Gay Erotic Stories

My regular athletic activities blessed me with a handsome, naturally muscled physique, very masculine and hot for my young age, if I do say so myself. My Polish farm-boy genes didn't hurt, either. Back in high school, being naked with about twenty other guys four or five days a week inevitably led to some curiosity and sexual experimentation. Mostly it was mutual jack-off stuff, with some cock sucking and ass tonguing thrown in from time to time. That sex play, however, made one thing clear to me. I knew what I wanted; I wanted cock, not pussy. I needed hot, wet, sweaty, juicy man-sex. I was gay and I accepted it, but I also knew that I had to be low-key and quiet when I pursued it.

Back then, I always looked forward to stripping-down in the locker room and showering with these studs. I liked being naked and seeing other guys naked, too. I especially liked to watch those who strutted around in their jocks, or completely butt-assed naked, sporting dicks that were half-hard and starting to dribble pre-cum. They filled the locker room with the aroma of fresh testosterone. And more than a few of these studs glanced at, and admired, one another’s newly matured manhood. Their stoic expressions tried to hide the desire that gleamed in their eyes and sent blood rushing to their loins, but their quickening breath and tumescent manhood always gave them away.

Of my high school varsity baseball teammates, those who loudly bragged about getting lots of cooze were usually the most turned-on by our male bonding locker room ritual. Some of these studs would even put their fingers up to another’s nose, claiming the smell of last night’s pussy stank was still present and would prove the validity of their locker room tale. Afterwards, they would all laugh loudly and jokingly sniff each other’s fingers, causing more than a few cocks to bulge and dribble pre-cum.

Sometimes late, after everyone else was gone, I would go to a dark, hidden area of that jock sanctuary and beat my cock raw thinking about these hot young fuckers and what I had just seen. The place would smell great, too. Steam and stud-sweat thickly hung in the air. My nostrils would fill with that wonderful, distinctive man-smell of stud-crotches. And sometimes, if I inhaled deeply, it almost seemed like my face was buried in their pubes. I imagined I was nuzzling-up against black crotch hair and a swollen, dripping log that was ready to explode sperm.

And explode sperm, I did. Time and time again. During those solo, forbidden jack-off sessions, cumming felt so good I thought my teeth were going to come out my prick. The skin under the head of my cock got rubbed-raw from the relentless stroking. Back then, I thought of virtually nothing but jock cock and cum each and every day. I even fantasized about playing baseball and taking the field with my face covered in jizz from all eight of my teammates. I imagined playing the whole game, my face cum-soaked and dripping. totally spermed by my jock buddies. Everyone--my fellow jocks, teachers, parents, other students--would stare at me and know what had happened. They‘d know what all that goo was and know what I did to get it. They would know I was nothing more than a sperm-loving dick-pig.

However, all of those horny desires were out of mind and behind me since I began my studies at the University of Iowa. The constant beating-off and obsession with cock that consumed me in high school had stopped. Stopped…until I met Tony.

After delaying me for so long, student housing at the University of Iowa finally found me a bed at Larue Hall. I was to share a dorm room with Tony. Never did I imagine that our chance pairing by the housing office--Tony, a straight All-American wrestler on Iowa's NCAA championship team and me, a gay former high school baseball jock with a Mike Piazza ass-- would result in the hottest, sweatiest sex-action of my entire life. No way could I have predicted that rooming with Tony would introduce me to sex so hot that I found myself craving things and doing things which, in the light of day, seemed impossible and even revolting. Things I craved with no one except Tony.

When I first laid eyes on Tony, my knees went weak at the sight. He was the hottest damn fucker I had ever seen. As a high-school baseball jock who had seen, and been naked with, other jocks since I sprouted pubes, I had hairy-palmed knowledge of many amazing physiques. I knew how to publicly hide my feelings, while privately beating my meat raw. But with this All-American wrestler, the ultimate jock-stud, I didn't know if I could keep up my practiced front. In reality, keeping down my front, rather than keeping it up, was my biggest concern. "Up" happened, whether I wanted it to or not.

And meeting Tony seemed to be all about sex from the get-go. What an introduction I had that first day! Lying on his bed, Tony held an opened Penthouse magazine with his left hand, while the right rested tentatively on a muscled, hairy thigh. His every pore dripped maleness and sex. Tony wore nothing but tight, white jockeys which were half-pulled down, exposing a good inch of wiry, black pubes, and barely concealing his thick, bulging log beneath. One of his plum-sized balls dangled free from its cotton chamber, begging to be released of its spermy nectar. He was panting. His breathing was fast, short and shallow. I had barged-in on a jack-off session! Tony attempted to brush aside my interruption of his sacred ritual. He smiled bravely and nodded a greeting. But I knew what I saw. I saw an amazing man-stud in the throes of sexual self-satisfaction sprawled before me. My cock went rock hard. I'd never been so horny for anyone in my life. My senses sucked-in the sight and smell of the sex-aroused sweat that glistened on Tony's perfectly-muscled wrestler's body. I felt like I just had a hit of poppers and the room began to spin.

How could I actually live with this guy? I was afraid he would know my every thought and desire just by the expression on my face--and the telltale bulge and wet spot on my pants. How could I study with him in the room? How could I keep my eyes off of him? How could I hide my lust when my boner always betrayed me? Despite these fears, and because of my unquenchable lust, I became Tony’s roommate. And to my amazement, in no time, we settled into a routine. I pretended to study and ignore the sex-cravings I had for Tony. He pretended not to notice my lust and went about his business as usual.

For Tony, business as usual included wearing nothing but jockeys in our room, and reading every copy of Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler he could get his hands on. On many nights, no more than five feet away from my object of lust, I pretended to read my textbooks while lying in my bed, constantly stealing glimpses of the almost naked Tony right beside me--the perfect specimen of all things masculine. I watched as his cock would swell, aroused by the magazine images of wet-split beaver and over-sized tits that hypnotized him. Every so often his bulging cockhead plopped out of his underwear for me to admire. I could see a few drops, then a steady flow, of clear, syrupy pre-cum oozing seductively from the tip of Tony's beautiful beer-can cock. The more the pictures of pussy turned him on, the faster his clear, ropey syrup would flow.

Typically he jacked-off only when the lights were out or I wasn't in. But he wasn't at all shy about letting me see his goods. Once Tony even offered to share his mags with me and suggested we read them together. Even though I was tempted, the thought of it freaked me out. If Tony knew the truth, I feared, if he knew how much I lusted after him, how much I wanted to lick his pits, sniff and nuzzle his sperm-engorged balls, wrap my lips around his thick, veiny wrestler's cock and suck every last drop of life out of him, he'd be furious. He might even get me thrown out of the dorm. I had to hide the truth. So I told him "no thanks," I wanted to study.

One day when Tony was at wrestling practice, I noticed the pile of dirty laundry near his bed and got an idea. Confident that he wouldn't return for at least an hour, I began to go through his clothes and in no time came across some of those lucky jockey shorts that caressed and nuzzled his cock and balls daily. I put the dirty shorts to my face and took a deep whiff. Aaaaaaah! Instantly, I spermed my pants. It was the most intense, ball-draining, pleasurable cum-load I ever shot in my life.

So, this became my regular, secret release. Whenever Tony was out of the room, I went through his laundry. I sniffed and licked the yellow-stained pits of his t-shirts and underwear. I rubbed my face on the inside of his jeans and gym shorts. I savored every inch of his tight, wrestling jersey--searching it for spit or sweat stains, which belonged to him or his opponent. But his worn jocks and jockeys were the real prize. At first I just sniffed them until their smell was gone. But soon I looked for hardened, crusty spots that I knew were Tony's dried pre-cum or maybe even sperm. I licked those crusty spots until they were no more. I went after his yellow piss stains, too. If I was truly lucky, I'd come across a few pubic hairs. I'd keep the little treasures in my mouth and roll them around my tongue. Then I would swallow them down. I even began checking Tony's jockeys for the occasional little brown skid mark. If I found one, I'd lick and lick the cotton until the mark was gone. I loved the taste of every bit of him. I couldn't get enough.

My obsession with Tony and everything this stud’s hot body excreted continued. But, one day I found something completely unexpected. There, amid Tony’s usual pile of dirty laundry, was a wet, gooey, wad of latex. I studied it closely. At first it was puzzling, but then it hit me. It was a used rubber--one of Tony's! Without a moment's hesitation, I popped it in my mouth and began to chew. Tony's wrestler-jock balls had emptied one big mother load of sperm in that latex pouch. The stud's thick, white pearl jam covered it from top to bottom, inside and out. I slurped and swallowed like a crazed animal starving for food. Soon the room began to spin and I felt like I would passout. Nevertheless I chewed and chewed and chewed, snarling like a starving dog getting the last scraps of meat. I didn't stop this heated frenzy until I was sure all of the man-juice was gone from the wad of latex I now rolled around my tongue. I tried to catch my breath. But the wonderful taste and smell of Tony's spermy rubber pushed me over the edge. My chest heaved and I blew a heavy load of man-juice all over my hands and thighs. It was one helluva sticky mess. But even after cumming, I waa still hot. I never felt anything so intense before. In no time I blew a second, then a third load before I finally was spent. A triple-header--a new personal record! I was in meat beater heaven.

Just then, the dorm room door opened. Oh no, Tony was back! My wrestler jock roommate caught me smack in the middle of the dirtiest of my dirty deeds.

(To be continued)