Gay Erotic Stories

I barely got my bare ass out of the shower, and was toweling off when Alexssandor just bounded in the bedroom. He was “dressed” this time—boat shoes and an old pair of shorts…not your Bermuda type that go down to your knees…these babies were SHORT…well worn jeans that had probably been cut off more than once. These babies barely covered the jewels and his butt cheeks! Alexssandor had a cooler flung around his shoulders—apparently stocked with any additional provisions we’d be needing, and a couple fresh monster towels.

“Give me a minute to brush my teeth, and I’ll be ready. Jesus—what’s the big hurry?” Alexssandor just turned and headed out the back door and out to the dock. Jesus…I don’t like waiting for primping queens, but give me a break. And a break I needed. How in the hell was I supposed to get “dressed” that is—put my shorts on while dealing with a raging dick? I glossed over my “pearly whites”, spit, and choked on the mouthwash I used to rinse out the extraneous paste, and just threw on the same boxer-brief Speedo’s I’d worn yesterday. I had other shorts, but these tended to hide a multitude of “sins”.

I got a fresh T-shirt and also took a tank top as a backup, slipped on my old “Sperry’s” and was out the door. The boat was already running and Alexssandor was in the midst of casting off the lines. Damn, this guy was worse than my dad on Saturday mornings when I was a kid!

“Hey, lock the door! Just flip the latch inside and shut it.” I did as I was told and quickly headed for the boat. Alexssandor already had the stern, bow and aft spring lines cast off, and the gap between boat and dock was widening. He corrected the boat, moving forward on the remaining spring line, then yelled, “Cast us off and jump on board.” Not wanting to be left at the dock, I loosened the remaining line, threw it forward, took a couple quick steps back, and then jumped on board.

I’d barely cleared the rail when Alexssandor threw her in gear and we lurched forward. I kept my balance, but shot him a disapproving—if not foul look. He just laughed. I guessed the cute little bastard was testing my seaworthiness! All I could think of was “thank God this boat’s a diesel…not an over powered go past job—otherwise I’d might have been propeller bait. I cautiously joined Alexssandor on the bridge, sat my ass down and stowed the tank top. He just grinned with those perfectly straight white choppers flashing in the sunlight. I secretly vowed that I’d even the score—if the opportunity presented itself.

“You like to fish?” he asked, then without waiting for my response, “I got some fresh bait and all the equipment’s stowed aboard. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch us dinner!”

Now if there was one thing, as a boy growing up in the Midwest, that I considered a massive waste of time—it was fishing. I just couldn’t relate to sitting in a small flat bottomed fishing boat in the hot sun—or rain if the day turned to shit—and wait and wait for some lousy little slimy fish to bite, most of which you’d have to throw back. Maybe at the time I couldn’t drink beer, or appreciate the scenery. However, having now lived several years on the Atlantic coast, I’d gone fishing a few times and actually had begun to appreciate it—even to the point of enjoying it. The scenery today was just fine and he was right…maybe we’ll get lucky and I’ll catch…uh…dinner! I smiled wryly, and was self-absorbed in my own little play on his words. Okay, it was just a thought…probably unrealistic too, but hey, I was along for the ride.

“If that’s what you want to do! These fish of yours…they up at the crack of dawn…or we have to go out in the mid-Atlantic?”

“Naw, I got my favorite spot, but it’s a bit of a trip ‘round an hour out or so. You hungry? There’s some juice, bagels, fruit and stuff below. Help yourself, I’m kinda hungry, you?”

I went below and checked out the galley. This baby’s galley was really full service! Fridge, large sized sink with fresh water, cook top, even a small oven. I checked out the fridge and found the fruit and juices, and the sack with the rest of the fruit and bagels. I stuck my head towards the bridge, “What do ya’ want?”

“Just surprise me” came the reply.

Oh could I have a surprise for him! Reality came back to me and I just schmeered some cream cheese on two bagels, filled a two glasses with orange juice, and headed upwards. As soon as I cleared the galley, Alexssandor caught sight of me and the tray. “There’s some bananas there too. How ‘bout a couple, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss…I’m mean capt’n, sir!” I quipped.

Actually I’d debated about giving him a banana to chow down on anyway, but in the interest of decorum, I’d abandoned my little suggestive idea. I turned around and grabbed two big yellow Chiquita babies and headed up the steps again. Once seated on the bridge, I handed him a glass of juice. He shot it down, and then pointed at “Ms. Chiquita”. This time I just tossed it to him, catching him off guard, but he snagged it masterfully. He repositioned it with the aid of his other hand, and then playfully stroked it.

“Yeah, this baby’s ripe—just the way I like ‘em.” He peeled the sucker and stuffed over half of the thing into his mouth. A couple of bites and a swallow, he inhaled the remainder. I couldn’t help having those thoughts…this guy’s a natural…tube steak…just take it easy…no teeth! He motioned for the second one (I’d given him the bigger of the two). He promptly dispatched this one, throwing the peels overboard. While watching this “show” I had begun eating my bagel. He pointed my direction again—apparently indicating the remaining bagel.

I stood up and extended him the tray. He reached over and snagged the bagel, sticking his index finger through the hole. Again, he steadied the wheel, and then wolfed down the bagel half. His index finger had cream cheese left over on it, so he just simply stuck his finger in his mouth and licked it off. This was somewhat difficult to watch, but I readily extended the tray with the other bagel half. The repeat performance came off just fine. This time he just turned my direction and smiled after he’d cleaned that olive digit.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Sure, sounds great.” I just sat there, knowing full well this involved more work on my part. He just pointed below, “Pot’s stowed in the first cabinet portside, coffee’s in the fridge.”

I got up and went below. I didn’t ask how he wanted it. If I made it, I’d make it the way I wanted—my work—my choice. I found the pot, one of those old drip-o-later models—that meant heating the water on the cook top first, then pouring in through the top. It also meant staying suck in the galley the whole time. While a relatively simple task on land, it was considerably trickier plowing across the lake. It wasn’t too choppy—but it was hot water! I managed the task at hand like a pro!

It wasn’t long after we’d finished our coffees that Alexssandor’s apparent favorite spot came into view in the distance. “Ten minutes and we’ll drop anchor.” He shifted in his seat and rearranged himself through his sorts, then gave a little squirm, apparently adjusting his assets at the same time. Yeah, I think I’m going to enjoy fishing today. “The gear’s forward, go ahead and pull it out if you want.”

“No thanks, I’ll leave the fishing to you.” I said. I’m thinking to myself, “Yeah, you get the pole, the hook, the line, and the sinker…and I’ll just reel your’s in.” Corny and improbable—sure! I could have these thoughts…but acting on them…that’s a horse of a different color. Shit—don’t even think of horses!

Alexssandor slowed the boat, and then threw her in neutral. “Wanna’ steady her, and I’ll drop anchor.” I switched positions with him and he bounded below deck, returning a few seconds later with two anchors. I’m thinkin’ to myself, “Bahamian style? On this lake?”

He just must have ready my quizzical look, “We’ll be here for a while, the tide’s a bit dicey.” He dropped the first anchor; we backed off it and dropped the second. With that done, he cut the motor, and then went below, coming up with all the necessary gear in two quick trips. He got two poles anchored in their holders on the aft deck, then came back to the bridge. He scanned the horizon for other craft…not a sole in sight. “Okay, let’s go aft and try our luck.”

I followed him and followed his lead in getting things set up, etc. Of course, I was clumsy at the whole thing, and instead of laughing at me, which at this point would really be pushin’ it, he just smiled and gave me his pole after he’d cast it. Within a minute or so, he cast the second. After a few more quick pointers we were both seated in our respective trolling chairs. It was about 9:30 in the morning and the sun was really feeling pretty warm already. I looked over at Alexssandor. What a picture. Slight beads of sweat were already sparkling from the olive skin of his sunlight chest. This was going to be sweet!

“Ever fish naked?” he asked, shattering the relative silence. I had been looking intently at the point were I thought I saw my line meet the water. I jerked my head his direction. Alex, not waiting for my answer, already stood up and was in the process of shucking his shorts.

“What the hell do you think? Of course not! Why, you use that thing of yours for bait?” I was proud of myself with this barbed comeback. Hell, I’d take that bait.

“Remember, I hate tan lines, that’s all. It’s getting hot, wanna’ beer or something?”

Jesus, stop baiting me! I thought. Sure I want a beer, and I know who’s goin’ to get it. He knew too, as he reached my direction for the pole. He instructed me to put it in another slot closer to him, and then I went below deck, coming back with a small cooler with a six-pack, being slightly smarter than your average errand boy. I set the cooler between us. He handed me back his pole, and as I was reaching forward to replace my pole in my hole, I felt a tug on my shorts, and bingo, they were at my ankles. I had no choice but to step out of them when the boat rocked before I got my pole in my hole.

We didn’t catch a damn thing the rest of the morning. Between the sun and another beer, we were both becoming hungry. Alexssandor instructed me on what he’d brought in the way of provisions for lunch, and your’s truly went below deck again. I found the container of prepared tuna salad, the bread and condiments, etc. As I spread the tuna salad on the bread, it was kind of on the dry side…in the perfect world, a little more mayo. An evil thought came to mind… Then I had a bright idea. I mixed in some of the remaining cream cheese and this worked just fine…I’d done this before…and old trick, which also softened the tuna and onion taste too.

We ate lunch and Alexssandor just raved about that particular brand of tuna he’d picked up. I didn’t dispel his enthusiasm. After lunch, we just took it easy, sort of loosing the intensity of concentration on the lines, just enjoying some good conversation. Alexssandor and turning the conversation topic to girls…and sex. This was a struggle, watching him and his endowment twitch, grow and change size as he talked. I cleverly tried to steer the conversation in Daniel’s direction, but he’d gloss over it and back to “business”.

The sun was noticeable stronger, and I’d begun to feel first the tightness, then the slight stinging sensation on my skin…I was headed for a burn if I didn’t apply something. I started to excuse myself mid-conversation, and told him I need some sunscreen. Alexssandro just grabbed my forearm and said, “Stay put. I’ve got just the stuff you need. It’s something we used back home.” Now I sure as hell don’t expect to get as dark a tan as Mr. La Paz here, but who was I to second-guess.

He returned momentarily, and we shared the dark bottle of some type of oil. It was in Spanish, so I just took it on faith. If really felt good and was surprisingly not too oily. It smelled great, couldn’t quite place it…not coconut… He told me briefly what some of the ingredients were, but not being a botanist…I just agreed it was good. We each gave ourselves a generous coating.

“Better put some of that on your back, you’re getting red.” He offered, as he stood up. He started with my shoulders. They were kind of stiff and his hands felt great…lotion and a massage! Sweet. Son of a…my shoulders suddenly weren’t the only thing stiff. I was not as worried as yesterday, but still was not prepared for my problem. “Go ahead and stand up, I’ll get your lower back.” Thankfully, I had to turn away from him to facilitate this. I felt his hands work their way lower and lower…I thought lower than they had to be…after all, if I was to stay on that damn chair…

I could feel Alexssandor’s breath against my back…it was accentuated by the oil. He reached forward and from behind, rubbed the remainder of the oil on his hands again on the top of my shoulders, then reading further to my collarbones. Then I felt contact with the crack of my ass. East process of elimination Einstein—both his hands were busy! The tip of his one-eyed monster was brushing against the crack in my cheeks. I was instantly rock hard. Alexssandor wasn’t soft either. I was suddenly alarmed. Sure I’d fanaticized about getting it on with him, but hadn’t really thought in these terms. But it was electric…much more so than yesterday afternoon.

“Alexssandor”

“Yes”

“Never approach a dock any faster than you’d like to ram it.” I couldn’t believe that bit of humor escaped my lips! He was playing with the crack of my ass now, kneeling and pushing himself lower, his cock sliding lower—between my legs—to the point it was hitting my balls. I don’t know why, but I stepped forward and turned around. His 10-inch missile was on the launch pad.

“Sorry, man. I’m just horny again. You’ve got a nice ass…for a guy. There’s another saying, any port in a storm.” He just looked straight into my eyes.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if there’s enough dock space!”

He got the idea, and just stood there while starting to jack himself off. I looked down just in time to see his other lubricated hand reach for my tool, wrap itself around me, and jack in unison. I just tried to steady myself and let it happen. Something about a horse…a gift horse! The boat rocked, throwing me off balance…hell a well-placed sneeze could have done that! I was propelled forward against Alexssandor’s chest. He held firm—everything. He pushed his face another inch forward and kissed me right on the lips. The first assault was a brief peck, but the second one he held position. His tongue pushed past his lips pressing against mine. I steadied myself with both arms on his shoulders. I opened; his tongue darted inside, doing battle.

He was continued jacking us off—but now just with one of his large hands, our tools together pointing skyward. I lost it and shot first. I felt my cum hit around my belly button. The increased lubrication had its effect on Alexssandor…a few more strokes and he shot…I felt the warm sticky jets go past my chest, landing on the right side of my neck, later spurts hitting me in the chest. He stopped after a few more strokes…thank GOD, as it was too much of a good thing for my poor spent dick.

He pulled away a step…I saw his still heaving chest…cum splattered as mine was. He put both hands around my waist and drew me to him, sliding against me. Our male ‘dew’ mingling and releasing its acrid molten smell. We just stood their rocking…working it in…reveling in the odor of sex.

My pole started spinning…the fishing line! What timing…done by a lousy fish! How appropriate…but then again…this could be dinner calling!