Gay Erotic Stories

Foolish, to think I could get away from Elexi, to believe I could get away from Elexi, to believe I could fail to heed his call or refuse the gifts which that most earthly of entities has to offer; more foolish still was I, for thinking I wanted to do so.

The image of a twenty-one year old Satanist, a tall handsome metal guitarist, his bare face and shoulder buried into a purple Zodiac-themed bed linen, his pale mounds of ass jutting up before me as he inserts a universally recognized religious icon into his rectum is yet vivid in my mind---and, lest I forget, I possess the photos he insisted upon. Nor will I likely fail to recall his words following our homoerotic encounter, having tasted the gift of his seed. "You've made me feel very special..."

I thought to exorcize myself of the uncanny influence, mine and yet not mine, which attracted this youthful Aries into my very immediate sphere, managing only to estrange him back into the course of his primarily heterosexual existence. At this writing, some years later, he yet bears my mark upon his forearm in the tattoo of a naked witch astride a broom, sailing across the full moon in the company of winged bats...

Fast forward a year or so, and the lad's uncle, another musician, also deeply immersed in the occult arts and, though older than his nephew, still my junior by more than a decade, contacts me with gifts and overtures, deciding, he said, to finally, fully acknowledge his true sexual nature and to get clean (in recovery, as I am, abstinent from drugs or alcohol), and would I like to get together...?

The uncle, whom I shall simply call John, a heavy-metal-and-blues guitarist of excellent talent, and a dark magician in devoted practice, and I visited a sunlit cemetery of great age on or adjacent to the University of Oregon on our first venture out, killing some time prior to a gay and straight Twelve-Step meeting held near there. It was the first of many such visits to burial sites, hallowed grounds and other realms, which exist, in essence, well outside the commonplace, defying easy description.

John is beautiful, handsome, fair-skinned, with penetratingly blue eyes and, until recently, a gorgeous wealth of golden brown (now dyed, by my hand at his request, gothic black) hair going clear down to his tattooed shoulder blade, and he possesses a deep voice which accurately promises strength coming from well below that... From the meeting, we returned to his second-story apartment after sunset. Nothing had yet happened physically between us, nor was I certain it would. I should have known better, quickly taking in as I did the trappings of an occult devotee, including an altar complete with a large paper machier Sabbatic goat's head centered on a space draped with black cloth, encircled and framed by a downward-pointing pentagram.

Anyone else might have been shocked or at least surprised, but this is my life, my world, the Path of the Left Hand on which I was set even in my callow youth by Elexi---so I took note of the altar and was moved by it, as well as by hanging masks of Santa Ria, another aspect of shadow magic, a kind of Voodoo most common to Central and South America. It was an eclectic setting, which included a state-of-the-art personal computer.

We got to know each other somewhat better, though we'd been loosely acquainted through his nephew for over a year. It was, in fact, the betraying self-proclaimed female witch of a previous account who had introduced us, so he knew something of my tale---mention of which suggested I bring him through his electronic oracle through cyberspace to this location, where I proceeded to further enlighten him by exposing John to "Whom I Created?" ----a true chronicle of the strange journey I'd traveled thus far.

We were both seated on the floor, doubtless in the half-lotus position which was to become our habit, he slightly behind me, my face focused on his ghostly lit monitor; it was while interpreting a part of the story to him aloud that John spoke my name. I turned--and found myself engaged in a kiss from him which quickly became open-mouthed, effectively shutting me the hell up.

I responded, placing a firm hand behind his neck, pulling him in and returning the invitation two-fold, indeed finding myself at once leaning in and then ultimately covering him, my hands delving beneath his T-shirt, touching his chest, reaching around to his back and then down of their own accord, seeking and finding the topmost cleavage of smooth, firm globes of ass, all without spoken words between us.

It was then, miraculously, against all natural reason, I pulled back despite my passion and insisted we halt at that point. Whether the result of my previous involvement with John's nephew and the estrangement which had followed, or because I needed to re-examine my resolve against consorting with potentially arcane forces gave me pause, I do not know. This burgeoning friendship mattered to me, and there was even some hesitation around my "Thirteenth Stepping" someone in such early recovery---but, with great control, I asked that he and I wait a single day, a mere twenty-four hours before going further with this most compelling development. "I may regret this," I said honestly, "but I'd prefer to err tonight on the side of reason, no matter how incredibly hot you are, how hot you're making me. If this is truly meant to be between us, that will still be true tomorrow night, won't it?"

He is nothing if not a thinker himself, and agreed, apparently already pleased or satisfied that evening with my clearly desirous reaction to his courageous move. It then quickly became necessary for me to leave, that I might hold onto my resolve---but not before making of him one plea, that he leave the mark of his mouth on the left side of my neck . He readily complied; the act was itself, for me, thrilling, as I love to be so aggressively assaulted in so sensitive a region of my body, and the bruise would serve to weigh, I knew, against the fear-based reluctance on my part to move onto the next level...

There was, for me, a feeling of some quiet destiny between us, that he would or could become a person of some great importance in my life---surely a case of precognition---and I've come to heed the gift of Sight whenever I know it for what it is; it was this recognition which would daunt me, were it not for the proprietary, purple smudge I found on my neck later that night and the following morning in the mirror...

****

It came to pass the following night, after contemplating, after a full day at work's lusty imagining and anticipation, that I returned to his door and knocked, immediately rewarded by the greeting of a tall, well-built young man of nearly exquisite proportions attired in no more than his blue jean cut-off short shorts. His abundance of mane fell golden-brown around his handsome face like that of a character described in an Anne Rice fable about beautiful immortals. His voice---and for my life I cannot recall what either of us actually spoke in the moments before we commenced---was deep and warm, of a timbre that causes one to dream of hearing it issue intimacies.

If there were a choice between his vast California King-sized bed in the studio apartment or the nearer couch which adjoined the Sabbatic altar, that choice was made in favor of haste and the urgency of my hard cock straining for release from my clothing.

We kissed, as before, his naked back to the goat's head; it looked down upon me as I felt the oh, so familiar spirit's silent arrival; I entered the heightened, wholly instinctive state of the sex trance, taking John down as I consumed his available living flesh, my hands delighting in the feel, the shapes and muscles of his smooth physique---sharing the sensation, and the play of emotions even as I was guided in the manner which most pleased all of us present the most.

What manner of invisible company my partner in that moment kept, I could not say, but there was un unequivocal audience about us, the confluence of two endowed practitioners and their powers which took on an air, for me, of something akin to astral exhibitionism. I, for one, was imbued with a desire to show off, not only for John---whose pleasure was of the utmost importance to me, as his new lover---but, too, for the horned voyeur gazing stonily down upon us, for Elexi, who had brought me to this place, this time, this mage and musician...

Know the joy of grinding mutual hardness against one another through denim before the presentation of each other's dicks as we did, those few among you who have not done so already; our kissing tongues and every contact between us was all the more intensified and demanding for the one day and these pressing moments of delay, expectation.

My shirt off, as well as my shoes and socks, the latter removed unnoticed as though by the hands of another, I rose up and in one deft series of economic moves found myself utterly naked, my velvety-downed ass astride his bare chest as I introduced my mate's wide-eyed face to that which his mouth must lovingly attend. I am cut, nearly seven inches in length and was profoundly rigid to the point of diagonal climb as I needlessly urged John how to proceed. If first impressions are of importance, it is fair to say by my own responses and those of his body, his most excellent cock within easy grasp and manipulation behind me, that we were more than sufficiently moved...

He did everything I told him; I answered his every suggestion. Though I was here for his maleness, which is indisputable, and he expressly for my strength, the forces which guided me---including the sinister-looking countenance of the Sabbatic goat (who, at the very least, witnessed my smile)---led me to conduct myself as I would with a desirable lady who wanted nothing more than to be treated as a wanton whore. So it was that first night; I fucked him several ways before ever we made love, exploring that passive, most floral side of his nature, treating him as I would wish to be if in that mode, all the while building up to the time, later, in his expansive bed, when we would share raw, guttural orgasms, mine up inside his silken womb as it were, his while riding me, seed flying across the path of hair on my stomach...

The intensely physical side of our partnership endured nine months, a nurturing relationship lasting fully three months longer than his loving affair with the woman who followed me in his dedication. How it all changed, becoming what we are today, a unique friendship and continued exploration into realms "not dreamt of in your philosophy," as Shakespeare put it, remains a matter for another telling---but worth that telling, I believe.

Suffice it to say that, whatever the true nature of Elexi--whether as much Angel as Devil, Daemon or Spirit---which I continue to experience, research and examine even as he continues to effect changes in me, he whom I took to be an Incubus (and still may prove to be), those changes are real. His power continues to mold me, to make demands upon me, and imbue me with benefits, much of which I would divulge in this rare forum, as in my own personal Book of Shadows, very soon... So mote it be.