Gay Erotic Stories

We decided that we were both hungry and had better forage for some type of dinner. Curtis said he wanted something with something meaty, making a crude gesture at my crotch while sporting an evil grin. Somehow I got the impression that it was going to be my turn to get plugged—before or after dinner. Curtis scooted over and sat up at the edge of what vaguely resembled a bed, then stood up. He turned and reached for me, pulling me up against him. By this time most of the man-made stuff was dry, but the lube was tacky and we stuck together. He kissed me hard, then asked, “So what are you hungry for?”

Other than the preferred answer, I said I didn’t really know or have a preference, but I too was hungry. “How about a pizza?” Curtis asked.

“Sounds just fine to me!” I replied. The thought of pizza really kinda hit the spot—I found myself craving for a nice juicy and crisp pie—loaded to the hilt.

“I think there’s a couple of ones in the freezer.” Curtis said. My taste buds took a nosedive—frozen pizza? Oh well, he’s the one on an austerity program. Frozen would do, I guessed.

“Come on, let’s check it out. The sooner we get ‘em in the oven—the sooner we’ll be eatin’ ‘em.” He led me by the hand—still naked—out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. He first checked out the refrigerator freezer—nothing much of interest, and no pizza pies. I was having visions of a big steaming loaded pie—but again it was temporary, as Curtis pulled me across the floor a door that lead to the garage. “We’ve got a freezer in the garage too.” He added, all to enthusiastically for my tastes.

He opened the lid, leaned over and started rummaging through the chest freezer. His half hard penis pushed against the cold metal, and he arched his back a bit more, allowing his dick to clear the metal front. This made his cute ass stick out more—much to my visual liking. I felt a stirring and a tingling. Yeah, after dinner, I’d be ready for another go, but probably after Curtis had had his turn at me. Yeah, it’d be just as well to make an evening out of it. I was in the midst of man-sex contemplation when Curtis interrupted my train of thought, “Shit, I guess we’re not having pizza. I could have sworn there were two pies in there—maybe my parents took ‘em up to the lake.”

“If it’s pizza you want, pizza it is! We’ll just clean up and go out. I’ll buy!” I offered.

“Nah, I don’t want to bother—to clean up that is—we’re just going to get all messy again anyway!” he said as his hand fondled the base of my struggling root. “I’ve got it—we’ll just order in—have the pies delivered. There’s a really great place called “Anthony’s” just a couple blocks from here. What do you want on yours?”

“Everything but anchovies. Just have ‘em load the sucker up good.” I said, now genuinely hungry and almost tasting the onions, peppers, pepperoni and sausage. My mouth was watering and I could feel my stomach getting impatient. We both went back into the kitchen and Curtis grabbed the phone. Anthony’s number was on his “short list” which was kept by the phone on a pad.

“Yeah, that’s right, two large pies—everything but anchovies, double stuff all the way.” Curtis hung up the receiver, “It’ll be about 40 minutes. How about a cold beer while we wait?” This was 39 minutes too late as far as my stomach was concerned, but just as I was thinking this, I heard Curtis’ stomach growl. He laughed, “Well, at least we’ll put something down there for now!” He stuck his head into the fridge, and reached around, but only pulled back one bottle of beer. “Looks like we’re out, here,” he said. “Hey no problem, I’m sure there’s more in the basement, let’s check it out.”

Curtis replaced the lone bottle on the shelf, and then headed across the kitchen with me following. We went down the stairs, which was kind of risky, as it was pretty dark. When he reached the bottom, he flipped a light switch. Instantly a really nice “Rec-room” presented itself—replete with a full sized pool table, air-hockey, dart board on the wall, couch, TV, stereo, and wall-to-wall bookshelves, and a built in bar. “What ‘da ya think? Nice huh.”

“Yeah, cool. Nice layout.” I agreed.

“You play pool?”

“Not too well, we don’t have one, so I don’t get much practice. I’m pretty lousy, I guess.”

“No problem, I’ll give you some pointers. Now, how about a beer?” Curtis led me into the adjacent half of the basement. This room was unfinished; in one section were the laundry facilities—washer/dryer and utility closet, the other area was pretty much just left bare, with some storage boxes, a tool shelf, workbench, and another floor drain in the opposing corner. The secondary refrigerator was plugged into a 4-way gang-plug outlet next to the workbench. Curtis walked over and opened it—the damn thing was absolutely loaded with all types of beer as well as several bottles of wine. “This is obviously my dad’s hang-out. Convenient, huh!”

“Yeah, it sure is! Hope he doesn’t cut himself when he’s working and visiting the stash.”

“Naw, he just sort of putzes around, then just goes in at watches TV until mom rousts him for somethin’. Anyways, what kind of beer you want?”

“Whatever you’re having, I’m not particular—just kind of thirsty, I guess.”

Curtis grabbed two dark amber bottles without looking, reached around the corner to the leg of the workbench and uncapped them. “Here ya go! Bottoms up!” he said as he handed me one, then reached around and patted my ass.”

“Skoal” I chirped back, then returned the hand pat. Curtis just smiled. He led me into the other room and gave me the 10-cent tour. How about a quick game of pool while we wait?”

“Sounds fine with me.”

“Tell ya what, if you win—I’ll buy the pies, if you loose, your ass is mine!” I agreed, it sounded fair enough, especially when we’d already agreed that since I’d plowed Curtis first--it was his turn anyway!

“Deal” I replied, happy with the offer.

Curtis racked up the balls, and as guest, he allowed me to break first. Beginner’s luck, I got two solids in on the break alone, then another solid in the left corner pocket before I screwed up. I was pleased with myself, knowing full well it was more a case of beginner’s luck. Boy was I right, I got just one more turn in, and then Curtis ran the table. He just smiled at me and playfully pinched my left tit gently, his way of subtly reminding me of our bargain. Just then the doorbell rang.

We sprinted up the stairs, down the hallway past the front door, and into his bedroom. Curtis pulled on a pair of Jockey shorts, while I fished out $30 from my wallet. He didn’t say anything else, just went to the door in just his underwear. I stayed out of sight, but I could hear the transaction taking place.

“Hey, Vince. How’s it hangin’! What are you doin’ delivering on a Saturday night?” I couldn’t hear the response, but then heard a few words, a pause, then “Thanks man, see ya’ later.” I heard the door shut, and then Curtis called out, “Okay, it’s clear, meet me in the kitchen.”

I didn’t have to be told twice, in mere seconds I was there. “I’ll set up the plates, why don’t you go back downstairs and get us each a couple more beers?” In record time, I returned with four of the same bottles. Curtis had both boxes open, and plates, knives and forks at the ready—even napkins. The smell was just too overpowering. In short order each of us had totally consumed both pies. I couldn’t believe I ate the whole thing! We’d managed to wash down both additional beers too.

“Wanna play another game of pool?” Curtis asked. “Sure, I’ll loose my ass again.”

“Well you already have anyway!” Curtis cut me short. “Okay, how about some darts? You play darts?”

“Probably better than I play pool, but that’s not sayin’ much!” I cautiously added.

We returned to the basement. Curtis turned on the stereo and fetched the box of darts. We threw a few practice rounds. Naturally, Curtis was gifted at this too—each time all three of his darts found themselves virtually stacked against each other. “Let me give you a couple of pointers,” Curtis said. His stepped behind me and he extended his arms to meet mine. While he did this, I felt his dick against the crack of my ass. It was instantly rock hard. “Now, throw the dart like this,” Curtis pulled my arm back, then thrust it forward. The dart at least landed on the target, and Curtis’ boner found its target too! Instantly he was all the way inside me. I let out a yelp—more out of being startled by the instant invasion than anything. My ass was still surprisingly moist and his weapon had easily inserted itself. Curtis began bucking, in and out, while at the same time moving my arm forwards and backwards in a fictitious attempt at target instruction.

I had to laugh, “Hey man, that’s real smooth! How in the hell do you expect me to hit even the broad side of a barn while being poked in the backside?” Curtis didn’t reply, he just reached around with his other hand and began stroking my rod, which was also fully erect by this time. I pulled back a bit, as the friction on my slightly over used weapon was too much, and a bit uncomfortable.

Curtis sensed this, and just said, “Go ahead, spit on it. Now, wait. Hang on a minute, we’d better go into the other room, I don’t want to get shit on the rug.” He pushed me around and we walked like two dogs stuck together during their mating. We walked over near the workbench and refrigerator and stood just a couple feet away from corner drain. Curtis began his fucking strokes again, ramming it totally home. This anal drubbing after the beers was now creating the need to take a wicked piss. I tensed up and Curtis asked what was wrong. I told him I needed to use the restroom. He just asked which way I meant. I told him I just had to piss—and now. He said he had to as well, and pulled out of me. I looked around, but couldn’t see any stool down here.

“There isn’t any. What me and my dad do is just kind of piss down this drain.” This sounded like a good enough plan—I desperately had to let it fly. My dick was still hard, but the absolute urgency prevailed, I just pushed my prick downward and let one serious stream fly. I’m not sure exactly in what order the “best feelings” are for a guy, but I got to tell you—pissing ranks in the top ten!

Curtis was doing likewise, his dick still hard, and he was forcing it down as well. Both streams were flowing fiercely and since we were standing opposite each other, the over spray from our streams was spattering and collecting on our feet and legs below our knees. I didn’t say anything, besides we’d need to shower after this anyway I guessed. Curtis must have noticed this too, as he broke out into laughter. As he did so, his hand slipped off his slippery and still hard prick. This caused his prong to shoot up, directing his stream squarely against my stomach at belly button level. I was surprised, but its warmth felt kind of good. I didn’t move, not wanting to create a bigger mess. Curtis laughed, but made no attempt to redirect his errant stream from spraying me. Okay, I thought, you think it’s so funny, so be it. I let my dick loose, my stream crossed his in mid arch, then splashed his chest all the way up to his throat. Curtis looked surprised, then just grabbed his leaking monster and purposely continued to shower me. I retaliated. God, what were we doing—it must have been the effects of the beer. We just kept it up until we’d finished—laughing all the while.

“That should work better than a little spit—don’t ya think?” Curtis said still laughing, “Now, turn around. Let me fuck your ass.”

I just turned around, being aware that I too needed that dick. I also needed to take care of business myself—I was as hard as I can ever remember. This was all so crazy, weird, strange—I was amazed, but to my surprise, not ashamed or worried. The warmth had just felt so wildly erotic, deliciously nasty and decadent. I felt his dick press into me—wet and slippery—sliding right past my sphincter. Curtis pressed against my backside; I felt the wetness of his body against me. I instinctively grabbed my wet throbber and began to stroke it—faster—faster! The wetness, the slickness, the acrid smell of our joint wetness—totally new—totally strange—yet totally somehow intoxicating! The only way I can describe it is kind of like having just had a hit of “poppers”. The warmth radiating throughout, slight dizziness in the head, and increased blood flow to the “one-eyed monster” creating a red-hot throbbing poker of pleasure.

This chain of events must have had the same effect on Curtis. It wasn’t but maybe some 20 odd trust more that he hissed out, “I’m cumming, you filthy bitch!” For a split second, I didn’t appreciate being called a bitch, but then realized he apparently liked talking dirty. I felt his rod swell even bigger, then start to violently pulse as his body shook. His dirty talk, apparently worked its magic on my desperate prick too, I felt a tingling charge, then I began spurting wildly—shooting against the cement block wall. Curtis kept thrusting until he just had to pull out—being too sensitive I guess. He turned me around, pressed himself against me and rammed his tongue past my open mouth (I was attempting to catch my breath), and down my throat. Our warm heavy breathing in each other’s mouth felt wildly wonderful.

“That was one wild ride!” Curtis said. “What did you think?”

“Well, I’d never really thought of doing that, but yeah, I guess it was pretty wild. I don’t think I’ve ever cummed quite like that! I added, then becoming aware of our state, “I guess now we’d better consider that shower.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We’d better at least rinse off some of this and wipe down at least. But we’re still going to be messy soon enough.” Curtis added.

“Well, at least we’ll be fresh for a few minutes. Besides, I’m not too keen on playing around in bed after pissing.” Curtis didn’t say anything, just headed up the stairs.

We showered with each other. Curtis just rinsed off, while I lathered up. Curtis volunteered to wash my backside—probably an excuse to play with my ass again! I didn’t protest, but after a short while, I turned and faced him with my soaped up body, I rubbed against him, lathering him up, while reaching around his backside and lathering that too. We rinsed off and towel dried ourselves. We then headed for his bedroom to watch TV.

It was sort of a shame—being cleanly showered and all—but we hopped back into that messy, damp bed that smelled of man sex, and laid there curled around each other while we watched the news and then started in on the late movie. Everything just felt so good—the fresh smell of Curtis’ body, and the background smell of stale sex in the room.

We were a little over half way through the movie when I thought I heard the doorbell ringing. Curtis didn’t seem to notice, but when the volume of the TV was eclipsed by heavy pounding at the front door, Curtis just got up and walked towards the bedroom door.

“Hey, you forgettin’ somethin’?” I asked, since he was proudly nude. He just ignored me and headed towards the pounding. I said nothing more, but stayed put. I heard him unlatch the door! Jesus, was he sleepwalking or what?

“Shit man! Are you deaf?” I heard a heavy voice boom. It was a familiar voice…but I couldn’t quite place it. “Looks like you’re kinda glad to see me, huh!”

I heard a set of heavy footsteps intermingled with a softer padding of bare feet coming down the hall. They were heading for the bedroom! I quickly grabbed the cum stained top bed sheet in a feeble attempt at modesty. Yeah, this was going to be really convincing—here I am—naked and covering myself with a cum spotted sheet. Besides the whole room smelled of sex. I pretended to focus entirely on the TV.

Two figures came through the door. First Curtis, then he turned slightly and I saw the other. His frame was much more muscular, bigger, and he was a bit taller. “This is Vince. Vince, this is…ugh, Brian.”

To be continued…