Gay Erotic Stories

Dan stared back at the pale blue sky, the grass filling his senses: the balmy grass beneath him, cool against his skin and that which burned at his lips. He drew it in and let it swarm dryly in his head. The radio blared out some song, “Road Rage.” Its jangles conspired with the blow and he ran a hand over his crotch. The can of beer branded a numb ring on his chest and sweat trickled lazily through his unkempt hair. He blew smoke at the feathery clouds. Petrol came fleetingly on the breeze. He lifted his head and rested on his elbows, the pattern of grass embossed on his back. Dan's Norton hulked beneath a tree at the edge of the clearing, like a rhino in the shade. Taking a swig of beer, he pondered the sweltering sky and motionless trees that were perfectly reflected in the river. Suddenly wakeful, he noticed someone moving through the leaves. He sat forward. The figure was striding, determined, a shadow in the dimness of the forest. It came into the light at the riverbank and dropped to the ground. Dan stood, brushing the grass from his jeans, and watched as the figure unlaced his boots. The man looked familiar. Yes; Dan had seen him earlier at The Peacock. There was a British bike convention in the village that day, dozens of bikers had been there; too many. Dan had decided to take his lunch elsewhere. He glanced around and yes, there was the guy’s bike, standing at the edge of the track. This biker Dan had noticed especially because of his T-shirt. The back-print read, “Fuck This!” with a downward arrow under the words. Dan had asked a mate who he was. Everyone knew each other at these functions. Apparently, he was called Jake. Jake hauled off his boots and flung them aside. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and wiped it under his arms. He was oblivious to Dan creeping through the trees behind him. The prowler sank behind a bush wide-eyed. His back was heavily muscled and slick with sweat, narrowing to a neat waist and hips. Oily black hair adhered to his shoulders, The Grim Reaper riding a winged motorbike behind the strands. There were other tats on his arms but, from his hiding place, Dan couldn¹t make them out. Standing up, Jake unbuttoned his fly. He drew the grimy denim down over his small, round arse and kicked the jeans on top of his boots. His jockstrap gleamed in the sun brilliant white. Dan prayed for him to turn around. The back view was so horny he couldn't believe that jock wasn't bursting with dick. Jake stretched, arms locked over his head, letting out a low growl. Then, grasping the elastic he briskly slid down the jock and tossed it onto the pile beside him. Dan's eyes grew round at the length visible between the biker's legs. From his low vantagepoint he could see two substantial balls and the last few inches of flaccid cock. He had but a moment to admire before Jake dived expertly into the river. After about twenty seconds, he broke the surface at the far bank. He bobbed his head under the water, then shook it like a hound before swimming back. Dan ducked behind a tree trunk nearer the water then furtively peered round it. The biker strode through the water towards him. The surface gradually revealing his wide shoulders and chest. Water trickled over the tight muscles of his abdomen as, with long strides, he neared the bank. As his hips rose from the waters, Dan could just see the tops of his thighs and the cock that floated between them under the surface. A thick eel, swaying from side to side with each step. Jake heaved himself onto the bank. Shaking his head once more he rose to his full height, uncoiling like a fern. Dan marveled at the man that stood before him. His body was honed and athletic, his face strong and hard beneath the dripping strands that clung to it. And his dick... It hung lengthy, circumcised and thick. This was Dan’s every fantasy made flesh. Jake ran his hands unconsciously over his torso then turned back to the river and started to piss. “Had a good look then?” Dan started. The voice sent a bird cawing to its nest. The large man twisted his neck to the side, a smile on his lips. Slowly, he shook his cock and turned to face his stalker. Dan straightened and stepped through the foliage towards the bank. His face burned as he, avoiding eye contact, neared the naked Jake. “Now. I'm gonna sit here,” the man flopped to the ground. “And you're gonna strip for me.” Dan laughed nervously. “You’re kidding, right?” He looked down at the man sprawled on the grass, his face calm but serious. “Nope.” Dan began to sit down to remove his boots. “Hey! Who said you could sit?” Jake's stomach tensed. Dan stood, and rocking on one foot, unlaced his boot. He pulled it off, then the other. He dragged his jeans to the ground and stepped out of them. The naked man watched with unconvincing interest, but Dan noticed from the corner of his eye that his cock was stiffening against his thigh. The boy turned to him in just his boxers, reluctant to take the final step. He knew his body was OK, he played a lot of football. He was lean and fit. But there was no way he could compete with the monster swelling between Jake’s spread legs. “Get 'em off, laddie.” Jake squinted up at Dan. His dick had grown and was edging slowly towards his stomach. He rested indifferently on his elbows, seemingly unaware of its arousal. “Don't look at me, mate!” Jake snarled, “You've had your look, now it's my go.” Dan averted his eyes and let his boxer shorts fall to his feet. The reclining biker stared at Dan's gradually thickening cock, his own climbed above his abdomen jerkily. He sat forward and flicked at Dan’s member dismissively, “Not gonna win any prizes with that are you?” Dan bristled. He knew damn well that he was way above average. “What're you gonna win then, first prize in a fucking freak show?” Jake stood slowly and stepped up to Dan. His erection stood straight out from his body. “That's not nice,” he whispered ominously. “You're gonna take that back.” Dan had never backed down in his life. He wasn't going to start now. “You can fucking whistle, mate.” Jake stepped closer; the tip of his cock touched Dan's stomach. He put his huge hands on Dan's shoulders and began to bear down. Dan fought as long as he could but Jake was too strong, his legs buckled and he sank to his knees. The mammoth cock pointed at him accusingly. Jake's hand gripped the lad's nose; instinctively he opened his mouth. The dick drove inside, scraping his teeth with its girth, and forced painfully into Dan's throat. Jake gripped the boy's head, bucking furiously. He leered down at Dan, retching on his shaft. Despite his suffering throat, Dan's dick stood dog-like against his belly. He grasped Jake's strong buttocks as the man rammed into his mouth, cool water trickling between his fingers. Jake began to slow his onslaught till his dick was gliding leisurely between Dan's lips. He rocked his head back, luxuriating in the boy's tongue. Jake's helmet swelled in Dan's mouth and the furred balls he was stroking tightened. Abruptly Jake withdrew and pumped handfuls of semen over the lad’s face. It ran in gluey rivers down his neck and chest. Breathing heavily, Jake wiped his dick across Dan's features and then turned away, reaching for his clothes. Dan sat abandoned on the grass, his cock deflating with his hopes. He observed Jake's back flex as he picked up his T-shirt. Dan longed to slide between those square buttocks. Jake turned back smiling, but his magnificent torso was quickly concealed by the black cotton. Then he flopped onto the grass and pulled on one shiny black boot. Dan stood and picked up his boxers. He didn't want Jake to have the satisfaction of knowing his disappointment. “What the fuck are you doing?” Jake demanded, his hands tying the laces on his second boot. “Can't you read or something?” He twisted to reveal the back of his shirt. “Fuck This!” Relief. Dan dropped his shorts and approached. “What you dressing for then?” “Always get screwed with your boots on. Your Dad never tell you that?” Jake got to his feet, wearing only T-shirt and polished boots. He looked down at Dan’s erection; it stared back. “You gonna feed me some of that big cock of yours then?” Dan eyed the man’s colossal penis skeptically. He wondered if Jake was taking the piss again. “Look. I can't fuck myself, mate! It's a long time since I had one your size up my arse.” Jake took the cock in his hand, stroking the head with his thumb. It was growing hard. “Now get your boots on, I ain’t got all day.” Dan hurriedly grabbed his boots and, fumbling with the incompetence of lust, finally laced them up. There was a splash. Jake was in the river, his immense dick standing out over the water like a jetty. Dan donned a rubber from his jeans and jumped in. Jake leaned forward on the bank as the man approached him. The water felt icy round Dan's legs but his cock was burning up. He positioned himself behind the bending man. The shadow of the man’s T-shirt mimicked the arrow on his back-print, pointing directly between his buttocks. Lifting the shirt Dan ran his hands over Jake's wide back. He teased his cock between the man's legs then flipped it up over his arse. “Fuck, man. What're you waiting for? Get busy with that cock.” Jake pushed his rump back onto Dan. Dan pulled away, he was in control now and he intended to milk it. He stroked the length of his shaft up over the cleft of Jake's arse. The sensitive underside slid smoothly against wet flesh. He shifted back then forward, allowing the tip to part Jake's buttocks slightly. Jake gave a deep sigh. Then he probed between the biker's legs again, the tip nestling against the back of Jake's full balls. “Man! Fuck me will you?” Jake growled with frustration. Dan could feel the rigid root of Jake's erection with his glans. He was frustrating himself as much as Jake. He wanted to screw him something rotten. Dan massaged the end of his dick. It was raw with anticipation. He edged it slowly between Jake's buttocks and found the opening, then he eased it inside. The round head forced its way in; Jake groaned. The shaft was stretching him with its granite girth, forging its way into his guts. He could feel the helmet's ridge sliding deeper and deeper till Dan's balls were pressed firm against him. “Fuck me,” he growled, “come on, you bastard! Fuck me!” “You wannit hard?” Dan breathed, doubtful he could screw such a body in any other way. “Hard as you can, mate! Do your fucking worst!” Jake's voice was rasping and low. Dan slid his shaft out till only the head was inside then thrust it back in. “Yeah, fuck me.” Jake's buttocks tensed around the root. Dan picked up speed, moving his glistening dick faster and faster. The motion sent concentric circles across the river, the rings multiplying with his speed. As his hips worked harder, Jake steadied himself against the bank, the splashing cooling his balls. Jake grunted and panted as if he were being kicked. His hips squirmed, back twisted, neck arched. Slapping against his white, hard arse Dan moved his hands under Jake's stomach and found his cock pointing rigid into the river. He explored its pulsing length and breadth with urgent fingers. His balls began to tingle. Sliding his dick out, Dan turned Jake around. The biker lifted himself onto the bank and raised his legs out of the river. Water gushed out of his boots. Climbing up to meet him, Dan ran his fingers over the man’s clenched six-pack, then pinched both nipples as he guided his cock between the man's legs. Jake groaned. “Jesus, shit! Fuck me!” Jake hacked and spat into Dan¹s face. Dan grinned mischievously and gobbed back. Held round the waist by Jake’s legs, Dan bent nearer, gobbing everything he could summon. Jake gave as good as he got but gravity was against him. Soon they were face to face spitting and hacking like conflicting wolves. Their features were slathered in warm mucus as they finally joined, oiled by saliva, their wrestled faces biting, licking, sliming together. Dan felt his cock stretching inside Jake’s body, aroused beyond endurance. He lifted the man’s legs and, staring down at their union, he began to thrust. With Jake's calves on his shoulders he could plunge deeper but the tightness of the heat was inciting his climax. Water from the man’s boots dripped down Dan's back as he rammed inside him. The youth's onslaught got fiercer. He held Jake in a bear hug feeling the man’s cock pressed against his abdomen. Then he reared back holding the round thighs steady as he slammed between them. Jake watched the lad lunging over him, feeling the hardness driving up his arse. His body was youthful and compact, a dark path of hair dividing his heaving stomach. Suddenly it tensed as his orgasm kicked in. Dan's balls drew up beneath him, his movement reduced to furious little rabbit thrusts. A gasp and he exploded inside Jake's body, arching his head back in a noiseless howl. Jake laughed at the spectacle but his hands spanned Dan’s bucking buttocks holding him hard inside. His cock reared high off his body and the helmet, swelling to ripeness, flung a succession of glutinous strands over his head. Dan's hips slowed their struggle, ebbing as if someone had pulled the plug. Wasted, panting, he slumped on top of Jake. They lay in the sweltering heat, glued by sweat till their heartbeats slowed. Cautiously, Dan peeled himself away. Jake wrenched him down again. They fucked three more times that afternoon, a second time in the river and again across each of their bikes. It was always Jake with the willing arse but that was just how Dan liked it. After, they returned to the riverbank to fetch their clothes. Numbers were exchanged but Dan threw the slip of paper into a bush as he strode his bike. He wanted to keep this memory pure. It was one he intended to use often. It wasn't until he kicked his Norton to life, that he noticed a large, chalky stain on his jeans. He glanced down at it frequently as he tore down the narrow lanes towards the motorway. Jake must have spanned six feet to reach them. He decided he would never wash those jeans again, but that was hardly an effort for Dan.