Gay Erotic Stories

The sun was already shining and the day promised to be a good one, so we decided to eat breakfast outside. Bowl of cereal in one hand and mug of tea in the other, I took a seat at the table next to Alison’s dad.

As was to become usual on this holiday, he was the only fully-clothed bloke there, but if it wasn’t bothering him, it certainly wasn’t bothering us. The conversation, I seem to remember, was mainly about what we would be doing today. I was listening but not paying a great deal of attention – I was up for whatever we decided on: it was all going to be good.

Sat there half-listening I was aware of the gentle breeze moving over my body and moving the hairs on my chest, stomach and especially my cock and balls. Now that I shave all over I’ve almost forgotten how that feels, but I remember that at the time it felt damn good. The sun, the breeze, and my awareness of how good it felt all culminated in me having a raging hardon. Fortunately I was pulled up to the table, so I just revelled in the feeling and enjoyed the moment.

I was brought round sharply when I realised that Alison’s dad was talking to me. “Andy, you’re a great lad, and I really do think you’re great for Alison, but now I realise exactly what it is that she sees in you.” I didn’t follow his meaning, so said “Pardon?” It was then that he pointed to the table and the sudden realisation hit me that my private and oh, so huge, erection was nicely framed for all to see by the see-through glass table top.

I could have died on so many levels: the embarrassment of the situation; trying to work out if the table was glass when I sat down and why I didn’t notice; the confusion about whether my girlfriend’s dad had just made a pass at me; the knowledge that he had seen my erect cock; and the realisation the he knew I was using it to bone his daughter. But what surprised me most was that with all that blood down in my cock, there was still enough left to let me blush bright red all over and make my heart beat that fast!

Even all these years later it still makes me cringe to think about it, and all I could do at the time was mumble something incoherent and rush inside, my still raging cock leading the way.

All through that day, in fact for years, it was mentioned regularly. I don’t think my brother has tired of dropping it into conversations yet. I’ll tell you about it coming up during the speeches at my wedding another time (that’s both the topic and the boner).

Anyway, back to the tale I’m telling you.

The first thing we were going to do that day was some canoeing on a nearby lake. Dad had arranged for us to be able hire everything on site, and the instructions were to just turn up at the right time with shorts or swimwear, a t-shirt and trainers, and some warm clothes to change in to afterwards.

Dad, Uncle Dave, Mark, Jay and I all decided that as we were wearing swimming trunks clearly that meant that we didn’t need to bother with shorts or trousers. Steve and Alison’s dad were wearing shorts, and all of us were wearing t-shirts, so, ready as we were, we all set off. I made sure that I wasn’t in the same car as Alison’s dad, the embarrassment still being very fresh to say the least.

The lake was only a forty-five minute drive away, and having never been canoeing before I was really looking forward to it. When we got there we pulled in to the small car-park next to the canoeing centre, and me and dad wandered over to book-in whilst everyone else milled about the cars. Because there were seven of us, two instructors came out to see to us. Both of the blokes had well developed shoulder and chest muscles, which I suppose is what you’d expect from canoeing instructors.

They divided us up into two groups, and the group I was in with Mark, Jay and Uncle Dave was being tutored by the younger stockier one of the two. He told us all the stuff we needed to know about what to do if we capsized, how to steer, and a lot of other stuff that I can’t for the life of me remember now, and then he led us to one side to get kitted out with life jackets and helmets before the other group.

There wasn’t a great deal of choice of life jackets – really just small, medium and large, so it didn’t take long to select. Without a second thought everyone in my group took off our t-shirts to try the life jackets on, and so each of was stood there in almost nothing. I remember Uncle Dave was wearing a pair of skimpy black trunks with a metal ring on each hip joining the front and back; Jay was wearing a pair of yellow swim briefs with quarter-inch sides; I was wearing a pair of green swim briefs of a similar cut to Jay’s; but Mark won the prize for skimpy... I can best describe what he was wearing as a couple of triangles of white material held together with a strip of elastic. We cut quite a dash as we stood there getting ready.

Dad, Steve and Alison’s dad followed us over, and dad and Steve followed our suit, both stripping off their t-shirts (and, in the case of Steve, his shorts). Dad was wearing a pair of blue swim briefs that were almost as skimpy as Mark’s, and, like Mark the narrow seat of the briefs meant that at least half of each meaty ass cheek was spilling out. Steve had made the mistake of borrowing a pair of dad’s because he had forgotten to pack any, but at least his had a full seat in, even if the material was so thin that you could clearly see the outline of his package. All of us stood there had clearly caught the sun, and equally clear was that there wasn’t a tan-line in sight. Alison’s dad surprised me by taking off his shorts to reveal a pair of blue Speedo trunks that actually looked quite conservative compared to what everyone else was wearing.

“I wish I had the balls to wear something like that.” said the older of the two instructors, looking down the line of muscular blokes in our skimpy attire. In reply to his comment a loud and angry woman’s voice erupted from the back room with, “I just wish you had balls FULL STOP!”. I’m sure there was a story attached to that comment, but none of us asked – we all got outside as soon as we could instead!

We all had a great deal of fun on the water, and the instructors had us paddling across the lake like professionals quite quickly. We played a game of something which was a cross between football and water polo, and I look back on that morning as time very well spent, and, more importantly, dad was proving that reaching forty didn’t mean that he had to stop having fun – or turning heads.

The most memorable thing, though, happened after we had finished. We all took the equipment back to the hire centre and got our deposit back. All our swimming trunks were wet through because of the amount of water we had taken in (or, in some cases, the amount of time we had spent underwater when we capsized), and as we headed back to the cars we suddenly realised that because five of us had not brought shorts or trousers, and equally had forgotten to bring warm dry clothing, we were going to have to travel back home wearing just a t-shirt.

We divided up the passenger list so that there was one fully dressed bloke in each car (thank heavens for Steve and Alison’s dad) just in case of a breakdown or something and, after we had stripped off our trunks in the car-park, set off back to the farm. Sat in the back with Mark, neither of us bothered to actually put our t-shirts on, we just put them on our laps. Uncle Dave in the front followed our example, as did Dad and Jay in the other car – we reasoned that if a bus passed us, all the passengers would get an eyeful otherwise. Of course before we were five minutes away from the car-park the t-shirts had slipped and we were happily naked for the journey back.

I’ll tell you more about the rest of that holiday soon. As long as I’m not boring you, that is!