Gay Erotic Stories

By Henry D. Rich

I’m not sure how long we slept. When I awoke, we were lying in the same position, Jean Paul’s head resting on my shoulder, his arm across my chest, a leg thrown over mine. It was getting cool; a breeze was blowing in through the open French doors of my hotel room. By the light outside, I guessed it was about 9:30, but I wasn’t sure since I wasn’t used to how late the summer sun set in Switzerland. Jean Paul was still asleep after our exertions and I was quite content to lie there reveling in the warmth of this man’s body. It amazed me we’d just met each other hours earlier. I began stroking his back absentmindedly as I relived the events of the afternoon in my mind. Eventually, I felt him begin to stir. “Mmm. That feel’s nice,” he said, coming back to life. I continued rubbing his back and thinking. After several minutes, I asked, “Jean Paul, why me?” He lifted his head looking at me quizzically. “What do you mean?” “This afternoon was amazing. Why me?” He smiled, laid his head back down, and answered simply, “I like you.” We were quiet for a while and my thoughts continued to wander. I chuckled to myself. “What?” he asked. “I was just thinking about your students’ parents, how they would react if they could see you now.” He laughed. “They’ve all had sex–at least once.” I grew serious and was unable to contain my curiosity any longer. “Jean Paul, how old are you?” “Twenty-seven. Why?” “Well, that’s older than I thought, but I’m forty-two, old enough to have fathered one of your students. Hell, I’m old enough to be your father.” He did the math. “Fifteen years. No, not my father. Maybe an older brother or uncle, but I’m not into incest.” “I’m being serious.” Jean Paul drew himself up and looked me in the eye. “When I saw you this morning, I thought, ‘There is an attractive, intelligent-looking man. I think I would like to get to know him.’ Then when I saw you again at the café, I took a chance. The rest just happened. Does it matter?” He gently stroked my thigh as he spoke. My dick began to stir. I thought again over the last few hours. “No I guess not. I just wonder whether or not I can keep up with you.” He laughed and it was my turn to look at him curiously. He nodded toward my hard-on. “From what I can see, you have no problem keeping it up at all.” I could feel the smile as it broke over my face. “Cocksucker!” I laughed. “I believe we have determined that fact already,” he said lowering his head back onto my chest. I continued to rub his back, working his muscles. Jean Paul moaned from the sensation and I decided to give him a full blown massage. I slid out from under him and sat up, stretched, then got up to shut the doors to the balcony. If we were lucky, our activities had taken place early enough in the afternoon that we hadn’t startled any of the other guests with the noise we were making, not that I really gave a damn. But it was getting cold. I turned around and saw Jean Paul sprawled across the bed. I looked at him admiringly and for the first time got a good view of his dick. It was resting across his thigh and didn’t appear particularly threatening. He did have amazingly low hanging balls which explained the wonderful slapping against my ass as he’d fucked me. Once again I was envious. I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, taking the time to admire his whole body. It was incredible. Jean Paul was obviously in great shape. He had broad shoulders, a well-defined chest, good arms, and an annoyingly narrow waist. His legs were muscular though not huge, except for his calves. He had the biggest calf muscles I had ever seen. And of course, his torso was covered with that wonderful thick coat of rich dark hair. “Damn,” I thought. Add a couple of inches in height and he was pretty near perfect. It was the body I’d always wished I had myself. “Oh well. If I can’t have it, I can at least enjoy this one while it’s here in front of me.” I straddled Jean Paul’s hips, lifted his head up to me, and kissed him. Then I lowered him back to the bed sliding my hands underneath his neck and began massaging his muscles. He relaxed into my fingers when he realized my intentions and let himself be pampered. I kneaded his shoulders, then worked on each arm, taking time with the palms of his hands. I lifted his arms above his head to be able to move down his lats, but after stroking them a few times, I lost control momentarily. His pits were just calling to me and I couldn’t help but take a few minutes to lick them. From the way Jean Paul was almost purring, he didn’t seem to mind too much. The massage probably would have been over right then as we moved on to other things, but I managed to regain my composure knowing the treat that lay ahead of me. And then, rubbing my hands to warm them again, I plunged my hands into that deep pile of fur on his chest. Jean Paul groaned as I worked his pecs and abs. He was getting into this as much as I was. I could tell because I could feel his cock beginning to rise underneath me. I swung off him to shift down to his legs and I saw his penis erect for the first time. “Holy shit!” I cried out in English. Jean Paul opened his eyes looking concerned. “What?” he asked, then noticed the direction of my gaze and grinned. “If I had seen that this afternoon,” I said switching back to French, “I would not have let you near me with that thing.” A dimple broke in his cheek. “That’s why I didn’t let you see him. I didn’t hear any complaints though. Quite the contrary in fact.” “Arrogant bastard!” I sat there transfixed. Jean Paul’s dick wasn’t freakishly long or anything; in fact, we were pretty evenly matched lengthwise. Certainly I’d taken many that were longer in my wanton, misspent youth. What made it so striking, besides his wonderful balls, was its girth. The thing looked like a beer can. I’d been right; I couldn’t close my hand around it. I sat amazed at the capacity of human muscles, my sphincter in particular, to stretch to accommodate such a thing. All he did was lie back and smirk. That snapped me out of my revelry and I decided to punish the smug bastard by ignoring his penis for the time being. Instead, I picked up one of his legs and planted it on my chest to allow me full range of motion over his calf and thigh muscles. I spent just as much time on the sole of his foot as I had his palms, working in deep with my thumbs. And then, just because I wanted to, I took each toe into my mouth. That got him. His cock lifted and fell against his stomach, leaving pre-cum stuck to the hair. I smiled and repeated the procedure on his other leg, then decided it was time to toy with him more directly. I set his leg down on the bed and moved up to his cock. Taking it up in both hands, I circled my thumbs underneath his balls, then ran them up the underside of the shaft. I’d never had sex with anyone who was uncut before and it was something of a novelty. I pulled down his foreskin and ran my thumbs underneath and around the corona. That really got him leaking and his groans became more intense. I repeated the motion a few more times, then, working on the assumption that guys do to other guys what they enjoy themselves, hefted his nut sack and sucked his balls. The moaning let me know I’d been right on target. I let my tongue move teasingly towards his asshole for a moment, then sat up. Holding his foreskin up over the head of his dick, I licked around the crown, flicking my tongue over his slit. Then, before I lost my courage, I sank my mouth around his cock. It took me a while to get used to its size, but soon I managed to take most of it down my throat. I was glad I’d thought to shut the doors because Jean Paul was far from being concerned about the amount of noise he was making. I plunged down Jean Paul’s cock then withdrew and plunged again. I looked up and saw that his recently relaxed body was tensed, each muscle clearly defined. He was grabbing handfuls of sheets, seeming to try and hold himself down onto the mattress. The part of his cock I couldn’t take in my mouth I worked with one hand while cupping his testicles with the other. I engulfed the length of it again and again and I began to feel his balls pulling up as he grew closer and closer to cumming. His head thrashed back and forth across the pillow and his moans grew even louder. I could feel him reaching just to the point of climax.... And then I stopped. Jean Paul’s eyes snapped open, a look of panic and disbelief flashing across his face. He grabbed his cock and began to pump it, but I caught his wrist and in a quiet but firm voice said simply, “No.” He stopped, looking manic, desperate for relief, his cock throbbing, just on the point of release. I sat there holding his arm for a few minutes as his breathing slowed towards something approaching normal and his muscles unclenched. His penis began to soften slightly and I knew the moment had passed. After I was sure he was back under control, I tucked his arm beside him and rolled him over. Jean Paul’s back was muscular and well defined. It surprised me that it was almost hairless except for the small of his back. The growth began there and spread out across his rock hard ass and down his legs. Yes, even his ass was beautiful. As I worked his back muscles, Jean Paul’s responses settled back into the appreciative groans I’d heard as I’d massaged his chest, and I could feel the tension flowing back out of his body once again. I massaged his glutes, his hamstrings, and kneaded his calves once more, and then my self-control left again and I leant down to tongue that amazing ass. Jean Paul moaned with pleasure and separated his legs to allow me greater access. I spread his cheeks and speared his hole with my tongue. I felt him shifting his hips, grinding his cock into the sheets. When I felt he was ready, I sucked one finger and slid it into his well-lubed chute as I tongued his crack. Hearing a moan of approval, I added a second and worked his hole wider, loosening him up. Jean Paul was holding his own cheeks open at this point, gyrating as he ground his cock against the bed. I gave his hole a few more flicks of my tongue and then stood up. Jean Paul watched me as I crossed over to the chair where he had left his slacks. I reached into his pocket, and surprised, pulled out a handful of condoms. Holding them up in my hand, I glanced over to Jean Paul quizzically. Appearing a little sheepish, he confessed, “To be honest, after I saw you this morning, I came looking for you. I’d hoped this would happen.” I smiled, took out a condom, and threw the rest on the table. I rolled it over my dick and walked back to the bed, where I gave his ass one last swipe of my tongue to make sure he was lubed up well enough, lined up my cock, and without any further preliminaries, shoved it in up to the hilt. Jean Paul’s arms splayed out to either side and he yelled out in surprise. I pitied him long enough to let him rest a moment, but then withdrew my cock all the way and plunged it in again. I did that repeatedly, Jean Paul grunting loudly with each thrust. He clutched the sides of the mattress as if he were a shipwrecked sailor holding onto a raft for dear life. I ploughed into him like that for several minutes then laid down on top of him, completely covering his back while continuing to thrust into his steaming ass. After a while, I pulled him up onto all fours. His breathing was ragged and he seemed barely able to support himself with his arms. I pushed into him again, spearing my cock in at different angles trying to reach every part of his bowels. He was moaning nonstop by this point, his head swaying loosely back and forth like a horse, his hard cock dripping like a leaking faucet. When Jean Paul couldn’t support himself any longer, his head and chest hit the mattress, as I continued pummeling his ass. I reached down, wrapped my arms around him and lifted him upright, the weight of his body pushing him even more deeply onto my cock. His head lolled back onto my shoulder. With one arm supporting his waist and the other circling his furry chest, I was able to fuck him with short sharp movements. I had to slow my pace, but the force of each thrust drew another grunt out of his inert body. His cock jutted out, continuing to drip as I rode him. As I felt my climax rising, I grabbed Jean Paul’s cock, stroked it once, twice, and then he came, exploding cum across the bed and splashing the headboard. Relentless, I kept pounding through my own climax until he begged me to stop. We collapsed together in a pool of sweat and cum.

The next ten days were probably the happiest of my life. When morning came, Jean Paul checked out of the hostel and moved into my hotel room. We mostly spent the days hiking but we also skied a little and he even got me to take a tandem hang gliding trip over the valley. At night, we made love like porn stars. During one of our marathon sessions, I sat impaled on his cock having just pumped cum all over his chest. It covered and matted his chest hair so much he looked like a puppy that had just been whelped. When he caught his breath, he opened his eyes, looked up at me, and said, “You thought you would have a hard time keeping up with me.” Besides feeling incredibly happy, there were other benefits of spending so much time with Jean Paul. My French improved dramatically and I started picking up phrases in Swiss German. And between all our hiking and the sex, I lost fifteen pounds. I looked and felt better than I had in my entire life. Then the time came for me to head back to Zurich for the trip home. Jean Paul cut his vacation short and traveled with me so we could spend as much time together as possible. When we said goodbye at the airport on the last day of my trip, I felt a level of loss I’d never experienced before. During the flight to New York, I relived the previous two weeks moment by moment, and by the time the plane landed, I’d made a momentous decision. I didn’t even wait to get back to Charlotte but called a real estate friend from JFK during my layover to arrange to put my house on the market. When I got home, I gave notice at work and began sorting through my possessions. Some things I took to store at my sister’s, some I gave away to friends, the rest I sold on eBay or sent to Goodwill. When I took a couple of boxes of stuff he’d left behind over to my ex-partner Tom and told him my plans, he looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “You quit your job? Are you crazy? You don’t even know this guy!” I looked at him calmly and answered, “I decided you were right. I’ve become boring and predictable.” That was three years ago. Jean Paul and I live together in a large flat in the old part of Geneva. I work for Credit Suisse and travel quite a bit with my job. I’ve been all over Europe and North Africa. Whenever he’s on break, Jean Paul goes with me and we’ve gotten to see some incredibly scenic parts of the world together. Next month I have to attend some meetings at our offices in Boston and Jean Paul is coming with me. After my meetings are over, we’re heading down to North Carolina to visit my family and hike a section of the Appalachian Trail. I don’t think we’ll be stopping in Charlotte. It would just be too depressing. I hear from friends that Tom has hooked up with some redneck and they are living in a trailer park. They spend their free time drinking beer and watching NASCAR–on television. Talk about boring.