Gay Erotic Stories

When I showed you his picture in the paper, and I told you that I had met him, you wanted to know the circumstances. I didn't want to go into it then, because it was in the early stages of our relationship, and I didn't know how you would take it. Besides, when I said that he had been a trick, you didn't look like you believed me. He wasn't exactly a trick. I don't know what you had imagined. now i guess i will tell you what happened. I was flying back to Denver from a vacation in Mexico. but there was a blizzard in Denver and no flights were landing, so we were rerouted to Tucson. the airline put us up in a Ramada inn there, and we were supposed to fly on to Denver the next day. I was still in the bar about one a.m., and had had a few drinks already, when he walked in. Apparently his flight had been rerouted too, and apparently he had already had a few drinks on the plane himself. He was not in a good mood. I was sitting about three stools away from him and i could hear him complaining to the bartender. How it pissed him off to be stuck in this do-nothing town in the middle of the night. How he should have taken an earlier flight with the rest of the team, but he wanted to get in a golf game first. how he had to get to Chicago for the game tomorrow. It seemed that he was very stuck on himself. I didn't know that much about baseball, but I knew he was something of a star, and probably had an attitude problem. Well, I could tell he had an attitude problem by the way he talked. So when he said, "I’m the best fuckin' catcher in the game," I said to myself, "yeah, I bet you are." He wasn't so self-involved that he didn't hear that. His head whipped around to see who had said it, and I looked right back at him like I didn't care that he had heard me. He didn't say anything, but went back to talking to the bartender. He was a little less vocal, maybe. I finished my drink and left about ten minutes later. I had just gotten to the elevator when I realized that he had walked up and was standing beside me. I looked over and he said, "What the fuck did you mean by that." I had maybe at this point had my one drink too many. "I just bet you know how to catch." He didn't really look like he knew what I was talking about, so I decided for the sake of his education to clue him in. "Gay guys who are bottoms are sometimes called catchers." He was pissed. "God damn it. I can't go anywhere without some fag hitting on me." "I’m not hitting on you. I just think you probably like to get fucked." He blew up. "I don't like to get fucked. I’m not queer." at this point all I had left was a cliché. "Don’t knock it if you haven't tried it." "It’s not going to happen. I’m never going to let any guy get up my ass." Now I was getting mad. "I bet I could make you like it." "It ain't goin' to happen, cocksucker." This was when I got the idea. "I tell you what," I said. "Let’s make a bet." "What?" "Let’s make a bet. If I win, I get to fuck you in the ass." He looked kind of . . . taken aback by this. "What? What are we going to bet on." I had to think fast at this point. "You’ve got your catcher's mitt up in your room." "Of course." "Do you have a bat?" He was still mad, but he was starting to look curious. "Yeah, I do." "What about some balls," he laughed. "I’ve got some bigger than yours." "Listen, you stupid fuck. You go up to your room and get all that stuff and meet me in the parking lot." "You got it, fag." The parking lot behind the Ramada Inn in Tucson is deserted at two in the morning, believe me. There were some cars, but not many. There were lights spaced along the wire fence and on the corners, but a lot of it was dark. I only had to wait about ten minutes and he was back with his mitt, a bat, and a small canvas bag of baseballs. I had had time to get ready. "So what's the bet?" "You’re probably not much of a pitcher, either. I bet I can hit at least three out of four pitches you throw." He lost it, he was laughing so hard. "You’ve got to be fuckin' joking." I was not losing my cool. "And if I do get three hits I get to fuck you." He was like totally in control of the situation now. He was not worried. Contempt was back in his eyes. "Yeah, and what do I get if. . . I mean, when I win?" I had had to come up with something while I was waiting for him. I was coming back from vacation, but I had not spent all the money I had taken with me. "If you win, I’ll give you a thousand bucks." He liked this. "Well, that's only about five minutes work for me at the park anyway. But I can buy me some new clubs, sure. Pick up the fuckin' bat." He walked away and put on his mitt. I picked up the fuckin' bat and did what batters do. A few practice swings to loosen up my body and get the feel of the bat. It was kind of dark, like I said, but not so dark that I couldn't see the smirk on his face. "Come on, faggot. I haven't got all night." I got into position. He stood there, like he had nothing better to do. Then he got into pitching position, wound up, and threw the ball. I was still a little nervous. I swung and missed by a mile. He about busted a gut. "You pathetic faggot," he laughed. "You haven't got a rat's ass of a chance." It didn't bother me. I was nervous, but I could calm down and concentrate if I wanted too. I acted like I was testing the weight of the bat again, but what I was really thinking about was totally different. I stood still, ready for the next pitch. He must have thought he could let up a little, because the next pitch was neither as fast or as hard as the first. I was able to connect without much problem. The ball sailed over the parking-lot fence. He was surprised, but not upset. "Luck," he snorted. I’ll show you luck, you asshole. Maybe he figured he shouldn't let me off as easy as he thought he could. Maybe I actually knew how to hit a ball. Maybe I actually knew what I was doing. He seemed to concentrate a little longer now. I stood there waiting for the pitch. I could be as patient as he could. I could wait him out. It was so quiet there in that dark parking lot. I could hear the cars on the highway somewhere nearby but that was all. Nothing was moving. Suddenly he whirled and threw a hard fast ball. I swung without thinking, but god must have been on my side. The contact with the bat made a crack like gunfire. The ball shot like a rocket toward him. It’s a good thing he had quick reflexes and dove to the ground, because if it had hit him it would have taken his fucking head off. He was on his feet in a second, charging towards me. "You stupid son of a bitch, you could have fuckin' killed me," he screamed. If you had seen us at that point, it probably would have been pretty funny, with him chasing me and me trying to save my ass from this crazy man. But neither of us were in much condition to do any running, so that didn't go on for long. Maybe at this point he realized I had hit two out of three so far. He got way quiet. I thought maybe I had lucked out just a little bit. Nobody was saying anything. He was leaning over with his hands on his knees, still a little shaken. I was trying to get my breath back from running away from him. He straightened up and walked over to his pitching spot. I walked to where I had dropped the bat, then went back to where I had been before. Nobody had any attitude at that point. He was looking at me calmly and clearly. I was not nervous now. I was completely ready for whatever was coming. He tried to fake me out with a curve ball. He wasn't quite good enough with it. I mean, face it, he wasn't a pitcher. He was a catcher. I didn't even have to swing very hard. The ball did a light slow arch over the parking lot and fell not very far away. It hit the ground very softly. He had followed the ball in it's flight, so when it landed, his back was to me. There was no response in him. None at all. He just stood there facing away into the dark lot. Three out of four. I let him stand there for a moment, and then I slowly walked up behind him and put my hands on his hips. "Let’s go," I whispered into his ear. He only stood there another second or two, then he dropped his mitt to the ground, turned, and started to walk back to the hotel. It was as if he didn't realize that I was there following him. In the deserted lobby, he walked up to the elevator & pushed the button for his floor. But although he was looking straight ahead, he didn't seen to be seeing anything, not even what was directly in front of his face. he was not meeting my eyes, that's for sure. When the elevator came, we got in and stood side by side without talking. When we got to his floor he walked ahead of me down the hall to his room. He put his key in, opened the door, and I followed him inside. When I turned around from closing the door, I saw him sitting on the edge of the bed. He still had his keys in his hand. I sat down in a chair and watched him. His body was slightly slumped over, and the vacant expression in his eyes hadn't changed much, except now they were vacant and sad. We sat there about five minutes. Then I took my shoes off, then my shirt and pants and everything else. I walked over and took the keys from his hand. I was standing naked in front of him and I said, "Time to play, bud." For an instant he looked up at me with a flash of fear in his eyes, then it was gone as he stood up and started taking his clothes off. When he was naked he laid down on his stomach on the bed. I looked at him. The wide muscular back. The big rounded biceps. The dark curly hair on his head that he had turned away from me. But in the half light from the open window I saw what I wanted the most. His ass was paler than the rest of his body. Being a catcher had given it bulk and muscle. His upper thighs were muscled too, but it was those two hard hills that had all my attention. I could see how the hair on his ass got thicker and darker toward the crack. I wondered what I would find at the bottom of it all. I realized that I should do this right so I went into the bathroom and looked in the medicine cabinet. The hotel had provided Vaseline. I took it back to the bedroom. He hadn't moved. I think his body jerked just the least little bit as I climbed onto the side of the bed. But there was no other response, not a sound from him. I wasn't going to be a total prick about this, so the first thing I did was run my hands lightly over his back. He cringed. I could tell he hated my hands on his body. I ran my hands over his back and his shoulders and his arms. I felt the hardness of his muscles underneath my fingers. But it was soft too. Every now and then I would press my fingers lightly into his body to feel the muscles give. I pressed the softness to feel the hardness. Every now and then I would drop my mouth down to his back to run my lips over it. The first time that my hand drifted below his waist, he body jerked again. I thought he was going to say something, but whatever it was, he swallowed it. There was a heat coming off of him. It felt like anger. I think his face was red with rage or embarrassment but it was too dark to really tell. At first, I was just running my hands over his ass, feeling the softness and the hardness that was there too. then I wanted to see more. I moved over to the bottom of the bed until I was between his legs, facing his ass. I had had to push his legs slight further apart to do this and he had resisted a little, but not enough to stop me. What did he think I was going to do? Jump in and plow him all at once? Not me. I was still running my hands over his ass. Now and then one hand would glide toward the crack in the center and I would run my fingers down it from top to bottom. I was right. The hair was thicker there. It made me want to dive in with my mouth right away, I have to admit. But I held off. I kept working him over slowly, getting him used to the touch of my hands, until I wondered if maybe he had passed out or gone to sleep. I put one hand on each cheek and spread them apart. I could see it all from the top of the crack down to his asshole. The hair was thick, yeah. And so I couldn't hold back any more. I leaned forward and licked his asshole. You would have thought someone had sent a thousand volts through him. His whole body spasmed from tension and he went "no." This was the only point where I thought I might lose the whole thing. But maybe god was looking out for me again. I don't know what happened in his catcher's mind but he didn't throw me off. He didn't jump up and beat the crap out of me or call the cops. His body was still tight and tense, but he didn't stop me as I continued to lick his ass. I worked my way up and down the crack getting the hair wet, tasting the sourness of his sweat, smelling the hard odor of a man's ass. I was on a roll now and I was in heaven. My mouth worked its way up and down as I kneaded his hard butt with my hands. Soon enough I was paying heavy attention to his asshole with my tongue. You have to do that kind of things easily with beginners so that they don't know your tongue is going up their asshole until it's already happened. And face it, by this point he was just, very quietly, starting to make sighing noises. I thought, now you're mine. It’s not that far from putting your tongue up some guy's ass to getting your fingers up there. I had enough lubrication from my spit so that every now and then, for just a moment, a half-inch of a finger would slide up instead of my tongue. You don't have to do this as long as you might think in order for him to get used to it. Pretty soon I sat back, my face wet, and reached for the Vaseline. He didn't put up any fuss when I put the first finger in there, so he must have been expecting it, somehow. It slid in fairly easily and his sighs got a little louder. Like he was finally admitting to himself that it was all going to happen. When I started to put two fingers in, he tensed up again, but I knew I just had to gently work at it until both fingers would be up his ass. It didn't take five minutes. And that son of a bitch was starting to move a little bit on his own. He was starting to move his ass down to meet my hand. A slow rhythm got started. I would push my fingers into his asshole. He would accept them, and then push his asshole down on my fingers. The sighs began to turn into moans--the good kind. Of course by this time my dick was hard as a fucking rock. This gorgeous jock was lying there letting me play with his ass. I looked at the broad back that moved in waves as he flexed his muscles. His hands reached toward the top of the mattress and grabbed the edge. His head turned from side to side as I worked my fingers in and out of his ass, and the noises coming out of his mouth every now and then could have sounded like a word, a breath like a barely audible "fuck," a sigh that could have been "shit," a groan that might have been "no." And all this on two fingers! No matter how much fun I was having, I couldn't do this part forever. At the point when I thought he was really starting to get into it, I quickly pulled both fingers out. A big sigh from him for that. Then I greased up my dick. He knew what was coming. And at this point he should have been loose enough to be ready for it. I moved into place on top of him and placed the head of my dick against his asshole. I pressed it against him just enough to let him know what was next. Maybe I shouldn't have done that because it gave him time to tense up again. Because when I shoved it in, all at once, his head snapped back and he screamed. I kept my cock buried up his ass as the scream turned into a howl. I pulled my dick all the way out of his ass and then rammed it in again. He started crying from the pain. I didn't pull it all the way out this time, and I started shafting him every five or ten seconds. Now he found words again. "Fuck." "Shit." "Fuck." "No." "God." "Fuck." "Stop it." I didn't stop. I fucked him slowly for a while, then after he had calmed down a little bit, I shifted gears. I pounded away at his ass. Faster. Harder. He couldn't do anything about it. Sweat was starting to drop off my face onto his back. I grabbed his hips with my hands and started to ram his butt down onto my cock. And yeah, right, you know it. He started to like it. He started to like getting his straight ass fucked by this faggot. He stopped crying and cursing and "fuck no" turned into "fuck yeah." He was lifting his ass up into the air so i could fuck him better. Soon he was up on his knees with his forearms and face pressed into the bed. In this new position I adjusted myself so that I could see my cock going in and out of his ass. Now when I pulled my dick all the way out, I could see his sweaty and greasy ass and the asshole I was fucking. And now when I pressed the head of my dick against his asshole, he would push back on it. He couldn't wait to get my dick up his ass. I would slide the shaft in and watch it disappear into him and listen to his groans as more and more went up his ass. And then I would start fucking him again. I got him up on his hands and knees. He was still going "fuck yeah." As he rocked back and forth while I fucked him, I heard a slapping noise. What it was, he had a hardon, and every time we rocked back and forth, his cock would flop up and slap his belly. I stopped for a minute and reached under him. His cock wasn't especially long, and the head was actually kind of small. But it was one of the hefty curved cocks that's a lot wider than it was thick. You would like it. The end was wet, and when I reached up and felt his hairy belly, I could feel the wetness from all of his precum that was being slapped up there. He groaned a little bit as I was feeling his dick, but that wasn't what I was there for. I got back to business. I plowed his ass some more. How long did this go on? I couldn't really say. More than an hour from start to finish. Maybe an hour and a half. It got to the point where I knew I was ready to shoot my load up his ass. Now I was the one going "fuck" and "yeah." I fucked him as fast and as hard as I could and blew all my nuts into his ass. We collapsed on the bed, me lying on top of him, my dick still in him. What do I do now, I thought, once I could think again. I didn't think he was going to turn on me now, but I didn't know what to expect. In the end, I decided on the romantic approach. I pulled my cock out of his ass, got dressed, and was out of there in three minutes. He didn't move. He didn't say anything. He didn't turn to look at me. He hadn't really looked at me since before that last pitch in the parking lot. I didn't care. Stupid fuck. There was no one in the hall as I walked back to my room. Before I went to sleep, I thought about what he was probably doing. He probably laid there, getting his breath back, maybe hating himself a little, maybe hating me a lot. He would probably have reached down to his asshole to investigate the damage. He would have felt around with his fingers and when he held his hand in front of his face, he would have seen his fingers covered with Vaseline, blood, and my cum. He would have put his fingers in his mouth, then back into his ass again. He would have started to fuck himself with two fingers, then try to work three in. He would get up on his knees on the bed, shoving his fingers up his ass, and jerking himself off with his other hand. He would be fucking himself with his own hand when he came. He was never going to be the same again.