Of course, only a couple of the girls were nasty enough to get into it. Over the years I developed a reputation for being the "big man on campus". I believe it was during this period that some spark ignited in me or in my loins actually that grew into a full-fledged addiction. Now I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a ho, but my jimmy has on more than one occasion gotten me into a sticky situation. Like the time this one guy caught me fucking his sister in the locker room. To make a long story short, he scared the shit out of both of us and she ran out crying. For two months after that, this fool harassed me and threatened to beat the shit out of me if she ended up pregnant. Eventually and fortunately, it turned out she wasn't, but later to my surprise I learned that there was more to this dude. I remember clearly that it was smack in the middle of one hot September after football practice. Again I was in the locker room getting cleaned up when he snuck up on me. I had just showered and had my towel wrapped around me, when he rushed over and pinned me in the corner. I was scared to death, because this fool was twice my size and could have kicked my ass quite handily. He gripped me in a chokehold and leaned close. I could tell from the twisted, desperate look in his eyes that something bad was about to go down. Through tight clenched teeth he whispered his intentions that would serve to avenge my escapade with his sister, and that if I yelled out he would snap my neck. I could hardly breathe. Then without warning he pressed himself against me kissing and licking my face. In shock I tried to push away but his grip tightened on my neck and he rammed me back in to the wall again. I felt the wind rush from me while his other hand ripped the towel from my waist and forcefully began yanking and jerking on my dick. The son of a bitch was jacking me off and kissing me! What the fuck!?! Looking back on it now, all I can say is that some dysfunctional part of my psyche must have liked the shit, because I started to get hard and that must have been what he wanted. His frantic stroking became smoother but the tight grip never loosened. This overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure started me whimpering like a little puppy and he responded saying that I was just a little bitch - a little punk bitch to be exact. All I could do was keep my eyes closed and try my best to breathe until it was over. He continued without loosening his hold or slowing his stroke until I came, and finally he released me. Exhausted, my legs buckled under me and helplessly I fell forward into him getting some of my cum on his hand. Furious he threw me against the wall and wiped it off on my face. What could I do? I was gasping for air, dizzy and humiliated and I cowered at his feet sitting on the floor in my own cum. "Get the fuck off me!" he grumbled at me. "If you tell anybody about this, I'll kill you bitch!" Then he hurried out of the locker room and left me there, and I can't recall how long it took for me to get it together. But I was grateful that no one else came in to find me there naked on the floor, gasping for air, holding my jimmy with cum on my face. What happened to the dude you say? Well he had graduated the year prior and from what I could figure was just hanging out that day watching us practice. He must have come in the gym when the other folks had left. In any event, I never crossed paths with him again. And what about the sister? Well, let's just say that I couldn't leave well enough alone and soon thereafter came to know her ass very well. You could say she nursed jimmy through a speedy recovery :) And so it has gone down over the years, my dick has come through for me time and time again. Hell I've even fucked for money - ain't no shame in my game. In retrospect, I would classify my actions as bumified (is that a word?) But I was young, crazy and down for whatever. I'm proud to say that times have changed and I've slowed down somewhat. I'm holding my own now and don't need to resort to such tactics, but that addiction has not left me - that need is still running through my veins, which brings me to the real story. Now let me just put this out here, so you know where I'm coming from. OK? My years as a "bum" taught me one precious truth . . . when it comes down to getting your dick sucked . . . a mouth is a mouth is a mouth. It doesn't matter if you're female or male, rich or poor, teacher or preacher's wife, astute or a prostitute. If you wanna play with me, I'll put you to work! Tru dat! I had put that piece of wisdom to bed until recently. You see I was trying to be a good boy and take care of my own little freaky business on the DL. But into my world walks Stacey - cool brother no doubt - consultant by day - chronic dick sucker by night. Are you ready for this? Well I placed an ad for someone to co-rent this town house. Stacey was the best qualified - cool like I said, made good money, independent, trustworthy - you could do worse. We've been sharing this place for about six months now and everything is cool. He does his thing and I do mine, he's got his friends and vice versa. We get along real well, you know - he's good people. And that's it, no sexual vibes being passed here or at least that's what I thought. Oh! Did I leave out that I'm not gay or at least I don't consider myself gay. I've never had out and out sex with a dude - but I have had guys blow me during my past "bum" life - we've been through this already. It was never reciprocated, alright!. But anyway, to put it simply. For the last two weeks - out of the midnight blue - Stacey has been creepin' into my bedroom in the middle of the night and slobbin' my knob. Does it sound wild? I kid you not. It’s trippin' me out man! What do I do you say? Hell, you know me . . . I let him! I just pretend I'm asleep during the whole thing. I've heard that it's possible to have this done to you and you just think you're dreaming. I guess it's like an out-of-body experience or something. Whatever it is, I'm going with that. I mean, come on. Could I possibly let the guy know that I'm taking advantage of him taking advantage of me? Don't make me develop a conscious here, ok? But this is how it started . . . Exactly two Fridays ago I had come in from the usual T.G.I.F. happy hour hellraising. It was about 12:30 a.m. and Stacey was still out with his friends. I was really wasted and made it as far as the living room where I kicked off my boots and stretched out across the couch. I remember watching some videos and one of those bullshit infomercials before I fell asleep. Around 3:00 a.m. I woke up briefly to realize that I was in my bedroom in bed stripped down to my boxers. I swear I can't remember how I got there, but now I think that Stacey must have come in sometime later and helped me to my room where he laid me down and undressed me. After that I dozed off again and in what seemed like a dream, I saw myself back at the bar trying to talk to this honey. She invited me to a secluded booth in the back by the VIP section. She proceeded to unfasten my pants, pull down my shorts and riizzock my world. I've had dreams about this type of action before, but I always woke up before it ended. This time I held out till the big finish and she swallowed my juices before leaving me with my dick in my hand going limp. When I did wake up, the light of dawn had just started to slip through the blinds in the window and I reached down to my genitals to find the front of my boxers wetter than a mother-fucker. It crossed my mind for a split second that it seemed a little odd. I had never gotten that wet from a dream and certainly had never ejaculated in my sleep. I was too tired to really give a shit, so I stripped them off, threw them on the floor, got back in the bed and pulled the sheet over me. I slept like a baby. That Saturday it rained like in the days of Noah and we just relaxed in the house all day watching movies and the usual stuff. At one point, Stacey mentioned that I was pretty out of it when he came in. I made a comment about hanging at the bar after work but did not inquire about how I got to my bedroom in the wee hours of the morning. Later in the evening, we watched boxing on pay-per-view that lasted till past midnight. I had downed a few rum and cokes and was feeling nice before it was over. I went to bed afterwards and turned on the radio to catch the rest of the midnight mix show. My body was still responding to the alcohol and I was too lit up to fall into a deep sleep, so for the next couple of hours I lay there dozing off and on in a light comatose state. I was fully aware of my surroundings and all of my senses were functioning but I was still not completely awake. At some point I heard Stacey come into the room and softly call my name. I did not bother to respond thinking that he was just coming in to turn off the light or the radio. He had this sort of guardian angel air about him and had done this several times in the past. So it was no big deal to me. But this time I did not hear anything being turned down or off and I knew he was still in the room. A couple of minutes later he whispered my name again and this time I sensed he was closer. Still no response and the light and radio stayed on. Then I heard him kneel down by the bed on the side where I was. My bed was queen size but I had this strange habit of sleeping on one side - not in the middle or diagonally like most folks. The bed shook a little as his shoulder brushed the side of the mattress and I felt his breath dance across the hairs on my thigh. He whispered my name once more and upon getting no response began to slowly peel back the front of my shorts until there was enough of an opening to pull my dick out. Upon feeling his touch on my privates my breathing changed and he froze immediately. He held on to my jimmy though and when I did not open my eyes he ever so slowly began to stroke. I knew his mouth was real close because I could feel his hot breath blowing against my stomach. It took no time at all for me to get hard and I knew even without seeing it that my dick was standing proud and ready for service. At the same time I could feel my mind was on the verge of panic mode - how in the hell could this be happening? What's the deal here with Stacey? Damn! This has got to be a dream. Yeah, I'm dreaming - I've got to be - yeah, I'm back at the bar just like last night - back at the bar with the fine honey with that tight little ass - yeah it's her down there not Stacey - it's her down there stroking my dick - she's the one calling my name and running her fingers through my pubic hairs - yeah that's got to be it - it can't be Stacey jerking on my man begging me to slam this dick all up in his mouth and down his throat. Yeah it's a dream and all I've got to do is open my eyes and I'll see that pretty bitch down there getting ready to riizzock my world again. Yeah it's her because she knows that this dick is good. I knew she'd be back for more - just open my eyes . . . open my eyes . . . I held my breath and barely opened my eyes and as I did so he put my dick in his mouth and began to lick the head. This time the panic set in full throttle and my whole body tensed up. My toes curled and my breathing became quick and shallow as if I was buried alive and trying to savor the last few precious wisps of air. I panicked because in that split second that pretty bitch at the bar indeed had become Stacey. Tall, manly Stacey - fat fingered, mustached Stacey - my roommate and buddy Stacey. Somewhere in my semi-comatose state I saw myself back in junior high held hostage in the locker room with the big fucker pressed up against me. That overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure was devouring my mind but not before it told my body to maintain until the assault was over. And that's all I could do - I kept my eyes shut and took long silent breaths until the deed was finished. Somehow Stacey and the pretty bitch and that mean fucker had fused into one dick-sucking creature. The only difference was that any pain had been replaced with extreme pleasure and I began my signature whimpering. My dick was fully erect and Stacey was fighting like a Titan to take it down with no luck. Several times he let up gagging from trying to take too much in his mouth and he slurped like a pig which made the shit more enjoyable for me. At one point I just wanted to reach down and pat him on the back to encourage him to keep up the good work, but I lay there frozen and tense and breathing as quietly as I could. I don't recall how much time elapsed but I could tell that when I came it wouldn't be nothin' nice. This load was coming straight from another level and I regretted that I wouldn't be able to see him get it! When I did come it took everything in me to restrict my movements. With my head thrown back in the pillow and fists gripping the sheets I let loose and I swear I saw fireworks inside my eyelids. Amazingly, Stacey never pulled his mouth off me and took the whole load in. He stayed right there until the last waves shot out and my jimmy began to slowly get soft. Finally he released me and quickly got up and left the room as quietly as he came in. I could hear his footsteps as he headed straight for the hallway bathroom and the immediate running of water in the sink told me that he spit my load out there. I opened my eyes and saw my dick still protruding through the top of my shorts, which were soaked with saliva. Stacey wasn't the best blow I ever had, but damn! - there ain't no such thing as a bad blowjob. Tru dat! The boy drooled like a St. Bernard and I could feel it oozing down my balls to my crack. Now that's some nasty shit! I wanted to jump up right then and clean myself off but I hesitated as the orgasmic after shocks rushed through me, and then what if Stacey came back into the room for some reason. I thought it best to hold out just a little longer to see what would happen, and it was killing me as the cool spittle continued to slide down my ass. Also at this point, I could feel the panic and regret setting back in. How in the world could this have happened? Finally I heard Stacey's footsteps coming back down the hallway and I quickly fell back on the bed and tried my best to look asleep. Again he entered the bedroom as quiet as a church mouse and came over next to the bed to turn off the lamp. The stereo still played softly across the room and I figured he probably couldn't find the remote. Then he exited and closed the door behind him and left me alone. I waited a good 10 minutes before I dared to get up to clean myself off, and as I began to peel off my shorts another wave of panic hit me. I recalled then how my shorts were wet the previous morning when I woke up. Damn! What in the hell is going on here? Suddenly I felt like I was experiencing the climax of one of those sick horror films at the point when the stupid victim realizes that he/she is being stalked. My heart began to pound as I darted over and locked the door and backed away from it in what seemed like slow motion. What if Stacey was still there listening quietly? What if he's not done with me yet and is planning something else that even I wouldn't be ready to deal with? Who the hell is this person that I've been living with these past few months? Why is he doing this to me? Why would he be so bold to do such a thing? Oh my God! . . . who has he told? What if he tells his friends about these games he's been playing? How can I face him in the morning? Damn fool! Why did you let this happen? Why didn't you stop it? The panic and fear set on me heavy as I sat naked curled up on the bed for the next few hours until dawn. My mind was delusional and too troubled to allow me to sleep and the sky was still dark preventing hopeful rays of sunlight to calm me. Around 6 a.m. the Sunday morning gospel show began on the radio and I reached over for the remote and turned it off. The last thing I needed at this point was a reminder of just how far removed I was from holiness. Why did I let this happen? Still curled up and looking around the room I noticed my underwear on the floor by the door and realized that I hadn't even bothered to clean myself off. My body felt nasty and I smelled sour from the dried up sweat and cum. Fuck it! I had to get up and take a shower. I had to get out of this room and out of the house for a while to try to clear my head. I listened intently to detect any noise coming from the hallway or any other area of the house. Hearing nothing I uncurled and got up wincing from stiffness. Oddly, as I took the first few steps on the carpet, it began to rain heavy outside. Yet I tiptoed trying not to make a sound. I wrapped a bath towel around me and paused again before opening the door. A sharp bolt of lighting clashed as my hand touch the knob. My heart began to pound wildly again as I assumed the role of the horror movie victim . . . I didn't know what zone I was in, but a nasty storm was brewing outside stirring up something dreadful inside of me. "He's there waiting on the other side of the door!" screamed a voice in my head. And when I opened the door I screamed too in sheer terror for there standing waiting and larger than life was the big fucker from junior high!?! Out of nowhere thunder exploded and shook the house as he lunged forward and threw me backwards and down. Down into some hideous darkness where I couldn't breathe and couldn't see - where he was one with the awful thunder. "I'll kill you, you little bitch!" his voice roared echoing with the storm. I used my last breath in a useless scream for help. Suddenly my entire body rocked violently bouncing in the darkness against the thunder. My eyes opened wide to a piercing light all around me and I was being jerked back and forth like a rag doll by strong hands on both of my shoulders - the hands of the big fucker? No they were Stacey's hands! He was the one on top of me now, looking at me with eyes of bewilderment and shouting something at me. And then, as if someone were slowly turning up the volume on a TV, I could hear his voice. "Hey, man, wake up!" he was shouting. "Wake the fuck up!" Suddenly finding a second wind, I screamed again and began to push and kick him away. "Godamit!" he winced as my foot caught him good once in the chest. "Wake your drunk ass up, nigga! And I did. I sat up gasping and coughing madly, looking around to see exactly where the hell I was. Slowly everything began to register and I saw that I was in fact on the living room couch still fully dressed in the clothes I had on Friday. I was drenched in sweat and my head was hurting like hell. I was hungover like a motherfucker and it was raining like mad out. I leaned back on the couch and tried to get a grip. Did I dream all this bullshit? "Man you scared the shit out of me." Stacey said rubbing his chest. I apologized and began to laugh quietly feeling like an idiot. Oh boy! This would be one for the books. "I didn't know what the fuck happened!" he continued. "First, the storm kicks up, the electricity goes out, and then your monkey ass starts screaming and hollering like somebody was killing you!" "Oh snap!" I replied hoarsely still recovering. "Man, I must have been tore up from last night. And we don't have any power? Ain't that a bitch!" "What the hell were you dreaming about?" he asked. "Are you ok?" "Man, I don't even know." I lied. "I think the storm must have freaked me out or something, but yeah I'm cool now." We continued to talk as the rain fell outside, and I was completely relieved as you can imagine. There was no way in hell I was going to tell him about the dream. I still can't believe the intensity of it - how everything seemed so real! It's amazing how the mind can combine and construe elements of reality and the subconscious - past and present - pain and pleasure. And throw a little alcohol in the mix and you've got some powerful shit on your hands :) And what's playing heavy on my mind lately is what it all means. Like I said at the beginning of the story, I'm feeling a little confused and paranoid now because I'm wondering if the secret tryst I tried to label on Stacey in the dream is actually my own. I've heard that all men have homosexual tendencies from time to time even if they're not acted upon. Also I'm a little ashamed because this is a person that I feel could be a friend and really I don't want to have this as an issue in the future. Normally it wouldn't be a big deal, but you see . . . I'm still having the damn dreams. Not the bad parts - just the parts where I indulge myself in that "bumified" behavior. Sometimes with Stacey or another faceless dude and sometimes with women, but now like before I wake up before the big finish. And that's cool. I could go through a lot of underwear otherwise :) Another B. JAZZ joint . . . send comments to vibebox@hotmail.com Peace!