Gay Erotic Stories

Gabe discovered Boy in a local bar along the strip near his home and lured him home with the promise of free beer and dope and the prospect of pussy. Gabe told Boy some gals he knew from the local casino were coming over to party and hinted there would be more than enough to go around. He had never done anything like that before and his heart pounded so hard that he was sure Boy would notice.

It was last call—Boy’s buddies had all paid their tabs and gone—so Boy was an easy target. Gabe pegged Boy for the drunk in his lot; figured Boy was likely more interested in beer and dope than the prospect of poontang. Good thing, too, because there were no girls. Gabe reasoned he hadn’t totally lied. Boy was going to get laid, after all. Going to get what Gabe imagined to be his sweet, tiny, tight, rosebud of a cherry boy pussy juiced.

Gabe had a thing for bare boy feet; they made his dick twitch. He went so far as to install white carpet so he would have an excuse to ask all his guests to remove their shoes before they entered. No one ever refused. It seemed such an innocuous request that none ever knew he was getting off and he bared his feet as well so they wouldn’t suspect. With boys like Boy here, he suggested their socks were dirty—whether they were or not—and ask them to remove those as well, for the sake of the carpet, of course.

Boy lifted one foot, reached back, and yanked his sock off to bare his slender tootsies. Size nine Gabe estimated them at. Boy bared his other foot and stuffed his socks down into his sneakers. Gabe surreptitiously brushed his own crotch gingerly as Boy’s toes sank down into the carpet.

Boy settled into a seat near the fireplace and leaned forward to accept a joint from Gabe. As his preppy, white shirt gaped, Gabe stole a lusty glance at Boy’s tits with their pointy, little, ruby red nips. They brought to mind pancakes with raspberries on top. Gabe bit his lower lip hard as he fantasized himself nibbling those until Boy squealed in painful pleasure.

“Beer?” Gabe asked as he headed out for the kitchen.

“Sure,” said Boy, “Sounds good to me. Bring it on.”

Gabe left Boy toking hard on their joint. This was no ordinary, street reefer. It was imported ganja—Arabian. One hit was all Gabe needed to get a beautiful buzz. Boy might knock himself out—literally—which would be fine by Gabe.

By the time he got back with their beers, Boy’s sweet, green eyes were narrowed red slits and Boy was sprawled back on the couch, arms splayed wide across its back.

“Here’s your brewsky.” Boy sat up, took the beer, sipped, and then rubbed his eyes with a yawn.

“Don’t know if I’m going to make it. I’m really fucked up.”

“Oh, come on,” Gabe insisted, “babes’ll be here any minute now. At least finish your beer.”

The two sat and sipped in silence for several long moments. Gabe drank in Boy’s cute factor. He surmised Boy had a small prick from the decided lack of bulge in the crotch of his jeans and a juicy, round ass from the way the denim strained to conceal it.

“You live around here?”

“Nope.” After a lengthy pause Boy elaborated.

“My buddies and I drove in for the game; got some rooms over at that motel off the highway. I’m supposed to meet them.”

Boy’s hand drifted under his shirt and Gabe watched him rub his tit through the flimsy cotton. For the first time, Gabe noticed a small bulge rise in the crotch of Boy’s jeans. The beer was taking effect. Gabe had spiked it with his own special concoction of sexual enhancement drugs and Rophynol. He wanted Boy horny and helpless.

“I don’t feel so good,” whispered Boy, “Can I get some water?”

“Sure,” said Gabe, and he headed out to the kitchen. Upon his return, he discovered Boy sprawled across the couch; eyes shut tight, hand still inside his shirt, now unbuttoned to the navel. He was asking for it.

Gabe brushed Boy’s feet aside and settled on the couch beside him. He slipped a hand into his pocket and set off the ringer on his cell phone, then pulled it out and pretended to read a number on its screen.

“Go ahead and stretch out,” Gabe said. He lifted Boy’s legs onto his lap as he feigned to answer. His dick twitched and hardened as Boy’s feet settled into his crotch. Boy didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Hey, what’s up?” He paused to make it seem as if he was listening to someone. “Oh, man, that’s a bummer. I was really looking forward to partying with you babes--even invited a friend. Okay, sure, I understand.” He pretended to end the call and set the phone on the coffee table.

“Damn!”

“What,” murmured Boy. All of a sudden he seemed to notice his feet in Gabe’s lap and dragged them off to sit up. “No party? I got to go then.” And he toppled face first onto the coffee table. His head would have hit hard, but Gabe caught him with an arm about the waist and drew him back to the couch.

“What the…” Boy stammered. He mumbled something Gabe couldn’t quite make out. Clearly Boy was unsettled by his predicament.

Gabe drew Boy’s head down onto his lap and softly stroked his hair. Boy struggled to pull away, but he couldn’t even lift his head. It just flopped right back down onto Gabe’s lap each time he tried. After a few attempts, he gave up. He stared up at Gabe; his glassy eyes bugged. His sharp chin and heart-shaped face reminded Gabe of a little elf. Being a bull himself at six-five and 240 pounds, Gabe towered over Boy.

Gabe finished unbuttoning Boy’s shirt and brushed it aside so he could play with Boy’s tits. Boy winced and feebly swiped at Gabe’s hands as Gabe pinched first one nipple and then the other, back and forth, until eventually both stood up and saluted. Gabe’s hand drifted further south, inside the crotch of Boy’s jeans, where he discovered just what he suspected—a tiny, hard dick. He squeezed the thing roughly and gave it a twist as the boy squirmed and whimpered in protest; his pretty little head lolling from side-to-side, eyes scrunched tight, lips pursed. Gabe tugged hard, lifted Boy’s ass off the couch, and squished his fingers until the head of Boy’s dick bulged out the end of his fist like it was going to explode at any moment.

“I’m going to enjoy you,” said Gabe with a snicker, “This is going to be fun!”

Gabe lifted Boy’s head from his lap so he could rise, then lowered it gently back down onto the couch. He seized Boy behind the knees and flopped Boy’s legs up to dance his pretty little feet about his ears. Settling back onto the couch, Gabe rested Boy’s legs against his shoulders, loosened the crotch of Boy’s jeans, and tugged them down and off.

Boy wore skimpy, faded tighty-whities. Gabe worked his finger through a hole where the waistband was lose and ripped the crotch out to bare Boy’s teeny weenie. He reached beneath Boy and tore the seat out, and then held up the scraps in triumph. A few loose strands dangling from the waistband were all that remained of Boy’s shorts.

With Boy stripped, Gabe paused to compose himself. He’d been flying on adrenaline from the moment he first spun that story about a party and invited Boy over. His heart had been in his throat from the moment Boy set foot in his home. He had held it together and now had Boy at his mercy—naked, helpless, and horny. What more could he ask for, but could he really go through with it? And if he did, would he be able to let Boy go afterwards? And if not, then what was he going to do? He had to figure something out fast.

But he was so horny, so filled with the lusty desire to ravage Boy that he couldn’t stop. He had made it this far, hadn’t he? He needed to do nasty things to Boy now and would figure out later, after he was done with Boy, what to do with him.

Boy’s eyes were narrow, glazed slits, his jaw so slack that his tongue lulled out the corner of his mouth. He had slid back down on the couch and buried his face in a cushion. Gabe’s eyes licked their way up from Boy’s toes over his pale, wrinkled soles, up his slender calves and firm thighs to his fine, tight ass with its high, round, fleshy fistfuls for buttocks that begged to be fucked, up the spine of his slim back and narrow shoulders to that tender neck that Gabe would have plunged fangs into if he were a vampire. For a moment, he is lost in a fantasy embrace with naked Boy, his mouth locked on Boy’s neck, as his blood drains from him and Boy becomes Gabe’s forever.

OK, where did that come from? Gabe wasn’t even particularly into vampires or anything. But he sure was into Boy. He helped his guest sit up, and then lifted Boy off the couch as he stooped to scoop him up over one shoulder. He lowered Boy just enough so that Boy’s face bounced against his ass when he walked. He reached up and gave Boy’s ass a hard pinch and sound slap. Boy whimpered and moaned and flopped his arms ineffectually against Gabe’s backside in futile protest as Gabe carried Boy downstairs into the basement—Boy’s new home.

This had been a fantasy of Gabe’s for a long time. He’d outfitted his basement as a dungeon, but never had the opportunity to put to use until now. He had spent thousands and thousands of dollars over the years, everything he could spare. A vast variety of whips, flogs, paddles, straps, cuffs, manacles, clamps (nipple, thumb, and toe), a series of antique branding irons, an electric cattle prod, a taser, and other instruments designed for restraint and torture lined one wall. Gabe had taken a rolling tool chest and filled it with dildos and vibrators in a variety of sizes and shapes, some with handles; strings of anal balls, some smooth, some textured; a police baton; and both rubber and metal butt plugs in various sizes from tiny to elephantine. He had even fashioned a contraption out of a power drill and a monster dildo and another out of an old generator and a series of wheels and bands that pumped a piston with an enormous rubber dildo affixed to it in and out. Autofuckers, he called them, and he could hardly wait to try one out on Boy’s tight hole. They were his pride and joy.

On top of the chest rested a basket overflowing with all sorts of gags and blindfolds—rubber balls, bits (both rubber and metal), bandanas, metal rings that stretched the mouth wide and held it open so you could play inside, old socks and jocks, sleep masks, and even a few penis-shaped novelties that might help teach Boy to suck cock. Several wooden horses were scattered about. Those had a variety of uses. Piles of rope, some natural, some synthetic, occupied one entire corner, alongside a crate of chain in various lengths and gauges. Just as a precaution, he had a pocketknife, a couple of hunting knives, and a shotgun that he used for hunting deer. A shelf in one corner held masks, hoods, and a variety of candles he had collected. There were some folding chairs stacked beside it. Two different slings, a leather scoop swing type and one of woven mesh dangled from the ceiling. A pool table sat in the middle of the room that Gabe figured could serve as more than just a game.

Finally, along another wall were a series of steel cells the size of large dog cages. Gabe slid Boy off onto the floor beside one and retrieved two sets of heavy, steel manacles from his collection. He rolled Boy onto his belly, drew his hands together behind his back, and cuffed them, then took the second set, cuffed on ankle, drew it up behind Boy’s back, ran its chain through the one connecting Boy’s wrists, lifted Boy’s other foot, and cuffed it off as well. None of this was necessary for Boy was as limp as a rag doll. But Gabe wanted to use his toys. He snatched a red rubber ball gag from the basket; pried Boy’s lips apart, stuffed it in Boy’s mouth, and secured it around Boy’s head.

Trussed up so, Boy looked pitiful. He stared up at Gabe in horror, as if he could not imagine how he had ended up like this. His bloodshot eyes pleading for mercy. Gabe almost felt sorry for him—almost. Retrieving a key from around his neck, he unlocked the closest cell, and crammed Boy inside. For good measure, he gave Boy’s ass a few slaps to remind him who was boss, and kneaded Boy’s nuts hard for several minutes until tears trickled down Boy’s cheeks. Even after he released Boy’s nuts, Boy continued to squirm and whimper for several moments as if he were still being tortured. Gabe slammed the gate and locked Boy in. Then he climbed back upstairs to grab a beer and figure out what next. As he left, he flipped off the light switch, leaving Boy helpless and hopeless in the dark to ponder his fate and imagine the worst.