Gay Erotic Stories

It was a Sunday morning, and way too early for anybody to be knocking at my door. I don’t know, maybe seven thirty, you know ... dangerously early! I couldn’t even get focused, head pounding from all the Margaritas I’d put away down at Bowie’s. I was still trying to find the second sleeve of my robe when I cracked open the door and, what tha’ hell? There’s Boomer Nelson standing there with his face all screwed up and damn near bawling! Boomer was all state football back in high school, now he sells cars or something. I knew he and his wife lived in my apartment complex but it’s not like we’re friends or nothin’. I came out when I was like, a sophomore, with purple hair, earrings and leather pants. We lived on slightly divergent planets, totally different orbits. So I’m just standing there, still fumbling for my other sleeve and my red silk kimono is not co-operating, my mouth is doing it’s best imitation of a fish outta water and I’m thinking this is one stupid ass dream ... then Boomer is pushing his way inside and looking over his shoulder like a dope dealer in daylight, and slams the door and then he’s hugging me and damn near sobbing. “Stanley, you gotta’ help me, man. I am SO fucked up! So fucked! Nobody else to turn to, man! I donno what to do...”, and the big guy is mauling me, which ain’t exactly a bad thing, and I’m guessing this is gonna be a wet dream, you know? I still couldn’t wake up! “Hey, big fellow, whoa! Whoa! You bruising me, for god’s sake! Put me down!”, and he keeps patting at my arm, apologizing and screwing up his face, little tears beading up and he’s flushing red. “What the fuck, Boomer? You’re scarin’ me. I ain’t helping you move no bodies, you hear? If you killed your wife ...” “Hey, Stanley, listen. Please, man! I got a serious problem, here. Make some coffee, you gotta wake up. You gotta help me, ain’t nobody else I know, please!” “Calm down, Boomer, calm down! Do a lude, dude! Here, sit down, I’ll get some coffee.” “No! God, I can’t sit down, that’s the problem!”, I thought he was gonna scream, he was on red button, panic alert, “It’s my ass, man. I done fucked up my ass and I’m totally screwed!” Mmm, okay, he’s in homo crisis, I get it. That’s why he comes to me. Big dude got fucked, right? This dream is starting to get interesting. I found my sleeve, got the damn robe on, tied the belt. “It’s okay, Boomer. You came to the right place. We can talk about this, it ain’t as bad as it seems. It’s okay, really! Chill, man. Life goes on.” He looks at me with some shade of relief, “So you can get it out? I don’t have to go to emergency? Please, Stanley, I can’t go to the hospital!” “Huh? Boomer! You ain’t pregnant! Get a grip, man!” “No, man, the candle! Can you get it out or not?”, he’s really crying, now, big sobs! Big drum roll, snare crash! I got it. Took me a while, but I got it. I grinned, “You got a candle stuck up your ass?” “Since Friday night. I can’t get it out, Stanley! Please help me, dude. I am SO fucked!” “Yeah, I see what you mean. What color?”, I’m just trying to get the picture, here. “Hell, Stanley, what’s it matter? Can you get the fuckin’ thing out?” “Oh, yeah, I can get it out. Just that I like white ones, colored candles are sort of passé, don’t you think? White and vanilla scented, that’s my favorite. Don’t hit me, Boomer! Jesus, I ain’t awake. I need coffee, sit down.” “I can’t fucking sit down, man! I’m telling you!”, and he starts pacing around. I gotta have caffeine, can’t think. An angry Boomer makes more sense than a sobbing Boomer, guess we making progress. “I got some Mocha Deluxe, want a cup?”, he just looks at me. I ran to the kitchen. Little fits of giggles kept coming in waves, I repressed. “Here, all I’ve got is Valium. Better take two, they’re the weak ones. You got to relax, Boomer. We can do this, don’t sweat it.” “Okay, but nothing short of Prozac is gonna chill me. What’s this?” He held up the glass to the light. “It’s very expensive scotch! Don’t spill it, drink it! If you don’t relax we’ll have to go to emergency!” He gulped down the pills, swallowed half the drink, shuddered. “I ain’t going to the hospital, I’ll kill myself first.” “The autopsy would find it, that wont work”, I grinned. “You’re a cruel man, Stanley.” “Drink, relax.” “It ain’t fucking funny, okay?” “Yes it is, Boomer, you’ll laugh about it later.” “In divorce court? Right!”, he had a real ugly streak of cynicism. “Too late for modesty, Boomer. Hike your legs and get it over with.” I put him on the kitchen table, best light, best height for work. I put his feet up on the back of chairs, like stirrups, got in there with a flashlight and a tube of K-Y jelly. “What kind of lub did you use?”, I was curious. “Just soap, I was in the shower. Janice had these candles on the shelf, she likes candle light bubble baths, you know women. Flowers and candles, all that.” He was more relaxed, now, talked a lot! “I don’t know much about women, Boomer. But candle light and bubble bath sounds romantic.” I got a finger in and started massaging his sphincter; he was still clamping it tight. “Romantic, yeah. But I get tired of romance, Stanley. Sometimes I just want to get real kinky and funky. Sex for sex sake, you know? I’m a very physical guy, I need some hard play, some strenuous working out. All that soft lovey-dovey stuff, it don’t do much for me. I could get into some leather and sweat. Janice, she don’t understand about that. Ouch, wait a minute, that hurts!” His ass squirmed around; maybe it was too soon for two fingers. “Lay still, Boom! Take it like a man! It’s gonna hurt, but you can handle it!” Big drops of sweat broke out on his face. His breathing was still short and fast. “Hey, what you doing? Don’t play with my dick, man. This ain’t no free love orgy!” “It’s gonna help, Boomer, relax. You gotta get your mind off your ass hole. Funny how the pain works, but when you get turned on, it wont hurt so bad, I guarantee.” He had a really fat dick, uncut, and big hairy balls. Working right there at them was a temptation I couldn’t resist. Besides, it might help to take his mind off the pain. It always worked for me! I leaned closer, kissed his balls. “Whoa, Stanley! I ain’t ready for this, dude. I ain’t never let a man do me, stop it!” “Your dick seems to like it, Boomer. You’re getting hard. Just lay back, think of it as therapy. Or maybe the price you owe me for my medical services.” He kept getting harder, growing fast. I stroked him, licked his balls and then went for the big banana. “Ohmygod, that’s deep, Stan! How you do that? Shit!” My well-practiced deep throat technique always wowed ‘em. Years of training had my gag reflex under firm control; I could take down a bigger cock than Boomer! He was starting to buck under my mouth. I backed off, “Feel good?” “Hell yeah! I never had a girl go down that far! Wow, gets tight in there, and hot! You can do that again, if you want to.” “Well, if you like it...”, I went back down on him, let my throat catch his big head and pump. His hands came down to hold my face, rub my hair. His hips lifted off the table. I kept a couple of fingers working at his ass and they slowly slipped inside. I worked them in a tight twist. “Oh, shit, man. Yeah! That’s the way to get it!” His ass was clutching at my fingers, gripping and relaxing, in pulses. I touched candle! Okay! Backed off the head job, didn’t want him shooting, yet. He tried to hold my head down. “More, Stan, just a little more, don’t stop!” “Wait up, wait up. Lots more, we gonna get you off, Boomer, just wanna get more lube up in there. I found the candle; it’s not in deep. I can reach it.” “Maybe if I cum, then I can relax more, you think?” “Mmm, maybe”, I squirted a half tube up inside him, got my silver ice tongs all greased up and went back to work on his cock before I tried to push them in. He was opening up real slow, but steady. “Yeah, baby! Deep, go deep. God, that’s so good!” The tongs went in easy, he didn’t even feel it. I got a finger in beside them, guided the candle and caught a grip, eased it out.” “Oh, fuck me! Owh! Baby, you did it? Oh, yeah, sonofabitch, you did it!” he was moaning in relief and still bucking at my throat, never side tracked from the nut he wanted so bad!” I backed off, again, left him panting and bucking air. His body was drenched with sweat, trembling with tensed muscles. I dropped the tongs and candle to the floor, climbed up to stand in a chair, tossed back my robe and pushed my pounding cock at the wet hole already stretched and begging. “Stanley! Hey, man! What..? Aw.. mmmm, cut it out! don’t fuck around, man.. Oh, shit! Yeah, hard! Fuck me, dude! Deeper!” He slid up the table, his big fat muscled legs came over my shoulders, I topped him and got an arm around under his thick neck for leverage. His eyes squeezed tight and his mouth peeled back tight over his teeth in a fierce mask of pained pleasure. “Better than a candle, Boomer? Is that good? Is that deep?” I fucked him like a punk bitch, and he was tripping! “Stan, Stan, oh baby, oh baby, oh!” Must have hit the prostate, or his g-spot or something, he started spewing like a gusher, shooting sperm all over my chest, his belly.. his feet was trying to climb my back and I lost it, dumped a two week load in him, a quart of hot jizz and my nuts was boiling! I took a shower, pulled on some briefs, he was still laying on the fucking table. “Get up, man. come on!”, I slapped at his face. He was near comatose, truly flaked out. “Huh? Huh?” “Wake up, Boomer! All over, man! Go get a shower. You gonna live, or what?” “Yeah, hey. I’m okay.” He rolled off, picked up his clothes, stumbled towards the bath. I followed; fell on the bed, exhausted. When I woke he was curled naked against me, kissing my neck, “You’re so good for me, Stanley”, he reached down and played with my dick. I rolled away. I hate it when they get romantic, you know?