Gay Erotic Stories

From the second I’d seen him, early in the fall semester; my dreams had been filled with Mr. Nelson, the government teacher. An ass you could serve tea off of, as the saying goes, and from the look of the other side of his trousers, a bull-dick to feast on for days; chocolate, dark chocolate skin and tall, with broad shoulders and enormous biceps. No wedding ring…which did not mean much, one way or the other; but he had once shut down a fag-joke one of my classmates was telling, with no uncertainty of his disapproval of any kind of prejudice. I could only hope. My performance had been okay for the first semester, but with the new semester, and the legal status of adulthood, I decided to try to become teacher’s pet, or at any rate teacher’s cocksucker, if I could. At the end of January I scheduled an appointment, telling him I’d like to start early on an extra credit research project.

It was late in the day when I got to his office. He told me he had some paperwork that would keep him late, anyway, and I could catch him around four. By that time, a few administrators and the cleaning crew were all that remained of the 5000 students plus faculty and staff of the downtown high school. I tapped at his door precisely on the hour.

“Come on in,” the rich baritone voice boomed.

I opened the door and entered. Mr. Nelson was seated at his desk. He swiveled his chair and pointed to a seat opposite him. For a brief instant, before he crossed his legs, I saw, with them spread, the lump at his crotch, the enormous intriguing mound I longed to probe with my tongue. I practically got whiplash breaking my gaze, and timidly sat down. When I faced him, Mr. Nelson was grinning at me. I blushed, unsure whether he had seen me or was just being friendly.

“So tell me, Parker, what brings you to see me so early in the semester?” he opened my file, flipped through a few pages, raised an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth. “You did okay last semester, although you never really applied yourself. But a ‘B’ is okay. Why are you here today?”

“Well, Sir,” I mumbled, trailing off. Now that it had come to it, I was petrified to continue. “I thought…” I began again, shifting nervously in my chair.

“Yes?” he prompted, uncrossing his legs and rolling a bit closer. Was it my overheated desire, or was that lump even huger than before?

“I see you’ve turned eighteen over the break. Happy Birthday, kid!”

“Thank you, Sir!” I replied. An opening! “And now that I am a legal adult, Sir, I thought it was time I took responsibility for…my education. Took things in hand…you know?”

“A good thought, son.” He rolled a bit closer. “And you want me to help you, uh, educate yourself, take things in hand?”

“Yes Sir, that’s exactly it, Sir.” Now we were knee to knee, suspended at the point of no return and I hadn’t even realized we could get there so easily. I trembled suddenly, convulsively. He took my hand and placed it square on his throbbing dick-mound. “Like this, exactly?”

“Yessir!” I whispered.

He rolled away from me, then, toward the door. I thought he was going to call the police, it was so sudden. But he locked the door and flipped off the lights. The blinds were already down, on the inside windows. Outside the last sun was slowly drifting earthward. In an instant I was on my knees, and his fly was open, and a great long pole of flesh was poking through. He fished inside for his nuts and, one by one dragged them out. They were the size and color of plums, it seemed, in their taut ballsack, and the teacher’s fuckpole towered over them like a skyscraper, black and steely with a purple head poking out of the bunched foreskin, and a glint of moisture at the tip.

“Been a long time, boy, since I first caught you looking at my stuff. Man, I beat off all last semester thinking about feeding you this black prod and driving it into your hot white butt. Didn’t know until now you were man enough to ask for what you wanted. But since you are, slurp up some precum and suck on that big old thing, boy!”

“Y-Yes, Sir, thank you, SIR!” was all I could get out before my lips puckered against the puckered flesh of his thick top skin, my tongue digging in for the juice, spearing his slit and drilling for cheese. His broad hand closed on the back of my neck and he deep-dicked my throat, once. Just once, enough to gag me with the length and girth of this twelve inch fuck fist, enough to tell me how to adjust to it. He was by no means my first dick. The man next door had taught me how to suck cock years before, and had even fucked me, giving me my first taste of the primal pleasures I pursued now. But I had never sucked a black man’s cock before or a cock anywhere near this big or this tasty. I wanted to dive for more but the man pushed me back.

“Wait, boy. We got lots of time. These balls have been aching for you to chew ‘em for months. Open wide for yer daddy’s seed makers, boy!” He twisted his sack around one finger, making a knot of it and stuffing it, slowly, slowly, into my wide stretched mouth. The funk and sweat was incredible, salty and musky, with the mixed flavors of piss and precum and the distinctive sweat funk of the man himself. I suddenly had a sort of out of body perspective, a flash of the picture we must present--white boy on his knees, black man tall on powerful legs, stuffing his nuts into the hungry white boy’s face. I looked up at Mr. Nelson looking down on me, and over, out the window, to the roof of the building next door.

A grey haired, fiftyish stud roofer, stuffed into coveralls, was rubbing the mound at his crotch as he watched that huge black fuck stick bounce against my face. I saw him mouth the words: “Yeah fuck that cocksucker, stud, fuck yeah, eat those bullnuts, cocksucker!” My cock throbbed painfully in my pants at the knowledge that we were seen, putting on a show of my submission to the teacher for another horny stud to see. I looked back at Mr. Nelson, and he grinned, nodding at the roofer and motioning him to come over. The he pulled his ballsack out of my face. Taking his fuck stick in hand, he slapped it playfully against my cheeks and forehead. “But before he gets here, you’re gonna drain a load for me, aren’t you, Parker boy?”

I had only time to nod before the fat head of his butt prod punched into my mouth, filling it full. The foreskin popped off, and my mouth filled with the funky, salty, slightly bitter taste of ripe cheese, and with the furnace heat of engorged fuck knob. I swirled my tongue around the head of that big poker, with lightning speed cleaning it of cheese and funk, and prepared for the drilling I knew my face was going to get. And it did. The second my swirling tongue paused, that fat knob punched into my throat. Even with all my training, I gagged, but forced the reflex down and relaxed my throat to accept the fuck drill that slammed halfway to my stomach. The huge nuts slapped my chin, rebounded, slapped again, and again with the motion of their own weight, and came to rest. I gratefully accepted the opportunity to adjust to the size of this big black horse cock down my throat, but wanted even more for him to fuck my face until I got my after school milk. The man seemed to read my mind, for suddenly that huge pole backed up, until only the fat, tasty knob was in my mouth, my tongue lapping at it, my mouth sucking at it like a huge nipple--but only for an instant. Punch!! Back down my throat, my chin like a punching bag for those plums. And out and punch and out and punch!

I obviously could not speak, having been taught a modicum of politeness about such things, but my filthy mind kept up a running monologue: fucking dick that cocksucker mouth, “SIR, gimme that big black apecock, Mr. Nelson, Sir, fuck me fuck me fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, SIR, feed me that fuck batter, daddy, oh daddy fuck me master, fuck my goddamned cocksucking face, teach me how to take that fucking load, Sir!!!”

And like the fuckmaster he is, Nelson drilled my throat over and over again. I had visions of the horny roofer stalking over here with a hardon, waiting outside the door while he heard me grunting like a cumpig and Nelson snorting like a stallion as he prepared to—oh my god!!! Pull out to my mouth and rabbit-jerk fuck my mouth full of the heaviest load of cream…drowning in sweet fucking cream I could die and go to heaven now and never taste anything this good thank you Mr. Nelson, sir, thank you gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp!!!

Click! The lock relocked after the roofer entered. He exchanged handshakes with Mr. Nelson and looked enviously as the dripping, rock hard foot of flesh sticking out of his 501s. Nelson unzipped the man’s coverall, unbuttoned his flannel shirt and jeans, and pushed the shirt and jeans off and down. The bull-stud of a man, black furred on the chest, under the arms, and on the gut leading down to his filthy jockstrap, leaned back onto the credenza and told me to take his boots off, his trousers and coveralls off, and to put his boots back on, untied, over his stinking sweaty socks. Mr. Nelson stripped naked while this was going on, put his sneakers back on against the cold floor, and stripped me naked as well. Our clothes formed quite a heap on the floor.

I looked to Mr. Nelson, and he nodded at me to kneel before the dad roofer. I did, inhaling the intoxicating stench of his piss-sweat-cum stained strap and of his funked-out yellow-filthy socks. Few smells are so good as the smell of a hardworking, hard sweating, hard fucking man!! I inhaled deeply and more deeply when Nelson pushed my face into the man’s crotch.

“Yeah suck that funk out of my jockstrap, boy,” a voice growled at me, “It’s time it was cleaned, after a month.” My dick throbbed against his mud-caked boots. I slurped and sucked, soaked and sucked, chewed and sucked until my brain was full of nothing but the taste and smell of man. Behind me, holding my head and guiding its movements, Mr. Nelson’s crotch stench and armpit funk added another wave to my pleasure. My head was pulled back, my mouth forced open with dry chapped fingers and the hairiest ballsack on earth forced into my face. The jockstrap had only been an appetizer.

This fucker was sweaty, smelly funky, salty, tasty: yeah, feed me that scrotum-funk, daddy!!! I slurped and punched with my tongue and rolled those balls around the way Nelson’s ball size had not allowed me to do, the way I love to twist a ballsack on my tongue until the excruciating pain makes the man’s dick throb hard against my face. And it did, splashing the foreskin-stored precum into my eyes, blinding me but not stopping the Roquefort stench of the man’s dick cheese from reaching me.

I gazed up, intending to ask permission to suck cock, but the man and Mr. Nelson were lip-locked and unavailable for comment. The roofer’s rough fingers were twisting Nelson’s erect nipples, and the teacher was groaning, his dick throbbing on my neck. I released the roofer’s balls and they swung free, dragging his ten inch roofer spike down onto my waiting tongue. I deep throated him once and came up for air and cheese, slipping my tongue in under that top skin and slurping, scraping, as much as I could get. Then I skinned it back and sawed at it until he was grunting into Nelson’s mouth. Full, I descended to the root, working just my throat muscles on the head of his fuck pole until his grunts became a constant bass wailing. I backed off ‘til just the knob was in my mouth again, and polished it rapid fire with my tongue until the roofer’s body began to shake and I knew the father lode was about to spew.

A few quick throat fucks and I was gulping seed again, humming as I did it until his deep-dicking put a stop to that. But I didn’t mind! When I looked up at them from cleaning up the mess, they grinned down on me and then at each other. Then as they were slobbering into each others’ mouths I realized we were not through. Not by a long shot. I stopped jacking on my dick and fed spit, inconspicuously, I hoped, into my butthole. Almost two feet of butt prod were staring me in the face, and I was drooling for it. And I was praying for it all to ream my asshole out, so full of dad dick that I’d spew without touching myself. Clearly I was not the only one with that idea. Mr. Nelson pushed the roofer away.

“That’s a hot cocksucker, wouldn’t you say, Mike?”

“Fuck yeah, Joe. Hot fucking kid. Where’d you find him?”

“He found me. Hungry for it, drooling in the back of my classroom for two semesters, now.”

“That right? And you ain’t screwed him in the classroom, yet?”

“No man. Wasn’t legal…until now. Now the boy’s a legal man.”

“Yeah but is he a real man, yet?”

“No, I haven’t taught him how to be, yet.”

But you will, won’t you, SIR! Both of you?” I mumbled over my cum-soaked tongue. They chuckled, grinning at each other lewdly. “I will. We will, today,” Mr. Nelson reassured me, roofer Mike nodding assent.

Mr. Nelson grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me to my feet, “Got a nice dick on you too, boy. We gonna make it shoot until your head caves in, ain’t that right Mike?”

“Yessir, it sure is!”

Mike the roofer slapped his meaty hand to the back of my neck and pulled my face to his. His five o’clock shadow rasped at my cheeks and lips but his wet mouth slurped at mine, trading spit and lapping at his cum and his buddy’s cum on my tongue. I’d always wanted to kiss dad this way, and here was a forty-five year old stud with salt and pepper hair and arms that could crush me slipping me his tongue and quenching my thirst with his spit.

MMMMMMmmmmmmm I was in heaven. He pinched at my tits with his other hand, and soon my exposed back felt warm again as Mr. Nelson’s hot ebony body made a sandwich out of me. I felt his broad sinewy hand slide down my stomach to pluck at my pubic hairs, and the other sped past me to latch onto Papa Mike’s ass, locking the three of us together into a sweaty mechanism for cum spewing. Mike’s fur abraded my chest, while Nelson’s hard pecs and abs wore ridges in my back. And His cock!!! Oh fuck! That foot long fuck pole at first was battering at my balls, and at Mike’s, through my legs. It felt like a fucking baseball bat between my thighs--but pliant and hot as well as stiff. I don’t remember when Master Nelson changed positions so that the length of his plow blade was sliding between the furry but sweaty cheeks of my young ass. I just remember feeling the knobby inches of veined, rock-hard, red-hot fuck flesh sawing up and down my wet crack.

My ass crack was swimming in sweat; and Nelson’s precum was dribbling down the length of his fuck stick and getting worked into the mix. Papa Mike’s fuck knob was throbbing against mine, being ground between our abs; I felt Mike grab both my asscheeks and separate them, felt Joe’s pole sink deeper between them and rear back and….suddenly the widest knob I’d ever felt, drooling hot precum, was tight against the puckered lips of my chute. I took a deep breath, and in fear and hunger, pushed out to relax my ass ring, and whimpered, “Ooh yeah, Mister Nelson, take that fucking ass, SIR!”

The knob—and I keep calling it that because it looked and felt as wide as a doorknob—charged into my sphincter ring like the proverbial battering ram. And he stopped. My squeal was stopped by Mike’s wet mouth, clamping onto mine, slurping into mine. Mr. Nelson stopped where he was, whispering like a cowboy to a horse: “Shhh, man, breathe, now, breathe. That’s it, Mike, give him the rhythm, give him the breath. Yeah, getting easier, now ain’t it, that’s the boy, that’s it!” And as he coaxed the fire in my ass subsided to a glow and I felt simply stuffed wide with the bull dick head. I sucked moisture and air from Papa Mike and relaxed. I nodded and pushed my ass back, knowing the pain would be there but less, and less, and riding it all the way down, twelve inches down, to Master Joe’s cockroot.

“Ooooh yeah, baby, that’s it, take that black fucker down, boy, let that white fuck hole stretch around it. MMMMM feel it up your guts, boy, yeah, feel that!!?” And he twitched it deep within my intestines. My cock throbbed out a load of precum. I groaned into Mike’s throat. I was twelve inches stuffed with Joe Nelson’s fuck stick, like I’d dreamed of for months. And Papa Mike backed up from me, and gave me another meal to savor.

“Yeah Mike, feed him the sausage while I fuck him silly!” He chuckled. Mike chuckled and shoved my face down, down, down the ten inches of his veiny staff until it was lodged in my hungry throat. I hummed happily around it until my attention was drawn to Mr. Nelson’s withdrawal. I felt bereft as inch after fat steely inch slid out of me until only the knob was left; only the knob? A minute ago the knob was killing me, now, comfortably stuck just inside my clutching rectum, it twitched once, and I missed the other nine inches, but not for long.

I was slurping up and down Mike’s steely throat probe when I felt Master Joe’s sinewy hands clamp onto my hips and I knew he was about to start drilling. Slam!! He pounded every last inch up into my guts against…and out..and slammm!!! His balls bounced against mine as his ape cock nailed me deep and hard again and out and slam and out and fuck and out and grunt fucking me in short strokes of only eight inches and slam and slap and fucking deep-dicking heaven over and over again up my fucking slut guts!!! Somehow I found a rhythm to ride as both of the studs careened out of control, deep daddy-dicking me from both ends; I slurped, I groaned, I milked black dick with my sphincter and white dick with my lips and I couldn’t get enough of them slamming into my body. My brain started shouting for them to: fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme! And my hard cock slapped against my stomach, ready to spew every time those black bull balls slammed into mine. And suddenly I was alone on the floor, listening to the men above me struggling not to cum.

“Goddamn, man, he’s more of a man that I thought, taking that ass pounding and sucking my dick like a goddamn vaccum. Shit!!! Fuck!!! Joe, you okay?”

“Auugh yeah, man, almost milked it outta me, but he gonna wait for it, now…uh huh, uh huh!!!”

After a few minutes of gasping the men were in control enough to move into the final phase of my initiation, they told me. Mr. Nelson sat on his chair, his fuck pole standing straight up in the air, glistening in its own precum and my butthole juices. He instructed me to wait while Papa Mike sat on his legs, bringing his ten inch staff next to Nelsons gleaming ebony foot long pole. I knew what was next, and did not ask permission to position myself about the two fuck prods which, in this position, were head to head. I scooped up a gob of precum and applied it to my not-yet-sufficiently stretched fuck chute, and balanced myself atop the men’s flagpoles. For an instant nothing happened. Trepidation held the gates closed. Joe leaned in and wrapped his lips around mine, pushed his tongue into my throat, and moaned into my soul the promise of my manhood. I locked a hand around his neck and sucked his tongue, his breath, his promise and his strength into my soul, and sank. The blinding pain of the extra stretch was gone before I hit bottom, resting my ass on Mike’s pubic bone and my throbbing dick on Joe’s heaving belly. I opened my eyes and looked into Joe’s eyes, and broke our kiss long enough to smile at him.

“Yes, SIR!” I whispered. He and Mike chuckled, “Yeah, man, take those dripping hard fucktools,” Mike added.

And Joe winked at me with a “Yes, Man! Ready for the finish?”

I nodded, relaxed, gave myself up to their power completely for the last time. As I sucked Joe’s tongue and Mike lapped at my ears and neck, occasionally pulling my head back to trade spit with me, I felt my body rise and fall, as if by magic, as the strong men rode me to heaven on their red-hot cocks. My asshole was stretched wider than it ever has been before or since, but it could feel the individual ripples of their veins and still clench around the towers of fuck flesh that ran deep into my quivering guts when they brought me down to the bottom of their fuck. They were grunting in unison, now, and I found that

I was chanting the work “fuck” with them, over and over and over and over. As I bottomed out on them over and again, the word seemed to grunt out of our guts louder and louder. I was in space with that entire hot dick up in my guts, my own cock quivering and spitting with every slap against Joe’s belly. When Mike twisted my scrotum around his finger and Joe screwed my tits and slammed me down onto their screwing knobs, I felt a flash. Their knobs expanded and twitched in my guts, deep in my guts. My rectum stuffed full of their staffs, my prostate was on hair trigger. And they took me up once, more, once more , once more, and down down, down slam onto the roots and their cocks were blasting hot loads up into my guts and Joe was sucking spit off my tongue and Mike twisted my foreskin and I blasted off all over Joe’s glistening black chest, white cream blasting and dripping down, blasting and dripping down blasting like it would never end and their twitching rifles still going off in my guts and I’m screaming “FUCK!!!” and they’re gasping for air over and over and over and I’m whimpering, “fuckmenailmedrillmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmenailmedrillmefuckmefuckmefuckme fuckmenailmedrillmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmenailmedrillmefuckmefuckmefuckme” and then I’m whispering “Fuck!!!” and my dick stops spewing and…

And then suddenly after forever we’re in a heap on the floor on our clothes and Joe gathers us both into his arms and says: “Men, that was a good day’s fucking. And let’s go again at Mike’s house next week—man to man to man!”

And we do; and every week thereafter.