Gay Erotic Stories

You might think as Best Man I'd have planned my uncle Mike's bachelor's party, or at least have been involved in it; but I was a continent away, and anyway not quite 18 years old when the planning was underway. In fact the real host was Matt Rawlinson, one of the three founding partners of Mike's firm. He was only 6 years older than Mike, but already at 30 he was rich, rich beyond counting, for the firm had been a success right from the start, and its growth had astonished even jaded Silicon Valley observers. Matt had recruited Mike, and subsequently promoted him twice in under two years, and Mike now reported directly to him. They had a warm, friendly, and highly productive relationship. Matt was in a long-term and stable relationship with Drew Abbott, one of the region's most prominent endocrinologists. Matt had planned everything, and in fact he was paying for everything, and he absolutely didn't care what it cost. Mike was a hugely valuable employee as well as a good friend.

So at six pm on the dot an extra-wide limo appeared at my uncle's apartment, and Mike, Jeff, and I were ushered into the back seat. Already the limo had picked up the other guests for the forty-mile trip into San Francisco. They included Bill Stone, Mike and Jeff's old teammate and first baseman on the Stanford Cardinals, and their first African-American infield starter; Hank Jensen, the head of the other department that reported to Matt, an admired colleague and friend; and the other three members of Mike's rowdy bar band, The Splittin' Beavers. The Beavers had originated as a gag a few years ago at Stanford. Mike, an accomplished musician, had recruited three other classmates to form a little group to play at a party to celebrate the Cardinals' victory in the College World Series when they were juniors. Turned out that with just a little practice they could produce some really serviceable covers of Joe Cocker and Bob Seegar and Creedence -- that sort of thing. They got several gigs at school functions and then they began to play local bars. They loved it and the rowdier, the better. In addition to Mike the Beavs included Tim Ziegler, "Z," then a music major and a violinist in the university orchestra; Joe Kraft, now a Ph. D. student in chemistry, who had been a serious cellist in high school -- and a drummer in a garage band -- and he still had the knack; and saxophonist Adam Duncan, an economics major as an undergraduate and now an assistant vice president the international department of an important bank in the area. And what gave them so much versatility was that they all played the guitar: Z and Mike took turns as lead guitar, and Joe and Dunc doubled on bass, and they all could share lead singer duties.

I sat on Mike's right and Jeff on his left on the rear seat of the outsized limo facing a cocktail table; Matt and Hank on the side seats on the left side of the limo, facing the table; Bill and Z on the right; and Joe and Dunc on the seat facing backward toward the table. There were crackers and brandade de morue to spread on them, and Matt broke out the first of many bottles of 1995 vintage Taittinger Blanc de Blanc. This wasn't at all going to be a stogie-and-New-York-champagne-and-silicone-mama kind of an evening. Things began to get loose as soon as we got underway, though. The Beavs had written a really nasty and hilarious parody of "The Hawaiian Wedding Song," and Hank handed around a dozen amazingly skillfully doctored digital photos of Mike in flagrante delicto with the likes of Charleze Theron, Cameron Diaz, Madonna, Kate Beckinsale, Cher, Kathy Bates, Eminem, Tupac, and Danny deVito. And we went around and the guys all told exactly how they'd each met Mike, the stories embellished with salacious and utterly impossible details.

The limo pulled up at a side door of La Reve, a club known to the San Francisco cognoscenti for its sex shows. The doorman directed us through a private little lobby and up a flight of stairs to some small, but luxurious dressing rooms. Actually, from our point of view, they were undressing rooms. The attendant, a buxom blonde girl of about 18 wearing nothing but a thong asked each one of us for his first name, and directed us accordingly to the one on the right or on the left or the one in the middle. Mike and I and Jeff were sent to the one in the middle; Matt and Z and Joe, who shared a taste for handsome men, were directed to the room on the left; and Dunc and Hank and Bill, who appreciated the ladies, were directed to the room on the right. Matt had checked with Mike about everyone's preferences, and he had made all the detailed arrangements in advance.

In the middle room there were two attendants barely out of their teens, one an implausibly handsome blonde guy, lean and muscular, wearing nothing but a sort of Speedo thing. He was amazingly built, with every muscle perfectly developed, though in a slender and lithe fashion, with nothing of the pneumatic about him. The kid was seriously hung, and the Speedo hid little and disguised nothing. His penis was obviously partially erect, stretching out the elastic fabric. Nor did the minimal garment cover more than his pubic hair proper: his well-defined treasure trail extended to his navel; but the rest of his torso was smooth, fully disclosing his sculpted abs and chest.

The other attendant was a dark-eyed brunette, "dressed" in nothing but a thong. It was bright red, though, as tiny as it was. She had a remarkably fresh-faced beauty, and an athletic body as lithe as the young guy. I could tell that her stunningly beautiful breasts were quite real. Though firm and shapely they moved seductively with her every motion. It was impossible to say who was the more strikingly beautiful.

Ostensibly the attendants were to assist us in changing. They started with Mike, and the girl, she said her name was Lila -- nuzzled him on the neck, and grabbing his polo shirt by its hem, slowly pulled it over his head. Naturally, he gracefully held his arms above his head as she pulled it over his face, and then in medias res she stopped, with him more or less blinded. And with both her hands she slowly stroked his big, sexy, hairy chest, going "Oh, my! We have a real winner here!" and planted playful kisses on each of his nipples in turn, causing him to give a little jerk and a gasp. This little routine certainly didn't make the boy's job any easier, for as she was completing pulling Mike's shirt off, he was working on Mike's belt and begin undoing his shorts, which he let drop to the floor. Mike's cock was already nearly completely erect, with his cockhead already extending well beyond the waistband of Mike's low-rise briefs. As he pulled the little undershorts off, he revealed Mike's mighty cock, standing altogether upright, and his big swinging balls. "We DO have a champ here!" goes the guy (he was Brian). "Wow!" He slid the little shorts slowly down Mike's huge thighs, covered densely with golden hair, and then over his big and well-defined hairy calves, in the process trailing his fingers along the entire length of his legs.

He stepped away and the girl knelt before Mike and gave his cock a playful kiss, actually enveloping his cockhead and a full inch of the shaft too, and cupped his big balls in her right hand. It was just a teasing gesture, however, for while she used her tongue expertly, the whole thing was less than 30 seconds' fun. She rose and pulled Mike over to the leather couch and indicated that he was to sit down, and she knelt once again to remove his shoes and pull off his socks. It was his turn to enjoy watching Jeff and me being disrobed.

Jeff was next. The boy pulled off Jeff's shirt and planted a big kiss right on his beautiful chin and then his refined mouth, while letting his hands wander over Jeff's big pecs. "My, oh my," said the girl, and she knelt before him to undo Jeff's shorts. His erection was already hugely evident, tenting out the front of the shorts. Jeff was wearing nothing under his shorts, and after she had undone the button at his waist, she took unusual care in unzipping him. She actually had fun doing it, moving the slide slowly down, and as the shorts parted, the remainder of his sexy belly came into view. His cock was approximately the size of Mike's and mine, and it was very fully erect, with his impressive cockhead taut and shiny. She grabbed it playfully but firmly, and sinking to her knees she pulled it down to horizontal and pressed her lips over the smooth glans, and over the corona, and onto the shaft, just as she had done with Mike.

When she stepped away to guide him to the couch, for the first time I got a good look at his body. It was entirely beautiful, from the powerful legs bulging with muscles and covered entirely with a luxuriant growth of dark hair. It extended up his legs and merged with the dark hair of his lower belly. His big pecs were strewn with still more, and from my vantage point I also could see that his butt was as fuzzy as Mike's or mine, but his hair was dark. With his chiseled features and dark eyes, dramatic eyebrows, beautiful mouth and nose, and All-American chin and jaw line, Jeff's face was fucking beautiful. And as a whole ensemble, from his trim dark hair to his furry feet, he was remarkably good looking. Remembering Alice's wise words, I tried to banish my jealousy of him and his long-term relationship with Mike, but it was impossible. All I could do was suppress it to a tolerable degree.

And now it was my turn, and I felt Jeff's eyes on me. And he was probably sharing the same sort of feelings of jealousy I was experiencing, but probably to an even higher degree, if Alice were right, as almost certainly she was.

So in a rather infantile way I tried to puff myself up a little. I spread my legs a little wider; I squared my shoulders; I lifted my chin perceptibly; I flexed my pecs as much as I could without it being obvious; and I specifically focused on Mike and his body and achieved thereby a very, very full erection. I knew that Mike loved me sincerely and completely, and that he understood and accepted and even gloried in my idolatry along with my love. And now Alice too unambiguously loved me. I had nothing to worry about when it came to Jeff, but I couldn't help myself.

As the beautiful girl approached me to pull off my shirt she said, "Honey, you've gotta be his brother; you're almost like twins." Mike said, "He's just like my brother; but actually he's my nephew and my namesake. We're much closer than most brothers." Boy, was that the truth! I wonder if she gave that statement the meaning that I mentally assigned it. I doubt very seriously that she did.

As she pulled off the shirt, she smoothed her hand over my well-defined pecs with their whorls of fine golden vellous hair, and she said, "You got any more at home like you guys?" The boy came from behind, and approached me very closely, in effect caressing me with his body as he reached around to my waist and undid my shorts and let them drop to the floor. Like Mike's had done, the head of my cock extended well above the waistband of my low-cut briefs. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of my briefs, the Brian carefully pulled them down and over my cock and balls, which were the virtual image of Mike's. As he did, I could feel the firmness of his cock straining through the thin fabric of his Speedo, pressed against my butt.

Once the little undershorts were at mid-thigh level, the girl slowly pulled them down and I stepped out of them. As she had done with the Mike's and Jeff's, she took my erection in her mouth. But somehow this was different. With them, she had been playful, teasing, and brief. With me, she began some serious fellation, using her tongue artfully, gazing up into my eyes, and caressing my big balls with her hands. And then she gasped my phallus with both hands and worked her oral magic on just my cockhead. Meanwhile, the boy was still behind me, pressing his hard body against mine, and nuzzling my neck and one ear after the other with little kisses, while reaching around to my front, he stroked my chest and belly. Between their two attacks I soon began to think I was a goner, but the girl slowly, slowly removed her mouth, and then giving the very tip of my cock one more little sweet kiss, she withdrew altogether, saying "Honey, that's as far as it's safe to go right now." Smiling at me and gesturing at my erection, she said, "You're going to need that for later."

And next they directed their attention to Mike and Jeff, still seated, legs wide spread, on the couch. Kneeling, the girl began sucking Mike's big dick, working with deliberate luxury, and Mike smiled at her and stroked her beautiful smooth hair; and similarly the boy took Jeff into his mouth, while running his fingers through the dark hair of Jeff's thighs, as Jeff stroked his hair. At some sign or signal I did not perceive, the boy and the girl grasped Mike and Jeff's hands, rose, and pulled them to a standing position, both with their legs very widely spread, their testicles swinging below their erections. Switching subjects, the boy fellated Mike now; and the girl Jeff, using essentially the same techniques that had been practiced on me; and with the same prudential, if frustrating slowdown, they withdrew before they'd gotten to the point of no return. From a cabinet, the attendants brought out luxurious thick white cotton robes for each of us and held them open for us to don; but they were so short that they barely covered our butts, and their sleeves came down only to the middle of our forearms. We loosely closed them and secured them with sashes, and the attendants brought out and thick white socks. We sat down, and they pulled them onto our feet. That was it. The whole 'changing' process had only taken about 25 minutes.

From the dressing room we were ushered into a fair-sized private room containing a large round table connected by a short runway to a stage. Mike's seat was in the middle; my place card was at the seat on Mike's right; Jeff's seat was on his left; and Matt, Z, and Joe were already seated to my right, and Dunc, Hank and Bill would soon take their seats on Jeff's left. Already at our places was more of the Taittinger and dishes containing caviar and the classic garnishes, but we had only a few minutes to settle down and chat and sample the beluga before the general lighting of the room dimmed, and then there was a blackout for a moment, during which music began to swell.

It was the Beach Boys singing "Do You Wanna Dance" in their wonderful slightly nasal way, and then the lights on the stage came on to reveal a simple set representing a swing-dance club with three pairs of dancers, dressed all in black. I recognized Lila and Brian right away, and I noticed that Joe, always a little zany, blew a kiss to the handsome boy dancing on the left. The boy smiled broadly right at Joe, but of course didn't break character, and Hank whispered animatedly to Dunc, pointing at the beautiful blonde girl who was part of the middle pair. The guys wore very tight-fitting shirts, and pants that were, if anything, even tighter. The girls' dresses were foamy chiffony numbers that stopped well above their knees, with bodices that were as tight as the boy's shirts, but with plunging necklines and spaghetti straps. The dancers gave a superb performance, with all sorts of athletic throws and returns and spins, all in perfect synchrony; and there were these clingy moves where the guys and girls moved practically as one as they whirled, with their legs closely intermeshed during the intricate moves, and their crotches seemed to be glued together. Talk about dirty dancin', this was it.

A single male dancer enters, dressed like the other guys, but a little taller than the others, and stands off to one side, surveying the others appraisingly. The Beach Boys are succeeded by the throb of Robert Plant's "Simply Irresistible, " and now the dancers' movements were more frenetic, when an incredibly beautiful red-haired girl in a bright yellow chiffon dress and in three-quarter heels enters. Okay, it was a rip-off of "Contact,” though considering the amount that Matt paid for tonight, this excerpt was probably fully licensed.

In any case, the similarity to the Broadway version of "Contact" quickly ceased when each of the girls grabbed her partner's shirt and ripped it right off, they were obviously specially rigged breakaway items, and in turn the guys ripped off their partners' bodices and then skirts, tossing them off the stage, and leaving the girls absolutely nude, except for their dance shoes, but never missing a step. As the drum of the music continued, the gals grabbed their partners' breakaway pants, and they, too, were left entirely nude, all without the slightest interruption in the dancing.

Now as "All I Wanna Do" begin to spin, the dancers clung again to their partners, and spun and twirled, giving us guys a real cool view of their backsides. These kids were really toned as well as being very talented dancers! And then as they resumed their intricate throws and returns, the inside whip with a double turn, the right side cutoff with a double turn, etc. -- they were revealed in all their beauty again and again. Though they varied considerably in detail, of course, two of the girls were blondes, the other brunette; two had had short hair, the other almost shoulder length; and the amount and distribution of the guys' body hair varied a lot; but what was remarkable was how similar their builds were, lean and muscular. The six of them were almost like a matched team of dappled greys. And in synchronized motion, they looked even more stunning. No one was surprised to see that all three guys were sporting big boners; nor that all the nine guests around the table were, too.

By now all the guests' robes were pulled wide open, and in fact to one degree or another every one of us was touching, fondling, or stroking himself. Both Dunc and Joe were both far advanced in serious, industrial-strength masturbation, and it was perfectly evident that they didn't intend to let up until they had shot their loads. They were both very good-looking guys, well built, and in fact what they were doing attracted a fair amount of attention from their friends, despite the show on stage. So efficient and determined was their work that within a minute or two more both of them had cum, making a sexy mess on their bellies that they just mopped up with their cushy robes. And unsurprisingly, they were ready for second pulls in a matter of minutes.

The two lead dancers, the taller guy and the red-haired girl in yellow, were out front, more or less following the same routines as the three couples in the line, but with a certain extra flair, and they added an extra rollout or tuck turn. They were incredibly talented, and incredibly hot, hot--hot! The red-haired girl was just as lean and lithe as the other girls, but there was something else indefinable about her that made her extra-special. Partly it was her beautiful breasts. Of course none of the dancers had outsized breasts, it just wouldn't have worked in la danse nue, but considering the fact that naked swing dancing (what a notion!) required firm, youthful breasts, hers were rather generous, while at the same time remaining shapely and firm. And partly it was the classic beauty of her face. In the end, however, it amounts to je ne sais quoi. But it was real, nonetheless. The guy, without being the slightest bit bulky, for he was just as lithe as the rest, provided the absolute definition of sculpted abs. He had the most remarkably economical muscularity of body imaginable. He wasn't overbroad in the shoulders, or over-developed in the chest, or anywhere else, but rather he was a perfectly balanced specimen of masculine beauty. There was one area, however, that stood as an exception, and that was his erect cock. It was quite probably 9 inches long, way outside the norm, and as he danced, it was displayed dramatically, jutting outward at about 30 degrees from his belly. Some professional dancers insist on a smooth body to emphasize the clarity of their lines as they dance; but not all, and not this guy. His legs and forearms were generously provided with honey-colored hair that caught the theatrical lighting and gave his limbs a fuzzy halo however he moved them. His chest was covered with the same colored hair, and a fairly narrow trail descended down his midline, finally to lose itself in the bush of light brown hair from which his big cock rose. Otherwise his impressive abs were smooth. The girl, for her part, was evidently a natural redhead, or so it appeared from her neatly maintained patch of golden-red curls at her crotch.

As "Who's Watching Who" began the lighting suddenly changed, and the backup dancers fell into darkness and disappeared, but a spotlight illuminated the lead dancers, who stepped across the little runway and right onto the tabletop, around which we nine were seated. As the music shifted to the much slower Barbara Lewis's "Hello, Stranger," they danced very closely, but with an amazing grace, seemingly effortlessly. It would have been hugely erotic if they had been wearing street clothes; but absolutely nude it was unbearably hot, and as they turned, all of us around the table got excellent views. As they slowly, slowly went through their sensual moves, they began to kiss and nuzzle one another, adding hugely to the heat of their performance.

Because they were dancing right on the tabletop, they were no more than a very few feet from us spectators. We could have (had we not been warned against it) reached out and touched them. At a certain point they slowed their movements more and more until they were really only undulating to the rhythms of the music, and the guy stood with his legs spread, and the girl slowly, very slowly, worked her way down his front, kissing his chest and then his middle, and letting her hands caress him sensually as she gracefully arrived at a crouch before him, and she took his great phallus in her hands, and slowly, slowly stroked him, as the music slowed still more with the very slow tempo version of "All the Way," by Celine Dion and Frank Sinatra," and beginning with small kisses along the length of his shaft, she moved gradually into a very artful fully-featured fellatio.

There has been significant research done at major labs using the penile pneumophethysmograph to measure sexual responses. The studies use a band stretched around the penis to measure changes in its girth as subjects are shown a variety of sexual images. What's interesting is that no matter what the subjects say in preliminary questionnaires about their sexual orientation or personal preferences or practices or even church attendance, the result is generally the same: The penile responses to images of fellatio are almost always the strongest. The management of the club was well aware of this and consequently this particular practice was the very heart of their show. The red-haired girl was remarkably versatile and talented, not only at giving a blow job, but making it look absolutely great to the customers, taking care that at times she deep-throated the guy, and at other times she worked only on the cockhead so that his shaft was in full view; and that there were intervals of when she was licking the shaft and the guy's balls.

As for the guy, he excited all our admiration, withstanding this treatment so stalwartly, in such a odd public setting, and remaining not only totally rigid and erect, but also continuing to sway to the music, it was "It's Your Love" with Tim McGraw and Faith Hill now, and to look just great as he variously stroked the girl's hair or face.

There wasn't a single one of the guests who hadn't shot at least once by now, and finally the girl reclined fully, abandoning her task at last. And as Otis Redding began his slow, slow sensuous wail "I've Been Loving You Too Long", the girl spread her legs, the guy knelt between them, and gave her a long, soulful kiss on her pussy, and then kissed his way up to her breasts, and then her mouth, as he inserted his long, strong cock into her. The needs of exhibition, however, took precedence over simple venery, and he raised himself up on his arms and knees, somewhat above her body, to make sure that the union between them was as visible to the customers as possible. And we watched as he flexed his powerful butt to the slow tempo of the music. At the very conclusion, as expected, he rolled off to the side of the woman, and lay on his back as she knelt again beside him and once again grasped his cock, and with a few strokes produced the "money shot": His cum jetted onto his belly in two or three spasms, and he lay there, his chest heaving, as the two of them acknowledged the heartfelt applause of us nine guys.

Bachelor party continues in part 2.