Gay Erotic Stories

When I pulled up to the next spot, Ryan was standing by his upright post and taking a leak with his back turned towards me. I let the truck roll forward, squeaked to a halt just past him. When I got out, in front, he didn’t turn away. “Did you see the storm coming?” I pointed back down the road and he turned his head in that direction. “Aye, been watching ‘em. They moving slow.” With his glance diverted, I looked down. He had opened his pants to the crotch and his dick hung free as it trickled out the final few drops. As long as I could remember, since I was a kid, he’d kept his back to me whenever he took a leak. Thought I had been alert for years, to any glimpse of this coveted scepter, he had kept his modesty intact. Today was different. We were different. The night spent in his bed had altered some season of us. I was uneasy with the shift, but excited. I could not quite connect his impassioned breakfast speech to his flaccid and wrinkled pecker, but I knew there was a connection, somewhere. He was watching my face, now, and I watched him shake off the last drops and slowly milk out one more. “The storm will be here in another hour or two. Let’s skip lunch break and get as much done as we can before it drives us outta here.” He paused, hands on hips and dick swinging loose. It began to swell and the wrinkles began to smooth out. I was fascinated by his foreskin. I was circumcised. “Okay.” I was listening to his words, but watching his dick gently rise. Sunlight made his bush glisten red and gold, like the fireplace embers in the night. “When the storm comes, we’ll head back and climb in bed. I mean, if you want to. You know, catch up on our sleep.” His voice had an unaccustomed huskiness. He shoved his dick quickly into his pants and zipped up. The bulge looked funny. I laughed. “You gonna bust your jeans!” I couldn’t stop laughing. He added his deep rumble. “And you’re not?” He pointed at my fly. I looked down and laughed even more. I hadn’t noticed I was hard. I’d a big poker running down my thigh and I couldn’t walk without bending it. He stepped close, “You better point it up, like mine, or you gonna be crippled and slow down our job.” One more step closer and he was only a few inches away. “Go ahead, pull it up.” He smiled into my eyes with green magic. I was shy of his close scrutiny. I felt a blush climb up my cheeks. I unbuttoned the top and pushed my zipper down. Did he smell that cavern scent that rose from me? He took the weak elastic of my drawers in his grip and pulled. Sunlight streamed into the deep recess. I reached in and lifted my hard cock free of its restricted position, straight up. It pinned tight against my belly, narrow and pink. The bloomed, flared head tried to bury itself into my navel. Chet wasn’t looking down, he was watching my face. He had to see the ripple of deep blushes that I felt as warm waves. I think my lips were swelling, they felt tight and ripe. His glance dropped to my open drawers and the purple eye that peered up. “It’s a handsome thing.” That’s all he said, then he eased my drawers back against my skin and pulled up my zipper and closed the top button. I was shaking. I could hardly get my breath. He hugged me and I hid my face in his chest. He brushed my neck with his lips, sun cracked and split. “I have to let you go or I’ll explode.” He took my shoulders and shook me gently. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Storm’s coming. We gotta work fast, come on.”

We did work fast. Both of us worked with an avid need for motion and effort. I pulled every section of wire tighter, he slammed every nail harder. Cedar posts jumped from my hands to deeply dug holes, the truck leaped with a touch of the gas. Energy crackled around us in the dusty ozone blowing ahead of the storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky overhead darkened and a fine gray mist of rain set in. We kept going, one more section. Beneath his felt brim hat, golden curls darkened to wet brown then began to cling to his head. Water spilled from my hat and ran onto my chest and I felt it trickle between my legs. Our boots sloshed. We finished another post and Chet tilted his face up to catch rain in his mouth, on his outstretched tongue. A blinding flash lit up the sky and the thunder clap shook the earth beneath us. “Cut the wire! Wrap it off and let’s call it quits! We got better things to do than this! ” He was shouting above the roar of the rain slapping against wet dirt. His grin was a wild snarl in the flashes of renewed lightening. Excitement bubbled up and churned my belly. I laughed aloud and hard. “Hurry up!” he shouted, “you gonna get wet if you don’t make it quick!” The road back to the cabin was a slick mud tract. We slipped down every grade and churned up the sandy clay in long spumes when we climbed a hill. We were sore, aching and tired but we laughed and bounced on the hard leather seat. We did a sideways slide on a long curve and I left the road to run on thick grass at the level places. It never occurred to me to slow down, I liked the careless speed. I loved being swept by storm and momentum, chased by thunder claps and blue flashes. I was in the storm, I was of the storm.

A quick glance told me Chet wasn’t concerned over my hard driving. He was watching me and smiling. He had a cigarette, damp and stained with tan clay from his hands. It dangled from his lips and bounced with the trucks springy motion. He smiled around the smoke and his eyes were dark slits, glittering in the gathering darkness. I popped on the headlights and they made a pair of crazed, jumpy yellow streamer before us. Lightening came so quickly it lit our path better than the headlights. He leaned close, offered his cigarette to my lips. I took a drag and enjoyed the shared touch of lips to damp paper. He leaned down, dug around under the seat and came up with a flattened bottle of red whiskey. It was a smell I always associated with him, though I had never seen him drink. He tilted it up and took a long pull, “Wanna try it?” “Yeah! I want to try everything!” I yelled back. It burned. God, how it burned! Like liquid heat slicing down through my chest and even in my stomach! I coughed, my eyes watered, I wheezed! He laughed and laughed. “Too much, lad! You gulped too damn much! Go easy!” “Hell, no! I don’t want nothing to go down easy. I want fast and hard, I want it all!” “You’ve got the blood of the Irish, my Ted! That’s why I love you so!” He took another pull and passed it back to me. I gulped again, and then let out a whoop like a mad Comanche! “My God! That’s good! Do you love me, Chester Ryan? Do you really love me?” “Like warm air and sunshine, darling boy, like life itself! Like the desert loves rain, like mountains love snow, like the blood pounding through my brain, you’re part of me and the sum of me. Just a sight of you and I’m a better man for it, a touch of you and I might cry forever. You’ll kill me for my love of you, Teddy, break my gimcrack heart and rip me in two! But worth all the cost for the joy you give me. Yes, God Almighty, worth everything, my life and my worth, the world and its glory. I’ll love you forever and ever, amen!” I pulled onto the shelf below the cabin and pushed open my door with a cry of “Halleluiah!” plunged through the storm and ran up the steps to the porch. He didn’t come out of the truck at once but I couldn’t wait to get out of the wet boots and pants. I stripped off every stitch and found streaks of mud all over me. I used my drawers as a wash cloth and scrubbed at my skin. Two steps back down from the porch and water pored off the cedar shingle roof in a thick fall of dull silver against the gray afternoon. I stood in that flood and let the water cleanse me, let it scrub away the dirt and sweat and mud. I was naked and new and clean under the glowering sky and before all the miles of the vast outdoors. It was a feeling of freedom and adventure I can’t put into words.

Joy flooded over me with the water and he came up the steps and embraced me under that gushing silver sheet, embraced my naked body and pressed me to him. I opened his trousers and pushed them down, needing more of his flesh to touch mine. He cupped my skinny buttocks in his large, calloused and muddy hands and I lifted my face to his lips. He devoured my mouth like a hungry cougar, teeth scraping against my lips, tongue probing and invading me, eating me, licking the water from my face and throat. He pulled me to the steps and sat with me on his lap just above the plunging curtain of rain.

I wriggled free of his clutching hands and knelt at his feet, pulled at his boots and the cuffs of his jeans. “Naked…naked.” The word did pirouettes in my head, a delicious word. We are Naked; a state of nature well beyond mere nudity. Open, exposed, stripped bare and defiant. I scrubbed at his mud stains with my wet drawers. I pulled him back to his feet and under the roof line shower. His brute fingers explored every crevasse and secret place. His lips and tongue mapped my shoulders and neck and chest, bit at my pebbles of hard nipples. He loved my ass, couldn’t stop stroking the round shape, the cleft valley. He probed my hole and made me squeeze tight to stop a full penetration of that taunt gateway. I came to know his cock as I had never thought I might. I loved the fullness squeezed tight in my hands, the hot length of him pressed to my cool belly, the satin slide of foreskin over the long head.

He pulled me into the cabin, to the dry and dim interior, to the still warm hearth where he toweled me dry with a sheet and lifted me to the tangle of blankets on his bed. I was frustrated by this double layer of skin between us, I wanted to combine with him, be closer than this mild holding of the outside, I wanted, I wanted ... perverse intimacies came surging to my flickering brain, dream pictures, odd fantasies of strange couplings. Old jokes from school that made crude references to sucking and corn-holing that spun red dreams for wicked and deviant boys. I pulled my face from his lips and kissed a trail down to his chest to suck at those fat orange nipples. He clutched my face and groaned, pushed up against me, wrapped a leg around my legs and squeezed. I bent lower to broadcast kisses, wet kisses, warm kisses, licking flicks of tongue and tiny bites on belly and down to explore his navel with my swollen lips and sensitive cheek and fluttery lashes and cool lank shocks of my wet hair dragging across his belly and my face moving closer to where passion waited, tense and straining.

“Ahhha!” he groaned, “Aaaaahhhha!” when I touched his cock with my lips. His legs spread wide, his hips jerked up; he grabbed my shoulders and pressed down in shuddering and straining energy. I snaked my arm down between his legs and up behind him, pressed into him and squeezed his lean ass and rubbed my wrist across his asshole, forearm pressing into balls and I slid my lips open and down, down over hot skin, salty, musky wet skin, hard cock, rigid shaft, wet mouth engulfs and slides, round head pistons against roof, slides against soft pallet, don’t choke now, more, can you get more of him inside? Push down, he pushes up, he squeezed me, my head, my face.

He jerks in and out, slides it back and forth, whines a high pitched keen and groans, arches in peaked excitement, “Now, now! Stop, I’m cumming for God’s sake!” and he pulls my face from him like a leech being peeled away from hot blood. I want his spume, his jism. I taste it on my lips and he is spurting over my face and down across his belly and pearls dot his copper wire bush. His cock spasms in death throws and the foreskin slips back over the head like a defense going up, then it lays quiescent and leaks a little streamer that hangs suspended between belly and cockhead. His breathing is raspy, deep and quivering. He flops back; his legs and arms go limp and soft relaxed. I lick him. I lick cooling seed and it is good. It is the taste of love, the taste of exploding joy, the flavor of shared intimacy and united flesh. I become connected to him with his cream in my mouth. I swallow him. He is in me, now; forever in me. “Stop, please. Don’t.” He tugs my shoulders, pulls me up to lie beside him. Dries my mouth on a corner of blanket, towels himself dry while I curl on his chest and watch. I slide my still hard cock over beside his hand, he pets it like a puppy then dumps me off him, and curls against me, pulls the blanket up over us, sighs, shutters, sighs and melts into the bed in soft stillness. A smile tugs at my lips. “Did I do well enough? You must tell me how, I’ve never done this, you know.” “Ohmigod yes. Yes, lad. All me bones are melted, you’ve took my steel, that’s for sure, made a boneless kitten out of me. Will you get me dry smokes from the pantry? And the whiskey, I left it on the porch.” “For a kiss, anything.” I opened my lips to his. He drew his head back, “I can taste myself on your mouth, not a great flavor! Get the whisky, will ya?” “I think it’s a wonderful flavor! I like the way you taste.” I climbed over him to get out of bed, paused atop him to grind my hardness on his soft hip. He laughed. “You haven’t got off? Hell, I thought everybody in the spinning world got off, sure felt like it! Go fetch like a good lad, hurry back and I’ll help you get some relief. Go, now!”

I thought he had fell to sleep. I peeled open the pack of Chesterfields and lit a cigarette. A wide grin split his face. “Ah, the smell of it!” I put it to his lips and he sucked, eyes still closed. He blew out a great cloud in a sigh. I put a fingertip to his lips, he opened and I pushed it inside. His eyes flew open, and then he laughed around my intrusive finger and sucked at it in mock sexual delight. “Mmmum,” he moaned and I slid it in and out as a thrusting cock might do. I stepped closer to his face. His eyes went immediately to my cock and back to my face. His smile died and he turned away from the playful finger. “Come on, Teddy, give me the fag.” I put the cigarette into his waiting hand and climbed back into bed. He found the bottle on the floor next to him and took a drink, offered me one. “No thanks, I like the taste of you. I don’t want to wash it away.” “Do you really? You don’t think it’s nasty or anything?” he asked in serious inquiry. I thought about it and watched him until he finished the smoke and flipped it to the fireplace. He turned on his side towards me, “Well?” “Yes, I really like it. Not because it’s a good taste like candy or anything, but because it’s you. I like having part of you mixed up with me. You said you wanted to eat me up, remember? It’s like that, I want to get you inside me, keep you forever. Not nasty, no. Maybe when you think about it, you know, cool and disconnected. But when it was happening? It was wonderful. I love you, didn’t you know?” I winked, grinned. He didn’t smile; he seemed to be giving great consideration to my words. He watched my face, looked at my lips. “I felt like I was degrading you, like pissing on you. I wanted to get it off, sure, but not inside you. I never thought to make you take that off me. I’ll not try and make a woman of you, Teddy, never. Only, this is my first time, too. First time with a boy. Well, first time with a man, how’s that? I don’t know how a couple of men are supposed to have sex together, no more than you do. I just know it’s been going on for centuries and I never was much interested until you give me that look and my heart went fluttering and my dick started to throb. I knew I wanted to kiss you a year ago, when I came home from Denver and I was sore aching for the sight of you. Never figured I would do it, not ‘til I saw that wanting in your eyes, too. It’s been in my head that I want to fuck your ass, little as I know of what that might feel like, it keeps coming back to me and I push the thought away because it seems brutal and painful. I’d thought maybe I would just put it between your legs if you let me. My only real hope was that we would just kiss and touch and maybe rub off together. I was bludgeoned flat when you, you know, did that for me. I’d never have asked you to.”

He kissed me and lay back on his arms. I watched the flow of thoughts ripple his face. “It really is about getting inside someone, isn’t it? The old talk that men need to conquer, need to invade in order to possess the one they love, it’s not far off the mark. I thought that was just men and women. Not us. We can’t ... I don’t have to ... it was wrong, Teddy. I was wrong not to stop it. I shouldn’t have let you, you should never, you know, please, don’t do that again.” I stared at him; anger crept up slow and icy. “I sucked your cock. Not like you to hesitate at calling it what it is” I rose to my elbow and saw his eyes run away. “Pass that bottle.” I felt something dying, something shriveling up. No, something shedding a dead skin. “You liked it. Hell, you loved it! But you still think it’s disgusting? We loved each other, we wanted each other. Damn, we was busting at the seams to get together! You can’t make a woman out of me! I am already whatever I am. Don’t say it was wrong, please! What do you feel, Ryan? Forget what people say, about men and women, about everything. What did you feel when I sucked your cock? Was it so awful and wrong? I love you, is that wrong?” He was staring at me, staring in wonder, in fear. “I love you. I want you. That’s what I feel. The only way I can think about that is like a man loves a woman, wants a woman. I don’t know how to get around it.” “I’m not a woman, Ryan. You love a man.” I smiled. He started this, but I couldn’t twist the knife without cutting myself, because his pain was my pain. Did he really believe we could just play at sex, break no rules? “You love a man with a cock almost as big as yours.” He smiled, at least in part from relief, “Mine’s thicker.” We laughed. He pulled me close. He buried his face in my neck. When I started to say something else he put his hand over my mouth, shushed me. “Words are the enemy. It’s words that distort what our bodies know. No words. Shhsss. Skin can’t lie.” I was silenced. He took the bottle from me, drank and set it back on the floor. The thundering storm had passed; rain still came in softer whispers. Night was near, darkness pooled in shadows. He pulled the blanket over us and held me. I couldn’t put my arms around him, it would be a lie, and they lay heavy.

He began with kissing my eyes; soft at first, then moving to my cheeks with more purpose. He arrived at my mouth with hungry need. When his tongue thrust inside I reached around his shoulders and squeezed his hairy neck, pulled close. I eased my tongue tip over his lips and he sucked it inside his mouth. I thrust. He devoured. His tongue came back to me, I received. His hand found my dick, half hard, now. He was gentle, not insistent. His touch teased, caressed. I thrust up, he sucked my tongue with hot, wet mouth and I went hard in his hand. He squeezed and stroked. I moaned. I searched, found his dick, warm and soft. I held on, gripped around the base.

His rough thumb rubbed over my cock head, spread the droplet of moisture in a circle, slipped down to press at my bush, pushing it tight against the bone beneath. His face slipped from me, down to my neck, my chest. His teeth found my nipples and worried them with nipping bites till they tingled with electric jolts that ran down under the skin to my throbbing cock. He sucked at them, pinched them, and moved down to my belly. I had the impulse, then, to stop him. My conscience warred with need. He licked my navel and probed it with wet tongue, tugged at the small hairs with his teeth. His hand let go my shaft and it quick sprung to his chin.

The sensitive head scraped his whiskers and I squirmed. I pulled at his head, he resisted, bent to kiss my cock. I jerked upwards, jolted by the sensation. I grabbed him under the armpits and tugged, willing him to stop, he had made his grand sacrifice, and the argument was over. Skin can’t lie. I jerked up at his face when he opened his hot mouth. I pushed down on his shoulders, now pressed in on his head. I moaned, loud. I twisted; needing leverage to move my pelvis--couldn’t stay still. His weight lifted, he was on his knees, one hand gripped my shaft as he licked and sucked, the other hand went between my wide open legs to, once again, press for entry at my tight clenched hole. His finger was wet. Slick with the saliva he used to coat my cock and balls, it dripped down my ass.

I pumped up with aching frenzy; he wouldn’t take more than the head into his mouth but stroked the shaft with his fist. When the first pulses began deep in my balls I arched my back up, his finger slipped inside me, I didn’t resist. I slapped at his face, “Don’t do it! Stop it, Chet Ryan, stop!”

I hit his head with a closed fist. His mouth swooped down my shaft and his finger pushed deeper, deeper and touched off an earthquake, a volcanic eruption. I think I screamed. I spewed. I spurted. I bucked like a mad bronco. He sucked me, he received me, he swallowed me, devoured me, ate me, possessed me, penetrated me, owned me, served me, touched my soul. Sex was good. I liked it. I giggled. I gasped. His mouth was still on me, gentle and easy. I was shrinking in his wet caress. I tugged at him, again, and he came up to my face, lay on top of me. Kissed my cheek. I smelled my jism on his mouth.

He smiled at me, slow nodded his long head. He whispered at my ear, “Not wrong, not wrong for us--nothing wrong for us. You’re all I’ve got, all I’ll ever know about love. Wrong or right, what do words matter?” I felt his renewed hardness on my hip. I shifted, brought him fully over me, and pushed his cock between my legs into the wet, slick crack beneath my balls. He pushed, thrust, probed and I guided him, pressed his satin head against my hole and clenched my teeth as he burned his way inside. God, it burned, it tore, it hurt! I gasped, sucked air between tight teeth, he moaned, fucked the tiny entry with quick spasms of anguish. He shot his load, there, just in the entry, the tight irised gate, but he was inside me, however shallow.

The juice was soothing. Almost immediately, he slipped fully inside, “Ahha,” he gasped at air, slow stroked the lubricant of his jism to glide deeper and fill me with his cock. It was nice, now, still burned but not so bad. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

I giggled, “No, not now. Now it feels good.”

He pushed to his full depth but was rapidly shrinking. We lay still. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know,” his whisper was husky. I couldn’t breathe, his weight pressed my chest. When his cock slipped free, I dumped him off me and he flopped dull as a dead man. We lay in messy exhaustion. We were soaked in spent lust and satiation, in a closer joining and gratitude, each of us. The rain stopped. We slept, at peace. The earth was spinning, spinning... building the momentum to toss me far from this absolute perfection of human experience and I slept. How passive is the soul swept onwards, struggling or adrift. Time spins all gold into memory. Why must misery go on forever yet the best in life be brief?

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