Gay Erotic Stories

My name is Jason (sorry, no last name) – I’m a gay, 32-year-old software engineer. I’ve been out since college, and I’ve dated a few guys off and on… but I’m still not ready to settle down with anyone – it’s too exciting to be out playing around. I am a smaller guy (5’-8” tall) and in good shape (150 pounds) – I go to the gym 3-to-4 times a week to stay fit. I’ve got baby blue eyes and thinning brown hair that I keep close cropped… awaiting the inevitable baldness I’ll be inheriting from my dad.

As long as I can remember I have felt exhibitionist urges. In high school I was on the swim team, so I’ve always been comfortable wearing nothing but a tight-fitting speedo in public (in hindsight, that was probably half the reason I joined the swim team). I would play around at flashing my ass, or even my cock, at teammates… but then again, all teenagers do stupid things like that. Truth is, I never got over the euphoric rush of feeling exposed and horny. I fought the urge for several years. Then, while I was in my mid-twenties, I began testing the limits a bit, wearing increasingly skimpy tangas or string-thongs at public beaches and loving the way other people, especially men, would stare at me. As my swimsuits got smaller and smaller, I paid more attention to trimming and shaving body hair all through the summer season.

I’ve never been ashamed of my body, and that includes my endowment. My dick is not as large as many I’ve seen, but it’s thick and nicely shaped, dangling symmetrically over nice round balls. When aroused, it grows to many times its soft size. Hard or soft, I’ve been told it’s a very pretty dick. A few times I’ve gone full monty at nude beaches, but generally I am a different kind of exhibitionist. I actually find it more erotic to give other guys a sense about my “kit-of-parts” by stuffing it all into an impossibly thin, stretchy bit of fabric that barely passes for swimwear. On the other hand, I love to expose my muscular bubble butt as much as possible. I’m just as likely to wear a thong as a bikini to the beach, depending on my mood. At each place I visit, I like to get a feeling about where the limits of decency are and then push the boundaries a bit. That, for me, is the real turn-on.

My exhibitionism was indiscriminate at first, but after a few times wearing a thong at family beaches, I soon realized this left me feeling more uncomfortable than turned on. Eventually, I heard about a nice gay-friendly beach nearby where I live – much more appropriate for indulging my needs. Not an obvious gay beach – no mecca for busloads of muscled party boys or cruisy bears – just a quiet beach where the majority of visitors are men in speedos and thongs and where very few women venture. Most of the men are there alone, though a few come in pairs. Their beach blankets and umbrellas dot the beach at regular intervals, and most everyone divides his time between going for a dip, lying in the sun, reading, strolling up and down the beach, and scoping out the other men. I’ve never seen any blatant sexual activity on this beach, but there is usually incredible sexual tension in the air – that’s why it’s an exhibitionist’s paradise!

Last summer I found the perfect day to spend at my favorite local beach. The forecast was for a warm, cloudless day, and things had been quiet at the office the day before. I arranged for the day off. After a leisurely breakfast, I started my beach-day ritual. I trimmed my chest, armpits, abs, and pubic area to look neat and tidy; then I shaved my shaft, balls, and ass completely smooth while showering. There is no nicer feeling than a soft, smooth, hairless kit of parts, and I wanted to make sure things were looking appetizing in case there should be any “unexpected revelations” that day!

I went through my drawer of sexy swimsuits and chose a tiny red tanga – a recent purchase that I was dying to debut at the beach. It was just a couple of stretchy, unlined nylon triangles connected by a thin elastic string on each side and an equally negligible connection below. The rear had less coverage than a typical brazilian cut, but more than a thong. In public, it would give the impression that I’d at least attempted to cover my ass; but in truth, whenever I walked, the small rear triangle of cloth would ride up in between my butt cheeks, allowing me to be constantly adjusting the suit in front of other guys. The tiny front pouch stretched and shaped itself so that it was clinging to me like a second skin – all anatomical details would be clear. As an added touch this day, I slipped my package – carefully, one bit at a time – into a tight-fitting metal cockring and then stuffed it, pointing downwards, back into the pouch. The pressure of the cockring, constricting the base of my cock and scrotum, was already giving me a massive hard-on, and this was pulling the already tiny suit down in front, revealing an inch or so of trimmed pubic hair. I quickly slipped into shorts and a T-shirt, packed my beach bag, and took off.

Maybe it was just the combination of cockring and tight-fitting pouch underneath my shorts, but during the entire half-hour drive, all I could think about was the pleasure of disrobing in front of the other men at the secluded stretch of beach where I was headed. When I finally pulled into the parking lot, I still had a twenty-minute walk ahead of me before I would reach the gay section; first I would need to pass by all the families, local teenagers playing sports, and beachcombers.

As I walked further on and on along the curving shore, the crowd thinned out to just a few beachcombers and distance runners. I decided to remove my shorts and start enjoy wearing the tanga, feeling my package swing and bounce with less restraint as I walked. Because there were still a few women walking along the shore – and because the sun was already very strong – I left my T-shirt on, so that only the very bottom of the tanga’s bulging pouch was peeking out. This way, though it was clear from my completely bare legs that I wasn’t wearing much, no one could yet guess just how tiny my swimsuit was. Walking around in a T-shirt and tiny tanga felt titilating and provocative, to be sure, but it was not enough for someone to register a complaint. Not long after I’d stopped to remove my shorts, a jeep driven by a park ranger came into view from behind the dunes. I had been told that the rangers occasionally drive along the beach to enforce the no-nudity law, but I had never seen one before this day. The jeep came to a stop some distance from where I was, and I could see the ranger raise a pair of binoculars and point them in my direction. But even if the binoculars gave him an up-close view of how tiny my suit was, I still wasn’t exposing my private bits directly – and that’s really the only thing they are allowed to ticket you for. So I just kept walking on, as if unconcerned, and the jeep drove off. I hoped that the rangers would not be out in force all day long – that would put a damper on my plans!

When I finally reached the gay section, there were already about a dozen guys there, mostly older men, mostly in good shape, well tanned, and wearing the requisite speedos and gay-ish squarecuts (my tanga would easily be the smallest swimsuit on the beach). A few guys were already in the water, but most were lying out and catching rays. There were a couple of younger, college-age guys in colorful squarecuts – one was smooth and blond, the other was darker and slightly hairy – who seemed to be keeping entirely to themselves. The rest of the crowd was older and seemed more sociable.

All eyes were on me as I slowed my pace and found a spot near the center of this sparsely populated scene to lay down my beach blanket – not too close to others, but of course not too far away, either. I put down my bag, set up my umbrella for some shade, and still standing, I prepared for a dramatic stripping off of my T-shirt. I wanted to be in full view of every man there when stripping off my shirt, so that they could instantly see just how tiny my little red tanga really was… and how hard I’d been working out at the gym to tone up my muscles for this day of exhibitionism! Of course at this point, I had already been wearing the cockring for nearly an hour, and I had felt its constant pressure every step of the way during my long walk along the shore. Now that I’d reached my destination, my dick was oozing precum and swelling so hard in anticipation my final disrobing that it was almost painful. The pain was mixed with the pleasure of knowing my package would be at its hugest, fullest state when I removed my T-shirt and exposed myself to the crowd. As I slowly removed my shirt and revealed my lean, virtually naked body, I tried to act as natural as possible, as though unaware that someone might consider my tiny tanga indecent. But even without looking down, I could sense from the slight breeze on my balls, that the pouch was stretched beyond its capacity and not fully covering me from the sides. This was a detail that was probably not observable to my admirers, but I got an added charge out of it anyway. After some “innocent” rearrangement of matters in the pouch, some tugging and pulling on side strings and rear panel – all useless adjustments, really, just a chance to feel myself up in front of the guys! – I turned and, still without acknowledging anyone’s stares, pulled a flask of SPF-30 sunscreen out of my bag.

I was feeling bold today, so I decided to really make a show of the sunscreen application ritual – shoulders back, chest out, stomach tight, butt relaxed, and legs spread wide – standing out in the open as I applied lotion, taking lots of time to massage it into my face, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, abs, sides, and lower back. I kept my eyes on the sea in front of me all the while, but I knew I was on display for at least a few pairs of eyes, so I kept massaging and working my muscles long after the sunscreen was well absorbed. As my hands approached the top of the tanga, I tightened my stomach muscles and collapsed my lower abs so that my package would stick out all the more in profile. I could have continued straight down into the package, but wishing to save the best part for last, I skipped ahead to my thighs and calves. As I bent over to work on my calves and feet, I turned a bit so that the guys on my left would get a better view of the tanga sliding up between my butt cheeks and of the swollen package dangling between my legs. These are precisely the moments I live for: to be on display, desirable and slightly vulnerable.

At this point, the next obvious targets for sunscreen were my ass cheeks. I reached back and held the flask up to each cheek in turn, squirting lots of lotion directly on each so that I’d have lots to play with. With a repeated circling motion, I massaged the lotion into my butt for several minutes, adjusting the tanga’s rear triangle constantly, letting it slip this way and that, up the crack, left, right, and down. My hands navigated my ass freely, without regard to decency (a ridiculous pretense at this point), to make sure every bit of flesh was well protected from the sun. I then started to work my hands around my hips, slipping them under the string sides and moving them up-down-left-right in ways that threatened either to snap the tanga strings or pull them down my thighs. Coming around front, my hands were getting ready for the funnest part of all… when suddenly I saw a man approaching from the right in a conservative blue speedo (four-inch sides? where are we, Kansas?).

He was older – probably 50s – and about my height, slightly overweight but still well proportioned, big heavy package, curly brown hair and thick mustache (a retired porn star?). He flashed an embarrassed smile at me when I looked up. Maybe he was embarrassed to be invading my space so blatantly – after all, the beach in front of me was quite wide, with lots of room to walk, but his path along it was bringing him within a few yards of where I was standing. I didn’t mind, though… in fact, I took the opportunity to ask him to help apply sunscreen between my shoulders where I couldn’t reach (a very practical matter). Though I didn’t find him all that attractive, there was something nice about his relaxed smile and demeanor, and I have to admit I enjoyed his firm hands vigorously working the lotion into my back, particularly as I stood nearly naked in the open like this.

“You look fantastic in that swimsuit,” he said.

“Oh, thanks!” I said, pretending not to care. It was nice of him to help with the sunscreen, but I didn’t want to encourage him too much. This was my fantasy, after all, not his!!

“You really fill it out well” he said.

“Yeah, hmmm,” I said. “Actually, I have to confess, it might be a little too small for me, maybe.” (OK, at this point I caught myself fishing for more compliments)

“Oh no, it’s perfect, really. You look really nice. It is a very nice look. Classic,” he said. (For a retired porn star, he didn’t really have a talent for racy dialog). His hands started to descend to my lower back, but at this point I simply turned and took the sunscreen from him, smiling apologetically.

“Thanks. OK, great – thanks for your help,” I said. He took my cue and walked on. He looked back and shot me another bright smile. He was either thanking me for a minor thrill or saying “fuck you, you cocktease!”… I couldn’t tell.

After he had walked a safe distance away, I got back to my work. I squirted out one last gob of lotion on my left hand and plunged both hands into the tanga’s front pouch to spread it generously around the pouch’s contents. In full view of the beach, I groped and handled every inch of my privates, occasionally letting the floppy bits escape the pouch now and then for a second. All the while, I had to take care not to let my erection stiffen out enough that it wouldn’t be able to fit back into the pouch! It was so obvious I was essentially masturbating in public – and why did I need sunscreen underneath my swimsuit anyway? Still, I performed this last act of skin cancer prevention with utmost seriousness. By the time I was done, not only was my engorged cock pointing more forward than downward, but the force of the erection had pulled the rear panel all the way into my now well-lubricated crack. It was an amazingly erotic feeling to be exposed like this, with the tiny suit doing its utmost to contain me still.

At this point, with my “work” now done, I relaxed my self-absorption and took a moment to exchange casual glances with some of the guys lying nearby – the closest ones were only a dozen yards away on this otherwise vast, nearly empty beach. There wasn’t a single man on that section of the beach even pretending to read a book any longer. Lots of smiles on those faces. I got a better look at some of my neighbors – mainly older guys, as I said, but many of them actually in excellent shape. I saw that one older, bald, and very tan man lying off to my left had quietly joined in the fun: while looking in my direction, he was taking plenty of time to rearrange the contents of his own little black-and-gray striped speedo. Nice and slow and easy. I think the older guys must have understood what I was up to. I was not at the beach for casual sex. I was there to be a tease – I wanted to be appreciated not only for my beautiful body but also for the guts it took to display myself public like this. Most of all, I wanted to pump up the sexual tension of the gay beach without giving it easy release. This is the difference, I thought to myself, between a true exhibitionist and a sex addict.

Stripping, posing, and feeling myself up in front of the guys was just the beginning of my plans – I had other ideas to explore during my day on the beach, other edgy situations to find myself in. And I was hoping that eventually others on this beach would join the game and go a little beyond their boundaries, too. Meanwhile, though, I contented myself with lying out in the sun a bit (with my head in the shade of my umbrella) and pulling out some reading. All the while I was waiting for the beach to fill up a bit more. Lying on my stomach, I pulled the rear of my suit all the way up my crack so that I’d get maximum sun exposure for my butt. Lying on my front also gave my swollen package a chance to calm down a bit (the pressure of the cockring still a bit painful!). Ostensibly absorbed in my magazine, my eyes were constantly darting around to see whatever movement there was on the beach. A young, fit, and darkly tanned Asian man – maybe Thai or Filipino? – wearing a tiny yellow tanga jogged along the shoreline. He had a slender torso but very muscular thighs… and a bubble butt, barely contained in his tiny neon swimsuit. His sudden appearance amongst our crowd was a very welcome sight, but unfortunately he kept jogging and was soon out of sight. Next, a slightly older guy – maybe mid-40s, salt-and-pepper close-cropped hair, tan, muscled, and compactly built – walked close by me in a slightly indirect path back to the spot where he’d laid out his belongings. When I glanced up, he smiled and said hello. As he approached, I could appreciate how snugly he was fitting into that tight little black speedo. It was a very nice look! I smiled, said hello back, and then returned to my magazine – knowing this would leave him free to ogle my naked butt at close quarters without feeling he was being rude. As if unaware of his gaze, I squirmed a bit, wiggling my hips distractedly, then with my left hand I adjusted the tanga rear to make sure it was fully exposing each buttock. He continued on and lay down on his own blanket, a few yards off to my right. Over the next twenty minutes or so, a few more guys arrived and set up here and there, stripping down to reveal a variety of ages, body shapes, skin colors, and skimpy gay swimwear types. It looked like my opportunities for exhibitionist interaction would pick up.

By noon, the sun was getting quite hot, and lots of men were going down to the water for a refreshing dip. The waves at this beach are never very strong, and the water is usually a bit chilly, so no one stays in the water too long. Instead, there is always a constant parade of men coming and going, down to the water and back to their gear. They go down sweating, glistening, and hot, and they return dripping and cool, with swimsuits wet and clingy. Lone sunbathers generally establish a kind of “privacy zone” around them – those boundaries can still be violated of course, but one needs to devise some kind of excuse. So the most socially acceptable way to come into very close contact with other men usually involves either joining them in the water or crossing paths with another man as you are coming from or going into the surf. Just as I was deciding whether it might be time for me to cool off and join the fun in the water, I spotted an orange speedo-clad muscle-man approaching along the shore to the left. The sudden appearance of this adonis was my cue to make my way down the beach, timing things so that our paths would “accidentally” cross!

I’m fairly lean, but I do appreciate big muscles on a man, and this guy was incredibly well built – enormous arms, shoulders, and pecs – and a torso that tapered beautifully to a narrow waist. He was tall – a big guy overall – and the faded orange color of his suit perfectly matched his tanned, smooth skin. One of his large brown nipples (quarter-sized!) was pierced with a silver ring that sparkled brilliantly against his deep tan. He had a rugged face, sun-bleached hair, maybe late 30s – my god, he looked even hotter up close! As I approached, I saw that his swimsuit had an extra-generous pouch (this was no ordinary swim-team speedo!), and he was filling it out to the max. Bulging bulges, Batman! Clearly the number of hard-core exhibitionists on this beach had just doubled. Yet the attraction I felt for the newcomer was tempered by my own competitive nature. He clearly had the larger, more developed body and more impressive package… but I’m not so bad-looking myself, and besides, I was still the one with the tinier swimsuit! As I sauntered down to the shore, I took the opportunity to innocently adjust my tanga straps and readjust my package so that the pouch would hang even lower and fully reveal my trimmed pubes and shiny chrome cockring to him as we passed within a couple feet of each other. A friendly nod, no more. A few steps later, I couldn’t help turning to check out his big round ass, perfectly packed into his swimsuit… and I caught him checking out my scantily clad ass, too! Boing! There was definitely some mutual interest. It must have been amusing for the other men on the beach to watch us pass right by each other, pretending hardly to notice the attraction and then gawking back with predictable 1-2-3 timing.

Well, whatever… it was time for my swim. If nothing else, it would be an excellent way to erase the growing dark stain of precum at the tip of the tanga pouch! I waded into the mildly churning ocean water slowly, taking time once up to my knees to adjust to the chill. But the cooling effect was a welcome relief from the sun’s heat, and soon I plunged in completely, swimming out a few strokes until I was standing in chest-deep water. Two other effects of the cold ocean water soon came into play. First, of course, was the shrinkage factor – to be honest, this was also a bit of a relief, since I’d been constantly in a hard or half-hard state now for a couple hours. It was nice to have some temporary relief from the pressure of the cockring (I was beginning to regret my decision to wear this thing!). At the same time, as the fabric of my swimsuit became saturated, it started to stretch and loosen up. And the only thing an exhibitionist likes better than wearing a tiny swimsuit at the beach is wearing a tiny swimsuit that is in constant danger of falling off! I decided that the best way to exploit this new vulnerability was to use the water’s churning motion to pull my suit down. I swam in towards the shore a bit and spent some time in the hip-height water, facing out to sea, and bouncing up and down in reaction to incoming waves, which would engulf me and then retreat. Repeatedly, the churning water would pull my loose, wet suit down, exposing my round little butt for spectators on the shore. Feigning mild embarrassment (“oops!”), I would simply pull the sides straps back up and adjust things again in preparation for the next wardrobe malfunction. The constant flow of the water in and around my semi-exposed, shaved private parts, and the constant adjustment of the strings barely holding my suit up at this point gave me such an intense hard-on. Never mind about the shrinkage – it was nice while it lasted, but now I couldn’t help myself, I was harder than ever!

A couple other guys joined me in the water at this point. Playing in the water seems to make guys more sociable – the waves are a nice distraction, making it easier to strike up conversations. One of the guys was my salt-and-pepper friend in the black speedo. The other one was a tall, pale redhead wearing light blue board shorts. At first I wondered if the second guy had taken a wrong turn somewhere and mistakenly ended up at this gay beach, but his keen interest in my little game with the waves soon made it clear he knew exactly where he was, even if he wasn’t so daring in his own beach fashion. We three all chatted for a bit, and all the while I kept bouncing around in the waves. Now that these guys were with me in the water, my game was now not only about accidentally exposing my rear; my new audience members could also see up close the front pouch of my suit, which was progressively exposing more and more cock until I’d pull it up and start over again.

“You know, that’s really a very flattering suit… but be careful you don’t lose it,” said Salt-and-Pepper.

I smiled. “Yeah, I hadn’t counted on this suit getting so stretchy in the water,” I said. Of course we both knew exactly what I was doing, and we were both enjoying the moment. He seemed very interested in the tiny tanga, though, so I gave him the name of the store where I’d bought it. He would look good in it!

I turned around and saw that the other guy had now removed his board shorts completely and was standing chest-deep in the water, holding them aloft. “It feels great!” he told us. “You should try it!”

“Right on!” I told him. (I’m sorry, but it’s not exactly edgy for an exhibitionist to stand naked up to his neck in ocean water.) And I knew that if I actually removed my suit at this point, my cock would stiffen right out, and I would never be able to squeeze it back into the tiny pouch. Salt-and-Pepper only smiled, but he also declined to remove his speedo, which I think made Red feel a little self-conscious. Soon he put his boardies back on and left the water. Salt-and-Pepper followed him out a few minutes later, climbing out to return to his blanket up the shore. I was still enjoying the waves very much, but I was starting to feel a little chilled now – I had to get out.

I was reluctant to leave the water completely – not least of all because of all the social contact that came with being there. So I decided to sit down right at the edge of the water, where lots of guys would be walking by, and where I could warm my body in the sun’s rays while still letting the waves lap up and massage my lower bits. Stepping out of the surf, I made more adjustments to the tanga straps, making a reasonable attempt at coverage, and then plopped myself down in the sand. Face up to the sun, legs out spread-eagle, and leaning back on my hands, I positioned myself to enjoy the rush of each successive wave that would cool and stimulate my groin. The thin, clingy fabric of my tanga was all but transparent after becoming wet, and it was revealing more of my anatomy than I had imagined it would. Nothing left to hide, I poked at my cock and balls playfully and tugged at the fabric to release its clinginess… only to have my play at false modesty undone by the next wave’s onslaught. All kinds of guys were constantly passing by me up and down the shore now, but I was in my own little world and wasn’t paying that much attention. I started rolling around in the sand, soon lying completely horizontally and letting the waves hit me at different angles. I imagined myself a shipwrecked sailor, wearing his last scrap of clothing. The waves were so soothing.

“Careful there, or your suit will fill up with sand,” said a voice chuckled behind me. I was so involved in my fantasy, to be honest, I hadn’t even noticed his approach. It was the Retired-Porn-Star in the bulging blue speedo, who had helped with my sunscreen a while back, and he was practically right on top of me.

I straightened up a bit, smiled back, and said, “I think I know how to get a little sand out of this suit.” OK, it wasn’t a great line, I admit. But there was no chemistry with this guy, so why bother writing a porn script, right? (This is a true story!! So bear with me.)

After he’d walked on a bit, I took his advice and walked into the waves to release what turned out to be quite a lot of sand that had made its way into the tanga. Who knew that such a tiny little swimsuit could contain a bucketful of sand? Nothing to do, really, but take off the suit in the water and rub it all out. So here I was finally, fully naked and submerged in the water. My overstimulated cock was finally free of its constraining pouch, and as I’d feared, it sprang out to a fully erect and vertical state. The sand was soon rinsed out from my swimsuit – the wet tanga looked ridiculously tiny now as I held it in the palm of my right hand – but there was no way I could put it back on with my cock fully erect like this. It wouldn’t fit until the erection had faded a bit. I tried daydreaming about other things… not to think about how exposed and vulnerable I was at that moment – after all, I couldn’t leave the water without exposing my erection to two dozen guys within view! But feeling the tight grip of the cockring (damn it!) and the cool massage of the undulating waters, I was stuck in a losing game. If anything, my cock just kept throbbing harder and harder, begging for release. And of course I found myself totally turned on by the lack of control I had over my situation now.

If you want to know how I got out of this situation – and how my exhibitionistic day at the beach got even hotter later on – then please read part two of my story! Thanks!