Gay Erotic Stories

I turned right, to the back of the carriage – empty save for a smooth skinned teenager, tall and gangly, sitting in one of the multi-seat areas. I threw myself into the opposite seat, facing forward. I glanced across as the train pulled away, and noticed he was quite cute – baseball cap hiding a short crop of black hair, an over-sized fake diamond stud in his left ear, as were earplugs attached to a walkman type cassette player. He was wearing an arsenal football shirt, three sizes too big, and grey jog pants, also far too big and baggy for him. His feet were bound with once-trendy navy and black trainers, about a size 10 from what I could see. As his head was about to turn to me, I quickly looked out of the window.

This was the middle of the train, and there wasn’t a way through, behind us, and from what I could tell there were no other people in the carriage. So found myself persistently glancing across at him.

I admit, sitting in the hot sun side of the carriage and hearing the fast tinny beat of the manic music he was listening to, my mind began to wonder about him. I guessed his age as 18, though he was mostly hairless on his arms and chin. He caught me looking – he had the face of the artful dodger from Oliver – a slightly snubbed nose, curled eyelashes and dark sapphire blue eyes. I watched the scenery passing by out his window, then turned and looked out of mine.

With my imagination running out of control, my cock began to engorge, fleshing out in my shorts. With boxers on, it would be a massive sticky outy, so dropped my hands over my groin to contain the obvious expansion.

The train was moving remarkably slowly, stopping every so often. Although we stopped at three stations, no one got aboard our carriage. We were nearing the stop before my destination, and I had a sudden panic attack.

“Excuse me,” I leant over to him, genuinely concerned. “Does this train stop at Chetwingford?” It was my connection to Buttminster and connexion to Cock’s Cross.

“Yeah mate,” the teen replied in a deeper than expected very London accent.

I sat back and relaxed, still cupping my crotch. At one point I looked around and caught him looking at my shorts – or my legs it could have been – with a raised eyebrow look on his face. He looked out his window. I couldn’t tell if he was intrigued, letting me know he’d seen, or didn’t quite know how to react (possibly coupled with a heap of surprise). He might have been appalled and about to let rip, there was no telling.

As we approached the station, the train sped up and we shot through. I glanced over at the kid who was not convincingly apologetic.

“Ah, sorry mate, I thought it stopped there cos we stopped at Barfurst,” there was a very slight grin to one side of his mouth – he clearly found my predicament amusing, if not felt a sense of power over me having duped me so well.

“Don’t worry about it,” I almost spat at him.

Still, as we passed through a long tunnel, through the reflection of the window I could see him looking over at me. His cap then turned as I think he realised I could see him. Nevertheless, he glanced over again. I squeezed/adjusted my cock – he must have seen that. Still he looked at me. As I turned to him, he looked away.

It put me in mind of a situation that arose several years before.

I was working shift in Central London, had managed to leave slightly early and reach the station in time to catch the last train to Cock’s Cross. The train – slam door variety - was fairly packed, the stench of tobacco and alcohol wafting through the carriage. A very drunk young man had been sitting three rows back – I couldn’t help glancing over, partly because he was cute and partly as I bet myself that he was going to barf any moment.

It wasn’t the case – he merely drifted off to a heavy snoring sleep. As we trundled through station after station, the numbers dwindled, until we were left with only three stops to go. I had continued to glance at him, looking at his trendy clothes – man style, very hetero but smart. His hair was longish – not something I normally go for, but it was manly, again – putting me in mind of an image of Jesus, without a beard. His packet was ample, though the dark jeans material could have been enhancing the area given the reclined, awkwardly angular position of his body.

I had already decided he’d missed his stop, probably some time back, though I could have been wrong. Nevertheless, this was the last train to Cock’s Cross and I knew he’d have a hell of a way to get out of there – unless he could call a cab to collect him. Shame that all my folks had been at home or I’d have whipped him back there in a flash. As it was, I’d have to go for what porn circles call an “entrapment”, at the least I was hoping for a kind of ‘circle jerk’ scenario.

We pulled into the station, the last stop on the line. I silently got up and exited the train, quickly departing the platform with the two other remaining passengers, but hanging back behind them so that I could quickly slip across to the opposite platform and crouched down behind the low wall that enclosed part of the open air waiting room.

I watched the driver exit his cab and dump his bag on the floor. Simultaneously, a car pulled up outside the station and flashed their headlights. The driver waved in response, but then pointed back at the train. He left his bag where it was, and jogged to the back of the train, quickly checking all the carriages. I could audibly hear his curse as he spied the sleeping form of my former co-passenger. He banged loudly on the window with a metal key, then walked on checking the other carriages.

As he returned back down the length of the train, the bloke blearily opened the door and spoke to the driver. The conversation went along the lines that I thought, but I was surprised that the driver agreed that the man could sleep on the train and catch the first train back in the morning. Being so late at night, and Cock’s Cross being in the middle of nowhere to an extent, the driver had no gate to lock, and merely left the bloke to it.

I waited for the driver to get into the waiting car and drive off, then watched carefully to see the man disappear from the train window before I emerged onto the platform and crept back round to the train. As quietly as I could I opened the end door, climbed into the carriage and closed the door behind me.

“Whoozat?!” the guy near jumped out of his skin, leaping to his feet at the end of the carriage.

“Ohhhh,” I moaned as best I could, “I must have fallen asleep. Is this train going back down the line?” I slowly walked toward him.

He shook his head. “Nah, mate, it was the last one,” he sat down. I sat in the seat opposite him. “We’re fucking stuck here till morning.”

“Fucking hell,” I complained angrily. “What time’s the first one out then?”

“6 am, I think,” he said suspiciously, “didn’t the driver speak to you?”

I thought quickly. “No,” I half laughed, “I fell asleep on the bog.” There was a bog on the train, I remembered passing it. I took out my half smoked joint and lit it. “Do you mind?”

“Nah, mate, you’re all right,” he said, and took out a cigarette and lit it. “Is that pot?”

“Weed,” I corrected and passed the joint to him. He took a long draw – clearly not expecting it to be neat or so strong and he coughed and spluttered, though regained control quite well. “Shit, that’s strong,” he said. “Auugh,” he didn’t look too good. “You okay?” I asked.

“Ugh, I just need to lie down!” he joked, then laid down on the long seat. He had a trim waist – his t-shirt rose enough for me to see a line of flesh above the waistband, a thin line of dark, downy hair from what I could tell in this light. He began giggling. “Fucking alcohol,” he said, “it’ll be the death of me.”

I laughed. “Out with the lads?”

“Not quite,” he said, ironic but amused. “Girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend now.”

“Oh,” I said, “I’m sorry. Was it amicable?”

“Pfff!” he shrugged, a bit over-dramatically – clearly he was still a bit pissed, and now swooning with the puff. I passed the reefer to him again. He inhaled only a small amount this time, then blew it out long and slow. “Not really. She said she wanted to keep seeing me, but wanted to see other blokes as well. Can you believe it?!”

I swallowed – a good in-road, I decided. “Actually I can,” I said, “a similar thing happened to me a while back.” The panel of gay predators in my head all gave me perfect 6.0’s for such quick thinking.

“Well I don’t know what you did about it,” the bloke said, only really interested in talking about himself, “but I told her she could fuck off. I don’t want to go out with some slapper.” Obviously a lie, he was just angry with her wanting more than just him and was trying to justify it to me.

“Well, that’s one way to deal with it, I suppose,” I said, prompting him to respond.

“Why, what did you do about it?” he asked, playing right into my hands. He handed the joint back – the end all warm and wet with his saliva. In the shadows I knew he couldn’t see me licking it with the tip of my tongue, imagining his saliva on my knob.

“Well, in fairness, perhaps my bird was a bit more up front with me. She said she basically wanted to end it because she wanted to have sex with other men. So I told her how much I liked her, but that I didn’t want to restrict her, and suggested that if she wanted to,” I leant forward, tuning in to his body language to check for positive signs, “then we could stay together but try having threesomes with other guys.”

The guy ingested the information. “Really?” he said. “What did she say?”

“She was a bit stunned, said she hadn’t considered that because she didn’t think I would have gone for it,” I lied – the whole thing being, to my mind, an obvious fabrication. “She wasn’t bored with me, she just craved other cock, that’s all. So the thought of being able to do it with other guys with someone there she could trust, well, she was well up for it.”

A pause – more than a pause. I wondered what he could be thinking – was his imagination running riot? Was he suspicious? When he spoke, the voice was almost trembling. “So what happened?”

“Quite a lot!” I laughed, and then leant back, my free hand obviously on my crotch as I wove my web of lies. “I asked her if there was someone in particular she’d been after, and she said that there was, a tutor of hers at college.”

“Really?!” the bloke said intrigued, or just going along with it.

“Yeah,” I said, “turns out she’d been out for a drink with him with her other classmates a couple of times, but nothing else, so we agreed that I’d come along next time and meet him, and if we were both still cool about it then we’d broach the subject.”

“What,” the bloke said – I saw his hands rest on his chest, “did she just fancy dobbing some older bloke then?”

“No, no,” I replied shifting so I had a direct view of my companion. “He was a bit older than us, but only about 25 I think. He turned out to be a good bloke, actually, bit of a laugh – though I was a bit wary of what would happen at first.”

This time he reached down, adjusted his crotch area. “And what did happen?”

“Well I met him, we chatted for a while, seems she’d told him about me,” I said, eyes fixed on his fly area. “But not what would transpire, or about her desires for him. She took me to one side and we agreed to go ahead, but said she thought it would be better coming from me. So after a few drinks, when she went to the bog for a while, I told him that she’d told me she really fancied him. He was a little surprised, to say the least, and I think he thought I was going to have a go at him. Then I told him that it was cool, and that we’d been talking about whether he’d be interested in a threesome with us. He said he wasn’t sure, but when Jenna came back to the table and she confirmed the details, he was then interested.” I paused, tried to think carefully to make the story sound believable. “So we made our excuses and left the pub, went back to our place, and it all kicked off from there. Jenna wanted us both naked while she was still dressed. Then she wanted us both to touch and kiss her all over.” Yep, there was the movement I’d been waiting for. “She made us both stand together and she sucked us both at the same time, then we took turns fucking her – in the mouth, in the pussy,” his hand reached down to grab his expanding cock and adjust it. “She’s got a great pussy,” I embellished, “shaven and kind of small looking, but tight and she gets really, really wet.”

“God,” the man chuckled and sat up, opposite me, feeling a bit awkward, but not able to deny his feelings.

“Anyway, the biggest shock came when she’d had her first orgasm and she said she just wanted to watch us wanking each other for a while,” I took the story to a new level. “I wasn’t interested, but he seemed up for it – basically anything to please her.”

“No way!” he said, adjusting his crotch again. “Did you let him?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to be the party pooper,” I said, regretting my choice of words but continuing nonetheless. “And besides, I wank myself just about every day, so what’s the difference if it’s my hand or someone else’s.”

“So you didn’t wank him then?” he asked – boy, he seemed keen for the gory details.

“Well,” I laughed. “I thought it’s not like having gay sex, is it? Just wanking – the only difference is it’s someone else’s cock and not my own. I did it at secondary school with a group of mates anyway.”

“No, really?!” the guy said, shocked but intrigued. “I couldn’t do that, man, not for any bird, no matter what she was like.”

“Ah, but you haven’t met Jenna,” I said jokingly. “And if you did, well, you’d probably get on your knees and suck my cock just to put yours inside of her.”

He snorted. “I don’t fucking think so.”

“Well, this tutor didn’t seem to mind,” I said, then embellished. “And I have to say, he was pretty good at it too.”

“Fucking hell,” the guy said--hands at his crotch. “So… did you…?”

“What, return the favour?” I finished. “Jenna can be very persuasive.”

“No fucking way!” he said.

I laughed again, then brazenly opened my fly and whopped out my nine incher. “Blimey, all this talk of sex has made me fucking horny.”

“Jeez!” the guy folded his arms and wriggled in his seat, embarrassed and shocked but trying to laugh it off. Despite looking out of the window, he was drawn to look back at me, reclined, jacking my meat slowly. “I… er… I think I’ll leave you to it mate.” He was about to get up and go away.

“Oh come on,” I said jokingly kicking the side of his leg with my foot, “you know you want to and it’s not like you’ll ever see me again.”

He stayed put, toying with his belt, then went for it, undid the lot, unstudded his fly and unbuttoned his boxer. It was fleshy, uncut and as big as mine, I could see that much.

I reclined, shutting my eyes. “Ah, you can’t beat a good wank, can you?” I muttered.

“Mmm,” he replied, shifting and adjusting his jeans and boxers to get a better grip.

“Well…” I said, opening my eyes and looking at him. “That’s not strictly true. A mouth beats a hand, in my opinion.”

He just returned my stare, wanking slowly.

“Tell you what,” I said, “I’ll suck your cock if you do the same for me.”

“No fucking way,” the guy said, and I almost thought he’d beat a retreat next. But he stayed put.

“Okay, I tell you what,” I said boyishly, “I really want to feel something other than my own hand round my cock. So if you agree to wank me off, then I’ll suck you off.”

My heart felt as if it were about to pound its way through my rib cage like alien. He nodded – barely. Fucking hell, I thought.

“Okay, stand up,” I instructed. He stood up, his engorged member bowing down under its own weight toward my lips. Not the freshest smelling cock, but hey, don’t look a donkey dick in the eye, I thought. I had been in a couple of similar situations before, so decided to take the lead. “Drop your jeans and boxers, all the way down.” He did so and stood up again – nice balls, not too pendulous, but a lovely barn egg size each.

I leant forward, making my lips moist and took him slowly, firmly and determinedly all the way in, right back as far as my throat would allow without choking. I wanted to show this fucker, I thought.

“Fucking yeah,” the guy whispered. “Fuck, how do you swallow so much?”

I slowly eased off – I hadn’t quite made it to the base, but it probably looked like it from his overhead vantage point. I didn’t reply, instead I pouted my lips and massaged the taught underside of his shaft, allowing the head and top to slip and slide over my face. Then I gave him a suck with my mouth and lips, faster, harder and more like I was milking the cum out.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he said.

I pulled off, wanked his dick with my hands – he shook and shuddered at this. So I took his balls in my mouth – he went incredibly tense, stood almost on tiptoe as I rolled the testes around inside my mouth, my tongue and lips working the loose flesh and taking him to the border of pleasure pain. I sucked him again, long and deep, but this time I looked up into his face. He returned the expression of wanton sexual abandon – this guy was loving it. Time to take it to the next level, I thought.

“Turn around,” I said. He began to, and then hesitated. I just grabbed his hips and pulled him round – corrr, I thought, just my kind of arse, rounded and firm but pert and hairless. I parted his butt cheeks then pushed his lower back, bending him over. Before he could protest my tongue had targeted his anus and moved in.

“Aaauughhh….” he moaned.

“Put your hands on the wall,” I instructed – he did so, bending slightly further forward. I lapped, licked and nuzzled his bitter puckered hole. He moaned and groaned and then even encouraged once or twice, forgetting himself.

“Pull your arse cheeks apart for me,” I instructed – he did so and I continued to lap at his fuck hole (if only it were). “Grab my cock,” I said. He reached back between his legs and grasped the end of my cock with his warm hand, pulling on it like a bicycle pump.

“Okay, sit down,” I said, coaxing him to the opposite seat. He did so, his cock rigid and dripping. Nothing ventured, I thought, and stood, dropping my trousers and shorts, stepping slightly closer. “Come on, why don’t you try it.”

“Nah…” he shook his head.

“When the fuck else are you going to try the experience,” I said, “don’t be a spoilsport and suck my cock.”

He paused, then edged forward, puckering up and then sucking just on the helmet end. He took it inside his mouth slowly, licking at it and trying to copy some of what I’d been doing. To my pleasant surprise, the guy didn’t get his teeth in the way once. In fact, the way he began to piston his head back and forth over the end of my dick, I felt sure this was from experience. To make a point, I placed my hand on the back of his head and rocked it onto and off my cock, slightly further each time. He was now virtually sucking my cock as well as I could, though one uncontrolled shove sent him into a coughing fit.

As he recovered, I dropped to my knees, grasped his cock and began to fuck it with my mouth. As I continued onward to his inevitable crescendo, I used my spare hand to grasp his balls tightly, a finger wandering around to play with his unbroken hole.

“Ah, shit, I’m cumming…” he murmured and hot flashes of salty sweetness began to fill my mouth. In fact, I had to swallow some just so as not to spit it all out everywhere. He planted his own hands around the back of my head and the randy fucker said: “swallow.” I did, then felt myself cumming. I stood quickly and he grabbed it for me. I turned to the side and watched him wanking me off, the jets of cum beginning to splutter out. He puckered his lips in an ooh shape but continued to pound until I’d cum.

Once finished, he whipped his hand toward the window, splattering it with the remnants of my cum juice. I smiled, he giggled, as satisfied as me. I buttoned my flies and slapped him on the arm. “Cheers, mate,” I said, and exited the train.

As I walked down the platform to the exit, I could hear him laughing to himself.

To be continued...