Gay Erotic Stories

I was 22, a senior in college, just about to graduate. I had a job lined up, and was ready to delve into the workingman's world, with deadlines and bosses, the replacements of due dates and professors. No longer would I be up late studying for exams, cramming every last minute. Instead, I would be evaluated based upon long term performance. No worries of poor test performance, one bad day would not break my career. I would be able to have an off day every once in a while, and was looking forward to a decrease in pressure. I knew that the real world had its pressures, but I was prepared, and knew that my college experience had prepared me better than most of my college counterparts. I may have been prepared academically and professionally, but personally I was an inexperienced wreck. My personal relationships had been few and far between, and I always pushed people away when they attempted to get close to me. My only real experience with a girl had been in high school. I was with the same girl for three years, and it took most of those years to get beyond the emotional level and into the physical level. Perhaps this was largely due to my own insecurities, and nervousness. I am fit, and always have been. However, for some reason, I've never really held a good esteem in personal appearance. I'm sure that there are reasons for this, but I've lived long enough in the same state, and don't think that spending a fortune on a shrink is really all that necessary. Until recently, I always banked on the fact that my unwillingness to share physical intimacy with women was due to these inexplicable insecurities. Recently, I've realized that I've just been ignoring the voice in my head, and shutting out my fears. There is a reason I'm not sleeping with women, and it's a good one. I remember when I was in 5th grade and played on the school basketball team. I excelled as much as an 11-year-old could, and was the best player on the team. I was popular with all the kids, and the girls liked me. Partly due to my astonishing 11-year-old boyhood charm and cuteness, a large part of my popularity can be attributed to my family's having an in-ground pool. At that age, status was measured by the number of cool toys you had, and of course, whether or not you had a pool at home. Anyhow, back to the basketball. My coach was the father of another kid in our elementary school. He was a year younger than I was, but his dad was very interested in the school, and wanted to help out as much as possible. I recall him having great basketball knowledge. Whether or not that is true, I can only guess, as an eleven-year-old probably would think that someone who knew anything about basketball knew a lot. Looking back, I'd say that he was probably 35 or so. He was fit, about 5'6", kind of short, with short black hair and blue eyes. What impressed me most at that age was that he had an incredible hairy chest. During time outs, we would all gather in a huddle, and lean over, as he would direct us in our plan of attack. Nearly every time, I would be able to see down his shirt, and was always amazed by the thick hair that covered his chest, as well as his exposed arms. Naturally, at eleven I envied him, and wanted to be a real man, and be hairy just like him. After the time outs, he would often give me a little pat on the butt, and I would know that I was doing well, and that he appreciated my hard work and effort. At that age, I remember going to bed at night and praying to God that I would be the hairiest man ever. Thankfully, at least to this point, that prayer was unanswered. I can't imagine going through life as a spectacle, and being a circus sideshow, as surely the world's hairiest man must be. As school ended, summer began, and so did the parties. My dad was a well-established businessman, and there were always parties and banquets to attend. I vividly remember one of his business picnics, held at a lake a good hour away. Everyone that my dad worked with was there, along with their families. It was a beautiful day, and everyone was playing volleyball, softball, swimming, and boating. I was hanging around with my dad, surely playing his sidekick more than he would have liked, and I was introduced to one of his work buddies. He was a younger man, probably 30 or so, and a very nice guy. My dad encouraged him to take me out on his boat, which he did, much to my nervousness. Here I was, in the middle of a large lake, under the watch of a guy I didn't know, surrounded by about 5 other guys I didn't know. The boat had water skis attached, and everyone was giving their shot at it. I had never water skied before, but loved sports, and gave it a try. Needless to say, I never got up. Back on the boat, another man, probably about 32 and married decided to jump into the boat, now stationery, for a swim. He took his shirt off and jumped in. I stayed on the boat, surely being entertained by these older guys trying to impress me. The man who was swimming returned to the boat, climbed on board, sopping wet. I was amazed to see the man from the front, as his chest was entirely covered with hair, all matted down and looking sleek. I was speechless. My dad was not this hairy, nor was my coach. The fact that he was wet probably made him look all the more hairy, but nonetheless, I was amazed. A few years later I was in junior high school. I think I was about 14, and was again playing basketball. Our practice was just after the JV practice, and I remember hanging out in the locker room just before practice. Everyone had entered the gym to warm up, but I had left something in my locker that I needed to get. As I rounded the corner, there was a JV player, probably 16 or 17, who had just come out of the shower. He was blond, well built, and fit. Again the sight of his ass took me aback, as he bent over to put on his underwear. His toned ass was entirely covered with blond fuzz. At this point, although not the case now, I did not have one hair on my ass. And if that wasn't enough, I had no idea that guys even grew hair down there. I guess I was a little oblivious to the male body, but I've since learned. As I look back on these events, they are clear as daylight. And the fact that I remember them says a lot. I've finally come to accept the fact that these events, as well as a handful of other, have affected me such that body hair has become a major attraction for me. Not only that, but my inability to have sex with girls is due directly to my attraction to men, and only men. My life has become a hedonistic search for hairy men. Anyhow, I was graduating. And with that, I was hoping to graduate from my virginal world, and experience the pleasures of man-to-man sex. Here's where the story gets interesting. Work was going well, and my concerns were all trivial, as I found myself well prepared. In fact, in comparison to the other new hires, I felt like I was at the top of the class, and things came quickly to me. With a new job, I had newfound wealth. No longer was I dependent upon mom and dad. I now had a sizable cash flow, and disposable income. I found myself going out to movies and dinner with friends a couple nights a week. On off nights I'd rent a film, or go to a bar. I bought lots of things I didn't need, like videos, games, and CD's. I wasn't overspending, but it was nice to actually be able to afford such pleasure items. I knew at some point I'd have to trim down my expenses, but I was 22, and what better time to build up debt! So, one Saturday, like most every Saturday, I spent a few hours browsing around the local Best Buy. I'd recently stopped buying CD's on impulse, and carefully thought out my purchases. Today it was between Liz Phair's new album with that great song "Polyester Bride," and the new REM album. Given that my sister had the REM album, and I actually held it in my possession, just borrowing of course, I went with Liz Phair. Could all the critics be wrong? I'd read good things about it, and thought I'd give it a try. After about another twenty minutes of browsing, I proceeded to the checkouts, only to find two registers open, with lines about six deep. Damn, guess I'd browse some more. Fortunately, somebody came on the intercom, and called for a guy out back, somebody in stocking, to come up to run register. Unusual, I thought… didn't know to many stock personnel that were trained in checkout operation. Apparently they must have trained everyone for the holiday season that had just passed. Following the person in front of me, I proceeded to the new checkout, considering my purchase. As I got to the checkout, the guy, probably 26 or so, gave me a strange look. What the hell? I busied myself with my wallet, and pulled out my credit card. "I bet your boyfriend will love this CD." I couldn't believe it. What was he talking about? "Excuse me?" I replied. "Oh, sorry, just thought you were a switch hitter." I was in shock. Sure, Liz Phair was popular with the feminist movement, but she was a good songwriter, appreciable by all. "No." I firmly responded. I gave the guy my credit card, and quickly signed, took my receipt, and got the hell out of the store. Flustered, I wondered what had made him say that. It's pretty bold to just up and say something like that… just short of calling me a queer. Whatever. Driving home I couldn't get it out of my mind. I always get really upset whenever people out me like that. Damn, I was pissed. That night I went out with my buddy from school. He had taken a job in the same city, and we didn't know a ton of folks at that point, so we usually did stuff on the weekends. He was in a serious relationship, and was soon to be engaged to a really beautiful girl. She'd gone to school with us to, so sometimes we three would go out together. I knew my boundaries though, and tried to give them as much time together as possible. But that Saturday we did go out, leaving his girlfriend with her friends from work. We went to a local dive, which was pretty cool. The clientele was not our typical crowd, but every once in a while it's nice to be out of your element. It was cheap beer, and it got the job done. My pool skills, already lacking, steadily deteriorated over the night, as I became the laughing stock of our little territory in the back corner of the bar. It was nice that we were in the corner, because I was bad, and would have looked like a tool in the center of the room. Heavily buzzed, and lusting after 2 guys playing at the pool table next to ours, my friend dropped me off at my house, making sure that I was able to fumble the key into the keyhole. I wasn't drunk, but I was definitely feeling it. I sat down on the sofa, and turned on the TV, hoping that Cinemax would have some late night NC-17 running. Sure enough… now it was just a matter of all lesbian scenes, or if not, hairy men. I must admit, that the film was better than average. It wasn't full of those fake shaven muscle bound men. There was enough body hair to get my blood flowing, and I made good use of it, requiring five tissues for cleanup. Spent, I climbed up the stairs to bed, and slept until 10am on Sunday. Free of a hangover, luck was obviously on my side I got up and showered. Walking down the stairs, I noticed that there was a message on the machine. Must have missed it when I came in last night. I had two messages. The first was from my dad, wondering if I had received my W-2. His accountant was going to do my taxes, thank God. The second message was an unfamiliar voice. "Hey, I just wanted to apologize for today." Long pause. "I really like Liz Phair, and thought maybe you were… well, on the same team as me, if you will. My name's Patric. Give me a call if you want to chat. 759-6451. Later. Oh, in case you were wondering, I caught your name on your credit card. Sorry to intrude." Shit! I couldn't believe my ears. This guy had taken my credit card, looked at my name, all the while knowing that he'd later look me up in the phone book, and give me a call. Even more impressive, my number wasn't listed yet, as the new phone books hadn't been distributed, so he must have called information. Damn. This guy was amazing. "Maybe you were on the same team as me…" Unbelievable. Yeah, I was upset, but I was also kind of curious. There was a little intrigue about the whole idea. Obviously I'd made quite an impression on the guy if he had gone to such trouble as to call 411. At that moment, I made a decision that I wouldn't normally make. Maybe it was because I had just gotten over the morning wood, maybe it was because I hadn't been intimate with someone in over four years, and maybe it was just a sense of adventure. It was time for me to graduate. I called him. Actually, I went to the kitchen and nervously poured a glass of water. I sat down on the sofa and picked up the phone. I called once, and hung up before it rang. Twice. On the third time I let it ring. "Hellooo…" He was obviously asleep. "Uh… hi." "Yeah, what's up?" He replied. "Umm… this is the guy who bought the Liz Phair CD yesterday. Is this Patric?" "Yeah man, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to piss you off like that. I guess my hormones just got the best of me." "Don't worry about it. I'm over it. It was just a little surprising." "So what do you think of the CD?" Was he really asking me about the CD? "Oh, I've only been able to listen to it once…" "Cool… so what's your name?" "Sorry, name's Zach." "Nice to meet you Zach. Kinda early isn't it?" "Yeah, just curious about your message, so I thought I'd give you a call…" "Oh, so you're on the home team I guess." "I guess you could say that." "Well man, er, Zach, if you'd like to get together sometime for a drink or something…" My heart was pounding, and my voice was distorted. How obvious was it that I was a rookie… and possibly step up to the plate in a big league ballpark? "Yeah, that sounds great…" "You free this afternoon? The Sox are playing the Orioles, and I've got a couple of tickets." "Umm… I don't know, I've never really done anything like this." "What, you've never gone out with one of your friends to the ballpark?" He did have a point. "Yeah, OK. You want me to meet you there?" "No, don't bother I'll pick you up… 3:15 OK? Game time is 4:05." "Alright." I gave him my address, and hung up. I was rapidly regretting my lapse in judgment. But hey, maybe it'd be fun. Now that I thought about it, I didn't really even remember what this guy looked like. Well, everyone needs to have a blind date once in their lifetime. I set my alarm for 1 and went back to bed. The alarm didn't go off, and a knocking at the door at about 3:20 awaked me. Shit! I pulled on some jeans over my boxers and threw on a tee shirt. Nothing like meeting again for the first time, and having just woken up. I could only imagine what I looked like. I ran to the door, and opened it, to meet my date, Patric. "Hey, how you doing?" "Sorry, I was napping and my alarm didn't go off… come on in." I was utterly embarrassed. I showed him in, and asked him to have a seat while I went upstairs to get ready. Before I went up the stairs, I threw a Sports Illustrated at him, and gave him the TV remote, giving him a good up and down glance… just to know what I was dealing with. Yep, this was the major league all right. He was definitely tall dark and handsome. I'd say he was a little taller than me, maybe 6'3" or so. He had short dark hair, and although he had a baseball cap on, I could tell that it was cut short, almost butch. Yeah, my guess at the store was probably right, as he looked in the 25 to 26 range. He was wearing a dark green Polo shirt, with a white tee shirt underneath, jeans, and a pair of old adidas sneakers. Although he was rather modestly dressed, with most of his skin covered, I noticed that his arms were well populated by dark hairs. It wasn't like he was a freak of nature or anything, but as a guy who is turned on by hairy guys, I was sure to notice that his arms were hairier than the average 26-year-old. Guess I was lucky. I went upstairs, and took a 5-minute shower, jumped into my jeans, threw on a shirt, gargled, and was ready to go. I grabbed my shades on the way down the stairs, and met Pat back in the living room. "All set?" I asked. And we were out the door. He was driving a VW Passat, a nice economic car, but sporty in a sense. The drive to the park took about 20 minutes, and we talked mostly about sports. We both agreed that the Yankees were the team to beat, but there wasn't much argument about that in the press anyhow. Everyone knew they were on their way to another pennant. Our seats were just off of first base, about 20 rows deep. Pretty nice, and free, which made them even more admirable. We downed a few beers each, as I thought it would be nice to pick up the bill, and had the traditional peanuts and franks. The cool thing about the whole afternoon was that we were just two guys watching baseball. There was no sexual tension. No uneasiness, and feeling that people might be whispering about us. We were just like to regular guys. We were comfortable. The Sox won 4-3 on a homer in the 8th, and we arrived back at my place at about 8:15. I knew I had to get up in the morning for work, but the day had gone so well that I decided to invite Pat in. Just see what happens. We found ourselves on my sofa, and I turned on the TV to break the silence. The highlights came on the local station, and we reminisced about what a great game it was. " So," I said, " Do you wanna see my CD collection…" "Sure, always interested in what other Liz Phair fans are listening to." I showed Pat the way up the stairs, down the hall, and to my bedroom. My CD's were all on the bureau. My older one's were in those travel cases that can hold about 50 or so, while many of my newer ones were in a box, and others randomly strewn around the room. "Wow, you like Radiohead?" I was a huge Radiohead fan, and was amazed to find that he was as well. "Yeah, check this out… it's one of my new purchases. It was actually recorded four years ago, but was only available in Australia." I popped the CD in, and sat down on the bed next to Pat, listening to the CD. "Sweet…" Apparently Pat liked the CD. I was becoming turned on by the angst of the guitar and the presence of a real man in my bedroom. Boldly, I put my hand down firmly on Pat's jeans. "So, what next?" I asked. Yikes… What was I doing? "I've got an idea," he replied, and leaned forward to my mouth. His lips touched mine, and I opened my mouth to receive his tongue. I had never kissed, or been kissed by a man before, and I was totally brainwashed. I brought my hand up to his rough face, a day’s growth, and then pulled him to me, all the while gently sucking in his tongue. It jetted around my mouth, against my teeth, and the roof of my mouth. Suddenly my tongue was in his, and he was applying great suction. I couldn't escape! Actually, I was soon diverted when he laid me down, and as we lay side by side on my bed, his hand reached around to rub my ass. OK, I can play this game. I rolled over on top of him, so that he was underneath me, and started to rub his pecs through his shirt, all the while making out masculinity. Soon, I was being pushed to my feet, and we were both standing. We stopped kissing, and he put his hands on my belt buckle, slowly taking it off. I did likewise. I moved forward and licked his cheek and ear, as I pulled his shirt from out of his pants. As we kissed, I grabbed him just above the hips, and pulled him close. My hands moved down to the button on his jeans, and I easily removed it. In fact, I was surprised by my own skill. With both hands pressed against his pelvis, I gently pushed his shirt and tee shirt up, revealing a glorious mass of brown hair disappearing below his pant line. I put my hands on his stomach, and glided my fingers through his chest hair, removing his shirt with his help. He had great abs, but I was more impressed by the chest hair that matched his arms. His pecs were populated by a swirl of hair, nothing obscene, but it was a challenge to locate his nipples. It slowly dispersed down his stomach, thinning to his belly button, and then spreading again in an I formation. Splendid. Just what I needed for my first man. Pat tore off my shirt, and threw it to the floor. Wow, I was in for it. Again we were kissing, and as I grasped the back of Pat's head, his hand moved down to my already aroused crotch. I was firm by then, but his touch only made me harder. Going with the flow, I moved my hands down his smooth muscular back, still exploring his mouth, and slipped my hands down his pants, gliding through the light hair coverage of his lower back and ass. Boldly, I slid his pants down, boxer briefs and all, revealing a moist, swollen package. I had never really seen a man in such close vicinity, and was overwhelmed with testosterone. As he stepped out of his jeans, He unzipped my pants, and pulled them down as well. I put my hands on his chest, and pushed him to the bed. He adjusted himself so that his head was on my pillows, and I lay down next to him. We kissed, and explored each other's naked bodies. He was drawn to my hairy ass and was rubbing it in an animalistic fashion. This guy was really turned on, and I was feeling it too. I licked my way down his neck to his chest, and buried my nose in the growth between his pecs. I kissed my way over to his left nipple, and darted my tongue in and out of my mouth, applying moist pleasure to his stiffening nipple. As I sucked on his tit, his hard cock rubbed up against my thigh, and I reached down to touch it. It was really hot, hotter than I usually get when I do the job myself, and I needed to see it up close. I rapidly made my way down to his treasure trail, and took a breath. His hands were now on the back of my head, as he was lying on his back, with his legs spread and my head positioned above his manhood. His cock was probably around six to seven inches, cut, and very smooth. There were several veins protruding, evidence of his stiff arousal. His balls were drawn close, and covered with a natural growth of dark hairs, the same texture as that surrounding his cock. I moved down, with his approval, and licked the underside of his cock. "Mmm… " I knew that whatever I was doing, I was doing it right. Being a rookie, I had read about technique, but it's different when it's right in front of you. I opened my mouth and tried to take his balls in my mouth. The hair of his sac tickled my nose, and both at once were an impossibility. I took turns on his balls, and all the while held his cock in one hand, as the other rubbed his hairy abs. I took a break, and at his urging, darted my tongue out to the tip of his cock. His hips thrust forward, a precursor of what was to come. I licked around the edge of his cock, just underneath the head. He pushed down on me, and I opened up to accept his cock in my mouth. I gagged, initially, but after a minute or two, I was able to take his full manhood. He removed his hands from my head, and started to rub his hairy chest. I was really turned on. His hips started thrusting, and I knew that something good was happening. "Ahh….Ugh…." His moaning only made me hornier. I lifted up his ass to bring him to me, and he started thrusting. I could feel his cock expanding in my mouth. Yes… "I'm gonna shoot man…" I became an animal. I was more aggressive with my cock sucking, and was struggling for air. "Aa.. Aa… Aahhh…" My tonsils were blasted with a stream of man milk, and I let up. He kept thrusting, and I did my best to swallow. Another shot of cum filled my throat, followed by two more. I had trouble keeping up, and my mouth was covered with saliva and his sweat, and his own seed drooling out the side of my mouth. Pat put his hands behind his head, and writhed in pleasure. "Nice" he said. My uncut cock was leaking precum, and Pat knew it. "Hey, man, sit on my abs." I didn't know what he had in mind, but I followed his lead, and sat down, straddling him. I could feel his wet cock rubbing the back of my hairy ass, and was horny as hell. "Nice job man… wow… look at that uncut cock!" Pat put his hands on my cock, and started stroking. As he jerked me off, I rubbed his hairy chest, and looked him in the face. His deep blue eyes were filled with masculine eroticism, and he was serious. "I want you to shoot on my hairy chest Zach." If he had only known how many wet dreams and fantasies I had had involving such a scenario… and here I was, being asked to do something I'd always imagined. I was getting close, and Pat's moaning and intense gaze only made me that much closer. "Pat, I wanna shoot all over your fucking hairy chest." "Mmm…" His motions became more rapid, and his grasp firmer. Oh, damn, I was cumming. "Yeah man, here it comes." My cock swelled, and I tried to hold back as long as possible, but it was time. Jizz flew out of my cock, and landed just below his neckline, just below where his chest hair starts. Two more spurts flew out, both landing on his right pec, with a final shot on his abs. "Uhhh…" My cock and Pat's hand were dribbled with my cum, and my ass was moist with his. Pat took my hands and held them, bringing them to his chest. We rubbed my cream into his hair, styling it in a ridiculous manner. His hair became stiff from my organic hair gel, and we were both turned on. We made out some more, after about fifteen minutes, figured we ought to call it a night. We were both spent, and didn't want to tire ourselves out. After all, there would be more to come. That night, as I lay in bed, replaying the events over and over through my mind, I felt like a whore. I didn't even know this guy, but had no problem getting off with him. What kind of a hedonist was I? I could live like this, sex every night, but it had only been one night, and I already felt like trash. I went out again with Pat on Wednesday night. I was to be out of town for business from Thursday through the weekend, so it was really our only time to see each other for a while. Our night was much more subdued. We grabbed a bite to eat at a local dive, and went to a movie. During the movie Pat rested his hand on mine, and I reciprocated, gently playing with the small hairs that grew on the back of his hand. It wasn't anything sexual, yet it was very sensual. Afterwards, we went to Ben and Jerry's for ice cream and to talk. The night made me feel much better about myself, as I didn't feel like such a tramp. No sex, no heavy petting or making out. Alas, I found myself at home extremely horny, anxious about the weekend, and in need of relief. I didn't find relief Wednesday night. My mind was distracted by my agenda for Thursday and Friday. I had a pretty significant group presentation… an important deal for a new associate. I had trouble sleeping, but found some sleep around 1 am. We flew to DC at 7:15 in the morning. I was a little tired, but once I met up with the folks I was traveling with, things were livelier. I was presenting with a manager, and his boss, who I'd never met. The manager was a married man, about 32, but nothing I'd be interested in at all. His boss was a very beautiful woman, pushing forty. She was obviously a career woman, as she had risen high in the company, but found time for her husband and two young children. My travelling companions would not meet my lustful needs at 22, however; maybe what I needed was a weekend void of such sin. Our presentation went well on Thursday, and we treated the client to dinner that night, with the deal signed off on Friday. The whole event had been rather uneventful, and boring from my standpoint. As we were packing up on Friday, I was approached by a client member, about 35 or so, and asked how I liked my new job. I took this as any kid out of school, and told him how excited I was and the whole schtick about the great opportunities that the firm presented me and all that crap. Surprisingly, the man told me that he was looking to break into field, and wondered if he might sit down with me to discuss my job, and his interests. I saw no reason to reject, saw this as a client-relationship builder, and scheduled dinner with him that night. When I got back to the hotel, I found that my travel companions had bumped up their flight due to a squeeze in the home office, and that I would be flying alone on Saturday. I wasn't so bummed, actually, as they were a bit boring, and I thought maybe I could drink a few more beers than is generally recommended. What the hell… Jack arrived at the hotel at about 6:30 that night. As I said, Jack was about 35, shorter and stockier than I was, about 5'7" or so, with thinning curly blond hair, cut short with a small bald spot, and brown eyes. He looked like he had just walked out of a mail-order catalog, sporting a pair of khakis, a navy blue and white button down shirt, and hiking boots. I had to admit he was a definite turn on to me, but he was a client, and just wanted some "expert" advice. To be continued… Comments appreciated: accstud99@hotmail.com