Gay Erotic Stories

Whom I Created? Part 3 It's been more than a few years since Elexi, whom most "right-thinking" people among you will call my fantasy lover, and what a few out there may know to be something quite other than fantasy, came into being, enough time for me to gain a sense of his nature and, through him, a bit more about my own. I've been forced to consider it.... For one thing, he's beautiful; that's no surprise, since his sole purpose is to seduce, but I mean, he's beautiful in exactly the way I would have been powerless against, dark, exotic, in a way which suggests Middle-Eastern, perhaps distant Persian origins and nude sunbathing, an athletic physique complete with broad shoulders, a well defined torso, cut abdomen with a downy layer of light hair across his stomach, an "inny" navel, golden-brown fleece encircling a perpetually erect, cut---or, impossibly, uncut---cock of changing, sometimes outrageous proportions, long, yet muscular brown legs above naked feet I'd imagine are a size ten or eleven if ever they were enslaved by shoes, perfect hands, perfect arms, buttocks, which I've kissed by his demand in show of tribute (the term in Latin is osculum infame, or "kiss of shame"), which is exquisitely smooth, velvety, yet inexhaustibly powerful in its ability to drive his organ, like a piston, forever into his subjects' ass, mouth, vagina, whatever...and yet, in repose, his ass is also ideally, symmetrically semi-spherical, each orb... Look at Michelangelo's David, to get some sense of Elexi's face, as I've seen it; except for the dark hair, which hangs full but straight to the same lengths, it's all there. The Roman nose, the strong line of the jaw, the apparent inability to grow a beard, those full lips, the deep, dark eyes, he is classical... He is male beauty and strength as defined by the ancients... For you, he may appear altogether differently; Billy Idol, Elvis Presley, God only knows... or, as I suspect, like someone you already know, can't stop looking at, or wish you could have. Perhaps, you've already entertained him, unaware... Since coming to the conclusion that what Elexi is, as narrowly defined in the dictionary, is an Incubus---or, in India, a lamia---I've looked further into everything I can find for other pictures, wood prints, anything graphic, and found that no one depiction of his kind is ever, even remotely, the same. None have looked precisely like my Elexi, but all were undoubtedly male, and masculine in the extreme. One picture, except for the actual horns on the creature's forehead, would even qualify for Bear of the Month on some gay website, all thick and coarse and covered with hair. The female aspect of the spirit or demon is a succubus, but all the information in the world doesn't do justice to the actual experience of Elexi; academics don't cover what goes on in your body, your heart or in your head once you've invited something like him into your world... At his unspoken insistence, I destroyed the artwork, a poster-sized, one-of-a-kind Tarot card which I believe put the final cog into place, making him an occasionally physical entity; I was the perfect subject for his kind, youthful, a spiritual mutt, in the worst kind of heat at that age and proven suggestible and submissive from years of practicing hypnosis with my boyhood friend, Don, who, once I'd opened up the territory, used and folded me like a Gumby doll before going on to the kind of heterosexual intercourse that would be his preference. Elexi had found a vessel waiting to be filled in me, and now that you know one of his names, perhaps in some of you... That first time, it was, if not a dream, the most tangible waking hallucination I've ever had, complete with sounds, textures, smell---of roses, in that instance, but I've been delivered much more earthly aromas as well since then---and emotions. The next day, in Los Angeles, about a mile or two from LAX, I wandered around in a complete daze, weakened, muscles sore as from the kind of marathon fuck I wouldn't know from another mortal until another full year. The sun was out as I walked around, but it was cold, even for January. I'd tossed the Tarot into a fire and had been cold ever since, still picturing in my mind every detail of what I thought even then as a possession by Elexi, and wanting more of it in spite of myself. Without words, I knew that I would be led to my first all-out lover through his guidance, and that I'd be able to finally do with another guy what Elexi had done to me; I'd plenty of practice at sucking cock, loved it like crazy, and there wasn't a part of a guy I hadn't put my mouth or my hands on, even at that tender age, but I couldn't wait to have my ass used the way a woman's womb is used, or to have it craved by a man the way so many men crave pussy. It had already happened to me, in a sense, through this thing I couldn't really even believe, not rationally, yet through it, I knew that it was coming; it would happen; I would have it... It was promised... Flash Forward: A year later, at nineteen, I am in that same upstairs bedroom where I painted the Tarot and felt the earth shake with its completion, in the company of a dark-eyed, dark-haired, olive-skinned 22- or 23-year-old male, a Latin friend-of-a-friend who just happens to be, I discovered later, very into the occult. I'll call him Antony. He's naked, on top of me, also naked, not so much kissing me as eating my face out from the inside, it's so rabid, and we're both high on pot and drunk---yet not so drunk, at that age, that everything isn't in perfect working order---from a long night of celebrating St. Patrick's Day---and there's so much grinding and mutual exploration, his big, fat dick pushing like a third person in between us, that my brain can't even take in all the excellent sensations I'm experiencing. Antony's fingers, one, two, three, have already managed to insert themselves into me, and it's deliciously nasty, perfectly right. "I wanna fuck you, man..." he said between deep, heated breaths, taking his mouth up and off from mine. "I wanna fuck your ass, with my dick, for real...!" For real..? Not then, but later, his choice of words, not necessarily a giveaway, would come back to make me wonder, For real...? As opposed to what...? But I wanted it; I wanted him too much, and couldn't think past it, nor the feeling of his tongue lashing thickly against my neck, to just beneath my ear, the ferocity and pressure of it; he meant to have me, for real... "Oh, man, I want to... I just... don't know if I can..." "You're relaxed enough... Trust me. I've done this before..." "Okay..." The drinking, the pot, that he'd been working my ass for a time then, and how badly I WANTED to be fucked, to know I could do this for a man, for a man, as by then I'd already done to a woman (who was also older than me), all made it at last possible, as promised to me. Antony had a large, thick, ponderously heavy, rigid cock with a striking curve to it that I knew intimately from lots of oral worship; I could, in that darkness, see it in my mind's eye as he forcefully threw my legs up onto his shoulders, found my entrance, and pushed. My cherry kind of blinked, at first, but slowly opened as Antony inched his way a bit with each slow pump, then gradually sheathed himself completely inside of me. "YES...!" I yelled, feeling him clear up into my stomach, it seemed; even though my grandmother may or may not have been asleep downstairs, I couldn't contain myself as Tony began fucking me with all the unabashed, selfish pleasure the bed demands; it was a rough fuck in the best sense, brutal, with pulling and biting and tearing and some slapping; obscenities were unleashed upon me, words used, fingers pushed into my mouth for me to suck and lick until the hammering in my ass built up to a wash of my insides with the essence of Man. I lost my virginity, as Elexi had assured me I would, to a dark young man on the day we commemorate the death of a Celtic saint.... and I loved it...and him... There's more, way more to this, not all of it completely suitable to this forum; you see, Elexi has never completely left me alone, through the years since then; Antony himself took a dark control over my life for a number of years; the years since and a thousand miles distance haven't helped me to become completely free of the addiction to him.... Even now, in Oregon once again, I know I have to return to the City of Angels, to face a kind of personal devil. Elexi has given, and he's taken; he demands and, for the most part, I obey; the strings of coincidence are so numerous as to forge a web of certainty in my mind about him. He's the reason you are reading this; you know his name. Call him, if you dare, as he compels me to tell you. If you already have met or experienced him in some form----and he may have many---by all means, contribute that account here; it's only part of what he wants from you, though...