Gay Erotic Stories

I didn’t know anyone was looking when I split my shorts. It happened in my back garden while I was putting away the mower – I bent down and my white rugby shorts just gave at the seam of the arse, a rapid bursting and the whole seam disintegrated. I knew I should have worn some underwear. I felt the breeze on my crack and jumped up, trying to pull the fabric together. It wouldn’t go – the curse of having such a disproportionately large arse had struck again.

Fuck it.

But no-one was around. My wife was down the shops, my neighbours were away, and there was no telltale signs of their teenage son either (basically, no lairy swearing, loud mobile phone conversations or computer game music). So I carried on putting the mower away in the shed and pottering around in the garden for a while, not bothered that my shorts were open at the back.

I’m Glenn. My wife calls me the alpha male of the street. At which point I usually beat my chest like a caveman and carry her upstairs for good rogering. I’m finance director of a medium sized company and I’m captain of my local rugby team. I’m 37, 6ft 4, I’m hairy, though balding on top, and I’m pretty big and muscular. I have a nice large penis – fat and heavy. The only bit of me I have a problem with is my arse, which has always been too big for my liking – it’s hard finding suit trousers or shorts to fit it, because it’s out of proportion to the rest of me. It’s like there’s a layer of fat on it I can’t shift – it just covers the muscles of my bum and stretches all of the clothes I wear out of shape. My wife says I get through twice as many pairs of pants as she does, cos my arse wears the elastic out on my briefs. Arse aside, generally people find me a bit intimidating and I like that about being me. I tower over them, big, successful, dark and handsome, and it makes them meek. Like my wife says, I’m the alpha male of the street alright.

I’d been on my hands and knees weeding a flower bed for about half an hour when a heard a cheery ‘Alright mate!’ behind me. I looked over my shoulder. There, over the low fence, sitting on a plastic chair directly facing me was Liam, next door’s teenage son. Well, I say teenage, he must have been at least 19 by now. I’d known him for years, from when he was a kid, and had seen him grow into the cocky, cheeky lad he’d become. He sat there watching me like I was the telly, sipping on a can of lager. He was only about 5ft 8 or so, and skinny, but he’d got a reputation for skirt-chasing that drove his parents round the twist. There was something about the lad that was just pure naughty – he must have been a real handful for them. No respect for authority, they said. Always up to something. Well, I wasn’t going to judge the lad. He was only 19 after all. I’m sure I was a tearaway at that age myself. (Though thinking about it, when I was 19 I was on a business studies course and already dating my soon-to-be-wife). All he needed was to be treated like an adult, I thought. I’d learned that if you give people like that respect they give it back to you. And anyway, I knew I was intimidating and didn’t want to scare him. His eyes went from my blushing face to my arse. And stayed there. I suddenly remembered my ripped shorts and stood up, turning to hide it from his view. ‘You didn’t need to do that,’ said Liam. ‘You should have carried on.’ ‘I need get changed into another pair,’ I said. ‘I think these are ripped.’ ‘Really?’ said Liam. ‘Show me.’ ‘No, they are, really,’ I said. He rotated a finger to get me to turn around. I decided to oblige him. ‘Can you see the tear?’ I asked. ‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘Come closer.’ I walked backwards towards him. ‘Lean forward a bit.’ I did as he asked. ‘Spread your legs a little.’ I shuffled my feet apart. ‘Hmmm.’ ‘Can you see it?’ ‘Yeah. I can see it now. I’m looking right at it.’ ‘Yeah? Is it ripped badly?’ ‘Let me show you,’ he said. He got up, leaned over the fence and I felt the gentlest of touches from his smooth, nimble fingers, right at the top of my crack. ‘It starts here…’ He gently, slowly traced it down between my cheeks, and it felt like a rivulet of cold sweat running down my arse. Eventually it reached the bottom, the crease, and tucked in there like a hermit crab. ‘…All the way down to here,’ he said. ‘Big tear,’ I said. ‘Big arse,’ he said. I coughed and stood up straight, turning so his buried finger popped from it’s hiding place. I looked down at him. He was smirking. ‘I don’t mean that in a bad way,’ he said. ‘It’s just, I’ve been doing a project.’ ‘Oh yes?’ ‘Yeah. Nightschool. I’m trying to better myself.’

I smiled at him. The guy was going to nightschool. I was impressed. It seemed like people were underestimating Liam. ‘That’s great,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know. What are you studying?’ ‘Well, it’s like a practical course,’ he said. ‘It’s a new field. You won’t have heard of it.’ ‘Try me!’ I said. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Good idea.’ ‘What?’ ‘It’s called Analogy,’ he said. ‘Oh.’ I wracked my brains. ‘I thought that meant giving an example through a comparison.’ ‘No mate. It’s an ancient, er, healing skill.’ ‘Really? I’ve never heard of it.’ ‘No? Well, it’s new to this country, mate. It’s exciting.’ ‘Sounds it. So you’re at the forefront?’ ‘Yeah. Well, it’s the kinda guy I am, mate. I like to get in there.’ ‘I’m very happy for you,’ I said. This guy was amazing and I never knew. I was blown away. ‘I’m just short of practice,’ he said. ‘That’s why I was looking.’ ‘Eh?’ And then I remembered. Torn shorts. Fuck! ‘You were looking?’ ‘Oh yeah, mate. I was staring really hard at your arse.’ ‘Er, really?’ I must have looked uncomfortable because he laughed. ‘No, it’s nothing like that, mate, it’s my course. We have to take extra interest in the human body.’ ‘Oh, I see!’ I sighed with relief. I didn’t want some little pervert spying on my bum. ‘Yeah, we do loads of anatomy. It’s really practical. Hands-on. But the teacher wants us to go away and find people we can try it out on.’ ‘And you’ve asked your mates I presume?’ ‘The thing is, teacher said the bigger the better. And seeing you, well, you’re massive.’ I grinned. Yeah, I was massive. I was so proud of my big body. Everyone was intimidated by it, it overshadowed everyone I knew. I could see why he’d thought of me. It must be so much easier working on someone as big as me, I’m like a scaled up version of a man. ‘So you looked at me…?’ I said. ‘Yeah, I looked at you, mate…’ He grinned up at me. I smiled back. ‘You’re perfect, mate.’ I know it. I am perfect. Everyone says so. I’m what every man wants to be, what every woman wants to fuck. But in a modest way, you know, I’m not a wanker about it. But, yeah, I’m perfect. I’m glad Liam noticed. I always appreciate being reminded how superior I am. It’s comforting, really. Well, it’s just right.

‘Perfect for you to train with?’ ‘Yeah. Just the right size.’ ‘Size is important then?’ I asked. ‘Oh god yeah! Makes all the difference. Specially in Analogy.’ ‘And you’d like to train on me?’ ‘I need to practice,’ he said. ‘And you have the perfect body, mate. I’d love to give it a go.’ ‘Okay, well, I’ve not got anything to do for a couple of hours, so I’m in your hands.’ He looked made up, rubbed his hands together and smiled. ‘Come over to mine,’ he said.

His bedroom was typical teenage stuff – a total mess, games consoles and wires all over the place, magazines and gadgets strewn everywhere, heaps of clothes thrown all round the room, empty cans of beer and full ashtrays round and about. He indicated I should sit my torn shorts on the edge of his bed so I did so, feeling much too big for the room. That was the thing about being me – I was huge – tall and muscular and assertive. I took over spaces. No wonder people felt so small next to me. Liam was small, wiry, weasel-like. He was fiddling with his laptop. Eventually a website came up. It looked pretty serious and technical. Dr Scott’s Analogy Clinic it was headlined. Liam entered his password and suddenly we were looking at lots of anatomy drawings and photos. They were all of the male arse. ‘Here we go!’ said Liam, grinning at me. ‘Here’s the good bit.’ ‘Why’s there only pictures of arses on here, Liam?’ I asked. ‘Well, that’s the bit of anatomy Analogy is to do with,’ he said. ‘The arse.’ ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Is that it?’ ‘Well, Dr Scott believes that because of the concentration of receptors round your arse it’s really receptive to stimulation.’ He clicked the mouse and a small mpeg started playing. A stocky guy about my age, maybe a bit younger, was on all fours on a bench. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. In front of him stood another guy, more formally dressed, speaking to camera.

‘Hi there,’ said the guy. ‘I’m Scott and this is Jack and Bouncer.’ I looked round to try to see Bouncer. It was just the two of them. Odd. ‘This is an instructional training video for the ancient art of Analogy, also known as Arse Whispering.’ I laughed. Liam scowled at me. I tried to watch it more seriously. ‘It’s been a dying art, but a few of us have revived the practise. The male rear is one of the most sensitive receptors in the body, but it’s also a long distance from the brain. But that can’t account for the extra sensitivity some bottoms have in comparison to others, especially when they’re at the larger end of the spectrum. Take for example Jack here. He’s a classic example.’ The film cut to a shot of Jack running on a rugby field and training. Then he was sat on a bench in the changing room, talking to camera. ‘I thought it was a joke, like,’ he said. ‘But the more he explained it the clearer it got. It’s my arse, see? It’s more sensitive than most. It sends out vibrations. Other guys can sense them if they tune in. Like Scott. He could sense it right away. And that’s how we discovered Bouncer.’ It cut back to the studio, with Jack on all fours in shorts and a T. Scott stood behind him. ‘Jack was lucky,’ said Scott. ‘His backside was sending out a pretty strong signal, but he’d never noticed. But with my special training I noticed it right away.’ He reached out and eased down Jack’s shorts. Underneath Jack was naked, and I stared at his big round rugby player’s arse. Mine was definitely bigger, I thought to myself proudly. ‘The signal was coming from here,’ said Scott, running a finger down the crack of Jack’s bare arse. ‘Or more specifically, from his little hole, which was trying to muffle the signal.’

Then it was Jack’s voice over while I watched Scott pull his cheeks apart and expose his hole. ‘I was sceptical at first, but as soon as Scott had made contact, I knew he was right. Hidden in my arse was a weak signal eager to escape. I could feel it, and how keen he was to meet a new friend.’ I was engrossed in the DVD, and had forgotten all about Liam till he tapped me on the shoulder. I looked over at him, so much younger, smaller and less powerful than me, and I felt so superior. He patted the bed and grinned at me, and I knew what he was suggesting. Immediately I got up on all fours on the bed, and went back to watching the film. Scott’s finger was edging round Jack’s hole. ‘It was almost whining like a dog,’ said Jack. ‘I could feel it. My arse felt so desperate to communicate with Scott.’

I jumped as I felt Liam’s smooth finger crawl through the hairs of my arse crack. I shuffled my thighs apart to give him better access. ‘It was amazing,’ said the voice over from the screen. ‘He knew my arse was smothering a signal, and when he tapped on my hole I knew he was just going to have to communicate with it. So I spread a bit more and he knew just what to do.’ I felt Liam trace ever so lightly round my hole. It was remarkable, it suddenly felt so warm and alive there, like his fingers were awakening something that I’d been suffocating with my big fat arse all this time. He tapped my hole like on the screen and I felt it twitch. It’s funny, but the way he was talking about it, like it was a dog – well, suddenly it all made sense. My arse felt like it had its own mind and it was keen to meet Liam.

The picture changed to one of Jack’s bare arse from the side, and then Scott’s rugged face came into view level with it, looking straight at the hole. ‘I could sense Jack’s arse was hiding something, so I decided to investigate,’ said the voice over, which had switched back to Scott’s calm and capable voice. ‘There was something hidden in there that needed to communicate…’ Jack’s big hands appeared and clasped a meaty arse cheek each and spread them apart. Jack winked at the camera and then leant forward and his face vanished into the deep crevice. ‘And so I went in and tried to make contact.’

I knew what to do. I got up from all fours, then bent over the edge of the bed so I could still watch the screen. Liam pulled down my torn shorts. At first I tried to stop him, but then I realised he was just copying the example on the screen. I spread my bare arse, and reached back and clasped a big fat cheek in each hand, and eased them apart. I could feel Liam’s breath between my sweaty cheeks. A finger returned and gently tickled my hole again and I squirmed. On the screen it looked like Jack’s butt had swallowed Scott’s face, as Scott’s head was pushed tightly between the cheeks of the rugby player’s big bottom. And then I felt it. The smooth skin of Liam’s cheeky face as it rubbed against the flesh of my crack. And then something soft and fleshy against my hole, becoming wetter and wetter. His lips. My young neighbour’s lips had parted and his tongue was lapping at my secret little hole. It was such a shocking feeling, so intimate and unexpected that it took all of my strength not to jump up and run away. But instead I toughed it out. Liam knew what he was doing. I was helping the poor guy practise. I couldn’t help having such a great arse to practise on.

On the screen there were shots of Jack’s face, red and perspiring as Scott worked away at his other end with his tongue and lips. ‘And this was the moment we discovered Bouncer,’ said Scott. And Jack’s eyes closed and his legs spread wider and his whole body seemed to suddenly relax and open up to Scott’s rear-entry inspection. ‘The eager little soul needing petting and communication hidden in Jack’s arse.’ I wanted to scoff, it seemed preposterous. But the tongue, the tongue, it was licking and he was panting in my hole, my cheeks were spread and my hole was wet and twitching. Liam’s face was pushed hard into my rear end now and I shuffled my thighs further apart for him. And a warm, amazing feeling started to grow, spreading out from my hole. And it suddenly struck me, Liam had found my Bouncer. Only later he told me mine wasn’t called Bouncer at all. It was called Bubba. And that was it. From that moment on I knew I had Bubba between my big fat cheeks, an eager little thing hidden away, and I knew I had to look after him as much as I could.

That day I spent several hours with my legs spread having young Liam’s face buried between my cheeks, communicating with Bubba. He would emerge now and again, grinning face red and wet with saliva and sweat, and tell me how he was getting on with Bubba and how I could spread more for him to him explore. It felt good being such a big alpha male being able to help out such a little feller for his studies. And so it became a regular thing, he would text and I’d pop over and pull down my shorts and bend over, and he’d start licking and slurping at my tight hole. I really felt Bubba develop and become much more demanding. Soon I was the one texting him, and asking him to service Bubba. It was an itch I couldn’t satisfy any other way, and my wife wasn’t really interested. My neighbours were curious that I spent so much time with their son. I sometimes wondered if they could hear Liam talking to Bubba and slurping at my hole. Though so far they hadn’t come in the room when he’d been between my big fat bare cheeks.

And then he told me that he’d been in touch with Scott and had told him all about Bubba and me. He took pictures of Bubba while I was tied to a frame he’d got to strap me to which kept Bubba spread open and exposed at all times. I tried to get him to stop and delete them, but he’d emailed the snaps to Scott before I was unstrapped, and I can’t help feeling a pang of pride to find out that he was very interested. Well, of course he was. I was the alpha male of our street. My arse was big and fat and in control. Which was when he told me we should go and introduce ourselves, and Scott was very keen to meet Bubba and get between my fat arse cheeks himself.

But that’s another story…

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