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Wanderlust

by Marcus


It began, as all decent trips seem to, with a plane delay. I’d been planning this trip for about two months, making all the reservations via the net. Not being a seasoned traveler I just assumed everything would be on schedule. Not so. After two hours sitting on the runway waiting for clearance, the pilot crackled onto the intercom, “We’ve just received word that the entire East Coast is shut down to mid-western traffic. Apparently we’ve got a squall line that stretches from Michigan all the way to Alabama. All outbound flights are now cancelled.” Great. I rushed back through the gate terminal hoping to maybe get a hotel in Chicago before the droves of stranded people beat me to it. No luck, everything was booked. O’Hare was beginning to set up cots in the concourse. I kept telling myself it could be worse. Resigned to my fate, I prepared to get a fitful night’s sleep. You see, this was my first big trip. I was a 23 year-old Kansan off to see the country. I’d decided to go in style, taking all my hard-earned money from my teaching job and applying it toward luxury accommodations throughout my stay: seven days in Washington, three in Boston, and three in New York. I wasn’t looking for love. I wasn’t trying to discover my sexuality; I knew damn well that I was gay. I was just looking for a change of pace. As I was placing my cot on the terminal floor, I decided to find somewhere secluded. After the flight cancellation I had tanked up on a couple of beers and two shots of Captain Morgan, just enough to set me buzzing quite nicely. I didn’t really feel the need to share my space. I finally picked the ideal spot, right behind two large planters by the window. No one could see me and I could look out and watch the runway. Just as I was beginning to settle in, a shadow fell over my cot. I looked up to see a tallish young black man with dreadlocks and a broad grin. “This space taken?” he asked smiling and pointing to the remaining area next to the enormous planters. A bit taken aback I replied, “Nope.” He quickly set up his cot almost on top of mine. I watched him work, fascinated by the play of his lean muscles underneath his shirt. Over the course of the next hour or so, we talked about various things. He told me about his job as a theatre producer in New York and I explained about my teaching job in Kansas. I couldn’t help but notice his sculpted arms. The conversation naturally moved to exercise and we shared our regimens. He was into weight lifting and I was into running. “Good for you,” he said, “there are way too many people obsessed with bulking up. I think it disgusting. You on the other had have a great build.” I hadn’t had the slightest inkling he was interested; probably the alcohol dimming my normally active “gaydar”. An unsettling silence fell over our conversation. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said half-sitting up. “I just thought you had a good build.” He laughed and so did I. “Oh, I’m not offended.” I said, my head still kind of swimming, “I’m still a little drunk.” He laughed again and with a wicked grin replied, “Best thing for that is a good night’s sleep.” I yawned and said good night. A couple of hours into the night, I felt my cot being dragged across the floor. I was startled at first but before I could respond I felt another blanket flip on top of mine. Slowly I felt his hands moving over the canvas on the cot. My dick sprang to attention, blood rushing in to an almost painful level. I felt the lightest touch of his hands on my back as he slowly worked his way around to the front of my pants. With a slight grunt, he raised himself on his cot so he could use his other hand. My button-fly was undone in almost record time, freeing my raging erection. His hand found me and began to stroke me slowly. My breath was coming faster now. Without a word, he turned me over onto my back and moved his upper body under the covers onto my cot. He took me into his mouth making me moan as he felt beneath my shirt tracing the hard ridges of my muscles. I couldn’t take much more. I pushed him off, quickly undressed myself, and then rolled over onto his cot. The indentation caused my body to sink down toward him where I discovered he was only wearing silk boxers. I pulled them down and felt for his dick. As I began stroking him, he removed his shirt to reveal the most sculpted body I had ever seen. He took me in his arms and pressed himself up against my nakedness. I felt like I was holding a panther as his muscles slid back and forth beneath the surface of his skin. “Fuck me,” I whispered. He reached behind himself and fumbled inside of his luggage until his found a condom. “Are you sure?” he asked. Before he could say another word I grabbed the condom and pushed myself down over his throbbing sex. I took him in my mouth and watched his dick swell in response. I removed the condom and rolled it over his dick. He handed me some lube and I lathered his shaft with it. Rising back up I placed the head of his cock between my ass. His hands sought out my hole and began to loosen me up. He slowly entered me. The pain was intense but over quickly as pushed his cock in as far as possible. He then pulled my head down to his lips and kissed me passionately. I began to ride him, using my muscles to milk him as I rocked. His movement became more urgent and his tongue became bolder. I could feel his hands on my back, pushing me further down on his cock. His eyes began to glaze over as he came inside me. I could feel the condom expand and heat with the addition of his seed. Pulling out of me, he began to stroke me. He lifted me off his dick and maneuvered me so I was lying on my back on top of him. His hands sought out my cock and began to stroke me while his other hand roamed all over my body. I could feel the pressure begin to build. With a gasp I came shooting my load all over my stomach. I flipped over and kissed him passionately before drifting off into slumber. Later that morning we dressed and went our separate ways. I never saw him again, but some nights I still dream about the sleekness of his skin and the passion with which he made love to me. If you liked my story please share your own with me at frohburger@hotmail.com

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8 Gay Erotic Stories from Marcus

Barracks Door

Barracks Door The manager hired a new secretary. He was young, smart, handsome and polite. One day while taking dictation, he noticed the manager’s fly was open. When he was leaving the room, he courteously said, "Oh, by the way sir, did you know that your barracks door is open?" The manager did not understand the secretary’s remark, but later on he happened to look down and saw that his

Caldo Weekend, Part 1

Venerdì Mi chiamo Tommaso ho 37 anni vivo in un piccolo paese dell'Emilia Romagna. Sono felicemente sposato con Augusta e ho un figlio di sedici anni, Luigi. La storia che sto per raccontarvi inizia due settimane fa. Mia moglie era andata a trovare la madre a Piacenza e Luigi era voluto andare ad accompagnarla. Mi si prospettava un caldo weekend da solo. Libertà, dissi a

Caldo Weekend, Part 2

La cosa mi inorgogliva. ‹ Voglio sapere tutto. ‹ Dissi. ‹ Abbiamo cominciato con la storia se ci facevamo le seghe e cose simili. Poi sono stato a casa sua quando i genitori non c'erano e lui mi ha chiesto se mi andava di vedere un video porno di suo padre , io ho detto di sì. Poi mentre guardavamo il film lui ha cominciato ad accarezzarsi... Lo invitai a raggiungermi sul

Caldo Weekend, Part 3

Domenica. Arrivò presto. Il campanello mi sembrava un rintocco lontanissimo di campane. Mi alzai imprecando, coprendomi alla meglio con una accapatoio di due taglie più piccolo. Me lo trovai, sorridente, davanti alla porta. Indossava un paio di calzoncini di raso e una canottiera bianca. Entrò senza che lo invitassi. Aveva portato ciambelle calde per colazione. ‹ Faccio il caffé!

Caldo Weekend, Part 4

Mi lasciai andare senza preoccuparmi di schiacciarlo col mio peso. Riccardo non si muoveva era come assopito, molle di una mollezza passiva e calda. Respirava piano, regolarmente. La mia guancia ruvida nell'icavo tra il suo collo e la sua spalla. Mi pareva di non essere più in grado di prendere alcuna decisione. Come se potessi permettermi di rimandare ancora una cosa che

Caldo Weekend, Part 5

Due anni dopo. Sono passati due anni, mio figlio ha compiuto diciott¹anni proprio ieri sera... Riccardo e sua moglie Lucia sono venuti alla festa in suo onore. Mia moglie Augusta aspetta un altro bambino e siamo felici. Durante il party Riccardo mi ha proposto di accompagnarlo a casa sua per prendere qualche cartone di birra. Gli ho risposto che birra ce n¹era abbastanza, ma lui

Das Erste Mal

Wie seit einigen Wochen war ich auch an diesem Freitagnachmittag auf dem Weg zu Thomas, einem jungen Mann, der in meiner Nachbarschaft wohnt. Freitagnachmittag habe ich eigentlich immer Zeit und drehe meine wöchentliche Joggingrunde , und bei einer dieser Joggingrunden hatte ich vor einiger Zeit Thomas kennenge-lernt. Jeder Jogger hat so seine bevorzugte Runde und dabei ergab es sich,

Wanderlust

It began, as all decent trips seem to, with a plane delay. I’d been planning this trip for about two months, making all the reservations via the net. Not being a seasoned traveler I just assumed everything would be on schedule. Not so. After two hours sitting on the runway waiting for clearance, the pilot crackled onto the intercom, “We’ve just received word that the entire East

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