Gay Erotic Stories

I had known Peter vaguely, as belonging to an entirely different department of the large office building in which I worked. He was about 28, with a dark handsome face and a manly build. One of the things that struck me most about him was that his sincere, friendly, winning smiles were not reserved only for the female members of the staff, as is the case with most good looking heterosexuals, but that he freely smiled at male colleagues too. This gave me the opportunity to gaze into his unafraid eyes - for the merest split second at a time - and enjoy the sensation without causing offence or risking a punch on the nose! His return gaze would be friendly, but without the slightest hint of a homosexual "come-on". I would have bet anything that Peter was as straight as they come - and I now know that I was right. Gradually, over the months as we passed in corridors or shared the elevator, I pieced together what you might call his "inner profile". His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow, as they should be. Still, he wasn't one of those guys with "no ass", as there was enough meat in each buttock for a good handful, had I dared to accidentally bump into it. From his unbuttoned top button on hot days, I knew there was enough straight black hair on his broad chest to turn me on. And he had real biceps, with all the right curves. Some details were left to my imagination. Did his pubic hair extend in a line up to his chest hair, or was his belly bald? If the former was the case - I argued to myself - then what poked out of his open collar was really an extension of his pubic hair...that idea was good for a discharge or two... As for the sausage department, since Peter wore casual suits, and - I estimated - Y fronts, he didn't really give very much away. That it had bulk to it I was sure from certain outlines I had glimpsed on occasion. Also, a rounded knob-end sometimes protruded slightly, leading me to assume it was cut, though I never observed any hint of a Corolla (and I observed very carefully!). Further essential details - which as you know can mean the difference between an aesthetic penis and an ugly one -- remained what you might call "a closed zipper" to me, until one sunny Sunday afternoon... Oh locker rooms - the temples of homosexual desire! If you go swimming with friends, the locker room is simply an ante-room. You get undressed quickly and hurry to the pool. If you go alone you also have to move pretty quickly (or risk getting arrested) but with care you can get a juicy eyeful or two on the way. At any rate that is my policy on the rare occasions I go alone. As I paid for my entrance ticket, Peter suddenly slapped me on the shoulder! He was going swimming too! Apparently a group of friends with whom he usually went to a different pool had canceled, so he came here by himself, being nearer to where he lived, for the exercise. He kept up a fair torrent of conversation as we descended to the mens' locker room. Don't ask me what we talked about as we undressed, my whole mind - though not my eyes -- was focused right between his legs the whole time! He undressed as though it was a race, and was totally unconscious of any romantic side to the process. For my part my heart was thumping wildly. A hairy armpit came into view as he pulled his vest over his head. His pubic hair did run right up his tight belly in a delicate dark line! His chest was as well formed as the outline of his shirt had promised, and his nipples looked pink and vulnerable. I ached to reach out and touch the beautiful form before me but knew I could never do so. I tried to look casually this way and that to conceal my admiring glances at his body. Peter carried on oblivious. I really couldn't believe my good fortune. It's unfair really, a casual admiring woman friend would never be able to get this close...I thought to myself. Suddenly he was undoing his belt and I felt weak at the knees. It was a challenge to enjoy the view without getting hard. Interestingly he wasn't wearing Y-fronts today but boxers, and I was glad to note that they were a tasteful tartan. The fly had no button, and as he removed his trousers there was a pink flash as his maleness slipped slightly out and back into the open boxer fly. I savored every detail as the waistband of his boxers was ripped down, and suddenly he was naked before me, talking, smiling, even looking me in the eye. A "man among men" with no inhibitions. But what a dong! I'm sure I gasped when I saw it. It was medium thick, and about six inches, which was longer than I had anticipated. The cut knob was the full and rounded, the type I like. It flopped this way and that as he energetically moved around to get on his trunks. What a commando of a man! Although I was making great efforts to hide my interest, I found it incredible that he seemed totally oblivious to the effect he was having on me. Usually, even fully clothed men unconsciously start getting a bit hostile if another man looks too closely. I'd like to be able to write that Peter and I eventually got to know each other "better" but unfortunately it's not to be. We continue to greet each other at work, and his smile is as friendly as ever (leading me to believe that somehow he's never guessed.....) but he's as straight as a die! Still, that Sunday afternoon in the locker room has given me plenty of pleasant wanks, and I always hope we'll bump into one another there again some time.