Gay Erotic Stories

Andrew and I were amateur boxers fighting out of the same gym and using the same manager, Nick. Andrew showed up on the scene about 3 months ago. Nick thought it would be a good idea for Andrew to stay at my apartment. Problem was, it was a small one-bedroom apartment. Andrew - all 6’3” of him - had to sleep on a 6’ couch or stretch out on an old blanket and quilt spread out on the floor. He didn’t complain much, but I knew he wasn’t crazy about the sleeping arrangements. I offered to take turns on the couch, but he declined. I admit I was attracted to Andrew from the start, and there was an undercurrent of sexual tension between us. 215 pounds of lanky muscle, wide shoulders, heavy biceps, and a flat stomach. He was built more like a swimmer than a boxer. I never asked him about a girlfriend, and he didn’t say one way or another. We just boxed and trained for hours on end. We weren’t allowed to spar together, according to Nick. One, because Andrew outweighed me by about 40 pounds; and two, Nick didn’t want his “prized” pupils beating up on each other. One snowy day, he and I made it to the gym because we were only one block away. Another boxer, Andrew’s friend Jack, was the only person there. I didn’t know Jack well. He arrived within days of Andrew. They seemed to spend a lot of gym time together. Jack was not nearly as good a boxer as Andrew or me. In fact, he seemed to follow Andrew around the gym as they worked out. I figured he was in awe of Andrew’s boxing skills, and Andrew liked having him around. As the snow continued to fall, it was pretty obvious no one else would be showing up. We all started our training routines. After about an hour, Jack came over to me at the heavy bag. “Andrew wants to know if you want to spar him.” I looked over Jack’s shoulder. Andrew, always a little cocky, stood shirtless in the ring, motioning for me to come over. He flexed his right bicep, pointing at it, then pointing at me. I told Jack to get me a pair of gloves. When I got in the ring, Andrew started the trash talking. “You wanna fight with the big boys now? You’re making a big mistake.” I told him to shut the fuck up and start fighting. Andrew yelled to Jack, “You keep time.” He looked at me, “We fight for the bed.” I nodded my agreement. I stayed inside on Andrew. He was taller and had a much longer reach than I had. I’ve seen him lay guys out when given the room to punch. I worked his body with some success, and he was clearly frustrated by his inability to land his punches effectively. The second round went pretty much the same way. I was hitting him often, although I wasn’t hurting him a whole lot. Hitting his torso was like punching a brick wall. Most important, he couldn’t really unleash a punch on me. At the end of the round Andrew, obviously pissed, said, “Let’s change the bet. Whoever wins is the master of the house; the other one does what he says.” “OK, you’re on,” I said, more than a little clueless of what he was talking about. The third round started much the same as the first two. The body shots began to wear on Andrew. A minute in, he backed into the ropes and covered up. Smelling blood, I began to fire shots at his head, mostly hitting his gloves. Thinking I had him hurt, I stepped back to load up a big shot. Andrew, though, was playing with me. As I stepped back, he straightened up and unleashed a looping left that crashed into the side of my head. I staggered sideways, struggling to stay on my feet. Given room to work, Andrew uncorked a right uppercut that caught me flush on the chin. I reeled backwards, refusing to go down, but landing heavy into the corner of the ring. Andrew moved in, as I tried to clear my head. I offered a weak left at his chin, and he exploded a right into my midsection that dropped me to my knees. I struggled to my feet and covered up against the ropes as Andrew pounded my arms and sides. When he was done, I could barely lift my arms. “You done,” he said smirking. “Fuck you,” I grunted. He hit me with a straight left to the face, and I dropped face forward to the canvas. He pushed me over with his foot. I looked up at him, sweat glistening off his body, his muscles rippling. He pointed down at me, “You’re mine now, dude.” He left the ring. Jack popped in and asked if I was OK. I said I was, but I lay there another five minutes trying to regain my senses. I eventually gathered myself and headed to the showers. When I undressed and went into the showers, Andrew was already there. “You OK, buddy?” he said, showing real concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, “but you kicked my ass.” “You were a lot tougher than I thought,” he said. “You had me worried early, but the bet motivated me.” I looked over at him and said sarcastically, “Yeah, what was that about? I have to do your chores or something?” He walked over to me, “Better, you just have to do what I say. Like now, take this soap and lather up my chest.” I pushed his hand away, “What the fuck are you talking about?” He took another step closer. We were now just inches apart. For what seemed like a minute, he said nothing. He just locked his green eyes on me. Then he spoke, “The sexual tension between us has been incredible the past few months. You want me. I want you. But because we’re both hardheads, somebody has to be in control. We decided that today. I am in control. And you’ll see, you won’t want it any other way.” I started to protest. “No, no,” he said, putting up a hand to quiet me. “You lost the bet. Now take the soap and rub it on my chest.” A little disturbed, I found his commanding voice something of a turn-on. I didn’t know where this was leading, but I wanted to find out. I took the soap from his hand. As I rubbed it on his chest, I felt my own cock begin to stir. I rubbed it across his wide chest and slowly circled the large nipples. I ran my hand up to his powerful shoulders and let them slide down his thick arms. I brought the soap back to his flat, muscled stomach. He stepped closer to me, backing me into the shower wall. “Go lower,” he ordered and I obeyed. I ran the soap past his belly button and felt his thin trail of blond hair. With two hands, I reached down and found his thick, long cock, already erect and waiting. I soaped up his tool and began to fondle it. I let the soap fall to the ground, as I felt his dick pulsate in my hands. “Turn around,” he said. I did, and he pressed his solid chest against my back. His hands curled under my arms and he raised me onto the tip of my toes. His flexed biceps pressed against the back of my arms as he strained to hold me higher. I felt the knob of his dick begin to probe my ass. My face pressed against the shower wall, Andrew whispered into my ear. “You’re getting the best you’ll ever have. Tell me if you really want it. Tell me you need it.” The passion and excitement was reaching a fever pitch. “Please, Andrew, please put it in me,” I said. “I want you in me so fucking bad.” The head of his dick popped into my ass. It felt so big I didn’t think I could handle it. But he deftly, and without pain, buried himself inside. I cried out in pleasure as he began pumping and driving his cock in and out of me. He reached down and his strong hand brought me to orgasm in three quick strokes. He chewed on my neck and ear as he fucked me. He began bucking wildly and I blew another load. He let go of me and pressed his palms against the shower wall. I grabbed onto his arms to boost myself up so he could continue to plunge into me. He let out a victory yell as his cock exploded in spasms, cum first shooting in me and as he slipped out, spraying on my back and across the wall. I turned back to Andrew, whose muscles rippled from the sexual workout. “That was incredible,” I gushed. He wrapped his long arms around my neck and buried his tongue in my mouth. My hands caressed his sinewy arms and broad back. “I’m yours, Andrew, I’ll do anything you want.” He pulled back and smiled. “I know,” he said, “I know.”