Gay Erotic Stories

When they were selected for the course, both Dominic and Jamie were both pissed off. High flying competitive jobs in the city and a history of going for the same girls and battling in that alpha-male public schoolboy way had left them with no love lost. Dominic was a rugger bugger, a ruthless management consultant, used to getting his own way. A big stocky hairy man, he’d fucked his way through the wives and girlfriends of everyone he worked with, old school friends and even his brother. He had such an air of superiority, and he’d reached his mid thirties unchallenged, smug and arrogant. Jamie was the younger man, a former rower, tall, blond and muscular, full of ambition and determined to topple his elder, Dominic, and take his place. Their boss Niall had been using a training centre based in the remotest part of the west country for a few years now, run by his old mate Smithie, a former soldier. The training camp was known for its life-changing effects – men that returned were either instantly promoted to the board or dismissed. It was a make or break situation. Both Dominic and Jamie thought they could make it without the camp – they were tough, ambitious and resourceful, what more could Niall want?

But he was very keen they went, and neither of them was stupid enough to rock the boat by saying no, even though they were furious that the other had been invited too. Dominic thought Jamie was a pathetic little squirt, someone he wouldn’t normally acknowledge at all, perhaps only enough to fuck his fiancée (mission accomplished) or to insultingly ask to fetch him coffee. Jamie thought Dominic was past it, too complacent in his big office, sat on his fat arse all day braying at his clients’ jokes. Niall enjoyed how uncomfortable it made the pair, refused to rethink the course and sent them on their way.

Jamie hiked from the station. He was carrying a huge heavy rucksack over the three mile stretch of hilly countryside to the base camp where he was set to meet Smithie. Although he was now a city boy, he liked hard physical work, pushing himself against the elements as he did when he rowed, pumping hard till he thought he might explode with the force of it. He could have done without Dominic roaring past him in his BMW, swerving to force him off the road, laughing as he did so, arriving in comfort and style as befitted a senior figure in the company. He parked outside the old barracks where he was set to stay and looked it over before he got out of the car.

‘Bloody pigsty,’ he said, and climbed out. No-one hurried to meet him, carry his cases, bow before him. Dominic was unimpressed. He reached into his car and beeped the horn. Still no sign. He beeped it again. Nothing. He leant against the car and stretched. Room service would pay for this.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ came a voice by his ear. Dominic jumped. A tall, craggy man in army uniform was standing right next to him, his steely eyes burning into Dominic’s big rugby-lad frame.

‘Ah, I see,’ said Dominic, a little flustered. ‘I was waiting for my car to be valeted and someone to get my cases. Your service is very sloppy, Mister…’

‘There is no service,’ said the man. ‘This is a training camp, not a hotel. I am Smithie, by the way. I take it you must be Dominic Richardson.’

‘No service? This is a joke, right?’

‘I am not without a sense of humour, Mr. Richardson, but I can assure you that this is no joke. And you shan’t be needing your belongings, everything you’ll be needing is in the dorm. Follow me.’ The man strode off. Dominic shook his head. This was absurd. He could have been playing golf or seducing the new woman in accounts. Instead here he was in the arse end of nowhere being spoken to like he was some 17 year old thick-as-shit army recruit. He reluctantly followed the army guy inside, into the freezing cold dorm.

‘As you are here first, you can choose the bunk. Top or bottom,’ said the army guy, showing Dominic into a small dormitory room furnished with one creaky metal bunk bed. Dominic laughed.

‘Okay. This is all very funny. Now I’m going to call Niall…’ he took his phone from his pocket. ‘Damn, no signal.’

‘I said, top or bottom. If you do not do me the courtesy of answering then I shall be forced to chose for you.’

‘Oh, the top one, of course,’ snapped Dominic. ‘You ridiculous little man.’

The army guy’s expression did not change – in fact, it very rarely

Changed throughout the course. He had piercing grey eyes, a rugged, chiselled, stony face and cropped hair. Dominic was unaware that his tantrums and demands didn’t make him look strong or intimidate him like it did at work. Instead he just looked foolish and powerless. There was a knock on the outer door and a distant ‘Hello?’.

‘Ah, your colleague, Mister Hardy,’ said the army guy, and marched off to let him in. Dominic shook his head. This situation was ridiculous.

Jamie looked pumped and exhausted when he entered the dorm.

‘Hello,’ he said to the army guy. ‘I’m Jamie Hardy.’

‘Hello Mr Hardy, I’m Smithie, your trainer.’ Smithie shook his hand. ‘I see you walked from the station. Very good.’

‘I needed the fresh air,’ said Jamie. ‘And I thought as this was an outward bound course I thought I’d get into the mood.’

‘I’m impressed,’ said Smithie. ‘Of course, you won’t be needing your things as everything is supplied here. Your colleague Mr. Richardson is already here. Come through to your dorm.’ Smithie led him into the room where Dominic was already lounging on the top bunk. They ignored each-other, Smithie observed. Interesting.

‘Now, you need to get changed and ready to meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes,’ said Smithie.

‘Changed?’ snapped Dominic. ‘You wouldn’t let me bring my cases in from the car.’

‘You have clothes at the foot of your bed. One PT kit and one uniform. This will be all you need. They should fit as I was supplied with your measurements. Get changed now.’ Smithie marched from the room. Both men looked a little dazed. Jamie sat on the bottom bunk and scratched his head. This was all very strange. But at least Smithie seemed nice. That was a relief. He looked over at the pile of clothes on the foot of the bed. He stood up and began to strip.

‘You’re not actually going through with this?’ said Dominic disgustedly.

‘Of course I am,’ said Jamie. ‘If this is what Niall wants me to do for a place on the board then I’m game.’ He was down to his boxers now, and he slid them down, his tall, muscular naked frame and large flaccid penis on display. Dominic snorted.

‘Right little yes man aren’t you?’

‘I don’t think the choices are being a yes man or being a cunt,’ said Jamie. ‘And anyway, I think Smithie seems like a good sort.’

‘You fucking loser,’ said Dominic. ‘Pathetic.’ Jamie pulled on his jockstrap and then his olive green vest.

‘Well, it’s your funeral,’ said Jamie. He climbed into his trousers, buttoned up his shirt and tied his boots. ‘Enjoy your gardening leave,’ he said, and left Dominic to it. Dominic tutted and closed his eyes. Two minutes later he opened them. Reluctantly he knew what he had to do. He jumped down and began to strip off.

‘Bloody liberty,’ he muttered. ‘Does he know who I am?’ He stood there naked and proud – much heavier build than Jamie but still fit and very hairy. His enormous penis swung there, happy that it was substantially bigger than Jamie’s. It was always the way. Much of Dominic’s bravado stemmed from an early realisation that his endowment was much bigger than any other man’s he’d seen. He knew how jealous they must all be. He felt so secure, as it hung from him, the real source of his pride.

‘Mr. Richardson!’ called Smithie from the kitchen. Dominic stopped admiring himself and pulled on the jockstrap and got quickly dressed.

In the kitchen Smithie was standing by the big old aga. It was a huge room, high ceiling, old brickwork and freezing cold.

‘Right, men , I need you to get some heat going in here. Out in the back yard there’s a chopper and a pile of logs. We need wood for the stove. We also need heat for the rest of the building, and the generator needs charging. Who volunteers for which job?’ The two business men stared at him, dumbfounded.

‘Are you quite mad?’ asked Dominic incredulously.

‘Is this part of the course, Smithie?’ asked Jamie.

‘Well, without food and heat and light there will be no course and I’ll have to send you back to London telling Niall that you have failed.’ The words sunk in. They both knew what happened to men who failed Smithie’s course, and it wasn’t promotion to the board.

‘I’ll chop logs,’ said Jamie. Smithie nodded. Dominic sighed, ‘So what’s this generator, then?’ he asked. Smithie indicated a large ramshackle machine in the corner. It was a series of boilers and pipes, and in the centre was what looked a little like a mechanical version of a cross-trainer – a complicated running machine with ski-pole handles. Dominic shook his head. Jamie laughed.

‘You have got to be kidding,’ he snapped.

Just get on with it, Mr. Richardson,’ said Smithie. ‘And you, Mr. Hardy.’ Jamie hurried out to chop logs, looking exceptionally pleased at Dominic’s reaction to his task. Dominic walked over to the contraption. ‘How does it work?’ he asked.

‘Just climb on,’ said Smithie. ‘You need to pump energy into it by running on these two footpads and pumping these handles.’ Dominic climbed unsteadily onto it. ‘The dials will reach ‘full’ and when they do you can stop pumping,’ said Smithie. Dominic grumbled but climbed into position and began running, pedalling the two heavy foot pads round and yanking the handles back and forth as he did so, in an awkward and stiff rhythm. ‘Fuck! This is a nightmare!’ he complained, pumping away. ‘This equipment is so old and stiff.’

‘But effective,’ said Smithie, and he left to check up on Jamie. Dominic thundered away on the machine, his heavy frame becoming quickly sweaty and lumbering. But he was determined to do well at his task, and his strength was a great asset. He enjoyed watching the dial creep up as he ran, and hearing the boilers behind him clank and hiss into life. Some time later Jamie returned with a big basket of wood for the stove. He stood and watched Dominic’s big sweaty form running on the machine.

After a good 45 minutes the target was reached and Dominic triumphantly stepped down. He was wobbly but grinning in that alpha-male way he had.‘The champion!’ he said and plonked his big arse down on a wooden chair.

‘You may both need to shower,’ said Smithie. They nodded eagerly, sweating, the argumentative streaks worn out for the moment. Smithie showed them through to a small shower area. There were two stalls. They couldn’t help but notice that there was a big contraption above them holding two big tanks of water. They stripped off ready, both proud of their great bodies – Dominic’s broad, hairy frame and Jamie’s smooth, muscular one. Dominic was always keen to show off his big cock, which had swollen slightly at his triumph. Jamie couldn’t help but notice it and resisted the temptation to knee the smug bastard in the bollocks. As they went to step into the showers Smithie told them to stop. They both looked dumbly at him, naked and cold.

‘The purpose of this course is to build character, to explore your limits and to sharpen you up,’ said Smithie. ‘It’s very concentrated – you are here for a week, so every moment matters. Which is why even the showers are a task here. One of you will have a hot shower, one of you will have a cold one.’ The naked men groaned. ‘To win the hot shower, you have to tip the hot water taken in your direction. And to do that, you have to use the ropes in the cubicles to climb up, unhook it and tip it in your favour. Do you understand?’ The men looked a little shocked still. Smithie blew a whistle. They ran into a cubicle each and began to climb, and he followed up behind and locked the two glass doors on the cubicles behind them.

Jamie was taller and more lithe, and more suited to fast climbing, but Dominic was stronger and not used to losing out. Smithie watched as they struggled up the ropes, naked bodies swinging and wriggling. The water tank sat above them, tethered upright. They looked neck and neck from where Smithie was standing. And then Jamie began to pull ahead and hauled himself into the little loft where the tank was kept. He fiddled with the catch that held the tank. Dominic kept climbing. Jamie egan to panic, as the tank refused to move, but was so close to finishing. He just couldn’t release the catch to tilt it. And then, just as Dominic climbed through the hatch on the other side he managed to free the catch. He let out a little cheer, before Dominic threw himself at him, knocked him off his feet and tilted the water tank in his direction. His big body was so heavy on top of Jamie, Dominic’s body hair scratching his smooth skin. Dominic’s big cock moved against him, growing in victory. He’d played dirty but he’d won. Jamie was furious.

‘You fucking arsehole you cheated!’

‘I didn’t hear the man say anything about not using your brain,’ said Dominic. ‘Face it, you’re just a little kid and you should learn your place!’ He gently, tauntingly slapped Jamie on the cheeks and climbed back down into his cubicle where his hot shower had started running. Jamie looked so frustrated he might cry. Then he picked himself up and climbed down.

‘Bad luck, Jamie. You need the killer instinct here, my friend,’ said Smithie. ‘And well done Dominic!’ Dominic was happily soaping himself up in the hot show door. As the cold water began to run he heard Jamie yelp and he laughed. His dick twitched. He loved being a bastard. It made his day. Smithie watched Dominic happily playing with himself in his steamy cubicle and Jamie shivering imploringly to open the door. But the shower was set for five minutes and Jamie would have to get used to it.

When the time was up Dominic stepped out and the steam rolled off of his body. Jamie’s teeth were chattering and he moved very jerkily. His dick, which was usually quite big, had shrivelled back, and Dominic’s looked even bigger now, basking in the warm glow of triumph as it was. They dried themselves and got dressed back in army fatigues. It was getting dark out and they set about making food under Smithie’s supervision, and over dinner he outlined to them the shape of the course. It was to be a set of challenges a day – they would be marked by Smithie as pass or fail. They needed over 50% passes to pass the course. Not all of the games would be competitive, some of them would be team games, but all of them would require 100% commitment and hard work to get through.

When it was time for bed that certainly left the two city boys something to think about. Jamie crawled into the bottom bunk naked and tense, wanting revenge on Dominic and a sense of pride back. Dominic just enjoyed standing in front of the bed naked, sorting out the top bunk and letting his hairy torso and big dick move about in front of Jamie, intimidating the younger man, showing him who was boss. His dick did swell a bit as he thought about Jamie looking up at it. Eventually he climbed up and got under the covers, making sure he rocked the frame a lot as he did so and moved about so it creaked and Jamie again was dominated by his presence. He went to sleep with a big fat grin of self love filling his face.

In the morning the shower ritual was repeated, and Smithie watched them struggle up the ropes in their cubicles. Dominic was faster this time, and in the scramble he tipped the water first and once again got a steaming hot shower while Jamie was trapped in his freezing cubicle desperate to get out. They were already getting used to being naked around each-other. Dominic enjoyed it because he loved how powerful he was, and Jamie was indifferent to it. As they dried off in front of Smithie Jamie tried hard to show he wasn’t bothered by losing, but his shrivelled cock and angry eyes belied a secret disappointment.

As they ate their porridge Smithie explained to them the main object of their missions over the week.

‘You’re playing for this.’ He put a small tub of white creamy-looking substance on the table. ‘It’s a harmless compound of proteins called slique. In reality it has little value and is easy to produce. Yet here it is a precious substance. And why? Because each and every task from now on has collecting slique as its object.’ He produced two large measuring cylinders. ‘I will keep one of these for you each. Not only will there be points for the individual who collects the most slique per task, it will all be collected here and an overall score will be added up at the end of the week of how much slique you have collected. Do you understand?’ The two men nodded. ‘Good. Time to get changed into your PT kit and out on the field for the first task.’

Outside and a short walk across a field took them to an assault course. The businessmen eyed it warily, pulling nervously at their tight vests and little shorts, shorts which clung to their sizeable genitals and were stretched taught across Dominic’s bulky arse, vests whose straps rubbed a little against their nipples, making Jamie feel rather exposed. They were both used to high performance expensive gym wear and couldn’t understand why they were in such basic attire.

‘This is pretty straightforward, I see you’re thinking? Well, for the most part it is – you need to run through the tyres, swing across the gap on the rope, then grab your way across the monkey bars and then climb the tall wall at the end. And round the back of the wall you’ll see a big crash mat. When you fall on it, it will squirt a jet of slique into the air. You need to catch the slique, come back to me and do it as many times as you can within your time limit. Do you understand?’

‘What do we collect the stuff, I mean slique, in?’ asked Jamie. Smithie produced a couple of belts with a bag attached to the front.

‘You use these. Fill them up then pour it out into the measuring cylinders.’ He handed them out. The men felt them uncomfortably.

‘They’re some sort of rubberised material,’ said Dominic. ‘Feels horrible.’ ‘It just means that it won’t go anywhere or leak out,’ said Smithie.

‘This place is fucking primitive,’ said Dominic.

‘It’s basic but it does the job Mr Richardson,’ said Smithie.

‘I’d suggest you put them on so the bag is at the front.’

The two city boys attached the rubber belts and the sac at the front hung in front of their crotches.

‘I feel like such a twat,’ said Dominic.

‘We need to establish who is going first,’ said Smithie.

‘I will!’ said Jamie eagerly.

‘Good lad!’ said Smithie. ‘Now you have twenty minutes when I start you. Okay? Go!’

Jamie raced away from the starting line in his tight shorts and vest. He ran deftly through the tyres, swung across the gap effortlessly and clambered across the monkey bars with no problem. He was up the wall in a flash, and then looked down at the crash mat below.

‘It’s perfectly safe!’ said Smithie. Jamie took a deep breath and jumped. He landed with a splat on the crash mat – it appeared to be full of slique, and when he landed a great jet of it spurted from a blow hole in the centre of the mattress. Jamie was shocked and completely missed catching any of it, and it squirted all over him.

‘Eugh, yuck!’ he said. ‘It’s warm too!’ Dominic was killing himself laughing watching his younger colleague get covered in thick white cream. He looked ridiculous.

‘Fucking loser!’ yelled Dominic. This spurred Jamie into action and he climbed off and ran back to the start. Once again he cleared the assault course, but this time when he jumped he was a little more prepared, and although great wads of it splattered over his face he did catch some in his rubber sac. He beamed with pride at his achievement, slique dripping down his face. He ran back to the start again and kept going. Each time he jumped there was a huge splat and a jet of slique would spray all over him and he would catch some in his pouch. As he got more and more covered in slique his kit became more and more clingy and transparent. By the end, if it were not for the rubber sac bulging with warm cream hanging in front of his groin he would have looked completely naked.

Smithie stopped the clock and called Jamie to him. Jamie waddled over, not wanting to spill anything from his rubber sac. He poured it carefully into the measuring cylinder.

‘Well done, Jamie!’ said Smithie. ‘Now it’s your turn, Dominic.’

‘Fucking hell,’ said Dominic, looking at the state of Jamie.

‘Do I have to?’

‘You do if you don’t want to fail.’

Reluctantly Dominic lined up. Smithie told him to go, and he was off, storming through the tyres, his big arse really stretching his shorts. He swung on the rope, then ripped through the monkey bars and up the wall with a kind of reckless power. He jumped off and landed with a heavy splat. The slique spurted straight up and over him, coating him in warm cream.

‘Bollocks,’ he said. He jumped up and ran back to the beginning, surprisingly fast for such a big man. The second time he jumped he landed as hard as he could, and a huge jet was forced out. He caught a lot of it in his pouch and then sprinted back, his shorts and vest already turning transparent in the wet. His arse looked big and meaty as he swung on the monkey bars, and he seemed to enjoy the hefty thuggish smack it made on the crash mat when he landed on it sitting down, ready to catch the slique. His rubber pouch had really stretched with the weight of the warm cream he’d caught, hanging low between his hairy thighs. The next time he landed he was in for a bit of a shock, as his meaty arse landed flat on the blow hole and the huge jet pumped against the seat of his shorts. When he stood up the seams had split and his big hairy arse was hanging out but he didn’t seem to bothered. When his time was up it was clear from his huge bulging sac that he’d collected much more slique than Jamie, and had certainly exploited his weight advantage over the rower. He poured it proudly into the measuring cylinder, shorts and vest transparent and the rear of his shorts shot to bits by the hard jet of cream against his backside. He wasn’t bothered though, he was too happy to have won again. Jamie looked despondent as Dominic smacked him hard on the arse and laughed at him for being a loser.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Smithie. ‘Plenty of time to make up ground, Mr Hardy.’ Jamie thought about it. He wouldn’t let Dominic win. He would prove himself here. Dominic just smirked and adjusted his thickening dick in his tight shorts. Winning made him feel so great. Smithie looked at them both; these alpha male city boys covered in cream and dressed in tight kit, and enjoyed how eager they were already to degrade themselves for cheap victories. A week with them playing his games would certainly sort them out, that was for sure…

To be continued.

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