Gay Erotic Stories

Having returned from Istanbul this summer, I had more words to tell than those pictures I returned with from the Blue Mosque and Haggia Sophia Church (once mosque and know museum). First, Turkey is a friendly country of oriental delights. It is not an exaggeration to say that Turks deserve their reputation for being hospitable and generous with their time and bodies. I am a not so young Chicano male with an indulgent body. Let's just say that there is more of me today than in previous years. I assumed in Turkey I would have to find the rent boy section of town in order to indulge in the kind of males I was accustomed too in my twenties.

Being a Moslem country, Turkey does most of its sexual entertainment in a very low-key manner. Nevertheless, you can find what you need if you look and of course, if it isn't in a neighborhood near a local mosque...respect is everything in Turkey...and human nature and inclination is equally affirmed! I went to the newer section of town early evening to look for clubs, not so much to enter as much as find the location of some needy street worker that might spend some time with me. Now I 'm not a cad in all this, reader, I am very much aware of the saying, "poverty makes for a great aphrodisiac." And I for one do not want to be the ugly American...even though the Turks did not perceive my Chicano looks and demeanor as American. My luck ran dry this evening. I peeked into a couple of places but was not willing to pay the cover, nor enter a world of mostly twenty and thrity-somethings, me being the troll sitting in the corner. I returned to my smallish hotel to lick my self-inflicted wounds...what a drag to be an oldie in OZ...

I arrived by taxis about four blocks from the place when I stopped the driver and asked to be let off in front of the Blue Mosque. It was a warm night, as usual, too early for the personal ritual and bed, I decided to walk around the park next to the historic mosques, called the Hippodrome...yes, it was the Roman site for races, now a quiet, unlighted park were good Muslim families stroll ‘til around 10pm in the summer. Now it was just me and a few older men on benches talking and sharing pistachios, walnuts and Turkish Delight, a not so rare soft candy. I, the foreigner, stood out in this late night gathering. I kind of looked like them but everyone knew I wasn't from there. They usually assumed I was Spanish, or Italian...I was sitting on a bench near one of the few lampposts working in the park, drinking bottled water, thinking about what I wish I could be doing, when a group of not so Turkish men passed me by…a few greeting me in Arabic, I just nodded my head...Near Eastern people are very respectful in general...long beards, white long shirts and skull caps, for sure signaled their conservative religious background. Next, a young family passed me by, a youngish man in the same grab, a woman wearing a scarf, and their baby in a not so Turkish stroller.

.The young father with his handsome beard face smiled and nodded as the others had...and I did likewise twice for him and his wife. I must have looked obviously foreign, and out of my context at this time and place in this both ancient and modern great city. Reader, I should tell you that I never felt threatened, or in any danger. Being Chicano and different looking from European-Americans, I was perhaps exempt from any hostile feelings…though the Turks in general are truly pro-Western. I kept my hunting instinct secret because I know that safety only goes do far in some countries!

The night was growing old and I decided to journey back to my hotel. Shop keepers were closing their Kilim shops (rugs, rugs, and more rugs), cafes serving their last small glasses of apple tea, and most of the younger men, would-be tour guides and shop-scouts, were finishing their well earned dinners. A burly handsome man made eye contact with me as I passed his shop of ceramic globes and ancient looking copper pots. I want to stop but I was sure the look was driven by the need for one last sale! A younger man-boy, maybe eighteen looked at me with curiosity, as I pass, and hesitated to approach me as I walked by. Was it too late? Where there too many eyes watching? Was the mosque too close to chance a sin?

I turned and took a step toward a side street that was unfamiliar. An older street…and this was saying much in a city like Istanbul. Wrong direction! But I was sure I could find a connecting street ahead. How can you get lost when the two largest mosques in the world are only a block away! Follow the spires! I kept walking and finally, reaching the corner noticed an open courtyard hidden by a gate and vines. The gate was opening as I passed which at first prompted me to move faster, not in fear but just to get ahead of the night's intruder. I was surprised when a heavily accented English greeted me from the vines, "Good evening, Sir!"

I turned and found the face of the young father I had seen earlier at the park. I said, "Hello!" in my casual American vocabulary, "How's it going?" The young man smiled and nodded and asked if I was lost. I agreed with his estimate of the situation and smiled. He asked if he could help me…not unusual for Turks…and I said I just needed to find my hotel on a street that I still cannot pronounce nor remember. He closed the gate and walked with me, showing me a short cut through this ancient corner of the historical area.

His English was understandable but not great... better than my Turkish. He was originally from a distant part of the country where customs are more traditional and religion reigned. He said he liked Istanbul for its diversity and opportunities. I was warming up to him but I though myself crazy for even thinking of lust! As I approached my hotel, I thanked him and asked if he was returning home or was going somewhere else. He smiled and said that in fact he was returning here to pick up the hotel's laundry for his mother to wash. I was surprised. I recalled then that I had once seen him bringing a bundle of what looked like table clothes to the small hotel. His friendliness at the park was warranted.

I wanted to say something more but I was losing any meaningful ways for continuing this conversation. Lost in though for a second, I looked up and saw that smile and those knowing eyes that I was homesick for...when you're in a foreign country you just can't read all the signals. "I have a key for the back door!" I didn't know if he was excusing himself and leaving, or inviting him to follow.

Then he offered, "Come with me." I closed the half opened front door quietly, was it 2AM...and followed him around the corner of the building. A service entrance lay ahead and looking both directions, he entered and I followed. In side was a smallish room with carpets on the floor, a sofa and a kitchen table in the corner. On the other end of the room, a staircase led up into the hotel, and bins of dirty clothes and table clothes were waiting his arrival. He locked both doors, from the top of the staircase and behind him. Then he turned to me and took and placed my thumb into his mouth, sucking it, and slowly moved my other hand to the front of his long shirt, to the trapped bulge, and made me grab it. Yes, he wanted this as much as I did.

He pulled me toward the carpeted floor up to the sofa and had me on all fours between his legs as he prompted himself up against the old couch. I continued to rub my face on his clothed body and finally he lifted up his long white shirt and led me closer to my prize. I could tell that his cock and nuts were cushioned by thick dark curly hairs. I wetted the front of his pants as I licked and bit his budge and he moaned in a Turkish moan that made my cock drip! I wanted to eat him; smell his every smell, taste the salt of his skin, clean him with my needy tongue.

I started to remove his old sandals and he willing removed his shirt and pushed down hard on his pants and shorts to let me delight in his early thirties year old body. Dark and hairy in all the right places...thick mat on his chest, arm pits, hairy knuckles and toes, and heavily furred every where around his cock and nuts...I dived into it with lust and ran my nose and tongue in that hair, lifting his right leg, as he shifted positions to allow me access under his hairy nut sack…more moans. His fingers in my hair pushed my head into his crotch. Turkish words of delight licking my ears, telling me to enjoy myself, live in this moment, have heaven now… I reached his cock, cut, dark Moslem spire, I entered his piss hole with a lick and circled his head over and over again, delighting in his salty sticky goo. His rod was productively consistent. I knew we were soul mates then…from two very different places, but with the same needy desire.

I went low and touched his cock hairs with my lips as I journeyed up and down his fleshy, thick dark rod. Its taste drove me wild with desire, sans poppers. I started to move fingers to tickle his asshole, so hairy and dark and musky...they were quickly moved away! No rimming, I guessed tonight. I moved him forward and sucked on each nut and then together, mouth full of hair and flesh; they were separating in that last moment’s stress that would soon empty into my mouth.

"Let me lick your ass!" I begged. He shook his head, rejecting my request. I licked his nuts more and sucked at the base of his cock, playing with his hardened head. He sighed and I asked again..."Let me eat your hole...I want you." I licked his shaft and sucked hard on his rod head. He slowly moved his arms under his knees and slightly lifted up opening the hairy crack I wanted so. I took him by his waist and pressed my face down into the thick black mass of hair, slowly inching down into his tight puckered lips. I breathed slowly getting used to his shitty, sweaty, ass crack smells. It was exotic, intoxicating, dirty and delightful at the same time, I had to force myself to take it… and mix it up with my saliva. I licked it out hungrily, cleaned it out, and ran my tongue the length of that manly crack and relaxing tight hole. He moaned and quivered so strongly that I thought he might shit...but he didn’t, thank the gods… And I sucked his hole hard and long, getting all of his taste, scent and lust into my mouth. I brought him down and grabbed his rod and sucked his cockhead hard and then lightly, a tickle to his piss hole, evenly moving that shaft up and down till finally, he released his creamy Turkish delight into my mouth.

He collapsed onto the sofa and sighed; his glistening crotch dripping with sweat and saliva, and my face and mouth dripping with cum juice... musky smell of his asshole on my face and in the air. I loved knowing him; he nodded and smiled that smile of delight.