Gay Erotic Stories

* * * *

Tom and I were both in our early 30s and had been lovers for five years. By mutual agreement, ours was a monogamous relationship, one set for life we both agreed. We were happy, contented with each other as two people could be. At least that's what I figured until I met Jeff.

It was March. The weather had been rotten for weeks; bitter cold, snow, with an occasional brief thaw which only seemed to make things worse. The weather is the excuse Rick used to gave the party. He said that everyone had cabin fever and was ready for a real blow-out. As far as Tom and I were concerned, Rick was absolutely right. We did need to get out.

Back when Tom and I first got together, I wouldn't have been so ready to go. The fact is, Tom's a real hunk. He's tall with surfer boy good looks. I figured I'd spend most of my time fending off the cruising wolves. I told him that.

"Look Steve," he'd said. "Let's face it. You're not bad on the eyes either-and I'm not saying that because I'm your lover. No, you're not tall, okay, but you give new meaning to dark and handsome, and with that wiry physique of yours, you are dynamite about to go off. Okay?"

I nodded, admitting what he was saying about my looks was only the truth.

He continued. "So they'll cruise you and they'll cruise me. That's inevitable. Let them have their fun. Why worry about it. We've got to trust each other, trust that we don't cheat. If we don't have trust, we'll start sticking together so tight, we'll smother each other and neither of us wants that."

All I could do was agree with him. After awhile I wasn't bothered any more. At parties like the one we were going to, Tom would go his way and I'd go mine, have a few beers, meet friends, talk, and have a good time.

Rick's got one of those big, old Victorian houses that consumes all his time fixing up. I'd never been there before, but as I'd been told, the place had some 25 rooms in it, each one furnished with antiques. There was already quite a crowd when Tom and got there and more coming all the time. Right away Tom spotted someone he knew and, giving me a peck on the cheek, went off to talk leaving me to go off in search of a beer.

I had made my way back to the kitchen and had just gotten my beer, when I saw him.

He was short, about my height of 5'8" or so, light complexion with thick, light brown curly hair. He was Asian by the looks of his almond-shaped eyes, young, maybe in his very early twenties, with languid good looks. In his form-fitting jeans and T-shirt, he showed off a really great, compact physique. He was standing, leaning against the sink, legs crossed at the ankles and staring at me with a do anything, anytime, anyplace look in his deep amber eyes.

He winked. I nodded slightly-just to be polite. He nodded back. A sensual smile played on his full, moist lips.

I do not flirt. I never flirt, and since Tom and I had been together, I'd never initiated a conversation with a desirable guy, but this one was an exception. And another thing. I've always been a sucker for Asian men and this one was a smoldering hunk of pure sex, the kind of man who set all my nerves on fire; the kind I couldn't have turned away from if I'd tried. I went over to him and we introduced ourselves. His name was Jeff he told me. He had a clear voice, yet smooth as velvet with a more than a faint hint of seduction in it.

"You here with anyone?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I answered, unable to keep the tone of reluctance out of my voice.

The crowd milled around us. I ignored them. All I could concentrate on was Jeff. My cock began to press against my jockey briefs.

I took a swig of my beer to try and cool down. "What about you?" I asked. "You alone?"

No, I told myself. I don't want to know if he's with someone or not. Why should I want to know? I shouldn't care. Tom's here, right in the next room. I don't want to know about this guy.

But the problem was, that was my brain talking. My throbbing cock wanted to know about this guy. It wanted to know about him very, very much.

"I'm alone," Jeff answered. He paused. "All alone," He looked at me like a jungle cat out in the moonlight, prowling around. "Until now." He reached out a hand and ran his index finger down the line of my jaw.

His touch was scorching. The heat was building in my loins. I could feel my palms begin to sweat. I've gotta get outa here. Gotta go find Tom. But I didn't go.

"This is quite a house," Jeff said. "You ever had the tour?" I'd never been in the house and told him so. "Me either. So why don't we show ourselves around?"

I shouldn't have done it, but I agreed.

The lower floor was packed so, at Jeff's suggestion, we went upstairs to a long hallway that seemed to run the length of the house. There wasn't anyone about and there were only the sounds of the party coming from below.

"You know who you look like?" Jeff said.

"No. Who?"

"Jean-Claude van Damm. He's one of my fantasy fucks." Jeff put his hand on my arm, gently squeezing my hard bicep as he smiled and winked seductively.

Inside, I was boiling. The party-and Tom-seemed a million miles away. What would it be like to kiss this guy? What it be like to feel his . . ." By act of will I cleared my mind. I could not think like this. I couldn't let myself do it. I could not. So why didn't I just turn around and go back downstairs? After all, Jeff didn't have me on a leash or anything. Though if I were truthful with myself, I wouldn't have minded if he did.

But I wasn't telling myself the truth and I stayed right where I was.

"C'mon," Jeff said. "Let's look around, then we'll go back down."

I breathed an inward sigh of relief, but . . ." I had to admit that I was disappointed too.

We went down the hall, going from room to room, looking at the all the wonderful antiques Rick had collected. The furnishings were beautiful, but I could only shake my head in wonder at how much the stuff had cost. Tom and I knew a couple who were into antiques, and they never tired of telling us how much they had spent, so I had some idea of prices. In one bedroom Jeff and I looked at, the bed alone I judged had to have cost 20 grand and maybe more.

At the end of the hall we came to a bedroom where there was a huge four-poster bed. At one end of the room, there was a fireplace with gas flames lapping at the artificial logs.

In all the other rooms, we had only looked, but in this room, Jeff left me to go over to sit on the edge of the bed. "It's a feather mattress," he said, looking down at the white tufted spread and then at me. "Ever try one of these?" I shook my head dumbly, feeling the rising pressure of my cock, pressing with demanding urgency against my briefs.

If he couldn't see the balloon in my denims, it was only because the light was dim, but I figured he didn't need much light to see the bulge was there.

I started toward him. "Close the door," he said in a low voice and then added in a commanding tone, "Lock it."

A voice inside me told me to turn around and get the hell out of there. But the voice wasn't loud and it was getting softer all the time. In its place were the feelings from my dick, raging hot, furnace feelings beating at me in overwhelming waves.

Jeff spread his legs. "Close the door and lock it, Steve," he said again.

I was so hot, so fucking, goddamned hot. Every fiber in me, every nerve was on ablaze with desire. Still, I hesitated.

"Here's a bargain for you," Jeff said. "You take my cock out an' kiss the head, put your lips to it, that's all, just kiss it. An' then if it doesn't taste good 'r you don' wanna go on, that'll be it." He paused to glance down at his crotch and then looked back at me with a look that could melt iron. "I'll won't bother you again."

"Jeff, I've got a lover." My tone was pleading and it sounded weak. Why not? Inside I was collapsing into nuclear meltdown.

"So? I'm not askin' you to cheat on him, Steve. Jus' kiss my cock and then if you want to, you can leave." He paused and took one hand and splayed the fingers out over the front of his pants. "C'mon, you know you want it."

He was right. He was so damned right. I did want it, did want to see his dick, did want to press my lips to its crown. He was right!

"An' I want you." His tone was soft, like the sound of a hand stroking velvet.

Drawing in a deep breath at the inevitability of what I knew was going to happen, I closed and locked the door before going to the bed.

"Take off your shirt," he said.

Oh what the hell, I'd come this far. I stripped it off and dropped it to the floor.

"You're built like Van Damme," Jeff said. "I've seen pictures of him on the Internet. Let me see your legs bare too."

I got out of my shoes, socks and dropped my pants. Finally I stood before him clad only in my white jockey briefs. There was no hiding the balloon there, nor the wet spot that was growing all the time.

Jeff had a look of appreciation on his face as he looked at my legs. "Okay, get down an' kiss my big, hot cock."

"That's all I'm gonna do, kiss it," I told him as I knelt in front of him.

He made no reply. Maybe he knew I was talking to hear myself.

I undid his pants and pulled them down to his knees. As I did, his cock leaped out as if it was eager for air. For a moment, all I could do was stare. His dick, the rod of his manhood was huge, a full eight inches in length with a thick, slightly flattened, vein-twisted shaft. And there on top of that monster pole of his was what he wanted me to kiss; the mushroom shaped crown, dark pink and glistening in the light.

His nuts were large as well, the size of golf balls or maybe tangerines wrapped in a covering of nearly hairless skin.

"Kiss my balls too," he purred. "Lick those big, hot nuts."

I needed no second command, but leaned forward to wash his balls with my tongue, licking them, and drawing them into my mouth. Jeff groaned pleasure.

I raised myself up a little to kiss the tip of his cock. He said nothing nor did I as I opened my mouth a little and pressed my lips to the crown. God, it tasted good!

Did I intend to kiss that man-rod of his and then get up and leave? Maybe. I don't know. But I never got the chance to find out what I'd do. Suddenly, he put both hands on my head and pressed down hard. Before I could stop him, my nose was buried in his pubic hair and his cock crown was up against the back of my throat.

"Suck it!" Jeff demanded. "Suck my cock!"

All thoughts about Tom and cheating had long since fled. I raised my head and lowered it again-and again-and-again, using my lips and tongue to make him feel real good.

"Oh yeah, man," Jeff moaned. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Do it. Suck me. Eat my meat!"

It didn't take too much to know he was near to exploding, and I didn't want that to happen, not yet, anyhow. I stopped and stood.

While Jeff got out of his clothes, he kept looking me over. "Christ, you do look like Van Damme," he said appreciatively. "Just like him."

Buck naked, we fell into the bed.

As I've said, I hadn't been with another man in all the time Tom and I had been together. Now, having come this far, and because I wanted to, I yielded completely to Jeff's roving fingers, groping my muscular body. His touch turned my smooth, hard physique into a raging blast furnace.

In the 69 position, I buried my face in his crotch as if it belonged there, sucking on his golf-ball sized nuts, nibbling on his pubic brush and licking his cock-stem like it was a candy cane. His masculine aroma filled my nostrils like some heady perfume. His full, well-rounded thighs were solid yet yielding as I dug my fingers into their hard, slabs of man-flesh.

We came quickly, far too quickly, shooting great spurts of boiling juice into each other's throats. I swallowed every delicious drop of his cum and milked his nuts for more.

Finally, he got from the bed. I reached for him, but with a smile, he pulled away. He caught my look of disappointment for he returned, kissed me quickly on the lips. "Later," he whispered. Then backed away again.

I pushed myself to an upright position and watched as he began to dress.

"C'mon," he urged gently, "get your clothes on." I sighed and shoved myself off the bed. "Don't worry," he said, running a finger down the valley between the rise of my pecs, "this won't be the last time." He paused and then said, "I've had the hots for you for a long time, a real long time. That's why I'm gonna take you from your lover."

"Be my guest," I replied. The words were out before I could stop them. Later, I would tell myself that it was only the afterglow talking; that I hadn't meant what I'd said. But from the look Jeff gave me, I think he knew better and I probably did too.

We finished dressing, saying nothing to each other, and returned to the party. Jeff said he was going to get something to eat. I made no attempt to follow him, and he was soon lost in the crowd. I did not see him again that night.

The next morning, I awoke with pangs of guilt stabbing into my gut. But by the time Tom had left for work and I was on my second cup of coffee, I'd succeeded in convincing myself that no matter how fantastic it had been, my little escapade, my brief affair, was nothing more than a fling; something that now and again happens at parties and, like a spider's web, does not hold up to the light of day. I was relieved and somewhat disappointed at that.

I did not see or hear from Jeff for a month. Still, I could not forget about him and our brief time together in that dim firelit bedroom and the raging, white-hot sex we'd had together. The memory took on the aura of a beautiful, raging hot dream that I returned to in my thoughts again and again.

If Tom noticed that I was distracted, he didn't say anything for which I was glad. I'd have to have lied to him, coupling that with cheating on him, first with my body and, ever since, with my mind.

Then, late one afternoon in April, Tom called from the office telling me that he had to work late and not to wait up for him. About five minutes or so after that, the phone rang again.

It was Jeff. "Your lover home tonight?" His voice was low and seductive.

I thought about lying to him, but that was the better part of me thinking. It didn't last long, only a second. "Tom has to work late."

"Oh? You must be bored there all alone. C'mon over. I'll keep you occupied."

I accepted. He gave me directions, made me repeat them, and hung up.

Did I feel guilty? You bet I did. But I also felt a burning, hot lust churning in my loins that overcame any sense of betrayal that I had.

As it turned out, Jeff only lived about a half hour away by car. I drove there as quickly as I could, all the way, anticipating the pleasures of his young, muscled physique. Thinking that way, I almost came a couple of times.

I wanted to stand in front of him as, with legs spread wide, he sat in a chair smoking a cigarette watching me with hooded gaze. I wanted to strip down, my clothes piling in a heap on the floor until I was bare-ass, buck naked. I wanted to kneel between his well developed, waiting thighs.

Then slowly, without looking up at him, open his pants and let my mouth play with his hot nuts before going down on him; sucking his huge cock across my tongue and into my throat until, as before, my nose was buried in the tangle of his light brown pubic hair and my fingers dug into this hard thigh-flesh and yielding belly. I wanted to bury my face in his ass and drive my tongue up into his hole as far as it would go.

I was meant to eat out his ass. I was meant to bury my face in his rock-hard little Asian butt and keep it there as long he wanted. That's what I told myself.

All that I imagined, happened that evening more than fulfilling my burning desires.

After that, since Tom worked many evenings, Jeff and I had sex regularly--at least twice a week and sometimes more. He would call. My cock would get hard at the sound of his voice and without question, eagerly, I would go to him. And each time, he became more dominating than before.

For example, there was the first time he tied me up. The ropes on my arms and ankles were super tight. That was the time he hit me for the first time, striking me four or five times on the back of my head. Hurt? Yeah, sure, it hurt, but I was so fucking hot I didn't mind.

Sure, I thought about what he'd said after that first time; that he intended to break Tom and me up, and I felt guilty. But as with all the other times, the feeling of guilt was never enough to stop me from going when Jeff called. I didn't want to hurt Tom. I didn't really want to leave him, but, when it came to Jeff, there was absolutely no way in hell I could help myself.

I had read about desire that could make of a man a passion slave, but I'd never known the meaning of that; never faintly realized the terrible, wonderful power that sex could have. It was like being in an inferno and being consumed in the raging fire, burning constantly, but never burned up; always thirsty, never satisfied, always thirsting for more and more and more and more.

Tom and I still had sex. As it always had been with us, sex was okay. But the problem was, as I now realized for all Tom's physical beauty, he was unimaginative in bed. Fuck, suck, get off and that was it.

Jeff, one the other hand, understood the power and my need for fantasy in sex. He seemed to know instinctively exactly how to get into my head to discover what my heated imaginings were and how to use them on me.

For example, the second time I went over to his house, I was just inside the door when Jeff handed me a large, brown paper bag. Before I could ask what was in it, he told me to go into the first floor bathroom and change. Afterwards, I was to join him in the basement.

I went to the bathroom and opened the bag. Inside was a pair of brown leather boots, each fringed with fur around the top; a leather jock strap with a silvery devil's head on the front, and a thick leather belt with an empty scabbard to go with it. Along with these things, there was a bottle filled mineral oil, and a note telling me to rub the oil into my skin.

When I'd gotten the stuff on, I looked like some barbarian warrior ready for battle. The oil made my smooth skin glisten like polished bronze.

In the basement, Jeff was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, as I stood looking around, I felt a steel point pushing into my back.

"Don't move, not a muscle." It was Jeff's voice, but deeper, more gruff than I'd heard before. "Put your arms behind your back."

I did as I was told and felt heavy irons go on my wrists. Only then, after I was secured, did he come to where I could see him.

He was wearing the costume of a Roman legionary, complete with sandaled feet and a short red kilt. He had a sword in his hand and his face was covered with a black cloth mask, showing only his eyes and mouth.

"You may have had the good life once," he snarled, "but that's over now. You lost the battle. You're my captive. You belong to me."

With savage ferocity, he backhanded me across the face, a blow hard enough to send me to my knees. I knelt there before him, head bowed in submission. My cock was hard and thrusting powerfully against the leather jock strap that I wore.

I thought he'd want me to put my head underneath his kilt and suck him off, but he had other things in mind. He put a studded, black leather collar around my neck, attached a chain leash to it, and dragged me across the tile floor to a wooden post. He got me to my feet and chained me to the post. After that, he whipped me, using a leather belt to blister my back, ass and the backs of my legs.

Did it hurt? Christ, yes! When the beating began, I thought I was going to die from the pain. But then, as it continued, a strange sense of pleasure came over me, a warm feeling of sensuality that made my blood boil with passion and my cock grow harder than it had ever been before.

There were a other sessions with Jeff. Sometimes pain was involved, sometimes not, but whichever, he always played to my naturally submissive nature.

Despite my hot sessions with Jeff, I loved Tom and continued to think that he and I would stay together. Sooner or later, I told myself, Jeff or I would tire of our affair and fantasies and break it off. I did not admit it because I didn't want to admit that the thought was a delusion. I didn't dare admit that he was the spider and I was caught fast in his web, helpless twisting in the strands that bound me.

In reality, Jeff really was like some young and handsome warrior prince of ancient times who had captured me; had had me stripped naked in the sun and taken me for his pleasure.

Was I in love with Jeff? No, absolutely not, and he wasn't in love with me. But love had nothing to do with it. This thing between us was physical, pure physical. He wanted nothing more from me than to use my body. In turn, I was his sex-slave giving myself to him to be possessed totally, utterly, in every way. All I could do was take whatever he dished out and accept my fate at his hands.

By July, I knew that things could not go on as they were. I didn't think Tom was suspicious, but the tension of living the two lives that I did was breaking me apart.

It was a Saturday afternoon; hot, sticky like a wet washrag was wrapped about my body. The Gay Community Center was having their annual picnic in a city park and, as always Tom and I went in Tom's car. By the time we got there, the clouds were building up, dark in the west promising a Summer storm to break the heat.

Still, despite the threat of rain, the picnic area was crowded. There were a lot of people Tom and I knew and, as usual, we separated to see friends, to chat, Tom telling me he'd meet me later over by the grills. I watched him go, with a strange feeling of endings in my gut, then I turned to search out a beer.

It wasn't until I was on my second beer that I saw Jeff. He was standing a little away from the crowd, back against a tree, one foot pressed against its thick trunk. He was dressed in tank-top and black nylon running shorts that were hiked high up on his thighs and bunched in a bulge about his crotch.

Christ, all I could think of was pulling those shorts down his shapely legs with my teeth before tongue-bathing his nuts and vein-twisted cock. As always, just the sight of him made my dick rock-hard and thrusting urgently against my jockstrap. In the hot, humid air, it was hard to catch my breath.

I went over to him as he smiled in welcome. "Look's like it's gonna rain," he said with a glance toward the glowering sky. I agreed absently, wanting desperately to touch him, kiss him, kneel before him to let him fuck my face for all he was worth.

The thunderheads were building up rapidly and a breeze had sprung up bringing with it the promise of things to come.

"You look hot," he said. I looked down. My tight shirt that outlined my muscled torso, was damp.

"Yeah," I agreed as he took one of my nipples, played with it through the cloth sending lightening waves stabbing through my flesh.

His long, slender fingers sought the top buttons of my shirt, opened them slowly as he looked deeply into my eyes. "I want put a collar around your neck an' work you over. Wanta screw your ass, real hard, make you feel the pain." His voice was like velvet as he ran his finger slowly up and down the valley between the mounds of my pecs. The feeling that surged through me like a flooded river was so great I was scared I'd come right there; scared, but not caring really if it happened.

"You've screwed my butt," I said, my voice hoarse. "You've fucked every goddamn part of me." There was a lump in my throat. I think I was trying to put him off, hoping he didn't want to take me right there, in the nearby john or in the bushes or somewhere.

He smiled seductively, not taking his finger away, but placing his hand inside my open shirt to squeeze my right pec. His long fingers bunched the hard mound of flesh.

"Uhm-hum," he replied, "I've fucked you, every hole you've got, but I want more. I wanta capture you an' leave the park together, go to my place where I can do fuck you slow, maybe beat th' shit outta you, take my time with you-a lotta time."

"Beat me?"

"Yeah. Bind you first. Use a belt on your ass, a new belt I got, one with studs in it, sharp metal studs that make marks, deep marks in your flesh." His fingers dug more deeply into my chest. "Let's go-walk together from here to the car."

I knew exactly what he was doing. There was a wide, open space between the picnic area and the parking lot. If Jeff and I left together, anyone who cared to look would know exactly what was happening-and gossipy queens that many of them were, they would be more than eager to tell Tom that his lover had left with another man.

There was a wind blowing and I could hear in the distance the rumble of thunder from the approaching storm.

"C'mon," Jeff said, giving my pec a final hard squeeze before withdrawing his hand. "I'm gonna make you my prisoner for the rest of your life."

I lowered my head, drew in a breath and then raised it again to look at him and nodded. "Yes, sire," I agreed, my voice, I think, barely heard above the rustle of the leaves above our heads.

He smiled with a satisfied, kind of victorious little glint to his eyes and we started to walk toward the car. As we did, he slipped his arm easily about my waist, digging his fingers into my side possessively and then, sliding his hand down inside the back of my shorts to finger-fuck me as we walked along.

And why not, I thought? He had me. He knew he was going to get me all along and he'd done it. But it wasn't only him. I'd let him take me; wanted him to have me; had willed it, even. And, I thought, this moment of us going off together, going for all to see, was nothing but the culmination of what had been inevitable from the beginning.

We got to his car just as the rain began to pour down. Once inside, he took me in his arms and pressed his hot mouth to mine; his tongue probing, pushing against mine as his searching fingers kneaded my swollen crotch.

In one last bow to a former me, I tried to pull away, but my effort was in vain. With his hand on the back of my head, he held me tightly to him, as he pulled down my zipper. The rain was really pelting down now, slamming in sheets against the windshield as he extracted my hot, throbbing dick, giving the moist and tender mushroom shaped crown some air. I gasped in pleasure-pain as he dug his thumbnail into the stretched skin of the tender tip.

Then, leaning back in his seat, he slapped my dick, hit it again a little harder and again and yet again until finally, I stiffened, cried out and shot. Afterwards, I sat there exhausted as he started the car and we left the park--and Tom--behind.

In the living room of Jeff's small house, I stripped down as he watched from his chair, a languid, satisfied expression on his face. I went then and knelt between his outstretched legs and lowered my head to take his shorts off with my teeth.

"Wait," he said.

I felt the motion of his body as he reached over to the little table beside the chair. I heard him pull the drawer open and the scraping sound as he took something out. He leaned a little forward and I felt the pressure of a leather collar as he put it about my neck and buckled it at the back. I'd worn it so often before, but this time was different. This time, he did what he'd never done before. He locked it in place.

Finished, he patted me on the head and pushed his foot into my boiling hot crotch, pressing my cock and aching nuts down and back. I thought I would go mad from the sensations.

Then, he stood and hooking a finger through a ring in my collar--and it was mine now--he led me to stretch out, belly down on the floor, my head resting on my arms, my muscled legs spread as wide as they could go.

Sure, as I've said, he'd screwed my tight little asshole before--a lot of times--but this time as he thrust powerfully into me, it was different.

Where before, he fucked me for the pleasure it gave him to do it, this time it was if the slow in and out of his dick in my tender, vulnerable ass was an act of possession. A yielding wave of abandonment swept over me. I cannot tell you how good, how fantastically good that made me feel.

Later, Jeff took me to the basement and tied me spread-eagled between two posts. It was there that I took the beating he'd promised. It was in that over-heated basement, as I twisted sweat-drenched under the lash, that I collapsed inside completely and became his captive warrior slave.

Jeff and I have been together five years now. I still wear the collar he put around my neck that stormy afternoon. I am his slave, a muscular young warrior captured in battle and used to satisfy his conquering prince.

Tom has a new lover now, a cute blond guy who looks about 18. I see them together at the club every once in awhile. I'm happy for Tom. The way the guy looks at him, it's obvious that he loves him very much.

They see me too, dressed in sandals laced up my calves and a black leather cod piece with a golden devil's head on it. As always, when they see me, Jeff has me on a leash attached to the thick leather collar Jeff always makes me wear.

Do Jeff and I share love as Tom and I once did? I don't know. Maybe. Love can lead to sex. Sex can.