Gay Erotic Stories

"I hope you don't mind if I turn our dorm room into a lab for the next few weeks," Simon said. He had that strange glow in his eyes that he used to get whenever he was really engrossed in one of his school projects. "I've lived with tropical fish and white rats," I said. "What's it's going to be this time?" He smiled-startlingly white teeth against a swarthy complexion. "You're probably the only guy in the world who would put up with me." That wasn't exactly true. There are guys who would give their left nut to have a roommate like Simon-about 5'-10," 160 pounds, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, lean, smooth muscles, and arguably the best looking ass in the Western Hemisphere. I didn't get to see Simon's ass as often as I would have liked, but there were times: Simon stepping into the shower; Simon doing push-ups in his jock strap; and-the best of all-Simon, hot and sweaty, between his girlfriend's legs, one time when I walked in on them by accident. He began unpacking a large box. "There's not much equipment this time," he said. "Just a camcorder and a tripod." "You haven't told me yet what you're doing." "Just a few pictures," he said, flashing me the smile again. "You wouldn't object if I left a light on at night would you?" "Which light?" "The overhead. . . . I put a 200 watt bulb in it." "Oh shit, Simon." "And we might need to set the thermostat up a little," he added. "Will you kindly tell me what the fuck is going on? Are you growing African violets?" "It's for my Psych class," he said. "I'm studying sleep. This camera will take a picture of me every 30 seconds all night. "You can be in it too if you want," he offered. "It would be good to have more than one subject." "No thanks," I answered. "I was a guinea pig in an earlier existence. This time around I'm supposed to be a higher life form." He finished setting up his camera and went off to track practice. Simon was a serious student, but he was an athlete too. He had a couple of trophies he'd won in the high jump. Despite his oddball projects, I considered myself lucky to have him as a roommate. He was not only fun to look at, he was fun to talk to. You can't do much better than that. That night I got to see just what Simon's project really involved. We used to turn in about 10:00 o'clock, so at 9:30 Simon set the thermostat up. In a little while the room was like an oven. I didn't say anything; I just watched. He switched on the overhead light, peeled the covers back from his bed, stripped naked, and lay down. "What now?" I said. "That's all there is to it. I just sleep now. The camera does all the work." "How come you're bare-assed?" I asked. "You usually sleep in your underwear." "That's important," he said. "The camera has to show when my dick gets hard. That means I'm dreaming. And I'm supposed to measure it-the dream, I mean, not my dick." "If you want to make a porno video," I said, "why don't you just jerk off?" "It's not porn," he protested; "it's science. And besides, I'm not supposed to jerk off. No jerking off for three weeks. And no fucking, either. I have to see how often a nineteen-year-old male has wet dreams." Simon and I were pretty frank. We'd never done anything in front of each other, but it was pretty well understood that we didn't waste our orgasms by sleeping through them. "You'll never make it," I said. "How long has it been since you went three weeks without jerking off? "Since I was about ten," he answered with a grin. "But I'm gonna do it this time. You sure you don't want to be part of the experiment? I could set the camera so it shows your bed too." "Not if I have to be a virgin for three weeks," I said. "Good luck." I rolled over and tried to sleep. And the 200-watt bulb glared down on us. Simon didn't have a wet dream until the fourth night-and by then he was climbing the walls. Whoever said you can't stay hard all night, wasn't thinking about a horny college boy with an interrupted masturbation habit. Simon had a hard on from the time he took his clothes off at night until he stuffed his unwilling boner into his jeans the next morning. And I got to watch. I've already told you about his ass. Now let me tell you about his dick. I could lie and say it was two feet long and as thick as a gorilla's thigh, but it wasn't. It was a normal sized cock-but cute-utterly, incredibly cute. When it was soft it was kind of rubbery looking, and it stuck out instead of hanging down. It waggled when he walked. His coral cap had a jaunty flare to it-sort of a ogee curve-and the piss slit was very pronounced. Erect, his shaft stood high against his belly. His circumcision scar ran irregularly around it-about a third of the way down-the skin darker above, a bit little lighter below. It was a cock to die for. His balls were large, and the left one hung low. He had real great balls-and he took good care of them. He always wore a jock when he played sports. He had several jock straps, and most of the time he was kind enough to leave a sweaty one in the laundry where I could get to it when he wasn't around. I became a sniff and jerk man. I learned a lot about myself from rooming with Simon-things I had long suspected, but had never had the courage to admit. Anyway, by the fourth night, Simon was in rough shape. There's this thing about Simon: when he gets horny, he sweats. He showered every morning, and usually again in the afternoon, but by bedtime the room was thoroughly Simonized-a harsh, musky, virile odor that drove me crazy. It was like living inside a jock strap. So I wasn't getting much sleep. Nighttime found me wide awake, staring across the narrow aisle between our beds. His body hair began at the base of his throat, spread out a little over his chest-with wisps around each dark, pouty nipple-than narrowed again across his flat, ridged gut. Just below his belly button, it began to kick ass. Simon had more hair in his crotch than most guys have on their heads. Thick and curly, it twined around his balls and joined up with the hair between the cheeks of his ass. God, he was sexy. About 2:00 in the morning I woke up. I had dozed for a while, but Simon's soft moans brought me back to consciousness. He had flopped onto his stomach and was humping the sheet. I watched his ass muscles clench and unclench. It was a real turn on. After a while, his body tensed and he gave a long "AAAAAAHHHHH.". A few moments later, he sat up, his back to me. I watched through slitted eye lids, pretending sleep. He retrieved his briefs from the floor and wiped himself off. Then he stood up and wiped the sheet. His dick was still swollen, but beginning to sag. He lay back down and closed his eyes. In a few moments he was snoring. I freed my hard-on from my boxers and beat it unmercifully. Then I wiped off on Simon's underpants. He slept through the whole thing-his dick relaxed softly, and a satisfied smile on his face. After that first big one, Simon had wet dreams pretty regularly-not every night, but often enough to keep him sane. He'd broken up with his girl friend, so I knew he wasn't getting laid, and I think he stuck to his pledge not to jerk off. I'd ask him sometimes, "Are you being good?" He'd hold out his hands, palm up, and say, "Look-no hair. And I think my eyesight is improving. I never realized before what an ugly fucker you are." Like I say, he was fun-not just when he was asleep but when he was awake too. Then, about a week later, I did something really bad-something that almost cost me Simon's friendship. It was Friday night and Simon had gone out with a bunch of his buddies from the track team. I went drinking with some my friends. There were six of us-three guys and three girls. We came back to the dorm about midnight and sprawled around the common room. We were bored and wasted, but not ready yet to quit for the night. There was a VCR, so one guy, whose name was Mike, suggested we watch a video, because there was nothing on television. But nobody had one that we hadn't all seen at least a dozen times. "I could show you a real kewl video," I said. There's no excuse for I did. All I can say is that sometimes I act like an asshole when I get drunk. I guess it's because I want to be popular. I went up to our room and got Simon's wet dream video-there were four of them by then, but I picked the first one. He had his sleep videos stacked up on the ventilator under the window, each one labeled with a date. Some other guys had come in with their dates while I was gone-girls were allowed on the first floor-and they were pretty smashed too. I told them it was going to be X-rated, but they said that was okay. I popped the video into the machine, and for a while we watched Simon lying naked on his bed. Then I fast-forwarded to where his dick began to get hard, and we were into the wet dream sequence. The camera showed him from the front, humping the sheet, and reaching down occasionally in his sleep, to stroke his cock. We had just got to the part where he was wiping himself off on his briefs, when the door opened and Simon walked in. Everyone began hooting and hollering, and a couple of the guys made jerk-off motions with their fists. "Oh Simon! It feels so gooooood! Too bad you can't find a girl to do it with." He walked over to the VCR and punched the buttons. "I believe this is my tape," he said quietly. He turned and left the room without even looking at me. For a few minutes everyone was silent. We had all got sober real quick. "I think you better find another roommate," Mike said. "He's pissed." The party kind of broke up after that. I think we were all ashamed. Someone turned out the lights, and I sat for a while in the darkness. Jesus! I felt guilty. If there was any other place on earth I could have gone to that night, I would have. But there wasn't. So I went up to our room. Simon was lying on his bed, face down, his head turned away from me. He was naked, but the light was off and the camera wasn't running. "Hey, I'm sorry," I said. He didn't respond. "Simon? Are you awake? Can you hear me?" "I thought you were my friend." His words stabbed my soul, and I cried out. "Jesus Christ, Simon. Will you just get up and punch me in the mouth or something. I know I deserve it." He didn't answer, so I walked to the far side of his bed and looked down at him. It was worse than I thought. He was crying. Oh God! What had I done? The full enormity of my behavior came crashing down on me. I had lain awake nights, beating off at the sight of his naked beauty. I had lived for the moment when he would come to our room after track practice-talk to me, smile at me, tell me about one of his goofy projects. And in return I had hurt him. I had held him up to ridicule. He had trusted me with the intimate and vulnerable moments of his sleep, and I had betrayed him. I looked into his great, sad eyes, and couldn't stand the loneliness and pain I saw in their depths. I fell to my knees, sobbing. "I love you, Simon. I love you so much. And I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me? I stopped, realizing with sudden shock what I had just said. I'd told Simon the secret I had held inside me for so long, and never breathed to a living soul. He would hate now. I had lost him. But it was true, and I wasn't going to try and take it back. I lifted my head, almost defiantly. "There!" I said. "I've told you. I'm in love with you. You can go and tell everyone now that I'm queer-and get back at me for what I did." He rolled onto his back and folded his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with an expression that was more puzzled than angry. Finally he turned to me. "You dumb shit. Don't you realize who it is I've been creaming my sheets over all this time?" "My God, Simon, you don't mean-" "It's you, you asshole. I've been afraid to tell you." I looked at him in wonder. Simon loved me. Never, in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that this beautiful jock- "Take off your goddamn clothes and get into bed," he interrupted. "I hope you're not too drunk to fuck, because I've been saving up for a long time." "But what about your experiment? You're not supposed to-" "Fuck the experiment. This is real. "And if you think you won't get punished," he grinned, "you're making a big mistake. Your asshole is going to be so sore you won't be able to walk for a week." He did punish me. I got everything I deserved-and a couple of inches more. But I didn't mind. I just stayed in bed the next day. And Simon stayed with me. That was five years ago. He's still with me. We're married now. And neither one of us has had a wet dream since.