Gay Erotic Stories

At one o’clock at the side door I waited, but the guys were about ten minutes late. When they showed up they were wearing tight, muscle hugging tank tops that drew attention to their enormous upper bodies. They were in an animated conversation about their game of hoops, and virtually ignored me even as they approached me. I just tagged along behind like a good mascot, letting them lead me wherever we were to go.

I had been thinking for over an hour, off and on, about what Raymond had said to me regarding what we were going to do, and it sounded potentially exciting. We stopped at a black jeep in the parking lot which Dante entered on the driver’s side. It was an open jeep with on the bumper had a sticker that read "Tiger Football," plus a smaller one that read, "I lift at Gold’s."

Almost as if it were a naturally movement, the hunks shucked their tank tops so as to ride big, buffed and bare through the streets, wherever it was we were going. I sat in the back and got an up-close view of their massive, bronzed, clean cut necks with the thin gold chains around them. I was close enough to smell their clean, manly sweat, from their midday basketball game, with just a hint of CK cologne still left after their athletic activity had sweated away most of that fine smell. There was just a slight hint of redishness in their skin tone, which made me realize that they had no doubt played ball with their buddies with their shirts off.

It was becoming clearer that these were the kind of guys who took their shirts off at the drop of a hat and kept them off whenever possible. Given their devotion to getting big, this was to be expected, and no doubt their summer in South Beach had shown them a lot about what looked stud and manly and alluring to admirers of the male body, female and otherwise Beneath the necks rippled up some massive back musculature, though just a tantalizing hint before it merged into the jeep’s seats. Even as they breathed their backs rippled with football player power.

‘You guys fuckin’ fouled fifty fuckin’ times," Raymond said angrily, even while putting his hand on his pal’s upper thigh—just as he had to mind both in the classroom and the locker room cubicle where he and his pals had gotten off at my expense. "It’s like you were fuckin’ playin’ football, not basketball." His hand seemed to squeeze his buddy’s leg as the conversation continued.

"Ah, fuck off," replied Dante with a hint of a stud grin on his face. "That’s the way real men play. You wanna play that faggot ball. You gotta TAKE it to the hoop, and if anybody gets in your way, hell, fuck that. Comin’ through, baby! Look the fuck out!"

"Faggot ball fuckin’ SHIT," replied his buddy. "You know I fuckin’ love contact—LOVE it—but this ain’t football, this is b-ball, there’s a limit to that shit in basketball…"

I listened to their deep voices with pleasure, having no opinion on the debate over the degree of fouling appropriate to noon pickup outdoor basketball, but trying to imagine my hunk gods on the court with some of the other young jocks, muscles rippling, gold chains gleaming against tanned, muscular, male flesh, strips of stud underwear being shown, man-to-man banging going on, palm-slapping and male bonding on the court when a pass worked. It must’ve been a sexy sight….

Just then I was brought back to reality by the sound of a carp hone beeping. Dante picked it up and said, "Yeah?" His expression changed to a smile, which looked great on him. "Hey, man, what’s hangin’?…Just cruisin’ over to the pool with Aspen, that fuckin’ wimp who’s complainin’ that I bruised his fairy chest playin’ ball today…"

At this Raymond punched the driver in the bicep; he laughed and continued, "He got hit with a REAL man’s chest under the basket today, baby. Hey, come on over—great day to work on gettin’ dark, we got plenty of brews, we can shoot some hoop, toss the ball…and, oh yeah, we got a new ‘friend’ who was makin’ eyes at our muscles at school with us….yeah, baby, another one!…" Looking at Raymond, Dante asked, "what the hell’s his goddam name?"

Raymond looked at me and smiled his top jock smile, looking intently at me, mesmerizing me. "DEL—bert, he says," he stated, and with that he got in my face, his nose right next to mine, grinning. Then he winked at me and laughed just a little.

"Ah, yeah, that’s it, he says he’s fuckin’ named ‘Delbert,’ if you can fuckin’ believe that," reported Dante to whoever it was on the other end of the phone. "Cock hungry as hell, born to suck….yeah, sucks pretty damn well; got MY rocks off damn good."

At that Raymond’s up-close grin got huge, ear to ear, and looking right in my eyes, whispered intimately, just to me as Dante kept on speaking on the phone, "he loves a face fulla’ nut, he does what others won’t do"—with a brief, in-rhythm pause, he cockily winked again—"he keeps the residue, and when I tell him to suck me again, he says, ‘When?’—with goo gobs of nut, drippin’ down his chin…" It appeared he was quoting a sexy song. My boner got harder as my idol whispered, "All afternoon, buddy….all afternoon. Get your fuckin’ cocksuckin’ mouth wet and ready, lil’ boy! All your faggot fairy dreams are comin’ true today, over and over." He then turned back toward his buddy, who was finishing up his phone conversation.

"…OK, then, see you guys in awhile," finished Dante, hanging up the phone. "Who’s comin’? That was Tim, right?"

"Yeah…he and Gene have been liftin’ heavy this morning at Gold’s Hollywood and they just wanna hang out, get some bronze, chill out. So they’re comin’ over."

As if reading my mind, Raymond glanced backward and said to me, "A couple of guys you’ll get a kick out of, Del babe…some football gods from SC who’ve been recruitin’ Dante for the Trojans. You’ll see what I mean by gods, buddy! And oh yeah—they know the scene, too."

"That’s right," added Dante with just the trace of a grin. "They said they didn’t get any today so they’re up for some."

"A coupla big, big bods, little Del, "added Raymond. "Hope your stomach ain’t gettin’ bloated with all this manly athlete sperm!" He chuckled, and Dante joined in with his deep male laugh.

Raymond turned on the radio, and a sexy dance song was playing on the local house music station. Raymond sang along, getting some help, surprisingly, from Dante at the chorus, at which the singer warned his girlfriend that she was dancing so closely that he was getting an erection. "Fuckin’ hot song," said Raymond with enthusiasm. "I got seriously boned at last week’s post game party when we were dancin’ to that and the twins kept yellin’ out ‘you’re makin’ it hard‘ at the right moment—I poked my boner into that girl I was paired up with and I could tell she loved it."

"You scored later, right?"

"Hell, yeah," Raymond said with manly pride at his sexual conquest. "Drilled her three times when we hooked up later on."

At this point traffic was a little more congested, and the jeep slowed to a halt, nearing a traffic light. To the right was a car with a little rainbow sticker on it. In my ignorance I had no idea what that might mean, and wouldn’t have noticed it. But Raymond did. "Hey, Del, pull up next to that brown car at the intersection. I’m gonna make some guy’s day." Obediently, the stud driver did just that. The window was rolled down and a pale, round-faced guy who looked like he was at least in his twenties sat at the driver’s wheel. Raymond leaned over toward the car and began flexing his strong, tanned arm. He really had huge arm development, as he well knew. "Hey, buddy," he said to the driver, who looked over to see a young stud god enjoying showing off his muscles. "17 fuckin’ inches—all muscle." The guy took a look and, predictably, became glued to the macho display.

Raymond, of course, picked right up on this. "That’s right, pal, fresh male muscle. We’re Lakewood Tigers, football players; we got a game tomorrow night at six at Memorial Field—come check out the muscle, lotta hot shots in the program, too." The guy kept looking, and Raymond kept flexing for him. "Good lookin’ football players, man…big muscles, too, like me. You like that, don’t cha? Yeah, I knew it," he added as the guy slightly nodded his head. At that the light changed, and Dante drove off while Raymond blew a kiss toward his new admirer.

"Just gave him some wet dreams," Raymond said with a grin of satisfaction. He looked back at me and said, "Just tryin’ to help out, Del buddy, fulfill some guy like you’s dreams."

"You’re as fuckin’ queer as they are," said Dante. "Nah, man, just oversexed, horny as hell," replied his pal, still smiling. With that the radio came back on and the conversation died down. In about ten minutes more of driving, we turned into a residential street and into the driveway of a fairly large, modern looking house. Dante clicked the garage door open, drove in, parked and cut off the engine. The jocks jumped out and I obediently followed.

"Where are we?" I asked tentatively.

"This is Coach’s house; we come over a lot, the guys," explained Raymond, "hang out, work out, play ball, get dark. There’s a nice pool in the back." As we walked through the kitchen I saw the patio and a moderately large (for a private home) pool set in a well-kept backyard. "Get a six pack and some ice and put it in the cooler," ordered my hero, "…we’re gonna get wet."

With that the guys walked out toward the pool. My eyes followed them as they pulled off their shorts and stood in white Calvin’s. Quickly they dove into the pool, whooping at the wetness and the slight chill. I walked toward the fridge and followed instructions. As I took the cooler outside, I saw the hunks emerging from the pool. Each threw back his shoulders to dry off his handsome head, and used his huge hands to slick back his short, athletic hair. Wet, bronzed muscles abounded, looking great, handsome symmetry of pumped up pecs and solid sexy ab development, with clingy, wet Calvin’s showing that each stud was packing a lot in his pouch. Naturally Raymond immediately saw my lustful look.

"Yeah, babe, fuckin’ Bruce Weber," he said, surprising me by looking and sounding more mean than laughingly playful. He seemed to like to keep me guessing, thinking, correctly, that this aroused me more, kept me on the edge. "Put those brews down." I obeyed. The guys now grabbed a beer each and sat with their legs dangling into the pool’s water, side by side…quite close, actually, legs definitely touching. Beer bottle in hand, the guys clanked them together, and Raymond said, "To a fuckin’ win tomorrow, buddy boy," with Dante replying, "Damn right."

With that, each jock chugged the entire contents of their brew in one long swallow. This produced a slight grin on each boy’s face, having successfully accomplished the manly trick.

I wasn’t paying too much attention to that. Rather, my mouth was watering as I took my place behind them at their massive, over muscled young backs. The huge shoulder blades were almost unbelievable, yet not truly freaky or ugly; rather, they looked like bigtime football player shoulders, developed from a lot of ball playing as well as some concerted lifting under the watchful supervision of a stud-building coach. I couldn’t help letting out a little moan as I observed the gorgeous male beauty in front of me, a moan picked up immediately by the eagle ears of sexy muscle stud Raymond.

"Hey, Del, here’s your moment—we gotta get oiled up before we seriously lay out. No oilin’ on the basketball court, so we got a little red." This was slightly true, although the red was just a trace on top of the great looking bronze that covered their super jock muscles. "Get off your fairy ass and go inside the kitchen; look in the drawer next to the refrigerator, there’s some suntan lotion in there. You’re gonna buff up our manly backs."

I followed instructions, and it was as he said Heading back out to the patio, I was stunned and excited to see the two jock gods softly kissing each other on the lips. I had already found out that Raymond was more into male sex than I had first dared even dream, but now I had proof that even Dante was not just a straight boy who got his rocks off sometimes with a male admirer. My heart was beating faster at this, and my erection was stiffening.

"Hey, bud, get those fuckin’ clothes off, get comfortable," said Raymond. I stopped, hesitated a moment, and then proceeded as he added, "Come on, strip down, join the party." I took off my shoes, unbuttoned my shirt, and hesitated again. "Aw, leave your fuckin’ undershirt on, you ain’t that built….but hey," Raymond added, getting a mischievous idea, "let your bone stick through your underwear slits…it’s lookin’ a little crowded in there."

With that he smiled and zeroed his vision in on my crotch. "In fact, you’re gettin’ wet in there again—DAMN, your juices flow a lot—is that all the time, or just when you’re with us big boys, bud?" He went on, suggesting it was not a real question, that he was not really interested, not that I really had anything to say. I just obeyed my stud master. "Yep, ol’ Dante, take a look…little Delbert is fuckin’ BONED to see us, so FUCKIN’ happy to buff up our backs." Dante turned and looked by had regained his blank, "I’m-a-stud" expression. I felt my face redden with shame, but this was easily overpowered by lust.

"Now get the hell over here and oil up out muscles—we’re workin’ on out backs’ tan today. Rub us at the same time, Del buddy…feel the muscle as you work it in. Rub it in deep, now, make us feel good. That’s it, buddy…"

I was dreamy again as I felt the incredible results of all these stud guys’ lifting sessions—their barn-door wide backs, the ripples on their ripples, the sexy taper down to their flat, narrow waistlines. "Feels good, man," complimented Raymond, twisting his head a little to look back at me with an approving smile. In doing so he made his massive musculature flex a little, demonstrating that beautiful, male animal power that made me bone up even harder. I could feel a drizzle of precum forming on the head of my dick as I drank up the exciting scene.

My lustful excitement immediately doubled; however, as I saw the two studs look at each other and get back to their kissing. This was serious, deep, male-love kissing. I knew from my own recent experience that Raymond know how to tongue-kiss, and he took the lead in the serious kissing of his tanned, muscular teammate. I kept rubbing their massive backs with tanning oil, and involuntarily began twisting my ass and my exposed dick in a sort of bump and grind motion. My precum was strong now, and without much effort I felt I was getting close. A little grunt of pleasure from stud Dante got me over, and I shot my load—right onto the base of Dante’s strong young back, down near his athletically trim waist.

"What the fuck--?" asked the stud, who quickly got an assist from his more dominant teammate. "I think our little buddy’s done shot his load again, big man," said Raymond, who craned his neck to take a look, flexing his huge muscles, which I was still caressing with oil, and quickly seeing the proof in the puddle on his linebacker pal’s back. "Hell, yeah!"

"Dumb fuck!" said Dante, sounding genuinely angry, and putting a flash of fear into me.

"Now little Del, ya silly cocksucker, you gotta clean up your damn mess again." With that he shoved my head forcefully right into the spot where I had come onto Dante, in the small of his strong young back. He almost used my head as if it were a rag, pushing it around roughly to swab up the come. After a few moments of this, he pulled my head back to examine it.

"All right, little boy, your face is a little wet…but," thinking wickedly, "let it stay there. You deserve it for makin’ that big fuckin’ mess on my stud teammate." I, of course, obeyed my idol.

At that point we heard the screech of a car pulling into the driveway.

"That’ll be Tim and Gene, the Trojan boys," said Raymond. "You get the door, Del bud; we’re gonna fuckin’ lay out and get this sun bakin’ our backsides."

"B-but…" I, flustered a little and reddening, began…

"Now don’t you worry your sweet little cum-filled face, Del," said Raymond with mock-kindness and his shit-kicking, ear-to-ear grin covering his bronzed face. "These boys will be happy to see you."

"Yeah, faggot," said Dante. "’Member? I told ‘em we had a ‘hoover’ with us. And they didn’t get laid yet today, so they’re horny, little boy." With that I was treated to one of Dante’s relatively rare grins—a great treat.

"Don’t just fuckin’ sit there, ya dummy, get your ass in there and welcome these studs to our bronze and buff party," instructed Raymond, as he got up and moved toward the towel on the patio lounge chair, preparing to stretch out. "Tell ‘em I sent you."

With some fear yet full of lust, I moved inside. I heard some deep voices in the garage through the door, and in a moment the door opened. There stood two virile specimens, even bigger than Raymond and Dante, in form-fit T-shirts that were filled up with jock muscle, which read, "TROJAN STUD TEAM," with a small drawing of the condom logo.

"What the fuck is that on your face, faggot?" was the welcoming comment. My mouth went dry, as these guys were not smiling, and seemed to pump up their chests in a sort of showoff flex, which showed prominently in their white muscle hugging tees.

[to be continued]