Gay Erotic Stories

The virile male specimens who stood before me had to be Tim and Gene, the boys Dante had spoken to on the phone while he and his buddy were cruising shirtless with me in the back in his jeep. He had told them about me and my desires, and had even complimented me to them: that I was a good little cocksucker. I knew that they were varsity football players at USC, that they had been recruiting Dante for the Trojans, and that they were coming over just to hang out and lay out in the sun after their earlier workout at Gold's Gym, Hollywood. So in that sense I had a little feeling of security, since Raymond, whom I trusted now even as I idolized him, as he knew, had made it clear that he would take care of me and help me fulfill my formerly repressed desires. Dante, Raymond's big, stud sidekick, had also told me that the two jocks who were coming over had not yet received sexual satisfaction that day and were therefore up for some sex — this line being delivered with a sexy smile. This took my breath away, made me feel fearful — but I was in too deep now.

But I wasn't prepared for the aggressive, insulting comment from one of the huge males: "What the fuck is that on your face, faggot?" These were very, very alpha males, the type the very sight of which was intimidating, and, I had to admit, deliciously sexy. What was on my face was what was left of the cum that had been smeared there by the strong, forceful Raymond, shoving my nose and cheeks into the small of Dante's massively muscled bronzed back, into where I had shot from the excitement of polishing up his and his pal's broad shoulders with tanning oil while they, somewhat shockingly to me, had begun exploring the insides of each other's mouths with their forceful tongues. The comment from one of the new boys sent a shiver down my spine because the guy sounded really, really contemptuous, and given his huge size, I knew he could easily pulverize me, with one huge, muscled, tanned arm behind his musclebound back. At the same time I felt the shiver of fear, though, I also felt the blood getting back into my rising male member, which was exposed to the two boys, poking out of my white briefs as demanded by Raymond before. Immediately I had a huge, huge erection (by the standards of my rather small, at least compared to these huge stud guys, member) that was open to the view of the football gods before me. Naturally they picked up on this pretty quick, as it provided them another opportunity for some male fun.

"Boys" didn't quite seem right given these guys' huge size. To play varsity football at a Division One powerhouse like USC, of course, these days required hugeness. And as Raymond and Dante themselves showed, the football feeder high schools to the big stud college programs had serious weight-lifting facilities and programs already—not to mention the increased appearance everywhere you looked, on tv, in magazines, on the beaches, at malls and clubs, and on the street of pumped-up, muscular, and often bare-chested male bodies. But these two guys were BIG, at least 6'4" each, maybe more, and tremendously well-built, almost, but not quite, freaky. Their sexily tight t-shirts, which definitely had some clingy lycra built into the cotton, hid nothing and showed off a lot of ripped muscle, from their pecs down to their abdominals, plus the sexy condom message, with its allusion to USC's nickname, "Trojan Stud Team." The other thing about white, tight t-shirts was how well they looked with a good, dark tan.

Tim and Gene had tans that could only be described as awesome. How could white boys be so dark? Looking at Gene (I quickly picked up on which was which based on their man-talk between each other), I guessed that he might be part Latin in background, though only , perhaps, a little. Tim stood out between the two not only because of his having spoken, but due to his military-type bearing and look. He had the classic Marine "high and tight" haircut that had become, in modified form, popular among many high school jocks and muscle boys in recent years—very short, shaved really, well above the ears, with just a little thickness of hair above. Tim, in fact, immediately reminded me of the stereotypical drill sergeant, and I began to half wonder if he was imitating that persona. Gene sort of reminded me of Dante, being quite handsome in a dark-haired sort of way. Both had magnificent musculatures that their muscle-hugging t-shirts were drawing attention to. This was hardly an accident.

"You heard me, ya dumb fuckin' fairy, what the hell is on your faggot face?" repeated the strong, virile Tim, who didn't look friendly or like he was kidding at all. Rather, he looked quite angry. Blood continued to pump in my male organ.

Suddenly I just decided to tell him the truth, and so I replied, "It's my semen, that I shot onto the backs of your friends, who then rubbed my face in it."

"What the fuck?!?" said a bemused Gene, with what seemed like a genuinely puzzled look.

At this point we were joined by Raymond and Dante, who were naked save for their wet briefs. All four megamales' faces lit up as they saw each other and how good each other looked.

"Fuckin' A, man, what's up?" Raymond said with a smile as he reached out to smartly high-five Tim. With perfect coordination and grace the jocks greeted each other in the palm-slapping gesture that looked so dumb when wannabes did it in the stands but which looked very hot and male-bond stud when real hunks pulled it off. "Good workout?"

"Yeah, we pumped it up for a couple hours," Tim replied, now distracted from me by his good-looking muscle-buddies. Meanwhile, Dante and Gene, a little more subdued than their more aggressive partners, shook hands, but kept them together a little longer than really necessary. Raymond, however, was up for more than that. He put his hand on Tim's shoulder and kept it there caressing the exposed bronzed muscle.

"You're fuckin' addin' size up here, man," he said as he lightly petted the muscleman before him. "Looks hot. Fuckin' hot." Raymond kept feeling up his pal, shaping and squeezing the manly physique.

"Coach wants me to add some more muscle for the pro scouts. He says they're really into size these days."

"Hell, who isn't?" replied Raymond, still rubbing his pal's huge shoulders, now from right beside him. "You can never be too big or too ripped….ain't that right, Del buddy?" he added, suddenly remembering I was there. "You guys only just met, right? Del, this is Gene and this is Tim, from SC. Guys, this is the gay little sucker I told you about on the phone."

"Yeah…look at his bone," added Dante, as the guys all turned their eyes toward my erection, which throbbed a little and stood out stiffly in the presence of the four studs. "This guy's a fuckin' sex fiend. He's spent all day shootin' off and suckin' big dicks. He is really, really gay all right. A fuckin' fruit who's in love with the jocks."

"Hell, that's fuckin' good," replied Tim with a wicked grin exposing perfectly straight teeth. His smile didn't communicate friendliness, but rather, "I'm lookin' forward to fuckin' humiliatin' you, usin' you, pushin' you around, havin' you service me in whatever fuck way I fuckin' feel like." "We hooked up with a coupla girls after Gold's but only got a little kissin' and huggin' from ‘em. I need to get off this afternoon. Could use a good suck. Is he any fuckin' good?"

Raymond came up behind me and put his arms around me, squeezing me semi-tightly to his strong, bare-chested bod. "Let me tell you, my buds, this guy was born to suck—born to give head—born to fuckin' SERVE." With that, he put his strong hands underneath my shirt and rubbed my chest lightly, quickly moving to force my shirt over my head, which left me naked, and erect, in front of the four stud football gods, two wearing just their briefs, the other two in their muscle-hugging t-shirts and shorts, who looked at me with expressions varying from stud-jock expressionlessness to half-grins to the gleaming, studtop smile of Tim the Marine Office.

"Hey, buddy, where's your fuckin' tan?" asked Tim, grinning ear to ear. He was about as dark a white guy as I had ever seen, and was enthusiastically, cockily proud of it. "It's fuckin' summer, buddy. I ain't worn a shirt hardly at all this year. You really oughta get dark—girls dig a sun-bronzed guy. They dream of makin' it with a sungod." He put his massive, and darkly tanned, arm next to mine, and the contrast was tremendous—his veiny, muscled, huge arm against my thin, pale one. Raymond, having removed my shirt, was still petting my chest just a little, and I felt a sort of contentment with his very muscular and tanned chest touching my pale, pinkish back. "Don't you get out much in the summer, bud?"

"I'll bet he fuckin' cruises the beach all the fuckin' time," said Dante in his semi-angry tone. Gene, still quiet, just sort of sat there with a blank expression on his good-looking face. "When Ray-man and I were in South Beach we saw his type a fuckin' lot. Dumbass." With that Dante grabbed my swollen member, which had been leaking and dripping for some time now. The stimulation felt great, and also got his hand wet. He then pushed his hand into my face, saying, "Like my big strong hands clean, gayboy. Yeah, that's fuckin' right." I instantly obeyed, marveling at the size of his hand. "Damn, he throws a wet one."

"Man, he's really into this," said Gene, sounding geniunely surprised. "This is fuckin' weird, man."

:"You ain't seen nothin' yet, big guy," said Raymond, moving his mouth to my ear, into which he then whispered, "Don't worry, babe, you'll love these guys. I won't let ‘em really beat you ass, buddyboy. They're hotter than hot, real alpha males, they don't mean no real harm, you'll love givin' ‘em pleasure." All the time he kept hugging me, and I felt safe in his megastrong arms even as Dante had, as usual, humiliated me a little. They were quite a pair, quite different, but alike in one tremendous respect: they were awesome looking young studs. And knew it.

"Let's go in by the pool," said Tim, and with that the hulks of muscle headed in, myself following, getting a great view of their unbelievably muscular backs. What huge shoulders and narrow waists they had, so nicely shaped that it had to be from serious, directed effort, not just from playing sports. The newcomers filled up their muscle-hugging t-shirts to a strained t, while Raymond and Dante were gorgeously shirtless, looking shiny and buffed from the oil I had rubbed into their massive shoulders. At the pool, suddenly, with a glance at each other, Raymond and Dante jumped their pals and pushed them into the water.

"What the fuck!" each stud yelled, but in they went, to tremendous laughter on the part of the younger muscle duo. As the hunks came out, I had a view of their wet t-shirts clinging to their strong young chests, especially in the abdominal area. Guys like this often enjoyed going to so-called wet t-shirt contests featuring big-breasted girls, but they themselves, as they no doubt knew, looked very sexy in wet, body-hugging t-shirts themselves. Now that they were wet, their shirts would be coming off, I realized. This made my boner throb a little more. Their bronze was somehow accentuated by being wet, and they looked very, very handsome.

:"Hey, fag, get over here and get this fuckin' shirt off me. Damn, it's tight," barked Tim as he climbed out of the pool.

"You shouldn't buy ‘em so snug and clingy, musclehead," laughed Raymond, absently tugging on his white, wet briefs. "Tryin' to make the girls wet in their crotches when they see you or somethin'?" Was it my imagination, or was he showing some wood? I moved toward strong-shouldered Tim, who towered above me. I helped push the white cotton shirt with the suggestive condom ad over his buzzcut head, and saw that his whole chest was as darkly tanned as his strong, veiny arms. Hangin' shirtless was a big part of his summer creed. It figured, given his muscled build. My hands got to feel his trim midriff and the way his huge, manly shoulders broadened out to impossibly male width. I even got to feel up his neck a little as I helped him get it over his head.

‘Yeah, buddy, feel him up," said Raymond. Again reading my mind and catching right on, with a stud grin and a short laugh. "You need some lovin', dontcha Tim buddy? You said on the phone you didn't get any yet today, right-o my big fella?"

"Yeah, you guys just lifted all morning, right?" asked Dante.

"Yeah, but we did a little trainin' too with a coupla those fags who'd been cruisin' me. Then we were over on campus handin' out some condom samples for the company for a while, too. Over by the jock frat houses."

"Those guys buy ‘em by the truckload!" said the normally quiet Gene with a big, enthusiastic grin. "Damn, they fuckin' live to score!" That got a grin out of Dante.

"Who the fuck doesn't? Healthy young studs need to nut a lot. Are you guys fuckin' workin' for Trojan or somethin'?"

"Yeah, babe," replied Tim, now naked except for his very clingy and wet Polo briefs, which went down to just above his knee and accentuated his incredibly huge quads. His male member was as big as the rest of him was, and his nuts were displayed, too. "They're tryin' out a marketing scheme of gettin' really well-known big men on selected campuses to distribute their brand for ‘em, usually football players. They want all the other guys to say to themselves, ‘hey, the biggest studs on campus use these, so I should too.' SC was natural for ‘em since the name is the same as that of our teams. We set up a table at the center of campus and hawk ‘em with slogans like ‘Score With a Trojan' or ‘Stock Up for the Weekend, Buy Trojans in Eight-Packs.' That's a reference to ab muscles, too'"

"I like, "Trojans for the Big Boys' myself," added the grinning Gene. "We're thinkin' about sellin' a poster of ourselves and a few other boys that says somethin' like ‘Trojan Stud Team.' Maybe you guys could join in, huh?"

"Sounds fuckin' hot," said Raymond. "Anybody object to your doin' all this?"

"No way—in fact, some fine-lookin' young ladies came on to us the other day. They asked us how big our biceps were and felt us flex, then how big our chests were."

"Did you wind up fuckin' ‘em?"

"Nah, not yet, we like playin' with their minds a little. Deep-kissed ‘em and let ‘em feel our hardons with a little public grind action, though," said Tim. "Whispered shit in their ears like, ‘wanna sex you up baby'" or "you're makin' it hard for me, girl."

By this point the jocks had apparently more or less forgotten I was present, and so I got to enjoy their macho talk. My naked boner throbbed and dripped more or less unnoticed for the moment, but I noticed that the guys, who were all naked except for their briefs, seemed to be getting stiff; a poke was showing in front of each stud's cotton underwear.

The boys took their seats on the pool furniture, with Raymond pulling up behind Tim and putting his hands over Tim's shoulders and onto his strong pectoral muscles, which he gently caressed, ever so lightly. "Hey, Del buddy, go get us all a round of brews," said my idol. Happy to make the guys happy, I went inside the house.

When I returned, I found the conversation had gone over to tomorrow's Lakewood football game. "So you guys gonna kick ass tomorrow?" asked Tim. I noticed that Raymond had put his head on Tim's shoulder and that his "massaging" was all over the dark-tanned god's pecs.

"Fuckin' A, man," replied Dante, getting into the conversation. "They got a coupla studs, but of course we're much stronger and will physically wear ‘em down, probably by the half."

"They got one sexy motherfucker, though, I met him a coupla times, a halfback—what's his name? Big blonde guy?"

"You mean Paul—yeah, he's built all right. Played pickup with him at the beach courts a few times this summer. Aggressive ball player and huge—but he ain't got enough support."

"What that team needs is a weight program like Coach Perry developed for us," said Dante, who flexed his big bicep and looked down at it, admiring his own manly muscle. Raymond, meanwhile, had moved his hands down to Tim's sexy, ripped abdominal area and was lightly petting it. He also slightly snuggled his face into Tim's strong bronzed neck, and ever so faintly murmured "hmmmmm" with pleasure as he got close with the big shirtless football player. "We are the best fuckin' built team in southern California." At this point, Gene, following Raymond's lead, look his place behind Dante, reached over, and began rubbing his strong young upper body. My boner, sticking out of my briefs as Raymond had ordered, throbbed a little more, and some clear liquid formed on its purplish head.

"We're havin' a party tomorrow night after the game here," Raymond stated, pulling away from Tim. "It's gonna be wild—a lot of luscious babes, stud, horny athletes—Dante and I got a little competition goin' about how many rounds we can get in before we fall asleep. I scored three times last week… …but all with the same girl," Dante interrupted, his competitive blood rising. "I only banged twice, true, but they were different babes."

"Hey, Del, babe, you come too—hell, half the guys would rather get good head than fuck chicks," Raymond said, moving toward me and getting his face in mine, looking serious and studly. "Me, I dig it all. But lemme warn ya, bud, I tend to get a little testy after games. Ya know what testy comes from, right?" I sat there, mesmerized, able weakly only to shake my head. "It's short for testosterone, that very male essence that separates the boys from the girls, the studs from the wimps. Me and my posse are fuckin' oozin' testosterone, ‘specially after we've been hittin' on the manly field of football for a coupla hours. We gotta get relief! We'll be fuckin' lookin' for a hole to drill or for an eager mouth—like yours, gayboy." Raymond gave my erect boner a very slight tug, careful not to get me over the edge. I involuntarily gave a slight moan of lust, for which the muscleboy in front of me rewarded me with a smirk. He moved to my ear and whispered, "You are gonna fuckin' see shit like you've only fuckin' dreamed of tomorrow—at the game and after."

Raymond then pulled away and spoke openly. "Del's gotta come to our game tomorrow. Hey, Tim, why don't you and Gene pick him up and take him to the game?" To my surprise, this was greeted with big strong smiles and nods of handsome heads. "Hey, Del—bert, ya got a date to the game with two college football musclegods! You're hangin' with the stud boys now!"

Raymond spoke again, revealing anew how much he was right on my radar: "You'll enjoy the game, Del—lots and lots of male bonding on the sidelines and during the game. Coach encourages us to be physical not only with our opponents but with our teammates. He says we're a big band of strong brothers who fuckin' love each other and share intimate things with each other. We can't keep our hands off each other on the sidelines. I love to play with Dante's muscular ass the whole fuckin' game. And lots of the guys have cut-off tops so you can see their abdominal region—lots of six packs and even a few eight packs, like stud Tim here. I'm usually fuckin' boned on the sidelines myself—specially when Dante's feelin' up my abs." I looked over at Dante and saw that Gene was now planting kisses on Dante's neck while his hands massaged the pumped-up, sun-bronzed pecs of the stud linebacker.

"Yeah, we'll take care of him tomorrow, all right," said Tim with a very slight smile. "But how about now? I haven't gotten off since I fucked some girl at last night's party…"

"You know what happened?" interrupted Gene, moving away from Dante and toward his football buddy. "As soon as he had done her, I pushed him off and mounted her myself. She got it from two studs inside of five minutes!"

"Yeah, man, I love swappin' like that, ‘specially with a real buddy. Share and share alike. You go in for him, give him a little rest, then he's up for another round, with either the same chick, a new girl, or some fag admirer who's handy."

"Hey, guys," said Gene, suddenly changing the subject. "Since we got this sucker here, let's get some good action goin'—but wait—does anybody know where Coach has his videocamera?"

"It's in the den," said Dante, looking a little puzzled. Raymond, however, smiled his broadest smile of the last hour, which further devastated me and made my bone throb and leak all the more.

"Let's make a new video of ourselves and our little friend here." With that, Dante, looking mean, punched me — in a playful, jock sort of way, but hard enough to really sting; then his face lit up.

"Yeah, man, those last two videos were fuckin' hot—and fun to make."

Raymond whispered to me as he put his mammoth arms around me from the back, "You ain't seen nothin' yet!" Then he shouted, "Go fuckin' get it!"

[to be continued]