Gay Erotic Stories

I met most of my lovers in my mid-to-late twenties. I was almost 31 by the time I met Elliott. I had put aside my philandering ways (more or less) and was ready to settle down with Mr. Right. I thought I’d found him in Elliott. He was quite a bit younger than me, but it didn’t seem to bother him and it certainly didn’t bother me. And for two solid years, we had a good, loving relationship. But, eventually, the things that drew us together would be responsible for tearing us apart.

In time, his attention and devotion, which I so craved and adored, turned to jealousy and suspicion. He accused me of cheating on him on several occasions, which was completely untrue. He also accused me of dressing to seductively when we went out, which may have been true but wasn’t intentional. I thought he wanted me to look good for him and I had no problems being his trophy piece. This, combined with his quick-temper and irrationality, made for some nasty arguments.

To be fair, I wasn’t completely innocent of ruining our relationship. I felt it was my responsibility as the older man to teach and protect him. Elliott felt like I was smothering, babying, and patronizing him. I suppose, in retrospect, I was a little too controlling. I had only the best intentions.

We tried many times in those last few months to work it out, but the demise of our relationship was inevitable. It was over, but neither one of us was ready to break it off. I’d grown comfortable with Elliott and, more importantly, I really did care for him. I just didn’t love him anymore and I’m not sure I ever was. Around that time, the magazine was doing an entire issue on Rome and had dispatched all of their top writers and photographers to the capital city for the job – including me, Elliott and Jake.

Jake was our peacekeeper. For some reason, he wanted us to work things out. He used to joke, “If you guys break up, I’ll be the only kid at school with just one gay daddy.” It would take more than his wiseass remarks to keep us together. Throughout the trip, he’d find ways for us to be alone and spend some quality time together. It was an admirable gesture, but a doomed one. Every time, we’d end up arguing and storming off. One argument ended particularly well. We said some pretty nasty things to each other, the tamest of which was him calling me a two-timing, heartless fag, and me calling him a childish, life-draining bitch. It was just downright ugly.

I was a wreck. That wasn’t the way I wanted it to end. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t talk to Elliott – he was mad beyond reason and I was still pretty upset myself – but I also couldn’t leave things the way they were. Jake, in his infinite wisdom, suggested that he and I should go to a club, get drunk, pick up some chicks and get laid. Okay, so that was more his plan than mine, but he had the right idea. It would give me time to be alone to think things through then get drunk to forget them.

There was a short line at the club, for security check. Two muscle-bound Roman guards stood at the door patting down the club-goers as they approached. It seemed a bit odd, but I thought maybe they’d had problems with weapons and I felt safer knowing they were at least checking. They kept the line moving at least and, in no time, we were at the door ready for inspection.

“Spread your legs and hold your arms out,” one of the guards instructed me.

The other guard was a tall bruiser with a face that looked like it had one too many run-ins with someone’s fist. My guard, on the other hand, was shorter and much cuter. It was my pleasure to have him feeling all over me.

He started the normal process of patting me down: across the chest, around the back, down the sides, over my butt, down the outside of my legs, and back up the inside of my legs. His hands seemed to linger at my crotch much longer than they needed to. I looked at him, but there was no reaction or emotion on his face. He barely glanced at me with his steely blue eyes before waving me off and inspecting the next person in line. Maybe I had just imagined the whole crotch thing.

I soon forgot about the incident when I stepped into the club. The place was packed with beautiful people dancing and gyrating to the DJ’s killer beats. I love to dance and I could already feel the mesmerizing effects of the music on my body and my spirits. I looked around for Jake. He was already at the bar, hitting on a blonde with big bazookas, leaving me to fend for myself – so much for his moral support. It was just as well; I didn’t feel like having him hanging around anyway.

I muscled my way onto the crowded dance floor. There were arms and hands and crotches and breasts flying everywhere. I had faceless, nameless strangers groping me, and grinding their sweaty bodies against mine, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the music, getting lost in the loud, throbbing music. And once the rhythm took control, I forgot all about the groping; I forgot all about Jake ditching me for some buxom bimbo; and I definitely forgot all about Elliott. It was just me and the beat.

About twenty minutes into it, my musical meditation was disturbed by a pair of hands feeling all over my body. Unlike the pokes, prods, and gropes before, these hands were more deliberate in their task. The way those large, brawny arms wrapped around my body from behind and those big, powerful hands roughly massaged my chest was no accident; and the way those fingers pinched my erect nipples was definitely intentional.

I tried to turn around to see my brazen suitor, but he pulled me close to him and held me firmly in his tight embrace. Our bodies swayed back and forth in unison to the beat. I felt the heat of his powerfully built body against my back and the growing presence of his affection nestled against my ass. Our hips gyrated suggestively to the throbbing bass and I felt his lips brush against my spine. I cuddled up to him and let his hand creep down the front of my body to my already hardening package. He gave my equipment a firm squeeze. His touch felt mysteriously familiar.

We danced like that for a while – maybe even an hour – wrapped up in a steamy rhythmic embrace. Then, in the middle of the floor, for all eyes to see, my mystery lover slipped his hand inside my pants. The feel of his warm, rough skin against my dick almost set me off. His other hand clutched my heaving chest. He stroked my hardness until I started to leak and then he lifted his sticky fingers to my lips. I opened my mouth and accepted his slimy digits. I’d tasted my pre-cum before but I’d never had it fed to me.

“You like I touch your body?” the man whispered in my ear, in poor, thickly accented English.

I pulled his fingers out of my mouth and said, “Si, mi piace molto.” Yes, I like it a lot.

“Would you like I touch you all over?” he whispered.

“Si.”

He released me from his bear hold and led me off the dance floor. I still couldn’t see his face but I recognized that tight black T-shirt and those big, bulging arms anywhere. It was the guard who’d taken liberties with my equipment during the body check. I took some liberties of my own and checked out his assets as he forged on ahead of me. What an ass! The way his tight black jeans hugged his muscular mounds made my nuts ache. As he climbed the steps ahead of me I was put face-to-face with his tight buns. I wanted to reach out and bite them but decided to wait until we were alone.

He opened a door at the top of the steps and directed me inside. It was an office, of sorts. One tiny desk and chair sat alone in a corner to make room for the two large, bed-like, leather sofas. Throw in the dim lighting and the office took on more of a love grotto feel. The far wall was made entirely of glass and, through it, you could look out over the club. I looked down at the people milling about some 30 feet below.

While I was distracted by the view, my Italian lover sidled up behind me and pressed his body against mine.

“We see them but they no see us,” he said, his hands creeping up my side. “It will be like fucking in front of them.”

“Sounds kinky,” I said and spun around to face him.

I grabbed a hold of his T-shirt. He lifted his arms instinctively to let me peel the black cotton off of his beefy body. I expected him to be smooth but this Italian beefcake was covered in a short but thick coat of shiny, black fur. I tossed the shirt aside and ran my fingers through his chest hair. His nipples hardened immediately and poked out of their hairy nest. He wore a gold necklace with a pendant that lay nestled between his hefty, furry pecs. It read, “Nicolo.” I recited the name quietly to myself. So now I knew his name. I thought about introducing myself but it all seemed pointless when he started unbuttoning my shirt.

“You are very beautiful,” he commented as his fingers roamed my bare chest. “I think so when I see you in line then I watch you dance so sexy on the floor. I could not resist to touch you.”

He continued to undress me, first with his sparkling blue eyes then with his hands, until I was completely naked and my bare ass was pressed against the cold glass. The touch of glass was soon replaced by the feeling of his calloused hands grabbing my smooth ass.

He stood on tiptoes and kissed me. He kissed me like he had something to prove. His tongue was so far down my throat I almost choked on it. He grabbed my legs, wrapped them around his waist, and carried me over to one of the sofas. He broke off the kiss and flung me down into the soft, leather cushions. I looked up at him looking down at my naked body with a hunger in his eyes that I’d seen a time or two before. He never took his eyes off me, even as he kicked off his boots and unfastened his jeans.

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched the black denim peel away from his sturdy loins. The jeans fell away from his body and onto the floor, revealing an impressive eight-inch slab of Italian sausage. It was plumping up but still dangled freely between his legs, atop two low-hanging, furry, ping-pong ball sized nuts. I sat up to give his cock a good lick, just to see how big it would get, but Nicolo pushed me back down then rested his brawny body beside mine. His hand drifted down to my fully engorged dick. I’d been hard since we left the dance floor and, with one squeeze, he milked another clear drop of pre-cum out of me. He swirled it around the tip of my cock before lifting his thumb to his mouth and licking it clean.

“The first taste was for you. The rest are for me,” he said and slid down the sofa until his head hovered next to my dick.

His tongue flicked over the shiny, sticky tip. He hummed. Obviously he liked the taste because he soon had the entire head in his mouth and was excitedly sucking on it. I bit my lip and closed my eyes while Nicolo sucked my knob with all his might. Then, he took my balls in one hand and started stroking my pole with the other. I was in heaven with this beefy Italian stud servicing my ass tamer.

All the while, his balls were resting on my foot. As he got into the act of sucking my cock, his hips started to thrust back and forth. I wiggled my toes to increase the stimulation to his hairy nuts, which, in turn, made him thrust more wildly. Soon, he was feverishly humping my leg and moaning loudly.

Nicolo let go of my balls and parted my ass cheeks. He pressed a finger against my manhole and it instinctively opened up to accept him. It hurt a little as his fat finger drilled into my dry ass – not enough for me to want him to stop though. A little pain can be arousing, you know. Such was the case with me as my dick jumped and swelled in Nicolo’s mouth despite his rough and raw fingering.

There was no grace or finesse in his actions, which, strangely enough, was a turn-on in itself. I loved the untamed way in which he jabbed my ass with his finger – there was nothing fancy about it, but it got the job done. He didn’t use any extravagant tongue or lip maneuvers. Hell, he never even took more than an inch or so of my dick into his mouth, but I was hard and on the edge at all times. And he didn’t make a sound – no grunting, no moaning, no slurping – but I made more than enough noise for the both of us. Yeah, his bare-minimum blowjob and crude finger fuck had me on cloud nine and kept me there for almost thirty minutes, slowly building up the pressure.

“Uhhh… I’m going to cum!” I warned.

Nicolo continued to suck on my pole and finger my hole, coaxing the cum out of me and straight into his mouth. It was a powerful orgasm that rocked me from head to toe. It had been a while since I’d popped off so I blew a killer load into his mouth. He took every drop.

I watched Nicolo slide his lips off of my slowly deflating tip. He gave me a closed-lip grin then pulled his finger out of my ass. Then, he lifted my legs up and forward until I was bent almost in half and my knees were on either side of my head. I never knew I was that flexible. Nicolo stood up, looked down over my upturned ass and opened his mouth. The cum that I thought he had swallowed poured off of his tongue and onto my shitter. Seeing that was enough to make me pop another boner.

He pushed the cum into my ass with his finger, coating my insides with my own thick load. Then he slid in a second finger to get me opened up. Two of Nicolo’s fingers were thicker than most of the dicks I’d been fucked with. After a few minutes of ass-splitting, two-digit fingering, my ass was nicely stretched and well lubed, and I was horny as shit.

“I would like fucking you now,” he said. It was more of a request than a statement – like I was going to say no.

“Yeah, Nicolo, fuck me,” I pleaded, clamping down on his fingers as they continued to loosen me up.

I’d need loosening up too. I looked up to see him aiming his very hard, very thick, nine-and-a-half inch slab of uncut Italian salami at my ass, and felt my first twinge of concern. It was too late to turn back now; all I could do was brace myself for the invasion. He pulled back the foreskin and pressed the fat head against my already tortured pucker. I felt every excruciating inch of that monster plowing into me as he bore his wait down onto me.

Blood was rushing to my head and it was hard to breath, but the pleasure of being filled by the beefy Italian far outweighed the discomfort. Once he had his dick buried deep in my bowels and had given me a minute to adjust, he started fucking me properly. He rested his body against the back of my legs and started pounding my ass like a jackhammer. Every spine-jolting thrust drove another breath and squeal out of my already compressed lungs.

Nicolo was ramming my ass with such force and speed I figured he’d blow his load really quickly. That wasn’t the case. He had the stamina of a marathon runner and owned my ass for a good thirty minutes and still didn’t show signs of fatigue or orgasm. He was grunting and cursing as he laid waste to my tired ass. Sweat dripped of his brow and landed on my lips. I licked my mouth, wishing I could lap up the salty liquid from his furry stomach and chest.

Just when I didn’t think I could take anymore of his brutal fucking, Nicolo’s once beautiful face contorted into a grotesque grimace. His grunts grew into growls delivered between tightly clenched teeth and he started thrusting slower and more forcibly. I felt his cum, like hot syrup, coat my insides. He continued to plow into me, driving his spunk deeper and deeper into my bowels. Then his body stopped trembling, his dick stopped throbbing, and the cum stopped flowing. He pulled his big, floppy dick out of my cum-filled ass then collapsed on the sofa. I uncurled and rested my legs over his.

We lay there, gasping for air and reeling from the incredible sex. As I slowly regained my senses, I realized that my dick was rock hard again and really needed some attention. I reached down to stroke it, but knew I needed something tighter and hotter wrapped around it. I sat up and looked at Nicolo who looked like he was about to fall asleep. His balls were resting on mine and his dick lay wet, limp and lifeless on top of his stomach. I had just the plan to bring both of them back to life.

I scooted back to give myself room to play. I sucked my middle finger to get it good and slippery then eased it gently between Nicolo’s ass cheeks. He stirred slightly then relaxed. I wiggled my finger between his tightly clenched buns then slid it back and forth until I found his hole. He opened his eyes and stared at me with bewilderment. He looked stunned, but I noticed he wasn’t pulling away.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m trying to wake you up so we can play some more. Surely you’ve got a little energy left.”

I wiggled my finger some more until the tip penetrated his tightly sealed anus. He gasped and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Nobody ever touch me there before,” he mumbled.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, twisting my fingertip around the entrance to his cherry hole.

“N-no.” His whole body suddenly relaxed and my finger plunged into his unused depths.

I fingered him for a bit, but I really wanted to taste that freshly opened ass of his. “Turn over,” I commanded. “Lie on your stomach.”

He nervously, but obediently, turned face-down on the sofa. I was once again face-to-face with magnificent ass. I bent over and bit it, firmly, like I’d wanted to before. Nicolo jumped.

“Just relax,” I said.

I rubbed his solid ass cheeks then parted them to take my first look at his tender virgin hole. It wasn’t hard to believe that this specimen of manliness had never had his ass worked over and it would be my honor to be the first.

I dove into it, parting the fine hairs with my tongue and taking the first lick of his untainted flesh. Nicolo moaned loudly and lifted his hips off the sofa, completely offering his ass to me. I lapped at his spongy inner flesh; it quivered fitfully from the sensation then opened up to my wiles. My tongue snaked its way up his chute.

Nicolo was moaning and mumbling something in Italian. He was enjoying his first rimming almost as much I enjoyed giving it to him – I couldn’t get enough of his tasty ass. I chewed and sucked and licked and probed his bung with my tongue.

I grudgingly pulled my lips off his ass and looked at the mess I’d started. His shithole was dripping with my saliva; the dark hairs were matted around the luscious pink center. I sucked on my index finger then pressed it against his tiny clincher and wiggled it in. He was tight but willing, and his ass slowly swallowed up my entire digit.

Nicolo’s breath was growing more ragged as I poked around inside his squishy tunnel. Thinking about invading his pristine opening got my dick so hard it hurt. I humped the inside of his leg trying to get some relief, but I wouldn’t be satisfied until my schlong was buried deep in his ass.

I sucked on the index finger on my other hand and slid it in beside the first one. I opened up the soft, pink hole with my fingers then spit in it. His ass quickly drank up the saliva and opened up for more. I spit in it again and again until it pooled up at the opening. He was as ready as he needed to be.

I climbed up on his ass and pushed my rod into him. It was tight going all the way and I could hear Nicolo quietly muttering something. He buried his face in the cushion and let out a muffled shriek when I tapped 10-inches deep into his hairy, Italian ass. What a thrill to have my cock buried in the tight confines of that man – someone who’d probably topped all his life finally taking MY dick in the ass. Amped up by the thought of it, I supported myself on his broad, muscular back and started to hammer his hole.

He whimpered and moaned like a baby. I was kind yet unforgiving in my powerful thrusts – giving him enough to let him know that I could fuck like the best of them, but not so much that he couldn’t enjoy it as much as I was. With my first orgasm out of the way, I was in this for the long ride. My hips tirelessly slapped against his taut ass until it was red and my legs were aching with fatigue. I pulled out of him and rolled over to a sitting position. Feeling bold, I patted my lap and said, “Come sit right here.”

Like a druggie scrambling for his next fix, Nicolo scurried to his feet and positioned himself in front of me with his back to me. Straddling my legs, he lowered himself on my dick with a sigh of satisfaction. By now, his ass fit my cock like a broken-in glove and, in no time, he was bouncing on my rigid pole, gratifying his yearning to have dick up his ass. I’d claimed him and he’d never be the same again.

I was transfixed by the sight of my shiny dick sliding in and out of his ass. It was like a scene from a porno movie. He rode my cock faster as my orgasm grew near and continued the breathtaking pace even as I erupted in his guts. Even as my cum dripped out of his ass, down my dick and onto my balls, he continued to bounce on my lap. Suddenly, he sat full on my hips with my dick as far up his chute as it could go and shuddered out his second orgasm all over the plush carpet.

I sunk back into the cushions while he leaned forward to catch his breath. A few minutes later Nicolo stood up. My sagging cock slipped out of his ass and onto my stomach. He reached for his clothes and quickly started dressing. Taking his cue, I grabbed my clothes and carelessly threw them on.

When I was done, I walked over to the door where he was patiently waiting. He had a pleasant, satisfied smile on his face.

“I wish we could play again but I must go back to work now. You will return tomorrow, no?”

“Sure,” I answered and gave him a sloppy kiss to clinch the deal.

We exited the room and walked back down to the club floor. Anyone who cared would have known what we’d done – if not from our disheveled appearance and sleepy grins of contentment, surely from the smell of sex that radiated from our bodies. But nobody cared… well, almost nobody.

Elliott was standing at the bar, watching Nicolo and I descend from our love nest above the club. I didn’t want another scene, another argument; I just wanted to get the hell out of there, but Elliott squashed those plans. Before I could get to the bottom of the stairs, he was there waiting for me.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” he yelled.

He tugged the ring off his right hand and tossed it at me. It bounced off my chest and hit the ground with a loud clang. Before it could teeter to a halt, he was gone. I picked it up, put it in my pocket and walked out of the club, leaving Nicolo stunned and confused.

I didn’t chase after Elliott; what would be the point? I wasn’t going to insult his intelligence with some half-assed lie about how I accidentally fucked Nicolo. I did it, I enjoyed and I would end up doing it again the next day. Yes, it’s cruel. Yes, I was an asshole. I loved Elliott in my own way, and I would have preferred a different ending but, either way, our relationship was over. It was over long before I fucked Nicolo.

The next day, Elliott checked out of the hotel, returned to the States, and quit his job at the magazine all in a matter of eight hours. I never heard from or saw him again. He was much more mature about our breakup than I’d anticipated. I expected my name would be in shambles by the time I returned, but that wasn’t the case. The only people who knew the truth about our breakup was me, him, and poor Nicolo. And that’s the way it stayed…until now.