Gay Erotic Stories

Brett had just signed a golden contract with one of the best go-go bars in San Francisco. He was 25 years old but looked much younger. Nature had given him all the best attributes for a young male. He was a beautiful young man with surprisingly blue eyes that had that "better than thou" look. Of course he could be allowed to toot his own horn, for, with a body like his, who wouldn't? Harmoniously muscled, with a strong square torso which packed his t-shirt with every curve of his muscular torso. And when he was wearing button-downs, he loved to leave his shirts partly open revealing his large bronze-coloured rounded pecs with nips as hard as rocks, ready to be licked ravenously.

Already during his first week of work as a striptease artist at the STOCKPECK BAR, very confident in his great beauty, he loved to parade around almost nude, wearing only a tight Speedo, showing his 6pack abs, his well muscled back forming a perfect V, his large and strong thighs, his hard ass, his immense biceps bulging with blue veins, his golden skin shining from oil and sweat and of course his first rate equipment barely contained in the pouch. He was a god and the other striptease artists, even if they had been carefully selected for their angelic beauty, could not compete with his masculine power. Even the public, some of them very good looking and very muscled themselves, were hypnotized by his supple and virile walk, his cold blue eyes and his proud mouth.

Brett had only to signal for them to follow and all followed him blindly, falling into his trap because no one could resist his killer charm. Everyone wanted to caress his torso, his back and arms, his massive male organ and heavy balls and even taste his sweat. Brett teased them by allowing them to touch as he passed by during his exhibitionist sessions. No one could resist him or almost no one...

Except Istvan, a Czech immigrant who had been working at STOCKPECK'S for more than a year. In his thirties, he was very conscientious and loved his work as a bartender, a job he had chosen willingly. He had the body of a veritable athlete or pro-bodybuilder. He could easily have eclipsed any of the bar's striptease artists -- before Brett came along of course...

Yet Istvan was quite the opposite of Brett, not remotely exhibitionist, and he did everything to hide his massive muscled body under simple, extra large cotton t-shirts. He really didn't want to be noticed just for his body for he had a classical spirit and wanted above all to find love in a monogamous relationship.

So far, he hadn't found his alter-ego, the one with whom he could live for the rest of his live. So no one knew that Istvan too had a god-like body with impressive muscles, square shoulders, killer abs, strong legs and massive pecs with two large hard nips. His long brown hair almost hid his beautiful virile face with strong square jaws, full lips, pure white teeth, a fine nose and eyes you could get lost in. Many tried to be his friend but he always refused -- politely but categorically.

Yet when Brett arrived, Istvan was strangely attracted to him. The temptation was great, but so was Istvan's willpower, for he detested Brett's airs of greatness and, at the same time, he was a little jealous of Brett's instant success. This combination of attraction and envy made him hate Brett with a vengeance.

Of course Brett also disliked Istvan with all his heart. He considered him a mere bartender, a lowlife, while at the same time the fact that he couldn't seduce Istvan brought out the worst in Brett. Secretly, Brett had been attracted to Istvan since the first day of work at STOCKPECK's: he loved his eyes, Slavic face, and that silhouette that let one guess at a beautiful body even under the flannel shirt.

Between them, then, there was this mix of mutual attraction and hatred. Both somehow sensed this and wanted to provoke something to let their pent-up feelings erupt. And the opportunity finally arose...

That night, as usual, Istvan had the responsibility of closing the bar. Since it was Tuesday and had been raining all day, there were few customers and the boss decided to close earlier than usual. After cleaning-up and locking the doors, Istvan went to the small changing room the boss had given him. Actually, it was almost a closet but it permitted him to rest a while during the long day.

Istvan quickly undressed, taking off his shoes and pants. He hadn't even had time to unbutton his shirt completely when he felt a presence behind him. As he turned around, he saw Brett standing insolently at the small door of his room. Brett was in his usual attire, a speedo. His large chest was shining with sweat and his body completely blocked the doorway. Brett's eyes were like lightning bolts directed at Istvan.

Suddenly he made an accusation: "I want my money back you son-of-a-bitch! I put it on the counter when everyone left!"

"Are you calling me a thief, motherfucker?!"

"You're damn right, you holier than thou prick!"

No one ever spoke to him that way and Istvan walked up closer to Brett. His face showed his anger. He was wearing only bikini underwear and a partly-open shirt which revealed a massively muscled chest with a cleft as deep as Brett's.

It was a beautiful sight to see these two men standing so close, both strongly built, like Hercules and Samson!

Brett checked out Istvan's chest and pecs, his strong abs, his well-filled bikini and muscled legs like two mighty pythons. He was aroused by the sight of this beautiful male specimen, virile and brawny. And he was slowly becoming more appreciative of the turn of events.

Istvan decided to take advantage of the opportunity that had so suddenly presented itself. Bringing his face closer to Brett's, he said through clenched teeth: "So fucker! You want to repeat what you just said?!" His warm breath mixed with Brett's.

Abruptly, Brett grabbed hold of Istvan by his collar and brought him in close contact with his chest. "I hate you motherfucker!" he said and with one deft movement he ripped the shirt off revealing two mountains of muscle as beautiful as his own.

Istvan took another step closer and the two men were caught in the small doorway. Both men were sweating and they could smell the heat from each other as well as their sweat as it mixed. Their muscles became hard and as they pressed against each other, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, they continued to insult each other.

Suddenly, Istvan stepped back a bit and challenged Brett: " Do you have the balls to fight chest on chest with me, you blown up balloon? You're big, man, but those pecs look like they're filled with hot air!"

Quickly, Brett, his eyes shining with desire, yelled back: " That's what I've been waiting for little girl!"

Infuriated, Istvan tore off the remnants of his shirt and threw himself against Brett, his pecs hitting the other man's. Slam! The impact was ferocious, and both men started writhing with pain and -- with pleasure. Slam! Their enormous chests were becoming red. Slam! Slam! Slam! Two furious males were banging their muscled torsos together hard enough to become breathless, both men feeling their solid muscles straining violently against the other, their skin sliding against each other. Slap! Slap! Slap! Each man could sense bruises beginning to appear.

Brett's superior grin though didn't leave his face, and Istvan, raging, drew back his fist as though to strike the bronzed beauty.

Instantly Brett wrapped Istvan in his arms and began choking the muscled man in a powerful bearhug. Stymied, Istvan replied with his own breathtaking embrace. The two almost naked bodies were dripping with sweat and in between them; their nips were scratching and battling each other.

Smack! Smack! Smack! This was the noise made by the two clefts of the massive chests sliding one against the other in the brutal mutual bear hug. It was a clash of the titans: body against body, skin to skin. No romance! Just fevered man to man action! They groaned, held their breath and groaned again as their bodies slid together. This had been going on for more than ten minutes and neither man would let up: each wanted to dominate the other.

Brett had begun to become aroused even before feeling Istvan's chest against his own, sliding against him, their six-pack abs rubbing together. Istvan could feel their nips rubbing together, hard like little rocks. Both men had their legs around each other's like mighty pythons wrapped together.

Brett now felt his cock quickly rising and his rival's rubbing against his own. Istvan ferociously pumped his hips into Brett's. Brett grabbed Istvan's long hair and Istvan pulled on Brett's. Their pumping became even stronger. UH UH UH! Both dicks were trying to dominate the other, both engorged and throbbing wildly.

Istvan mashed his face against Brett's and Brett's tongue, like a dagger, plunged into Istvan's open mouth to find its rival as the men moaned aloud. Their mouths were full of spit and they avidly exchanged the fluid. The room stank of men; it was rank with the smell of piss and pre-jizz and sweat. They kissed passionately as their bodies continued to writhe together and they felt their muscles all over. Their cocks, still encased in their briefs, were fighting to break free. Finally, in one humping movement, the heads broke free and the two wet mushroom heads kissed and rubbed together, giving the men incredible pleasure.

The men were panting now as their engorged cocks were almost hurting them from their need to cum. Suddenly, with passionate cries and each trying to swallow the other's tongue, their cocks exploded with hot white jizz at the same time. The potent muscle boy manjuice flew between their united bellies, creaming their abs and falling back down onto their cocks, balls, and pubes.

The men did not want to separate and continued to kiss and writhe against each other. "It's so wonderful! I don't think I can go on without you Istvan!" Brett said between two breaths.

"I'm in paradise and never want to be separated from you Brett!" Istvan replied.

They stared into each other's eyes, content with their conquest. What happened after that?

BenPecstocky@yahoo.com

PS: Love to read your stories, too