Gay Erotic Stories

This Sunday was the beginning of spring, and unseasonably hot for mid-March, as sometimes happens. Our matches were usually pretty even, and we always gave each other a major workout, but last Sunday, after a long winter the unexpected heat and our enjoyment of the sun energized us to the point where we’d both exhausted ourselves by the middle of the final set. Because of that, neither of us was making any headway on each other. I jokingly yelled, “Loser bottoms for the winner,” just to give us both some inspiration, and Ames growled in response. His next serve nearly knocked me off my feet, as an ace which was first-set strength whizzed past me. GAME ON!

I should digress and clarify that Ames was about as straight as they came. He was also completely aware and unconcerned with my confirmed gay lifestyle. And there was that one time when we were fresh out of basic training . . . but that was just a major horny straight guy (HIM) and an opportunistic gay guy who, fortunately, realized that the straight guy was lifelong friend stuff, and not a potential conquest. (But MAN was he HOT!) Twenty-seven years, and lifelong friends seemed to have been the ticket for us.

I got my game together, summoned up some strength I didn’t realize was left, and returned the next serve, which was every bit as powerful as the first, and I battled him shot for shot until, both gasping for breath forty-some minutes later, I caught a lucky shot and broke his serve. Two games later, soaked with sweat and barely catching any breath, I buried my last shot at his ankles, took the game, set and match and almost collapsed as I sagged into the net when we shook hands on my win.

As done in as we were, I couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of my best friend’s sweaty-grimy hard body through his tennis togs when we shook and bro-hugged over the net. He hadn’t lost a bit of his muscle tone after leaving the Corps. Well, neither of us had, really.

We both took extra long in the showers, trying to recuperate some, enjoying the hot spray on our exhausted bodies, neither of us saying a word the entire time. It wasn’t until we were dressing, both of us a little slower than usual in front of our lockers.

“So, Cate, when do you collect on our bet?”

WTF?! My brain snapped to, thinking of a suitably snarky comeback for what was obviously a stealth jab at his long-suffering gay admirer. “Dude, no way you could handle me. We both know that!” I shot back, the best I could come up with, still concentrating on the inside of my locker and dressing.

“You might be surprised, Cate,” he said, with a less-than-snarky tone that made me look his way.

What I saw was my hunky best friend, standing facing me in only his boxer briefs, with at least a half hardon . . . and a sheepish grin. “Dude,” was the most I could manage.

“Less talk; more action, Marine!” he barked in a voice I recognized from our days in command.

I looked around, nervously, and a few glances had come our way as a result of Ames’ resounding volume, but nobody seemed to notice the bulging outline of his exceedingly prominent boner. I looked at him again, just to be sure I hadn’t hallucinated it. Oh, no, if anything it was bigger than before! I’d say “glorious”, but you might get the wrong impression and think I’m more of a pansy-ass fag than a wizened retired USMC officer!

“So what’s it to be, Cate? Complete the mission or were you all talk?” permeated my momentary stall on his glorious manhood. Oh, damn, there I went!

“Say when, bud,” I said, meeting his gaze, and enjoying the play of his smile at the corner of his sumptuous lips. FUCK, there I go AGAIN!

“No chance anyone will interrupt us at my place. What say?” I realized I was breathing harder again. And he WAS harder, I was sure of it. I felt my face break into a grin, and I re-started dressing with some purpose. “Let’s get to it, Marine!”

We both parked on the pad outside his townhouse garage, which I knew was full of his gym equipment and woodworking tools and never held his car. We were at each other on the way from the cars to the front door, playing grabass and laughing like a couple of cadets and crashed together at his front door, hard body to hard body. I swear I had to stop myself short of shoving his back against the door and jumping him right there.

We sort of crashed through the door and grappled as we were both at each other, so suddenly that I didn’t even have time to realize how odd that, after twenty-seven years, we were all of a sudden all over each other. I had to concentrate to decide if I wanted to let him take control or push him to submission and claim my “winnings”. No decision was required, because my natural instinct to dominate was irrepressible, and momentarily I had him on his back on the sofa grinding our cocks together and groping him all over. And he was just as desperately at me as I was at him. Jesus, if I wasn’t careful I might blow my wad in my pants like a teenager!

Ames struggled but couldn’t get free of my suppression, and after obviously enjoying it (from the throbbing of his cock against mine), he suddenly slacked his body and threw his head back and said, “OK, I give.”

I laughed devilishly and said, “No, Ames, I’m the one who will be GIVING, and you, my studly Marine, will be taking it like a man!”

Ames’ grin in response brought forth a growl from me, and I found myself with both my hands on his chest over his collar bones wanting to fuck my best friend’s brains out. But somewhere in the back of my big head a thought began to take hold and wrestle my consciousness from the control of my little head. I guess my expression changed with my thoughts, because Ames responded. “What is it, Cate?”

“Seriously, Ames, you want me to answer? You know us big strong Marines aren’t supposed to have any capacity for feelings.”

“I can if you can,” he said, his smile warm, eyes locked on mine. I started to pull away, but he clamped his arms around me and held me tight. “No, Bill, like this,” he said, his voice throaty.

The unexpected use of my first name – a handful of times in over a quarter-century of our friendship – took me off-guard. And when he took his left hand and brushed along my jaw softly with his finger, I was even more startled. “Ty,” I started but couldn’t find any words.

“I can do this. I’m ready to do this. I want to do this. And I want you to be the one I’m doing it with.”

“That’s good enough for me! But how about we do this right and start with some basics?” I suggested, suddenly not sure of how this was going to play out. He grinned playfully, obviously indulgently. “OK, you always were the strategic one of the two of us. What basics?”

“Well, uh, um,” I stammered.

“Jesus, Cate, you always this smooth?” he taunted me.

I pushed on his chest and growled, “OK, Ames, you think you’re man enough to be fucked by a man? Then are you man enough to learn how to get yourself clean and ready to be FUCKED UP THE ASS by a man?”

“Oh, man,” he laughed, “You always think you’re the only one who knows anything, don’t you?”

“What am I missing here?” I asked, genuinely missing it.

“I SAID ‘I’m ready to do this’, didn’t I? I meant I’m READY. Maybe you should stick that know-it-all white-boy tongue up my ass and YOU tell ME if I’m ready or not.”

WTF, I again thought. “So . . . you . . . You planned . . . You already . . . You . . . “ I was stammering again.

“Jesus Christ, Bill, would you just FUCK ME ALREADY?” he said, still laughing at me.

I jumped up faster than he could re-fix his hold on me and headed out of the room. When I got to the hall, I turned and said, “Marine, on your feet and IN YOUR BED NOW!” My t-shirt was already in a heap somewhere, so I unzipped my shorts and kicked them off. And he was already on his feet headed after me, struggling a little to follow and get his shorts off, too.

When we got to his bedroom, him right behind me, I turned around and yanked his boxer briefs down, his hardon still very much HARD and flopping out. I shoved him around and face down onto his bed and dove into his freshly showered ass and without hesitation after his proclamation of cleanliness shoved my tongue right up his hole.

“Oh sweet Jesus FUCK,” was his response, and I didn’t stop there. I reached under him and YANKED his hardon, which I knew stood well at attention, like a good Marine, down so that it was down and back and my chin rubbed it as my tongue worked his hole. “Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” was his response to my rough treatment of his cock and the uncomfortable position, but his ass pressing back into my tongue told me he was just FINE with what I was doing.

I began licking the length of him and up across and over his balls and back to his crack and into his hole in irregular movements. I was rewarded with louder growls and moans and his writhing and meeting my tongue and pushing back. His precum was amazing – like a running faucet and sweet as any I’d ever tasted. My own guttural growl showed my appreciation for that added pleasure.

I could feel his horse-sized cock getting even harder and his head flaring out, and I knew he was a hair off a climax, and no way was I allowing that . . . yet . . . so I backed off. For the first time ever, even when he’d taken seven rounds (which thank God he survived, obviously), did I ever hear an unmanly expression in the form of a long, loud whine as I did when I stopped working his ass, nuts and cock with my mouth.

It was all I could do to restrain myself because God knew at that moment feeling him climax again after twenty-seven years since the last time I’d made my best friend cum and tasted his spunk I was damn sure ready for it. But no, this was going to be better than that time by degrees.

As I got my own boxer briefs off and was moving around on the bed to where I could get standing on the other side by where his head was half hanging off, I said, “How about tasting some cock?”

I had my hardon by his head, and when he lifted it he brushed my wet dripping cock and had it in his face. He surprised me by reaching out, grabbing me by the balls and then pulling my own horsecock into his mouth until he was gagging trying to get more in. “Easy, stud,” I said. “Let me show you how it’s done.” A thought suddenly crossed my mind. I had no idea if this really was his first time sucking cock or not. I flashed back to that night, almost two-thirds of our lives ago.

* * * * * * * * * *

Pendleton, June 27, 1985, 0139 hours. I’ll always remember that night. We were on liberty from , basic training, and we’d been into town – Oceanside – drinking and looking for pussy. Correction: he and the two other guys we’d set out with were looking for pussy; I said I was looking for pussy, but really wanted cock or ass or anything male. The other two guys found some other guys at one of the bars, and they’d gone off. As usual Ames and I stuck together, a pattern which held well into our careers until we were posted separately with command responsibilities. We were both drunk and horny and full of our barely eighteen-year-old hormones raging, and we’d ended up on the beach with a bottle between us, enjoying the sound of the surf and the moonlight on the water.

He was always drunker than I in our fun times, as were most any other Marine we were around; I didn’t dare get too drunk and forget that I was a Marine cadet and a gay one in an unforgiving world. “FUCK I’m horny,” Ames complained in a slurred way, even more drunker than I than I’d realized. He took another long pull on the Jack Daniels bottle in the brown paper bag because obviously that would help his horniness, and then he shoved it my way.

I don’t know what made me do it after almost six months of our friendship, but for whatever reason it was time to go for it in my mind. “Dude, a bud could help you with that, if you are that bad off.”

“What’re you saying, Cate,” he slurred, and if it was my imagination or not I never knew, but he sounded less drunk than he had before.

“I’m saying that a bud helps a bud out no questions asked. And if you’re that horned and you need to get off, then I can give you a hand.”

“DUDE, you’re gonna wank my crank for me?” he said, sounding even less drunk, and, again I’ll never know if it was my imagination or not, but sounded excited.

“I said I’d help you out no questions asked bud, so whatever you need, just consider me here for you.”

My heart was racing, and it went into overdrive when Ames unbuttoned his fatigue pants and got his fly open and pulled out his monster uncut chocolate joystick. It was all I could do not to jump on it. But my failsafe was still operating, albeit I’d put myself out there on the edge, so I waited . . . anxiously . . . and watched him slowly stroke it and it grew more and more.

I’d seen him hard a few times, and to be honest I was major impressed. I didn’t have much experience with black men except in pictures in the few gay porn mags I’d snagged, and Ames’ body and his cock far exceeded even the most studly black man I’d ever seen. I was hung huge – so huge that when I was younger, before us boys realized that big cocks ruled the world (or at least gave us power), I’d taken razzing for my “donkey dick”. Now those same boys weren’t laughing at me, they were jealous and, several of them, needy for it.

Neither of us said anything, and his long strokes seemed to be timed with the surf. I was not naturally patient – a skill we were later taught in Advanced – but somehow managed to just sit there and watch him. I have no idea how long it actually was, but it seemed like hours, before he said, “Nobody ever knows about this, Cate; NOBODY!”

“What two buds to for each other is between them alone, Ames.”

“Suck it for me,” he said, so softly that I almost didn’t hear him.

And I did. MAN, did I. And I’d never had a cock that big and fat in my hands or mouth before, but boy did I use every cocksucking skill I had to work that pole and edge my bud until he finally couldn’t take it any more and clamped his big paws on the back of my head and skull fucked me until he screamed out at the pounding surf and blasted my throat full of his seed. I gulped and gasped and managed not to choke on it, and what came back into my mouth before I could swallow it was like nectar.

As he was coming down I didn’t want it to be over, so I started licking his balls as his sac slackened after practically pulling his big tanks up inside him when he shot. His cock was still rock-hard, but he was still too sensitive to tolerate anything more than a quick tongue-swipe on his head, so I concentrated on those big smooth balls which stuck of sweat and made my head spin with excitement.

Ames was relaxed again, moaning steadily as I tongued and laved his sac and sucked and tongue-massaged his nuts, his huge boner bobbing and smacking my face occasionally as I worked between his wide-spread legs. He’d gotten out of one of his pant legs early into my blowjob so that he could spread his legs wide and get the full benefit of my mouth and tongue and hands working his balls and tickling his hole. When I went back to his cock with my mouth, I was rewarded with a hand on my head pushing me down, letting me know it was all right again, that he was ready for more.

And more I gave him, working that big hardon aggressively, not having to keep him from cumming until much later than the first time around, when he could have blown a few minutes in. No, this time I could really work that bone over good and righteously, and his second climax built very slowly. But the difference was when he got close the second time, he didn’t allow me to back off at all. He clamped both of his hands on my head again and skull-fucked me until I thought I couldn’t take any more before I felt that huge meat hard as a light pole and that impossibly huge flared head begin to shoot his second blastload. His scream that time was long and almost agonizing, and it seemed like he shot twice as long as he had the first time. And I struggled and slurped and struggled some more as he had several inches of that impossibly fat cock shoved down my throat as he shot, and I needed to breathe SOMEtime.

On the other hand, I remember thinking if I died with my best bud’s incredible cock shoved down my throat, it wouldn’t be too bad a death.

When he finally pulled his cock out and I hissed in a deep breath, I went back after his balls, and he stopped me. Oh, well, I thought, the straight boy has had enough, and that moment is over. But Ames surprised me. “I need to get you off, bud. I owe you that.”

“O . . . K . . . “ I said, tentatively and got up to my knees. Before I could get my pants opened, he’d batted my hands away and unbuttoned my pants, got my fly undone and had reached in and got my raging sloppy-slick cock out and was stroking it with my more-than-ample precum as lube. (In fact, my boxers were SOAKED from the precum I output while I had been blowing him, which I became aware of afterward on that cold beach.)

Ames only stroked me, nothing more, but his hands worked my cock and balls like a master, and he edged me for ten or fifteen minutes, which was an amazing feat considering that I almost shot when he first reached in my pants and touched my cock! When he finally worked me over the edge and I felt my cum begin to travel through my shaft, I was blown away when he was up and holding my cockhead so my cum would shoot in his mouth. No contact, but every blast went right into his mouth, and he never flinched.

When I was done blasting my seed he rubbed his thumb over my cockhead, almost blasting me off, then sucked my cum off his thumb. FUCK! Then he smacked his lips and laughed and said, “Either one of us EVER speaks of this EVER – to each other or to anyone else – he is D E A D dead!”

“Roger that,” I said, wondering how long it would be before the next time we didn’t speak of what we were doing. As it turned out, twenty-seven years was the answer.

* * * * * * * * * *

Back in the 21st century . . .

That memory flashing through my head pushed out the thought or doubt or whatever it was about whether I was the first cock he’d tasted, and I took his head in my hands and held it still while I guided my cock in and out, showing him the pace, the angle, the depth. I wanted in more, deeper, and with him on his stomach I couldn't get that done without breaking his impressively corded neck, so I made him turn over and hang his head over the side of the bed. DAMN what a fine sight his ripped muscular body was from any angle, but his big throbbing wet cock jutting upward was a sight of its own. But back to MY needy cock. I had to squat down some and held his head back, and with his mouth wide open I filled it until I felt his throat against my head. I held him by the neck and pushed in deeper and felt my head in his throat with my hands around his neck. FUCKING HOT, particularly his gagging, choking and writhing around! I kept challenging his throat more, pushing farther each time, holding him with my cock down his throat longer each time, rubbing my own cockhead with my hands on his throat, fighting the urge to just let myself get lost in it and build to a nut blast down my studbro's throat . . . but I had other plans . . .

I started to pull my cock out of Ames’ throat, but apparently HE had other plans himself. His arms were suddenly extended back, and his big hands were clamped on my ass, as his mouth was sucking at my big throbbing pole like his very life depended on it. I was struggling to pull back and out, my hands were shoving down on his shoulders and slipped to his pecs, but my balance was no match for his grip on my butt cheeks, and the force of his desire was intoxicating. “DUDE FUCK you’re gonna make me cum!” I half growled half screamed.

Ames’ response was to pull my ass toward him so my cock went back down his throat, and I admit that was so fucking hot I grabbed his throat again roughly and started pounding into him HARD and FAST. The guttural growl of both pain and exertion for the pleasure of my fat horsecock in his throat just made me drive harder and deeper. And the vibration on my cockshaft and head from that prolonged growl had my fucking nuts boiling.

“You fucking want it fucker? You’re gonna fucking take my fucking load, bitch OOHHHHHHHH HOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYY FUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK AAAAHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG,” I yelled, as my balls began their explosion and expulsion of what felt like gallons of my seed flowing, BLASTing into my best bud. And as I was beginning that series of blasts, my body spasming, my hips pounding my cock into Ames’ throat like a crazed piston, I felt him writhing under me and watched on amazement as his big cock started spewing his load, the third blast hitting me square in the face as it arced out and above him. “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” was all I could manage as my body felt like an entirely new explosion went off in my nuts and I lost touch with the world other than my cock BLASTING in his throat like a cum-bazooka.

When I regained some sense of my surroundings it was to feel Ames shoving me back away and trying to pull off my cock. The angle of this head – back, so down off the edge of the bed, and my still-rock-hard cock in him made that impossible, and he was punching my groin and thrashing about . . . for breath. I pulled out and stumbled back to the WHOOSH of him inhaling. “Dude, Ty, I’m so fucking sorry—“

“FUCK THAT, Bill, that was A-FUCKING-MAZING! Don’t you dare apologize for a second of it!” he said, still laying back.

“Yeah, but if I’d suffocated you—“

“How did I not know what a fucking pussy you are, Marine?!” he barked at me. My body was already overheated and over-excited, and the fighting words reignited me in that instant. “I’ll show you what it’s like to be fucked by THIS Marine, Marine,” I said, bounding across the bed and grabbing his legs and shoving them in the air. My cock was still, inexplicably, since I’m almost certain that had been the first multiple orgasm I’d ever had and however many it was less than two minutes past, hard as a lead pipe, and I JAMMED it against his virgin hole and SHOVED. It was like shoving a Cadillac through a doghouse door, and nothing gave except my shaft, feeling like it was about to buckle.

I swiped my hand down across his cum-slick torso and came up with an incredible amount of his milky seed, roughly shoved two fingers in him eliciting a loud yell/growl and really slicked him up with it and slicked my pole with the rest of it and once again mounted him with my cockhead SHOVED into his rim. This time I was no way taking no for an answer, and honestly any care for not hurting my best friend was completely out of my consciousness.

I SHOVED into him, and just when I thought his shouts couldn’t get any louder, I felt that muscle give way and plunged into the tightest chute I’d ever felt. If the neighbors hadn’t heard him before, the piercing scream he let out couldn’t have any less effect than them calling the police. “OHGEEEEZUSFUCKINGCHRISTGODDAMNITFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK,” or something like that was what he gave. And mine wasn’t much different, clamped inside his tight searing hot chute. He suddenly bucked his ass up and back and surprised me more with, “GODDAMMIT, BILL, FUCK ME!”

My head wanted to argue, to take it slow and make sure he was ok, but the rest of me was being controlled by my cock and my nuts, and FUCK him I did. I fucking pounded that ass harder than any experienced ready power bottom I’d ever fucked, and he fucking yelled and thrashed around the entire time. But he also fucked back into me every thrust amidst that thrashing, and that just stoked my blazing desire even more.

My sweat was splattering off me, onto and off him, and his cock was dripping a puddle all over his abs as I drilled that hot virgin hole with every ounce of strength I had. And I swear his ass muscles clenched every time I either hit bottom or my head was in danger of ripping his rim muscle open again and popping out . . . but maybe I imagined that. What I do know is that I was pounding him so hard my balls were in major pain smacking into his hard bubble butt, being swung hard into it with every thrust. So hard in fact that I almost didn’t realize after who-knows-how-many minutes of pounding him that way – of RAPING my best friend’s ass – I was beginning to cum again.

And cum did. I let out a howl that probably rattled the windows and I would have heard if we both hadn’t been so fucking loud already, and I felt an even stronger wave coming over me from my nuts, radiating through my body as my seed began to blast again through my cock into that paradise of a fuckhole of his.

“OH FUCK YEAH,” he shouted, “Fucking GIVE IT TO ME bud!”

I could only growl and yell and keep pounding into him, my nutload blasting at the same time. I didn’t even have the decency to think to wank his crank and get him off again too!

When I finally pulled out of him he YELLED when my head popped out, “OH FUCKING CHRIST ALMIGHTY!” and was breathing through his teeth the way he’d done after being hit by a few rounds a long time ago in a considerably less pleasant place.

“I fucking hurt you didn’t I, Ty,” I blurted.

Ty’s answer was to pull me down on top of him roughly and clamp his mouth on mine and kiss me more savagely than any man had ever before, at the same time grinding his rock-hard cock into my sweaty abs as if he was going to drive that cock right into me. He held me in a death grip, and I was grinding back into him when his muffled growls turned to cries, and I felt his hot load spraying up between us, felt it on chest and stomach as he drenched us pumping it out.

When his spurts stopped so did the kiss, and momentarily he threw me off him forcibly and gasped for breath. We were both on our backs, both stinking of mansex – sweat and cum and testosterone. I for one was light-headed. “Dude,” was all I could get out.

“Bro,” he started. “Bill,” he continued haltingly. I’ve wanted that for two fucking decades.

“Seriously?” I said, incredulous.

“Bill, don’t let it go to your head. I already love you, man, you know that, and I’m no fucking pansy who’s fucking IN LOVE with you or anything like that. But ever since that time on the beach I’ve beat off about 10,000 times at least imagining what more could have happened, what you and your hookups and fuckbuds do.”

“And now that you know, at least part of it . . . “

“Dude,” he continued. “If I’d known it was one percent as good as this was back then, my ass would have been ruined way longer ago than today.” And with that he reached around to his butt, and he winced again in a way I’d only seen him do with a couple of enemy rounds in him.

“Man, you do know two men can fuck without one of them being ruined for life, right?”

His big arm and paw arced over and SMACKED me hard enough on the solar plexus to knock the breath out of me. “DUDE, don’t flatter yourself too much there. I won’t shit right for a long time, no doubt; but I’ll recover . . . and in the meantime you’ll fuck me just exactly the way you did today, just exactly the way two MEN should fuck. You read me, Marine?”

“Roger that, Marine!” I said. What I didn’t say was that I WAS in love with this beautiful specimen of manhood, this beautiful human being, this incredible friend, my cherished BEST friend.