Gay Erotic Stories

Just where do I start?

I grew up in the Midwest. Nice enough, but other than a couple of lakes, not much in the way of significant landmarks to make life interesting—no mountains, no beaches, no swamps…okay nix the swamp. I had a really fine home life, very caring parents, and a sister from hell. Other than my stormy relationship with my sister, things were pretty damn good. No broken home, no single parent issues—nothing to have precipitated my alternative career choice—but my own doing. And yes, my sister’s still a bitch! And single—god I wonder why?

As is the case with most gay adolescents, I pretty much knew I liked boys rather than girls from an early age. Junior High and High School gym periods and locker rooms were an attraction. I got many an eyeful of damn good visual stimulation…the stuff one burned into your mind…then went home and jacked off thinking about it. I recall many early secret “crushes” but I never acted on them. As all of us got older, the high school locker room scene became more intriguing as well as a hormonal dick containment issue. There was this one super cool guy; the class stud that everyone—guys included—looked up to. The girls just couldn’t keep away from him. His family had moved here from Australia—he had everything—looks—athletic—smart—that cool accent—charisma—great body and the damn biggest dick I’d ever seen. He won all the macho guy’s measuring contests. It was a good 7 inches flaccid—got only knows what happened when he got it hard. His name was “Woody” actually it was Woodrow, but he obviously hated it. Once after relating one of his girly sexual conquests, one of the guys taunted him “How does a guy named Woodrow get to use his little “Wilson” so much?” Woody beat the crap out of him. Never heard Woodrow again. (maybe more about Woody later). Talk about dick containment in the locker room, Woody made my gym life hell.

When I finally got my first car—my own choice—things changed rather quickly. I had first taste of independence, sense of self-identity, and all the freedom to discover what ever I felt like discovering at the time. It was kind of the popular thing to do at the time, something we called “scooping the loop” a bunch of crazy, fun loving and sort of rebellious kids burning up gas driving around downtown until we either got tired, ran low on gas, or got told to move on by the local police. The cops weren’t too bad—I think they actually liked to scope out the girls too!

However, it wasn’t girls that I was interested in. I began to notice other guys…especially the ones driving around by themselves. It didn’t take too long before I’d figured out a particular pattern. If I spotted a cute guy in a nice car, I’d just follow him around for a while. Pretty soon, I noticed there was this particular circuit of a few blocks, kind of a figure 8 pattern, allowing for some one-way streets. I was too young for the bars, so this was my only potential outlet. It was more exciting than anything else.

This one particular night, I’d spotted a guy that was probably my own age, driving a nice Oldsmobile Cutlass. Everything about him pretty much told me he wasn’t a dangerous guy, so I followed him. Sure enough, he went through the “figure 8” a few times with me in tow. Suddenly he just pulled over and stopped. I was surprised and continued around the circuit once more. As I approached his car, which was still parked, he flashed his lights. I took a deep breath and pulled in behind him. I just sat there not knowing what to do next, when he got out of his car and came back to mine. My sudden panic melted quickly away when he introduced himself, “Hi, my names, John”

I thought a second, should I even tell him my real name? “Brian” I replied. I gave him a quick glance, stopping just a bit too long at crotch level—which was actually pretty much eye level, considering I was still seated in my car. I also noticed John was doing the same thing. After a bit of uneasy and obligatory “small talk” I invited him into the car, and offer, which he accepted without hesitation. Almost immediately after he’d sat down, he placed his left hand on my thigh. I must have flinched or tensed up involuntarily, because John just turned and looked me in the eye.

“You’re new at this, right?” I didn’t have to answer—it was obvious. He just smiled and quipped, “Yeah, well everybody’s gotta start sometime.”

That broke the ice and I eased up. I had the top down, and it was a nice summer evening, so I suggested we might take a ride around. John readily agreed, and we were off. In less than an hour, we pulled up behind John’s car and I eagerly followed him to his apartment. Other than fooling around briefly with one of my cousins, I’d really never done anything but jack off, so this was a ground-breaking experience. We got to John’s apartment and once inside, he offered me a beer, which I declined, opting for a coke instead. That’s also how he found out I was just 18 and just out of high school. John was 22 and had a good job and was by all appearances settled…something to look up to.

John pulled out some porn magazines for me to look at while he fixed our drinks. By the time he returned, my worries had been replaced with hormones…I was horny and ready. John, being the apparent expert he was, immediately sensed this and before I’d consumed even half of my coke, he had my shirt and shorts off and was admiring the bulge in my Jockeys. In a matter of seconds, John stripped—no muss, no fuss…just whipped them off and whipped it out…he was stark naked and his eager pecker was at full attention. He pulled me up off the couch and eased off my Jockeys. He then pulled at the cushions of the couch—it was a sofa bed. A few seconds later it was converted into the night’s workbench.

John was all business at that point…no cuddling, no kissing, or foreplay. His mouth just made a beeline to my dick and a split second later, I was buried to my balls in his mouth. I had never experienced anything quite like this. I’d heard of girls giving guys blowjobs, but strangely, based on my limited fooling around with my cousin, I’d not had any thoughts of guys doing this. Oh, but man-o-man, it felt great—almost too good. I found myself asking him to slow down within just a couple of minutes. John complied immediately—in fact he just pulled off my dick, looked at me face to face and said, “Okay, roll over—I want to fuck you!”

This was also something I’d not counted on. My cousin and I had tried this, and I had succeeded in fucking him, but even after a couple serious attempts, I hadn’t been able to surrender to him. The thought of John’s mater of fact manner—almost an order—now had me really worried. Well—moment of truth—I told him of my limited experience and that I hadn’t been able to do this—again something he most likely had already anticipated. But he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer—rejection just wasn’t in the cards.

“Don’t worry, I’m good at this. I’ll go slow and before you know it—you’ll be lovin’ it and wantin’ more.”

This was something I’d have to see to believe—except I wasn’t keen on seeing this happen. While my mind was debating the future course of action, I felt John’s lubricated hand at the entrance to my ass crack. He massaged it briefly, spreading the lube around, then just pushed in his index finger. I was more surprised than anything, and within less than a minute, I was comfortable with his finger playing around inside me. Mr. Index’s buddy joined in soon afterwards. Two was a bit of a stretch for me, but again, I got used to this before long. It actually felt pretty good.

With his free hand, John reached for something in the drawer of the cocktail table. I assumed it was for more lube, but he produced a small brown bottle containing a clear liquid. “Here, open this up and take a whiff—you’ll feel great.”

“What kind of stuff is it?” I asked. Okay, I’m a real dummy, I had no clue.

“Poppers. They’re wild…I use them all the time. Try ‘em and see how great you feel…they make you really horny too!”

Now I really didn’t need to be any hornier than I already was, but if this stuff would ease my trepidation about the impending invasion, so be it. I opened the bottle and took a hit in my right nostril. John motioned for me to do the left one too, which I did. Within seconds, this warm and sort of dizzy feeling came over me. I was consumed by my sudden desire to get on with it—sex—my dick hurt—I needed release—I need my cock sucked—or I needed to fuck John. Then I became aware that John’s fingers were really feeling good. It was kind of like there was a deep itch inside there and it needed more scratching—contact felt wonderful—but now I needed more. Good old expert John sensed this, gave his cock a couple strokes of his lubed hand, aimed at my ass, and just shoved it in—all the way in! I saw stars—the itch was gone—it was replaced by a searing shot of pain. I lurched forward in a futile attempt to extricate myself from the invader. John’s hands just grabbed both sides of my thighs and held me in position. He didn’t move. I couldn’t move.

“Just stay still—you’ll get used to it.” The pain was easing now and was replaced by a “full feeling” I felt like was constipated and needed to take a wicked shit. John intuitively sensed my relaxation, and slowly began to pull back a bit, and then move forward again. “Go ahead, open the poppers and take another hit—you’re gonna just love this, baby!” I opened the bottle and took two whiffs in each nostril. Jesus—fireworks—like the 4th of July—I grabbed by own dick and began to stroke it wildly. Man this just never felt so damn good! John began a slow rhythm assaulting my rear end, and then picking up the pace, then just slamming into me full steam.

Suddenly, he pulled out of me and rolled over on his back. “I want to see your face—come on, sit on it! I want to see you ride my cock.”

I was out of control, so what a new position—what the hell. I climbed on top of him, backed my ass against his rod and just sat down on it. He shoved it upwards to meet me. I saw stars again due to this new angle and position—but it didn’t hurt—it felt wonderful. I rode him for a good two minutes. My own cock was rock hard again—and I wasn’t even touching it. I was developing that tell tale tingle. I loved everything that was happening and I didn’t want to blow my load yet, so I made sure I didn’t grab my dick—but that wasn’t in the cards either. John did that for me—and it was just a few seconds after he started that I blew—like I’d never done before. The cum shot out of my dick in multiple jets. The first two globs hit John squarely in the face, the next two landed on his chest at nipple level. Successive less powerful jets landed on his belly and then dribbled down his hands. He let out a moan and I felt his rod twitch and throb, then I felt the warm flood of his release, shooting cum in my ass. The additional warm lubricant just felt wonderful.

Well, there sure wasn’t much ‘after glow’. John reached up and pulled me on top of him. I felt the squishing of my cum against our chests, then he pulled my face to his and kissed me while pressing me against his cum drenched face. That was actually my first taste of my own cum—or anyone else’s for that matter. He pulled away from me, “Well, time to get us cleaned up.” He just gave me a towel, “just in case you want to wipe off before you put your clothes on”. I said I needed to use the bathroom, he had a smirk on his face, “Yeah, I bet you do!”

Now I was feeling guilty, I’d had a wild and wonderful experience, but now I was feeling ‘used’ more like a plaything rather than human being…there was nothing wonderful but the raw sex…no caring or loving emotion…just animal sex. John must have been able to see through me again. He slapped me on the back, gave me a quick hug and led me to the front door. “How about we see each other tomorrow night?” This caught me by surprise and I sort of hesitated. He continued, “You’re a really good fuck—but how are you at fuckin’? Tomorrow night, I’ll let you do me. Deal?”

Now we’re talking! Yeah that sealed the deal. I agreed. I saw him the next night, and the next, and quite regularly the rest of the summer. John was a good fuck too! We had quite a pecker rodeo the rest of the summer, and I think I fucked him more than he rode me. John actually became a good friend, but everything just revolved pretty much around the sex. John just didn’t believe in “puppy love” and any of my developing fascination, devotion, or dare I say first feelings of ‘love’ were not allowed to blossom. But the sex was good. I learned a lot.

(To be continued)