Gay Erotic Stories

I was driving though Iowa on Interstate 80 on my way to the northern Rockies. I had had a late dinner at a trucker restaurant near one of the exits. When I droved toward the entry ramp to the highway, I noticed a long, lean man with his thumb extended. The sun was behind him, so he was mostly in silhouette. I loved driving on vacations and often stopped for hitchhikers. Mostly it led to little more than a few hours of conversation, but sometimes…

Anyway, I stop the car, and the guy tosses a large backpack into the back and scrambles into the passenger seat beside me. I ask where he’s headed and he says Nebraska. As I merge onto the Interstate, I take a quick glance right and immediately snap my eyes back to the road. He is quite possibly the ugliest man I have ever seen. He looks like someone took a shovel to his face when he was baby. His face is concave. The nose barely breaks the plane defined by his eyebrows and chin.

I fight the urge to stare at him, but I know that if I don’t look at him it will be just as bad. We go through the usual ritual. He says where are you headed? I tell him that I’m on vacation, going to Yellowstone to do some hiking. He says he’s headed for some god-awful nowhere place in Nebraska. I ask what does he do. He says that he is a carny, about to join a new carnival unit at some hick county fair.

This opens some interesting conversation. He tells me a bit about carny life. He rarely stays with one unit for more than a season. Like most carneys he doesn’t have one specialty. He unpacks the trucks, lays cable, sets up rides, and cooks meals—whatever it takes to open up on the first day of the fair. When the public is present, he sells tickets, runs the rides and does what they ask. I ask about the midway games. Does he run them? He is silent for a second, and then says that he sometimes does. I see that it’s a lie. With his face, they wouldn’t let him do that. Any booth he manned would get no traffic.

By this time, I am relaxed enough to look at something other than his ugly mug. What shows is pretty nice--tight, worn jeans, with a package showing. Faded T-shirt with smokes in the front pocket. He lights up without asking. Doesn’t occur to him. The only vibes that I’m getting is that he wants to get where he’s going. A few hours later, he tells me to drop him at the next exit where he can catch a ride north. It’s a pretty big one with a cluster of motels and restaurants and gas stations. It’s pretty dark and I ask him if he can catch a ride that late at night. He says you’d be surprised, but he’d slept out all night before.

I drop him off at the top of the exit and pull away. I catch a glimpse of him in my rearview mirror. The lights from the gas station catch his body but not his face. What the fuck! I put the car in reverse and back up. I roll down the window and ask if he is gay. An amazingly bright smile flashes across his ugly visage. Well, he says. Yeah, I can be--if you make it worth my while. Why don’t we get some dinner, I say, and then a motel room--on me. Sounds good to him. We have burgers and about four beers each at a restaurant, and then pick the cheapest looking motel. We are lucky to get a room. The truckers are already packing it in. Only two are left.

He asks if he could take shower first. He takes his clothes off in the bathroom and turns on the water. When he comes out, he towels his face, letting the towel dangle just past his crotch. What I can see is stunning. He has the most beautiful body I have ever seen--muscular everywhere, but without bulk. Every muscle stands fully delineated against the others. I have to touch it.

I take another towel and begin drying his back. I rub his shoulders and back, then his ass and legs. After a minute, I give up the pretense and run my hands up and down is back and ass. Hard and seemingly pulsating. My hands wander around to his front. I cannot see them, but I feel the hard points of his nipples. I trace the muscles that drape over his ribs and abdomen. One of my fingers penetrates the dimple of his navel. He grabs my hands and moves them to his groin. I clasp a large tube, first with one hand, then the other. Neither can close completely, and I can hold them side by side, as on a baseball bat. I move my hand up and find the bulbous head. As my finger crosses the tip, I can feel the slime of precum oozing out. My own cock strains within my jeans.

He turns, grasps my shoulders and pushes me to my knees. A gorgeous cock 8-inch cock looms in my face. Grabbing the back of my head, he guides my willing mouth onto his member. He pushes it deep against the back of my throat and I open up and take it all the way in. His hands force it deeper and deeper until my nose is buried in his crotch hairs. When I am about to pass out for lack of air, he pulls back until just the head is in my mouth. He repeats this over and over until my throat is raw. Finally, he pulls out completely. He pushes me back onto the bed and strips my clothes in a few quick movements. He runs his hands over my body. My cock throbs in response. Pushing my legs up, he buries his tongue in my ass. I am in ecstasy.

After about five minutes of working his tongue into my hole, he stands and covers his cock with Vaseline from a jar he pulled from his backpack. I tell him that I don’t take it up the ass and he replies that I do now. He pushes his cock against the opening and. With one great thrust he rips his way inside me. I scream and he covers my face with a pillow. He pauses for about thirty seconds while I get used to him, then he starts a rhythmic pounding. It hurts as bad as I remembered it from my teen years. I beg him to stop but he ignores me. I try to slide up the bed and off his pole, but he is very strong. He grabs my shoulders and forces me down onto his cock. This sends a shudder through my body. The pain is still there, but now I want him inside me. The pain is reminder that this great cock is inside me. The man owns me.

His ugly face looms over me. It is even more grotesque in its grimace of pleasure. I grab his head and kiss it. He slaps he hard. My ears ring. He doesn’t kiss men. That’s only for faggots. His cock is up my ass, but he’s no faggot. Not him.

This one was true (mostly). Comments can be sent to MGW at mgw@gay.com