Gay Erotic Stories

Red I just love getting hard ons. I have always loved them. I love the way they feel, the way my cock looks when it's hard, the way it feels, heavy and muscley, rigid, rock hard. I have loved getting erections since I was about 11 or 12, when I woke up one night with one. I remember the dream vividly, and know the feeling of that first wet dream. I was fantasizing about a bodybuilder, and jumping on his back, and probably butt fucking him, but I didn't know that was it then. I just remember waking up and knowing that something wonderful had happened, and my dick was still rigid and felt oh so good. I guess I'm one of those lucky people who can get hard at almost any moment. I usually have between 10 and 20 boners in any given day, I always wake with a piss hard, and the shower is the place where one or two occur just by thinking about it. In fact, as I write this even now, I have a big one growing. If my writing gets a little funky, it's probably because I had to stop to stroke it for a little while. Not only do I like the way the penis itself feels, I like to feel it hard, as I rub my strong hands up and down, as my boxers, jock, or the rough inside of my jeans push on the sides and keep it rigid and ready. I like to feel it with creams, rubs, oils, and even strawberry jam (you should try that one, it's sweet!). But most of all I love the way it feels when some other stud, of choice, man handles it and brings me to an eruption. Don't get me wrong. I love blow jobs and fucking, but masturbation is still my sexual outlet of choice, especially in this day of disease. The only disadvantage of having a ready cock is the fact that occasionally the easily hardened muscle gives you away. So I'm grateful that relaxed and loose fit jeans are popular, and that shorts are usually baggy, and that jocks can keep it in check most of the time. But I've got to tell you about the hottest man I have met in ages. When I saw him the first time, I almost blew a load right in public. I think his name may have been Jerry or Gary, or something like that, but all I ever heard him called was "Red." That's because his hair was almost carrot top red, and he had the most delicious red goatee and moustache. Red worked at the local hardware, in the department where they sold mowers and 4-wheelers, and boat motors, and in the winter snow machines. He was about 6 foot tall, and was a man of few words. The first time I saw him, I was buying line for my lawn trimmer (you know, weed whacker). He waited on me, and I went weak in the knees as his massive (and somewhat dirty) hands pulled out and measured the string. I wanted, longed, to see more of his body, but unfortunately he almost always wore a jacket or long sleeved sweatshirt because he was outside so much of the time. I could tell that he knew machinery and was good at mechanical things because people kept asking him questions and he always knew the answers. His jacket was unzipped, and the white t-shirt underneath revealed rounded pecs, obviously well worked, and a flat, hard stomach, Oh how I wanted to rip the jacket off and start pawing his fabulous upper body. But, it was a store, and there were public type people there. So what could I do? I went to my car with my purchase, unzipped my pants, drove up to a quiet area of the beach, and stroked myself to a massive explosion. I knew then and there that I had to get to know Red. Well, I took a sudden interest in things mechanical, and started needing more tools, small items for my mower and trimmer, and was certainly interested in a new motor for my boat. One day I was asking Red about one of the motors. Was it heavy? Was it easy to move? How many people did it take. He walked over and lifted it up off the stand, placed it over his head and said, "See? It ain't"t too heavy." He was grinning from ear to ear, and I knew he was one of the strongest workers in this store. My hard on was raging once more, and I was ready to make a move. As I came over to the register I noticed a sign advertising a pick-up for sale. I asked him who to speak to about the truck. He said it was his and he was selling it because he also had a sports car, and just couldn't afford two vehicles. I told him I understood that, and could I come over and look at it sometime. I might be interested. He asked me if tonight around 7 would be okay. I said yes. God, I could hardly wait until 7. I bet I jacked off four times in an hour just thinking about him. He had given me the apartment number where he lived. It wasn't too far from my place, and I had to restrain myself not to get there too early. At about one minute to 7 I knocked on the door of Red's apartment. He opened the door and stood in tight jeans, with no shirt, sweat glistening on his massively sculpted body. I must have gasped because he said, "Oh, I was just working out. Come on in." "Uh, no, I just want to look at the truck, if you don't mind." Man, what was I saying. Red slapped on an old torn Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt. The arm holes were torn where the arms had been removed, and the seam around the holes had also been separated to accommodate his massive shoulders. His biceps and triceps were so well defined, and looked like solid rocks. We went to look at the car, and Red was saying something about the truck, but I couldn't tell you what he said. I was just swimming, and my cock was throbbing, and harder than the steel jack handle I saw in the back of the truck. Red picked up a half used can of motor oil and said something about having just filled it up, but it only needed part of the quart. I was convinced I had to have this truck, needed this truck, would have many hard ons in this truck, and cream the seats every time I thought about who sold it to me. Red led the way back up to the apartment and ushered me in. Before I could even turn around he had pulled of the fraying covering he had put on to go outside. He set the can of oil on the counter and turned around. "Well, what do you think?" I knew he was talking about the truck, but I was only thinking about him. His beautiful body, cleanly shaved and well worked, begged for man loving, and hard muscle action. "Well, Red," I started, "I'll take your fuck." Oops. Boy, talk about Freudian slips. I was sure I was thinking truck, but it came out fuck. "Uh, I mean truck," I tried to recover, but it was too late. "You'll take my fuck all right," he said, smiling. "I've been watching you eyeing me from day one. I know what you want and I'm here to tell you I'm going to give it to you, any way you can handle it!" He walked very slowly over to where I was not sitting, stroking his massive dick under his jeans. I could tell he had no underwear on, and was sporting about 11 inches of manhood. When he stopped right in front of me, I placed my trembling hand on his jeans. He was as hard ad blue steel, and I was pushing my hand up and down in both admiration and wonder. I reached up and undid his button, and zipped carefully so as not to injure the merchandise. A huge monster cock sprang up, and nearly hit me in the nose. I sniffed it, and then placed it in my mouth and started sucking like a Hoover vacuum. Red went into convulsions shortly after I swallowed every inch of his meat. But the cumming was the most outrageous I've ever experienced. It was hot, creamy, and plentiful. I swallowed every precious drop. "God Red, you are so hot. Are you going to help me out here?" I said indicating my ten inch boner. "Yeah," he responded. "What's your favorite?" "Hand jobs are my favorite." He turned to the counter, stepped out of his jeans, and reached for a dish. He poured about a cup of the motor oil into the cup and slipped it into the microwave oven. He set it for about a minute, and came to where I was sitting. With his muscularity and manliness, he lifted me up. With expert hands he undid my pants and pulled them down. My boxers went too, and I wiggled out of my shirt. With tender, strong, well worked hands, he grasped my dick. Just then the microwave bell rang, and he reached with one hand for the dish. I wondered what he was up to, but my cock was so hard and I couldn't wait to see what his tricks were. Red put a few drops of warm motor oil on his hands and rubbed them together. My raging erection was as hard as I can ever remember it being. With expert hands he squeezed both hands around my thick meet. I felt faint, and told him I needed to be lying down. He helped me to the floor. Then he took the dish of hot oil and began to drizzle it down my front. From my hairy pecs, to my six pack abs, to the balls, resting under my upright pecker. The heat was just right, hot, but not unbearable. Red massaged the oil into my pecs, my abs, and my balls. Then he went to work on the monument that was standing erect awaiting his massaging hands. I think my dick may have grown two inches with his massage. It sure felt like it was a good foot long. The hot oil was incredible on my throbbing dick, and the massive hands and callused fingers were giving me the workout I had hoped for. I held off as long as I could, and that wasn't all that long, because I wanted to shoot and shoot and shoot some more. When I did, I think I gave him quite a start because there was so much salty white juice. He deftly lapped it up. "You know, I'll buy your truck. I already decided that before you oiled my dipstick," I told him. He laughed a sensuous laugh. "I know," he said. "I'll bet you didn't know that I was as hot for you as you were for me. The truck's not even for sale. I just put up that sign as bait to see if you'd bite." "Really? Good, because I hadn't figured out yet how I was going to pay for it." He raised his upper body off my stomach and stood up. His cock was ready again for more action. This time I was going to administer the oil treatment! I told him to lay back, it was time for his oil change. With a little hot oil and my strong hands, I brought him to climax four more times that night. I hit six, including three blow jobs and at least one butt fuck. Needless to say, Red and I see quite a bit of each other now. I get to ride in his truck too, and yes, we often do cream the seats. He's a hand job man too, and so we get along real well.